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The Life And Times Of A Human Cannonball
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 4
Summary: Harry, Ginny, and Ron are returning from Diagon Alley following the events there in Chamber Of Secrets. When a most unusual detour and life-altering experience occurs, lives and the future of their Wizarding world hang in the balance. If that wasn't enough, Harry has to decide if their tagalong guest is a help or a hindrance.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5421



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
For those who have never met him, this story introduces a young Spenser Hemmingway. He is an American original character who I utilize for perspective in the narrative and to explain the Americanisms in my writing.




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The Life And Times Of A Human Cannonball

By Spenser Hemmingway


“Stones taught me to fly, love taught me to lie, life taught me to die, so it's not hard to fall when you flow like a cannonball”–Damien Rice



It was August 1992. I wish that I had worn more practical shoes. I wish I could have kept my wand. I wish I hadn’t walked in on a private moment.

“Hermione…you can’t seriously believe all that rubbish Lockhart’s spouting in there? You of all people should know the difference between a fraud and a legitimate Defense instructor!” The red-haired boy stood perfectly rigid with his hands by his sides, but he was leaning in her direction as if that would be the best way to press his point. The girl seemed to be about his age, but with bushy brown hair, a slight overbite, and an aloof, albeit intelligent, expression on her face. For some reason, she seemed to be strangely familiar.

“Ronald, I am just saying that we should give him a fair chance. He does have the finest of credentials. Gilderoy Lockhart has written almost the entire reading list for our class this year. If you, in fact, understood such things…”

You do understand those things Hermione. That’s my point. You’re the smartest, best student. You’re…” He seemed to catch himself there. I wasn’t sure, but it almost seemed as if Ron was blushing–-embarrassed about what he was about to say. The girl seemed to share the experience, but only for a second before reverting to impatient frustration.

“I can’t talk to you right now Ron! Are all Weasleys so stubborn?” she blared. Hermione threw her head back and began to rub her temples as if to dramatize her irritation with him.

“At least as much. You should have seen Mum and Charlie go at it when he broke the news about his going off to Romania,” Ron told her. The fight was gone from his voice now. I saw indecision on Hermione’s face then, but it seemed to annoy her all the more. The two were obviously friends, but it wasn’t until much later that I understood how complicated their relationship was in those days.

“I…I need to go find my parents now,” she said in a quiet yet determined tone. She stormed off back inside the bookstore then, leaving an irritated Ron standing there in the street. He looked over at me, and I twisted my best apologetic grin, suddenly self-conscious for having been the eavesdropping stranger. If it concerned him, he didn’t show it. He merely stepped away to join a dark-haired boy, a pretty redheaded girl, and a man with a bleeding lip that I took to be Ron and the girl’s father. It was the first time that I had ever laid eyes on Harry and Ginny.

I stood there for another minute watching them, and I was suddenly very curious about the four. Even at twelve, and before I first tried my hand at real writing, I was a very inquisitive kid. I had already endured more than a couple stern lectures about becoming a nosy snoop, and one incident where I hurt a favorite aunt. Well, it had engraved discretion and good manners in me forever. With that said, I still couldn’t break my attention away from the small group standing before me. That is, at least, until the tower clock struck the hour. I had to go find my own lost father. I shouldn’t have let him go off to look inside the toy store that way.


*****



I was amazed at how it only took me an hour to locate Dad. Just as Arthur Weasley has always been fascinated by all things Muggle, my dad would be classified an absolute fanatic about our Magic heritage. As I have often mentioned in my stories, there are far fewer Wizards and Witches in America then there are in even London alone. Muggle Affairs, our version of Muggle Studies, is a required course in our country, not so much to learn about them as to study interaction and preserve our own culture. Dad took it all very seriously, and our short stay in England was, in fact, a fieldtrip of sorts.

After stopping to ask directions three times, and, in turn, being questioned why someone my age was running around the Alley alone, I finally found Dad inside a fly-fishing shop. In America, we generally refer to this sport as one where you caught the trout with hooks disguised as actual flies. This particular day, I learned that in other places people utilized magical tackle to catch genuine flying fish.

As we walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron, Dad kept up an endless lecture about the people, creatures, and things we passed. For example, I had first seen goblins during a trip to Germany when I was nine, but I stopped in my tracks when Dad pointed out a pair of shoe-elves tapping away at some boot soles in a shop we approached. Naturally, we have house-elves in Oregon, and I had even encountered larger beer-making and medium size toy elves, but the tiny pair before me was a brand-new experience. I really wished we could extend our little vacation there.

Approaching the tavern, we could hear the sound of thunder in the distance and knew we would soon be experiencing a late-summer storm. We quickened our pace then, not so much because we thought the rain was immanent, but rather knowing that the lightning accompanying it would seriously impede Apparating and the Floo Network. I really didn’t understand it, except that there was a strong elemental magic associated with the bolts. We only had a short time to utilize the fireplace to get back to our Wizard inn at Dover.

Once inside, and before my eyes could adjust to the darkness, I was struck with a wide variety of aromas that ranged from stale beer to a wonderful-smelling roast. The crowd was somewhat sparse, but it was early, and we still had a variety of British Wizardry to observe. As I began to see more clearly, I noted one plainly drunk patron levitating a pitcher of a light amber beer and attempting (unsuccessfully) to fill three mugs in the air with it. In one corner was a pair of dark-haired men in purple robes arm wrestling at a table. On either side were secured tiny saber-tooth creatures that would no doubt reward the loser’s bared arm with a nasty bite. Behind the bar was a tall, toothless bartender that someone addressed as Tom. The man was softly singing a nice sea ditty I recognized, and, contrary to his shabby appearance, he was actually very talented. The place was fascinating. Then I heard a familiar voice.

“Harry, it’s not so awful once you get used to it. You just need to pronounce the destination more clearly and slowly.” It was the red-haired boy named Ron that I had seen at the bookstore.

“I suppose I could do it, but I wish we had our brooms with us instead,” Harry replied. He removed his glasses, and started to put them in his coat pocket, but squinting then, he must have thought better of it, and so returned them to his face. Brushing his hair as he did so, it was then that I noticed his scar.

“Molly dear, I really…really wish that we could have taken a moment to discuss the Muggle bus stops with Doctor Granger,” the same gentleman from earlier asked a woman who was apparently his wife. Her own red hair clearly told me she was the matriarch of this family.

“Arthur, you heard the thunder. We must to be getting home while we still can. Besides, I need to get those pies into the oven so they’ll be ready for supper. You can find someone else to explain them to you…Harry perhaps.”

“Actually, your London bus system is pretty neat. We rode a double-decker yesterday,” I suddenly said. I wasn’t exactly sure why I had stepped over and interrupted. “Now this Floo thing…I’m pretty much in the dark about it. We don’t use them back home.”

“Yanks!” Arthur Weasley was suddenly as curious about Dad and me as he had been with the Muggle transit system.

“To be honest, the term Yankee is only still used in the northeastern part of our country,” Dad explained, smiling, introducing himself, and shaking hands with the Weasley parents. “There’s also a certain baseball team in New York that Spenser here hates as if they were pickled lima beans.”

The tavern clock struck two-thirty just then, and Mrs. Weasley’s apprehensive look was back.

“Arthur, we can send the children ahead. You can go last if you would like to talk to this gentleman for a bit more, but I won’t keep supper warm if you’re stranded here.” He smiled at her, nodded his thanks, and then stepped aside with Dad to continue the questioning. I joined the others at the fireplace and saw how Harry was still as apprehensive about the thing as I was.

“Hi. My name is Spenser…Hemmingway. No relation.”

“To who?” Ron asked. He’d obviously never read A Farewell to Arms, which was probably just as well. “Uhm…I’m Ron Weasley. This is my sister Ginny and my best mate Harry Potter. You don’t have the Floo back in the States?”

“Some of the really old homes probably do, but nobody I’ve ever met has used one there. That’s one of the reasons we’re over here–-so I can experience things like this. You use it a lot in Europe?” I asked then. Another crack of thunder, directly overhead I guessed, interrupted his answer.

“Today is actually the first time I’ve tried it, and I really botched it earlier,” Harry explained. He looked a little embarrassed but smiled about it none-the-less.

“You’ll do fine this time Harry. You can go through with me if you’d be more comfortable,” Ginny told him. The look in her eyes said that she had more than a passing interest in my other new acquaintance. Yes, it was there even then–-more than Harry’s biographer has indicated. It just took years for things to develop, and for Harry to get off his duff, realize it, and then admit it.

