Yes, a double update for all you wonderful, patient people! A big thanks to my beta, Arnel, for the eagle eye and for the super quick turnaround so I could post chapters 17 & 18 together.
Happy reading!
Summer
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Keeping Even The Broken Promises | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations Rating: R Reviews: 255 Summary: It's been four years since Harry Potter woke up in a strange city, with no memory. Harry begins an unexpected journey to uncover who he is and what he's left behind. Turns out Harry has broken a lot of promises he doesn't remember making. Will he ever regain his memories? Will he ever be able to live up to any of his promises? Hitcount: Story Total: 85017; Chapter Total: 3188 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Chapter 18: Memories Forgotten Harry was unsurprised that sleep did not come easy that night. Despite having Ginny curled in his arms, the feelings of contentment from making love with his wife, and the bliss from knowing she trusted him enough to say she loved him, none of it kept his anxiety and dreams away. He woke several times throughout the night from various dreams, most of which were unmemorable by morning. They mostly consisted of curses flying in the night and panic in his heart. He did remember one vivid moment where the Killing Curse found its mark and Ginny fell to the ground like a ragdoll, her eyes open and unseeing. When he tried to go to her, the wound in his leg kept him from moving even an inch. In the shadows, Charlotte was drawing closer, but it was all he could do to sit in the bloody grass and await his own death. That dream ripped him from sleep and took a half hour of listening to Ginny’s steady breathing to calm him down. Despite feeling groggy and grumpy, he was half-glad when it was finally morning. He reached for Ginny, but was startled awake when instead of his wife, he found James. The little boy was asleep on his tummy, sprawled on the mattress, and snoring. Harry blinked in confusion and then smiled amusedly at the sight of his son. Thank goodness he and Ginny had had the forethought to get dressed before they went to sleep. Harry smoothed James’ flyaway hair and tugged the sheets up a little higher. James screwed up his face at his touch and turned into the pillow, letting out a long sigh. Harry closed his eyes again, content to sleep a little longer with James beside him. He drifted in and out of sleep for a while, waking again when he heard hurried voices downstairs. Assuming it was one of the Weasleys looking in after last night, he decided he ought to go down. Whoever it was sounded upset. Harry carefully climbed out of bed and donned a dressing gown. James was still dead to the world so Harry closed the door to let him have a bit of a lie in. Harry reached the stairs when he realized the voice did not belong to any of the Weasleys. It was male, but he was having trouble recognizing the owner. He paused, wondering if he should get dressed before going downstairs. Before he could decide, the voice drew closer and clearer, giving him pause. “You should know by now that half of what you read in the Prophet is rubbish,” said Ginny in an irritably voice. “So what? Even if it is exaggerated bull, this is still a serious problem! There’s a witch trying to kill you and you’re content to stay put at the scene of the crime.” “She attacked me at my house, too. Where do you suggest we go? Don’t you think it’s best to stay here with an Auror?” “You’re putting yourself and James at risk like this.” “At risk?” Ginny repeated, making a noise of disbelief. “It’s not the first time someone has threatened my family and I’m sure it won’t be the last. But we’re perfectly safe. This is nothing compared to what we’ve been through.” “Is that a joke?” the voice choked out. “No, it’s not a joke. I’m just saying that compared to Death Eaters and Voldemort this is nothing.” Deciding that this was an uncomfortable conversation between Ginny and one of her friends, he ought to go back upstairs. Harry dreaded to think what the Prophet had printed this time. Obviously, it was some dramatized version of last night’s events, paired with speculations about the gory injuries sustained. “That doesn’t matter! You have James to think about now! What if this psychopath hurts him?” There was a pause. “Please… be reasonable. Take James and go somewhere safe until this is all over. You’re mad to hang around and wait for something terrible to happen. You say it was a curse took him away once and now whoever did it has come back to finish the job.” Harry paused halfway on the stairs at the sarcasm in the speaker’s voice. They didn’t believe it was a curse? Suggesting he had purposefully left his family and moved to New York? There was a long pause in the conversation. When Ginny spoke again, he could hear the angry quiver in her voice. “I can’t imagine why you think so terribly of him,” Ginny replied in disgust. “It was a curse! Did defeating Voldemort and saving the Wizarding world not convince you of his goodness?” “He left you bleeding on your bedroom floor!” the voice snapped. “Forgive me if I don’t trust him for breaking your heart, abandoning his son, his friends, and his family.” Deadly silence fell. When Ginny spoke again, it was in a carefully measured tone. “I thought you came over here to make sure that I was okay, not to insult my intelligence with your wild theories of how Harry is an uncaring brute. Well, you’ve expressed your heartfelt concerns. I think you should go now.” “Ginny…” the voice went from angry to miserable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Harry started slowly down the stairs again. If Ginny wanted him gone, he would be happy to kick this person out himself. How dare they accuse him of something so terrible? “No, you shouldn’t have. And as my friend, you should