Summary: Love is the most ancient form of magic there is. Harry and Ginny begin to discover they may have a love that will endure forever. He Who Must Not Be Named certainly thinks so. Could their love be the key to fulfilling one of his greatest wishes?
Rating: PG
Categories: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2005.01.25
Updated: 2005.03.08
Index
Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 2: Magical Ingredients
Chapter 3: Written in the Stars
Chapter 4: Transfiguration
Chapter 5: Hope, Love and Late Night Misunderstandings
Chapter 6: Love Spells
Chapter 7: Bonds
Chapter 8: Late Night Revelations
Chapter 9: Honor
Chapter 10: I'll Always be Yours
Chapter 11: Blood Ties
Chapter 12: Destiny
Chapter 1: Prologue
Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of the Harry Potter world.December
Mr Borgin surveyed the numerous boxes and badly wrapped parcels filling the front of his shop. Estate sales weren't usually of interest to him, especially these days. With the return of the Dark Lord, Borgin and Burkes had been doing a brisk business. A shrewd businessman, Mr. Borgin was a friend to those trying to distance themselves from He Who Must Not Be Named. He also served as a source to those who were looking to buy artifacts that might be considered of questionable nature.
Despite inventory being good, Borgin hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity provided by the passing of his cousin, Bartholomew Borgin, a wizard who over the years had collected a great deal of curiosities. The family had always given Bartholomew a wide berth, as he was known for his strange tastes, cultivating particular interests in every aspect of dark magic. As a young wizard, he had fed his obsession with travel, collecting antiquities from all over the world that many a wizard who dabbled in the dark arts would pay quite a few Galleons for. When age made traveling difficult, Bartholomew had taken to satisfying his thirst for knowledge collecting books. His library consisted of over a thousand volumes covering wizarding lore throughout the ages, along with his intricate notes he had bound into manuscripts for possible later publishing.
Borgin had spent the better part of a week sorting through the boxes of antiquities and volumes of books and manuscripts, stacking the ones that would find space on the shop's shelves on the front counter. He was making his final decisions when the door of the shop opened. Lucius Malfoy's form filled the shop doorway. Mr. Borgin watched the wizard weave his way through the obstacle course to the shop counter, noticing how Malfoy's nose wrinkled at the musty smell and dust that clung to the boxes.
"Mr. Malfoy, always a pleasure. It is good to see you out and about, " Borgin greeted his customer. Last he had heard, Lucius Malfoy had been fingered as a Death Eater and imprisoned in Azkaban. However, with the Dementors gone and considering the Malfoy fortune, well, anything was possible these days.
"Yes," Lucius Malfoy drawled, carefully keeping his gloved hands tucked inside his cloak to keep from touching anything in here that might leave a mark on him. "The Minister has seen my value to the Ministry and has rethought my unfortunate confinement. I have come for my parcel."
"Ah yes, I have it in the back. I will go fetch it."
Left alone, Malfoy, surveyed the dirty crates and bundles with distaste. Finding nothing of interest, he turned around. His attention was caught by the stacks of leather bound volumes and manuscripts covering the countertop. Resting on the stack closest to him was a bound stack of parchment. The handwritten title page, Mysteries and Myths — Notes of truth about Dark Magic, Death and What Happens Next caused Malfoy to roll his eyes. However, he was bored and the manuscript wasn't dusty, so he picked it up and flipped through it. The curtains behind the counter shifted. Malfoy discreetly slipped the manuscript under his robe. Borgin re-entered the front of the shop.
"Mr. Malfoy," Borgin said, handing over the order, "I trust you'll find it all there."
Malfoy nodded. "Put it on my account." He left, the cold December air rushing in, mixing the falling snow with the floating dust disrupted by his abrupt departure.
"And thank you, too, Sir! Happy holidays, Sir! Always a pleasure doing business with such upstanding wizards as yourself," Borgin sneered to the door. "Just how much gold does a reprieve from Azkaban cost these days, eh?"
Chapter 2: Magical Ingredients
Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of the Harry Potter world.
Harry smelled something good. They had arrived at the Burrow for Christmas vacation the previous evening. Mrs. Weasley had pushed hard for protective wards to be put around the Burrow this year for the holidays. Grimmauld Place had been fine last year when Sirius was alive. However, knowing that the holidays could stir up feelings long since buried, she had campaigned for the holidays at home and won.
Arriving in shifts via authorized portkeys, Harry and Ron had stumbled into the Burrow kitchen sometime past midnight. Mrs. Weasley hugged them both, set them up with steaming cups of hot cocoa and sent them straight upstairs to bed.
Harry had been dreading the holidays. He had almost asked to remain at Hogwarts, not sure he was going to be able face all the Weasley family togetherness. It might just be his undoing. Six months had passed since his life had been turned upside down again and he still wasn't right yet. Harry had built a shell around himself to ward off the unpleasant questions about his state of health and state of mind. He had no idea how he had survived the month at the Dursleys the past summer. Lupin and Tonks had arrived at Number Four Privet Drive right before his birthday to whisk him to Grimmauld Place. The memories there had taunted him, sending him deeper inside himself.
Slowly, Ron and Hermione drew him out of his cocoon, forcing him to engage in conversations, challenging him to games of wizard chess, drawing him into debates about who the new DADA professor might be. When he returned to school, Harry considered himself functioning if not feeling. Quidditch practice on top of Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore and NEWT level classes kept him busy.
He had made it to the holidays and had every intention of getting through them on auto-pilot as well, which is why he was glad to have been able to avoid the questions he didn’t want to answer by going straight to bed. He rolled over in the bed in Ron's room, closing his eyes tight, wishing his mind back to sleep. But his stomach wasn't wanting to sleep through the aroma wafting up the stairs. Groaning, Harry looked over at Ron's bed but it was empty. Giving up, Harry pushed the blankets aside and followed his nose.
++++
"Hello, Harry."
Harry jumped. Ginny stood by the kitchen sink holding a bulky looking cloth bag in her arms. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" she said, concerned at the pale look of fright on Harry's face.
"No..uh…that's okay. Hi, Ginny," Harry replied, stepping uncertainly into the kitchen.
"Have a good trip?" She asked, moving back to the table.
"Uh, yeah, it was fine."
Harry realized the bag was actually an apron Ginny had tied around her waist. Harry watched as she emptied the contents of her apron bottom onto the table, the onions rolling over once before finding their balance.
"Would you like some tea? Toast?"
"Yeah, that would be nice." Harry moved to the table and sat down. He was a little embarrassed having Ginny wait on him, but he realized while he had eaten many times in the kitchen, he had no idea where anything was kept.
"You missed breakfast. Everyone else ate earlier and Mum thought you should sleep. Dad's at the Ministry. Mum, Ron and Hermione are outside, seeing if there is anything left in the garden that hasn't been frozen by snow. So, for your breakfast company, you're stuck with me," Ginny apologized smiling brightly at him.
Ginny took the tea kettle from the stove and poured Harry a mug. She then put several pieces of bread on a metal grate sitting above the flame of the stovetop. Using the metal lever on the side, she flipped them once, letting them brown before spearing them with a fork and piling them on a plate. Returning to the table, Ginny handed Harry the toast and returned to her vegetables. Harry watched her pick up a knife, select an onion and begin slicing it on the cutting board she had placed there.
Harry sat and watched Ginny work. She didn't ask him any questions and he was glad. It was nice to simply sit in someone's company who just let him be. It was Harry who broke the silence.
"Why don't you cook like your mum?"
"Like Mum?" Ginny asked, puzzled. "Oh, you mean with magic? You of all people should know the answer to that one!" Ginny teased him, grinning. "I don't think underage use of magic to chop onions, no matter how much they make you cry, would constitute mortal peril!" Ginny thought she saw the corner of Harry's mouth turn up just a touch, but wasn't sure. "Besides, I find it rather satisfying to do it without magic. Maybe it's odd, but I've found I get in less trouble if I take the meat cleaver to a piece of actual meat rather than one of my brothers." There, she saw it. He had grinned, and fleeting as it was, she'd caught it.
Harry hadn't noticed the pot on the stove. He realized, as he watched Ginny throw the handful of onions into it, that the beginnings of some sort of stew must have been the smell that woke him.
"I didn't know you cooked," Harry said.
"Sometimes. I'm trying to help out, now that Mum is so involved with the Order. Besides, when I volunteered to assist the Order, this is how I was informed I could best help," Ginny said sarcastically. "It's not exactly what I had in mind, but it's a start, I guess."
Harry nodded.
"Here," Ginny handed him another cutting board and a potato. "Work out some frustration and cut that up."
Harry grinned at her and started chopping.
During the holidays, Harry found himself wandering toward the kitchen more and more in hopes of finding Ginny there. If she didn't have anything for him to help out with, she'd set him up with a cup of tea and just let him be. In spite of himself, Harry began to feel less numb in her presence and the pain Sirius' death had brought on him was not as harsh.
++++++
Harry was getting pummeled. He had no idea how he had let himself get talked into a snowball fight with Ron. To make matters worse, Bill and Charlie had shown up and decided to join in, forming a united Weasley front. Harry was outmanned and outgunned and not too pleased about it.
Scrambling up against the garden wall, Harry cautiously peered over, only to get bombarded with snowballs coming from behind the broom shed.
“Yo, Potter!” Bill taunted. “You call yourself a quidditch player? You couldn’t dodge a bludger if it was standing still!”
Ron had dug out an old broomstick and was using it to lob snowballs across the top of the shed.
“Hey, Harry! Catch this one! It’s got wings!” Ron called as he sent another one skyward.
“Bet I can make this one bounce!” Charlie yelled, as the snowball he flung splattered on the top of the wall, sending flakes all over Harry. “Oh, sorry, Harry. Guess they don’t bounce so well after all!”
Harry fell back against the cold stones, his breath coming in billowing frosty gasps, snow melting into icy trickles down his neck. He heard the yell before he saw the flash of blue wool and flying red hair that hurled into him, knocking the wind out of him.
“Sorry about that Potter!” Ginny breathed heavily, straightening up. “Hit an icy patch there. Looks like you could use some help,” she observed cheekily.
“Yeah, you could say that,” came the sarcastic reply.
“I think I may have something that will help turn the tide,” Ginny grinned, taking off her mittens and digging her hands into her jeans pockets. Harry counted a dozen round colored balls, about the size of marbles lying in Ginny’s palm.
“What are those?” Harry asked intrigued
“Inky Ice Pellets,” Ginny answered. “Fred and George sent them to me to test as long as I promised not to use them on themselves. You put them inside snowballs. They explode on contact, covering whatever or whomever they hit in color that won’t wash off for at least a week. Or they think a week. That’s the part they really want tested,” she finished with a giggle.
Harry looked up at Ginny’s smiling face. Flakes of snow clung to her hair, her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and laughter danced in her eyes. Harry was mesmerized.
“Harry?” Ginny waved a mitten in front of Harry’s face.
Harry shook his head. “Yeah?”
“What color do you think would match Ron’s new maroon jumper best?” she innocently asked, holding up two pellets. “Blast ‘o Blue or Permanent Pink Pansy?”
Harry started packing snow.
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Weasley walked into the kitchen to find the five of them sitting around the table, hugging mugs of hot cocoa in an effort to warm up and dry off. Bill, Charlie and Ron sat on the far side of the table looking as if they had come off on the wrong end of a fight with a neon colored impressionist painting. Judging by Ginny’s smug and color-free smirk, she had a pretty good idea who was behind Ron’s pink hair that even Tonks would have envied. The right side of Charlie’s face was a lovely daffodil yellow while the left side was a contrasting grassy green. Bill was simply blue, very, very blue.
Taking a second look, Molly Weasley turned around and left the kitchen without saying a word. Seeing Harry grin into his mug of hot cocoa like that was worth the price of keeping her mouth shut.
++++
Harry looked at the box Mrs. Weasley had placed on his bed. Over the months, she had continued the cleaning of Grimmauld Place helping to make it a truly functioning headquarters for the Order. Last summer she had gently asked Harry if he wanted her to sort through Sirius’ personal belongings while she was at it. Too numb to care, he had simply nodded. Twelve years in Azkaban followed by a life in hiding hadn’t left much for her to sort through and now the results of her efforts sat inside the box in front of him.
Harry had surprised himself when he approached Mrs. Weasley that morning. He had wanted to thank her for doing something he had been unable to even think about. But, as he stood in front of her in the empty kitchen, no words came out. He felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. Embarrassed, he had turned to leave, but Mrs. Weasley caught his arm and enveloped him in a hug only a mother could give.
His eyes red and his nose stuffy, Harry now sat on Ron’s bed, facing the box afraid to look inside. Opening it might mean it was over. Sirius was really gone. He would have to let go, but how would he define himself without the pain he carried around in his heart? Of course, he knew the answer to that. Maybe it was time to start truly focusing on the Prophecy and what it meant for him and his future.
He heard it then, a bright, clear bubbling laugh from outside. He leaned over to look out the frosty window. The snow covered ground below was dotted with splotches of rainbow color. Fred and George must have apparated moments before because there they were being given a tour of the battlegrounds along with, judging by Ron’s flailing arms and visual theatrics, a play-by-play description. Ginny stood off to the side, hands on hips, shaking her head, saying something the twins were laughing at. Harry couldn’t see his expression, but it must have made Ron mad because his face now matched the color of his hair.
The picture of Ginny, laughing in the snow during their snowball fight, her cheeks kissed with cold, her eyes brimming with fun flashed in his memory. Did he want that? Deciding there was only one way to find out, Harry breathed deep and lifted the lid off the box.
++++
Dinner the night before they were scheduled to return to Hogwarts was a noisy, rambunctious affair. The kitchen table was surrounded by Order members and most of the Weasley clan. Harry knew Ginny had been in the kitchen helping her mum for several hours that afternoon, making a feast the house elves in the Hogwarts kitchens would have been proud of. She had then insisted on serving everyone.
Tonight's dinner was a celebration, as talk around the table centered on school related topics and the twins' latest test products. Harry was just reaching for a second helping of roast beef when he heard the twins' cries.
"Yow!" Fred yelped and covered his face with his hands.
"Aargh!” George exclaimed, grabbing his arms.
Big blotchy blisters and boils were appearing all over Fred and George's skin.
"Fred! George! Cut it out this instant!" Mrs. Weasley admonished them.
"But Mum! We didn't do it!" the twins cried, as purple hair began to sprout out of their ears.
"Well, who else would have?" She shouted back at them.
“We don’t know, but —“ It took a minute before Fred and George looked at each other and said in unison, "GINNY!"
Everyone turned to Ginny. Ginny scooped up a bite of mashed potatoes from her plate and put them in her mouth. Blinking roundly at the stunned faces, she shrugged her shoulders innocently.
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Do you know anything about this?"
"No, Mum, I'm a Prefect," she managed with a straight face. "I'm above such childish pranks." Ginny, pretending she was wearing her school robes, breathed on her chest where her badge would be and polished it with her sleeve. Realization dawning, the twins began laughing, nodding their approval.
Still confused, Harry thought back to the last summer and began to grin. Fred and George had stopped by the morning booklists had arrived. Harry found them in the sitting room. They were playing keep-away with Ginny's new Prefect badge, taunting her about how their last hope, their kindred spirit had become a complete failure. Ginny had tried valiantly to grab it, but since she was several inches shorter than the twins, had to settle for an evil glare. Sure that it would burn if it could, Harry could remember thinking he never wanted to be on the receiving end of such a stare.
“Don’t touch us, Mum!” yelped Fred as Mrs. Weasley came from behind to get a better look at his skin.
“Yeah, Mum,” agreed George, wincing because it hurt to laugh, “I’m sure these will go down soon. At least the ones from any of our stuff don’t last long,” he said hopefully.
Harry leaned over to Ginny who was sitting next to him, calmly continuing to eat in the midst of the chaos she had created. "I thought you said you didn't use magic when you cooked," he whispered.
"I never said I didn't use magical ingredients," she whispered back.
Harry grinned. Dumbledore had chosen his Prefects well.
++++
Lucius Malfoy sat in front of his fire flipping through the manuscript. Upon returning home from Knockturn Alley, he had put the bound volume on the sideboard in the sitting room and forgotten it. But with Draco having returned to Hogwarts earlier that day and Narcissa out for the evening, he had been looking for something to occupy his time. The flickering light of the fire illuminated the pages filled with neat, tidy script describing practices of ancient peoples, rituals of dark magic and death, myths and legends. Bartholomew Borgin had painstakingly reproduced diagrams of spell movements and recipes for potions that had fascinated him in the pages, some claiming cures for everything from poisonous dragon bites to baldness.
Concluding this had simply been a foolish wizard's notebook, Lucious threw the manuscript into the fireplace. As the heat from the flames blackened and curled the edges of the parchment, he looked at the page the manuscript had fallen open to. What he read sent shivers through him. Grabbing the fire tongues, Lucius salvaged the remaining pages before they turned to ash. Dropping it on the rug, he smothered the glowing edges of the parchment with the bottom of his boot. He leaned down and re-read the title on the page. He stood up, rubbed his eyes and then leaned over to read it again. Straightening up, he smiled. Interesting, he thought. Yes, interesting enough for the Dark Lord. He would be pleased.
A/N: I've been calling this my Opus around home. It's my first attempt at something longer than a one shot so your input and suggestions are greatly appreciated!
Next Chapter - Harry and Ginny spend some time star gazing...
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3: Written in the Stars
Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of the Harry Potter world.
Mr. Borgin surveyed his shelves with satisfaction. he could see the Galleons piling up in his Gringotts safe just standing there. But today was inventory day and he must get to it. Doing inventory was a tedious job, but a necessary one when some of your best customers were reputed to have very sticky fingers. Shelf by shelf, Borgin walked, his self-writing quill marking off the items on the hovering inventory sheet floating behind. Last eveining, he completed the inventory of the backroom, leaving only the items on display for the morning. He had just started on his collection of hexed potion viles when the door of his shop opened.
A middle-aged wizard entered the shop, brushing the rain from the shoulder of his cloak. Borgin could tell from the cut of the cloth and the polish of his shoes, this was a wizard of means. Borgin straigtened his collar and stepped forward.
“Good morning, sir. What may I help you with today?”
The wizard inclined his head as he took off his goves, sliding them in the pocket of his robes. Borgin noticed this wizard didn’t seem to mind getting a little dust on his fine clothes and watched him with curiosity as he went from shelf to shelf, touching a head here, an amulet there. The wizard’s voice startled him out of his observations.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Borgin blanched. Had he just insulted a customer with obvious wealth? “No, sir, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, moving closer, “I’m afraid I do not.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you, too, Uncle.”
++++
"Harry, quit scowling at Neville and just go talk to her."
"Huh?" Harry turned to face Hermione who was sitting across from him at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, a plate of eggs untouched in front of him, his fork held still in the air.
"Stop scowling at Neville as if you were trying to turn him into Trevor's twin because he's talking to Ginny. You should just go down and talk to her. He'll leave. Especially if you keep looking at him like that."
Harry blinked at her and returned his attention to his now cold eggs. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"Harry, come on," Hermione said, tilting her head to the side and smiling. "You've been watching Ginny ever since we came back to school."
"I have not!" Harry replied indignantly.
"Yes, you have. You fancy her." Hermione said, helping herself to some toast.
"I do not!" Harry tried to argue unconvincingly.
"Yes, you do." Hermione replied, pointing her triangle of toast at the flush that had started creeping up Harry's cheeks.
“Ron would have a fit,” Harry muttered to his eggs. “You saw how he acted when she was dating Dean last term.”
“Well, Ron’s not exceptionally rational when it comes to his only sister, but he likes you. And I do have to agree with him about Dean and Ginny. They weren’t a good combination to begin with,” Hermione mused.
"Well, she doesn't like me anymore," Harry's shoulders slumped as he stared at his plate.
"And how do you know that? Have you asked her?"
"No!"
"Then…" Hermione gestured toward Ginny with her toast.
"I missed my chance, Hermione," Harry resigned.
Hermione sighed. Why is it, she thought, do I have to hang out with the thickest teenage wizards in school when it comes to girls?
"Harry," she patiently explained, "things happen when they are supposed to. You weren't ready to have Ginny before. You wouldn't have appreciated her and probably would have screwed it up."
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry replied sarcastically.
"No, I mean it," she said earnestly. "Harry, you weren't mature enough to lean on Ginny, to need her and let her be your support. Now you are. You're just lucky she's a patient person."
Harry looked up at Hermione. "What do you mean?"
"Go. Just go." Hermione urged, before popping the last bite of toast in her mouth and standing up.
"But Hermione-"
"Bye, Harry!" Hermione waved over her shoulder as she moved toward the entrance to the Great Hall.
Harry watched Hermione's retreating back with dismay. Hermione was right, he had been watching Ginny. He couldn't help himself. Somehow, she had become a necessity for him. He found himself trying to be in places where he could catch a glimpse of her, often finding himself on the receiving end of disapproving stares from his own professors as he slid into his chair late. Now Hermione had put his crush out in the open and he’d have to act on it or she wouldn’t let it go. Damn her! She knew he was as clueless as Ron when it came to girls. And when it came to Ginny, he knew deep down, he couldn't afford to muck this one up.
Harry looked back down the table to where Ginny and Neville had been having breakfast. Neville was gone. Ginny had pushed her plate back and was gathering her book bag. Harry's decision was made.
Before rational thought returned, Harry grabbed his books and called, "Hey, Ginny! Wait up!"
Ginny turned, a look of surprise on her face.
"I'll walk with you," Harry said, a little breathlessly as he caught up to her.
"Harry! Don't you have Potions now? I'm headed to Transfiguration…"
"Uh, yeah, but…I need to check with Professor McGonagall about quidditch. I'll go with you."
"Okay. Suit yourself!" Ginny said, smiling at him.
Harry grinned back and fell into step beside her. He hoped he would be able to wipe the grin off his face before class. But then again, he didn't really care.
++++
“Nathan?” Borgin asked, eyes widening in recognition. “Nathan…you’re back.”
“I see you’ve wasted little time in disposing of my father’s estate,” Nathan Borgin remarked, surveying the shop shelves. It had been many years since he spent any time with his father, but the memories of his childhood were vivid. After all, it’s a bit hard to forget while his peers were decorating their rooms with pictures of witch crushes, wearing the colors of their favorite quidditch teams and riding their first broomsticks, he had been dressed in black, his room papered with intricate diagrams of hexes and was amassing an impressive collection (or so his father told him) of shrunken mammal heads.
The shopkeeper cleared his throat, tugging at his collar nervously. “Yes, uh, well, when the solicitors couldn’t locate you, they contacted me as the next of kin.” Realizing the impact this was going to have on his bottom line, Borgin sighed heavily. “I’ve kept accurate records of the estate sales and all shop sales. Transferring the funds shouldn’t be an issue,” he said reluctantly.