“Ron, Harry, Ginny, we need to get home to the Burrow now. I can imagine the mischief your brothers are getting into there waiting for us…and no doubt at Percy’s expense again.” Molly Weasley motioned for the three to step into the fireplace, and, at the same time, went to take her husband’s arm to lead him over.

I stepped in a bit closer to better observe the Floo process. I’d be doing it myself in a few moments, and I wanted to have it down pat. I saw Harry had indeed taken Ginny’s hand, and Ron then scooped a measure of the powder from the container there.

“The Burrow!” he yelled into the fire as he threw in the fine powder. The flash at that precise moment wasn’t from the Floo though. The exact second the particles came in contact with the flames, a bolt of lightning struck the highest point on the tavern’s roof, specifically the chimney we were facing. An enormous ball of emerald green, one that I thought actually resembled a giant hand, reached out, and grabbed the four of us taking us off to who-knows-where.


*****



Wizards and Witches tend to have favorite and less favorite means of transportation. Harry and Ginny especially love to fly, which naturally influenced their opening the broomsmithing shop together in later years. On the other hand, Hermione was fairly bad on a broom, and hated being in the air as much as Harry did Apparating. My personal favorite involves a horse-drawn sled while bundled up with a certain pretty blond girl. My least preferred, as of moments after being sucked out of the tavern, became the Floo Network.

The whirling green maelstrom seemed to batter and pull at me for an eternity, although it may well have only been a second or two. I looked about for the others and thought I could make out Ron there with me, but I couldn’t be sure in that eerie conduit. All at once the world seemed to explode, and I was catapulted out of the Floo with a speed and force that you might associate with a cannonball.

I caught a quick glimpse of Ron flying ahead of me, but a heartbeat later he slammed into a stone wall with a sickening crunching sound. I then crashed into him, which softened my blow just a bit, but did little to brighten Ron’s day. Before we even dropped to the floor, out shot Harry and Ginny together followed by a good deal of exploding debris from our destination’s fireplace. It wasn’t until years later, when I finally saw him play Quidditch, that I fully understood how Harry did his midair twist. Pulling Ginny into him, he managed to position his body to absorb the impact for them…almost. Hitting the wall as hard as we had, Harry seemed to have taken all the punishment, but as they fell to the ground, it was clear that Ginny’s head had hit hard.

“Ginny!” Ron and Harry yelled together. The side of her face was bleeding, and there was a small but ugly split in her right forehead. I wondered at first if she might be dead, but I still hadn’t been exposed to Ginny Weasley stubbornness yet. I was about to learn how Ron was easily her match. He was covered with his own blood as well, his face was already puffy, and both his right arm and leg were protruding at odd angles, clearly broken. That didn’t stop him from trying to stand and move over to his sister.

“What happened?” she mumbled then but didn’t open her eyes. “Where’s Harry?” she asked in a bit more forceful voice. Hearing her, I finally moved to help Ron reach his sister. I was impressed at how he didn’t so much as grunt at his injuries.

“Sorry I hit you so hard Ron,” I told him.

“No worries mate. It’s not like any of us could steer.”

“Ginny I’m right here,” Harry said in a calming voice and with a tight grip on her hand. The fear for his friend was evident, but I could see the same steel in him that Ron exhibited. One of his shoulders was hunched down, dislocated, and I later learned the ribs on the left side were almost all cracked if not broken outright. Of the four of us, I seemed to be in the best shape, and that was naturally at Ron’s expense. I simply seemed to have a number of cuts and bruises, and of course my ears were still ringing. I decided that everyone’s must be.

“What happened?” Ginny repeated. Her speech was more slurred than it had been a moment before. Harry, despite his injuries, moved to carefully cradle her there. She took a deep breath and seemed to appreciate the more comfortable position. “Where are we?” she added, and finally opened her eyes. Harry smiled down at her, and I, at least, noticed that the first spark was there in his eyes as well–-twelve-year-old or not. He spotted something though, and a moment later his face darkened.

“Ron…excuse me, what was your name again?”

“It’s Spenser, like the poet and the American detective. What do you see Harry? Oh feldercarb!” I blurted out at noticing her eyes myself. I kicked myself then when I saw how my reaction had scared both Ron and him.

“What is it?” Ron asked, his voice cracking just a bit. He caught himself, no doubt not wanting to upset his sister further. Now was the time to be strong for her. He pulled out a nicely folded white handkerchief and handed it to Harry for use as a bandage. I produced a slightly larger one of my own (Mom always insisted I carry one–-fortunately), and passed it over to Harry, who tied the first one in place.

“Ron, Spenser…I’m not a Healer, but living with the Dursleys, I had to learn a bit about first-aid to take care of myself,” he explained. I didn’t understand then what he meant, but I assumed those people must be extremely accident prone around him.

“I’m not a doctor either, and I don’t play one on television.” I bit my tongue at the ill-timed joke but continued on. “Ron, do you see the way her eyes are dilated? They shouldn’t be in this bright room.”

The three of us finally took a moment to study where we were. It appeared to be a large stone hut, perhaps sixteen by thirty feet in size. It was bare accept for a single table with three broken chairs atop it and a large cot with bedding at the other end of its single room. The fireplace, either because of time, or our accident…probably a little of both…was partially destroyed. That was especially bad news since, for some reason, the room was freezing. Ron was the first to notice why.

“Crikey Harry! It’s snowing here!” he blurted out in disbelief. Stepping over to the window, I saw there was indeed a large snowfield that extended about fifty yards away to a tree line. “It’s snowing in August! Where the bloody…?” Ron began to ask once again.

“Could it be, when are we?” Ginny corrected. Her voice was a bit weaker now, and blood was already soaking through the makeshift bandage.

“She’s right. It’s winter in the southern hemisphere, but can a Floo send someone so far? Why would there be a fireplace on the network near Antarctica? Who built this place?” Harry asked. He shifted his position, so he could see Ginny better, which, unfortunately, caused her to wince.

“Harry, I never heard of anything like that. Mum and Dad have to use a Portkey just to cross the Channel,” Ron said, pulling himself a bit closer to the two of them. “What are you looking for Harry?”

“Ginny, could you follow my finger with just your eyes please? No? All right then. Ginny, I think you have a concussion,” Harry explained to her. She closed her eyes again, and nodded slightly, indicating that she understood. “Spenser, could you help me get her over to the cot?”

We gently picked her up, but seeing her face contort as we laid her there, we knew there were other injuries. Moving the girl that way might not have been the best idea, but then leaving her on the cold stone floor would have been bad as well. We both turned to see Ron crawling in our direction, and we rushed back to help him. Harry then fetched the remains of one of the chairs, and with his one good arm helped me slide Ron into it. It didn’t look comfortable, but it did have him off the ground.

Harry stepped back and took a minute to catch his breath. With the broken ribs, it must have hurt just taking in a lungful of air. He lifted his hand to his face and proceeded to rub his eyes and forehead, again revealing his strange scar. It must have been a reaction to the fatigue and pain that had to be coursing through him at the moment. Harry knew he couldn’t afford the time he was taking, but I also decided that, in his condition, he was collecting his remaining strength.

“Spenser, may I borrow your wand? I think I can do the spell to stop Ginny’s bleeding, but Mrs. Weasley made us leave ours behind when we went to Diagon Alley.”

“What Harry means is that she didn’t trust my brothers Fred and George not to get into mischief with theirs, and that, in turn, meant we all had to leave the wands behind. Mum took Ginny’s too right after they bought it at Ollivander’s,” Ron explained.

“Sorry guys. My mom…actually locked up mine as well just before we left the States. I sort of…uhm, destroyed two of them this past year. Well, we could always try using… Hold on a second.” I stepped over to Harry, and locked eyes with him as I carefully lifted his bad arm. His expression showed the pain at my doing it, but he didn’t blink, and I saw a great deal of curiosity there as well. “So Harry, tell me about the scar you have… Okay!

“Ouch! Bugger that! Hey…wait one. You set my shoulder. Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.

“It’s a long story Harry, but let’s just say that it involves those busted wands, a large herd of elk, a supply of spoiled pumpkin juice, and several attempts to set a new world record. The record wasn’t what was broken though and…well, I’ve had a bit of practice with the trick.”

“It feels great. Thanks, but we need to get help for Ginny now…for all of us.” Harry turned back to look at her again, and while he had appeared concerned before, now he was frightened to his socks.

“Any ideas mate? I mean even if the fireplace was still intact, we don’t have any Floo powder, and who knows how far the lightning bolt sent us,” Ron accurately pointed out. “No brooms, no Portkeys, no flying Ford Anglias…”

“Flying what?” I stammered.