trust me when I say that I’m doing the right thing.” “I don’t want to see you get hurt… that’s all. If anything happens to you or James…” “Harry and the Aurors will get her. Besides, we’re safest when we’re all together. I won’t leave Harry and I won’t take James away from him. Not for anything less than the Dark Lord himself materializing on our porch. And even then, I’ll get James to safety, but I will not abandon Harry!” Harry paused again on the stairs, touched by the certainty in her voice. She was so sure of him. “You’re blinded by how much you love him,” said the voice in defeat. “And you’re a terrible friend for coming over to yell at me.” “To each their own.” There was a long pause and then a reluctant chuckle in response and Harry decided he might as well enter the room. At the very least, his presence would likely end this uncomfortable exchange. Mostly, he was curious to know who was invested enough to come over first thing to slander him and beg his wife to leave him. He came down the last few steps and into the living room, hoping neither would suspect him of eavesdropping. His innocent expression was ruined when he spotted Nicholas Lindon in his living room, standing within arm’s reach of Ginny. “Harry,” Ginny said in surprise, her cheeks flooding with colour. “I’m so sorry, did we wake you?” She took several steps toward him and he met her halfway, kissing her cheek in greeting. “No, I just woke up…” He didn’t like to do it, but he turned a friendly smile toward Nick. He now officially had a reason to dislike this moron–namely that he thought so terribly of him and had the nerve to come over and shout insults about him in his own home, while he was upstairs. “I’m sorry, if I’d known we were expecting company, I would have put on some clothes,” he said coolly. Nick smiled in greeting, but his jaw was tight. “Sorry for barging in. It’s nice to see you again.” He shook Harry’s hand politely. “I have Quidditch practice this morning and I stopped by on my way over when I saw the paper.” He gestured to a rolled up copy of the paper on the coffee table. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I had to make sure everything was alright.” “That’s very kind,” Harry replied kindly. “Fortunately, no harm done.” He looped an arm around Ginny’s waist. It was immature, but he got a little enjoyment out of the increasing look of discomfort on Nick’s face. “I think I need a strong cup of coffee. Can I get either of you anything?” “I really ought to get going,” Nick said quickly, already starting toward the door. “Nice seeing you,” Harry called after him, pleased he still sounded so casual. Ginny, on the other hand, looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Judging by the waves of tension rolling off her, he was unable to repress the feeling that he had walked in on something private. And that really made him want to hex Nick out the door–or at least whack him in the head with his expensive League-quality broom. Not that Ginny would ever do anything–or wanted to do anything with Nicholas Lindon. He trusted her completely, but that didn’t mean he had to trust Nick. A handsome bloke who came over first thing in the morning, insisting that his wife take his son and leave because he, Harry, was a danger to them, was not someone he wanted to share a Butterbeer with. Did he seriously believe Harry would ever purposely hurt her? Did Nick honestly believe that he was capable of something so low, or was it driven by ugly jealousy? Of course Harry wondered over where the safest place for Ginny and James was! However, up until this moment, he had agreed with Ginny–that Charlotte’s threat was nowhere near that of Voldemort. Was it selfish of him to want to keep her close? He had broken up with Ginny over the Dark Lord to protect her. The idea of asking for time apart because of Charlotte was ludicrous when he actually considered it. Ludicrous and unbearable. He had just been reunited with his family. How could he possibly send them away? “See you later,” Ginny called after Nick half-heartedly. When the door closed, Ginny flicked her wand at it to lock it. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, notably avoiding his gaze. “I’ll make your coffee… I might have a cup myself. I don’t think tea will cut it today.” And with that, she started off toward the kitchen. Harry watched her go, wishing today was off to a better start. Harry picked up the Daily Prophet and started to skim the front page feature as he followed after Ginny. The article was promisingly titled: DEADLY ATTACK AT THE POTTERS. Well, if threats against Harry Potter didn’t sell papers, he wasn’t sure what would. While St. Mungo’s Healers have declined to confirm the status of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger-Weasley, witnesses report Mr. Potter was admitted with a severe wound to his leg. Ginny Potter (nee Weasley) and son James Potter, were not seen at the hospital. Although Ministry sources suggest that after last night’s brutal attack, Mrs. Potter and son may have been relocated for safety. “He looked as if he was on death’s door,” stated Ms. Hillary Badling, a witness at Mr. Potter’s arrival at St. Mungo’s. “Clearly his past and his job as an Auror keeps him in the face of danger. If his dramatic and very public exit from their lives wasn’t bad enough, now there’s been a dreadful attack on his family! When will Ginny Potter draw the line? Mumbling a curse, Harry threw the paper angrily into the waste bin a little harder than he’d intended. The loud thump startled Ginny, who nearly dropped the two mugs she had just taken out the cabinet. “Do I want to know what they’ve printed?” Ginny asked. “No,” Harry answered firmly. “I can’t remember the last time I read the entire Daily Prophet cover-to-cover and felt good about it,” Ginny wondered as she continued to make the coffee. “I usually nick a paper