“I don’t want the money,” Nathan said bitterly. “I don’t want anything to do with my father or this shop. I just stopped by out of a sense of family obligation.”
“Ah…” Borgin replied, hesitantly.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Nathan said. “I’ll just look around.”
Borgin nodded, nervously watching his nephew peruse his store shelves. Reaching out to grab his self-writing quill and parchment from mid-air, Borgin walked behind the counter and began to reconcile his inventory.
“Hmmm…”
“Pardon?” Nathan asked, stopping his browsing.
“Oh, my apologies,” Borgin said, looking up. “I didn’t realize I spoke aloud.”
“Problem?”
“Yes, there seems to be one of your father’s manuscripts missing.”
“Which one? Are you sure?”
“Mysteries and Myths. It was some nonsense about death and what comes after. And yes, I’m sure, I keep very good records,” Borgin replied, offended.
Nathan gazed through the grimy window, watching the suspect characters weave through Knockturn Alley. This place had always unsettled him.
“I’m familiar with that one. My father spoke of it often as I was growing up,” he said mildly.
Of all his father’s manuscripts, this one had been his passion. Death fascinated Bartholomew Borgin. His life long dream had been to die and yet…not die. The idea of immortality fascinated him, the thought of a life that would never end. As a child, Nathan could only wonder why you wouldn’t get bored living that long. If it had been any other of his father's collection of notes, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. However, Nathan knew that during his last years, his father’s rantings and ravings about the possibility of immortality had actually begun to have some truth to it. Enough truth that in the wrong hands, the notes could prove to be very dangerous.
“This isn’t a big issue,” Borgin muttered, “however, the Ministry has been wanting to know about the disappearance of such things. They require my inventory sheets to be handed in weekly. If I report a disappearance, I will have ministry employees posted at my door day in, day out. Damn.”
“To whom do you hand them in?” Nathan asked, keeping his tone light.
“I’m sorry?”
“To whom do you hand your inventory sheets to?” Nathan repeated.
“Oh, uh, the Minister’s assistant. Weasley, Percy Weasley, I believe is his name.”
“Fine. As it is, I am on my way to the Ministry. I will stop by and inform Mr. Weasley of the missing manuscript,” Nathan said, reaching into his pocket for his gloves and slipping them on.
“No! No, no,” Borgin waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t trouble yourself. I will take care of it. I have business there later.”
“Suit yourself,” Nathan commented, shrugging his shoulders. He would remember this, though. His Uncle might be family, but family was not to be trusted. “If you need to reach me, you can send an owl to Hogwarts. I’ll be there for the remainder of the semester.”
With that, Nathan Borgin turned and left the shop. Mr. Borgin watched his nephew wind his way through Knockturn Alley, wondering why Hogwarts would have use for any member of his family.
++++
Lucius Malfoy stood in the hallway. The peeling white paint on the study door in front of him matched the state of the house. The Dark Lord deserves better, he thought.
A voice rang out. "Wormtail, show him in."
The door opened and Malfoy passed in front of the short, stooped figure of Volemort's servant. The room was dimly lit, the pulled moth eaten velvet curtains blocking the early morning sun from highlighting the fraying edges of the rug. Voldemort, standing by one of the windows, turned to face his caller.
"Yes, Lucius, not quite what I had imagined either. But it is temporary. Wormtail tells me you have found something I might find of interest."
"Yes, my Lord, I believe I have."
++++
Ginny found Harry, his head in his hands, massaging his forehead. The tabletop in front of him in the common room was covered with parchment and texts. Ginny knew NEWT level potions was leaving it's toll on him. Professor McGonagall hadn't said it outright that he owed his place in Snape's class to her, but she had implied that she was keeping a close eye on his performance. Not wanting to disappoint her, Harry was trying his best to not screw up.
"Stressed, Potter?" Ginny asked, resting her hip on the table.
Harry looked up and grinned when he saw who it was. "Yeah, you could say that."
"Me, too," she confessed with a sly smile. Ginny leaned close to Harry's ear and whispered, "Want to escape?"
With you, always, ran through Harry's mind. He hoped he hadn't said that out loud. Instead, he whispered back, "What did you have in mind?"
Ginny didn't answer, but grabbed his hand and pulled him up. With her other hand, she motioned for him to follow. She led him through the common room and out the portrait hole.
"Where are we going?" he asked, as they made their way quietly through the hall.
"Shhh," Ginny held her finger up to her lips. Eyes twinkling, she replied, "Somewhere we're not supposed to be at this time of night."
Ten minutes later, Harry found himself lying on a blanket Ginny had pilfered from the one of the changing tents, staring at the stars. The night was crisp and cool, the grass frosty with the January air. Ginny wrapped a second blanket around her shoulders and handed the last one to Harry.
The stands of the Quidditch Pitch blocked the castle from the view, making the field seem rather private despite its size. Harry watched the stars shine, keenly aware of Ginny lying next to him. He knew if he turned his head, he could bury his face in her hair that was spread out on the blanket, breath deep the fresh, clean scent that filled his dreams. He held his breath only so he could listen to her breath.
"Beautiful, isn’t' it?" Ginny's question broke through the stillness.
"Yeah," Harry answered, and it was. Harry moved his hands to the back of his head and began to relax.
"I come out here to think, sometimes," Ginny offered, feeling a compulsion to share with Harry something that nobody else knew. "You know with O.W.L.s and all…and having to come up with a career plan…" Ginny paused. "I just can't help but get this feeling there is more to my life than choosing a job. It's like I don't have a choice in certain things, things bigger than me."
Harry turned his head away from Ginny. He knew exactly what she meant.
"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry. That was terribly insensitive of me. Here I am babbling on about career choices and well, look at what you've got to face and I'm just really digging myself into a deeper hole here, aren't I? Damn. This isn't what I wanted to do tonight!"
Harry looked over at Ginny who was now sitting up, hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them, staring at her shoes. He could see her breath forming clouds and drifting away into the night. He untucked one of his hands from the blanket and reached for one of hers.
"It's okay," he said as he felt the warmth of her hand in his. "I don't mind talking about it with you," he admitted, glad of the dark that hid the flush he felt creeping up his neck.
Keeping her hand in his, Ginny smiled and lay back down next to Harry, this time close enough so their bodies touched. Once again, Harry found himself holding his breath, putting all his energies into keeping his thoughts proper. They fell silent, content on watching the skies. Harry listened to Ginny's breathing become deep and even. He knew they couldn’t stay out here much longer, but he wasn’t ready to disrupt the sense of peacefulness enveloping them. Finally, unable to resist, Harry turned his head, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair. Before he thought about it, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, feeling the softness of her hair on his lips. Harry stayed like that, Ginny’s head tucked under his chin listening to the sounds of the night.
++++
"Ginny? Wake up, Ginny. We need to get back." Harry nudged Ginny's shoulder in an attempt to wake her.
Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes. She grinned sheepishly at Harry. "I guess I fell asleep."
"I won't take it personally," Harry said gallantly. "We'd better get back."
Harry stood up, and held out his hand to Ginny. She placed her hand back in his and he tugged her up. Pulling her blanket tightly around her, Ginny gathered the other blanket with her free hand. After replacing the blankets in the changing tent, Harry and Ginny made their way back to the castle, quietly sneaking through the hallways back to Gryffindor tower.
Climbing back through the portrait hole, they found the common room deserted. Stopping at the stairs leading up to their dorms, Harry reluctantly let go of Ginny's hand.
"Goodnight, Harry. Sweet Dreams," Ginny smiled softly at him and turned to go up her stairs.
"Uh, Ginny —" Harry started.
"Yes?"
"Thanks. And goodnight." Harry wished back.
"Harry —"
He turned. Ginny ran up the steps to where Harry stood. She placed her hand on his arm, stood on her tiptoes and kissed Harry's cheek. As quickly as she had run up them, Ginny ran back down the stairs. At the bottom, she looked up and smiled at Harry. "See you tomorrow, Harry, " and she disappeared.
Harry touched his cheek where her lips had been. "Yeah, see you tomorrow," he whispered to the space where Ginny had been seconds before.
++++
“Good evening, Firenze. Taking advantage of the stars tonight, I see,” Dumbledore greeted the Centaur.
“The are in movement, yes” Firenze replied, keeping his gaze on the skies.
“I've always enjoyed star gazing,” Dumbledore chatted easily. “I find it a helpful way of reminding myself of how insignificant we really are.”
The remained silent for several minutes, contemplating the cosmos. Then Firenze spoke.
“It is beginning.”
“What is beginning?”
“The celestial bodies are telling us it is beginning. There is a shift in power happening.”
“I see.”
“There is darkness between the stars.”
“Odd, since the moon is a full one,” Dumbledore observed.
“The positions of the planets also speak of strength, a strength that if it comes to fruition may severely impact the darkness.”
“Ah,” Dumbledore responded calmly.
A/N: As always, feedback, reviews, suggestions welcomed! They inspire!
Next...some time spent with a long lost brother and some snogging (not with the long lost brother!)
Chapter 4: Transfiguration
Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of the Harry Potter world.
Percy Weasley was many things; ambitious, intelligent, stubborn, strict, unforgiving, a bit full of himself, perhaps. But no one would ever accuse Percy Weasley of not being thorough. He prided himself on that fact, having lived his life to this point making sure all his i’s were dotted, his t’s crossed and parchments perfectly sealed.
Even in the wizarding world, Percy knew who your children grew up to be depended more on genetic make-up than on any one parenting style, which was why he had always wondered how he ended up a Weasley. When he considered his siblings, Percy thought it obvious who their parents were. But, if asked, the only thing Percy would tell you he had left in common with the rest of his family was the telltale red hair. Fortunately for Percy, he didn’t realize he had more in common with his parents than just his hair follicles.
Percy stood in the doorway of his office. As Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic, Percy was little more than a glorified secretary. He took notes, he compiled notes, he sent notes, he answered notes. He went through more parchment and quills in a month here than he ever had as a student. Sighing, he reminded himself he was doing an important job, had access to information the average wizard did not, and it could be worse. He could have his father’s job.
Percy cringed at the thought of his father. He passed him periodically in the hallways, had in fact shared a lift with him yesterday. And even Percy, despite his best efforts to ignore him, could tell the war was taking its toll on his father. Arthur Weasley's robes hung looser on his frame, the gray hair around the temples was more pronounced, and there were smudges of blue under his eyes. Without acknowledging his father, Percy had silently exited the lift along with a few memos, two of which followed him all the way to his desk, pecking at the back of his head like annoying little birds wanting attention.
And then there was his father’s voice. Every time he saw him, Percy could hear it, in the back of his head. “Wake up, Percy! Open your eyes!” “Fudge doesn’t know what’s going on. He refuses to see what’s going on!” “Percy, you can’t turn your back on your family. The ministry is moving too slowly. It’s missing things.” The voice was there, occasionally joined with the memory of his mother’s tears, nagging at him.
Shaking his head as if hoping the voice would simply fall out of one of his ears, Percy walked slowly around to the back of his desk. A stale burnt smell hung in the air and the explosive remains of several unopened howlers delivered during the night had left a thin layer of ashy dust over the top layer of his desk. Setting down his satchel, Percy began to clean it up.
“Weasley!” Lewis Fielding poked his head into Percy’s office.
“Fielding,” nodded Percy, looking up.
“Are you done with the inventory reconciliations yet? I’ve got Aurors jumping down my neck for them,” Lewis said, watching Percy dust.
Percy tried to keep his eyes from rolling. Lewis Fielding was Percy’s counterpart within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which pretty much meant he dealt with mind numbing paperwork all day too. Fielding also had the habit of dropping in the fact he worked with “the Aurors” any chance he got, as if the paperwork the Aurors generated was more important than anything generated by the Minister of Magic himself. Percy thought Fielding daft. Just exactly who did Fielding think sat behind the door Percy's back faced? To top it off, Percy had a hard time believing anyone trained in the art of catching dark wizards was anxiously awaiting something as dull as inventory reconciliations.
“No, Fielding,” Percy replied, trying hard to sound busily important, “I told you yesterday I would be doing them today. The Minister of Magic has kept me busy with other ministry business. I will have them to you by the end of the week.”
“Great!” Fielding exclaimed. “Well, I’m off to the Aurors’ daily briefing. I’ll stop by later, see if you need a hand.”
“You do that,” Percy muttered to Fielding’s back.
++++
Ginny pushed the door open to the Transfiguration classroom. Why Dumbledore had asked her to drop off this parcel for Professor McGonagall in the classroom and not left it in the staff room, she had no idea. She had been headed to drop off her book bag in Gryffindor Tower before she made her way to the Great Hall for dinner when she met the Headmaster. Dumbledore seemed to pull the bundle out of nowhere, holding it out for her, giving her no choice but to comply. She hurried to the front of the room and dropped the parcel on the table. Turning around, she jumped, her book bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
"Hey, Gin," Harry said looking up. He sat at the front desk, closest to the wall, facing what looked like an explosion of parchment.
"Harry, why do I keep finding you surrounded by piles of parchment?" Ginny teased.
Harry grinned. "Can't get enough of the stuff?" he answered. "Professor McGonagall said I could use the classroom to catch up on some potions work before practice."
"Ah," Ginny answered. Her gaze traveled around the room. It was empty except for the two of them.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.
"Uh, I was dropping off something for Professor McGonagall on my way to grab a bite of dinner," Ginny said, suddenly feeling a little awkward.
She had wanted to get Harry alone all week and here they finally were, and what was she going to do about it? Get a grip, girl! She said to herself. You've been thinking of this all week. Okay, maybe a little longer, she admitted silently. Trying to convince herself that there was no time like the present, Ginny took a deep breath and stepped toward Harry's desk.
"So, Harry…almost done?" she asked innocently.
Harry looked up from his work, not realizing Ginny had moved from the front desk. He could count the freckles on her nose from here. Startled, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping on the floor as it slid back into the desk behind him. It suddenly dawned on him them they were alone.
Harry cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, I think I am," he said.
Straightening up, Ginny moved around the end of the desk so she was facing Harry. Tilting her head to the side, she studied him, a small smile playing around her lips.
"Harry, do you know that when Hogwarts was first started, prefects would take points from students for what was considered improper behavior?"
Flashbacks of their night on the quidditch pitch ran through his mind. Harry took a step backward, bumping into the desk behind him.
"Uh, no, I didn't know that," he replied, nervously. He had been daydreaming about getting Ginny alone all week. Now, here they were, and all rational thought had fled his mind. He watched Ginny trail her fingers over the scattered parchment on the desk as she walked toward him.
"Yes," she continued, "improper behavior consisted of things like holding hands in the corridor or inappropriate public displays of affection in common areas."
Harry felt his cheeks grow red. He swallowed. Ginny took another step toward him. Harry scooted sideways and stepped back, feeling the classroom wall press into his back. Why did the torch light have to shine like that on her hair?
"Where did you learn that?" he asked, trying to find something to do with his hands which suddenly felt useless and conspicuous. He shoved them behind his back, feeling the stone bite into his knuckles. Ginny took another step in his direction.
"Fred and George. They have always believed in knowing the rules before you bend them in order to weigh the risk of the consequences."
"Bend the rules?" Harry was having problems following the conversation. Ginny was standing close enough the fronts of their robes were touching.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?" Harry bit his bottom lip, afraid to say anything.
"You know the rules never fully defined what a common area was."
"Oh?" Harry's breathing quickened. His eyes focused on Ginny's lips.
"Without knowing all the information, as a prefect, I couldn't, in good faith, dock you points…"
Harry looked down at Ginny. He said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Know thy loopholes?"
Ginny smiled. "Something like that," she whispered as she stood on her toes to meet Harry halfway. Harry's lips on hers were light as a feather, warm and gentle and fleeting. They parted ever so slightly, staring at each other in wonder.
Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh, did Fred and George ever find out the consequences for kissing a prefect?"
Ginny smiled. "No, I'm not sure they ever met a prefect they wanted to kiss."
"Too bad for them," Harry said softly as he leaned into her again.
As his lips met hers, Harry touched Ginny's cheek, her skin soft and warm beneath his fingertips. Ginny was sure her chest wasn't big enough for her heart which felt like it was going explode. She pressed her palms flat to the front of Harry's robes, feeling the solidness of him, his heart beat, strong and fast. Harry's glasses felt cold against her warm cheeks as she shifted her head. Cool air brushed her face as Harry pulled back. Ginny caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Harry watched Ginny's hair slide through his fingers as he fought to get his breathing under control.
"Ginny?"
Ginny opened her eyes.
"Professor McGonagall said as long as it's empty, I can use her classroom whenever I need to study."
Ginny blinked at Harry. It took a moment for what Harry had said to sink in. Then Ginny giggled. "Good to know, Harry," she replied, eyes twinkling.
++++
Professor McGonagall strode quickly down the hallway toward the Transfiguration classroom.
"Professor," she called seeing the headmaster, "have you seen a parcel for me? Professor Flitwick said he thought he saw you giving it to Ginny Weasley a short time ago and told her to take it to my classroom."
Dumbledore stood directly in her path. He reached out and took her arm, turning her around and redirecting her in the direction she came.
"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling, "I did come into possession of your parcel and passed it onto Miss Weasley. Yes, I had her drop it off on your desk in your classroom. I'm confident you will find it there in the morning."
"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, looking over her shoulder, "but I have to check in on Mr. Potter who is working in my classroom."
"I'm sure he is doing fine, Minerva. Have you had dinner? I understand we are having a special treat tonight in honor of the upcoming quidditch match. I've noticed Gryffindor's team is young but rather talented," Dumbledore commented, as he escorted her down the corridor.
+++++
If asked by a ministry official, Percy Weasley would say he took great pride in even the most mundane of tasks. If asked by anyone he trusted outside the Ministry, Percy Weasley would honestly say he took great pride in even the most mundane of tasks, however, there were some he'd really rather not do. There wasn’t a more mundane task than inventory reconciliation and there wasn't anything Percy would rather not do more.
Inventory reconciliation was the brainchild of Lewis Fielding. Its purpose was to track the sales of items deemed to be concerned with, using or possessed of dark magic. The Ministry wanted to know who was buying what, for how much and when. Someone had had the good sense to realize that if the Ministry shut down shops such as Borgin and Burkes that dealt in what they liked to term "Dark Wizarding Antiquities", a flourishing black market would arise, thus making it much more difficult to track who was interested in such things. And, since every once in a great while, these reports did yield pertinent information, reconciliations remained a fixture of Percy’s job.
Of course, Percy thought wryly as he examined the scrolls of parchment in front of him, if you were an intelligent wizard interested in such things, why would you shop at a store you knew was being watched by the Ministry? And why did Cornelius Fudge insist on being informed of discrepancies before the Aurors were alerted? As a Ministry employee, Percy would never question these things out loud. However, every time he passed his father in the corridors, nagging doubts such as these would pop into his head and refuse to let go.
Nevertheless, Percy continued his work, comparing the scrolls of parchment from week to week, documenting the sales of what to whom. This week, he left Borgin and Burkes until last. Borgin and Burkes kept by far the most accurate and comprehensible records of any shop located in Knockturn Alley (a sure sign they were hiding something, Percy figured) normally making reviewing the reports an easy task. However, a month ago, the shop experienced a bump in inventory making Percy's job much more tedious. He was half way through his comparison when he noticed it.
He double checked it. He reviewed the previous week. No, there was a book missing. He thought this odd. He made note of it to inform Fudge and scheduled time to look into it next week. Then, in an effort to get done before Lewis Fielding came back to remind Percy of who he worked with, Percy forged on.
++++
Hermione jolted awake, feeling a large weight land on her legs. A hand clamped over her mouth stifling her scream.
“Shhhh! Hermione, it’s me!” Ginny whispered, tentatively lifting her hand from Hermione’s mouth.
“Ginny, what are you doing? It’s past midnight!” Hermione whispered back, not wanting to wake her roommates. “Are you okay?”
Hermione could see Ginny violently shaking her head up and down in the moonlight.
“Are you sure?” Hermione asked again, slowly as if talking to a child.
“Yes, I’m sure!” Ginny said giggling. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait any longer. After quidditch practice, I’m so behind with O.W.L.s and everything, I had to go to the library to study. When Madam Pince kicked everybody out, I came back to the common room. But I just couldn’t wait any longer. I had to tell someone!”
“Tell somebody what?”
“We did it. Well, not IT it, but it. Hermione,” Ginny said, putting her palms flat on Hermione’s blankets and leaning close. “He kissed me! Harry kissed me!” Ginny couldn’t hold it in any longer. Grabbing Hermione’s pillow and shoving it over her face, she fell back on the bed and squealed into the feathers.
Hermione sat there for a moment, watching her friend catch her breath and grinned. If anybody deserved this kind of giddy joy, it was Ginny and Harry.
“So,” Hermione said, leaning forward, “how was it?”
Ginny lifted the pillow off her face and sighed. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. All she could do was grin.
“That good, eh?” Hermione observed, laughing. “I’m glad for you two. Now go to bed! It’s late! And try not to float all the way to your room. You’ll bump your head on the top of the door on your way out.”
Hermione ducked as the pillow came sailing her way.
++++
"An interesting proposition, Lucius. What is the timeline?"
"My Lord, it all depends…you know the human heart is not a predictable beast."
"The human heart is an enemy to itself. I don't want to waste time on experimentation."
"Yes, My Lord, but I have a reliable source who can keep us apprised of the situation. Things can happen quickly when the time is right."
"Make it soon."
"Yes, My Lord."
++++
Now, I know there are those of you who are not big Percy fans, and up to the point where I wrote this chapter, I counted myself as one of them. But then I found myself writing him more as a Prodigal son type character. And in my defense, even Fred and George said he was a git but would come around eventually.
Stay tuned…Harry and Ginny are falling in love and there's a new DADA Professor in town
Chapter 5: Hope, Love and Late Night Misunderstandings
Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of JKR's wonderful Harry Potter world.
Hope and joy were two emotions Harry didn't have a lot of experience with in his life, especially recently. The past year, his feelings had been tied up with the searing heartbreak of losing Sirius, resentment of what his future entailed and the mounting determination to be on the winning side of that prophecy. Not to mention, Harry had more practice feeling Voldemort's joy within himself than his own. So as Harry lay in his bed the next morning, it took him a few moments to recognize what he was feeling. He was grinning. His heart felt too big for his chest. He might break into song if he wanted to invite ridicule. He settled on humming and pushed aside the bedclothes.
“Boy, you’re in a good mood today!”
Harry froze. Ron. How could he have forgotten Ron? Ron wouldn’t kill him…would he? After all, at the end of last year, Ron had indicated he would approve of Ginny seeing Harry. And it wasn’t like Harry wanted to hide this. He wanted to shout it from the top of the Astronomy tower. In a couple of days or weeks, that is. Right now, it was all so new, Harry wanted to keep it close to his heart, examine it, and not screw it up.