“Well explain later Spenser. Right now, you and I need to go for help.” Harry stepped over to the door then, and, with three or four tugs, managed to pull it open. We immediately wished he hadn’t. When we left London, there was an electrical storm to worry about. We had traded it for a blizzard. It didn’t help that we were dressed for August weather.

“Harry, we need to help Ginny!” Ron called over to him. He had managed to tear away a piece of his shirt and was applying pressure with it to her forehead.

“I know Ron!” Harry shouted back in frustration. “I just need to…”

“Harry, you just need to try wandless magic,” I told him. He turned to look at me, and the fear was replaced by something akin to anger I thought.

“That’s a crazy idea! There’s no way I could apply the Coagulateous Spell without a wand!”

“You’ve done wandless magic before Harry. You told me about the time at the zoo with your cousin and that snake,” Ron reminded his friend.

Now there was a story I needed to hear.

“I don’t know how I did it! Even if they taught wandless magic at school, we’re only second-years! That’s advanced magic at best! I’m just Harry…”

“You’re the boy who lived. You’re my good friend, and I trust you to help me Harry,” Ginny weakly interrupted. I could barely understand her now. Harry walked up to her cot, knelt down, and held her hand, deep in thought.

“Do they have wandless magic instruction in America Spenser?” he finally asked. Ron replaced the crude bandage with another one from his shirt. In the cold, he couldn’t afford to do it too many times.

“We have a professor who tries, but only with limited success. I’ve never…”

No, I didn’t have time to argue my point. I walked over to retrieve one of the other broken chairs, tossed into what had been the fireplace, and then began to concentrate. Professor Wilco really had attempted to work with me, and one of my best friends had actually shown himself to be incredibly proficient with the art. However, the fact of the matter was I had never so much as produced a whiff of smoke. I only had minutes at best though in which to convince Harry to try. Reaching out with my hand, I ignored the pain in my own shoulder and the scraped, bloody knuckles that I hadn’t noticed before.

“The trick Harry is to utilize your fingers, hands, and arms as the conduits for your magic.” I began to focus my mind, closing my eyes to do so, and softly mumbling the spell. I couldn’t just visualize the words. I had to see the fire I was trying to ignite there…I had to find the way to throw the switch in my brain. All at once, the most incredible pain I had ever experienced shot through my arm, and I realized that it was broken in two…no three places. I fell backward, biting my lip to keep from calling out. I knew I was nowhere as stoic as my new friends were. I did see, however, that I had been somewhat successful, and that Harry was blowing on the spark to build the flame.

He stood then, and after a moment, nodded to me, and returned to Ginny. Placing two fingers on the bandages there, he hesitated when he saw it caused a drop of blood to run out and down toward her ear. He gave me one last glance then closed his own eyes.

“Harry, be careful,” Ron told him. He seemed to be holding his breath then.

“The real trick is to balance the spell with what it accomplishes and clear your mind except for that. You’ll feel it flowing through you Harry…trust yourself, and ignore the pain,” I told him. Before I had even finished speaking, there was a small golden glow that moved from his hand to the wound and then back again. Something had happened, and it caused Ginny to open her eyes suddenly.

“What pain Spenser?” Harry asked as he carefully removed the dressing, and we saw it had worked. The head wound had closed, at least to where it was no longer bleeding.

“Ah nuts Harry! Couldn’t you at least have a bruise or two on your hand after that?” I tried to smile, but looking about our ragtag group now, I remembered there wasn’t much space left on any of our bodies for additional damage. “Uhm, now what?”

“Now, we go for help Spenser. Ron, you can’t travel with your leg, and we need you to take care of Ginny. You need to keep her awake as well. That’s really important for some reason.”

“Great…maybe I’ll sing to her,” he said, and he was actually serious about it I saw.

Not knowing how long his voice would hold out, I decided to lend a hand there. Reaching into the side pocket of my cargo pants I pulled out the old battered notebook that I had been carrying for years.

“Here Ron. I sort of write…as a hobby. I’ve never let anyone read my stuff before, but maybe it will keep Ginny’s attention for a while.” I turned then, placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, and smiled down at her. I was actually surprised when she returned it. “Don’t worry kiddo. We’ll find help…and I promise to bring Harry back safely.”

“Good. Please do that,” she whispered.


*****



Before we left, Harry and I smashed up the table and remaining spare chair parts as best we could, and moved them, Ginny’s cot, and Ron’s makeshift seat closer to the destroyed fireplace. A cursory examination showed us it would still draw smoke from a small fire, and it was imperative that we keep them both warm. I made the guess that Harry was thinking about their going into shock as well. On the other hand, he and I, the way we were dressed, were about to freeze taking off for help.

Harry stopped by the cot one last time, and again took Ginny’s hand for a moment. She smiled just a bit, but then closed her eyes. That signaled Ron to start telling her a horrible joke about a pig farmer and a nearsighted zebra. Poor Ginny. It was one more reason for us to hurry. He obviously wasn’t sure he could keep her awake for long.

Once outside, we took the time to ensure the old door was again tightly sealed, and then started off at a fast pace (as fast as the falling snow allowed) toward the forest. The trees there were enormous, and we agreed that the canopy might offer a bit of protection from the weather. They did, and we were further pleased to see there was a narrow but well-used path leading through the heavy growth.

Harry began to run, and I kept up with him as best I could. I tucked my broken arm up to my chest, trying to ignore the pain. At least in my case, unlike Ron, they were clean breaks, and probably didn’t need to be set. It still didn’t help when I jarred the thing with every step I took. It was even worse when Harry abruptly pulled up, swung about, and then shoved me to the ground. He was clearly irritated with the world at the moment, and I was a convenient target. Oh well, that was his tough luck, I decided.

I fortunately managed to avoid landing on my bad arm, but somehow twisted it a bit when I swung a leg to knock Harry off his feet. He instantly started to stand again but stopped himself suddenly. Our eyes met. I could tell that he was more upset and scared now than he was angry.

“Harry…? Are you…?”

“Spenser, why are you here? What is going on? Tell me!”

“What is happening is that we have two friends back there with maybe three hours worth of heat if they’re lucky. We’re supposed to be looking for a Healer, and you’ve decided to act like a regular dweeb suddenly.”

“I know how little time we have! I’m not stupid!” He climbed to his feet, turned his back on me, and took a step away. “They’re my friends…not yours! You haven’t even known us an hour!”

“I make up my mind about people quickly. I don’t attract a lot of close…acquaintances Harry, so that’s the way I work.” I stood up myself then, and I realized his words had hurt as much as my arm did just then. “You’re my friends now even if I’m not yours.”

He let out a loud grunt, and, without looking back, started off down the trail at a fast pace. I was hard-pressed to keep up with him, but I somehow knew it was important that I did. After perhaps five more minutes, he finally slowed and then stopped again. I could tell by his posture that he was upset about the whole mess we were in. It also spoke volumes about his relationship with the Weasleys.

“They’re like family to you Harry,” I said, and I intentionally didn’t voice it as a question.

“They are family. Spenser, I’m sorry. You’re the first American I’ve ever met. Ten minutes later we’re thrown maybe halfway across the world…”

“Literally.”

“…and into the dead of winter. One minute you’re putting my shoulder back in place, and the next you’re showing me you can do wandless magic.”

“I almost crippled myself for something I could have done with a dry match.”

“That’s another thing Spenser. You barely know us, and still you intentionally smashed your arm. You knew it would be dangerous demonstrating how it could be done, but you did it anyway. Why?”

“Actually, that’s the simple part. I did it for you because I knew that the three of you were people who would do it for me. Oh, and I wasn’t completely sure it would hurt so much…really. Harry how did you get your scar?” I saw that I thoroughly surprised him with the change of subject.”

“I was… A Dark Wizard gave it to me the night he killed my parents and tried the same curse on me. I lived, and I’m not entirely sure what it did to him.” He turned, and began to walk again, but this time at a reasonable pace.

“You really care for her, don’t you? For Ginny, I mean.”

He paused in mid-step but only for a second before moving off at a faster trot. I accepted it as a yes, and quickened my speed to catch up. We jogged along, weaving through the forest on the steadily improving trail. Neither of us spoke, and I felt that he was still gauging his feelings toward me. I couldn’t blame him.

Topping a small draw, we saw the trees begin to thin and that, fortunately, the weather beyond had significantly calmed. Harry had moved to about twenty yards ahead of me, so when he stopped, craned his neck, and began to study the remaining forest around us, it prompted me to break into a full run.

“Spenser, have you seen anything…felt anything strange as we’ve been moving?” he asked when I had joined him.