from work so I’m informed, but I’ll be damned if they get my subscription.” Harry dropped into a seat at the kitchen island. “So what was all that about?” “Apparently, you can read all about it in this morning’s edition,” she grumbled. “I’m sorry if we woke you. He’s a good friend for checking in, but he’s a prat for doing it so early–and so loudly.” “No, he didn’t wake me,” Harry reassured her. “I woke up and you were gone.” Ginny smiled slightly as she used her wand to boil the water inside the coffee maker. It began to trickle into the pot, filling the room with the sweet smell of fresh coffee. She padded over to him and kissed him. “I’m sorry if I worried you. How did you sleep? How are you feeling?” She glanced at his leg where he’d been cut. “I slept okay and I feel fine,” he answered, sliding one hand around to the small of her back. He tugged her a little closer so he could kiss her properly. He didn’t like this tension between them, not after last night. Not when he’d finally heard that she loved him. “How about you?” “Well, I was woken rather early by a very insistent little boy,” Ginny said amusedly. “He crawled in a little past five and curled up between us. I couldn’t bear to send him back to his own bed.” “No, I think he earned a little cuddle time with us. He’s still sleeping now.” Ginny pulled back slightly to look at him, her expression filled with concern. “Do you think James will be okay?” Harry froze. Had that git’s rant convinced Ginny after all? Then again… Charlotte was dangerous and James’ safety had to be above everything else. He thought they had settled this last night, but maybe they should at least talk again about increasing the security measures for James? “I’m worried, too. Clearly Charlotte is willing to kill now to fulfil whatever insane plan she has to exact revenge. Maybe we should be doing more to keep James safe?” He took a breath, vowing to keep his emotions out of the next part. “Did you want to talk to the Aurors about setting up a safe house for you and James? I think the Fidelius Charm is a little extreme–and well, you know my past, so it’s not a guaranteed solution, but…” Ginny paled and she frowned at him, holding up her hands. “Hold on, Potter. I just meant, ‘do you think he’ll be okay–psychologically, emotionally.’ I’m not suggesting we go into hiding. We just talked about this!” “I know, but… maybe it’s not enough to have an Auror out there. Maybe we’re not being responsible enough about this.” Ginny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, stepping out of his arms. A little more tension wedged in between them. “How much did you overhear?” “Not much… I came down the stairs right at the end.” She eyed him for a moment and Harry knew she didn’t buy it. So he was surprised when her anger disappeared, only to be replaced by disappointment. “I can’t believe he got to you. “Being away from you is not a solution. Don’t you think that James’ best chance is with both his parents protecting him? Two wands are better than one.” He ignored the fact that she was using one of the clichés Molly used that Ginny usually mocked. “I’m not worried about me.” He hated offering this again. Hated every bit of it. “I would understand if you wanted to leave until we catch her.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well, I worry about you, too! I’m telling you, I won’t go–and if you won’t listen to all the reasons I have for refusing to go into hiding, you have to at least keep the promise you made when you came back here.” Harry swallowed hard, feeling as if he’d been slapped. His mind flashed unwillingly back to the memory of leaving Ginny bleeding on her bedroom floor when he flung a hex at her. “I will never hurt you again.” “Not that,” Ginny said quickly, guilt flashing across her face. Clearly, she wanted to forget the night he left as much as he did. “What–” “You promised that you would not break James’ heart. And if you tell him that he and I have to go away for an unknown amount of time–even if it’s for his own good–that’s exactly what you will do. Don’t rip this family apart just because you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But we handle things together. That’s what we do.” He knew she was right. He would lose the trust James had in him and he never wanted James to worry that his dad might leave someday. James would not grow up like he did, scared of losing the ones he loved most. Ginny’s expression softened, but not her determination. “Besides, you and I have spent enough time apart. I won’t do it again.” She took a breath and reached his hand. “I love you.” Hearing it again was almost as sweet as the first time. Harry pulled her to him and kissed her firmly. She immediately melted into his arms, deepening the kiss and wrapping her arms around his neck. He felt guilty for wanting to keep her with him, for putting her in danger, and for upsetting her. But if she believed that staying was the right decision, he decided he would let some of that guilt go. This constant guilt would consume him for the rest of his life if he let it. He needed Ginny’s forgiveness just as much as he needed to forgive himself. “I love you, too,” he murmured. Ginny smiled tentatively up at him, resting her hands on his chest. “So we’re good? You’re not going to try to push us away for our own good?” Harry could tell that while she was teasing him, there was also a hint of worry in her voice. “I never planned to send you and James away, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t being selfish to want you here.” “It’s not selfish. You don’t have to spend every moment worrying if you’re doing the right thing. You’re not the Chosen One with me. You’re Harry. That means none of this noble, I-have-to-save-the-world-on-my-own cock and bull. We deal with the bad and make the hard decisions together. Deal?” “Deal,” he promised, leaning down to kiss her again. She slid her hands up his chest and around the back of his neck, pressing herself against him. