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Harry Potter and the Serpent's Coven | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 90 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** Harry Potter realises that returning to Hogwarts for his final year is the only way he will succeed in his quest to destroy Lord Voldemort. It is a year of darkness, horror and new discoveries. Ginny Weasley is not only the witch who possesses Harry's heart, but also the true source of his strength as a wizard. Together, they will find new powers within themselves and each other, and find that there are some things that even the darkest magic cannot break. Hitcount: Story Total: 170729; Chapter Total: 4554 |
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Owing to the enchantments placed upon The Burrow, Ginny was the only one of the two who was able to open the front door. She and Harry immediately made their way up to the top floor. “Now,” said Ginny, slowly catching her breath, “what exactly was so important?” Harry sat on his bed and stared at the floor, utterly unsure of how to begin. After an overly long silence, Ginny began to worry. “Harry?” He raised his head and looked at her gravely. “Ginny, I am about to tell you something terrible,” he began, “something that I dearly wish wasn’t true. If I could make it untrue, I would.” Ginny let these words linger as he continued. “Whatever happens, I will understand any reaction you have. Tears, anger, disbelief; you may want to run away, break something, or even attack me, just for being the bearer of bad news. Everyone will have to be told soon, but I couldn’t bear to tell them until after the wedding.” She smiled kindly at him. “Harry, listen to me. Since the day I fell in love with you, I have thought about what it would be like to have you, then lose you; what it would be like if I could never see you again. You’ve had a way of attracting danger for a long time, so believe me, I’ve been preparing myself for bad news.” Harry returned to contemplating his shoes. He knew Ginny was a strong witch, and a very brave one too, but he still wasn’t sure if he had the heart to tell her. It was only when he heard the voice of his conscience inside telling him that it would be far worse not to, that he began. “Remember when you and Hermione woke me up in the small hours and I had to take a scout around in the garden with Tonks?” He paused as she nodded. “Well…I…we…did find something.” He swallowed hard, fearing that he was about to be sick all over Ginny’s dress, and stared her determinedly in the eye. “Ginny…” he stammered, “Percy’s dead.” The change in her expression was so gradual that for a moment, Harry thought she hadn’t heard him properly. It wasn’t disbelief and it wasn’t anger. He could have handled the situation better if it had been, but what he saw was far worse. It was pure, stone cold sadness, bleak and helpless. He watched as her face slowly fell, never daring to imagine what was going on in her mind. The silence was becoming like an immense gulf between them. “How?” she said quietly. “We found him near the house, wrapped in some kind of shroud with the Dark Mark floating above him. It was getting light, so it wasn’t very clear in the sky. They must have levitated the body there from quite a long distance, because there was no way they could’ve got anywhere near us themselves.” Ginny took a deep, shaky breath before she replied. “What did they do to him?” she asked. This was a clearly a subject to be handled delicately. Harry found it particularly difficult with flashing pictures of Percy’s mutilated body in his head. “I really don’t know,” he said, hoping that he sounded convincing enough, “I really wouldn’t want to think about that. There was a message er…left on him. It just said ‘Consequences’. Ginny, I am so sorry.” As he looked up, her head was bowed towards the floor. These may have been the early moments, and the shock of it may have still been sinking in, But Harry thought she was being remarkably brave about the whole thing. He rested his face in his hands and marveled at how fast things had changed. His life, the lives of everyone in this world; he just wanted it all to slow down so that he would have time to think. He could now hear nothing in the room but a faint tapping. Listening carefully, he lifted his head and looked around. Many moments passed before he discovered the source of the noise. It was Ginny’s tears splashing softly against the floorboards. Only when she sniffed and wiped a hand across her eyes did she speak again. “I threw food at him,” she began slowly, “It was the last time I would ever hear his voice…and I threw food at him.” “Ginny, come on, nobody could have seen this happening,” said Harry gently, “You mustn’t beat yourself up over it, not when