“You mean like someone out there following us…watching us? You see them just out of the corner of your eye, but they’re gone when you go to look for who it is?”

“Exactly! I think we might have company, and if they were friendly they wouldn’t be hiding.”

“Well, I’ve always expected to end my days eaten by a snow dragon,” I said only half-joking.

“Perhaps we should move out of the woods now.” Harry led off, but as we reached the last of the trees, he quickly motioned for me to hide behind one of the larger ones. He was clearly in a better position to see what was beyond us. As he looked on at whatever was out there, he slowly began to shake his head, and his expression became angry once again. “Oh bloody… I don’t believe it!” he blurted out in an agitated voice.


*****



“I don’t believe it Ron. Why would a moose be entered in a dance marathon?”

“As best as I can make out, I think he was trying to win the money to save Grandpa Bullwinkle’s old skydivers’ home. I’m not sure I understand American humor, and his spelling is really…different. Spenser likes using animals though. He even has a kangaroo as some manner of fire captain. Now what do you suppose a jukebox is?”

Ron hadn’t made up his mind about what he thought of my story, and, looking back, I can understand that. It was a rough draft for a first book written by a schoolboy. At the same time though, it was confusing enough to draw Ginny’s attention, and that helped keep her awake. For the hundredth time Ron glanced over to the door and then the window, trying to determine how long we had been gone. When he recounted that time to me, he intentionally stressed how much he valued the watch he later received on his thirteenth birthday.

“I believe the snow has stopped falling, and I don’t hear the wind as loudly as before,” Ginny said.

Was it his imagination, or did her voice seem to have a bit more strength to it? Perhaps the head injury wasn’t as severe as they had thought. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they had appeared before. No, he couldn’t afford to be optimistic yet, not where his little sister’s life was concerned.

“I think you’re right Gin. They’ll have an easier time of it out there now.”

Little sister? For now, she was, but the tiny girl with whom he had once played pretend Quidditch, entertained with his recorder…teased, yet protected. She was growing up. The thought both thrilled him and hurt a bit. Ginny was about to begin school (if they could get her home in time), and it wouldn’t long before the boys at Hogwarts would look past knobby knees and pigtails. It was a good thing she had such a big crush on Harry. He was safe. Harry would never think of her as anything more than a younger sibling.

“Ron…how are you feeling?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts. No, he voice was just as weak as before. He saw her eyes were closed again as well, and he knew he had to rouse her quickly.

“I’m really hurt. That Spenser bloke did a fine job on me when we hit. My leg and arm are too big, and my fingers are starting to go numb. You can see what my face looks like. I think something is wrong in my stomach too. Am I scaring you?”

“Yes, you are Ron.” Her eyes were open again, he saw.

“Good…now stay awake or I’ll start describing the sore tooth I have.”

“Mum’s made a dental appointment with Hermione’s parents before we’re off to school. You can save the grousing for them.”

Hermione…I wish that she was here. She would know how to get us home, Ron decided. He missed her. He had just seen her a few hours before, but it felt strange without their friend with them to experience yet another adventure. Well, they would probably just be sitting there arguing, and he hated that. No, he didn’t. In the year they had known each other, it had almost become a natural habit for him. Ron actually found himself looking forward to their discussions as Harry called them. He had been looking forward to seeing Hermione all summer in fact. It was the same way that he had been missing Harry…wasn’t it?

“You think I’m silly, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The crush I have on Harry. I’m not sure how I know, but you’ve been thinking about it today.”

“It’s all good Ginny. You’ve been really annoying and all, but you’re supposed to be. It’s in your job description.” Ron saw a slight smile, and he wondered if she really had seen what he had been considering earlier.

Wham! Wham!

Someone or something was pounding at the door, and it wasn’t a friendly knock. Remembering the trouble Harry had opening it before, Ron’s first reaction was that the battering was needed for them to regain access. He was half-right. When the door finally opened, there stood three figures in black flowing robes. The first two wore masks that Ron recognized from sketches his dad had brought home from the Ministry. Death Eaters. They immediately stepped aside to make way for their companion, a tall man with long white hair. Lucius Malfoy.

“Well, well, well…what do we have here? Gentleman, it appears that we have uninvited guests,” he said.


*****



“I see you celebrate Halloween in England Harry…if that’s where we still are.”

For some reason, I believed that was the case. Everything just struck me as being Great Britain (not that I had spent much time there at that point). From our hiding place, we watched across a small field as two costumed masked men roughly herded a man, woman, and two small children from their home. It looked as if we had come across a local farmhouse, and what might have been help before those goons arrived.

“I really don’t look forward to the holiday. It’s the anniversary of the night my parents were killed.”

“Yeah? I’m…sorry I mentioned it then Harry. I’m the same way with my birthdays. My mom died from complications twenty minutes after I was born,” I told him. Harry shot me a sharp questioning glance. “Oh…the Hemmingways adopted me. So, what do you think?”

In lieu of an immediate reply, he kept looking over the yard trying to come up with an answer. “I think you need to keep going for help, and I have to see what I can do here,” he finally said.

His chin was tucked, his eyebrows knit, and he had the fierce determination on his face that I was learning to recognize. There before us, one of the masked men separated the father from his family and forced him to his knees while his associate guarded the wife and children. Harry clearly didn’t like what we were seeing any more than I did.

“Ain’t going to happen Harry. No listen! You’re battered, bloody, and broken. You don’t have a wand, and, even if you did, those are trained Wizards out there. You’re a second-year student. Then there’s what your getting killed would do to Ginny and Ron,” I told him.

“No! If those two are who I think they are, then they’re somehow aligned with that same Dark Wizard…Voldemort. I’ve got to try.”

“Harry, you’re missing my point. You don’t have to try. We have to succeed…together. I don’t know about you, but I can’t feel my toes anymore, and the sweat is already freezing to the back of my shirt. We can’t go any further. We have to help this family, get inside their nice warm house, and then send someone with a parka and snowshoes for the Healers. At this point, if we don’t, we may as well go back to Ron and Ginny and just die there together.”

On cue, the larger of the Wizards pointed his wand at the farmer, and the stun bolt threw the man back two or three feet. We were out of time. Harry darted off just inside the wood line, pausing every several yards to glance back at the captive family behind us. I followed as closely as I could, and, after a minute or so, I saw how Harry was skirting the yard to reach a small shed off to one side.

We emerged from the forest into a large apple orchard, and then doubled back in the direction of the building. Several feet short we stopped at the sight of another man face down in the snow. If he wasn’t dead, then he was doing an excellent imitation of it. I noticed that Harry was feeling just as sick as I was then…and just as angry. We both hated bullies.

“His name was Joshua, and he was a good man,” a strange low-pitched voice suddenly explained. We spun about, but no one was there. That is, no one except for the trees. “He and the farmer have always tended us well. They prune us that we may grow larger and better apples. They work hard to prevent and treat our diseases.”

“Spenser, have you ever seen the Muggle film The Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah Harry. I’ve watched it several times in fact. I understand it’s loosely based on the real story.”

“I think the part with the talking apple trees was fairly accurate.” Harry took a step closer and gave a small respectful bow as a greeting of sorts.

“When one of our number dies, despite the farmer’s efforts, Joshua and he respectfully remove and dispose of the remains. He ensures that our apples are gently harvested, little of the crop wasted, and that it is passed on to those who would most appreciate our fruit. The evil men who killed our friend were beyond our reach when this murder was committed, and we could not help him.”

The light bulbs over Harry and my respective heads were lit all at once and brightly. We turned to each other, and I saw he was thinking the same thing I was. No doubt, he had planned to lure one of the Dark Wizards behind the shed using a diversion. There maybe we could have clubbed him, or something, and then gotten a hold of a wand. Our new idea was better.

“Would you and your friends be willing to help us if we could lead one or both of the men that killed Joshua into your grove?” Harry asked. “They intend to do harm to the farmer, his wife, and his...”

“Yes! Yes, we will!” the tree said before Harry had even finished speaking. “We hold great esteem and affection for the MacIntosh family. I allow their little daughter to climb my branches and to nap in my shape on a hot summer day. You will find what you need to attract their attention in the small shed.”

Harry was already moving in that direction, but I held up when a new question popped into my head. He must have immediately noticed since he stopped himself and took a step back to join me. Harry’s impatience was obvious, but it eased a bit when I asked my question.

“Excuse me Mr. uhm…Tree. I don’t suppose you could tell us where we are? I mean even a country would help.”

“Certainly, and I am known among my orchard as Pryslott Pippin. I have heard the farmer often speak of where we are. You are in a land called Scotland. Five miles to the north is a magical place called Hogwarts, and just beyond that is the village of Hogsmeade.”