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he deepened the kiss, pressing her against the counter. Even over his dressing gown, her fingers sent little shocks of pleasure wherever she touched. When they broke apart a few minutes later, they grinned at each other. “Coffee?” Ginny suggested, her voice breathy. Harry nodded. “Please,” he said, unable to contain his smile. He was amused when she hesitated to move. Her hands slowly unwound from behind his neck and slid down his chest before she finally stepped away to pour the coffee. Harry grinned, congratulating himself on the fact that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. As much as he wanted to show her how much she meant to him right here in the kitchen–perhaps against or on the counter–he knew better than to try something so risky with their son asleep upstairs. “I am sorry for my friend, though. That was really inappropriate.” Harry tore himself from his less-than-pure thoughts, disappointed that after that kiss, Ginny was back to talking about that Nick. Forcing a smile, albeit an uncomfortable one, onto his face, he asked, “Should I be worried that your friend was here so early in the morning, insisting you leave me?” Ginny added milk to her coffee and passed Harry his own black. She settled next to him before she answered. “Nick and I have been friends for years… clearly he was upset by what he saw in the Prophet, but then he’s always had a flare for the dramatic.” “He’s not… jealous, is he?” Harry asked, careful to keep his voice light. Ginny’s smiled slightly at the question. “We had four dates three years ago. I ended things because I very quickly realized I was not interested in dating anyone, not to mention dating feels impossible when you have a baby.” She took a careful sip of her coffee. “I highly doubt he’s jealous. We’re good friends. Besides, he’s dating my teammate, Gemma.” “I just get the feeling that he really doesn’t like me.” Ginny frowned. “Really?” Then she shrugged. “Even if he does have some residual feelings, it’s not like it matters anyway.” Determined to keep this conversation brief, he grinned and nudged her gently with his shoulder. “Because you fancy me?” Ginny chuckled and nudged him playfully back. “Just a little bit.” Her expression sobered a little and she hesitated before adding, “Nick was out of line, but his heart is in the right place. He didn’t go to Hogwarts with us so he’s not used to periodically being attacked by Dark wizards. He doesn’t know you like I do… he adores James and I trust him completely. He’s just been a good friend. Well, except for today when he was an ass.” Harry reached for her free hand, deciding to bury his anti-Nick feelings. Ginny always had a good instinct about people–if he was just a jealous prat of a good friend, he could deal with him. “If you trust him, that’s all I need.” Ginny smiled tentatively. “Really?” Her hesitation made him wonder if she expected more of a jealous outburst. He knew better than to feel threatened by some bloke. “I’m not upset to hear that you dated… the cursed Harry was dating. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, funny, amazing witch–I’d be surprised if you hadn’t dated.” Ginny smiled uncomfortably again. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, there was a loud bang and the sound of little running feet upstairs. “Daddy!” James wailed. Harry met Ginny’s startled gaze for only a moment before they hurried toward the staircase. James came barrelling down the steps, an unhappy little boy with dark circles under his eyes and red cheeks. He threw himself at Harry, who scooped him up before he even reached the ground floor. Holding his son in his arms, he looked to Ginny quizzically, only half-surprised to find her with her wand in hand and anxiously peering up the stairs as if expecting to see an intruder. “I w-woke up and you were gone!” James sobbed miserably, burying his face in Harry’s neck. Ginny immediately relaxed and tucked her wand back into her dressing gown. “I’m sorry, buddy,” Harry murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. “I wanted to let you sleep in a little!” For possibly the hundredth time, Harry wondered what he could have possibly done to Charlotte to make her ruin so many lives. James was just a small child–he should never have witnessed his parents being attacked. He knew Ginny was feeling a little anxious since Charlotte broke into her home, but he didn’t know she was wand-at-the-ready anxious. James sniffed and lifted his head, glaring like Harry had betrayed him. Harry gently wiped the tears from his face as he carried James into the living room. They settled on the sofa, James on his lap and Ginny at his side. “Last night must have been pretty scary, huh?” Harry asked gently. James nodded, but said nothing. Ginny reached forward and patted his leg. “We’re so sorry we scared you. Everyone is okay. Daddy and I promise that nothing bad is going to happen.” James leaned his head against Harry’s chest, snuggling as close to his father as possible. “Why did the wizard try to hurt Daddy and you?” he asked miserably. “Some wizards are just bad,” Ginny explained gently. “But that’s why Daddy has all sorts of spells around the house to protect it–and to protect us.” “Is it You-Know-Who?” James asked to Harry’s surprise. Harry didn’t know how much James knew about Voldemort or the war, but he wasn’t entirely surprised he knew the name. “No, love, Voldemort is gone forever. It’s just a bad wizard who tried to hurt us.” She forced a smile and pushed unruly hair from his eyes. “Your Daddy is a powerful Auror so he scared the bad wizard away.” “But you don’t ever have to worry about bad wizards in the house,” Harry continued. “You’re safe, okay?” “He’s not coming back?” James asked