The World Turned Right Side Up by drawjones
Summary: With Voldemort gone and a world no longer in fear Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione begin to move on with their lives, only to find that happily ever after is just beyond the horizon.
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.09.11
Updated: 2009.07.30
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Aftermath
Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Forgiveness
Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Reconciliation
Chapter 4: Chapter 4: A Small Hope
Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Love and Mourning
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Last Goodbyes
Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Life Goes On
Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The Talk
Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Harry's Strength
Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Family
Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Awakenings
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Consequences
Chapter 13: Chapter 13: No Rest for the Weary
Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Revelations
Chapter 15: Chapter 15: An Old Feeling
Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Godric's Return
Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Hogwarts Mysteries
Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Godric's Chambers
Chapter 19: Chapter 19: A Day Off
Chapter 20: Chapter 20: Blood, Sweat and Tears
Chapter 21: Chapter 21: So You Think You Can Fight
Chapter 22: Chapter 22: Fleeting Moments
Chapter 23: Chapter 23: Old Flames
Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Fear
Chapter 25: Chapter 25: Countdown
Chapter 26: Chapter 26: Snap, Crackle, Pop?
Chapter 27: Chapter 27: The Order of Things
Chapter 28: Chapter 28: A Nearing Storm
Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Futures Foreseen
Chapter 30: Chapter 30: The Beginning of the End
Chapter 31: Chapter 31: The End of the Beginning
Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Dreams Come True
Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Happily...
Chapter 34: Chapter 34: Ever...
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Aftermath
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at fan fiction in general. Aside from a few required writings in college, this is actually my first attempt at writing non-scientific papers since I was a wee lad of 10 or so. I welcome all criticism, as it's the only way I can hope to get better.
Harry remained silent as Ron, Hermione and he left Dumbledore’s office. Harry walked slowly in the lead, with Hermione and Ron hand in hand a few steps behind him. No one spoke a word. All that could be heard was the group’s footsteps echoing down the hallways. As they made their way through Hogwarts, sometimes Harry would stop, seeing and taking in just how much destruction the school had suffered that night. Ron and Hermione would stop with him, staying a few paces behind. Occasionally Ron would look to Hermione, his eyes asking her what Harry was doing.
For once, Hermione did not have an answer. She was exhausted. Her mind had not been thinking about what Harry was doing. She had been lost in her own thoughts, just staring at the utter destruction around her. She looked up to see Ron still looking at her inquisitively. She then looked at Harry. Thoughtfully she watched him before she spoke.
“He’s letting it all sink in,” she finally said to Ron.
Hearing her whispers, Harry turned. He looked at his two closest friends, they were still hand in hand. He smiled softly as they realized his eyes were fixed on their hands. He looked back to their faces, both of which were worn and tired from the battle. He again smiled softly, nodding to them.
“About damn time…” Harry muttered just loudly enough for his two friends to hear, causing them to blush slightly as he turned and continued to walk on.
With each step that he took, Harry felt the burden of the past few hours become heavier and weigh more greatly upon his soul. He was fast approaching the portrait, thinking only of the bed that awaited him atop the Gryffindor Tower. Harry stood before the Fat Lady in the portrait, saying nothing. He did not know the password. “I’m tired” he said, starting straight into her eyes. He could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and she looked as though she were tired herself. She paused for a moment to wipe her tears with a handkerchief, then she smiled softly at him, nodded, and then the portrait swung open.
As Harry stepped into the common room, exhaustion and agony were all around him. Cots had been setup throughout, and many students were laying fast asleep, their dirty clothes still on, having not even taken the time to change before they collapsed. The common room itself was not in much better condition. Many of the windows had been shattered and a large crack ran up the distant wall. In the back of Harry’s mind he pictured the tower leaning precariously, ready to fall if so much as an owl landed on a windowsill. Through the crack Harry stared outside, seeing the blinding rays of sunlight peaking through. For a moment, Harry’s mind was blank, his heart numb. He just stood and stared through the crack, but finally he turned his attention back to those inside the common room. Harry glanced quickly about the room, until his eyes became fixed on the group he had been looking for.
He saw the Weasleys — Bill, Fleur, George, Percy, Molly, Arthur and Ginny huddled near the fireplace. All of them appeared exhausted as they stared into the empty fireplace, looking lost, as though part of them was missing. Harry stepped quietly into the room. He did not want to disturb anyone. He had already done what he could in comforting the mourners and the wounded from the battle earlier, all except for the Weasleys. It wasn’t because Harry didn’t want to or didn’t feel that he needed to, but instead it was in part because he felt as though he was the sole reason for the their pain.
Ginny caught Harry’s eye for a brief moment. He could see the pain in her eyes, he pursed his lips as though to say something to her. He wanted desperately to say something, to let her know how sorry he was, how much he cared, but words escaped him. He tried to relay to her through his eyes how he felt for her, her family, their grief. For an instant he though he saw an understanding in her eyes as she nodded ever so slightly at him. He looked to the stairway longingly and then back to her. Many times earlier in the night, he had been forced to ignore her, to put her aside in his heart and do whatever it took to keep her safe and ensure Voldemort died, even if it meant dying himself and now his body was pushing him to do it yet again.
Ron and Hermione had made their way to the rest of the Weasley clan. Ron placed his hand on George’s shoulder. George didn’t look up, but instead just put his hand over his brother’s., squeezing it gently. For a moment Harry saw the tears running down Ron’s face. Hermione had her face buried in Ron’s shoulder and Ron was caressing the back of her head with his other hand. Harry did not see the tears, but could here her sobs. Harry stood there, in a room full of the only remaining people that Harry could have ever counted as his friends, and he saw nothing but pain — pain that he had caused. Harry looked about the room, at a time when the rest of the wizarding world would be erupting into joyous celebration, those who should celebrate most, those who had be hurt the most, weren’t allowed to celebrate. Even in death, Voldemort had helped ensure that the pain and suffering he offered the world, were gifts that would not easily be forgotten.
As he looked at a haggard and tired Arthur Weasley, Harry thought back to the times in the Burrow when Mrs. Weasley and Arthur had tried to learn what Ron, Hermione and he were planning. He thought of all the times when he had told Bill and Fleur that they couldn’t know what he was planning. Harry felt sick for not telling them the truth, sick for not telling them that he was about to take their son on a journey to destroy parts of Voldemort’s soul and bring the full wrath of the Death Eaters and Voldemort’s Army upon them and anyone they were associated with.
He sighed a deep breath. He could feel the sorrow about to overtake him. The room felt dark and cold, as though a Death Eater was amongst them but Harry knew that the only cause of sorrow in the room was him. Harry stood, silent and motionless, unable to approach the Weasley’s, near losing all control, wanting to fall to his knees and beg their forgiveness. He steadied himself with what little remaining courage and strength he had.
“I..I-I…. I… ummm… I’m…. I…” Harry had meant to say “I’m sorry,” but the words would not come. He felt them catch in his throat and tried to force them out, but instead all he could do was mutter. He swallowed deep and looked straight at Ginny. Unable to speak, he simply mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” to her.
Ron, Arthur and Mrs. Weasley looked up. All strength that Harry had remaining left him when his eyes met Mrs. Weasley’s. They were bloodshot, swollen and still full of tears. He saw pain in them, but instead of the anger, and rage toward him that he also expected to see, he saw concern. Harry could fight the tears no more. He began to cry — tears were falling down his cheeks. He quickly pulled his glasses off, wiped his eyes with his robes as he began to run toward the stairwell.
“Harry!... Harry wait!” Ginny called out as he was running up the stairs, now sobbing.
He heard her footsteps behind him, closing quickly, but after Harry reached the door to the dormitory, he slammed it shut behind him. For a moment, he thought he heard Ginny place her hand against the big wooden door, but she did not say a word. Harry’s sobs filled the room as he glanced wildly about. Looking from bed to bed around there room, Harry saw that no one was there, all of the beds were empty. For the first time in a while, Harry felt grateful.
Harry did not remember getting into the bed, or how long he cried before falling asleep. The bright rays of warm sunlight that seemed to be the world’s way of celebrating the end of Voldemort moved slowly across the room as day progressed to evening and finally toward nightfall. Harry had hoped that sleep would bring him comfort as he had walked to the common room from Dumbledore’s office, but he was wrong. He had hoped that with Voldemort gone, and the weight of the entire world no longer squarely upon his shoulders, that he might finally rest, but for Harry his concern for others, for those who had died or nearly died, his dreams gave him a whole new set of worries.
Only pure exhaustion kept him asleep, because what Harry has so passionately hoped would be dreams were instead nightmares. What he had hoped might be remembrances of happier days, especially those with Ginny just weren’t there. Gone were the visions from behind Voldemort’s eyes, watching, feeling him murder and they were instead replaced by visions from his own eyes. Unfortunately for Harry, Voldemort was no longer the master of Harry’s nightmares, but instead it was now Harry. For Harry, no matter how powerful Voldemort may have been and how real he could make Harry’s nightmares seem, his mind and his heart were able to terrify him all the more. Instead of spurring him to action, as Voldemort’s nightmares had done, Harry’s own creations left him frozen, broken and almost hopeless.
Reliving every moment from the past night, Harry saw himself standing before Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, seeing his parents and the rest disappear, just before Voldemort spoke those horrible words and sent the green flash of light screaming toward him. His dreams gradually progressed toward the climax of the final battle, but he never reached his last battle with Voldemort. Instead, his nightmares became fixated on Ginny, Hermione and Luna battling Bellatrix as he stayed hidden underneath his cloak. The fear was more real in the dream for Harry than when it had first happened. In Harry’s mind he knew the outcome, he knew who lived and who died, but in his nightmares he was able to reflect on just how close those he cared for came to dying.
Harry saw the flash of green energy fly from Bellatrix’s wand and so narrowly miss her, “GINNY!...” Harry found himself screaming out with all of his might from under his cloak, frozen in time, unable to move. His heart was racing, breathing quickly and he felt a cold sweat break out across all of his body. Harry felt nausea slowly build in his stomach as that flash of light came so perilously close to Ginny.
From everything that happened that night before, Harry’s mind kept bringing him back to that moment, seeing Ginny so nearly die. Over and over again, he saw the green light speed past her. Harry could not get beyond thinking what would have happened had the curse hit even just one hair on her head? What kind of rage would have came out of him at that moment? Harry’s dreams continued again and again, each with Harry crying out for Ginny and watching her so nearly die.
“G-G-Ginny!... watch out…. G-Ginny!... GINNY!…” Harry kept groaning over and over in his sleep.
Ron finally awoke after a particularly loud moment when Harry had cried out her name so forcefully that Ron jumped out of bed, expecting to see his sister in the room, being tortured or worse. He looked around the room and realized there was no one there. He stared at Harry for a moment, turning his head slightly. Harry was dreaming again and Ron knew it all too well. Countless times in the past he had been awoken by Harry’s nightmares, with Harry screaming out warnings or agonies for those he saw suffering.
“Could it be that Voldemort’s not dead?” Ron thought. He had seen the spell, he had seen it hit Voldemort and his body fall lifeless to the ground. Deep in the back of Ron’s mind though, a though crept in. Voldemort had fallen once before with a spell meant for Harry. “Why should it be any different now? Could Harry be seeing his sister suffer the wrath of a once more weakened Voldemort who would not hide for a decade before he attempted to rise to power again?”
Ron thought quickly, he remembered that just hours before the whole family had been in the common room grieving. Ginny was there, her head on Bill’s arm, weeping for the loss of Fred. Then the whole family had decided to at least lie down. None of them expected to get any sleep, but at least each may be able to grieve in his or her own way. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Fleur had followed Hermione to the girls’ dormitory. Ron knew that if anything was happening to Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione was also in danger.
Ron grabbed Harry by the arms. His cries were now so loud that Ron was sure others would have heard him. He shook Harry until Harry finally stopped screaming and opened his eyes. Just as Harry looked up at him, Arthur, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Hermione came bursting into the room. Harry and Ron looked around to see everyone that had just came roaring through the door into the room.
Everyone was looking at Harry, who had a bewildered look in his eyes. His eyes were glazed, his mind trying to hold on dearly to the nightmares and reasons he was crying out as he realized where he was and that he was no longer in that terrible moment. “Ginny...” Harry spoke softly looking at her. She was the only person in the room that he cared to look at. Even though she looked terrified, her eyes still red and swollen from crying , he found himself growing a little calmer looking into her eyes. He felt all the muscles of his body relax a bit at he saw her standing in front of him, breathing, crying, alive.
“Harry!” shouted Hermione, snapping him back to reality. “Harry! What’s wrong? What have you been seeing?” The look in her eyes echoing what had raced through Ron’s mind just a few moments before. “Ginny’s here,” she whispered softly. “…she’s safe,” Hermione added looking toward Ron, seeing the fear in his eyes abate.
“I.. I.. I was dreaming,” Harry stammered to get out. “I…” but his voice broke off.
How could he tell them of his fear? How could he tell them why he had been screaming? Even he didn’t fully understand it, and he knew they would understand it even less. How could Ginny ever understand any of how Harry had treated her, leaving her alone over the past year, not sending word, now showing back up just in time to leave her crying thinking that not only her brother, but he was dead as well? Why had his mind tortured him all the time he had been asleep, making him see Ginny almost die again and again? Harry’s heart raced as he looked quickly at everyone in the room, finally resting his eyes upon Ginny.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, as he turned, looking directly at Arthur and Mrs. Weasley.
For an instant, Harry though he saw an understanding in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes. He saw her look toward Arthur, and then back to Harry. This time in her eyes, Harry saw concern. Her eyes burned a hole into Harry’s soul, as she just stared at him, her eyes dry from tears for the moment. With his eyes, Harry could tell Mrs. Weasley was thinking, weighing something over in her mind. Harry’s heart began to beat faster. Had this been the last straw? Was he about to see the rage come out of Mrs. Weasley at Harry for taking Ron away for the past year and for ultimately leading to the death of Fred? Harry knew she had loved him like a son, but even still, Harry was only an adopted son. Ron and Fred were pureblood Weasleys, red hair and all.
“Everyone out!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Arthur and I would like to speak with Harry,” she announced to all of those in the room.
“Alone!” she interjected as Ginny began to open her mouth in protest. With sweeping broad waves of her arms, she began to usher everyone in the room toward the door and the staircase.
Ginny paused for a moment. She had not moved from her position when she first came into the room. Harry saw in her eyes that she wanted to stay. Her mouth was still open with the unspoken protest her mother had just cut short. She wanted to hear what her parents had to say to Harry. She had every right to be there Harry thought. After all, he was crying out her name repeatedly and had just alarmed every person within earshot with his cries and moans about her.
“Ginny, you too,” said Mrs. Weasley, much softer than how she had been talking before.
Harry saw her whisper something to her daughter and then put an arm around her shoulder as she lead Ginny toward the door. Ginny glanced back for just a moment toward Harry. He saw a gleam in her eyes as the door closed. Harry knew that Ginny would not so easily be deterred
Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Forgiveness
Author's Notes: This was probably the easiest chapter to initally write, but then the one that has undergone the most revisions. Ultimately, I think some of the conversations and insights Harry gains in this chapter will be the most important in helping develop the plot as we advance into later chapters. By the way, I appreciate the feedback. As stated before, new to this, so all the feedback you can provide, either good or bad, will be greatfully appreciated.
Arthur Weasley had not said a word since he ran into the room. He stood near the window and stared out at the setting sun. He glanced over toward Mrs. Weasley as she closed the door to the room. She sat down on Harry’s bed beside his legs, laying her hand gently on his knee. Arthur walked over and stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Harry saw them both looking down at him. The red rays of sunlight that signaled sunset streaking into the room made their hair almost glow red. Harry could only bring himself to look into their eyes glancingly. He still felt as though all of their pain; all of their suffering was his fault.
Fred was dead. His smiling, joking face was now frozen forever and Harry knew that he would never be there again to make a Puking Pustule or any other magical joke. Fred had died fighting, whereas he had lived joking and resisting through humor. Harry thought Fred would have never been there that night had Harry not decided to come after the Horcrux. Now, Fred’s mother and father were standing before Harry. He had brought so much pain and suffering on this family. He had taken Ron away for a year, with them never knowing what he was doing or if he was alive or dead. He lay in the bed, looking down at Mrs. Weasley’s hand on his knee. He was waiting for her to start. He wanted her to yell and scream. He wanted her to rage at him for the pain he had caused her and her family — for the death of her Fred, for taking Ron away from her, for breaking Ginny’s heart at Dumbledore’s funeral — but she stayed silent.
Finally the silence overwhelmed Harry. He shifted in the bed uncomfortably, the weight of the moment bearing down on him. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe, once more the weight of the world bore down upon him and he wanted to be sick. He could stand it no longer. He looked in both their eyes. He forced himself to keep his eyes fixed upon them, and once more the tears began to fall. Mrs. Weasley took his hand in hers and began to lean closer. She was crying once more as well.
“I’m sorry… it… it should have been me!” Harry whispered through his tears. “I-I… F-F-Fred… I should be the one laying there,” he said more forcefully as his sorrow began to overwhelm him. Harry now realized that he was once again “The Boy Who Lived” and it sickened him. He was prepared to die to kill Voldemort. Had all of his pain and all of his suffering not been so that he would be resolute in his determination to kill the abomination that was Voldemort?
Finally, Mrs. Weasley controlled her tears as she began to speak. “Harry…” she whispered, leaning so close to him that Harry didn’t even know if Arthur Weasley could hear her.
“Harry, YOU DID NOT KILL FRED.” The strength and resolve in her voice surprised Harry. “Voldemort killed Fred. He and his followers killed him. And if you didn’t stop him, Harry, then we all would have died.”
She turned and looked at Arthur. His eyes told Harry that he felt the same way. He nodded in affirmation toward Harry as he began to speak and then stopped. He pursed his lips and let out a great sigh. “Harry, you are like a son to us,” he said as though it took every ounce of strength he had to keep from crying.
“We love you like a son, Harry,” added Mrs. Weasley, squeezing his hand tightly.
Harry looked at both the Weasleys. His tears continued but he was a little more composed. He knew they loved him. The Weasley family was some of the few people that loved Harry because of who he was, and among the very few that didn’t look at his scar before they looked him in the eyes. Harry loved Mrs. Weasley like the mother he had never known. He thought back to when he was very young and he lived with the Dursleys at Privet Drive. He could remember laying awake at night under the stairs sometimes and thinking about his Aunt Petunia.
She was his mother’s sister, she had taken him in, but she didn’t love him. Instead she and her husband treated him like an old stray that was to be hidden and loathed simply for existing. He remembered sometimes asking himself why they didn’t love him and what it would be like to have a family who did. Looking into Mrs. Weasley’s eyes, realizing she didn’t hold him responsible for Fred’s death, realizing that she and Arthur loved him like the parents he had so long ago lost, Harry felt himself relax a bit. His tears were now mixed, both with sorrow, but also with tears of joy. He had found a family that cared for him. He had found those who loved him for him, not his scar and not the fact that he had made Voldemort disappear all those years ago.
Harry saw Mrs. Weasley steel herself again to ask the next question. She took a deep breath, paused for a moment and then asked it as though it was taking every ounce of strength to ask a question she did not want to know the answer to.
“Your dreams Harry, this afternoon, when you were calling out for Ginny…” she started faltering. Harry saw in her eyes a sorrow and a fear. She had lost one child and could not stand to lose another. Finally she composed herself enough and finished, “What were you seeing? Was it something that’s yet to happen?” Harry saw her flinch as she finished her question. He knew she did not want to hear the answer if it was bad, but that she had to hear it.
“No…” spoke Harry softly, pausing to let her relief set it. “I was seeing Ginny and Bellatrix battle, where the killing curse just narrowly missed her…” now it was Harry faltering. Again he felt the fear arise inside him. “I… I-I was hidden under my cloak,” he continued, having to pause to take deep breaths, thinking of the Ginny he had seen just a few moments ago and gaining strength from knowing that she had wanted to be here during this conversation.
“I was hidden and she almost died!” Harry spoke the words very fast, hoping they would not cut into his heart as his nightmares had been doing. “She would have died and never known I was there!”
He was again sobbing. Harry thought back to when he had left to meet Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. He had walked past Ginny, hidden by his invisible cloak, yearning to call out to her, but not, knowing that it would weaken his resolve and make him unwilling and unable to sacrifice himself to Voldemort. Through his tears he recounted those events to Mrs. Weasley, how he had seen her turn like she thought someone was there, but that he did not say a word to her, even though every ounce of being in his soul told him to. Mrs. Weasley gave a small sigh and looked at Harry. He could see in her eyes an understanding and a sympathy.
“You cared enough to want to end it, to stop Voldemort and keep anyone else from dying,” replied Mrs. Weasley. “I knew that Ginny was battling Bellatrix, and I was going to make damn sure Bellatrix didn’t…” but Harry interrupted before she could finish. “I know you stopped her, but hiding under my cloak watching her almost die was not the same as when I walked past her under my cloak.”
Harry noticed Mrs. Weasley look at him with fascination and respect.
“When I was going to meet Voldemort, I was going to die and Ginny would live on. She would find someone to love, have a family and grow into a beautiful witch,” he continued as he pushed himself up in the bed. He no longer looked at Mrs. Weasley, but instead began to look at the wall, staring blankly into space, neither at the wall or anything in between, but beyond, peering back into his own mind and his own heart. “When I was watching Ginny fight and almost die, it would have meant that I had lived and that she had died…” Harry paused; he now realized why his dreams had bothered him so much.
“She would have died because of me,” Harry spoke softly. He looked once more at Mrs. Weasley. She was smiling at him, shaking her head ever so slightly. He could feel her starting to tremble on the bed. “That’s why I ended it last year, at Dumbledore’s funeral,” he added. “Of all the people that I would never want Voldemort to use against me, to harm or to kill, it would be Ginny. Ron and Hermione already knew my plans and had already committed themselves to help me. They had been with me in battle, as we’ve fought Voldemort over the years, but Ginny…” His voice trembled for a moment. He could not believe he was telling Ginny’s mother these things when he hadn’t even truly told Ginny. “…she was innocent,” he finished so softly that even he could barely hear it.
A long pause arose between Harry and the Weasleys, each seeming to struggle for the words. Moments passed, and the sun glared its final beautiful rays of daylight into the room, before it vanished until morning would arise again. Both stared at the other, their eyes saying what their voices could not. Their hearts were touching for fleeting moments and giving one another a comfort that words could not.
“She’s my escape from all of this. The time we spent together after the Quidditch match, before the funeral, was the happiest of my life.” Harry stated it so plainly and matter of factly that Mrs. Weasley jumped a bit with the silence being broken. “Those days were where I drew my strength from during the time I was traveling, hiding from the Death Eaters and trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort.” Harry let a tiny smile spread across his face. He had finally stopped crying, and so too had Arthur and Mrs. Weasley. In those moments of silence, Harry had made an important decision — he wanted them to know how he felt about their daughter, about Ginny.
“She’s the part of me that is not consumed with Voldemort, and if she had died fighting one of his Death Eaters…” Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley straight in the eyes. For the first time she saw not just a truth to them, but an almost certainty as he began to speak again, “I don’t think I’d have killed him. I’d have lost my self control, and my resolve. I would have probably been so out of my senses I would have gotten myself killed by Bellatrix long before I could have ever faced Voldemort.”
Mrs. Weasley sighed softly. She took a moment to compose her thoughts. She looked to Arthur, and then turned back to Harry.
“That’s why you were the one to beat Voldemort. That’s why you were able to walk into that forest and not fight, when anyone else I would have known would go down swinging with every spell they could muster. You love unconditionally Harry. You take every death upon your own shoulders, and its time you learn that you are not the cause of the death and misery, that is Voldemort. You, Harry, are the reason that we could stop Voldemort. Only someone capable of loving, even after being treated so poorly growing up, would have a power that Voldemort could not overcome.”
Her words struck Harry in the heart. It sounded almost as those Albus Dumbledore was standing there speaking to him instead of this puffy eyed red headed mother that had just lost a son.
“And the fact that you love our Ginny,” she spoke as she took Arthur’s hand and turned to look at him before turning back to Harry with what he thought was an actual expression of happiness, “only tells me that she will forever be safe and you would die for her, the same way your father died for you and your mother if it was called for.”
Her words spread like a warm breeze over Harry. He breathed deeply, letting it fill him. Harry was now completely at peace. Mrs. Weasley truly understood everything he felt. He looked at her astonished. His eyes were asking how she could know that he cared so deeply for her daughter, and when she had known.
“Oh, I’ve known for a long time,” Mrs. Weasley started, anticipating the question he was about to ask, “I’ve known since she came home broken hearted from Dumbledore’s funeral. Before that I knew you fancied her. I mean there’s only so much snogging two teenagers can do without some mutual attraction. And no, Ginny didn’t tell me, but Ron certainly wasn’t too warm to the idea of you and his sister at first,” she interjected once more answering another question before Harry could ask it.
“But when she told me that you had ended it, that you had pushed her away at a time when I knew you would need her most. Well, that told me one of two things, either you loved my daughter and knew that as long as Voldemort lived, you would be the greatest danger she faced, or that you had never cared for her at all. And let’s just say Harry, that as a mother, I’ve seen how you’ve started to look at Ginny in the past couple of years.”
Harry looked at her with a look of utter bewilderment. His mouth hand half open, as though to say something, but there was nothing to say. She had known for so long. From the way she had explained it, she had known even before his feelings for Ginny had shown themselves to him in the form of that beast he felt when he and Ron had caught her snogging Dean Thomas.
“Well, that’s all fair and good, but we’ve never even had an official date yet, now have we?” he retorted, almost as much to himself as her. “Who knows if she’ll even have me?” he questioned, frowning slightly.
“Oh, I think she’ll take you back,” said Arthur.
Mrs. Weasley smiled softly and nodded in affirmation to Harry. “But nonetheless I would still take it slow and give her no reason to hex you, Harry. After all, Ginevra has quite a temper, and I know she’s still pretty hurt from everything that has happened, especially last night when she thought you had died.”
Arthur no longer seemed to be giving the conversation his full attention. He had turned his head and seemed to be staring at the door across the room. He looked at Harry and Mrs. Weasley for a moment then walked over to the door. He stood at the door, looking down. He put his finger to his lips to silence both Harry and Mrs. Weasley before they could ask him what it was he saw.
Harry saw Arthur chuckle to himself for a moment and stoop over to the floor. When he stood upright, Harry saw a small line running from Arthur’s hand to under the door. It took Harry a moment to realize that Arthur held in his hand an Extendable Ear. Arthur pondered the ear for a moment in silence. He just looked it over, as though he were holding some new curiosity-inspiring Muggle contraption in his hands. Harry thought for a brief instant he saw a tear fall to the ground from Arthur’s eyes.
Arthur steadied himself, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. With his other hand, he wiped the tears away from his eyes, all the time, holding the Extendable Ear and making certain not to stretch the line too tightly so that the others on the far side of the door might know someone was bothering with it.
Arthur pulled out his wand and tapped the ear with it. Like a fuse that had been lit, Harry saw the Ear disappear and the string attached to it starting to burn and spark toward the other end, toward whoever was listening on the other side of the door. A few seconds later, Harry heard a distinctly feminine yelp, followed by some low grumblings. Arthur pulled the door open to reveal Ron, Hermione and Ginny standing on the other side of the door, with Ginny rubbing her hand where she had held the second end of the Extendable Ear.
Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry and smiled. She pulled him close to her in a hug that he thought would suffocate him if she held on too much longer. “We love you, Harry,” she said as she stood up from the bed and joined Arthur at the door. “And assuming Ginny will have you back, call me Molly from now on, and NO exceptions.” She then turned with Arthur to leave the room. Harry saw her point for Ron and Hermione to leave the stairwell as well, but Harry knew that Hermione already had a hold of Ron and was about to drag him down the stairs.
In a moment, they were gone and just Harry and Ginny, who had stepped into the room, were left. He smiled softly at her as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He met her halfway across the room. Standing there, looking into her eyes, he said the first thing that came into his mind.
“Hi…”
Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Reconciliation
Author's Notes: This chapter was one of the more difficult for me to figure out just what should happen. Ultimately, this chapter was inspired in some part by Nickelback's "Far Away" but don't expect it to mirror the song exactly, I also took some aspects from my own life and wove into this chapter as well. By the way, feedback helps, whether you like it or not, tell me. I'm still trying to figure out just what my strengths and weaknesses are.
Harry blushed. He had wanted to say so much more. To tell her how sorry he was, how much he missed her, how much he wanted and needed her, but it had all just gotten jumbled up to the point that all he could come out with was, “Hi.” He shook his head and sighed. “That’s not what I wanted to s….” but Ginny put her finger to his lips to silence him.
“I know what you wanted to say,” she responded matter of factly. “I have been listening at the door since Mum kicked me out,” with the slightest hint of a know-it-all attitude. Harry blushed again as he saw her smile at him and they both laughed. He stared down to his feet for a moment, then he reached up and took Ginny’s hands in his own. He stared down at her hands for a few moments, until she finally pulled hers away. Harry looked up at Ginny and saw an expression on her face that he had never seen before. He saw a desire in her eyes, but at the same time, he saw an underlying anger and hurt.
Harry knew how much he had hurt Ginny when he ended their relationship at Dumbledore’s funeral. Ron and Hermione had made certain he understood that. The one thing though, that Harry did not appreciate fully was just how hard the past year had been on Ginny. As he stood, looking into her eyes, he began to understand. The pain, the separation had been just as hard for her as it had been for Harry. Actually, it might have been easier for Harry. At least he had a dot on the Marauder’s Map to let him know that Ginny was safe. Ginny had nothing but rumors and gossip.
Harry stood silently. His heart wanted to say so much, but seeing Ginny’s face, something told him to give her time. He could tell she was thinking, deciding what to do and what to say. He would not rush her. He had put her through hell on earth for the past year of her life, and he would let her decide in her own time when and what they would say. Soon seconds stretched into minutes, but Ginny said nothing. She just stared at Harry very intently. Harry did not look away, his eyes fixed intently upon hers. Without saying a word, her eyes were telling him so much. He could see them flash with anger, only to be replaced an instant later with a look of sheer desperation.
“I thought you had died,” Ginny finally whispered softly. “And I didn’t care if I lived or died after that.”
Harry looked up at her. He didn’t say a word, but his mind began to understand. Ginny was willing to fight Bellatrix because she didn’t care if she lived or not. Harry felt a lump in this throat. She had almost died because of him, because he was trying to save her. That lump quickly went from Harry’s throat to his stomach, and before he could fight it, Harry felt himself retching onto the floor beside them. He felt Ginny grab his arms as his body shuddered again and again.
Harry had not had anything to eat for a long time, so all that was falling onto the floor was stomach acid. He felt his throat burning as he finally controlled himself to the point that he was retching no more. Harry felt numb inside. Ginny led him slowly over to the bed and set up on the edge before she cleaned up the mess where they had just been standing with a scouring charm. Harry watched her, part in shame, part in amazement. Ginny was just like her mother. No matter how bad she felt, no matter what was going on around her, she had to help take care of others. When Ginny had finally finished cleaning up she came over and set down beside Harry.
Harry could no longer look Ginny in the eyes, instead he kept his eyes fixed on her hands on her thighs as she set in front of him. He felt her hand gently touch his cheek and then her fingertips slide under his chin. Slowly she lifted upward, forcing Harry to raise his head and look in her eyes.
“I thought you had died.”
She said it again. To Harry, it seemed as though she was saying it, trying to get him to realize just how deeply seeing him in Hagrid’s arm had hurt her. Her screams had said it all though. Of all the cries that Harry had to endure with Voldemort showing his body off as a trophy, hers was the most horrifying. Harry remembered that moment and her cries. They were not cries of fear or pain. To Harry, they were cries of a soul being torn in half. Ginny Weasley loved him with all of her heart, Harry knew that. Every time they kissed, her eyes and lips told him that. Her cries were of someone that had just had the person that completes her torn away savagely, without being able to say goodbye or being able to say everything she had left unsaid.
Harry thought back. He had never truly told Ginny he loved her. He assumed she had understood that the same way he understood she loved him, but as far as a formal declaration, neither of them had ever made one. He looked up into her eyes. Harry saw Ginny fighting back tears. Her eyes were watery and bloodshot. He saw a sole tear escape from the corner of her eye, and then the floodgates opened. She could hold her hurt inside no longer. Ginny began to sob. Her tears flowed freely as her whole face became flushed. She raised her hands up and pounded them against Harry’s chest. Again and again she brought the soles of her hands down onto his chest, hitting Harry with a thud each time.
Harry did not try to stop her. He did not lift his hands to keep from being hit. She was hitting him, luckily not cursing him and he knew this was Ginny’s time to rage. Each time she struck him, Harry felt his heart break a little more. Seeing her tears, hearing her weep, feeling her hit him again and again soon began to take its toll on Harry but he did not move. Gradually, Ginny’s blows became weaker and weaker. She began rocking on the edge of the bed, clutching Harry’s robes as she wept uncontrollably. Instinctively Harry reached out for her, placing his hand gently behind her neck and pulling her toward him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. He just held her as she sobbed onto his shoulder.
Harry did not say a word. He simply held her. Minutes passed and time soon began to fade away. Ginny’s sobs gradually became weaker and weaker. Eventually Ginny had wrapped her arms around Harry and began to return his hug. He could feel the energy draining from her body. Finally, her cries stopped altogether and Harry felt her body relax. Ginny was asleep.
Harry set silently holding the sleeping Ginny for what seemed like an eternity, but he did not want to move. Somehow, holding her seemed to help ease his own pain. Slowly, Harry felt himself growing tired. He fought valiantly to stay awake, but soon, his chin rest gently against Ginny’s head and he too was asleep. How long they slept, embracing one another Harry was uncertain, but he awoke with a jump when he felt Ginny start to pull herself away from him. They separated enough that they could look in one another’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Ginny whispered softly as she looked deeply into Harry’s eyes.
Harry simply nodded in return. He was uncertain as to what needed to be said. He looked back at her, losing himself in her eyes. Without even thinking he reached up and brushed Ginny’s hair from in front of her face. She smiled softly at him, catching his hand and holding it softly against her cheek. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and savoring the scent of the man she had waited for, dreaming of for so many lonely nights. Harry was still looking at her when she opened her eyes.
Harry spoke in a very weak and uncertain voice. There was so much he wanted and needed to tell Ginny, but where to start? Harry did not have a clue, so he did the only thing that felt right. He spoke from his heart.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry, “sorry for everything. I can only imagine what you’ve been through in the last year, and I’m sorry I’ve put you through it.”
“You should be!”
Ginny’s reply came quickly and was sharp. It stung Harry to hear it, but he knew it was true. He could tell she was still upset with him, and he knew if they were to get beyond this, then she had to be able to let him know exactly how she felt.
“I am,” he replied. “Ginny, if there’s one person in this world I would never want to hurt, it’s you… and I know how stupid that must sound because you’re one of the people that I’ve hurt the most. I’ve been able to make it alright in my mind by saying that at least if you lived, then it would be worth it.”
Ginny set silently staring at him. Her eyes did not show anger, they did not show rage, instead they stared coldly back at him. Harry knew Ginny wanted her explanation, and she wanted it all. No matter how tired he was, no matter what time of day or night, she needed her answers. Harry had kept her waiting for over a year, and she would wait no longer. Where to begin though, Harry did not know. He opened his mouth a couple of times to speak, hoping that with just the act, something deep within him would propel the words from him. Both times though, he just opened and closed his mouth, saying nothing.
“There’s nothing I can say that will take away the pain and the suffering of the past year.” Harry spoke deliberately. He did not want to say anything that would make her angry, but he wanted to tell Ginny absolutely everything. Finally, Harry knew what he had to do. He let his heart guide him on what to say.
“When you saw me last night, for all intents and purposes, I should have been dead. I had meant to die.”
Harry saw a moment of confusion and pain on Ginny’s face, but he continued, “When I walked into the Forbidden Forest last night, it wasn’t to run, but it was to let Voldemort strike me down with the Killing Curse.”
“B-But w-w-why?” Ginny nervously asked. Harry could see she was trying to fight back tears again.
“When he killed my parents, and then tried to kill me as, a part of his soul escaped into me, into my scar. That’s why I was able to see his thoughts, feel his emotions so easily. And the only way Voldemort could be defeated was to ensure that he had no soul remaining other than what was in his own body. So I was willing to let him kill me, so that he would destroy his own piece of soul in me.”
“T-T-Then how are y-y-you alive?” Ginny asked, a sound of fear in her voice telling Harry that she was afraid to hear the answer.
“Well, I did die, but because Voldemort used my blood to bring himself back to full life, I was given a choice to come back.”
“A c-c-choice?... By who?... What kind of choice?” Ginny asked, a look of confusion on her face.
“Well, Dumbledore helped me realize why I wasn’t truly dead, and guided me to figuring out I had a choice as to whether or not I would go on, or go back.”
“And why did you come back?” Ginny’s voice was just a whisper.
“You!” The words came out of Harry’s mouth before he even thought them. His heart had answered before his mind even registered the question. Ginny’s eyes softened. She blushed softly and a smile spread slowly across her face.
“I knew that there was a chance to defeat Voldemort. If I had stayed and went on, then he would not have been defeated, and the world would have been forever under his rule. You would have b-been…” Harry’s voice broke. He could no longer think of what horrible things would have happened to Ginny. He knew for certain though that in a world controlled by Voldemort, she would have died a very painful and agonizing death.
“I thought that even if we couldn’t be together, that as long as you lived, you would someday find happiness, and in my mind, that would be enough reason for me to come back and face him again, even if it meant that I truly had to die.”
With those words, Ginny looked at Harry, raising her hand to his cheek. She stroked his cheek softly and smiled at him. Harry felt the beast roar inside his chest, he took her hand and kissed it gently. He heard her sigh softly, as he took hold of her arm and pulled her to him. Ginny tilted her head slightly and stretched her neck so that her lips were tantalizingly close to his. He did not wait for her to seal the kiss. He gently pressed his lips against hers. He felt his whole body quiver as their kiss deepened. He pulled Ginny close to him, pressing their bodies together as he began to trace her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. They both let out a long sigh as they pulled apart, having to stop for air.
“Well…” he stammered, “does this mean we are back together?” He spoke the words softly and unassuredly. Harry thought in the back of his mind that he sounded pathetic.
Ginny shook her head at him, smiling, beaming at him. She laughed softly. “After what I’ve just heard you say,” she smiled, pulling her arms up around his neck, “I think you should know the answer to that question.”
Harry felt as though he would blush again. It had been a stupid thing to wonder if she wanted to be with him. Harry did not bother to say another word, he simply leaned forward and kissed Ginny again. After a long moment, which was much too short for Harry, Ginny pulled away slightly. She pulled him into a hug and whispered softly into her ear, “I love you Harry Potter.” Harry held her for a moment, not saying a word. He was unable to speak. Her words had just hit him directly in the heart and for an instant his mind was full of peace and love. For Harry, her words created in him a perfect moment that he would never forget.
Harry wept.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4: A Small Hope
Author's Notes: When I set down to submit this chapter it was entirely different. Harry seeing Teddy for the first time was just a paragraph or so, without any detail. The more I looked over it though, the more I realized it needed more than just a paragraph. Once more, if you like what I'm writing let me know, if you hate what I'm writing let me know as well.. if you just think it's ok, tell me how I could make it better. Ultimately I'm still new at this and learning how best to tell the story I see.
The next few days were a mountain range of emotion with Harry, Ginny and everyone else experiencing peaks and valleys. They had left Hogwarts the next morning. The castle lay in shambles, and there was much work to be done in setting an upside down world right. Harry knew though, that now was not the time to worry about brick and mortar. Every time he saw any of the Weasleys or anyone else who had fought so valiantly at the battle for Hogwarts, he was reminded of the extreme price of victory. The high cost that had been paid for freedom.
Being back together with Ginny made the all too difficult task of saying goodbye to loved ones, at least bearable. As he expected, Ginny was heartbroken at the loss of Fred, but Harry thought she handled the loss as well as could be expected. For himself, Harry couldn’t get past the loss of Lupin and Tonks, whose child, Teddy, was now an orphan like Harry had been.
The hardest day for Harry came when he met his godson. He had asked Ginny to come with him. Harry knew nothing about babies, and even though Ginny had been the youngest of the Weasley children, Harry hoped that being a girl, she might at least have had some experience holding dolls, at least that was the reason he told Ron and Hermione, which of course had caused Hermione to roll her eyes.
“How on earth would holding a doll equate to holding a baby?” came Hermione’s reply.
“Well, just because you dropped all of your dolls on their heads or carried them around by the ankles, doesn’t mean everyone couldn’t use their imagination and see them as little babies,” retorted Ron, moving quickly to get out of the way of the elbow that Hermione tried to bury in his stomach for his comments.
Harry and Ron’s snickering however, was quickly extinguished by the intensity of Hermione’s glare. The smile quickly disappeared from Ron’s face as his ears drooped. He quickly looked down to his feet to avoid the rays of fury that were emanating from Hermione’s eyes.
Harry felt grateful to be saved by Ginny walking into the bedroom where they were talking just before Hermione exploded, but that feeling was quickly replaced when Ginny asked what was going on. Hermione, of course, had told her everything that Harry and Ron had said with much embellishment, and soon it was Harry at the end of a glare from a very angry glare from Ginny.
“SO I’M JUST A SILLY GIRL THAT PLAYS WITH DOLLS?!” her screams were so loud that Bill had initially came upstairs to see what was going on, but quickly turned around and left when Ginny spun on him and he saw the rage in her eyes and the look of guilt on Harry’s face.
Harry saw Ginny reach for her wand, and he knew if he didn’t think quickly he’d be on the wrong end of a Bat Bogey Hex from hell. Unfortunately, where Harry’s quick wits had so many times given him the right actions when facing life and death, there was something about sitting in front of an angry Ginny Weasley that caused him to freeze. He saw her wand rise, and was expecting the worse, but he didn’t move. Harry simply drew his face to the side and flinched, waiting to feel the wrath of the curse that every male member of the Weasley family had come to fear.
It didn’t happen. Harry held himself braced, frozen for a few moments, before he opened his eyes slightly and glanced at Ginny. At first he thought he was seeing wrong, but she was standing there laughing, still pointing her wand at him. Ron, who had dove behind the bed to escape whatever was about to come, popped his head above the edge of the bed just enough to see what was going on. To both his and Harry’s surprise, Ginny and Hermione were both laughing hysterically as he and Harry were cowering in fear.
“W-W-What’s going on? Why isn’t Harry…” but before Ron could finish, Ginny had raised her wand at him and he once again ducked behind the bed.
“So it’s funny watching me and Ron freeze or hide like two scared little boys?” Harry retorted, being careful not to say it in any way that may once more raise the ire of Ginny.
“Well, actually… YES IT IS.” She looked at Hermione who was now gasping for air as she had been laughing so hard and about to double over in the floor.
“You looked like you were about to wet yourself, and Ron, well some hero he is. He took cover before I even had my wand raised. And to think, you’re the Boy Who Lived and the Man that Saved the World, but you just freeze when I point my wand at you!”
Harry couldn’t help but notice the slightest hint of sarcasm in Ginny’s voice as she spoke. She knew he hated all of the nicknames he’d been given, especially the ones flashed across the front of the Daily Prophet. Harry knew that now however was not the time to pursue that argument. Lucky for Harry, with Ginny when it came to him, her temper did not last nearly as long as it did with anyone else.
She would never admit it to Harry, but she had told Hermione in the past that there was just something about Harry, a mischievous look and the way his hair was always all messed up that made him look adorable. No matter how angry she found herself, Ginny couldn’t keep her anger if she looked at Harry, especially over things that were ultimately inconsequential, like Harry being a typical guy.
Actually for Ginny, that was a dream come true. Granted, he still made her angry, but now it was because he was being a boyfriend, and being a guy, not because he was leaving her for some world saving mission, treating her like a helpless girl.
Truth be told though, Harry really wanted Ginny beside him with Teddy because he had become so accustomed to her being with him, not because of what he had told Hermione. That had just been his weak attempt to avoid yet another embarrassing conversation with Hermione where Ron would spend the next ten minutes coughing “whipped” into his hand.
From their conversation after the battle of Hogwarts, they had been nearly inseparable. Each night back at the Burrow, they slept lying in each others arms, sleeping in an armchair downstairs in the most uncomfortable positions imaginable, but Harry wouldn’t have traded the most comfortable bed in the world by himself for it. Unfortunately, every morning Molly would come down and find them, waking them and sending them upstairs to sleep, being certain to remind them not in the same bed.
As the time approached for Harry and Ginny to leave to see Teddy for the first time, Harry felt his stomach start doing summersaults. That was nothing however to the actual moment when Harry and Ginny walked in the front door of the Tonks house and saw Andromeda holding Teddy.
So young and innocent, Harry felt his hands tremble as he held Teddy for the first time. As his distress became obvious, it was Ginny who was there, holding his hands, supporting the child with him, smiling down at the baby boy. What began as a terrifying moment for Harry quickly became a pleasant surprise as he watched how wonderful Ginny was with his godson.
Harry couldn’t understand it, but for some reason, when he was watching Ginny with Teddy, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so beautiful. He had never appreciated just truly how gentle she was until he watched her hold Teddy in her arms. He seemed to just levitate in her gentle caress, as though his little body had no weight at all. Harry didn’t understand why, but something seemed right as he watched Ginny cooing softly over Teddy.
Harry thought back to the day when he had been like this, just a baby without a father and mother. He swore to himself at that moment this child would know love. This child would know how great his mother and father was.
He’s got Andromeda, thought Harry. And she’ll love him and be there for him for the rest of her days
Those thoughts brought some comfort to Harry. He was certain that another fellow orphan of Voldemort would not suffer in anguish growing up without love.
Unlike his Aunt Petunia, Harry had seen the resolve and passion in Andromeda’s eyes when she held Teddy. He knew Teddy was the last sole link of the family she once had that was devastated by Voldemort. As he thought about it, actually few families had suffered so much because of the war. Andromeda had not only lost her daughter, but also her husband and her son-in-law.
Harry began to cry, but didn’t have a chance as Ginny came walking over to him, holding Teddy in her arms. She smiled at Harry and she held Teddy up for him to see. Harry looked first to Ginny, staring into her eyes for a brief moment before seeing her nod her head down to the baby in her arms.
“Look at him, Harry. He’s adorable.”
When Harry looked into Ginny’s arms, what he saw surprised him. His mouth opened slightly in amazement as he looked down at Teddy, who now had Ginny’s bright red hair and his own sparkling green eyes. He looked at Ginny with amazement as he began to speak.
“I wonder…” but he stopped there. Looking into Ginny’s eyes, he knew she had been thinking the same thing, that their child may look exactly the same way someday. For a moment, Harry saw something in Ginny he’d never thought of before. Back in the Burrow he had implied she was a typical girl, but after years of seeing this beautiful red head make her brothers cower under her wrath, he knew just how strong she was.
Now, standing here before him, Harry saw a completely feminine side to Ginny. The way she held Teddy told Harry that Ginny was going to be a great and loving mother. Harry found himself lost in Ginny’s eyes. In just a few days he had learned so much, seen so much about her that amazed him. Words could never explain what Harry thought or felt about Ginny. Very slowly and deliberately Ginny blinked her eyes and nodded at Harry her affirmation of what he was thinking.
Suddenly, a little sneeze interrupted their moment. Harry looked away from Ginny, back to Teddy, who was now sporting a scruffy dark head of hair, very similar to Harry’s.
“Amazing, isn’t he?” spoke Andromeda softly as she approached Harry and Ginny. She had been sitting in the corner in a rocking chair, taking the opportunity to rest while the young couple had dealt with Teddy.
Harry simply nodded. He was uncertain how to respond to her as she approached. He softly stroked Teddy’s cheek with his finger as he saw the boy’s eyelids start to grow heavy.
“He’s so comfortable in your arms,” Andromeda added as she stood beside Ginny. “He won’t fall asleep in just anyone’s arms. He was always awake and playing when Lupin held him. And it’s taken him weeks to get to where he would fall asleep when I held him. Tonks was the only person in whose arms he seemed so comfortable.”
With those words, her voice broke. Harry could see the tears in her eyes as she had thought of her own daughter and the mother she had become. He knew she was proud of Tonks standing and fighting against Voldemort, and deep in his mind and heart, Harry understood that her tears were more for the mother that had been lost than for the daughter that had been killed.
Instinctively, Harry put his arm around the crying woman. His hand lay softly against her shoulder and held it there for a few moments.
“It doesn’t hurt…” he spoke softly as she and Ginny turned to look at him. “It’s really as easy as falling asleep. And now that they’re there, they can watch over us.”
His words had caught Ginny by surprise. While he had told her almost everything now about that night, she have never had the courage to ask him what it felt like to die, whether it had been painful or not. Foolishly, she supposed it must have been painful, after all, it was Voldemort casting the killing curse and there was no way he would want his victims to just “fall asleep.”
Harry spoke softly, looking directly into Andromeda eyes.
“W-W-When I saw my mother and father walking to the Forbidden Forest, they gave me the strength and courage to take each step that brought me closer to Voldemort. They told me how proud they were of me. Even though they’ve been gone, they’ve been watching me, all these years. They have been beside me each and every step of the way, even though I did not realize it.”
Harry paused for a moment. He could see a slight relief spread across the face of Andromeda.
“And Lupin and Dora are here watching over Teddy, whether he can see them or not.” She had spoken so softly it was almost a whisper, but with her words, Harry could see a great relief spread over her like a warm summer’s breeze.
“I’m certain of it…” he added as he once more looked to the now sleeping baby, still in Ginny’s arms.
They all stood silent for a moment, just watching Teddy sleep. He was so peaceful, so happy. Harry realized he could not yet grasp what had been taken from him, how much he had lost in one night, with both his mother and father being killed, but Harry also knew he would be alright. He had more than enough people to love him and make sure he knew just how much his parents loved him.
“Well I think it’s time we get him laid down for his nap. He looks like he’s going to be out for a while.” Andromeda remarked as she motioned for Ginny to hand him over.
Ginny tried to do so carefully, but her inexperience resulted in little Teddy being jostled just enough to wake up. He let out a loud wail and Harry looked down just in time to see his hair turn a bright pink. Ginny quickly apologized to Andromeda as she carried a now very awake and very fussy Teddy to his room. She put his to bed quickly and closed the door behind her.
The look on Ginny’s face was one of embarrassment as Andromeda walked back into the room.
“Oh, it’s alright dear. Babies can easily be woken up, and he would have most likely woken up when I laid him on the cold blankets anyway. He seems to know when he’s no longer being held. Besides, he’s tired and he’ll soon cry himself out.”
With that she looked back to the door. Both Harry and Ginny could hear his cries becoming less fervent and scattered more widely apart. Soon, his cries had faded away entirely, and the group looked at one another.
“I want to be there for him as much as possible,” Harry finally stated, breaking the silence.
“I know that’s what Tonks and Lupin would want. You are welcome here any time of day or night Harry. Consider this your third home. After all, between the Burrow and Hogwarts, you’ve already got two great ones.”
With that Harry and Ginny said goodbye to Andromeda and promised to visit Teddy later in the week. As they were walking out the door, Andromeda placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you Harry.”
Harry nodded and then he took Ginny’s hand. Andromeda waved to them from the front door until they had walked out of sight. She then turned and walked back into the house. In the far room, she heard Teddy crying. He had not slept as long as she had expected.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Love and Mourning
Author's Notes: This chapter is a little shorter that I had originally intended, but the next is shaping up to be quite a bit longer than I intended so I suppose it's all balanced out. In regards to the story, after the next chapter, I'm going to start developing the plot towards some new adventures for our fearless heroes, while tying up some final loose ends that wouldn't entail whole chapters. Hope you enjoy. Also, thanks to all of the 2 people that have left reviews. I feel as appreciated as a garden gnome. But seriously, whether you like it or not, let me know what you think.
As they walked away from Andromeda’s house, Harry laughed softly at her words. He knew she was right about his other two homes, and he also knew that Molly considered the Burrow to be his real home. She had made that certain on numerous occasions in the past few days, especially when people like Shacklebolt and even Arthur had asked Harry about his plans for 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Now he’s got no reason to be worrying about that dreadfully lonely and dreary old place! He’s got a warm, loving home right here, and he’s staying for as long as I… errr… I mean HE wants!” had been her reply.
Harry had certainly learned not to argue with Molly Weasley, especially over matters pertaining to him. He might be the savior of the world, but more important to her, he was her adopted son and wizard be cursed that try to make Harry leave her too quickly.
Harry had also noticed the fervor with which Molly had taken to seeing to it that Ron, Ginny, George, Percy, Charlie and even himself were taken care of. Harry thought back upon their first night back in the Burrow, just as the last Aurors had left from searching the house for jinxes or other dark magic surprises that may have been left behind, how she had nearly drowned poor Percy with a bowl of soup as she had tried to make him eat.
As he had been doing since seeing Fred’s frozen face, Percy was staring off into space, neither here nor there. Molly, meaning well of course, seeing that her son had not touched his soup, took it upon herself to feed him. As she took hold of the spoon and raised it toward Percy’s face, no one much noticed, until her aim with the spoon went a little awry and instead of placing it to hips lips, she socked it up under his nose.
Needless to say, with Percy being off in oblivion, he did not respond as quickly as he should have. In fact Harry thought, and Ginny agreed later, it seemed as though Percy didn’t ever realize his nose was submerged in the spoon until he took his next breath. What happened after that fateful breath was something that provided the Weasleys their first repose of laughter since Fred’s death.
Percy immediately began to snort and choke. Ron and George both swore they saw soup fly out of Percy’s ears. Whether that was true or not, the hacking, coughing and tears left Percy much the worse for wear. Molly initially stood mortified at the sight of Percy and her mistake, only to unfreeze and begin to wipe at his nose with a napkin, just a mother would clean the mouth of a toddler that had just succeeded in getting more food on himself than inside.
“Well good heaven’s Percy!” She snapped as she gripped the back of his head and held him still as she pinched his nose together with the napkin between her fingers, trying to dry out his nose.
“If you would just hold still and let me clean this up! What on earth ever possessed you to go burying your nose in the soup anyway?”
“W-W-What do you mean bury my nose?... Y-Y-You tried to drown me with a spoonful of soup!” He replied between snorts, sneezes, hacks and coughs.
“Oh don’t be silly dear. I just held the spoon up to your mouth and then you went and decided to breathe it in!”
With that George let out a roar of laughter. It was the first time he had done more than sulked in days. Admittedly, everyone around the table was roaring with laughter as Percy flushed red from the over aggressiveness of his mother. Finally it seemed to dawn on him that she was still wiping his face clean, when his arms began to flail, trying to move her hands away.
When fighting with a woman that has raised more than her share of children that fight and resist wanting to be touched or cleaned, even if for their own good, Percy was in a losing battle. More than once when he would get hold of one of Molly’s hands to pull it away, he immediately let go because it was being slapped by her other hand. Great red welts soon show on the back of his hands, as he finally resigned himself to his fate. After he quit resisting it took Molly a few more wipes to satisfy herself that all the damage had been corrected. As she stepped away, a brightly red faced Percy sat, his hair messed up, and his eyes with a look of far off resignation in them, tying to grasp what had just happed.
Being in the mood to enjoy the moment, and taking advantage of Percy’s temporary befuddlement, George quickly jumped up. He grabbed a towel from the nearby countertop and quickly tied it around Percy’s neck. With a touch of his wand, the towel became a large bib. Another touch of his wand and Percy’s chair became a high chair. George stepped back to survey the situation, holding his fingers thoughtfully to his chin.
“Aha!” He snapped his fingers and moved one more, this time touching an apple with his wand and suddenly a green pacifier lay where the apple once was.
“Now little Pery-wercykins is all ready for his din din!”
Just as Percy regained his senses and began to protest what was going on, George popped the pacifier into his mouth and he was again silent. The entire house roared with laughter as even Molly took notice of just how silly Percy looked.
“Oh you boys quit being silly!” She said for a moment seeming to forget her pain as she looked around the room at the brief moment of joy on all of her remaining children’s faces, and those of her two most precious adopted children — Harry and Hermione.
Harry snapped back to the present moment as he felt the squeeze of Ginny at his elbow. She could tell by the grin on his face that he had been thinking about something to himself. Harry turned and looked at her, without saying a word he sniffed loudly, and Ginny giggled. She understood exactly what he had been thinking.
As they walked through the front door of the Burrow, Harry and Ginny’s lightened mood suddenly became a little more depressed. As had been so common in the past few days, they encountered George, sitting in the living room, mindlessly spinning Fred’s wand on an end table. Ginny looked at George with pity as he looked up to her and Harry. He slightly tilted his head backwards, acknowledging their return before once more lowering his head and gazing hopelessly at the wand as he sent it spinning in circles again. He let out a long sigh as the wand slowly twirled to a stop.
Harry looked at Ginny, holding his hand out for her. He could see the hurt in her eyes she was feeling for her brother. She paused for a moment, contemplating whether she should go be with her brother, before she took his hand and let him lead her away from George and into the kitchen.
He just needs more time. Ginny thought to herself. He’ll come out of this in time, but it’s still early, we haven’t even had the funeral yet.
“Well, that’s an improvement I’d say,” remarked Harry somberly as he looked at Ginny, her head twisting to question him as she slowly let her thoughts drift into the back of her mind. “I mean after all, just yesterday all he did was lift his index finger without looking up to greet us. He’s making more effort now,” Harry continued.
Ginny raised her eyebrows, tilted her head gently to one side and shrugged her shoulders in agreement. After all, over the course of the past three days, George had gone from locking himself in his room to at least sitting in the living room nodding to acknowledge the existence of others. That was certainly improvement, if only in the sense of a snail making its way from one side of a walk to the other while intending to go around the world.
As they walked into the kitchen Harry and Ginny entered a less somber atmosphere. At the moment, no one was speaking, but there was a bustle of activity. All that could be heard was the scouring of the pans. They had arrived late for dinner, but plates were sitting at the table waiting for them. This was one evening they needed no excuses. Molly knew where they had gone and expected Harry and Ginny to come back late.
Harry and Ginny quietly took their seats at the dinner table. Hermione and Ron were still seated, just finishing their dinner, with Molly clearing away the last of the dishes except for Harry and Ginny’s. Harry gently placed his hand on Ginny’s knee before he turned his attention to the plate in front of him. He gave her knee a tiny squeeze before pulling his hand away. He saw her jump slightly. Harry had learned quite pleasantly that Ginny’s knees were ticklish if you squeezed them just right, and frequently took the opportunity to make her jump.
Ron and Hermione both noticed Ginny’s small startle. Hermione flashed a grin at Ginny, whose face was now just the slightest of reds, having realized Hermione had seen her jump. Ron however, just looked confused, almost as though he couldn’t understand what had just happened, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why Harry had such a mischievous grin on his face when he looked first to Ginny and then to Hermione.
Hermione however, quickly helped him realize just what had happened when she took the opportunity to do it to Ron. It seemed as though all of the Weasleys had ticklish knees because when Hermione squeezed Ron’s knee, he jumped up so startled that side of the table rose up a good two or three inches. Hermione had quickly pulled her hand away when she felt Ron’s leg snap upwards toward the table to keep him from smashing her fingers.
“Blimey! What on earth did you do that for ‘Mione?” Ron snapped as he rubbed the top of his aching knee.
Everyone left at the table except for Ron burst out into small fits of laughter as he rubbed his knee even more and once looked around in confusion.
Hermione didn’t say a word; she just kissed him on the cheek as she stood up. She trailed her fingers along his shoulders, enticing him to turn his head as she walked along behind him. In the doorway, Hermione stood paused for a moment, looking seductively at Ron before she finally raised her hand and curled her index finger towards herself. Unspoken, she was calling Ron to follow her in a way that had poor Ron’s ears so bright red that it looked like someone had just slapped both sides of his head repeatedly.
Without saying a word, he stood up. “Harry… Ginny… See you later,” he said tersely as he stood and chased after Hermione as she disappeared very slowly and deliberately behind the door. As they disappeared into the next room, Harry could hear Hermione giggle as she took off running up the stairs from the quickly pursuing Ron.
After Harry and Ginny both finished their dinner and desert, he politely picked up their plates and took them over to the sink and began to clean them.
“Oh Harry! I’ll get that!” said Molly from across the room as she noticed him cleaning up.
Harry stood horror stricken for a moment, looking like a dear caught in headlights. A small pile of mashed potatoes slipped from the plate as Harry stood frozen.
“Scou…” she began as her wand rose into the air.
“No, no, Molly, I can handle this. It’s just a couple of plates.” He replied as he quickly finished washing the plates before she had the chance to finish raising her wand and casting the spell.
Harry knew he had to get done quickly because Molly’s scrubbing spells were highly effective for cleaning, and if a hand happened to be in the way of a dirty plate, well; a few layers of skin from the knuckles would be a lucky outcome. Harry thought he saw a slight look of disappointment in her eyes, but then given the late hour of the day, it was hard to tell if it was real or just imagined on his part.
He watched as her wand lowered and she sank back to her seat at the table. She looked at him for a moment, but then resting her head on the palm of her hand, she began to stare off at the wall.
“Hmm, hmm.”
Harry looked up to see Ginny walking over toward the door, with a come and get me look in her eyes. She seemed amused at his newfound speed with cleaning the dishes. Especially he thought, since Ginny had seen what had happened earlier in the week when Molly had cast her scrubbing spell and cleaned Harry’s hand better for him than he could ever do, by accident of course — after all, his hand was between the plate and the scrub brush she had just bewitched.
“At least it wasn’t a scouring spell,” was all that Ginny could say at the time as she had tried to hold back the laughter of the moment.
He shook his head slightly, giving Ginny just the slightest grin as he instinctively rubbed his hand. He saw her return the grin for a fleeting moment as she walked out of the kitchen.
Harry finished putting the dishes away and made his way quickly after Ginny. His pace quickened as he got to the door, hearing Ginny giggling as her shadowy figure darted off across the garden into the darkening night. Harry laughed to himself for a moment, he loved how Ginny made him feel inside, and the way they were so care free together.
For a moment, Harry was felt a slight tinge of guilt as an image of George flashed across his mind, but he heard Ginny calling softly for him and the thought slowly left his mind. Harry would be a boy in love tonight, because he knew that tomorrow would not be a day of laughter, but instead a day of tears.
Tomorrow was Fred’s funeral.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Last Goodbyes
Author's Notes: Well thanks to all of those that have been reading my story. As well as thanks for the feedback and the the nomination. In regards to some of the comments, I apologize for the spelling and grammar. I've never been great at that, and writing in the wee hours of the morning after working all day don't help. I suppose use of a Beta reader would be helpful, and I will be looking into that for the near future. As far as future chapters, I'll be heading to Texas for a month and should have ample time for writing but internet access may be a bit of a hang up. Just be patient with me, and I'll be posting as often as I can.
Before Dumbledore’s funeral the past year, Harry had never been to a funeral. He had never been witness to the solemn reverence paid to those who had passed on to the other side. Now though, Harry was all too familiar with funerals.
Throughout the course of the past few days, Harry had found himself going from one funeral to the next, supporting the families of those who had been killed in the fight with Voldemort and his minions. The hardest funeral by far had been Lupin and Tonks’. Seeing the coffins lay side by side, perfectly serene as a bright blue sky shone above them it seemed to Harry to be a fitting tribute to the joy and happiness that they had brought one another.
That was tempered however, as Harry sat next to Andromeda. In her arms she held Teddy, who was much too young to grasp exactly what was going on around him. Mostly he stayed quiet, cooing and gurgling occasionally. For Harry though, he understood enough for them both. At the other funerals, Harry forced himself to stay strong, while an occasional tear may fall, Harry would not let himself lose control. Sitting before Tonks and Lupin, seeing their beautiful baby Teddy, Harry could not keep his resolve. With Ginny beside him, her hand clasp in his, Harry cried. While most everyone there was crying for the people in the coffins, Harry felt himself crying for someone different. Harry cried for Teddy.
Harry thought back to the deaths of his own parents so many years ago. He thought of the people that may have been there - Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, among countless others. All people that knew his parents so much better than he, their own son did, would have been there. As he imagined that sad day, a thought suddenly struck Harry.
He hadn’t been there.
Harry thought back to what he knew of how he came to be at the Dursleys. It had been literally just hours after Voldemort had killed his parents and in the process destroyed his own body while attempting to kill Harry. Harry knew that their funeral would not have been held before he was taken to the Dursleys. He felt a small tinge of regret for having not been there, but he had no control over that time so long ago.
Suddenly a small cough beside him snapped Harry back to reality. He looked at Teddy who was in Andromeda’s arms for a moment, and then he looked at her.
Looking at Andromeda, Harry saw both strength and absolute despair. Her face was frozen, dried tears leaving small tracks down her cheeks. She looked to Teddy, then up to Harry. He could see the hurt in her eyes, but she held her jaw clinched. Dark rings under her eyes gave away just how tired and near utter exhaustion she was, but Harry could also see a bitter determination as she looked back to Teddy and stroked his cheek softly.
Harry did not say a word; he just placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up to him once more, her lips turning to show the slightest of smiles before her face once more became resolute. She repositioned Teddy in her arms as an old wizard finally stood and walked solemnly, coming to a halt in front of the crowd, between the caskets.
The old wizard appeared so frail as to be near death himself. He was stooped with age, the upper part of his back arched so greatly that it looked as though he was bending over to pick something up from the ground. His face wore the wrinkles of time, and his beard, while white as snow was thinned and patchy. His robes were jet black, but worn. They were far from new. In fact they looked as though they were a hundred years old. Harry beheld this for a moment as a hush fell over all who were there. All that could be heard were the cries and sniffles of the mourners, until he began to speak.
Whatever the old wizard said, Harry paid no attention. He had already seen the wizard at nearly every other funeral he’d been to in the past few days, and had grown tired of listening to him drone on about the virtues of sacrifice and how we should not feel sorry for the dead. Harry was not concerned about the dead.
“It’s those that are left behind we should cry for!” He thought as he looked at Teddy. The peaceful baby was once more asleep. Harry laughed to himself. It was most likely due to the monotonous tone of the old wizard that had put Teddy out. In fact Harry was pretty sure that the old wizard had made a few of the adults succumb to their exhaustion and nod off.
Harry couldn’t blame them. He had quickly learned that mourning takes away all of your energy. Even when you sleep, you don’t rest. For Harry, his dreams continued to haunt him. Though they were not nearly as extreme or severe as that first night, he still found himself restless and worrying throughout the night.
Harry himself soon began to let his consciousness slip away. He began to think back to when he first met Lupin, and then Tonks. He remembered his lessons with Lupin, as he had learned to defend himself from the Dementors. Harry smiled softly to himself as he thought of all the times that Tonks’ proclivity for clumsiness had resulted in a loud crash, and mess, with her apologizing profusely for whatever she had done.
Harry quickly came back to reality as he felt the warmth of Ginny’s hand take his. She squeezed gently and Harry looked to her. The look in her eyes told Harry that he had drifted too far away. He looked about and saw the old wizard holding his hand up, beckoning for Harry to join him.
“Harry, it’s time.” Ginny whispered softly as he returned the gentle squeeze of the hand she had given him.
Harry gulped. He thought back upon the moment when Andromeda had owled him, requesting that Harry eulogize Lupin and Tonks. At first he wanted to refuse. There were so many more that knew them so much better, but Andromeda’s letter had indicated that while others may have known them better, Lupin or Tonks neither one thought no more highly of anyone other than Harry.
After much discussion with Ginny, and self bargaining in his own mind, Harry relented. He had not spoken at any of the funerals he had been to thus far, in part for the same reasons he argued against this time, but deep down, this was something that Harry had to do. Lupin had been Harry’s last direct connection to his father, and he owed Lupin as Teddy’s godfather to ensure Teddy’s connection to his father was as strong as could be.
Harry stood slowly. His hand lingered, holding Ginny’s until the last possible moment as her arm was stretched out as far as it could go and he would either have to relent or she would be forced to stand and go with him. Harry chose the former. He knew it would be hard, but this was something he wanted to by himself for Teddy. His head turned backwards, seeking out Ginny. She gave him a brief smile and nodded her head.
Soon, Harry was standing beside the old wizard. He looked at the group in front of him. Harry saw numerous people that he knew, but it still made it no easier standing before them. He hated speaking to a group of people. He hated begin the center of attention. Harry finally locked his eyes onto Ginny and felt himself relax.
Harry let out a long sigh as he calmed his mind.
“The two people we are here to say goodbye to today, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, would not want us to cry. They are in a far better place. Their actions speak for themselves. They died making this world a better place for all of us.”
Harry paused for a moment. He had so much he wanted to say, but had not idea exactly how he would say it. Finally he continued with his speech.
“You will never find two more loving people, and their son Teddy is living proof of that. They died so that he might have a future free from Voldemort. In the process, each had to make the greatest sacrifice they could.”
Harry paused again, this time taking a deep breath, steadying himself, fighting back the tears that were struggling to break free.
“Remus was a friend that I can never forget. He was one of the best friends of my father, and he gave me a connection with my father that I would have never had without him. Now I am T-Teddy’s godfather…” Harry’s voice broke for a moment. “I-I-I know the sadness and the pain of not having your mother and father with you, but I also know the value of those that can provide the link to the father and mother that have been lost.”
Harry sighed deeply as he contemplated how best to finish what he wanted to say.
“So I make a vow of myself before each of you here, that Teddy will know his parents, their sacrifice and just how much he is loved, by them and by all of us. And I make a challenge to each of you here. Do not mourn for Remus or Dora, they are in a far better place, and they are able to look over Teddy, even if he can’t see or hear them. Instead, make it a point to keep them real for Teddy, people that are patiently waiting to see him again some day. Let him know of their love…” Harry’s voice quivered and he stopped speaking. A tear was rolling down his cheek. He stared intently at Ginny, seeing the tears in her eyes, and felt all strength and resolve leave him.
Fighting back sobs, Harry finally spoke again as he walked toward Andromeda and Teddy. He placed his hand gently on the forehead of Teddy who raised his tiny hands and placed them on either side of Harry’s wrist.
“The true measure of greatness… the true measure of sacrifice…” Harry’s voice was now just a whisper speaking directly to Andromeda. “… it’s not how willing you are to die… it’s how willing you are to die, knowing what you must leave behind.”
***
Harry thought back upon the words he had spoken the day before. It seemed almost an eternity ago that he had said them. Now once more he stood, waiting to say goodbye to yet another friend.
Harry was standing in the garden at the Burrow watching the first rays of the sun streak across the sky and fill the cold night with warmth. He had not been able to sleep very well the night before, too many thoughts both good and bad filled his mind. He had lay awake staring at the ceiling until he could stand it no longer. Now here he stood, awake much earlier than any of the other Weasleys.
Harry felt the stress of the past few days weighing upon him. He closed his eyes, and took in a slow deep breath. As he was letting the last remnants of the breath escape from his lungs he heard a door close softly behind him. Harry’s eyes popped open, but he did not turn to see who it was that had come outside.
In his mind, it was Molly. She had always been the first to rise in the morning since they had gotten back to the Burrow. In fact, numerous times Harry had found her standing out in the garden, just looking up to the sky. Expecting that it was Molly who had came outside, Harry turned, preparing to go inside and leave her with the last few moments of solitude and peace before the day began.
Much to his surprise though, Harry saw Ginny walking slowly across the garden toward him. She was still dressed in her pajamas, but had pulled a jacket over herself as well to guard against the cool morning air.
“Couldn’t sleep.” She spoke softly. Harry could already see her eyes shimmering with tears.
“Me neither,” he responded as he cupped his hand against her cheek and pulled her closer to him.
Ginny laid her head softly against Harry’s chest as he held her in a gentle embrace. “I don’t know how I’ll make it though today…” she whispered softly, almost as much asking herself as Harry.
“I’m here.” Harry held her a little tighter.
“I know.” Ginny sighed as she wrapped her arms around Harry and held him tightly to her.
Silently they stood embracing one another, until the sun had risen in all of its full glory. Eventually, Harry separated himself slightly from Ginny.
“I think we better go in and get dressed. Everyone will be arriving soon.” He said as he pressed his forehead against Ginny’s looking deep into her tear filled eyes.
She nodded to him her understanding. Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and together they walked side by side back to the house.
As they walked down to the living room after getting dressed, Harry felt as though he had stepped into a sea of red. Not even at Bill and Fleur’s wedding had he seen so many red haired Weasleys in one place. He paused for a moment, blinking, trying to make sure that his eyes were not mistaken. He looked to Ginny, who herself had a look of surprise. Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Ginny. He took her hand and together they walked toward the sea of red.
Standing at the front of the mass the Weasley family that Harry knew so well — Bill, Fleur, Ron with Hermione, Percy, Arthur and Molly. Standing far beside them was George, but in body only. His eyes were vacant. He stared off into space, focused neither here nor there. Harry knew how hard it must be for George. He and Fred had been nearly inseparable since birth. Now his partner in mischief and practical joking was gone.
From that horrible night exactly two weeks ago, George had not been himself. Part of him died that night with Fred Harry thought. He had refused to eat for the first three days and nights after they got back to the Burrow. He just sat in his and Fred’s old room, looking over all of their Weasley products and pranks they had spent so much time perfecting. Ron had tried to talk to George, but he just wanted to be alone. Harry saw him occasionally, when he would emerge from the room to go to the bathroom, or get a glass of water — but then we would disappear again — back into his solitary world.
Harry supposed George would have stayed in that room until the funeral, ignoring the family, forgetting the magic shop, withering away, but Ginny would have none of it. The shock on the faces of the Weasley family was something Harry would never forget when Ginny had come dragging George down stairs to the dinner table five nights ago by the lobe of his ear, with her wand up his nose threatening him with a third nostril if he didn’t stop fighting against her. When George finally set down, Harry half smiled at Ron who elbowed him and reminded Harry not to get on Ginny’s bad side.
“Oh, I won’t,” muttered Harry under his breathe, while the whole time thinking how beautiful Ginny was when she was slightly put off.
From that time on though, the Weasley family saw more of George. While George said it was because he had decided Fred would want him to go on, Hermione whispered to Harry that it was really because Ginny had told George that if he didn’t straighten up, then there would be a funeral not only for Fred, but also George’s two most prized family jewe…
“Harry…” He felt Ginny pull his arm. The slow procession to the cemetery had begun. Harry had not fully understood when the Weasleys had tried to explain to him how the funeral would go. At all of the other funerals, Harry had simply apparated to just outside the cemetery and proceeded to his seat. For the Weasleys however, it seemed to be longstanding tradition that whenever one passed away and was to be buried, part of their remembrance involved a processional to the cemetery on foot.
While not exactly a 30 mile trek over broken glass and razor wire in bare feet, the few hundred yards up the street to the cemetery seemed to take hours and grow more painful with each step. Every meter closer they grew, the harder and louder the sobs and cries became. Soon they were standing at the entrance to the cemetery. Harry saw in the far back of the lot was a large gathering of chairs. He looked around at the perimeter of the cemetery and noticed a half dozen or so Aurors and Ministry of Magic officials standing watch. As he walked through the boundary to the cemetery, Harry could tell numerous Muggle confounding spells had been placed around it.
As they progressed toward the back of the cemetery, Harry saw they were approaching one of the most ancient sections. Numerous tombstones in disrepair, with the names of those whose graves they marked barely readable due to time and weather filled this section. He noted some tombstones dating back to the 1600’s. Each and every one of them was inscribed with the same family name — Weasley.
This was the final resting place for the Weasleys. Over a dozen generations were buried here. Setting in the corner, in front of the largest and oldest of all the trees in the graveyard, Harry saw Fred’s casket. He knew this must be a place of high honor. Only a few graves were near this tree, and they all had very elaborate and ornate headstones, which had not only withstood the test of time, but also looked freshly cut from stone.
Fred’s grave lay right at the foot of the tree — always protected from the harsh rays of light by the massive branches and broad leaves of the tree. From this point, you could look out over the entire graveyard, as Harry turned and looked around him; he saw something even more special. From this spot, you could see a perfectly straight line all the way down the street, leading directly to the front door of the Burrow.
While many of the other caskets at other funerals Harry had been layered with golden trim, or had dazzling magical scenes and creatures carved into them, Fred’s casket was simple. It was a brilliant oak wood, painstakingly made by hand, but had none of the elaborate or even gaudy symbols to signify the casket contained someone that came from a well to do family. These were the Weasleys after all, and Harry knew they had spent much more money than they could really afford on the coffin. He had tried to get them to let him help pay, and in fact, the casket maker had tried to give them the casket, but they refused. Molly said the Weasleys were not poor and they were not to the point of begging for handouts - Weasleys took care of their own.
Harry couldn’t help but admire them. He realized that while they may not have had all the money in the world, they had what Harry finally knew to be the most important treasure in the world — love. He felt it every time he walked into the Burrow, every time he put on a sweater that Molly had made for him. Harry knew the Weasleys had a secret to life and a powerful magic that so many people lacked and desperately sought. It had protected Harry from Voldemort as a baby and it help Harry destroy him as a man. Love was their greatest strength and what would always protect them.
Once everyone had finally filled into the graveyard, Kingsley Shacklebolt himself stood at the front of the grave. He stood silently a moment, as some cried softly and others stood, simply unable to cry any more. Harry put his arm around Ginny’s shoulder and pulled her close to him. He could feel her body shudder with each sob, but he held her close to him, hoping that his strength would be hers and that he could take her pain and grief away and bear it himself.
Finally Shacklebolt raised his hand, and everyone fell utterly silent — even the sobs stopped. “Witches and wizards,” he spoke loudly and firmly, “friends…” He spoke softly now, looking only to the Weasleys in front of him.
“We stand here now to bring an end to the sorrowful and painful remembrances that have been going on for too long now. Everyone here knows that just days ago, a group of witches and wizards, young and old, muggle born and pureblood, stood against the armies of Voldemort and defied him, daring him to destroy them all. United by a desire for peace, a will to live free and without the fear of death constantly over their heads, they fought for a cause more just than any we have faced in the past. Yes, we have faced many trials in the past, I do not say we forget them, but I say we learn from them. Prejudice — pureblood versus mixed blood, magical versus non-magical, human versus near human, all of these differences we have created in our own minds lead us to that moment. Thankfully, because of the selflessness of a group of people like this young man we lay to rest today, we were found to be worthy of more than a life of tyranny and oppression.”
Shacklebolt turned and looked toward the coffin of Fred, his voice breaking ever so slightly, “Long have I known Arthur, Molly and their family. They have always taught their children the difference between right and wrong, good and bad. Many may remember George and Fred for their pranks, for their jokes and seemingly cavalier attitude with life, but I assure you, you would find no more mature, loving and determined young men when it came to protecting their family and standing against evil.”
“We stand here now in support of Molly, Arthur and their family. While their son Fred may have been killed, his death serves as a testament to the strength of their love, the power of their convictions and the selflessness that so few in the world today possess.”
Kingsley continued to speak, but Harry’s mind began to fade from the moment. The openly weeping redhead beside demanded his attention. Harry looked for a moment at Ginny. Only to her had he told his entire story of the Resurrection Stone, and how he had been able to see his mother and father and how they had protected him and given him the strength to stand before Voldemort as the sacrifice necessary to bring about his downfall. He had told her how he had learned that they were able to watch over him as he grew and became a young man. She had been able to take some solace in the fact that Fred was now in peace and able to look over then caringly, not being gone forever, just out of their reach for a little while.
“Ginny…” Harry whispered softly as he pulled her head against his shoulders, her tears quickly making his robes wet. “Just remember, Fred’s here with us. He’s not gone forever.”
Harry felt Ginny hug him tightly as her cries lessened a bit.
His soul was tired. His heart was breaking. The tears were falling freely again from Ginny’s eyes. He saw that all of the Weasleys were crying, but Ginny’s pain hurt him the most. He had known both Fred and George had been merciless in teasing and annoying her as she grew up. He also knew that she loved them both beyond measure for it. Ginny saw it as their way of protecting her, being there for her.
She buried her head in his shoulder and turned away from the grave as Shacklebolt uttered one final incantation of protection for the dead. He then pulled his wand and without saying a word, raised the coffin and lowered it slowly into the ground. Shacklebolt then walked up and put his arm around Arthur, hugging him softly. He then bent down and kissed Molly on the cheek.
Harry could see that even Shacklebolt now had tears openly running down his face. He paused for a moment, taking time to speak a few words to all of the Weasleys. Soon he began to approach Ginny and Harry. Shacklebolt did not force Ginny to turn from Harry’s shoulder; instead he gently laid his hand upon her head.
“He’s in a safe and happy place now. The only problem with where Fred is at is that he can’t prank us, but heaven have mercy on all of the Weasleys already there.”
Ginny laughed softly as she turned her head slightly to see Shacklebolt. She nodded slightly as she sniffed loudly and wiped tears from her face.
Kingsley next stepped in front of Harry. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze.
“You’ve got a strength in your soul that few people can imagine. You’ve dealt with more death in your few years than many wizards a hundred years old. You’ve carried the weight of the world on your shoulders, and instead of breaking, you succeeded in the face of insurmountable odds.”
Harry looked in amazement at the man before him. He had no response. He did not know what to say. He opened his mouth as to answer, but there was nothing there.
“Promise me Harry, you will take time to enjoy being free. Let the world take care of itself. Give Atlas his job again. You’ve bore the world for far too long and its time you learned what it is to be happy.” Kingsley paused for a moment.
“And when YOU are ready Harry, please come see me. My door is always open.”
With that Kingsley once more squeezed Harry’s shoulder and strode away, walking to the entrance to the cemetery. Harry did not watch him go, but heard a loud POP and knew that Kingsley was gone, apparating back to the Ministry of Magic.
Everyone sat quietly for a few moments, talking amongst themselves, before finally Arthur stood. He walked to the front of the group and spoke softly.
“Fred would not want us here crying for him. He would want us laughing and enjoying life…” his voice broke as he spoke and soon Molly was standing beside him, her arms around him giving him support.
“For those who would like, I think it would be a perfect tribute to Fred to tell about our most embarrassing moment or infuriating moment in regards to a prank or joke that he and George got on us.”
Everyone nodded in agreement as a small smile spread across the faces of everyone there. Then slowly one by one, each member of the Weasley family stood and told about the glory of Fred and his prank prowess. Not surprisingly, most if not all people would get lost in their memories and spend fifteen or twenty minutes talking about things Fred had done. More than once a collective gasp and then sudden burst of laughter came from the crowd as a very red faced Weasley stood before them, recounting what was probably the most embarrassing moment.
Finally, the last of the Weasleys took their turns, and the mood again began to become more solemn. Soon, the final person took their seat and no one else stood. Silence reigned for a moment, as everyone thought back upon the stories that had just been told. Although the group was still sad, their souls had found some comfort that day.
With the remembrances over, a procession formed at the graveside and each mourner took a small handful of dirt. One by one, they passed by the grave, saying their final goodbyes while tossing a small bit of dirt into the grave — that way the ground where Fred rest in peace would be touched and forever caressed by those who care for him most. Soon everyone had placed their handful of dirt. Bill lingered behind. He pulled his wand and with one motion finished placing the remaining dirt into the grave. Another flick of his wand and the bare mound was quickly covered with grass and a beautiful array of wild flowers.
As Bill stepped back, he raised his wand once more, and immediately the headstone appeared. As Harry looked at the stone, he saw a picture of Fred, George and himself after one of their Quidditch games. At first Harry wondered why they would choose such a picture to put on Fred’s tombstone, but looking around at the Weasleys, he saw them all smiling. Then it dawned on Harry, they were all seeing pictures of Fred and George with themselves.
For a moment, Harry just held Ginny and then finally he asked her, “So what do you see?”
She stared for moment more before answering, and even then did not take her tear filled eyes away from the stone. “It’s the day I met you. George and Fred made fun of me mercilessly because of how I acted around you just before you all left on the Hogwarts express. I had forgotten how angry they made me — teasing me. But now as I look at it, I can’t help but see how much Fred loved me.” Her voice the broke off and she stood silent again.
Harry stood without saying another word. He placed his hand around Ginny’s waist and stood beside her. He would give her all the time she needed. Slowly everyone walked away from the grave except for them. Alone they stood, Ginny saying her final goodbyes, Harry being there for her unlike he had been so many times over the previous year.
Finally she let out a deep sigh, “Goodbye Fred.”
It had grown late in the evening now, and the sunlight had lost much of its strength. A bitter chill had come over the graveyard. Harry was not for sure if it was the fact that the sun had set or if it were due to the apparent finality of her goodbye, but he felt Ginny shiver. He pulled her close to him. He took off his outer robe and gave it to her. She kissed his cheek softly as he saw her begin to warm slightly. A cool breeze filled the graveyard as they left. Harry shivered a bit as they walked back toward the Burrow, but Ginny was warm under his robes, and that gave Harry a small sense of satisfaction.
Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Life Goes On
Author's Notes: I intend to start weaving a new storyline into my story in the next couple of chapters, while slowly tying up some loose ends, but for now, there's still a few conversations I think Harry must have and parts of himself he must further reveal to his Weasley family. As for those who continue to nominate me, I am truly flattered. I appreciate everyone that reads my story and I appreciate all the feedback that has been left thus far.
The next few days passed slowly as life around the Burrow finally began to return to normal. Harry had initially been bored by the slow monotony of day after day having nothing to do and nowhere to be, but soon realized its benefits. He and Ginny were inseparable now.
She was the first person he saw when he woke up — mostly because it was her that came busting into the room muttering something about sleeping away the morning, and the last person he saw at night — entirely because they took long walks that kept them out long after the rest of the family had gone to bed.
Many nights they simply lay underneath the stars, staring up at the sky, not saying a word, Ginny resting her head on Harry’s stomach as he gently stroked his fingers through her hair. Sometimes they talked of the past year, of Harry, Ron and Hermione’s adventures, other times, Ginny would tell Harry how awful Hogwarts had been without him and what Neville, Luna and she had done to resist those loyal to Voldemort.
It was during these nights, when they were so close, baring so much of their souls to one another that Harry began to truly understand just how important Ginny was to him. Things that he thought he would never be able to tell anyone came out almost effortlessly with her. And most importantly once he had said them, he was able to feel them lift from his soul, as though someone were taking another stone from the load that he carried.
Harry understood perfectly well that he loved Ginny and that he wanted her with him forever, but on these nights Harry came to understand so much more. Their love was not typical, it was not fleeting and it was not due to them being forced together under difficult situations. Instead their love had developed, matured and persisted despite difficult situations.
With time, Harry began to realize that Ginny completed him. She filled a hole in his soul that before he met her and her family, he did not even realize was there. He had grown up being unloved and unwanted. Now he had someone that both loved and wanted him. He understood that Ginny was more than capable of taking care of herself, she made that abundantly clear time and again with her brothers, but at the same time Harry noticed that she liked it when he did little things, going out of his way to help her.
“Ginny,” he whispered softly, breaking a long moment of silence between them.
“Yes?”
“What have I done to deserve this?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, unsure and unsteady as he spoke.
“What do you mean?” she questioned, not entirely understanding where Harry was going with his thoughts.
“W-What have I done to deserve you, to deserve being happy?”
Ginny sighed softly. It had been a couple of weeks now since Voldemort died, but Harry was still coming to terms with everything that entailed. To her it seemed as though Harry had expected his entire life to be filled with pain, agony, and worst of all, loneliness. How could she have expected any less though? Harry’s life up until this point had been rife with nothing but exactly that.
“Well…” she started as she turned onto her side, keeping her head laying against his stomach but turning so that she could look into his eyes. “Well Harry, I suppose that after you defeat a Dark Lord and all, then you are entitled to reap the rewards of peace.”
“But…”
“Harry, I know your life was full of hurt, pain and longing as your grew up. Never knowing your parents and having an aunt and uncle that were almost as bad any Death Eater would do that, but you have to understand, it’s ok to be loved. Everyone deserves to be loved.”
Harry thought silently for a moment, just looking into the beautiful red haired witches eyes before him.
“I know you are right. It’s just hard to get used to the idea that you love me for me… not because I’m the one that saved the world.”
Ginny stared at him for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. Her heart understood that Harry still couldn’t fathom the concept of being loved for any reason other than being the “Savior of the World” but that he was gradually getting a grasp on the fact that she in fact loved him for reasons well beyond that.
“Harry, I don’t love you for what you did, or what you were destined to do. I love you for the simple reason of who you are in your heart. I love you because you complete me, you calm me, and you seem to always know exactly what I need to hear to comfort me or to help me relax.”
Harry simply nodded. Ginny had said so perfectly what he was feeling in his own heart.
“I just don’t ever want to lose you. I don’t ever want to do something that would make you stop loving me,” he finally said.
“Harry, you won’t. I’ve loved you in a way since before I ever met you,” she said as she now turned herself once more, this time pulling herself alongside Harry, so that her head was resting on his shoulder as she looked up into his eyes.
“Granted, my love for you has certainly grown from a fanciful crush for a boy in a story, to a deep passion for the man you are now, but my love for you is only growing stronger. It will continue to grow stronger, someday when we get married, and the later have children, I will love you more then than I do now, and there’s nothing that will change that. I know you Harry, you love me just the same, and I trust you completely with my heart.”
Harry smiled. He knew Ginny would always be there for him. He thought to himself for a moment about the day they would be married, and the day when they would have their own child, but for Harry that was still in the distant future. He still had so much that he needed to do in the now before he let his mind wander to the future.
Before he became a husband though, Harry wanted to figure out as much as he could about being a boyfriend and being in love.
Lucky for Harry, Ginny seemed to have the same ideas and before he could act on his own impulses, he saw the beautiful witch on his shoulder raise up onto her arms and lean her body across his as she gently and playfully kissed his lips before he grabbed her and pulled her down on top of him, deepening the kiss.