*****



“Now who might you two be…and more to the point, why are you here just now?”

Ron could just stare back at Lucius Malfoy, incredulous that the Wizard didn’t seem to recognize either Ginny or him. It had just been hours earlier when they had been confronted by the man inside Flourish and Blott’s. Ginny had stood up to Draco who had referred to her as Harry’s girlfriend and had not meant it in a context that she would have loved to acknowledge. Lucius and their own father had actually come to blows in the bookstore, and Ron would have sworn that Malfoy had more damage done to his repulsive face. Ginny had been right. Either months had passed, and the man’s memory had been altered, or, more likely, the four of them had been transported to an earlier winter before Malfoy had ever met them.

“Lucius, the fireplace has been damaged. We will need to repair it before we can contact the others,” the first Death Eater told him. He removed his mask and revealed the ugliest face Ron could ever remember seeing…that is until the second man did so as well.

“I am not concerned about the details. I am amazed the repairs have not already begun. Now, once again, who are you children, and why are you here?” Lucius repeated.

“We could probably ask you the same…” Ron began, but Ginny reached over, touched his arm, and caused him to pause. He painfully pulled himself closer to her then in what he knew would be a futile attempt to protect his sister if the need arose.

“My name is Luna Lovegood, and this is my friend Spenser Hemmingway,” she lied. We were traveling home when there was an accident inside the Floo, and we were sent here instead. We were injured when the fireplace exploded. Will you help us?”

“Hardly. My…friends have gone to great lengths to maintain the secret of our utilizing of this structure. I find it amazing that you should find yourselves here less than a half a day after the neighboring farmer discovered us. He is being dealt with even as we speak.”

“Wouldn’t it be better just to find a better meeting hall?” Ron blurted out before he could stop himself. He couldn’t risk antagonizing Malfoy. Where was Harry and help? Would they be walking into a trap? All Ron could do was stall for time, and hope Harry and I weren’t too careless.

“This location, in addition to its rustic charms, is very conveniently situated near both Hogsmeade and your school. I will assume, by your ages, that you attend that fine institution. It is an ideal rendezvous for us as we carry out the Dark Lord’s work. The village is an excellent setting for recruiting new members to our ranks, and Hogwarts is fertile ground for developing young…talent shall we say.”

“You’re not under the Imperious Curse, are you?” Ron asked. Lucius Malfoy had always made that claim after Voldemort’s initial fall. Unfortunately, this clearly wasn’t the case. In reply, Malfoy simply offered him a condescending smile.

“Why are you doing all this?” Ginny asked. Ron noted how her voice was now barely audible. “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is gone. He was destroyed the night he tried to kill Harry Potter.”

“My dear child, I assure you, my lord Voldemort is very much alive,” Lucius said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle an evil laugh. “Harry Potter? Who the deuce is Harry Potter?”


*****



As our continuing luck would have it, the shed door was locked. Neither of us wanted to try a wandless Alohamora, and, even if we were big and strong twelve-year-olds, kicking in the lock would have been extremely noisy. Instead, we settled for a risky climb through an adjacent window, which felt wonderful with my arm and Harry’s shoulder.

Inside we found a number of garden tools, bottles of bug potion, a couple stacks of apple crates, and a wide variety of seed catalogues. If that family out there was being attacked by a couple of seven-foot high carrots, we were well-prepared. Your more traditional brand of bad guys was going to require a little more bang for your buck…or rather Galleon. I said as much to Harry.

“Maybe someday I can introduce you to my friend Seamus Finnigan. He seems to have a talent for creating explosive situations from even the simplest of… Hold on. Spenser how well did you do in Potions class your first year?”

“Fairly well, I guess. I had the most sadistic professor ever to walk the planet. He seemed to particularly hate me. What are you grinning about Harry?”

“Nothing really. I’ll tell you about it later. What do you know about Profusion Water and how to use it?” He carefully pulled down a large glass jug that I estimated to have held perhaps a pint of clear liquid.

“I know it’s the Wizard’s equivalent of nitro glycerin. That’s a Muggle…”

“I know what it is Spenser. The relatives whose home I grew up in aren’t Magics. I didn’t even know I was a Wizard until just over a year ago. Anyway, I think the MacIntoshs must keep this on hand for such things as stump removal and over-zealous garden gnomes. The only problem is that it can only be detonated with magic, which…”

“Harry, I wonder if we’re due for some good luck.”

“Wait…you don’t suppose…?”

He was to the door, unlocked, opened, and dashed out it before I could even blink (and I’m pretty good at blinking). Once again, I had to push myself to catch up with him, and I resolved then and there to take up jogging when I got home. At Joshua’s body he waited for me, and it was with a bit of one-armed effort that we were able to turn the body and… Yes, there it was. They hadn’t bothered to take the farmhand’s wand after they killed him.

“Harry, now we can…”

“No Spenser, you were right.”

“Don’t go telling people that. I have a big enough ego as it is. What you mean is that you don’t want to go after the two of them with the wand do you?”

“I’ve never really dueled before, and they both have their own wands pointed at the family. Now we need to hurry. I hope they won’t mind what we’re going to do to their shed.”

Back inside, Harry pulled down a box of canning jars, and started staging them on a workbench. I glanced out the small back window, and saw that the MacIntoshs were still alive, although the farmer seemed to be at the losing end of a bad beating. Apparently, the goons intended to leave what was left of him behind as an example for someone. In a way, it bought us some time, but also made us work all the faster to help him.

Harry was beginning to distribute the Profusion Water evenly between a dozen small jars, rationalizing that the small explosion would be a better show…diversion…if the blast was spread out and rattling all four walls. Our biggest worry was that we might not have enough of the potion to attract their attention in time. A pint barely seemed a primer let alone a decent pop. I did remember something however about people misjudging portion amounts with it.

“Harry, I’m sorry I brought up Ginny before. It’s none of my business if you feel that way about her.” He didn’t hesitate in his work but did seem to think over his reply as he measured out the Water.

“Spenser, I’m not sure how I feel about her. Before I came stay at the Burrow on my birthday, I’d only talked to her for a minute at the train station. We wrote to each other several times over the school year, but that was mostly because of a drunken owl she was nursing back to health. I just wanted to help. It’s been great getting to know her in person finally, and I meant what I said about the Weasleys being family, but… Ginny hasn’t even begun school yet. It’s not like she has a crush on me or anything.”

“Harry, I think…”

“We have years before she’ll start thinking that way about boys. Let’s worry about it then. There. Done. No, maybe a bit higher on the wall.”

“How about here closer to the window so they’ll at least see the small flash. Now what?” I asked. I was almost afraid of the answer.

“I’m the faster runner, so I’ll dart out into the yard, and let them see me. You take Joshua’s wand, and wait outside somewhere. As soon as you see one or the other give chase, then set off the explosion. At worst, it will merely be the flash you mentioned. Hopefully it will knock out the windows and make a great noise. That will give you plenty of time and opportunity to carefully aim a Stupefy bolt at the second man. After that, you’re my backup in the grove.”

“It sounds easy enough. Why am I worried?”

The two of us gave the room a last examination and I peeked out the same window to see a badly injured farmer kneeling there again, and having to listen to the Dark Wizard screaming at him. An ego display had bought us the minutes we needed, but MacIntosh’s face looked just the way ours did since the accident.

Exiting the shed, Harry nodded, and then went off to the one side. I took the left and circled around the small building and right into…a third guy with a mask and black robes. I suspected at first that Harry wasn’t in place yet, but then I heard a loud yell, which actually distracted my Wizard. That was when a powerful stun hit the man in the chest and sent him flying.

Jerking my head in the direction from where it had come, I saw that whoever had thrown it was now gone. It couldn’t have been Harry, but I didn’t have time to think about out who our new ally was. I had to distract the second Wizard out there. Harry needed a bit more time. I wasn’t positioned where I wanted to be yet, but I only had a heartbeat to react. I raised the wand, pointed it to the shed, and detonated the Profusion Water.


*****



“I am not accustomed to having my questions rebuffed by schoolchildren. I am clearly someone who will…exact compliance. Now once again, who is this Harry Potter of whom the Dark Lord should be so afraid?”

“If you really don’t know, then I hope I can be there when you finally meet him,” Ron told the man. The two each attempted to stare the other down; Ron doing his best to hide his fear and Malfoy his intense curiosity.

“Lucius, we’ve repaired the fireplace. You should be able to contact our master now,” one of his companions announced. Malfoy continued to glare down at Ron for several more seconds before finally turning to approach the fire.