worriedly, turning his head to glance at the bay window as if he expected someone to be lurking there. Harry continued to rub James’ back soothingly. “Never again.” “Do you have any questions?” Ginny asked. James thought for moment then shook his head. “Can we have breakfast now?” He asked grumpily. “Of course,” Harry agreed, scooping him up and setting him on his shoulders. His heart warmed to hear James’ very reluctant giggle. “What do you think we should have?” “Eggy bread with raspberries?” James suggested. “I think those would help me feel better.” Harry exchanged a smirk with Ginny. “Well, if it’ll help you feel better, I suppose we must.” James perked up considerably by the time breakfast was on the table, but Harry did notice he looked to the windows several times, eyes darting quickly over the lawn. He and Ginny did their best to distract him, but Harry knew that only time would really ease his fears. That panic flared up again when the Floo burst to life in the quiet of the morning. Harry’s heart dropped into the vicinity of his stomach when James half-shouted, half-sobbed in fright and jumped off his chair as two people arrived in a bit of a state. James had scurried to his mother’s side when Molly and Arthur burst into the kitchen. When he realized it was only his grandparents, he teared up and turned bright red. “Oh thank goodness,” Molly breathed, her eyes overly bright as she looked between Ginny and Harry. “I heard on the wireless… is everyone alright?” Her eyes lingered on James, who was clearly not alright at the moment. “We’re fine, Mum,” Ginny said soothingly, pressing a kiss to James’ head. “We just came from Ron and Hermione’s,” Arthur added. “Thank Merlin everyone is okay.” “And how are you, Jamie?” Molly asked worriedly, moving to hug her grandson. James accepted the hug a little half-heartedly, his eyes wide. “I’m okay,” he answered a little grumpily. “Can we get you some tea?” Ginny asked her parents in a false cheery voice. “Yes, come in. I can make you some breakfast, if you’re hungry,” Harry offered, hoping he matched Ginny’s welcoming tone. For James’ sake, the last thing they needed was for Molly to start fussing. “We’ve already eaten, but I’d love some tea,” Arthur answered gratefully. He hugged James next, ruffling his hair playfully. Both Molly and Arthur seemed to have picked up on James’ embarrassment. Deciding it might be best to let Molly and Arthur talk about what they came to talk about, he asked James if he’d like to go play upstairs with him. James agreed and Harry scooped him up again, this time squealing with surprise when Harry flipped him upside down suddenly. He earned another peal of reluctant giggles for his efforts, and smiles from the other adults. He set him down at the stairs and they went up together, James moving at a slightly quicker and more energetic pace. “What do you want to play?” James hesitated before shuffling over to his chest of toys. “Can we play dragon castle?” he asked hopefully. Harry smiled, glad that James’ choice of game made him sound like he was his usual self. They constructed a large fort out of bed sheets, held up my magic. Harry even charmed the sheets to look like a castle, and added a magical orange moat around the fort (at James’ request) to keep out the enemy dragons–because orange moats apparently were impossible for these dragons to cross! They played for over half an hour, marching bad wizards and their dragons towards the moat and sending the good dragons out to defend the castle. Although James was enjoying himself, Harry could see his imagination waning as his worries returned. Finally, he found the courage to ask what was troubling him. “Do you think if we added a moat outside, it would keep the bad wizards away?” he asked, watching a toy dragon pace the moat and roar at the castle infuriatingly. Harry shook his head, wishing the answer was as simple as a giant colourful moat. “No, but you know we have all sorts of magical spells to protect the house. That’s how we knew there was a bad wizard out there–and Mummy sealed the door when we went outside so there was no way anyone was getting inside.” He smiled reassuringly. “Much better than a moat!” James sighed, moving his fleet of good dragons to the turrets of their castle. “Daddy?” “Yeah?” James hesitated and then crawled over into his lap. Harry wrapped his arms around him, wishing he could fix this. Sure, the Dursleys locked him in a cupboard. They were mean, judgmental, and uncaring. But even at James’ age, crying in a dark cupboard with his few, hand-me-down and broken toys and spiders for company, he never had to feel this. James clutched tightly at his robes as he finally whispered, “I don’t want the bad wizards to take you away again.” The words pinched at his heart. Harry hadn’t expected James to share the same deep fears of abandonment as Ginny felt. Was this a new fear? Or had it been there all along? He supposed it made sense. It would be natural that James would worry about being left behind as Ginny did. But the fact that it was perfectly natural didn’t stop his question from feeling like a knife to his heart. “You don’t ever have to worry about that.” He swallowed hard, vowing his own son would not grow up like he had. He was grateful that James had Ginny. Having one parent was far, far better than having none. But still… “I am never leaving you and Mummy ever again.” James lifted his head, Ginny’s brown eyes boring into him as he asked. “Do you promise?” “I promise.” No matter what it cost him, he would not break this promise. “Okay,” James murmured, pleased with this answer. He gave Harry another hug and then moved back to his dragons. They resumed the game, but Harry excused himself from James’ imagination after a while to check on the situation downstairs. When he reached the living room, Molly’s hushed question gave him pause. He wondered vaguely how