it’s so clear who’s to blame.” She tried to be comforted by this, but wasn’t finding it easy to do so. “Harry, he was my brother! He may have been a first class prick, but he was still my brother, and whatever else he deserved, he didn’t deserve this!” There was nothing he could really say to this. Every word she said was true, and all he could do was be there for her if she needed him. Still, he felt should say something. “Listen, if you want me to go — “ “I don’t,” she said quickly, “Just…just stay, please.” Harry sat there, struggling to find words of comfort. He knew what it was like to lose someone close, but this didn’t make the situation any easier. What could he do? It was then that he remembered the diary that Hermione had given him. He reached behind his trunk and withdrew the large black leather-bound book. Ginny looked on in curiosity as he opened it. On the first page were simply written the names Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. “I started writing in this after I came back upstairs that morning. I couldn’t sleep at all, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone about it, so all I could do was think and write.” He handed it to her, and lay back on the bed as she turned the page and read the ink that had suddenly appeared. ‘The first life taken was one too many. The first bridge crossed was one too far One day soon, the suffering shall be his A day that judges all. There is blood, there is pain But the agony is not in vain For there’s life after death Where son of Gryffindor shall be at rest.’ She stared at the page, trying to smile within her grief. “Harry,” she said. He sat up and looked into her emerald green eyes. “What is it?” he enquired anxiously. “Thank you,” she replied. Then, for the second time in a week, Harry felt Ginny’s tears on his shoulder. Resting his head on hers, he slowly drifted off to sleep. They were suddenly roused by the voice of Molly Weasley. “You two!” she squawked, “Are you determined to make me nothing but a bundle of nerves? I’d been looking here, there and everywhere!” They both rubbed their eyes and hastened to explain. “Harry told Ron to tell you that we were coming back here,” yawned Ginny. Before Harry could get a word in edgeways, Mrs. Weasley continued. “Oh well, that’s very considerate of you, but your messenger boy must have got distracted somehow, because you’d been gone well over an hour before he thought to let me know. You are both well aware of how important it is that we stick together! Anything could’ve happened!” Taking a deep, calming breath, and acknowledging that neither of the two had come to any harm, her voice became rational once more. “Anyway, everyone’s downstairs having a drink if you want to come down and join us. Well, everyone but a certain son of mine who obviously thought it beneath him to attend his own brother’s wedding and never sent so much as a word of explanation! Mark my words, he’ll be getting a howler at work first thing tomorrow!” And with that, she scurried back down the staircase. Ginny didn’t even have to look at Harry to know what he was thinking, and Harry could tell that she knew. “I’ll tell them all tomorrow morning,” he said, “I just don’t think I can handle that much sorrow at the moment.” Ginny remained silent. She knew that it was difficult for him too, but her thoughts were far too chaotic for her to be able to talk with him about it. What he had told her still seemed a little unreal. This was like something she might read in the Daily Prophet, something that had happened to other people, but she had always thought of her family as survivors. There were voices in her head that reminded her of how three family members, herself included, had narrowly escaped death, and it was all down to the young wizard whose arm was resting around her shoulders. That was why she had to accept what had happened. After the lives he had saved, she knew he would never lie or joke about something like this. However, it was not just the death of her brother that troubled her. “Harry,” she said, getting to her feet, “I’d like to be alone for a while.” He stood up and hugged her tightly. “I’ll be here for you if you want to talk or anything,” he said as she turned to leave. At the same time the following day, Harry found himself in exactly the same place, sitting back on his bed, deep in thought, but the atmosphere had changed and there was nothing he could do about it. With the exception of Ginny and Bill (the latter of whom was staying with his new wife in Hogsmeade for a few days), the family had been gathered around the kitchen table as Harry had related the sorrowful truth to them. He had tried to break the news as gently as he possibly could, but this was a blow that simply could not be cushioned. After the initial shock had been