“My lord, it is Lucius Malfoy,” he told the Floo, dropping to one knee as he did so. A moment later, he was answered not by Voldemort, but rather by the face of a female in the flames. Malfoy did not seem to be a bit surprised at this, but then maniacal Wizards can hardly be expected to answer all their own calls.

“What do you have to report Lucius?” she asked.

“Greetings Bellatrix. We have accomplished our tasks in the village. We will return as soon as we deal with another matter here.”

“What might that be?”

“It is a minor thing really. A local farmer discovered our use of this stone hut. Three of our number are eliminating the man and his family. We have also discovered two children taking refuge here, and we will remove them in a similar manner.” Ron thought that Malfoy’s tone seemed to be just a bit apologetic with the complications. The woman’s face disappeared then but returned less than a minute later. Even across the room, Ron could see that she was irritated.

“The master instructs you to destroy the hut, and to return here immediately. Its usefulness in gone. He is not pleased with how the house has been discovered not once, but twice in so short a period of time.” Not waiting for a reply, Bellatrix Lestrange’s face flared and then vanished. Lucius Malfoy’s expression showed that the rebuke had its desired effect.

“Cornbelcher, Plackworth…levitate our two guests back into the forest and bind them there. The cold will do the rest. I…will deal with this structure myself,” he told them. “No! Don’t be so gentle with the brats!”


*****



When I type on my laptop computer (I don’t always use a quill), I prefer a font size set at ten or twelve. To print out the word BOOM that followed just then, I would have to upgrade it to maybe fifteen hundred. Our little flash instantly turned the outbuilding into sawdust, and, for the second time that day, I was flying through the air at terminal velocity. Fortunately, also for the second time, my impact was cushioned by a human body–-a nice fat, evil, bad guy body.

I had no concept of how long I was gone, but when I awoke, I immediately knew my broken arm really was now. Then there was my other shoulder, which was dislocated. I sincerely hoped Harry had been paying attention when I reset his. Everything hurt in fact, and I was also aware of how I had a great deal of blood covering my face and in my eyes. Yes, this story is turning into training literature for a paramedical course.

With both arms in bad condition, I was unable to even wipe my face clean, and therefore couldn’t see. Naturally, I assumed the worst when I heard someone approaching me from my left. With each crunching step, I expected a green flash aimed at my head. I just hoped Harry had gotten away safely. Despite everything he refused to believe, I honestly expected Ginny and him to be together someday. It would have been nice to live long enough to enjoy Ron’s reaction.

“Spenser? I think Seamus would be proud,” Harry said in an amused tone.

“Think you used enough dynamite there Butch?” His laughter told me he had seen that movie as well. “Pippin and friends take care of number three?”

“Trussed up in the branches with an apple in his mouth. Number three did you say? No, Spenser, you’ll have to explain as we travel. I’m sorry but we have to go…now!” His sudden change of mood told me how serious it was.

“Harry I’m not even sure if I can stand up let alone take off somewhere.” No, I had to go. I had Harry’s back that day. “Could someone swab my eyes? What’s wrong Harry? How long was I out?”

“Second question first.” Harry did conjure a soft towel however and began to gently dab at my eyes. “Mr. MacIntosh says those Dark Wizards are called Death Eaters. I’ve heard of them before, and they do serve Voldemort. The old stonecutters’ hut where we accidentally Flooed is used by them…often.”

“Feldercarb!”

“Is that an American curse or something Spenser? Never mind. Here give me your hand. Let me help you…” I’m told that screams like the one I delivered then can be heard as far away as Nepal under just the right conditions. “Oh bugger! Sorry! Mrs. MacIntosh sent their owl to Hogwarts for help, but her husband is far worse than we are, and they’ll come here first.”

“I understand. I hope Ron and Ginny do. Tell me Harry, are we friends?” I asked after just another moment’s consideration.

“Yes! Of course we are. I’m really sorry about what I said earlier.”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me. It also means you’re going to have to believe me when I tell you three things. One, Ginny does feel the same way about you. Two, I haven’t the foggiest idea what feldercarb really means. Three, I trust you completely to set my bad shoulder this time…and I mean right now.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said, and I knew that he wasn’t referring to any potential definition for my nonsense curse. Well, their taking so long to admit it all gave me a lot of good future story opportunities. “Spenser, you’re going to have to walk me through the shoulder repair quickly. I have a set of the farmer’s heavy coats over there, and we need to get back to Ginny and Ron.”


*****



Lucius Malfoy was not in a good mood. Their visit to the village of Hogsmeade had gone well enough. They had succeeded in leveling three prominent businesses to the ground, ensuring their mudblood proprietors’ fates were widely witnessed. They had made a great show of the attack, but, in contrast, the Death Eaters’ associates inside the Hog’s Head had been very quiet as they worked to acquire new followers. The best part, Malfoy decided, was that they had done it all in broad daylight, and no one had dared to lift a finger against them. Those who would had arrived too late to stop them.

Raising his wand, the man magically stirred the few remaining coals there in the hearth before him. He was only moderately familiar with building and maintaining such fires, but, under the current conditions, its warmth was essential. He hoped the three Death Eaters he had dispatched to the nearby farm would return soon so their group could depart. He was tempted to leave them all behind, but less than anxious to rush an explanation for the day’s events to Lord Voldemort. The loss of the house would be, at best, a great inconvenience.

Returning his wand to its cane sheath, Malfoy allowed himself to sit down on the edge of what he considered a filthy cot. He continued to stare into the fire, shifting his thoughts to the two children they had found there. How had they arrived? Even mispronouncing a Floo destination, the odds were astronomical that they should come to this one particular place on this one particular day.

More to the point, who was this Harry Potter of whom the girl had spoken? He instinctively felt that she had been honest about what she believed this man had done to the Dark Lord. Both were cold and seriously injured, and not exactly conducive to playing games. Both had truly been astonished when Lucius revealed that Lord Voldemort was still alive, and more so when he voiced his ignorance about Potter.

The girl had said her name was Lovegood. Was she any relation to that crackpot who published that rag The Quibbler? Lucius didn’t recognize the boy’s name, but, thinking back, the two actually bore a striking resemblance to each other and not just with their red hair. They almost reminded him of the blood traitor Weasley, but he was fairly certain the man had no daughters. It didn’t matter. Soon the children would no doubt resemble ice sculptures. He expected Cornbelcher and Plackworth’s to return any moment. It was time for Malfoy to complete his own task of destroying the building and its fireplace. The whole affair would be done with presently, and he had nothing more to worry about, but still…”

“Why does this matter somehow seem as if it’s a trap?” he mused aloud, standing as he did so.

“I would prefer to call it an excellent opportunity. I’m sorry I missed you in Hogsmeade,” a new voice corrected.

Malfoy spun around, and found himself facing another Wizard, perhaps in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and a short beard. Cradled in one arm was a large bundle of firewood, but in the man’s right hand he held his wand, still lowered to his side. How had he entered the hut and approached him so silently?

The stranger had a fierce look in his eyes, but there also was calm serenity that sent a chill down Malfoy’s spine. A duel was about to occur, and the other Wizard had just informed him that he had already won. Regardless, Lucius pulled loose his wand only to have it silently expelled from his grip.

“You are an evil man Lucius Malfoy. I did not appreciate your sending my wife and brother out to die that way. Your son had the excuse of being foolish and misguided in his youth. You have no such justification for your actions…or even for continuing to breathe.”

Malfoy began to mentally gauge the distance to his wand where it lay on the stone floor ten or twelve feet away. Could he distract this man? Where were the others?

“I have no son…”

“Nor will you be able to.”

“Who are you?” Lucius demanded, betraying his apprehension with a loud voice.

A full minute passed while the two continued to face each other down. The strange Wizard didn’t move, neither returning his wand to his side nor dropping the heavy load of wood he carried. He was unmistakably enjoying this victory and the effect it was having on the Death Eater.

“My name? Yes, I’ll tell you who I am,” he finally replied.


*****



Harry is one of those guys that you just have to love. After four attempts to reset my shoulder however, I was beginning to question this tenet. The fifth try was successful fortunately. I smiled my painful thanks to Harry. He, in turn, gave me an apologetic grin as he applied a Scourgify Spell to clean the blood from my face. It had been much easier for him to stop the bleeding this time with one of the wands we had appropriated.

Before we left, we bound the three Death Eaters (who had thought of that name?), and carefully moved Mr. MacIntosh to a daybed inside. If a tirade from his wife about our going to face a new danger was due, it was overruled by the obvious fear for her husband’s condition. Looking at Harry, I saw he too wished we could have acted sooner. As we limped off back toward the forest path, another thing suddenly occurred to me.