many private conversations he would accidentally walk in on today. “But things are going well between you?” “Yes, Mum,” Ginny said amusedly, if not a little wearily. Harry smiled, pleased that things had calmed down enough that Molly had switched to inquiring about their relationship. The sound of dishes being put away filled the momentary silence. “What happened to the bone-china plates from your great-grandmother?” “They’re still at my house,” Ginny answered. “Your house? But aren’t you moved back in with Harry? Haven’t you two found the time to move everything over?” Arthur asked in a surprised tone. “Not exactly. Officially, James and I are here because Charlotte broke into my house. Harry and I haven’t talked about what happens after Charlotte is arrested. We were attempting to go slowly… go on dates, spend family time with James, but then Charlotte broke into my house and things got off track.” “More like back on track,” Arthur pointed out shrewdly. Molly bristled. “Why are you wasting time, Ginevra? I know you love him–and Merlin knows he loves you, too. You spent four miserable years apart, wasn’t that enough?” “I know… but it’s complicated.” “It’s not complicated at all, though. Being afraid of the past is no way to move forward,” Molly murmured. Although she was being kind, it also sounded like a lecture. “Promise me you’ll talk to him? About anything–the past, moving in, having another baby. I’ll leave it up to your discretion.” Harry wasn’t even in the room and he felt uncomfortable. “Mum!” “Well… James is nearly five! He would love a little brother or sister! And with Hermione pregnant, think how wonderful it would be if you send your children off to Hogwarts together–the next generation of Weasleys and Potters!” “Molly, don’t rush her.” “I’m not rushing her!” Harry chuckled quietly to himself, deciding that this was probably a good time to interrupt and save Ginny. However, he was glad he had Molly and Arthur on his side. If it were up to him, Ginny would sell the house today and tell him where she hid their wedding bands. The last four years were like a bad dream he was ready to forget. There was no question in his mind how much he loved her. Harry had only taken a few steps toward the kitchen when an owl tapped on the bay window. He let the bird in and collected the letter tied to his leg. The bird ruffled its feathers importantly and immediately took off again. Glancing at Ginny’s name and the Harpies logo on the front, Harry took the letter into the kitchen. “Harry!” Molly bubbled when he walked in the room. “There you are, dear. How’s James?” “Better. He’s upstairs defending a castle from evil dragons.” He gave Molly a hug, not having had a chance to greet her properly before. “You really ought to take him and visit Charlie next summer,” Arthur chuckled. Ginny shook her head. “Last Christmas, James and Charlie talked about dragons so much, I worried James might try and sneak out in Charlie’s suitcase.” “Maybe we should take him,” Harry suggested. “That way we’re not worrying about him running off to visit a dragon colony without us.” He laughed at Ginny’s deadpanned expression and handed her the letter. Harry sat at the island with Molly and Arthur. “How are Ron and Hermione this morning?” “Oh, they’re fine, dear,” Molly said. “Ron managed to convince Hermione to take the morning off.” “Actually, he asked her to take the whole day off, but you know Hermione,” Arthur corrected, chortling. “I think she might have been more relaxed at the school and teaching.” “I’m not sure how she’s going to take a year of maternity leave,” Harry mused. “I’m sure being a first time mother will keep her mind off school. She’ll be exhausted, ecstatic, anxious, and very busy trying to balance a new baby and everything else.” Molly smiled wistfully. “It’s such a wonderful time. I’m sure you remember how lovely it is to be a new parent,” she said to Harry, her eyes flicking up to Ginny who was reading her letter. Harry managed to contain his amusement, knowing full-well what Molly was trying to work her way up to saying. Luckily, Ginny wasn’t listening to the hints. “I forgot all about this,” Ginny groaned, holding up her letter. “The League’s annual charity ball is next week. This is a letter from Gwenog, reminding me that I forgot to RSVP.” “You don’t want to go?” Arthur asked curiously. Ginny sighed. “Not particularly. It’s a stuffy event, filled with sponsors, League officials, and VIPs. It is for a good cause with donations going to Brooms Without Borders, but the general consensus on these parties is that they’re dull and maddeningly long.” “Brooms Without Borders?” Harry repeated, amused that it was so close in name to a Muggle charity. “An organization that provides under-privileged schools and families with brooms for flying lessons and transportation,” Ginny answered distractedly, eyes back on the letter. “At least you’ll have Harry to keep you company this year,” Molly reminded her. “The problem is that with the current situation, I’m not exactly in a celebratory mood,” Ginny said glumly, folding the letter back up. Arthur looked thoughtful. “It might be good to have the public see you out and about. Don’t let Charlotte think she’s driven you into hiding.” “Yes, but on that note, perhaps you should have Gwenog kept informed so that proper security measures can be taken,” said Molly. “I’ll take care of that with the Auror office,” Harry interjected. Ginny sighed in defeat. “I guess you’re all saying I have to go.” Arthur patted his daughter’s arm reassuredly. “The trade-off is you’re an International Quidditch star. One little charity event for enormous career success is a small price to pay.” Ginny chuckled darkly. “Alright, but Harry, don’t feel like you have to come if you don’t want to. I won’t make you suffer through it.” Harry smiled and waved aside her concern. He didn’t care about the possibility