“Sweet dreams?” Ron teased.
Harry blushed. Ron didn’t want to know about Harry’s dreams last night.
“Uh, yeah,” Harry answered, glancing out the window. “New Defense Against the Dark Arts professor starts soon,” he said, kicking himself for using the first thing that popped into his mind.
“Okay, whatever floats your boat,” Ron chuckled. “I’m going to breakfast. Want to come?”
“Yeah, but I’ll catch up. You go ahead.”
“It’s no problem, really. I don’t mind. I’ll wait downstairs.”
Harry watched Ron leave the dorm room and let out the breath he’d been holding. He had no idea what he would do about Ron, but now was not the time to think about it. Locking his worries away for later, Harry pulled on his jeans and a jumper, glanced in the mirror, gave up trying to fix his hair and bounded down the steps to the common room.
She was standing at the bottom, her back to him. Harry felt a lump jump into his throat and assumed it was his heart. Ginny turned her head at the sound of his thumping on the stairs and smiled at him. He was going to explode.
“Come on Ron,” Hermione was saying exasperatedly. “Let’s go to breakfast.”
“I’m waiting on Harry,” Ron answered annoyed.
“Look, Ginny said she’d wait for him. Besides he’s a big boy and knows his way to the Great Hall,” Hermione said, her eyes shifting to Harry. She shrugged her shoulders as if to apologize. Harry realized she knew, and she was keeping quiet.
“See, there he is,” Ron said, turning to follow where Hermione was looking. “Ginny, get out of the way and let the man through. Breakfast awaits!”
Biting her tongue to keep from giving Ron what awaited him, Ginny stepped aside. “Good morning, Harry,” she said quietly, blushing.
“Hi,” he said, his cheeks growing warm, too.
“I guess we should go,” Ginny said.
“Probably a good idea.”
“Oh, come on you two,” Ron shouted from the portrait hole. “The eggs are getting cold!”
+++++++
"Ancient Magic!" came the voice from the back of the classroom.
Harry jumped and turned around with the rest of the class to see a tall, middle aged wizard standing at the back of the classroom. Harry's first thought was he reminded him of Lupin without all the patches, scratches and mends. While similar in age, build and coloring, this man was wearing a well made gray jumper, perfectly creased slacks and highly polished shoes.
"Obviously, by it's name, you might be able to surmise that Ancient Magic is one of the oldest forms of magic ever studied," the man stated, as he made his way to the front of the classroom, eyes following him as he walked. "Ancient magic is the basis, the foundation for much of the magic we use today."
Malfoy snorted.
"Mr. Malfoy," the man said, as he passed the Slytherin's desk and turned to face him. "Do you have a question?"
"Yeah. Doesn’t anything that begins with ‘ancient’ belong in History of Magic? I mean, really, how is something 'ancient' going to help us with defending ourselves today?"
"Interesting question, Mr. Malfoy," the wizard answered, keeping his tone light. "You are correct in one sense. Ancient magic is littled studied these days. Witches and wizards aren’t all that interested in why what they do works. And true, magic is an ever growing, ever changing beast. What worked a thousand years ago doesn't necessarily work today."
The wizard turned to face the rest of the class. Due to current events, Dumbledore insisted on all students continuing DADA no matter their career path. However, due to schedules, and seeing as some classes were rather small in size, certain NEWT level classes consisted of a combination of members from different houses. Having the Slytherins and Gryffindors in the same Defense Against the Dark Arts class had proved to be interesting the previous term. Harry had a feeling the only reason they hadn't seriously hexed each other was that it had been difficult to do under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore. However, at the end of their last class, the Headmaster informed them their new teacher would be taking over next lesson. Which is why today, Harry had kept his hand firmly on his wand from the moment he entered the classroom.
"The spells of Ancient Magic are manipulative; the potions are addictive. People dismiss them, as you pointed out, Mr. Malfoy, because they are found written on tomb walls, described on petrified papyrus paper in pyramids, and carved on large stone tablets. Ancient magic is about observation and being able to make the proper connections. If you can observe a pull, a tug, you can push something or someone in directions you never thought possible. "
The wizard continued, walking around the classroom, finally stopping in front of Harry.
"There is a war going on, a war that is the result of one wizard's under-estimation of a very old spell, a spell of a mother's love." The wizard looked directly at Harry's face, but unlike most people who saw him for the first time, his eyes did not travel up to Harry's forehead. It was as if they didn't need to. "In every war, there are two sides, the victorious and the defeated. If you study these two parties, you will learn that often, the defeated underestimated their opponent."
The wizard's blue eyes stared into Harry's green. "I will not allow you to underestimate your opponent. Therefore, we will be studying a very powerful weapon that while old, is at His disposal as much as it is yours."
The wizard held out his hand to Harry and introduced himself.
"My name is Nathan Borgin and I am here to teach you about Ancient Magic."
Harry hesitated before shaking the offered hand. He knew that name.
"Yes, Mr. Potter, one and the same," Professor Borgin commented, noting the expression on Harry's face. "No, I cannot read minds, but the family connection is a hard one to miss. Borgin and Burkes is my Uncle’s shop."
Returning his attention to the class, Borgin continued.
"I understand from Professor Dumbledore you have had a thorough if not varied defense education. I have also consulted with one of your past professors and have an idea of what you are all capable of."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Professor Borgin," Draco Malfoy drawled, "Exactly how is knowing ancient magic going to get us through our NEWTs? My father has always said ancient magic is little more than biology."
"While your father and I have never seen eye to eye on this, Mr. Malfoy," Borgin commented, "he is somewhat correct. Ancient magic is partly concerned with what today is known as biology in the muggle world. However, it goes beyond that."
Professor Borgin leaned his hip on the table at the front of the room. Harry could tell by the way he spoke, this was a subject he was passionate about.
"Ancient Magic is organic. It's emotional. It's based on the very thing that makes a human being, witch, wizard or muggle live. Wizards who practice and believe in ancient magic tell us that the very pulse of everything flows through us in our
blood. Life…death…even immortality."
"Many wizards do dismiss ancient magic as simply biology," Borgin said, nodding at Malfoy. "However, I wouldn't dismiss it too
quickly. Your Headmaster deems it a necessary part of your education."
At this, Malfoy rolled his eyes.
Dumbledore’s voice floated across Harry’s mind. “In the end it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.”
Mr. Malfoy," Borgin continued, smiling benignly at Malfoy, "might I suggest you take your learning opportunities where you can get them? After all, you never know what I might be able to teach you if you simply open your mind.”
Harry hid a smile as he watched Professor Borgin turn to the blackboard and begin to outline his first lesson. Based on his first impression, his flare for the dramatic aside, this man obviously did his homework.
++++
"Yes, yes, Weasley. Anything else?" Fudge urged, bored and a bit put out. "I need to be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in ten minutes to settle a dispute about uniforms. Supposedly some witch has it in her head we should take a page out of the muggle poly-ice handbook and have them. It wouldn't be so bad except she's suggesting they be fluorescent pink to
be easily noticed." Fudge sighed and looked expectantly at Percy.
"Yes, sir," Percy responded. "I have one more thing. You wished to be informed first of any discrepancies on the inventory reconciliation sheets prior to my alerting Lewis Fielding. Last week, I fou-"
"Minister? Have you a moment?" Mafalda Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic Office stuck her head in the doorway.
"Oh, I apologize," she said, noticing Percy. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, no," waved Fudge dismissively. "Not to worry, Mafalda. Weasley and I were finished."
"But sir," Percy interjected, "the discrepancy. It was a missing book from Bor-"
"Forget it, Weasley," Fudge interrupted. "Those reports are a waste of time if you ask me. Way to keep headcount up in the department. Don't worry about it. In fact, if it's just a book, I wouldn't bother to pass it on. No need to increase
Fielding's workload, eh?" Fudge said standing up. "Mafalda, walk with me. I'm headed to the second floor."
Percy watched Fudge take Mafalda Hoplink's arm and steer her out of his office. Six months ago, Percy would have followed Fudge's direction and filed his note in the rubbish bin without a second thought. But something about this wasn't right. Maybe it was the title of the missing manuscript that bothered him so much, Mysteries and Myths — Notes of truth about Dark Magic, Death and What Happens Next . Or maybe it was the way Mr. Borgin had reacted when Percy entered his shop. Borgin hadn't responded to the two owls Percy had sent, so he had felt obligated to follow through. Much like Fudge, Borgin was evasive and dismissive, brushing Percy's questions aside, saying it obviously was a mistake and he would remedy it with the next report. Borgin practically threw Percy out the door in his effort to rid his store of a Ministry employee.
"Fudge is missing things, Percy." His father's voice rang in his ears. Percy sighed. One of these days, he might have to start listening to it again.
++++
A week following his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Nathan Borgin, Harry looked up from his breakfast to see Hedwig swooping in with the other mail owls. Landing gracefully next to his glass of pumpkin juice, Hedwig held out her leg as
she dipped her beak in his glass.
"Good morning, girl," Harry said softly, as he untied the roll of parchment from her leg.
"Whotcha got, Harry?" Ron said, in between bites.
"Letter from Lupin," Harry said, unrolling the parchment. "I wrote him to find out what he knew about Borgin."
"Oooo, what does it say, Harry?" Hermione asked, leaning over.
"Yeah, what does he say?" Ginny asked interested. "He's odd, but as Lavender Brown says, 'positively dreamy' " Ginny repeated giggling.
Harry looked at her disgruntled. Ginny, catching the look, winked at him.
"Of course, he's not as dreamy as you, Harry," Ginny flirted, batting her eyelashes at him.
Harry choked on the gulp of pumpkin juice he had just taken while Ron had to cover his mouth before he spewed out his bacon.
"Ron!" Hermione admonished, struggling to hide her smile at Harry's shocked look.
"Sorry! Didn't mean to," Ron said swallowing. "Just was caught off guard there," he said, staring at Ginny who was grinning wickedly at her eggs.
Hermione elbowed Harry back into reality. "What does it say, Harry?"
Harry turned his attention back to the parchment and read.
Dear Harry —
I'm glad to hear all is going well. And congratulations on your quidditch victory against Ravenclaw. I understand your catch was not quite as spectacular as some of Ron's saves (will you tell that boy it helps if he keeps both hands on the broom to fly?) but it still did the trick.
We are doing well. Molly has done an amazing job with the place. Last week we celebrated our first week as a "magical creature free headquarters". Most of us celebrated by eating. Tonks celebrated by burning the troll leg umbrella stand in the fireplace. Now we're trying to determine if we can be a 'creature free AND stink free headquarters'.
As far as your inquiries regarding your new professor, yes, I know Nathan Borgin. We were at Hogwarts together. We ran in different circles as he was a few years ahead of us and was a Slytherin.
“No way!” Ron exclaimed. “He seems so nice!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry continued reading.
What I remember about him was that he kept to himself. I’m not sure why he was sorted into Slytherin except that he was certainly pureblood. He had an extensive knowledge of the dark arts (perhaps another reason to be sorted into Slytherin) but he always seemed so nice.
“See!” Ron exclaimed.
I got the impression at school he was not proud of his background. I’m glad to hear he’s able to at least use his knowledge for something he can be proud of today. And yes, he did stop by on his way to Hogwarts.
His relationship with his family was strained. You could tell whenever they came to visit (and his father came frequently). There was some sort of scandal after he graduated, however, I must admit, I had other things on my mind and wasn’t terribly interested in whatever was going on outside Hogwarts. I know he did leave the country shortly after and did not return until recently.
Dumbledore says he comes with the highest credentials. His family connections, while suspect, may prove to be helpful to the Order's cause.
If I had to put my finger on why he’s there it is simply that once again, Dumbledore has his finger on the pulse, so to speak. He’s identified a potential threat and has moved to prepare you the best way he can. I would take that as a compliment, too. My understanding of Borgin’s area of specialty is that it is more mental preparation than spell/hex heavy. This means Dumbledore thinks you’re doing a fine job with the DA. Keep up the good work.
More later —
Remus Lupin
"Hmmm," said Hermione as Harry rolled the parchment back up.
"Hmmm? What does 'Hmmm'? mean?" Ron asked.
"Hmmm means, it’s rather vague but overall, it sounds like Dumbledore has your best interests at heart, Harry,” she said shrugging.
“Now see, here I thought ‘hmmm’ meant maybe Lupin was right and Ron should consider flying lessons,” Ginny said cheekily, ducking as a napkin flew her direction.
"Well, I think it sounds like Borgin is a good guy. It will be nice to have another professor around here we can trust," Ron commented as he stood up.
"Yeah," said Harry begrudgingly, "it would be.”
Harry studied the letter before rolling it up and putting it in his book bag. He wasn’t sure he wanted another professor he trusted. He wasn’t sure he could handle losing another mentor, especially one he was afraid he could really grow to like.
++++
"Father, you won't believe who that crackpot has hired now. You must take me out of here."
"Draco, I cannot do that. It would look suspicious. Besides, you are needed there."
"Needed here? What can I do here? I'm not learning anything. Our new defense teacher is a bigger joke than that oaf teaching Care of Magical Creatures."
"I heard Dumbledore hired Nathan Borgin."
"Yeah, he did. Borgin even went as far to imply he knew you. Probably just wanted to make everybody think he had connections and knew what he was talking about."
"What is he teaching you?"
"Nothing useful."
"Don't be so shortsighted, Draco. You might be surprised. Is Potter still in the class with you?"
"Yeah, like he'd be any place else."
"Anything going on with Potter these days? How are his classes?"
"What do you mean?"
"He is a troublemaker, Draco. It's important you don't let him derail you on your way to being Head Boy. I'd keep an eye on him."
"Yes, Father."
"Keep your eye on him, Draco."
"Yes, Father."
++++
“Miss Weezey, wake up! Misses Weezey, Dobby needs you to wake up!”
“Go away!” Ginny mumbled, batting at the annoying tug on her elbow.
“Dobby can’t, Misses Weezey. Harry Potter has asked Dobby to deliver something. Dobby is very honored to do a favor for Mr. Harry Potter. Dobby will not let Harry Potter down.”
Ginny lifted her head off her charms spellbook which she had been using for a pillow. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to focus on the persistent house elf.
“What?” she asked, fuzzily. “What does Harry want? What time is it?”
Ginny had hidden herself away in the library after dinner in hopes of digging her way out from under the massive amount of homework fifth year brought.
“Late, Misses Weezey, late. Dobby wants to give this to you for Harry Potter.”
Dobby held up a folded piece of shimmering, silvery fabric. Ginny recognized it as Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. Reaching for it, Ginny felt the fabric slip through her fingers like a soft breeze.
“What does he want me to do with this?” she asked puzzled, still not quite awake.
“Dobby asked Mr. Harry Potter the same thing. Mr. Harry Potter said to Dobby that Misses Weezey might want to use it to come see him at night. While Dobby is always happy to help, Dobby did ask Mr. Harry Potter why he didn’t just give this to his Misses Weezey himself. Mr. Harry Potter said he didn’t want anyone to see.”
Any remnant of sleep left in Ginny drained from her mind in seconds as the full impact of what Dobby had just said hit. How DARE HE?! What kind of girl did he think she was? Ginny glared at Dobby. Dobby’s eyes were the size of saucers as he backed up, bumping into the bookshelf behind him.
“Uh, Dobby asks Misses Weezey’s pardon,” he stammered, keeping his eyes on Ginny’s livid expression, back pressed to the bookshelf, feeling his way toward the library door with his hands. “Dobby must get back to the kitchens, Misses.”
Dobby backed his way out of the doors, his orb like eyes never leaving Ginny’s face, thinking for the first time ever, he was glad he was not Mr. Harry Potter.
++++
Ginny stormed into the Gryffindor common room. Despite the hour, many of the tables and chairs were still occupied with stressed, tired looking students studying for their O.W.L.s and NEWTS, attempting to stay ahead of the ever mounting workload. Eyes turned to follow the ball of fiery red anger headed straight toward the middle of one of the tables.
“Hey Ginny. Want to sit —“ Neville started, as Ginny marched past. One look at her flushed face and he decided it best to keep quiet.
“Harry James Potter,” she hissed, slamming her hands palms down on the table and leaning over, her face a hair’s breadth from Harry’s very surprised one. “Follow me.”
Without looking to see if he obeyed, Ginny turned on her heel, fists clenched at her side, and marched back out the portrait hole. If Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived thought he also got to be Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Got to Bed Ginny Weasley, he had another thing coming. Ginny stopped just to the side of the portrait of the Fat Lady, right behind a statue of Murphy Mulligan, a depressed looking wizard holding a broken wand. Whipping around, she almost belted Harry who was standing right behind her looking terribly confused. Ginny, regaining her composure and balance, let loose.
“How dare you,” she seethed,” think that I am the type of girl who would do that with you. I’m fifteen years old. No matter how much I love you, Harry Potter, I am not doing that with you or anyone else until I am at least of legal age and even then, it will have to be more than just a clandestine meeting in a dorm room! Why do all boys have to be completely controlled by hormones!”
Feeling tears begin to gather behind her tired eyes, Ginny turned on her heel and strode purposefully down the corridor before Harry could witness the anger dissolve into the misery she’d been holding at bay.
Harry was stunned. Staring at her retreating back, he attempted to get his head around what Ginny had just said. What had happened to set Ginny off? All he’d done was send her the Invisibility Cloak. Hormones? Well, sure, he had his moments, but he didn’t think he was as bad as some, at least not according to the talk that floated around the dormitory. Harry rarely participated in the conversations simply because he didn’t think his love life needed to be anyone’s business but his own. But it was hard to not listen when conversations flew around him about who did what with whom and how far — Harry’s eyes widened as realization struck.
“GINNY!” Harry shouted, running after her.
Catching up to her, Harry grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a nearby alcove. Ginny didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes focused on her shoes.
“Ginny,” Harry said, catching his breath. “Ginny, I don’t know what Dobby said to you, but what you think is not what I was thinking. I don’t want to do that with you.” Harry felt his cheeks growing warm. “I mean, I do want to do that with you, obviously I want to do that with you, but not now!” he rushed on. “I sent you the cloak in case you wanted to come and, I don’t know, talk or just be together.” Harry took another breath. “With quidditch and you studying for O.W.L.s and the DA and my occlumency lessons and all, we just haven’t had any time to ourselves, to be alone. The only time we both seem to be free is after dark and since I can’t come to you, I thought, well, maybe…” Harry trailed off, at a loss for how to further explain to Ginny that all he wanted to was be with her, hold her close and feel the peace she brought with her.
Ginny stared at the floor, letting Harry’s words seep through her anger and threatening tears. Harry wasn’t Dean, she thought. Harry was Harry. Ginny bit her bottom lip. Oh, how could she have ever thought such a thing about Harry? Embarrassment
quickly replaced anger as the cause of her glowing red cheeks.
Harry watched Ginny’s shoulders begin to shake. Oh, Heavens! Was she crying? He really hadn’t meant to cause that. Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. Would he ever understand girls? Then he heard it. Ginny giggled.
Ginny looked up, her hands clamped over her mouth her eyes bright with self-conscious laughter. Harry shook his head confused. No, he would never understand girls.
“Oh, Harry,” Ginny said, smiling sheepishly. “I am so sorry. When Dobby gave me your invisibility cloak and said you wanted me to come see you at night…” Ginny shrugged. “I just jumped to conclusions.”
Harry thought about it for a moment and then grinned. “Yeah, I could see how that might happen,” he chuckled.
“It’s a lovely thought though, being alone and just talking…it would, of course, be breaking a million rules, but I could ask Hermione how it’s done,” she replied, eyes twinkling.
“Hermione?” Harry said, his eyes growing wide. “Hermione comes to visit Ron? Oh, thanks for the visual, Ginny.”
“Anytime, Harry. Anytime,” Ginny replied, raising herself on to her tip toes to give Harry a kiss.
“Harry! What are you doing to my little sister?”
“Nothing!” Both Ginny and Harry said quickly, jumping back, as Ron walked up to the alcove.
Harry and Ginny looked at each other and burst laughing.
“What? What did I say?” Ron asked perplexed.
Ginny giggled. “I need to go get my books from the library. I’ll catch up.” Ginny headed off to the library, throwing Harry a smile over her shoulder.
“Come on, Ron,” Harry said grinning. “Let’s go to the common room.”
Taking Ron by the arm, Harry steered him down the corridor. He was almost to the Fat Lady when he stumbled, suddenly realizing what Ginny had said.
Ginny had said she loved him.
++++
“Nathan Borgin. My son told me you were teaching here.”
Borgin turned around to see Luicius Malfoy standing by the wall across from his classroom. He looks ready to pounce, Borgin thought.
“Lucious Malfoy,” Borgin said nodding and walking closer. “Here to check up on your son? Or checking up on me?”
“No need to make a separate trip. I expected you to be wearing your colors, Borgin.”
“I’m trying not to show favoritism to one house.”
“There shouldn’t be any other houses.”
“Your time in Azkaban didn’t soften you up any, did it Malfoy?”
“Did yours?”
Borgin studied Malfoy for a moment. Then, he held out his hand.
“It’s good to see you again, Lucious.”
Malfoy looked at the hand for a moment before grasping it firmly with his own.
“And you, Nathan.”
++++
A/N — Next time…love spells and a compromising position.
Thanks for reading! As always, suggestions, comments and reviews welcomed! Enjoy!
Chapter 6: Love Spells
Disclaimer - I do not claim to own or profit from any part of the Harry Potter world.
Nathan Borgin had been a Professor at Hogwarts for six weeks when he broached his favorite subject to teach. It was spring. Spring meant flights of fancy and spikes in hormones. It meant teachers had to keep a closer eye on shadowy corners; Filch couldn’t leave the broom closets unlocked; and Professor Sprout had to put a repelling charm around the greenhouse where the flowering plants grew. The way he figured it, Cupid was all wrong putting Valentine’s Day in February. No, if he’d simply waited until the temperature warmed up, the blooms on the trees came out and Mother Nature provided a soundtrack of returning songbirds, Cupid could have retired without ever firing an arrow.
"Today, we are going to talk about your heart," Borgin addressed his fifth year class of Gryffindors. "We are going to talk about love."
At this, he had to hide a smile. He felt somewhat sorry for this group of students to be in this class right after lunch. He could gauge their sizeable workload simply by looking at their bulging book bags and the smudges of lost sleep under their eyes. To schedule fifth years a class after a full meal in which they had to stay awake and pay attention, well, that was just about as cruel as it could get. But today, his opening line made the students sit up a little straighter. Ah, teenage hormones. It didn't get much more organic than that.
"Love," he lectured, as he walked around the room. "What does it do to us? What does it make us do? What power does it hold over us?"
Giggles and snorts filled the air. Several students slid back down in their chairs, their faces flaming red. Others had suddenly taken an intense interest in their desktops. Borgin grinned. He loved this lesson.