There they stayed kissing, long into the night until the moon had risen high overhead. Both had dozed off briefly, with Ginny lying on top of Harry, her head resting on his chest, sleeping contentedly to the beat of Harry’s heart. Finally, Harry awoke and seeing the moon and realizing the late hour, he gently nudged Ginny.
She growled at him softly and nestled her head more tightly against his chest. Harry nudged her again, and this time she awoke, looking for a moment into Harry’s eyes.
“It’s late. We should go in before your mum gets worried.” Harry spoke softly as he brushed the hair away from her face.
Ginny let out a soft groan, but began to pull herself up. She extended her hand and helped Harry stand as well. He wrapped his arm around her waist tightly as they walked back toward the Burrow pausing every few steps to kiss her.
This continued until they reached to door to the Burrow. A quick glance at the windows showed no lights to still be on, except for the one Molly always left on in the kitchen. It seemed as though everyone had gone to bed and decided to let Harry and Ginny have their space and time.
Or at least everyone had tried to go to bed. Because after Harry had tucked Ginny into her bed in the room she shared with Hermione and bid her goodnight, Harry went back downstairs to find Molly setting in the kitchen looking over old photographs of Fred and her other children.
Harry didn’t know what to say when he found her. He didn’t know if she were waiting up for Ginny and him to return or what was going on, until he saw the photographs in front of her. His brain quickly told him why she was here had nothing to do with his initial thought, but instead had everything to do with one of the two twin red haired boys that were center stage in nearly every picture.
Harry thought for sure she would fall apart and burst into tears just at the fact of having been found out about her late night sleeplessness, but she didn’t. In fact when he looked into her eyes, he for a moment thought he saw gratitude from her that someone had found her there.
“It’s just so hard to sleep,” she sighed softly, setting a photograph on the table. “But at least these let me see Fred happy and living…” she nodded to Harry, motioning for him to sit down at the table.
“Arthur tells me that Muggles have photos that don’t move. He’s shown me some before, but I can say that I’ve never really been all that interested. Looking at these though,” she said motioning to her pictures of Fred and George, both full of life and moving about frantically in nearly every one, “I don’t see why they would want things like that. He says they’re just still and if not caught at just the right moment, all wrong because someone was blinking, sneezing, or just not even paying attention and had the camera out of focus.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” replied Harry softly, still afraid to commit himself to a conversation that may lead to Molly rushing upstairs weeping and causing the whole family to wake up. “My uncle’s the best example in the world at what not to do when taking a Muggle picture,” Harry continued, trying to keep her mind engaged and away from her sorrow. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind though, Harry understood Molly was doing the same thing herself — which was exactly why she had been so willing to have him sit with her.
“Tell me about your aunt and uncle, Harry,” Molly stated as she set the photo aside and looked at Harry.
“Uh… well, I….” Harry stammered and thought for a moment. “Well, they uh…. Hmmm… well you see… i-it’s…” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had never expected to be describing his aunt and uncle to someone like Molly. Most times in the past, Harry would just say, “Horrible,” and be done with it, but with the look in her eyes, he knew one word would not suit Molly.
“To be honest, they’re not my favorite people in the world,” he sighed.
Molly shook her head understandingly. “Well after how they treated you for eleven years, even longer, you would have every right. Especially after learning about the whole other half of the world to which you were born that they conveniently tried to make you forget.”
Harry laughed. “Well, they weren’t my favorite people even before I knew about magic and Hogwarts. Growing up living in a cramped broom closet under a staircase, and being constantly treated as though you were worth less than a stray dog doesn’t exactly endear them to me.”
Molly shook her head, “D-Did you say under the stairs?”
Harry had her full attention now. She was no longer looking at any of the photographs, but instead focused intently upon Harry.
Harry nodded his head. “Yeah, it was their way of forcing the ‘unnatural’ out of me, to make me ‘normal’ and unlike my parents.”
Molly just shook her head, staring in disbelief. She thought back to how everyone had told her stories of how mean Harry’s Muggle guardians had been to him, but she just couldn’t fathom it would have been this bad.
“I’m so sorry Harry,” was all that she could say.
“It’s alright Molly. It wasn’t your fault. If nothing else, you were the one that showed me what a proper family was supposed to be like, full of love and happiness. With joy not dictated by worldly possessions but instead directly related to the love in your family.”
Harry thought for a moment. He had not shared the full extent of what it was like for him at the Dursleys with anyone but Ginny, yet the woman sitting in front of him seemed to have so many questions in her eyes. Harry let out a deep sigh. If he couldn’t trust the woman that was his adopted mother, then who could he trust? He then proceeded to tell her about everything that happened during his time with the Dursleys. Again and again Molly shook her head in disbelief as Harry told her of him punishments for anything that was unusual, whether it be his fault or not.
They talked long into the night, until the point that the first rays of sunlight shattered the darkness of night as it poured in through the windows. Slowly though, the conversation became one of laughter and fond remembrance, as Harry progressed though his entire life up until the point where he met the Weasleys and beyond, when the Burrow had became his unofficial home.
Finally, after they had set and talked alone for hours, Harry heard the rumble of footsteps down the stairs. He turned to find Arthur walking slowly, still groggy into the kitchen. He approached his wife and placed and arm on her shoulder.
“Are you alright, dear?” he said.
Harry could realize he had just woken up having spent the entire night sleeping without realizing his soul mate was not beside him.
“Yes, I think I am,” she replied. “Harry has been kind enough to keep me company.”
Arthur looked at Harry and nodded. This was the first time since that evening back at Hogwarts when they had sent everyone from the room that Harry, Arthur and Molly had been alone in the same room. Harry felt slightly awkward for a moment. It was one thing to talk to Molly or Arthur alone, but here, with them together, Harry felt a bit embarrassed and shy. Even though they had given Harry and Ginny their space, Harry knew she was still their only daughter, and he felt certain that many of his dreams and desires that concerned their daughter would not be as welcome as just his affection had been.
“So how are you and Ginny getting along?” Arthur questioned, trying to sound casual, but all too obvious to Harry that he had wanted to ask this question for some time.
“Umm… pretty well I think. The funerals were hard on her… on us… but she’s… I mean we’ve been able to spend some time, just the two of us.”
“That depends on what you mean by quality!” remarked Charlie as he walked into the kitchen. “If you mean by quality doing your absolute best to suffocate one another, or clean the other’s teeth with your tongue...”
“Charles Weasley!” snapped Molly. “I will not have you following and spying on Harry and Ginny!”
“It wasn’t me!” he replied, half-chuckling. “I’m only recounting information provided to me by a third party - a certain someone that does seem to make it his personal responsibility to repulse himself every time Harry and Ginny go sneaking off.”
Molly looked at Charlie for a moment, “But who would…”
“Ron,” Harry sighed softly. “I’ve seen him tailing us a couple of times.”
“Why that boy!” Molly said a little too loudly. “I should go right now and string him up…”
“Now, Molly,” interjected Arthur. Realizing that if he didn’t diffuse the situation, poor Ron would soon find himself the unwanted victim of an angry mother. “He’s only trying to watch out for his little sister.”
“What’s he got to watch out for her for with Harry?” Molly replied, her voice now returning to a more civil tone. Harry thought for a moment he saw both Arthur and Molly share a smile at his expense, thinking of Ron being a big older brother and protecting Ginny from whatever git she chose to date.
“Well, Ginny is becoming a beautiful young witch, and she could certainly tempt and be tempted by a certain young man that holds her heart.”
Harry seemed to be just an afterthought in the conversation now. Arthur was speaking directly to Molly, as though Harry wasn’t even there. Charlie sat at the table across from Harry, shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyes in mock shock at what was being said in front of them.
Together Arthur and Molly laughed at something unsaid, but that they both had thought back to. Harry did not know what memory they were sharing, but he knew he didn’t like being around them when they were speaking so openly of the temptations a young man would have for their daughter — especially when said young man was sitting in the room.
Harry blushed slightly, his ears turning a shade of red that would almost make him pass for a Weasley in any picture. At least they couldn’t read his mind when he was with Ginny. Not even the Cruciatus Curse would get those thoughts out of Harry. They were what made his life worth living now. The hope that the dreams and fantasies that had started what seemed like so long ago, with the kiss in the common room, would someday come to fruition gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach every time he was around Ginny - a feeling that he loved and never wanted to go away. Soon Harry began to drift away into one of those fantasies, when he was snapped back to reality — literally.
A finger snapped in front of Harry’s eyes. The first time he just blinked. The second time he blinked again. The third time the snap of the fingers was accompanied by a slap to the back of the head. Harry, half-startled, half-annoyed, shook his head. He looked up and saw Charlie directly in front of him. Charlie snapped his neck toward his parents who were looking at Harry. They had obviously been asking him a question that had gone unanswered for many seconds.
“Oh, I’m sorry… I… I was… ummm… I was …”
“Thinking about Ginny...” Arthur offered, smiling softly. He knew that how he would finish that phrase and Harry would finish it were two very different things.
He had seen the way Harry looked at his daughter, and he knew how it had gradually changed. He thought back to himself how Harry had once been almost oblivious to her and then how Harry seemed to pick her out of the room first when he walked in and looked at everyone. He could remember the look of love and fear he saw in Harry’s eyes in the dormitory that day he and Molly had first talked with Harry. But now, Arthur recognized a look in Harry’s eyes that went beyond just an emotional hunger.
It was a feeling Arthur knew all too well. After all, he and Molly had been young once. They had snuck off and spent hours, even nights, alone together. Arthur recognized a physical hunger in Harry, one that had yet to be satisfied, and one that he knew that Harry and Ginny both shared.
Arthur had not seen it in Ginny’s eyes, but Hermione, Fleur and Molly swore it was there. The same desire, going beyond the spiritual, the longing to make two souls one, unite two bodies as one in loving embrace. He knew it would be foolish to set them down and give them “the talk” as Molly had initially wanted to do.
“It won’t work! What was the first thing that happened when your parents set me and you down and gave us the talk?” he had asked Molly a few days ago when she first suggested talking to them.
“Well…” she paused.
“Exactly…” he said, nodding to make sure his point had fully hit home. “We didn’t last 2 weeks after that did we?”
“But that’s different…” she started to respond.
“Only because it was you and me, and it felt like the right thing to do, and now we are talking about Ginny… our one and only daughter.”
His mind slowly faded back to the present. He shook his head slightly and began to smile. He looked at Harry, noticing how uncomfortable he looked, how red his ears were.
His daughter growing up was something that he had both looked forward to, and something that he had dreaded all his life. He wanted her to become a beautiful young witch, find love and be happy, but at the same time, he still longed for that little girl who needed her daddy to protect her.
Granted, now Ginny was more than capable of taking any three boys her age in a fight with magic, he still knew there was a place in her soul that needed someone to hold her, reassure her and let her know everything would be alright. But for Arthur, he knew that he was no longer the man for that job. His little girl had grown up, and her heart now belonged to the young man setting in front of him.
Harry Potter! thought Arthur. He could remember when Ginny was so young, long before Ron had left for Hogwarts, before the day she had finally gotten to meet the infamous Harry Potter, how Molly had told her stories about the Boy Who Lived. He could remember the wonder in her eyes every time she heard about the scar that was left after Voldemort’s attack, and he could remember the tears she would cry every time they got to the part about how Harry’s mum and dad had died to protect him. He remembered how for months it was the only thing she wanted to hear for her bedtime story, and how after each time they finished, she would say the same thing.
“I’m going to marry Harry Potter someday Daddy, and then you and Mum can be his parents too, and he won’t be alone!”
At the time, he would just laugh softly and pat his little girl on the head. “When you grow up, you’ll find the man you love Ginny, and whether that’s Harry Potter or not, as long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about.” Then he would kiss her forehead and say goodnight.
Arthur now stared at the young man setting before him. Harry Potter was everything he had ever hoped for Ginny to find. In fact, the young man sitting before him was so much more than he had ever expected that Arthur couldn’t help but think of him as just another of his sons, only with dark instead of red hair — but then again, Harry Potter couldn’t be perfect in every way.
Looking about the room, Arthur finally spoke. “Harry, let’s go for a walk before everyone else gets up and the kitchen becomes crowded.”
Harry paused for a moment. He nodded without saying a word and stood. “Ummm….Ok Mr. Weasley.”
“Arthur,” he corrected Harry, as he placed his hand on Harry’s back and led him into the garden.
Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The Talk
Author's Notes: Luckily my location for the next month had internet access so I can keep updating as I write. Now as for this chapter, it took a while to get into my mind how the conversation should go, although in the end, I knew where it would end up at. As for all of the nominations and all of the great feedback, I appreciate it. Like always, if you like what I write, let me know, if you don't like it, then let me know that as well.
As they stepped into the garden, a cool summer’s mist was falling. Fog hung over the Burrow, shrouding it in mystery. Both Arthur and Harry looked around. It was so peaceful, and both seemed to appreciate the fact that finally, for the first time in a great many years, there was nothing to fear from this peace. Neither spoke a word as they walked toward the far end of the garden. They strode side by side, matching each other step for step, gradually progressing toward a tree that stood at the end of the garden.
Arthur looked at Harry and saw him looking up to the house. As he turned he noticed an upstairs light on and for a moment he pondered whose room that could be, but then, through the drawn curtains, he saw the figure of a young woman stand in profile. It was Ginny. Although both Hermione she shared the same room, Ginny was sufficiently different physically to be identifiable, even if only a shadow. He glanced once more at Harry, whose eyes were fixed on the window. He smiled to himself.
“Harry, have you given any thought as to what happens from here on?”
“Umm… well… uh… Not really, sir,” replied Harry hesitantly. “Kingsley has asked me to come see him when I have had sufficient time to rest. I imagine he will offer me so type of job if I want it, but…” Harry’s voice broke off as he was once again looking at the window. This time, in shadow, the figure was standing with her back to the window, undressing.
Arthur looked up in time to see the figure pulling a shirt back on over her head. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Harry, who had by now realized how obvious he was being watching Ginny undress in silhouette against the curtain. Harry blushed slightly as he coughed and quickly averted his eyes down toward the ground.
Harry had already been on edge. He had found it odd that Arthur wanted to talk to him alone, “before everyone else gets up.” Harry was pretty certain the “everyone else” Arthur was referring to in fact was Ginny. Harry had realized that both Arthur and Molly were giving Ginny and he a lot of latitude without asking any questions.
In the back of Harry’s mind he had always expected to be reigned in, to be told what they could and couldn’t do. Granted neither Ginny nor he had taken things too far — yet. They both understood and had talked of urges and desires present that kept pushing them closer and closer to that line, and how something inside of them was beginning to transition for a hesitance to a willingness to cross the line.
Harry was almost certain he had seen it in Ginny’s eyes, and he knew for sure he was feeling them himself, but he had hoped they were only obvious during the times Ginny and he were only with one another. The fact that Arthur now wanted to talk to him alone, seemed to indicate otherwise.
“She’s captured you mind, body and soul, hasn’t she?” he asked as he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry looked up at him, uncertain as to how he should answer.
“The women we love tend to have a way of doing that.” Arthur continued, realizing that Harry was just a bit too uncomfortable to talk at the moment.
“I still get befuddled sometimes looking at Molly. Can’t do a damn thing but stare at her, my mouth gaping open like a fool.” Arthur admitted as he motioned for Harry to keep walking with him. “But over time, one learns more subtle ways of doing it.”
Harry’s ears turned a bright red. “I... it’s… well… hmmm…”
Arthur laughed softly. He patted Harry on the back as they finally stood before the tree.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything. Now that they were here, everything he had thought of saying or intended to say was just a jumbled mess in his head. He could tell by the look on Harry’s face that Harry was expecting some kind of talk in regards to the “virtue” of his daughter and Harry not taking advantage of her. Honestly, though, neither Molly nor himself had ever had any real fears about that.
They knew that Ginny was a strong independent young woman, and not even Harry Potter would force her into something she wasn’t ready for. Instead though, Arthur had seen in Harry’s eyes both physical desire and confusion. It had taken him a few times of seeing Harry like this before the realization had dawned on him that truly the only role models Harry had ever had and the only talks Harry had ever gotten in regards to women most likely came from his sons and the other boys at Hogwarts.
Arthur realized though, that such conversations between boys and young men were always full of misinformation, things left unsaid and innuendo that did nothing to help answer any lingering questions someone might have. Arthur had intended not to lecture Harry or give him ultimatums, but instead to let Harry know that he was there for Harry. After all, Arthur thought of Harry as one of his own sons, and he would do nothing less for any of them.
But now, standing beside Harry, trying to figure out what and how to say it, the words wouldn’t come. The whole complicating factor of Harry loving, desiring, and having impure thoughts about Ginny seemed to make the whole conversation as uncomfortable for Arthur as it appeared to be for Harry.
Arthur ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed loudly.
Merlin, my head hurts! He thought to himself as he squinted his eyes, and watched Harry shuffle uncomfortably in front of him.
Realizing that Harry looked like he had taken about as much as he could without running off screaming, Arthur finally steeled himself to speak.
“Harry, I know you love Ginny.” He decided to start simple, with something obvious that would be easy for them both to agree on.
“Umm… y-y-yes Sir, I do… very much.” Harry replied, his eyes still showing the question and slight bit of fear in him.
“Arthur… call me Arthur, son”
“Ok… A-A-Arth… Arthur… I love Ginny with all of my heart.” As he spoke those words, Harry felt himself relax a bit.
“And you know that Molly and I love you as a son of our own.”
Harry nodded his understanding. He felt himself continuing to relax. He had never known Arthur Weasley to be a man that yelled or screamed. He kicked himself mentally for even letting such an idea slip into his head. Harry knew Arthur was reserved. He was the type of person that when he spoke, his family listened, because what he had to say was pertinent and important. Harry also realized by the way that Arthur would admonish his sons in front of Molly, but then just drop the subject once she had left the room he remembered exactly what it was to be a teenager.
“Harry, you’ve already seen more things and fought more battles than most wizards a hundred years old.” Arthur began again. “But I also realize that you have never seen or experienced some things that boys half your age take for granted…”
As Harry looked at Arthur now, he saw a slight shimmer to his eyes. He looked at Arthur confused for a moment. He recognized the tears in his eyes, but didn’t fully grasp why they were there.
“…some things that only a father and son can share together. Things like talks, advice and answers to questions that only a father should give to a son.”
It was quickly becoming apparent why Arthur was about to cry. Harry understood himself because he felt the tears well in his own eyes as he thought of his father and began to understand just exactly where the conversation was going.
“I’m sorry your father couldn’t be there for you as you grew up Harry… but… b-b-but…I know there’s things you don’t understand about women and relationships and growing up…a-a-and I’ll be here to help you if you want…”
Arthur was fighting back the tears in his eyes. He had cried enough the past few weeks, but for some reason he couldn’t get the image of the very first time he had met Harry out of his mind. Sometimes he still did that with Ginny, if only for a moment, choosing to see her as the bright, spunky little girl who wrapped herself around his leg to try to stop him from going to work instead of the beautiful vibrant young woman she now was. Now though, he was doing it with Harry, and he couldn’t help but realize how much that young boys face revealed about being so unloved for so long.
This time it was Harry’s turn to put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Harry was crying as well. Words escaped him. Harry did not know what to say, so he did the one thing that felt right. He hugged the crying man standing before him. He hugged Arthur and they cried together.
***
Ginny Weasley stood looking out the widow of the kitchen into the garden at her boyfriend and her father locked in an embrace. When she had first come down for breakfast this morning, she found Charlie and her Mum sitting in the kitchen. She had thought they had been the first ones up until she heard Charlie ask her Mum what all Harry and she had talked about all night.
“Wait a minute…” Ginny broke in. “So Harry was up all night talking to you?” She asked her mother.
“Yeah, he only left just a few minutes ago after your dad came down and said he wanted to talk with him alone.” A tired Molly replied as she stood to start preparing breakfast.
A look of puzzlement spread over Ginny’s face. “Why would he want to talk to Harry alone for?”
“Who knows? Dad just asked Harry how things with you two were going, and then seemed to decide he wanted to take a walk with Harry before the whole house woke up.” Charlie interjected as he casually folded his arms behind his head and leaned back from the table.
“He what?!” Ginny retorted with an obvious annoyance present in her voice as she stared down Charlie.
Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, having realized that he had drawn the ire of his sister, and for a reason he was entirely uncertain to. He slowly uncrossed his arms and lowered them slowly to the table, being certain to not make any quick moves that would alarm Ginny any more.
“Oh please!” snapped Molly, breaking the tension she sensed before Ginny started cutting loose with hexes on her innocent brother, while pots and pans began clanging in the background. “You’ve spent so long fighting off your brothers over Harry or any other boy you’ve fancied that you think your dad would stoop to the same level?”
“Well…” Ginny began, but didn’t finish. The look of shame on her face demonstrating the fact that she realized her dad would never be like her brothers and try to corner Harry or anyone else and expound upon them about her innocence and virtue.
“He simply wanted to talk to Harry on a father — son level.” Molly continued as she got bacon started frying. “Merlin knows Arthur already thinks of Harry as a son, and lately he’s seemed to realize while watching you and Harry, that Harry’s never had anyone to talk to on that level about women or anything else for that matter. He just wanted to let Harry know that he is there for him if he has any questions or anything he needs to talk about.”
Ginny sat quietly for a moment, contemplating what her mother had said. It seemed so obvious to her now that her dad was the closest thing Harry had to a father. Of course they had talked about some day in the future when it would be official and her mum and dad would be Harry’s parents. Harry and Ginny had both already agreed Arthur and Molly would not be his “in-laws.” They both knew that Arthur and Molly thought of Harry as one of their own and the title of “in-laws” would not go over well, especially with Molly.
As Ginny thought to herself, she moved over to the kitchen window and began to look out. It was there that she watched her father and Harry standing far off in the distance, embracing on another. After they hugged for a moment, she saw Harry scratch his head as he seemed to be asking a question.
Curiosity got the better of her and she wished she had an Extendable Ear that would let her know what was being said, but by the response of her father, she thought it might be best left between him and Harry after all. She was fairly certain he was blushing a bright red and the way his jaw kept opening and closing, he seemed to be stammering to get an answer out.
Finally, she saw him take a deep breath and relax. He patted Harry on the back and stood beside him. He drew out his wand and made a simple set of motions and seemed to utter some phrase which Ginny could not hear. Harry then did the same. Afterwards, Harry hugged him again and they both put their wands away and began walking back towards the house.
Ginny moved from her place at the window, intending to meet the men in her life at the door as they came back into the house. As she walked across the kitchen though, she heard the fireplace in the living room roar and the rustle of someone having just come through the Floo network. Her attention diverted, she drew her wand and walked into the living room.
It was still too early for anyone to be coming over to visit, and anyone that would be eating breakfast was already at the Burrow, so Ginny walked cautiously into the living room. As her head peered through the doorway she was surprised at what she saw.
Standing before her was Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was shaking off the ashes from his trip. He looked up, saw her, but the look on his face was guarded. Where she had expected to see the big smile he had always greeted her with before, was only a look of concern.
“Minister, what are you doing here so early?” Ginny asked as her mind began to process everything that was wrong with the picture in her mind.
“Ginny, where’s Harry?” Shacklebolt asked as Molly now walked into the living room to see what was going on.
“He’s outside with Arthur…” Molly answered, her voice trailing off and a look of concern slowly creeping onto her face.
“Have you gotten your copy of the Daily Prophet yet?” he asked, his voice remaining flat.
“N-No…n-n-not yet.” Ginny answered. “It usually doesn’t come until about a half hour from now.” The alarm in her voice was becoming more apparent with each word.
“Good,” replied Shacklebolt. He looked between the two Weasley women. He could tell they were strained by his appearance and their conversation thus far. He knew their patience was at an end and he had to let them know just exactly why he had come asking about Harry so early in the morning.
“I wanted to be able to tell him before he reads this…” Shacklebolt continued as he held out a copy of the Daily Prophet to Ginny.
She took it and immediately looked at the front page. She gasped and held her hand to her face. When she spoke her voice was only a faint whisper as her eyes began to glimmer with the rapidly forming tears.
“Who would do this?” she asked as Molly stepped beside her and responded in a similar fashion after she saw what had so quickly upset Ginny.
***
As Harry and Arthur walked back toward the house, Harry felt strangely relieved. The last person he would have thought to talk to about women — Ginny in particular, was her father, but Arthur had somehow managed to give him advice like a father would give a son, not like father would give a daughter’s boyfriend.
Just as Arthur had suspected, Harry did have a few questions pertaining to women, and some very specific ones in regards to Ginny. Harry started off by asking the question that was most pressing on his mind, namely just what to do about Ginny’s upcoming birthday. It was just over a week away now and Harry wanted to make sure that he wasn’t scrambling to get plans together at the last minute.
Harry had wanted to do something special for Ginny, to make her feel like the most important person in the world for that day but he wasn’t exactly sure how to do it. Part of him wanted to take Ginny to a restaurant, just the two of them, for dinner. He also realized though that Ginny loved her family and would want to spend time with them as well.
“Well that’s pretty simple Harry,” Arthur replied as he looked at the young man. “You’ll take her to dinner, but don’t get dessert. Then when you two get home in the evening, we’ll have a proper party for Ginny, including cake and her presents.”
That was a compromise Harry could live with. Actually it was a really good idea, although Harry knew in the back of his mind that he wanted to give Ginny her present in private. He still hadn’t worked out exactly what it would be just yet, but he knew he wanted to give her something that showed her how much he loved her and didn’t really want to deal with a rush to open more presents or other people remarking about the gift before he could gauge whether or not Ginny like it.
Harry’s next question was fairly straight forward too. Seeing as how he had a general idea in his mind that he wanted to get Ginny something that showed how much he loved her, he asked Arthur what kinds of presents would work best.
“Hmmm…” Arthur began, scratching his head slightly. “From what I’ve seen, each woman is different…”
“Great…” The look on Harry’s face made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to hear that what one woman loves, another hates, so Arthur quickly modified his original thought.
“…but there are a few things that will always work…” Arthur added quickly, seeing Harry’s eyes brighten a bit.
“First off, you can’t go wrong with flowers…” he stated as he pointed his index finger to Harry. “…unless of course she’s allergic to them…” he then added as an after thought. “After flowers, jewelry is always a good option, but yet again you have to be careful. Get something that’s beautiful but not gaudy.”
“I can do that I suppose,” Harry added with a little enthusiasm in his voice.
“But be certain to stay away from rings, unless you have it in your mind to get one certain type of ring.” Arthur continued, raising one eyebrow as he looked at Harry.
Harry paused for a moment, before it dawned on him just exactly what kind of ring Arthur was talking about. “Oh... n-no sir! I’m planning anything like that just yet, not this birthday anyway. I’m still getting used to being her boyfriend.”
Arthur chuckled. He wondered if Harry realized how much he had given away by saying he wasn’t planning anything for this birthday, but he decided not to press the issue. Harry would tell him in time, and he knew enough of Harry to know that Harry would ask his permission before he ever formally asked Ginny, no matter how many times they had already talked about such future plans.
“Well then Harry, since rings are out, I would suggest something like a necklace, bracelet or a pair of earrings. To me though, I think you could say a lot more by getting her a necklace than anything else.”
“Why is that?” Harry asked, not understanding why a necklace would be superior to the other choices.
“Well, earrings and bracelets are great, don’t get me wrong, but you said you wanted to show Ginny how much you love her. I would imagine that you would also want to give her something that she could always wear to remind her of you and to keep you close to her heart, even if you weren’t standing right beside her…”
I’ll have to remember that line. Harry thought to himself as he smiled.
“…and a necklace would do just that. Every time she turns her head she can feel it. Every time she looks in the mirror, she’ll see it. Every time an old friend sees her, they’ll remark about it. It can’t be hidden by long sleeves or long flowing hair, and like I said before, it’ll always be right next to her heart.”
Harry nodded his head approvingly. It was obvious the elder statesman of the Weasleys knew a thing or two when it came to women, but then again, Molly and he had been married for so long and had so many great children, it was hard not to imagine him being well versed in such things.
Harry’s final inquiry was by far the hardest and most difficult to discuss with Arthur. Had it not been for their conversation having gone so well thus far and Harry realizing how much Arthur cared for him, Harry probably would not have been able to have gone through with asking him.
“Ummm…. Arthur… there’s one more thing…” Harry stammered out as he tried to find a way of asking his question without having to tell Arthur why he wanted to know.
“What is it Harry? Like I’ve said before, if there’s anything you don’t know or understand, I’m willing to do my best.”
Harry thought for a moment. He had already read in books about ways to take care of what he was wondering about, but there were just so many spells or potions. More than that though, Harry realized that how Arthur answered this question would serve as a gauge of just how far both Molly and he were willing to tolerate Harry and Ginny’s relationship progressing.
Harry took a deep breath. “Well… G-G-Ginny and I have been getting a lot closer and while we haven’t crossed the line yet…” Harry’s voice broke off as he saw Arthur look up at him, his eyes fixed intently on Harry.
This wasn’t the brightest idea you’ve had Potter! Harry thought to himself for a split second. Now you’ve gone and asked her father for pointers on how to shag his daughter without getting her knocked up. Wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he tells you a charm that turns out to curse your bits right off!
Arthur blushed slightly as he remained silent. Then he began to chuckle to himself.
“Well Harry, Ginny is her own person. Molly and I have both hoped that she wouldn’t just rush into anything, and that whatever she did, she would be ready for. Seeing her with you, Molly and I both know you two are meant for each other. We also know you Harry, and know that you have a way with Ginny unlike anyone we’ve ever seen. We know you love her and we know that you would never do anything to hurt or use her…”
Arthur paused for a moment. Molly would have ten litters of kittens right now if she knew what we were talking about, he thought to himself.
“Now, I’m not saying you two should give in to any desires or feelings that you feel unsure about, but I’d also be a hypocrite to stand here and say that all things like this must wait until marriage.”
Arthur looked down for a moment, fumbling to get out his wand. He didn’t exactly explain to Harry what he was about to show him, but instead made sure Harry was paying attention. He muttered the incantation and demonstrated the wand movements. Harry quickly repeated, seeming to have caught onto the gist of what he was doing. After he was certain Harry had gotten the spell down to where he could perform it adequately, he put his wand away.
“That’s what worked for Molly and me until we decided it was time for our family to grow.” He concluded as he patted Harry on the back and they turned to come back to the house.
“And how often…” Harry quietly interrupted as he and Arthur grew ever closer to the house.
“It lasts for an hour.” Arthur said, not bothering to look at Harry.
As they approached the door, Harry could hear voices inside talking. Arthur opened it and Harry stepped through with the voices becoming discernable now.
“Who would do this?” He heard Ginny ask as he stepped into the living room to find Ginny, Molly and Kingsley Shacklebolt all standing there, a Daily Prophet in Ginny’s hands.
They all looked up. The looks in their eyes told Harry something wasn’t right and the way that Ginny stole a glance down at the paper in her hands, he felt certain that it held the answer to his next question.
“Who would do what?”
Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Harry's Strength
Author's Notes: Well here is the first part of the answer of "Who would do What?" At least with this chapter we will see the "What." As for the "Who," well that will be revealed in time. Once more I owe many thanks for the nominations, and I truly appreciate the reviews and feedback. I hope you continue to enjoy the story and as always, keep your comments coming.
The living room at the Burrow fell silent. Ginny quickly snatched the paper behind her back. She glanced to Shacklebolt, who was already taking a step towards Harry.
“Harry, something’s happened…” He started as Harry walked past him towards Ginny.
“And it’s in the Daily Prophet? Well, Kingsley, you should know by now that what they say has no effect on me.”
Over the past few weeks, the Daily Prophet had taken it upon itself to sensationalize every aspect of Harry’s life that could be imagined. At first Harry had became annoyed at their stories, but Ginny had helped him understand it was the price of fame and as long as Harry and his family and friends understood the truth, what everyone else thought was irrelevant.
Harry was now standing in front of Ginny. He reached around her to take the paper from her, but she turned her body, keeping it out of reach.
“No, Harry.” The look in her eyes told Harry that the paper said something more than just rumors and gossip about Harry.
Harry looked from Ginny to her mother. Both of their eyes told him something much worse had happened. Harry felt his stomach tighten into knots. He clenched his jaw as he took a step toward Ginny.
“Love, what’s wrong?” His words were so quiet that only Ginny could hear them.
Ginny buried her head into his chest, still clutching the paper behind her back. She stood silently for a moment, as tears began to stream down her cheeks. Raising her hands to Harry’s chest along with the paper, she stood onto the tips of her toes and brushed his cheek against hers. Harry slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s Godric’s Hollow… it’s your parents…”
Her words were soft and full of pain. Harry stood just holding her against him as he stared at the wall. His mind was racing while the world around him moved in slow motion. Harry thought back to his quest for the Horcruxes, having seen their graves for the first time in his life. They are dead, he had no doubt about that, but what had happened?
Harry relaxed his grip on Ginny. He knew she didn’t want him to be hurt, but this was something he had to know.
“Ginny… What is it?” he whispered softly into her ear, still staring at the wall. A numb feeling was gradually moving up his body until he couldn’t even register himself standing there with Ginny in his arms.
Ginny lowered herself back down from her tiptoes, and separated slightly from Harry, just enough so that he could take the crumpled paper from her hands. As he took the paper from her and straightened it, she placed her hands against his. Shacklebolt stepped up to them on the right side and Molly stood by him on the other side, placing her hand gently on Harry’s forearm.
Harry stood in silence as he looked at the front page of the Daily Prophet. Both Ginny and Molly could feel Harry’s hands trembling as he read the article He continued to stand silently. No one in the room was willing to speak and break the silence. Shacklebolt finally placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“I-I-Is t-t-this true?” Harry turned and looked at him, tears in his eyes that had not yet been released.
Shacklebolt simply nodded in affirmation.
“W-W-W-Who?”
“We don’t know, son,” Kingsley replied as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder softly. “It happened last night. The caretaker found it early this morning after the effects of the Stupefy Curse placed on him wore off. He’s at the Ministry right now trying to help us figure out exactly what happened.”
“B-B-But…” The paper in Harry’s hand was now clenched tightly in his balled up fists.
Kingsley sighed softly as he let go of Harry’s shoulder. Molly gave Harry’s arm a gentle squeeze before she also let go. They both stepped away as Ginny was left with Harry. She looked into his eyes and saw both hurt and rage. Tears were now freely flowing down his face and his entire body was shaking slightly.
Not knowing what else to do, she threw herself at Harry and wrapped in a hug that would rival anything Molly had ever given any of her children. As tightly as she held Harry though, he returned it with that much more force. Ginny felt his entire weight bear down upon her as his body began to give out. Ginny stood firm, holding Harry with all of her strength, standing up to his weight.
There they stood for a few moments, before Ginny began to feel the weight beginning to become too much for her. She stroked Harry’s back softly, letting her hands run up into his hair, where she rustled it softly.
“Harry, let’s sit down…”
She felt him squeeze her just a bit tighter, and then he relaxed his hold on her. He stood back from her, reaching for her hand as he led them to his favorite chair where he sat down and pulled her into his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. Harry said nothing but pulled Ginny close to him, letting his head lay softly against her chest as she rested her chin on the top of Harry’s head.
During the entire course of events, Arthur had stood silently in the doorway, not saying a word. He had learned long ago about the look of foreboding that his wife wore when something was wrong. He had seen it the moment they walked into the room. Even though no one had said exactly what was wrong, Arthur knew that if Kingsley Shacklebolt had made it a point to come here, then it was not just a Harry Potter Gossip article.
As Molly had left Harry’s side, she walked over to Arthur. Instinctively he put his arm around her and held her close as she began to cry. Seeing Harry setting in the chair with Ginny was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before from Harry. The young man that so many times had been faced with certain death and unbelievable odds yet always kept fighting now sat in a chair, looking as though he didn’t know what to do.
Kingsley Shacklebolt approached them. He nodded solemnly to Arthur and Molly before looking back at Harry and Ginny.
“We should let them be alone.”
Arthur and Molly nodded in their understanding as they walked to the kitchen.
The breakfast that Molly had been making before sat waiting for her to finish. She had cast warming spells to keep everything going until she could see what it was that had came over so early. Now with all that had transpired since she left, she didn’t feel like finishing breakfast. The three sat at the table in silence for a few moments before Arthur finally felt it was appropriate to broach the subject.
“So what is going on, Minister?” he asked softly as he felt his wife gently squeeze his hand.
Realizing that the conversation that was about to occur was something she only wanted to be involved in from a distance, Molly decided to continue breakfast. She took a moment to wipe her tears and let out a great sigh as she stood. Arthur and Shacklebolt both looked at her for a moment as she walked back over to the stove and resumed making breakfast.
Shacklebolt continued to look at Molly for a moment, before his attention turned back to Arthur sitting directly in front of him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a tapping at the window. Arthur looked up to see an owl perched outside, patiently waiting to be let in. He stood and let the owl in, which was carrying the morning copy of the Daily Prophet. He quickly paid the owl and closed the window after if flew off.
As he returned to the table, he unfolded it before him, so that both he and Shacklebolt could see what it said. Arthur could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the front page. There was no headline, just a picture — but as the Muggle saying goes, a picture was worth a thousand words.
Taking up the entire top half of the front page was a picture of Godric’s Hollow. It started at the entrance to the cemetery where James and Lily Potter were buried. On initial glance, all was serene and peaceful. As the picture advanced into the cemetery though, Arthur noticed that some of the headstones were knocked over and shattered. Finally the picture showed what Arthur had ultimately begun to fear deep inside.
The picture was centered over the final resting places for James and Lily Potter. The headstones had been knocked over, but were left intact. Cut crudely into each headstone was the Dark Mark.
That alone would have been enough to infuriate Arthur Weasley. That alone would have been sufficient to make the normally docile and well natured man angry enough to fight. Sadly though, that was just the tip of the iceberg as to what had been done the night before.
As Arthur continued to stare at the picture, he felt a hole open in his heart as he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the fact that two large, crude holes in front of each ruined headstone were centered exactly where the caskets of James and Lily Potter should have been. Thankfully thought Arthur, the picture ended just showing the holes and the headstones, without looking down into the open graves.
“Are they….” Arthur began but was unable to finish, with both the rage and hurt inside him fighting for control.
“The spells on their coffins were put there by Dumbledore himself. Unfortunately, they were moved from the graves.” Shacklebolt reported, looking at Arthur and averting his eyes from the picture as it continued to replay again and again. “They are upended, lying just out of the frame, but they are intact. I told the reporters that if they took one picture that even showed an edge of the coffins, I would personally destroy the Daily Prophet’s or whoever else’s printing press.”
“But who would do this?” Arthur questioned as he finally could no longer stand the picture glaring up at him and folded the paper in have, showing the back page.
“We don’t know,” Shacklebolt responded, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “Like I told Harry, the caretaker was placed under some sort of Stupefy curse. He’s at the Ministry right now telling us what he knows, but I’m afraid it’s not going to be a lot.”
“I thought the Ministry had captured all of the more powerful Death Eaters that weren’t killed in the battle,” Arthur responded.
“We have, and that’s what makes this so unnerving. It’s obvious that for someone to get past the wards placed on James and Lily’s headstones as well as the graves themselves, he must be a very powerful wizard.”
Arthur only nodded in response. He was lost deep in thought. His mind was now torn away from seeing the horror that was the cemetery, but instead now focused upon the young man in his living room.
***
Harry sat silently holding Ginny. His mind was racing, thinking back to that night he and Hermione had stood at the graves of his parents. He remembered how their grave looked then and forced the image he had just seen from his head. Finally, after a deafening silence, Harry let out a long sigh.
“Isn’t it enough that they’re dead already?”
Ginny did not know how to respond. She just continued to hold Harry. She stroked her fingers through his hair, hoping that it would let him relax some. She was still trying to get in her mind exactly what she had seen. The only person she knew of that would be evil enough to attack a grave was Voldemort, and he was dead.
Harry let out a ragged breath. “If they have a problem with me, why didn’t they just come attack me? Why did they have to attack my parents? They have been dead for so long. They are no longer in this fight!” Almost as an afterthought, Harry quietly added, “I thought I was done with this fight too.”
Ginny still said nothing, but held Harry a little tighter. He seemed to be relaxing a bit. The images he had seen starting to sink in and the raw pain of a fresh wound to his heart slowly starting to abate to the dull ache that would be there for days.
In silence they continued to hold one another, time slowly passed. Soon half an hour, then an hour had passed, with neither saying another word.
Throughout the house, the noise of people waking up could be heard. Both Harry and Ginny heard footsteps on the floors above them and the opening and closing of doors. Soon they would no longer be alone and others would learn about what had happened.
“I don’t want to talk to anyone for a while, Gin…” Harry said softly to her.
“It’s ok…” she responded. “We’ll stay here as long as you want, and I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”
Harry hugged her tightly as she said those words. His one great solace was the fact that he now had Ginny to hold onto and lean on. He loved her with all of his heart and he knew she was going to be there with him for everything he had to face in the future. He let himself relax against her body as he stopped trying to figure out whom and why. For a moment, he lowered his guard completely.
Harry let himself begin to cry in earnest. He did not try to fight back the tears but let them fall freely. For once he did not care about being strong or putting up a brave face. In the arms of the woman he loved he could let his pain and anguish out and not fear being judged or fear anything or anyone hurting him in a moment of weakness.
Ginny was there, Ginny would make sure no one bothered him and keep him safe.
Silently Ginny sat with Harry, holding him as he cried. She knew that even though he had Ron and Hermione with him during his quest for the Horcruxes that never in his life had Harry had someone to hold him while he cried like this. She felt her heart breaking for the man she loved, but she also felt herself fill with resolve.
Harry had spent his entire life carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders, and keeping his sorrow and pain to himself for the most part. Now she was with him and he no longer had to do that. She would help him bear the weight of his sorrows, and be with him in his moments of unguarded anguish.
Ginny knew that Harry had completely let his defenses down around her. He was crying and mourning not only for what he had seen in the paper, but for so much beyond that. She would be damned if she would let anyone bother Harry until he was ready to talk. Right now he needed to cry and she was going to hold him until he finished or fell asleep and she would keep holding him after that.
Their solitude was finally interrupted when Hermione made her way downstairs and into the living room. Harry was still crying into Ginny, and for a moment Hermione froze, integrating everything she was seeing. Ginny looked up to see a look of concern spread over Hermione’s face as she began to rush towards them.
“Harry, what’s wro…” Hermione began, but the look she saw from Ginny told her that she would be risking the wrath of the red head in his lap if she continued. Instead she continued to approach silently.
Still clutching the paper in his hands, Ginny gently tugged it from Harry and offered the wet rag to Hermione. The look of question on Hermione’s face was answered only by Ginny’s nod, indicating that she should look at the paper. Hermione paused for a moments before she unfolded the crumpled, wet mess and began to look at the paper.
The look of horror soon spread over Hermione’s face, but as she looked at Ginny, she understood that this was no time to press Harry with any questions.
“I’m so sorry…” Hermione offered as a whisper as she gently squeezed Harry’s arm, before nodding to Ginny and turning to go to the kitchen.
Just as she reached the doorway, Ron appeared. Loud and boisterous he began, “Hey! Is breakfast ready yet?”
Ginny quickly glared at Ron, who was already facing the daggers of Hermione’s eyes. He stood in front of her for a moment, wondering what he had done to earn her glare as he looked about the living room. He saw Ginny and Harry setting the chair, but noticed that Harry did not look right.
“What’s wrong with Ha…” Ron started before Hermione slapped her hand over his mouth.
“Be quiet!” she admonished him. She held up the paper and waved it with her other hand, indicating that it would answer his questions. “Harry needs to be alone, and we’re not going to bother him!”
She said nothing else, but forced Ron to turn around and pushed him out of the living room toward the kitchen. For once, Ron thought better of starting to row with Hermione about what was going on. Besides, the look Hermione had given him was nothing like the look he saw in Ginny’s eyes, and he wasn’t about to find out why she was looking at him with those eyes.
Harry’s cries began to lessen. He pulled Ginny even more tightly against him for a moment, feeling the warmth of her body against his. His heart still hurt, but he found himself with a small smile on his face as well.
“I don’t need to be alone,” he whispered softly.
Ginny began to speak but Harry pressed his finger to her lips. “I don’t need to be alone. I don’t want to be alone…but… I only want to be with you right now.”
Ginny nodded softly, pressing her forehead against Harry’s as they both exhaled softly, each relaxing into the other.
“I’ll be with you forever,” she whispered softly as Harry looked up at her.
Gently, he kissed her lips, softly conveying to her his gratitude and appreciation of the love she was giving him.
Deep in the recesses of his mind and heart, Harry understood that no matter what came of the events at his parents’ graves, Ginny would be there and everything would be alright.
Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Family
Author's Notes: I'm sorry it took so long to post this chapter. This was a hard chapter to write. It took 3 complete redo's plus working 11pm to 7 am didn't exactly help the writing process. I hope you all enjoy it. I appreciate all the comments and reviews, please keep them coming.
The kitchen at the Burrow was once more silent as everyone present picked at their breakfast. Whereas in the days following Fred’s funeral, life had slowly began to return to normal and the level of conversation had gradually increased day by day, the entire room was once more deflated and morose.
Ron sat staring at the Daily Prophet in front of him. He absent mindedly chewed a sausage as he folded the paper and tossed it aside. Looking at his plate, still full with all the foods from breakfast he normally loved, Ron realized that the knot deep in his stomach would not let him eat this morning.
Only a few minutes earlier when he had come downstairs, his stomach growling, Ron eagerly anticipated breakfast. Now though, none of that seemed to matter. Hermione had barely said a word to him since they walked into the kitchen to find his parents and Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting around the table. Whereas before he had wondered why both Ginny and Hermione had so vehemently glared at him for his loud and jovial entrance into the living room, all of his questions had been answered with one picture.
Hermione for her part was sitting silently, trying to glean any extra information she could from her memory of the picture she had just seen. Her concentration though kept failing her as she continued to think back to the way Harry had looked in Ginny’s arms. He was obviously distressed, but at the same time, he seemed to have a peace unlike anything she had noticed before. Years of adventures with Harry and Ron had taught her how Harry would look as he bottled his pain and distress within himself, but this time in Ginny’s arms Harry didn’t look as though his pain and anguish were quite so unbearable.
The tiniest of smiles spread across Hermione’s face as she also thought of the way Ginny had defended Harry. Normally Hermione would have marched over to Harry and force him to talk, at least enough to get him to yell at her to leave him alone. The look in Ginny’s eyes though, was one of strength and defiance. Hermione knew that Ginny was a very strong willed person, but she couldn’t help but feel proud of one of her best friends in the way she was so staunchly standing up for her love. Hermione knew that deep down this was a role that Ginny had been willing to provide for Harry since their earliest years at Hogwarts, after he had saved her from Tom Riddle.
The silence of the room was finally broken when a figure appeared at the door. For a moment, Ginny stood silently in the doorway, her eyes glancing toward each person in the room before she stepped aside to reveal that Harry was also standing behind her. Harry’s eyes did not engage the people in the room the way Ginny’s had. He stared down at the ground, a look of complete dejection on his face.
His hand was grasped tightly in Ginny’s and she led him into the kitchen. She sat him down at the table beside Ron and busied herself getting him a plate and a glass. Molly stood to help, but soon set back down after looking to her daughter and seeing Ginny nod her head in refusal.
Everyone in the room had initially been staring at Harry, unconsciously watching his every move. After being seated Harry still did not look up, but instead focused on a fork he had taken from the table and had began to wipe with his thumb. Normally Molly would have chastised Harry, or any of her children for that matter, for the implication that her dishes had not been properly cleaned or dried, but she knew this time, Harry’s actions were just a mindless activity.
Finally, Ginny finished and sat the plate and glass in front of Harry. As compared to the mounds of food on Ron’s plate, Harry’s looked like a pauper was eating. A single piece of toast and two sausages were all that were on the plate, and his glass was half filled with pumpkin juice.
“Here Harry,” Ginny spoke softly as she sat the pate and glass in front of him. Not saying another word she took her seat beside him, pulling her chair so close to him that they were touching as she placed her arm around him.
Harry looked at her for a brief moment, nodding his appreciation before he turned his face down and began to stare at the plate in front of him. He took the toast and apathetically put it to his lips before taking a small bite. He excessively chewed the single bite, with the toast eventually just dissolving in his mouth before he swallowed it. He let out a long sigh as he placed the toast back on the plate and took up the glass of pumpkin juice. He held it for a moment, not taking a drink before finally setting it back down on the table.
Harry looked up to Kingsley and stared him directly in the eyes. For his part, Shacklebolt did not look away, but instead stared intently back into Harry’s eyes. He could see the hurt and pain in Harry, but he could also see that Harry’s mind was working, thinking things over.
That’s good. Kingsley thought to himself. His mind is working this out.
Kingsley had been uncertain what to expect when he arrived that morning. He had just hoped that he was the first one there to tell Harry what had happened. He knew how distrustful Harry was of the Ministry, and for good reason, but he wanted to make every effort to show Harry that the Ministry he envisioned was the exact opposite of the one that had openly persecuted Harry and Dumbledore. Now looking into Harry’s eyes, Shacklebolt could see that Harry was already planning. Just as he had expected, the news had been very difficult for Harry, but Harry seemed to be coping with it much better than he had expected.
In truth Kingsley had in part expected Harry to react with rage. He anticipated Harry demanding to go to Godric’s Hollow straight away to see for himself. He expected Harry to swear and rave, crying for vengeance and blood. At least… Kingsley thought …that’s how most would respond.
Deep down though, Kingsley knew Harry was different. A lifetime of hardship and being forced to grow up quickly had made Harry so much more mature than most his age. Granted, Harry still let his heart lead him into bad situations sometimes with the incident at the Ministry when Sirius died evidence of that, but Harry did not fly off the broom handle and respond rashly to things that were beyond his immediate control. For better or worse, Harry’s parents were dead, and while their grave was desecrated there was nothing that immediate action could rectify.
“I’m going to Godric’s Hollow.” Harry’s statement was succinct. There was no question to it, but instead it was a statement of fact.
Everyone around the room looked up to Harry. He continued staring at Shacklebolt, who himself continued to return Harry’s gaze. Shacklebolt nodded in affirmation. He would not argue that point with Harry, but he intended to make sure that Harry was safe while doing it.
“I suppose you want me to have an Auror or three with me and for the perimeter of the graveyard to be guarded as well.” Harry continued as he stared at Shacklebolt.
For a moment, Shacklebolt began to feel uncomfortable. The young man sitting before him was staring a hole straight through him. For the first time Shacklebolt was getting a glimpse of a new Harry. A Harry with strength, resolve and assuredness that only the most battle hardened warriors possessed.
Shacklebolt studied Harry carefully, letting his mind understand what his eyes were seeing before him. The young man he saw had an uncommon strength to him at the moment. Kingsley wondered for an instant just what source of power Harry had found, but his eyes quickly gave him the answer.
Shacklebolt saw Ginny — her arm around Harry, her other hand wrapped tightly in his.
He smiled to himself for a moment. Your power will be unmatched Harry Potter. Your heart and your capacity to love even after what you have been through give you a control over yourself and your emotions that few others have. Now with Ginny by your side, to give you the support and the love you have so long needed, you will find your full strength. He thought to himself before opening his mouth to speak.
“The cemetery is already secure. NO ONE goes in or out without my permission, and right now, only you have permission to enter.” Shacklebolt began, his voice now beginning to take on the tone he had so long hoped to avoid — a tone of a leader delegating roles and responsibilities to those before him. “As for Aurors, I would like there to be two, at a distance, but still close enough to help if anything happened.”
Harry paused for a moment. He studied Shacklebolt and thought over the words he had just heard. He said ‘HELP’. Harry thought. He didn’t say protect, or guard, he said ‘HELP.’ In that instant Harry began to understand that Shacklebolt was quite different from most adults he knew. Whereas Molly would have demanded Harry have an army of Aurors around him to keep him safe, Shacklebolt had wanted Harry to have them not to defend him, but to help him if something happened.
“That’s fine.” Harry finally replied.
“Well, we’re Harry’s family and we’re going to be there too!” Molly quickly added to the conversation.
Harry and Shacklebolt finally broke away from their stare and turned to Molly. Shacklebolt had anticipated the whole Weasley clan would want to go with Harry to the cemetery, but he had himself wondered if Harry would really want that. Now seeing Harry and Ginny together he was almost certain there was only one other person Harry would want with him.
“Molly, that’s fine, but I would like to have just a few minutes to myself, without a lot of people around.” Harry began as diplomatically as possible. He was going to get what he wanted; he just didn’t want to upset Molly in doing so. “So I want Ginny and myself to go first and then the rest of you can follow a little bit later.”
Harry felt Ginny squeeze his shoulders a little tighter. He hadn’t bothered to tell her that he wanted just the two of them to go first, in his mind it hadn’t even been a question. When she squeezed his arm though, a moment of doubt filled his mind. He looked to her and their eyes met for an instant. All doubt he had was immediately erased as he stared into the beautiful brown eyes of the woman he loved.
“That’s fine,” Molly sighed, pausing for a moment as though to argue but then deciding against it. She had seen the moment shared by Harry and Ginny. She understood that Ginny was now the one to stand by Harry and be his support. She knew that if Harry could survive for all those years with Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself trying to kill him, then Harry would be okay no matter what new challenges may present themselves.
“So when do you want to go?” Shacklebolt asked, bringing the conversation back to the main point once more.
Harry didn’t say a word, but thought for a moment. “How about an hour from now?” He finally replied.
Shacklebolt simply nodded. “Then I’ll go make certain that everything is ready. The Aurors will meet you here. You’ll apparate to an area just outside the graveyard.”
As he finished, Shacklebolt stood up. He nodded to everyone in the room and disappeared into the living room. A few moments later there was the familiar sound of the Floo being used and then all was silent once more.
***
Harry stood clutching Ginny’s arm tightly after they had just apparated to the point outside the graveyard. He cast a thankful glance to her as he paused briefly, taking the opportunity to look around at his surroundings.
It was oddly familiar to Harry. Granted he had been there in his quest for the Horcruxes, but now in the full daylight, something stirred in Harry that extended prior to that. Harry wasn’t completely certain what it was he felt. Perhaps it was just another of the wide range of emotions he had been feeling since he had seen the picture earlier in the day or possibly it was the fact that he could now truly appreciate that this was where it had all began.
No matter what the reason, Harry felt a small level of peace sweep over him as he took a deep breath. It was not lost on Harry that Ginny’s hand was interlaced with his own and he could feel her warmth radiating up his arm. Again he looked to her as he pulled her hand up to his lips and gently kissed it. He then lowered it back to his side and without having to say a word they began walking toward the graveyard.
Harry’s face was without expression as they approached the entrance. He simply stared straight ahead, his jam firmly clinched as each step brought them closer to the entrance. A lone elderly wizard stood watch over the gate, opening it as Harry and Ginny approached. Harry remained silent with his eyes focused inside the cemetery. Ginny nodded courteously to the wizard as she and Harry stepped through the gate.
Even without speaking, Ginny suddenly felt Harry’s mood become much more sullen. His shoulders slumped and to Ginny it appeared that the weight of the world bore down on Harry’s back. Ginny reached her arm up and laid it gently across Harry’s back. They stopped walking and he turned to look at her. For a moment Harry was motionless then suddenly he leaned his head forward so that his forehead rested against hers.
Ginny pulled Harry into a complete hug wrapping her other arm around him and sliding both arms down to his waist. Ginny kept her eyes focused intently on Harry, but his eyes were closed. She heard Harry take a slow deep breathe and felt him begin to relax in her arms as he was once more lost in the smell of wildflowers.
Ginny smiled to herself for a moment. Even in the brief time Harry and she had been back together she had learned there were certain aspects of her physically that seemed to not only attract Harry, but that he almost seemed to need. Oddly enough, her scent was one of the most powerful and important. On more than one occasion she had noticed how Harry would take longingly deep breaths as he held her close. She always felt a small bit of warmth and pride spread over her because no matter what was going on, she would notice Harry obviously relax.
Harry finally opened his eyes. “They’ll be just over there.” He spoke softly never taking his eyes away from Ginny’s and tilted his head in the general direction that they were to go.
“Are you ready?” Ginny asked him as Harry nodded almost imperceptibly in return.
Ginny once more took Harry’s hand in her own and side by side they began to make their way through the cemetery again. Ginny looked ahead of them but couldn’t really make out anything. She strained to see their final destination, but instead all she could see were various family vaults and elaborate headstones, none of which appeared to be damaged.
They must have cleaned up all of the other destruction to the graveyard. Ginny thought to herself. But why she couldn’t see the gravesites for Harry’s parents was unclear to her.
“Harry, how do you know…” Ginny started and then trailed off, her voice no louder than a whisper. She did not want to push Harry, but she had to know where they were going.
“It’s just ahead.” Harry replied calmly. “I can see an area with a glow to it, and that’s where I’m headed for. I would suspect they have put some kind of wards within the cemetery, just over my parents’ graves is why we can’t truly see it.”
Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand as they continued to walk, signaling her acceptance of his explanation.
Soon they stood in front of what appeared to be an empty and unused set of plots. To Ginny the area looked strange, almost hazy, as though her eyes could not focus and a fine mist floated over the area.
This is what a Muggle Confounding Charm must be like! Ginny thought to herself as she stood in awe, realizing a powerful magic was at work.
Harry gripped Ginny’s hand very tightly — to the point that she felt her fingers being squeezed of their blood supply and her bones crying out in fear of being crushed. She did not say a word but simply returned Harry’s squeeze with the strongest she could muster. Harry held her hand tightly for just a few more moments until he relaxed it and looked at her.
“Are you ready?” Harry spoke the words unsurely.
Ginny knew that Harry was asking himself as much as he was asking her. “I’m right here beside you,” she replied.
Harry nodded his head as he closed his eyes. He let out a long soft sigh before taking out his wand with his other hand. Ginny could barely hear Harry utter the incantation to rescind the charm, but as soon as he spoke the words, the mist began to clear.
Harry’s eyes were still closed as the charm fully lifted and Ginny stared at what it had hidden. Her mouth fell open. She let out a small gasp as she held her hand to her lips. The picture in the paper had not shown anything near the full extent of what had been done.
Harry continued to stand with his eyes shut. What he was earlier in the day so certain he had to see, so certain HE had to take care of, now terrified him. Harry summoned all of his courage to calm his frantically pounding heart. Hearing Ginny’s gasp had not helped either.
Harry began to focus on the warm hand that was grasped in his. He felt energy flowing from Ginny’s hand into his own and up his arm. Harry felt his heart begin to calm as he slowly began to feel Ginny’s own heart beat through her hand. He focused on counting the beats. One…two…three…four…five... Harry counted to himself, while his own heart continued to race twice that fast. In a few moments though, Harry felt his heart begin to beat at the same pace as he was counting out.
Finally, after many long moments, Harry felt as though he was in control of himself again. He mentally braced himself and opened his eyes.
For the next few moments Harry stood, his whole body numb, his eyes not truly comprehending what he saw. All that his mind could register was that what lay before him was a complete and utter mess.
Slowly, Harry’s mind began to clear and his eyes began to focus on all of the things around him. Harry looked first to the crudely opened graves. It was obvious that rushed wand strokes had been used to force the dirt from above the graves. Around each gaping whole, multiple small piles of dirt could be seen where whoever had done this just carelessly tossed each bit of dirt as he dug.
Harry’s eyes next found his mother’s headstone. He could still make out the “L” of “Lily” but not much else. The Dark Mark was cut deeper into the stone than Harry could appreciate in the picture and had ruined the rest of engravings on the headstone. Looking to his father’s headstone, Harry saw that it was even more badly damaged and nothing could be read from it because of the Dark Mark.
Harry took in a slow deep breath once more as he braced himself for what he would see next. Up until this moment, Harry had kept his eyes focused straight in front of him — limiting his field of view to what lay just before him. Only in the periphery of his vision could Harry make out two bright almost glowing boxes, one on each side of him.
Harry looked first to his left. He saw a shimmering white coffin. It was upside down and toppled against a nearby tombstone, but there was not a scratch on it. The tombstone it lay against looked like it had been smashed, as though someone had cast James Potter’s coffin against the tombstone in one last attempt to do with blunt force what magic would not. Harry could see the power of the spell that protected the coffin and the body of his father course through the coffin every few moments. He let out a small sigh of relief that the spell had been able to endure. He next looked to his right and saw his mother’s coffin. It shimmered and looked exactly like his father’s, except that it was slightly smaller. Luckily, her coffin had just been upended and tossed a few feet from the grave. It just lay upside down on the ground.
He then let his eyes glance around the rest of the area. He noticed three or four other marred headstones, and about half a dozen others that had been busted.
Harry looked at Ginny for a moment before he released her hand. He tentatively took a step toward his mother’s tombstone, as Ginny let Harry get a step ahead before she took began walking. When he reached the stone, Harry mindlessly traced the “L” with his index finger as he looked intently at the Dark Mark. Reflexively, Harry raised his had to the scar on his forehead, but it did not hurt. It had not hurt since Voldemort had died and Harry knew that it would never hurt him again.
Why he raised his hand to it though, Harry could not say. Had it been out of reflex? Perhaps, but deep down, Harry’s heart understood that his scar was the lasting mark, not of the evil of Voldemort but instead of the love of his mother. Harry turned his attention away from the stone and toward the coffin of his mother. He raised his wand, preparing to undo what had been so cruelly done the night before, but a hand caught his arm and stopped him.
Harry turned to see Ginny’s hand on his arm. He looked at her for a moment, before he lowered his wand.
“Let me take care of your mum Harry.” Ginny whispered softly, tears running down her face. “You go take care of your father.”
Harry closed his eyes and smiled for a moment as tears began to seep from his eyes. He nodded to Ginny before he stepped toward his father’s coffin. Without uttering a word, Harry raised his wand and his heart cast the spell to levitate his father’s coffin. First Harry raised the coffin into the air, and then with a flick of his wand, he turned it right side up before he began to move it slowly toward the grave. He set it down beside the grave as he next turned his attention to the piles of dirt and the crude grave itself.
He quickly united all the piles into one more proper appearing mound on the other side of the grave. Harry then began to clean up the roughly carved out whole in the ground, giving it perfectly smooth sides and making it uniform in shape and depth. Harry then looked beside himself to see Ginny having mirrored what he had just done. His mother’s grave and coffin were now righted and properly prepared once more.
Before continuing, Harry walked back to his parents’ headstones. He looked at them for a moment before he banished them away. Neither his mind nor his heart would allow anything that had been stained with a Dark Mark to lay watch over their bodies and serve as a monument to the lives of his parents.
As Harry returned to Ginny, he saw a small group of red heads waiting at the gate to the graveyard. Harry looked at Ginny, who turned and saw her family waiting patiently for Harry to signal that he was willing to accept more company. Harry smiled softly as he thought of the love that his adopted family had given him throughout the years.
“I think it’s time,” he whispered softly to Ginny as he cast his Patronus and sent it to the waiting Weasleys.
He then turned and walked toward his father’s coffin. Harry stood over the coffin for a moment before his hand began to reach toward it.
“HARRY!” Ginny called out sharply, causing his hand to freeze in place. “Your parents' coffins are magically protected! How do you know it won’t hurt you if you try to touch it?”
“Because I’m their son,” Harry replied assuredly. Granted he did not know for a fact that because he was their son, he would not be harmed but he had a strange feeling in his gut that told him it would be ok.
***
Molly, Arthur, Ron, Hermione, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie and Fleur all had reached Ginny by the time Harry’s hand had contacted his father’s coffin. They all held their breath for a moment, waiting to see what would happen, if anything. For a moment, nothing happened, but then, the coffin began to glow a brilliant gold. It became so bright that everyone had to turn their eyes away. A moment later, when the light began to fade, everyone saw that the coffin which had been there before, so pure and white was now replaced with a deeply polished wooden coffin that had very elaborate carvings.
Harry stood awestruck for a moment, staring down at the coffin before him. He let his fingers trace an ornate and elaborate shield that covered where Harry assumed his father’s chest to be. This must be the Potter family crest. Harry thought to himself as he finally pulled his hand away.
“How?” were the only words to come out of Harry’s mouth as he looked at Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys.
“Dumbledore himself put the spells on the coffins to protect them.” Arthur said thoughtfully. “Perhaps he put another special spell on it just in case for some reason you ever touched them.”
Harry stood silently for a moment, contemplating Arthur’s words.
“Well then there’s only one way to know for sure, isn’t there.” Harry replied as he turned his attention to his mother’s coffin. He paused for a moment before walking over to it. He looked up to Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family before he reached down and touched the coffin softly.
Nothing happened. Harry gazed at the coffin for a moment, before he touched it again. Again, nothing happened. Harry looked up to the group before him and they all looked as confused as he felt. He couldn’t understand why it would have worked for his father’s coffin and not his mother’s.
Suddenly Ginny stepped toward Harry. The look in her eyes told Harry she had an idea.
“Well Harry, if Dumbledore was the one to put the spells on the coffin, maybe he hoped you wouldn’t be alone in doing this.”
Slowly Harry began to realize what Ginny meant. Just as he had let her be the one to levitate and straighten up his mother’s grave, maybe it would take her touch to transform his mother’s coffin. He nodded to her. “Go ahead Gin.”
Ginny paused for a moment before she touched the coffin.
“Ginerva Weasley! You be careful, the spells on that coffin may not let you touch that coffin without some pretty dire consequences!” Molly finally burst out as she had pieced together everything that was going on in front of her.
Ginny just looked at her mother for an instant before she touched it. Just as when she had scolded Harry about the same thing, Ginny had the feeling that this was right and what needed to be done. An instant after touching it, Lily’s coffin began to glow bright just as James’s had. When everyone was able to look back to the coffin, it appeared exactly the same as James’s, except the carvings were in mirror image to his.
Standing back from the coffins, if one took a moment to gaze at neither one in particular but let his eyes take in both at once, it became quickly apparent that each coffin was only half of a much larger and much more ornate overall design.
Harry smiled at Ginny as he took her hand in his. He led her back to her family, and for the first time realized that ALL of the Weasleys were there.
“Bill, Charlie, Percy? What are you all doing here? I only expected…” Harry began before Bill held his hand up.
“Now Harry, whether you like it or not, whether it’s legally official yet or not, you are a member of this family…” Harry quickly blushed at the innuendo in Bill’s statement. Bill paused as he noticed Harry blushing.
“…Legally official…” could only mean to Harry. It meant that the whole bloody Weasley family was already anticipating Harry and Ginny becoming man and wife.
Bill chuckled before continuing. “…And as a member of this family, you have ALL of our support. We all wanted to be here for you.”
Harry looked to the eyes of each of the Weasleys standing in front of him. He could see the agreement in their eyes. Once more Harry felt a warmth overtake him unlike anything he had felt before. Tears of joy began to build in Harry’s eyes.
This is what it means to have a family that loves you! Harry thought to himself as the tears began to trail down his cheeks.
He walked back over to the Weasleys and put his arm around Ginny. He faced his parents’ coffins with her. He looked down at her and nodding, they both raised their wands. They cast the spells to levitate the coffins and slowly lowered them back into the graves. They then filled the graves back with the dirt before they lowered their wands.
Harry released his grip on Ginny for a moment as he turned to once more face the Weasleys.
“You’re the greatest family I could have ever hoped for with my parents gone. You taught me self worth and value. You taught me that I was worthy of being loved and that it was ok to want someone to love me. You are my family and I will love all of you for as long as I live and even beyond.”
With that Harry’s eyes filled with tears and he once more began to cry. Ginny wrapped her arms around him as the rest of his family quickly joined her in giving Harry a huge family hug. For once, Harry didn’t care about having the breath squeezed out of him. He could feel the love coming from each one of their hearts.
The hug lasted for minutes, until everyone had exhausted themselves, and reluctantly they began to break apart. At the center of the pile, Harry still held Ginny and their embrace was the last to be released. Harry turned once more toward his parents graves. He raised his wand one last time and with two quick waves, two new headstones appeared.
On first glance they appeared to be simple. Just marble squares lying at the heads of two graves, but Harry flicked his wand one more time. Suddenly etching began to appear on the stones and a beautiful assortment of flower sprung up between the headstones, with small vines of ivy attaching themselves to the edge of the stones forever linking them.
Harry looked at each headstone for a moment, contemplating what he had already put on it. His mother and father’s names were there, and the day they were born, but this time Harry did not put the day they died. Ginny had taken her place beside Harry and looked at the stones.
“Harry, they’re wonderful, but aren’t you supposed to put…” Harry stopped Ginny before she could finish. He turned to face her and put his finger softly against her lips.
“No, I am not going to do that.” He said firmly yet caringly. “While their bodies might be dead, I know their souls still watch over me. They watch over you too. As long as we are alive and love each other, then ultimately, my mother and father are still alive too. They are alive in here…” Harry said the last words as he pointed to his heart and then to Ginny’s.
Ginny smiled at Harry. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes I am,” he replied still staring into her eyes.
They both turned and began to walk back toward the rest of the Weasleys. Harry turned for one last moment, stealing one last glance back, before he turned around and was engulfed once more by the Weasleys. Together they all made their way to the front of the graveyard and toward the elderly wizard guarding the gate.
***
“So the Man-Who-Killed-Voldemort has a love and a new family?” A ghastly cackle softly emanated from a far corner of the graveyard. “Well soon enough Harry Potter will learn that there are FAR WORSE things to fear in this world than that fool Tom Riddle.”
With a soft pop the source of the voice apparated away. He had seen everything he needed. He now knew exactly what all of Harry Potter’s weaknesses were, and all he needed was to figure out how he would use them against Harry.
***
Just as they were stepping through the gate, Harry thought he heard a pop behind them. He turned his head so survey the cemetery one last time. There was nothing and no one there.
“Harry?” Ginny asked, seeing him distracted.
“Uh.. yeah..” He responded, getting pulled back to reality.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thought I heard a noise.” He laughed softly as he pulled Ginny close to him. Together they walked to the apparition point and with a pop; they were gone back to the Burrow.
Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Awakenings
Author's Notes: Ok.. this chapter turned out to be a bit shorter than I had initally intended, but I currently still want to keep an air of mystery to my new chief bad guy. Please be patient as in the next couple of chapters I hope to develop for you what I've always personally envisioned a bad guy to actually be like. Keep up the reviews and the comments. They keep me motivated and flattered, especially when work is starting to become more time consuming and challenging.
Darkness hung over the countryside as the hours of early morning slowly passed, oblivious to the fact that a long forgotten evil was once more engulfing the night. Through the pitch black, the moon’s rays cast a ghostly light upon the devastated ruins of a long abandoned castle. No more than a couple stones remained stacked upon one another and moss had long ago overgrown much of what would have once been considered one of the finest castles in all of England.
From a distance a small, dim blue light shone in the heart of the castle. Appearing to float it moved slowly about, moving from the remnants of one stone wall to the next. Approaching the rubble and the light though, it became apparent that a darkly shrouded figure was making his way silently through the structure.
The years have not been kind to my home. The figure thought to himself as he surveyed a simple row of stones that once were the basis for a wall. Too long have I slept, oblivious to the world and what was going on.
The figure sighed softly. He extinguished the light from his wand as he stood bathed in the moonlight. Silently he raised his wand to the pile of stones that was once a wall. Streaks of blue light streamed from the tip of his wand and engulfed the stones in a blue florescent mist. An instant later, the wall was reformed with every brick in place looking brand new and not showing hundreds of years of deterioration and neglect.
Satisfied with himself the figure produced what could only be considered the slightest of grins. Nodding his head, he stepped around the wall, across the outermost border of the castle and turned around. For a moment he stood looking at the rubble, silently trying to remember every crevice and passageway as they had once been. The man’s eyes glared as he looked at the still glowing wall he had just reformed.
He let out a small grunt of disgust before raising his wand once more. An instant later the wall had once more been reduced to rubble, although this time the stones had not fallen down upon themselves, but instead had been blasted into oblivion.
“I will not rebuild my home one wall at a time!” The figure muttered under his breath in annoyance and defiance. “My castle will rise again in absolute perfection before this night is over!”
Again the figure raised his wand. This time the whole wand glowed as much more blue light than before emanated from the wand and soon engulfed what was the old perimeter of the castle in mist. An instant later, all of the stones stood reunited, and a castle once more stood where the rubble had just been.
The figure smiled openly for a moment, pleased that his magic was quickly regaining its former strength. He knew it was only a matter of time before his strength was once more unsurpassed by any single wizard or witch in the world. He would summon his legions around him again and the Muggle rulers would pay for the pain and suffering their ancestors had inflicted upon him and his family.
The figure looked critically at the building before him for a few moments, before his eyes became fixed upon the main tower. He spat in disgust at his handiwork. The tower was not right; it was not perfect. Again he raised his wand and a great explosion shook the ground as the building was completely obliterated before him.
The figure took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and once more envisioned his home in all of its prior glory. As he opened his eyes, he set aside his anger and frustration to focus on the spells needed to raise his castle once more from the ruins that lay before him. He then cast the spell again and a castle began to form from the mist.
Again and again the figure rebuilt the castle, only to destroy it again after having found yet another flaw in its form. Soon the night began to give way into day as the first soft red rays of sunlight began to appear on the horizon. Finally as the golden orb that is the body of the sun made its first appearance over the horizon, the figure stood before a castle that he could not find a flaw in. Smiling to himself and at his success, he approached the main gate. Without speaking a word or raising his wand, the deafening clanking of metal could be heard as the gate raised slowly, the castle once more welcoming its master.
In silence the figure walked into the castle.
***
As the first rays of sunlight shone through the window to the living room at the Burrow, Harry Potter stirred and shifted his face so that the sun was not shining directly onto his still closed eyelids. He wanted to keep sleeping, but the bright orange that was his eyelids closed over his eyes would not let him return to his vivid dreams of one redheaded beauty.
While Harry’s other senses gradually awoke and began to alert him more to his environment, he kept his eyes clinched tightly closed, refusing to let go of the chance that he could still get two or three more hours of sleep. Gradually Harry became alert to what was going on around him. He could hear voices in the kitchen and the smells of breakfast made both his mouth start to water and his stomach start to grumble.
Harry also became quite aware that it was a bit harder than usual to breath. At first all he registered was a pressure on his chest, but then he felt the warmth and the heartbeat of another person. The light scent of wildflowers quickly told Harry who it was he was so close with at the moment. He smiled softly as he opened his eyes and found Ginny fast asleep lying on top of him, her head resting against his chest.
They had fallen asleep the night before on the couch, snuggled together talking about all the things that had happened that day and what it could mean for the future. When they had tired of thinking about painful memories, they began to talk about their future. They talked about things that they both looked forward to — where they would live, what their lives together would be like. For a day that had started so poorly for Harry, his time with Ginny last night had let him go to sleep with a gentle warmth filling his soul.
Now, staring at a sleeping Ginny Weasley laying on his chest, Harry couldn’t help but be dumbstruck at her peaceful beauty. Even though he told her frequently how beautiful and attractive she was, there were never enough words for him to tell her how he truly felt. Just seeing her face or hearing her voice filled Harry with a power unlike anything he had ever felt before.
For Harry, it seemed as though Ginny activated within him some reserve of magic and love that would course through his veins just at her sight. He never felt more powerful than when she was with him, standing by his side. He felt as though there wasn’t anything he could do as long as he had Ginny.
Harry gently stroked her brilliant red hair, causing Ginny to stir for a moment, before cuddling herself closer to Harry and falling back into deep sleep with a smile on her face. She let out a contented and happy sigh as Harry continued to play with her hair in his hand.
Harry felt his heart sink for a moment as a figure appeared at the doorway to the kitchen. He first saw the person through the corner of his eye, so all he knew for sure was that it was a Weasley standing there. Harry did not look toward the figure, but instead kept his eyes focused downward on Ginny.
A moment later the figure began to advance toward Harry, and he felt a small ball tighten in his stomach. He knew this was no way to be found sleeping, with his girlfriend on top of him on the sofa in her parents’ house — especially when said girlfriend had five brothers that could certainly take the mickey out of anyone.
Harry swallowed hard as the figure stopped just beside him. He waited for a moment before looking up to find Molly standing there. Instead of the annoyance or anger he expected to find in her eyes, Harry saw understanding and compassion. She was far from the person that Ron, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George all feared to the point of even as grown men with families of their own, in the case of Bill, that they would do exactly what she said when she was angry.
“Harry...” Molly whispered softly, making certain not to wake her sleeping daughter. “Harry, breakfast is ready. Would you like something to eat?”
Harry’s stomach quickly grumbled its answer, but Harry remained silent for a moment.
“No thanks Molly, I’ll eat a bit later. I’m happy where I’m at right now.”
Molly eyed Harry thoughtfully for a moment before smiling at him and turning to leave. Harry turned his head and watched her as she walked away. He let out a small sigh of relief as she disappeared into the kitchen.
“You know, you could have gone and eaten if you were so bloody hungry!”
Harry startled at Ginny’s words as she sleepily looked up to him.
“I-I-I thought you were asleep.” He retorted. “Besides, I like this better, I can eat later.”
Ginny smiled at Harry for a moment before poking her index finger into his stomach.
“Yeah, maybe so, but at least if your blasted stomach was full, it would stop growling in my ear and I could get some sleep!” She replied as she continued to poke Harry in the stomach.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find a way to deal with my growling stomach, because I’m very happy right where I am.”
Ginny only gave Harry a mischievous grin and she pulled herself farther up Harry. She stopped just as their eyes were even. She looked longingly into Harry’s green eyes for just a moment before she kissed his lips softly. She then rolled over to Harry’s side closest to the back of the couch and began to wedge herself down towards the cushions. Realizing what she wanted, Harry turned to his side, with his back facing toward the kitchen and his eyes locked onto Ginny’s.
There on the couch they lay on their sides, facing one another. They began to kiss softly as their legs intertwined and Harry moved closer to Ginny so that they were touching. Their kiss lingered for a few moments more until both were once more overtaken with the desire to sleep. As their kiss ended and their lips broke apart both wore smiles on their faces. Soon, both Harry and Ginny were fast asleep again.
***
The figure sat in the Great Hall of his rebuilt castle. He smiled to himself at the accomplishment and perfection of his work. The Great Hall was magnificent, unrivaled by any in either the Muggle or Magical worlds. It had black tile floors that shone like mirrors and stained glass windows that even the masters of the Renaissance couldn’t have surpassed. It had lavish gold accented darkly stained oak trim about the walls and windows and rising up to the ceiling.
The ceiling rivaled that of the one found at Hogwarts. This ceiling too was magical and could appear as though transparent, letting the occupants see outside, however sights were deceiving. Instead of reflecting the weather outside, this ceiling was gracious in that it would provide any occupants with an idea of the mood of the master of the castle. Simply observing the weather he surrounded himself with would give anyone entering the room an automatic indication of the state of pleasure or anger the master was currently feeling.
The room itself was a great rectangle with an arched roof, easily half the size of a soccer field. Elaborately ornate buttresses supported the massive ceiling between each indescribable stained glassed window. At the far end of the hall from the entrance set what could only be described as the throne. A large golden chair with deep purple velvet set alone on a pedestal. The gold was elaborately crafted and the velvet back of the chair held stitching of a long forgotten family crest. The armrests of the chair were supported in the front by elaborate statues, with a Griffin on the right and a lion on the left.
A sole figure walked around the room, pausing to look at each window and stroking his chin approvingly before he progressed to the next. After nearly an hour, he had completed his inspection of the Great Hall. He walked slowly over to his throne, running his fingers along the armrests as he encircled the chair for a moment. He paused just in front of the chair and very deliberately lowered himself down. As he body rested comfortably against the soft velvet, he closed his eyes and a smile broke across his face.
The figure reveled in once more being alive. He closed his mind to all external distracters and began to focus on the magic that was once more coursing through his body. Soon… He thought to himself. Soon I will be as strong as I once was and will not be limited by this foolish piece of wood! As he set his wand carefully on the armrest of his throne.
For many, the silence of being alone in such a building would have been deafening perhaps even enough to drive someone insane. This man however seemed to relish it unlike any other pleasure the world could offer. His annoyance became obvious as numerous birds began to chirp and tweet outside the windows of the Great Hall.
He opened his eyes and glared them angrily at the small annoying little foul creatures just outside his castle that had disturbed his revelry. He paused for a moment as he once more touched his wand with his hand. He thought carefully, before removing his hand from the wand. Leaving it on the armrest he stood and walked to the center of the Great Hall.
Without saying a word, the figure raised his right hand, turning it palm up and slowly opened it. As he did, a bright yellow orb of fire appeared in it. Flames danced around the orb and the figure’s hand, but he was not burned and did not flinch. He began to focus on the orb and as he held it in his hand it changed. Gone were the golden yellow flames and in their place the orb became nearly translucent. The only way it could be recognized that there was anything in his hand at all was by the way that air around it was distorted by the orb — kind of like the way air moves above an asphalt highway in the horizon on really hot summer days.
Slowly the figure closed his hand around the orb, until his hand was held in a tight fist. He closed his eyes for a moment anticipating what was about to come. Suddenly, the figure opened his eyes as he snapped his hand open. Where the orb had just been, there was now nothing present. The figure paused for a few moments as he listened once more outside the castle. There were no more birds singing.
***
The door of a small cottage was pulled closed by a man as the rants of his wife quickly dissipated behind the large wooden door as it was pulled shut. Just as he turned to begin walking down the lane from his house, the man encountered a sudden wave of pressure that knocked him backwards a few paces. Oddly, a bird fell quickly from the sky and landed with a thud over to the right of the man. The bird was dead. Thinking it only the wind and the dead bird just a coincidence, the man pulled his hat down tighter and leaned forward, intent on continuing his walk.
Addison Newbury was a man that valued his morning constitutionals. It gave him the chance to escape his wife and her droning criticisms of all of his shortcomings. Granted he wasn’t tall, dark, handsome, or rich, and in fact he was the exact opposite. He could best be described as a portly balding man with more eyebrows than hair left on top of his head, that enjoyed wearing plaid pants whose legs were about three inches too short and a bowler hat that looked like it had been rescued after having been run over by a tractor a good dozen times.
As Addison set out upon his walk, he paid little attention to what was going on around him. These walks were his opportunity to fantasize about standing up to his wife, and having their arguments over, in such a way that he had both the courage and the bits required to stand up to her. While many of his neighbors took such walks to enjoy the scenery and relative quiet of living in a village that was small and surrounded more by countryside than by city, Addison found himself lost in his thoughts and fantasies more often than not. Many in the village had learned to avoid Addison on his daily walks, with many making certain to give him a few good feet of clearance when they passed on the lane. It was well known in the village that Addison would readily walk right into someone and never bat an eye or offer an apology.
While Addison had the reputation of being lost in his own little world, oblivious to everything going on around him, he was a man however, that was not so oblivious that he would not easily spot something so big as a castle that was out of place. In all of the past five years that he had been walking each morning along the path that lead from him home into the countryside past a long abandoned and ruined castle he had never failed to notice exactly that — the castle was in ruins.
This morning however, much to Addison’s surprise, the ruins had been replaced by an elaborate and beautiful castle once more. He stood gazing in astonishment at the large stone structure with its beautifully colored flags waving briskly from the tops of the three towers. He stared for a great many minutes, taking in the whole scene, seeing the large stone wall that surrounded the inner structures of the castle — a wall that was greater than anything he’d ever seen before.
Can’t be real… He thought to himself. I…I…I must be dreaming. Yet something deep inside him told him that this castle was very real.
While looks were not Addison’s strongest qualities, it can be said that they were vastly superior to his intelligence and common sense. Even though every ounce of his being told him that something was wrong, that a force far greater than anything he ever really wanted to know about was responsible, and that he should leave and never bother to come along this path again for his morning walks, Addison began to walk eagerly toward the castle, as though a neighbor walking next door to welcome someone that had just moved to the neighborhood might do.
With a schoolboy sense of wonder overtaking him, the small man quickly made his way down the path toward what may be considered the front of the castle, where a huge iron gate stood guarding the entrance. All around the outside of the castle it was peaceful. It could be considered a perfect early morning. As Addison continued to grow smaller in the distance as he drew closer to the castle though, it would easily be apparent to any other observer that something was very wrong.
There were no birds singing the welcome of the morning. In fact, glancing around one would notice that there weren’t even any birds flying about the skies this morning. Instead, if someone bothered to just glance at the ground for a moment, it would be clear that all of the birds were in fact dead — their carcasses lying crumpled onto the ground scattered across the countryside in a circle around the great new mysterious castle.
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Consequences
Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long to post, but life refused to wait while I wrote another chapter. I want to thank everyone that have left reviews, and I hope to keep writing a story worthy of continuing to have reviews. Finally I need to thank my beta Ginny Guerra for her help and suggestions.
Addison Newbury’s pace slowed as he began to approach the massive iron gate that stood guard over the front entrance to the castle. He held his breath, his mouth falling open in awe at the massive structure that stood before him. Even though he may appear to be a simple man, likely to spend his entire life living in a single village and never venturing away from it, he was in fact an avid traveller. As he stood looking over the castle before him, the sheer size and splendour could only be matched by the castles and palaces of the greatest rulers to have lived.
Blimey! He thought. This is amazing!
He reached out tentatively with his right hand to touch one of the great stones that made up the outer wall. Much to his surprise, the stone was warm to the touch. More surprisingly though he felt something radiate up his arm. For an instant, he felt as though someone was there with him but as he glanced around he saw there was no one there. Still though, he couldn’t shake the idea that there was someone with him, almost as though they were looking through his eyes as he was.
He withdrew his hand slowly; his eyes fixed on his fingertips, a look of confusion and concern slowly beginning to spread across his face. His fingertips still felt warm, as though they were still touching the stone, but he no longer felt as though someone was with him. He looked once more to the stone and to his amazement and concern, saw it glowing a very pale blue.
Addison’s mouth fell open as he stood in silent shock. Everything within him began to tell him that he should leave. He did not need to be at the castle. He had no reason to be at the castle. If he left quickly enough, maybe he could get away before whoever or whatever had made this castle overnight would notice he had been there.
Fear suddenly ran up his spine and for the first time his brain began to register just how wrong everything was. Addison began to truly notice his surroundings other than the castle itself. Immediately, his eyes began to focus on the multitude of dead birds surrounding the castle. What he had initially written off as coincidence when he had left his home earlier, now seemed to have very much more meaning.
Addison said nothing, barely even breathing for fear that even too loud a breath might alert someone to his presence. For the first time that morning, common sense decided to rejoin the rest of Addison’s brain. Whether it had decided to sleep in, or had abandoned him during the tongue lashing that was the daily morning ritual of his life, he would never know, but now it was back and forcing him to start making each slow and deliberate step away from the castle.
He very slowly and silently began to back away from the castle, keeping his eyes fixed on the iron gate only taking brief glances behind him to ensure he staying on the path and did not trip or fall. After what had seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a few brief moments, Addison was about 50 meters away from the castle. For the first time in a long while, he was able to take a full breath as his body relaxed a bit.
He slowly began to turn his body so that he could walk away from the castle instead of backing all the way home. He kept his eyes fixed on the gate for as long as he could, until his body was turned so far that he would have had to be able to turn his head completely around backwards to keep looking. He lowered his head to his chest for a moment and let out a sigh as he began to walk away from the castle. Addison had only taken a few steps when he heard something that made his legs become jelly and his knees buckle.
He fell to the ground on his knees and hands. He quickly turned himself so that he could once more look at the castle. What he saw froze him for a moment. Unconsciously, his hands came up from the dirt lane to his face, resting on his cheeks. As they slowly fell away, his cheeks were left covered with dirt. Addison sat on his knees with his legs folded behind him, paralyzed with fear. He glanced about quickly trying to find some place to hide — a bush, a tree, a rock, a tall patch of grass or weeds, anything would do, but there was nothing.
Addison felt the urge to scream, cry and run, all overwhelming him at the same time, so instead he stayed still. His eyes were focused on the castle and its gate. Damn it! His common sense swore at him. You’re buggered now! Addison’s worst fears were now realized.
The gate was open.
***
For many witches and wizards, the Ministry of Magic was magic. Untold power and mystery lay hidden behind any number of ordinary looking doors. Magic long since forgotten or deemed too dangerous for the general witch or wizard to know or practice could be found in countless numbers of forbidden libraries hidden within the multitude of departments.
Since the fall of Voldemort and the appointment of Kingsley Shacklebolt to Minister of Magic, broad sweeping changes had taken place at the Ministry. Gone was much of the mystery and corruption that had so dominated the Ministry for the past few years. Entire departments had been eliminated and many of those that had secretly and openly favoured the reign of Voldemort at the Ministry were very unceremoniously relieved of their positions. Those who had so openly worked to create division and propagate Voldemort’s reign of terror, like Dolores Umbridge, found themselves given their own private quarters with iron bars for decorations deep in the bowels of the Ministry as they awaited trial before the Wizengamot for their roles in the dark reign of terror.
For all the things that had changed though, many more stayed the same. For Latimer Keeps, his sole job of the past thirty seven years had not varied, even during the Dark Reign. Each and every day he would arrive at the door to his office at exactly seven o’clock in the morning, unlock the door and go inside, only to emerge eight hours later to lock the door behind him and go home.
Keeps’ office was located in one of the oldest portions of the Ministry. It was evidenced by the large wooden door that marked the entrance. Unlike the newer metal doors enchanted with numerous wards and charms to keep out unwanted and unwelcome prying eyes, the large wooden door was made from an ancient wood that was able to absorb and resist any spell that was cast upon it. While the metal doors opened effortlessly and silently, the door to Keeps office was atrociously loud with creaking and very heavy requiring not only the strength of body, but also the will of magic to open.
Every single day for the past thirty-seven years, Keeps had opened this door walked into his office and sat behind his desk. Not once deviating from his routine and not once missing a day. Every single day for the past thirty seven years had been exactly the same, until today.