“Harry, why hasn’t our underage magic attracted any attention from your government? I’ll assume you have the same rules that we do in America.”

“I’m…not sure. When Dobby the house-elf performed magic at my aunt and uncle’s home, the Ministry immediately decided it was me. An owl brought a letter almost immediately. Perhaps we’re close enough to Hogwarts, so we can be considered to be at school.”

“I don’t attend your academy Harry, and I don’t think we can fool anyone into believing I’m an exchange student.” Hmm…there was an idea that I would bring up with my folks someday.

Harry knew there was something wrong with the whole situation–-the whole afternoon there in fact. To accentuate his worry, he again increased his speed. That wasn’t much. We both had frostbite on our feet, and we knew enough about the condition to go sparingly with the warming spells for the moment. Still, we had the snow we had tramped down earlier to guide us back, and so we didn’t have to hesitate to ensure we were still on the path.

Fifteen minutes almost brought us to the hut’s clearing, but several yards before we reached it, Harry held up a hand to stop me. He then pointed down to something off the trail; there were several sets of footprints. I imitated Harry’s drawing his wand, and then followed him as he slowly went off in this new direction. We hadn’t walked more than three or four minutes when, breaking through the brush, we came upon…a beautiful and very welcome bonfire.

“Ginny!” Harry yelled running up to her. Yes, I was surprised he could. “Ron, you’re both standing!”

“Someone has been busy,” I added, pointing to the two Death Eaters unconscious, but tied up nicely, there on the ground. Ron’s bad arm was in a sling, his leg nicely splinted, and his face didn’t display any of the pain he was experiencing earlier. Ginny’s head was professionally bandaged now, and, even several feet away, I could see the life returned to her eyes, especially when she smiled back at Harry.

“What happened here?” he asked after another moment.

“Harry mate, we know why we’re here. He told us everything…at least what he could,” Ron said. He took a step forward using his makeshift crutch, perhaps to demonstrate that he could. “Harry, now that you’re here we need to go after him.”

“We have to help him. He took the two Death Eaters’ wands to keep us out of his fight. You and Spenser each have one now? How…?” Ginny began to ask.

“We’ll explain later. Who took the wands? Who is back at the hut? I don’t understand,” Harry said then for both of us.

“Draco’s dad is there Harry!” Ron explained. “He didn’t recognize Ginny, or me, or…or who you were.”

“What did you say?” Harry almost yelled. “I don’t… No, later! Spenser!”

I took the hint and produced two of the other Death Eater wands we had ourselves appropriated. Handing one to Ron, I hesitated, and instead gave Joshua’s to Ginny since it was the better one. She moved to walk with Harry as we started, and I took the initiative to levitate Ron and spare his leg. The strange wand didn’t respond well to my manipulation, and we began to lag behind despite Harry and Ginny’s own slow pace.

“So, Ron, how did you like the book I left with you?” I asked him.

“Well, uhm…I…that is… Ginny and I never really got around to reading it. I kept her awake with…with snowballs. Yeah, that’s right.”

“It was that bad huh?” His grin told me that he knew I had caught him in his fib. Oh well.

Again, at the hut’s clearing, we held up and regrouped. Harry and Ron began a spirited discussion about what we should do next, and if we could do anything at all. Our small victory at the farmhouse had been a complete accident and a careless one if truth be told. The apple orchard had done more than we had. I realized two things then. The first was that Ron was holding something back from Harry.

“Ron, you do know who this new Wizard is don’t you? Why won’t you tell me?” Harry demanded. “Why is it so important that all of us help him?”

“He made us promise not to tell you yet. We’re able to help him because…I just feel we can somehow,” Ron stammered. He was clearly embarrassed at this intentional omission.

The second thing I noticed was how Ginny had somehow slipped away while we had been talking, and she was now stepping inside the hut. Ron and Harry saw the same thing a heartbeat later. We ran to catch up, but then I remembered that people on crutches aren’t as speedy as most of the rest of us. I lifted Ron up again just as Harry was going through the door, and, with having to levitate him, Ron and I were maybe twenty seconds behind.

The room…the scene before us was certainly different from the one we had left earlier. The fireplace had been completely restored, and it was now hosting a more appropriate blaze. On Ginny’s old cot was trussed up the man whom I assumed to be Mr. Malfoy. A middle-aged gentleman stood beside stood him, and he looked somewhat familiar. I didn’t miss his sincere smile, his hands clasped in front in a non-threatening manner…or Ginny standing between Harry and him. She turned her head every few seconds, alternating her gaze between the two, and she seemed to be looking for something.

“Harry Potter, I would like to introduce you to Harry Potter.” Ginny was now grinning from ear to ear.


*****



“Harry, it really is late December nineteen eighty and neither one of you have even been born yet. I believe that’s why there hasn’t been a response to your underage magic. You’re not in their system.”

“That’s also why Mr. Malfoy didn’t recognize Ron and Ginny. I’m sorry sir. It’s just plain weird talking to myself this way. What should I call you?”

“Anything you like Harry, except sir. You’ll come to hate that as well in time. You’ll want a complete explanation now I suppose. First, I knew about their use of this structure from my own history. I guessed correctly that they were utilizing it today.”

“You came back in time to save my…our parents, didn’t you?” young Harry asked. He was sitting on the edge of one of the newly conjured chairs, and he was holding his breath. “That’s why you’re really here.”

“Yes, it is and yes, I did. They are, and will continue to remain, safe. I’ve accepted the task now of keeping them and everyone in this world that way.”

“I don’t follow you,” Ron interjected.

“I believe I do,” Ginny said then, and all eyes were suddenly on her. “You somehow changed history, didn’t you?”

“I did. Harry once I convinced our parents of the danger, they took strong measures to protect themselves. The man who originally betrayed them is enjoying a tiny cell in Azkaban, and no, I’m afraid I can’t reveal who it was. I’ve done enough damage. No, wait…listen! Harry there are laws…sacred laws involved with time. I seriously violated them when I came here. I didn’t realize how disastrous the consequences would be.

“Harry, I mentioned that neither one of you had been born yet. In truth, Ron and you never will be. I’m not sure about the Weasleys, but Harry, my actions prevented your being conceived at the proper time and place. I’m sorry. Further, since Voldemort never gave you our scar, he was never destroyed the first time. Lucius Malfoy was correct. The Dark Lord is still alive.”

“You’ve created an alternative reality,” I offered.

“Two of them actually. Excuse me, what was your name young man?”

“Uhm…Spenser.” Then turning to my Harry, “Good buddy, if we’re friends now I’ll need to get a promise that you’ll never refer to me as young man.”

“Done. Hold on, you don’t know who he is, do you?” young Harry asked.

“I don’t remember ever meeting an American while I was at Hogwarts. There wasn’t any electrical storm that day in Diagon Alley. I was never thrown back in time through the Floo, and nothing you’ve experienced here today happened when I was twelve.”

“Does that mean that what you did brought all of us here?” Young Harry bowed his head then, and I knew what he had to be thinking. He had traded Ron’s, his own…maybe a number of other people’s lives and futures for those of his parents. “Will Ginny be born in this timeline?” he asked then.

“She already has been–-this past August eleventh just as the sun was rising, and exactly one year earlier than your own young lady was in our timelines. Everyone, what I did by coming here myself, it really must have brought all of you here as well somehow. No, I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

We had already decided all that but hearing him say it still hit home pretty hard. The questions just poured into my mind, and the foremost was what I was doing there. Harry had asked me the same thing in a completely different context. No, it wasn’t. He was right. I didn’t belong on this adventure. Older Harry had said so.

“You’re alive, and have all your limbs, so I take it that in your world things work out all right,” I told him. Reading his face, I saw that he knew where I was going.

“I can’t tell you any more. I can’t risk destroying your reality as well.”

“We don’t even know if we can return to our timeline sir…I mean Harry,” Ginny reminded the man. As if in reply, we could hear a clap of loud thunder overhead. I had never heard of an electrical storm in December, and just hours after a blizzard.

“I believe that’s our ride Gin,” Ron told her. “I hope the trip out is easier.”

“I’ll make a guess that it will be,” older Harry said. He then produced a pouch from his pocket, which he identified as the Floo powder. Another loud blast somewhere overhead announced that our time was almost up.

“There must be something you can tell us. Please…anything?” Ginny almost pleaded. The man bowed his head, deep in thought for a moment, exactly the same way our version had a few minutes earlier.