"How many of you are in a relationship?" he asked.
Ginny kept her hands folded in her lap and looked around the room. Soon, she told herself, soon they'd tell Ron and then she could tell the entire school -- but not yet.
"Ah, about half of you. Alright. Now, how many of you have ever tried to influence your relationship, through spell work or potion making?"
A few sheepish hands rose again followed by a few gasps. Gotcha, Borgin thought.
"How many of those spells or potions worked?" The hands dropped and the class laughed.
"And if I asked how many of you wanted to be in love, and if you answered honestly, I would bet every hand in this classroom would go up. Love is ancient magic, folks. It's the biggest mystery out there, why it works, how it works. Ancients believed correctly that love could heal, could sustain, could protect. They also discovered a long time ago, that by manipulating someone's emotions, especially love, they could achieve results they never believed possible, even death. Yes, you can die from a broken heart."
Borgin returned to the front of the class, noting that all eyes were open and concentrated on him.
"There are spells to influence emotion, to make love happen. There are potions that will push a person in the right direction. Under the influence of love, a talented wizard can make you do anything, much like the Imperius Curse. The witch or wizard under the influence of the Imperius Curse feels vaguely happy and a strong witch or wizard can fight it off. A wizard under a love spell wants to remain under the love spell. The witch or wizard wants this, making it a very powerful tool in the wrong hands."
Borgin turned to the chalkboard and began to outline several spells. He paired the students up, reassuring them, that while they would be practicing these on each other, the likelihood they would be able to produce a strong enough spell was slim. The most he expected was for them to leave their partner with a warm fuzzy feeling of appreciation.
Ginny observed as students faced each other, attempting to perform the spell. If affected at all, the students were left with a dreamy smile on their faces, staring off into space. After each attempt, Borgin would perform the counter curse, leaving the affected student wearing a puzzled frown and feeling somewhat lost.
"Very good. Now, Miss Weasley, your turn. Colin, don't flinch. If anything, this feels like being hit with a feather," Borgin admonished, as Ginny's partner Colin Creevey tried to curl into himself like a turtle.
Ginny faced Colin and raised her wand. Pointing her wand at Colin’s heart, she spoke the spell.
"Lamourus."
A bright stream of pink light emitted from the end of her wand, enveloping Colin in a blush colored sparkling cloud. Colin waved his hand in front of his face, clearing away the cloud. He stared at Ginny. Then he strode purposefully to her, took her in his arms and swung her into a dip. Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her passionately. Ginny pushed him away.
"Stop it! Colin, stop it!"
"If that is your desire, my love. I will do whatever your heart desires. I am yours—“
“Connection finite.”
Borgin's wand shot out a stream of white sparks, hitting Colin in the middle of his back. Colin dropped Ginny onto the floor. She hit with a thud, jolting Colin out of his daze.
"Ginny! What are you doing down there? Did the spell not work?"
The dumbstruck class burst into laughter. Colin looked around confused. Borgin held up his hands for silence.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen. I was mistaken in my belief that you all wouldn't be able to perform this spell at full strength the first time. Not only did you just witness what happens when a wizard underestimates a witch's abilities, but also what happens when you are put under the spell of love. Had Ginny continued, she most likely could have manipulated Colin into gladly taking her O.W.L.s for her."
Colin blanched and Ginny could feel her cheeks growing warm.
"That is all for today. Thank you and, Ginny, don't go trying that on any unsuspecting boys, will you?"
Her face flaming, Ginny returned to her desk and gathered her books. Instead of following her amused classmates though, she walked to the front of the room and stood on the opposite side of Professor Borgin's desk. Borgin looked up from the parchment he was making notes on.
"Impressive spell work, Miss Weasley."
"Thank you, sir," Ginny said slowly. "Sir, what happened there? Why was I able to do it when no one else could?"
Borgin laid down his quill. Studying Ginny's face, he got up and walked around to the front of his desk and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest.
"There could be several reasons why your spell worked when no one else's did," he said, holding up his hand and beginning to tick the reasons off on his fingers. "For starters, you are an exceptionally powerful witch."
Ginny looked at him in surprise.
"I know of your family, Ginny," Borgin nodded. "Not to make you sound like a horse, but your bloodlines are exceptional. My father believed the longer the pureblood bloodline is, the greater the possibility of unimaginable strength in the witch or wizard. It is one reason Salazar Slytherin was so adamant about pureblood wizards.”
"Secondly, your family has love in abundance. You will never lack for love or support, thus giving you strengths some will never have. The ancients would have said you are gifted in that sense, or that you have good blood."
Ginny could feel her cheeks growing warm again, but this flush was nothing compared to the one brought on by the final reason.
"Lastly," Borgin said quietly, leaning over to search Ginny's eyes. "You are in love, a love that is true. And that can make you invincible."
Ginny took a step back, keeping her eyes locked with Borgin's. She swallowed and nodded slowly.
"Watch your step, Miss Weasley. You've already landed on the floor in my classroom once today. I don't want to be accused of being your downfall, so to speak," Borgin said mildly, returning to his desk chair and picking up his quill.
++++
Harry knocked on Borgin’s office door.
“Come in,” he heard, and pushed the door open.
It never stopped to amaze him how different this office looked from professor to professor. Taking a step into Nathan Borgin’s office, Harry felt he had walked into a library annex. Instead of Sneakoscopes or cages filled with magical creatures, Borgin’s office was lined with shelf after shelf of books.
“They’re habit forming,” Borgin commented, noting Harry’s gaze.
“Pardon?”
“Books, they’re addictive. I assume it might be genetic. My father was a great collector.”
“Are these his?”
“No, no,” Borgin shook his head. “My father passed away late last year. We had a difference in agreement over, let’s just say library subject matter, and lost touch with each other. His library is currently being sold in my uncle’s shop,” Borgin finished, a note of disgust in his voice.
Harry nodded at this, not quite sure what to say.
“Anyway, Harry, thank you for coming up. I just wanted to straighten something out with you.”
Harry looked at him confused. “I don’t understand, sir.”
Borgin smiled at Harry. “Harry, you may hear rumors in your common room tonight about my fifth year class today. We were discussing the state of the heart,” he explained, standing up and moving around to the front of his desk. Harry noticed he did that a lot. It was as if Borgin didn’t like being separated from his students. Harry had to admit he liked that about him.
“Ginny Weasley cast a love spell on Colin Creevey today. It worked so well, Mr. Creevey kissed her in the middle of class.”
Borgin noticed the flush begin to creep up Harry’s cheeks. Once again, proving the power of observation, he thought.
“I wanted to let you know because it was neither one of their faults it occurred. I underestimated Ginny’s abilities.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed and nodded. “Why are you telling me this, sir?” he asked.
“Because I didn’t want you to jump to the wrong conclusions should you hear anything,” Borgin explained.
Borgin turned to move back around his desk and then stopped. He turned back to Harry.
“Oh, and Harry, one more thing. Ginny Weasley. You should hang onto that one."
“Pardon?" Harry said, his face now a bright red.
"Ginny Wealsey holds something special for you," Nathan smiled, knowingly. "Ancient magic, Harry. Ancient magic."
++++
“Good evening, Nathan,” Professor Dumbledore said as Borgin sat down at the staff table in the Great Hall. “How are you?”
“Famished!” Borgin replied, rubbing his hands together in delight as he surveyed the platters of Beef Wellington and roasted vegetables in front of him.
“Good classes today?” Dumbledore inquired.
“Wonderful,” Borgin replied, scooping up apple compote with relish. “It’s spring, Headmaster. My favorite time of year to teach!”
“And why is that?”
“It’s all about matters of the heart, Sir,”
“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded, eyes twinkling merrily. “I myself have found that some of my best teaching came outside the classroom, by simply giving a push in the right direction. Don’t you agree?”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Nathan agreed before tucking in.
++++
Harry waited outside the changing tent for Ginny. Practice had gone well today. They were a young team, but Harry was confident this year’s Gryffindor quidditch team had finally hit their stride. At the beginning of the season, they had looked like a bunch of bees on a collision course. Now, they actually flew like a team. The Quidditch Cup was as good as theirs, as long as Ron listened to Lupin’s advice and kept both hands on his broom.
Bouncing up and down on his heels, Harry watched the stars reveal themselves. He smiled. The stars had been good to him. The flap of the tent shifted and Ginny emerged, her cheeks flushed with a combination of exertion and the love of flying. Harry thought she’d never looked prettier. She smiled when she saw him.
“Hi Harry,” Ginny said, coming to stand right in front of him.
“Hi Gin,” Harry said, looking down at her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He found it very hard to not smile when he looked at Ginny.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned over the look on Harry’s face.
Harry cleared his throat. “Ginny, I understand I’m not the only guy you’re kissing these days,” he said seriously.
“What?“ Ginny replied, shocked. “Harry, I — oh,” Ginny stepped back, eyes widening in realization.
“I just have to ask,” Harry said, leaning down, touching his forehead to hers, “why did you have to pick Colin Creevey? I mean, come on, of all the guys in the class, you had to pick Colin? I guess I should be glad he didn’t have his camera on him at the time, huh?”
It took a minute for Ginny to realize Harry was teasing her. She hit him in the arm. “How could you, Harry? You scared me there!”
“How could I?” Harry exclaimed, grinning, wrapping his arms around Ginny and pulling her close. “I wasn’t the one performing full strength love spells in front of my entire Defense Against the Dark Arts class! I mean, this is an affront to my honor. I might have to call him out in a duel.”
Ginny snorted.
“I would, too. I mean he’s not much bigger than my Firebolt. I could take him”
“Maybe you should use those hands to hold onto a different Firebolt…” Ginny suggested smiling slyly wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Gladly,” Harry murmured as he met Ginny’s lips with his own.
Ginny felt Harry’s hands in her hair, undoing her ponytail, letting the hair run through his fingers. Her hands ran up Harry’s arms, gilding on the silky feel of his robes. Her lips parted and she felt his tongue touch hers. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Ginny pressed herself into him. One of Harry's hands trailed up her spine, shivers radiating from where his fingers touched. So lost in the sensations Harry was awakening, she jumped when she heard the cold, haughty voice.
"Scraping the bottom of the barrel, are you Potter? Having to kiss a Weasley?"
Ginny and Harry broke apart, turning to face Malfoy who stood there, smirking as if he had just been given the best gift imaginable.
“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry growled, taking a step toward him.
“No, Harry,” Ginny said, holding him back by his robes.
“I bet big brother just loves having his best friend snogging his little sister in dark corners of the school.”
“Go away, Draco,” Ginny hissed.
“Oh, wait,” Draco smiked, looking at their flushed faces and the dark night, putting two and two together. “I bet big brother doesn’t know, does he?” Malfoy sniggered, taking a step back. The only thing keeping Harry from unleashing his fury on him was Ginny’s strong hold on the front of his robe.
“Well, “No worries, Potter. I won’t tell,” Maloy sneered, holding up his hands in front of him as if to ward off an attack. “At least, not yet.”
Ginny felt Harry’s heart race under her clenched fist. “We need to tell Ron,” she said quietly, watching Malfoy’s back.
Harry took a deep breath and nodded.
”Yeah, it’s time.”
+++
The lift doors opened. Percy stepped to the side, allowing the passengers inside to exit. He noticed several of the witches were dressed in fluorescent pink robes. Overhearing one of them comment, "See, no one misses us now!", Percy rolled his eyes and entered the now empty lift, his arms filled with rolls of parchment destined for the Minister's desk.
"Wait a minute!" he heard a familiar voice call. "Hold the lift, please!"
Arthur Weasley stuck his shoulder between the closing doors, effectively stopping them so he could slide the rest of himself in. Straightening up, he saw Percy.
"Oh, Percy," Arthur said, surprised. "Didn't know you were here."
Percy nodded and fixed his attention on the Level Four button, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.
"Ah, well, yes," he said facing forward as well. "Good evening, then."
Being after normal working hours, there weren't many witches and wizard coming or going, so the lift remained empty except for the two Weasley men. The strained silence was broken only by the cool, disembodied female voice announcing the floors they passed. When the lift doors opened on Level Two, Mr. Weasley made to leave. At the last minute, he stopped and turned to face Percy, the doors of the lift closing behind him.
"Percy," Mr. Weasley said in a hushed voice, "I know you don't agree or believe in everything the Order does. And I'm not going to argue with you about that now."
Arthur took a breath and when Percy remained silent, continued.
"But Percy, we've got people in places that hear things the Ministry doesn't, or at least things the Ministry doesn't want to hear and refuses to pay attention to."
Percy opened his mouth to refute this, but his father held up his hand.
"We've heard rumors. He has found something, something new, that is making him edgy and excited. We are having a hard time determining what it could be."
Arthur leaned forward and placed his hand on his son's arm.
"Percy, be careful. Keep your eyes and ears open. If you see or hear something that doesn't seem right and Fudge dismisses it or doesn't give it the attention you think it deserves, your mother and I, the Order, we will always listen. Please be careful, Percy," Arthur repeated before turning to press the number Two again.
The doors opened and Arthur Weasley stepped out.
++++
Harry lay in bed staring at the underside of his canopy. Ron’s snores were a constant nagging reminder that he needed to tell Ron about Ginny and soon. Harry turned over, kneading his pillow into a lump, trying to find a comfortable position. He watched the crack of moonlight shining between the seams of the curtains enclosing his four poster bed change shape as the curtains shifted with his movements. As he watched, the crack widened.
“Harry?”
“Ginny?” he whispered and felt the mattress beneath him dip.
“Hi,” Ginny smiled, as she slipped the Invisibility Cloak off her head.
“Hi,” Harry grinned back, sitting up. “You actually came!”
“Yeah, I asked Hermione how she did it. She told me, but only after I promised to not let her know when so she wouldn’t have to dock me points and then quit coming herself because she’d feel guilty,” Ginny giggled.
“How’d you — no, wait, I don’t want to know. I’ll just get paranoid listening for her,” Harry said, shaking his head.
Harry fluffed out his pillow and pulled back his bedclothes. Ginny snuggled up next to Harry, her head on his pillow facing him.
“Hi,” Harry said.
“Hi back,” she said, before giving him a light kiss.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, breathing in the fresh scent of her hair. He could get used to this, Harry thought.
“No, too much going on.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed.
“Harry, I think we should tell Ron tomorrow after the match,” Ginny whispered.
Harry nodded. “Better after than before. Might really throw off his game if we did it then.”
“Course might also improve his game. If he’s focused on how mad he is at us, maybe he’ll ignore everything else,” Ginny rationalized.
“True, but on the off chance he decides to punch me, I’d rather do it after. I won’t be much use as a seeker with swollen eye or bloody nose.”
“See, Harry, that’s why I love you. You’re always thinking ahead,” Ginny teased. And then she stopped. Her eyes widened as she realize what she said.
“You know that’s the second time you’ve said that to me,” Harry said solemnly.
“Second time?” Ginny asked faintly, trying to gauge Harry’s reaction. Of course she loved Harry. She always had in some form or other. Her girlish crush of years past had grown into a deeper, more sustaining love for him over the past few months, and she wanted him to know. She just hadn’t planned on it coming out quite like that.
“Do you plan to keep saying it?” Harry asked, in what Ginny thought sounded like a hopeful whisper.
“Yes, yes I do,” she replied, looking him straight in the eye, daring him to tell her not to.
“Good,” he replied, leaning close, “because I’d feel really stupid saying I love you to someone who didn’t say it back.”
Ginny blinked a moment letting his words soak in, before laying her palm on the side of Harry’s face gently. Closing the gap between them, Ginny kissed Harry with all the love in her heart.
Moments later, as they broke apart, cheeks flushed, bedclothes twisted, breathing deep, Harry looked into Ginny’s eyes.
“Ginny,” he whispered, “I will do my best to keep your love safe.”
“I know,” she answered, before laying her head down on his shoulder and snuggling close.
They lay there in the dark, listening to the sounds of the dorm, content to concentrate on each other’s heartbeats, until Harry yawned. Ginny lifted her head and smiled at him.
“I think we’ll both sleep well now,” she said sitting up reluctantly.
“Yeah,” Harry said, his eyelids feeling heavy.
Ginny leaned down and lightly kissed Harry. “Sweet dreams, Harry,” she wished, before putting the cloak over her head.
“Sweet dreams, Gin,” he whispered as the curtains around his bed shifted and the weight on the mattress disappeared.
A/N: Thanks for reading! One of my reviewers asked me if I was implying there was more to Ron and Hermione's relationship than snogging. No, I'm not and I'm sorry if I caused any confusion. This is purely a PG rated story!
Next…Quidditch Winners and sore Loosers
Chapter 7: Bonds
Disclaimer - I do not own or profit from any part of the Harry Potter world.
Borgin brushed off the riser seat and sat down next Lucius Malfoy. The April showers were holding off, the grey clouds providing excellent background for the players. As he straightened his robes, Borgin noted the Slytherin fans had given Malfoy a wide berth, leaving seats free on all sides. He may be one of them, Borgin thought wryly, but even his own find him suspect.
“Good morning, Lucius,” Borgin greeted, focusing on the field.
“Borgin,” Malfoy nodded.
“Should be an excellent match,” Borgin commented.
“It should be,” Malfoy said. “If Hooch could see her way past Dumbledore’s favoritism, it would be.”
“I understand Draco is Slytherin’s Seeker,” Borgin observed.
“Nathan, I’d like to meet with you,” Lucius said abruptly.
“About what?” Borgin asked calmly, surveying the field.
“A matter I think you’d be interested in.”
The crowd erupted as the two teams gathered in the middle of the pitch.
“Come to my office after the match.”
“No, it’s not secure. Is there somewhere on the grounds, somewhere private?”
“I know of a little grove just inside the Forbidden Forest,” Nathan offered.
Lucius nodded. “Tonight.”
Nathan Borgin watched the teams mount their brooms and nodded.
++++
The Gryffindor team walked purposefully out on the pitch, the noise of the crowd enveloping them. Quidditch matches were always highly energetic, but the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor raised the emotion in the stands to explosive levels.
The sheer numbers never ceased to amaze Harry as he looked up, the stands divided by colors. His eyes swept over the red and gold to the green and stopped. Lucius Malfoy sat, surrounded by empty seats, in one of the top rows. He was a hard man to miss, even at this distance. Harry’s eyes were drawn to the end of the row. He watched Professor Borgin make his way to a seat next to Lucius Malfoy.
Harry still didn’t know what to make of Professor Borgin. It was hard not to like the man. But watching him position himself next to Lucius Malfoy made Harry’s blood boil. How could Dumbledore hire someone who openly associated with a known Death Eater? This may have gone too far, even for Dumbledore.
Harry forced himself to clear his mind. He would find out more about Nathan Borgin. But first, he had a snitch to catch.
+++++
Draco Malfoy was out for blood. The snitch had been his. His fingers had been right there. If Potter had not had that Firebolt, the snitch and the match would have been his. Potter needed to be taught a lesson and the opportunity he had been waiting for was standing right in front of the Gryffindor changing tent.
“Harry, that was an awesome dive. You should have seen Malfoy’s face!” Ron exclaimed, flushed with the thrill of victory.
“Well done, Harry,” Ginny said grinning. “And you too, Ron. You had some really nice saves.”
“Thanks, Ginny,” Ron said, blushing even redder.
“Don’t believe it, Weasley,” a cold voice sneered from over his shoulder. “You couldn’t catch a quaffle with a sticking charm on it.”
Ron turned. “No one asked you, Malfoy,” he growled.
“Well, why not? Ask an observer. It’s true. If the game depended on your Keeper skills, Gryffindor wouldn’t even stand a chance. You’re just lucky you’ve got your little sister and Potter here to clean up after you.”
“Yeah, well, Malfoy, at least my family and friends stick by me,” Ron retorted.
“That’s what you think,” Malfoy taunted. “You’re so pathetic. You’re too thick to see what’s happening right under your nose. Your family doesn’t have a clue, and neither do you.”
“I think you have that backwards, Malfoy,” Ron sneered at him, drawing back his fist.
“I do? What about you? What about your best friend snogging your little sister? Have you asked him about that?”
“Shut it, Malfoy!”
“Don’t believe me? Just look at him! He’s as red as his robes. Go ahead, ask him,” Malfoy taunted triumphantly.
Unable to help himself, Ron turned. Harry looked at Ron desperately, at a loss for words, guilt written all over his face. Ron turned back to Malfoy.
“Sod off, Malfoy,” he ground out and brushed by him.
“My work here is done,” Malfoy trumpeted and turned to leave. Harry took a step in his direction but Ginny caught the front of his robes.
“Harry, leave him,” Ginny said quietly, her eyes following her brother’s retreating form. “We’ve got bigger things to deal with,” she said, tilting her head in Ron’s direction.
Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy’s back and reluctantly nodded. Turning away, he ran to catch up with Ron.
“Ron! Wait!” he said, trying to catch Ron’s arm. Ron snatched it away.
“Don’t, Harry,” Ron said, not looking at him but holding up his hand to stop him. “Just don’t.”
Harry was left standing alone, watching Ron trod back to the castle, feeling as if Malfoy had punched him in the gut, and knowing it was his fault.
++++
“Nathan, the Dark Lord would appreciate your talents.”
“I thought you’d appreciate my talents teaching your son what I know, Lucius.”
“I do. But you could also teach through your actions.”
“Did the Dark Lord show his appreciation for you letting you rot in Azkaban?”
“I do what needs to be done.”
“I do, too, Lucius. For now, I’m a mere observer. When it is time, I will serve. You can count on that.”
“Always the cautious one, weren’t you, Nathan.”
“I like to review all my options, Lucius.”
++++
Ron sat on a bench by the side of the lake. Ginny stood under a nearby tree for a moment, studying him. It had been a long week. Judging by Ron’s defeated slump, maybe longest for him. Of all her brothers, Ron was the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. He’d always been the one who acted on emotions, letting his heart rule him instead of his head. He had more of their mum in him than he probably liked to admit, but it was exactly that commonality that always made Ginny feel loved in his presence, even if sometimes it was a bit suffocating and over-protective.
Walking over to stand behind Ron, she put her hand on his shoulder.
“You told Hermione. She told me you did,” Ron accused softly without looking at her.
“Well, I needed someone to talk to. She understood.”
“And I wouldn’t have?”
“Ron, we’re really sorry —“
“Whatever,” Ron interrupted, his voice rising. “Why didn’t I know? Does Harry not trust me? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Ron, if you weren’t as thick as the castle walls about some things, you would have figured it out on your own!” Ginny snapped, frustrated that Ron couldn’t simply share her happiness. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Ginny sighed and moved around the end of the bench, sitting down next to her brother.
“Ron, in our family, we haven’t had much when it comes to money, but when it comes to love and support and knowing someone cares about you, we’ve always had that in spades. Harry hasn’t,” Ginny stated.