As Keeps approached his office this morning, there was nothing that indicated his docile and mind numbingly boring routine would be altered. His massive wooden door was locked with the charm he had left on it from the previous afternoon. As he unlocked the door, and with both his body and magic coaxed the door open, nothing immediately jumped out at him as being amiss. In fact, as he closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk, there was no indication that anything outside the norm was going to happen that day. The normalcy, however, was very short lived.
Keeps sat down behind his desk and began to look at the large maps on the wall around him. It was his job to watch these maps. Eight hours a day for the past thirty seven years he had sat behind his desk and watched the maps. To say that Keeps was dedicated to his job was an understatement. While Keeps knew that many of his fellow co-workers in the department slept on the job or, even worse, only bothered to show up once or twice a week to check their maps, Keeps loyally and obstinately did his duty. He watched his maps.
While many would wonder how a man could do something so menial for thirty seven years without going a little batty, it was a job that Keeps loved and felt was his calling in life. Although not an outstanding student, Keeps had graduated from Hogwarts when he was eighteen and had done well enough so he could get a job with the Ministry. Never one to enjoy physical violence like the one required for Defence Against the Dark Arts or ability to follow cookbook style directions like in Potions, he found himself most passionately drawn towards Wards and Charms.
Being a young man that enjoyed his space and was most happily content being alone and with his own thoughts, Keeps felt it a great blessing that when he first entered the Ministry to work, the opportunity prevailed itself to provide him the job that he had held for the next thirty seven years. Keeps had inherited the job from a wizard that had done it himself for sixty years before that. In fact, the job was one of the oldest positions in the Ministry of Magic.
While nowhere near as illustrious as Minister of Magic, Keeps understood that his job was in its own right very important. He knew that the origins of his position dated back to long before the very founding of the Ministry of Magic. He also knew that his position had never been called upon to fulfil its duty in the entire time the position had existed. Keeps job was to monitor a sole sentry ward that had been placed on five specific sites throughout England, all of which were now nothing more than piles of rubble that had once been great and magnificent castles.
***
Addison Newbury stood frozen staring at the now open gate. He did not know what to do. His mind continued to scream at him to run, to put distance between himself and the castle. The fact that there was no one at the gate gave him a little hope that he would still be able to get away without finding himself in any real trouble. His mind made up, he turned once more, and instead of walking, began to run away from the castle.
Before he could even take his first complete step, though, Addison felt something very strange. Just as his foot began to fall toward the ground, he felt an uneasiness in his stomach. It tightened for just a moment and then everything went blank. He was surrounded by darkness for just a second before an instant later he felt himself surrounded by light again and his feet once more on solid ground.
For a few brief moments, Addison was dazed. After once more being surrounded by light, and feeling his feet on the ground, he lost his orientation and fell to the ground. A quick wave of nausea overtook him and he vomited. As he began to reclaim his senses, the wave of nausea passed. He quickly realized that he was no longer outside, and in fact was on his hands and knees on a tile floor in a very large room.
As his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings Addison took note of the large size of the room and the immaculate splendour that surrounded him. He looked to the walls and appreciated magnificent stained glass windows, the equal of which he had never seen before. Looking down to the floor, it was a brilliant black stone that was so highly polished that he could clearly see his reflection, almost as well as any mirror he had ever stood before. He began to visually explore more of his surroundings before a voice pierced the air and snapped him back to full reality and realization of the gravity of his situation.
“You worthless Muggles never could tolerate apparition very well.” A voice called out from behind Addison. “Now stand, Muggle, and turn to face your new Master.”
For a moment, Addison weighed his options. Every part of him wanted to run away as fast as he could, and his eyes had spied the entrance to this Great Hall, but it was still too far away. However he had gotten into this room, Addison was certain the voice behind him had something to do with it, and he was certain that in the end, running away would do him no good. He sighed deeply as he slowly climbed to his feet and turned around to face whoever was behind him.
Addison kept his eyes down at the floor as he turned. He dare not look at whomever had spoken to him. The voice had called him a Muggle and he was uncertain as to what that exactly meant, but the contempt in his voice had told Addison more than he needed to know. The contempt told him that whatever a Muggle was, this person held them in the lowest esteem possible.
“Come here!” The voice called out.
Without looking up, Addison obeyed, walking toward the voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor before him. Soon, Addison had walked to the point that he began to see a reflection in the floor. While it was dark, he thought he could make out a figure sitting in great chair just before him. Addison closed his eyes tightly, hoping that what he had seen was just his imagination and that when he opened his eyes he would not seen any reflection. Unfortunately, when he did open his eyes, the reflection was still there.
“Look at me, you worthless piece of flesh.” The voice commanded.
Closing his eyes once more, and taking a ragged deep breath, he obeyed. Addison raised his head so that he was looking in the general direction of where his ears told him the voice was coming from. Finally, he opened his eyes and beheld the figure before him.
What he saw terrified him. Looking now at the figure himself, and not the reflection, Addison could see the true horrors of what was before him. Sitting upon an elaborate throne, draped in black robes, was a man. He was tall and muscular with long black hair and an equally dark beard. What of his forearms and hands Addison could see were covered in tattoos that appeared to be pictographs or letters, but Addison could not recognize the language. He appeared to be middle aged, but lines and wrinkles that occasionally flashed upon his face told Addison that however many years this man had lived had been full of turmoil and violence.
It was the man’s eyes, however, what truly terrified Addison. A brilliant gray, they were piercing, and he felt as though they touched his very soul. As he stood before the man, he felt for certain that the eyes were penetrating both his mind and soul and he was helpless to stop it. Addison felt his very essence of existence being violated as his mind was no longer his own. Just as before, when he touched the brick, he felt he was no longer alone with his thoughts, but this time it was much stronger.
He could feel the man before him going through each and every memory and thought that he had ever had. He tried at first to tell himself it wasn’t real, but the man without speak seemed to answer him.
It’s not real. This isn’t happening. A terrified Addison tried telling himself at first.
Oh, but it is happening. The man’s calm and viscous response echoed in Addison's ears.
Addison could feel an intense pleasure radiating from the man as he continued to tear apart Addison’s mind and haphazardly look at whatever memories he wanted. As he continued to stand before the man, helpless to hide his most personal thoughts from him, Addison began to feel ashamed. The man was looking at all of the failures in his life. Addison could feel an intense amusement as the man would force Addison to remember and practically relive each and every moment of cowardice that he had ever had in his life.
With each memory he was shown, Addison began to feel more and more worthless. He began to feel his life had been a waste and he was unworthy to be alive. Addison dropped to his knees and covered his tear filled eyes with his hands as he began to sob. The man before him let out an evil laugh as suddenly all of the memories he had just been presented flooded at once back into his mind.
Addison’s mind was overwhelmed. He felt sick to his stomach. His head felt like it was going to explode. He wanted to die. He lay onto the floor and curled into the fetal position, pulling his knees up to his chest. Silently, he prayed to die. He felt the man laughing at him still as he rose from his throne and approached him.
Addison remained on the ground, staring blankly into space. The feet of the man did not register as they stopped in front of Addison’s eyes. Addison was broken. The memories had stopped, but his soul felt empty. A gnawing pain tore at him from the inside out. His entire essence seemed to have been ripped from his body. All he felt was emptiness and pain.
Addison hoped for and welcomed death. He was unable to move, or he would have found a way to do it himself. He simply lay on the ground staring blankly into space. His cries and screams went unheard by his own ears. His mind had been destroyed, torn away from his body. The man laughed silently to himself, pleased with the torture he had brought upon this Muggle before him.
He could feel the Addison’s soul begging for death, no longer connected with his body, being trapped within his own shattered mind. The man was pleased with the agony and terror he felt within Addison. He took joy from watching Addison’s broken body weeping and beginning to destroy itself as his mind pleaded to be destroyed. Death would come soon enough to the Muggle. The man left him lying on the floor as his body began to convulse, and the body that had once been Addison Newbury began to choke on his own secretions.
The man once more sat on his throne. He closed his eyes and listened to the final moments of Addison Newbury as his body finally began to succumb to death.
The chokes, cries and wails were music to his ears.
***
As Keeps sat behind his desk that morning, he noticed nothing unusual. He gave his initial cursory glance to the five maps around his office. Nothing was different to the start of this day than of any other day for the last thirty seven years. At each of the first four maps he looked at, Keeps saw the usual broken and haphazard lines that represented the rubble that was once a castle.
All the maps in the room were ancient. They represented a magical ward that few people knew existed. Each and every stone of all five castles was represented on the map of the respective castle. If a stone was moved in real life, then the stone moved on the map. Keeps did not know who created the castle, but from the position’s previous holder, he knew that the maps were created just after the destruction of each of the castles the maps represented. The best guess anyone had was that the castles were all destroyed a little over one thousand years ago in short succession. (The five castles were destroyed at the same time? All of them belonged to the same person?)
As for the ward itself, Keeps was uncertain as to exactly what would happen. The previous map sentry had instructed Keeps that the maps were charmed so that he would be able to see an individual stone move. He also told Keeps that the map would also alert him to the presence of one specific person and that if certain magic was performed at any of the sites, the ward would be activated.
When his eyes fell upon the fifth map, Keeps gasped. The stones that were normally haphazard and scattered were now organized into walls and passageways. He could not believe his eyes. How it had happened in one night he could not understand. Keeps had grown used to seeing single stones move about the map. He assumed it was probably just kids or tourists messing around the ruins, but he had never truly expected to see an entire castle rebuilt on any of the maps.
His heart began to race as he thought about the ward and what else he should look for. He focused intently on the map, carefully dissecting each and every room until his heart stopped. In a room marked as the Great Hall he saw a name —Dante Daemon. He felt his entire body tense. Two of the three criteria for the ward to activate had been met, he was certain it was only a matter of time before the third would occur.
He held his breath as he silently stared at the map. Time froze around him. He did not blink. With a loud grunt he finally took a breath as he realized his body was screaming for air. Anticipation racked his body as Keeps felt his entire body on edge. His heart continued to race, feeling as though it may explode from his chest. He had broken out into a sweat and felt a wave of nausea spread over him. His focus remained intent however. He knew that for over a thousand years this map had never displayed the name or shown the castle in its former and complete glory.
Soon, an intense burning and strain began to overtake his eyes. Keeps had gone minutes without blinking and his eyes were now screaming at him to allow them to close so they could once more have the moisture of his tears. After struggling for as long as he could until the burning and urge became too great, he finally blinked. As his eyes snapped quickly back open, he noticed the name on the map begin to move.
He silently cursed himself for having to blink. He watched the name move only a few paces and pause. It remained stationary only for a few moments before moving back to its original position. As Keeps stared intently at the map, willing the name to move again, he saw the map begin to glow a deep red.
The last condition of the activation of the ward had been met.
Keeps felt a wave of exhilaration and panic spread over him at the same time. He did not know what would happen next. He continued to stare at the map for a few more moments, but it remained red and did not change further. Soon becoming alarmed, Keeps turned and looked at the other maps. He noticed the other four were just as they had always been.
Then, in the periphery of his eyes, he saw a glowing red book. It rested in a corner of his office that he was certain had no book in it before. He cautiously approached the glowing book and looked at its cover. He saw no title on it. A closer examination of the book told him it was old and worn. Keeps realized quickly that it must have been written by the same person who created the maps. Very cautiously and carefully, he opened the front cover.
On the page before him, Keeps found three handwritten lines.
The Ward is Broken.
Daemon has Returned.
The Power of Four Must Prevail.
He flipped through the rest of the book, but the remaining pages were blank. As he turned back to the first page, he noticed an additional line had appeared below the others.
Only the Hero of the Prophecy and his three companions may read further.
Confusion gave way to understanding in Keeps’s mind. He gently closed the book and tucked it carefully under his arm. He stepped over to the map and with a wave of his wand removed the charm holding it to the wall. A flick of his wrist later, the map rolled itself up and he had it tucked under his other arm.
The old wooden door opened easily this time as Keeps’s adrenaline gave him the strength to brute force it open without even thinking about magic. He had to get the map and the book to those who would be able to figure out its cryptic message. He wasn’t certain, but he knew if a ward over a thousand years old that had always been watched by a sentry had just activated, then it was something that was of the utmost importance.
Keeps knew he had to speak to no one less than the Minister of Magic.
Chapter 13: Chapter 13: No Rest for the Weary
Author's Notes: Once again, thank you to all who have left reviews, I greatly appreciate any and all comments. This chapter underwent a few minor and one slightly major revision thanks to my Beta - Ginny Guerra, who pointed out a very glaring weakness in the original version, I hope to have sufficiently corrected it in this version. Ultimately I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will continue to ask you to please leave reviews, comments and criticisms.
Kingsley Shacklebolt sat in his office behind his desk his head resting in his hand as he stared blankly at the old map and book lying before him. Sadness enveloped him. Deep in his soul, he knew who the Hero was that the book referred to. In fact, Kingsley was almost certain he knew who all four of the people the book referenced must be.
He silently shook his head in disbelief. The war had just ended. Those kids have given up their childhood so that the world could be safe. They were supposed to get a chance to reclaim some of their lost youth, Kingsley thought to himself as he felt a solitary tear form in his eye.
When Latimer Keeps had first appeared at Kingsley’s door, he thought him an eccentric old man that had worked for the Ministry long enough that Shacklebolt was willing to listen to his congratulations on the changes that had been made to the Ministry. As Keeps had launched into his explanation of why he had demanded to speak with Shacklebolt though, a realization set in that this old man before Kingsley was far from eccentric or insane.
As he listened to Keeps’s story and looked at the map for himself, Shacklebolt began to comprehend the gravity of the situation. As he watched Daemon’s name move about the castle, he felt an uneasiness grow in his stomach. Years of being an Auror had taught him to rely on his instincts and listen to his sixth sense, better known as his gut. Kingsley was smart enough to never let his instincts force him into a rash decision, but he was wise enough to realize that when he felt that small ball of concern and uneasiness form in his stomach, he should give everything around him his fullest attention.
When the old man had first set the old book before him, Kingsley had let the smallest ray of hope surface once more as he quickly flipped through the book, only to see blank pages.
Perhaps things aren’t as dire as I had first thought, Kingsley thought to himself, as he began to focus more on his own thoughts and intuition than what the old man was saying.
Kingsley was quickly snapped back to reality when the pages of the book were slammed shut on his fingers. He blinked and shook his head trying to understand what had just happened until he looked up and noticed a very annoyed Latimer Keeps staring at him, with his hand firmly holding the book closed on Shacklebolt’s fingers.
“Minister! Would you please listen to me?!” snapped the old man, obviously aware that Shacklebolt had not been listening to him for the past few minutes. “I’ve TOLD you. Only the very first page has any lines on it! That’s where you need to read!”
Kingsley felt regret and shame for a moment. He normally did not tune anyone out. He was normally very attentive and readily listened to what anyone had to say. The last few days and weeks, though, had seen him besieged with well wishers and those who had their own ideas of how to fix the Ministry. While Kingsley had to admit that sometimes there were good ideas, most times people were only interested in building a name for themselves, or in some way giving themselves a leg up on everyone else.
As a result, Kingsley had fallen into the habit of listening to the first few words and then drifting off into other matters, while occasionally nodding and giving a look of concentration to whoever was speaking. Unfortunately, with the old man in front of him, Kingsley had done the exact same thing, even when his instincts had told him there was something important going on. While the map had been foreboding to Kingsley when he first saw it, Kingsley had to admit he had never seen the old man before, and had never truly realized that there was a Ward Sentry Department in the Ministry of Magic.
The realization of his mistake was all too apparent now, as the weight of the book bore down onto his fingers and he felt them beginning to burn and tingle as the blood was slowly pressed out of them. He apologetically looked toward the old man in front of him and saw the old man’s eyes relax a bit from the earlier intensity he saw in them.
Keeps finally took his hand from the top of the book, realizing that Shacklebolt was now listening to him. He nodded his acceptance of the Minister’s silent apology and waited for him to look at the first page in the book. As Kingsley opened the book and saw the few lines scribbled in an eloquent handwriting, the small ray of hope that had been ignited in him just a few moments earlier was quickly doused.
The look of concern and concentration on the face of the Minister told Keeps all he needed to know. He took his leave of the Minister, realizing that he now understood the importance of what he had brought to him. He knew the Minister was now going to take the action necessary to fully understand what was going on. Keeps nodded silently to the Minister, who returned his nod briefly before once more looking at the page before him.
Keeps strode silently from the room, leaving a very intense and troubled Kingsley Shacklebolt behind him.
***
Harry Potter sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow hungrily eating the sandwiches before him. While Molly had been willing to let him skip breakfast to continue lazing around with Ginny in the living room, neither her nor Ginny were willing to allow Harry to skip lunch as well. Molly, of course, had argued that Harry was still too much skin and bones to keep skipping meals, while Ginny had quietly whispered to Harry that if he didn’t eat and get his stomach to stop growling, she was going to hex him into the next week. Needless to say, Ginny’s threat was Harry’s true motivation when he had sprung from the couch and bounded quickly into the kitchen at Molly’s proclamation of it being time for lunch.
Now that he was eating, Harry had to admit that he had been quite hungry, although for some reason, lying with Ginny on the couch had suppressed his appetite in his mind, even if his stomach was roaring its disapproval. He readily grabbed another sandwich, which by both Ginny and Molly’s count was his fourth, as he looked at a wide eyed Ginny.
“What?” he asked as he took a rather large bite of the sandwich and quickly chewed it once or twice before swallowing it essentially whole and then washing it down with a rather large gulp of pumpkin juice.
Ginny just shook her head back and forth as she continued to stare at Harry, not saying a word. As he took another hungry bite of his sandwich and yet again didn’t bother to take time to chew his food, she raised her eyebrow at him knowingly.
“Ok… ok… fine,” he finally stated between bites. “Maybe I was hungrier than I wanted to let on,” he continued as he finished the sandwich currently in his hand and then reached for another.
“Well you just eat as much as you want Harry. There’s still plenty left,” Molly chimed in as she sat another plate full of sandwiches on the table in front of Harry.
In amazement, Ginny and Molly both sat and watched Harry devour down to the last sandwich on the plate and for good measure he polished off the pitcher of pumpkin juice as well. When he was finished, he leaned back in the chair and patted his stomach softly. The discomfort was obvious on his face.
“Urgh! That was delicious, but I may have eaten too much,” Harry finally managed to get out as a small grimace spread across his face from the obvious indigestion he was experiencing.
Ginny just rolled her eyes as she turned to look at her mum. Molly, for her part, returned Ginny’s glance before they both turned and began to stare at Harry and at the empty plate in the middle of the table.
“What?” Harry asked with a slightly high pitched voice. “You two said I needed to eat…” Harry paused as he grimaced once more from the indigestion. “…and that’s exactly what…” Yet again Harry grimaced and paused. “…I did.”
Both women just raised an eyebrow at Harry but said nothing. Finally Ginny broke the silence. “Do you know just how many sandwiches you ate?”
A blush began to spread across Harry’s face as the slightest hint of a grin also appeared. He turned his head so that he wasn’t looking at either of the women as he began to mutter his answer under his breath. “Six or seven …”
“What?!” Ginny cried amazed at Harry’s gall.
“…teen,” Harry finished as he looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eyes, keeping his head turned, hoping that she wouldn’t see the smirk on his face.
Ginny sat in front of Harry with her mouth gaping open. She had noticed his smirk, but couldn’t think of a quick response. The look on his face, the half smirk of having been caught doing something was just so adorable to her that her mind had momentarily frozen on her. She was finally pulled out of being lost in Harry’s smirk and eyes as Molly began to laugh softly.
Molly had been watching silently the banter back and forth between Harry and Ginny. She realized that Harry, unlike anyone else, knew exactly which of Ginny’s buttons to push and how often he could push them without getting a Bat-Bogey Hex. Actually, Molly was pretty certain that Harry could escape a Bat-Bogey Hex no matter how angry he had made Ginny, at least the first few times, by just looking at Ginny. She realized her daughter had yet to develop any type of defence against Harry’s beautiful green eyes, and she knew Ginny frequently got lost in them whenever they looked at one another.
Molly was so certain that Harry could avoid a Bat-Bogey Hex from Ginny that Arthur, she, Bill and Fleur had a running pool on how long it would be before Harry felt the true extent of the Ginny Weasley’s temper. The women in the pool of course recognized the power that Harry had to captivate Ginny, body and soul, so they had said that it would take much longer than either of the men thought. Molly had actually said it would be after they were married, while Fleur thought it would take four or five months. Bill had already lost his part of the pool because he figured, considering the way Ginny had hexed the living daylights out him and the other Weasley brothers, that she would be sure to do it within the first two weeks of them being back together. Arthur, to his credit was still in the running, having said it would take two or three months but his time was fast running out as well.
Molly continued to laugh softly at both Harry and Ginny, remembering what young love was like and how blissful it had been. She was happy for both of the young adults sitting before her. She had known for a long time that they were meant for each other, but the war and Voldemort had conspired to throw every obstacle possible in their way. Granted, she worried that because of how quickly they had been forced to grow up, especially Harry, they might advance their relationship faster than she thought appropriate, but ultimately she trusted both Harry and Ginny. They had shown maturity well beyond their years already.
Molly continued to smile softly at them both as she stood and began to clean the table. Lunch was over, and before long it would be time to start dinner. She said nothing as she finished clearing the table. Ginny stood to help her, but she just gave Ginny a knowing glance and motioned her head for Ginny and Harry to go off and relax.
Ginny smiled at her mum in understanding and gratitude. “Let me know when you start dinner and I’ll help,” Ginny added as she stood up and walked over to Harry, who now had his eyes closed and was beginning to doze off in his chair.
Ginny playfully slapped him on the back of the head and tussled his hair as he turned his head to look at her. She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead and then on the lips. As Harry began to return the kiss, she pulled away ever so slightly, causing Harry to move forward to maintain the kiss. Ginny continued to lead Harry up and away from the chair until he was standing. They continued to kiss for a few moments more until Harry seemed to realize he was no longer sitting in the chair.
As they pulled apart, Harry began to look around a bit confused. It was obvious he had been too focused on the kiss to realize what the rest of his body was doing. Ginny laughed softly as she put her finger up to his lips, silencing him as he began to speak. She took hold of his hand and led him from the kitchen out toward the garden.
Molly smiled to herself as she watched them go. Yes, Ginny was completely captivated by Harry Potter, but Harry was just as hopeless when it came to Ginny. A single tear slipped from Molly’s eye as she was both happy and sad. The way Harry looked at Ginny she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was both losing her only daughter and officially gaining a new son.
***
Arthur Weasley walked quickly toward the Minister of Magic’s office. He had not been surprised when Shacklebolt’s face had appeared in the fireplace of his new office; they often spoke multiple times a day now, but his request for Arthur to come to his office and refusal to say why had put Arthur a bit on edge. As Arthur approached Shacklebolt’s office, he saw the door was standing open and Shacklebolt was standing at his desk looking down at a large piece of parchment. Arthur paused at the doorway and tapped his knuckles against the doorframe causing Shacklebolt to look up.
“Arthur, come in and close the door behind you,” Shacklebolt said as he stepped around from behind his desk.
Arthur was not put at ease by his friend’s greeting. He had known Kingsley Shacklebolt long enough to know when something was concerning him. The tone of his voice, the lack of emotion, and the resolute look on his face as he spoke told Arthur that they had something very important to discuss.
As he finished closing the door and turned around, he saw Kingsley with his wand raised and already casting wards over the door and room to ensure their privacy.
Whatever this is, it’s something that’s really got him worried, Arthur thought to himself as he watched Kingsley finish the wards.
As Kingsley walked back around his desk and took his seat, he motioned for Arthur to sit as well.
“What’s wrong, Kingsley?” Arthur quickly broke the silence as he lowered himself into the chair directly across from him.
Kingsley paused for a moment as he decided how best to approach the topic. Finally, he decided that the blunt truth would be best. Arthur had always been a man that who appreciated being given all the facts straight out, and this was one occasion where when having all the facts up front could very well be beneficial.
“Earlier this morning, a man from the Sentry Ward Department brought this charmed map and book to me. He informed me the map was of an ancient castle that had long ago been left in ruins and that for every single day of the past thirty seven years, the map had reflected that.” As he spoke, he motioned towards the map and turned it so that it was facing Arthur. “This morning, however, he told me that when he checked the map, the castle appeared as it does now — no longer ruins, but instead complete and in its full splendour.”
Arthur did not know what to say. It was obvious from the map that a magnificent castle was represented. As he studied the map, Arthur noticed that there was a name located on the map. It was not moving, but he noted that it was located in a room labelled as the Great Hall. He looked to Kingsley questioningly.
“The map is one part of a ward that was placed on that castle as well as four others throughout England over a thousand years ago. Evidently it is intended to be a warning as to the return of an evil far greater than anything we’ve ever seen since the wards were created.” Kingsley let out a long sigh as he contemplated how to continue. “This book…” Kingsley continued as he placed his right hand on an old book lying off to the side of the map, “…later appeared after the map glowed a deep red, indicating that the ward had been fully activated. This book seems to be some type of guide to the person that is meant to face whatever the evil that has returned is.”
“And just who is the book meant for?” Arthur questioned, but already the back of his mind was beginning to understand the answer.
“Well, the book doesn’t specifically say. Only the first page had any writing that I can read. I suspect it will be the same for you, but there is a hint as to who it will be.” Kingsley then opened the book to the first page and turned it so that Arthur could read it for himself.
Arthur’s eyes quickly scanned over the lines on the book. He let out a long sigh as he closed it. He continued to stare down at the cover of the book.
Kingsley watched silently as all colour appeared to drain from the man before him. In an instant Arthur had gone from vibrant and alive to looking pale and many years older than he truly was. Kingsley sighed as he approached his old friend and placed his hand on his shoulder.
Twice now they had been to war together. Both times the cost had been high for Arthur — too high. The loss of Fred had been the final dagger that Voldemort sent to the good and noble man that Kingsley now looked at so sympathetically.
Arthur had struggled greatly with the death of Fred. Kingsley could see it in Arthur’s eyes when he was coming in to work at the Ministry in the days before Fred’s funeral. Arthur had tried to bury himself in his work and hide from what he was feeling. As a result, Kingsley had forced him to stay home the final few days leading up to Fred’s funeral.
“I had hoped that he would finally be free of having to play the Hero,” Arthur spoke softly, thinking of the raven-haired young man that had been so happy the past few weeks at the Burrow, captivated and in love with his only daughter.
“I’ve already lost one son I can’t stand to lose four more children,” he said so quietly that Shacklebolt at first thought it was nothing more than a long sigh, but after a few seconds, his mind teased out the heart wrenching words Arthur had actually spoken.
Kingsley looked silently at Arthur for a moment. Words escaped him. He had no idea what to say to comfort the man in front of him. Arthur’s last statement had told Kingsley just how much both Harry and Hermione meant to him. Arthur thought of them as his own, not just the chosen soul mates for Ginny and Ron.
“From what I’ve seen, their love, devotion and loyalty make them a formidable force against any threat that comes their way,” Kingsley added as he finally made eye contact once more with Arthur. “After all, they all had a part in the Battle for Hogwarts and ultimately the fall of Voldemort.”
Arthur nodded in response. He knew Kingsley was right. They sat in silence for a few moments before Kingsley finally spoke. “I guess the only way to be certain is to bring them here and have them look at the book. If they can read it, then we know for sure.”
Arthur remained silent. Tears had formed in his eyes as he thought of what the lines on the page represented. Once more the sons and daughters Arthur loved so dearly would be asked to risk their lives for something that no one could fully understand. He only hoped that the book would give them the answers they needed to stay safe.
***
Molly Weasley had just finished putting away the last of the dishes from lunch. She was still smiling to herself, thinking about Harry and Ginny, when she heard something in the living room that startled her. Someone had just arrived by Floo. She wasn’t entirely surprised, as she was expecting Ron and Hermione to return from a day’s shopping at Diagon Alley, so she walked toward the living room to greet them.
As she stepped into the living room though, she was taken a bit by surprise to see Arthur dusting the ashes off himself. He looked up and their eyes met. She immediately noticed the look of concern on his face. She began to ask him what was wrong, but he spoke before she could.
“Where’s Harry?” he asked as he finished dusting himself off and began striding towards her.
“He… He’s outside with Ginny. W-W-Why? ... What’s wrong?” Molly questioned as she became more alarmed.
“He’s needed at the Ministry. Shacklebolt needs to see him immediately,” Arthur commented as he strode past Molly, walking into the kitchen and towards the door that lead out to the garden.
Molly quickly fell in step beside him. “Arthur, what in Merlin’s beard is wrong?” she questioned firmly, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to stop and look at her.
Arthur sighed deeply as he looked at his wife. She immediately recognized sadness and pain in his eyes. “Something happened this morning that concerns an ancient ward. Nobody is really certain exactly what it means, but I’m afraid it means that Harry’s fighting days are not yet quite over.”
Molly stood in complete shock for a moment. Her mouth was wide open as she took a deep breath. She tried to speak but words would not come. “B-B-But Voldemort’s dead! What else could it be?”
Arthur shook his head. “That’s what we don’t know, but it seems to be something or someone that predates Voldemort by a thousand years. Right now I need to get Harry and take him to Shacklebolt’s office. There’s a chance this doesn’t involve him, but we won’t know until we get him there.”
With that, Molly released Arthur’s arm and he began his march toward the garden once more with Molly matching him step for step.
As Arthur and Molly stepped outside, they glanced around quickly trying to locate Harry and Ginny. Molly realized that if Harry and Ginny wanted to be alone, and had cast charms and wards, their search could be nearly impossible. Deciding that the best approach was to not spend the afternoon walking around blindly looking for two lovesick teenagers that did not want to be found, Molly started doing what any mother who wants the immediate attention of her children does. She began to call out full names.
“HARRY JAMES POTTER AND GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, SHOW YOURSELVES THIS INSTANT!”
Arthur jumped slightly at the sudden outburst of his wife. He had already taken a few steps out into the garden, preparing to walk around aimlessly until he found them or tripped over them. He turned quickly to look at Molly who was still standing beside the house, having not bothered to even try to look for them.
As he turned back around, he saw both Harry and Ginny appear from the forest and come quickly walking towards them. Both were very red and dishevelled looking with their clothes quite wrinkled. Evidently realizing their appearance, Arthur watched Harry cast a quick charm on both he and Ginny as they grew nearer, causing their appearance to improve markedly when they finally reached Arthur and Molly.
“Ummm…” Harry started but did not finish. His face was a bright red and it was obvious both he and Ginny were quite embarrassed and alarmed about having been summoned from whatever they were doing by both Arthur and Molly.
“Mom we were just…” Ginny began, but was quickly cut of by Molly, who had realized both teens were quite embarrassed and alarmed.
For a moment, she had been confused as to why they would be so red and alarmed, but then it dawned on her what she had interrupted. An instant later, she realized just how she had used their full names to get their attention and understood that she had most likely given them both a near heart attack of fear.
“Oh, it’s nothing about that, you two.” She looked first to her daughter and gave her a knowing wink, and then to Harry seeing his concern lessen slightly.
“Then what’s it about?” Harry asked as he began to notice the look of concern that was on both the faces of Molly and Arthur.
“Kingsley has something he wants you to take a look at in his office back in the Ministry,” Arthur answered, looking to both Harry and Ginny, who were now holding hands.
“And just what does he want to show me? Has it got something to do with my parents’ graves?” Harry asked quickly.
Arthur pondered Harry’s question for a moment. He had not considered if what had happened at Harry’s parents’ graves could be possibly related to what Kingsley had showed him earlier that morning, but now that he thought of it, he couldn’t rule it out entirely.
“I honestly don’t know, Harry. I hadn’t considered it at all until you just mentioned it. All I can say for the time being though, is that a book has appeared and says it can only be read by a certain person and his three friends,” Arthur finally replied.
“And for some reason, you and Shacklebolt think I’m the person that the book is supposed to be read by.” Harry’s response was terse and strained.
It was obvious that Harry was now becoming annoyed at what was going on. He did not want to be dragged into the middle of another battle or quest. He just wanted to be left alone to enjoy his time with Ginny. He just wanted to be a normal young man — at least as normal as the most famous wizard of the day could be.
“Harry, there’s one page in the book that can be read by anyone. What that page seems to indicate is that you are the person the book is meant for. I’m not sure exactly what the book is about or is going on, but Kingsley wants you there as soon as possible to at least determine if you are the person to read the book.”
“By the way it sounds, I’m the one who will be able to read the book, and as a result, if Kingsley is this concerned, then I am the one who is about to have to do something in regards to the book.” Harry’s voice was full of frustration and annoyance.
Ginny could feel the tension and rising anger in Harry as she held his hand. She tried to convey her feelings of support and comfort to him, but his feelings were too strong. Finally, she squeezed his hand and he looked at her. She smiled softly at him and nodded to him.
“It’ll be alright, Harry. I’ll go with you.” She looked to her father to dare him to say no, but he didn’t. Arthur nodded his agreement.
Ginny quickly felt some of the tension leave Harry’s body. His anger and frustration didn’t leave completely, but it lessened enough so that Ginny was able to push her feelings of support and comfort across their bond to Harry.
“We’d better go,” Harry finally stated, after he regained his composure.
He looked toward Ginny and motioned for her to lead the way. Molly and Arthur preceded them, followed by Ginny, with Harry bringing up the rear. As they all stepped into the house, Harry let out a small sigh. All he wanted was to be left alone. All he wanted was to be with Ginny and let the rest of the world deal with its own problems.
Maybe someday, he thought to himself as they walked into the living room.
Arthur stood at the Floo. Molly remained beside him. As he took a pinch of powder, Molly also took some. He looked at her questioningly for a moment.
“I’m going too,” she stated matter-of-factly. “If this concerns Harry, then we should all be there.”
Harry did not know why, but, for a moment, he felt an intense appreciation towards Molly. She had always been the mother he couldn’t have after Voldemort had killed his own mother. Molly’s eyes met Harry’s for a moment and she saw his appreciation flowing out of them. She smiled at him softly as Arthur cast his powder and declared “Minister of Magic’s office!” before disappearing into the flames. Molly turned away from Harry, focusing on the Floo and followed after Arthur.
Harry looked at Ginny for a moment as she took some Floo powder for herself and gave Harry some as well.
“It’ll be alright, Harry. I’ll be there with you. We’ll get whatever this is taken care of and then we’ll get back to our tree and finish what we started,” she said softly before kissing him passionately.
As they broke apart, Harry sighed longingly. “I’m going to hold you to that, Gin. Merlin only knows that after whatever this is I have to take care of, I’m going to want to snog you all day and night long.”
Harry winked at her before Ginny turned and cast her powder into the Floo. An instant later, she was gone and Harry was standing in the Burrow alone. He hoped whatever it was Kingsley wanted to see him about was simple and could be taken care of just by looking at the book, but something deep within him told him that it was much more than that.
Harry sighed one last time before he tossed his powder into the Floo as well.
“Minister of Magic’s office!” Harry shouted as he stepped into the flames and was gone.
Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Revelations
Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter up. Unfortunately, life happened and family illness has reared its ugly head. Again, many thanks to Ginny Guerra who has been a fantastic beta. Her eyes and comments have been a great benefit. Thanks to all for all of the Reviews and comments, I do read and appreciate every single one.
As Harry emerged into the Minister of Magic’s office, he felt himself stumble initially, but was able to quickly regain his balance before he fell down, unlike many of his other experiences using the Floo. As Harry looked around, he noticed that all the Weasleys that had preceded him to the office had stepped to the sides of the office so that he could have a wide berth for his entry.
He looked about quickly at Arthur and Molly before focusing on Ginny, seeing that she was trying hard to hold a smirk off her face.
“Hey! That one wasn’t half bad,” Harry retorted to the question he saw dancing in her eyes. “I didn’t fall this time!”
Ginny finally let the smirk on her face broaden into a wide grin as he walked towards her. Silently, she nodded her agreement.
“As long as you consider stumbling around like a newborn fawn trying to figure out how to stand as improvement,” she added as Harry stopped and stood beside her.
An instant later, Harry heard what distinctly sounded like a snort come from the direction of Molly, but it had quickly been replaced with a very loud and obvious cough. He looked at her only to find her bright red and struggling to keep from laughing, holding her finger between her teeth and starting to double over.
Harry’s mouth dropped open as he turned his attention back to Ginny. She had started to giggle openly and broke into outright full laughter upon seeing his face and hearing her mother laughing as well. Harry just stood and shook his head.
Suddenly, the noise of someone clearing his throat from the other side of the room diverted everyone’s attention towards Shacklebolt’s desk. The room fell silent as everyone was quickly reminded of why they were here. Harry saw Shacklebolt sitting behind his desk, with only a single worn book resting on it.
“Harry…” Shacklebolt began as Harry stepped towards him. “I’m sorry that we’ve had to bring you here, but there’s something that’s happened this morning that I’m afraid may require your help.”
Harry simply nodded his understanding as he continued to stare at Shacklebolt, occasionally stealing glances down to the book in front of him.
Shacklebolt then proceeded to tell Harry about Keeps and the map the old man had brought to him earlier that morning. After his initial explanation, Shacklebolt pointed to the wall beside his desk, where the map was currently hanging. He paused for a moment as everyone in the room took time to look at the map, study the castle and gaze at the lone name moving about inside the castle.
As everyone slowly began to move away from the map, Shacklebolt once again got their attention as he placed his hand heavily upon the book and let out a great sigh. He looked at Harry with regret in his eyes as he motioned for the young man to set in the chair in front of his desk. As Harry took the seat, he took Ginny’s hand and pulled her close to him.
“I-I-I guess this is the book you think I can read,” Harry said quietly, with a hint of trepidation in his voice.
Sensing that Harry was anxious, Ginny squeezed his hand firmly as she sat on the arm of the chair and put her other arm around Harry’s shoulders. She then hugged him softly as the room stayed silent for a moment. Finally, Shacklebolt nodded and pushed the book towards Harry.
Harry paused for a moment before moving forward in the chair so that he was setting on the edge. He laid one hand cautiously on the book as he let out a big sigh. He felt Ginny’s hands resting on his shoulders as he tentatively reached his right hand toward the book. He paused for the briefest of moments before he gently laid his hand on the book.
Whatever it was Harry or anyone else in the room expected to happen the moment he touched the book, it did not. The book did not begin to glow. Light did not emanate from the book. Harry was not magically transformed or transported away. In fact, nothing happened. Harry’s hand rested upon the book, just like Shacklebolt’s had done before it, and nothing at all happened.
Harry sat for a moment, feeling the rough leather cover’s texture beneath his fingers. He dragged his finger across the cover very deliberately as he thought to himself. Harry knew all he had to do was open the book, but with the way his entire life had gone so far, he knew it couldn’t be that simple.
Harry turned to Ginny for a moment, staring into her beautiful eyes. He saw both her support and fear for him as they shimmered with the first hint of forming tears. Silently they both nodded to each other as Harry slowly rose from the chair. He took his hand from the book and held it out for Ginny. She quickly wrapped her hand in his and Harry pulled her toward him.
As Ginny took her place by Harry’s side, he once more turned his attention to the book that now lay before him. He carefully traced the edge of the cover with his hand before he finally slid his finger underneath the upper right edge and opened the book.
As Harry looked down, he saw what Keeps, Shacklebolt and Arthur before him had seen as well.
The Ward is Broken.
Daemon has Returned.
The Power of Four Must Prevail.
Only the Hero of the Prophecy and his three companions may read further.
Harry said nothing as he read the handwritten lines over and over, letting them sink in. He traced his finger along each line as he carefully memorized every single word.
Harry heard Ginny let out a deep breath — one that she had been holding since he first opened the book. As he rested his hand on the page she gently placed hers on top of his. Harry turned and looked at her. In her eyes, he saw regret, fear and resolve all swirling at the same time. She pursed her lips and took in a deep breath.
“Harry, there’s only one way to know for sure,” she spoke softly yet confidently. “We need to turn the page.”
As Harry paused for a moment, Ginny began to act. She slid her hand from on top of his and brought it to the edge of the pages herself. She then carefully and deliberately slid her finger underneath the next page. Harry moved his hand out of the way as the page first began to turn and fell over.
For a moment, both Harry and Ginny stood expressionless staring at the page. It was blank. Both let out a great sigh of relief as they looked up towards Shacklebolt, who was staring at the page himself, albeit upside down.
“Well I guess that answers that…” began Harry with an obvious tone of relief in his voice. Before he could continue though, Shacklebolt raised his hand to silence Harry, having never taken his eyes form the page.
“Sometimes ancient spells take a little longer to make themselves obvious,” Shacklebolt finally noted, as he briefly looked up to Harry before pointing with his finger back to the book and once more looking toward it.
Harry’s heart sank as he realized what Shacklebolt was referring to. As he looked down at the book, the blank page that earlier had been there, was no longer blank. Instead, on the page was an elaborate and ornate golden shield that was divided into four sections. Each of the sections, however, was mysteriously empty.
It can never be simple! Harry thought to himself as he looked very intently at the shield in front of him. Even though it was quite beautiful, Harry couldn’t help but feel that it was in some way incomplete. The four bare quadrants on the front of the shield made it look incomplete.
Harry carefully studied the rest of the page, but could find no other markings or indications as to just what the shield represented. Finally, feeling that no other information could be gathered from looking at the page before him, Harry turned to the next page.
It was blank.
Initially thinking that it was probably the same issue as with the page with the shield, Harry sat for a moment not saying a word. He stared intensely at the page, almost willing words and images to appear, yet nothing ever appeared. After having waited long enough to be certain, Harry quickly turned to the next page, which was also blank. Again and again, Harry repeated this, turning the page, staring intently and waiting, only to give up and turn to the next page until he was nearly twenty pages into the book.
Completely at a loss, Harry turned to Ginny. As he looked at her, he saw a look of confusion on her face as well. He then looked to Shacklebolt, who himself was staring at the book with a look of puzzlement. Uncertain as to what else to do, Harry turned back to the page with the shield on it.
Looking at the shield for a second time, Harry could find no difference. He looked at every square inch of the page but there was nothing he had missed from before. Finally, in exasperation Harry sighed loudly as he closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.
Harry took a moment to clear his mind and calm himself before he once more opened his eyes and began to stare at the page with a new intensity. He knew the answer lay in the shield itself. It just looked so empty with the four blank areas. As Harry thought more about the shield, he began to trace his finger along the outer edge. When his finger touched the shield, it softly shimmered and glowed a bright gold for an instant.
Harry quickly pulled his hand away from the page and, moments later, writing began to appear below the shield. Excitement began to fill Harry. He looked at Ginny and saw excitement in her eyes as well.
“Well, it looks like we’re starting to get somewhere!” He proffered.
They both looked back to the page where the words had finally fully appeared. The excitement that had initially been there was quickly replaced with a look of concentration.
Having seen the look shared by Harry and Ginny and their initial excitement, the others in the room quickly gathered closer around Harry. Even Shacklebolt came out from behind his desk so that he could read the words right side up. In silence, everyone began to ponder the new lines that were on the page before them.
The Hero rises.
This book is his guide.
It will open only when the Four mark it with the strongest bond to show their commitment to the task.
Only with this bond can the power over evil be fully revealed.
Harry turned and looked first at Ginny. His eyes delved questioningly into hers.
Power of four? Three companions? He thought to himself. Who would they be? I know that Ron and Hermione have always been by my side. I would assume they are two of the other three, but who is the third?
Harry asked himself this question even though his heart knew the answer. She was standing before him, staring deeply into his eyes. She was the one who had given him the strength to carry on day after day when it seemed as though he was getting nowhere in his hunt for the Horcruxes. She was the reason he had been able to finally beat Voldemort. She was the reason that made him come back from his limbo between life and death.
Looking into Ginny’s eyes Harry saw strength and understanding. Where there had only been three for so long — Hermione, Ron and himself — he could now see that she understood she was the fourth person of the group. She was meant to be by his side for this journey, whether he liked it or not.
Something deep within Harry was stirring. The past few weeks had been the absolute best of his life as far as he could remember. Being with Ginny, loving her and having her love him back had filled Harry’s heart and soul with a warmth he had never felt before. As the implications of what the book before him could mean, Harry began to feel anxiety in him.
Harry looked thoughtfully at the book for a moment as his anxiety and distress grew.
Ginny noticed that Harry was once more taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. His back was not as straight as earlier, and his face was once more growing rigid as his jaw became firm. She watched as his breathing once more grew just slightly more ragged.
This was a Harry that most people in the room would not notice. His changes were subtle. Perhaps after years of persecution, abuse and bearing ungodly expectations from others as well as himself, he had grown experienced at hiding his transformation, or maybe the others just didn’t spend the time memorizing every line of joy that had been on his face the past few weeks.
This was the Harry she had hoped was gone forever. This was the Harry that had returned to her after killing Voldemort feeling that every death was his fault for not killing Voldemort soon enough. This was the Harry that would brood and sacrifice himself and his happiness to save everyone else.
Ginny felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Harry, but as she watched him and realized more and more what was going on in his mind, her irritation began to grow. This was also the Harry that had pushed her away after Dumbledore’s death. She knew it was only a matter of time before the noble git said something about this situation and not wanting her to get hurt that would lead to their first big row since getting back together.
Harry turned his head away from the book and slowly walked away from Shacklebolt’s desk. He was lost, deep in thought, as everyone in the room watched him. No one wanted to speak, to finally break the silence, as they all felt that Harry deserved to be alone with his thoughts — at least for the moment.
“I-I-I don’t know if I can d-do this,” Harry spoke as his voice began to break. Stress and anxiety clearly heard in each and every one of his words.
“And just why is that?!” Ginny replied, her answer coming out a bit more sharply than she had intended. She pursed her lips for a moment, willing herself to remain calm, to keep her growing frustration and anticipation of what they would soon be arguing about out of her voice, at least for the moment.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he closed the book and looked at Ginny in the eyes. He quickly lost himself in her eyes, not blinking, not breathing as he looked into her very soul. He could see hurt, sympathy, and a trace of anger all shimmering in them behind a thin veil of tears that had yet to fall.
Harry stepped towards Ginny. He took her hand in his and pulled her close to him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Not caring they were not alone, not caring that others were waiting for him to speak, Harry slowly and passionately kissed Ginny. He let out a long sigh. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers as he steeled himself to begin the conversation.
“I love you, Ginny,” he whispered softly, but not so low that it was unnoticed by the others in the room. “I love you, and I can’t lose you.”
Ginny immediately understood where he was starting to lead the conversation. She knew he would say it. She knew that, in his noble malfunctioning brain, he thought it was best and what would need to be done. She took a deep breath. She knew that she had to let him say it, but she knew that after that she would not hold her tongue any longer.
“How am I supposed to do this? How are we supposed to do this?”
His words caught Ginny off guard. They had not been what she had expected him to say. Did he just say ‘We’? she questioned to herself. Is he actually not going to tell me to stay safe at home while he figures this out?
Ginny was unable to speak. She was utterly confused. Her face revealed that she did not expect what Harry had said and had no idea how to respond. Her mind was racing. She was trying to comprehend what Harry had implicated with his words.
Seeing the confusion on her face, Harry finally spoke again. “Gin, I know you are capable of protecting yourself. The battle of Hogwarts and what you did with Neville during the school year as I was searching for the Horcruxes has shown that.”
He paused for a moment as he chose his next words carefully. “I wish this was something we didn’t have to do. I wish this was something that I could do without you having to be at risk…”
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Harry quickly and gently pressed his finger to her lips and shook his head for her to please listen to him.
“...but after what happened at Hogwarts, I now realize that you will not be safe anywhere as long as evil is after me,” Harry finished before another long pause as he once more searched for the words to accurately explain himself.
Ginny stood before Harry utterly dumbfounded. He had not reacted the way she had expected. He was not arguing with her to stay back and stay safe. He seemed almost resigned to the fact that she would be involved in this fight, and at just as much danger as he.
“Why?” Her question to herself came out of her lips before she realized it. To anyone else in the room, it made little sense, but Harry he knew exactly what she was struggling with.
“Because the past few months have been the happiest of my life. Being with you and your family has given me every reason to get up in the morning and look forward to each and every day. While whatever this is may seem bad, it can certainly be no worse than what I’ve already faced. Of everything that I have faced dealing with Voldemort, the one thing that still hurts the most and the one that I regret the most was living with what I did to you and how I hurt you.”
Ginny felt her eyes beginning to fill with tears. She had completely mistaken how this conversation would go. Just as she was pulling Harry into a deep hug, she heard him barely whisper, “No matter whatever else can be blamed on Voldemort, I’m the one who made the decision to hurt you. I’m the one who made the decision to hurt us.”
Ginny held Harry tightly against her as he returned her hug. She could feel his heart beat. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers. Her frustration and building anger was gone. She let out a long, contented sigh as she felt Harry slowly begin to relax his hold on her and begin to slowly pull away.
Harry turned and looked to the others in the room. Molly, Arthur, and Shacklebolt had all remained totally silent as Ginny and he had been talking and holding one another. They had all moved silently to the far wall of the room, away from Harry and Ginny as they had worked this out between themselves. He saw looks of concern and understanding on all of their faces. He also saw tears on Molly and Arthur’s.
He held his jaw firm as he let out a short burst of breath through his nose. He then nodded to the three adults and began to move back towards the open book lying on Shacklebolt’s desk.
“So now let's see about unlocking this damnable book!” Harry remarked as he approached it once more. “Just what does it mean by ‘…mark it with the strongest bond to show their commitment…’ and do you think Ron and Hermione are the other two of the foursome that it requires to open?”
“That’s what we were all thinking,” replied Shacklebolt as he stood beside Harry and began to look at the book. “Now, as for what the mark is, I’m not entirely certain, but I do have a theory.”
Harry looked at the man expectantly. “Well, a theory is better than no clue, which is what I’ve currently got. All I can say is that I think the marks themselves should probably be put in the four open areas of the shield.”
Shacklebolt quickly began to nod his approval. “Yes! That would seem like a very likely place. I had not thought of that, but now that you point it out, I think it is exactly where the marks must go. As for the marks themselves, you have to remember this book is ancient. It comes from many centuries ago, during a time when the most important bonds were sealed with the most valuable and lasting thing a person had.”
“And just what was that?” Molly interrupted as she began to approach Harry and Shacklebolt. She had been listening for the entire conversation, but her curiosity was now pulling her into a more active role in the problem solving.
“Blood,” the answer came from behind them all. Harry, Ginny, Shacklebolt and Molly all turned to look at Arthur. He was rubbing his chin with his fingers, a look of deep concentration on his face. “If I remember my history of magic correctly, blood was once the ultimate bond sealer that was used for unbreakable bonds between wizards.”
“Exactly, I think that this book will reveal all of itself only once all four of those it’s intended for have provided it their blood as a sign of their commitment,” replied Shacklebolt.
“Blood?” Harry and Ginny both spoke at the same time. “Just how much blood are we talking about here?” Harry further continued.
“It should only take a drop,” replied Shacklebolt. “The amount of blood wasn’t as important as the symbolism it provided. It was the one possession that could never be taken away from a person and it represented the honour of the person’s entire family. That’s what made these bonds so powerful. If you were willing to seal it with blood, then it meant you were willing to place the honour of your entire family behind your commitment.”
Harry nodded his understanding. “Then, I suppose a drop of blood into each square, one from each of the four of us should serve to open this damn thing completely.”
With that, Harry began to look about the room. He noticed a small knife lying on the shelf behind Shacklebolt. He walked over and picked up the knife. Without saying a word, he walked back to the book and stood over it. He then took the tip of the knife and stuck it into the tip of his fourth finger on his left hand. He pushed the blade into his flesh until he saw the familiar stain of red starting to gather around the tip of the knife. He then withdrew the knife and held his finger over the empty space in the upper left corner of the shield.
A moment later, a drop of blood fell into the space. It quickly soaked into the parchment and instantly the space began to glow a brilliant white. As it began to fade and return to its normal golden colour, the space was filled with what Harry recognized to be the Potter family crest.
Harry looked at his finger, which now, instead of a drop of blood, had the tiniest of streams running form the cut. He had made it a bit too large and deep. Harry then took the knife to offer it to Ginny. When his eyes met hers, he saw a look of irritation in them and he slowly withdrew the knife he had offered.
“Seriously! Men!” Ginny snapped as she glared at Harry and snatched his left hand and forced him to turn it palm up. “Just have to bloody go and start cutting yourself up to get a drop of blood! And then don’t even think about healing it properly!”
Harry blushed as Ginny cast a healing charm over the small cut and it quickly disappeared. “It was only a small cut Gin. Plus it seemed like the quickest and easiest way to do it.”
Ginny just continued to glare at him. “Maybe so, but still, there’s no sense in not at least healing the cut once it’s done!”
Harry nodded in resignation. She had a point, as always. But then again, compared to all of the other cuts, scrapes and other injuries he had, a small nick on one finger was really of no concern to him.
Harry then watched as Ginny took the knife and did the same thing. As her blood fell onto an open space on the parchment it once more shone brilliantly and when it was complete showed two crests, divided in half vertically. The left half Harry recognized as the Potter family crest, the right half he surmised to be the Weasley family crest.
“Well, looks like we’re halfway there,” Harry remarked as he then took Ginny’s hand with his own and healed her cut with the same spell she had used on his.
Ginny nodded her agreement as Shacklebolt took a moment to look at the now half completed shield.
“So just where are Ron and Hermione anyways?” Arthur asked as he looked toward Molly.
“Oh, they went to Diagon Alley this morning, but they should be back to the Burrow by now,” Molly answered. “I’ll just Floo them and see if they are home and tell them to come here if they are.”
As she finished her statement, she began to walk over to the fireplace in Shacklebolt’s office. She took a pinch of powder and tossed it into the fire, and quickly stuck her head into the flames while shouting out “The Burrow!” Her head stayed in the fire for a few minutes as everyone in the room could hear her calling out and then moments later apparently talking to someone.
When she pulled her head from the flames, she walked back to the others. “They should be here in just a couple of minutes. They had to get themselves straightened up a bit.”
Harry, Ginny and Arthur laughed softly at Molly’s last comment. Harry and Ginny both thought of what Ron and Hermione were likely to have been doing if they came home to find the Burrow empty, and it certainly wasn’t their daily chores. Arthur obviously understood as well, as he just winked at Harry and then Shacklebolt.
A moment later, the fireplace roared to life and Hermione appeared. Stepping to the side, she began to dust the ashes from her hair and robes as Ron suddenly appeared from the crate. Both quickly dusted the ashes off as Harry noticed both Ron and Hermione’s swollen lips and thought he could see a faint trace of lipstick on Ron’s collar. He just grinned at Ron as he approached.
“So what’s up?” Ron asked as he shook Harry’s hand.
Shacklebolt and Ginny then took charge of the conversation, and quickly filled both Ron and Hermione in on what was going on, briefly explaining the map and then the book that lay on the desk. They both had an initial look of amazement, but it quickly grew into one of concern as they began to more fully understand the implications of what was occurring.
Harry could see a million questions lying just behind Hermione’s eyes, pleading to be asked, but was grateful when Ginny stopped Hermione before she could even ask a single question.
“I know there are a lot of questions…” Ginny began “…but right now we have just as many and this book seems to be the only way to answer them.”
Shacklebolt then explained how they needed a drop of blood from both Ron and Hermione to fully unseal the book. Harry then showed them what Ginny and his blood had already done.
Hermione looked at the shield thoughtfully for a moment, but Ron instead took action. Like Harry had done before, Ron quickly took the knife and cut his finger. Unlike Harry though, Ron did not just poke himself with the tip of the knife; instead, he cut an inch long gash into the tip of his left ring finger. As he held his finger above one of the two remaining empty spaces on the shield, two and then quickly three drops fell onto the parchment.
Yet again, the space with the blood glowed brilliantly before returning to normal. This time a full Weasley family crest could be seen.
Ron quickly pulled his finger away. Taking a moment to look at it, he noticed that it was bleeding rather briskly and, at the moment, showed no signs of stopping soon. He quickly stuck his finger in his mouth and began to suck on it gently until Hermione turned to him.
“Honestly!” she snapped at Ron. “Men! What’s with trying to cut your finger off to get a single drop of blood?!”
Ron blushed at her comments while everyone else in the room, including Harry, chuckled softly, remembering how Ginny had not very long ago given him a similar admonishment.
Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and pulled his finger from his mouth. She took a moment to look at the cut before waving her wand and healing it. She glared at Ron for a moment as he blushed and nodded his head. “Umm, thanks ‘Mione.”
Hermione then proceeded to nick her finger and let her blood fall on the one remaining open space on the shield. Just as before, the space glowed and then was filled with a family crest. Just as had been with Ginny’s, Hermione’s was divided by a vertical line with the Weasley family crest in the left portion while an unusual crest, that could only be surmised to be the Granger family, crest filled the right portion.
For a moment, the crest did not change. The entire book just sat on Kingsley’s desk and nothing happened. After a couple of moments, Ron approached Harry and began, “Harry, What’s up…”
Harry quickly held up a hand, an indication to Ron to be quiet. “Wait for it,” Harry cut into Ron’s question.
Not saying a word, Ron stood silently by Harry for another moment, until the entire book began to glow a brilliant blinding white. It levitated from the desk and began to spin in the air. It gradually increased speed and soon the entire room was blinded with bright white light.
All the occupants quickly shielded their eyes until the blazing energy began to fade. Finally, Harry was able to approach the book once more after it lowered itself back to the table from which it came. As he neared the book, Harry saw that the old ragged looking book that had been present before was now transformed into a beautiful new book with a rich leather cover.
Harry once more turned to the page with the shield, taking one last glance at it before deciding to turn to the next page. On the next page, what Harry found shocked him and everyone in the room. It was a letter, written by the book’s author directly to the Hero.
Everyone’s eyes became wide with amazement as they looked at the signature at the end of the note.
…
Godric Gryffindor
Chapter 15: Chapter 15: An Old Feeling
Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay in posting, the long version of what's going on can be seen on my Bio. Needless to say I've now got back into a groove and should hopefully be much more regular with my posts in the future. As for those who have been reading and following my story, thank you for your support and I hope you keep leaving reviews, comments and critiques.
The sun had risen high into the sky and shone brightly through the windows of the home of Addison Newbury. Inside, his wife busied herself with the work of the day, cleaning the floors and anticipating deweeding of her flower bed outside.
She had begun working almost immediately after Addison left the house that morning. Once again, he had failed as a husband and his wife had made it her duty to have him know exactly what he had done wrong and what she expected of him to fix the situation. Addison though, as he had always done before, just skulked away, with his tail between his legs, and gone on his morning walk.
Oh heavens! his wife thought. If that man would only grow a backbone, then maybe he would be able to stop people from walking all over him.
As she continued to clean, she was lost in thought of the earlier years of her and Addison’s life when they were just dating and just married. Just as she finished with the floors in the den, she took a moment to look up. “My goodness!” she proclaimed in a mild voice of surprise as she wiped sweat from the back of her forehead with her forearm. “It’s almost midday and that husband of mine is still not back.”
She shook her head and swore silently to herself as she carried her supplies into the kitchen. She carefully emptied a bucket of dirty wash water down the drain of the kitchen sink as she looked out the kitchen window. It gave her not only a perfect view of the walk that lead up to the house, but also the lane itself.
Her eyes quickly scanned what lay before her. She quickly noted nothing was unusual other than Addison not being back as of yet. As she began to scan once more, her eyes locked on something that had just come into her field of view. She stood frozen in place as she watched the most unusual sight she had seen in quite some time slowly making its way down the lane.
Slowly making his way down the lane, was a middle aged and somewhat weathered-appearing man. His hair was shoulder length, fell loosely about his shoulders and was a mixture of gray and deep rich brown. The man’s stature revealed him to have good posture, but his frame revealed a man that had recently been ill, or something along the line, since he appeared to have lost about thirty pounds he had not needed to. His cheeks were gaunt and pale — a colour which Addison’s wife quickly noted seemed to match the rest of his body as well.
The man would pause every few moments, taking time to close his eyes, stare towards the sun and relish the warmth it lavished upon his skin. It was during those times, as he appeared to be absorbing the sun’s energy, when he thought no one was watching him, did Addison’s wife notice how otherwise unholy and ghostly his appearance truly was.
At first taking the man for a ghost, she stood in complete shock and terror. As he advanced down the lane though, it quickly became apparent he was all too real. His clothes, which were highly unusual in that they were long jet black robes that showed signs of tattering about his hands and forearms, immediately stood out markedly against the more normal wares of the men, women and children he encountered during his walk.
His clothes also responded appropriately as the man walked. They would react by moving with the direction of any small breeze that would arise and pass over the man. Furthermore, they were not transparent as a ghost’s would be, and it was impossible to see what was just on the other side of the man.
She continued to watch his progression down the lane until she saw his path forward blocked by a young puppy. A small girl soon came after the dog and both the girl and dog seemed to capture the attention of the man. Bending down, the man softly petted the dog’s head as he began to speak softly to the little girl.
Addison’s wife could not hear the context of the conversation, but the little girl’s face did not reveal any concern; instead, became slightly blushed as the man tenderly patted the top of her head as he once more stood and addressed the girl’s mother, who had just approached.
Addison’s wife thought the girl looked vaguely familiar and struggled in her mind to place her until the girl’s mother appeared. They were the Williams from the far end of the lane, she finally remembered. From what she knew, the girl was well behaved and the mother and father were quiet and reserved, choosing to mainly keep to themselves and not get involved with the sordid scandals and affairs of a small village with nothing more than boredom on its hands.
Although she could not explain why, Addison’s wife began to feel uncomfortable in regards to the man. He had made no sudden or strange movements, but to her he just seemed out of place. She felt herself grow more on edge as the mother finally nodded to the man, took her daughter’s hand, who was clutching her puppy with the other, and turned to walk away.
Time seemed to stand still as the mother and daughter took one agonizingly slow step after another away from the man, who very intently watched them leave. Finally it happened. As the mother and daughter approached ten or so paces away from the man, Addison’s wife heard him call out a name. The little girl turned her head around in response as her mother stopped for a moment, herself preparing to turn.
In this moment’s hesitation, Addison’s wife saw the man raise his hand toward the girl. Much to her relief, she immediately noticed that his hand was empty, however the way he held his hand with his fingers extended seemed as though he were trying to force something invisibly toward the girl.
A moment later, the girl’s body rose into the air and began to contort, almost folding her in half backwards. She began to scream and cry out for her mother as she struggled to control her body against the unseen force controlling her. Her arms feebly stretched towards her mother, who herself was reaching towards her daughter, trying to help her.
An instant later, she watched as the man’s lips began to move and form a word.
“Crucio!” the man stated clearly, without emotion. No anger, rage, sadness, confusion or anything else could be discerned from his voice.
Instantly, a bright light emanated from his wand and streamed silently towards the young girl. Frozen, she watched the light come toward her, a look of confused fascination on her young face as the light touched her chest. Fascination quickly was replaced with agony as the young girl immediately began to scream at the top of her lungs.
She began to shake vigorously as her entire body soon began to convulse. Her screams were deafening and agonizing. She once more cried for her mother, who standing beside her had been unable to pull her child from the beam of light and when touching it herself seemed to feel the same intense pain as the little girl.
As for the man, Addison’s wife noted that he remained stoic. His face betrayed no emotion as he maintained his hand outstretched and allowed it to continue emitting whatever it was causing the young girl such intense pain. Soon, he began to raise his other hand and she saw yet another beam of light leave his hand and encompass the girl’s mother.
Just as with her daughter before, the full brunt of this second beam of light lifted her into the air and began to contort her body and send her into convulsions as well. While Addison’s wife thought nothing could be worse than the cries of the little girl, she soon found that the woman herself was screaming out every bit as intensely as her daughter. Soon their wails and cries rang out through the village, filling everyone’s ears and shaking their very souls.
Soon, passersby and other village members began to form around the man and the mother and daughter. Angry voices could be heard coming from the men of the village as they realized the stranger was the source of the pain and began to advance upon him. A flash of rage and satisfaction appeared on the man’s face as an angry mob quickly encircled him.
Numerous men tried to rush the stranger, distract his attention and get him to leave the girl and her mother alone but they could not get to him. Each man, as he drew within a few feet of the stranger, encountered some type of invisible shield that knocked him backwards away from the stranger. Those that charged full tilt toward the stranger met with the greatest repulsion while those who approached more slowly were only knocked back a few feet.
It soon became quite difficult for Addison’s wife to make out what was going on. She could no longer see the man, but instead could only see the crowd around him with what appeared to be a large hole in the centre, where she assumed him to be standing. Suddenly, the cries of agony ceased from the mother and daughter.
Addison’s wife could still hear the angry voices of the mob shouting at the man and began to notice the mob growing more tightly packed around the man. It appeared as though the mob were ten or twelve people deep and comprised the majority of the village that had been outside and within earshot of the mother and daughter when they began to cry.
Through the tone of their voices, she could tell many in the crowd wanted blood. She could see the crowd shift restlessly in unison, as though it was no longer made of individual people, but instead now was itself a living breathing entity. She held her breath as she watched the crowd collapse inward, completely eliminating any trace of space around where she assumed the stranger to be standing.
Suddenly, the crowd was deathly silent as she heard a sickening, almost satisfied laughter coming from a single person at the centre of the mob. It was an instant later that it happened. Addison’s wife felt the ground below herself begin to shake as she saw a bright light begin to arise from the centre of the crowd. A split second later, the light changed from a brilliant white to a pale green. It seemed to hover for a moment, as though forming a circle around someone in the middle of the crowd and an instant later exploded outward as a pulse, passing through the abdomen and chest of every single person in the surrounding mob.
The next moment was surreal as Addison’s wife watched in horrific amazement as concentric waves of people from the closest to the centre of the mob outward, looked down at their chests, brought their hands up to where the pulse passed through them and subsequently fell to the ground — their eyes wide open and mouths gaping in horror and shock.
Like dominoes toppling, she watched every last person of the mob fall dead to the ground. Fear overtook her, but she was unable to move. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and a wave of nausea quickly overtook her at what she saw. Still standing in the middle of the mob of now lifeless bodies, was the stranger. His face twisted into an evil grin, displaying immense satisfaction at what he had just done.
Addison’s wife could control herself no longer as she fell to her knees and openly wretched on her kitchen floor. She felt tears streaming from her eyes as her emotions poured from her body in response to the horror that she had just witnessed. She coughed and continued retching, now unable to control her body she fell onto her side weeping and curling her knees up to her chest. She lay there sobbing openly as she heard a soft ‘pop’ outside in the street between one of her sobs.
***
Everyone in the Minister of Magic’s office stood in absolute amazement, staring at the page before them. It had been nearly five minutes since anyone had spoken a word. They were all lost in their own thoughts, looking and rereading the page before them, before their eyes once more beheld in amazement the signature of the author of the book.
Harry was the first to stir from his time of self contemplation. Letting out a ragged breath, he looked up to Ginny, then to Shacklebolt and finally to the others of the room. They all returned his gaze. The wonder was still evident in their eyes.
Harry had to admit it, the fact that the book was written by Gryffindor himself had given Harry a great deal more confidence than just a few minutes before. Granted that one page had also told Harry that there was yet another prophecy to which he was a part, as well as a supposed wizard whose power would make Voldemort look like an angry five year old just doing magic for the first time, but at least he would have the knowledge and indirect support of Godric Gryffindor himself.
Ron was the first to finally break the silence. “Bloody Hell, Mate!” he spoke as he slapped Harry on the shoulder and stood beside him for a moment.
No one in the room bothered to correct Ron on his language. It expressed perfectly what everyone in the room felt.
Finally deciding that he could no longer stare at the same passage, Harry reached up and placed his hand on the book to turn the page. He glanced at the others around him to see if there were any objections. When none were expressed, he turned it.
For a moment, the page was blank but then the words of the prophecy slowly began to appear as an old haggard voice arose from no where and began to speak the long forgotten words.
Pure of heart betrayed and broken,
Shall find comfort wallowing in pity and misery,
Great will his powers become as his heart grows cold and forever closed,
Pleasure in pain and suffering he will gain,
Unmatched and Unrivalled, no single man or woman will be his equal,
Instead it will take the power of four to restore reason and peace,
A Hero that has already vanquished the greatest of enemies - fear and death,
And his three companions, all who have already stood by him,
the woman that forever holds his heart and he hers,
and two friends themselves united in love, themselves close as brother and sister to him.
Only the power of four when united in love as one can match evil’s power,
Only the power of four can destroy the icy heart.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the words on the page. He let them slowly sink in as realization began to take over. Once more he bore the weight of the world. Once more his friends would have to stand with him to fight evil.
This time though, Harry did not have Dumbledore. This time Harry had a book. He could only hope that Gryffindor did not share Dumbledore’s penchance for revealing only the bare minimum of information while making Harry work toward complete understanding. If that were the case, then Harry thought it very likely that this battle might not turn out so well.
Harry turned his attention away from the book for a moment as he looked at Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He said nothing, but his eyes were full of regret and apologies for his friends and love. His heart felt heavy, his chest tight and hard to breath. Harry soon began to feel the dull ache that was burden once more sweeping over his body as he watched the three before him stare back at him lovingly and resolutely.
“It’s ok, mate,” Ron said softly. “We’re here with you and we’ll get through this just like we’ve gotten through everything else.”
Ron’s words touched Harry’s heart. He saw the love in Ginny’s eyes and the determination across her face. He wanted to say something to her, but the words would not come. Finally, he reached out his hand and she took it. He quickly pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. Not caring they weren’t alone, he lowered his lips slowly to hers and kissed her with all the passion in his heart.
Feeling Ginny’s love for him with each of her kisses back, Harry felt his heart begin to lighten. His body began to relax and his burdened soul once more being uplifted a bit. As they finally broke apart, Harry closed his eyes savouring the moment.
“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry murmured softly, so that only Ginny could hear it.
Part question, part statement, Ginny was for a moment uncertain as to what she should say. She paused staring deeply into Harry’s eyes. Letting out a deep breath, she stepped forward and nudged Harry to the side, taking a better look at the open book in front of them.
As Ginny stood over the book, something felt eerily familiar. She had never seen the book before, she was certain of that, but there was something about the book’s magic that was remotely similar to something she had felt in the past. She searched her mind, trying to remember what it was, but she could not place it right away. Finally accepting it was probably nothing of significance, she shook her head slightly and then reached down to turn to the next page.
With her hand hovering just above the page, nearly touching it, the memory came rushing back to Ginny. She gasped as her mind once more filled with the pain and suffering that had been inflicted upon her during her first year at Hogwarts, when Lucius Malfoy had given her Tom Riddle’s diary. Slowly, she pulled her shaking hand away from the book as she took a step backwards.
Her gasp had not gone unnoticed by those in the room. Immediately, Harry was at her side and placed his arm around her waist. He embraced her all the more tightly when he noticed her trembling as she stepped back. Her parents, Ron and Hermione had noticed Ginny’s response as well and had stepped closer trying to figure out what was wrong.
“Gin, what is it?” Harry asked softly as he turned her away from the book and facing him.
He noticed she was still shaking, not just her hand now, but both of her arms. When he looked into her eyes, he could see the tears forming and soon they began to fall down her cheeks. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Her head rested upon his shoulder as she began to cry more earnestly, struggling to get her words out.
“The book,” Ginny was finally able to say as her tears began to slowly subside, Harry’s arms and comfort having made her feel safe once more.
“What is it about the book?” asked Hermione as she placed her hand softly against Ginny’s shoulder.
“I-I-I’ve felt magic like that before,” Ginny responded, turning to look at Hermione as she wiped a tear away with her hand.
“Where at Ginny?” Hermione questioned, the look on her face becoming more serious.
Harry and Ron looked at Hermione. The tone in her voice had told them that her mind was already three steps ahead and did not like the direction that Ginny’s answer had taken it. They both studied her face for a moment, seeing the concern and the seriousness in her eyes.
Without saying another word, Ginny lowered her head. She shook her head gently, trying to deny the answer both to herself and to the witch standing in front of her, who had already pieced it together.
Nobody in the room wanted to say anything. As Ginny continued to pull herself together, they stood in silence. Finally she whispered two words. Only Harry heard what she said.
Immediately he pulled her head against his chest as she began to cry in earnest once more. He caressed her gently as he stared at the book. All eyes in the room turned to Harry. They were questioning him without saying a word, but his eyes did not leave the book.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Harry turned slightly to see Molly standing beside him. A look of concern on her face, tears shimmering in her eyes her voice broke as she began to speak, “What d-d-did she say, Harry?”
Harry let out a long sigh as he pulled Ginny even closer to him.
“Tom’s diary,” he said just loud enough for all to hear.
Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Godric's Return
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay in posting, but a computer upgrade left me and Vista battling on a Mac to determine if a perfectly good wireless card even existed or not. Needless to say, here's the next chapter hot from the presses, after having been given the once over by my wonderful Beta Ginny Guerra. Keep the reviews and constructive criticism coming as they motivate me and energize me with my writing.
An eerie quiet filled the room as everyone looked back and forth from one another to Harry and Ginny. No one wanted to speak. No one wanted to be the person who broke the silence. Finally, Ron was the first to act. He remained silent, but stepped quickly towards Harry and Ginny. As Harry looked up to him, Ron strode on past Harry and stopped just before the book.
He sighed for a moment before taking the book in his hands and picking it up off the table. He slammed the book shut and began to turn it over in his hands, studying every inch of the cover. Finding nothing that appeared out of the ordinary, he set the book back down and once more opened it. He began to turn the pages of the book rapidly, not taking time to read them but just glancing. Soon he was completely through the book and he once more closed it.
Ron stood silently rubbing his chin as he stared down at the book. The others in the room began to shift uncomfortably. Shacklebolt eventually pulled the book over to himself and mirrored the actions Ron had just completed. In addition, Shacklebolt also pulled out his wand and tapped the book a few times while uttering some spells so softly no one in the room could understand what he was saying. After a few moments, and the book turning a few different colours, Shacklebolt could find nothing out of the ordinary about the book and he pushed it toward the centre of his desk.
Finally Ron pulled his hand from his chin and placed both his hands against the desk, leaning forward. He closed his eyes as though contemplating a chess move and finally shook his head. “Ginny,” he spoke softly as he opened his eyes and turned toward her and Harry. “You said you’ve felt magic like that before, like it was Tom’s diary,” he continued.
Ginny simply nodded in response.
“Well, did you feel an evil like Tom’s or what did you feel?” Ron questioned as he turned to face her fully.
Ginny stared at Ron for a moment. It was obvious she was thinking back, remembering both what she had just felt from the book and also forcing herself to remember the magic she felt from the diary. After a long moment she shook her head softly.
“No, I d-d-didn’t feel an evil from t-t-t-that book,” she answered softly. “I-I-It was more like I could feel a presence in the book, like the one there was in Tom’s diary,” she continued as her eyes showed that her mind was still working out exactly what it was she had felt and how to best describe it.
“A presence like Tom’s diary,” Hermione stated as she began to approach the book. More than a statement to those in the room, she was thinking out loud to herself.
She looked at the book thoughtfully, letting her finger trace along the outer cover. She remained lost in deep concentration for a few moments before she finally flipped the book open. She turned through the pages rather quickly until she came to a point about one third the distance through the book. She stood silent for a long moment as she read over the page.
Harry, Ginny and everyone else stood silently as they watched Hermione. Years of being friends with Hermione, and watching her work and analyze, had taught Harry that now was not the time to interrupt her. As long as she didn’t try to run off to a library for research, he knew she wouldn’t keep them waiting for too long. His patience was soon rewarded as Hermione began to shake her head with a smile on her face.
“Amazing,” she whispered softly as she turned to the next page. “Simply amazing.”
“What’s amazing?” Ron questioned, finally breaking the silence everyone in the room had been affording Hermione.
She continued to stare at the page for a moment before turning to look at Ron. She glanced into his eyes for a moment before she took the opportunity to glance around the room before focusing on Harry and Ginny. Hermione looked Ginny directly in the eyes as she began to speak.
“You were right, Ginny,” Hermione said as she nodded her affirmation. “There is a presence in that book, but it’s not exactly like the one in Tom’s diary.”
“What do you mean?” Shacklebolt asked as Hermione turned her attention away from Ginny and towards the Minister.
“Well, after our experience in the Chamber of Secrets in our second year at Hogwarts, I took a few opportunities to research spells that could have enabled the book to communicate with Ginny,” as she spoke, Hermione noted she had the undivided attention of everyone in the room.
“Needless to say, I didn’t learn very much at the time, but it became much clearer over the past year as Harry, Ron and I sought a way to kill Voldemort,” Hermione looked pointedly to Harry, searching in his eyes how much information he wanted her to give about exactly what they had been searching for. Only a very few people knew about the Horcruxes and Hermione knew that Harry wanted to keep it that way. As she searched his eyes for a moment, seeking his answer, Harry quickly spoke and removed all doubt of his wishes.
“Alright,” Harry began as his eyes met Hermione’s. A quick shake of his head told her that he did not want to expose the information about the Horcruxes. “So this book doesn’t possess the same evil magic that Tom used in his diary, but that doesn’t explain why there is a presence in the book and how it got there.”
Hermione nodded her understanding as she turned once more to the book. “Well, the answer to that lies in the fact that this presence seems to be similar to that in the portraits in Dumbledore… in the Headmaster of Hogwarts’s office.”
Everyone looked at Hermione with confusion for a moment before Arthur spoke.
“But portraits like those are just essentially hollow essences; they are like ghostly outlines of the true person. Granted they can talk, interact and even give advice, but they are forever frozen in time from the moment they were produced.”
Hermione nodded her agreement. “Yes, for the most part that’s right. But it’s important to note that I said in the Headmaster’s office, not just in portraits in general. You see, those portraits are made with a modified version of the spell used to create most portraits. As you stated they are frozen in time from the moment they are created, but these portraits are slightly more than the hollow shells that most others are. If you pay attention, they frequently serve the role of advisor for Dumbledore or whoever the Headmaster is. That implies the portraits retain something that most others don’t.”
Ron let out a loud sigh. “Hermione, just what in the world are you saying? What is going on with the book, and just why is it so amazing?” It was obvious he was becoming impatient. Hermione had it figured out and she was taking her sweet time just getting to exactly what was going on. He did not need another history lesson about Hogwarts. He wanted to know what in the name of Merlin was going on with the book.
Hermione glared at Ron for a moment before speaking again, “Well, what I’m TRYING to say is that the portraits in the Headmaster’s office more than just having the most basic qualities of the person they picture, they also retain the wisdom of that person. How that applies to this book…” she continued as she once more picked up the book and held it in her hands before everyone in the room, “…is that it also seems to have a version of that spell on it.”
“Are you saying that someone put a portrait of themselves into a book?” Molly asked with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Not exactly,” Hermione replied. “What I’m implying is that someone seems to have placed his wisdom and knowledge into this book. The fact that it seems to have a presence in it is simply from the fact that the person also included a spell that will allow an image of the person to appear before those who request it to interact with while learning the secrets of the book.”
Ginny looked thoughtfully for a moment as she stepped away from Harry’s embrace and walked towards the book. “So you’re saying that whoever wrote this book has enchanted it so that we can talk to a representation of him?” she asked as she looked up from the book to Hermione’s eyes.
Hermione smiled at her and nodded her head in affirmation.
“Well, who exactly does that mean will appear when and if we choose to activate the spell?” Ron questioned.
Once more Hermione smiled. Harry looked at her and a realization began to dawn upon him as well. Slowly, everyone around the room began to smile as understanding slowly spread. Finally, Ron’s look of confusion began to fade as he apparently began to understand as well.
“Gryffindor?” he questioned softly.
Hermione just smiled in response.
“It couldn’t be!” Molly gasped. “There’s only a few of his writings left, and even for him to be a founder of Hogwarts, not very much of his writings and texts have ever been found, not even hidden within the school.”
“From what this book implies, he had secrets to protect that meant not just any wizard could be privy or exposed to his knowledge,” Shacklebolt added as he stood and began to approach Hermione and the book.
“So just how do we utilize this book then?” Harry asked, once more turning attention back to the ultimate purpose they were standing in Shacklebolt’s office for.
“Right here,” Hermione stated as she turned the book around in her hands and laid it once more on the desk. With her finger she pointed to a passage at the bottom of the page. “Just after the page with the prophecy, there’s a table of contents that lays out what the rest of the book tells. At the very bottom of the page is a reference to a spell that will unlock the book’s full capacity. I recognized the spell as a form of the spell used to make the portrait pictures.”
Everyone in the room stood in amazement. They all moved closer to look at the book and in particular at the passage to which Hermione’s finger pointed. They looked about the room at one another and back to the book.
Clearing his throat Ron finally began, “So this means if we cast the spell that…”
“A representation of Godric Gryffindor should appear,” Hermione finished as a wide smile spread across her face.
“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed as a broad smile spread across his face.
“Ronald Weasley, language!” extolled Molly as she approached her son, pointing her finger at him.
“Sorry, Mum,” he replied, turning his face downwards in his best attempt to appear sincere before looking up once more with the broad grin across his face.
Harry finally stepped forward and moved himself directly in front of the book. He looked for a moment at the page before he looked to Shacklebolt and Arthur. Unspoken, all three men seemed to apparently agree to the next logical step. As he pulled out his wand, Harry looked to the rest of the occupants of the room before focusing on Hermione and then Ginny.
“Well, if Godric’s enchanted the book so that he himself is to give us help, I say we don’t keep him waiting any longer,” Harry stated as he once more looked down to the page. For a moment, he seemed to focus on nothing but the book as he carefully studied the spell.
He held his wand loosely in his hand for a moment as he committed the spell to memory before he tightened his grip on his wand.
“Creatoris Praesentia,” he spoke assuredly and loudly as he tapped the page of the book with his wand three times before flicking his wrist and dragging his wand across it diagonally to finish.
An instant later, the page began to glow a soft yellow as a silvery mist began to appear from the page. The mist hung in the air for a moment as a cloud formed just over the page. Soon, the cloud grew large enough to envelop a full sized person as it moved from the book to an open area in the room. Slowly, the cloud began to condense and emanate a bright white light as it began to slowly solidify.
For an instant, the room was filled with a blinding light as the cloud seemed to completely collapse upon itself. Everyone in the room was forced to shut their eyes and turn their heads due to the intensity of the light.
Harry was the first to turn his head back to where the light had been. As his eyes focused on the area where the cloud had just been Harry felt his heart leap inside him. He shook his head softly to make certain that his eyes were not deceiving him. A smile spread across his face as he realized that what he was seeing was truly there.
***
Professor McGonagall sat inside the Headmistress’s Office looking over the reports detailing the reconstruction of Hogwarts. With the full support of the Ministry of Magic, most of the destruction that had resulted from the final battle with Voldemort and his Death Eaters had already been repaired.
Granted, the fact that the house elves had worked tirelessly cleaning away the debris and repairing the more simple structural damage had helped tremendously. Now, as she looked over the final few parchments in front of her, it was evident that only a couple of things remained.
The most important of which was the repair of the wards that made Hogwarts so safe. Had Dumbledore been alive, they would have already been repaired. With his death though, few wizards or witches were powerful enough to restore the protections. What McGonagall had been left with was the Ministry leading a search to find the best wizard for the job, and unfortunately, no one had been found thus far.
She sighed softly as she continued to sort through the parchments. The other major problem still to be dealt with was the Room of Requirement. Very few even knew of its existence throughout the history of Hogwarts. During her time there, an occasional student would learn about the room and its uses, but never before had it been so extensively used by so many.
As she set aside the last of the parchments, McGonagall closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingers. To say that the past year had been trying would be an understatement. While the defeat of Voldemort had brought freedom and an end to fear, it had presented her with a whole new set of problems - namely ensuring that Hogwarts would be ready for the students when the summer came to an end.
She let her head dip and, for just a moment, her normally rigid posture drooped. She let out a long sigh before taking in a slow deep relaxing breath. As she did so, her posture once more became rigid and she opened her eyes, slightly less tired than she had been just a moment before.
Feeling that there was nothing more to accomplish this morning before starting on her daily inspections of the progress, she opened a drawer in the desk and placed all of the neatly stacked and previously set aside parchments inside. She slid the drawer closed and with a tap of her wand, locked it tight.
McGonagall slid her chair backwards and began to stand, but was halted for a moment when she felt a small pulse of magic pass through the room. Uncertain as to its source, she paused for a moment, making certain that what she felt had been real and not just something her tired mind and body had made up. Quickly enough, she decided that whatever had happened had been real.
Probably just from the construction efforts. She thought to herself. Truth to be told, much of the reconstruction of Hogwarts was requiring every ounce of magic most of the house elves and hired labour wizards had, so much so to the point that sometimes accidental bursts of magic would escape from a work site and spread through the rest of the castle.
The only problem with that explanation though, was the fact that the closest area of construction was well enough away that something like that would be highly unlikely to happen. McGonagall pondered what else the source could have been in absolute silence for a few more moments before someone clearing their throat behind her snapped her out of her thoughts.
Turning her head slightly, she stared at the portrait directly behind her chair. The old familiar man once more had a twinkle in his eyes as he stared at her for a moment.
“Yes Albus,” McGonagall stated as she watched the old man enjoying the sudden increase in activity.
“Ah, Minerva,” Dumbledore’s portrait began. “I’m certain you just felt that burst of magic.”
“Indeed,” she replied offering nothing else in response.
“I was wondering if you might have any ideas as to what had happened?” he continued after seeing that she was not going to offer anything without being asked directly.
McGonagall sat silently for a moment staring at Dumbledore’s portrait. At times it could be just as annoying as the man himself had been. She was certain that the portrait already had a good idea of what exactly the burst of magic she had felt was, but as was a common action of Dumbledore, he would make her reason and logic out the answer on her own with as minimal help from the old man, or in this case the portrait, as possible.
At times she appreciated the practice. It was, after all, a very good way to teach and, as a result, to learn. By being forced to figure things out without having them just told to her, it gave the opportunity to develop the thought process so that similar questions could be answered more readily in the future. After knowing each other for decades though, and more importantly, after having sat tediously staring at the reconstruction report parchments for the past few hours, she was in no mood to be guided toward reasoning out the right answer.
“Well, it was obviously a burst of magic,” she responded a bit tersely. “As to where and why I could feel it here, I am uncertain. The areas of repair are too far away from any magic from there to be felt here,” she continued before pausing for a moment to let out a sigh before once again steeling her features and continuing. “Beyond that, I have no clue of what it was. But from the twinkle in your eyes, I believe you have an idea.”
The last phrase was uttered with some bit of annoyance evident. McGonagall had not intended to be so blatant with her irritation, but the weight of preparing Hogwarts for the next term was weighing heavily upon her. At least Dumbledore’s portrait seemed to be just as understanding as he had been in dealing with people under pressure. He simply overlooked it and never mentioned it unless absolutely necessary.
For a moment, McGonagall felt sorry for how she had snapped at the portrait — after all, it was only a picture and not the friend she had lost. Maybe I’ll be in a better mood when the term starts. She thought to herself as she continued to stare at the portrait. Maybe then, having only to deal with troublemakers and pranks will afford a chance to relax.
Dumbledore’s portrait sat silently for a moment, apparently letting McGonagall carry out this conversation in her head. After a few moments, when she seemed to once more be totally focused on it, the portrait again began to speak, “I believe it‘s time you were taught about some of the more important and secret roles you serve as the Headmistress of Hogwarts.”
***
Everyone in the Minister of Magic’s office blinked their eyes a couple of times to make certain that their eyes were not lying to them. On the far side of the office, where the cloud and blinding light had just been a few seconds before, there now stood a man. He stood silently, saying nothing, but looking a bit confused. He slowly took in his surroundings, looking briefly at each person in the room before advancing his eyes to the next person.
For his part, Harry stood nearly dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times only to close it again. He almost had garnered the resolve to speak, but the man standing before him had looked him squarely in the eyes and Harry almost felt as though the man saw into the very depths of his soul.
As Harry stood looking at the man, a few things became very apparent. He was immediately impressed by just the physical appearance of the man. The man had broad shoulders and stood equal in height to Ron. While his robes fit well and were not tight, they did however serve to show the underlying muscle and power the man possessed. His arms were obviously quite large and his hands were large and bulky, like someone that spent each day of their lives working with them.
His robes were very ancient appearing, yet still in immaculate condition. Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but stare at the robes which were a deep red with a beautiful golden trim. They shimmered brightly under the lights of the room.
It was the man’s face, most specifically his eyes that held Harry’s attention. At first glance, Harry noted the man to have long red hair with a full thick beard. It was behind that hair though, that Harry saw something truly amazing. Staring into the man’s eyes, Harry saw an amazing green colour, similar to his own eyes, but more worn with time.
As Harry continued to stare at the man, a smile began to slowly spread across the man’s face. While still youthful appearing, the lines of age and worry became all too apparent around his eyes and at the edges of his mouth. His eyes seemed to glow softly as his smile widened even farther.
Finally, the silence was broken as Ron began to stammer, “Y-y-y-you’re G-G-G-G-od-r-r-r-ic G-G-Gryf-f-findor.”
“That I am,” the man responded as his smile slowly disappeared from his face. “It’s been many years since the spell was cast on that book that made it possible for me to be here.” As he continued to speak, his eyes began to reveal an underlying sadness.
While everyone else in the room was still held captivated just by his presence, Harry immediately saw the change. Likewise, Harry’s demeanour also changed and his eyes became once more full of resolve and determination as he stared back at Gryffindor. For a moment, the two men stood staring at one another, neither saying a word, neither paying attention to anything else going on around them.
“So YOU are the one,” Gryffindor finally said breaking the silence.
Harry simply nodded his head, making certain to keep his eyes focused on Gryffindor.
“And what is your name?”
“Harry Potter,” Harry’s response came monotone and with no hint of emotion.
Gryffindor stood for a moment, looking over Harry. His eyes glanced over the young man standing before him multiple times. His eyes held a critical evaluation of Harry, pausing frequently as he opened his mouth to speak before closing it once again. Finally, his evaluation done, he spoke.