of it being boring. He had no intention of letting her go alone with Charlotte on the loose, and more importantly, it was an opportunity to spend time with Ginny as a happy, normal couple. He wasn’t about to pass that up. “Ginevra, I’d be honoured to escort you,” he replied cordially. Ginny rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was both relieved and pleased. “Such a gentleman,” Molly teased. *~* The rest of the day passed quickly. Molly and Arthur stayed for lunch, filling the house with chatter that was not about last night’s events. After they left, Harry suggested tossing a Quaffle around, which delighted James. Any chance to fly made him very happy. To Harry’s delight and extreme pride, James was a natural on his toy broom. He caught almost every throw he and Ginny tossed his way, smoothly manoeuvring his low-flying broom in whichever direction he wanted to go. After a while, he took turns riding on his parents’ brooms, bored of flying so low. When Ginny’s tossed the Quaffle low and Harry and James spun into a dive to get it, James burst into delighted squeals of joy. Harry’s heart was full to the brim with happiness at the thrill of flying with his son, though he did endure a harsh disapproving look and reigned-in lecture from Ginny. The sunshine and James’ cheerfulness kept Charlotte from his mind. It wasn’t until after James had gone to bed that he let himself think about the case. Deciding he didn’t want to go into work and leave Ginny and James after last night, he had the Auror office send him everything they had on Charlotte and her family. Harry spent hours pouring over the folder, determined to find something, anything, that might help him find her. He didn’t spend much time reading about Charlotte’s mother as there wasn’t much to be gained. As a former employee of the Department of Mysteries, information was scarce. Selena Darrow left the Ministry’s employ when Charlotte was only six years old and was committed to St. Mungo’s less than a year later. Harry could only imagine how traumatic that would have been on a six-year-old child. To watch her mother transition from a highly intelligent, skilled, and important witch to suffering from severe mental health problems could not have been easy. Judging from the description of Mrs. Darrow’s current condition, Harry doubted it was possible for Charlotte to have much of a mother-daughter relationship. Selena was still in St. Mungo’s, though the reports stated that she was now a non-verbal, highly emotional patient. She suffered from OCD and often had moderate to severe panic attacks. Some of these panic attacks were accompanied by violent behaviour and bursts of uncontrollable magic. She was listed as a high-security patient with restricted visitor access. Wendell Darrow’s files were much more interesting. His financial situation had never been a good one, particularly with a daughter to raise single-handedly. He had several known associations with Death Eaters, though as far as the Aurors could tell, he was not an actual member. Short-tempered, dishonest, and untrusting were all words used to describe him in the character references inside the folder. Wendell Darrow’s body was found after the Battle of Hogwarts. Aurors determined through witness accounts that he was responsible for the first-degree murder of one Hogwarts seventh-year Hufflepuff student, as well as the torture of a sixth-year Ravenclaw. Records showed that he was unemployed for most of Charlotte’s time at Hogwarts, though Harry knew Theomane had already tracked his income to confirmed Death Eaters. It was unclear what they were paying him to do, but it obviously could not have been honest work. Wendell had been convicted of assault, petty theft, and arson. And yet this horrible person was a father to Charlotte. She had felt the need to sneak back onto the grounds and try to save her father. She had watched him die, after watching her mother’s mental health deteriorate, after growing up with a father who, in all likelihood, was not a supportive, loving, and involved parent. But he was all she had. Was this just a revenge plot because Harry forced Voldemort’s hand and brought the battle to Hogwarts, thereby bringing her weak-willed father and forcing him into a fight he was unable to escape? Was Wendell forced to support Voldemort at Hogwarts because he owed the Death Eaters, because he was under the Imperius Curse, or perhaps because he supported the Pure-blood mania? The more he read, the more Harry realized the motive of revenge was driven by a lifetime of psychological and emotional trauma of an unstable home. Charlotte would be arrested, but it was difficult to say whether she would be splitting her time with St. Mungo’s for psychiatric evaluation and treatment. Harry flipped through the documents until he came to a photograph and a newspaper clipping. The headline sent a chill down Harry’s spine. Suspect Arrested in Nottingham Muggle Torture Case The photo was of Wendell Darrow being dragged from his home in handcuffs by Aurors. He was shouting something, struggling against his bonds and against the Aurors who wrestled him from the porch. A woman–likely Selena Darrow–clutched the doorway for support while tears ran down her face. Harry immediately recognized a young Charlotte, standing at her mother’s side. She kept calling out and reaching toward her father, her face awash with agony and fear. It was heart-breaking to see a moving photograph like this–Muggles had no idea. Charlotte could have been no older than four years old in this photo. No older than Harry’s own son. The scene replayed again and again in the photograph; a furious madman, bent not going quietly. What was he shouting to his wife and daughter? Words of comfort? Begging for forgiveness? A promise to return home soon to his daughter? Or were they words of anger? Promises of revenge and