Ron plunked his elbows on his knees and shoved his hands through his hair. True, his family had never had material possessions or lots of money, he contemplated, looking at the worn hem of his robes. But he had never doubted the love of his family.
“Ron, have you ever had something that was so special and all yours that you just wanted to hold it in your hands, hold it close to you so you could examine it without anyone else knowing?” Ginny tried to explain. “Something you knew you would have to share with everyone sometime but, for that moment, no matter how brief, you kept it to yourself because it was new and it was special and it was all yours?”
Ron slowly nodded, thinking of the first few weeks after his relationship with Hermione had become more than a friendship filled with bickering.
“Harry hasn’t had many of those types of things in his life. I think Harry just wanted to keep this to himself while he got used to it. And Merlin knows every relationship I’ve ever had has ended up going through the Weasley brother wringer, so you can imagine how excited I was to have this become family knowledge. Especially when Harry is the one boy I would like to keep,” Ginny admitted quietly.
Ron looked up from his shoes to watch the breeze blow ripples across the lake. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed.
“You know, Ginny,” he said slowly, “I’m not mad you’re going out with Harry.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“I’m just mad I found out from Malfoy.”
Ginny nodded. Silence fell again as Ginny watched the giant squid trail a tentacle across the surface of the water.
“Ginny?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d like you to keep Harry, too. I just don’t want to know any details.”
Ginny smiled softly at her older brother. “I think we can do that.”
Ginny held out her hand in a sign of truce. Ron took her hand but, instead of shaking it, tugged on it, pulling her close for a brotherly hug.
++++
Harry studied his shoes, scuffed and in need of a good polish. Harry still wasn’t sure how he had managed to muck this up so badly. It was ironic, he thought. On one hand, he wanted to keep his love for Ginny all to himself. On the other hand, this was exactly the kind of thing he should be talking about to his best friend. In hindsight, Harry admitted he could have handled this better. He owed Ron more than that.
Ron had not talked to him since the match, giving Harry a wide berth in their room and barely acknowledging him outside of the dormitory. Harry’s guilt was compounded by Malfoy, who spent every minute of their DADA classes smirking at Harry. After the first day, Harry had made it a point to be the last one in class in order to ensure a seat behind Malfoy, making it harder to be on the receiving end of his arrogance. But Harry knew he deserved every bit of it.
Staring at his shoes, Harry heard the dormitory door open. Looking up, he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, as Ron walked in. Seeing Harry, Ron stopped, shoving his own hands in his robe pockets.
Harry cleared his throat. Taking a step toward Ron, he took a deep breath.
“Ron, I’m sorr-“
“Harry,” Ron interrupted. “You hurt my sister, you’ll answer to me.”
Harry nodded.
“And I told Ginny, no details. I don’t want to know any details,” Ron said, holding his hands up in front of him, shaking his head.
Harry couldn’t help it. “As long as I don’t have to hear any details about you and Hermione, it’s a deal.”
Ron’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t think you have any bargaining room, right now, Potter,” he said seriously.
Put back in his place, Harry nodded. “I’m sorry, Ron.”
Ron nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “I felt like an idiot finding out from Malfoy.”
Harry nodded again, not knowing what to say. Ron’s calm, quiet tone hurt worse than anything else.
“Okay, then,” Ron said, finally taking his eyes away from Harry. His hurt draining away, Ron just really wanted to get their friendship back to normal.
“You done?” Hermione asked, as she and Ginny poked their heads around the corner.
“How long have you been standing there?” Ron asked startled, but thankful for the end of the awkward silence.
“Not long,” Ginny replied, taking a tentative step into the room.
“You two okay?” Hermione asked, walking over to Ron, taking his arm.
“Yeah,” Ron said, looking over at Harry.
“Yeah,” Harry replied.
Ron took a step toward Harry and held out his hand. Harry took it. Ron pulled Harry into one of those manly, back slapping hugs that come out of the maturity of a friendship strong enough to endure a setback such as this.
Stepping back from Harry, Ron slapped his hands on the front of his jeans and smiled. “Okay, now, who’s hungry? I’m starved! What’s for dinner?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, it’s amazing you haven’t figured out how to put your bed in the kitchen!” she said as she let Ron lead her out of the room.
Harry looked at Ginny. “I think I might owe you a huge thank you,” he said.
Ginny walked over to Harry, wrapping her arms around his middle and smiled up at him.
“I have an amazing brother,” she said.
“Yeah, you do,” Harry agreed, hugging her back.
“Of course, my talk with him might have laid a little groundwork. I’m sure you can figure out an appropriate way to show your gratitude after dinner,” Ginny concurred impishly.
“I’ll do my best,” Harry grinned.
++++
“Canary Creams.”
Borgin watched as the stairway to Dumbledore’s office appeared. He made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about his choice of passwords. When he had asked Professor McGonagall for it, she had smiled in a way that told him there was a story behind it. Borgin stepped off the stairway and into the Headmasters office, taking in the rich Hogwarts history surrounding him. His eyes rested on the bookshelves.
Nathan Borgin always believed you could tell a lot about a person from his bookshelves. On the Headmaster’s shelves, he was surprised to find Muggle books, both historical and contemporary, interspersed with magical titles. These bookshelves, with their well loved tomes, told him Dumbledore was someone who prized all kinds of knowledge. He took down one of the older looking books and turned it over to examine it.
“Good afternoon, Nathan,” Albus Dumbledore said, stepping into his office from behind. “Ah, I see you’ve found one of my favorite books. I’ve always wished I had had the opportunity to sail on a raft down a river and whitewash a fence, but something tells me I might attract my fair share of attention. Some in the magical community think it nonsense to read Muggle fiction. I, however, find it an interesting escape.”
Borgin smiled. “We all need our escapes, sir.”
“Yes, we do. How are your classes?” Dumbledore asked, moving to sit down behind his desk, motioning Borgin to take a seat in one of the chairs opposite.
“Good. The students are bright. I think they find the subject matter a little unorthodox, but overall, interesting.”
Dumbledore nodded.
Nathan looked at his Headmaster. “This isn’t easy, Albus.”
“I know,” Dumbledore said.
“I turned my back on my past years ago. To relive it stirs up a lot of old memories. I’m afraid it might stir up too many.”
“Nathan, I have faith in you,” Dumbledore assured his newest Professor. “We all have faith in you. I never believed you to be that person, and neither did you.”
Nathan took a deep breath and gazed at the portraits lining the circular walls.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this office.”
“Yes, it has. I’m glad we have the opportunity to meet here under better circumstances,” Dumbledore said kindly.
“Me, too,” Nathan said sincerely.
A/N: All my thanks to my new beta parvatipatil who insanely agreed to jump on this bandwagon seven chapters in. I’m so thrilled I didn’t scare her off! Thank you!
Next…Late Night Revelations
Chapter 8: Late Night Revelations
Disclaimer — I do not claim to own any part of the world of Harry Potter.Leaning over the side of the Grand Staircase, Ron watched Harry and Ginny cross the entryway, their fingertips intertwined, Harry’s head bent to listen to Ginny. They stopped just outside the Great Hall, probably waiting for him. He had told Harry he would meet them for lunch. Ron could tell the story Ginny was reciting was a good one. She always talked with her hands when telling tales, and her one free hand was waving around her head like she was trying to swat away a swarm of bees. Ron could see Harry’s grin from where he stood.
“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” Hermione’s voice floated into his ear, as she came up behind him, slipping her hand into his.
“Yeah,” Ron said, continuing to gaze at the couple.
Harry and Ginny were a striking couple, his lankiness next to her flame. Ron watched as fellow students glanced their way, some smiling at the flirtation, others paying no mind. His eyes followed Dean Thomas as he walked past. Ron doubted if Harry and Ginny even noticed, but he did. Dean’s eyes lingered on Ginny then flashed to Harry. By the slight slump of his shoulders, Ron could tell as Dean walked by that he realized he had let something special get away.
Ron had no question that Harry knew he was a lucky wizard. Looking back over the past term, he realized Harry had been different from the first day they had returned to school after the holidays. First term, Harry had been so tense, so withdrawn. He had not laughed. He had barely smiled. Now, looking down at Harry’s grin, Ron knew this was a good thing.
“Hermione?” Ron asked, turning to look at her. “They’ve been going out all term, haven’t they?”
“Well, not quite all term,” she admitted.
“I am just thick, aren’t I?” Ron said.
“No, not that thick. You finally caught me,” she said, leaning up to give him a kiss on his cheek.
“Yeah, but that took almost six years,” Ron sighed.
“Yes, Ron, but the good things are worth waiting for. Harry and Ginny are a fine example of that. And so are we,” she said.
“Hey Ron! Hermione!”
Ron and Hermione turned around to see Bill Weasley trotting down the corridor.
“Bill! What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, giving the oldest Weasley a brief hug.
“Order business,” Bill replied, grinning at Ron’s disgruntled look. “Just finished meeting with Dumbledore. Thought I’d catch a bite to eat before I head back, see if the food is just as goo…” Bill trailed off, his eyes focused over Ron’s shoulder.
“Just as goo?” Ron asked, turning to see where Bill was looking. Harry and Ginny were still standing to the left of the doors, fingers intertwined.
“Damn,” Bill said. “I owe Charlie 5 Galleons.”
“What?” Ron asked confused, looking back at Bill.
“Bill! You didn’t!” Hermione said shocked.
“Hey, it wasn’t my idea. Mum started it. She put a Galleon on Halloween. Then the twins said Christmas. From what I understand, they’re already working on mistletoe that spews confetti. I put 5 Galleons on this summer. Charlie picked spring,” he sighed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, at least your father had the sense to stay out of it.”
Bill snorted. “Who do you think took Valentine’s Day?”
Hermione shook her head, then a thought occurred to her. “Who won the bet on us?” she asked, waving her thumb between herself and Ron.
Bill grinned.
“What? Bet on what?” Ron asked, exasperated.
Bill took Ron by the shoulders and turned him to face the Great Hall. Ron watched as Ginny stood on her tiptoes to give Harry a kiss on the cheek and then enter the Great Hall. Ron watched Harry grin.
“Ahhhh…” Ron said catching on.
“Ahhhh….” Hermione and Bill nodded together.
“Come on,” Bill said rubbing his hands together. “I’m hungry, and there’s a new boyfriend and a little sister to torment.”
++++
“Harry, just because he was sitting next to him at the Quidditch match doesn’t mean anything,” Hermione said as she sat down across the table from him in the library.
“Yeah, but everybody knows that all the Dark wizards come from Slytherin,” Ron said, sitting down next to Harry.
“And Lupin did say Borgin was a Slytherin,” Ginny chimed in.
“I’d just like to know who’s teaching me how to defend myself,” Harry said determinedly, “and make sure it isn’t someone who shouldn’t be.”
“Have you ever thought about just asking him?” Hermione questioned.
“Hermione, I thought you’d be pleased I chose to look in a book first,” Harry replied, exasperated. “Anyway, I did ask Dumbledore after my last Occlumency lesson,” he continued. “I got the standard line of ‘he’s a good professor with lots to teach us‘. I still don’t trust him. It doesn’t fit.”
Hermione sighed. “Okay, let’s see what we can find. According to Hogwarts, A History, records have been kept over the years by each librarian, detailing the students, their activities, their houses, etc. I’ll go ask Madam Pince where they’re kept.”
Moments later, Hermione dumped several large, oversized leather bound volumes onto the table.
“I wasn’t sure the years Borgin was here, so I took a guess. We should look for him -- and also Lucius Malfoy.”
“Funny, I never thought about Lucius Malfoy attending Hogwarts,” Ginny said, wrinkling her nose at the dust clouds ascending from the aged books. Obviously, these were not some of the more frequently read volumes in the library.
“Here, I found something,” Ron said, tracing his finger down one of the pages of parchment. “Bartholomew Borgin donated100 Galleons to sponsor a new association called The Thestrals.”
Ginny snorted. “I’m sorry, I know what thestrals are. I’ve seen them. But it still sounds like some awful choir group.”
“Isn’t Professor Borgin’s name Nathan?” Hermione asked. “Is there a picture there?”
“Yeah,” Ron said, turning the book so all could see.
“Must be some relative,” Harry said, studying the picture of the well groomed wizard who stood with one hand by his side, the other clasped on the lapel of his tweed suit coat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“The resemblance is uncanny. That might be his father,” Hermione deduced. “Lupin said Borgin’s father was a regular visitor to Hogwarts.”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded as he shifted his gaze back to the page. Turning the parchment, the next page showed a black and white picture of a group of eight students -- all Slytherins judging from the patch on their robe. The caption read “The Thestrals.” Harry read the names of the students, matching them up to the faces. He leaned closer as he read “Mullerey, Stewart. Patterson, Lewis. Borgin, Nathan. Malfoy, Lucius.” Standing next to each other, the younger versions of the two wizards under investigation kept elbowing each other in the photo, obviously trying to break the other’s solemn expression into a grin. Harry felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had seen enough pictures of his father, Sirius and Lupin to recognize the deep bonds of friendship, no matter how creepy, when he saw it.
Ginny looked at her watch. “Merlin!” she exclaimed, standing up and gathering her belongings. “We need to get to class.”
Reluctantly, Harry closed the cover, hiding the picture from view. Picking it up to return it to the shelf, a piece of yellowed paper fell out. Hermione scooped it up and scanned it.
“Huh,” she commented.
“Huh, what?” Ron asked, standing up and slinging his book bag over his shoulder.
“Harry might be right,” she said, looking up at them. “According to The Daily Prophet, shortly after Borgin graduated, the club disbanded and Nathan Borgin was sent to Azkaban.”
“What for?” Harry asked sharply.
“It doesn’t say,” Hermione replied. “It might be time to ask him.”
+++++
Harry returned to the library after dinner that night. What little space Ginny left free from O.W.L. preparation, Harry covered with the books Hermione had found earlier. Very little could be found about the secret club Nathan Borgin and Lucius Malfoy had joined, and much to Harry’s frustration, even less could be found about why it was disbanded and Borgin’s subsequent prison term. It was as if the entire incident had been erased and just a sentence or two left by mistake.
‘Harry, are you okay?” Ginny whispered.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry answered distractedly.
“Uh-huh. You know, if I were fine, I wouldn’t be pulling my hair out by its roots,” Ginny said, waving her quill at Harry’s head.
Harry released his vice-like grip on his hair and sighed.
“Harry, go talk to him,” Ginny urged. “Leave the books. I’ll put them away later.”
Harry sighed and nodded. Standing up, he leaned over, gave Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek and headed out of the library in the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Rounding the corner on the first floor, Harry saw Professor Borgin wearing his cloak, closing the classroom door. Harry ducked behind a suit of armor. Peeking around the chest plate, Harry watched as Borgin carefully looked both ways before turning, heading toward the Grand Staircase. Harry thought briefly about going back to Gryffindor Tower for his Invisibility Cloak, but decided he might loose him if he did. Quietly, Harry stepped around the suit of armor and trailed Borgin.
Nathan Borgin’s heart was racing. After all he had seen and done in his life, he found it rather ironic that a night meeting with a past housemate should raise his adrenaline levels so. Of course, Borgin thought, he doubted Malfoy would register his nervousness. Azkaban had changed Lucius Malfoy. No one emerged from Azkaban unchanged, he admitted, including himself. In his case, Azkaban had allowed him to find the inner strength he needed to break ties with his family and his past. It had left Lucius Malfoy, though, if Borgin had read him correctly, with a certain sense of desperation. Why, after all, would a known Death Eater be associating with someone who had walked away so many years ago? Malfoy was underestimating his enemy and Nathan Borgin was not above exploiting that.
Holding his cloak tightly around him, Borgin hurried across the grounds, past Hagrid’s cabin, and into the Forbidden Forest. Pulling out his wand, he uttered, “Lumos,” illuminating the ground in front of him. Following a path long overgrown with meandering roots and rotted leaves, Borgin made his way to a small clearing where a second wizard stood, waiting.
Harry crouched down behind a fallen tree. Peering over the mossy bark, he watched Borgin hold out his hand. Harry caught his breath as the other wizard pushed back the hood to his cloak. The moonlight reflected off the almost white blond hair of Lucius Malfoy. Harry was not sure who he loathed and hated more at that moment, the known Death Eater or the professor who had hoodwinked Dumbledore. Harry crept around the tree trunk to the edge of the clearing. He noticed Borgin pause, thought he saw Borgin glance his way. Pulling his wand out of his pocket, Harry leaned closer to listen.
“It is an opportunity to go beyond what we started at school.”
“What we started at school was based on the ramblings of a delusional wizard, Lucius. How do you plan to go beyond that?”
“Your knowledge is much more complete than that of your father’s.”
“My father missed things,” Borgin admitted.
“Our time is coming, Nathan. Will you be ready?”
“What should I be ready for, Lucius?”
“Possibly your finest hour, Nathan.”
Malfoy slipped the hood of his cloak over his head. He turned and entered the forest opposite of where Harry crouched, leaving Borgin standing alone. Pulling his cloak around him, Borgin turned and walked to the edge of the clearing. Stopping briefly, Borgin leaned over as if to tie his shoe. Harry almost fell over as he heard the whisper. “Follow me, Harry.”
++++
Nathan Borgin closed the door to his office behind Harry. Taking his cloak off, he hung it on the hook on the back of his door. Walking to his desk, Borgin reached inside his coat pocket and drew out his wand. He placed it on the desk within Harry’s reach.
“It’s yours if you want it, Harry. I’m not going to use it.”
Caught of guard, Harry’s anger pulsed. Borgin knew he wouldn’t harm an unarmed wizard.
“I suppose you have a few questions, Harry,” Borgin surmised, leaning against the desk, facing Harry.
“I’m going to Dumbledore. He needs to know his newest professor is meeting known Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night,” Harry ground out.
“Dumbledore knows, Harry. It was his idea.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “His idea?”
“Yes, his idea. Harry, I can assure you I owe Dumbledore more than you can imagine. Much like you, I would never deliberately do anything to tarnish his trust in me.”
“Does he know you were in Azkaban?” Harry seethed, his hand reaching inside his robes for his wand.
“Yes,” Borgin sighed. “I was wondering when someone would dig that up. Have a seat, Harry. It’s not a very interesting story, but I would appreciate the opportunity to tell you the truth if you took the time to dig it up.”
“I want to know what you were doing with Malfoy,” Harry hissed.
“I’m not sure I can tell you that, Harry,” Borgin replied evenly. “It might place you in more danger than you already are.”
“I THINK I SHOULD BE THE JUDGE OF THAT!” Harry argued, pulling his wand out of his pocket and pointing it at Borgin’s chest.
Borgin held his hands up in front of him in a sign of surrender. “Fair enough, Harry. Let me explain. In the end, you might also understand why I would never do anything to harm Dumbledore, this school or endanger The Order’s cause.”
“The Order?”
“The Order,” Borgin nodded. “The Order asked for my help. I agreed.”
Harry paused. Lupin had written him that Borgin’s talents might come in handy. Struggling to get his breathing under control, Harry slowly sat down in the chair opposite Borgin’s desk, his wand pointed at Borgin’s chest, his eyes never leaving his face. Borgin walked around his desk and sat down to face Harry. Propping his elbows on the desktop, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips.
“Let me start with your first question, Harry. It will lead to the rest.”
Taking a deep breath, Borgin began.
“We were known as the Thestrals. I know, sounds like a bad Muggle rock band. It was a more innocent time. We thought it inspired respect and fear,” Borgin shrugged. “Membership consisted of pureblood wizards who were able to see Thestrals, meaning, of course, we had all witnessed death,
“It was my father’s idea. I didn’t realize it at the time; however, my father had started the groundwork for such an association my first year at Hogwarts.” Borgin paused. “Hogwarts changes a wizard,” he said quietly.
Harry sat up a little straighter and lowered his wand. Sirius had said the same thing about his time at Hogwarts. He himself had felt it the first time he stepped onto the grounds. Harry did not want to have such a shared connection with this man.
“Over the course of my time at Hogwarts, my father watched me become what he termed a ‘complete failure.’ I no longer accepted the beliefs of my family. I questioned the Dark ways. So my father decided he needed to become more involved with my education. It was his attempt to make sure I knew my place. Little did I realize it was also a resource for his own use. He came to visit, became friends with a few carefully selected people in my house, and suggested we start a secret society.
“We met under the guise of studying death and burial rituals of different cultures. As you might imagine, with a mission and eligibility requirements such as ours, membership was limited. My father’s life’s work centered on death, thus considering the subject matter, it made it a perfect match for him to act as a sort of sponsor without question.
“At first, we actually did study the different facets of death rituals, studying the Egyptians, the Aztecs. Fascinating stuff, really, even for teenage wizards. We continued on in this course of action until simply studying became tedious to some members. That was when my father suggested we put into practice what we learned.
“My father had discovered on one of his trips to Egypt an interesting legend. When Muggle archeologists excavated empty tombs, it was assumed that grave robbers had beaten them to the mummified corpses no longer resting in their sarcophaguses. According to my father, this wasn’t the case. Historical magical texts my father uncovered told of a reviving potion, a potion to bring back the dead.”
Borgin poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on his desk and took a long drink. Sitting back in his chair, he continued.
“My father suggested we try it. Start small, on simple animals, then move up. The members loved the idea. Since my father was the sponsor, I was the logical leader. This idea did not sit well with me. It sounded too much like one of my father’s experiments. I told them it was not a good idea. I was out voted,” Borgin shrugged. “But I was young and wanted to belong. After years of emotional and verbal abuse, this club had reconnected me with my father. It made my life easier. So, in the end, I made the arrangements to procure the animals.
“We waited until the Easter holidays, when we could have privacy to do our experimentation. My father claimed to have unexpected business and left us to do it on our own, asking us to take explicit notes. Much to our surprise, we were successful to some degree. While the resurrected creatures were functioning, they wandered around lost, few living for more than a day or two.
“The power of being able to achieve such a thing overshadowed the doubts. We were addicted and my father fed the addiction. He suggested we take the next step, to use our newfound knowledge to duplicate what legend claimed the Ancient Egyptian wizards had accomplished,” Borgin grimaced, and took another drink of water as if trying to rinse a bad taste out in his mouth.
“The plan was to wait until after NEWTs. We would go to downtown London, find a vagrant with no family, no connections, and bring him to my father’s home.” Borgin stood, walked to the window and opening it. “Not many wizards can say they thankfully owe their future to Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey,” he commented wryly, feeling the cool night air brush by.
“There were three of us who were charged with obtaining the subject. Stewart Mullrrey, Lewis Patterson and myself. A bottle of Firewhiskey for courage later, my two cohorts were too inebriated to participate. I was found by the Muggle law enforcement, my arm around a scruffy individual whom I am told I was trying desperately to convince that coming home with me was much better than returning to his cardboard box. Muggle law enforcement released me the next morning to my father’s care. When we arrived home, several wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were waiting to take me into custody.