“You look much younger than I anticipated, but your eyes show me you’ve already seen, done and experienced more than many three times your age,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“There’s a good reason for that,” began Ginny, not waiting for Harry to answer. “He only had the most powerful dark wizard of the century hell bent on trying to kill him since he was a baby,” her voice betraying the slightest hint of irritation.
Gryffindor did not immediately respond, but instead simply nodded his head. He brought his hand to his face and stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment before letting out a sorrowful sigh.
“Then I’m afraid the peace and rest he had hoped for will not be coming just yet,” he spoke softly as he stared into Ginny’s eyes.
For her part, Ginny did not break Gryffindor’s gaze. Instead, she matched it and kept her eyes fixed upon him. In his eyes, she noticed a great deal of sorrow as he spoke his last words to her. She could tell he knew what he was there to say would not be pleasant or well received by anyone in the room, her especially.
“The prophecy,” Harry stated, breaking the gazes of both Ginny and Gryffindor and causing them both to turn their gazes to him. “It implies that my friends and I…” Harry continued as he made it a point to glance at Ron and Hermione, “…as well as the love of my life…” he added as he put his arm around Ginny, “are unfortunately destined to take on another evil.”
Gryffindor looked at Harry for a moment before speaking. “Yes, I believe you and your friends are the ones destined to face the greatest evil I know.”
Molly gasped at that proclamation. She stepped forward before Arthur was able to put his hand on her shoulder. She stopped in place and turned to look at him. Her eyes shone with the forming tears as she turned and stepped into his embrace. As he wrapped her into a tight embrace everyone in the room could hear her saying, “…not fair…”
“Bloody hell, mate!” Ron exclaimed as he shook his head. “First we spend our time at Hogwarts and all of last year traipsing across all of England trying to kill Riddle, only to be told, when he’s finally dead, that we’ve got another dark wizard lining up to take his place.”
Harry chuckled softly at Ron’s insight. Everyone else in the room looked at Harry like he had grown a second head for a moment, but for Harry that was really only one of two options he had. The other option of course being falling to his knees crying, gnashing his teeth and pulling his hair out, and while that may have been his preferred option at the moment, he knew that, in the end, it would make nothing change and he’d still have to do it.
Gryffindor looked thoughtfully at Harry. The inner turmoil was obvious for those that knew where to look. He could see in the young man’s eyes suffering, sorrow and resolve that were usually only present in men well beyond the young man’s years. He stepped forward and approached Harry. He began to extend his arm and hand as though to place it on Harry’s shoulder, but just as he was about to touch Harry, he stopped. Gryffindor pulled his hand slowly away.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but there’s still much more for you and all of your friends to learn,” Gryffindor began as he remained in front of Harry. “I’m afraid you’ve all got so much to cover, and I do not know how long we have before he’ll be too powerful to delay the inevitable.”
“Who are you talking about? What must we learn? Where will we study?” Hermione rattled off question after question, neither pausing to take a breath nor waiting for an answer.
Gryffindor raised his hand, indicating for her to be patient. “In time my dear I will answer all of those questions. For now, I think the best question to answer is where,” he stated as he turned and began to approach the book. “You see this book holds the most important information and spells. It holds me and my knowledge, but I am only the guide. What you ultimately need will be found in my private library, which I hope to have remained undisturbed since my death.”
“And where is that?” Hermione asked, excitement evident in her voice at the potential of an ancient and undisturbed library.
“Hogwarts,” came Gryffindor’s response.
Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Hogwarts Mysteries
Author's Notes: Here's the next installment. I appreciate the help of my wonderful Beta, Ginny Guerra. I also greatly appreciate all comments and reviews. Please keep them up, they certainly serve as great motivation to keep writing.
“That is, assuming Hogwarts still exists,” Gryffindor continued. “It was a school three of my friends and I started while I was still living. We had hoped it would serve as a centre for wizard learning for centuries after us.”
A broad smile broke out across Hermione’s face. “And that is exactly what it still does today,” she responded watching the pleased expression slowly spread across Gryffindor’s face.
“Unfortunately, it has seen better days,” Arthur broke in. “Most of the castle suffered some type of damage during the final battle against Voldemort.” His face suddenly became downtrodden as it became obvious he was thinking of more than just the damage to the castle. Molly wrapped her arm around his and squeezed his wrist softly as she looked at him. That small comfort seemed to be what Arthur needed because as he spoke again, his voice revealed strength and resolve.
“The Ministry of Magic and the staff of Hogwarts have been working continuously to repair the castle, but there’s so much magic, so many wards, it’s been very slow going. Many of the wards have to be taken down before we can repair the building and then it’s hard to find wizards and witches powerful and knowledgeable enough to reconstruct the wards so that the building will be just as safe as before.”
At Arthur’s words, a troubled look spread across Gryffindor’s face. He seemed to disappear within himself for a moment, before raising his hand to scratch the side of his face. “I must say, I’m certainly glad that the school itself still exists and stands for its intended purpose. The later years of my life, much of the idealism and optimism my friends and I once started with had eroded and we began to quarrel and argue amongst ourselves in regards to what each thought was best.”
“Unfortunately, the divisions that were first created between your friends and yourself, Gryffindor, did not resolve easily,” Hermione interrupted as Gryffindor paused to collect his thoughts. “In fact, only very recently did the four houses of Hogwarts finally unite, and only then it was more out of necessity than desire. Had we not stood united, most likely all of Hogwarts and all of Britain and the world would have fallen to a very powerful and evil wizard.”
Gryffindor remained silent for a long moment. The troubled look on his face remained as he thought to himself before letting out a long sigh. “I’m sorry that the differences my friends and I had persisted for so long,” he said softly as he was obviously holding his emotions in check. “In the beginning I know that such division was not what we had planned or desired.
Gryffindor was silent for a moment before he turned his attention directly toward Arthur, “And I am truly upset about the damage and difficulties you are having with the castle itself. Our wards, our protections were intended to be the most powerful deterrent we could provide to keep Hogwarts a safe haven and bastion of learning. We had always hoped it would serve as a refuge from the fighting.”
“That it was,” Harry interrupted causing everyone in the room to turn their attention toward him. “Hogwarts was exactly that for me. It was the first place that I truly called home.” As he spoke, he felt Ginny move closer to him. She wrapped her arm around his and entwined her fingers with his. He paused for a moment, looking at her and giving her a smile before continuing, “But unfortunately, it was inevitable that our war would be brought to Hogwarts. In the end though, it was the power and magic of the castle that helped give us the strength and time necessary to end the war.”
Silence filled the room for a moment as everyone considered Harry’s words. Gryffindor’s features relaxed a bit as he seemed to take some solace in the positive role the castle had afforded.
“So have any of you studied at Hogwarts?” Gryffindor questioned.
Motioning to himself, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Arthur and Molly, Harry answered, “All of us have gone there.” Pointing to Shacklebolt he added, “And Kingsley Shacklebolt has been there countless times himself before during and after the war.”
Almost as an afterthought Ginny added, “And we’re all Gryffindors!”
A small chuckle spread through the room as a beaming smile broke across Gryffindor’s face. He joined in the tame laughter himself for a few seconds before speaking again, “Then I take it the courage and loyalty the house grew to be known for is in great abundance in all of you.” As he spoke, he made it a point to look specifically to Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
Solemnly, Harry nodded in response. “Yes sir, you could say that,” he said with a great sigh. Pausing for a moment Harry steeled himself before he continued, “Since we were all very young, too young, we’ve been fighting against evil. I had thought with the end of the war, I might have a chance at happiness and as normal a life as possible, but with you standing here, I know that’s not going to happen.”
“At least right now,” Ginny added as she squeezed Harry’s hand tightly in her own and pulled it up to her lips and kissed the back of his hand. “We’ll get through this, Harry, I promise you that,” she added so softly that only Harry could hear.
Gryffindor watched this exchange between the young couple before him and felt his heart sadden for a moment. The Hero of the prophecy was not supposed to be a boy. He was not supposed to appear so tired and frail from battle. He should be older. More confident, more powerful. Gryffindor thought to himself. This young man has courage and resolve, I can see it in his eyes, but how can I ask so much of one so young?
He remained silent for a long time, pondering what he had seen and heard since being summoned. Granted from the very beginning, everyone in the room seemed to have afforded the black haired young man in front of him the role of leader. It had been the young man who first spoke to him, and he was the one who had stood front and centre before him. It was also this young man whose shoulders seemed to have the greatest weight upon them, but as he looked more, Gryffindor noticed that it seemed to be something the young man carried better than he would have anticipated.
As he looked around the room, Gryffindor noticed others who he thought would have been more likely for the role of his Hero. The large dark skinned man Harry had called Kingsley fit the role perfectly. He was physically intimidating, obviously powerful and carried himself with pride but not arrogance. He was older, and his face bore witness to countless battles and years of experience. Just as he considered that point however, Gryffindor looked back to Harry and noticed that the young man’s face also showed years of torment and battle.
Gryffindor sighed for a moment as he stroked his beard, critically looking over the young man before him. Finally after a great many moments he spoke, “This war you speak of, what was it about? Who was it against?”
“Voldemort…” Hermione began, preparing to set into a history lecture, but a grunt from Harry quickly silenced her.
“I think I should tell him,” came Harry’s response as his eyes filled with pain. He looked to Ginny for comfort for a moment before focusing back to Gryffindor. Taking a deep breath, and summoning all of his substantial Gryffindor courage, Harry began, “I suppose it will be best to give you a full account.”
Harry paused for a moment before continuing, “It begins with a young boy name Tom Riddle, who, as I learned later, was the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin…”
***
Headmistress McGonagall sat back into the straight backed wooden chair in her office in a state of total shock. Never in all of her years of working at Hogwarts had she been so surprised by the castle. Never had she thought that so much was hidden in the castle from even the professors who taught there. Granted, when she first learned of the Room of Requirement, she had been impressed and felt that there were a few surprises left to be discovered, but nothing like what she had just heard.
When the portrait of Albus Dumbledore had first drawn her attention, she was tired and stressed over the reconstruction of Hogwarts. In just a few brief minutes, and one very interesting trip later though, her thoughts were entirely focused on what she had just learned. For so long, she thought that being the Headmistress of Hogwarts meant keeping the students safe and ensuring they grew to be responsible witches and wizards, but now she knew that was the simplest of her duties.
She was now the secret keeper. What for centuries had been assumed to never exist or have long ago been sealed and hidden to never be opened again was in fact in plain sight and simply waiting patiently for someone worthy to open it. Just as the gargoyle stood guard over the passage leading to the Headmistress’s office, so she now stood guard over the entrance to the private quarters and libraries of the founders of Hogwarts.
The burst of magic she had felt, according to Dumbledore, was the result of the most ancient and well protected of the rooms’ entrances once more becoming visible. When asked how he had known what it was, Dumbledore explained how the entrance to Salazar Slytherin’s quarters had opened when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened a few years ago.
Just as she began to question him again, Dumbledore only told her to look behind the portrait frame. Incredulously McGonagall looked at him for a moment, before studying the wall behind the portrait and seeing the faintly glowing outline of a doorway. As she carefully took the portrait down from the wall, she got a much better view and appreciation for the doorway.
Looking to the portrait, which was now sitting carefully in the Headmistress’s chair she asked, “Why would this passageway reveal itself now?”
Dumbledore’s portrait remained silent for a moment, pondering her question. Actually he had been quietly wondering the same thing himself. Unable to come up with a suitable answer, he looked to the other portraits in the room. “Has anyone seen this doorway appear before?” he asked looking briefly to each portrait as their heads all shook negatively.
“Minerva, I’m afraid I have no clue,” Dumbledore finally responded looking directly at her. “As I said before, the only other time I’ve known one to open was when the Chamber of Secrets was opened a few years ago, if I were to guess, I would imagine that there has been something related to another of the founders that has occurred.”
“Am I able to enter through the doorway, or can only the person that caused it to appear enter?” she questioned, turning back to the portrait as she traced her hand along the faint outline delineating the doorway from the wall in the stone.
“As Headmistress, you have the power to enter any room that Hogwarts itself permits to be visible — regardless of what type of disillusionment spells or other wards students or professors may have placed on them,” Dumbledore added the last part with a twinkle in his eye. For a moment, he watched, waiting to see understanding of the implication of his statement in her eyes.
After an instant, McGonagall’s eyes flashed and the faintest of grin’s spread across her normally expressionless face. She simply nodded to the portrait before placing her hand firmly in the centre of the faintly glowing doorway. Pausing for a moment to evaluate what lay before her, she studied the entrance carefully.
Taking out her wand, she pointed it to the door and spoke, “Alohomora!” firmly, but the door did not move. Puzzled she looked to the portrait. Seeing amusement in his eyes, she said nothing, but turned back to the doorway. Again with her wand, she tried another spell, but the door still did not open. Instead it began to glow a soft red for a moment before once more fading to the soft glow it had previously had.
After a few more attempts, she let out a loud sigh of frustration. Without turning to look at the portrait she asked loudly, “So just how am I supposed to open this door?”
Dumbledore’s response came back softly, “As Headmistress of Hogwarts, it is required to obey your commands.” Luckily for the portrait, McGonagall’s back was turned and could not see the smirk and twinkle in his eyes as he answered. While he had given her an answer to the question she asked, he knew it was not what she had wanted. It was not exactly how to open the door, but with a little more thought, he knew she would grow to understand it.
For her part, McGonagall sighed once more. She kept her back turned to keep herself from seeing the damn smirk on the face of the portrait. She could literally hear it in Dumbledore’s voice as he spoke. She knew if she turned around she would be all too tempted to see if she could hex the portrait and at least give Dumbledore a nasty rash or something that would last for a few days.
Realizing that her current line of thinking was getting her nowhere closer to opening the door, McGonagall closed her eyes and began to think about what Dumbledore had said. His answer of course had not been straight forward, but McGonagall knew that many times, the old man had a tendency to hide the answer in plain sight. As she continued to think over what he had said, a realization suddenly developed in her mind.
“It couldn’t be that simple!” she said as she turned her head slightly, venturing a glance back to the portrait.
As she glanced at the portrait, she saw a faint smile on the face of Dumbledore. That was all the motivation she needed as she turned once more to the door. She took a step back and put her wand away. With a firm and confident voice she spoke, “OPEN!”
An instant later, the door glowed a bright blue and then disappeared, revealing a dimly lit passageway. Hesitating only for a moment, she strode forward into the passageway and disappeared from the view of the portraits without looking back.
Upon her return, McGonagall did not say a word to the portrait in her chair. She simply turned to the doorway and said, “CLOSE.” After the stone wall had reappeared, still with the faint outline of the door, she turned and picked up the portrait again and replaced it over the door.
She ignored Dumbledore’s questioning look, choosing to remain silent. She knew he wanted to know what she had seen, but she would only tell him after she felt the portrait had been sufficiently taught not to play the same annoying games as Dumbledore had done when he was alive. With that, she approached her chair and began to sit.
***
Harry was holding Ginny close to him as he finished his story for Gryffindor. Molly, Hermione and she were all crying softly, as Ron, Arthur and Kingsley all stood in silent shock at hearing Harry’s full and unedited account of Tom’s life, his life and their subsequent battles. For his part, Gryffindor had stood silently, letting Harry tell the story at his own pace. A couple of times, he had seen Harry’s eyes begin to shimmer with tears and heard his voice crack, but the young man had remained strong and carried on with his story.
Gryffindor noticed that the comfort the beautiful young red haired witch standing by his side had provided seemed to impart a great strength to Harry. He also noticed now that Harry’s comfort to her was doing the exact same for her. He let his mind wonder for a moment, thinking back to his own wife and their relationship. At that moment, Gryffindor began to understand that the couple that stood before him loved more deeply and passionately than it was typical for others their age.
Gryffindor smiled inwardly, but resolutely steeled his outward features as he thought of the powerful love the young man and woman before him shared. He knew it would be the most important source of strength Harry would have as he prepared to face his next great challenge. Wanting to give the young couple a moment of privacy, Gryffindor turned and stepped away, taking a few moments to stroll around the office.
Everyone else in the room for their part seemed to understand what Gryffindor was doing and they diverted their attention to other things for a few moments. As Gryffindor slowly encircled the room, he began to think about the story he had just heard.
Where he had been full of doubt just a few moments ago about whether Harry was truly the Hero of the Prophecy, he was now certain that the young man was the only person capable of being that Hero. It seemed to Gryffindor that Harry had experienced more in his brief life than any three people would normally have in their entire lives combined. Hearing of his adventures, when Harry, Ron and Hermione were so young, showed Gryffindor that the young man before him was certainly full of surprises.
Most impressive for Gryffindor though, was the selflessness that Harry showed. Even having been treated so poorly by his Muggle relatives, Harry continued to put others before himself. Even during the final battle, Harry’s willingness to sacrifice himself so that everyone in the room and the world could be free showed a courage and a love that very few others in the world would have had.
Gryffindor understood that many men and women, when put in a split second decision would step in front of a spell, or push someone out of the way of some danger only to die themselves, but this young man had willingly walked to his death, knowing the entire time he was destined to die. Incredibly few people, when presented with time to think about and weigh such a decision would not find the courage to continue taking step after step. Most might make a couple of steps but would eventually falter and find a reason not to continue.
Turning to once more look at Harry, Gryffindor saw both he and the red headed witch were once more standing fully upright and looking over toward him. Realizing they were ready to continue, he began to walk back toward them. As he approached, he began to appreciate the way Harry truly held himself. He could see the weight of the world on the young man’s shoulders, including the sorrow of his love, but he also saw the strength and power the young man possessed.
Harry’s magic was incredible. Gryffindor had always had a talent for “seeing the magic” a person possessed. Usually it took on a faint halo around them, glowing softly. A select few, including his wife, and fellow cofounders of Hogwarts and their spouses had possessed more tangible halos. As he truly studied Harry, he saw something that truly amazed him. Harry’s halo was the purest white he had ever seen. While it wasn’t the brightest he had seen, it was by far the purest. Most other halos were full of spots or blemishes. As he looked at Harry though, he could see nothing other than pure white surrounding him. It was constant and had no blemish at all.
Gryffindor pondered that for a moment as he stopped just in front of Harry. Deciding that it required more thought, he forced it to the back of his mind as he once more turned his attention to Harry and the young witch standing with him.
“Harry, from your story, I know you have had a very hard life,” he began choosing his words carefully. “And I will agree that there is no one who deserves more to live in peace, but unfortunately you can’t do that just yet.”
“And why not?” snapped Ron. “What would really happen if Harry and the rest of us told you to sod off?”
Annoyance flashed in Hermione’s eyes as she began to speak, but Gryffindor held his hand up to silence her. He had expected this question; it would only be natural to ask. “Simple,” he replied, his voice even and without concern or aggravation. “You four will not be prepared and in the end, you’ll die along with everyone else.”
“What do you mean everyone else?” Hermione asked her anger with Ron now suddenly gone as she began to realize the implications of what Gryffindor had said.
“Simple,” replied Gryffindor without hesitation. “The foe you now face is unlike anything anyone has faced before. This Tom Riddle you fought desired power. He wanted to be worshipped and be the centre of attention. The foe that now rises wants neither power nor to be worshipped. All he desires is inflict as much pain and suffering as he can before he destroys the world. He wants the world to feel and share his pain and in the end, he feels the destruction of every living person in the world will be justice for his pain and suffering.”
“H-H-How do you know this? H-H-How do you know him so well?” asked Arthur.
“He was once my teacher,” came a solemn and quiet response from Gryffindor. “He was once a very powerful but good man,” he continued. “He used his magic to help others. He lived among Muggles and used it to protect and help those in his village. For many years, his wife, children and he lived in peace with those in the village. They knew of his magical powers, but never had any problems. Unfortunately, things can never stay the same. Across the country, Muggles had grown much more hostile toward witches and wizards, and his village although slower to become hostile, fell into the sad anger that everyone else had. A plague fell upon the village and a lot of people died. Though he tried, he couldn’t help them. The villagers didn’t understand the limits of magic and took his inability to help as a desire not to help.”
Everyone in the room remained silent as Gryffindor told his story. Hermione’s mouth hung slightly open as she moved closer to Ron. For his part, Ron put his arms around Hermione and pulled her as close to him as possible. At the same time, Harry and Ginny were also pulling closer together and so were Arthur and Molly. Unfortunately for Shacklebolt, Having no one to move closer to, he simply sat behind his desk, his hands firmly planted against the top, unwilling to move as he listened intently.
“Hoping to find a way to help, he left the village,” continued Gryffindor. “During his absence the village suffered more and more. Soon their rage flamed over and they attacked his home. His wife and young child were brutally murdered, and his home burned to the ground. Upon returning home, he found his family and home destroyed.”
“And that’s when he started killing everyone,” Ron quickly added, guessing how the story would go.
“Actually, no,” Gryffindor stated as everyone in the room looked at him questioningly. “He had actually found the cure for the plague on his travels. He treated every person in the village and cured them all.”
Molly shook her head in disbelief. “Then just how in the world did he become so evil if he helped the village after they murdered his family?” she asked with the shock in her voice evident.
“Well it was just after he healed everyone. The village gathered to thank him. As was tradition, a great feast of celebration was held. The adults all sat at one table and the children at another. At some point during the feast, the true rage in his heart showed itself. Without concern or second thought, he used his magic to petrify every one of the adults. He then forced them to watch as he covered the children with oil and set them on fire. He burned every child in the village alive in front of their parents who were helpless.”
A collective gasp came from the women in the room, while a look of disgust and shock spread across the faces of the men.
“And what happened to the rest of the village?” Harry questioned.
“He left them petrified and placed raw meat near them. Wild animals were attracted to the meat and enchanted the animals. Being unable to defend themselves from the animals, the villagers were attacked and eaten alive,” Gryffindor answered with a small tone of sadness in his voice.
Everyone stood silent for a long time. Even with all of the attacks of Death Eaters and Tom Riddle, they had not heard of such pain, such suffering and such unabashed evil. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione looked uneasily one another. After Gryffindor’s story, they silently agreed what had to be done.
“So where do we start?” Harry asked finally breaking the silence.
***
Headmistress McGonagall continued to sit silently at her desk. She had not said a word since returning back from the passageway. Her mind was whirling as she contemplated everything she had seen. The portraits behind her murmured to one another quietly discussing what had happened and what may be going on. Her concentration was suddenly broken when the Floo in her office suddenly roared to life.
Turning her eyes quickly to the Floo she saw Kingsley Shacklebolt’s face staring back at her in the flames.
“Hello Minerva,” Shacklebolt spoke.
“And hello to you as well, Kingsley,” McGonagall replied.
Behind her all the portraits grew ominously quiet. While it was common for the Minister of Magic to Floo Headmistress McGonagall regularly to check up on the reconstruction efforts, he typically did it much later in the day and usually at the very end of the week.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Kingsley?” McGonagall questioned. “It’s still a bit early to be checking on the progress of reconstruction isn’t it?”
“Yes, you’re quite right, Minerva. Unfortunately this call pertains to a matter of much more importance. I need to come to Hogwarts immediately and I’ll be bringing Harry Potter and a few others with me.”
At that proclamation, McGonagall set a bit more upright, her attention fully focused on Shacklebolt. She felt her stomach tighten a bit as her intuition told her that whatever caused Kingsley Shacklebolt to call and say he was coming to Hogwarts with Harry Potter had everything to do with the appearance of the doorway.
“When should I expect you?” McGonagall asked, only to notice too late that Shacklebolt’s face was gone from the fire.
An instant later the grate roared to life as Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in Headmistress’s office. He quickly stepped to the side and was shortly followed by Ginny Weasley and then Harry Potter, who per usual had to be caught by Ginny to keep from falling over.
Soon, Ron, Hermione, Arthur and Molly had also joined them in the now crowded office. As McGonagall looked around her office, she could see the looks of concern on everyone’s face. She also noticed Harry holding a rather strange and old looking book. He sat it down on her desk.
“Well is that everyone? Or should I anticipate having to magically expand my office?” McGonagall questioned looking directly at Shacklebolt and the over the Harry.
A small grin on his face was evident as Harry opened the book, “Well there is just one more person, but he couldn’t travel by Floo.”
Harry said nothing else. For a moment he paused, before once again repeating the spell he had initially cast in Shacklebolt’s office. An instant later, Gryffindor was once again standing before them. McGonagall stood in silence with her mouth gaping open at the man who had appeared before her.
“Prof… Headmistress McGonagall,” Harry began. “Allow me to introduce Godric Gryffindor.”
Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Godric's Chambers
Author's Notes: Sorry the chapter came out a bit later than I expected but here it is. Also, this next week will be hectic as I'm going to be finding out toward the latter part of the week where I'll be spending the next 3 years of my life in regards to training. I will make an effort to get the next chapter out in the next few days. As always I must thank my wonderful Beta, Ginny Guerra for all of her hard work. Also, keep up the reviews, they have been truly great and I appreciate every single one.
Since first becoming a professor at Hogwarts, there had been very few times when Minerva McGonagall lost her steely exterior that elicited fear and respect of students and fellow professors alike. Even less often had she been rendered completely dumbfounded with her mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. Unfortunately, as she stood in her office as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, surrounded by the portraits of previous headmasters and in the presence of the Minister of Magic, as well as Harry Potter and his friends, she found herself in just such a moment.
As a professor, she had withstood both the Marauders’ and the Weasley twins’ antics, which had broken many a lesser person into fits of rage and hysterics. She had even lived through two wars against Tom Riddle. She had assumed that, with all of her life experiences and everything she had seen, there would be little left to affect her so greatly.
Harry stood silently for a moment, smirking as he watched the response of his former professor. On rare occasions in the past he had seen a slight smirk or even the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Standing before Godric Gryffindor, however, seemed to have frozen her brain in place. Harry looked to the others in the room and then to the portraits.
Amazingly enough, Harry witnessed most of the former Headmasters in the portraits openly staring at Gryffindor as well, instead of their usual pretending to be uninterested in what was going on until after they thought no one was paying attention. Well in her defence… Harry thought to himself, … at least most of the portraits seem to be just as awestruck as she is.
Finally seeming to regain her composure, McGonagall suddenly exhaled slightly and pursed her lips. Once more the firm fine line appeared and her jaw became firm. Her eyes flashed for a moment before she took in a short breath through her nose.
“Godric Gryffindor, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she began as she stepped towards him. She paused for a moment as she neared him, realizing that being able to shake his hand would be impossible. Even though he was very clearly in the room, he was also very obviously only an apparition and not a true person. For an instant, her hand hung in the air before she slowly withdrew it.
For his part, Gryffindor did not draw any further attention to McGonagall’s earlier plight. He simply smiled in response, nodded his head and with a low bow responded, “Headmistress McGonagall, the pleasure is all mine.”
As Gryffindor slowly rose from his bow, it became obvious that he was also a bit awestruck. His eyes were eagerly looking about the room, taking in first the furnishings, and then many of the other artefacts that had been accumulated over the years. His eyes finally fixed upon the portraits surrounding the room.
For a long moment, his eyes fixed upon each respective portrait, blatantly staring into their eyes, almost as though searching for a soul, before moving to the next. As each portrait came under his intense stare, it would initially respond by staring back, but would eventually falter, averting their gaze under the intense scrutiny.
After a long silence Gryffindor finally turned to face the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Unlike many of the other portraits, Dumbledore’s did not turn away under Gryffindor’s intense gaze. Instead he matched it with equal intensity. Unspoken words seemed to pass between the two as each seemed to be unconsciously weighing the image before him against the greatness the true man must have been. Finally, both men gave one another the slightest of nods before Gryffindor turned away.
“Much has changed since I was last in this room,” Gryffindor began as he turned facing all of those in the room. “But the essence of the room is the same.”
He smiled softly as he stepped behind the Headmistress’s desk. Everyone in the room watched him with slight confusion. His cryptic words had been clear to no one — no one except the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. For a few steps more, Gryffindor appeared to wander aimlessly about the room, before his focus once more became fixed upon the portrait of Dumbledore.
He stepped toward the portrait and halted just in front of it. His eyes this time however, were focused not on the portrait, but on the wall behind it. He raised his hand, and a moment later Dumbledore’s portrait was once more in McGonagall’s chair and the opening’s outline glowed a bright blue. It increased in intensity until a blinding bright white light outlined the doorway. As the light faded, so did the door, leaving the open passageway entrance.
“Well it certainly didn’t do that when I opened it!” McGonagall stated as everyone else in the room looked on.
“So you have been into my chambers?” Gryffindor questioned as he turned to look at McGonagall.
“Yes,” she responded smoothly, her steely and firm demeanour once more back in place. “The doorway first appeared a bit earlier today. After learning from Dumbledore about how it was likely to be an entrance to one of the Founders’ chambers and how they only appeared in times of great importance, I opened it and went in.”
Gryffindor said nothing as he turned again toward the doorway. Softly he uttered another incantation and the open passageway seemed as though a soft white film had appeared over it. For a moment, it just covered the entrance before it pulsed one time. Gryffindor remained silent for another few moments, watching the entrance, but it did not pulse again.
With a satisfied look he turned back to McGonagall. “You were the first to enter since it was sealed,” he stated plainly. “That is reassuring,” he continued as he looked about the room. The Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts have protected its secrets well.”
“W-W-What do you m-m-mean?” Hermione finally questioned.
Gryffindor paused for a moment, turning his head to the side as he contemplated his answer. As he began to respond, the portrait of Dumbledore spoke. “Hogwarts has purposes beyond just the education of students, Miss Weasley,” the portrait began, causing everyone in the room to turn their attention to the Headmistress’s chair. “You must remember that Hogwarts was built during a time of great conflict between Muggles and Wizards. While not at the point of open war, great persecutions occurred from both sides. While the greatest intention of the Founders was to build a school where wizards and witches could be taught in peace, they also had an underlying desire to build a place where magic itself could be preserved, should things grow too bad between Muggles and Wizards.”
Dumbledore paused for moment, as he watched the mind of Hermione quickly working behind her eyes. Very quickly, the flash of understanding glowed in them and a smile quickly spread across her face. “The library,” she spoke softly.
The twinkle in the portrait’s eyes gave away his happiness at her quick deduction. “That’s right, Miss Weasley,” he responded as everyone in the room turned to look at her.
“What’s the library got to do with preserving magic?” Ron asked as he ran his hand through his red hair, a look of confusion on his face.
“Knowledge is power,” Ginny remarked, quickly making the same connections as Hermione. “And the library at Hogwarts is unmatched in the wizarding world. While there are libraries with more detailed and specific books on certain subjects, the variety and width of topics covered in the library cannot be matched.”
Dumbledore nodded his head approvingly. “That’s right, Miss Weasley,” he interjected. “Only the Ministry of Magic probably has a more complete library, and that’s only because of their regulation requiring a copy of each book ever written in regards to magic to be there.”
“But there are some very important omissions to that directive,” Hermione added, once more drawing the attention towards herself. “The personal journals and writings of the Founders of Hogwarts have never been found. They were assumed to be here in Hogwarts, but numerous searches have yielded nothing.”
“Just as was intended,” said Gryffindor softly.
“But why?” asked Hermione, both curiosity and irritation evident in her voice. “Why keep your journals, writings, and personal libraries hidden?”
“Simple,” Gryffindor answered almost even before Hermione had finished asking her question. “We collected all magical knowledge in the wizarding world: Things we created, things we were taught, and things we didn’t fully understand. Some of it was so horrible and so dark that it couldn’t be trusted to anyone’s eyes except for the Hero. Honestly, it was knowledge that the three other founders and I strongly considered destroying forever. We agonized for a long time before finally choosing this course of action realizing that we had to ensure you had every option available.”
Harry looked at Gryffindor for a moment. Even now he could see the conflict in the man’s eyes. It was a conflict that the man still struggled with even though it had occurred so many hundreds of years ago. He began to speak, but his voice was caught in his throat. What Gryffindor had implied resonated in his mind as he tried to find his voice.
Things so dark that only I should see? Harry questioned to himself. Does this mean I’ll have to use the Dark Arts to battle whoever it is that is now loose? Harry felt a large ball form in his stomach. A slow but gradual unease began to envelop him and he felt himself becoming sick to his stomach. He took a few deep breathes trying to steady himself as he fought to get his questions out, but he was still unable to speak.
After a few more moments, Harry’s breathing helped him relax a bit. His greatest help though, came from the fact that Ginny, upon recognizing the internal struggle going on within him, stepped to his side and interlaced her fingers with his own. He felt a gentle squeeze as he looked down to their entwined hands before he looked up to her eyes to see compassion and understanding.
Looking only to Gryffindor, and in a barely audible whisper, Harry finally asked, “Does this mean we’ll have to use Dark Magic to defeat this enemy?”
For a moment, Gryffindor’s eyes softened. He could see the turmoil and torment going on inside of the young man before him. Hoping to relieve some of Harry’s fear and anxiety, he chose his next words carefully. “No Harry,” he began, speaking as though Harry were the only person in the room. “You will not have to use dark magic to defeat him, but it’s important that you and your friends know the extent of your opponent’s knowledge. You must be prepared and understand what magic he’s using and how he’s doing it. The most important challenge you will face is whether or not you choose to take the easy way and use the dark magic.”
Harry remained silent for a moment as he thought over Gryffindor’s words. He felt Ginny’s grip tighten slightly at the implications of Gryffindor’s words.
“You’ve already proven yourself to be capable of finding the means to defeat evil without resorting to using the Unforgivable Curses,” Gryffindor continued. “That in and of itself shows the strength of character and moral fibre you possess.”
Gryffindor paused for a moment as he looked around the room. He smiled softly at each and every person standing there with Harry before turning to him once more and continuing, “The fact that all of these people stand beside you, and care for you as greatly as you obviously care for them only confirms to me that you have everything it will take to defeat him and not have to start down a slippery slope with dark magic.”
Harry simply nodded his understanding.
“So where do we begin?” he asked, a hopeful yet determined look shining in his eyes.
“Through there,” Gryffindor responded as he extended his arm towards the passageway.
***
Everyone that had been in the Headmistress’s office followed carefully behind Gryffindor and Harry as they led the way down the passageway. Gryffindor was in front, with Harry just behind him carrying the ancient book. After a few moments they found themselves in a large circular room that had two doors along the far wall. Two fireplaces were located to the left and right of the room, and each surrounded by two modest chairs flanking a couch.
It was when everyone had filed into the room and had a moment to look around that Gryffindor walked over to the doors on the far side of the room. Immediately, everyone’s attention turned to him. He motioned to the couches and chairs on either side of the room. Harry quietly sat the book down onto a small end table beside one of the couches as he turned his attention back to Gryffindor.
“Everyone currently in this room will be welcome here from now on,” Godric spoke softly. “You all now possess the power to open the passageway and come to this room whenever you like or need.” He paused for a moment as he motioned toward the two doors behind him. “These doors, however, lead to my private chambers and study. Only Harry and the other three will be able to enter them.”
The others in the room nodded their understanding as Gryffindor motioned for Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione to step forward and follow him. Quickly stealing a glance at one another, they walked quickly over to him. Gryffindor moved over to the leftmost door and raised his hand at the door as it began to glow. He held his hand out until the door became a soft red colour.
“Alright, Harry, you touch the door first and then the rest. It only takes a moment’s touch to set the spell, so you don’t have to hold it for very long.”
Harry cautiously followed Gryffindor’s instructions, as he tentatively reached his hand out and touched the door. It changed from red to green for a moment before returning to red. Ginny, Ron and Hermione then followed suit by touching the door as well and it responded in a similar manner. Gryffindor then led them to the other door and had them repeat the exact same process.
Once that was finished, Gryffindor pointed to the first door they had all touched. “That door leads to the study,” he instructed. “In there you will find my personal library, as well as my journals and other writings. Whatever parchment you may want or need will appear in there. You may take no parchment, books, or any other such materials in or out of that room except for my book and then you may only take it in the room once and never take it out again. Do you understand?”
For a moment, the four young adults looked to one another before in unison nodding at Gryffindor.
“Good,” he responded. “The room to the right is my personal quarters. In there you will find rooms to sleep and rest as you research and prepare.”
Again everyone remained silent as Gryffindor approached the door on the left once more and opened it. As the door swung open, he motioned for the foursome to move through. Harry was the first to the door, pausing for a moment to look back at the book he had left laying on the end table and then to Gryffindor. He quickly retrieved the book before approaching the open door once more. He paused for just the slightest moment to glance at Ginny before stepping into the room.
As Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione stepped into the private study of Godric Gryffindor, no one spoke a word. Their world had yet again been dramatically altered in the span of just a few hours. They had survived one war and allowed themselves to start thinking that they would be able to enjoy what little remained of their teenage years before having to succumb to bearing the responsibilities of adulthood once more. Entering the study, though, all allusions of adolescence and childhood were forever erased.
What they saw around them was magnificent. The study was similar in size to the Gryffindor common room. Along one wall stood a set of towering bookcases, overflowing with books and parchment. Along another wall was a series of glass cases behind which were an assortment of medieval weapons — axes, swords, spears and knives.
Hermione let out a long sigh as she carefully approached the bookcases. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and her hand shook slightly as she reached a sole finger up and traced it along the spine of the book. Her gaze wandered all about the bookcases, her eyes not taking time to focus on any one particular book or area too long. Soon she picked a book and carefully pulled it from the bookcase. Not even bothering to go to a table to sit down, she opened the book and began to peruse it in front of the bookcase.
From the other side of the room, Harry, Ginny and Ron could hear her quietly talking to herself as she cautiously leafed through the pages. For their own part, the other three were captivated looking at the various weapons on display in the room. Harry even ventured to pick up a mace at one point, before Ginny grabbed his hand and stopped him.
“We don’t exactly know what these things are just yet,” she said quietly, looking Harry in the eyes as she spoke. “We need to wait for Gryffindor to tell us they’re not cursed or worse before we go touching them.”
Harry stared into her eyes for a moment before smiling softly at her. He moved his hand away from the mace and turned his head to find Gryffindor. It took him little time to find him, as he was standing quietly near the door where they had entered. Seeing that the three had satisfied their curiosities enough, Gryffindor began to walk towards them.
He gestured to the weapons as he approached. “Those are from my many adventures,” he began. “Some are magical, but most are just plain steel. Some I took from those I vanquished, others came from grateful townspeople.”
“Are we going to learn how to use them?” Ron asked, his eyes still wide and fixed on a rather large and evil looking battle axe.
“I’m afraid not,” came Gryffindor’s response. “While being able to fight in non-magical ways is very important, the enemy you will face uses magic. He does little to hide the fact that he’s a very powerful wizard, and as such, does not resort to such devices as Muggle weapons.”
“Oh,” Ron replied, his voice growing a little softer as he pulled his eyes away from the axe. For a moment, the slightest hint of disappointment spread across his face, but was quickly gone as he looked up to Harry and Gryffindor. “Right then. So let’s get started.”
“‘Mione!” Ron called out from across the room, breaking her from her revelry with the priceless books. She looked up a moment later, sheepishly smiling at them all, realizing she had been ignoring them. She replaced the book and quickly joined them as they all sat down at a large wooden table in the centre of the room.
As they all sat down, Gryffindor stood at the end of the table. He quietly surveyed the young adults before him. On all of their faces he could see a quiet determination set in as they waited for him to speak.
“This will not be easy,” he began. “You will hate me. I promise you that, but what you begin you MUST finish.” Gryffindor very strongly emphasized that point making certain to stare deeply into the eyes of each person before him.
“Gryffindor,” Harry quickly snapped in response, “We all bloody well know that we have to finish what we start. We all know this isn’t going to be easy, and I bloody well know that what I learn and do in here and against whoever I must fight will leave me scarred and with nightmares.” Harry’s irritation and anger snapped suddenly to the forefront.
The strain of the day and everything that had happened finally bubbled to the surface and began to overflow. Ginny put her hand on Harry’s knee and gave him a reassuring squeeze, but that was only a minor comfort to him. The weight of the situation now fully bore down upon his shoulders and Harry felt the full gravity of the situation. He knew whatever lay ahead for them would challenge them all and most likely push them all to the extreme limit of their abilities. He simply hoped that none of them caved under the pressure.
Taking a ragged breath in, Harry steadied his emotions before he spoke again. “We all know the score Gryffindor. We won’t quit. We won’t run. We won’t give up until either we’re all dead, or whoever we have to face is,” Harry stated simply as he let out great sigh and relaxed a bit. He covered Ginny’s hand on his knee with his own hand and gave her a gentle squeeze before looking at her appreciatively.
Gryffindor remained silent for a few moments, studying the young couples before him. It was obvious to his eyes that Harry bore the weight of a great many tribulations from his past. It was also easy to see that the beautiful red headed witch beside him was the greatest motivation and calming force in his life. As for the other two, he could see their devotion to Harry. He could see the concern in their eyes as Harry began to become angry, but how they also had the wisdom of many years of friendship to know that Harry needed to rant, to get his frustrations out before he would truly be able to calm down.
He knew it would be a difficult journey ahead. He knew that on many more occasions Harry and each of his friends would be pushed well beyond their breaking point, but Godric Gryffindor also knew that their bonds of love and friendship would bend under the strain, but hold strong and firm. Their bonds would not break, and it would be their bonds that would ultimately give them the strength to bring the prophecy to fulfilment.
***
Over the next couple of hours, Gryffindor told the foursome about the study. He gave them a complete tour, teaching them how the books and parchments were organized. He also instructed them on how they would be best to proceed with their studies.
To none of their surprise, he also told them that almost everything they learned or didn’t learn would be up to them. He was simply a guide to help clear up any confusion and point them in the right directions. He also told them how, while it was important that they all work and study together, they would all need to focus on separate subjects and learn to rely on one another unlike anything they may have done in the past.
After the whirlwind tour and explanation, Harry and the others felt as though their heads were going to explode. It had been a long day and, for Ron especially, far too long since they had eaten last. After his stomach let out a loud growl of disapproval on continuing any more for the evening, Harry and the rest agreed to end their research for the evening and procure dinner.
As they emerged from the study into the common area, the foursome found all the others still waiting patiently in the couches and chairs. Everyone looked up expectantly as they entered the room.
“Well,” Molly began as she looked at the tired looks on the faces of all four young adults.
Harry glanced at each of the older adults faces in the room. They all held the same inquisitive look. Realizing that they were expecting and deserved some type of answer he began, “It’s going to be a lot of work. Unfortunately this isn’t going to be just learning one or two spells. This is going to require us to all push ourselves harder and test the limits of our magic harder than anything we have done before.”
Even Harry had difficulty believing those words. He wasn’t sure how anything could test him more than Tom Riddle had, but he had an underlying suspicion that if this was so important so Godric Gryffindor himself had made certain to be able to help guide them in their quest to defeat this evil, then what he had just said would be proven true.
After many concerned looks were exchanged among Molly, Arthur, and McGonagall, they all finally stood and approached the foursome.
“We’re here to help any way we can, Harry,” Arthur stated as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder gently.
Harry nodded his understanding before he turned and looked at McGonagall. “Gryffindor wants us to stay in his quarters so that we can be closer to the study as we prepare. There’s more than enough room, but there’s no kitchen.” He looked down briefly before looking back up at the Headmistress, grinning slightly. “We haven’t eaten at all in a long time and are starving…” his voice trailed off as the uncertainty of what he was going to ask became apparent.
Understanding what he was hinting at, McGonagall smiled at him before letting a small smirk escape as she cleared her throat. “Harry,” she began, “seeing as how you are here as the personal guests of Godric Gryffindor, founder and first Head of Gryffindor House, you are welcome to join myself and the professors in the Great Hall for all of the meals, and seeing as how the only entrance to here is through my office, you will all be made able to come and go at will there as well.”
Harry quickly gave her a bright smile. He had readily expected that they would be allowed to eat in the Great Hall, it was just that he wasn’t for sure if the hall had been repaired. In regards to having to constantly intrude upon her office, he had not considered that problem, but was pleasantly surprised when she had also addressed that. As he thought about it though, her office was for the business of the school, so he supposed just entering and exiting wouldn’t be that big of a problem. She still had her personal quarters to retire to, which he was certain he or the others would never have to intrude upon.
As McGonagall motioned with her hands, they all quickly made their way back toward the passageway. Harry silently wrapped his arms around Ginny’s waist as they exited into the Headmistress’s office. She turned and gave him a bright smile as she kissed his cheek softly. For a moment, he looked deep into her eyes and Harry saw a very mischievous thought flash across them.
“What?” he asked as he tried but failed to suppress a smirk.
“Oh nothing,” Ginny responded teasingly. “I was just thinking about how our sleeping arrangements were going to work out. It’s a shame we’ll be staying in a room guarded against Mum coming in. I mean after all it’ll be left up to us to ensure that Hermione and I take care of our room while you and Ron take care of yours” she added with a wink.
For the first time in a long time that day, Harry’s smile radiated and filled the room. “Why, Miss Weasley,” he began as he squeezed his arm more tightly around her waist, “I believe you may have the wrong idea about who’s going to be sharing rooms with whom.”
A look of surprise quickly flashed across Ginny’s face before it transformed into a radiant smile along with the slightest of Weasley blushes. “Would you care to expound upon that, Potter?” she asked softly.
“Tut, tut,” he responded lightly. “We can work out all of those logistics after dinner. As for now, I’m hungry,” he said with a wink as he moved his arm and took hold of her hand, hurrying the pace as he dragged her quickly toward the Great Hall.
“Harry!” Ginny shouted as he continued hastening his steps toward dinner, “Dinner’s not going anywhere! It’ll be there when we get there!” she giggled as they grew farther ahead of everyone.
Those who were walking behind them remained silent, glad to see that Harry was able to be so relaxed and wasn’t openly brooding. Hermione suppressed a small laugh as she heard Ginny giggle again far in the distance. McGonagall raised an eyebrow as she looked over to Molly, who herself had an eyebrow raised, as something very similar to Harry’s voice could be heard echoing down the hallway say, “It’s not dinner I want to get to, it’s after dinner.”
Chapter 19: Chapter 19: A Day Off
Author's Notes: Ok, between the transition to a new server, and a really really really annoying internet connection on my end, this chapter has taken entirely too long to post. I sincerely apologize for that. Hopefully over the next week or so, I will be able to complete another two to three chapters. As always, thanks to all of those who read and review the story. Your comments mean a lot. Also, I need to thank my woderful Beta, Ginny Guerra for her dedication and outstanding suggestions and work.
Harry lay motionless in the bed, his eyes closed, but his mind very awake. How long ago he had awoken, he was unsure, but he did not want to move. He did not want the moment to end — it was better than any dream he had ever had, in part because it was very real. Beside him, snuggled tightly against his chest was Ginny — still sleeping peacefully. He could feel her relaxed and rhythmic breathing as she occasionally let out a contented sigh and shifted subconsciously to move even closer to him.
He thought back over the past two weeks. He vaguely remembered a Muggle expression that said something about time flying when a person was having fun. Thinking about it for a moment, he supposed it must be true, because the past two weeks had been absolute agony with both Hermione and Gryffindor making them research and study for more hours in the day than there was sunlight. The only enjoyable moments he could find were the time at night when he and Ginny were together and alone. Unfortunately, those moments only seemed to last for the blink of an eye before he was once more being awoken well before the sun rose to grab a quick breakfast and get back to work.
Harry let out a small chuckle as he thought back to the moment when they had told Molly they would be staying in Gryffindor’s personal quarters. Her immediate response had been to say that they were too young and immature to be sharing a room like that. Harry could simply stand there gobsmacked as Ginny turned her mum’s insinuation against her.
“Mum!” she exclaimed without a hint of a smile or amusement. “There’s more than one room, and it’s going to be Harry and Ron to a room, while Hermione and I take the other!”
Molly had begun to babble incoherently for a moment before she got her words straight in her mind. Unfortunately for her, though, all she was able to come out with was, “Oh.”
“Just what were you thinking that we were insinuating?” Ginny continued, knowing to press her advantage against her mum and keep her off balance. If she had learned anything from the twins, it had been that if you got Molly Weasley flustered, you had better keep her that way until she began to feel embarrassed and would let the subject drop.
“Did you honestly think that I am some type of scarlet woman that would jump into bed with Harry at the first moment your back was turned?” Ginny pressed even farther, although knowing that she had to tread carefully. “Harry and I are still young and neither of us is ready to take a step like that!”
Harry could only stand amazed at how easily Ginny could argue with her mum. What he had felt would certainly be an argument that lasted hours, if not days, between Molly and Ginny, had so quickly been resolved as Molly softly spoke, “I’m sorry, but as your mum, I just tend to worry; that’s all.”
“It’s ok, Mum, I appreciate your worrying. I just wish you had a little more faith and trust in me. After all, we did survive the war,” Ginny had finished with a heartfelt sentiment before giving her mum a short but tender hug before Molly walked away.
Afterwards, Harry had asked Ginny just how she had so quickly gotten Molly to drop the subject, even though he was certain that she gave him a quick glance that said the subject would be brought up again.
“Simple,” came Ginny’s response. “Mum always worries about us growing up. She always worries about me being a trollop and running off doing things similar to what she and Dad did before they were married. If the twins showed me anything, it was that if you beat her to the punch of what her real problem is, you can throw her off balance enough to get her to recognize you’re not six anymore.”
Harry chuckled for a moment before asking, “And by telling her exactly what we had intended to do?”
“Intended?” Ginny looked at him raising an eyebrow. “Intended? Mr. Potter, are you saying that you would rather share a room with Ron instead of me? Especially a room that has only one bed?”
“NO!” came his response with a look of concern on his face. He knew her eyebrow was the indication that he was starting to tread on thin ice.
“Good,” she responded as a mischievous smirk slowly spread across her face. “And if you notice, even though I did blatantly state what we intended to do, Mum never said, ‘No’.”
Harry could only smile in response as the devious red headed witch in front of him quickly stood onto her toes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
As he looked back on that conversation and the subsequent two weeks, he realized that Ginny had used the absolute truth against her mother. Yes, they had absolutely wanted to share a room together, but also, neither was ready to take the step that would make them lovers. She had been truthful in both instances. In fact, over the course of the previous two weeks, they had gone no farther than some intense snogging, but would always stop before things got too out of control and they crossed a line they could not come back from.
Both had readily agreed that it was step they wanted to take with each other someday, but right now was just not the right time — if for no other reason than they had far too many other responsibilities on their shoulders from Gryffindor than to take on the potential responsibilities that came with a sexual relationship. Deep down, though, for Harry at least, he knew Ginny was the only witch for him, and he wanted their first time to be truly special.
He had never had anyone that he loved as passionately or as deeply as Ginny. She held his heart in the palm of her hands and he felt perfectly safe with her. He was uncertain when their first time as lovers would be, but he knew he wanted to make it as special as he could. He wanted to show her his whole heart and just how much she meant to him.
Finally cracking one eye opened, he took a moment to look down at the beautiful witch sleeping peacefully with him. Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself as he shifted his free arm behind his head and tilted his head forward a bit more so that he could see her even better. His other arm he held tightly around Ginny, willing her to be as close to him as their clothes would allow.
“I love you more than life itself,” he whispered so softly that he didn’t even know if anyone other than himself could hear it. By Ginny’s reaction however, even in her dreams it had registered because an instant after he said it, she shifted once more, squeezing him gently into a hug before once more relaxing.
Harry’s heart felt full and more powerful than it ever had before. It was moments like this that he now drew his power from. His early life with the Dursleys was rapidly fading into the past. The pain and scars from seeing Cedric and Sirius die were also beginning to heal more permanently, so that he could now think about the good times without having more than just the slightest twinges of regret.
All that had been so recently lost, though, still bore their scars to be more fresh and enduring. Harry let his thoughts linger for just a moment on Lupin, Tonks and Fred before pushing them once more to the back of his mind and turning his attention once more to the dream come true lying in his arms. Even if their loss still hurt, Harry knew and appreciated the fact that he was no longer bound to bear the guilt and could focus on the happier moments without finding himself quickly consumed with their final moments.
Underneath the hand resting on her arm, he had felt the chill bumps that came with the early morning air brushing gently against her skin start to form. Instinctively, he hugged Ginny a little more tightly against himself as he pulled the covers further up around her arms. Harry lay his head back down and pulled his hand from behind his head, wrapping his other arm around Ginny as well.
Silently, he lay, staring at the ceiling and simply enjoying the feeling of Ginny against him. Gradually, his eyes began to grow heavy and he let them close as he drifted back off to sleep once more. Just before his mind once more lost all grip on the world around him, he heard a very soft and gentle, “I love you,” come from Ginny. Completely content and at peace, he fell asleep to once more dream of the love of his life and their future.
***
Kingsley Shacklebolt sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples trying to will away the headache that had been pounding behind his eyes nearly nonstop for the past three days. He had just come from yet another meeting with the Prime Minister concerning the recent onslaught of attacks that had been occurring against Muggles.
“I thought that with the death of this Lord Voldemort all of this would stop!” shouted one of the Prime Minister’s advisers at Shacklebolt as his eyes bugged out and his face grew red as a beet.
“Unfortunately, there seems to be another Dark Wizard that we have to deal with,” replied Shacklebolt calmly, although he wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and throttle the bug eyed man.
“It seems as though whoever is now causing the problems, his focus in entirely on my people and not witches and wizards,” spoke the Prime Minister softly, his voice quickly deflating the situation in the room. His relaxed demeanour served to lessen the tension in the room his adviser had so readily exacerbated.
Shacklebolt nodded in affirmation to the Prime Minister’s statement. “Yes, sir, that is correct,” he replied softly, his tone matching the one used by the Prime Minister earlier.
“And just what do you intend to do about this?” roared the adviser once again, his anger coursing through the room with his sharp words. “The whole of Britain is on edge thinking that terrorists are striking at will and at random. People are demanding action, and with every attack that happens, the government looks even more incompetent.”
Kingsley took a deep breath to calm himself. The adviser was quickly wearing on his last remaining nerve. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and bloody the man’s nose for him. Perhaps it would be doing him a favour. Kingsley thought to himself. At least maybe it would take that unsightly bump out of the bridge for him.
Turning his attention away from the still fuming man and looking directly to the Prime Minister, Kingsley once more spoke calmly, “I’m truly sorry. We have our best, brightest and strongest witches and wizards working on what it will take to catch this person and ensure he can never again cause such terror. But, regrettably, we are dealing with a person that is literally a thousand years old and holds a very strong grudge against Muggles.”
“How dare you call me a Muggle! Why you worthless…” began the advisor, his face somehow finding a way to grow a deep shade of purple as he yelled at the top of his lungs.
“ENOUGH!” shouted the Prime Minister turning his head sharply to look at the adviser beside him. Raising his arm and pointing a finger first at the adviser and then towards the door behind Shacklebolt he continued, “LEAVE! NOW!”
The adviser began to sputter and look completely shocked, “B-B-But, Prime Minister…”
“I said leave,” interrupted the Prime Minister. His voice was once more below a shout, but still carried the weight and finality of someone of power and authority that had truly reached the limits of his tolerance.
For a moment the adviser motioned his mouth as though to argue further, but then he quickly lowered his head in response to a piercing glare from the Prime Minister. He nodded curtly to the Prime Minister before standing. He glared one final time towards the Shacklebolt before he walked briskly to the door. He exited without another word; although his anger was still apparent as he pulled it shut with much more force that was necessary and the door slammed shut.
“My apologies,” began the Prime Minister after a few moments silence. “He’s a very passionate man. He cares deeply for the people of this country; he just gets carried away sometimes.”
“I entirely understand,” Shacklebolt responded. “It takes passion and caring to be willing to make tough decisions for the good of the whole.” To Shacklebolt, though, the words were simply political placation. He meant his words just as much as the Prime Minister had meant his apologies. The Prime Minister was a man that Shacklebolt respected. Although they both had to do the political dance of diplomacy, each man recognized the situation the other was under.
For his part, the Prime Minister knew that Shacklebolt had recently been thrust into the position as leader of Magical Britain. He did recognize though, that unlike the previous two, Shacklebolt was a man of action and would be willing to do what was necessary and was unconcerned about appearances. He knew what the problems were and was working on fixing them, not just making as many happy as he could so he could be re-elected.
He had been impressed by Shacklebolt after the first attack happened. While there had only be a very few survivors, none of whom could tell exactly what had happened, his government began to focus on a terrorist attack with gas or poison. It had been Shacklebolt himself who had requested a meeting, and during that meeting he had revealed the true nature of what had likely happened.
That act, in and of itself, was the exact opposite of what the previous Ministers of Magic would have done. They would have instead remained silent for who knows how long, ignoring the problem or quietly working to solve it on their own, without letting the Prime Minister know so that he could work to prepare and protect his people.
As far as Shacklebolt was concerned, the Prime Minister was a man who was forced to deal with entirely too many problems of Magical Britain. He understood how hard the reign of terror that Voldemort and his followers had been upon the Prime Minister’s government. With near nightly attacks at times, it was damn near impossible to keep the Magical and Muggle world separate and not incite an absolute panic among the people at the same time.
Even when faced with the incompetence of the previous Ministers of Magic, the Prime Minister held to the old accords between the two governments and in that action, he had shown himself to Shacklebolt to be a man worthy of respect. Now the Prime Minister was being forced once more to hide the Magical Britain from Muggle Britain while the only people that seemed to be suffering at the moment was Muggle Britain.
The remainder of their meeting had proceeded much more smoothly after the adviser’s departure. Although Shacklebolt was unable to provide the Prime Minister any idea as to the timeframe that the Ministry would take to contain and eliminate the problem, he had at least been able to reassure the Prime Minister that action was being taken and the Ministry of Magic did admit that there was a problem.
Now, as Shacklebolt sat in his office trying to get his head to stop pounding, a knock on his door brought out a low groan. For the slightest moment, annoyance and irritation flooded his mind before he sighed and accepted that it was the cost of being Minister of Magic and actually doing what was right and not easy.
“Enter,” he spoke firmly as he watched the door.
Slowly, it opened not revealing the person that had came to see him before the all too familiar head of bright red hair poked through the door.
“Arthur,” spoke Shacklebolt his mood becoming slightly improved at seeing his friend. “Come in. Sit down. How are you doing?” He began rattling off statements and questions as the elder statesman of the Weasley family quickly finished entering and took a chair in front of his desk.
“I’m doing well,” Arthur replied as he carefully studied Kingsley. Just a glance told Arthur that Kingsley was feeling the pressure of the past couple of weeks. His eyes looked worn and tired. His shoulders, which were usually held high and proud, were beginning to slump and show the incredible weight of the Ministry that he bore upon them.
“I just stopped by to see how the meeting with the Prime Minister earlier went,” Arthur continued.
Shacklebolt let out a great sigh. Although without title, Arthur had become one of his most trusted advisers. He constantly turned to Arthur for advice and updates, especially in regards to Harry and the others who were working on the way to permanently end the attacks. Beyond that, though, Arthur had proven himself countless times to be infinitely more thoughtful and insightful than many of the other higher ups in the Ministry.
“Well, I have a headache again, if that’s any indication,” Shacklebolt finally answered as he once more sat back in his chair and began to rub his temples again.
“Ah,” replied Arthur. “Then I take it that that hateful and loudmouthed adviser of the Prime Minister’s was in top form yet again.” Shacklebolt noticed a small smirk on Arthur’s face. He couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. It was obvious the man was subconsciously thinking better you than me.
“That he was,” Shacklebolt responded. “At least up until the point he was thrown out of the meeting yet again. I mean, seriously, this is the fourth straight meeting he’s been tossed out of. I wish the Prime Minister would stop bringing him, but every day he’s still there.”
Arthur only nodded his head. He did not need to respond. He understood his friend just needed a moment to vent, and if he mucked it up by speaking, then it wouldn’t help Kingsley at all.
“But anyways, in regards to the content of the meeting,” Shacklebolt continued. “Things are not looking good. There have been more than two dozen attacks in the past two weeks. Yesterday alone, two entire villages were obliterated and more than eight thousand Muggles murdered.”
For a moment, Arthur’s face fell, his sadness and anger evident. Shaking his head in disbelief he began, “That’s far worse than Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters could do at the height of their power.”
“You’re right,” Shacklebolt responded as he leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk. “What’s even worse though, is that all of this is being done by one man - a single wizard. It’s unbelievable that one man could have so much hatred and power in his body. Do you know that all told, in the past two weeks he’s entirely destroyed no less than 9 villages and killed more the ninety three thousand Muggles?”
Arthur just sat silently, shocked at the sheer numbers of the atrocities that were being committed.
“It’s no wonder the Prime Minister is under so much pressure. The military has already been involved, and I’ve already told him to use whatever means they have available to kill this man if the opportunity arises, but his attacks are so quick and brutal, he’s long gone before anyone would even have the chance to respond.”
“And for all it’s worth, I don’t exactly think he’d be afraid of anything they would throw at him,” added Arthur. “After all, with how powerful he seems to be, I’m afraid to say it looks like Muggle weapons would be of no use with him and it will come down to Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione to finish him off for good.”
Letting out a loud sigh, Shacklebolt nodded in agreement, “Yes, I’m afraid you are all too right.”
***
As Harry awoke once more, he felt the soft and moist lips of Ginny pressed against his. Opening his eyes, he saw her smiling down at him for a moment before deepening the kiss. He smiled softly for a moment before grabbing her tightly and rolling her over so that she was lying entirely on top of him.
They lay like that for a few more minutes as they continued kissing softly, before they were interrupted by a soft knocking on the door. Rolling back to Harry’s side and letting out a slight sigh of annoyance, Ginny took her wand from the nightstand beside the bed and removed the locking charm on the door.
“Come in,” she called out as she replaced her wand and both she and Harry sat up in bed.
A moment later, the clanking of the latch mechanism on the door could be heard before finally the great wooden door creaked as it began to swing open. As Harry reached for his glasses, he saw a brown haired blob suddenly appear in the door. After he put on his glasses, the blob quickly took the familiar form of Hermione. An instant later, Harry noticed Ron standing behind her as well.
Both were wearing broad smiles, so Harry assumed they had had an enjoyable time the night before. Hermione seemed to be positively glowing, and Ron’s stupid grin filled the entire room. Harry couldn’t help but smile at the happiness of his friends. After years of ignoring each other and denying how they both felt, he could think of no two people that deserved to be happy together more than them.
Granted their relationship had progressed more quickly than Ginny and his, but he couldn’t hold that against them. After all, Ron and Hermione had been together more often than not for the past seven years, even if they spent most of that time rowing about something or the other.
“Good afternoon,” Hermione finally spoke as she stepped into the room with Ron following behind her.
“Afternoon?” Ginny questioned, letting out a long yawn as she rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes.
“Yeah, afternoon,” spoke Ron through his grin. “We slept right through breakfast and lunch.”
“Well I don’t know about you, but I was knackered,” added Harry as he tossed the covers off his legs and swung them onto the floor. After a moment’s pause to let his bare feet adjust to the cold stone floor, he stood up. He lazily scratched at the back of his head before stretching and yawning loudly.
He walked over to a chair that was in front of a desk on the far side of the room and retrieved a t-shirt. He paused for a moment to pull his glass off and set them on the desk before pulling the t-shirt over his head and down over the tops of his pyjama bottoms. He then put his glasses back on and turned in time to see Ginny getting out of bed.
He couldn’t help but smile at her as he appreciated the way his old t-shirt seemed to cling to her in all the right areas. Added to the fact that it stopped mid thigh and showed what he thought was a very good amount of leg, he couldn’t help staring at his girlfriend. For a moment, their eyes locked and Harry knew that he had been caught staring yet again. He grinned at her in response and saw her eyes light up as she walked around the bed and over to the door leading to the loo.
As Ginny disappeared and closed the door behind her, Hermione spoke breaking Harry out of his stupor. “Well, now that you are up, we’re going to go head down to the kitchens and get something to eat.”
Harry nodded his understanding, “Ok, Give us about twenty minutes and we’ll be ready.”
Both Ron and Hermione nodded their heads and smiled. “Alright, see you then,” Ron stated before Hermione and he both turned and left, with the door closing behind them.
Twenty minutes later, Harry and Ginny appeared outside the entrance to their bedroom to find Hermione and Ron waiting. Ron’s stomach was obviously growling and he seemed to be in a hurry to get something to eat. Almost immediately they began to walk towards the door that led back to the common area.
Just before they reached the door though, Hermione stopped and grabbed Ron’s hand, pulling him to a stop. “Ron, wait,” she began. “We can’t all go out there at once, if your Mum is there waiting she’ll find it conspicuous if we all go walking out there at once.”
For a moment Ron’s mouth just hung open as his brain processed what Hermione was saying. He had completely forgotten that his mum was coming to meet them for lunch. Since they had begun their research and training, they had only been able to see others besides themselves during meals. Most meals they shared with Headmistress McGonagall and a few other professors from Hogwarts, but since this was an actual day off for them, Ginny and Hermione had decided to invite Molly for lunch.
“So what would you have us do? Me and Harry stand here for who knows how long while you and Ginny go prancing into the room and make a proper appearance?” Ron finally questioned as his brain began to once more function.
“Harry and I,” corrected Hermione. “But yes, it would make sense for Ginny and myself to go out there first, and if your Mum is there, we’ll talk to her and say that we heard you two moving around, but don’t know how long it’ll be before you get up. We can then send Ginny back in to “wake you up” and have her come out saying you’ll be ready in ten minutes, and then, of course, ten minutes later you can come out.”
“Blimey,” responded Ron shaking his head. “And if there’s no one out there?”
“We’ll just come get you then, silly.”
Upon hearing Hermione’s plan, Ron looked to Harry. For his part, Harry simply shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” Harry began. “But that of course is assuming your stomach approves of the plan,” which earned him a soft snort from Hermione and an open laugh from Ginny as Ron just pursed his lips with annoyance.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Harry, my stomach and I will wait here while you ladies go check things out.”
A few moments after they stepped through the doors, Ginny came back and told them they’d have to wait a bit as Molly was outside reading a book and waiting for them to all get up so they could go eat together. Ron simply rolled his eyes as Harry and he walked back to the room Harry and Ginny shared to play a game or two of Exploding Snap to pass the time.
After both Harry and Ron agreed sufficient time had passed to make it seem reasonable they had to get ready, they headed to the common area. As Harry walked through the door, he saw Ginny sitting with her mum and Hermione talking quietly about something. He quickly walked over and joined them, seeing Molly’s eyes light up and her face break into a broad smile as he approached.
“Harry dear, it’s so wonderful to see you so well rested,” she said as she pulled him into one of her signature bone crushing hugs. “I’m so glad that Gryffindor finally gave you all a day off to rest. Every last one of you has been pushing yourselves way too hard these past two weeks.”
Harry shared a knowing look with Ginny as he responded, “Well, I certainly needed a morning to just sleep in.” He saw a smirk and slight blush spread across her face before she raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, I think it was just what we all needed, Mum,” Ginny responded as she walked over and put her hand in Harry’s.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Ron interrupted as his stomach growled loudly, “but I’m hungry, so how about we continue this over lunch?”
Everyone seemed to find Ron’s suggestion of food not quite as preposterous as it may normally sound, so they made their way down to the kitchens. Over a delicious meal prepared by the house elves, the foursome told Molly about the previous two weeks.
In painstaking detail, Hermione recounted how each of them had been researching different subjects that Gryffindor thought were their strengths. Of course, according to Hermione, Ron had been assigned to learning about their enemy so he could help formulate when and where he might strike and try to figure out how best to stop him when the final confrontation occurred. As for Ginny, she had been put in charge of defence. Her power was second only to Harry’s and Gryffindor seemed to feel that she would best be utilized as a shield caster to protect the entire group. Hermione had been instructed by Gryffindor to learn charms that she could cast that would enhance Harry and everyone else’s abilities during the battle. As for Harry, his job was simple — learn the most powerful offensive spells he could and learn how to get his spells past some of the most powerful shields a person could imagine. What’s Ron’s job?
Molly looked thoughtfully at all four of them for a long moment before saying anything. “Well it seems as though you all are doing your best. I can’t say that I’m not scared for you, but I feel that if you all work together, you’ll stand a much better chance of winning than you do trying to do it alone.” Tears began to form in her eyes as she stopped herself from telling them anything else.
With lunch finished and the plates cleared from the table, she sighed loudly as she stood up. Seeing them having to do this so soon after having killed Voldemort, broke her heart, but she knew their strength if they worked together. She also knew the focus they needed. She knew that Harry would worry himself to death over things he couldn’t control or stop if he knew about the horrors happening in the Muggle world. It was for that reason that Minerva, Shacklebolt, Arthur and herself had decided to keep the foursome in the dark when it came to the atrocities happening to the Muggles.
As they walked stepping back into the common area, she went with Hermione and Ginny over to one of the fireplaces to talk softly as Harry and Ron went to the other to play a game of Wizard’s chess. They talked softly for a while before Harry finally stood up and began walking over to join them, evidently having grown tired of being beaten by Ron.
“Hey Gin,” he spoke softly as he stood behind her, wrapping his arms lovingly around her shoulders and resting his head beside hers. “How about we fly a couple laps around the pitch before it gets dark? It’s been ages since I’ve been on a broom.”
Molly watched a broad smile spread across her daughter’s face. What amazed her most, though, was that the smile erupted long before Harry had ever spoken. Ginny had sensed him coming and so openly welcomed his touch. For a moment, she felt her heart catch in her throat as her daughter’s love for Harry took her breath. It had been so obvious that they were destined to love each other for so long.
As she watched the foursome walk up towards McGonagall’s office to head out to the pitch, Molly smiled to herself. Maybe I’ll let them keep thinking I don’t know what’s going on with their sleeping arrangements, she thought to herself After all, I know they need each other more now than ever.
Chapter 20: Chapter 20: Blood, Sweat and Tears
Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay yet again. This time there was a week visiting my parents with no internet connection followed by a spotty internet connection once I got back home. Needless to say, that's been resolved and here is the next chapter. It's the longest I've written thus far and I hope you enjoy it. As always, I owe a lot of thanks to Ginny Guerra for her help. Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful holiday season. Finally, keep up the reviews and comments.
Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. What had began as a headache over two hours ago, now felt like someone had set off a Whizbang inside his head. He took a deep breath and massaged his temples trying to alleviate some of his pain, but to no avail. He let a low groan escape from deep within his throat as he slammed his fist down against the wooden table he was sitting at. Books, parchment and ink bottles went flying from the force of the impact of his fist, scattering across the table and into the floor.
Normally, Harry’s fist would be screaming in agony at him for just such an action, but because of his headache, the pain in his hand registered as only a slight throb. At the first sound of his growl, everyone in the room took a moment to look up, watching Harry and waiting for what would happen. To say that his patience had grown thin would be an understatement. All four of the teens had been working tirelessly over the past month — taking time only to eat, shower and sleep.
For Harry, though, had been the most dedicated. By Ginny’s account, he had been getting to bed well after midnight — the time when everyone else would normally turn in, and rising a couple of hours before sunrise. Between Ginny, Ron and Hermione, they all agreed that Harry could be getting no more than four to five hours of sleep a night.
The first couple of weeks this had been going on, no one had said anything to Harry. He seemed to be a machine. He appeared to be drawing on some inner wealth of strength that enabled him to function on such little rest. Over the past few days, however, that had quickly changed. Harry’s patience and temper had grown progressively shorter. His attention span, which once could let him set and read a book for three to four hours at a time, had been now reduced so that he could only seem to remain focused for half an hour at most.
Worst of all though, were the headaches. They had initially began to appear late in the day, after many hours of studying. At first no one else thought anything of them because they were all prone to such headaches. As the days progressed though, Harry’s headaches became markedly worse. They would occur sooner and sooner in the day and last longer and longer each time. Add that to the fact that they grew steadily more debilitating for Harry — leaving him nauseated and sick at the best, and more commonly writhing in pain on the floor, it was readily apparent that something had to be done.
The past three mornings, Harry had awoken with a headache. Although he denied it when Ginny asked, she knew it was bothering him because he would start rubbing his temples before he even got out of bed, trying to keep the pain at bay for as long as possible.
Looking at Harry now, Ginny let out a soft sigh. Her eyes flashed with sympathy for a moment before they looked upon her boyfriend with a hardened resolve. Carefully, she closed the ancient text that was before her as she stood and walked around the wooden table and stood behind Harry. She made enough noise to alert him to her approaching presence before she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. She could feel the knot of muscles that were in his back and neck. Slowly, she began to massage his muscles — paying particular attention to knead away each knot she felt.
Harry initially began to pull away, but quickly submitted to the tender caresses of Ginny’s hands. He rubbed his temples one last time before removing his glasses and setting them on the table in front of him. He sat motionless for a few moments, his head swaying in rhythm with the gentle ministrations of Ginny’s hands before his head began to nod forward. The first few times, as his head dipped down to touch his chest, it had quickly snapped back upright. His eyes would pop open as he struggled to remain awake, but they were glazed over and unfocused from his exhaustion.
Soon, Harry’s struggle ended. He folded his arms in front of him on the table and let his head lean forward and rest against them. Ginny continued to massage him gently until soft snores could be heard coming from Harry. Ginny smiled softly and looked up to see Ron and Hermione staring at Harry with looks of sympathy in their eyes.
“Let’s get him to bed,” Ginny stated as the three of them locked eyes. “He’s exhausted and will hopefully be out for the rest of the day.”
Hermione and Ron both nodded in understanding. In unison they rose and approached Harry from the table they had been working together at. Raising her wand, Hermione quietly cast a levitation charm and began to manoeuvre Harry away from the table. Ron quickly made sure to mark all of the pages in the books Harry had been reading with scraps of parchment before closing them and placing them in a stack near the edges of the table.
As Ron finished with the books, he looked up to see Ginny and Hermione with Harry moving toward the door of Gryffindor’s study. Hermione paused for a moment to look back at Ron as Ginny moved forward to open the door.
“We’ll be back in just a second, Ron,” she whispered just loudly enough so that Ron could hear. “We’re going to put Harry to bed and then be back.”
For an instant, Ron began to follow anyways. They’ll need someone to help undress Harry he thought to himself. That thought was quickly pushed aside though and a slight blush crept up his face as he remembered Ginny saying that she had been forced to do just that for the past week or so. Ron chuckled to himself softly, watching them disappear through the door as he thought back upon the annoyance he had seen in Ginny’s face when she had first told him about it.
Deep down, he knew that it didn’t truly bother her — after all, what teenage witch wouldn’t love the opportunity to undress her boyfriend? It was just the fact that under the circumstances, she was being forced to get out of her warm, comfy bed in which she was sleeping quite peacefully to undress her exhausted and near comatose boyfriend who was pushing himself well beyond his physical limits. Add to that the fact that Harry remained resolutely asleep and snoring rather loudly throughout the entire process and it may be seen where a certain red haired witch could become irritated.
Finally, breaking out of his reminiscing, Ron walked slowly back over to the table and retook his seat. He paused for a moment to look at the four mountains of parchment and books that defined each of the foursome’s study areas. As always, Hermione’s was neat and ordered. Ron imagined that she could quickly find anything she needed for reference or review as it almost appeared as though she had created her own mini library within the study.
Looking next to Ginny’s area, it was clearly neat similar to Hermione’s, but lacked the almost pathologic order that had come to be associated with Hermione. Instead, Ginny’s area reminded Ron very much of her room at the Burrow. It was clean and without the undue mess that defined his area, but it was also clearly an area of work. Parchment, quills and ink bottles were all in haphazard stacks, but otherwise the area was clean and looked like anyone could locate a parchment or book with relative ease.
Finally, coming to look at Harry’s and his areas, Ron thought that it was reminiscent of the time the twins had cursed Percy’s bookcases to fall over and pin him in between. While their books could be considered relatively stacked — at least the ones that hadn’t been used in the past few days — their parchments and numerous overturned empty bottles of ink made it almost impossible to believe that anyone could work in that level of clutter. Harry and himself had collectively termed their mess “organized chaos” and claimed they knew where every single parchment was at because of, rather than in spite of, the numerous mounds of disorganized papers.
As he turned his attention back to the book he had been reading prior to Harry’s headache and subsequent exhausted collapse, Ron heard the door to the study open. He looked up to see Ginny and Hermione walking toward him lost in a hushed conversation. He closed his book once more, recognizing the look on their faces that said, “We need to talk.”
Ron waited patiently for them to get to the table, be seated and get settled. He did not say a word. He had learned a long time ago when dealing with either his girlfriend or his sister, and especially both at the same time, important talks progressed much more smoothly if he just let them start and have their say. Also, applying wisdom the twins had once given him always let the one that wants to talk start. That way if for some reason the person was angry and accusing you of doing something, you would know exactly what it was before you went and confessed something the accuser was as of yet unaware of.
A few brief moments passed as Hermione grabbed a quill and a blank piece of parchment and began to scribble furiously. She paused only for a moment to quickly tuck a rather annoying strand of hair behind her ear that insisted upon falling in front of her right eye and interfering with her writing. Just as Ron began to lose patience and looked to Ginny, imploring with his eyes to know what was going on, Hermione spoke.
“Ron, we’ve got a major problem with Harry,” she began as she placed the quill back down onto the table. “He’s working himself to death preparing. He’s refusing to sleep and now his body is so stressed and exhausted, that he couldn’t fight even if he needed to!” The tone of her voice initially began calm, but quickly grew louder and higher as she spoke.
Before replying, Ron looked to Ginny. Her head was down and her once brilliant red hair hung in tangles covering her face and draping onto the table. He did not hear her crying, but was not surprised when she raised her head to find her eyes closed and tears running from the corners. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes and staring directly at Ron.
Instead of seeing pain or anguish in Ginny’s eyes though, Ron found himself staring straight into a sea of frustration. Dark circles were under her bloodshot eyes. Her fists were clinched tightly and her jaw was rigid as she held her breath for a moment. Letting out a long sigh, her eyes began to implore Ron.
She opened her mouth to speak, but words would not come. In frustration, she banged her hands quickly and repeatedly against the table. Her frustrations finally overcoming her, Ginny let out a loud scream as she suddenly shoved her chair away from the table and stood up. Bringing her hands up to the sides of her head, and pulling her hair, she let out a loud growl as she turned and walked away from Ron and Hermione.
Silently, Ron looked at Hermione and met her eyes for a brief moment before looking down at the table. On the far side of the study a pile of books hit the floor as Ginny let her rage and frustration bubble over finally. Tears quickly followed as she threw herself down at Harry’s area and began to sob softly into her folded arms.
Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at Ginny as she sobbed. She turned back to Ron, who was also looking at Ginny. Nodding to one another, they silently stood and walked over to Ginny. Hermione wrapped her arm around Ginny while Ron laid his hand on her shoulder. They said nothing, simply standing there to let Ginny know that she was not alone.
Understanding that Ginny needed time to be alone, Ron turned his full attention to Hermione. “So what are we going to do about Harry?” Ron asked quietly.
Hermione just shook her head as she replied, “I don’t know.”
Ron sat silent for a moment, his mind slowly turning over everything that had been going on for the past few weeks. Gryffindor had been relentless with them all, but especially with Harry, demanding that they research and prepare. It’s bloody easy if you don’t have to eat or sleep… or breathe for that matter! Ron thought bitterly to himself about Gryffindor. Then you can wait on your pale arse for us to do the research and come to you with help in performance of the actual spells. Never mind the fact that no witch or wizard has heard of these spells in nearly a millennium, and we’re expected to bleedin’ get them right on the first go!
Ron’s anger finally overflowed his thoughts as he slammed his open hand down against the table causing Hermione to jump from the sudden noise. Immediately, Ron’s eyes bulged and his cheeks filled with air as he slammed his eyes shut from the sudden sharp throbbing pain that had engulfed his hand.
Ron gingerly turned his hand over so that he could see the palm. As expected, it was a bright cherry red from where it had slapped against the table. Just over the prominences of his knuckles, bluish hues could be seen to be forming — the earliest traces of a bruise.
“Seriously!” Hermione snapped as she walked over to Ron and took hold of his hand in her own.
“GrrOff!” Ron cried in pain as he tried to pull his hand away, but to no avail. Hermione grabbed hold of Ron’s wrist and held his hand as tight as a vice as she pressed and prodded over his ever deepening red palm.
“I have half a mind to leave your hand like this,” she continued, not looking at Ron, but remaining focused on his hand. “It would be bruised and sore for days. Not to mention that it would probably swell up to twice it’s normal size and you wouldn’t be able to make a fist.”
Ron’s eyes widened in horror as Hermione continued to rant. He had never thought of his hand swelling and not being able to make a fist would certainly not go over well with Harry, Ginny or most especially Gryffindor. After all, if he couldn’t close his fingers together he wouldn’t be able to hold a wand.
Ron sat staring at his hand as Hermione continued to rant and rave. Time and again she pressed against his knuckles, so much so that Ron was fairly certain she was doing it more to make his hand hurt than to see if there was any serious damage. As for what she was saying, Ron didn’t really hear because he was so lost in his own thoughts. Finally, after a long moment he began to focus back on reality and to the words being uttered by Hermione.
He was finally brought fully back when he saw Hermione turn her eyes from his hand, to stare at him directly.
“So what have you got to say for yourself, Ronald?” Hermione asked her voice sounding eerily similar to that of his mum after he or one of his brothers had done something they had known to be incredibly stupid.
“Uh…” he responded as he drew one side of his mouth into a half-hearted smile and raised both eyebrows in feigned surprise as his eyes met Hermione’s. “I wasn’t,” he finally answered as he turned his eyes down from her piercing gaze and began to stare at what may be mistaken for a rather interesting pattern in the wood of the table to anyone unfamiliar with the power of shame that Hermione was currently using against him.
“That’s right you weren’t,” she retorted almost as quickly as he had answered her. Letting out a small sigh, she pursed her lips and pulled one hand away from Ron’s as she used it to pick up her wand. Uttering an incantation, she slowly moved her wand over Ron’s hand, making certain to touch each of his knuckles gently as a blue light irradiated it.
Ron felt a warm tingling sensation spread across the palm of his hand as Hermione moved her wand over it. As the warmth faded, Ron noticed that both the redness and bruising were gone. He remained silent for a minute more before finally starting to flex and extend his fingers. Feeling no pain, he then decided to slowly draw his hand up into a fist. At first, he hesitated to close it tightly, but soon increased his grip until the muscles of his hands could be seen straining and his fingers clinched so tightly that they were a pale white.
“Thanks,” he muttered softly to Hermione still not looking her in the eyes.
***
Across the room, Ginny’s cries had gradually become less and less until her tears finally dried. She continued to sit silently and stare off towards the wall as she heard the low murmur of Hermione with a hint of annoyance in her voice that let Ginny know Ron was being lectured about something. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Ginny let her resolve strengthen and felt her composure slowly come back to her. With a long slow breath out, Ginny felt a bit of relief wash over her body. She knew what needed to be done. She had made her mind up and she was now firmly set in it.
Ginny was going to talk to Gryffindor and if that spectre, or apparition, or whatever he was wouldn’t listen to reason, then she would curse and hex him until something worked.
***
With a look of ferocious determination in her eyes, Ginny methodically approached the far side of the study where the weapons were located. Pausing for the briefest of moments, she placed her hand against one of the glass cases that held an ancient looking mace. An instant later, the glass glowed a pale red and then disappeared. Ginny then reached into the case and rotated the mace on its base in a clockwise fashion. When that was complete, she withdrew her hand and the glass reappeared.
A few moments later, the familiar clanking and grinding of metal gears could be heard as Ginny looked up to see a doorway appear behind one of the other glass cases. When Gryffindor had first revealed the room to the four of them, they had all thought it very interesting that the room was guarded not only by magic wards, but that it was also protected by Muggle methods as well.
She approached the case the door was behind of and withdrew her wand. Quietly, she uttered the incantation that Gryffindor had taught them to clear the glass case from the doorway so that she could enter. Ginny’s eyes seemed to lose focus, as the case became blurry but she quickly realized that it was not her eyes and in fact, the existence of the case itself was phasing out.
No matter how many times she saw the case blur and then disappear, Ginny couldn’t help but be amazed and slightly alarmed. The appearance and disappearance of the case was not like a simple conjuring spell. Whereas with those spells, the item to be created or destroyed would materialize rather quickly and its form did not appear to waver into or out of existence, the case however, seemed to be more deliberate.
Hermione had described it like watching the ripples on a pond after a rock was tossed into the centre. “If you watch closely, you can see the ripples spreading out in concentric circles from the point where the rock entered the water. As you focus on them, it’s like they have always been there, but once you lose focus and they disappear, it’s like they were never there at all,” she had said.
When Hermione had first said that, it made little sense to Ginny or anyone else for that matter. As she thought about it more, though, and watched the case appear and disappear more, she began to understand what Hermione had been getting at. The case seemed to phase in and out of existence in waves, with each wave making the case either more permanent or transparent depending on whether it was appearing or disappearing. While a person was watching it appear or disappear, a person could easily focus on what was occurring, but once it was solid and present, one’s mind tended to forget the fact that it hadn’t just been there.
Pushing aside her contemplation of the glass case, Ginny stepped into the room. Looking about the room, she saw Gryffindor in the far corner, waiting patiently. The room itself was nothing spectacular, but then again, Ginny didn’t expect it to be. The room itself was a brother to the Room of Requirement. It changed and provided whatever the incoming occupant needed.
It had been within the walls of this room that the foursome had practiced their newly learned spells and skills. It was within this room that Harry spent so much of his sleepless hours at night. It was here where Gryffindor now occupied the entirety of his time waiting for someone to come in and practice or ask about how a spell was supposed to work.
Ginny remained silent as she walked towards Gryffindor. She remembered the awe and interest that Harry, Ron, Hermione and she had first looked upon Gryffindor with as they had set to work on the task he had laid before them. Initially he had been beside them, showing them where to look, guiding their research, offering words of encouragement. As the days stretched on though, and everyone became tired of reading, tired or researching and tired of being prodded or outright pushed to keep going, Gryffindor had taken a less active role in their research.
Looking back, Ginny realized that Gryffindor was probably doing what was best by getting out of the way and letting them work on their own. He was still always available to answer questions and most certainly was present to help when practicing spells. Now he just passed his time in this room, waiting until he was needed.
For the most part, Ginny thought that that was the best thing he could do. What truly upset her though, and the very reason she was marching towards Gryffindor at this very moment, was because he seemed to have forgotten that Harry was not an apparition. Unlike Gryffindor, Harry had to sleep, eat and rest. Gryffindor had stood by while watching Harry push himself beyond his physical limits to the brink of utter exhaustion and said nothing.
As Ginny finished approaching Gryffindor, she saw him look at her with a hint of knowing in his eyes. He did not smile or smirk nor did he say a word. He simply met her gaze of anger and frustration with one of empathy and understanding. Uncertain as to how to respond to his gaze, Ginny froze for a moment. She quickly contemplated in her mind what to say and how to say it; all the while, Gryffindor remained in front of her silently waiting.
“We need to talk about Harry,” she finally began.
Gryffindor took a deep breath and released it slowly as he nodded, “I thought it might have something to do with him and how he’s been doing.”
Again Ginny found herself at an immediate loss for words. Gryffindor’s calm demeanour and apparent anticipation of this conversation had not been what she expected. If he bloody knew I would be coming to talk to him about Harry, and why I would be doing it, then why in Merlin’s name did he not do something to stop it? she thought to herself as her temper once more flared.
“And just why have you let it get this far?” she snapped at Gryffindor. “You’re the one that’s supposed to be guiding us and helping us prepare! Why have you let Harry push himself beyond his limits and not stop him?” She was half screaming by the time she had finished, but Gryffindor remained calm.
He paused for a moment before responding. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully so as to not make the red haired witch in front of him any angrier than she already was. “Simple,” he began, “It’s not my place to.”
Whatever Ginny had expected Gryffindor to say, that had not been it. She gave him a look of incredulity as she furrowed her brow at him. “Not your place?” she questioned, confusion evident in her voice.
“Quite right,” Gryffindor responded before she had a chance to say anything else. “Harry must learn his own limits. He must learn to not strive so hard to please others but accept what satisfies himself. Harry must learn that it’s not his place to put everything in the world ahead of himself.”
Ginny stood before Gryffindor with her mouth gaped open. Her anger and frustration, still present, had been effectively thwarted and she could no longer direct them at Gryffindor. Instead, they lay inside her with no one to target towards. Finally shaking her head she asked, “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that Harry’s not very good at doing that. So just how is he supposed to learn if you don’t make him?”
Gryffindor smiled to Ginny in a way that was all too familiar to how Harry had described Dumbledore sometimes smiling at him when he thought an answer was so obvious that he shouldn’t have to explain it. Gryffindor’s smile quickly disappeared, though, as Ginny let out a loud sigh, clenched her jaw firmly and took an aggressive stance with one hand on her hip. The look in her eyes was all too easy for Gryffindor to read. If he had been a living flesh and bones person, a hole would have already been burned straight through his head. As it was now, though, even though he shouldn’t be able to, he distinctly thought he felt the room growing several degrees warmer under the intense stare of Ginny.
“Your point?” she asked in what was essentially a low growl as she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor and began to fiddle with her wand.
“My point,” Gryffindor began realizing that now was not the best time for letting divine understanding dawn upon the witch before him. “My point is that there are others in Harry’s life much better suited to helping him learn these lessons; a person that he will listen to more readily than myself, and with all due respect, a person that has a temper to match his outright pigheaded stubbornness.”
“You mean me,” Ginny replied as her stance became a little softer.
“Yes,” Gryffindor replied. “And an added benefit is that your wand and curses will be much more effective against Harry than myself,” he added as the smallest hint of a smile spread across his face.
Ginny paused for a moment, considering his words before a grin formed at the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps,” she stated plainly as she brought her wand up and pointed it at Gryffindor, “but I’m quite certain that I could find a way to overcome this whole not quite being one hundred percent alive problem of yours if I really wanted to curse you.”
“I’m quite certain you could,” Gryffindor responded as a broad smile spread across his face.