delivered, Harry felt a lump in his throat as there came loud sobs from Mrs. Weasley. Her equally stunned husband did his best to comfort her, but after the tragic facts of what had occurred, Harry himself could find no words of consolation for any of them. What was perhaps most haunting of all was the brave faces of Charlie, Fred, George and Ron. He knew they had been badly stung, but it was the thoughtful expressions masking the pain inside that made Harry wish that he could slip away unnoticed under his invisibility cloak. Hermione had put her arms around Ron, unable to stop herself from crying a little, and waiting for when he would also need a shoulder to cry on. All she could think was that she must have seen the silhouette of a fleeing Death Eater against the rising sun that morning. And there sat Harry, in the higher most room of The Burrow, trying again to understand how all this had come to be. It was late in the evening, and he had too much of a pounding headache to sleep. He felt it was something of an injustice that neither Tonks nor Lupin had been there for moral support, but they had apparently had to leave the wedding early on business with the Order. He watched Ron sleeping in the bed opposite, hoping that his sleep was as peaceful as it could be under the circumstances. Harry decided that he had be somewhere else. He ventured quietly down into the kitchen and found Mrs. Weasley sitting there with a heavily tearstained face and her hair in a mess. The wine bottle on the table was empty. She looked up as he approached, and managed a smile. “Ah, Harry,” she said, in a very cracked voice, “How are you?” “Well,” he began, joining her at the table, “I don’t suppose you have anything for headaches?” The moment these words were out of his mouth, he realised this was almost as idiotic as if he were asking Madame Pomfrey the question. It would be a tragic day indeed when Molly Weasley did not possess such remedies. With a flick of her wand, she summoned a small corked bottle of red liquid from a high cupboard and landed it in front of Harry. “Just gulp down a few drops of that,” she said lazily. He uncorked the bottle and took a small sip of the liquid. The moment it ran down his throat, he could feel the pain in his temples washing away. A brief look of contentment appeared on his face that Mrs. Weasley recognised immediately. “Better?” she asked. He nodded. “Well, everyone in this family has sworn by it at one time or another.” Harry decided that now might be the time to have a proper one-on-one conversation with her, something he couldn’t remember having done before in his life. Things had to be said. “Look, I am so sorry about what’s happened,” he said, returning the bottle to its home, “I know how painful it can be to lose someone, and I just wish that something could’ve been done to prevent it.” She could see what he was getting at straight away. “You can’t be everywhere at once, Harry,” she replied with a small laugh, “No, I should have been ready for something like this to happen. It’s happened to many magical families, and will probably happen to many more.” Harry wasn’t having any of this. Her response was actually angering him. “But it’s not something that we should just have to accept!” he returned, “You know better than I do why these things happen, and exactly who is behind it!” Some of the old fire then appeared in Mrs. Weasley’s complexion. “Of course I know who’s behind it, we all do! We don’t call him ‘You-Know-Who’ for nothing!” she seethed, “But how can it end? We’re all living in fear under a shadow that darkens every day, but what can any of us do about it?” Harry could not quite believe this, that a member of the Order of the Phoenix was taking such a defeatist stance. This time, he had no control over the words that just spilled out of him. “It will end when I destroy him,” he said coldly, “He and every one of his followers will pay for what they’ve done, I will see to that myself.” This took her aback. She gaped at him for a few seconds before she could speak again. “Listen Harry,” she croaked, “I know what people have said about you, and I know you’re as brave as any wizard I’ve encountered, but I know none who would be both brave and foolhardy enough to go after him alone. There is still so much you should know before even thinking about it!” Harry smiled at her. His exploits and decisions had often been considered ‘foolhardy’, even by his closest friends. Since the age of twelve, Mrs. Weasley had been the nearest he had had to a mother, as such, he needed her to know that hope was not lost. “Indeed there is, and Hogwarts is where I shall learn. No matter what happens, there will be four students returning for certain, to learn all that can be taught.” |
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