“As it turned out, my two drunk associates had not only been unable to hold their liquor, but also unable to hold their tongues. The implications of our actions had the potion worked on humans would have been unimaginable. When I confronted my father before my trial, he admitted there was no legend and the potion was just another one of his half-cooked research projects.
“The fact the spell worked on animals meant there was something to it. However, there is doubt that it would have worked on humans. When all was said and done, the club members, my father included, claimed they had no knowledge or recollection of any events associated with such a practice and that I had acted on my own accord.”
Borgin sat down at his desk again. “My father didn’t bother showing up for my trial. I had failed for the final time and therefore was no longer worthy of his time or attention. But Dumbledore argued on my behalf, explaining to the Wizengamot that I was prisoner of my own youth and prisoner of a much stronger, more influential wizard, that being my father. My sentence in Azkaban was reduced to twelve months because of Dumbledore. My father, who had no evidence of any experimentation, was not charged. Upon my release, Dumbledore helped me leave the country and sever my ties with my family. Deep pockets allowed the Borgins to bury this deeply.”
Borgin breathed deeply. “Harry, I will not deny my actions. I grew up with the Dark arts. It was my life. When I learned there was more to life, more to myself, I was punished by a father willing to brainwash then sacrifice his own flesh and blood. I vowed I wouldn’t go back to it, and I won’t,” Borgin finished quietly.
Harry studied his wand in his hands, contemplating Nathan Borgin’s story. He did not care to admit how much he might have in common with the professor. He understood growing up with one life, only to learn there was a better one out there. And despite his ebbing and flowing frustration and anger with the Headmaster, Harry knew all too well what it was like to be in Albus Dumbledore’s debt, and he could respect that.
“Why are you here? Why does The Order want you?” Harry asked quietly.
“My specialty is Ancient Magic, Harry. As I have just told you, I am familiar with the philosophy behind revival potions, as well as the psychological and physical aspects of the older forms of magic. The Order believes this is a realm Voldemort is considering.”
“What does that have to do with Malfoy? And what did he mean by ‘go beyond what you started at school’?” Harry asked, afraid he already knew the answer.
Borgin stood up and moved around to the front of the desk. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against it.
“Rumor has it Voldemort has found something, something he hasn’t tried before. He’s become very agitated that it is taking this long.”
“But why you and Malfoy?” Harry asked frustrated.
“Our information is that this involves Malfoy in some fashion. He and I were once friends. We briefly shared the same ideals, the same path in life. We were both members of an association founded by my father known to have successfully resurrected a dead being.” Borgin paused, allowing Harry to make the connections.
“And having been out of the country for as long as I have, it wasn’t suspicious for me to return and strike up the friendship again. It was as if I had just been on a long trip not waiting around the corner to pounce,” Borgin said.
“Going beyond revival, though,” Borgin admitted. “That was new tonight.”
Harry felt numb. The implications of Voldemort being able to resurrect followers from the dead made him sick. He jumped when he felt Borgin’s hand on his shoulder.
“Harry, you now know as much as I do.”
“Why?” Harry’s voice broke. Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter in the chair. “Why did you tell me this? I’m not a member of The Order.”
“No,” Borgin agreed, “you aren’t. But you asked, and if it was up to me, you would be.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was after midnight when Harry climbed through the portrait hole. His head pounded, his eyes burned. He knew he needed to clear his mind of the damning information whirling like a tornado in his brain. Rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, he crossed the room and sat down on the couch facing the glowing embers of the fire.
“Ow!”
Harry jumped and looked down.
“Ginny! What are you doing there?” he croaked, surprised.
“Hi to you too, Harry,” Ginny said groggily, sitting up, her Charms textbook sliding off her stomach to the floor, landing on its spine with a thump. “It’s late,” she yawned. “Have you been with Borgin this entire time?”
Harry sat down on the cushion where Ginny’s legs had been. Leaning his elbows on his knees, Harry put his head in his hands.
“Harry, are you okay?” Ginny asked concerned.
Sighing, Harry sat back and looked at Ginny.
“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” Harry said, shaking his head.
Ginny cocked her head to the side and studied Harry. He looked exhausted and worried. She could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he was carrying the weight of the wizarding world on them. She would find out what he knew tomorrow. Reaching out for Harry, she tugged on his arm, pulling him down so his head rested on her lap. Gently she removed his glasses and placed them on top of her Charms book. Harry squinted up at her.
“Shhh,” she comforted as she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Straightening up, Ginny ran her fingertips lightly over the bridge of Harry’s nose, closing his eyes. She then began to softly comb his hair with her fingers, massaging the tension from his scalp. Harry’s breathing became deep and even as sleep claimed him. Ginny snuggled down into the couch, resting her head on the armrest, her hands continuing their gentle ministrations.
A/N — I would love to know what you think of this chapter. I had the hardest time coming up with a plausible reason for Borgin landing in Azkaban while keeping it relevant to the story (and somewhat believable by wizarding standards), but still make it okay that he come back as a professor. I figured a small club and a buried story!
My gratitude again to my beta parvatipatil - she has so much to put up with!
And all my thanks to my reviewers — I really appreciate it! Your input is helping make a better tale. Thank you!
Next chapter — An invitation arrives and some H/G goodness!
Chapter 9: Honor
Disclaimer: I do not profit in any way from the Harry Potter world.Ginny held her tongue until dinner. Hermione and Ron agreed with her. Whatever Harry had found out last night was big, and they were not about to let Harry deal with it all on his own. Watching Harry push his dinner around on his plate, Ginny put her fork down.
“Right then, let’s go,” she said standing up, pulling on Harry’s arm. Hermione and Ron stood up as well.
“What? Where are we going?” Harry asked, as he was pulled from his musings. Professor Borgin’s words kept repeating in his mind. “Going beyond revival…that was new.” The ability to bring a wizard back from the dead was mind boggling. What was beyond that?
Catching onto what his friends were up to, Harry tugged his arm away from Ginny’s grasp. Expecting this reaction, Hermione and Ron came up on either side of Harry and grabbed his elbows. Realizing he would draw unwanted attention by refusing, Harry gave in, allowing his friends to lead him out of the Great Hall.
Ginny led the group out on the grounds and down the path to the Quidditch pitch. There were no blankets this time, or stars, for that matter, as the celestial bodies were hidden behind a thick cloud cover. Stopping in the middle of the pitch, Ginny, Ron and Hermione surrounded Harry, giving him no way to escape.
Pulling out her wand, Hermione uttered “Lumos.”
“Talk, Harry,” Ginny demanded.
Harry eyed his friends wearily. He had known, in the back of his mind, that this would be coming, and the determined looks on his friends’ faces told him he would not be returning to the beckoning warmth of the castle until their curiosities were satisfied. Taking a deep breath, Harry motioned with his head to a nearby bench. Following his lead, the group walked over and sat down.
“Borgin said Voldemort is up to something.”
Ron snorted. “What’s new?” he asked sarcastically. Hermione hit him in the arm.
Studying his fingers, interwoven with Ginny’s, Harry began to understand why he did not have to carry this on his own. It was not just about him anymore. If he was going to have a future, with his friends, with Ginny, he needed their help. Taking a deep breath, Harry shared what he had learned last night, leaving out only the role Borgin’s father played in the events of the past. For some reason, Harry sensed Professor Borgin had not shared that part of his private life with many. He was willing to respect that.
When all was said and done, it was a solemn group that made its way up back to the castle.
++++
A roll of parchment tied neatly with a red silk bow landed in the middle of Harry’s empty breakfast plate, jerking Harry out of his stupor. Seconds later, he registered Ron's voice.
“Ewwww!”
Glancing over, Harry watched Ron remove a similar looking roll of parchment from his own plate and start scraping eggs off the ribbon. Looking around the Great Hall, Harry noticed students at every table were receiving similar deliveries.
Harry returned his foggy attention back to his own scroll. Sleep had not come easily to him the previous evening. Despite having shared his burden with his friends, he hadn’t been able to turn off his thoughts. Selfishly, he had considered sending Hedwig to see if Ginny would come and help him find peace. But O.W.L.s were taking their toll on her, and Harry knew she needed her sleep. So, instead, he tossed and turned and overslept. Running late, Harry had sent Ron on ahead to save him a seat, but once at breakfast, he had been unable to muster much of an appetite.
Picking up the parchment, Harry decided not being hungry might have been a good thing. He pulled one of the ties of the bow, undoing the scarlet ribbon and letting it dribble to the table. Unrolling the parchment, he read:
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Kindly Requests
Harry James Potter and Guest’s
Presence
The Evening Following the Conclusion of Final Exams
at
The Three Broomsticks
Hogsmeade
For an Evening of
Dinner and Dancing
The Hogwarts Staff
Would Like This Opportunity to
Recognize
All Those Who Have Given
Great Service to the School
Semi-Formal Attire
(Dress Robes Optional)
“So, you got one too, eh?” Ron asked, leaning over to confirm the parchment Harry held was the same as his.
“Uh, yeah,” Harry said.
“Judging by who else got one,” Ron observed, scanning the hall, “all the prefects are invited. And it looks like Neville got one. Luna, too.”
“Oh,” Harry replied, rereading the invitation in hopes of determining if there was any way he could get out of it.
“Well, we can look at the bright side,” Ron said. “At least for this function, we already have dates.”
Harry’s cloud lifted a little and he sat up straighter. If all prefects had received an invitation, Ginny had, too. (He sometimes forgot his girlfriend was responsible for upholding the rules when she was so good at bending them.) The thought of enduring a compulsory evening of celebration was pure idiocy to Harry at the moment, but the thought of enduring it without Ginny was pure torture.
It did not sit right with Harry to simply assume Ginny would be his date. He needed to properly ask her. Spurred on by that thought, Harry reached for the platter of bangers in front of him. Even if it was Ginny, he still thought it would be easier to ask her out on a full stomach.
+++++
Lucius Malfoy’s head appeared in the fire in the Slytherin Common Room. Communicating in this manner was not his first choice, however, the Dark Lord was getting anxious, and Lucius needed information quickly. Looking around, he spied his son.
“Draco.”
“Father.”
“I understand you have been invited to a dinner, Draco.”
“How did you know?”
“You aren’t the only one I speak to at Hogwarts.”
“This place can’t even hold a proper party."
“What do you mean, Draco?”
“Dumbledore is holding it at the Three Broomsticks, of all places.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. It is an opportunity to mingle. Who else is invited?”
“The prefects…Head Boy…Head Girl and anyone else in Dumbledore’s little club.”
“I assume you mean Potter?”
"Yeah, he’ll be there with his girlfriend.”
"Girlfriend?”
“Ginny Weasley. As if he couldn’t get enough of that red-headed bunch of Mudblood lovers, he has to go and date one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I caught them snogging on the Quidditch pitch.”
"Good."
“Good? Why good?”
Lucius reached his hand out of the fire. “Draco, I need you to do something for me.”
++++
Harry found Ginny before Transfiguration, standing beneath a window, cramming for the lesson. As his stomach flipped, he briefly wondered if eating breakfast had been a good idea after all.
“Ginny?” he asked, his voice sounding oddly formal.
“Uh, hi Harry,” she replied. Distracted by her studying, Ginny barely glanced up.
“I’d like to ask you a question, Ginny.”
“Ginny! Did you get the essay done?” Colin Creevey ran up bumping into Harry. “Sorry, Harry! Ginny, what did you put down for the order of the spell changing a muskrat into a hat? I think I’m missing a step.”
“What did you put down first?” Ginny asked, shrugging an apology at Harry and digging in her book bag for her essay. “According to the text…”
Realizing he had lost his opportunity, Harry waved at Ginny and headed down the corridor.
++++
“Hey, Gin,” Harry called as she exited the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
“Hi, Harry!” she said, her smile showing the strain of O.W.L.s. Hurrying over to where he stood, leaning against the wall waiting for class, she stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry about this morning. What’s up?”
“Look, it’s the lovebirds,” drawled Draco Malfoy as he sidled past. “Five points from Gryffindor for a public display of affection in the hallway.”
“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry snapped.
“Gentlemen,” Nathan Borgin cautioned from the doorway of his classroom. “Let’s go. We’ve got Blood Boiling spells to cover today and I don’t need a preview in the corridor.”
Harry took a step in the direction of the classroom and stopped. Dropping his book bag, he turned and wrapped his arms around Ginny. Swinging her into a dip, he snogged her thoroughly in front of his fellow classmates and professor. Set gently back on her feet, Ginny, blushing madly, blinked at Harry. Harry turned to Malfoy.
“If you’re going to take five points for a PDA, might as well make it worth it,” Harry reasoned, picking up his book bag.
“I’ll talk to you later, Ginny,” Harry called over his shoulder as he brushed by Professor Borgin, who was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Malfoy bent down to pick something up and sullenly followed.
"You dropped this, Potter."
Harry looked up from his desk to see Malfoy enter the room, flipping through the pages of a book. "Poetry? For your girlfriend, I suppose. She doesn't deserve anything new, Potter?" he sneered as he shut it.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Give it back."
"Here," Malfoy said tossing the book at Harry's feet. "A Weasley wouldn't know what to do with a book that wasn't secondhand."
Harry stood up and took a step toward Malfoy.
“Gentlemen!” Nathan Borgin’s voice rang out from behind them. “Seats! Now!”
Harry kept his eye on Malfoy as he leaned down, scooped up the book, and slid it back in his book bag. "Stay out of my way, Malfoy," he hissed as he sat down.
"Don't worry. I can't imagine I'd want to read anything you'd ever give her," Malfoy sneered back.
++++
Harry watched the doorway of the Great Hall at lunch. Ginny should have been here by now. She had Herboloby in twenty minutes, and it took at least ten to get to the greenhouses. Taking another bite of his stew, Harry saw a flash of auburn come streaking in his direction.
“Hey, Harry!” Ginny panted grabbing onto his shoulder to help stop her forward motion.
“Hi, Gin,” Harry said, bracing himself. “You’re in a hurry.”
“Yeah, have to run and see McGonagall before class -- something about O.W.L.s,” she explained hurriedly, leaning over Harry to grab a hard roll.
“Will you have time after class?” Harry asked, feeling the frustration build. This was getting a little old.
“Should, I think,” Ginny said, scooping up a quick bite of custard. “I’ll see you then,” she called over her shoulder, waving her roll at him in farewell.
Harry sighed as he watched the custard that had dribbled off Ginny’s spoon surf down the front of his robes.
++++
Harry threw open the door to Greenhouse Three. Potions had been excruciating. Snape, on his warpath, threatened to not dismiss any of the sixth year NEWT level students until every one of them had successfully described the known Undetectable Poisons. Threatening to put a few of the said poisons in their evening meals because of their poor performance, Snape let them go only after assigning three rolls of parchment on the subject. Now the greenhouses were empty, and Harry was moving past frustration onto anger as he made his way back to the castle.
Hoping to find Ginny in Gryffindor Tower, Harry stomped up the Grand Staircase. Looking down the fourth floor corridor, he saw Ron and Hermione exiting the library.
“Hey, Harry!” Ron called as Harry made his way upstream toward them.
“Do you know where Ginny is?” Harry asked tiredly.
“She’s in the library, Harry,” Hermione answered. “We had a last minute prefects meeting. What do you need?”
“I just want to ask her a question,” Harry muttered.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll be out in a minute. You can ask her then,” Hermione suggested.
“Oh, no he can’t. Next thing you know, he’ll be snogging my sister in the corridors again,” Ron teased unwittingly. “I heard about you loosing points for us, Potter. I’m not letting Ginny out of my sight.”
“I did not snog Ginny in the corridor on purpose! Not that I wouldn’t have,” Harry added, viewing Hermione’s amused face. “Malfoy egged us on. It’s not totally my fault!” Harry finished lamely, exhaling and rubbing his forehead with his palm in frustration. “Oh, forget it!” Throwing up his hands, he stormed off down the corridor.
“Ron, what did you do?” Ginny accused, exiting the library in time to watch Harry march off.
“Nothing! He just wanted you to ask you something, and I gave him a hard time about snogging you in front of Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning.”
“Ron!” Ginny admonished.
“Wonder what he wanted to ask?” Hermione said curious.
“Probably wanted to ask Ginny to the recognition dinner, that’s all,” Ron claimed.
“That’s all?” Ginny echoed incredulously, feeling the warmth surface in her cheeks.
“Didn’t he realize all the prefects received an invitation?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, I told him I thought that was the case. But you know Harry. He didn’t want to assume Ginny would be his date. It’s his sense of honor or something —“
“Ronald Weasley!” Ginny rounded on her brother. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with Harry’s sense of honor!”
“I didn’t say there was!” Ron said, bewildered, turning to look at Hermione who stood there, arms crossed, toe tapping.
“Well?” she said expectantly.
++++
Ginny found Harry in the empty Transfiguration room. He sat at his desk, his elbows propped on his knees, his head in his hands. She made her way to the front of the class and sat down on the bench next to him.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
“Hi,” he replied lifting his head and letting his hands fall into his lap.
Ginny reached over and took one of his hands in her own. Harry watched, mesmerized, as she flattened his palm against hers, sliding her fingers along the tendons, over his knuckles to the tips and back again. As always, her touch was light, loving, and soothing. Harry could feel the day’s aggravation begin to diminish.
“How do you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Make me feel, I don’t know, calm and okay -- peaceful,” Harry replied, his eyes shifting from their hands to Ginny’s face.
Ginny felt her cheeks grow warm from pleasure. She shrugged her shoulders.
“You know,” Harry said, smiling at her blush, “I’ve been trying to get you alone all day.”
“Harry James Potter! You needed me alone?” she said grinning. “You aren’t proposing anything indecent, are you?”
Harry snorted. “Don’t worry. There will be several chaperones present that will make sure I don’t do anything I shouldn’t,” he said wryly.
“Damn,” Ginny said. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Harry grinned. “Ginny, would you be my date to the recognition dinner?”
“I would love to be your date,” she replied softly.
“Thank you,” Harry whispered as he leaned in knowing he was thanking her for more than a simple evening of her company.
++++
Standing on a footstool, Mr. Borgin reached up to lift the last of the late Bartholomew Borgin’s Death Chests from the overhead shelf in the backroom of Borgin & Burkes. The Death Chests, intricately carved wooden boxes depicting the Unforgivable Curses, had not sold well. Over the course of the past six months, Borgin had been forced to drop the price repeatedly to the point where he had given up attempting to break even. The two he pulled down now were the last of the lot. As he dragged them from the shelf, a bound sheath of parchment snagged on the bottom of one. Falling, it almost hit Borgin in the face, causing him to jerk back, loose his balance, and tumble off the stool. The Death Chests went flying, smashing into numerous pieces on impact.
“Damn!” Borgin exclaimed sitting up rubbing the elbow he landed on.
Brushing himself off, Borgin struggled to his feet, reaching down to pick up the cause of his accident. Must have been shoved to the back of the shelf, he thought. Flipping to the front, he grunted. Just what he needed, an addendum to a book he did not have. What would he do with this? Ever since that nosy low level Ministry worker had come looking for that book, Borgin had the feeling every aspect of his life and business was under the microscope. It would not surprise him in the least if the Ministry was going through his rubbish bins out back.
Nathan. He could send it to Nathan. After all, Bartholomew Borgin was his father. This was his legacy. It was really the least he could do.
++++
AN — Thank you all for your feedback on the last chapter! It was really great to know I wasn’t off base with Borgin’s character.
For this chapter, I asked my amazing Beta parvatipatil if she thought it was in character for Harry to make those 5 lost points worth it as he did. She responded by saying you can’t love someone without them affecting you (in good ways), and Ginny is bold enough that it’s time Harry took after her. Hear! Hear!
Thanks for reading!
Next Chapter…the Prodigal Son returns and a gift is more than a gift…
Chapter 10: I'll Always be Yours
Disclaimer - I do not make any claim on the Harry Potter world.Harry stood by the side of his bed and straightened his tie. The blue smudges under his eyes from too many late nights studying for final exams had faded. His hair was still mussed, but, to be honest, he thought Ginny liked it that way. He took his glasses off and wiped the fingerprints off with the end of his tie. Rubbing the toes of his newly polished shoes on the back of his pants, first his left, then his right, Harry looked down to check if he could see his reflection in them. If he had been able to, he was sure he would see a wizard wearing a grin that refused to go anywhere. He had a date with Ginny tonight, a school sanctioned date, but a date nonetheless, where he could hold her in his arms, feel her pressed against him, be enveloped in the fresh scent that was all hers. It was the best way ever to celebrate the end of the school year.
Opening his trunk, Harry drew out his cloak. Below his cloak lay a package wrapped in brown paper. Harry carefully picked it up and tucked it into his cloak pocket. He hoped Ginny would like it.
“Come on, mate!” Ron said bounding into the dormitory. Seeing as the invitation had stated dress robes were optional, most everyone Harry knew who was going had opted for Muggle style clothing. Ron was no different, having donned a shirt and tie similar to his. “Our dates await!” Ron said, grinning as he pulled his cloak out of his trunk.
Harry grinned back. “Let’s go!” he said as he slapped Ron on the back and headed out the door.
Harry and Ron were halted on the bottom step by a wall of Gryffindors. Looking around, Harry realized they were oddly all male, and their attention was drawn not so subtly to the fireplace. Following the crowd’s line of sight, Harry saw what was causing such a stir.
“Wow!” a first year said from somewhere in the back.
“Young man,” Ron informed the first year in his best soon-to-be-seventh-year-Prefect voice, “You are admiring our dates. Maybe one day you’ll be as lucky as we are. Now break it up, break it up. Let us through. Excuse us.”
Harry smiled inwardly at how much Ron sounded like several of his older brothers as he blazed a trail to the two most beautiful girls in school. He watched Ron give Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek before offering her help with her cloak and then his arm. Hermione did look lovely tonight, her hair done up, wearing a silvery blue dress that showed there was more to her than just books.
Then again, in Harry’s eyes, there was no comparison to Ginny. He was not sure what drew his attention more but he could not take his eyes off her. Her chocolate brown silk dress skimmed her shoulders, molding to her waist and sliding down her legs, stopping just above her knees. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a matching silk bow that allowed it to tumble over her shoulders. Harry reached out to feel one of the soft curls between his fingers, jerking back suddenly when he realized his knuckles had brushed Ginny’s bare shoulder.
“Ginny, your dress is missing its arms!” he exclaimed.
Ginny looked taken aback. “It’s-it’s Hermione’s. She loaned it to me for tonight. She said it doesn’t really fit her. Do you like it? We fixed it up a little...”
Harry watched Ginny pluck at the skirt with her thumb and forefinger, her cheeks turning pink, and he mentally kicked himself.
“It’s beautiful,” Harry reassured quickly. “You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful in anything!”