“Good. Just as long as we have an understanding,” Ginny finished as she lowered her wand and fully relaxed her stance. She gave Gryffindor the slightest of smiles before she turned and began to move towards the door back to his study.
Her anger and frustration were no longer directed towards Gryffindor. Although he had been almost as annoying as Dumbledore could be at times, he had been straightforward enough with her that she now understood where her anger truly should be directed. Unfortunately for both him and her, the target of her anger was asleep and not likely to wake up any time soon, so her anger and frustration towards him could only grow. As Ginny stepped through the door into the study, the only question in her mind was When he wakes up, am I going to hug him first and then hex him, or should I hex him first then hug him?
***
Ron and Hermione sat quietly talking as they waited for Ginny to return. Ron had not been surprised as, once she had stopped crying, that she went to see Gryffindor.
“Glad she’s mad at him and not at me,” he had said under his breath once Hermione had finally stopped lecturing him about his hand and noticed Ginny was gone. Of course that had earned him a sharp slap on the arm, which according to him was just as likely to swell and bruise. For her part, Hermione had only responded by slapping him equally hard on the other arm in order to balance him out.
“So where is everyone at on their research?” asked Hermione as she began once more to focus on the task at hand.
“I don’t know,” responded Ron. “Harry’s obviously made a lot of progress. He’s working on the area of effect spells and seems to be making progress from what I’ve seen. I mean after all, he did manage to stun all three of us with that single spell the other day and we were surrounding him in a triangle.”
Hermione nodded in recognition to Ron before adding, “And Ginny’s shields are stronger than ever and I’ve seen her cast a couple in the last few days that I’ve never seen before.”
“Right,” Ron added. “And the work you’ve done on the charms to help increase Harry’s agility and speed as well as Ginny’s focus is coming along faster than even Gryffindor could have hoped for.”
A slight blush crept up Hermione’s face at Ron’s words. Just as she began to reply, the glass case on the far side of the room once more disappeared and Ginny stepped back into the study. Silently, Ginny strode across the room and sat down at the table with Ron and Hermione.
She looked at Ron and Hermione for a moment before stretching her arms out on the table before her and letting her fingers spread wide apart. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she spoke.
“I had a little discussion with old Godric,” she began. “It seems as though Harry will need someone to help reign in his stubborn drive.”
Both Ron and Hermione looked to one another, then back to Ginny; neither wanted to be the first to speak. The look in Ginny’s eyes told them she still had a great deal of anger and frustration, and they didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of her wand. As they looked between one another, Ginny noticed the uncomfortable silence being held by her brother and friend.
“Umm,” Ron finally began with a small gulp. “So just what does this mean?”
“Yeah, we’ve all known Harry has these types of problems where he takes everyone’s responsibility upon himself,” Hermione added carefully.
Letting her body relax for a moment, Ginny thought silently to herself.
“What it means,” she began as she took her hand from the table and picked up her wand. “What it means is that one Harry Potter is going to slow down and not kill himself,” she continued as she began to roll the wand between her thumb and index finger.
Sighing a big breath of relief, Ron smiled before adding, “Well, we can help keep him in line.” Hermione quickly nodded her agreement before Ginny held up her other hand and began to shake her head causing both Ron and Hermione to fall into an uneasy silence once more.
“No,” she stated simply. “I appreciate the help, but it’s been me Harry’s been waking up in the wee hours of the morning when he comes to bed, only to be woken up yet again when he gets up just a couple of hours later. It’s been me who’s gone from having his arms caressingly wrapped around at night as we slept to having a cold empty space in the bed beside me for most of the night. So it’ll be me to remind Mr. Potter just what it is to have a girlfriend and what it means not to drive himself to the point of utter and complete exhaustion.”
As she finished her statement, a marked tone of frustration and resentment was clearly evident in her voice. She paused for a moment, looking at her wand in her hand before once more tucking it away. She interlaced her fingers and placed them behind her head as she leaned back against the wooden chair she was seated in.
“Now I only need to figure out the best way to get Harry’s attention without killing him myself,” she added as she turned her gaze up towards the ceiling in thought.
Ron snickered loudly causing both Hermione and Ginny to give him furrowed looks. “Compared to what I’ve seen you do to the twins when they annoyed you,” he began, “I think Harry may be better off dead.”
Ginny glared back at Ron as Hermione turned away to hide the smirk on her face. Finally, Ginny’s steely features broke and a slight smile spread across her face. “True,” she offered as her smile widened, “but after all he is my boyfriend and there is this prophecy thing we must deal with. So it wouldn’t be right to just kill him and get it over with. Besides, that’s way too easy for him. I just need to figure out how to impress upon him how much this attitude of his is hurting not only himself but everyone else,” she added much more softly.
Ginny’s last statement held no hint of anger or frustration. Instead, the gentleness with which she spoke struck Ron, and as he looked at his sister, he could see the physical price that Ginny herself was paying. His heart immediately felt sorry for Ginny. He knew she deserved happiness just as much as Harry did and now, after the whole business with Voldemort had been taken care of, when she and Harry should be having their chance for happiness, it was once more being ruined.
“Just tell him,” Ron replied softly. “You’re the one he will listen to. You’re each other’s strength and motivation. He loves you a lot; I know he’ll listen.”
Hermione looked at Ron and gave him a soft smile. She reached her hand across the table and gently squeezed his hand as she nodded in agreement with what he said. For her part, Ginny seemed to appreciate Ron’s words and nodded in agreement as well.
“Well, even though Harry and I have a long discussion ahead of us, I’ll let him sleep for now. Maybe he’ll be able to wake up without a headache for the first time in days,” Ginny stated as she began to stand.
“So what are we supposed to do?” Ron asked looking to both Ginny and Hermione for an answer.
“Well, just because Harry gets to have a lie in, doesn’t mean we do,” snapped Hermione as she picked up on the books in front of her. “There’s still a lot of work to be done, so get back to reading, Ron.”
With a small growl of frustration, Ron looked to Ginny hoping for a reprieve, to no avail.
“She’s right, Ron, we need to get back to work,” Ginny added as she began to walk towards her work area much to Ron’s dismay.
“And I’ve had a great idea for a charm that I need to research that may prove to be quite useful when dealing with Harry,” she added as an afterthought.
“Oh, really? And just what would that be?” Hermione asked her curiosity getting the better of her.
“One that once cast upon the door will keep Harry locked in our bedroom until I let him out in the mornings and that doesn’t respond well to those other than the caster when tried to be disabled,” Ginny replied with a grin on her face.
“So I take it that it won’t be a regular locking charm, then?” Hermione asked already knowing the answer. Ginny simply nodded her head in affirmation.
“So just what kind of things will await the person that tries to bypass the charm?” Hermione asked with as straight a face as possible. She was struggling not to break down into giggles as the varied possibilities of what Ginny would have the charm do to Harry as he tried to circumvent it passed through her mind.
“Oh, that’s for me to know, and Harry to complain to you lot about after the attempt,” Ginny retorted before both girls broke into a fit of laughter for a moment.
Soon all was quiet as the trio was once more hard at work researching and preparing. Ginny, though, busied herself making sure she would be teaching Harry a lesson he shouldn’t soon forget.
***
Harry Potter awoke some hours later to find himself in a dark bedroom. How long he had been asleep he could not say. In fact, the only thing he could say for certain was that for the first time in days, his headache was truly gone. As he took note of his surroundings, it was impossible to miss the fact that his arms were wrapped around Ginny and her arms were wrapped in his as she was asleep beside him.
I must have slept longer than I thought. Harry thought to himself. I hate to lose that time preparing, but maybe it was for good overall if it got rid of that blasted headache.
Harry could still feel the fatigue and exhaustion in his body, but he didn’t want to waste any more time. He carefully tried to extract himself from Ginny’s arms without waking her. He didn’t know what time it was, but he felt he should go get a couple of hours of practice with Gryffindor.
Once he had finally extracted himself from Ginny in a manner that he was certain did not wake her, he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand before slowly standing from the bed. He paused for a moment to look about the room, but could see nothing. Reaching under his pillow, he grabbed his wand.
Cupping his hand in front of the tip of his wand to prevent the forthcoming light from waking Ginny, he whispered, “Lumos.”
An instant later, light was reflecting off of his hand as he turned his back to Ginny and sat on the edge of the bed once more. Harry quickly pulled on jeans, a t-shirt — taking time to set his wand down and pull it over his head — and his trainers holding his wand between his teeth as he tied the laces.
Once he was finished dressing, Harry stood again and quietly made his way over to the door. Much to his surprise, as Harry reached to open the door, he found it charmed shut and refusing to open for him. Curious, he quickly cast a magic revealing spell that showed him what charms had been placed on the door. What he saw in response truly amazed him. It was a charm unlike anything he had ever seen before, and other than locking the door, he had no clue what else it might do.
What the… he began thinking to himself before he heard a soft voice call out to him from the bed.
“Harry,” Ginny stated softly as she sat up in bed, sleep slowly leaving her mind as she realized Harry was facing her charm. “Come back to bed and get more rest. You’re still exhausted and need more sleep.”
“I’m sorry, Gin,” he stated as he walked back toward the bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’m going to go practice some spells.”
“No. You’re. Not,” Ginny responded very forcefully, her voice indicating there was no room for argument. “You need to rest, and you’re going to get back in this bed and get up at a decent hour.”
“I really wish I could, Gin,” Harry responded. “But I need to get back to work.”
With that, he quickly turned and walked back towards the door.
Ginny’s voice remained calm although she wanted to scream at Harry at the top of her lungs, “Well, that charm on the door says otherwise. Now come back to bed before you go and do something foolish like setting it off.”
Harry turned and looked at Ginny’s silhouetted outline for a moment, considering her words. Perhaps it was the relative calm in her voice from her last statement, but the veiled warning did not register to him. A moment later, he was once more probing at the charm with his wand, completely oblivious to the look of annoyance Ginny was burning into the back of his head.
Finally, after a minute or so of probing, Harry felt he had a grasp on how to lower the charm. Uttering an unintelligible incantation, he made a broad circular motion with his wand, punctuated with a series of jabbing thrusts in positions that would correspond with the hour hands on a large clock. Once he finished his wand movements, Harry stood back.
For an instant nothing happened, and then the charm began to glow a deep red. Silently, Ginny looked on, considering for a few seconds that perhaps Harry actually had found a way to lower the charm, but a broad smile spread across her face as she watched the red colour slowly transition to the all too familiar purple that indicated that the first response had been triggered.
Harry felt pleased with himself for a moment when the charm had began glowing red. He was certain that the charm would be lowered and he could then leave the room, but as it began to glow purple, something in the back of his mind told him that there was a little more to the charm; just as realization dawned on Harry, and his mind remembered Ginny’s warning about “setting it off”, the purple glow faded away.
For having the reflexes of a seeker and being fast on his feet, the next second seemed to Harry to last for an eternity, during which his body would not respond the way he wanted or hope it would. As he saw the first spell erupt from the charm, a deep rooted dread filled Harry. As his eyes looked better at the curse, he could tell that it was the full body bind.
Unable to move fast enough, the spell hit Harry squarely in the chest. Unfortunately for Harry, his legs locked rigidly and his weight had been evenly balanced such that he was left in a standing position in front of the charm, at its mercy for whatever may come next.
In those respects though, Harry did not have to wait very long as the next spell had already began to develop. His eyes widened with abject horror as he recognized the spell that was coming towards his petrified body. Even if he had not been petrified, the curse would have been bad enough, but petrified and unable to at least try to fight the results off meant that the spell would be pure agony.
An instant later, the spell hit Harry in the chest and the force of the impact knocked him backwards onto the floor. Harry landed with a dull thump, but his mind was already too pre-occupied to worry about a little bump on the head or a sore back. His nose, eyes and face were all currently under attack from the bat bogeys that were relentlessly attacking him.
Harry began to snort, cough and sputter in response to the onslaught as he thought that the attack would continue all night long. Moments later, though, Harry heard Ginny utter something from the bed and he felt the bat bogeys leaving him and the full body bind being released. He looked at her for a moment before shakily getting to his feet.
From everything he had heard about the infamous Ginny Weasley’s Bat Bogey Hex from her brothers, Harry knew that it could have certainly been a lot worse. He would, however, say that it more than lived up to all of his worst fears and expectations and was something that he did not want to experience again anywhere in the near future.
“Harry,” Ginny called from the bed, “Come back to bed and get some rest.”
“I’ve got to prepare,” Harry replied as he once more turned to face the door.
Ginny let out a sigh of frustration that Harry heard before speaking again, “Harry, the charms on the door are there to ensure you get enough rest. They’ll come down in the morning and then we can all prepare together without you exhausting yourself at all hours of the night.”
“Sorry, Gin, but I’m ok and I need to practice now,” Harry replied as he once more turned his attention to the door and began the same assessment spells he had done earlier.
Ginny sighed once more as she watched Harry work. After a few moments, the fatigue once more began to claim Ginny’s open eyelids and she lay back down. “Well, I’m going to get some sleep at least,” she stated as her head came to rest softly against her pillow.
Harry turned for a moment and seeing that she was going to sleep, he turned back to the door and began his next spell to try to lower the charm. Just before he was once more hit with the petrifying hex, Harry thought he heard Ginny mumble softly, “As least one of us will get some sleep and not hexed off their bloody arse all night long.”
Chapter 21: Chapter 21: So You Think You Can Fight
Author's Notes: Well, here's the next chapter. Sorry, I know I said I wanted it to be out by the weekend, but time conspired against me. Plus in my old age (26 now as of Sunday) I've gotten slower. Again, many thanks to Ginny Guerra for her hard work. Also, just wanted to say I appreciate all of the reviews and comments. They are always welcome and keep them coming.
“Artior Somnus,” Harry shouted as he moved his wand through the appropriate movements. Instantaneously, a ball of silvery flame appeared at the end of Harry’s wand. He pointed the wand towards the palm of his other hand as he lifted both above his head. He paused for a moment, focusing his magic, intensifying the glow of the flame.
Harry struggled to force every ounce of his magical energy into the spell until his vision began to blur. With a quick motion, Harry pulled his wand and hand away from the flame and thrust them down to his side. The flame, however, did not move. It remained above Harry’s head.
Suspended in the air, the flame levitated for what seemed like an eternity before it began to pulse even brighter. With the third pulse, the flame erupted into a massive ball, expanding away from Harry at an astonishing rate. Everything in the room was quickly touched by the flame — except for Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were all safe behind a shield Ginny had cast.
Exhausted, Harry collapsed to his knees, breathing hard and letting his wand fall onto the stone floor beside him. Beads of sweat covered Harry’s forehead and ran down his face, dripping from the end of his nose as he attempted to recover his strength. Applause rung out from across the room where Gryffindor was standing, silently observing as Ginny lowered her shield and the threesome quickly approached Harry.
“That was perfectly done, Harry,” Gryffindor cried.
Harry only nodded in response as he continued to pant.
“What spell was that Harry?” Hermione asked as the threesome arrived at Harry.
Harry still did not answer as Ginny wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. She could feel the tiredness in his muscles and smell the salty sweat that now drenched him. Pulling away from Harry, Ginny pushed him to arms length, critically looking him over — surveying him for something more than just simple magical exhaustion.
“Harry, are you alright?” Ginny questioned him suspiciously.
Again Harry nodded as he took a deep breath, “I’m fine, love. That’s just a really hard spell to perform, and it takes a lot of magic to make work correctly.”
Still not entirely convinced, Ginny continued to survey Harry before turning to Gryffindor. “Is that true?” she asked the apparition bluntly, in a tone that demanded a simple and accurate answer.
“Yes, Harry’s right,” Gryffindor began. “That is a very difficult spell to master, and it takes a great deal of concentration and energy. Far more than the shield you used to protect Ron, Hermione and yourself from it. The spell should become easier for Harry as he continues to work. He’s already made marked improvement from the first time he cast it with just me present.”
Gryffindor abruptly stopped his explanation. He had already said too much and the look in Ginny’s eyes told him she had caught his slip. He only hoped she would not delve too deeply and ask one particular question.
“So this isn’t the first time you cast that spell, Harry?” Ginny questioned, turning her attention away from Gryffindor.
Silently Gryffindor said a prayer of thanks. While it was sad to see what happened to Harry when Ginny’s anger flared, in the end Gryffindor, and anyone else for that matter within shouting and hexing distance could almost in unison, without prompting, be found to be thinking the same thing. Better Harry than me.
“No, Gin,” Harry replied softly, gradually recovering and gaining more strength. “I’ve cast it a few times in practice with Gryffindor alone.”
“And just what happened when you cast it, then?” Ginny continued to press.
Unfortunately for Gryffindor, she had asked the one question he wanted to avoid, but at least she was asking Harry. Gryffindor had already found himself to be on the receiving end of Ginny Weasley’s temper far too many times recently and he wanted to avoid it again if at all possible.
After Harry’s utter and complete physical exhaustion a few weeks prior, Ginny had returned after their initial chat to inform Gryffindor of a few ground rules in regards to Harry and his training. She made him responsible for limiting the amount of time Harry could spend each day practicing new spells. While he had been somber and listened to Ginny intently as she warned him of the consequences, Gryffindor couldn’t help but roll his eyes to himself.
While he understood Ginny’s concern, Gryffindor was similar to Harry in many ways - with the most important among those being his dedication and work ethics. When there was something that had to be done, something to be accomplished, Gryffindor himself, when was alive, would work just as tirelessly as Harry, and, in fact, had suffered many cases of exhaustion quite similar to Harry’s.
All of that being said, though, did not lessen the fiery red headed witch’s temper when she had been forced to come get Harry from the practice room late one night just a few days ago. She said nothing to Gryffindor as she dragged Harry away from the room, berating him as they went. Gryffindor had hoped that he would get away with only being the victim of her glare, after all, he was just an apparition tied to a book.
Much to his surprise and consternation, though, he found out the next day that an angry Ginny Weasley was not one to let a glare do when she had researched perfectly good spells. If nothing else, Gryffindor had to give her credit, she had figured out a way to hex an apparition, although the infliction of physical pain, suffering or torment was just simply not possible. What she had done, instead, was embarrassing and belittling enough to make up for the lack of physical pain.
Having researched the exact spell that was used to allow the apparition to be summoned from the book, and how Gryffindor was actually tied to the book, Ginny had been able to work out a few charms that modified the spell. While she did not touch any of his memories, she did modify his physical appearance.
Unfortunately for Gryffindor, he had been forced to stand by and watch the angry red haired witch charm his robes into a dress and charm his hair into a set of pigtails that were intricately braided and much too frilly for a man of his day — a man of any day, for that matter. Compounding his problem even more than Ron and Hermione having a good laugh at his expense, was the fact that he couldn’t even lift the bloody charms off himself either. After two days of begging, pleading, and promising to keep Harry in line, Ginny had finally relented and released the charms just that very morning.
“Well…” Harry finally began with uncertainty clearly evident in his voice. “As you can see, even now it takes a lot out of me, so I can’t remember very well exactly what happened the first few times.”
Just as the words left Harry’s mouth, Gryffindor knew he’d been set up.
Harry, you bloody well know what happened. I told you no less than ten times that you completely passed out before even correctly forming the spell the first three times! Gryffindor thought angrily to himself as his mind raced as he tried to summon forth some type of explanation that would placate Ginny. It would have to be bad, but not so horrible as to make him seem completely heartless for allowing Harry to keep casting the spell and causing himself to pass out.
As his mind began to form around what he thought would be a believable half truth with some embellishment, Gryffindor saw Ginny look at him. Bugger! He thought as he saw the anger once more glowing in the red haired witch’s eyes.
***
Having spent the majority of his adult life outside of school as an Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a man of action. He was not a man content to sit in an office and push piles of parchment around while others did the leg work. Unfortunately for him though, that was exactly what he was doing now.
Since becoming Minister of Magic, he had seen the magical world go from hopeful and elated over the defeat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters to terrified once more. The unwieldy pile of parchments currently on his desk gave silent testament to the extent of his current problem.
Compounding his problems even further though, was the fact that magical people were relatively safe. Aside from a relatively small number of magic folk that had been interspersed in large crowds of Muggles that were attacked, there had not been a single attack targeted towards a magical town or group. The Muggle government was pressing Kingsley for answers and becoming more suspicious with every new attack.
Within the Ministry itself, voices of dissent were becoming more vocal as well. Many influential witches and wizards that had vast fortunes tied up in Muggle interests were crying foul. While not outright accusing Shacklebolt himself of being responsible for the horrific attacks, they were very adamant that he was deliberately slow to respond and end the reign of terror of whoever was responsible because he wanted them to be weakened and lose their power and influence.
What both sides did not seem to grasp, though, was that Shacklebolt was in fact doing everything within his power. Upon realizing that Muggles were the only ones being targeted, he had ordered roaming Auror teams to spread across Muggle Britain. While nearly a dozen teams of three members each had been working tirelessly for the past many weeks, they had not been in the right place at the right time.
The problem was worsened even farther with the fact that Shacklebolt had sacked nearly a quarter of the more senior leaders of a great many of the Ministry’s departments for outright incompetence. Political favours and bribes had put them in office. Being unqualified and having a minister that did not accept bribes had gotten them thrown out of office. Unfortunately though, the Ministry had ground to a complete hault because with no one in charge, nothing could get done.
Sighing loudly, Shacklebolt began to skim through a rather large stack of parchments. They were the weekly Muggle casualty reports and they were staggering. Not even at his worst could Voldemort have come close to the absolute destructive power this new threat possessed. In fact, Shacklebolt was quite certain that a single atrocity a little more than a week ago had killed more people than all Voldemort and his Death Eaters had murdered in their lifetimes.
It had been at what the Muggles called a football game. With more than one hundred thousand fans in the stands, it had been a perfect opportunity for an attack. One thing Shacklebolt had noticed right away was that whoever was perpetrating the attacks seemed to want to kill as many people as possible. When he had told the British Prime Minister his fears and warned him to cancel any and all large public gatherings, he was met once more by the rather arrogant and dim witted assistant of the Prime Minister’s.
“The people must feel as though they are safe to live their lives,” the advisor declared emphatically.
Shacklebolt responded by taking a deep breath before speaking, “Haven’t you heard what I told you? They are not safe, especially not in such a large group. It’s like leaving a steak laying out on the table and not expecting a dog to eat it.”
“Well, if you’re so sure that there will be an attack, why don’t you put witches and wizards there to stop him?” the advisor retorted.
Shacklebolt remained silent for a long moment as he considered the comment. Knowing the advisor’s remark to be the one intelligent thing he had said all day, Shacklebolt sighed softly as he looked to the Prime Minister. Reluctantly he nodded.
“There will be a contingent of the Ministry’s finest Aurors at the stadium for the match,” he finally spoke softly. “But I warn you, there’s no way to tell a good wizard from evil wizard except by observing his actions both past and present. We have no idea what this person we want to stop looks like, and I’m afraid that by the time we notice him casting a spell it may well be too damned late to stop him.”
Understanding had flashed through the Prime Minister’s eyes at that moment. He remained silent for a few brief moments before finally speaking, “Minster, I fully understand the position you are in. Yes, while many in my government would argue that it’s one of your people doing it, they do not seem to understand that you no more control what is happening with this person than I control a serial killer running about the streets of London like Jack the Ripper.”
“What you must understand, though, Minister, is that my people are scared. They don’t feel safe. They aren’t living their lives, but instead are having their lives dictated to them by someone else. Not since the air raids during World War II have people been so afraid to even step foot outside their house and be seen in relatively large groups. Granted, they did their best to keep their lives normal, but the fear and uncertainty was always there. I have to give my people the chance to keep their lives as normal as I can. I have to show them that the government will not acquiesce to the fear created and fostered by this madman.”
As Kingsley thought back upon that meeting, he understood and sympathized with the Prime Minister. The man had been put in the worst position imaginable. He was being forced to lie to his people in order to protect an entirely separate part of British society. Even more, he was being forced to place the fate of his people in Shacklebolt’s hands.
Shacklebolt couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of regret and remorse hit him as his hands finally came across the parchment that represented the soccer match. Just as he had expected, there was an attack at the game. Despite having a dozen of his best Aurors in the stands, they were no match for the mysterious man.
From what the British government could surmise from the very few souls that had survived, he had appeared in the middle of the field just as the second half of the match began. An instant later, there were shouts from people in the stands telling everyone to run as they began to shoot bolts of funny coloured lightning at the man, but they bounced away as if there were a sheet of glass in front of him. The man then seemed to raise a fireball above his head for a moment, and it appeared to captivate everyone.
By the time everyone realized that the fireball was rapidly expanding and consuming the stadium, it was too late. Out of more than fifty thousand people in the stadium to watch the football match, fifteen survived, and all of them were severely burned. The only bright spot, if it could be called that, occurred when the man first appeared. Someone had quickly figured out what might happen and cut the television feed so that the horrors were not broadcast to the whole of Britain.
Instead, all that could be seen on both the British and world news for the following two weeks was the ghostly image of a lone figure standing in the centre of the stadium raising his arms. Evil now had a grainy, poorly focused face. From what could be seen on the film, he had no remorse and instead showed an outright joy. While that was bad, it could have been far worse if the world had been able to see exactly what had occurred just a few seconds later.
Shaking himself and struggling to set aside his anger and frustration, Shacklebolt tore the parchment up and cast it into the fire before turning his head in disgust. He hated the position he now found himself in. He had no semblance of control. The whole of Britain was at the mercy of this madman and he could do nothing about it.
***
Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione all sat in silence as they ate their lunch. Whereas normally, they would go to the kitchens or the Great Hall, today they were eating in Gryffindor’s study. Actually quite a few things about their routine for the day were being changed.
Needless to say, it had taken a good hour for Ginny to calm down enough that all she would do was glare at Harry or Gryffindor. Lately, it seemed for Harry, he had been able to do very little to make her happy. In fact, he would have settled for indifference compared to her anger at him as of late.
Deep down though, Harry knew she had every right to be angry with him. She had every right to be furious when he did things to endanger himself, and even though he may not outright admit it and immediately apologize for his actions, he knew she was right.
As they finished eating in silence, Harry stared down at his plate. He could feel Ginny’s eyes upon him, burning a hole through him and he did not want to be under her ferocious gaze anymore today.
Soon everyone had finished eating, with Ron of course being the last. He had a plate and a half more food than anyone else and his rather loud eating had been the only sound in the room for the past few minutes. When he swallowed his last bite of food, Harry looked up to ensure that he was finished. Ron sat back against his chair lazily, holding his hands to his stomach.
Knowing this to be the sign from his best mate that he would be having nothing else at the moment, Harry silently waved his hand and the leftover food and dishes disappeared. Everyone then sat for a few long moments remaining quiet, not knowing quite how to broach the silence. Finally, Ginny coughed before speaking.
“Well, I think it’s time for us to get back to work,” she spoke firmly her eyes never leaving Harry.
After avoiding it for as long as he could, Harry finally looked up and directly into Ginny’s eyes. He saw her anger, but also her hurt. A tremendous sense of regret and shame swept over him as he closed his eyes and ducked his head down once more.
“Ok,” he whispered softly as he began to stand.
With a slight scraping of chairs against stone, the others stood as well. Pausing momentarily, Harry took a deep breath and calmed himself. He opened his eyes to see Ron and Hermione walking ahead of him, back toward the practice room. Harry let out a great sigh as he began walking that direction as well.
Harry had not taken a single step before he felt someone grab his hand. He stopped in his tracks, looking first down at the hand in his own, and then allowing his eyes to trace up the arm it was attached to. As his eyes moved even higher, he found himself staring into Ginny’s eyes.
Harry lost himself for a moment. In Ginny’s brown eyes, Harry could see a whirlwind of emotion. Love, frustration and devotion all swirled together to make them shine amazingly. Unable to speak, Harry slowly raised his free hand and absentmindedly brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Gin,” he whispered softly, “I… I’m… I’m sorry.”
Ginny said nothing, but took her free hand and held Harry’s hand softly against her cheek as she smiled softly to him. She then let both his hands go as she wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped very close to him as he leaned over.
Gently their lips touched. There they remained for a moment, content to allow the kiss to remain light and carefree. Soon, though, Ginny leaned against Harry more forcefully and feeling her desire, Harry wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Lifting Ginny off the ground, Harry deepened the kiss.
For Harry and Ginny time seemed to stand still. Lost deep in the other’s embrace, unaware of everything around them, they remained locked together for seconds that quickly stretched into minutes. Finally breaking apart, panting lightly and blushed from the intensity that their kiss had quickly gained, they stood looking at one another for a moment as they felt their hearts gradually begin to slow from the frantic pace they had been beating at a few moments earlier.
***
Ron and Hermione entered the practice area not noticing what was happening behind them. As they stepped into the room, Gryffindor met them. His eyes glanced behind Ron and Hermione for a moment, as if seeking Harry and Ginny, but they were not to be found.
“Where’re Harry and Ginny?” Gryffindor questioned the couple before him.
Ron, for the first time noticing that they were no longer in step behind Hermione and himself, turned in a circle with a confused look on his face.
“They were right behind us,” he began as he looked at Gryffindor and then to Hermione.
Sighing, Ron lowered his head as he began to speak, “I better go get them,” he muttered softly as he began to turn. “If I don’t, Harry’s likely to get hexed into next week… again.”
Hermione grabbed his arm as he began to reluctantly walk away. “No, Ron,” she said softly, looking from him to Gryffindor, “I think that, for once, they need to be alone. I glanced back just as we came in here, and they seem to be working out their differences in a much more constructive fashion.”
Ron looked at Hermione with confusion for a moment. His mouth dropped open as realization spread across his face, followed by a wave of disgust, then a look of concentration and finally, understanding.
“’Bout bloody time,” he finally said as he turned back towards the room and began to approach the centre.
After taking a few steps, he turned and looked to Hermione, who was standing gobsmacked in place trying to understand what had just happened. In the span of just a few seconds, she had seen an emotional range play out on Ron’s face that would have certainly filled not only a teaspoon, but also a soup bowl.
“Well, are we gonna get to work, or do you just want to stand there all day?” Ron finally asked snapping Hermione out of her thoughts.
She quickly strode across the room and approached Ron with one the brightest smiles he had seen from her in a while. She paused for just a moment before leaning up and kissing Ron on the cheek and trailing her finger along his jaw line. She felt his jaw clinch in response to her touch and knew that it had had the effect on him she wanted.
Her eyes glowing in desire and love for him, she stepped back. “You’re quite right, Ron,” she said in a very serious tone of voice. “We have a lot of work to do and there’s no time for snogging or whatever else may cross our minds,” she finished as she stepped away from him and drew her wand.
Ron’s only response was a sound that resembled a mixture of a sigh, moan and grunt all trying to escape at the same time. For its own part, Ron’s brain finally caught up from processing what Hermione had said, and stepped in just in time to prevent Ron from drooling all over himself and the floor.
His eyes showing the longing he was feeling, Ron looked at Hermione with his gaze finally meeting hers. A similar look in her eyes caused Ron to grunt softly and take in a small ragged breath as he stepped towards Hermione. Almost immediately, though, he was stopped in place as Hermione mouthed the word, “Later,” to him. Hesitating for a moment, considering his options, Ron finally conceded to his girlfriend’s desires and nodded his head ever so slightly in agreement.
Some time later, Ron and Hermione found themselves standing together in Gryffindor’s suggested position. Harry and Ginny had yet to return and Ron was substituting for Harry as Hermione practiced casting her enhancing charms.
Currently, Ron was busy casting a stinging hex at a distant dummy as fast as he could. After a few seconds, Gryffindor called out to Ron to halt. Immediately, Ron lowered his wand and dropped to one knee, exhausted from the exercise.
“Very good, my boy,” Gryffindor atoned merrily. “You’re casting at a rate of approximately 20 hexes a minute. That is quite good. You seem to have learned the important aspects of keeping your wand movements crisp and tight as well as enunciating the spell correctly, yet also quickly.”
Ron just nodded in response to Gryffindor as he fought to catch his breath. Even though the spell was relatively simple to cast and took little out of him, the concept of casting it repeatedly as fast as possible meant that his concentration as well as physical and magical endurance were tested.
“Now, let’s see how you do with Hermione’s help,” Gryffindor added with a small hint of a smile on his face.
Ron, still fighting to catch his breath merely nodded as he stood once more. He glanced to Hermione, who in return gave him a slight smile.
“Ready,” Ron finally spoke as he took a deep breath in preparation for the task at hand.
“Begin,” Gryffindor shouted as he stepped to the side and motioned towards the dummy.
Immediately Hermione’s face became serious as she raised her wand. “Motionis Solvo!,” she shouted as she made a sharp jagged line in the air with her wand, punctuated with a jab at the end.
Ron, who for his part had resumed sending stinging hexes as fast as he could, did not notice Hermione’s spell as she cast it. In fact, even as the light yellow glow of the charm surrounded him, he paid little attention to it. Almost immediately afterwards, though, Ron noticed the effects.
Whereas before the charmRon muscles were tensed and his entire body stressed as he fought against himself trying to make himself move as quickly and efficiently as possible, as the charm began to take effect, Ron felt his body relax and his movements become more fluid. His movements became a blur as he felt the spells become almost effortless.
With his body relaxed, Ron quickly realized the benefit of the spell. He was no longer exhausting himself casting. The spells appeared to almost be one continuous stream coming from his wand.
Ron continued casting as both Hermione and Gryffindor stood by watching in awe. After almost three full minutes, Ron’s pace finally began to slow. With the charm beginning to fade, Gryffindor once more called to Ron to halt his casting.
Breathing heavy, but much less tired than before, Ron joined Gryffindor and Hermione.
“Hermione, that was bloody brilliant!” Ron said with a broad grin spreading across his face.
Torn between admonishing Ron for his language and graciously accepting Ron’s praise, Hermione blushed for a moment before grinning back at Ron her understanding.
“Ron, Hermione,” Gryffindor called to them, “That was incredible. Ron, your rate of casting more than doubled with Hermione’s help. And you, Hermione, that was one of the most powerful charms I’ve seen. It lasted for well over three minutes. That’s a credit to both your power and focus. I think none of the other founders of Hogwarts could have done better.”
Hermione’s blush would have rivalled any Weasley’s at the incredibly high praise from Gryffindor. Beaming with pride, Ron grabbed Hermione and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
Soon, all three quickly fell into a discussion about what had they had just accomplished and how it could be used to their benefit. They remained immersed in their discussion as Harry and Ginny finally entered the room and joined them.
Both Harry and Ginny were noticeably dishevelled, but markedly happier. As they approached, Ron and Hermione both noticed them straightening their clothes and hair, but made no remarks. Gryffindor simply looked appraisingly before turning his attention back to the business at hand.
“Harry,” Gryffindor began, “Ron and Hermione have been working together on some of her charms, and I think it’s pretty clear just how beneficial they can be.”
At that, both Ron and Hermione began to nod enthusiastically.
“In fact, Harry,” Gryffindor continued, “I think that it would be useful for you to see first hand just the advantage of the charm we were working on.”
Harry studied Gryffindor intently, but the founder’s face gave away nothing. His eyes, however, just as Dumbledore’s had done so many times before, gave him away. Harry could see Gryffindor was holding something back. He could tell the man thought that, whatever it was he wasn’t telling Harry, it would be incredibly amusing.
Quickly making the decision to play along, and hopefully give Gryffindor, as well as Ron and Hermione, a surprise of their own, Harry nodded his head. He looked over to Ginny to see she was also suspicious, but gave her a lopsided smile and arched his eyebrows while shrugging his shoulders. Her response was a half grin as Ron, Hermione and he took their positions.
As Harry and Ron faced one another, Hermione positioned herself slightly behind Ron, so that he acted as a shield for her. It would be Harry and Ron duelling, but Ron would have the advantage of Hermione’s charms.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Gryffindor offered as he stood between the two young men as a sort of referee. “You’re going to use only stinging hexes and simple shields. Cast them as fast as you can and go until your opponent is incapacitated. As always, use your surroundings and other physical talents to your advantage.”
Both Harry and Ron looked at Gryffindor before turning to one another. A broad grin spread across Ron’s face and Harry knew that something was certainly up. Harry could only hope that, whatever it was, he would be able to handle just long enough to figure out a counter to it. Finally, both looked back to Gryffindor. In unison they spoke, “Ready!”
Gryffindor acknowledged them both as he began to cautiously step backwards. “Begin,” his voice echoed as he quickly took up position beside Ginny.
Immediately, both Harry and Ron began firing spells. Harry had fired two quick hexes aiming the low and then midsection at Ron before he rolled to his left. For his part, Ron was able to get off one hex before he had to dodge to his right to avoid Harry’s.
Again and again, the two young men cast hexes toward one another, paying no attention to what was going on around them. For their part, Ginny and Gryffindor watched in wonder at Harry’s natural ability. His movements seemed almost effortless, even though his face was contorted in concentration. He was by far the quicker and more agile of the two young men, but what Ron lacked in speed he made up for in intuition.
Almost like pieces on a chess board, if Ginny watched close enough, she could see Ron aiming his hexes carefully to force Harry in a certain direction. Ron was also very good at positioning himself between Harry and Hermione at nearly all times so that she would never have to focus on anything other than helping him.
It was nearly a minute into the battle, and neither man had landed a curse against the other. In fact, neither had even used a shield yet. They had both been content to cast hex after hex and then dodge anything that got too close to them.
Finally, Ginny saw Hermione begin to move. Her wand rose silently and quickly. She repeated the incantation from before along with the wand movement. Once more, a soft yellow light began to erupt from the tip of her wand.
Realizing that Hermione was up to something, Harry quickly changed his tactics. He knew that whatever she was trying to cast was most likely the surprise Gryffindor had wanted to watch him deal with, but he felt no desire to have to deal with it if he could avoid it.
Deciding on a bold action, Harry began to cast multiple hexes straight at Ron. Having no choice but to dodge, Ron rolled to his left. As he began to move, Harry began to charge straight at Ron, casting hex after hex, forcing Ron off balance and unable to make any offensive move.
Although Ron was still successfully dodging the hexes, it had the effect that Harry had intended. Ron’s movements had disrupted Hermione, and when she had cast the charm to speed him up, she had missed. Instead, the spell flew off and, seeing his opportunity Harry, stepped in front of it.
As the yellow light encompassed Harry, both Ron and Hermione’s eyes grew wide. Realizing that Ron had little chance against a magically enhanced Harry, Hermione quickly began casting the charm again.
“Ron, cast a shield,” she shouted before she, once more, began to cast the charm.
Already a step ahead of Hermione, Ron had taken a step back towards her and cast the strongest Protego he could. As the shield shimmered to life in front of him, Ron watched as Harry began to move cautiously toward them.
Having no idea exactly what the charm was that he had stepped into, Harry wanted to be extra careful as he approached Ron and Hermione. The way they had initially reacted told him that whatever it was, was something neither wanted to have to deal with him having had cast on him.
Again, Harry raised his wand and began casting the stinging hex. To his surprise, a series of hexes flew effortlessly from his wand faster than he had ever done before. He watched in amazement as six or seven hexes struck against Ron’s shield. With each spell, the shield was weakened more and more.
Although his shield was still standing, Ron knew that he had little hope of withstanding another onslaught from Harry directly. As he saw Harry begin to cast again, Ron quickly rolled out from behind his shield. Unfortunately, that had been exactly what Harry had anticipated. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Gryffindor watched as Harry, in quick succession, alternated his hexes off to either side of Ron’s shield.
It only took one spell to disable Ron. Unlucky for him though, the extra two he was hit with just made sure he didn’t get up, even if he wanted to. As he lay on the ground, agonizing over the effects of being hit with three stinging hexes, he could hear Harry’s laughter filling the room.
Moments later, he felt Hermione come to his aid, cancel the effects of the hexes, and help him to his feet. Looking up to see Harry standing before him, with a grin wide on his face, Ron couldn’t help but shake his head.
“Good show, mate,” Harry offered as he extended his hand to Ron.
Ron shook it, showing that there were no hard feelings before adding, “Well, that wasn’t exactly the way it was supposed to go.”
Harry looked over to Gryffindor, seeing a look of amusement on his face. “No, I suppose not,” Harry offered, and his grin persisted. “But that is a bloody amazing charm,” he continued as he looked straight to Hermione.
She blushed under his praise for a moment before her face took a serious tone. “Yes, but that doesn’t distract from the fact that you stepped into a charm that you had no idea what would do,” she began to admonish. “Harry, you should know better than anyone the dangers of that!”
Harry looked at her sheepishly for a moment. “Hermione, you’re right,” he responded as his face grew serious. “But taking into account the situation and fact that you were trying to cast it on Ron, and it was your goal to help him, I figured it wasn’t going to be one that would hurt me directly.”
“And besides,” Harry continued, “With Gryffindor and you two trying to set me up like that, I wanted to take every advantage to get the upper hand myself.”
Chapter 22: Chapter 22: Fleeting Moments
Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay in updates. Here is the next chapter. Luckily it now looks like it is smooth sailing for the next 3-4 months and I should be able to keep a steady flow of new chapters coming out until the story is fully told. With that, I hope you enjoy. As always, I must thank my Beta and great friend, Ginny Guerra.
The sunshine felt good on the faces of the foursome as they walked slowly, but determinedly, towards the lake. It had been weeks since they had gotten outside the stone confines of the castle itself. The fresh air and slight breeze that greeted them was a welcome change to the musty and damp air that filled the rooms Gryffindor had provided for them.
Their training was advancing nicely; even Gryffindor himself had praised them on how quickly they were picking up the spell work and how relentlessly they were pushing ahead with their research. It had come as a pleasant surprise when he had told them to go outside and practice for the day; and without question or hesitation, the foursome had done just that.
As they settled into a clearing by the lake, Harry paused for a moment to survey the castle behind them. All outer damage from the final battle with Voldemort was gone. The castle once more appeared pristine and welcoming. The signs that showed just how many had suffered and died on those grounds not long before had been washed clean.
Harry shuddered for a moment. While everything seemed to once again be quite perfect, he couldn’t help but think that it could all so easily crumble down around them again. Harry looked to the others and saw the looks of relaxation and enjoyment on their faces. Realizing that if they didn’t begin soon, they would lose focus and the day would be a loss, Harry decided it was time to end the revelry.
“All right, you lot,” Harry began as he turned his back to the castle once more and faced Ron, Hermione and Ginny. “It’s time we get started. I know it’s a beautiful day, but we have to get these spells right if we’re going to stay on track.”
Harry paused for a moment. The looks on the faces of everyone else confirmed to Harry exactly how his mind had just told him he sounded. When the bloody hell did I become Hermione? Harry thought to himself as he watched Ron’s mouth just hang open in utter shock.
Understanding that Harry was serious, though, and completely agreeing with him even though no one other than Hermione would have admitted it, they schooled their features and began to focus. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all nodded slightly to Harry indicating their understanding as they drew their wands and began to take their positions.
As had been the custom for the past few days, Ginny and Hermione worked with Ron; while Harry attacked all three of them using low level spells. Even though the plan was that Ginny and Hermione would be protecting and aiding Harry in the final battle, it was important for them to work as a well oiled machine under stressful conditions and having Harry challenging them was the best way to currently simulate that.
Soon, the three were standing, with Ron at point, while Ginny and Hermione were flanking him on either side a few feet behind. It had taken almost two weeks to work out that this was the best layout for the group. Initially, they had began with Ginny and Hermione lined up behind Ron at point, but quickly realized that was a bad idea as Ron’s natural instinct to dodge spells, coupled with Ginny’s intent to keep him shielded, had resulted in Ron diving out of the way of a rather nasty tickling charm while Ginny moved the shield with him. The result had been a direct hit to the chest for Ginny with the charm and a really bad joke from Gryffindor about it being no laughing matter.
“Ready?” Harry called out. All three nodded silently, their eyes never leaving Harry
Smirking to himself, Harry stood silently for a prolonged moment. Typically, he was casting a spell just as he asked the question. This time however, he was being patient. He was waiting. He wanted to see how long it would take before Ron, Hermione and Ginny became antsy.
Soon, Harry could see the confusion and tension building. He knew they were all expecting him to start, but this time he refused to cast a spell until he could tell that the protracted wait and caused them to lower their guards just a bit.
That moment came just a few seconds later as Harry saw Ron huff in frustration as he began to open his mouth.
“Harry, what the…” Ron began, but as the first word had left his lips, Harry’s wand sprang into action.
Barely even uttering the incantation, Harry sent a mid level stinging hex straight towards Ron. When realizing just what was happening, Ron’s eyes opened in complete shock as he stood frozen to the ground in front of him. To Harry, it was obvious that the utter and complete change of tactics on his part in addition to the timing of his spell had caused Ron’s brain and body to lock.
Luckily for Ron though, he had backup. Even before Harry had finished the spell, Ginny responded by beginning to create her shield. The advantage that Harry had, as he had been the first to cast a spell, meant that his spell was nearly three quarters of the way to Ron before Ginny’s shield finally appeared before Ron. An instant later, Harry’s spell clanged against the shield and bounced harmlessly away.
Still frozen in place, taking in what was happening, Ron was finally snapped back to reality as Hermione shouted, “Ron!”
Shaking his head for a moment, Ron came back to reality and began to focus on Harry, who had long since moved after casting the first spell. In fact, truth be told, Harry had already sent two more spells towards Ron and was in the process of locating yet another position. Realizing that the spells were growing dangerously closer, Ron began to dive out of the way, before remembering Ginny’s shield.
Regaining his composure, Ron positioned himself so that he could cast his spells around the shield, but still utilize it as a protective barrier if needed. As Harry’s spells once more deflected harmlessly off Ginny’s shield, Ron cast a series of his own spells. While they had agreed to cast only low to mid level stinging hexes, Ron felt it appropriate to respond to Harry’s change of tactic with one of his own.
Hoping that Harry might take for granted he would only be using stinging hexes, Ron decided to mix in a new stunning spell he had been practicing. The major benefit for Ron was that both spells appeared quite similar, and unless Harry really took the time to look at the wand motion Ron was using, he would most likely not realize it. At first quickly firing spells behind Harry, trying to lead him, Ron next began to fire his spells at the location he anticipated Harry would be. Alternating between the stinging and stunning spells, Ron noted that Harry did not appear any wiser as to his change of spells.
As Ron had expected, Harry was forced to cast a shield and block the spells, momentarily taking him from an offensive position. Understanding the need to press his advantage, Ron quickly called out to Hermione, “Cast it now!”
Seconds later, Ron felt himself surrounded by the light yellow charm that would speed him up. He smiled knowingly to Harry, who had once more lowered his shield and was continuing to move so that he did not present an easy target.
Increasing the rate of his spells, Ron soon began to direct Harry’s movements at will. Toying with Harry, Ron would force him to move to the right, before he would shift the focus of his spells and draw Harry back to the left. Harry’s own offensive spells had been relegated to nothing more than an occasional hex that was poorly aimed and almost never anywhere close to Ron, as Harry was too occupied with running about trying to dodge Ron’s spells to focus on his own.
A smirk spread across Ron’s face as he began to notice Harry tiring. While he was still more than capable of dodging spells at the current rate Ron was firing them, Ron knew he was only casting at around seventy five percent of what he could truly do.
“Getting tired, Harry?” Ron called out, taunting Harry as he sent another barrage of spells at a now obviously winded and sweating Harry.
“Never!” Harry shouted in response. He appeared as though he wanted to continue replying, but was unable to because he had to dodge the array of spells coming at him. As he came out of a roll, Harry looked as though he were about to say something else, before it became apparent to Ron that his friend was panting quite heavily.
Realizing that Harry would quickly feel his situation to warrant him using more drastic actions than just dodging, Ron knew it was time to finish the exercise. In rapid succession, Ron fired five spells, alternating between the stinging and stunning hex spreading from left to right at the level of Harry’s waist. Harry was successful at dodging the first three spells, but quickly realized he was moving directly into the path of the fourth.
Unable to stop his momentum Harry realized his only chance was to let himself fall to the ground. Ron’s choice to aim the spells low, however, meant that Harry in fact lowered himself so that he took a direct hit in the chest as he continued falling to the ground.
With a loud grunt Harry impacted the ground and lay motionless. Ron quickly stepped out from behind Ginny’s shield and began to make his way to Harry.
“He’s alright,” Ron shouted over his shoulder in anticipation of what would surely be a distressed Ginny and Hermione at the lack of movement from Harry, “I just mixed in a few stunners with the stinging hexes.”
As Ron approached Harry it was obvious he had taken the brunt end of the spell and his momentum had resulted in him finding a very awkward position to finally come to rest in. Laughing aloud, Ron turned to see both Ginny and Hermione covering their mouths, trying to hide the laughter that was coming from them as well.
Shaking his head, Ron took one more moment to appreciate Harry’s current predicament. It was, after all, bad enough to be stunned, but here Harry was, with his arse sticking straight up in the air and his head down against the ground as though he were trying to bury it, unable do anything about it until someone helped him. Finally deciding he had gawked at Harry for long enough, Ron walked up to Harry and in as caring a manner as possible, put his foot against Harry’s hip and kicked forward, knocking Harry over onto his side.
“So is that what he looks like when he’s sleeping in bed?” Ron asked with a small smirk spreading across his face as he turned to look at Ginny.
For a moment, a look of seriousness covered her face before it was once more consumed with a smile. “Not exactly,” she finally responded as she approached Harry.
Raising her wand, Ginny firmly spoke the words, “Rennervate,” but nothing happened. Furrowing her eyebrows she looked to Ron with confusion and concern on her face.
“It’s alright, Ginny,” Ron said knowing that now was not the time to mess with his sister. “It’s a modification of the common stunning spell that I’ve been studying. Its main advantage is that it can only be released by the person who casts it.”
Relief spread over Ginny’s face as she nodded her understanding and motioned with her eyes for Ron to get on with releasing the spell. Recognizing his cue, Ron quickly raised his wand and spoke, “Rennervate.”
Instantly, Harry began to move. For a moment, he appeared in a daze before he looked up to Ron and Ginny. “What the bloody hell was that?” Harry asked as Ginny helped him to his feet. His eyes were looking directly at Ron.
“Instead of a stinging hex, Ron cast a stunning hex,” Hermione interjected as she approached to stand beside Ron. “And I think it was brilliant,” she continued. “That’ll teach you about stepping into spells.”
“I didn’t exactly intend to step into that one, Hermione,” Harry added a bit sarcastically.
“Quite true,” Ginny added with a straight face before continuing, “It looked more like you decided to bury your head in the ground and tell the whole world to kiss your arse.” Ginny then doubled over in laughter as her composure left her.
Harry glared at Ginny’s laughing form for a second before turning to Ron and Hermione. Harry held his gaze for a moment before a smirk slowly broke at the corner his mouth. Realizing that he was caught in a very funny position and there was no way he could argue or deny his way out of it, Harry decided to accept his fate and even laugh himself at his own earlier predicament.
As Ginny continued to attempt to control her laughter, Harry looked back towards the castle. Coming out the front entrance he saw the unmistakable figure of Headmistress McGonagall. She was swiftly approaching them, but it appeared to not be a rushed or concerned pace. A few moments later, she was finally standing before the group.
“Ginny, Ron,” she began, “your mum just called by Floo to see if you four would like to come to the Burrow for the afternoon and tonight,” McGonagall then paused to give them a moment to consider her words. “We all know you’ve been working very hard and think it’s a good idea to take a day off.”
Harry looked to Ginny and then Ron and Hermione. Slowly, they all nodded in agreement. In fact, part of the reason they were currently outside practicing was an attempt to relieve the stress and monotony that had become their lives.
“We think that would be brilliant,” Harry answered for the group before he quickly disappeared behind a sea of red hair that was Ginny’s.
Harry could feel the joy in Ginny’s embrace. He knew how happy she was to be able to go back to the Burrow. They had recently spent a free moment talking about how cold and lonely Hogwarts was in comparison to the Burrow. While it was apparent that Ginny was very homesick, Harry had to admit to himself that he missed the warmth and love of the Burrow as well.
Finally prying himself loose from Ginny’s grip before he suffocated Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione and McGonagall made their way back towards the castle. After a quick trip to Godric’s quarters to get the required items for an overnight trip, the foursome was standing in McGonagall’s office in front of the Floo.
Taking only a brief moment to greet Dumbledore’s portrait, Ron quickly grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, tossed it into the flames and called out, “The Burrow!” In a flash of green flames he was gone, and soon Hermione and Ginny followed him as well.
Harry paused for just a moment, looking critically at into the eyes of Dumbledore. He said nothing, just stared at the portrait before sighing resignedly. Dumbledore nodded before speaking, “Soon, Harry… soon you will be able to go home and just be happy.”
Harry stood silently for a moment. After the slightest of nods, he turned and made his way towards the grate. “The Burrow,” he called out as the green flames enveloped him and in a flash he was gone.
***
Ginny, Ron and Hermione all waited patiently just beside the grate. They had only been waiting a few moments when it once more roared to life and Harry came stumbling out. For a moment it appeared as though Harry was going to keep his feet, but then they became tangled and he fell to the floor.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny all broke out laughing as Ginny stepped forward and held out her hand to help Harry up. Harry began dusting the soot off of himself without saying a word as he just looked at Ginny and laughed softly himself.
Everyone in the room’s attention quickly turned as the voice of Molly called out from the kitchen, “Ron… Ginny… Harry… Hermione… Are you all here?”
Just as Ron opened his mouth to answer, Molly stepped into the room. Smiling widely, she finished wiping her hands dry on the towel she was holding and set it off to the side as she opened her arms wide and motioned for the foursome to come to her. One by one, she gave each a bone crushing hug followed by the general Molly Weasley inspection at arm’s length before one final hug. Once all four had been sufficiently squeezed and examined, Molly picked up her towel once more.
Turning back to the group as she walked towards the kitchen, she beckoned, “Come into the kitchen, you’re just in time for lunch,” she said smiling as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Without hesitation, Ron fell into step behind his mum as the rest quickly made their way into the kitchen. Seeing Ron already seated at the table, Hermione quickly took the seat beside him, while Harry and Ginny sat across from them.
Once everyone had eaten to their fill, which for Ron had taken four servings, the foursome began to talk with Molly about what they had been doing for the past few weeks. Quickly realizing that their days were essentially the exact same and very monotonous and boring, the conversation turned toward how Molly had been occupying her time.
As conversation went through, that was quickly found to be a dead end as well. With all of her children gone and Arthur busy at work, Molly found that she too much free time on her hands. While she was able to bring the foursome up to date on Arthur’s work, but even that took only a few minutes and the kitchen found itself filled with an uneasy silence.
Not wanting to talk about what had been going on in the rest of Britain while the foursome had been training, none of them asked, and Molly did not offer. Finally accepting that the conversation had reached a stalemate, Molly stood and began to clear the table. As she set the dishes to washing, Ron stood and looked for a moment at the others.
“Mum, I guess we’ll just go put our stuff up in our rooms,” he began as he nodded towards Harry to come with him.
In the rush of leaving Hogwarts, the foursome had completely forgotten to address how they would deal with the sleeping arrangements. Ron, assuming that Molly knew nothing, especially pertaining to Harry and Ginny’s sharing a room, thought that it would be logical for Harry and he to start off in the same room while Ginny and Hermione were in another, and they could switch at some point in the night.
Quickly trying to relay his idea to the others, Ron added, “C’mon mate, me and you in my room and the girls can stay in Ginny’s. Just like old times.”
Catching on quickly, Harry nodded in agreement, “Yeah Ron.”
Silently, the girls agreed and stood to follow as well. Just as the group got to the door, though, Molly spoke up, “And why would you want to do that?”
Her question was simple, but the implications caused everyone to freeze; Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise, while Hermione arched an eyebrow towards Ron. Harry stood silently, his heart in his throat, looking wildly back and forth between the others, making a point to keep his back turned to Molly.
Molly smiled softly to herself. She had purposefully waited until the group had their backs turned and were almost out of the door before she asked the question. She understood their desire to keep their sleeping arrangements hidden from her, but after years of raising children, some things were just too easy to see. Add to it the fact that no one in the group had said a word or looked at her for nearly half a minute after she asked the question, and Molly was certain she had achieved exactly what she wanted.
“What…” Ron began, but his voice took an unnaturally high pitch. Pausing for a moment, he cleared his throat nervously before speaking again. “What do you mean? That’s how we’ve always slept when we stayed here.”
Hermione grimaced at Ron’s words. “Not good,” she muttered under her breath.
Taking an airy tone, Molly turned her back to take care of something at the sink as she spoke, “Very true, Ron, but you four haven’t been staying at the Burrow for a few months now.”
Once again, her words had the desired effect as she heard a collective gasp, followed by hushed whispers and numerous sputtering attempts to speak to her. Slowly, Molly turned back around to see the group, all of whom were now facing her with their eyes downcast. Smiling inwardly, glad that she still had the ability to put the young adults before her in their place, Molly decided it was time to fully address the situation and let them off the hook of innuendo.
“Harry,” Molly began but before she could say another word, he quickly looked up and began advancing towards her with a look of fear in his eyes.
“Molly… errr… Mrs. Weasley,” he began as he held out his hands toward her in what he prayed was a placating manner. “I… I mean we… well we… you see it’s…”
Molly arched an eyebrow as she watched the raven haired young man before her sputter and stutter and struggle to speak. To her eyes, it looked as though he were caught between outright bolting from the room, and falling over in shock. Each step he took was less certain than the last.
It took every ounce of Molly’s composure not to start laughing at the poor boy standing in front of her. She held him in her gaze for a moment before looking up to Ginny to see a slight blush across her cheeks, but also a look of consternation directed towards Harry. Realizing quickly that Ginny was willing to stand and fight, Molly knew that Harry’s bumbling explanation was serving only to annoy Ginny.
Deciding that it would be best to head off the eventual argument this situation could lead to between Ginny and Harry, Molly cleared her throat. Once more everyone in the room looked to her.
“Alright, well we’ve obviously got some things to discuss. So I’ll start with Harry and Ginny,” Molly began as she turned to check the dishes one last time before moving towards the table.
Knowing their cue to leave, Ron and Hermione quietly slipped out of the kitchen without another word. Ginny stepped beside Harry and, as a couple, began to approach the table while Ginny quietly berated Harry with every step they took.
Molly tried her best not to eavesdrop, but Ginny was just too loud, so bits and pieces of her rant were clearly audible. “…babbling like a fool… would’ve just been better if you’d told Mum we’re guilty… looked like a deer in headlights…” Ginny continued as they finally set down.
Wasting no time, Molly launched straight away into a conversation she had been practicing for the past few weeks. “Harry, Ginny,” she began, “First, let me say that you two should know better than to try to fool your Mum. I had to keep ahead of the twins for all those years, after all. Plus I know what it’s like to be young and in love, as well.”
Harry immediately tensed as Molly began to talk, but slowly relaxed as her tone remained calm and did not become the one of Howler infamy. Chancing a glance into Molly’s eyes, Harry saw understanding and compassion rather than anger or hate.
“That being said,” she continued, “I just want to make clear to you all that it’s alright.”
Immediately at those words, Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise and her mouth dropped open. Harry looked at her as though she had grown two heads and also were speaking Latin. Unable to control her laughter any further, Molly began to chuckle. She sat silently for a moment, looking at the gobsmacked teenagers in front of her and laughing, eventually having to wipe a tear away from her eye.
“Granted, there are still things I think you are too young to be doing,” she resumed once she had regained sufficient composure and both teens in front of her looked like they wouldn’t fall over from shock, “but in times like these, I know how important each of you is to the other.”
Making a point to reach out and touch Harry’s arm, Molly turned her attention solely to him. “Harry,” she spoke softly, “I know you love Ginny and you’ll do everything to make her happy and keep her safe. This might not be the way I envisioned it, but I know you are both happy and far be it from me to rob you of whatever happiness you can find.”
Harry nodded his understanding before he looked at Ginny and then placed his other hand on top of Molly’s. “Thanks Molly,” he whispered softly.
Molly next turned her attention to Ginny. “And you, young lady, I know you are smart and will take things at the right pace for both of you. I want to be a grandmum someday, but not from you anytime soon. Have we got that clear?”
At her mother’s question, Ginny nodded her head before replying, “Mum, we haven’t…” but she was cut off before she could finish.
“I said that it was alright,” Molly interrupted raising her hand to stop Ginny from continuing, “but I do not need to know who did or didn’t do what, and when they did or didn’t do it.”
Everyone in the room laughed softly. After a quiet but tension free moment passed, Harry looked to Ginny and then to Molly, “Well, is there anything else?” he asked.
Shaking her head no, Molly began to smile broadly at Harry, who, for the first time in the past few minutes, returned her smile with one of his own. Quickly, both Harry and Ginny stood and began to walk towards the door. Just as they reached the door, Molly called out yet again, “Oh, would you please send Ron and Hermione in now?”
Smirking, Ginny nodded affirmatively to her mother as Harry just laughed softly at seeing Ginny’s mischievous smile.
***
The warm red glow of Harry’s eyelids as his mind slowly began to awaken alerted him it was late in the morning. Opening his eyes and smiling softly at the blur of red that was in front of his face, Harry reached with his free arm for his glasses on the nightstand. His other arm was currently caressing Ginny, who at some point during the night had chosen to use Harry’s chest for a pillow.
Squeezing her softly, Harry’s heart couldn’t help but race as he felt her nuzzle closer to him. Even though they had been sharing the same bed for months, rare peaceful moments like this were what gave Harry the strength and motivation to press on. Knowing that a lifetime of mornings exactly like this lay just beyond the horizon, Harry couldn’t help but find the motivation to get out of bed each day and prepare yet again for a battle that could see him die, but that in his heart, he knew he would win.
Inhaling deeply, Harry savoured the flowery scent of Ginny’s hair as he lay in bed and contemplated his next move. In order to free his arm, he would have to wake Ginny. While that may not be the most terrible thing, he had to admit he greatly enjoyed just holding her as she slept. The closeness of their bodies, the soft rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his filled him with a peace and contentment unlike anything he had found before.
Deciding he would enjoy the moment and forgo breakfast or a trip to the loo, Harry laid his head back and closed his eyes. Although he and Ginny were in her room at the Burrow, the current silence of the house let Harry’s mind envision them in the bedroom he hoped they would one day share in their own home.
Happily, Harry let his mind drift to the future. It was something he rarely let himself do. It was something that was just beyond reach, but close enough that his mind had already filled many of the most intricate details. It was a future where Ginny was his wife and there were no more evil lords for them to deal with.
As Harry lazed in the bed, drifting between sleep and fantasy, Ginny slowly began to stir. Looking down to see her shift slightly, Harry thought she might fall back into her slumber. Her eyes lazily popping open, and her absentmindedly rubbing away the sleep, dispelled any continued thought of that notion however.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Harry spoke softly as their eyes locked for a moment.
The radiance of Ginny’s smile in return to his words caused Harry’s heart to leap once more. So rarely had he been able to see Ginny awaken like this. More often than not, Harry’s legs were swinging over the edge of the bed for him to get out and prepare for the day even before his eyes were fully open. Now, though, he was awake and using all of his senses to treasure the moment Ginny and he were creating.
“Morning,” came Ginny’s reply as she shifted from Harry’s chest and crawled her way up in the bed so that her face was level with Harry’s.
Pausing for a brief moment as she gently brushed her nose against his, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against Harry’s. Eagerly, Harry returned the kiss as he let his hand trace from the back of Ginny’s neck, down to the small of her back where he pulled her close to him.
A few moments later, they broke apart, breathing heavily, but both smiling happily. Turning to see the sun visible through her window, Ginny sighed.
“Do we have to get up?” Ginny asked with a small hint of whine in her voice.
“I could stay here all day if you want,” Harry answered truthfully.
“I wonder if we could,” Ginny spoke out loud, but more so asking herself.
At that moment, though, the soft trudging of footsteps up the stairs could be heard. They came to a stop just outside the door to her room. An instant later, a soft knock on the door followed by Molly’s voice came.
“Harry, Ginny, it’s time to get up. Breakfast is ready downstairs,” she spoke softly.
Before either could answer though, Molly’s footsteps could be heard leading away from the door. They faded away as she went down the stairs and left Harry and Ginny once more in a comfortable silence.
Sighing lightly, Ginny said, “Well I guess that answers that question.”
Putting on his best pouty face, Harry looked at Ginny before asking, “Do we gotta?”
Laughing softly at his face, Ginny cupped his cheeks in her hands and replied, “Yeah, love, I’m afraid we do.”
As Ginny slowly moved off of Harry and out of the bed, Harry lay motionless, taking the opportunity to just gaze at the beautiful witch before him. Ginny turned to look at Harry, knowing he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. Smiling, she stopped in her tracks and walked slowly back over to Harry. Leaning down, she kissed him once more before standing and stepping away.
Sighing softly, Harry shifted himself out of the bed as well - his perfect moment was fleeting yet again.
Chapter 23: Chapter 23: Old Flames
Author's Notes: Well here is the next chapter. It's a little longer than what I usually write, but honestly there was so much to accomplish with this that it had to be. Ultimatley I hope everyone enjoys the chapter and hope you appreciate the title moreso once you finish reading it. As always, I must thank my wonderful Beta, Ginny Guerra who found the inspiration to proof this story the day I got it to her. Also, for everyone that has been leaving the reviews and comments, I greatly appreciate them, whether you agree, disagree, like or hate the story, the comments you leave serve as great motivation for me to keep writing.
The smells of breakfast filled the air as Harry and Ginny made their way quickly down the stairs to join the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione in the kitchen. Bacon, sausage, and eggs all filled Harry’s nostrils and quickly had his mouth watering and stomach aching for food. Granted, while the food the house elves made at Hogwarts was phenomenal, it still couldn’t compare to the home cooked meals that Molly could make.
As Ginny led them into the kitchen, it was obvious they were the last ones awake by far. Ron and Hermione both had already showered and were dressed for the day. Arthur and Molly of course appeared as though they had been awake since early in the morning. Harry and Ginny though, looking at their attire, had literally just climbed out of bed and thrown on a t-shirt and old pair of jeans each so as to be presentable in front of the others.
Making their way to the table, Harry quickly pulled out Ginny’s chair for her before setting himself in the one beside her. Nodding his greetings to Ron, Hermione, Arthur and Molly, Harry quickly began to pile his plate with the food before him. Ron and Hermione just smiled at Harry and Ginny as Harry dug into his meal, oblivious to the looks that he was getting from the couple across from him.
Moments later, as Harry was just putting a link of sausage into his mouth, he looked up to notice Arthur looking thoughtfully at him. He carefully set down his fork with the uneaten sausage and chanced a quick look over to Ginny, seeing that the unusual stare of her father hadn’t gone unnoticed on her part either.
As Harry’s other senses became more finely tuned to the room, he noticed that there was a very unusual silence for the Weasley kitchen during breakfast. As his mind began to think back upon the entire time he’d been in the kitchen, he began to realize that Ron or Hermione had not spoken and, for their part, neither had Arthur or Molly.
Turning once more to look at Arthur, Harry saw the same thoughtful look in his eyes. Searching quickly, Harry felt relief that he did not see a hint of anger. Turning his eyes to Molly, Harry saw her standing behind the sink, just finishing up the first dishes. She smiled pleasantly to Harry and grinned slightly as she noticed Harry looking back to Arthur.
While the conversation the day before had been awkward and uncomfortable, Harry understood that Molly had given Ginny and him her blessing. This morning, however, Harry realized that only one half of her parents had spoken to them about their sleeping arrangements. In fact, as Harry quickly thought back, it was entirely possible that Arthur hadn’t known about it until the moment Ginny and he had come down for breakfast.
Although they had all tried to wait up, it had been well after midnight before Arthur got home. As had become all too common, he had been forced to work late into the night helping Shacklebolt with as much damage control as possible when dealing with the continuing attacks on Muggles. While Ron, Hermione and Molly had continued to wait up, both Harry and Ginny decided to give up and see him in the morning, after they fell asleep on the couch for the third time only to be woken by Molly and told to go to bed.
Needless to say, that had caused some raised eyebrows from Arthur when he did get home to find Ron and Hermione together on the couch with Molly knitting quietly in the corner. While Arthur knew that both Ron and Hermione were a couple as well as Harry and Ginny, it had taken a moment for the pieces to fall into place once Ron and Hermione had announced they were going to bed as well, and Ron began to lead Hermione up the stairs by the hand.
A quick glance over to Molly as she placed her knitting away and stood to come with him upstairs confirmed that they were all sleeping as couples tonight. As she entwined her hand in his and they began upstairs she smiled softly to him.
“It’s alright,” she whispered as they walked past the door to Ginny’s room, “we had a talk and they know how we feel.”
Arthur simply nodded. Molly and he had discussed it when the foursome first began training at Hogwarts. Molly, of course, was all too aware of how the sleeping arrangements would turn out, and while he had voiced some reservations, deep down he knew that it was time. That being said, however, Arthur thought it was much easier to accept when the couples were away from the Burrow and not simply a door away.
Now, with Harry and Ginny sitting down and eating breakfast, Arthur couldn’t help but let his mind drift back to when Ginny was a little girl. As he thought back upon the many times he’d been the one to hold her and protect her from whatever evils her brothers may have been threatening her with, he couldn’t help but feel a bit old for no longer being that person for her.
Looking at Harry, Arthur couldn’t help but be amazed at the young man sitting before him. Harry was everything he could have ever dreamed for Ginny to find in a wizard, and he was exactly that, in spite of everything that had happened in his life. For a few moments, Arthur just watched Harry and Ginny, before he became aware of something that he’d experienced few times in a kitchen so full of people — silence.
Seeing Harry look at him with some apprehension, Arthur quickly glanced around and saw that all eyes in the room were on him. Feeling that words would just complicate things, Arthur settled for simply smiling at Harry and nodding his approval.
While Ginny, Hermione and Molly looked on, not understanding the significance of what had just transpired, Harry visibly relaxed. Still nervous, he gulped softly before looking to Ginny, taking her hand in his and returning Arthur’s nod. For a moment, three very confused witches looked amongst themselves as they tried to figure out what had just transpired. Finally deciding that it was probably some type of bloke thing that they would not understand, Hermione visibly shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.
Arthur, who had been watching the confusion on the women’s faces, chuckled merrily to himself, as Harry tucked back in to eating his breakfast. Soon the kitchen was filled once more with boisterous conversation as Harry, Ron and Ginny openly discussed going flying after breakfast.
Soon all of the teens had eaten their fill and had set their dishes in the sink for Molly to take care of when she wanted. Collectively they stood and began to make their way towards the door leading outside. Ron and Hermione quickly disappeared outside as Harry and Ginny lagged behind.
Just as they reached the door, Harry noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet setting underneath a pan Molly had yet to put away. Suddenly realizing that for the past few months he had been isolated from the rest of the world and had no clue what was going on in the whole of Britain, Harry stopped in his tracks and began to reach towards the paper.
Ginny looked at Harry for a moment before her eyes found what had caught his attention. They widened in shock as she gasped and quickly stepped in front of Harry, trying to block his view of the paper.
“Harry,” she began quickly concocting a reasonable excuse to distract him from the paper, “I thought we were going to go flying.” Her voice betrayed none of the apprehension that she was feeling inside.
“We are, I just wanted to take a look at the Prophet,” he replied taking a step towards her.
Bugger! Ginny thought to herself. This requires something a little more distracting than Quidditch.
She quickly brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she stepped forward. Biting her lower lip and making her eyes as seductive and enticing as she could, Ginny took a step towards Harry, closing the gap. They were standing so close that she gently placed her hands upon his chest and innocently smiled at him while batting her eyelashes a couple of times.
“But Harry…” she began.
I hope this works she silently prayed.
“… I am really looking forward to flying…” she continued.
Why didn’t they just burn that bloody thing when it came this morning?
“… and I had thought that it might be fun to share a broom,” she finished with her voice in a low sultry tone as she whispered her last few words into Harry’s ear, her lips so close that her warm breath must have made his heart race.
Harry let out a small breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes flashed in pleasant surprise to Ginny. A small grin spread out across his face. He took her hand and cupped his gently behind her neck as he gently pulled her head close to his. Softly, he pressed his lips to Ginny’s.
Ginny smiled softly to herself as she leaned in and deepened the kiss. Mission accomplished she thought to herself as she felt Harry’s other arm wrap around her waist and him take a step forward. Realizing they would both topple if she didn’t step back in response, Ginny quickly took a small step back and felt her lower back contact the kitchen counter.
Harry pressed the kiss even farther as Ginny let out a soft moan. Forget sharing a broom Ginny’s desires screamed in her head as she felt the temperature of the room becoming warm enough to justify a few less items of clothing.
Soon Harry took his hand away from her neck and placed both hands flat against the counter as he leaned even farther against her. Ginny began to feel as though she would topple backwards were it not for the counter holding her upright.
Breathless, they both eventually broke apart from the kiss. Flustered a bit, and quite flushed, Ginny softly cleared her throat as she looked into Harry’s eyes. What she found intrigued her. Staring back at her, Harry’s emerald green eyes shone brilliantly. He wore a broad smile on his also flushed face and seemed to be either unable or unwilling to blink.
Finally, after a long moment, Harry did blink or rather he winked at Ginny. Tilting her head to the side and furrowing her eyes in mild confusion she looked on as Harry raised a hand and motioned for her to be silent.
“That was…” Harry began still a bit breathless, “… a very good attempt.”
Ginny’s slight confusion and amusement disappeared. Her face became stony as she realized that her feminine wiles had not been quite as effective as she had hoped. Obviously he’s still got too much blood in his brain, she silently cursed to herself as she watched Harry raise his other hand, which held the Daily Prophet.
To say that Ginny didn’t want Harry to have the Daily Prophet was an understatement. It had been a silent agreement between Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Molly and anyone else who had contact with Harry to make certain not to mention what could be or had been going on in Britain while the foursome was training.
Ginny herself knew very little, but she did know enough to understand that things were not going well. In Ginny’s mind, that made it all the more important not to expose Harry to what was going on. Ginny knew that it was wrong to try to hide what was happening from him, but felt it to be for the best.
“Otherwise,” she had reasoned with Hermione late one night, “the stupid git would start to feel like it was all his fault and do something rash or that they were not yet ready for.”
Regardless of Ginny’s thoughts and feelings, though, that could not change the fact that Harry now stood before her, with a stupid smirk on his face, holding the one thing she did not want him to have. For a moment, she considered snatching it from his hand, rolling it up and beating him over the head with it until he agreed to either go outside with her or back up to her room. Knowing that that would only serve to entrench Harry’s stubborn nature, Ginny did the only thing she could do — sighed resignedly and walked back over to the table and set down.
Harry stood silently as he began to look over the paper. Ginny watched as his grip on the paper began to crumple the sides. She could hear his breathing quicken and realized that he was becoming upset. Soon he made his way over to the table and sat down beside Ginny.
He laid the paper out before him as he continued to read. He grasped his hair in his hands as he rested his elbows on the table and propped himself up. Time and again he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it. Shaking his head from side to side, he finally let out a loud grunt and slammed his fist down against the table.
Ginny, understanding that Harry would speak when he was ready, gently laid her hand on his shoulder. As Harry turned to look at her, she could see the hurt and pain in his eyes. Their gazes locked for a moment and Ginny felt as though she were about to be consumed by the swirl of emotion she saw in Harry.
He turned his gaze back down to the paper, before crumpling it in his hands. Angrily he took the ball in his hand and threw it across the room. Quickly standing, he began to pace the room. After a few very tense minutes, he looked up to Ginny.
“Did you know?”
His question was simple but spoke volumes. Ginny knew his temper and hurt were looking for somewhere to be channelled and he was staring straight at her. Knowing that for Harry the truth would be best, she answered him without hesitation.
“No…” she whispered softly, “No, I don’t know what’s been going on, but I have known that whatever has been going on hasn’t been good.”
“That’s an understatement,” Harry snapped back. His eyes were focused on Ginny and he held her in his gaze.
Ginny returned Harry’s gaze, staring straight into his eyes. She could see a huge restlessness fighting within him. She could see his frustration building as he continued to pour over in his mind whatever he had read in the paper.
Finally letting out a loud sigh, Harry clinched his eyes closed as he raked his fingers through his hair. Looking once more to Ginny, he let out a soft sigh.
“I just don’t want people to suffer while the world once more waits for me… for us to get our act together and fulfil some ruddy prophecy.”
With that, Harry turned and began to walk towards the door, pausing as he opened it he turned once more to Ginny, “I just need some time to think.” He turned and walked through the door, leaving it open behind him.
Quickly, Ginny stood and followed after him. As she walked through the doorway, she saw Harry walking slowly in the distance to the front of the house. “Where are you going?” she questioned him causing his head to turn.
“I just need to take a walk and clear my mind.”
Nodding her understanding, Ginny spoke softly, “I’ll make sure Ron and Hermione don’t worry.”
Smiling his gratitude, Harry quickly turned and began heading down the drive away from the Burrow, his mind already lost deep in thought.
***
Silence filled the air as a lone figure strode slowly down a stone corridor. The echoes of voices long since dead filled the hallways, but only in the ears of the figure. The cries, the screams, the pleading - they were the price of a long ago abandoned soul.
Perhaps the fact that he heard the voices demonstrated a small part of his humanity remained, but one so small that it could only speak through the dead. His heart long ago shattered, burned, blackened and hardened against any form of love or kindness, existed now only to keep the blood coursing through his veins. All joy and pleasure that once so easily filled and invigorated this man were forever forgotten.
Pushed aside were thoughts, memories, hopes and dreams; instead, now existed a gaping abyss which served only to absorb and forever destroy the happiness of others. To say this man was bitter would be an understatement. To say he desired revenge would be an oversimplification. A man who had once lived and existed to help others, both Muggle and wizard alike, now existed for one purpose and one purpose only — to share his abject hatred and loathing of those that had taken so much from him.
It had been nearly a millennium since Daemon had last walked the earth, able to bring forth his self gratifying devastation to Muggles. At that time, he had every intention of eradicating all Muggles, regardless of good or evil. After all he had done for them; they had taken everything from him. His wife, his son were brutally murdered for no other reason than ignorant fear. Worse yet, the acts themselves were perpetrated not by strangers, but by members of the very village where his family had lived and worked to make life better and happier for all.
Thinking back, Daemon had been so close to realizing his goal. The whole of Britain had lived cowed in fear of his next move. When he would attack, there was little to nothing anyone could do. The Muggles mounted their militias and armies to march against him, but a wizard of his power, a man of his rage, found them to be little more than insects standing before him.
Whereas most wizards of his age were as skilled with a sword or other melee weapon as well as magic, Daemon had forsaken everything, including a wand. He let his rage and anger fuel his magic and the power he demonstrated was nothing short of undeniably brutal. Most of the best Muggle warriors could fight five, maybe six men at a time, while a skilled wizard could handle ten or fifteen.
For Daemon though, he pushed himself harder and farther. Through a sole minded focus on one thing and one thing only, he began to develop spells that destroyed entire villages — and he used them. Soon, even wizards began to fear him. Whereas he once may have been cheered for striking a blow against Muggles that were persecuting magical folk all across Britain, he was quickly vilified and seen for the abomination he truly was.
As he finally came to a stop in the corridor, the voices began to quiet down, save one. It was the voice of a man that had been the most despondent and pleading as Daemon began to change. It was the voice of the man that had stood before him, just after his wife and son were murdered and begged him not to take the path of vengeance. It was the voice of the man that had finally found a way to halt him and his plan, even if only for a millennia.
His last vestiges of humane emotion had been his downfall. Had it not been for the man whose voice was still reverberating through his head, and their one time closeness, Daemon would have not have been stopped.
The man’s final words to Daemon kept repeating over and over within his mind - foretelling his downfall from a prophecy, admitting the fact that he could only temporarily halt Daemon and not stop him forever, and one last desperate plea to not force him to do this. Finally bearing all the voice he could stand, he clasped his hands to the side of his head and let out a horrific scream.
Soon all he could hear was the sound of his own agonising screams echoing down the hallway.
Damn you… Daemon thought to himself, … damn you to hell, Godric Gryffindor. You may have slowed me down, but I will not be stopped this time!
Wrenching his hands away from his head, and beginning to feel the trickle of blood from where his fingernails had dug into the flesh around his ears, Daemon once more began his walk down the corridor.
When the Chosen One of the prophecy dies… he thought to himself, and the voice of Gryffindor that haunted him came, … then your plans will have all been for naught, and you will be silent forever!
Daemon silently revelled to himself at the prospect of there being one less voice. Actually he took immense satisfaction at the fact of just which voice he might get to silence forever. He had wasted too much time already in recreating fear in the hearts of the Muggles. Now it was time to begin in earnest his search for the Chosen One of the prophecy.
Daemon finally came to a stop just before a large wooden door. Many times in the past few weeks he had found himself before this door. Of the tremendous castle that was around him, this was the only room he would leave his great hall for.
Waving his hand, the door quietly opened to reveal a modest sized room. In the centre set a small table, with a bubbling cauldron atop it. Stepping into the room a very pungent and unpleasant odour was in the air. Smiling to himself, Daemon walked over to the cauldron. Peering at the contents, he knew the potion was ready.
Pausing long enough to extinguish the flames, Daemon drew up a flask full of the still bubbling potion. Holding it up, he critically analyzed its light yellow contents. The faintest hint of a chalk-like substance could be seen swirling among the tumultuous brew.
As the boiling began to subside, Daemon quickly drank the potion and tossed the flask casually aside, with it shattering in a corner. With a wave of his hand, a mat appeared and he quickly strode over and lay down on the mat. Laying flat on his back, with no pillow or blanket, Daemon felt the potion begin to work.
He felt his magic set free from his body. For a moment, he closed his eyes and the room was dark, but an instant later he found himself floating in the room above his body. Soon, the room gave way and he was above the castle. Another moment later, he was far above the castle and overlooking the countryside. Eventually, he found himself overlooking the whole of Britain.
Letting his senses scan all that lay before him, Daemon began to identify individual magical entities. Allowing himself to be awash in the magic, he began to compare the different sources. Though he had never done anything on this scale, Daemon realized he could gauge the relative power of every single person. Quickly working to eliminate those whose power was far weaker than his own, Daemon began to narrow his search.
He knew that the Chosen One of the prophecy would be a powerful wizard, and Daemon would use that to his advantage. As he began to eliminate more and more magical sources from his senses, an old yet familiar magical source captured his attention. It was much weaker than he remembered it. In fact, it was almost but a whisper of its former power. The fact that he still recognized it, and even more that it was among the most powerful magic he could currently feel, was a testament to wizard’s former power.
Gryffindor? Daemon questioned through his disembodied essence.
Deciding that this would be by far the best place to start, Daemon quickly began to focus himself, and soon found his essence zooming towards a large stone castle. Feeling the magic around the castle, he knew the building was very old, and very well protected. Setting aside the power of the castle itself, Daemon began to seek out the source of the magic that had attracted him here.
An instant later, he found himself deep within the bowels of the castle. The magical power he recognized surrounded him, but he could not localize it any farther than a small room full of books and parchment. Slowly, he let his senses search the whole room. Just as he was about to begin backing away, Daemon felt the magic surrounding him begin to coalesce.
Soon, the magic that had drawn him here, localized to an essence not very different from his own. Looking through eyes that were not quite there, Daemon found himself face to face with none other than Godric Gryffindor.
The look on Gryffindor’s face was one of concern. He could not see the magical source he had felt enter the room, but he knew for certain who it was. He had so hoped that, with the wards and protections around Hogwarts, Daemon would never find this place, but obviously that was not the case. Realizing there was no point in hiding or pretending not to be in the room, Gryffindor had remerged his essence and now stood waiting for Daemon to make the first move.
Moments later, a vague form began to materialize in the room. Lighter than a ghost, Gryffindor saw the face of his old master looking back at him. Time seemingly froze as both men, separated by both miles and millennia, stared at one another.
Breaking the silence Gryffindor spoke, “Daemon… I can honestly say I’m sad to see you.”
“Likewise, Godric,” Daemon replied sharply, “but then again, at least you haven’t been forced to live the past millennia in a virtual state of non existence. Able to sense, and aware of the passage of time, but unable to do anything else.”
“You left me… us… no choice,” Gryffindor responded. “You had to be stopped, and if I wasn’t the one that fate intended to do it, then I had to make sure no one else suffered until he was born.”
Daemon laughed mockingly at Godric’s words. “You have no idea what I’m still capable of,” Daemon began. “All those years I was neither here nor there did nothing to weaken my magic. Yes, my magic is still growing in power, but that’s only because of the length of time I was under your spell. Soon my magic will be fully restored and then there will be nothing you can do.”
Gryffindor simply nodded. He knew Daemon was telling him the truth. He had hoped it would take him longer to regain his strength, but the fact that he had penetrated Hogwarts stood testament to the fact that he was already most likely the strongest wizard in the world, and only growing stronger by the day.
“The Chosen One’s time has come,” Gryffindor spoke firmly and confidently to Daemon. “He is preparing and will be ready for you.”
Once more Daemon laughed. “You’re as much a fool now as you were when you were living,” Daemon spat the words at Gryffindor. “Do you not think I have already seen the Chosen One? I was there with him in a graveyard. I had just awoken and still lacked the strength to call forth my body and fully escape your spell, but I saw him. And it is only a matter of time before I find him again, and when I do, I most certainly assure you, he will die.”
Gryffindor remained silent. His mind quickly weighed and considered all that he had been told before he spoke, “Well, the fact that you are here and not already attacking him tells me something else. While you may have seen him, your weakness extended beyond simply being able to rejoin your body. You couldn’t feel his magic, you couldn’t learn what his magic looked and felt like. You’re only here because you used the potion to magically free yourself so you could search all of Britain at once, and wound up here because you recognized me.”
Daemon remained silent but if possible, his ghost-like apparition would have been a deep shade of red, full of loathing. “And even if that’s true, I now have what I need to find your hero, Godric.” As he finished his words, Daemon closed his eyes and seemed as though he were searching in his mind for something.
Gryffindor froze. His mind considered the possibility. It’s not possible, he thought to himself, There’s no way my magic could let him find Harry.
The smirk on Daemon’s face confirmed his worst fears though.
“Yes,” Daemon spoke softly, more talking to himself than Gryffindor. “I can feel traces of your magic all across Britain tied to other wizards. One of them is quite powerful.”
Daemon opened his eyes and, for a horrifying moment, Gryffindor saw a disgusting satisfaction behind them.
“It’s time for the Hero and me to meet,” Daemon said almost as a laugh as his image began to fade away.
Gryffindor stared blankly at the wall for a long moment. Had he had a heart, it would have been beating through his chest at the moment. Harry and the others were not yet ready to face Daemon together, and Harry was certainly not ready to face him alone.
As Gryffindor racked his brain for what to do, the memory of a shrill of soothing came to his mind. Knowing the bond he once shared with the companion that came to mind, Gryffindor only hoped that his friend would respond to his calls. If not, things were not going to end well for Harry, or the world.
***
Harry walked quietly along with his hands in his pockets. For all the time he had spent at the Burrow, it was quite rare for him to actually venture into Ottery St. Catchpole. Now that he was here, walking down the streets, looking at the homes and storefronts, he found it to be a relatively quiet village.
Harry felt the warmth of the late summer’s sun on his face. He had broken into a slight sweat as he had walked about the village. How long he had been walking, he wasn’t for sure. It had been at least a couple of hours ago since he had left Ginny, telling her he needed to take a walk.
Looking back, he was glad she had been so understanding. He had come very close to losing his temper and yelling at her for something he knew wasn’t her fault. How she was able to understand him, to know when to push and when he needed to be let alone, he would never know.
He knew that his feeling of letting people down, and that he was in part responsible for their suffering was unreasonable. Ginny had made certain to show him that as well. No matter what else the future held, Harry would be forever grateful for the love and unconditional support that Ginny gave him.
Soon enough, Harry found himself once more passing the local post office. A few random people were milling about, finishing their errands for the day. Spotting a nearby bench, Harry decided to set for a moment. As he did, Harry took the time to clear his mind and simply watch everyone going about their lives.
For the first time since he read the articles in the Prophet earlier in the morning, Harry felt himself relax and his self imposed tension ease. Deep down, he had always known things were going to be bad while he and the others prepared. Only a fool would have assumed otherwise. If Harry had learned anything from his battles with Tom Riddle and the Death Eaters, it was that evil does not take a vacation or need to rest.
Harry let his eyes focus on a mother and her young daughter. The child didn’t appear to be more than four or five, but he was amazed and captivated by how happy both appeared to be. The woman’s love for her child was obvious, and the girl’s joy of being out with her mum was also apparent. Smiling inwardly, Harry began to understand that, no matter how much evil there was in the world, little moments of joy and happiness were also always occurring.
Feeling better and even more resolute about what he had to do, and being patient until he was ready to do it, Harry stood. With a soft grumble, Harry looked down at his stomach and patted it. Yeah, I know. It’s time for lunch, he thought to himself as he began to walk back towards the Burrow.
As he travelled, Harry continued to look at the people about. They were all Muggles, the ones currently being targeted by whoever it was Harry was destined to fight, but they were all going about their lives blissfully. Harry felt grateful he was able to walk among them without being recognized or singled out. Aside from the occasional smile or greeting, which Harry was quick to return, he was able to walk about the town in relative peace.
Approaching the very centre of the town, Harry gazed up ahead in the distance just in time to see a man with dark, flowing robes coalesce into existence. Harry looked on in confusion as his mind contemplated what he had just seen. Obviously the man was magical, but for him to Apparate in front of Muggles like he had done, troubled Harry. Furthermore, looking at the Muggles around him, Harry began to feel very wary as he noticed the fact that none of them had paid the man any attention.
With the hair on his neck and arms beginning to stand up, Harry felt his senses heighten. He did not know why, but this man was trouble. Watching him quickly approach, Harry felt the intensity of the man’s gaze. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Harry heard a faint voice whisper, It’s him.