“I can give you three pieces of advice. Some of your friends, including people you haven’t even met yet, will try to smother you with protection, and usually to extremes. Don’t allow them to do so. Harry, you will want to try to accomplish what is ahead of you alone, or with just Ron and Hermione. Your greatest strength will be that which you draw from certain other friends…less intrusive friends. Second, please understand that as much as you will come to detest the Ministry, it must not be allowed to fall. Terrible things will happen if this occurs; things I can’t reveal to you. Finally, and I can’t stress this enough, you must return to Hogwarts for your seventh year. Again, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more.”

Kaboom! It was time to go. Harry, Ron, and Ginny moved toward the rebuilt fireplace. I held back and placed a hand on older Harry’s arm to request a moment.

“I’m the odd man here, but I’m going to say something. You don’t need to reply. I know I’m right. Harry and Ginny…you and Ginny…”

“Spenser, was that your name? I am going to tell you something more…something very important.”

As I listened to him, I was suddenly wide-eyed, but checked myself understanding that I could not share what I was hearing with the others. The three fortunately were more impatient with me than they were curious. When older Harry had finished, I almost bounced over to join them, suddenly realizing how I could be left behind if I wasn’t careful. The four of us joined hands, and again it was Ron who took a handful of the magical powder.

“Thank you for your help, and good luck here Harry. Please tell Mum and Dad what happened today, and that I…miss them.”

“I will, and good luck in your own timeline Harry. Oh, and trust the house-elf.”

“The Burrow!” Ron called out, but hesitated. “The Burrow, August nineteen ninety-two!” he said then, correcting himself. The three of us grinned at him.

The lightning bolt, as expected, hit the chimney just as the powder came in contact with the embers, and we were gone. True to his word, this trip was much easier although just as long. When we emerged on the other side, we came out on our feet, and simply stepped away from the hearth. I still didn’t like the Floo, but I enjoyed it infinitely more this time. Even better, all of us were completely healed.

Checking ourselves, we saw that it was as if we had never been injured. No broken bones, concussions, frostbite, and even our clothing was as it had been in the Leaky Cauldron. Older Harry had performed some amazing medical spells for Ginny and Ron, especially for a non-Healer, but this was far better. All at once, the moment was broken by a loud call for help that I thought came from upstairs.

“Fred and George,” Harry and Ron said together.

“We had better go save Percy,” Ginny added, laughing with the other two.

“And I had better get off to Dover to find Dad. I’m not sure how much time has passed here. I’ll write folks. In care of Hogwarts?”

It took to the count of three before it sank in that I was leaving them there. As we shook hands, Ron and Harry both freely admitted that they weren’t letter-writers, but, over time, I did pull at least one decent note a year from each. Ginny was much better with the owls, and perhaps it was because after her goodbye hug I whispered a special secret in her ear that made her giggle. No, I didn’t reveal anything the older Harry had told me…but she didn’t know that.


*****



The years passed, and Harry, Ginny, and friends had an adventure or two along the way before I saw them again. I was amazed at what she wrote me during that time, and I tried to follow what I could in the American Wizard papers as well. There wasn’t much.

When my seventh year of school came along, I was almost knocked flying when my parents told me I had been offered the opportunity to be an exchange student at Hogwarts. By this time, I was seriously trying to write, and my experiences and the stories I heard there gave me plenty of good material. I published a few, but for the most part, I simply locked them away for our children to enjoy in time. By the way, I decided to stay in Britain after graduation. Yes, I did meet a girl.

Still more time went by. We grew up, won the war (Harry did), got married, had children, and life was generally good. The seven books in Harry’s Muggle biography are magnificent, but, after reading the final volume, I had to wonder if the nice Muggle lady had drawn that one from the original timeline as opposed to ours. Was it possible? Well we had no idea what had eventually happened to the older Harry after we left him there.

It was Ginny’s birthday, her fiftieth, and we were celebrating the day at Harry and her Hogsmeade farm. It had been a wonderful party. Everyone’s children were there, and many of their children in turn. As always, the buffet table had been Weasley-class, and the now-elderly Molly was actually taken aback at what her great granddaughters had produced with the cake. For all I had been accused of doing to Scotland since I settled there, all was forgiven whenever they experienced the barbeque ribs my grandson Rubeus and I would occasionally produce.

Most of the guests had departed by seven-thirty that evening, but Ginny was determined to milk every last second she could out of the time spent with her own grandkids. As I was cleaning my grill and asking Dobby where best to dump the residual hot ashes, I looked up to see a herd (yes that is a good term) of short people dart out of the broomsmith barn with new presents. They immediately took to the air with them, and, a few seconds later, Ginny emerged and followed the kids up with her own broom. Harry shouted off a loud but good-natured admonition about his wife being too old to keep up with the younglings, but she merely did a quick spin, and waved as she shot out after them. No one could miss Harry’s sudden puzzled look though. It was almost as if he were trying to remember something. I did first.

Dropping my barbeque tools and, unfortunately, nailing poor Dobby’s foot, I ran not toward Harry but rather straight at the barn. Per tradition, I once again did something extremely stupid. Having carelessly left my wand inside the house, I reached out my hand in front of me, and shouted a loud “Accio Sky Slicer”, referring to Harry’s latest racing broom. I really hadn’t attempted wandless magic since the one day in the hut almost thirty-nine years before, and with good reason. While the broom did break through the workshop window and come to me, the other break again involved my forearm.

“Harry!” I screamed and saw that both he and Ron were fortunately running toward me. “Ginny is going to have a blackout up there and fall from her broom; a heart attack. No one is going to reach her unless you…” He was already aboard the broom and speeding toward her.

“How did…?” Ron looked over to me, but he never finished the question. He knew.

Up above us, we looked as Ginny grabbed her chest, allowing her broom to shoot out from under her. Harry was instantly there however, and, catching her, he had to endure a number of flips before he could adjust for the sudden increase in weight. I glanced over to see Ron’s reaction, but he was no longer with me. Instead, I heard a door slam as he reemerged from the house carrying a small bottle of the Mushi Root healing potion. Luna and Hermione were running close behind him.

Ignoring him as he offered me some for my arm, we…everyone for that matter, met Harry and Ginny as they once again alit, or rather dropped to the ground. Almost literally pushing both friends and family aside, Ron was instantly there and pouring a large measure of the potion down her throat. She naturally gagged a bit on it, but then shot straight up as if stuck by a pin. She was back.

Harry pulled her in close to himself, kissing her, and there was no doubt that he was on the verge of crying. He was smiling though, and politely asked everyone to back away a bit. I thought at first it was to give her some air, but, after he waved for Ron and me to join him, I knew it was for privacy.

“How did you know Spenser?” he asked.

“You told me Harry. I wasn’t sure if it would happen in this new timeline, but that afternoon you told me she would die today, and that, shortly thereafter, you would leave here…go back to save your parents.”

“You changed history. You broke the temporal laws Spense!”

“I suppose I did Ron, but I also stopped Harry from doing it. I’m hoping it’s a really tiny loophole.”

I knew it wasn’t. The rules had probably been bent when I was told about it and smashed to smithereens when I saved Ginny with my revelation. I looked all about me, and, for some reason, wanted to take in the whole moment. How many of these people had died in the original timeline? How many wouldn’t have even been born if it wasn’t for what both Harrys had done? I suddenly felt extremely good.

“Thank you Spenser…for remembering all these years,” Harry told me, and Ginny smiled in agreement.

“No problem. I owed Ginny for sharing Molly’s Irish stroganoff recipe with Luna. We’ll call it even. Now could someone please fix my arm?”

“Sorry Spenser, there’s not enough potion left. I can ask Dobby to bring some fresh stuff by your place later,” Harry explained.

“You had better hurry Harry,” Ginny told him. “That’s his writing hand.”

“Don’t say it Ron!” I quickly said, but it was too late.


*****



At the edge of the forest that bordered the Potter Broom Farm stood an old man with snowy white hair and a long matching beard. He wore worn, but still clean, clothing, a lightweight leather jacket, and a set of half-moon spectacles which contributed further to his resemblance to his old headmaster. On his head, there was a broad-brimmed hat that, with a drop of the chin, could be used to protect the man from recognition just as it shielded him from the elements.

As the elderly Wizard watched the scene that had just played out before him, a thousand memories and images flashed across his mind’s eye. In his eyes were the tears that he now refused to wipe away, but on his face was a contrasting smile that might have confused the casual observer had there been one.

“Well done Harry…well done. Goodbye Ginny,” he quietly said. A moment later he turned, and supporting himself with his tall staff, walked back up the well-used trail from whence he had arrived. “Mischief managed Spenser.”
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