Ginny cocked her head to the side, causing her hair to slide, the fire playing off the blush skin of her neck. She smiled at Harry who suddenly had the greatest urge to kiss Ginny right…there. Ginny waved her hand in front of Harry’s face.
“Hullo, Harry?”
“Uh, yeah,” Harry said reluctantly coming back to the present.
“We should get going, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, yes, we should,” Harry said feeling the unmovable goofy grin coming back. “You do look wonderful,” he said as he helped Ginny on with her cloak.
“Thank you, Harry. You look wonderful, too,” she answered smiling, her insides jumping with glee. Yes, removing those arms had been just the ticket…
++++
Harry leaned against the wall of the Three Broomsticks, watching the couples cling to each other on the dance floor. The pub had been transformed into an elegant escape, or at least as much as was possible with a bar as the backdrop. The tall round tables were draped with sparkling white tablecloths that pooled on the floor. Candlelight flickered from every corner. The barstools had been enhanced with a cushioning charm and elevation charms that raised and lowered the seats for those who were unable to climb up them in a ladylike fashion in a straight skirt. Dinner had been a feast to remember, their plates filling magically until they could eat no more.
Dumbledore had spoken, reminding them in these times of war, it was important to celebrate life. He then urged them all to dance the night away. Waiting for his date to emerge from the powder room, Harry observed that the Slytherins were dancing the night away on the opposite side of the dance floor from the Gryffindors, and that was just fine by him. He was having a hard enough time keeping his mind off how warm Ginny’s shoulders felt and how sweet her skin probably tasted. He did not want to spoil his train of thought by anything else at the moment.
Ginny emerged from the powder room, a look of amazement on her face. “Harry! You should see what they did with the loo! It’s amazing! I wish we had one of those at the Burrow. I’d never have to share a sink with Ron again.”
Harry grinned. “Want to dance?”
“Not really,” Ginny said wrinkling up her nose.
“Want to take a walk?” Harry asked hopefully.
“Alone? With you?” Ginny batted her eyelashes at Harry. “I thought you’d never ask! Should we tell Ron and Hermione?”
Harry shook his head reaching for her hand. “They’ll figure it out -- when they come up for air,” he said wryly, pointing his head in the direction of the dance floor. “And to think Ron gave me a hard time for snogging you in public!”
++++
Percy Weasley studied the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He’d been studying the door for the passing of two busses, three automobiles, two women with shopping bags, one old man walking his dog and one late night dinner delivery two doors down. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his fist and knocked three times. Stepping back, he steadied himself and waited.
Molly Weasley heard the knock. Who would knock? she thought. Order members would just come in. Muggles didn’t see the door. Curious, she stood on her tiptoes to look out the peephole. She gasped and dropped down to her heels.
“Arthur! Come quick!” she hollered. “Arthur!”
Arthur Weasley hurried down the hallway. “Molly? What’s wrong?”
“He’s back. He came back,” she whispered.
Arthur looked through the peephole and drew in his breath. “Well,” he said stepping back. “Let’s open the door, Molly.”
Arthur pulled the door open. Meeting Percy’s eyes, he nodded.
“Come in, son.”
++++
Nathan Borgin took his robes off the hook on the back of his door. As Hogwart’s newest professor, he had drawn the short straw for chaperone duty. The upside was classes were over, and he could afford to sleep in tomorrow morning; the downside was it was already late and he would not be able to start that sleep for several more hours.
Swinging his robes over his shoulder, a parcel fell to the floor. Bending over to scoop it up, Borgin returned it to his desk. He had received the parcel at breakfast that morning. Noting the return seal of his uncle’s shop on the back, he had slipped it into his pocket to be opened at a more private opportunity. Checking his watch to see if he had a spare minute presently, Borgin broke the seal and unwrapped a bound stack of parchment. A note was scrawled on a loose piece of parchment resting on top.
Nathan,
Discovered this in the storeroom. It is the last of your father’s estate. Since the manuscript it belongs to went missing, I thought you should have it.
B.
Nathan snorted. There was no love lost in his family. Of course, there had never really been any to loose. Nathan crumpled up the parchment and threw it into the rubbish bin. He looked at the manuscript in front of him. Addendum to Mysteries and Myths — Notes of Truth About Dark Magic, Death and What Happens Next, he read. Ah, he had wondered when that would come up again.
Nathan casually ruffled the edges of parchment as if it were a flipbook. He did it again, a little slower this time, the neat script sending cold fingers of dread through him. Chastising himself for allowing his father to still intimidate him from the grave, Nathan picked up the manuscript by its spine to throw it in the bin and turned it over. It fell open in his palm.
“Bloody hell.”
He read what his father had written. He reread it. He made the connection. The cold flowing through his veins this time had nothing to do with his past and everything to do with the future.
++++
Arthur Weasley closed the door. He met Molly’s wide eyes.
“Molly, it will be alright. It was a start. He’ll be back,” he assured her.
Molly blinked back tears as she nodded. The meeting with Percy could only be described as stiff. Percy had spent less than ten minutes at Headquarters. He had surveyed the faded curtains, the worn sofa, the threadbare rug and declined a seat. He had not wanted refreshment. He had only wanted to pass on information.
“You told me to come to you if I felt something was being overlooked,” Percy began, meeting his father’s gaze defiantly.
Arthur Weasley nodded, afraid if he spoke, Percy might stop.
“Several months ago, a manuscript went missing from Borgin & Burkes. I looked into it, visiting the shop and informing the Minister of Magic. The matter was not resolved and was swept under the rug.” Percy paused, recalling the events of the past week.
Lewis Fielding had stopped by his office.
“Weasley! No time to talk today,” he had said, poking his head around the corner. “The Aurors are on to something. He Who Must Not Be Named is up to something big. They think it’s some form of spell work. I’ve got to go take notes at the briefing. Later, Wealsey.”
Fielding’s words had stuck in Percy’s mind. At first, he chalked it up to being just another one of Fielding’s nagging jabs, but it persisted. Night after night that week, Percy woke up staring at the ceiling, willing his memory to put the missing pieces together.
”He Who Must Not Be Named is on to something…on to something…”
Percy had sat up in bed. He remembered sharing the lift with his dad.
"We've heard rumors. He has found something, something new that is making him edgy and excited. We are having a hard time determining what it could be."
“We need to talk to Dumbledore and Nathan. They will know what was in that manuscript,” Arthur said as he headed back toward the kitchen.
Molly stood alone in the front hallway, tears dampening her cheeks. She gently placed her palm on the door. “Be safe, Percy,” she whispered. “Come home soon.”
++++
Lucius Malfoy rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he turned from the fireplace where Draco’s head had been moments before.
With a wave of his wand, he was knocking on the door of his master’s residence. Wormtail ushered him into the study.
++++
Nathan Borgin exploded into Dumbledore’s office. The Headmaster turned from the window.
“I know -- I know what he is up to.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Go.”
++++
“It is time, My Lord.”
“Yes. It should be. What do you require?”
“Your blood, sir.”
++++++
Ginny tore the brown paper off the gift and caught her breath. She ran her hand over the worn leather cover. "It's beautiful, Harry," she said softly.
"Thanks," he said smiling shyly.
Ginny opened the front cover. There were two inscriptions on the inside; the first one written many years before, the blue ink having faded into brown. Ginny caught her breath as she read it.
To Lily, You'll always be the poetry in my heart. Love, James
Ginny felt the tears burn behind her eyelids. Blinking, she looked up at Harry. "This was your mother's," she whispered.
"Yeah," Harry replied softly.
Ginny blinked away the tears forming and focused on the newer inscription.
To Ginny, I'll always be yours. I love you, Harry
Ginny wiped the tears spilling down her cheeks with the back of her hand. She looked at Harry. “Thank you,” she said against his lips, and kissed Harry with all the love in her heart.
Pulling apart, Harry rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closed, losing himself in Ginny.
"Where did you get it?" she asked, knowing his aunt and uncle hadn't kept anything of his parents’ for him.
"Sirius had it. When your mum cleaned out Grimmauld Place, she set aside what was left of his personal stuff," Harry said. Mentioning Sirius still stirred up feelings, but instead of searing pain, Harry felt a dull longing, as if Sirius was on an extended holiday and would return some day. He lifted his forehead so he could look into Ginny's eyes.
"There wasn’t much, but this was in there with a note from Sirius. I guess my mum had told my dad she liked poetry as a joke and suggested my dad read this book just to see if he would really do it. In the end, my dad was so gone over my mum, he memorized the book and recited it at the bottom of the stairs in Gryffindor Tower nightly until she begged him to stop."
Ginny looked at him, surprised. "Did you mem-"
"No!" Harry said emphatically, then caught himself. "Not that I wouldn't because I would have!" he assured her. "I just kind of figured you'd rather I memorize a few good new hexes to use on Fred and George…"
Ginny giggled. "I love you, Harry Potter," she smiled, before she kissed him.
Pulling away again, Ginny turned back to the book. She let it fall open on her knees. "Oh, look! I bet this was your mum's bookmark."
In between the pages rested a small piece of pink ribbon, a little frayed on the ends. Harry leaned over and looked at the silk. He didn’t recall that being there. Suddenly the picture of Malfoy flipping through this very book before Defense Against the Dark Arts flashed through his mind.
"I wonder if your dad also ga-" Ginny started to say as she ran her fingers down the satin ribbon before she felt the familiar tug behind her navel of a Portkey.
Her feet hit the ground. Stumbling, still clutching the book, she righted herself and looked around. She was in a clearing surrounded by thick, dense forest. She did not think she had gone far. Perhaps this was the Forbidden Forest? Maybe the ribbon had been a way for Lily and James to meet? She knew Harry’s dad hadn’t had a big problem with bending the rules, and an illegal Portkey for a stolen rendezvous was not out of the question. They could have picked a better place than the Forbidden Forest for a snog, though, Ginny thought grimly. There were several good broom closets she and Harry discovered that would have worked just fine.
Wanting to get back before Harry worried, Ginny held the book up by the spine and let it fall open. If the ribbon was a Portkey to get here, maybe it was also the way to get back. She ran her finger over the page, only feeling paper. The ribbon was gone. Damn, she thought. It must have fallen out. The trees were too thick to let in much moonlight for searching. Ginny reached inside her cloak and pulled out her wand.
“Lumos!"
Holding the glow of her wand close to the ground, Ginny circled the clearing. She had almost completed the circle when the light hit a bump. Ginny leaned closer. It took a moment before she realized she was staring at the toes of a pair of gleaming, polished black boots.
"Good evening, Miss Weasley. I've been expecting you."
Ginny screamed.
+++++
A/N — Ah, the fun begins. Thanks to my beta Lindsay for putting up with, well, me.
Next chapter...Lucius Malfoy’s 15 minutes of fame, so to speak.
Chapter 11: Blood Ties
Disclaimer - I do not own or make money from any part of the Harry Potter world.Stumbling, Ginny fell, dropping the book, hitting the packed dirt ground with a thump. Her hands were empty. Scrambling up, she frantically searched the clearing. Her frightened gaze landed on Lucius Malfoy, who was standing on the edge of the clearing, outlined by the glow emitting from the end of her wand.
"Looking for this?" Malfoy sneered.
Ginny’s fright turned into blazing hatred as she glared at Lucius Malfoy. Backing away from him, her eyes scanned the edges of the forest looking for others, looking for help. She counted two more Death Eaters, hoods covering their faces, blanketed in shadows. She could feel the fear seeping back into her mind but pushed it out, instead filling her heart with loathing for the man standing in front of her.
"Were you expecting Harry? If you want Harry, you’ll have to go through me."
"Silly girl," Malfoy scoffed. "I'm not here for him. I'm here for you."
Caught off guard, Ginny blinked. "Me? Why me?"
"You proved your value to the Dark Lord in the Chamber of Secrets. Now it appears he has found another use for you."
"Never again," Ginny hissed, "will Voldemort be able to invade my mind."
"He doesn't want your mind," Malfoy smugly answered. "He wants your blood."
"Blood? What does my blood have to do with anything?"
"My dear girl, you are an essential factor to a piece of ancient magic. Your blood is the key to his supreme invincibility, his true immortality."
Ginny could feel the sweat trickle down between her shoulder blades. She heard Harry’s voice repeating Borgin’s words in her mind. ”Going beyond revival…that’s new.” Her mind scrambled for reason.
"But the prophecy,” Ginny started. “Harry has the power to vanquish the Dark Lord! If he has the power that means Voldemort isn’t immortal. He can be killed," she argued desperately. She thought she heard one of the Death Eaters snigger.
"Foolish girl, don’t you understand the power of true love? True love endures all things,” Malfoy snarled.
Ginny thought she saw Malfoy shudder as he said the last part. Her mind raced. "But Voldemort doesn't believe in love. He doesn't even have a heart," she spat.
"Voldemort will never again underestimate the power of love.”
Malfoy raised his wand. Silver rope shot out of the end, catching Ginny's hands and binding them together. Malfoy stepped forward and pushed her to the ground. The Death Eaters closed in.
She wanted no part of this. Suddenly she understood with alarming clarity the weight of responsibility Harry carried with him because of the prophecy. She watched horrified as Malfoy reached inside his robes. He pulled out a large glass vial half filled with a thick, reddish liquid. Sickened, she realized it was blood. In his other hand, he held a gleaming silver blade.
Blinking, she realized Malfoy was not holding her wand anymore. Where was her wand? Where had he put her wand?
Sitting on the cold, hard earth, Ginny tried to look around without raising suspicion. Her eyes darted from Malfoy’s hands as they twisted the glass stopper off the vial to the stumps, the logs, the roots. There! Her wand was on the ground just behind Malfoy.
Gathering her wits, Ginny's reply was barely above a whisper, but the hatred in her voice made it audible.
"I will die before I let this happen."
"You do not have a choice,” Malfoy sneered. "Love such as yours endures forever. I will give him that.”
Malfoy stood up and pointed his wand at Ginny’s heart.
”IMPERIO!”
+++++
Harry threw himself against the door of The Three Broomsticks so hard that the thick wooden door hit the wall behind him and bounced back. Pushing it away, Harry stumbled into the pub. The couples who had been swaying back and forth to the music curiously turned to look at him. Ron and Hermione broke apart. Seeing it was Harry, they rushed up to him.
“Dumbledore! I need Dumbledore!” Harry panted, his eyes wildly searching the pub.
“He’s not here, Harry. It’s late. He went back to the castle half an hour ago,” Hermione explained worriedly. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s got her,” Harry said hoarsely. “I just know it. He’s got her.”
“Who’s got who?” Ron asked bewildered.
Harry searched the The Three Broomsticks. Where was everyone? Professor Borgin was supposed to be on chaperon duty now. As this thought crossed his mind, the pub door slammed open again. A concerned looking Nathan Borgin filled the doorway. His eyes landed on Harry. Grabbing Harry by the arm, Borgin pulled him out of the pub and out of eyesight of the remaining students. Ron and Hermione followed.
“Harry, where’s Ginny?” he asked quickly.
“He’s got her,” Harry replied frantically. “HE’S GOT HER!”
“WHO’S GOT WHO?” Ron yelled.
“Ginny! Lucius Malfoy has Ginny!” Harry ground out tensely. “One minute she was sitting beside me, the next she had vanished.”
“Ginny?” Ron said, panic creeping into his voice. “Lucius Malfoy has Ginny? Why? Where?”
Borgin thought for a moment. “Can’t Apparate within the grounds. Portkey, most likely.”
“Do you know where to?” Hermione asked.
Nathan paused for a moment and looked at Harry. Harry’s eyes bored into his. Borgin nodded.
“I know where he has her. I’ll explain on the way. Come on,” Borgin urged as he started back toward the castle grounds.
+++++
“It should have been me,” Harry whispered angrily as they made their way into the Forbidden Forest.
“I don’t think he wanted you, Harry,” Borgin explained quietly. “He wanted Ginny.”
“But why?” Harry asked harshly.
“Voldemort doesn’t want to bring people back from the dead, Harry. He wants to avoid dying altogether,” Nathan explained quickly. “He knows you have the ability to defeat him because it was prophesized. He is taking the steps necessary to remove any chance that you will.
“Near the time of my father’s death, he discovered that, through a combination of spells, there was the possibility that a person would be able to achieve immortality.”
“What do you mean ‘a combination of spells’?” Hermione asked frantically. “If it was that easy, why aren’t there books on the subject?”
“Because it’s not that simple and it’s banned,” Nathan countered. “When Malfoy said he wanted to go beyond our school activities, go beyond revival, I had no idea he meant immortality. I just made the connection tonight after receiving a parcel from my uncle. The Order discovered it tonight as well. This is magic at its most experimental. There is no proof that this will work.”
“Voldemort already believes he is immortal,” Harry bit out.
“True, he does believe that. But my fath-“
“But your father’s work is ludicrous!” Harry hissed.
“Some of it, yes,” Nathan said, grabbing Harry’s arm and turning him to face him. Eye to eye, Nathan began to explain. “Harry, you know from class that ancient magic is organic. It is very emotional based. Wizards who practice ancient magic believe the very pulse of everything flows through us -- in our blood.”
Harry nostrils flared. Nathan could see Harry had little, if any, patience left. He spoke faster.
“When Voldemort returned, he took some of your blood, correct?” Nathan asked.
Barely nodding, Harry could still hear Wormtail’s voice, gasping in agony, saying those words — “Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.” Involuntarily, Harry shuddered.
“By taking your blood, Voldemort returned to power; but there is more to the spell, Harry. Your blood in his veins makes a small part of him, however little it may be, human again. In humans, love, the emotion of the heart, is the ultimate power. It can heal just as easily as it can kill. My father wrote about this; now Voldemort knows this,” Nathan took a deep breath and rushed on.
“My father found out that if the blood of the enemy is combined with the blood of the enemy’s heart, or true love, within the same wizard, true immortality can be achieved.”
Harry shook his head. This was absurd, even by wizarding standards. No, he shook his head again. No. “NO!” he shouted.
“I don’t understand,” Hermione broke in. “How can that be?”
“True loves endures all things,” Nathan said quietly. “It is immortality in its purest form.”
Then he paused. “There is a catch, though.”
“What catch?” Ron breathed, pale as snow.
“Ginny would have to willingly give her blood,” Nathan stated.
Harry stared at him. “She would never do that. She would die before she would do that.”
“She won’t die, at least not right away. Once she dies, her blood looses its life giving properties. They will keep her alive until the spell is done,” Nathan said quietly. “As far as willingly giving her blood, unfortunately, under the Imperius Curse, she may not have a choice.”
Something Borgin said back at the pub finally soaked into Ron’s frantic thoughts. “How do you know where she is?” he asked suddenly.
“Because I showed him where to take her,” Borgin answered.
+++++
The foursome crouched behind the brambles separating them from the clearing. On the far edge, Harry saw the limp figure of Ginny. Harry started forward, but Borgin held him back nodding toward the circle. Lucius Malfoy stood in the center, a glass vial held above his head. Harry could see his lips moving, two Death Eaters surrounding him, wands out, pointed toward the vial. Borgin released Harry’s cloak and leaned over.
“Allow me two minutes,” he breathed and stood up, motioning for the trio to stay put.
Stepping into the clearing, Borgin surveyed his surroundings. Crumpled on the ground where Malfoy had pushed her, Ginny lay, her chest barely rising and lowering. Her hands were bound, and there was a cut just above her wrist that continued to ooze blood. Her eyes stared at Borgin, glassy and unseeing. Bastard, Borgin seethed. Looking up, he composed himself.
“Good evening, Lucius,” Borgin said in a calm, disinterested tone.
“Nathan,” Malfoy said suspiciously. “This is unexpected.”
The distrust in Malfoy’s eyes confirmed the suspicion in Borgin’s mind. The reason Malfoy had not told him any particulars was Malfoy wanted all the glory. The rewards he believes the Dark Lord will bestow on him must be unimaginable, Borgin thought.
“I was on my way home from chaperoning the dinner. Your son, by the way, left early. I noticed Miss Weasley was missing. I had an inkling she might be with you,” Borgin noted casually, walking around the circle. “Potter was missing, too. Do you have him as well?”
“No,” Malfoy sneered, “although it would make my evening complete if I could deliver Potter, too.”
“You have taken the girl’s blood?” Borgin commented, nodding toward Ginny’s still form.
“Yes. It has been mixed with the Dark Lord’s, and we have started the incantation. When finished, it only has to be reunited in the Dark Lord’s body,” Malfoy said, eyes bright with demented excitement.
“Are you sure you did it properly?” Borgin asked, stopping so he blocked Ginny from Malfoy’s view.
“What do you mean, Nathan?” Malfoy snarled.
“I received a parcel from my uncle’s shop today, Lucius. It included an addendum to a manuscript that went missing several months ago. The manuscript was one of my father’s finest achievements; however, it contained some grave errors. He corrected some of them, but never had the chance to rewrite the original.” Borgin stared directly into Malfoy’s bloodshot eyes. “His immortality spell was incorrect,” he finished coldly.
Malfoy looked at Borgin, his eyes disbelieving slits. He shifted slightly, bringing his hands into the glow of the Death Eaters’ wands. Harry could tell from where he was crouched that Malfoy held a clear vial full of a deep red liquid. His stomach churned as he realized what was in it. Harry heard Hermione gasp and felt Ron grip his shoulder to steady himself. They watched horrified as the vial shook in Malfoy’s hands, the brownish liquid sloshing from side to side.
“No,” Malfoy hissed, shaking his head. “No, you are wrong. You are lying. You betray the Dark Lord!” He stepped back and tripped over a root, righting himself at the last minute.
“No, Lucius, I’m not betraying Lord Voldemort,” Borgin pushed. “My father discovered a flaw in his original spell work. What you have there will not give the Dark Lord ever lasting life. It will give him death.”
Malfoy raised his wand, pointing it directly at Borgin’s chest.
“Nathan, this was supposed to be your finest hour. Now it will be your last.
“Crucio.”
Harry exploded from the bushes as Borgin hit the ground, screaming and writhing in pain. Pointing his wand at Malfoy, Harry bellowed, “EXPELLIARMUS!”
Malfoy’s wand went flying as he was knocked backwards. Malfoy pushed himself back up and shoved the vial into his robe pocket. His wand landed at Ron’s feet. Ron burst from the bushes, picking up Malfoy’s wand, only to be sent backwards by a stream of red sparks from the side. One of the Death Eaters had attacked him, making him loose hold on both his and Malfoy’s wands. Malfoy lunged for his, scooping it up and pointing it at Ron.
“CRUCIO!”
Ron dove behind a fallen tree trunk, the spell burning into the bark. Malfoy whipped around to face Harry.
“POTTER! I should have known you would come looking for your girlfriend. Well, you won’t be much use to her after I kill you. Tonight, I will give the Dark Lord everything he wants,” Malfoy laughed insanely.