Understanding quickly washed over Harry as he reached for his wand. As he was doing so, Harry watched the man quickly spread apart both hands. As though invisible walls suddenly impacted every person standing between them, everyone was thrust aside and left in a heap on the ground. With no one else standing but Harry and the man, the young wizard drew his wand. Harry knew this was a situation where the use of magic in front of Muggles would be not only necessary, but the key to his survival.
As Harry contemplated whether to attack or defend, his question was answered for him as the man raised both hands directly towards him. Black flames quickly shot towards Harry, who only because of his quick reflexes was able to dive to the side. Had Harry simply been content with diving out of the way though, he would have only delayed experiencing whatever horrors the black flames would cause. Instinctively, Harry came out of his dive and into a roll. As he rolled, Harry looked up to see the flames following him, still being cast by the man as he chased Harry with them.
Taking no time to notice that whatever the flames touched was quickly wilted and withered to a blackened pile of ash, Harry made a break to gain some type of cover. Realizing that the man was still standing at a distance, Harry searched the street before him and spotted a not too distant alleyway.
Moving as fast as his legs would run, Harry made a quick dash towards the corner which he could hide behind with the black flames trailing him all the way. As he dove around the corner, Harry quickly scrambled back to the near wall and pressed his back against it. From his short sprint, Harry’s heart was beating fast and his breathes coming in ragged gasps.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he settled his nerves. Quickly snapping them open, Harry looked out of the alleyway just in time to see the black flames cease. An instant later, reality seemed to strike everyone that had been on the streets just a moment earlier as Harry heard shrieks of terror begin to erupt. In the distance Harry could see everyone running for whatever cover they could find.
Knowing his position to be tenable at best, Harry chanced a glance around the corner to see the man stalking methodically towards him. Setting his resolve, Harry spun out of his hiding place and stood face to face with the man who was now just meters away.
“Bravery would be a necessary quality of the Chosen One,” the figure literally spat at Harry as he raised his right hand and sent a huge ball of red and orange flame hurtling toward Harry.
Diving to his right and away from the corner and alleyway that had been his cover, Harry heard the spell impact against the building. An instant later splinters, dust and rubble were pelting Harry as he quickly made to stand, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the man before him.
Had Harry taken the time to glance at what had just happened, he would have been stunned. Where two buildings had once stood, separated by an alleyway, was now only half a building collapsing down upon itself and another utterly unrecognizable pile of rubble.
Forcing aside the fear that began to fill him, Harry found the strength to speak.
“You seem to know very well who I am, but I must admit to not even knowing what to call you,” Harry said with his voice unwavering and betraying none of the fear that he was currently struggling to beat back.
The man’s only response was to raise his hand once more and send a deep purple spell towards Harry. Yet again diving to the side, Harry saw from the corner of his eyes the spell impact against a tree. A split second later all that remained of the tree was a badly twisted and broken pile of splinters.
Realizing the situation was not going well, and understanding the power of the man he was facing, Harry made the decision to Apparate away. With a deep seeded fear that the man might be able to follow him, Harry quickly decided against going back to the Burrow. In fact, Harry decided not to Apparate anywhere there could be people that might get hurt at all.
With his destination in mind, Harry quickly completed the steps to Apparate. Closing his eyes for a split second, Harry summoned all of his magic in an effort to Apparate. Opening his eyes though, revealed to Harry that he had been unable to Apparate. Where and how the anti-disapparition jinx had been placed, Harry could not say or even consider because he was once more in the middle of an evasive roll.
Feeling, more than seeing, Harry sensed the incredible magical surge that accompanied every spell the man was sending towards Harry. Once again, Harry was rolling, hoping to narrowly avoid whatever was coming his way. Having not seen what was coming towards him or where it was aimed at, put Harry at a disadvantage.
Having anticipated Harry’s response, the man had instead aimed very powerful blasting curses at the ground to either side of Harry. Harry in return did exactly what he was supposed to and rolled directly into the path of one of them.
As Harry finished his roll, he looked up in time to see the blasting curse impact the ground in front of him. Realizing his mistake too late, all Harry was able to do was close his eyes before the wave of dirt and concrete quickly lifted him and threw him backwards. How far he travelled, Harry was uncertain as he began to wearily shake his head and try to refocus.
Through double vision, Harry could make out the fact that the man was now some distance away. Attempting to stand, Harry felt throbbing pain shoot up his left leg. Looking down, Harry could see a large piece of wood embedded deep within his thigh. Gritting his teeth, Harry quickly took hold of the wood and with a deep breath in, pulled it from his leg.
Letting out a loud scream, Harry then began to force himself to his feet, even with the leg still screaming in protest to him. His wand still clutched in his hand, Harry looked up to see the man sending another curse towards him. Understanding he would not be able to dodge, Harry cast his strongest shield. Summoning all of his magic to him, Harry erected the shield just an instant before the spell struck it.
Whatever the spell was, Harry did not have time to focus or try to guess. His shield would have to be strong enough, if not, it was likely only a formality before he was finished. As the spell impacted the shield, Harry felt the magic within him strain. He fought to hold the shield, but an instant later the shield gave way. Even though the shield had fallen, it had weakened the spell. What had once been an angry red and orange spell, was now only orange.
Whether it had been enough, Harry could only hope as the spell struck him dead centre in the chest. Before the spell had even faded, Harry felt a searing burning pain rip through his chest. Not just the skin and bones, but his very lungs felt as though they were on fire. Gasping aloud and struggling to breathe, Harry collapsed to the ground, his wand falling beside him.
Looking up, Harry saw the man standing before him. Having no more strength, Harry could only wait for the inevitable. His thoughts quickly turned to Ginny and what would become of her and the rest of her family as the man began to speak.
“Before you die,” the man said with a savage grin on his face, “you should know the name of the man that so easily killed you.”
Harry struggled to grab his wand and wrapped his fingers around it just as the man began to laugh.
“I am Daemon,” he said with much satisfaction as he raised his hand to finish Harry.
What happened next, for Harry was a miracle, and for Daemon was yet another example of how others interfered against him. Just as Daemon began to build his magic so that he could send it surging towards the Chosen One, destroying him, and freeing himself from the prophecy forever, a bright burst of flames appeared between Harry and him.
Shielding his eyes for a moment, Daemon looked up to see a creature that had once been among his closest companions. The phoenix fluttering in the air before him began to shrill a song of sorrow and regret.
“Fawkes,” Daemon whispered softly, unable to feel rage or focus on finishing Harry.
Seeing Daemon’s hesitation and realizing his one opportunity, Harry quickly reached up and took hold of Fawkes’s tail feathers. For a moment, Fawkes continued the shrill of lament before Daemon seemed to come to his senses. Just as the spell began to form in Daemon’s hand, Fawkes ended the song.
As the spell began to speed towards Harry, he felt no fear. He knew Fawkes was there to save him, as the phoenix had done in the Chamber of Secrets. Accepting what Fawkes was about to do, Harry sighed with relief, and in a burst of flames Harry was gone.
Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Fear
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay in updating. Real life happened, and found me without internet for the better part of a week as I was out of town. That being said, I owe a world of gratitude to my wonderful Beta Ginny Guerra and all of her hard work. Also, for every person that leaves a review or comment, I just want to say thank you again. They are a great motivation to keep writing. Without further delay, here is the latest chapter, I hope you enjoy it. As always, please leave your reviews and comments.
Ginny closed her eyes for a moment while she let the air sweep through her hair as she flew in a straight line. It felt good to be on a broom and flying once again. It seemed as though it had been forever since she last got the chance to do it. As relaxing as flying was, though, Ginny couldn’t help but feel something was missing.
Truthfully, something was missing — Harry. Even though he had said he needed to take a walk and clear his mind, Ginny couldn’t help but be concerned for him. The hurt and uncertainty she had seen in his eyes had been weighing heavily on her in the few hours since he had set out.
Upon telling Hermione and Ron that Harry was not going to join them flying, and that he was going to take a walk, Ginny had been forced to be rather blunt when they began to voice their desires to go see about their friend.
“We need to make sure he’s ok,” Hermione blurted out as though Ginny was a child and couldn’t understand the concept.
“I bloody well know that, Hermione,” came her response quite tersely and with enough venom that the bushy haired woman before her knew she had stomped her way onto thin ice. “He’s not bloody ok, but he’s not going to do anything ruddy stupid. He wanted to be alone and think. I trust him, and know he’ll be back.”
When she had spoken those words, though, Ginny thought Harry’s walk might last an hour or so. It had now been almost three and he was still gone. While she knew that Harry would keep his word and be back, she began to worry, if only to herself, that perhaps he was a little worse off than she had initially assumed.
Opening her eyes, she once more took control of the broom and turned it back around, aiming it towards where she saw Ron circling in the distance. As she approached, it was obvious that Ron was worried himself. Drawing nearer, she watched her brother stop and simply hover in the air on his broom, absent mindedly tossing a Quaffle up into the air, only to catch it and repeat the process.
Upon pulling to a halt alongside Ron, Ginny nudged him gently, shaking him out of his introspection. Snapping his head to the side to see who had interrupted him caused Ron to miss the Quaffle as it passed beside his hand. Chancing a look down, Ron did not bother to try to chase after it and instead let it fall to the ground.
With a soft thud, the Quaffle smacked into the ground and remained there.
“Hey!” Hermione shouted up at the pair, “Watch it with that thing. You nearly hit me!”
Ron again glanced down to note that, in fact, the Quaffle had landed rather close to Hermione, assuming one considered three feet to be close. Nonetheless, she had been more occupied reading a book and was not paying attention to what was going on around her, so it was reasonable that she might be surprised or alarmed by something hitting the ground so near her.
“Sorry,” Ron called out half heartedly, which only earned him a glare in response.
Shaking his head, he looked back up to Ginny and noticed her to also be lost in her own mind. Reaching a tentative hand out, Ron touched his sister’s forearm and saw her eyes quickly fix on him.
“He’ll be alright,” Ron offered softly.
Ginny sighed before responding, “I know… it’s… he’s been gone for a while now. I thought he’d be back after he let off a bit of steam… You know?”
Ron smiled softly back at his sister. He knew she was worried more about what Harry was thinking than what Harry could be doing. Harry, after all, could easily take care of himself, and wouldn’t do anything too stupid. As he considered what to say next, Ron couldn’t help but smirk to himself. Very rare were the situations where he was the once being called upon to give words of insight or wisdom, but looking at his sister, this was exactly one of those occasions.
“I know,” he said softly as he squeezed her arm gently, “But sometimes we just have more steam to blow off than others.” He said nothing else but let his words sink in.
A few moments later, Ginny nodded to herself in agreement, before glancing up and directly into Ron’s eyes. “Yeah, you’re right…” she trailed off softly.
Knowing that there was nothing else to say, Ron realized just how little fun he was having on the broom. A quick look at Ginny confirmed she was having even less.
“Hey,” he interjected, “How’s ‘bout we get off these brooms and get something to drink. Maybe go have a seat with Hermione and then, if Harry isn’t back in an hour or so, we’ll all go find him?”
Ginny seemed to consider his suggestion for a moment, before smiling softly and breaking away from him and guiding her broom to the ground beside Hermione. Seeing that she had taken him up on his suggestion, Ron quickly followed suit and a moment later was standing on the ground beside his sister. He held out his hand, and took her broom from her. Silently he began to walk over to the broom shed to stow the brooms as Hermione closed her book and began to stand.
Just as Ron reached the broom shed and opened the door, he heard a loud “Boom!” and felt the ground shake under his feet. Turning to look at Ginny and Hermione, he could tell they had heard and felt the same things too. Confused looks filled all of their faces as Molly and Arthur both soon appeared out of the Burrow as well.
Walking quickly towards Ginny, Hermione and his parents, Ron saw black billowing smoke rising in the distance. A sudden feeling of foreboding overcame him as he saw Hermione turn to look at where his eyes were focused. As he finally reached the group, everyone was looking at the ominous smoke, when suddenly Ginny cried out, “HARRY!”
The next few moments turned into a blur, as Ginny quickly became a hysterical blur of red as she tried to make a frantic rush to run towards the smoke. Through sobs, shouts and quite a few elbows, Ron and Arthur were finally able to wrestle Ginny to the ground.
Having no better idea how to calm Ginny and figure out what was going on, Hermione stepped forward.
“I’m so sorry, Gin,” she whispered to the still struggling and sobbing redhead.
Raising her wand, Hermione quickly recited the incantation and cast a calming charm over Ginny. For a moment, it did not appear to work, but slowly Ginny began to calm. Her struggling subsided and soon she was sobbing softly.
Feeling it finally safe to relax their holds, Ron and Arthur slowly backed off. Ginny, no longer in total hysterics, remained on the ground for a moment before Arthur carefully reached down and took hold of her. Lifting his daughter slowly and cautiously to her feet, then pulling her into a tight hug, Arthur held her for a moment before trying to make some sense of her outburst. Finally feeling a bit of the tension ease from her body, Arthur slowly put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“Ginny,” he spoke softly and with all the concern a father has for a distressed daughter, “What’s wrong? Do you know what’s happened?”
Taking a moment for a deep breath, Ginny let out one last ragged sob before shaking her head, “No… b-b-b-but, H-H-H-Harry…he… he was walking towards the village.”
A collective gasp rang out as all eyes once more focused on the huge cloud of smoke that was slowly trailing away from the village.
“Everyone inside, now!” Arthur ordered as he began to lead Ginny towards the house.
Any opposition that might have been voiced had been immediately suppressed by the forceful tone of his voice. Immediately, everyone followed Arthur into the house as he sat Ginny down in a chair in the living room. Looking to Molly, he inclined his head towards Ginny. Nodding her understanding, she went over to her daughter and began to talk quietly with her.
Ron and Hermione stood momentarily stunned by what had transpired. As Arthur strode purposefully away from Ginny and Molly, Hermione began to speak, “We need…” but was cut off by Arthur raising his hand.
The look on his face was obvious. He did not want or need anyone trying to tell him what to do. Arthur all too well understood what had most likely happened, and while his current actions and exterior might not have showed it, he was terrified.
The past few months at the Ministry had taught him all too well the destructive capacity of the evil they were facing, and it also left him with little hope of being able to survive were that evil to come towards the Burrow.
Arthur felt his stomach tighten as he thought briefly about Harry. The young man was as good as his own son, and if there was anyone capable of surviving, it would be Harry. That being said, however, Arthur also had his wife, son, daughter and Hermione to worry about right now and couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. Harry, whether alive or dead, needed help, but it was something that they just couldn’t do without more support.
Having made his mind up about what needed to be done before even getting back inside the Burrow, Arthur came to a stop just in front of the Floo. Grabbing a handful of powder and tossing it into the fireplace, Arthur shouted, “Minister of Magic’s Office!”
His head disappeared into the flames for a few brief moments, before he re-emerged and quickly stepped back. For Ron and Hermione, it was obvious he was anticipating someone coming through the Floo, but the wait seemed to take an eternity. What in reality was only a few seconds, finally passed as the fireplace roared to life with a burst of green flames and an instant later Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing before them.
Taking no time to offer greetings, Shacklebolt addressed Arthur, “Every Auror we can spare, and most that we can’t, will be arriving shortly. Healers are also being summoned from St. Mungo’s and the hospital is now on full alert expecting the worst.”
Arthur nodded his understanding. So many times within the past few months, he had found Shacklebolt and himself being summoned to the site of an attack, but it was never with the urgency or the dire repercussions that this moment presented. Were Arthur to allow himself to think, he would have admitted himself wanting nothing more than to run straight to the village once he had notified Kingsley.
Tense moments passed as everyone waited for the Aurors and other reinforcements to arrive. Numerous times Shacklebolt began to address Arthur, only to snap his mouth shut and begin pacing. For Ron and Hermione, the entire scene was almost surreal. As more and more time passed, Ron knew that something was seriously wrong. At the first sign of trouble, Harry would have returned if he could. Now it had been nearly twenty minutes since they had heard the massive explosion and seen the smoke, and Harry had not returned.
While he had initially assumed that Harry was in some way involved with the explosion, Ron had not let the full gravity of the situation settle upon him. As more time passed, though, Ron quickly began to contemplate just exactly what all the current evidence indicated. Exchanging a troubled glance with Hermione, Ron finally let himself admit the all too real possibility that Harry might be in a lot more trouble than even he could handle.
Yet even more time passed as Ginny began to shift impatiently in the chair. Amazingly, she had remained quiet since her initial outburst, but the progression of time brought with it more concern for her. Molly continued talking softly to Ginny, offering her hope and comfort as even the matron of the Weasley family began to allow herself to consider the possibility of Harry not returning.
Molly knew the love and concern Harry had for his friends. If he wasn’t directly involved with whatever happened in the village, Molly knew he would have first off Apparated as close to the Burrow as possible and then ran the remainder in order to check that they were safe. His continued absence told her that, at the least, he was hurt or unconscious and at the absolute worst — well, she wouldn’t allow her mind to go there again. She had already lost one son, and she’d be damned if she lost another.
Steeling her jaw, Molly rose and turned her attention away from Ginny for a moment and peered at Arthur and Kingsley. Both men wore heavily troubled expressions, but Molly’s concern was that of a mother for a son, and she was tired of waiting. It had been nearly half an hour now since the sound that had launched this whole horrible nightmare and she refused to wait any longer. Opening her mouth to speak, Molly was interrupted before she could utter a word as the fireplace one more erupted with green flames.
The head of Minerva McGonagall sat looking from the fire into the room. “Ginny,” the headmistresses voiced called out, “Ginny, Harry’s here at Hogwarts.”
A blur of red hair was all that could be seen as Ginny seemingly flung herself from the chair over to the fireplace. “Is… is he…” Ginny began but could not finish.
McGonagall, realizing the desperation in Ginny’s voice minced no words, “Ginny, he’s alive, but it’s not good. Poppy is doing her best, and she says she thinks he’ll pull through, but he’s been through a lot.”
Ginny nodded her understanding, but everyone in the room could see her body relax with relief. Turning back to her family and then looking directly to Ron and Hermione she spoke softly, “At least he’s alive.”
As the concept gradually sank in to everyone else in the room, the tension level substantially decreased. Everyone shared relieved glances.
Suddenly the sounds of people Apparating just outside the house filled the room, and Shacklebolt walked over to the window. “About bloody time,” he spoke to no one in particular as he opened the door and made his way outside.
Arthur, turning to his family began to speak, “Alright, now that help is here, we can actually consider going to the village.” He looked directly at Ron and Hermione first, and then over to Ginny and Molly. “I don’t expect there will be much to find, but you are welcome to come if you want.”
Without hesitation, Ginny answered, “I’m going to Hogwarts.”
Shaking their heads in agreement, Ron and Hermione also indicated their intentions to go and be with Harry. As Arthur turned to look at Molly, he saw her once more embracing their daughter. The look in her eyes said that she would go with their children.
Pursing his lips and gathering his resolve, Arthur spoke softly, “I’ve got to go to the village. We’ll help those we can, but I imagine there’s not much we can do. I’ll be along to Hogwarts as soon as I can.” With that, he walked over, hugged Molly and Ginny and then nodded to Ron and Hermione, before making his way out the same door Shacklebolt had left hanging open.
As Arthur disappeared through the door, Ginny turned her attention back to the headmistress, whose head was still peering out of the fireplace. “We’re coming over,” she stated more than asked, as McGonagall nodded in response and her face disappeared from the flames.
***
Save for the echoes of her shoes against the stone floor of the castle, silence reigned throughout the hospital ward as Madam Pomfrey quietly approached the bed where Harry lay. To say that she had been surprised when Fawkes and Harry arrived in a burst of flames would be an understatement. As she began to round once more on the young man for his foolish actions, though, she was cut short as she watched the phoenix gently grasp Harry in its talons and carefully lower his limp body to the ground.
Instantly recognizing that something was very wrong, Madam Pomfrey began to do what she could for him. In the moments immediately after Harry and Fawkes’s arrival, that meant removing Harry’s clothes and standing aside so that the phoenix could use its tears to heal as much damage as quickly as possible. Watching Fawkes work, she could only be amazed at how rapid and effective the tears were. Being a healer, she of course knew about the power of phoenix tears, but with them being such rare magical creatures, it was not a common place thing for someone to see a phoenix in person, let alone the actual first hand healing power of the tears.
Where there had once been a massive penetrating wound in Harry’s leg, she now only saw a reddened irritation. It was the wound on Harry’s chest, though, what Madam Pomfrey found to be most concerning. Fawkes had used tears on that wound for many minutes before it finally flew aside to let her take a look. Even with all the help, the young man’s chest was still very raw and irritated. A simple diagnostic charm told her that his lungs and diaphragm did not look much better either.
His breaths were shallow and sometimes he would pause a little longer than she though acceptable before the next breath. Having no clue as to what spell he had been hit with, she was afraid of trying any specific treatments and instead was relying on more general means of treatment. Applying her years of experience and intuition, Madam Pomfrey felt Harry’s lungs themselves were most likely irritated and inflamed.
Although Fawkes’s tears had been a tremendous help, and had most likely fixed the greatest extent of the damage, the fact remained that the delicate tissue of Harry’s lungs would have to heal on its own. Doing her best to aid the process, she finally decided to set up a small bubbling cauldron beside Harry’s bed. From the cauldron, a mild minty aroma filled the room, along with an obvious heaviness in the air. The intent was for the potion to be breathed into Harry’s lungs and help alleviate the inflammation.
After the potion was in place for a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey noticed an obvious improvement in Harry. He was still unconscious, but his breathing was regular and he now seemed more to be sleeping. Letting out a soft sigh, she began to make her way back towards her office to rest for a moment. She would need to check on Harry again in a few minutes, but the amount of stress caring for him in such an acute state meant she needed to rest when she could.
Looking up to Fawkes, who had perched at the head of Harry’s bed, Madam Pomfrey spoke, “I’m going to step into my office for a moment.” She watched the phoenix carefully for a moment before a shrill of sorrow filled the room. Madam Pomfrey soon found herself at the edge of tears before the song gradually began to transition and she found herself feeling uplifted and hopeful. Smiling in gratitude to Fawkes, she turned and began to walk toward her office.
Whatever respite Madam Pomfrey may have found in her office, remained a mystery however, because just as she reached her door, the door to the hospital ward swung loudly open and a blur of red came rushing into the room. Even though she was only half the distance to Harry’s bed as compared to the entrance to the ward, Madam Pomfrey found herself being the last to reach the bed by far.
Paying little attention to anything around her, Ginny quickly sat of the side of the bed, taking Harry’s hand in her own and began to absent mindedly brush her fingers through his hair. Turning to look at Madam Pomfrey, the haunted look of her eyes caused the aged mediwitch to pause.
“How is he?” Ginny softly asked as she turned her attention once more to Harry.
Madam Pomfrey paused for a moment, beyond Ginny’s, every other set of eyes in the room were focused solely upon her. She felt the intensity of the gazes, and were she not used to the raw emotion that was often associated with seeing a loved one so grievously injured, she would have quickly withered and ran away from the stares.
“He’s going to make it…” she began softly, “…but he was hurt very badly. His lungs were hurt from some type of spell he took to his chest. Actually his whole chest was hurt, but now it’s just his lungs. He needs time to heal. He needs time to rest.”
“But how?” Hermione questioned. “If the spell hit him in the chest, and was so severe, how is it that his chest looks completely fine?” she continued as she moved up the other side of the bed and then cautiously moved back the bed sheets so as display Harry’s bare, unmarred chest.
“Phoenix tears,” Madam Pomfrey answered.
“But where did you get phoenix tears?” Molly asked.
As Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to respond, the phoenix that had been waiting quietly at the head of the bed finally shrilled a song of relief causing everyone to turn startled towards the source of the song.
“Fawkes?” Hermione questioned.
“Blimey!” Ron added.
Again the phoenix shrilled a response and continued as the song morphed into one of compassion and support. Ginny’s eyes locked onto the phoenix’s. Without her saying a word, Fawkes seemed to understand her gratitude as yet another song rang out, filling Ginny with hope. Suddenly feeling much better than she had in the past little while, Ginny let the faintest sign of a smile break out across her lips.
Taking a small breath and holding it to firmly set her composure, Ginny turned once more and addressed Madam Pomfrey by asking, “So what is it that can be done?”
Moving around the bed, Madam Pomfrey stood before the bubbling cauldron. “As for physical injuries, there are none left for me to treat,” she began compassionately, “Fawkes’s tears healed all the outward wounds on his chest and a puncture to his leg. What is left, though, are some very irritated lungs.”
Pausing for a moment to point towards the bubbling cauldron, she continued her explanation, “I am boiling this potion so that it begins to disperse in the air. Harry should breath in the vapor of the potion and it should help his lungs heal and calm down.”
Ginny sat blankly for a moment, looking at Harry. No one in the room spoke as she turned over in her mind all the events that lay before her. Finally releasing a sigh, she spoke, “So it’s just a matter of waiting for him to wake up.” Her eyes never left Harry, nor did she seem expect a response from anyone.
“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey spoke softly.
“It won’t hurt him if I lay with him, then,” Ginny stated, her eyes finally looking up, glancing quickly to her mum first and then to Madam Pomfrey.
Madam Pomfrey’s breath caught with a slight gasp at the first recognition of Ginny’s request. Students sitting with their friends or significant others was one thing, but what Ginny was blatantly stating just didn’t seem appropriate. Madam Pomfrey’s answer did not come right away, though, because she continued to look at Harry and Ginny both.
Casting a cautious glance over to Molly, Madam Pomfrey was amazed to see the Weasley matriarch sitting calmly. Understanding the reason for the healer’s glance, Molly smiled softly and slightly inclined her head indicating that she understood Ginny’s not so subtle request and did not disapprove. Turning her attention once more back to Ginny, Madam Pomfrey continued to weigh the request in her mind.
Yes, they may still be young, but Ginny’s eyes showed an age and maturity far beyond the young woman’s natural years. Understanding that the couple that was before her could not be treated like a normal couple their age, she smiled softly, “He’ll be fine.”
With that said, she turned to look at Molly once more. “I’m going to be in my office if any of you need me. I’ll come check in a little later,” she finished as she turned left the group there to watch over Harry.
***
What had began for Arthur Weasley as a day to see his family and escape for just a brief moment the terror that had seized hold of both wizarding and Muggle Britain, had in fact become the exact opposite. The last attack had not only hit too close to home, it had in fact been literally just outside his door. Add to it the fact that those he loved and cared for were now directly involved, and there was little that could be said or done to alleviate his fear and anxiety.
What had happened to Ottery St. Catchpole was beyond comprehension. Where a once vibrant, yet small village had stood was now piles of rubble. Not one building in the main square of the town had been left standing. Luckily, as Arthur, Shacklebolt and the Aurors had sorted through the rubble, they found that, unlike so many times in the past, whoever had done this was too focused on something else. Unlike all of the other previous attacks, this time the man’s focus seemed to be targeted towards one lone individual and most of the bystanders had been able to escape with their lives.
After careful interrogation of numerous eye witnesses, Arthur and Shacklebolt had been able to determine that the man had in fact apparently appeared and targeted Harry directly. From piecing together numerous accounts, Arthur was horrified, yet impressed that Harry had been able to survive. The fact that almost no one could report seeing Harry do anything even remotely magical until the very end of the fight, told Arthur just how sudden and how powerful Harry’s attacker was - though he didn’t need the confirmation, he had seen the man’s prior handiwork.
It made Arthur’s stomach drop to realize that Harry, a young man who had spent his entire life battling dark wizards and had been in training for the past few months to battle this wizard in particular, would seemingly fare so poorly. Then again, Harry had done something that Arthur knew of no other person that had directly confronted this man — he survived.
It was with that thought echoing in his mind that Arthur now made his way towards the hospital ward at Hogwarts. He had heard nothing about Harry since McGonagall’s head had appeared in his fireplace earlier in the day, but now that his work was complete, it was time to be with his family. Hastening his pace, in part to keep utter exhaustion from claiming him, Arthur came to the doors leading to the ward.
Realizing the late hour, Arthur quietly and deliberately opened the door. His eyes quickly scanning the dark room, he saw a mass of people on the far end of the ward. As he approached them, Arthur appreciated that everyone was asleep, having claimed an empty bed for themselves — everyone except for Ginny.
As he stood before Harry’s bed, Arthur looked at his daughter, to see the exhaustion in her eyes. She wearily returned his gaze for a moment before going back to looking over Harry. Arthur watched as she lay in the bed beside Harry, her head propped on one arm while softly caressing his hand in hers. She said nothing or made no other movements, but Arthur could tell every ounce of strength she had, she was willing to Harry, wanting him to wake up, praying for him to get better. Hmmm. Why isn’t she lying in bed with him?
“How is he?” Arthur’s voice was so soft that not even Molly in the bed beside Harry could have heard it.
Ginny let out an exhausted breath before looking to her dad. “He’s alive…” she spoke, her voice just as soft as his. “Madam Pomfrey says he’ll make it, just that his lungs are a bit inflamed and it’s going to take some time for him to wake up.”
“How did he…” Arthur let his voice trail off without finishing the question. That had in fact been the million galleon question for Arthur, Shacklebolt and the Aurors, as no one in the village had seen how Harry escaped. Some reported seeing him one instant and the next instant there being only a ball of flames, but coming from the mouths of Muggles, many conclusions could not be drawn.
“Fawkes,” Ginny responded plainly. “Fawkes was there and flamed Harry away before that bastard could kill him.” All the bitterness and anger within Ginny found its way into her words as she literally spat them out. “Fawkes’s tears helped heal the worst of Harry’s wounds. We just have to wait for him to wake up. Madam Pomfrey doesn’t know exactly what spells he was hit with, so she doesn’t want to try anything that could have adverse effects against him, so we’re having to rely a lot on Harry’s own magic to help him heal.”
A long silence fell over Arthur and Ginny as he watched her with Harry. With all he had seen that day, he felt compelled to let Ginny know how much he cared for Harry and her, as well as how scared he was for what was to come, but the words would not come. Looking at his daughter, a lump caught in his throat and he found himself unable to speak.
The woman before him was a far cry from the little girl that once came running to him seeking comfort and shelter from the pranks and annoyances of her older brothers. Seeing her now, he saw strength in her that only a few could dream of. Knowing the way she looked at Harry though, he knew the source of her strength — love.
Approaching her, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Almost immediately he was struck with how tense she was. Rubbing her back for a moment, he could sense a question hanging in the air. Something unspoken that she was contemplating whether she should ask or not.
Finally, having made her decision, he heard her voice no more than a whisper, “W-W-W-What about the village?”
Arthur lowered his head, remembering the sights and sounds. “Gone,” he replied with one word.
He heard a gasp come from Ginny as she turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide with surprise and shock. “Gone?” she asked.
“The explosion we heard, it must have been what happened after Harry escaped,” Arthur began to explain. “From those that survived, it seems that whoever did this was targeting Harry from the get go. It was only after Harry escaped that he evidently destroyed the town out of rage.”
Ginny just lowered her head. For a long moment, she didn’t move or say anything, and then Arthur felt her body shudder. Soon he heard the muffled sound of sobs coming from his daughter. Reaching down and pulling her up into his arms, he held her for a moment.
Arthur himself couldn’t help crying either. Crying for the pain, hurt and fear he knew she must feel. Crying for the young man that lay in the bed, having been so lucky to have survived what transpired earlier. For a long time, he held Ginny, both crying quietly.
It had been a long time since Arthur had seen his daughter cry, excluding Fred’s funeral. As he began to dry his tears, he thought back about his little girl. In reality, only a very few people had ever been witness to her tears. Growing up in a house full of boys meant that tears were not frequently seen from Ginny. Granted, she knew when and how to use her tears to bend her brothers to her will, but beyond that, Ginny was a very strong willed woman.
When she cried, if she cried, she made it a point not to do it in front of a lot of people. Arthur knew Molly and he were the only people she really ever let see her cry for real. Even the way she was with Harry, he wasn’t certain if she was to the point she would let him see her that vulnerable just yet, but then again, with all that they were facing, he knew she probably wouldn’t allow herself the luxury of being able to cry for fear of what it might do to Harry.
Holding his daughter now, comforting her, Arthur realized it was probably the first time she had let herself be vulnerable with him since right after the Chamber of Secrets. Pushing aside all of those horrid memories, he held her close to him. How long she cried, he couldn’t say, but eventually, her sobs became less, and finally disappeared. It was another long moment before she raised her head and looked at him.
With a subdued smile she spoke softly, “Thank you, Daddy.”
From behind her bloodshot and swollen eyes, he could tell she meant it as well.
“Feel better?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes...” she answered first, then furrowing her brow “No…” and finally summated with, “Maybe…”
Arthur could only smile knowingly at her. Truth to be told, he knew that the answer was all three. Finally putting his years of life and experience to use, he took her hand and helped her understand, “You’re right in one,” he began as he chuckled at her confused expression, “or rather, you’re right in all three answers. You feel better because you know Harry will be alright, but you’re not really better because part of you knows this was just the beginning. There’s still another part of you, though, the part that gives you your strength and makes you who you are that knows Harry’s done this before, and you, Ron and Hermione won’t quit on him.”
Ginny looked at her father thoughtfully for a moment. She gave him a hint of a smile before once more laying down and turning her attention back to Harry. Touching her shoulder once more, Arthur stepped away over towards the bed that held his wife. After a quick, “Goodnight,” he anticipated collapsing into one of the empty beds himself.
As bad as today had been, he could only expect tomorrow and the foreseeable future to be much worse.
Chapter 25: Chapter 25: Countdown
Author's Notes: Hello all. First let me apologize for the long time between updates. Between writer's block, and a trip to visit my parents, things have been rather poor for getting quality writing accomplished. Again, many thanks to my wonderful Beta, who let me know to keep plugging away at it, and it would eventually start to be what I want again. Thank you to everyone for your reviews and comments. Keep them coming as they are great motivation.
Ron and Hermione walked in silence toward the library of Gryffindor. Even though it was late in the morning, Harry had not yet awoken and Madam Pomfrey was uncertain as to just how long he would remain unconscious. Fortunately, his breathing was doing much better and all of her tests seemed to indicate that he was doing just fine.
Ginny had insisted on staying with Harry, and as such the responsibility fell to Ron and Hermione to figure out what exactly was going on. Having no better clue as for where to begin, it had been Hermione who realized Gryffindor would most likely be the one with at least some type of answer. It made sense though, seeing as how Gryffindor was the one responsible for training them, he would be the one who most likely knew best about what had happened.
It was with this mindset, hopeful that Gryffindor could provide some answers, that Ron and Hermione now stood facing the door that lead into the library. Why they hesitated, neither could say, but they did. Looking uncertainly to one another, neither made a move to open the door. Perhaps it was still shock from what had just transpired the day before, perhaps it was fear that maybe Gryffindor did not have the answers, but whatever it was, they found themselves standing silently before the door.
Summoning his Gryffindor courage, Ron let out a small sigh as he grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. As he stepped into the room, he was struck by how quiet the room was. Immediately he noticed Gryffindor on the far side of the room, pacing back and forth as though lost in thought, apparently having not heard the door open. Gryffindor seemed lost in thought, stroking his beard with his hand as he appeared to be having a silent discussion with himself. Occasionally, he would make wildly animated movements with his hands, only to grab his hair in frustration.
Nearing Gryffindor, Ron and Hermione could both see that the apparition seemed to be quite worried. His hair, which was normally neat and well kept, was loose and frazzled, obviously from his continual pulling it. His robes were wrinkled and his face appeared to have an unnatural age to it — assuming someone more than a thousand years old could.
Could he know what’s happened? Hermione thought to herself. Her heart lifted for a moment, hoping that he may be able to give them the answers they needed.
Having finally noticed he was no longer alone, Gryffindor stopped his pacing and looked towards Ron and Hermione. Immediately, a look of concern spread across his face as they drew nearer and finally before him. No one spoke for a long moment, until Gryffindor could stand the silence no longer.
“Where’s Harry?” he asked firmly.
“He’s in the hospital ward,” Hermione began. “He’s unconscious, but Madam Pomfrey, the school healer, seems to think he’ll be fine eventually.”
“What happened?” Gryffindor finally asked quietly.
“We’re not sure,” Ron began, glancing towards Hermione and letting her know he would answer. “Harry was taking a walk in the local village by himself when we heard an explosion. A while later, Headmistress McGonagall Flooed us to say that Harry was here and hurt. We actually came down here to find out what you might know.” Ron’s voice did not waiver or break as he spoke. It remained calm yet firm, and Gryffindor could tell that the young man before him was not making a request as much as a statement.
“I imagine the city was destroyed,” Gryffindor offered somberly.
“It was,” Hermione responded with a small amount of shock in her voice. “How would you know that?”
“That’s how Daemon is,” Gryffindor replied while his eyes seemed to focus off in the distance, just beyond Ron and Hermione. “Whether he succeeded in killing Harry or not, the village was doomed the moment he arrived.”
“How did he escape?” Gryffindor continued.
“Fawkes,” Hermione began, but hesitated upon hearing Gryffindor gasp. She paused for a moment to see a look of surprise on his face before continuing, “Fawkes, a phoenix that was once Dumbledore’s and has helped Harry in the past, appeared and flashed him away before he could be killed.”
Gryffindor remained silent for a few moments, but a look of relief slowly spread across his face.
After a moment, curiosity finally got the better of Hermione. “So just why did you respond with surprise when I said Fawkes’s name?” she asked.
With a hint of happiness in his eyes, Gryffindor began, “Because I tried to summon Fawkes to me, so that I could send him to Harry. He never came, so I assumed the bond that we shared when I was alive no longer held and that Harry would have to face Daemon alone.”
Ron’s mouth hung open as his mind began to process what Gryffindor had just said. So much was implied, so much left unspoken, yet it was obvious exactly Hermione’s eyes began to dance as the wheels of her mind quickly began to spin and put the pieces in place.
“You know Fawkes?” she began with a hint of skepticism in her voice. Fawkes had been Dumbledore’s companion, and while Hermione was well aware of the immortality of phoenixes, the thought that Fawkes could have also been a companion of Gryffindor’s seemed almost unbelievable.
Before Gryffindor could answer that question though, Hermione fired off the more important question that had come to mind, “Better yet, though, just how did you know to send Fawkes?”
Gryffindor stood looking at Hermione and Ron for a moment. Finally he spoke, “Yes, I know Fawkes. He was my companion many years ago. And in regards to how I knew to send Fawkes, that’s because before Daemon came after Harry, he was here.”
“That c-c-creature that did this to Harry was here?” Ron asked incredulously, the pitch of his voice rising as he spoke.
Gryffindor simply nodded. “I’ve told you before, Ron, Daemon is a very powerful wizard, and has knowledge of magic long ago forgotten.”
“But how could he get here to Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, concern etched across her face. “And if he could, what’s to keep him from coming back?” A look of concern and panic began to emerge across her face as her mind began to make the connections of the real danger they were in.
Realizing where her thoughts would lead, Gryffindor held up his hand in what he hoped was a placating and reassuring manner before speaking. “He will be back,” Gryffindor began. As Hermione opened her mouth to speak, Gryffindor pressed on, “But the wards and magic protecting Hogwarts are very strong, so it’s not just as simple as him coming back whenever he wishes.”
A look of confusion began to spread across Hermione’s face as she continued to process what Gryffindor was telling her. “What do you mean?” she finally asked.
Motioning towards a nearby table with chairs Gryffindor began to move in that direction. “Please, take a seat, what we have to talk about will take a while, and what I’m going to be explaining will take time both for me to tell, and for you to understand,” he spoke as he gestured first for Hermione and then Ron to set in the chairs.
Neither said a word as they waited for Gryffindor to resume his story. With a small sigh, Gryffindor began, “As I said before, Daemon is a very powerful wizard and knows magic that has be forgotten for nearly a millennia. He got in Hogwarts using a potion that’s been lost to time which enables a wizard to temporarily separate himself from his body and become omnipresent with his magic. What that means is he is able to set aside the physical constraints of his body and let his magic flow freely throughout the whole of Britain and quite possibly beyond.”
“That would let him find anyone, anywhere,” Hermione added softly as Gryffindor noticed her eyes slowly filling with understanding as her mind made sense of what she was learning.
“Correct,” he replied. “And that’s what he was doing yesterday, searching for Harry, but during that search, he found something he didn’t expect — he found me. Another result of the potion he was using was that because he was no longer associated entirely with his body, his magical essence could bypass all the wards and protections around Hogwarts. He chose to do that, to come see me before going after Harry in order to gloat and rub my face in the fact that there’s nothing I can do myself to stop him.
Ron and Hermione were both silent for a moment, contemplating what had just been told to them. Finally, Ron shifted in his seat.
“So he was only able to get through Hogwarts’s wards and protections because of the potion,” Ron summarized before lowering his head and running his fingers through his hair.
Gryffindor nodded his affirmation as Hermione added, “And just how long does it take to prepare this potion?”
“Two months,” came Gryffindor’s reply. “It takes two full months to make the potion from scratch to finished product. Throughout that time, what I can only be described as a finicky potion must simmer without interruption.”
“So are there any other limitations that will keep Daemon out?” Hermione continued.
“None,” as a loud sigh escaped from Gryffindor. “Daemon only has to use a small amount of potion for it to be effective, but it only lasts for a couple of hours and doesn’t do anything to him magically that would require him time to recover.”
“Then if he had a cauldron full of the stuff, why hasn’t he come back?” Ron questioned. “It seems to me that he should suspect this is where Harry would come to after leaving Ottery.”
“You are right, Ron,” Gryffindor began, “Daemon most certainly knows that Harry is here. As I said, though, the potion is fickle. The simple act of extracting a vial’s worth to drink pollutes the rest of it and leaves it worthless.”
“So that means that Harry and we have one day shy of two months before Daemon returns to finish what he started,” Ron stated out loud even though he was talking more to himself than anyone else.
Gryffindor silently nodded his head in agreement.
“Bloody hell!” an exasperated Ron cried out as he waved his hands up in the air. “Just bleedin’ great!”
After Ron ranted and raved for a few moments, Gryffindor finally raised his hands signaling for him to be quiet for a moment.
“Yes Ron, time is short, but we must work with what we’ve been given. Truly you’ve been lucky that Daemon hasn’t come for Harry and you all before now. Two months is still a good amount of time to prepare for him, and you’ve overcome great difficulty in the past. Once Harry is back up and around, you’ll set your mind and get to work, and in the end, you’ll defeat Daemon and it’ll be over with,” he extolled firmly yet compassionately watching as Ron and Hermione both absorbed every word he as he spoke.
Slowly both began to nod their understanding.
“We know,” Ron began, the exasperation in his voice gone and replaced with a resigned yet resolute tone. “Bloke’s just gotta vent sometimes, ya know?”
Gryffindor smiled softly as he nodded at Ron.
***
Soft, warm sunlight filled the hospital ward as Madam Pomfrey quietly moved about. Ginny remained steadfastly at Harry’s bed. Sometime during the night, he had gone from being unconscious to merely a heavy slumber, which had greatly relieved Ginny, but he still had not awoken.
Whatever rest and sleep Harry was getting, however, was equaled if not surpassed by the worry and torment of Ginny. Even though during the course of the night Molly, Arthur and even Madam Pomfrey had come to her, imploring her to sleep and rest, she had resolutely refused to do so until Harry awoke. At some point early in the morning, just before the sun arose, Ginny finally succumb to her exhaustion and fallen into a fitful sleep.
How long she had actually slept, Ginny could not say. It was most likely a few hours at best, and had offered little in the way of rest or refreshment. After awakening for the third or fourth time from a nightmare about what Harry had gone through just the day before, she shook herself and climbed out of bed, intent on staying awake for the day, or at least until Harry awoke.
It had been with her sitting in a very uncomfortable straight backed wooden chair that Ron and Hermione had found her later in the morning. They had come trying to get her to go with them to see Gryffindor, but Ginny refused to leave Harry. She told them to go and learn what they could and hopefully Harry would be awake by the time they got back.
That conversation had taken place over two hours ago, and now even the chair was not working to keep Ginny’s exhaustion from getting to her. Actually, the only effect that the chair was having was to make her backside ache painfully each time she shifted in the chair.
Sighing in frustration Ginny stood and slowly began to stretch her tired muscles. Pausing for a moment to look at Harry once more, she noted that his breathing was relaxed and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
“Harry, it’s time to wake up,” she extolled softly while running her fingers through his hair. “You’ve slept long enough. Come on, luv, and wake up.”
Leaning forward, she placed a kiss softly against Harry’s forehead, but he still did no awaken. Still not time yet I suppose she thought to herself.
As she began to stretch once more, the door to the hospital ward opened to reveal Ron and Hermione returning. Casting a quick glance to Harry, Ginny stepped away from the bed for a moment and met the couple as they approached. Drawing nearer, Ginny could tell something was bothering Ron. His face was one of deep concentration and concern.
“Has there been any change?” Hermione asked as they finally reached Harry’s bedside.
Ginny ran her fingers through her hair and blew out a frustrated breath. “He looks loads better, but still seems intent on sleeping the day away,” she answered rather sharply as she turned her eyes once more towards Harry. “So what’d Gryffindor have to say?”
This time it was Ron’s turn to let out a frustrated breath. “Bloody bad’s what it was.”
“Ron!” Hermione snapped causing both Ron and Ginny to turn and look at her. Taking a deep breath Hermione began, “Well, Ron’s right to an extent. Gryffindor was aware that Harry was going to be attacked. Evidently, Daemon, the person who attacked Harry, came to Hogwarts before he went after Harry.”
A gasp from Ginny broke Hermione’s explanation but only long enough for the bushy haired woman to take a breath and begin again.
“It seems that Daemon can make a potion that enables him to bypass all the wards and protections of Hogwarts. He used it yesterday to speak with Gryffindor and then set off after Harry,” she continued.
Silence reigned in the room for a moment as Ginny contemplated what Hermione had just said. It was no wonder Ron did not like the conversation with Gryffindor. Ginny could not say that she was enjoying this conversation with Hermione very much either.
“So that means nowhere is safe then,” Ginny finally responded, “at least for Harry.”
“Well that is the lone bright spot from this whole situation,” Hermione began again. “It takes Daemon two months to make the potion and it’s such a finicky potion, that he can’t store up any extra. So he has to start from scratch for each use.”
“So then we have two months to be ready…” Ginny replied.
For a long moment, she stared out the window of the Hospital Ward. Neither Hermione nor Ron said anything to interrupt her introspection. Twice, Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again without making a sound. Hermione looked uneasily to Ron and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next.
The moment seemed to last an eternity until everyone involved was suddenly startled. A low moan filled the room as Ginny looked to Ron and Hermione while they in turn looked at her. Realizing the noise came from none of them, all three heads turned simultaneously towards Harry. Laying there, with his green eyes blearily shining back at them, was Harry, now awake and moaning softly as he tried to move.
While he was trying to sit up in his bed, Ginny quickly rushed to his side and firmly placed her hands on his chest and pinned him down to the bed.
“No, Harry,” she reprimanded him as he struggled to sit up. “Don’t try to move right now, just lie down and relax.” Ron and Hermione both could see the tension in her shoulders abate as she was dealing with Harry. “It’s good to see you awake, luv,” she added as an afterthought once she had gotten him to comply with her orders.
Ron and Hermione both then slowly approached Harry, finding his piercing green eyes staring back at them. “It’s good to see you awake, mate,” Ron added as Hermione stepped away to fetch Madam Pomfrey.
“It’s good to be awake,” Harry hoarsely replied as he turned his gaze once more back to Ginny. His eyes filled with unshed tears as the gravity of what had happened began to return to him.
For her part, Ginny’s eyes too were filled with tears as all of her fear, all of her stress ebbed from her body. She knew they had to still address what Ron and Hermione had revealed to her just a few minutes ago, but now, with Harry awake, she knew they stood a much better chance than with him asleep.
Time slowly passed as Harry and Ginny simply stared into each other’s eyes. They said nothing, but the tender caress of Ginny’s hand against Harry’s cheek and his arm spoke volumes. Finally, their moment was broken as Hermione returned with Madam Pomfrey in tow.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” the healer began, “So good to see you’re awake…”
***
Every muscle of Harry’s body ached. It felt as though a herd of Hippogriffs had decided to run him over sometime while he had slept. Wiping the sweat from his brown, he gritted his teeth and let out a ragged breath as he steadied his wand and aimed at the large boulder before him once more.
To say that Madam Pomfrey had been upset when Harry, her patient, had insisted on leaving the hospital wing later in the afternoon after he awoke would be an understatement. Whatever had motivated him to be so foolish with his well being eluded the healer, but not even her most sincere threats and dire predictions would sway his choice. What bothered her even more though, was the fact that not even Ginny had argued with Harry too greatly about him staying to rest. Of all of his friends and family, Madam Pomfrey assumed Ginny would be the most vocal about Harry taking care of himself, yet she had only looked deeply into his eyes and then nodded in agreement with his demands.
For his part, Harry did not awaken with the intent of leaving the hospital ward so quickly. Truth be told, he knew he needed the rest, and ultimately felt as though that was what he should be doing. When Ginny, Ron and Hermione had filled him in on exactly what happened, though, Harry realized the dire nature of the situation that they all found themselves in.
Although still somewhat hazy, he had enough recollection of the events in Ottery St. Catchpole to tell him that this was no time to rest, at least not while his body was still able to draw a breath. It had been with a two month deadline hanging over him that Harry had forced himself, against the agonizing protests of his body, to get out of the bed and leave the hospital ward. Rest be damned for the moment, he could rest after Daemon was defeated. If not, then he would be dead and could rest anyways, but now, unfortunately was not the time.
Now though, with his muscles, bones and every other part of his body screaming at him in agony, Harry began to seriously question the sanity of his decision. Sweat once more beaded to his forehead as he focused all of his attention to the rock. Closing his eyes for a moment and willing all of the magic within him to focus in his wand, Harry opened his eyes and an instant later released the bludgeoning curse towards the rock.
The ground shook from the force of the spell impacting the boulder, which by now had been reduced to a pile of stone. As tiny bits of rock began to fall to the ground and pelt the foursome, Harry dropped to his knees, letting his wand fall from his hand, panting. After a quick moment, Harry tried to stand once more, only to teeter to his left and fall once more into a heap on his knees.
Ginny quickly rushed over to him, dropping to her knees and taking his face in her hands. His panting had slowed, but looking into his eyes, she could see the exhaustion.
“Harry,” she began softly yet firmly, “You’ve really got to rest.” As he began to open his mouth to protest, she placed one of her fingers against his lips and said, “Quiet, Potter. You will listen to me.”
The firmness in her voice convinced Harry that now was not the time to argue with Ginny. Deep down he knew his body could take no more for the day, but with such a short time before him to prepare, Harry felt the obligation to prepare every day until he collapsed from utter exhaustion. The fact that he was only on his knees and not completely face down in the grass struggling to simply lift his head up told him he still had something to give.
“You just got out of the hospital…” Ginny finally continued once she saw and accepted that Harry would not try to interrupt her again. “…and against healer’s orders, I might add. So you need to take it easy for a bit and not overdo it to the point that you force yourself back into the hospital ward again.” Ginny emphasized her final words as she tightened her grip on his face, forcing him to stare at her as she spoke each word with unmistakable clarity.
As he listened to her words, Harry could see in Ginny’s eyes her very soul imploring him to listen to her. With her words resonating through his head, Harry began to notice just how much of an effect the stress was having on Ginny. Of course when he had first awoken, Ginny looked horrible. A day with little to no restful sleep, constant worry and uncertainty would do that to any person. Looking at the Ginny before him though, Harry began to recognize a much older and battle hardened woman staring back at him.
Her strain was evident in how firmly she held her lips while waiting for him to answer. The glare of her eyes left no mistake that she was in no mood to be argued with. The slight flaring of her nostrils with each breath told him of her struggle to maintain her temper or her composure, or maybe even both. The fact that each breath she took was accentuated with a long pause before she exhaled quite rapidly told him it was a battle that she was struggling not to lose.
Reluctantly, but also truthfully, Harry shook his head and silently agreed with Ginny. No matter how much he may have wanted to argue against her, Harry knew every word she had said was the truth. More importantly though, Harry knew that every word she had spoken was in love and concern for him.
An instant later, Harry saw Ginny beginning the motions of the all to familiar swish and flick. Holding his hand up and motioning for her to stop Harry began to speak.
“No levitating charms,” he said roughly. “Please…” he added softly as he saw the anger flare in Ginny’s eyes. “I know I’ve done too much, but just give me a second, and let me walk… I’m not an invalid.”
Ginny looked at Harry for a moment, the anger in her eyes slowly melting away to reveal compassion. It was soon replaced once more with her stern look as she nodded at him.
With much effort, eventually requiring Ron to come over and add his strength to the considerable effort, Harry was able to stand once more — albeit on rather wobbly and unsteady legs. Looking over where a pile of boulders had once stood, there was now only gravel and spare bits of stone. Nothing larger than a football could be found.
Harry smiled to himself at both his power and progress. He had spent the afternoon practicing a new spell he had learned that would give any shield a run for its money. The pile of rubble before him gave testament to the fact that Harry too could fight back and make buildings explode if need be during the upcoming battle. Although he despised the thought of an innocent person being hurt with him casting such a spell, Harry could not cast aside and forsake such a useful spell.
Draping his arm around Ron’s neck for support, an exhausted Harry and the rest began their trek back towards the castle. What had already been a long day was soon to grow even longer. Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he let Ron guide them on their journey back towards the castle. Soon, Harry’s legs were simply marching in rhythm to the soft pounding of Ron’s feet as he became lost in all that had happened and all that he knew occurred once he left.
Although his mind fought valiantly to find some other way to have his questions answered, he could come up with no reasonable and workable ideas. Harry had specifically avoided seeing Gryffindor when he first left the Hospital Ward, but now there was no avoiding it. Harry had to speak to Gryffindor. Everything that had been told to Ron and Hermione seemed to be only the tip of the iceberg as Harry pondered what they had told him.
“Slowly, Ron…” Ginny instructed as the group carefully negotiated the hallways of the castle, making their way back towards Gryffindor’s library at a snail’s pace.
Unfortunately for Ron, Harry was no longer the small skinny kid he had been when they first met. Harry was not as tall as Ron and was still slender in his own right, but his teens had seen Harry gain some muscle. The result was a very tedious trip down to Gryffindor’s library and a very tired Ron.
Realizing his friend was near exhaustion, Harry extracted himself from Ron’s grip and leaned heavily against the doorway for just a moment. Taking a deep breath, Harry quickly made his way over to a nearby chair and fell heavily onto it. Leaning against the back, Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and soon was joined by Ginny, Ron and Hermione.
Gryffindor, who had been on the far side of the room when they entered, quickly made his way over to them. As he approached, Harry opened his eyes and looked straight at him. Gryffindor paused for a moment as the two men stared intently at one another.
Deciding to cut to the chase, Harry cleared his throat, “We’ve got two months. How in the hell am I supposed to be ready for Daemon in two months?”
Gryffindor said nothing for a moment. He looked at the young men and women setting before him and saw they all had the same question in their eyes. For his part, Gryffindor had spent the time since Daemon left pondering that very question.
Over and over in his mind, Gryffindor repeated to himself all the reasons why he felt Harry to be the chosen one and why Harry would succeed. Harry is powerful. He is a clever and very capable wizard. His friends are loyal to a fault and will stand by him no matter what may happen.
“The preparations you have already made are the first step,” Gryffindor began, “but now we must take you to a place in magic that few others have ever been. You’ve already learned a great deal of magic that has been lost for centuries, but there have still been some things I’ve held back from you. I had hoped to prepare you and have time to teach you enough to avoid these spells, but now that’s not possible.”
“What magic? What spells?” Harry questioned, his interest solely directed to Gryffindor.
“A book — the one where we recorded the spell to bind Daemon until the chosen one arrived and was ready. It’s not in this library. It’s hidden somewhere that only someone with specific knowledge of the book can find it.”
“And where is that?” Hermione asked.
“The come and go room,” Gryffindor answered. “Open the room as normal, but when you step in, you must declare to the room that you want the book. “
Hermione nodded and looked to the others. Seeing their consent she stood and left, going to retrieve the book. As the door closed behind her, Harry turned once more towards Gryffindor.
“So just why didn’t you show me this book when we first started?” Harry questioned, his voice revealing an edge of annoyance and bitterness towards Gryffindor.
Sighing, Gryffindor looked Harry directly in the eyes, “Because, Harry, even though your heart is good and you strive to do right, the spells in that book existed for only one reason… evil. They are cruel and brutally effective. Some are for killing, but others… well, perhaps they can best be described as the things a wise man realizes and understands which are far worse than death.”
Gryffindor began to pace back and forth as he became silent. Harry sat staring at the table before him, idly tracing his finger along one of the boards. Stopping the motion of his hand, Harry turned to look at Gryffindor.
“Then why even have the book?” he asked genuinely intrigued. “If it’s a book so evil and corrupt, why even write down the knowledge? Why couldn’t the knowledge be stored with you and then taught to me if ever needed?”
Gryffindor considered Harry’s questions in earnest before replying, “Simple Harry... It was knowledge that I did not want to possess. After we overcame Daemon and imprisoned him so many years ago, we all took an oath of secrecy about the spell we used, and the other spells we researched just in case. As time passed, though, we all realized that the knowledge we carried became more of a burden than a tool. So we decided that our best course of action would be to put the information in a book and store it in such a way that only the Chosen One could ever retrieve it. After that, we altered our memories so that we could not remember the spell exactly. What I have now are just recollections that the spell exists, but I cannot teach you the spell myself because I don’t know it.”
Harry let out a frustrated growl as he pounded his fist against the table. Things had certainly not gone well for the past couple of days. First, had it not been for Fawkes, he would have died. Then, when he had woken up, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had told him that they only had two months before Daemon would come back after him. Now, Gryffindor was telling him that he would have to use spells that even Gryffindor himself had not felt safe keeping the knowledge of.
Standing, Harry stepped away from everyone else and began to pace. He had to admit things looked bad, but then again, bad was nothing new to Harry. He continued to pace until the door opened once more and Hermione walked into the room. Inclining her head slightly when Harry looked at her, he began to walk over towards her.
At roughly the same time, they met at the table and she lay the book down before them. As she reached to open the book, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Looking to Ginny and his best friends, Harry knew they would never let him be the only one to read the book, but he had to make the offer.
“You lot have already heard what Gryffindor said…” Harry began before abruptly being silenced by Ginny stepping in front of him and bumping him out of the way.
“And you already know how we feel, Potter…” Ginny responded as she opened the book before them all. “We’re going to be beside you until this is finished and then well after. You’re stuck with us.”
Seeing Ginny’s determination gave Harry the first hope he had felt in a while.
“Well, there’s certainly worse things I could be faced with,” he said a slight grin caught at the corner of his mouth.
“Quite right!” Ron agreed boisterously as he stood up and walked around the table so that he could see the book. “I mean, look at us… we’re stuck with you,” Ron added as he chanced a quick glance over to both Harry and Ginny with a broad grin spread across his face.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Harry laughed out loud. For a brief moment, the room relaxed and everyone seemed to have a weight lifted off their shoulders. All too soon though, the laughter abated and they were once more staring at the book before them.
Looking at everyone around him, Harry took a deep breath and spoke firmly, “Well, here we go… let’s hope this has what we need.”
Chapter 26: Chapter 26: Snap, Crackle, Pop?
Author's Notes: Here's the next chapter. I hope everyone enjoys it. Whether you do or not, please feel free to leave your comments and reviews. Again, many thanks to my wonderful Beta, Ginny Guerra. Please note that ALL spell names not from Canon are her creation as I am horrible with Latin and anything that remotely resembles Latin.
When the hell did Hogwarts get church bells? Ron thought to himself for a moment as his mind waivered in the fog of uncertainty. Gradually, the ringing in his ears grew louder, finally to the point that he clumsily clasped his hands over his ears with no effect.
Small bits of dirt and grass were still falling around him as Ron unsteadily attempted to get to his feet. Shaking his head, trying to get the ringing in his ears to stop, Ron first stumbled to the left and then back to his right.
The scene would have been quite funny for a casual observer, were it not for the fact that to either side of where Ron was standing was utter destruction. Gashed deeply into the ground were two similar appearing trenches, each nearly four feet deep, and extending a good fifteen feet back behind the red-head.
In fact, where Ron was standing itself should have been part of the destruction, but fortunately Ginny’s shield had held, although Ron had obviously not been left without any injury. As Hermione reached Ron, her eyes grew wide as she put her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, Ron!” she cried as she dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes focused intently on his leg.
“Wha-?” Ron asked still obviously dazed and confused.
“How did you stand on that leg?” Hermione continued, looking down towards Ron’s left leg.
The fact that he had been able to stand was amazing, taking into account that, as Hermione currently surveyed his leg, it was bent off at an unnatural angle about midway down his lower leg. His jeans were shredded and a small amount of blood trickled down towards his ankle.
Carefully pulling away the tattered remains of the jeans over his leg, Hermione inspected it, looking for any protruding bone. She breathed a sigh of relief as all she could find was an abrasion. Looking to Ron, she realized he was still concussed from the force of the spell and its impact onto the shield, and that he was probably in shock as well.
Feeling for a pulse in his foot, she again relaxed as she felt the strong rush of blood through the artery, signaling that the bone was probably the worst thing injured in his leg. Looking up to Ron, she saw the glazed look in his eyes as he tried to process what was going on. Currently, he was looking at his own leg, wrenched around at an unnatural angle, and seemed to be amused at its funny appearance.
“Ron,” Hermione began, forcing composure into her voice. “Your leg’s broken. I need to straighten it and get it in a splint before we take you to Madam Pomfrey, Ok?”
Ron just looked at her for a moment, his mind still not grasping what she was telling him. “Wha-?” he began again just as both Harry and Ginny finally got to them.
“Ron! Your leg!” Ginny exclaimed as both she and Harry gathered around Ron.
“Hiya, mate…” Ron spoke as he noticed Harry kneeling beside him. “Got me good with that one.”
For a moment, Harry looked at Hermione in confusion. “He’s in shock, and probably got a pretty good concussion too,” she explained. “He’s a bit loopy right now, but I’m afraid he’ll come around when I set the leg.”
“At least he doesn’t seem to be hurting,” Harry added hopefully.
“Yeah, but that’ll end when I straighten his leg,” Hermione responded. “I’m almost certain of it. There’s no way to do this without hurting,” she continued as she looked up to Ron, so that he knew she was addressing him.
Gritting her jaw, Hermione placed one hand on Ron’s leg above the break and another below it. She took a deep breath to ready herself. “On three,” she spoke out loud as she readied to bend the leg back.
“Wait,” Harry said as he reached his hand out and put it on Hermione’s forearm. “Let me do it. You help comfort and hold Ron. He’s likely to kick or worse when his leg starts to be straightened. I’ll be better able to hold him and deal with the problems down here. He’ll need you to help comfort him when the pain starts.”
Gratefully, Hermione looked at Harry. Her hand fell away from Ron’s leg as she nodded to Harry and then took up place beside Ron’s head as she began to comb her fingers through Ron’s hair.
“Feels good,” Ron spoke softly as the euphoria seemed to begin waning and was replaced with exhaustion.
“This is going to hurt,” Hermione whispered softly into his ear as she looked down to Harry and nodded.
“Alright then,” Harry began, “On three.”
As Harry prepared to set the bone, both Hermione and Ginny took one of Ron’s hands in their own. Harry placed his hands in the same position Hermione had just a few moments before.
“One…” he said softly as he tightened his grip around Ron’s leg.
“Two..” he spoke more firmly as he began to tense the muscles in his arms and chest in anticipation of the resistance he would meet as the pain hit Ron, and he would begin to fight against Harry.
“Three…” he barked loudly as in one quick motion Harry used his left hand to stabilize Ron’s leg above the break, while he wrenched the leg below the break back into some semblance of alignment. As he had expected, Ron’s body began to react to the pain by tensing his muscles and kicking out with his leg, but Harry’s grip was firm and his motion quick enough that he had the leg straightened before Ron could react and all he had to do was hold it straight.
Ron immediately cried out as his confusion and altered state quickly evaporated under the intensity of the pain. He squeezed both Hermione and Ginny’s hands so tightly that both girls thought he was going to crush them. Although it only took Harry a couple seconds at most to straighten his leg, Ron continued to cry out for a few moments as his whole leg screamed at him in revolt. Slowly, though, the acute sharp pain began to abate, and he was left with a monumental dull ache that seemed to increase a hundred fold with every beat of his heart.
Ron clenched his teeth and his cries faded to a low moan as he released Ginny and Hermione’s hands, and raised his own hands up to his face. Hermione kept her attention focused on Ron as Ginny quickly moved down to beside Harry and conjured a splint and bandages to stabilize Ron’s leg until they could get him to the castle.
“Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” Harry said as Ginny finished with the splint.
“S’ok,” Ron quickly exhaled as he took another shuddering deep breath, trying to control and force down the pain that was soaring through his leg. “Just a broken leg, ya know?”
Harry smiled softly at Ron and Hermione as he stood. Raising his wand, Harry conjured a stretcher and then levitated Ron onto it, before finally levitating the stretcher and preparing for the march to the castle.
As they made their way up to the castle, Ginny fell in step beside Harry while Hermione stayed beside Ron.
“What spell was that?” Ginny asked softly enough so that Hermione would not overhear their conversation.
“It’s one of the spells Daemon was using against me,” Harry responded softly as he looked to Ginny and not paying attention to where he was leading Ron. “It was in the book that Gryffindor gave us. It supposedly is able to destroy entire buildings at a time, and its effect is dependent upon how much power you put into it.”
Ginny’s eyes widened for a moment, “Harry,” she began finally. “Do you realize what you could have done? You put entirely too much power into a spell like that for your first time!”
“Gin, that’s the problem,” Harry retorted, cutting her off before she could continue. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I put the least amount of magic into that spell that I could. I’m just glad that your shield held as well as it did.”
Ginny nodded her head silently in agreement. “But what if it hadn’t, Harry?” she asked. “How were we to know that it would withstand a spell like that?”
Harry was thoughtful for a moment. “Gryffindor told me that that shield is among the strongest we can cast. He said that it should work to defend against almost any of the spells in that book if I cast them at a low level.”
Again, Harry fell silent as they continued their trek up to the castle. “I think the reason Ron came out so much the worse for wear is that the spell hit the ground in front of him, and dug under him. What happened wasn’t the spell hitting him, but the effects of the spell on the area around him.”
Ginny remained silent as Harry continued with his thought. “If nothing else, then I know now that I don’t have to be precise with that spell. In fact, it might be better to intentionally miss with it.”
Ginny nodded her understanding as Harry let out a long sigh.
“Madam Pomfrey isn’t going to be happy when she sees us,” he began.
Ginny snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by coughing as Hermione turned to see what was going on. “What would give you that idea, Harry?” she asked with the sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Could it be that this will be the second time today we’ve come to see her, or that it is the seventh time this week that one of us has had to come visit her?”
Harry smirked for a moment before softly replying, “Both, but what’ll put her over the edge is that it’s just Wednesday.”
Ginny snorted again and this time Hermione turned around to see her fighting back her laughter. “Just what’s so funny?” the bushy haired young woman asked.
Taking a moment to collect herself, Ginny then replied, “Harry was just pointing out that Madam Pomfrey will not be happy with us.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed for a moment before Ron began to chuckle himself. “Yeah, you can say that twice and still not know the half of it. She nearly had a fit when it was my arm for the second time yesterday. At least today, it’s not the arm again.”
“True,” Harry added before a smirk slowly spread across his face. “And look at the bright side… even though one is broken, at least you still have a leg to stand on when dealing with her.”
***
Ron walked tentatively on his recently healed leg as the foursome made their way away from the hospital ward. Madam Pomfrey had been livid when they had first arrived, and her frustration clearly showed as she was dealing with Ron. It was not so much the fact that he had a broken leg, that was simple enough to fix, it was the additive effects of her having to treat one or more of the foursome multiple times each day because of various injuries they were suffering during their training.
Broken bones, bruises and cuts had been the worst of it so far. That was itself a testament to the strength of the shields they had mastered, but Madam Pomfrey’s concerns were valid. The spells they were now using, Harry especially, affected a large area. They were indifferent to who was nearby and anyone that was not shielded would certainly suffer greatly.
Quickly, the foursome made their way back down to the area they had been training at earlier in the day. Looking around, the area looked like a battlefield with numerous piles of rubble from boulders that had been demolished and deep gashes in the ground from other spells’ impacts.
Looking to his friend, Harry sighed before speaking, “Ron, maybe it’s best if you take it easy for the rest of the day. I’d hate for you to have to go see Madam Pomfrey again.”
“You mean you don’t want to have to go there again yourself… especially if it’s taking me for another broken bone,” Ron replied sarcastically yet insightfully.
Harry grinned a moment before shaking his head in agreement. “Yeah, that too,” he added.
While Madam Pomfrey may not have been as gentle with Ron’s leg as she normally would have, the fact that he was injured did at least spare him her full wrath. Harry, on the other hand, had bore the full brunt of her glares, rants and raves.
Numerous times Harry had been the recipient of a very firm tongue lashing from the healer while she was busy tending to Ron. Every time she had seemed to run out of steam and finally stopped, she would find some other injury and get started right back up.
By the time it was over, and Ron’s leg was almost good as new, Harry was all too happy to make his way out of the hospital ward, lest Madam Pomfrey start in on him again. Much to Harry’s consternation during the whole time as well, Ginny and Hermione had just stood by Ron, frequently covering smirks and holding in laughter as the healer seemed to focus entirely upon Harry for Ron’s problems.
Ron was now taking himself a rather comfortable looking seat in the shade of a nearby tree. Lazily, he extended his legs and folded his arms behind his head. Looking at Harry with a broad grin, he closed his eyes and began to doze. Harry’s lip twitched with annoyance for a moment at the fact that his best mate was so ready to take advantage of Harry’s own reluctance to face Madam Pomfrey again for a while.
Having seen Harry’s response, Ginny called over to him, “Harry, quit being grumpy. You know just as well as I do that if it were you, you’d be doing the exact same thing!”
Harry did his best to glare at her, but a small grin broke out across his face. Mumbling under his breath something about redheads, he began to walk towards Ginny realizing that she knew him too well for his own god sometimes.
Stopping to look at Ginny and Hermione, Harry began again, “Actually, there’s a spell I’d like to practice and see if I can get the hang of.”
For a moment, both Ginny and Hermione looked cautiously at Harry. “Hopefully, nothing like the one you tried on Ron earlier,” Ginny finally said, although she already knew that Harry would never try anything like that with Hermione or herself.
Harry looked surprised at Ginny’s statement for a second before he was able to blurt out, “Uh… No! Nothing like that.”
Ginny and Hermione looked to one another and then back to Harry. In unison they agreed, at least appreciating that if it was Harry wanting to try a new spell, he would be the one most likely getting dirty and sweaty and maybe they could stay relatively clean.
“Ok…” Harry began as he led them a few more paces away from Ron who was still lazing merrily under the shade of the tree. “This spell is what I would call a spell of last resort on the battlefield.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione questioned.
“Simple, according to the notes Gryffindor attached to the spell, once it’s cast, only the caster will be left able to defend himself and anyone that took part in it.”
A look of concern spread across both Ginny and Hermione’s faces as they considered what Harry had said. What they knew of Daemon meant that a spell like this was most likely not a very good choice be using at any time during the battle.
“And just what does this spell do?” Ginny finally asked.
Harry walked slowly towards both Ginny and Hermione. He made certain to look them both in the eyes as he began to speak again, “It enables the caster to draw upon the magic of a willing witch or wizard to boost his own power. From what I can tell, it was used before Gryffindor’s time when wizards were injured in battle and unable to fight, they would willingly allow those still fighting to use their magical energy.”
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. “You said that it leaves the person giving the magic defenseless. I’m assuming that means it stays in effect until the person is drained of their magic.”
Harry nodded his head. “Best I can tell, the spell will continue draining power until the person is magically exhausted. They’ll lose consciousness and then it’ll be a while before they can do anything magical again.”
Ginny looked at Harry for a moment, a thought forming in her head before she spoke, “You said that it’s a spell where the person must willingly give their magic. Is there one where it can be forcibly taken?”
“Not that I can tell,” Harry responded. “The spell itself was not very well known. The knowledge of the spell had almost died out even before Gryffindor’s time, but he and the other founders had the same fears you just mentioned. So they chose to put the spell in the book so there wouldn’t be the chance for someone to figure out how to change the spell so that it would.”
Hermione and Ginny were both quiet for a while. “But is it a good idea to cast the spell on us right now?” Hermione finally asked. “I mean if it drains our magic, it’ll be days before we can train again.”
“I know,” Harry replied, “but what I had in mind was practicing my part of the spell and teaching you how to initiate the link to allow me to use your magic.”
Both witches looked thoughtful for a moment before slowly nodding their head in unison. “I suppose it may wind up being useful. After what we’ve learned of Daemon, it may very well take the combined magic of more than just one to do it,” Hermione concluded.
“Alright then,” Harry began solemnly. “The spell is relatively straightforward. There are no complicated wand movements, just a simple twist and then a jab. What’s important is the annunciation of the spell…”
Ginny looked on watching Harry talking primarily to himself and secondarily to Hermione, who throughout everything they had been through had not lost her passion for learning. It was easy for Ginny to let her mind wander during these times because once Harry and Hermione started, they would be busy for the next few minutes as Hermione asked question after question. While it was not that she felt the questions were pointless, there is only so much one could take along those lines. More and more, as the time drew nearer where Daemon would return, Ginny found herself beginning to decidedly favor decisive action, and that required practice, not discussion.
“Ginny,” Harry called over to her, breaking her from her train of thought.
She smiled at him and saw a look of understanding in his eyes. Harry knew she paid attention when she needed to. He returned her smile as she once more gave him her full attention.
Harry’s face became stern with concentration. “Ok,” he started, “the spell name is Capio dicionis. Once I start the spell, I should be covered with a light blue aura. All that it takes after that is for you and Hermione to say Decedo dicionis, and a connection should be established.”
Ginny nodded her head in understanding before another thought crossed her mind. “And just what happens if no one willingly provides their magic?” She knew this was an important question, as they were just about to have Harry cast the spell without either Hermione or her completing the spell.
“The spell lasts for a few seconds before it just fades away,” Harry responded. “The spell is maintained by the magic of those helping, not the caster, so if no one helps, the spell will falter and extinguish.”
Satisfied, Ginny gave Harry a brief smile and she walked over beside Hermione, and together the witches walked a few paces clear of Harry. They looked expectantly to Harry as they watched him pause for a couple moments and gather himself.
Harry’s face became full of concentration as he began to attempt the spell. While overall appearing relatively simple to perform, Harry quickly realized the spell was in fact quite difficult. After multiple attempts, he decided to stop for a moment and refocus.
Pacing around in a circle, Harry tried to let his mind relax. As he had tried the spell again and again, he could feel his body becoming more and more tense. He knew such tension was not conducive to accomplishing new spells, especially very difficult ones. Finally, he closed his eyes and drew in a long deep breath. Slowly he felt his chest expand until he could take in no more air, and after holding it for a second, began to even more slowly release it. Counting backwards from twenty as he did so, Harry felt his body slowly begin to relax a bit.
As he exhaled the last of the breath, Harry opened his eyes. While not entirely relaxed, Harry felt better than he had. Bending his head from one side to the next, stretching his neck, Harry felt ready for another go at the spell. He looked over to Ginny and Hermione who had been silently waiting for him as collected himself.
Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly one last time, Harry began to call forth his magic. Slowly he let it build as he began the wand motion. A moment later, he softly spoke, “Capio dicionis.” Instantly he knew it had worked. From the tip of his wand a blue mist began to disperse. Instead of traveling away from him, though, the mist quickly enveloped his body, and soon a soft blue glow emanated from around him.
As the mist had settled around him, Harry’s senses became acutely aware. The magical energy of both Ginny and Hermione, who stood only feet from him was easy to sense, but Ron’s, who was setting some twenty yards away, was also detectable. For a moment, Harry stood silently, taking in the sensation of magic around him, enjoying his heightened awareness. Not only did the spell enhance his sense of magic in others, but he could now feel his own magic coursing through his body with every beat of his heart.
The feeling was almost intoxicating. Being so acutely aware of his magic, Harry felt almost unstoppable, but a small voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him, You’re no different than you were just a few moments ago. Now it’s only that you can feel the full extent of your magic.
Much too quickly for Harry’s liking, the aura began to fade, and along with it, the sensations abated. Harry let out a sigh of displeasure as he began to feel normal again, but quickly his mind told him, It’s best this way, Potter. Getting attached to feelings like that is never good. That’s where the true danger in this spell lies.
While Harry had been having this conversation in his mind, Ginny and Hermione had been looking on with shock. Ginny had recognized the look of wonder and amazement in Harry’s eyes that had first accompanied his successfully casting the spell. She had also noticed how his face had changed to one of pleasure and enjoyment as the spell had lingered.
The way he had looked around, to Hermione and her first, then towards Ron, and finally to their surroundings in general, Ginny surmised that Harry was sensing magic at its most basic level. The look of disappointment on his face as the spell had faded only confirmed her suspicion. Walking over to him, she said nothing, but their eyes met.
“Amazing,” came his response to her unvoiced question. “I could feel you, Hermione and even Ron,” he continued as the near intoxicating effects of the spell finally began to fade away. “It’s an amazing feeling, but I can see why this spell is so dangerous. Even without being able to call upon the magic of an unwilling wizard, the way I felt was near euphoric. Were I to have had you and Hermione’s power surging into me, I know I would have felt indestructible.”
Hermione frowned at Harry’s statement as she approached. “Then it’s utterly important that you learn to control the euphoric effects of the spell,” Hermione began, “because even with added power, feeling like you were indestructible would only lead to you rushing headlong into a situation where Daemon would still have an advantage.”
“I know,” Harry replied sincerely, “but that was why I needed to practice this spell aside from the obvious fact that I couldn’t get it to work straight away. Now I know what to expect, and I can prepare my mind, should we have to resort to using it.”
“Good,” Ginny finally chimed in as she took another step towards Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But let’s hope it never comes to that,” she whispered softly as she nuzzled her head softly against his shoulder. “For now, I think that’s enough practice.”
Harry smiled softly. He completely agreed with Ginny. No matter how intoxicating that spell could be, he was now under the charm of the one thing he truly could not resist. Ginny was currently fulfilling his one true addiction — her touch. “Too right,” Harry was finally able to get out as he took in the sweet aroma of her hair.
***
A cauldron sat empty on a solitary wooden table in the deepest part of the ancient stone castle. The door to the room stood open, waiting patiently for the recent occupant to return. Silence reigned for a few moments until footsteps could be heard echoing from the distance down the corridor. With each step, the sound grew louder until at last Daemon appeared in the doorway.
He paused for a moment, looking at the cauldron before him. Beside the cauldron, on the table, were all the ingredients he needed for the potion, save the final one, which he currently held in his hand. Stepping into the room, he placed it on the table alongside the rest as he walked around and stood over the cauldron.
A malicious grin slowly spread across his face as he took hold a large flask filled with a deep red liquid. Deliberately he poured it into the cauldron. It had come at a great cost to get this ingredient. Not every day was one capable of taking the blood of an unwilling dragon. Even utilizing his tremendous power, Daemon had to admit his muscles still ached from his battle with the great beast.
As the final drops of blood fell from the flask into the cauldron, Daemon raised his wand and lit a black flame underneath the cauldron. With the blood beginning to heat, he began to slowly stir the blood in a clockwise manner. Once, twice, three times he stirred, until a small vortex began to form. Cautiously he withdrew his wand and watched as the vortex continued without further guidance.
Daemon next seized hold of a small piece of mistletoe. He pulled five leaves from the larger piece and laid them atop one another on the table. Quickly but carefully, he sliced the leaves into thin sections until he had a pile of finely cut pieces. Laying his knife flat against the pile, he smashed his fist with a firm downward motion against it, crushing the leaves. As he withdrew the knife, he saw the mashed pulp of the leaves as well as the now dripping liquid contents.
Pausing for a moment to ensure the vortex was still occurring correctly in the cauldron, Daemon used the knife once more as a scoop, raking up the mashed leaf pieces and slowly pushed them into the cauldron. For a few seconds, nothing happened, until finally a puff of smoke belched from the cauldron. Daemon turned away for a moment, to let the foul gas clear so that it would not burn his eyes. When he looked back, Daemon nodded to himself with satisfaction as he noticed the rotation of the vortex had reversed.
It’s only a matter of time… he thought to himself … before I complete this potion again and will come for you. This time though, there won’t be a chance of the damned phoenix coming to your rescue. There won’t be a chance of anyone coming to your rescue.
Daemon had destroyed the pitiful village he had first confronted the Chosen One in as a result of Fawkes’s interference in his plans. To say that he had been shocked and severely put off that he had not been able to eliminate the prophecy was an understatement that the tattered ruins of Ottery St. Catchpole was testament to.
Even after the Chosen One had disappeared, Daemon tried to utilize the power the potion would grant him, to no avail. He had been unable to once more visualize everything at once and then focus on specific magic as he homed in to its source. Where Gryffindor and the Chosen One had been so easy to find before, Daemon now found himself unable to focus in on either of their energies. In fact, the castle he had confronted Gryffindor in, for all of its magical power could not be found.
It was when he had realized that the time of the potion had passed that Daemon understood the truth. The boy had been able to stay alive, but barely. Without the aid of a phoenix, he would have died that day. Now, for whatever it mattered, the boy had a less than two month reprieve until Daemon came for him again.
Maniacal laughter filled the room as Daemon stood staring at the cauldron for a few more minutes. There was nothing else for him to do at the moment. The mistletoe and dragon’s blood had to simmer for two complete days before it would be time to add the next ingredient, and even then he could only add it after sunrise on the third day.
It’s been far too long for my plan to be completed, now it’s just six more weeks Daemon thought to himself as he strode around the table heading towards the door. As he left the room this time, Daemon pulled the door closed and cast a locking charm up it. He would check on his potion in three days time, but for now, he had a whole population of Muggles to take care of that insisted upon continuing to exist.
That minor nuisance will readily be remedied! he thought to himself as he began walking back down the corridor, stopping at the end. With a loud, CRACK Daemon disappeared.
Chapter 27: Chapter 27: The Order of Things
Author's Notes: Sorry ladies and gents for not posting sooner, although SIYE and my computer seem to be having issues. Namely when booting in Vista and trying to access the site with either IE7 or Firefox, the site is supposedly 'unavailable' while I can access it via Mac Leopard using Safari. Needless to say, I've had to deal with the annoyance of converting my Word files to Text files, and then correcting all the punctuation errors so that I can then post via Safari. With that said, I hope you enjoy the chapter, I imagine some of you will not like Gryffindor very much after this chapter, but I feel he forces Harry, and the others to at least think about some very important issues. As always, I greatly appreciate the reviews and comments.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood in shock as they listened through the door leading to Gryffindor's library. Minutes before, Harry had gone in there to see Gryffindor - who had wanted to speak with Harry alone. Now, they stood with their ears straining to hear the heated words that were coming from Harry.
For the first few minutes, everything had been fine. While Hermione, Ron and Ginny had mulled about, just passing the time, expecting Harry to be out in a few minutes, they did not hear anything out of the ordinary. That had all changed just a few moments ago. First they heard Harry shouting in a rather loud voice over and over.
While the words were not clear, Ginny was almost certain that she had heard the words, "No," and "I won't do that," come from Harry. Now, as all three strained to hear, Ginny desperately wished that she had an Extendable Ear with her. Again and again, they heard Harry's voice raise in anger only to remain silent for a few moments, probably whenever Gryffindor was talking to him.
Whatever Gryffindor could be saying, Ginny knew that, for Harry to be yelling, it had to be quite upsetting. As her mind raced, she tried to guess what their conversation could be about, but there was nothing she could imagine any worse than what they already knew.
Time had grown painfully short for them. In fact, there was only a little more than a month left before Daemon would most likely have his potion prepared. That had put everyone on edge and made them all quite jumpy. Numerous times, Harry had snapped at Ron, only for Ron to turn and snap at Ginny, who then in turn would take out her frustrations on Hermione, only to have it all cycle back to Harry.
Again, Harry's voice raised to an alarming level as the door leading to the library began to shake. Ginny looked at Ron with concern. Harry had rarely lost control of his emotions to the point that he caused things like that to happen. What Ginny saw in Ron's eyes did not help her feel relaxed either.
Normally, she could count on Ron to be a rock when it came to Harry. His eyes were always calm and calculating. As she looked at him now, though, she saw the same fear and concern she knew to be in her eyes.
Finally, they heard Harry scream, "ENOUGH!"
A moment later, the door to the library flew open, slamming hard against the wall, nearly flying loose from its hinges. Harry appeared from the room, his eyes full of fury, his jaw firmly set and his fists tightly clinched by his sides.
Instantly, everyone knew it was not a time to talk to Harry. They all fell in silent step behind him as he made his way away from the library.
As he marched, Harry silently fumed. His mind was racing. He could feel every beat of his heart with the intense throbbing in his head. With each beat, he only clinched his jaw tighter, making his head hurt worse. Harry's whole body was tense, his muscles ached and he walked rigidly.
Paying barely enough attention to his surroundings to get out of the castle without walking into either a wall or a suit of armor, he made his way towards the area where the foursome usually practiced. Lost in his own thoughts and anger, he paid no attention to the others following quietly behind him until Ginny, finally sensing that he was beginning to calm slightly, caught up with him and lightly placed her hand in his.
Startled by the sudden and unexpected contact, Harry stopped, gazing down at the hand that was now in his. For a moment, his anger continued to cloud his mind, until he looked up to see Ginny standing beside him. Her eyes were full of concern, but she did not speak. He could tell by the look in her eyes, she wanted to know what had been going on to make him so angry, but as Harry lost himself in her eyes, he felt his anger ebb slightly.
Soon, his face changed from the raging scowl he had worn first walking out of Gryffindor's library, to expressionless. While not the smirk or smile Ginny hoped he would soon wear, she would accept any improvement, no matter how small, at the moment. Taking a moment to squeeze her hand in appreciation, Harry looked ahead once more and began his trek again, this time hand in hand, stride in stride with Ginny.
Quietly, they finished their journey and Harry came to a stop in front of a tall tree. Releasing Ginny's hand, he began to run his fingers through his hair as he began to pace. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all stood by, waiting for him to begin talking. They knew that, when he was ready, he would tell them.
Finally, Harry let out a frustrated growl as he looked at Ginny, then Hermione and finally, Ron. When he looked at Ron, Ginny saw something in his eyes that caught her by surprise. While he looked at Hermione and her, Harry's eyes held anger and frustration. When he looked at Ron though, Ginny saw hurt and resignation. Although she did not know why, Ginny felt all to certain that Harry's issue with Gryffindor had something to do with Ron.
Harry let his eyes linger on Ron for a moment, a look of pleading and apology soon filling them before he tore them away, turning his back on everyone.
"Gryffindor..." Harry began through clinched teeth, the anger and frustration bubbling over. "Gryffindor, wanted to talk to me about the four of us."
Ginny heard him take a deep breath before he slumped his shoulders in resignation and turned to face them.
"He wanted to talk to me about the next battle with Daemon," Harry said, more softly than before, his anger seeming to deflate in an instant.
Ginny turned to see the concern in both Hermione and Ron's eyes mirroring exactly what she was feeling. Stepping towards Harry, she began to reach out before he held his hand up, motioning for her to stay where she was. Seeing that he was still struggling with what to say, she simply nodded her understanding and remained where she was.
"Gryffindor told me it was time to take stock of our most valuable assets," Harry finally started again. "He said that, during battle, knowing whom and what were most important was crucial. He said that way, emotion could be kept in check and situations could better be managed."
"I don't understand," Hermione began. "Of course it's important to know your assets going into a fight," she continued. "We've been doing it since day one, so why the big deal now?"
Harry looked at her for a minute, searching for the words. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut again. "Well, the focus of this conversation was more on the whom," Harry said softly once more turning his back on the group. "Gryffindor wanted to talk to me about our order of importance."
"Hell, mate," Ron began, relief evident in his voice. "Everyone knows that you are the most important one, and we're your support."
A look of contemplation and then finally understanding spread across Hermione's face, "There's more to it than that. Isn't there, Harry?" she astutely asked.
Nodding his head in affirmation, Harry began again, "Yeah... Yeah, there is. This order of importance was about who would be the easiest to lose, and still have a chance for overall success."
All three stood in shock as they processed what Harry had said. After what seemed an eternity, Ginny finally spoke, "So, he wanted to talk to you about which of us to let die?"
Harry looked at her reluctantly. "Not in as many words, more so he wanted to talk to me about whom I should and should not take risks to save or protect as the battle progressed."
After another long pause, Hermione quietly added, "He doesn't expect us all to make it."
Harry nodded. "He told me that it would be foolish to assume we would all survive. He said that that other founders and he had only barely survived the battle, and they had years more experience than we do, both with magic and working together."
Ron frowned as he listened to Harry speak. As soon as he had heard Harry's words, his analytical and strategical mind began working and pretty quickly had come to a pretty stark conclusion.
"I'm the most expendable," he said flatly, his voice betraying none of the fear or anger he was feeling at the moment.
"Oh, Ron, that's ridiculous," Hermione retorted immediately having missed the glances Harry had give Ron earlier. Looking over towards Harry for support, Hermione's face dropped as she saw him quickly look away when their eyes met.
"No, it's not Hermione," Ron responded. As she opened her mouth to protest again, Ron cut her off. "Think about it," he began, "This is just like in chess. You may have to accept the loss of some pieces because of the position and advantage it would afford you. I mean look at the three of us. You and Ginny both directly help Harry. Ginny with her shields and you with your charms, but what do I do? "
Again, Hermione opened her mouth only to be cut off before she could speak.
"I'm just an extra wand," Ron said softly. "I don't do anything Harry himself already doesn't do. I don't help with charms, I don't help with shields. So if it came down to me or one of the two of you for Harry, he would have to pick me to go.
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Even though her heart was screaming in rage at what she had been told, her logical mind began to churn it over. A sickening feeling came to her stomach as she found herself beginning to agree with the logic of what Ron had said.
"But there has to be another way," she choked out as she felt tears beginning to rise up in her eyes.
Sensing her hurt and despair, Ron walked quietly over to her and put a comforting arm around her. He whispered softly into her ear as she wiped away a tear from her eyes that had begun to fall.
"There ARE other ways," Harry finally replied. "This is the last resort. Gryffindor wanted me to already have considered it before we found ourselves in the heat of battle. He wanted me to already know who I would let fall, and at what stage of the battle it would be necessary."
At Harry's words, everyone fell silent. To have heard Gryffindor finally articulate with Harry something they had all known in the back of their minds seemed to suck the life and energy from the group. No one wanted to speak. Even though time was quickly running out for the group, this seemed to bring finality to the events that were to come.
***
Daemon stood quietly over the cauldron before him, patiently watching it simmer. The dragon's blood and mistletoe were nearly ready for the next ingredient. Now, only the faintest trace of the original color could be seen. Soon, all hints of color disappeared and the potion became a pearly grey.
Raising his wand, he lowered the intensity of the flame, and, with an incantation, changed its color to a deep purple. Looking back up to the cauldron, he saw the potion quickly begin to lose its pearly appearance and soon become a dull grey.
Smiling to himself, he moved to the edge of the table and began to prepare the next ingredient. He paused for a moment looking at a woven basket. Casting a protective spell over his hands, he quickly removed the top and set it to the side.
A moment later, a distinctive triad of hisses began to emanate from the basket before being followed by a trio of snake heads. Hissing angrily at Daemon, the Runespoor quickly slithered out of the basket. Immediately, the right head seemed to take the lead and all three heads worked in unison, moving the body in a straight line away from Daemon.
Focusing his attention on the far left head of the snake, Daemon in a swift motion grabbed it just behind the head. For a moment, the other two heads seemed oblivious to the grip that Daemon held over the left head. Only after they seemed to register that the body was no longer cooperating with them, they began to look around and see just what was wrong. An instant later, Daemon felt a dull thump against his hand as he watched both the middle and the right heads begin striking at his hand.
As he had expected, his spell held and the snake heads were being completely ineffective. Whether they bit him or not though, it did not really matter. It was the left head whose venom was dangerous. It was the left head whose bite could easily penetrate his shields, and because of that, it was the left head's venom what he needed.
Again and again, the other two heads struck at his hand. Soon his interest began to wane, and was quickly replaced with annoyance. Grabbing a knife that was lying nearby with his free hand, Daemon raised it slowly, and then with a lightning fast chop, severed the middle head. For a moment, the right head paused, turning to look at the missing head, and giving Daemon time to strike again.
As his last strike echoed against the table, the Runespoor's body began to violently flail. Daemon maintained a stranglehold on the left head, just behind its jaw. The body, though, quickly doubled around and began to coil up Daemon's arm. Daemon could easily feel the power of the Runespoor's body as its coils quickly began to restrict the blood flow down his arm and into his hand.
Watching his hand slowly growing a dark red color due to the restricted blood flow, Daemon paused for a few moments. As he marveled at the power of the creature's body, he felt the left head trying to struggle in his hand. Tightening his grip further, he felt the head struggle a bit more before once more become still in his hand. Confident that he had the creature well under control, Daemon strode over to the cauldron.
Chancing one final glance, he saw that the potion was still dull grey in color. Now, the surface was also smooth as glass, as the simmering had come to a stop. Knowing that it was now ready, he took his wand and pried the left head's mouth open. Hooking the wand behind the deadly fangs, he forced them forward, just as the Runespoor would do when about to strike. Once the fangs were fully protracted, Daemon let his thumb and index finger slide carefully up the head while still maintaining his grip.
Resting those two fingers gently against either side of the head, he held the fangs over the cauldron and began to slowly squeeze where he knew the venom pouches were. Soon, two drops of venom appeared at the tip of the fangs and seemed to hang on for just a moment as they grew larger, until finally falling free and dropping into the potion.
Daemon looked at the potion for a moment, wanting to ensure both drops had fallen into the cauldron. As he watched the concentric circles radiating out from where both drops had impacted the surface of the potion, he knew they both had found their mark.
The Runespoor's job done, Daemon moved it away from the cauldron, and calling forth his magic into his hands, incinerated the remaining head and body before letting it fall to the ground. He then looked over his hands, and finding his shields to still be intact, raised his wand and cancelled the spells.
Turning his attention back to the cauldron, Daemon noticed the snake venom floating in two small drops on top of the potion, almost like oil in water. Knowing that the venom mixing into the potion would be something that would take a long time, he quickly ensured everything was in place and there was nothing that would find its way into the potion by accident. Certain that the potion would remain undisturbed, he quickly strode from the room, closing the door behind him and making his way once more to the main hall of his castle.
Entering the hall, Daemon quickly took seat on his throne. He closed his eyes for a moment and began to rest. He let his mind begin wandering, and soon found himself thinking of times long in the past. While he had not intended to fall asleep, fatigue soon claimed him, and he found himself trapped in an all too familiar dream.
Daemon was walking hurriedly down an overgrown forest path. He had been gone for far too long. He had said it would only take him a couple of weeks at most to find a cure to help those in the village, but he had been wrong. It had been over three months, and now he had heard very frightful rumors on his journey back home.
Although much of Britain was being swept up with Muggle hysteria about witches and wizards, Daemon's village had been one of the last places where wizards lived openly. The fact that Daemon was such a good wizard and constantly used his powers to help those who were sick or injured, whether Muggle or Wizard, had played a large part in that.
Now though, with a plague quickly spreading throughout the villages of northern Britain, and which seemed to only affect the Muggles, paranoia and fear began to overtake them. Immediately, Muggles began to blame Wizards for the plague, calling it a curse. Many men that had once been friends with Wizards, quickly turned their backs on them and led the persecution and murders of entire wizarding families.
Daemon had done everything in his power to help his village, and for the most part, his actions had served to allay the fears of the Muggles. Very quickly, though, it had become apparent that even he did not know how to stop the plague. Feeling that his best chance to help them came from journeying into southern England, where rumors told of a similar plague a few years prior that had been contained, Daemon made his decision to go.
Trusting that his family would be safest staying in the village, where the Muggles were still friendly and appreciative, Daemon had left his wife and small son with a promise to return as quickly as he could. That had been three very long months ago.
Unfortunately for Daemon, finding the villages that had suffered under the earlier curse had been harder than he expected. Once he had actually gotten to the villages, Daemon found himself faced with another problem, as there were no Wizards living among the Muggles. Evidently, just as was happening in the villages around his, when the plague had struck these villages, the Muggles had attacked the Wizards. As a result, once the plague had been stopped, the Muggles and Wizards reached an uneasy truce, and the Wizards had moved away from the Muggles.
It had taken Daemon the better part of a month to find the Wizarding villages that knew of the cure for the plague. The hardest part of his journey though, still lay ahead of him. His time in southern England had seen very stark and dramatic changes occur. He could no longer travel openly as a Wizard through England, and the farther north he traveled, the more hostile and aggressive the Muggles he encountered became.
Even though he had readily shared the cure with whomever he encountered, Daemon found himself the target of acts of bigotry and hatred from Muggles who had lost loved ones to the plague. Although he was not proud it, there had been a few Muggles that had left him no choice but to use his magic to protect himself.
He had not killed any of them, but quite a few men had been left in magical restraints. While Daemon had begun to grow uneasy about what may be going on in his village, he felt fairly certain that all of his good and openness with his neighbors would serve to keep their minds open and not let them fall prey to the hysteria sweeping the land.
All of that hope had come crashing down the previous night, however, as Daemon had snuck near the camp of a group of Muggle Wizard hunters. As he listened to the men talk, he heard them mention his village. Immediately, his interest piqued and he began to listen intently as he heard one of the men relay a tale about having been in the village a few days prior.
He told of how the fools had continued to allow a witch and her son to live in the open as part of the village. He also told how he and another man had quickly shown the villagers the error of their ways and readily taken care of the problem. For Daemon, the innuendo had been enough and he revealed himself to the men.
Disguising himself as a Muggle traveler, he quickly entered the camp with welcome, and got the whole story from the man. As the man had relayed one horrifying detail after another to Daemon, he found himself quickly losing control. His anger finally overcame him as the man spoke of the witch's cries to the villagers about the good her husband had done for them.
Daemon did not know for certain if his family had been murdered. He had lost control of his temper before that point. None of the men had a chance to do more than look at him with a look of surprise and fear as he cut each of them down with the most powerful severing curse he could muster.
Immediately after that, Daemon had set out with the utmost haste to his village. He had not slept, ate or rest since that time, and now he was fast approaching his village after nearly two days. At first he had been sickened with himself as realization of what he had done began to set in, but as he relived the conversation over and over in his head, regret was soon replaced with gratification.
Finally approaching the end of the path, Daemon saw his village in the distance, visible only in the moonlight. Not wanting to deal with hostile Muggles were his worst fears true, Daemon made his way around the village, to his house on the far side.
Even from a distance, Daemon's heart dropped. He saw his house in ruins ñ burned husk was all that remained. As he quietly made his way through the rubble from the back of the house, his hopes raised for a moment, as he did not find his wife or son. Those hopes were short lived though, and a heart breaking cry rang out through the night as he found both his wife and son's charred bodies hanging from a tree in front of the house as a warning to any wizard that may enter the village.
As Daemon collapsed to the ground, his grief overtaking him, the Muggles he had worked so hard to save began to come out of their homes to see what the cries were about. As he saw them, rage and vengeance began to fill the void where his heart had once been. He saw the looks of surprise and regret in their eyes as they began to timidly approach him. Realizing there was nothing left for him, Daemon made his decision. Rising to his feet, he carefully began to stride towards those approaching him.
Just as a villager began to speak, Daemon awoke with a start. Bounding from his throne, he looked about the great hall, but found himself to be alone. He looked at the windows to find that it was now dark outside. He had fallen asleep and not meant to. The nightmare that had tortured him nearly every night since that fateful time left him feeling tired and enraged. He could feel his hatred coursing through his veins.
Feeling his anger begging for release, Daemon paused for a moment. Letting his magic surge forth, fueled by his loathing and hatred, the air around him began to crackle with energy. With only destruction and despair in mind, he disappeared with a loud CRACK, and the great hall was calm once more.
***
Gryffindor stood looking at the trio before him with his arms crossed over his chest. He had expected Harry to react poorly to their discussion about when and who to let fall if the need arose during the final battle. What he had not expected, though, was the fury that the trio standing before him would come to him with.
Ironically enough, it seemed to be Ron who had best understood his point of view. He had not been advocating sacrificing anyone, or just letting anyone die needlessly. He had simply wanted to get Harry to understand that, in the course of the battle, there very well may come a time, when trying to save one of the others could very well put Harry and the rest at such a disadvantage, that it may mean defeat for them all.
Gryffindor knew Harry was loyal beyond words to his friends. He knew that Harry would gladly step in front of a spell for anyone one of them should the need ever arise. He also knew, though, that this was a weakness Daemon would be all too happy to exploit against Harry. Whether Harry or any of the rest would ever talk to him again, Gryffindor knew he had said what needed to be said. He had little time left to get them ready for the battle, and he had to have Harry ready to take whatever steps necessary to defeat Daemon ñ even if it meant letting someone he loved fall in the battle.
Now, Gryffindor focused his attention on the fuming witches before him. Even through their fiery eyes and withering glares, he was certain they could see the logic of his arguments. At least, they would when they cooled down and thought about it. Everyone in the group had been on edge, and nerves were raw.
Finally letting out a sigh, he looked to Ginny and spoke, "Have you got anything else to say?"
Ginny's lips thinned into a line as her jaw clinched for a moment. "How could you tell Harry he has to make a decision like that?" she finally asked in an eerily calm voice.
"Simple..." Gryffindor began without hesitation, "...even Ron admitted it earlier, you have to be willing to make sacrifices at times in order to win. I didn't tell Harry whom or even if he had to choose. I simply told him that this was something he needed to understand and be cognizant of during the battle."
Hermione huffed in disgust, "But Ron?" she questioned skeptically. "First, Ron; then, me, and finally, Ginny. Why not just tell Harry he had to do it himself? What you did was as good as."
Gryffindor sighed again before answering. He knew they were arguing out of loyalty and emotion right now. He could tell that they were mostly upset over the fact that Harry was now having to bear the weight of knowing he may have to make a decision that would cause one of his friends or even Ginny to die. He was certain that each of them, in their own way, had already accepted the very real possibility that they could die, but knew that if they stood together then it was possible for them to survive.
"I'd rather have Harry hate me now and be depressed now as opposed to the alternative," Gryffindor finally said aloud.
"And just what is the alternative?" Ginny questioned.
"One of you dies, and Harry, either freezes and breaks down in the middle of the battle, or he becomes enraged and starts to attack without plan or thought," Gryffindor answered. "And quite frankly, either of those options can lead to only one thing."
Gryffindor did not say what the one thing was. It was obvious to everyone in the room what he meant. A long moment of silence passed as everyone seemed to consider what he had set forth before them. Finally seeing the glares from Ginny and Hermione soften, Gryffindor decided to try another avenue and see if he could help them calm further.
"Unfortunately for Harry..." Gryffindor began, his voice soft and his eyes looking beyond the trio at a distant wall, "...with such tremendous power comes a responsibility equally as great. He'll always be the leader, the one people gather around and look to for guidance and direction. Because of that, he's going to have to accept the fact that those who are loyal to him and follow his direction will not always come home at the end of the day."
"You seem to speak from experience," Ginny softly interrupted.
"I do," Gryffindor replied. "Even when the other founders and I faced Daemon all those years ago, I was the unspoken leader of the group. While I couldn't bear the idea of one of my friends dying, I had to face and accept the fact that they very well could have. We all did survive, although I won't say it wasn't without some very harrowing moments."
For a moment, Gryffindor grew silent as something seemed to catch in his throat. While Ginny and Hermione did not know for sure if it were possible for an apparition to cry, he seemed to be struggling within himself to maintain control at the moment. Finally, letting out a long sigh, Gryffindor seemed to steady himself.
"At one point during that battle, I left an injured and unconscious Helga completely unprotected and open to attack by Daemon," he finally continued. "Had he chosen to kill her, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop it. To have done things any different though, would have put myself, and Salazar, and Rowena in a nearly indefensible position. The only thing that kept me from freezing or making a very stupid mistake was the fact that we had all already discussed the very issue that Harry now struggles with. For our group at that time in the battle, Helga was the most expendable if it meant too much risk to the group otherwise."
Gryffindor's voice gradually softened as he spoke until it was but a whisper. The trio stood in absolute silence, their rage and fury now gone. Reluctantly, they began to consider Gryffindor's words and arguments without emotion. Slowly, they began to understand the importance of what he had forced Harry to admit and even plan for.
He had not given Harry a list set in stone of who must die in order to win, but instead, he had forced Harry to accept that the death of someone he loved may very well be required to win the day and see Daemon destroyed forever. None of them may like what they had been forced to consider, but ultimately that did not matter. The only thing that truly mattered was that they were prepared for all things that could happen in the battle. Especially those things that were very possible.
Chapter 28: Chapter 28: A Nearing Storm
Author's Notes: Well, once again, it's update time. As always, I must give my thanks to my wonderful beta, Ginny Guerra. Thank you to all who have left reviews and comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, leave your reviews and tell me what ya think.
Dumbledore’s portrait looked at Harry in silence. The twinkle that usually could be found in the portrait’s eyes had disappeared quickly as their conversation progressed. Now, Dumbledore sat in his chair, stroking his beard, lost in his own thoughts. He could tell how greatly Gryffindor’s comments had upset Harry, yet at the same time, he could clearly see the reasons behind the founder’s reasoning.
Now the problem was figuring out how to help Harry in accepting that Gryffindor was just trying to get him to accept all the possibilities and be ready for anything that could happen. As he looked at the young man before him, Dumbledore could see the conflict and anguish in his eyes. At the same time, Dumbledore knew that Harry was smart enough to know the importance of what Gryffindor had done.
“Harry,” Dumbledore finally began, “I know that any of your friends dying is something you don’t want to consider. With all that Voldemort has already taken from you, it’s understandable that you don’t even want to consider losing someone else.”
“I just thought that after Voldemort was gone…” Harry began, “…then I could have a chance at my own life.”
“And you will,” Dumbledore answered softly. “But for now, your friends and you still have some work to do. You know the risks you will all face, and you know that what Gryffindor said makes sense. He wasn’t telling you that at the first sign of trouble you start picking which of your friends should die, but he was making you at least face the fact that you could find yourself in a situation where no other choice is available if you want to succeed in your overall goal.”
Harry stood quietly for a moment. His eyes became downcast as he ran his fingers through his hair.
Dumbledore gave him the time he needed. He knew Harry was contemplating what he had said.
“I know,” Harry quietly answered. He looked up, his eyes filled with unshed tears, but showing acceptance and understanding as well.
“My boy,” Dumbledore began, “You will find, as you grow older, that many times we are faced with very hard things to accept. Part of life is figuring out how to change the things we can, and accept the things we can’t. And even more important is the wisdom to realize the difference.”
Harry again fell silent as he thought about what Dumbledore had just told him. He shook his head for a moment as he began to realize just how many meanings the words could have. He was certain Dumbledore had chosen them for just that very reason. Even in death, the old man loved to speak in riddles and use words with many meanings.
“Can’t you ever give a simple straight black and white, yes or no answer?” Harry finally questioned as he began to relax.
Seeing Harry’s mood brighten, the twinkle began to return to Dumbledore’s eyes. While he knew it would still weigh heavily on Harry’s shoulders, he knew the young man before him well enough to know that the value of the message had been received.
“Well, Harry,” Dumbledore finally began to answer with a wink, “I wouldn’t be me if I did, now would I?”
For the first time during the conversation, Harry’s face broke into a half-hearted smile as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “No, I suppose not,” he responded.
Both tutor and pupil shared a slight chuckle. With that issue behind them, Harry and Dumbledore fell into conversation about everything else that had been going on.
***
Ginny sat quietly, staring at Harry over the book in front of her. He had been noticeably calmer for the past week, since his talk with Dumbledore. Although he had not told them what was said, his mood had markedly improved since that day. Now he was sitting quietly across from Ginny at a table in Gryffindor’s library reading through the book the founder had given him, and which contained the spells not even Gryffindor could remember.
To say the book was intense would be an understatement. Harry had been reading through the book for over a month now and he had still only covered roughly two thirds of it. Every page covered any number of spells that would make Harry’s stomach turn. In fact, Harry was pretty certain that if some of the spells in the book were still known or written anywhere else, there would be quite a bit longer list of Unforgivable Curses.
Some of the other spells, though, Harry realized were in the book not because of their destructive abilities, but because of the implications of what they could do. The current spell that Harry was looking at was an example of one such spell.
Dilecti arcesso was the spell’s name. As Harry read over the description, he realized that it was very similar to the Resurrection Stone. According to Gryffindor’s own notes, the spell would summon forth the spirits of the loved ones of whoever it was cast upon. At first, Harry had wondered why the knowledge of such a spell could be so dangerous, but then his mind drifted back to Dumbledore’s words as he sat before the Mirror of Erised.
He quickly realized that a person could be caught up in the past, and in the presence of those they had lost, so much, that that they would forget to live life. While the spell only worked for just a few moments, Harry knew how tempting being able to see one’s lost loved ones could be. Before finding Ginny, and being able to leave Privet Drive forever, Harry’s greatest desire was to have own his parents.
The Mirror of Erised had all too well proven that point to him. As he thought back, though, Harry had been granted a gift that many orphans would never have. He had been able to see his parents twice - first at the Graveyard, when Voldemort regained his body, and the other as he was walking to face Voldemort and make himself the final sacrifice so all the Horcruxes could be destroyed.
Granted, both those times had occurred under less than ideal conditions, but as Harry sat staring at the spell, he felt no pull to cast it upon himself and try to see his parents again. For once, he was at peace with his life. He knew the odds were still stacked heavily against Ginny, Ron, Hermione and himself, but he was content. He knew his parents loved him and would always be watching over him, and for him, that was enough.
Sighing, Harry also realized that this was most certainly a very powerful and useful spell to have in his arsenal. Ron had long ago mentioned a discussion he had had with Gryffindor about what had happened in Daemon’s life that made him so evil. After Ron had heard the story, he commented to Harry that if there was some way they could make Daemon remember his family, they could probably distract him long enough to defeat him.
As Harry began to slowly form a plan in his mind, he could not think of a better way to get Daemon to think about his family than by casting the spell and actually summoning their spirits. As Harry remembered the way his own mum and dad had told him about watching him grow up, Harry suspected that Daemon’s own family had been watching him all along as well.
Again relying upon what Ron had told him of Daemon, Harry knew that if Daemon loved them as deeply as it had seemed, then to have them in front of him, and most likely openly confronting him about his actions and evil deeds, then it could bring the monster to his knees and provide them the opportunity they needed. That could give them just the time they needed to finish him off.
Luckily for Harry and the rest, Daemon, unlike Voldemort, was not intent upon being immortal. He had not split his soul and scattered it across Britain. He had not cast numerous spells upon his own body. Instead, he was content just making Muggles suffer. Granted though, Daemon’s power and magic were as formidable as anything Harry or even Gryffindor had ever faced, so it was still not just going to be a walk in the park to defeat him.
“What’s up?” Ginny finally asked, as she watched Harry focusing intently on one specific page. “Have you found something that will useful?”
Pausing for a moment before looking up to meet her expectant eyes, Harry kept his face guarded. He was contemplating something in his mind, trying to decide whether or not it would be a good idea.
“Yeah,” he said sighing softly, having made his decision. “I think this may be the key we need to distract Daemon.”
Immediately, Ginny’s eyes brightened and a smile broke out across her face. “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed as she continued to look at Harry.
Soon, she fell quiet, though, as she noticed that Harry did not hold the same exuberance she did. Her mind quickly making connections, Ginny realized that the spell must have far more grave implications than just being a way to distract Daemon. Little did she realize, however, that Harry’s lack of emotion was not from what the spell may do when cast on Daemon, but what it would do on whoever he had to practice it on.
“Luv,” she began as she watched Harry’s eyes staring blankly at the page before him. “What’s wrong? What makes this spell so bad?”
Closing his eyes, and thinking of the times with his parents and his experience with the Resurrection Stone, Harry replied, “It’s not really the spell…” Harry trailed off, trying to figure out a way to say what he was thinking, what he saw as being the downside to him practicing the spell.
Finally deciding that the best way to go about it was the direct approach, he began again, “Do you remember the Resurrection Stone?”
Ginny nodded her head affirmatively.
“Well this spell is a lot like that. It likely predates the stone, I think. In fact a modified version of it is probably what created the stone. Regardless, though, this spell will summon forth the deceased loved ones of the person it’s cast upon.”
Ginny’s eyes immediately widened. Her breath caught as a million thoughts raced through her mind. “That’s wonderful…” she began. “That would be such a benefit to those who’ve lost loved ones.”
Sighing, Harry shook his head. “Remember Gin, it was in this book for a reason,” he stated as he held up the open book in front of her.
“But how can that spell be bad or dangerous?” Ginny questioned as her brow furrowed in confusion.
Thinking back to the Mirror of Erised, Harry quickly realized that it was before Ginny had gotten to Hogwarts. “Have you ever heard of the Mirror of Erised?” he finally asked her.
Ginny looked down at the table, thoughtful for a moment. “It sounds familiar, but I don’t recall where I heard it or what it does.”
Harry nodded before replying, “Well, it’s a mirror that will show your heart’s greatest desire. I found it when I was in first year. It showed me with my parents. We were happy.” Harry paused for a moment, watching Ginny to be certain she was following him. “I snuck out night after night to sit in front of the mirror before Dumbledore finally confronted me. He told me that people had wasted away their entire lives in front of that mirror.”
Ginny nodded her understanding as realization slowly set in.
Still, Harry pressed on, “Remember the story about the Resurrection Stone as well?”
Ginny looked thoughtful again as she seemed to be thinking over the story in her head. Slowly, realization showed on her face once more. “Yes,” she spoke softly. “It caused torment for the holder to have his loved one so close but still so far away. He wound up hating life because he could not have what was so close to him.”
Again Harry nodded. “That’s what makes this spell so dangerous. For many people, their greatest desire would be to see a loved one, and in the end, it will end up consuming them and making them miserable.”
Grimly, Ginny nodded at Harry as she reached out and took his hand. “But why is it affecting you so much right now? You’ll only be using the spell on Daemon, and if you are the only person to know it, then that won’t be a problem.”
Harry squeezed her hand in response as he looked at her. “Simple,” he responded softly, “You know I need to practice these spells. I can’t take a chance of not having them down when the time comes that we might really need them.”
Ginny sat silently, waiting for Harry to say what she knew to be coming next. He was about to offer her something that she would have never thought possible, but at the same time, knew he was worried about the temptations that came with it. Thinking quickly in her mind, she knew that between Ron, Hermione and herself, the outcome would be the same. It had to be either Ron or herself, as Hermione had not lost anyone close to her that they knew of, and therefore, they would be unable to tell if the spell had worked properly.
Whether the spell was cast on Ron or her, though, it made no difference. The same person would appear. Fred would be summoned and they would see his spirit. A brother they had said goodbye to, would be before them once more. Seeing why Harry was so hesitant, and still seeing the struggle on his face, Ginny took his free hand in her other.
Squeezing them tightly, she spoke, “Harry, cast the spell on me. We both know whether you cast it on Ron or me, we’ll see the same thing.”
Harry seemed to relax a bit at her words. “I’m glad you offered. I had a feeling you would say that, but there’s one other thing to consider.”
“What is that?” Ginny asked as she could not imagine what Harry was now thinking.
“I think we should invite your whole family,” he spoke softly.
***
Molly, Arthur, Percy, Charlie, Bill and George made their way slowly down the grounds of Hogwarts towards the lake. Why Harry and Ginny asked them to come, they were uncertain. The request had been quite cryptic, just saying that there was a spell Harry was about to practice and he thought they should be there to see it. It had also been quite unusual, but Harry had requested only blood Weasleys come, and that others, like Fleur stay home.
That had been the prior afternoon, and Ginny had told them they should be there after lunch the next day. The result had caused an anxious night and morning for Molly, as she turned over in her mind what kind of spell Harry could possibly be casting that he would want the entirety of the Weasley family to see. Molly knew that all of the spells Harry was now practicing were intended for one purpose only. She also knew that even just practicing them was far from harmless, as Madam Pomfrey had made sure to inform her of the numerous injuries the foursome had been suffering as a result.
Now, as they were approaching the lake, Molly could see Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione off in the distance. She could see the foursome was relatively relaxed, although they were talking quietly and unanimatedly. Years of experience with them told her that something serious was on their minds.
As the group of redheads finally drew near to the quartet, Ron looked up as his face broke into a smile, and Ginny rushed to hug her mum. Hermione stood as well and greeted Molly and the others. Harry, for his part, stayed back a bit while greetings were being exchanged. He paced about, seemingly lost in thought as the voice of Arthur Weasley called out to him.
“What’s on your mind, lad?” the Weasley patriarch questioned softly as he approached Harry and both turned away from the others.
Walking in silence for a few steps, Harry cast a tentative glance behind him to ensure no one else would overhear the conversation. “A lot of things,” he began softly as he watched his feet rather than meeting Arthur’s eyes with his own. “Most pressing right now is how Molly and George are going to react when I cast this spell right.”
Arthur turned his head to the side and carefully stared at Harry for a moment. His mind had been full of questions in regards to just what the spell was that Harry was going to attempt, and why he wanted them all there, but he trusted Harry. Now, standing before him, listening to the members of his family Harry was most concerned about in regards to the spell, Arthur’s mind began to see a common theme.
Very quickly his mind wrapped itself around the pain that was still all too raw and fresh in his own heart. “Fred…” he whispered softly. It had been months now since Fred had died, but the pain was still as fresh as the day they had buried him. As his mind dragged him back to those horrible days just after the defeat of Voldemort, Arthur remembered the hallow and hopeless looks on the face of George. He could vividly remember the funeral and the anguish and pain of both his wife and daughter.
Harry stood silently, staring at the ground. He was trying to figure out how best to explain to Arthur about the spell. Time and again he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again — feeling that his words were hollow or would lack the ability for him to understand. Finally realizing that the man before him was waiting, and most likely letting his mind fill with supposition and question, Harry spoke.
“The spell is a lot like the Resurrection Stone…” Harry finally began.
Numerous times during his explanation, Arthur gasped and expressed disbelief, but soon Harry had pushed through it. In the end, Arthur extended his arm, and gave Harry’s shoulder a firm squeeze before pulling him into a hug. Fortunately for Harry, it was not bone crushing like those of Molly, but was still firm enough that Harry could feel Arthur’s heart beating.
“Thank you, Harry,” Arthur began as he finally released Harry. Looking up, Harry could see tears on Arthur’s face. “I know this is something that’ll help Molly and George. A lot of times, just being able to say goodbye can be a huge help. They never really got that chance.”
Harry nodded as the both turned and began to walk back to the others. As he looked at the rest of the Weasley family that had arrived with Arthur, he could see a look of sadness and anticipation on their faces. Just as with Arthur, Molly’s face bore the marks of freshly shed tears. Bill, Charlie, Percy and Ron were all talking quietly as Ginny just seemed to be giving her mum space.
Soon Harry and Arthur joined the group. Hoping to avoid a highly emotional exchange, Harry raised his hand asking for everyone to remain silent. He knew it was going to be hard enough casting this spell on Ginny. He feared for anyone that was his guinea pig when he was trying to learn a new spell. Most times that person was Ron, but Ginny had insisted that she be the one he cast the spell upon.
That fact, in and of itself, was going to be enough to put Harry on edge. He knew his reservations about possibly hurting Ginny were going to make the spell twice as difficult to cast successfully. If any additional emotional burden was added to him, then he knew he would most likely fail in casting the spell and would in all likelihood wind up butchering the spell so much that Ginny could be hurt in the process.
Realizing that just trying to cast the spell without saying anything would not go over well, Harry quickly took a deep breath and began to speak. “By the looks of everyone, we all know what this spell is supposed to do. I’m going to cast it on Ginny, and from what the four of us…” At this point, Harry quickly waved his hand indicating Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself. “…can tell, Fred should be the only person that appears.”
He quickly glanced at those gathered around him. His eyes froze for a moment as he looked at Molly. Her eyes shimmered from unshed tears, but a smile played across her face. Harry inclined his head ever so slightly to her and an instant later found himself wrapped in a massive bone crushing hug. After a long moment, Molly released him only to hold him at arm’s length and say, “Thank you, son,” before once more hugging him.
As she stepped away, Harry took a few deep breaths, letting the air rush back into his lungs. He looked over at Ginny and saw a smirk on her face as she began to approach.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked as she came to a stop just in front of him.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he replied quietly as he took her hands in his own. Staring into her eyes he continued, “Ginny, you don’t have to…”
Before he could finish though, Ginny had her hand in front of his mouth. “No, I don’t have to, but I want to. Now get yourself ready to cast this spell, Potter.” The tone of her voice left no further room for discussion or negotiation.
Watching her closely, Harry could see her confidence in him. He knew she trusted him completely. He knew she trusted him with her life. Taking strength from Ginny’s faith in him, he nodded to her.
“Alright, let’s get this started,” he said softly as he also motioned to Ron and Hermione.
At his signal, they led everyone a few paces farther away from Harry and Ginny. With one last look to Ginny, Harry took a couple of steps back from her. Silence fell upon the entire group as they waited anxiously for Harry. He closed his eyes for a moment, settling his mind and feeling his magic flow within him.
Thinking of the spell and how it was supposed to work, Harry began to focus his mind on the task at hand. Opening his eyes, he saw Ginny standing patiently before him. Releasing a breath he had not known he was holding, Harry raised his wand slowly. Just as it reached shoulder level he began an abrupt diagonal slash.
“Dilecti arcesso,” he spoke in a firm voice.
Instantly, a faint white glow formed at the tip of his wand. For a moment, it hung there, growing in intensity to a bright white light before finally speeding away from Harry and heading straight towards Ginny. Her eyes widened in awe as the light paused for a moment in front of her before quickly surrounding her.
An instant later, with a bright flash, the light was gone. No one breathed as they awaited what was to happen next. Suddenly, a breeze swept through among them. It was soft, gentle and warm. As it traveled from person to person among the group, each could hear the faintest of whispers. Soon, the air began to whirl around Harry and Ginny as the whispers grew louder.
To the others, Harry and Ginny became a blur as the wind whipped about them. Gradually, the air seemed to focus around a point between them. Soon the air began to develop some form of substance. A soft pink hue filled the air as it began to whirl in place forming a smaller and finer vortex. The pink gradually transitioned to golden as a figure began to materialize in the whirlwind.
Everyone stood in awe for a moment, their mouths gaping open in shock as they watched the figure slowly materialize more and more before their eyes. How much time passed, no one could tell. They were all frozen in place as they watched an eerily familiar head of red hair form, followed shortly by brilliant smile. With a final gust, the wind was gone, and in its place stood the ghostly, smiling form of Fred.
No one spoke a word, as they all stood staring at Fred. His face was bright and shining. The smile on his face extended to his eyes and he seemed to be completely at peace and happy. Finally, George stepped forward, extending his hand towards the ghostly image of his twin. Tears streaming down his face, he reached for Fred’s shoulder, only to have his hand pass through Fred.
Instead of the cold, mist-like feeling that one gets when coming in contact with a ghost, George’s hand felt strangely warm. It was a warmth that quickly spread over him and without him realizing why, he could not suppress the urge to smile. His tears quickly faded as he stared straight into the face of his gone but never forgotten twin.
“I’ve…” George began.
“…Missed you,” Fred finished.
Both men softly laughed, as the others around them did also.
Looking to the others, Fred began to walk slowly towards Molly. Tears escaped Fred’s eyes as he drew nearer his mum. Molly’s hand trembled as she reached for Fred’s face. Just as with George, she was filled with the warmth that left her no choice but to smile. Molly began to cry again, as the Weasley family soon gathered around her and Fred.
After looking at Ginny and being assured that she was alright, Harry took her hand and slowly walked with her to join her family. The family had precious little time with Fred. Harry had no idea how long Fred would remain before the spell wore off. Harry knew that each of the Weasleys needed this time to say their goodbyes, and he was intent on just being there to support Ginny.
***
As the sun began to set, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys slowly made their way back towards the castle. The time with Fred had been a great benefit and relief for both Molly and George. Fred had been anxious to tell both his mum and twin that he was fine and would be patiently waiting for them to join him - much later, though. Beyond that, it had been a great thing for everyone to have a chance to say goodbye to Fred and hear him say the words as well.
Amazingly enough, Fred had also carried a message specifically for Harry. It was from his mum, dad, Sirius and Remus all telling him they were so proud of him. He also carried a word of advice from just James and Sirius, namely telling Harry that when this battle was over, he had bloody well better take a nice long vacation with a certain redhead, with clothing optional. As an afterthought, he also added that it would be a good idea to get a ring on her finger in the very near future as well.
Needless to say, Fred had been quite boisterous with those statements, causing Harry to blush a bright red, while Ginny giggled and Molly spluttered and mumbled something about the vacation and the ring being in the wrong order. The rest of the Weasleys, including Arthur broke out into good natured laughter at Harry’s discomfort and Molly’s comments.
Fred’s time with them had lasted longer than Harry expected. While he had at first anticipated it may only last a few brief moments, they had instead been fortunate to have much longer with him. They had been fortunate to have nearly the entire afternoon with him. Finally, as he left, Fred answered Harry’s unspoken question and told him that the spell lasted as long as the spirit chose to remain. With his family knowing that he was alright, and himself finally content that he had the chance to say goodbye, Fred knew that it was time to return to the next great adventure.
Everyone was lost in their own thoughts as they gradually approached the castle. For Harry, he was weighing the consideration of having Ginny cast the spell on him after the battle was over. Earlier, he had felt himself content with how things had been left with his parents, but now, after their message and his considering what the future could hold for him, he began to consider the idea.
He had never gotten to properly introduce her to his parents, and even though he knew they were watching over him, he felt it was something that he could at least do for them and her. Again and again, a small voice of warning told him about the potential dangers, such as he had learned with the Mirror of Erised, but an even louder voice told him that, for once, he should do something for himself.
Finally getting a headache from him mental tug of war, Harry forced aside his thoughts as he took a moment to survey the others around him. Many tears had been shed. Some were tears of sorrow, but many more were tears of joy. The Weasley family had finally found a true sense of closure from all of the events that had happened during the second war with Voldemort. The icing on the cake, so to speak, had come when Fred had spent time talking with Percy and telling him how proud he had been to have his brother fighting along him and even cracking a joke.
Pausing for a moment at the steps leading into the castle, Harry turned around and stared out over the grounds. Far off in the distance, the softly glowing sun was setting, casting a red tint over the sky. In the distance, Harry could see ominous clouds approaching. Moving slowly in front of the fading sun, they became a deep red, almost blood color.
Letting out a sigh, Harry felt a cold breeze hit him in the face. He knew rain would soon be coming. As he continued to just stare at the sky, he saw lightning jumping at the tops of the clouds. The breeze began to blow stronger, and Harry watched as the clouds began to draw closer. A sudden chill ran down Harry’s back as he saw the sky growing wilder by the moment.
Feeling a small hand entwine in his own, Harry turned to find Ginny standing beside him. Their eyes locked for a moment before he took one last glance at the sky. Turning, he released her hand, and put his arm gently around her shoulder as they walked side by side into the castle.
Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Futures Foreseen
Author's Notes: Well, it has been far too long between updates. First I got sidetracked with the April Challenge Story. To all of those who read and reviewed, I greatly appreciate the comments. Also, over the past month I've also been busy with work, and trying to get all the paperwork done to buy a house. If you want a challenge, try to buy a house on an income you won't be making for another couple of months - with the current housing and mortgage issues, I'm amazed it all finally came together. Anyways, here's the latest chapter - the next chapter is currently being written and I promise that it won't take nearly as long as this update.
Harry stood quietly as a tempest raged before him. In all of his years at Hogwarts, he had never seen a storm as violently spectacular as the one he was now being witness to. He leaned against the stone archway of the main entrance of the castle as lightning once more flashed in the sky and came screaming to the earth. Harry flinched as the loud bang of thunder finally made it way across the grounds and reverberated in his ears.
Watching the rain surge, as gust after gust of wind blew across the grounds, Harry’s mind began to drift. As the time for the potion to be ready drew closer, Harry had found himself thinking back to his final confrontation with Voldemort. So much had happened in such a small span of time. He had heard the anguished cries of those who thought him dead. He had seen the ferocity of a mother protecting her children. He had even seen the sin of hubris lead to the final downfall of a wasted life.
Feeling drawn into the storm, Harry tentatively stepped from him relative protection of the arch and into the full fury of the storm. The rain immediately began to pelt down upon him, as the wind whipping around him made the drops of water feel almost like ice. Letting out a sigh, Harry leaned against the stone wall of the castle.
His hair was now matted against his forehead. Large droplets of water were tracking down the front of his glasses. His robes, although he had only stepped into the full brunt of the storm just a few moments before, were already drenched. For his part, Harry seemed unfazed to his being surrounded in nature’s elements.
As another flash of lightning lit the sky, he blinked. For the instant his eyes were closed, Harry saw them staring back at him. Shaking his head, Harry blinked again only to have the same result. Now blinking rapidly, Harry hoped that they would go away, but they never did.
They had first appeared in his dreams, or rather his nightmares, the night before. Who exactly they belonged to, he could not say. There was only one thing for certain, though, the pair of eyes that Harry now found himself unable to escape whenever he closed his own eyes were eerily haunted.
There was a vague familiarity to them, but recognition lay just beyond Harry’s consciousness. Harry began to search within his own memories, trying to find who the eyes belonged to, but he could not. Setting himself down onto the puddled ground, and leaning back against the castle wall, Harry closed his eyes and began to delve into himself in earnest.
Fact was that of all the people Harry had ever met, there were only four sets of eyes burned into his memories as well as the pair that was haunting him now. The first pair belonged to Ginny. Her beautiful chocolate colored eyes, whether filled with joy, annoyance, mirth or anger, were always enough to take Harry’s breath. Even though he knew her whole body to be beautiful and perfect, it was her eyes that were his weakness. Without great self control, Harry would find himself getting lost in her eyes nearly every time his eyes met with hers.
The next pair he could remember vividly belonged to no other than Dumbledore. While the great wizard had been a master at schooling his face and remaining stoic, even in the face of hilarity, anyone who knew the man knew to look in his eyes to find his smiles and laughter. Many times, it had been the twinkle of his eyes what revealed the man’s sense of humor to Harry, when many others would have expected the man to be angry or upset.
The third set of eyes closely mirrored his own. While everyone agreed that Harry got his unruly black hair from his father, anyone that had met his mother knew that he had her eyes. A breathtaking green that could cause a heart to flutter, stared back at him. His breath caught as he found himself mesmerized by them. Quietly, Harry sighed as the reality of his separation from her began to weigh down upon him. Tears began to fill his eyes, but he was able to quickly push them away as he buoyed his spirits, remembering that she was watching over him.
The final pair of eyes forever burned into Harry’s mind was those of Tom Riddle. Even now, he could still see the cold, inhuman eyes staring at him, just as they had when the two had been locked in their fateful dance. The eyes though, held neither the power nor the fear over Harry they once did. As he thought of them now, Harry could no longer feel anything other than regret. Regret not in the fact that he had been the one to kill Tom Riddle, but regret that a man who had the chance for such greatness chose to waste it all in a bid for immortality and ultimate power.
Closing his eyes tightly, Harry forced his mind to refocus on the eyes that kept haunting him. Gradually, realization began to dawn in Harry’s mind. The eyes were full of anguish, pain and hurt. With that understanding, Harry began to contemplate more fervently who they may belong to. As he concentrated, his mind painstakingly drew forward the full face of the person the eyes belonged to.
Harry’s blood ran cold and he felt himself immediately on edge as he found himself face to face in his mind with Daemon. Fear and uncertainty filled Harry for a moment as he relived the battle Daemon he had already had. Harry soon regained his composure and began to consider just the face before him. Unlike Voldemort, Daemon’s face was human, covered with a smattering of lines, wrinkles, and scars.
Harry began stare out into the storm once more as he considered Daemon. The wizard had a tortured soul - not from abandonment, not from abuse, but from betrayal. His rage and fury were driven by reasons entirely different than Voldemort’s. Harry sighed. He had shared a connection with Voldemort, and while that was something he was glad to be gone, as he now thought about Daemon, Harry realized just how much the burning in his scar in response to Voldemort’s emotions had become a part of him.
All too quickly, though, Harry’s mind began to focus on those that had fallen because of Voldemort. Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Fred, all of whom he counted among his small circle of friends had moved on to their next great adventure. In fact, Harry himself had stood at the precipice of that very same adventure, and been given the choice of whether to return to this life or go on. At the time, Harry only knew there was a deep seeded desire that pushed him to want to come back.
While the safety and well being of his friends was important to Harry, his choice to live was entirely based upon his love for one fiery witch and a hope that they could live a peaceful and normal life. She had, after all, been his last thought before Voldemort cast the killing curse that had ensured his own mortality and sealed his fate.
He knew that Ron and Hermione would be there for each other, and he had to admit, he hoped for the same thing with Ginny and him. Although he had given her every reason to never speak to him again, Harry found himself filled with hope as he remembered their brief moments together in her room his birthday.
Once he had finally freed the world of Tom Riddle’s evil, Harry found himself forced to deal with the aftermath of everything that had happened. Dealing with those who had survived, those who had not, and those whose futures still lay ahead of them, Harry found that he felt as though the events of just a few months ago were a lifetime in the past.
The fact that Ginny had been forgiving and patient with him had made everything they had faced bearable. Her love for him was unconditional and her strength and courage to stand beside him filled Harry with a pride and love that he had never felt before. Even though their new challenge was enough to terrify even the most experienced and hardened of wizards, Harry had found himself with the courage and desire to face it.
Harry soon began to understand that the power Tom Riddle could not understand was in fact a power he could draw upon freely. As Harry began to fully accept and develop his love for Ginny and just exactly what it meant to him, he found himself becoming more powerful than he would have ever imagined. Amazingly enough, though, for Harry, his greatest surges in power came not when they were kissing or touching, but when Ginny did the most simple of things.
Harry felt his most powerful when Ginny would simply smile at him. It was no ordinary smile, though. Looking into her eyes, Harry could see her whole spirit smiling, and the way her eyes lit made Harry’s heart flutter as he realized she never smiled for anyone else that way. Those smiles, which she only gave Harry, were his strength and the fuel for his resolve.
Letting out a deep sigh, Harry began to consider that future. Yet again, he stood facing two diametrically opposed possibilities. In the next few days, he would either be dead and his hopes and dreams of a future with Ginny gone forever, or he would be alive and there would finally be nothing standing in the way for him to make his dreams come true.
Closing his eyes to the storm raging before him, Harry began to let his mind drift to the dreams that he held the closest to his heart. During all his years at Privet Drive locked in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry had maintained himself on one hope — someday he would have a family. It had been something that Ginny and he would spend a few precious minutes at night talking about before they drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms.
While they were both still young, their hearts were of the same accord. The wanted to share their lives together and someday start a family where they could watch their children grow. While Ginny always talked about her dark haired sons, Harry would quickly interrupt and mention their auburn haired girls.
Just in the distance beyond his eyesight, Harry could almost hear the laughter of children. A smile slowly crept to his face as the sounds of the rain were quickly replaced with the sounds of Ginny and his children running through the house. Slowly, from the depths of his mind, and the very center of his heart, three nondescript, but obviously Weasley and Potter children appeared. Their backs were turned, embracing an older and even more beautiful Ginny.
Harry felt his heart catch and a lump form in his throat as the image began to slowly fade away. Without realizing it, he raised his hand towards the fading image in his mind, just as Ginny looked up and stared straight at him. A brilliant smile crossed her face as her eyes lit up in recognition of Harry, just as the image disappeared for good.
Even though the image had gone, Harry was left with an overwhelming sense of warmth and happiness. This was his future. He had no doubt of it. It was a future he had to simply reach out and take. Harry knew that Daemon would soon come for him, but he would be up to the challenge — he had to be.
Harry opened his eyes once more, which were now glistening with unshed tears of joy. He took a deep breath as he collected himself. A gust of cold air quickly settled his emotions as Harry watched the storm begin to lose intensity and settle into just a massive rainstorm. Realization finally setting in, Harry began to feel the damp cold that his rain soaked robes were surrounding his body with.
Deciding that he had had enough rain for the day, Harry stood and began to walk slowly back towards the entrance to the castle. Even as the rain continued to pour down, Harry paid little attention. Pausing to look back for a brief moment, he disappeared into the castle, leaving the weather and the impending battle behind him.
***
Thunder rumbled through the stone hallways of the castle all the way down to Gryffindor’s library. Hermione, Ron and Ginny sat quietly at a table, books in front of them, but no one reading and no one speaking. It had been this way all morning. Harry had left saying he needed time to think and be alone. Realizing the battle going on within him, everyone had granted him that and remained in the library. Now though, the days of study, reading and preparations were over.
Everyone sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts as to what would be happening in the next couple of days. Ron sat quietly beside Hermione, his arm draped across the back of her chair, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, doodling mindlessly on a piece of parchment in front of him. Hermione, for her part, twisted a lock of her hair in her hand as she just stared at various things throughout the room. Ginny sat, with her legs propped up in the chair Harry would have normally been seated beside her, with her head tilted back and eyes closed.
Listening quietly, she could hear the strength of the storm outside, even through the stone of the castle. The pouring rain and near constant thunder made a persistent background of noise against which the usual drips and trickles of water penetrating the old castle were ever increasing. Occasionally, after a particularly loud roll of thunder, Ginny would crack one eye open, only to notice that neither Ron nor Hermione had moved.
With her eyes closed, Ginny also began to let her mind drift. She first began thinking over the past few months with Harry. Unlike his pursuit of the Horcruxes with Ron and Hermione, she had been involved from the start with this. She had not been deemed too young or the risks thought too great for her to stand with the others as an equal. She smiled to herself as she realized that in the course of the past few months she had been given the opportunity to prove she was an equal and everyone had willingly accepted her as that.
She also began to think of her time with Harry. So much had happened since that day he first kissed her - so much happiness, so much frustration, so much heartache. Whether because of the prophecy or because Harry realized how much he needed her, she could not say for sure, but they were beginning to build their life together.
Granted, while they had been sleeping in the same bed for months now, their relationship was still on a level that had not seen them take the physical and emotional step of becoming lovers. That had been a decision both had made very early into this entire ordeal, when both had admitted they would prefer to wait until they were free from the pressures of a looming life or death confrontation. Besides, as Ginny had also pointed out to Harry, with everything they had before them regarding Daemon, neither was ready for the responsibilities that could accompany such actions.
Ginny’s attention once more shifted, but before her thoughts could firmly materialize, she was brought back to the library by a deep yet gentle voice.
“Hello,” Gryffindor spoke gently as he realized no one before him was really paying any attention. Upon seeing Ron and Hermione look up and Ginny open one eye, he continued, “I realize you are all occupied with your own thoughts, but I was hoping that we could talk for a few moments.”
He fell silent as he waited for everyone’s response. Ron looked to Hermione and, after apparently finding agreement in her eyes, looked to Gryffindor and nodded. Ginny opened both eyes, lowered her feet from the chair to the floor, and turned to face him.
Taking this as her agreement, Gryffindor began again, “Time is rapidly drawing to a close on our time together. Daemon will soon have his potion and you’ll be forced to stand as one and defeat him. I’ve done all that I can to help you, you have prepared well and now your courage and will of heart shall stand tested against Daemon’s hatred and despair.”
Gryffindor’s voice trailed off softly as he paused for a moment, seemingly thinking what next to say. Silence filled the room for what seemed like an age before he resumed.
“I just want to tell you all that I’m proud of you. I’m proud of how hard you have worked and what you have learned. I’m sorry that you were forced to learn it, and I’ll admit that, when we first met, I thought you weren’t the ones that I should have been teaching…”
At those words, everyone’s eyebrows rose a bit, but they remained silent. Gryffindor had said the same thing to them before, but this time, the certainty in his voice had shown just how strong his opinion had initially been. Now, though, they all knew he considered them to be the only people that could defeat Daemon.
“But you have proven yourselves to be the only people capable of fulfilling the prophecy and sending Daemon to his fate,” Gryffindor continued. “There is one final thing, though, that I would like to do for you all to help with the battle.”
Hermione’s eyes turned to Gryffindor from where she had been staring down at the table. “What more can there be?” she questioned softly. “You’ve taught us the spells, you’ve shown us the books, you’ve given us everything you know. What else can there be?”
Gryffindor smiled softly and winked before answering, “Well, there’s always the matter of making sure you have as much help as possible.”
As Hermione began to open her mouth and ask another question, there was a sudden burst of flame in the room, and an instant later Fawkes landed on the table before them. A soft trill filled the air and everyone present felt their spirits and courage lift.
Cautiously, Ginny extended her hand, pausing for Fawkes to nod approval before she began to gently stroke the phoenix’s feathers. Again a soft trill filled the room as everyone sat in silence, staring at the beautiful creature before them.
“Fawkes has helped Harry in the past,” Gryffindor finally began. “Fawkes knows all too well the importance of what you four will be doing, and wants to make sure you have the strength and courage needed to finish the task.”
Ginny simply nodded her understanding as she continued to stroke Fawkes’s feathers. For a moment, Fawkes’s head turned, and Ginny was looking straight into the eyes of the phoenix. Their eyes remained locked, as Ginny felt the slightest sensation as though Fawkes were looking into her very soul.
As they continued to stare at one another, a sad trill began to fill the room. Instantly, Ginny felt as though the song perfectly relayed all of the fear and anxiety she had for Harry and the upcoming battle. Just as she felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes, the song changed. An overwhelming sense of hope and assurance swept over her, and though the tears did fall, they were tears of joy and reassurance, rather than fear and sorrow.
“Thank you,” Ginny whispered softly as she finished stroking Fawkes’s feathers and slowly withdrew her hand.
The phoenix nodded ever so slightly to her before turning, jumping off the end of the table and taking flight. In another ball of flames the phoenix disappeared as silence once more fell over those in the room.
Finally, Hermione found her voice, “Fawkes will be a great ally.”
Gryffindor nodded his agreement. “Fawkes will stand with you all.” His voice trailed off as he added, “I only wish, but that I could as well.” Taking a deep breath, he paused for a moment before finishing, “But alas, I’ve played my part in this tale, and now it is up to you four to write the ending.”
***
A broad smile spread across Daemon’s face as he looked down at the simmering potion. In only a few more hours, it would be ready. He had just finished the final step and stirred it clockwise twelve times with the left leg of a freshly killed Kneazle. Now there was only to wait.
Taking a step back from the potion and conjuring a chair, Daemon took a seat and began to reflect upon what lay before him. For the briefest of moments, something he had not felt in nearly a millennium swept through him — nervous anticipation. To say that he was afraid would be wrong, but even Daemon was smart enough to admit that Harry had survived far longer than he would have expected.
Now, with two more months of preparation, he knew the boy would be that much harder to kill. He also knew that, this time, the boy’s companions would make certain they would be with him. For many wizards, four against one would of itself have been enough to warrant concern, but not for Daemon. He knew quite well that he had both an advantage in power and experience. Add to that the fact that he did not care who he killed, and the odds were actually stacked heavily in his favor.
The one advantage that Daemon had to grant Harry, though, was the fact that he had Gryffindor. It had been Gryffindor and his three friends who had so long ago imprisoned his spirit, binding him for a thousand years, until the Chosen One was ready. The fact that Gryffindor had been able to bind him at all showed Daemon the power of his former friend, and he was well aware of the fact that Gryffindor would share every ounce of his knowledge with the Chosen One.
Slowly, Daemon began to let his mind drift back to that fateful night when Gryffindor and he had last met in battle.
The numerous fires that had once raged in the night, marking the individual houses of the village, were crackling softly as they died. Aside from the fire, the village was deathly quiet. Once boisterous and full of life, it was now full of death, as bodies lay scattered and broken about what was left of the town.
Daemon smiled to himself. His attack had taken them completely by surprise. Even the women and children had been unable to run in fear, and instead, with only a single spell, he had spread death and destruction upon them all. Glancing one last time around, seeing only the burned out husks of homes still smoldering in the night, Daemon made his way towards the edge of the village.
As he followed the trail into the forest, Daemon did not see the bright flash of light in the village’s center that signified a phoenix’s arrival. Making his way into the forest, silence quickly surrounded him, save for the noise of his own footsteps. In silence, he walked for a few minutes, the village quickly fading behind him. Soon, the forest became so dense and overgrown, that even the light of the moon could not penetrate the canopy.
“Lumos,” he whispered softly, raising his hand and watching a faint glow emit from his palm.
With a dull light to once more guide him, Daemon continued to press on into the night — not in search of rest or shelter, but instead eager to find the next village. Finally coming into a clearing, the moonlight once more lighting the night, Daemon extinguished his own magical light and began to walk slowly in the open.
He had made it nearly half way across the clearing, when he first sensed someone else. A moment later, Daemon heard two soft pops behind him, while, at the same time, two figures stepped forward from the shadows in front of him. Almost instantly he recognized the telltale features of Godric Gryffindor and his friend Salazar Slytherin.
Turning to his side so that he could face those approaching him from behind, he quickly recognized Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. As the foursome approached in silence, Daemon could not help but to smile to himself. Standing before him were the four most powerful witches and wizards of the age, and they all knew that the outcome of a battle was not a certainty for them.
A vicious smile danced across his lips as he watched Gryffindor close the final few steps.
“Daemon,” Gryffindor spoke softly, “It’s over. We won’t allow you to harm anyone else.”
Maniacal laughter filled the air as Daemon responded to Gryffindor’s words. Finally, with his laughter abating, Daemon spoke, “Godric, you and I both know you cannot stop me. I know the prophecy and I know no matter how much you may want to be it, you are not the Chosen One. We both know that person has yet to be born.”
Daemon paused for a moment as he took the chance to look quickly at all of those surrounding him. “But with everyone you have here,” he continued, “Who’s to even say that I’d survive for the Chosen One to arrive.”
No one spoke as the two men continued to size one another up. Both knew the strengths and weaknesses of the other. Both knew that, when the spells started flying, they would not stop until one was either dead or incapacitated. Daemon’s eyes began to bore into Gryffindor’s, yet neither man would break the stare.
Finally, Gryffindor blinked before speaking in a whisper, “I’m sorry, my friend, but you leave me no choice.”
An instant later, all hell broke loose. As Gryffindor finished his words, Daemon recognized them to mean that he was about to be attacked. Using his superior reflexes, he had been the first to cast a spell. In fact, Daemon had reacted so quickly that he had hit both Gryffindor and Slytherin with a spell. As they fell backwards, stunned, Daemon turned to address those behind him.
Unfortunately for Daemon, his brief moments dealing with the men had been all the women needed. Even before his eyes could focus on the women, he saw a blur sweeping past him and an instant later felt the all too familiar burn of a spell impact against him. Dropping to his knees as he felt them buckle, he cast a spell towards the place he anticipated the blur to go, and was rewarded for his efforts by watching Ravenclaw fall to the ground unconscious.
Turning to deal with Hufflepuff, Daemon quickly realized that in his distraction, she had awoken and freed both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Cursing to himself, Daemon launched into full attack and began to fire curse after curse, keeping all three on the defensive. Very quickly, Daemon watched as the three began to coordinate their defenses as Gryffindor began to rely on the others to defend him.
In an attempt to foil whatever plan they had, and hopefully end the interference of Gryffindor once and for all, Daemon quickly turned to the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse. Almost immediately, Slytherin’s and Hufflepuff’s defense became more desperate, as they began to conjure large stones that they hurled in the way of his curses, but Daemon quickly noticed the Gryffindor was still not taking part.
Just as he began to prepare another change in his attack, Daemon watched as Gryffindor quickly appeared from behind his friends. In his left hand, Gryffindor held a gold locket, while in his right he held his wand. With a broad stroke, Daemon heard Gryffindor utter the words, “Animam Incarcera Usque Electo,” and saw a sickly green and purple mist begin to speed towards him.
Not recognizing the spell, Daemon quickly conjured a huge stone to block the spell, but instead of the block shattering and the spell being destroyed, Daemon’s eyes widened in fear as the spell passed cleanly through. Moving quickly, he tried to dodge the spell, only to not have enough time and find himself caught by the spell on the side.
Immediately, Daemon felt his very soul being ripped from his body. Pure agony filled his entire being as he quickly felt his spirit being bound to an object. He could sense Gryffindor performing strong magic and his soul could almost hear the very words that would serve to bind him to the locket until the Chosen One was ready. Crying out in agony to himself, but with no voice and no one to hear, Daemon’s spirit began to fight with all of his might to escape.
How long his soul had fought against its imprisonment, Daemon could not say. For him, time did not exist now that he was bound within the locket. Every day felt like an eternity in itself. What little rational thought and sanity he had possessed were utterly and completely purged during this time.
For over a millennium, Daemon lived only a half existence. He was magically aware. He knew when others were near him. Some, he could even sense their thoughts and emotions, but that was all he could do. He could not see. He could not hear. He was unable to call out to those near him for help, and instead had to bear the torture of essentially being locked within his own mind and heart of sadness and hatred for over a thousand years.
In just that state, he had languished, until that day just a few months ago, when he felt the wards and spells beginning to change. With a searing pain once more tearing into his very being, he felt himself being forced from the locket as his soul began to once more regain strength.
It had taken him days to find the strength and ability to locate what remained of his body so that he could reunite body and spirit. During that time, he had even been able to see the Chosen One in a cemetery surrounded by family and friends. Unable to launch his assault, all Daemon could do was laugh, as he saw just a boy standing before him. Godric Gryffindor himself could not stop Daemon, and now Daemon found a boy standing in his way.
As he continued to contemplate all that had happened to him, a plan for revenge began to form in Daemon’s mind. He smiled to himself as a feeling of satisfaction swept over him.
Yes he thought. I will let them experience the hell that I have been through. Once the Chosen One has fallen, I will cast the same curse on them that was cast on me. Let them live like that for a thousand years. Let them suffer and agonize within their own minds as time passes and everyone they love dies. Only after that will I kill them.
Standing from his chair, satisfied with what he had decided, Daemon took one last look at the potion. A grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, Daemon left the room. As the door closed behind him, the same maniacal laughter that had filled the clearing so many years ago could be heard echoing down the corridor.
Chapter 30: Chapter 30: The Beginning of the End
Author's Notes: Well ladies and gents, here it is, the long awaited confrontation. Let's just say, my beta was not very happy with the way this chapter ended, but I think it was the best place to stop. No worries though, the next chapter is already 3000 words along, and the battle is finally over, the survivors are just having to deal with the aftermath as I continue writing. As always, I need to thank my beta - Ginny Guerra, her time and efforts helped to make this chapter far better than when it first started. Because of her, some parts were kept that I initially thought may be better off deleted and looking back, I think the story is better because of it. Please enjoy the chapter, as always I welcome all comments and reviews.
A gentle warmth bathed the room as the first rays of sunlight began to shine into the bedroom Harry and Ginny had been sharing for the past few months. Both still lay quietly sleeping, wrapped in each other’s loving embrace. Harry was lying on his back, with his arm wrapped protectively around Ginny, who, for her part, was lying against Harry’s chest, using him as a pillow and snuggled close against him. Rhythmically, their chests rose and fell in unison as each contentedly dreamed of a future together.
Harry was the first to awake, doing so slowly as the warm orange tinge of his eyelids revealed to him the progressing morning. Feeling Ginny’s warm body pressed against him, Harry did not open his eyes, but remained motionless, savouring the soft touch of her skin against his own as she continued to sleep. With his hand embracing her, he began to gently play with the free locks of her hair that were nearest his fingertips.
Sighing softly in contentment, Harry took a few moments to appreciate the texture and feel of her hair between his fingers. This was not the first time he had done it, and hopefully would not be his last. Every moment Ginny and he had shared together in this room had been a dream come true for Harry. With her he had found a contentment and a love that he had once thought not possible. Harry knew for certain that he wanted many more mornings waking up just like this in his future.
As Harry began to consider his future, his mood suddenly turned morose. He knew all too well that this was the last morning for Ginny and he to lay together like this before the final confrontation. Forcing these depressing thoughts down, Harry began to focus on what his senses were telling him and once more lost himself in the beauty of the moment with Ginny.
Slowly feeling himself relax again, Harry soon found himself drifting back into the realm of dreams. Without him fighting them, his eyelids quickly became quite heavy and fell closed as he once more slept. As Harry’s breathing once more slowed and he fell into an even deeper, more relaxed sleep, Ginny stirred.
Feeling the warmth of Harry’s body against hers, she smiled to herself as she began to listen to the steady THUMP, THUMP, THUMP of Harry’s heart beating just below her ear. A gentle warmth began to spread over her as she felt the security of Harry’s embrace. Unmoving, she remained motionless against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took.
Exhaling slowly in contentment as her heart told her she was in the place she was meant to be, Ginny opened her eyes and turned her head so that she could look at Harry. A smile spread across her face as she stared up at his sleeping face. Seeing his face relaxed as a small smile played at his lips caused Ginny’s heart to swell up as she realized that for once, Harry looked at peace.
She felt the warmth of tears begin to pool in the back of her eyes as the room slowly began to blur. Slowly raising her hand as she closed her eyes, she began to gently wipe away the tears that had begun to fall. Moments later, Ginny’s eyes snapped open in surprise as the soft skin of her cheek registered the contact of another person’s skin that was obviously not her own. Looking up, she saw that Harry was looking down at her with both concern and understanding.
Without saying a word, he used his thumb to gently brush away the tears that were trailing down her face. As he finished drying the last of her tears, he smiled reassuringly before saying, “Good morning.”
Finding herself once more at ease, Ginny responded with a brilliant smile before answering, “Good morning yourself.”
As they lay in silence, lost in one another’s eyes, Ginny reached up with her hand and carefully brushed back Harry’s hair, trying to force even a small modicum of control over it, to only have it snap right back into the place it had occupied before her efforts.
Letting out a gentle laugh Ginny remarked, “I don’t even know why I bother. Even when you try, it still looks like you’ve just woken up.”
Harry returned her laugh as he ran his fingers through his hair. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her before pulling away and reaching for his glasses. Both continued to lie in bed, silently lost in their own thoughts, as they persisted in ignoring the white elephant in the room.
Letting out a frustrate sigh, Harry finally began, “Ginny, I want you to know…”
Before he could finish, though, Ginny silenced him, “Harry, stop. I know. You know. We both know. Whatever happens, happens, but I’m going to be by your side and we’ll face it together.”
Harry smiled at Ginny as he contemplated what she had said. Finally, in a soft voice as he drew her as close against him as he could with his arm, he said, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ginny responded as they both once more fell silent.
After a few minutes, Harry felt Ginny beginning to move. He looked down to watch as she carefully pulled herself away from his chest and move up so that she was lying on her side facing him. As she was doing that, Harry had turned himself and was lying on his side, facing her as well.
Both smiled into the other’s eyes for a moment, before Harry carefully lifted his hand towards Ginny’s face. He brushed her hair back behind her ear as he let his hand rest against the back of her neck. Gently, he pulled her face towards him. A soft sigh escaped Ginny’s lips as she turned her head slightly, angling for the kiss. At the last instant before their lips met, her eyes closed and Harry felt her begin to melt into him.
Softly, tentatively they kissed at first. Harry focused his attention on Ginny’s lower lip, catching it in his own and tugging it softly. As they kissed, Harry let the thumb of the hand he was holding the back of Ginny’s head with begin to rub softly across her cheek. Soon their kisses became more passionate, as Ginny let a low groan escape as Harry began to trace her jaw with his lips.
After many heated minutes, Harry pulled away from Ginny. His face was flushed and he was panting softly as he tried to catch his breath. As he looked up to her, Harry saw a familiar longing and desire in her eyes. It was the same desire that filled him as well, and that he had to constantly battle into submission. Giving her one more chaste kiss, Harry rolled over and swung his legs over the other side of the bed.
He made to get up so that he would not fall into the temptation of taking things farther than either Ginny or he had agreed to go while Daemon was still looming. Granted, sleeping in the same bed as his girlfriend was already pushing the limits of what some of the more conservative witches and wizards may deem appropriate behavior, but Harry and Ginny had agreed from the outset that allowing their relationship to reach the next level of intimacy that many would assume accompanied sharing a bed would not be right. They had both agreed that there was a time and a place for that to happen, and neither wanted it to be with someone like Daemon looming over them.
Running his hand through his hair, Harry let out a sigh as he struggled to once more regain his composure. Just as he felt his blood begin to stop boiling, the gentle caress of Ginny’s hand ran up his bare back, tracing his spine before making its way over his shoulder to his bare chest. The next instant Harry felt the tickle of Ginny’s long hair against his back as he also felt the warmth of her breath along the back of his neck.
All his efforts at self composure for naught, Harry quickly turned his head and hungrily captured Ginny’s lips with his own. As they fell back once more onto the bed, someone, somewhere deep inside his mind reminded him of both their desires to wait. Now, the only question would be whether either would heed the little voice.
***
When a person has allowed themselves to become consumed with hate, for a black hole of despair to take the place of his heart and suck every last ounce of goodness and hope from him, then joy and satisfaction do not hold the same meaning. In fact, for such a person, joy is a woefully poor term to use. Joy, happiness, and other positively connotated emotions do not really exist for someone like this. They are only hollow shells of the emotions that someone who has his heart fully intact can experience.
What the person is instead left with are haunting memories. Remembrances of times before his heart was shattered, before he began to find pleasure in seeing himself bringing the same agony to others that had been inflicted upon him. Fortunately, such men capable of carrying out their unholy retribution upon others are few and far between. Were it not the case, then all of humanity would find itself under constant attack, even more so than what the world already sees. Unfortunately, one such man currently did live, and the time was drawing nearer where he would face the only person capable of ridding the world of him.
Daemon stood before the potion with a malicious grin spreading across his face. It was ready. Unable to contain his satisfaction, a maniacal laughter filled the room as he watched the potion simmer. Raising his hand, the flames abated from below the cauldron and Daemon set about waiting the final critical moments as the potion cooled enough for him to drink.
Thinking briefly over his plan, Daemon weighed his options when it came to dealing with the Chosen One and Gryffindor. In his haste to wreak vengeance upon the last vestige of his former friend, he had allowed the blasted apparition to persist, and as a result the Chosen One had been able to benefit from Gryffindor’s tutelage for another two months. While Daemon had little fear in what could be learned in two months, he realized it would only make it a larger annoyance in dispatching the Chosen One.
Seeing that the potion had ceased its simmering, Daemon quickly dipped a ladle full of the potion into a glass phial. Still feeling too warm to drink without burning his throat, he carefully held the phial as he felt the anticipation begin to grow. He was looking forward to the confrontation. He eagerly awaited meeting the Chosen One once more, as well as his friends, and quickly doing away with the only person that could stand between him and his complete revenge upon all who had made him suffer.
Closing his eyes to bask in his moment of glory, he felt the liquid in the phial continue to cool to the point that he was no longer forced to hold it by the portion of the phial above where the liquid was at, but instead, could wrap his whole hand around it where the liquid was at. Pausing just long enough to grin, he quickly turned the phial up and drank it straight down.
Just as before, Daemon quickly conjured a mat on which he collapsed on as the potion began to take effect. All too soon, Daemon’s essence was quickly moving towards the castle and the magical signature he recognized as Gryffindor’s.
Finding his old friend’s spirit in the same place as before, Daemon quickly pulled his magical essence together and materialized in the room. He had no fear of encountering the Chosen One at the moment, as he had felt his presence in another location of the castle.
As the room snapped into sharp focus before him, Daemon found himself staring face to face with Gryffindor once more. Looking just over Gryffindor’s shoulder, Daemon also noticed Fawkes perched as if asleep, but opening an eye an instant later.
“Gryffindor,” Daemon began as he felt his hatred of the man begin to pulse through his veins, “There’s nothing that will stop me this time. The Chosen One will die today, and his friends will suffer the same fate you brought down upon me.”
Daemon literally spat the words from his mouth as he quickly scanned the room, trying to find the greatest source of Gryffindor’s magic. His eyes widened for a brief moment as his attention focused upon a single book setting on a nearby table. He immediately knew what the book was and how he was going to do away with Gryffindor once and for all.
“Daemon,” Gryffindor began, none the wiser to Daemon’s search around the room and his subsequent discovery. “Much can be accomplished in two months. I know you will find that your goal is now much more difficult than it was before, and even then you failed.”
Daemon snarled at Gryffindor’s last words. “The only reason he survived is because of Fawkes,” Daemon snapped back as he pointed a finger caustically towards the phoenix, who was now paying complete attention. “The Chosen One was barely able to defend himself against my attack. In fact, from my point of view, he spent the entire time running and hiding behind whatever he could find. I promise you, if I must, there will be no two stones of this castle left upon one another for him to hide behind.”
Turning his attention towards the phoenix, he began again, “And to you my old friend, let me say I now consider the bond we once shared to be void. Should you give me reason, I will destroy you today as well.”
Gryffindor simply nodded his head. He knew that Harry was ready. Daemon’s arrogance had cost him once before, and now he was again overlooking what Harry could do. When the time came, that may give Harry just enough of an edge to dispatch Daemon quickly, and before things really fell to pieces.
“Do what you think you must,” Gryffindor responded. “But I assure you, if you expect him to simply run and hide this time, you are sorely mistaken.”
Daemon simply snorted in response. His patience with Gryffindor was at an end. The man had been the downfall of him when he was alive, and now the ghostly vestige of the man was standing poised to see him completely done in. Deciding that letting Gryffindor live to see the Chosen One’s demise was no longer what he wanted, Daemon raised his right hand and allowed a broad smile to spread across his face.
“Whether I am right, or you are right, Godric, I am afraid you will not be around to see it,” he said flatly as he watched first surprise and then resignation flash across Gryffindor’s eyes.
Taking one last parting shot at his former friend, Gryffindor said, “I’ll be certain to give Rebecca and Marcus your best.” With one last solemn nod towards Daemon, Gryffindor then stood upright, sticking his chest out and lifting his chin high, ready to face the fate of what he knew was to come.
Daemon’s eyes flashed with fury, “You are to NEVER speak those names to me again!” A loud growl sounding from his throat, Daemon thrust his hand towards the book that held Gryffindor’s essence. An instant later it was consumed in a burning fireball, and in the blink of an eye, Gryffindor was gone.
Letting out a scream of rage from his very core, he turned his hand towards Fawkes, who had seen everything. Instantly, icy daggers were flying towards the phoenix, but only found the characteristic flames that signaled the phoenix’s quick departure.
Panting heavily as his rage began to claim what little remained of his rational thought, Daemon quickly surveyed the room. Extending his hand once more, flames flew from his palm and quickly encased the old texts and bookcases. As the fire began to consume the room and destroy everything in it, Daemon’s breathing began to slow once more.
Closing his eyes, he felt for the presence of the Chosen One. Opening them a moment later, he turned on the spot and Disapparated from the room. His goal was nearly within reach. There would be no third chances for the Chosen One.
***
Ominous clouds in the sky seemed to perfectly match the mood of the day. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione walked slowly about the grounds of Hogwarts. They had been doing so for nearly an hour, in total silence, no one willing to speak a word about what every one of them was thinking.
Where they were going, no one could say. They had been walking aimlessly since coming out. Harry and Ginny were in the lead, walking side by side, hand in hand as Ron and Hermione followed. Slowly, their journey took them down near the lake, towards Dumbledore’s tomb.
As they approached the tomb, Harry released Ginny’s hand and, looking towards the sky, closed his eyes; he let out a long sigh, before once more opening them. With one hand he took his glasses off, as he used the other to massage the bridge of his nose before he replaced the spectacles on their place. Looking over to Ginny, he once more extended his hand towards her, which she quickly, yet gently, took and squeezed as a show of support.
Still holding her hand, Harry approached the tomb and laid his free hand upon it. Immediately, he pulled his hand back, surprised at how cold the stone felt to his bare flesh, before he once more pressed his hand to the stone and held it there. Without realizing it, Harry began to drag his fingers along the stone as he began to walk around the tomb as he became lost in his own thoughts.
Ginny, Ron and Hermione all looked to one another, uncertain of what to say or what to do. They had never seen Harry quite like this. Ginny was amazed at how quickly Harry had gone from vibrant and full of life to somber and nearly catatonic. It had only been that very morning when they had been together in bed, enjoying the moment of being together, realizing the future they could, no, would, share together.
Now, the man standing beside her, holding her hand was ages older. Gone was his smile and instead it was replaced by lines of concern. His eyes no longer shone with the vitality of youth, but instead bore the hollow reminder of a man who had seen and done far more than most people three times his age. His shoulders, which just that very morning had been relaxed and free from stress thanks to the administrations of Ginny nimble fingers, were now slumped, as though the weight of the world, and then some, bore down upon them.
Ron and Hermione shared another look of concern as they let Harry and Ginny walk a bit farther ahead of them. Gripping Hermione’s hand firmly, Ron pulled her to a stop as the other couple continued on.
“What do ya think is going on?” he asked her softly, so that they would not be overheard.
Shaking her head, before letting out a sigh, Hermione responded, “I don’t know for sure, but I’d say Harry is beginning to feel the pressure of once more having to be the world’s savior. I imagine it’s bringing up some things about that final confrontation with Tom Riddle that he’s not yet had the time to sort out.”
Ron nodded his head as he looked off in the distance, a thoughtful look on his face. “That makes sense,” he finally responded, “But if we don’t snap him out of this, then he’s going to be no good for the battle.”
Hermione fell silent as she bit her lower lip. Finally a look of resolve came to her face as she spoke, “You know Harry. He’ll be right when the fight starts. He’ll focus solely on that and he’ll give it all he’s got. He won’t let himself be distracted, and in the end, we’ll all come out of this alright.”
A small smile spread across Ron’s face as he looked down at his girlfriend. He knew they were all worried, but she had perfectly explained it. Since she, Harry and he had became best friends, they had been in a lot of tight spots, but they had always come out alright. Harry had always found a way to press through the pain, the sorrow and whatever else they might encounter and he had helped bring them through it as well. Simply nodding to her, he gave her hand a squeeze to show his appreciation as they began to walk again, attempting to catch up with Harry and Ginny.
The couples walked on in silence for a few more minutes before Harry abruptly stopped. He turned to face Ron and Hermione, while still holding on to Ginny’s hand. He ran his other hand through his hair as he looked down at the ground and appeared to contemplate something. Finally, he spoke.
“Guys, no matter how this turns out,” he said softly, almost as though it were the most painful thing in the world for him to say, “I just want each of you to know how much I love you.”
Both Ginny and Hermione opened their mouths to speak, but Harry raised a hand and they fell silent.
“Look, I know we’ll get through this ok,” he said as a small grin broke across his face but did not reach his eyes. “It’s always worked out in the past.”
His voice trailed off as Harry looked up to the sky. The clouds were growing thicker, although it had yet to start raining for the day. Off in the distance, the low rumble of thunder could be heard, but it was difficult to make out if it came from clouds that had already passed, or those still waiting to move overhead.
Looking thoughtful once more, Harry spoke again, “It shouldn’t be too much longer now. I’d say the potion’s ready and Daemon should be using it at any moment.”
Everyone was silent for a moment, before Ron spoke up, “So just how are we going to deal with finding Daemon? I mean he’ll use the potion to get to Hogwarts, but still it’s a very large area to cover.”
Harry smile for a moment before he chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ron, if last time is any indicator, we won’t have to find him, he’ll find us.”
With that, Harry began to lead the group away from Dumbledore’s tomb. Just as they reached the lowest step, a bright flash startle everyone. Instantly, Fawkes was in the air before them, with a trill of foreboding and concern in the air.
Harry let out a sigh and took a deep breath as he looked at the concern on everyone’s face. “Get ready,” he said as he clinched his jaw and set his resolve. “It’s time.”
As they all drew their wands, the phoenix song changed to one of courage and hope. Everyone’s spirits were lifted as they awaited their opponent. Fortunately for both their nerves and their racing hearts, they did not have to wait long.
A loud CRACK announced Daemon’s arrival. He Apparated just to the right of the group and about ten yards away. He was casting his first spell even before the sound had fully been recognized within the group’s own ears.
Seeing Daemon’s arrival before hearing it, Harry’s instincts took over. He yelled, “Move!” as he pulled Ginny and took them to the left of the spell. Ron and Hermione, thanks to Harry’s quick warning, dodged to the right of the spell. To everyone’s surprise, where they had been standing not even a second before was now merely a huge gash that marred the earth and extended all the way past Dumbledore’s tomb, having only missed it by the narrowest of margins.
Not being one to lose focus, Harry quickly recovered and fired a barrage of spells towards Daemon forcing him actually focus on blocking them rather than following up on his initial assault. For their part, Ginny and Hermione began to let their hours of training take over as Ginny began to cast the strongest shield she could to protect them while Hermione set to casting the charms that would enhance Harry’s speed and reflexes.
To say that keeping Harry covered with a shield was a challenge, would be an understatement. While Ginny had practiced keeping him covered as he moved, dodged and cast spells, the rate he was currently going at was nothing like she had anticipated. What made it all the more amazing was that Harry was doing it without the as of yet added benefit of Hermione’s charms.
As he battled Daemon in earnest, Harry made certain to stay in no one position longer than it took to get a good aim casting his spells. All too often, though, Daemon was faster and anticipated Harry’s position, having a spell already screaming towards Harry as he would look up and focus. The result was a hastily cast spell on Harry’s part that most times was well off the mark, and Harry only narrowly avoiding whatever Daemon had cast.
A couple of times, it had been Ginny’s shield that wound up blocking the spell from hitting Harry. With the amount of magical energy and focus it took Ginny to maintain the shield, she knew all too well that Harry could not afford to be hit by even one of the spells. If further proof was needed, though, all that had to be done was for an observer to look at the earth where the spells that were intended for Harry impacted.
The ground surrounding them was scorched and quickly becoming littered with craters. This only complicated things more for Harry as it reduced his mobility and instead began to force him to rely on Ginny’s shields even more.
After what had felt like several very long minutes, but in actuality had only been a very few seconds, Harry felt the effects of the first of Hermione’s charms. He dared the faintest of smiles as he felt his spells beginning to flow more smoothly and more quickly from his wand as his speed became magically enhanced.
In rapid succession, Harry cast off two Slicing curses, a Bludgeoning curse followed by a Cutting curse, and followed all of that up with a couple of Stunners for good measure. While none of his spells were able to land on Daemon, Harry was able to finally start making him dodge and move as his accuracy improved.
This also helped Ginny as she was able to rest for a few precious seconds without her shield being under assault. She quickly took a deep breath, focused her resolve, and poured everything she had into the shield she was holding. When they practiced, she had been able to hold the shield for five minutes, but she had never had to withstand anything like what she was encountering now. Deep down, she knew that she could not hold the shield for that long, but with the way things had started, she would hold the shield as long as she had to, even to the point of passing out from magical exhaustion.
Much too quickly for any of the foursome’s liking, Daemon adjusted to Harry’s increased speed. He had been forced off balance for all of thirty seconds at most, and when he had adjusted, he came back with a vengeance. The only bright spot for Harry was in the fact that in order for Daemon to match Harry’s rate of speed, he was forced to rely on simpler spells, so the craters being left were now only slightly deeper than a kiddy pool.
While Ginny and Hermione continued to focus on helping Harry, Ron began to attempt to strategically position himself to the side of or behind Daemon. He had not yet cast a spell, and he hoped that with the battle raging between Harry and Daemon, that Daemon would not even notice him trying to flank him. Finally, after Harry cast a rapid succession of Cutting curses that ended up causing Daemon to turn away from Ron to evade them, Ron took his opportunity.
With as little fanfare and noise as possible, Ron cast a Binding spell towards Daemon and hoped to take him by surprise. At first, all seemed well, and it appeared as though Ron had actually succeeded in catching the other wizard off guard. As the spell drew closer, though, to the point that even Ginny began to notice and hope that it would land, the spell crashed against a shield that they had not even know was there.
It took only an instant for Ginny to recognize that Daemon had been holding the shield all along, and had cast it wandlessly with his off hand. Cursing silently, she refocused on the battle and set aside her feelings of disappointment.
Soon, Hermione had cast charms on Harry that helped both his reflexes and reaction time, in addition to his flexibility as well as wards against minor spell damage. When she had finished with Harry, she began to cast the same charms on Ginny.
For Harry, although he was doing much better against Daemon this go around, he was already covered in sweat and breathing heavily. It was taking every ounce of energy he had, both physically and magically to avoid Daemon’s spells while at the same time staying on the offensive against him. The fact that they had only been fighting for a couple of minutes did not bode well at all — especially considering that when Harry looked at Daemon, he could see no outward signs of fatigue.
Daemon, though, was not as cool and calm as his outer demeanour indicated. Inside he was a mixture of surprise, irritation, rage and fear. He had not expected the Chosen One and his friends to be doing this well. In fact, were he not in the middle of a battle trying to destroy them, he would have been forced to admit he was rather impressed with the strength of the shields the red haired woman was casting. To even deflect a spell he cast was something very few could do, and even then, their shields would usually collapse immediately afterwards. He had never encountered someone with the strength of magic and mind to hold their shields in the face of his onslaught.
Daemon was also concerned as it was apparent to him that the Chosen One’s other red haired friend was very opportunistic and strategically minded. Almost no one could have gone as long as he did without firing a spell, and all the while trying to flank Daemon. Straight away, Daemon had recognized what Ron was doing, and had raised his wandless shield to guard against Ron’s attack, but Ron had shown the patience to wait for a moment when Daemon’s attention was fully distracted before striking. Had it not been for the shield he was holding, Daemon would neither have heard nor seen Ron cast the spell until it was much too late.
Quickly thinking to himself, Daemon began to formalize a new strategy that went beyond simply blasting the Chosen One into oblivion and completely abandoned the idea of imprisoning the other three just as he had been for so long. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the foursome was formidable and he had to devise a plan for actually defeating them.
All too soon, Daemon’s spells began to become almost predictable. To Ron’s eyes, it became immediately apparent that Daemon was firing spells at Harry just to keep him occupied as his mind seemingly became focused on two different things. Ron’s intuition quickly supplied him with the correct answer: Daemon was being forced to devise a new strategy for battling Harry.
As he watched Harry continuing to engage Daemon, Ron saw the first telltale signs of fatigue on his best mate’s face. Surveying the whole situation, Ron formulated a plan himself. He realized what he was considering was quite risky, and in fact some may say stupid, but Ron felt that there was a good chance it would work. After all, Daemon had been so distracted with fighting Harry that he had not even noticed Ron’s first spell until it was clattering against a pre-existing shield Daemon was maintaining.
Knowing that he could not use magic to attack Daemon and throw him off guard, Ron began to seriously weigh the option of an outright physical assault. As he continued to watch Daemon and Harry fight, Ron took a couple of tentative steps towards Daemon, to which the wizard did not react. Seeing Harry panting heavily as he continued firing off Bludgeoning curses, Cutting curses, and other spells, Ron made his decision.
Just as Daemon released a series of three Blasting hexes, Ron made a sudden and mad dash towards the otherwise occupied wizard. To the amazement of everyone who was watching Ron’s all out rush on Daemon, the wizard did not even respond until he seemed to sense Ron’s physical presence just before Ron came barreling into him. For his part, all Daemon had time to do was turn and face Ron as Ron lowered his shoulder and made to spear him.
The impact of Ron’s shoulder into the chest of Daemon surprised both Ron and Daemon. Immediately Daemon had the wind knocked out of him as his body flailed backwards, while Ron experienced the sickening feeling of his right shoulder popping out of socket as it was driven downward. An instant later, Ron and Daemon were sprawled on the ground with Ron on top of Daemon.
Drawing back his fist to punch Daemon, Ron winced in pain and grabbed for his dislocated shoulder. Though stunned, that gave Daemon all the time he needed, and by merely summoning and gathering his magic, Daemon unleashed a pulse of his pure magic that impacted against Ron and sent him sailing helplessly through the air.
As he landed like a helpless rag doll, Ron felt and heard the all too sickening crunch as both of his legs snapped like twigs against the ground from the force of his impact. As his body began to tumble, Ron felt both arms break as well, in addition to a couple of ribs. With one final smack of the back of his head against the ground, Ron knew no more as the world fell black and his broken body skidded to a halt with Ron unconscious.
Ron’s actions had taken everyone by surprise. Hermione had been the first to see Ron’s motion and her mind, working as lightning fast as ever, realized immediately what he was going to do. Her heart seemingly stopped as she watched him grow closer and closer until finally he impacted against Daemon. Upon seeing his shoulder slam into the wizard, Hermione’s heart gave a leap of elation, only to be followed a moment later by shock and disbelief at seeing Ron flailing helplessly through the air.
Harry and Ginny had also been witness to Ron’s actions. When Ron had taken Daemon down, Harry quickly took a second to catch what breath he could, but as soon as he saw Daemon toss Ron away like a helpless child, Harry began to once more fire curses towards Daemon, even as he was still lying on the ground and not currently paying Harry any attention.
Harry would not let Daemon focus on Ron and finish him off, assuming he had survived to begin with. He fired at Daemon everything and anything he could think of. A Cutting curse, a Bone Breaker curse, the Blinding curse all went flying towards Daemon as he began to roll on the ground to once more face Harry.
Just before the spells arrived, Daemon raised another shield, as his previous had fallen as a result of his shock at the physical impact of Ron against him. Being hastily cast, the shield was only capable of blocking two of the three curses and the Bone Breaker curse got through. An instant later, Harry watched as the spell impacted against Daemon’s off hand and the hand immediately curled into a deformed figure that few would have mistaken for a hand.
Daemon let out a howl of pain as the bones in his hand became powder. Ron completely forgotten, he turned his attention once more towards Harry and he let the young man know the extent of his wrath. If Harry and Ginny thought that Daemon was brutal before, they were sorely mistaken. Harry had no chance whatsoever of going on the offensive as Daemon fired curse after curse with an unrivaled speed.
Harry was relegated to merely dodging the spells. All too soon, though, Daemon fired a well placed blasting curse just to the side of Harry, hoping he would see it was obviously misaimed and not try to avoid it. Little did Harry know, though, Daemon had aimed the spell to the right and to come up short on purpose. As a result, when Harry chose to ignore the spell, it impacted the ground with such force that a tidal wave of earth was sent flying in all directions from the impact point.
The end result was that, while the spell missed, the effects of the spell worked exactly as Daemon wanted them to. Harry was quickly knocked off his feet and tossed to the side. Quickly focusing on his downed opponent, Daemon sent another barrage of spells towards Harry with the intent of finishing him off once and for all.
As the spells neared Harry, they once more encountered a magical shield. To his amazement, it not only deflected all of the spells, but it outright blocked them as well. Quickly turning his attention towards Ginny, he could see a look of intense concentration and love on her face. For a moment, Daemon’s breath caught as something about the fire and passion he saw in her eyes triggered a memory from long in the past.
Realizing his key to defeating the Chosen One, Daemon quickly unleashed a barrage of spells straight towards Ginny. Knowing that she would be able to defend herself with her shields, Daemon copied his strategy used against Harry. All too soon, Daemon’s spell was landing just beyond the base of Ginny’s shield as it plowed into the ground like a giant shovel and catching Ginny, flipping her up into the air and sending her flying backwards. With a THUD, she landed on the ground unconscious as Daemon quickly cast one more spell before turning his attention back towards Harry.