“NO!” Harry shouted pointing his wand toward Malfoy. ”EXPELLIARMUS!”
Malfoy fell backwards, tripping over the roots on the ground, loosing his grip on his wand once more.
”ACCIO WAND!”
Malfoy’s wand flew through the air toward Harry’s outstretched hand. Before he caught it, Harry was tackled, folding over from the force of Lucius Malfoy physically throwing himself at him. Harry hit the ground, the weight of the much larger wizard crushing him into the hard dirt floor. Malfoy rolled off Harry and dove for his wand. Harry struggled to his feet. A searing pain burst from his scar causing him to drop to his knees, his head in his hands, blinded by the exploding anger Voldemort was feeling somewhere at this very moment.
Wand drawn, Hermione burst from the bushes and ran to Ginny. Resting her hand on Ginny’s chest, Hermione felt movement, slight but there nonetheless. “Hang in there, Ginny. You’re going to be okay,” she whispered.
“HERMIONE! WATCH OUT!” Ron yelled as a Death Eater approached.
Hermione felt a force send her backwards. She hit the ground, her head slamming into the dirt and the world went black. Ron charged from behind the trunk and grabbed at his wand. Pointing it at the Death Eater, he screamed.
”STUPEFY!”
The Death Eater fell forward as a flash of scarlet light shot from his wand hitting Ron in the chest. Knocked off his feet, Ron fell backward. Malfoy whipped around and pointed his wand at Ron.
”PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”
Ron felt his body go rigid and a feeling of helplessness wash over him.
Borgin struggled to his feet. “LUCIUS! THE VIAL? WHERE IS IT?” he shouted harshly.
Malfoy whirled around and reached into his robe pocket.
Pressing his palms to his forehead, Harry pulled himself to his feet. Malfoy stood in the middle of the clearing. Ron and Hermione were crumpled heaps on the forest floor. The two Death Eaters surrounding Malfoy were barely standing. Borgin limped toward Malfoy, his wand outstretched. Harry raised his wand.
“Lucius, listen to me. You cannot do this!” Borgin panted. “Give me the vial.”
”You cannot stop this,” Malfoy cackled evilly, holding the vial above his head in triumph, his eyes focused on Borgin.
Borgin inclined his head slightly.
From the far side of the circle, a voice, husky and weak, muttered, “Accio Wand.”
Harry felt all the hatred coursing through his veins travel down his arm and out his wand. ”STUPEFY!”
Simultaneously, Ginny leaned weakly up on her elbow, raised her wand, pointed it at the vial and whispered, “Reducto.”
Malfoy was knocked off his feet by the force of the two spells. Ginny’s spell hit its target, shattering the glass vial, blood spraying forth, hissing as it made contact with skin. Malfoy’s screams of agony fell silent, his mouth frozen open in anguish.
“COVER YOURSELVES!” Nathan shouted.
The Death Eaters launched themselves toward Malfoy, one lunging to the ground, scrambling for something. Harry thought he saw a small flash of pink before they were all gone.
Falling over Ginny, Harry wrapped his cloak around their heads and pulled Ginny into him, wishing warmth into her frozen form.
The clearing was filled once more with the sounds of the forest.
“You can uncover your faces.”
Harry felt Nathan place a hand on his shoulder. He threw off the cloak and looked around the clearing. Malfoy and the Death Eaters were gone. In the midst of the scuffle and scorch marks, crimson smoke rose out of spatter holes. Looking up, Harry saw a flash of scarlet sail across the break in the trees. He looked at Professor Borgin.
“I’ll explain when we return to the castle, Harry. Let’s get Ginny and the others up to the hospital wing.”
Harry nodded and gathered Ginny into his arms. When did she get so little? he thought. He kicked something and almost tripped. Looking down, he saw his mum’s poetry book. Sinking down, Harry rested Ginny on his knees and reached out for the tome. Slipping it into his cloak pocket, he stood back up. Ginny’s eyes flickered open.
"Harry?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Yeah?” Harry said roughly.
"We have to stop doing this." Ginny smiled weakly up at him before closing her eyes and loosing consciousness.
++++
A/N - I've been stressing about this chapter for a couple of weeks now. I wrote the last two chapters of this tale before the first two, or anything in the middle for that matter, just to make sure I knew where all of this was going. At that time, I knew Voldemort's immortality was subject to interpretation, and I used mine.
Then, after posting eight chapters, I was doing a little fact checking to make sure everything was just so when I googled (for grins) the debate over Voldemort's immortality (Is he? Is he not? If he is, how can he be defeated?). While I knew it was a hot topic, I had no idea how HOT! (I live in my own little world, what can I say?)
I now know more theories about this (The spell rebounded off of Harry so it wasn't full strength! Tom Riddle's locked inside himself! He's hidden his soul in Gringotts! The phoenix feather in his wand saved him! And my favorite - Voldemort's a vampire!) than I care to admit. And of course, adding to my tizzy, this was happening during our winter break so I had two wound up kids running around the house with NOTHING to do except to ask Mom why she was pulling her hair out and when is Dad going to be home?
Finally my beta told me basically to get a grip, do what I needed to do for my peace of mind and move on! (She's so great!). So, here you go. No matter where you land on the immortality debate, I hope you enjoyed this chapter in the spirit it was offered, that being for entertainment.
Thanks!
Chapter 12: Destiny
Disclaimer — I do not own or make money from the Harry Potter world.Summer sun streamed through the tall windows of the hospital wing, warming the shoulders of the people standing off to the side of Ginny's bed. Voices echoed in Ginny’s subconscious. She felt their pull to come out, to wake up -- but not yet. She wasn’t ready.
“How are the others?” her mind registered Dumbledore asking quietly.
“Fine. Some spell damage to both. I’ve released them already,” Madam Pomfrey explained before leaning closer and speaking in hushed tones.
"How is she?" Mum?
"She'll be fine," Madam Pompfrey replied.
"The spell -- it isn't real. It's just the ramblings of a demented wizard, isn't it?" Molly asked tensely.
"I’m afraid not, Molly," Dumbledore answered. "The spell is real enough; however, Professor Borgin believes the version used here may have been incomplete. He is looking into it."
"Has she said anything? Has she woken up?" Dad?
"Molly, Arthur, she's had a rather big shock. Not to mention the fact that she suffered severe spell damage and lost a lot of blood -- more than most adult witches would be able to handle," Professor Dumbledore cautioned.
"When will she wake up?" Molly asked, her voice beginning to rise. She’s wringing her hands, Ginny sensed. It’ll be okay, Mum!
"I'm keeping her sedated to help her heal," Madam Pompfrey explained, "but, to be honest, I'm not sure I need to. She seems to have escaped into herself in order to heal emotionally as well as physically. I understand from Professor Borgin that this is not unexpected with this form of magic. "
"What should we do?" Arthur Weasley asked in a hushed tone.
"Poppy has consulted with St. Mungo’s and they agree that time is what Ginny needs. Seeing as how term is over and the students will be going home for the summer, you are more than welcome to stay here," Dumbledore offered. "However, if you feel a home environment would be better, we can see that she is moved comfortably back to the Burrow."
"Let's take her home, Arthur," Molly urged.
"Poppy," Mr. Weasley ventured, "you said Ginny is healing emotionally as well as physically. Is there anything we can do?"
Madame Pompfrey exchanged a meaningful look with Dumbledore before walking around to check her patient's temperature.
"Ginny needs comfort and love - from her family, from Harry,” Dumbledore said softly gazing at Molly and Arthur over his half moon glasses.
"He will come, won't he?" Molly asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Harry can come to the Burrow?"
"Harry will come as soon as he’s able," Dumbledore assured her quietly. "We'll see to it."
Madame Pompfrey felt the creases on Ginny's forehead relax under her palm and watched Ginny's chest, noticing her labored breathing melt into deep, relaxed healing sleep.
++++
“I want to stay here with her.”
“You can’t right now, Harry,” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m sorry. She needs time to heal, and you need to return to your aunt and uncle’s.”
“No. I will stay here,” Harry repeated forcefully.
“Harry, you don’t have a choice,” Dumbledore firmly stated.
“I don’t seem to have a choice in anything, do I?” Harry ground out.
“Actually, Harry, you have lots of choices,” Professor Borgin said from behind. “But I think Ginny would want you to return to your aunt and uncle’s, as it gives you a better chance of being around for a long, long time.” Borgin approached Dumbledore’s desk and sat down in the chair next to Harry’s.
Frustrated, Harry lashed out at his Headmaster.
“WHERE WERE YOU? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE NEEDED YOU?” he shouted, glaring at Dumbledore.
“He was there,” Borgin said quietly.
Harry whipped around. Staring at Borgin, a flash of red flew across his mind. Glancing over Dumbledore’s shoulder, Harry felt himself deflate as he looked at Fawkes.
“How could you let this happen?” he asked the Phoenix. Fawkes cocked his head to the side as if to say, I didn’t. You’re okay.
“We didn’t let it happen, Harry,” Borgin explained quietly. “You knew as much as we did.”
“Nathan, did you confirm your theory?” Dumbledore interrupted, his eyes focused on Harry’s face.
“What theory?” Harry asked looking first at Dumbledore than at Borgin.
“My father’s passion was death. It was a subject he studied endlessly. The more he studied, the more he was able to prove or disprove. His immortality theories were some of the last he worked on. In fact, he was in the process of updating the now-missing manuscript at the time of his death.”
“Updating?” Harry asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the missing manuscript was incomplete. As I told Malfoy, there was an addendum to the spell he attempted to perform. My uncle located it in the last of my father’s personal effects and sent it to me. I received it the day of the attack but did not open it until that evening. You see, Malfoy did perform the spell correctly. And yes, it is true, should Voldemort ever have yours and Ginny’s blood flowing through him, he would be…undefeatable,” Nathan admitted.
“However, once again, you have to remember the basic fundamental piece of ancient magic is the blood. And in Ginny’s case, while her blood was somewhat willingly given, at the time it was given, it was flowing with hatred. The combination of her hatred and Voldemort’s blood caused an acidic reaction forming a solution that would burn through anything, including human flesh.
“My father discovered this quirk and realized no witch and wizard would willingly give blood to an enemy without hatred, therefore, the spell would never properly work under these circumstances. He had written the addendum but never inserted it into the manuscript.”
“So,” Harry began slowly, soaking up this new information, “there is still the possibility that Voldemort could do this as long as Ginny and I are…”
“In theory, yes,” Borgin admitted. “Would it work?” he shrugged.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said gently, “there is always the possibility that Lord Voldemort will figure out a way to do anything. That does not mean under any circumstances we should give up the things that fulfill us and make us complete. From those things we gain our greatest strengths.”
Standing up, Dumbledore walked around to the front of his desk. “Now, Nathan,” he said, “have you heard what is to become of the remainder of your father’s work?”
“Yes, Professor,” Borgin answered also rising to his feet. “The Ministry is in the process of confiscating what they can locate of my father’s estate. I understand they are shortsightedly disposing of it. While I may never respect the man, after this, I cannot help but respect his work.”
Dumbledore nodded.
Turning to Harry, Borgin asked, “Harry, care to walk with me?
Harry stood up and numbly followed Professor Borgin out of Dumbledore’s office. When they gained the hallway, Borgin motioned for Harry to follow him into a nearby alcove.
“Harry, I wanted to say thank you for trusting me in the forest. I know how difficult it must have been for you to be stationary while Ginny was in danger,” he said. “And I wanted you to know Dumbledore wanted to be there in person, but we didn't want to make Malfoy suspicious. Had Dumbledore been present, it would have ruined a term’s worth of groundwork.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Groundwork?”
“My purpose for being here at Hogwarts is twofold. The first is to fill the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. The second is to befriend Lucius Malfoy.“ Borgin paused to gauge Harry’s reaction. “Do you understand, Harry?”
Harry thought for a minute. Lucius Malfoy was one of Voldemort’s confidants. To befriend Lucius Malfoy meant to befriend Voldemort. Recognition dawned on Harry’s face.
“I’m a second ‘in’ for The Order -- one with less suspicious baggage,” Borgin affirmed quietly. “I’m not a Death Eater who left the fold.”
Harry nodded slowly and then asked the question that had been nagging at him for hours. “Would the blood really have killed Voldemort?”
“I don’t know, Harry,” Borgin said. “Maybe, maybe not. But it certainly would have done some damage.”
++++
The door chimes sounded at number four, Privet Drive. Harry heard the floorboards squeak and the click of the door handle. Aunt Petunia's gasp could be heard all the way upstairs in his room. He took that as a good sign.
"Who are you?" he heard Aunt Petunia ask harshly.
"Bill Weasley. I'm here for Harry."
Harry grimly stood up from his bed. Sliding his wand into his jeans pocket, Harry grabbed his trunk. He had never unpacked. He opened his door then picked up Hedwig's empty cage. She was out hunting but would know where he went.
"Good. BOY!”
Harry clenched his jaw shut, repeating the thought that had kept him going the past two weeks. Soon. I’ll see Ginny soon. I can do this, and then I’ll be able to see Ginny again. Standing on the landing at the top of the stairs, Harry could tell by the stoop of Bill's shoulders that he was exhausted. He knew that, of all her brothers, Bill and Ginny had always shared a special bond. As if sensing Harry’s presence, Bill looked up. Harry could see the lines of worry etched deeply around his eyes.
Harry descended the stairs. Aunt Petunia winced every time his trunk thumped and banged on a step. Stopping on the last step, Bill moved toward Harry. Bill rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder momentarily. Perhaps he was imagining it, but Harry thought he could feel the weight of the war in the palm sending warmth down his arm. Bill’s hand lifted, fisted in midair, and fell back to his side.
Bill's reddened eyes looked into Harry's. "She's going to be alright," he said quietly. Harry nodded.
Harry could feel Aunt Petunia's eyes on him. He turned to her and nodded. Her chin raised, she looked down her nose at him, turned on her heal and walked stiffly into the kitchen.
"You ready?" Bill asked quietly. Harry nodded again.
Holding out a chipped blue coffee mug, Bill took Hedwig's cage from Harry's hand. Harry placed a finger on the rim of the mug and felt the familiar tug behind his navel of a Portkey. Harry stumbled as his feet hit the floor of the kitchen in the Burrow. Straightening up, Harry looked around the kitchen, which was empty except for Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a matching blue mug.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, standing up and moving toward him to give him a quick hug. "She's in her room. She knew you were coming," she added quietly, taking his trunk from him, giving it to Bill and maneuvering Harry toward the stairs.
"Does she know what happened?" Harry asked.
"Yes, we told her when she woke up. She wouldn't let us keep it to ourselves. She's rather stubborn, you know," Mrs. Weasley smiled gently at him and gave him a little push.
Harry smiled weakly in return and climbed the stairs. Facing the door to Ginny's room, Harry took a deep breath to compose himself and slowly turned the handle.
Dressed in her nightgown and dressing gown, Ginny sat on her bed, staring out the window. She turned as Harry entered. She blinked and focused her eyes. It took a few moments for her to realize who she was looking at. A gush of emotion she'd been holding at bay until she saw him exploded in her chest. Tears burned behind her eyes as she launched herself toward him. Harry stumbled slightly as Ginny wrapped herself around him, his arms hesitantly circling her waist. He felt her soft hair against his cheek and closed his eyes. Pulling her as close as she would come, Harry breathed deep.
"Harry," she said, her voice husky from unshed tears and lack of use. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I never knew - I never knew what you were facing."
Surprised, Harry opened his eyes. This wasn’t what he had expected. "Ginny, I — I wish you didn't know," he stammered, letting go of her.
"I know," she answered quietly.
Harry sat down on the trunk across from her bed, studying her face. She looked older, somehow.
Sitting back down on her bed, Ginny closed her eyes, suddenly very tired. She laid her head down on her pillow. Harry watched her for a minute, realizing she must still be very weak from her ordeal. Needing to be close to her, Harry moved to the bed, lying down behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about the book. Was it badly damaged?"
"No," he answered, "not too badly."
Kissing her gently behind the ear, he felt her relax and listened as her breathing became deep and even in sleep. The fear he had been holding off cascaded through him. He could not bear to loose her. He felt tears begin to burn behind his eyes. Pushing these thoughts away, he closed his eyes to join her. He would have this time with her.
++++
When Ginny awoke, she was alone. Judging by the position of the sun, she guessed it was around noon. She rolled onto her back, feeling the blanket between her fingers, touching the pillow where Harry's head had left an impression. She listened to the sounds of the Burrow, the bangs from the attic, the clangs from the kitchen, the conversations from outside. Things were going to be okay.
The door to her room creaked open. Harry poked his head around the door, his hands cradling a mug. Ginny could see the steam rising off the liquid, fogging the bottom half of his glasses. She smiled at him and sat up, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her muscles felt sore and tired from lack of use, but for the first time in weeks, her mind felt clear.
"Hi," she smiled shyly at Harry.
"Hi back," he said, standing in the doorway. "You're mum thought you might be hungry."
"Yeah," she said. "Actually, I am."
Harry walked over and sat down on the trunk across from her again. He looked awkward and nervous, which Ginny found somewhat amusing considering where he had spent the last couple of hours. Ginny took the cup from his hands and sipped. As the warmth of the chicken soup seeped through her, she looked at Harry over the rim of the mug. He was looking at his hands clasped tightly between his knees.
Ginny lowered the mug. She rested one hand on his knee. Harry looked up, into her eyes.
"It's okay, Harry," Ginny started, "I'm okay."
"No, it's not okay. It's-it’s not okay," Harry replied, his voice breaking. He stood up and began pacing, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans in frustration. "You shouldn't be put through this! You don't need to be put through this."
"What do you mean? This isn’t your fault-"
"Yes it is! As long as you and I are dating, you are in danger."
"Harry, you're being stupid!"
“Ginny, don’t you understand? As long as I love you and you love me, he’ll want your blood. He thinks your blood will make him unstoppable!”
“But Borgin told Malfoy the blood would kill Voldemort!”
“Borgin told Malfoy the spell was incomplete. If Voldemort thinks it’s just a matter of missing spell work, he’ll come back for you. And when he does…” Harry felt his throat closing up at the thought of Ginny dying. Turning away from her, Harry took a deep breath. “And when he does, you’ll…you’ll die.”
“Harry, you aren’t making sense!”
The walls were beginning to close in on him. He was beginning to find it hard to breathe. “I won't let him kill you because of me!"
Harry pulled the door open and stormed out. Ginny watched his retreating back and pushed herself off the bed, her wobbly legs strengthened by the anger coursing through her. She shoved her window sash open and stuck her head out. A summer breeze brushed her face. She filled her lungs with fresh air.
Surveying the garden, Ginny saw her dad dismantling his latest Muggle acquisition, an “eclectic toaster oven”. Bill was repairing the broom shed door which had been badly damaged when the twins’ experimental confetti shooting mistletoe exploded six months early. Her mum was waving her wand, directing weeds from the vegetable patch into a pail sitting by her feet. Looking down, Ginny saw Harry storm out the Burrow door. She took a deep breath.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"
Harry whipped around and looked up, along with every other Weasley within earshot.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she shouted at him again. "You are an IDIOT! You can't get rid of me. I am part of your life! You need me and I need you. Sure! Fine! Chalk it up to one more thing you have no choice in! After all these years, can't you get it through your thick skull you are stuck with me? I love you and I won’t let you go! That is what's written in my heart and you can go write that in the bloody stars!" Ginny pulled her head in and slammed her window sash down.
Harry stared dumbfounded at the closed window. A deep chuckle came from behind him. Harry turned his head to see Mr. Weasley standing in front of the shed. He walked over and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry, there's nothing you can do, son."
"Sir?"
"I'm sure your father would have told you the same. When you give your heart to a redheaded witch, she'll never give it back. But then again," Arthur Weasley continued, smiling, looking at his wife, "You'll never want it back either."
Mr. Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder and headed over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek.
++++
“Good Evening, Firenze. Another beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“Good Evening, Headmaster. The stars are exceptionally bright tonight.”
“Really? I will have to remember to pull the covers over my head, then, to get a good night sleep.”
“They sleep well for tonight,” the centaur commented before turning to walk back to the castle.
Dumbledore gazed up at the crystal clear night. “For tonight,” he repeated softly.
++++
Molly stopped in the doorway of the sitting room. Arthur walked up behind her and placed his hands on her upper arms and looked over her shoulder. Harry in his pajamas and Ginny in her nightgown and robe were snuggled up on the sofa, supposedly asleep in front of the fire.
“Leave them be, Molly,” Arthur said smiling gently and turning his wife toward the stairs. “No harm will come of it.”
Molly smiled. “I know,” she answered, eyes twinkling. “I took care of that.”
Harry waited until he heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Ginny?” he whispered.
“Hmm?” she answered as she snuggled closer.
Harry groaned inwardly. This was almost as bad as that dress, he thought ruefully. “What did your mum mean by ‘I took care of that’?”
Ginny giggled and moved her head back so she could look into Harry’s eyes. “When Bill started dating, Mum began putting anti-Entrancing Enchantment charms on the sofa. Whenever anyone crosses Mum’s line of what she considered acceptable snogging on the sofa, she fixed it so the cushions would start screeching so loud, they could be heard from the attic to the garden. Come to think of it, it actually sounds a lot like Mermish,” she mused.
“Ginny,” Harry asked nervously, “Uh, what does your mum think acceptable?”
“Not to worry," Ginny said as she reached up to remove Harry's glasses. "Let’s just say, with six older brothers, I’ve had plenty of time to observe my mum charming this sofa. If my brothers had been more observant, they, too, would have figured out the counter charm. Bill owes me a few favors, so..." she shrugged smiling. "Just remind me to have him put it back on later. Hermione arrives next week,” Ginny whispered impishly.
Harry grinned.
“I love you, Ginny Weasley,” he said softly as he leaned down to kiss his destiny.
+++++
AN — Well, there you have it. My heartfelt thanks to all who provided wonderful feedback which helped shape this story. Writing this has been an incredible learning experience in part due to you. Your insight and input were greatly appreciated and I believe made a for better story and a better author!
And again, all my thanks to my beta Lindsay. You were an invaluable asset!
Now I know, I’ve left a few burning questions there (Among others - Will Voldemort & Borgin ever meet? What happens to Malfoy? And I know the most burning one - Will Harry ever get to dance with Ginny? :) ). I’m working on seeing if I can answer some of them with a Part II. wvchemteach gave me an awesome plot bunny that is coming along nicely. Of course, it is spring and spring training is in full swing (Go Mariners!) so writing is going a little slowly, but I hope to not keep anyone who is wanting to read more, hanging for long.
Much like Dumbledore and Nathan, I have always loved to escape in a good story. I hope my story provided you with such a fun way to spend a little of your precious time. Thank you for reading, reviewing and hanging in there! Wahoo!
The Sequel is now up - Blood of the Heart.