From his own point of view, Harry felt initially fear and then pride as he watched Ginny’s shield hold up to a direct onslaught from Daemon. His pride quickly faded, though, as he watched Ginny’s body flying through the air before she fell limp to the ground. He could only hope she was still alive as the tears began to prickle the back of his eyes.
Quickly reacting to try to get Daemon’s attention away from Ginny, like he had with Ron, Harry felt his heart plummet as he saw a sickening green light racing towards Ginny. It was the same green light that had haunted his nightmares. The same green light that had taken his mother, his father, and that he had dreamed about for years. Now it was going towards the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it. She was going to die and he was going to have to watch it.
Chapter 31: Chapter 31: The End of the Beginning
Author's Notes: Well, ladies and gentlemen, here it is. The conclusion to the dastardly cliffhanger you were left with at the end of the last chapter. Will Ginny live? Will Harry live? Who, if anyone will come to their rescue? All of those questions, plus more will be answered in this chapter. Again, many thanks to my wonderful beta, Ginny Guerra. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Feel free to review and comment. I read and enjoy each and every one.
Closing his eyes before the spell impacted, Harry felt hatred and rage consume him like nothing he had ever experienced before. All the wrongs the Dursleys had committed against him, all the anguish Tom Riddle had caused him, everything that he had ever suppressed and buried so that he could function came to the surface and overwhelmed him in an instant.
Whether what happened next was accidental magic or Harry’s subconscious fully harnessing the magical power within him, it is uncertain. What is certain, though, is that it happened in the blink of an eye. For the briefest of moments, a single thought consumed him. He wanted Daemon to die. As the thought exploded inside Harry and quickly filled him, his entire body was surrounded with a putrid green light.
The light pulsed around Harry, as though it were preparing to be unleashed. Just before the power did explode out from him though, Harry’s heart was suddenly filled with warmth, love and hope. Uncertain as to what was happening, Harry stood in stunned silence as all the evil he had just felt melted within him. Finally, the faintest of trills could be heard, and Harry knew Fawkes was with him.
As Harry released his anger, the light around him changed. Quickly turning from a putrid green, it became an almost blinding white. Harry felt his love for Ginny pouring into the light as it grew ever brighter. Looking up, he saw that the Killing Curse was nearly upon her. Letting out the softest of breaths, Harry blew upon the light, releasing its power, and letting it engulf the entire world.
At that moment, time stood still. The spell hung in the air, neither moving forward nor retreating. In amazement, Harry looked around at those near him. Daemon’s face held a look of utter contempt as his eyes tracked along his spell’s path. Hermione’s face was occupied with tears, both for Ron and also for her friend that she knew was soon to die. Ginny lay serenely with her eyes closed, a look of peace and relaxation on her face. In any other context, Harry would have been content to stare at her for hours like that, but the current situation was no such time.
Somehow knowing that his magic would soon no longer hold back time, Harry’s mind began to race. Ginny was still too far from him for Harry to get there in time. The spell was literally meters from her. Just as despair began to set in upon him again, Fawkes once more trilled and got Harry’s attention.
Turning his eyes towards the phoenix, Harry implored with his heart, “Please, help her.”
A look of understanding filled the phoenix’s eyes as Harry began to feel time once more starting to move forward. In a burst of flames, Fawkes disappeared. Turning back to Ginny, Harry watched as time resumed and the spell once more began to move towards her.
Just as the spell began to move though, a bright burst of flames between Ginny and the spell announced the arrival of Fawkes. Even before the air could catch under Fawkes’s wings, the curse struck the phoenix in the chest. The next instant, a bright ball of flames faded in the air as a pile of ashes appeared on the ground. Fawkes had taken the curse.
Daemon roared out in anger, cursing the phoenix’s selfless actions as he began to cast another killing curse towards Ginny. Just as he began to finish the incantation, though, the earth around him exploded, tossing him into the air.
In his anger, Daemon had completely forgotten about Harry. Harry, on the other hand, knew, the instant Fawkes disappeared, what the phoenix was going to do and had prepared himself to resume his battle with Daemon. The fact that Harry’s Bludgeoning spell did not impact directly into Daemon, was in part due to Harry’s attempt to aim with one eye and watch Ginny with the other.
As Daemon impacted against the ground, he cast the strongest shield he could. Almost instantly, it was bombarded with spell after spell as Harry took the offensive. At first, Daemon saw the telltale signs of Bludgeoning and Cutting curses, but very quickly he also saw Piercing curses also flying towards him. Having not expected the Chosen One to be using such curses, he was forced to alter his shield so that he could block the current torrent of spells flying towards him.
An instant later, he watched as Harry once more turned to Bludgeoning curses, but these were far more powerful than what most wizards he had faced could produce. Filled with anger and malice towards Daemon, Harry was unleashing every ounce of repressed hurt and despair he had into his spells.
Even with the spells fueled by emotion, Daemon’s shield held strong. Again and again the spells merely deflected away. Gradually though, Daemon began to feel the toll the spells were having against his shield in his very bones. With each new impact, his entire body ached just a bit more, until Daemon found himself panting heavily and straining to maintain his shield.
Harry’s casting had been relentless, and, as Daemon’s physical and magical strength began to fade, so did Harry’s. Finally, Harry watched as Daemon’s shield collapsed and the man dropped to his knees and rolled away, seeking cover in a nearby crater. As the shield fell, Harry cast a quick succession of Cutting curses along the path he expected Daemon to travel, until he too was forced to relent his torrent of spells as exhaustion took him. Although well aimed and placed, the Cutting curses did not deal Daemon a critical blow. He did suffer a rather nasty cut along his back, but it was in a poor location to cause any significant harm.
As he rolled into the relative safety of the crater, Daemon began to realize for the first time that he was dealing with an equal in the Chosen One. Although not as old or experienced, he had to admit the young man stood before him with a courage he had not seen since Gryffindor himself. With a developing respect for his opponent’s resolve and strength, Daemon rapidly prepared himself for what he expected would be the final onslaught necessary to dispatch of the Chosen One forever.
Deciding that it was time to hold nothing back, Daemon began by calling forth nature itself to the battle. Quickly pointing his wand towards the sky and softly speaking an incantation, a bright red light quickly shot from his wand into a nearby cloud. Immediately, the cloud went from a dark grey to an absolute black as it began to roll and grow quickly in size.
Soon, the whole visible sky was filled with the single black rolling cloud as a steady wind began to blow from the West. Rain quickly began to pelt down in large, painful droplets upon them as a continuous roll of thunder nearly deafened everyone. An instant later, massive bolts of lightning began to strike the ground, leaving huge craters themselves.
Rising from his hiding place, Daemon expected to find his opponent seeking shelter or trying to escape the wrath of the storm. Much to his surprise, though, Harry was already standing, his wand at the ready and waiting for Daemon to rise. Even without his eyes focusing on them, Daemon knew spells were already racing towards him, and instinctively raised his shields with no time to spare.
Although the spells were powerful, his shield held as Harry redoubled his efforts in the battle. Soon, though, both wizards were once more standing toe to toe across from one another, spells reigning down around them and scorching the very earth at their feet. All the more troubling and impressive was the light show and display of raw power being given by Mother Nature at the same time. The air was literally charged with magical and electrical energy as the sheer power radiating from the two wizards seemed to be fuelling the storm to even more terrifying heights.
Both wizards were so intently focused on one another, that neither heard Hermione cry out in pain before falling silent as a massive bolt of lightning struck just beside her, scorching her hair, burning the right side of her face and knocking her unconscious.
It was now just Harry and Daemon. Harry knew all too well, just standing and trading curses with Daemon would lead to his demise, but at the moment, that was all he could do. Fortunately for him, the storm was raging so fiercely around them, that it was nearly impossible for either wizard to see his opponent, and most times, the spells were poorly aimed or blown markedly off course by the storm.
As Harry fired off a series of three Stunners towards the blurry image that was Daemon across the expanse of the storm, Harry felt his charms from Hermione begin to fade. Knowing this gave him precious little time, Harry began to cast his spells with reckless abandon as he tried in vain to slip something through the storm and past Daemon’s defenses. Just as he felt the charms fade completely, and a feeling of total exhaustion set in, Harry’s eyes caught something in the distance behind Daemon.
He strained his eyes to discern what it was that he saw, until he recognized a familiar color — red. Taking a moment to duck yet another spell from Daemon, Harry’s mind quickly recognized that the red blob he was seeing was in fact the hair of a once again awake Ginny. Harry’s heart leapt with joy as he realized that she was alive and in a position behind Daemon to do some serious damage.
Fighting to keep Daemon’s attention directed solely towards him, Harry cast repeated Cutting curses towards him. Seeing that Ginny was taking up position behind Daemon, over his right shoulder, Harry made certain to aim his curses towards Daemon’s left side so that as he missed with his aim, he knew Ginny would not be in danger of being hit by one of his curses.
Just as Harry began to wonder if Ginny was ever going to cast a spell, his eyes saw the telltale glow of faint white near the tip of her wand before a bright white shone vividly through the storm. An instant later, the spell found its mark and Daemon was surrounded by the white light.
Taken by absolute surprise, Daemon stopped casting spells as he looked at the light surrounding him. Confusion spread across his face as he tried to comprehend what had been cast upon him. Suddenly, the storm abated entirely as a pink vortex began to form and a golden figure began to materialize directly in front of Daemon.
Confusion turned to disbelief as Daemon dropped to his knees, as tears began to pour from his eyes. Reaching out towards the figures, he found standing before him his long ago murdered wife. Looking into her eyes, he saw love, but also hurt and disappointment. Suddenly filled with shame so great he could no longer bear to look upon them, he quickly averted his eyes down to the ground as he collapsed, completely broken in his grief.
“Daemon,” she spoke softly as she laid her hand gently upon his shoulder. “What have you done?”
The tone of her voice was not questioning, but rather accusatory - almost as a parent would scold a child caught using his father’s wand. It was obvious she knew what he had done. It was obvious she was filled with disappointment and hurt over all of the pain and suffering he had caused to others in the name of vengeance.
“I… I… I…” he began to answer, but could not find the words. His eyes still averted, unwilling and unworthy to meet her gaze, he shook his head violently back and forth.
“No! This can’t be!” he shouted angrily. “You’re dead. They murdered you. They deserve to die.”
“You know it’s me, Daemon,” she spoke softly. Tears began to fall down her face as she continued, “What happened to the man I loved? What happened to the father of our son? Why did you become this?”
Once more, Daemon was unable to answer, but he did look up to meet her tear-filled eyes with his own. Finally, after many long moments, he spoke, “That man fell apart. He… I… couldn’t handle being apart from you, knowing that I left Marcus and you to that fate. I was weak. Giving into the hate and grief was easier than forgiving, easier than going on.”
“Do you not realize we’ve been waiting for you?” she asked as a look of surprise swept across Daemon’s face.
“What? What do you mean?” he finally sputtered out, the shock on his face still evident.
“Exactly what I said,” the woman replied. “Marcus and I have been waiting patiently since that horrible day for you to join us. YOUR choices have made that separation longer than it had to be. No one else’s, Daemon.”
Once more, Daemon remained silent as he considered his wife’s words. Somewhere deep in his heart, he knew she was right. So long it had been frozen and filled with hatred, that even with her before him, telling him her son and she were waiting for him, he still felt the pangs of desire for revenge.
Seeming to notice the conflict still raging within his heart, she continued, “Daemon, if you ever hope for us to be together again, you must stop now. You cannot continue doing this. You cannot continue seeking retribution. It’s not who you are. It’s not what Marcus or I want.”
“It’s not?” Daemon asked, his voice breaking as his body began to visibly shake under the strain.
“No, dear. It’s not. All we want is you,” she answered as she gently brushed his cheek with her hand.
“What do I do?” he asked softly.
Turning her attention away from Daemon to Harry, and inclining her head towards him, his wife replied, “He is the Chosen One. He has the power to stop this. He has the power to reunite us.”
“How?” Daemon asked, confusion evident in his voice.
“Love,” his wife answered simply. “That man has the capacity to love far greater than anything you, I or anyone else could comprehend. Through his love, he froze time just a few moments ago to save someone he cared about. Through his love, he’s already saved the world from a Dark Wizard. Through his love he can reunite us.”
As she finished, Daemon’s wife extended her hand and motioned for him to stand. When he stood beside her, she carefully guided Daemon over to Harry who had been silently watching throughout the entire ordeal. Seeing him level his wand at Daemon as they approached, she gave him the faintest of smiles and held her palms up towards Harry as they stopped just a few steps away from him.
“Harry,” she spoke softly as she watched the surprise fill his eyes that she knew his name. “You have the power to end this. You have the power to reunite us, and to allow my husband to begin making amends for his sins.”
Cautiously, Harry stood measuring the woman, searching her face and eyes for any signs of untruth. Finding none, he began to relax just as Ginny tentatively stepped around Daemon and his wife and took her place by Harry’s side. Touching his shoulder gently with her hand, he at first stiffened, but then relaxed as he realized who it was.
“What should I do?” he asked as he looked at the man he had been fighting with just moment before.
From Harry’s point of view, this man was now totally different. His eyes were still hollow and haunted, but they no longer shone with hatred. Instead they were full of shame, self loathing and regret. In Harry’s mind, he began to feel that just perhaps, unlike Voldemort, when confronted with a final chance to repent, Daemon was choosing redemption.
“Use your love,” Daemon’s wife answered. “Just as you used it to stop time, let it flow from within you. Let it fill the world. Let your love heal the wounds my husband has caused. Empty your mind, concentrate on your love and let your magic do the rest. It knows what needs to be done. Trust it to do it.”
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head.
“Ok,” he spoke softly.
Turning once more to her husband, Daemon’s wife again touched his cheek before she stepped back. “I’m sorry, but this will be painful,” she said as tears once more began to fall. “You must atone for your actions,” she continued, “and this is just the beginning. It will be a long and painful penance.”
Daemon hung his head once more, nodding his understanding and acceptance of what was to come.
“Just remember, Marcus and I will be waiting for you, Love,” she whispered softly as a breeze picked up and she began to fade away. “We love you, and we will wait for you as long as it takes,” her words echoed on the wind long after she was gone from sight.
As Daemon’s wife disappeared from view, Harry once more tightened his grip on his wand as he watched Daemon closely for any signs of aggression or attack. Noting Harry’s stance and obvious hesitance to trust him, Daemon held his hands palm up towards him in a submissive manner.
Closing his eyes and thinking of his wife, Daemon spoke, “You are a far stronger and better man than I am. Please end this for me. I’ve caused my wife and my son to suffer far too long because of my selfishness in grief.”
Harry relaxed a bit at Daemon’s words, though he did not allow his wand to drop. Nodding his head, he took a step back from Daemon. Letting out a deep sigh, Harry looked over to Ginny as he began to let his love and caring for Ginny and her family quickly begin to wash over him.
Before long, Harry once more found himself surrounded by magical energy with a pure white light engulfing him. Whispering softly, “Be at peace. Go, be with your wife and son,” Harry released the spell, which engulfed Daemon, but quickly spread around the world.
For one perfect moment, the entire world felt the capacity of Harry’s love. In the next instant, the storm that had raged above them just moments before returned in full fury, although it was centered directly over Daemon. Rain, thunder, lightning and swirling winds quickly focused their wrath on Daemon. Just as a funnel cloud began to lower towards him, Daemon cried out in agony as the wind began to tear at his flesh in retribution for all the countless lives he had entered. Again he cried out as the lightning struck him again and again, claiming justice for the numerous villages he destroyed simply because they existed.
Finally, as he collapsed down upon the ground, overwhelmed with his pain and suffering, a funnel cloud appeared above him and began lowering towards him. Casting his eyes upwards, seeing his fate, tears began to stream down his face. At the far end of the funnel, his wife and son stood patiently and eagerly waiting. Raising his hands to welcome his fate, Daemon was quickly consumed in the funnel cloud. As he disappeared, a blinding white light shot out from the cloud and blinded Harry and Ginny.
Shielding their eyes, they looked away until, a moment later, the light was gone. As they turned back, Daemon was gone. All that remained was a solitary bone. Holding Ginny’s hand, Harry walked over and picked up the bone. Holding it for a moment, he looked up to the sky. Although the clouds remained, they were now much less ominous. Instead of looking like the prelude to a storm, they looked as though the aftermath of a storm.
Looking to Ginny for a moment, Harry kissed her softly before pulling away. Smiling brightly at one another, they quickly made their way to check on their family.
***
Ron awoke more groggily than normally. His head ached terribly and his arms and legs felt like someone had ripped them off and then just rammed them back on, hoping they fit back on properly. He let out a soft groan as he tried to move, only to find that it caused him to hurt much worse.
The sudden scraping of chairs and sounds of voices quickly bombarded him as he grew more alert and began to take note of his surroundings. He felt himself lying in a soft bed with covers pulled up neatly over his chest and tucked under his arms. Venturing to open his eyes, Ron found Harry staring down at him, with a mixture of concern and relief on his face.
“What happened? Where’s Hermione? Is it over?” he hoarsely questioned as he realized his mouth felt as though someone had stuff a large amount of wool in it.
Realizing his friend’s thirst, Harry handed him a glass of water, watching him drink slowly before answering.
“It’s over,” Harry state simply. “Hermione got hurt a bit, but she’ll be fine. Madam Pomfrey’s taking good care of her.”
A look of relief washed over Harry as he spoke to Ron. Seeing his friend awake and asking about others confirmed to Harry what Madam Pomfrey, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys had been telling him. They were all going to be ok after all.
“Where’s Hermione at?” Ron asked as he began to look around.
“She’s in the bed beside you, mate,” Harry answered with a small smirk. “She’s been out most of the day, just like you. She woke up a while ago and tried to wait for you to come around, but she just fell asleep a few minutes ago.”
Ron turned his head to find Hermione sleeping peacefully in the bed next to him. At first he was aghast at the area of pink skin on the side of her head where she had obviously been burned, but then he noticed how at peace she was as she slept. Her face was not contorted in pain, or drawn up in concern. For the first time in many months he noticed that she was sleeping utterly and completely peacefully.
“How’s everyone else?” Ron asked, turning his attention back to Harry.
A soft chuckle escaped from Harry before he answered. “Well, for once,” he began, “I actually avoided even needing any kind of treatment after an adventure of ours. Ginny had a few scrapes and a pretty good headache and goose egg to go with it when she got knocked out, but she’s fine. Actually you were the worst of us with all your broken bones. Hermione’s got a pretty good burn, but Madam Pomfrey says she’ll be right in no time, and without any scars.”
Even though he was hearing about all that had happened, Ron could not help but smiling. They had survived and the exuberance and joy he could see in Harry’s face was contagious. His friend looked years younger. For the first time, in a very long time, his best mate looked more like the teenage he was rather than a battle hardened and weary man.
As they continued talking quietly, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys soon returned from the kitchens after trying to find something to eat. Immediately, Ron found himself in a bone crushing hug of Molly’s — one he was certain had nearly undone all the hard work that Madam Pomfrey had put into fixing him. A soft gasp of pain caused her to release him like a hot stone as he could see in her eyes the fear that she had hurt him.
“It’s alright, Mum,” he began to alleviate her fears, “I’m still a bit sore, is all.”
“A bit sore!” she exclaimed. “Ronald Bilius Weasley! After having both arms, both legs, and three ribs broken, not to mention your skull cracked, you have the nerve to lay there and tell me you’re just ‘A bit sore’?”
The room filled with laughter as Molly continued to fuss over Ron and Harry took Ginny by the hand and pulled her back away from the group and towards a window in a small corner of the ward by themselves.
For the first time in a very long time, Ginny saw an absolute carefree joy in Harry’s eyes. His smile went not only from his face to his eyes, but to his very soul. She smiled brilliantly at him as she put her arms around his waist and snuggled close to him, content to being held in his arms for the moment. She felt him gently kiss the top of her head as he released a contented sigh.
Whether she imagined it, or Harry actually spoke the words, she heard, “It’s finally over,” as he melted against her.
The two remained like that for a long time, as the others kept their attention turned to Ron and Hermione who had woken up with all the commotion. Lost in each other, they paid no attention to anyone in the room, and were oblivious to the glances of understanding that Molly was sending towards them.
All too soon, though, they were broken from their moment, as a small chirp echoed out over all of the voices in the room. Looking up to a nearby box Hagrid had set up for them, Harry and Ginny walked over to find a very frail and weak Fawkes once more awake and looking about for food. Smiling softly, Ginny began to feed the phoenix the food that Hagrid had provided them, until the phoenix chirped contentedly and fell to sleep once more.
As they stood over Fawkes, watching the phoenix sleep peacefully, Ginny asked a question that had been bothering her since the battle.
“Harry, I know that Fawkes can flash and move from spot to spot very quickly, but why? Why did Fawkes take that curse for me?”
Harry pulled her closer to him as he contemplated his answer. He had not told anyone about his having stopped time to save Ginny, but he felt he owed her the truth. Whispering softly to her, he answered, “Ginny, this is only between you and me.”
He paused, waiting for her to nod her understanding before continuing.
“Fawkes took the curse for you because I asked him to,” he answered softly.
“But how?” she questioned, the confusion evident in her voice. “There wasn’t enough time for you to speak to Fawkes and ask him before I could have been hit with the curse.”
Harry hugged her and said nothing for a long time. Finally he spoke again, “Don’t ask me how, because I don’t understand it, but when I saw that curse coming towards you, something inside of me snapped. A rage and power I’ve never known filled me and threatened to consume me and everyone else with it. Fawkes gave me the strength and courage to turn from my anger and focus my love. However strong my anger was, my love was stronger. I don’t know if I could ever do it again, but I released all my love, and for an instant, time stopped. It gave me just enough to ask Fawkes to help you. Fawkes made the decision to take the curse.”
A small gasp from Ginny said all that needed to be said. She turned away from the phoenix, and pulled herself close to Harry, not wanting to ever let him go. Tears streamed down her face as she contemplated the love he had for her. Again they fell silent for a long time as they simply enjoyed the embrace.
***
It was the next afternoon before Madam Pomfrey released Ron and Hermione from her care. Due to the fact that Ron had been on the receiving end of numerous broken bones from Harry during their preparations, she had insisted he remain extra time just so she could make certain his bones healed the way they were supposed to.
“Just because you’re a wizard,” she said in her most lecturing tone, “Doesn’t mean you can break a bone a day and not suffer the least from it. Just like with Muggles, if you break a bone enough times, even it if heals perfectly, the bone will gradually weaken.”
Everyone in the room had been forced to stifle their laughter as they watched the look of shock and horror cross Ron’s face as Madam Pomfrey’s lecture dragged on for nearly twenty minutes. After she finally ran out of steam and told Ron he was free to go, she was rewarded with a very polite, “Thank you,” from the bewildered red head as his girlfriend and family helped lead him from the ward.
Just as they cleared the doors to the hospital ward, and the doors closed behind them, Harry leaned over to Ron and whispered, “At least she’s found someone else to fuss at over constantly being in her care.”
After receiving a vicious glare from Ron, Harry laughed and held his hands in up in a placating manner, “Hey, mate. No need to get sore. You did get the short version after all.”
Ron’s face immediately turned from one of contempt to one of bewilderment and shock.
“Short version?” Hermione questioned, as she had been listening to their conversation as she helped Ron along the corridor.
“Yeah, Hermione,” Harry replied, “The short version. That’s the one she gives when you’ve got people waiting on you to leave. I’ve had it a couple of times myself, but it’s nothing compared to the one she gives if you’re the only patient in the ward and trying to eat your breakfast or lunch. Then she’s got a captive audience. That speech lasts about an hour, and once I got it three days going.”
Everyone just walked in stunned silence before Ginny finally began to snicker. Soon all four of them were laughing heartily as they made their way towards the Great Hall. As they walked quietly through the corridors, Harry’s eyes began to roam around and for the first time in ages, actually look at the castle itself.
All traces of the battle had finally been wiped away. It had taken too much time to have been able to reopen the school as normal on September the first, but Harry and others knew that the Board of Governors had given Headmistress McGonagall to reopen the school for the Spring term. Now, in the near future, Ron, Hermione and he faced a decision about whether to return for their final year or not. Looking for a moment at Ginny, Harry realized whether he really wanted to finish school or not did not matter. He knew where he wanted to be, and that was wherever Ginny was.
Progressing past areas that were still too painful to linger at, Harry realized that what was destroyed had been rebuilt, and some improvements had been made along the way as well. None too soon for Harry, the group found themselves standing before the doors to the Great Hall. Pausing just for a moment, Harry and the rest strode confidently through the doors to greet those awaiting them.
Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Dreams Come True
Author's Notes: To all those who have thought that I had died or just given up finishing this story, my apologies for taking so long to update. I'm still VERY much committed to bringing it to a proper conclusion. My absence can be most easily explained as a direct result of real life making me go from being a 'student' where my actions have no consequences, to an 'adult' where my very signature carries the potential to wreak havoc on the lives of others. With that being said, I've unfortunately been a bit pre-occupied trying not to make too many mistakes seeing patients and all else has been pushed to the back burner. After a couple of months now, I now at least have a minimal level of comfort with that and hope the next update will not take nearly as long. As always, I owe many thanks to Ginny Guerra, who as always knew when to leave me be in regards to writing and also knew when to put a boot to my behind and tell me it's time to get back to it. I hope you all enjoy. As always read, review, critique and criticize.
Harry sat with his back turned towards the kitchen of the Burrow, lifting Teddy Lupin into the air as the young boy giggled playfully. Ginny stood silently, her shoulder resting against the doorframe as she watched Harry playing with his godson. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched how gentle Harry was with the boy and how much happiness Teddy and he seemed to bring to one another.
Sighing softly, she began to let her mind drift towards the future. Not just tomorrow, or next week, but the time when Harry would be playing with their child. The way Harry behaved around Teddy told Ginny he would be a great father someday. He was gentle and playful, but if the situation arose, he could be firm. Closing her eyes for a moment, listening to Teddy’s laughter, she began to imagine a group of red haired green eyed children playing with black haired brown eyed ones.
A gentle touch on her shoulder pulled Ginny from her musings. Turning to see who was beside her, Ginny smiled and blushed a bit as she saw her mother beside her — a knowing look in her eyes.
“He’s a natural with children,” Molly whispered quietly. “So much better than any of your brothers… well except Bill, of course.”
Ginny smiled as she thought about her mum’s comments. “Yeah, he’s great with Teddy.”
Truth to be told, she thought he was better than great. Besides her family, Teddy was the first person Harry had to see after they had finally come home from Hogwarts and the battle with Daemon. Since that time, he had found a reason to buy the boy something or go see him nearly every other day. While Ginny was not willing to openly confront him about it, she knew deep down, Harry was making it a point to be the best godfather he could be.
Watching him a bit longer, it was obvious that what Harry lacked in parental common sense, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. It was almost like he was a big kid playing with Teddy, as both seemed to be enjoying the time together immensely. Ginny grinned to herself as she remembered a few of Harry’s more infamous misadventures with Teddy over the past few weeks - especially when he thought it a good idea to let the young boy finger paint.
While Ginny, Molly and anyone else — other than Ron that is — knew that it would result in disaster, Harry would hear none of it. Insisting it would be fun and that he would clean up any mess the two of them made, he sat about giving the boy a large piece of paper and a collection of color filled cups. As everyone left Harry and Teddy alone, choosing to not get covered in the artwork that was about to commence, they heard a tremendous amount of laughter not just from Teddy, but from Harry also.
A good while later, a smiling but very paint-covered, Harry emerged from the kitchen with a similarly paint-covered Teddy holding up a wet, paint-covered mess that was intended to be some sort of shape. Walking over to Ginny, Harry held Teddy up as the toddler offered his artwork to Ginny as a gift. Smiling, she accepted it gratefully from him before turning her eyes to Harry and arching an eyebrow. His only response was a sheepish grin as Molly bustled over and took Teddy from him, all the while noting the boy had more paint on him than the paper did. Giving Harry her best ‘I told you so’ look, Ginny leaned in to kiss him, only to have a smear of paint wiped across her nose as they broke apart and Harry darting into the kitchen, saying something loudly about needing to finish cleaning up, before she could take her revenge.
“He’ll make a splendid father someday,” a soft voice spoke from behind the Weasley women, snapping Ginny from her reverie.
Turning their heads, they saw Andromeda approaching. Fighting down a slight blush, Ginny simply nodded before she glanced at her mum to see the knowing look in her eyes again. Their eyes locked for a moment, as an unspoken word passed between Ginny and her mum, both full well knowing that Harry as a father was one of Ginny’s now tangible dreams.
Folding her arms and watching Harry with understanding in her eyes, she grew silent as both Molly and Andromeda turned and began to watch him as well. For a long silent moment, the three women watched Harry play with Teddy. The young boy’s laughter and giggles filled the room and provided a happy tone to the house.
“How a man that’s been through the absolute hell he’s known for all of his life can turn out to be so wonderful with children is beyond me,” Molly whispered softly.
Ginny remained silent. Her mum’s statement spoke volumes, and she only knew half of it. Harry and she had spent many nights recounting their childhoods to each other over the past couple of weeks. With all the trials and tribulations beyond them, at least for the foreseeable future, Harry had wanted her to know everything about him. To say the she had been heartbroken would have been an understatement. The capacity of Harry to love, even after all of the mistreatment and outright abuse he had suffered at the hands of his own relatives was a testament to the love and nurture that Lily and James had provided Harry in their far too brief time together.
Blinking away a tear, Ginny let out a soft sigh before she turned her mind to a conversation Harry and she had had just the previous afternoon. As Ginny was lost in a happier thought, Molly studied her daughter’s face for a moment. She had noticed Ginny’s initial reaction to her previous statement and knew that she had hit a nerve she had not expected to be there. As she thought more about it though, Molly began to realize that the woman standing before her was now the anchor for a very good and caring man. Why would he have not told her everything about himself and how he had grown up?
Realizing that the pig tailed little firecracker that had once threatened to hex everyone on of her brothers into oblivion for laughing at her had grown up into a beautiful woman with a temper and resolve equal to her own, Molly could not help but be both sad and happy at the same time. Placing her hand softly on Ginny’s shoulder, Molly met Ginny’s eyes with her own and inclined towards the kitchen.
“C’mon,” she began. “We’re nearly finished with dinner; best get it done before everyone gets home.
Ginny and Andromeda nodded their consent, and in a quiet mass, the three women left their little observing spot and left an unknowing Harry alone once more with his godson.
*************************
Harry watched as Teddy’s eyes began to grow heavy. He had been playing with his godson for the better part of the afternoon and knew the young boy was bound to grow tired — at least he hoped so. Finally, as he sat with the young boy on the sofa, listening to the Wizarding Wireless, he saw Teddy’s head dip and not rise back up. Giving the boy just a few more moments, making sure he was out, Harry carefully put Teddy to the sofa softly placing a pillow under his head and covering him with a blanket.
Once Teddy was tucked away, enjoying a well deserved nap, Harry moved himself to one of the more worn armchairs in the room. He divided his attention between the Wireless and the kitchen, where Ginny, Molly and Andromeda had been holed up for the better part of the afternoon. Occasionally, loud outbursts of laughter would catch his ears, but for the most part, only a low rumble of conversation and the sweet aroma of mouth-watering food filtered into where Harry was at.
For a moment, Harry contemplated going into the kitchen, and seeing just what was going on, but another burst of high pitched laughter told him he was best off staying where he was at. Doing just that, Harry began to let his mind slowly wander, thinking of nothing in particular, but just slowly letting himself relax. All too soon, Harry was beginning to fall asleep himself. Twice his head tipped forward, only for it to suddenly waken him, causing him to snap his head back up and look around the room quickly. Deciding that he much more preferred sleeping to giving himself whiplash, Harry repositioned himself in the chair and closed his eyes with the intention of having a nap of his own.
Just as he began to doze off again, Harry heard a distinct ‘pop’ from outside. Opening his eyes and looking to the family clock, Harry saw that Ron’s hand now appeared at ‘Home’. Knowing it would be just a moment before his best mate came through the front door, Harry sat up and began to wake himself up a bit — deciding that now was just not the time for a nap.
Seconds later, the front door of the Burrow swung open and in strode Ron. He began to speak, but was quickly silenced as Harry held a finger to his lips and then motioned towards the sleeping Teddy. Nodding his head in understanding, Ron quickly closed the door and strode over to where Harry was.
Taking a seat in the armchair beside him, Ron cocked his head towards Teddy and said, “Looks like he’s had a busy day.”
Harry chuckled for a moment before answering, “Yeah, we both have. But I won out in the end, he dropped before I did. Anyways, how was your day?”
Ron looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, “Well, things are still a bit strange with Hermione and her parents. We spent the day at a park, just walking and talking. I never realized just how little Hermione had told them about what we’ve been doing all these years, and it’s obvious that they’re still trying to come to terms with that.”
Harry could only shake his head in understanding. As soon as Daemon was defeated and Ron released from Madam Pomfrey’s care, Hermione’s sole priority had been to retrieve her family. With good reason, something about leaving them memory charmed in Australia just did not sit well with her. The one advantage that Harry could see though, was that Ron had been the one to stand by her side and go with her to cancel the spell.
While Harry was no expert, he knew that such support and caring signaled a depth of their relationship that went beyond just boyfriend and girlfriend. Now, Ron had spent nearly every day the past few weeks over at Hermione and her parents’ house, helping her explain what had truly been going on in the Wizarding World, and being the shoulder for her to cry on as her parents and her worked through some difficult issues.
“How’s Hermione?” Harry finally asked.
A smile flashed across Ron’s face as he spoke, “Well, today was a great day. We all had a wonderful time, and the rift seems to be healing as her parents start to accept that what she did was out of love. The past week or so has been pretty good, but today, we just enjoyed the day, and didn’t really have to focus on any of the past.”
Harry smiled at Ron. He felt happy for his friend. So many nights over the past week, he had listened as Ron would recount the tears and arguments Hermione and her parents had concerning what she had done. While everyone knew her parents loved her, Harry also knew it must be a hard thing to accept that their own daughter had taken away a year of their lives without so much as even including them in the decision. Now, though, they seemed to have turned the corner, and the healing process was well on its way.
“So I guess that helps things with you two then,” Harry added, just trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, it does,” Ron said as he began to get a very thoughtful look on his face.
For a moment, he looked as though he were considering something before he spoke again, “Look, mate. Can I tell you something and it won’t go beyond this room?”
Harry nodded. Both Ron and he knew that would go without saying, but the fact that Ron was saying it told him it was something very important.
“Good,” Ron said offhandedly as he seemed to struggle for words. “Harry, I love Hermione. The past few months have shown me that I love her not only for the good times, but also through the bad. I didn’t want to be anywhere but beside her as she’s gone through this.”
Ron’s voice trailed off as he seemed to be considering what to say next. “I had a talk with her dad today,” he began again.
As he spoke, Harry began to realize just where this conversation was going. Keeping his mouth closed so his best mate could get it out, Harry just looked at him and waited for him to continue.
“He was the one that started the conversation,” Ron continued, “Told me how much he appreciated me being there for his daughter and how obvious it was that we loved each other very deeply.”
Ron paused for a moment, letting out a deep breath, then turning his hands palm up and shrugging at Harry. “I’m not exactly sure what made me do it, but after that, I asked him for his permission to ask her to marry me.”
Ron fell silent as he waited for Harry to digest what he had said. Harry sat stone faced for a moment, utterly amazed that Ron had found the courage to do that. Finally, when it looked as though Ron was about to pass out from suspense, Harry let a broad grin spread across his face before he extended his hand towards Ron.
“Congratulations, mate,” Harry said as the two exchanged a hearty handshake, before realization dawned upon Harry and he pulled back a bit, a look of concern on his face. “Her dad did say ‘Yes’, right?”
Ron’s face broke into an equally big grin as he nodded. Just as the two returned to their places in their respective chairs, Ginny came into the room. The smile she shot Harry made him feel warm inside as she walked up, giving Ron a hug before turning to kiss him softly.
“Dinner’s ready,” she announced. “Dad Flooed Mum and he’ll be home any minute, so get ready.”
With another lingering kiss for Harry, she smiled again and left Ron and he to go back to the kitchen. Ron smirked at Harry for a moment as they both stood and began to walk to the kitchen.
Slapping a hand across Harry’s back, Ron asked in his ear, “So Harry, had any conversations with Dad lately?”
A suddenly flabbergasted Harry turned to look at Ron as a look of surprise spread across his face. Before he could respond, they stepped into the kitchen, overwhelmed by both the Weasley women and the smells of the meal awaiting them.
Dinner that evening turned out to be a very happy and boisterous affair. Harry had quickly recovered from his surprise at Ron’s statement as they entered the kitchen, but something about it lingered in the back of his head. Time and again, throughout the meal, when Ginny would touch his hand, or ask him to hand her something, Harry could not help but feel there was something about the whole situation the he wanted to be make permanent.
Multiple times during the meal, Harry would catch a wink from Ron as Ron would catch Harry staring at Ginny and thinking about Ron’s earlier words. As Harry looked around him, he saw happy couples. Bill and Fleur were there, as well as Percy and his fiancé, Audrey, and of course Arthur and Molly.
Throughout the meal, Harry would glance towards Arthur, see the smile on his face, and realize the joy and happiness was put there by having his family around him and realized he wanted the same thing. He resolved to ask Arthur that very important question soon.
All too quickly, dinner ended and everyone began to bid their goodbyes. After getting a good bit of grief from Molly, Andromeda, Ginny, Fleur and Audrey for leaving Teddy sleeping in the living room without anyone watching him when he first came to dinner, Harry began helping Andromeda pack her travel bag.
Seeing as how Andromeda could not yet Floo with the young boy, Harry and Ginny both offered to help walk with her out to the Apparition point. The stroll took only a couple of minutes, but it afforded Harry a chance to say goodbye to his very sleepy and rather cranky godson. With one last “Goodbye,” and a promise to bring Teddy over again soon, Andromeda turned on the spot and disapparated home.
Standing there, looking at where Teddy and she had just been for a moment, Harry felt a gentle squeeze of his hand. Turning to see Ginny smiling at him, he returned her smile before wrapping his arm around her and giving a hug in return as they began to walk back towards the house.
Deciding they were not quite ready to go back in, they walked around the side of the house and out into the back yard. Walking over to an old tree, they sat down and just held each other in silence for a long while, just staring at the stars.
“This is perfect,” Harry finally whispered into Ginny’s ear.
He just felt her squeeze his arms in response. Knowing she agreed, he felt the need for no more words. He thought for a long while about whether he was ready to take the next step and take their relationship to the level of marriage. As he thought about it, realization dawned upon him that he was. They were both young, but only in age. They had seen and done more in their brief years alive than most families did over three generations.
Beginning to feel the chill of the night air, Ginny finally pulled herself loose from his embrace and extend her hand towards him. Knowing the she was cold and ready to go to bed, Harry stood with her. Making their way back towards the Burrow, Harry chanced a glance at Arthur’s work shed and saw a light on. Knowing Arthur would only have the light on if he were in there, Harry decided that no time was better than the present to talk to Arthur.
“Hey, Gin” Harry said softly as he pulled her to a stop. “Your dad asked me to help him with some new Muggle contraption of his, and since his light’s still on, I figured I should go ahead and see what he’s got.”
For a moment, Ginny looked at him before giving him a tender lingering kiss.
“Ok,” she said softly as she looked at him. “I think I’ll still go on. I’m a bit tired.”
Harry quickly breathed a sigh of relief as he had not considered that Ginny might want to go with him to see what her dad would be working on. Giving her one last kiss, he bid her a good night and took a step away from her and towards the shed.
*****************
Turning one last time to glance at Harry, Ginny smiled before disappearing inside the back door of the Burrow. Pausing as he watched the door close slowly behind her, Harry took a deep breath and steadied himself before he made the final few steps towards Arthur’s workshop.
A sole light flickered on the outside as Harry approached the weather beaten old door that hung loosely on its hinges. From around the large cracks, Harry could see light shining through, signaling that Arthur was indeed inside Hard at work. Wondering to himself just what could be captivating Arthur’s attention so late into the night, Harry rapped on the door a couple of times before gently pushing it open.
With a series of creaks and moans, the door swung open and Harry stepped inside. Arthur, having stopped to see who was coming to visit him, smiled at Harry before turning his attention back to whatever was in his hands. The look of relief that Harry had seen in his eyes, told him that Arthur had expected someone else to be at the door.
“Good to see you, Harry,” Arthur began as he looked up once more as Harry came to a stop beside him. “For a minute there, I thought you were Molly,” he sheepishly admitted, confirming Harry’s earlier suspicion. “Usually, she doesn’t like for me to be out here that late working on these Muggle things by myself.”
Harry simply nodded at the older man as he craned his neck to see just what it was Arthur was working on. Harry was all too familiar with some of Arthur’s more mis-adventurous happenings with a few Muggle items, and was well aware that the man sometimes did not fully value the danger some items posed for him.
“So what have you got there?” Harry asked, choosing to push the conversation beyond whatever list of reasons Molly had for not wanting Arthur in his shed alone this late at night.
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out, Harry,” Arthur replied. “Smithers at work called it a ‘Discman’, but I can’t tell hide or hair where the disc or the man is supposed to be.”
Harry smiled for a moment as he studied the device that Arthur held. It was obvious he had yet to figure out how to open it, so deciding to lend a hand, Harry reached his hand half way and asked, “May I?”
Arthur looked at Harry’s hand for a moment before quickly snapping back to reality and shaking his head vigorously as he handed the device over to Harry. “By all means, lad,” he said as the enthusiasm in his voice caused a smile to creep to Harry’s face.
Taking it in his hands, Harry began to turn it over until he had it turned right side up and facing forwards. Realizing that he was only forestalling his real reason for being there, Harry studied the CD player carefully as he thought about how to begin.
“Arthur,” he began as he made it very obvious the latch he was pressing that caused the top to flip open and reveal the disc inside. “Umm…. there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Completely amazed at what Harry had revealed to him, he off handedly commented, “Sure, Harry, we can talk about whatever’s on your mind.”
Realizing Arthur’s mind was more occupied with the CD player than the conversation, Harry cleared his throat nervously, causing the man to look up. “Well, I want to talk about Ginny.”
At Harry’s words, Arthur’s face became one of rapt attention. Glancing away for just a moment to set the CD player down on his workbench, he turned back to Harry. “Go ahead lad,” he said softly, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Now that he had Arthur’s full attention, Harry felt as though his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The little shed was suddenly much warmer than it had been just a few moments before, and somehow, Harry was starting to sweat just like he had finished running a 5k. For a moment, even the shed itself seemed to begin to move around him as Harry felt himself starting to become light headed.
A gentle squeeze on his shoulder from Arthur’s hand snapped him back to the moment though. “All right there, Harry?” Arthur asked with a bit of concern in his voice.
“Yeah,” Harry responded, taking a moment to catch a deep breath and steady his nerves. Letting it out slowly, Harry felt his Gryffindor courage swell and he began to speak.
“Arthur,” he said the nervousness still evident in his voice. “It’s no secret to anyone that I love Ginny more than life itself. She’s become my rock and the most important person in the world to me — a world I had never really let myself dream of until just a few weeks ago.”
As he spoke, Arthur’s eyes fixed on Harry. Arthur began to smile as he had an inkling of where Harry’s conversation would lead. He could in fact remember himself being in a very similar situation, standing before the father of a red haired witch he loved very deeply when he was about the same age.
“I know she still has a year of school left,” Harry continued, oblivious to the look of nostalgia on the man’s face. “And I have no intention of stopping her from getting her education, but there’s a part of me that wants to start building the rest of our life together. If my life has taught me one thing, it’s that there’s absolutely no guarantee of tomorrow.”
Pausing to take a breath, Arthur decided to interrupt Harry. He knew the young man would eventually get to asking the question, but if he did not help guide Harry, Merlin knew how long it would take him to meander his way towards it.
“Harry, what is it you’re trying to ask?” Arthur questioned just as Harry opened his mouth to speak again.
Harry’s mouth hung open, but he did not say a word. Arthur smiled as he realized he had forced the young man to end his long rambling sentiments of love and maturity and get to the point.
“Well, Arthur,” Harry finally began again. “What it all boils down to is I want to spend the rest of my life, however short or long it may be, with your daughter. I guess what I want to ask is if I may have your permission to ask Ginny to marry me?” Harry’s voice was hopeful, yet soft as he spoke the last words.
As Arthur’s eyes met Harry’s, he saw for the briefest of moments, the insecure frightened young boy that Molly had told him about so long ago after their first meeting at Platform 9 and 3/4. An instant later though, he saw it replaced with an intensity of love and caring so deep that he knew few could ever fathom.
Giving Harry’s shoulder one more squeeze, he smiled as he said, “Harry, Ginny is my only daughter. In many ways she has been the most special to me, not because I love her more, but because she’s my baby girl. No matter how old she becomes, I’ll always see her that way. That being said though, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and the way you two are with each other. I was fortunate enough to meet your parents on a few rare occasions, and you two remind me so much of them. I know you will be the husband she deserves and the friend that she will always need. You most certainly have my blessing to ask her whenever you feel the time appropriate.”
As his words registered in Harry’s ears, Arthur could feel the boy physically relax. A broad grin spread across Harry’s face as Arthur pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you like a son,” he spoke softly into Harry’s ear. “I always have. Now take good care of my daughter. Okay?”
Pulling back, Harry looked him in the eye, “I will.” He spoke solemnly, and in an instant Arthur understood the depths to which Harry would go to keep his word. Neither man said a word for a long moment as they simply exchanged a nod — both understanding the other, nothing needing to be said.
**********************
Harry walked quietly through the back door of the Burrow. Seeing a single light on in the kitchen and the dimly glowing light that always burned in the living room, he knew the rest of the house had gone to bed. Taking a moment to let his conversation with Arthur sink in, he could not help but smile to himself. Pausing just long enough to get a quick glass of pumpkin juice Harry began to ascend the stairs. Not wanting to awaken Molly or anyone else, he deftly avoided the squeaky step and soon found himself on the landing in front of Ginny’s room.
He stared longingly at the door. He knew where he wanted to sleep, but they had both agreed that until their relationship was at a more lasting level, to do such a thing at the Burrow would be more than they could ask of Molly to accept. Sighing heavily, he began to turn and continue on when the sudden turning of the doorknob to Ginny’s room froze him in his tracks. With hopeful eyes, he eagerly awaited the door opening, anticipating Ginny to be coming out.
Much to his surprise though, Molly stepped through the door and closed it quietly. Quickly schooling his disappointment the best he could as she turned and let the door ease shut, he gave her a soft smile as she turned once more and faced him.
“Oh, Harry,” Molly spoke softly, “I thought you had gone to bed already.”
“Not yet, Molly,” he answered as he glanced up towards Ron’s room. “I let Ginny come on in while I talked with Arthur for a few minutes. He had another ‘Muggle contraption’ he wanted some help with.”
Molly smiled as she listened to Harry. She had seen the hope on his face when she had first stepped out of Ginny’s room, and she now recognized his graciously schooled features, trying to hide his disappointment. She also recognized his white lie about his reason for having stayed outside to talk with Arthur.
Ginny had already told her that he had wanted to talk to Arthur, and while she may not be a Seer, she knew most likely what Harry would want to talk to Arthur about in private with both Ginny and her ‘safely’ in the house. Actually, even Ginny had hinted at the possibility of his reasons.
A few moments of silence passed, before Harry, suddenly realizing he was just standing there spoke, “Well, I guess I’ll be going bed.”
With that he turned and began to head towards the stairs before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he found Molly smiling at him, a knowing look in her eye. “That’s why I was just leaving,” she said as she stepped past Harry and began to make her way to her own bedroom.
Confused Harry looked at her as she stood blocking his way to Ron’s room. “What do you mean ‘That’s why you were just leaving’?” he questioned. “Ron and I share a room, and you were coming out of Ginny’s.”
Molly smiled at Harry as she listened to him. She had no intention of just outright telling him of what Ginny and she had already discussed. The least she could do was make him figure it out for himself, and if it caused him to squirm a bit, then all the better. A dumbfounded look was on Harry’s face. She could tell his mind had made the connection almost instantly, but whether he had not fully realized it yet, or whether he was too afraid of being cursed into oblivion she could not say.
“That’s right,” Molly finally answered. “And you and Ron have been sharing a room for the past few weeks since you’ve been back at the Burrow.”
Noticing Harry’s sudden but slight intake of breath, she knew he had picked up on her insinuation. Raising her eyes expectantly at him, she waited for his response.
“Molly,” he finally said in a somewhat strained voice, “We’ve been sharing a room for quite a while.”
She smiled at Harry as she nodded in response to his non-committal answer. He had obviously learned his lessons well from the twins and Ginny. He had told her a truth, while at the same time in no way answering the question she had asked.
“Harry,” she began, finally deciding that she had let him roast long enough - she wanted to go to bed as well after all. “Being a mum to seven children and six of them being boys teaches you a lot of things. First and foremost, let’s forgo the assumption that Ron and you were sharing a room, while Ginny and Hermione shared a room while you were training at Hogwarts. I do remember what it was to be young and in love.”
The look on Harry’s face was priceless as first shock, then horror, followed by dreaded anticipation, and finally confusion swept across it. Smiling at him, she once more placed her hand on his shoulder.
“You have grown into a brave and good young man, Harry,” she spoke softly. “You are exactly what Arthur and I had hoped and dreamt for Ginny to find someday. While it’s taken me a long time to realize it, you’re both adults — if not entirely in body, then most certainly in mind and soul. You have stood and faced evils that wizards twice your age would run and hide from. I know and trust Ginny and you both to make the right decisions. It’s obvious you are both devoted to each other, and that this is not some temporary teenage romance.”
Harry furled his brow in confusion. His ears must have failed him and he must have gone blind. For some strange reason, he could almost swear that Molly Weasley, the matriarch of the Weasley family, a woman that could elicit fear in Albus Dumbledore, and a woman that had used the term “Scarlet Woman” on more than one occasion, was standing in front of him, all but telling him it was ok if he spent the night in her daughter’s bedroom. Shaking his head side to side, Harry tried to get his brain to reset and everything functioning properly again. Much to his dismay though, even after that, he found himself face to face with a smiling, almost grinning Molly Weasley.
Having decided that she had quite nearly broken the poor young man beyond repair for the night, Molly finally decided to take decisive action. Stepping back down to the landing with Harry, she took his shoulders and spun him around. Placing her hand in the small of his back, she gave him a gentle push, followed by a firm shove to get him moving and guided him towards the door to Ginny’s room. Pausing just a moment to knock on the door, she turned the knob and pressed it open just enough to give Harry one last shove into the dark room. As he disappeared into the shadows of the room, she pulled the door closed. Smiling to herself, while pushing aside just the tiniest amount of sadness, she turned began to climb the stairs once more.
Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Happily...
Author's Notes: Ah, It's been a while since my last update and for that I apologize. Unfortunately, life has been hectic and left with with little motivation for writing. Luckily a week long vacation over the holidays gave me a bit of a chance to recharge, refresh and refocus. I hope you enjoy this chapter as I think it'll be pretty evident where I'm leading the story. The end is in sight. Read and review. As always, many thanks to my beta, Ginny Guerra - a wonderful lady who knows when to push me to write and when to step back. It's because of her gentle nudges, small hints, and blatant requests.
The months since the final victory over Voldemort, and the few weeks since the defeat of Daemon, had seen a Renaissance for Diagon Alley. Store fronts that had been boarded up and abandoned during the worst days of the second war against Voldemort’s reign of terror were once more open and welcoming. Families that had not so long ago forsaken the risk of venturing into the open air of the marketplace, now once more enjoyed the sights, sounds and smells that Diagon Alley had to offer.
For Harry, though, this meant the inevitable recognition and mobbing of those that wanted to doubly thank him for his efforts. Because of that reason, it was quite early in the morning that Ron and Harry found themselves making their way quietly down the street. Looking around, Harry saw the merchants bustling about, opening their stores for the shoppers that would be coming later in the day. Thankfully, as Ron and he had hoped, there were few others out so early in the morning and they were free to go about their business with relative ease.
Now, as to their business, that was an entirely debatable matter. Officially, to Hermione and Ginny, Harry was being summoned to meet with the head Goblin of Gringotts. Unofficially, the whole story had been a massive façade so as to have a reason to go to Diagon Alley so that Harry and Ron could do some shopping without having Hermione and Ginny present. After all, shopping for engagement rings with the intent to surprise the recipient with a proposal often falls flat, if said recipient knows what is going on.
Further complicating matters though, was the fact that the said recipients just so happened to be the smartest witch of her age, and the youngest daughter in a group of seven, with all the rest being boys. What that ultimately led to was two witches that could spot a lie or anything iffy about a story from a mile away. Luckily for Harry, Ron’s strategic mind enabled them to lay a complicated web of deceit, slight off hand, and some outright dishonesty to keep their ladies in the dark as to what was going on. Add to that, the wisdom of the patriarch of the Weasley family and his suggestion of how to occupy the ladies for the day, and both Harry and Ron were able to set up the current little mission they found themselves on.
While Hermione and Ginny were treating Molly to a day at a Muggle spa, as a ‘Thank you’ from Harry for all she had done for him, Harry and Ron stood before the front doors of Gringotts. Harry’s mind briefly filled with memories of the dragon and their unholy quest the last time they were at the bank. Looking to Ron, he could tell his friend’s mind was occupied with the same thoughts.
Finally letting out a deep sigh, Harry turned to Ron, “Well, mate, it’s time to face up. At least Bill says the Goblins won’t kill us on sight, so we’ve got that going for us.”
Ron looked at Harry with a look of shock in his eyes for a moment before speaking, “Bloody hell, Harry. From the stories Bill has told me, I’d prefer they just kill me straight off as compared to what they could do.”
Harry’s face fell for a moment as he considered Ron’s words. “Well, Ron. There’s no going back now. If we want to be able to afford the jeweler’s later, we have to go in there. Besides, Hermione and Ginny will want to know how the meeting went, and Merlin help us if they find out we backed out.”
Ron just nodded his head in agreement as he began to stride towards the entrance with Harry stride for stride beside him. After being less than enthusiastically greeted by two guards, Harry and Ron were quickly escorted into a private room adjacent to the main room. They sat in silence for a long while as they waited for whoever it was they were to meet. As they began to grow concerned, a door on the far side of the room opened up and in stepped Bill.
Harry’s and Ron’s eyes widened in surprise as he strode into the room and sat behind the desk before them. They could not believe their luck if he was to be the one they had to deal with.
Bill sat silently for a minute, staring at Ron and Harry, a serious look on his face before the door once more opened and a goblin walked in with a large stack of parchments. Only nodding as the stack was placed on the desk, Bill nodded and spoke, “You may go,” to the goblin, who quickly took his leave.
Again silence fell over the room as Bill quickly shuffled through the papers before him. Finally turning his attention once more back to Harry and Ron, he spoke.
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,” he began, his voice very formal and no hint of humor on his lips. “This meeting is intended to determine what level of compensation you must provide Gringotts bank for your actions a few months ago.”
Neither Harry nor Ron spoke. They merely nodded their heads in agreement, as a foreboding feeling began to fill their stomachs. When Bill had first walked in, they both assumed the meeting to be a cakewalk, but now, with his complete and utter lack of a smile, smirk or even a wink, they felt as though things were going to be very bad.
Placing a piece of parchment before both Harry and Ron, Bill continued, “What you have before you now, gentlemen, is an itemized account of everything that was destroyed in your escapade.”
Pausing, to give them a moment to look over the list, Bill sat back in the chair. Ron and Harry both sat silently in shock at the staggering figures before them. Ron was certain he would never see in his entire life the amount of galleons the goblins said he owed them. Harry, for his part, began to wonder for the first time truly how much money his vault had in it. After a few more long moments passed, Bill reached forward and snatched the parchment from Ron and Harry’s hands.
Once more setting it to the side, he began again, “Now gentlemen, this…” he paused as he handed both Harry and Ron another parchment, “… is the itemization of the total value of your accounts after the goblins redistributed the personal vaults of the Death Eaters, at the instruction of the Ministry as well as all rewards given by the Ministry.”
Bill sat impassively as he watched both Harry and Ron once more pour over the parchment before them. As he saw the comprehension dawn on their faces, he could no longer hold back, and his face broke into a huge grin. Wide eyed, both young men quickly looked up to him, their eyes questioning if the numbers were right.
“Bill!” Ron exclaimed. He quickly reached up and took back the previous parchment Bill had given him and quickly compared them. “I never took Arithmancy, but even I can see that the rewards column has more zeros than the owe column.”
No longer containing himself, Bill began to laugh openly at Ron and Harry. “That’s right, little brother. Harry and you, and Hermione for that matter, are now wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.”
Both young men turned to look at one another, as they shared a huge grin while the visions of what they could do with the money began to filter through their imaginations.
*****
Harry and Ron made their way casually away from Gringotts. After having Bill take the mickey out of them, the remainder of their visit had proceeded rather smoothly and they had quickly set their accounts in order. Now, they were walking towards the joke shop. Still being early in the morning, there were few customers coming in or out, which suited both young men just fine.
As they entered the store, they saw George look up, his face brightening into a wide smile as he saw them approaching.
“Well it’s about time you two came to see me,” he spoke as he turned his attention back towards replacing the stock on the shelves. “One would think you had forgotten about your favorite brother.”
“That could never happen,” Ron answered.
“Besides, we just saw Bill anyways,” Harry added, earning a feigned hurt look from George before he began laughing openly.
“So how’s it going,” Harry asked.
“A bit too quiet for my tastes at times,” George responded as he began to focus his attention once more on what he was doing. “But it’s getting easier.”
With those words, the three quickly fell silent as Ron and Harry watched George putting stock up for a few moments.
“So what brings you two buy my neck of the woods anyways?” George finally asked as he finished his task and set aside the empty box.
Harry looked to Ron for a moment before Ron answered, “Well, you know Mum, Ginny and Hermione are gone to that Muggle Spa for the day, so we figured no better time to get some stuff taken care of.”
At Ron’s words, George quickly arched an eyebrow, “And what o’ dear brother, kind of ‘stuff’ would that happen to be?”
Ron’s ears began to redden at George’s teasing. It was no secret among the Weasley men as to what Ron and Harry’s intentions were, and the only question was when. George quickly relented as he slapped Ron on the back and gave another laugh.
No one said anything as Ron and Harry followed George into the storeroom. As they walked in, Ron quickly noticed just how much George was doing on his own. Literally a dozen large cauldrons were brewing at the same time, while almost as many charmed mortar and pestles were busy grinding away ingredients. George quickly set aside the empty box and turned to check on the cauldrons.
“Blimey,” Ron finally spluttered out as he watched his brother work. “George, just how can you keep up?”
George just laughed. “It’s not easy, but if I want to keep the store open, then I’ve got to keep up.”
“Business doing well then,” Harry asked.
“Busier than ever,” George replied.
The remainder of Harry and Ron’s visit with George found Ron mysteriously quieter than normal. Harry had noticed the look on Ron’s face when they first stepped into the storeroom and was fairly certain he knew what was on Ron’s mind. Deciding it best to let Ron sort out his own thoughts, Harry did not press him on what he was thinking as they made their way out of the shop and back into Diagon Alley.
The next stop for Harry and Ron found them both completely out of sorts. Dazed, confused and terrified could be words best used to describe the looks on their faces as they first stepped into the small shop. From the outside, it was a simple enough building, not even a name plank over the door or sign proclaiming it’s wears. Instead a simple hand carved design just to the right of the door told them this was the place to look.
Letting their eyes wander through the store, the young men quickly realized they were hopelessly out of their element. Gold and silver glistened at them from every corner of the store. The unmistakable shimmer of diamonds drew their eyes towards the display cases just in front of them.
As the door closed behind them, it triggered a small bell, which softly rang and alerted whoever the shop owner was that a customer had arrived. Moments later, an elderly wizard and witch made their way from the back and stood behind the counter. Looking at the two young men before them, the shop owners quickly recognized the anxious looks on their faces.
“Good day, gentlemen” the man began. “Welcome to our store.” As he spoke, he waved his hand about the room indicating all their wares.
“T-T-Thanks,” Ron stuttered in response.
“How can we help you, dears?” the elderly woman softly added as she stepped from behind her husband to beside him.
The look in her eyes was gentle and compassionate. The smile on her face was genuine and true. Harry immediately felt himself beginning to relax. A small grin spread across his face as he once more remembered just why he was here.
“Well,” Harry began as he stepped forward, positioning himself directly in front of the woman. “My friend, Ron and I are looking for rings.”
A knowing smile spread across the woman’s face. “And I take it these rings are for some very special young ladies?”
Both Ron and Harry nodded their heads enthusiastically as both broke into lopsided grins.
“Absolutely,” Ron quickly added.
The woman turned and smiled at her husband. They had recognized Harry and Ron the moment they walked in the door of the shop. After all they had done, who would not have? Before coming out, though, they had made their minds to not let it show how honored or impressed they were with the two young men before them.
Watching them now, the woman found herself greatly amused at the two young men. To be the heroes of the wizarding world, they were just like most of the other young men that came into the store. Nodding to her husband, she began to help Harry, while he assisted Ron.
For the better part of the next hour, Harry and Ron learned more about the “Four C’s” of diamonds than they ever wanted to know. After a certain point, all the stones began to look alike and both young men just wanted the entire ordeal to be over with. Once their final choices were made, and the appropriate sizing spells and engravings placed upon the rings, Harry and Ron stepped from the store many galleons lighter in the pocket, with small velvet boxes and big smiles on their faces.
***
As Molly, Ginny and Hermione walked through the front door of the Burrow, they found exactly what they had anticipated. Ron and Harry were in the exact same position as they had been when they left — asleep. While Harry and Ron had returned home hours earlier, they had decided to keep the day’s activities secret while each individually planned the perfect proposal, and there was no better way to look innocent than by being completely asleep when they got home.
As Hermione began to move towards Ron to wake him, Ginny quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Growing up a Weasley had taught her one thing, and that was to never waste a moment to prank someone if they left such a grand opening. She hurriedly whispered into Hermione’s ear a plan that had formed in her mind. Hermione quickly covered her mouth to quiet the laugh that threatened to escape as she heard the ingenious idea that Ginny had.
Taking in the sight before her, Molly just laughed softly to herself. As Ginny and Hermione quietly conspired with one another as to just what should be done, Molly quietly lifted up the bags they had brought back with them and made her way towards the kitchen. She was going to set out the day’s purchases so they could sort them and show them off once the young witches were done with their fun.
As she finished setting out the last bag, Molly heard two loud exclamations coming from the living room, and then both Ginny and Hermione’s raised voices berating Harry and Ron for having the nerve to be asleep when they got home. Moments later, the door to the kitchen burst open, followed by Harry and Ron sprinting through the kitchen towards the door outside with a flock of yellow canaries pecking at their heads.
Molly could only catch a quick glimpse of Harry and Ron, because once they entered the kitchen, they quickly pressed towards the door outside. Amid a series of chirping, yelping and swearing that Molly would certainly be having a discussion with Harry and Ron about later, the commotion in the kitchen quickly subsided.
Slamming the door loudly behind the birds and swearing wizards, Ginny and Hermione stood red faced, irritation evident at the language Harry and Ron were using, as they just stared at Molly for a moment. As the yelps persisted outside, Ginny and Hermione’s faces soon began to soften and soon the witches burst into a fit of giggles. From the window, Molly could make out Harry and Ron still fighting off the ever pesky birds as they ran in opposite directions about the garden, trying to split the number of birds they had to fend off.
Speaking more to herself than anyone, Molly sighed as she said softly, “Those boys, you’d think they weren’t wizards at all with the way they are running about, batting at the birds with their hands. I mean I’m sure they know some spell that would work to hold the birds at bay.”
“That may be true, Molly,” Hermione spoke as Ginny and she both approached her at the window. “Assuming they had their wands to cast spells with.”
Molly’s eyes flashed in surprise for a moment as Ginny displayed both Harry’s and Ron’s wands, which had been safely tucked in her back pocket. The gleam in her eye and smile on her face told Molly that she had no intention of letting Harry or Ron have them back any time soon either.
“Guess they’ll just have to manage without,” Ginny added as she peeked out the window to see just what the two wandless wizards were now up to.
For Harry and Ron, what had started out to be a pleasant and refreshing nap before Ginny and Hermione came home, had quickly turned into something entirely different. Their first indication that something was amiss was in fact the rather abrupt way in which Ginny and Hermione had decided to awaken them. Rather than gentle kisses, loud voices filled their ears. Only moments after they had snapped up and nearly fallen out of where they had been napping, a large flock of yellow nipping, chirping, scratching birds set upon them.
Partly from knowing all too well that battling a flock of birds in a confined space was not a good idea, and majorly from just trying to put distance between themselves and the birds, they made a mad dash for the kitchen and garden that lay just beyond. It was in that very garden, that Harry and Ron now found themselves running madly about trying to free themselves from the crazed birds.
“Harry, mate!” Ron cried out as he yet again changed direction, “Use your wand! Cast a finite, create a strong wind, transfigure a bird bath! Just do something!”
Harry, upon hearing Ron’s words, made yet another sharp turn in his running. Playing seeker, Harry was used to trying to catch small fluttering flying objects, not get away from them, and he was starting to quickly get winded.
“Ron,” he called back, panting slightly as he yet again changed direction. “Don’t think… I haven’t thought of it…. But I don’t have my wand. You do it!”
“I don’t have mine either!” Ron called out, once more changing direction.
Both Harry and he had long since given up trying to use any coordination in their turns or cuts, and while they had initially separated so that they would have only half the flock to deal with a piece, they began unknowingly moving back towards one another as they began yelling back and forth. What happened next was inevitable when you have two people running, spinning, cutting and dodging madly without being able to really pay attention to what they were doing.
They ran smack into each other. With a loud thud and two grunts, they fell to the ground, their arms draping over their eyes to keep the damned birds from pecking at those too. Both too tired to get up and run any more, they just lay on the ground, breathing heavily and trying their best to ignore or feebly swat away their attackers.
“Oh!” Hermione gasp as she watched Ron and Harry run into each other.
“That didn’t look like it felt too good,” Ginny added as she looked over to Hermione.
“And they’re not getting up,” Molly added, with a hint of amusement in her voice. Luckily, raising six prank happy and accident prone sons had given her a keen eye for signs that would indicate a serious injury. The fact that both Harry and Ron were laying very still, only to thrash violently with their arms at the birds when the irritation became enough told her that the collision had left them none the worse for wear.
Ginny let out a loud sigh as she looked once more to Hermione.
“I suppose they’ve suffered enough,” she grumbled as both young witches turned and made their way towards the door.
With Molly in tow behind them, they quickly came upon the prone figures that they could only assume were Harry and Ron. It was rather difficult to tell, seeing as how all of the birds had decided there was no longer a need to fly, since their targets had stopped moving. Instead, they had all landed on Harry and Ron and were shifting about, still taking every opportunity to nip at them when they could.
Hermione, with a quick wave of her wand and a silent spell, vanished the birds. Neither Ron nor Harry moved for a moment, until Molly finally noticed Ron peek out from underneath the crook of his elbow which he had draped across his eye.
“What the bloody hell was that for?” Ron finally asked as he began to stand.
“Ron! Language!” all three witches shouted at once, although it was Hermione’s voice that caused Ron to cringe the most and consider what he had just said.
“Sorry,” he quietly replied as he stood up, checking himself over, noticing all the nips and pecks that were trickling blood all up and down his arms. “But that blo… That hurt!”
“Could have been worse,” Harry added, his eyes still covered.
“How?” Ron retorted as he walked over and lightly kicked Harry’s arm off his eyes before starting to roughly haul him to his feet.
“Simple,” Harry answered as he began to dust himself off. “It was Hermione who cast the spell.”
“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive.
Holding his hands up, Harry quickly amended his statement, “I don’t mean anything bad. Those birds really did hurt and were quite effective, I just recognized them as something you can cast. And if you’re the one casting the spell, then it means Ron and I are highly unlikely to encounter the ‘worst case scenario’”
Everyone stood and looked at Harry for a minute before realization dawned on Ginny’s face. Laughing heartily, she raised an eyebrow at Harry in understanding.
“Learned your lesson, then?” she asked cheekily while walking up to Harry.
“Most certainly,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her.
Everyone stared in confusion for a moment as Harry and Ginny shared a moment together staring into each other’s eyes, reliving some previous incident.
Finally realizing that everyone was staring and waiting for an explanation, Harry coughed softly and then mumbled something under his breath. Ron and Hermione’s eyebrows quickly furrowed as they were unable to hear what he said.
“What was that, Harry?” Hermione asked, knowing it was obviously something that Harry found rather embarrassing. “We didn’t quite catch that.”
“He said that being unable to move and hit with the bat bogey hex is a lot worse,” Ginny answered for him as he looked down at the ground, blushing slightly.
Both Ron and Hermione’s eyes went wide, while Molly quickly realized Harry must have done something very bad to cause Ginny to do something like that.
“What…” Hermione began, but Ginny quickly cut her off with, “He was being a git.” The finality of her tone told everyone that the topic was closed for discussion after that.
Knowing they would get no more of the story, and not entirely sure they wanted to know what had led to Harry being cursed like that, everyone began to make their way slowly back to the Burrow. For having been rather rudely awakened and attacked by a half crazed flock of canaries, Ron and Harry took the prank rather well.
Having grown up with Fred and George, Ron realized the temptation that Harry and his sleeping provided. Harry, for his part, figured that with everything behind him, good natured fun, much in the footsteps of the Marauders was well worth a few nips. Besides, in their still young relationships, it was hard for Harry or Ron to get upset and stay upset for too long when their beautiful girlfriends were smiling at them the way they were now.
***
Harry and Ginny sat quietly on the sofa in the Burrow. Everyone else had long since gone to bed, but in the peace and comfort of the evening, they had lingered behind. Now the fire burned to nothing more than a few faint embers as they kissed softly and occasionally chatted about whatever came to mind.
A great feeling of contentment filled Harry in moments like these, and made him absolutely certain of his decision. Ginny was the one for him. She was the only person he could ever see spending the rest of his life with. The past few days since Ron and his trip to Diagon Alley had found him struggling to think of the perfect moment, the perfect situation on how to propose to Ginny, but his mind and his heart had never agreed.
Lying with her, holding her close to him in the early morning hours though, his mind finally understood what his heart had been telling him. For so many days, his mind had insisted to him that he find a grand and magnificent way to ask Ginny to marry him. Something that would reflect how great his love for her was continuing to become, but his heart had always held him back. Deep down he knew Ginny and he knew she valued not the grandiosity of the moment, but rather, who she shared her moments with. It was finally, as he lay kissing her softly, that his heart helped his brain understand how it truly needed to be.
He did not have to search for anything elaborate or extravagant. He simply had to make sure what he did was heartfelt and sincere. Ginny would accept nothing less, and she deserved every ounce of love he had to give her.
Their kisses growing more passionate as the fire finally died away completely, Harry finally pulled away and paused for a moment to look at Ginny.
“What is it?” she asked, slightly confused as to why Harry had so abruptly stopped, but he said nothing.
The only light to see by was the moonlight shimmering in through the window. From his point of view, Ginny looked heavenly. Her long hair framing her face, her lips slightly swollen from their kisses and the glimmer of love in her eyes took Harry’s breath away. Truth be told, Harry could have stayed in that one moment forever and been perfectly happy.
Finally shaking his head and answering, “Nothing at all. Just appreciating how beautiful you are.”
As Ginny smiled back down at Harry, he knew how he wanted to propose. Inspiration had come to him in the moonlight. A broad smile spread across his face as he looked to Ginny, who, for her part, knew that something had just happened to make Harry very happy.
Taking Ginny’s hand as they stood from the couch, Harry paused for a moment to brush a lock of hair back from her face before whispering, “I love you.”
Ginny smiled as she responded, “I love you too,” wondering just what had come over Harry.
Whatever it was, though, she would have to find out. Harry held her tightly to him as they made their way up the stairs, but said nothing. Content to just enjoy the fact that he was so happy, Ginny held her curiosity in check for the time being, knowing she would figure it out when Harry was ready.
As they made their way up the stairs, Harry could not help but smile to himself. He finally had the perfect idea, it was simple, yet something Ginny would never forget.
“Soon,” he thought. “Very soon.”
Chapter 34: Chapter 34: Ever...
Author's Notes: Wow. It's been a very long time since I updated and for that I am very sorry. Needless to say this is the next to last chapter. Thank you to everyone that has read this story and been so patient with me. I hope you like the proposal.
Ginny sat quietly in the kitchen of the Burrow, sipping a cup of tea as she watched the early morning dew fading from the glass windows. The sun had just begun to unleash its bright warm rays for the day, and soon it would once more grow from comfortable to rather hot. She sighed in contentment, being able to enjoy not only her tea, but the whole moment itself.
Growing up, she had never understood what about silence her mum seemed to enjoy so much. She could not understand why on so many mornings she would come rushing downstairs, intent on helping her mum with breakfast, only to find her sitting at the very same table, almost statue-like staring out the window. For so much of her life, raucous noise, jubilant laughter and annoyed arguments had filled her days. Being young, she had always found it odd that her mum could be so quiet, especially given her penchance for unleashing a tirade at the drop of a hat, or rather the first explosion of the day from the twins’ room.
Now, though, Ginny had began to understand. On well more than one occasion since the battle with Daemon had ended, her mum had come downstairs only to find Ginny sitting at the table staring out the window. Her mum never pushed about why she was up so early, or what the serenity of the early morning silence afforded her. It had been during those moments that Molly began to understand just how much of a mature witch Ginny had become.
Quietly, Molly poured herself a cup of tea and sat beside her daughter at the table. Both women sat in silence for a few moments, before Ginny finally turned to her mum. Smiling at her, Ginny got up and poured another cup of tea and placed it in front of an open chair. Molly looked at Ginny quizzically for a moment, wondering what she was doing until she heard the tell tale thumps above her head that signaled someone else was up and about.
A few moments later, just as the extreme heat had worn off of the tea, Harry came lumbering down the stairs. Per his usual morning routine, his hair was haphazard at best, and whether he had clothes on or was wrapped in the bed sheets was debatable. What was not in question though, was the fact that whatever he had on was severely wrinkled. Still nearly asleep, he quickly plopped down beside Ginny and gave her a gentle kiss before mumbling a soft, “Good morning, Molly.”
Shaking her head at the young man, Molly returned his greeting as she watched him battle to clear his mind and awaken for the day. Now some may argue that that such a display would make it seem as though Harry was not a morning person, but it would be important to realize that Ron would still be asleep for another three hours. Turning to her morning chores, Molly let the young couple have a few moments to themselves as she busied herself with the preparation of breakfast.
A few minutes later, as bacon began to sizzle on the stove and the smell of sausage filled the room, Molly turned around to find Harry and Ginny wrapped up in each other. Young love, she thought as she watched the couple interact, oblivious to everything else around them. In her mind’s eye, she could see the day in the very near future where Ginny would no longer be just her daughter, but also Harry’s wife.
A small pang of regret and loss tugged at her heart for just an instant, but was quickly replaced with joy as she watched Ginny begin to positively glow as she laughed at something Harry had said. For so long her daughter had dreamt of loving Harry Potter, and now she was living that dream. Unlike so many dreams though, reality was all the much better. For both Molly and Arthur, Harry was not just a boyfriend they approved of, he was their son. Maybe not by blood, but in all that mattered he was theirs and they loved him just as much as any of their own.
Just watching them interact, it was obvious that Harry adored Ginny. He had not told them, but his actions made it clear that it would not be very long before he finally asked Ginny to marry him. Ron had finally showed Arthur the ring he had bought Hermione, and she was certain Harry had gotten Ginny one at the same time. Now it was just a waiting game.
***
Ginny followed Harry quietly as he led her outside the Burrow. The moonlight gave the garden an almost surreal appearance. Quickly, Harry led them towards the broom shed where before he opened the door, he turned to Ginny.
“Love, I’ve got a surprise for you, so wait here just a moment, okay?” he asked softly as he looked deep into her chocolate brown eyes.
A bit intrigued, Ginny arched an eyebrow at him for a moment before responding, “Okay.”
A wide grin spread across Harry’s face as he began to back away from Ginny, keeping his eye on her, making certain she was staying where she had agreed. A moment later he opened and quickly closed the broom shed door, disappearing inside. Ginny waited silently, as she wondered just what Harry’s surprise could be.
Having disappeared into a the broom shed, it did not take a genius to have a general idea of what her gift might be, but with Harry she could never be entirely certain. Soon, the door once more opened and Harry popped his head out from behind the door. Turning to look at Ginny, and seeing her still standing and waiting, another huge grin broke out across his face.
“What?” she asked, amusement evident in her voice as she saw Harry edge a bit more out of the broom shed, while still keeping something hidden behind the door. “Did you think I couldn’t stay here?” she questioned with a mock pout.
“Yes,” he responded swiftly and exuberantly. “You’re not the most patient witch in the world,” he continued.
“Maybe not, but are you going to stand there like a log, or am I going to get my gift?” she retorted before breaking into a wide smile.
Shaking his head, Harry laughed again before pulling out his wand and muttering a quick spell. A moment later, he stepped from behind the door fully and let it close behind him. Expecting to see her present, Ginny was confused as she saw nothing more than just Harry.
Slowly, he approached her, his eyes dancing merrily with each step closer he came. Finally, he stood just before Ginny, and as she looked him up and down, she still could not figure out where her gift was at. Just as she started to speak, he leaned in and quickly planted a kiss on her lips, distracting her quite well from the question she had been about to ask.
For a long moment, they stood, passionately kissing before Ginny remembered her missing present. Pulling away from him, she stared into his eyes and in her best demanding tone, said, “Harry Potter, just where is my present? Don’t think you can make me forget just by snogging my brains out. You said the magic words and now you have to pay up!”
Harry did not answer for a moment as he simply stared at Ginny. Finally, as she drew another breath to once more demand her gift, he spoke, “It’s right here, Gin.” He turned and motioned with his hand to the empty space beside him.
Ginny eyed the space beside him carefully for a moment before the telltale sign of a disillusionment charm seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. Realizing what he had done, she quickly reached her hand out and felt it smack into a firm object. Almost instinctively, her fingers curled around a broom handle that had been floating in the air in front of her the whole time. A look of triumph spread across her face as she pulled the broom close to her.
“Would you mind?” she asked Harry as she held out her broom towards him.
Nodding, Harry quickly waved his wand and, an instant later, a shining new broom appeared in Ginny’s hand.
Pausing for a moment, Ginny looked over the broom in the moonlight. The new finish of the broom gave it an almost ghostly appearance. The handle itself seemed to mold perfectly into her small hand, and the tighter she gripped, the more perfect it felt. Finally looking at the shaft, she saw Cleansweep SS carved into the handle.
“It’s perfect,” she said as she wrapped Harry in a hug, being careful to hold her broom off to the side, lest she dull the polish before she even rode it.
“There’s more,” Harry added with a hint of mystery in his voice, “but I can’t tell you about it just yet. You have to take it for a test ride first.”
Excitement clearly evident in her eyes, Ginny readily agreed. As Harry went to retrieve his own broom from the shed, she continued to give the broom a good look over. Seeing nothing amiss, and finding no flaw at all, she smiled again as Harry stopped beside her once more. Both mounting their brooms, she paused just long enough to kiss him and say, “Thank you,” before kicking off and enjoying the feeling of the crisp night air against her face.
Together they flew for about an hour, as Ginny at first got used to her new broom and then began to put it through its paces. She was amazed at how responsive it was, how easily she could make her cuts and dives. While she had ridden older models of Cleansweeps, she had never found any of them to be quite like this. In fact, even Harry’s Firebolt, from the few times she had ridden it, would have been hard pressed to challenge her broom.
Finally, after an exhilarating time in the air, Ginny noticed as Harry slowly flew off and began to hover in the sky, his back to her, staring at the moon. Letting out a breathless sigh of joy, she joined him. Floating along beside him, she took his hand but said nothing. Harry looked over to Ginny and their eyes met. An understanding passed between them, the moment was perfect and there were no words that needed to be said.
For a moment, Harry seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but every time he would start to open his mouth, he would close it again. After the third time, he let out a soft sigh and shook his head, before once more looking Ginny in the eyes again.
“It should be so simple,” he said quietly as he looked down. “But I’m just too damned afraid of mucking it up,” he finished softly as he once more looked to the moon.
“What is it, Harry?”
In her mind, Ginny knew what she hoped was getting him flustered, but with Harry she could not be sure.
Finally, taking a deep breath, Harry answered, “Well, it’s got to do with the last part of your gift. Remember I said there was still another aspect to the broom you hadn’t seen?”
Furrowing her eyes in confusion, Ginny slowly nodded her head. She vaguely remembered that part of their conversation earlier, but this was certainly not leading her in the direction she had thought it might.
“Yeah, I remember,” she answered softly, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice.
“Well, maybe it’s best I just show you,” Harry quickly replied.
A wave of his hand later and just in front of where her hand gripped the handle, three letters appeared.
G M P
Pausing for a moment, she began to look at the letters, an instant after they appeared, her mind had clicked to what they implied. They were letters she had written herself a thousand times before as a little girl, acting out her fantasies, practicing what it would be like to sign her name as, “Ginevra… Molly… Potter,” she whispered quietly, her voice trembling more with each word as she traced each letter with her fingertip before she finally looked up to Harry.
A wide smile spread across his face and all the love in his heart seemed to be pouring out his eyes in the moonlight. Nodding his head, he reached down and took Ginny’s hand in his own. “That’s right,” he answered her.
Pausing for a moment, gathering his courage, he began to speak softly. “Ginny, I’m rubbish at these things, but there’s one thing I know.: I love you, and only you. You complete me. You give me the reason to fight when all else has failed me. You are my joy, my happiness and my family. My parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Fred and all the rest can wait. I want a life with you. I want to be happy with you.”
Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Harry opened them once more before continuing, “Ginny, would you do me the honor of being my wife? Of marrying me and building a family with me? To be the mother of my children, the love of my life and the reason for me to get out of bed and face the day every morning?”
Tears in her eyes, Ginny could only nod in response. Finally, taking her own calming breath, she was able to whisper, “Yes.”
No further words were said as the newly engaged couple shared a passionate kiss hovering before the moon. Minutes later, the a breathless couple separated as Harry fidgeted into his pocket and pulled out a ring. Ginny’s eyes went wide as she looked at the flawless center stone. It was not the largest in the world, but it was perfect to her.
Laughing in joy as she held out her hand for Harry to put the ring on, she added, “Harry, there is one thing.”
Harry finished sliding the ring on her hand and then looked at her, “Yes?”
“What if I would rather be the reason you chose to stay in the bed?” she asked as she arched an eyebrow at him.
Smiling broadly, Harry chuckled softly. “Well that would certainly have its advantages too,” he replied as he, once more, brought his lips gently against hers.
***
Some time, much later, long after the moon had passed its zenith, Harry and Ginny crept quietly back into the Burrow. Although they were no longer on their brooms, they felt like they were floating on air. Silently crossing through the kitchen and into the sitting room, both their eyes went wide with surprise as they found both Ron and Hermione, as well as Molly and Arthur sleeping on the couches, obviously waiting for them to come back in.
Ginny looked to Harry and found the same look of confusion on his face.
“Why are they waiting for us?” she asked quietly. “I thought everyone had already gone to bed?”
“So did I,” Harry responded softly.
“What should we do?” Ginny asked both to herself and Harry. She had a very good idea why everyone had been waiting for them. She also knew that news like she had was too good to keep and she felt like she would explode soon if she could not shout it at the top of her lungs, or at least tell Hermione and her mum.
“What you can do,” Ron’s voice quickly broke the silence that had fallen over the room, causing Harry and Ginny’s head to snap towards him as it also roused the others in the room, “is tell me why Hermione decided she had to drag me out of my nice warm bed and set up a stake out, waiting for you two, night flying lovebirds, to come inside.”
As Ron finished speaking, the others waiting for Harry and Ginny set up and began to fully awaken. Looking to her mum and Hermione first, Ginny saw eager looks of anticipation in their eyes. Knowing full well she could not contain her joy very long, she wrapped her hand firmly with Harry’s.
“Well…” Hermione questioned, leaving it hanging in the air.
Chancing a quickly glance to Harry, Ginny saw a slight smirk on his face. A subtle nod of his head told her it was her news to tell. Suddenly feeling a moment of embarrassment, she blushed softly and looked down to the ground as all eyes in the room were fixated on her.
A moment later, she looked up and locked eyes with her mum. “Well,” she started, “tonight Harry and I went for a fly.”
“Yes, dear. We know that,” Molly added, obviously eager to hear the news herself.
“Well, what you don’t know,” Ginny answered, “is that Harry got me a new broom.”
At those words, both Hermione’s and Molly’s eyes grew wide as looks of confusion began to creep up their faces. Ron hid a smirk with a quiet cough as he realized what Ginny was doing. Arthur, for his part, just continued to look at Harry and Ginny, knowing full well the other two witches in the room were about to burst with anticipation.
“Broom?” Hermione asked, disbelief evident in her voice.
Unable to speak without breaking out into peals of laughter, Ginny simply nodded.
“It’s a Cleansweep SS,” Harry chimed in, taking the attention away from Ginny.
At the mention of the newest of the Cleansweeps, Ron’s eyebrows perked up.
“An SS?” he asked. “But I thought we were here because you gave Ginny the thing we picked up in Diagon Alley?”
“That’s right!” Hermione added. “We’re here because of that other thing.”
Looking about the room, Harry and Ginny saw the expectant eyes of everyone staring back at them. With one final glance to Harry, Ginny finally broke into a broad grin and let out a squeal as she ran towards her mum who was standing to embrace her daughter.
Everyone in the room broke into wide smiles as congratulations were passed around for the newly engaged couple, and soon a bottle of Ogden’s Best had found itself opened. After the first glasses were poured for everyone, Arthur cleared his throat loudly and drew everyone’s attention to him.
Holding his glass of Firewhiskey down to his side, he paused for a moment looking at Harry and Ginny together, before his eyes began to stare off into the distance. A comfortable silence filled the room as everyone patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts.
Letting out a happy sigh, he looked straight to Harry and began, “Harry, from the time Molly told me about meeting a scrawny, nearly starved looking little boy that looked amazingly like James Potter the day she dropped Ron off to go to Hogwarts for the first time, you have been a part of this family. I know you never truly had a mother or father that you could remember, but Molly and I have counted you as one of our own for a very long time now. You have a heart, a kindness, a bravery and a love that is unmatched by most people in this world.”
Shaking his head slightly, as though fighting back tears, Arthur paused for a moment, composing himself before he went on. “Ginny has been the light of my life from the moment she was born. Fiery and beautiful, she has all of the qualities of her mother that have so captured my heart and made me fall so helplessly in love with her. For so long, I’ve played the role of the one she runs to when her mum was angry or her brothers upset her. One of the worst moments of my life was when Albus told me she had been taken to the Chamber. I felt so hopeless. There was nothing I could do to help her, and if even the great Albus Dumbledore had doubts, then there was almost no hope.”
Again, Arthur fell silent. He was struggling for the long unspoken words that most often were conveyed between two men by handshake or nod, rather than speech.
“Arthur,” Harry began, but was quickly silenced as Arthur raised his hand.
“But, Harry, you, a young boy, not even a fully trained wizard, brought her back to me… back to us. I think both Molly and I realized then, that even then you had only brought her back to us for a short time. Ginny had always been captivated by your story, but the look we saw between you and her, even if neither of you were old enough to understand it, told us that someday you would come and take her away again.”
Harry stood silent as he listened to Arthur. There were no words for him to express his gratitude to the man that had served as his father figure, even when doing so brought so much more risk upon his family. Hearing Arthur’s words, the emotion in his voice, made Harry start to feel a prickle at his eyes.
Finally, Arthur raised his glass high, and with a nod of his head, finished, “Harry, Ginny. Congratulations to the both of you. I wish you all the happiness and joy Molly and I have found. May you have a long and happy time together, and may your lives be free of any more dark lords hell bent on prophecy.”
Everyone chuckled a bit at his final words before raising their glasses as well, and after a round of “Hear, hear,” quickly downed their drinks.
The next couple of hours passed in light conversation as Molly and Arthur took time to regale the others with stories of their first few years together, both at Hogwarts and later as a newly married wizard and witch. Eventually, everyone began to grow tired and the late hour began to claim one after another. First Ron drifted off to sleep, followed quickly by Hermione. Molly simply covered them with a blanket, knowing they would eventually wake and go up to bed.
As Ginny’s eyes began to close and her head fell softly against Harry’s shoulder, he turned and smiled down at his fiancée. He turned his attention briefly back to Molly and Arthur, who were still chatting quietly about times past. Molly, noticing the sleeping Ginny, paused to smile at Harry.
“Looks like it’s time for bed, Harry,” she said with a smile as she stood up and began to quickly clean the glasses from the room.
“Goodnight, Molly… Arthur,” Harry said as he carefully shifted Ginny to the side and stood up. Pausing for a moment to stretch, Harry felt the bones of his back popping as he craned his neck right and left. After letting out a long, relaxing deep breath, Harry began to feel the fatigue of the day wash over his body as well.
Looking down at Ginny, he found an angelically peaceful face at rest. Not having the heart to wake her, he carefully stooped down and slipped his arms behind her shoulders and under her legs. A soft grunt later, he lifted her from the couch and held her in his arms. Momentarily, she stirred against his chest, before settling once more into a deep slumber as he stood, waiting for her to calm before beginning to go up the stairs.
Cautiously, making certain not to jostle her too much, Harry made his way up the stairs with her, using a bit of wandless magic to open the door to their bedroom before deciding that a foot would be the best way to close it behind him.