violence? Local wizard, Wendell Darrow, was arrested today as the prime suspect in the 1984 Nottingham Muggle torture case of Mary and Amelia Sanders. Darrow, seen above, was taken into custody yesterday at his home in Sunderland. Muggles Mary and Amelia Sanders were reportedly brutally attacked while on holiday by a man fitting Mr. Darrow’s description. The Muggle sisters were admitted to St. Mungo’s several hours after the attack. Amelia Sanders succumbed to her injuries hours after admittance, but Mary was released back to her family after two weeks under intensive care. Harry frowned at the man in the photo. This was not a man worth saving. This was not a man who deserved a daughter like Charlotte, one who ran to his defence and risked her own life to drag him from the fight. Harry set the photo down and was about to read another report when he noticed the flicker of another face in the doorway, just behind the legs of Selena Darrow. The face appeared for only a moment, just as Wendell was wrestled from the porch. The face belonged to a younger child, but the glimpse was so brief t that Harry could only make out a pair of wide, fearful eyes of a toddler. A little girl, if he wasn’t mistaken. Who was the second child? Records showed that the Darrows had one daughter, so who was this? A family friend? A cousin? Neighbour? Harry skimmed the article, but the only names mentioned in the article were Wendell, Selena, Charlotte, and the names of the Wendell’s victims. Harry made a note and clipped it to the photograph to have Research do a little digging. Perhaps this mystery child would be able to shed some light on Charlotte and her home life. Someone who knew Charlotte, maybe even kept in contact with her? The file said Charlotte had drifted from her friends after her father’s death, but if she was going to keep in touch with anyone, wouldn’t it be someone who was there on the day her world fell apart? Harry set aside the entire folder with a sigh. The more he read, the more questions he had. Charlotte’s past explained why she was capable of doing such terrible things and even possibly a motive, but there were still so many details missing. Where was she hiding now? Was it possible she was visiting her mother and could Selena provide any helpful information? If she went to such elaborate terms to curse him, why not just kill him? Harry opened his desk and pulled out another folder of information–one that he’d requested from Research last week and that he had yet to look through. He had been putting it off, not wanting to think about how the folder’s contents would inevitably make him feel. However, he knew that if he wanted answers, he needed every detail. This folder contained his letter of resignation to the Aurors, as well as statements from Theomane and a few select co-workers he had worked with before he left. Ron had not been included on this list for reasons that largely had to do with shame and embarrassment. Also, if Harry had demonstrated any unusual behaviour, he was sure he would have heard about it already. The first thing he pulled out of the folder, however, was the thing he was dreading to read the most. He wanted to read this before he lost his courage. It was the article from The Daily Prophet, in which he allegedly provided a statement that he was leaving his family. Thankfully, the article wasn’t very long. He skipped past the reporter’s summary and found the actual quote. “I wish I could have foreseen the extent of my unhappiness. I believe that I was desperate to find happiness after a lifetime of misery, death, and persecution from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I thought I had found it, but as of late, I’ve realized I can’t hide forever behind a life I only thought I wanted for myself. “I think I loved Ginny Weasley once–but I can’t deny that in her presence, I will never forget the horrors of my past.” The article went on to list all the “horrors”: losing his parents as an infant, the numerous attacks made by You-Know-Who as a child, the death of Fred Weasley. The list went on and on. There was a paraphrased quote that Harry told the reporter he didn’t know where he would go next, only that he was looking for a bit of privacy and understanding as he figured out what was next. The whole thing was bullshit and he couldn’t bear to read the whole thing. The reporter who published this garbage was nearly as heartless as Charlotte to destroy a family this way. Harry made note of the name in the byline–a Hayden Thayer, determined to track him down and make him explain. “Harry?” Ginny’s voice from the doorway made him jump. Unable to conceal his startled reaction, Harry dropped the newspaper clipping and it fluttered to the floor. Ginny looked from the newspaper article and back to his face worriedly. “What’s wrong? What is that?” Harry really didn’t want to admit what he had been reading. Get a grip, Potter. She read it four years ago, she knows none of it is real. She loves you. Harry took a breath. “It’s everything the Auror office was able to dig up about Charlotte,” he told her truthfully. He pushed his chair out from behind his desk, meaning to pick up the newspaper article nonchalantly. Unfortunately, Ginny came forward and picked it up for him. The clipping was a mere inch from being set down on the desk when she suddenly recognized the words in her hand. Harry watched, his heart dropping into the vicinity of his stomach as Ginny pinched the article in her fingers and lifted it, unable to stop herself from reading it and confirming what she already knew. She tore her eyes from the awful words and swallowed hard. “They kept this, did they?” “The Daily Prophet keeps everything in their archives… I thought maybe it would give me a clue about my state of mind at that time.” Ginny shook her head and set the article clipping down. Her expression was guarded when she said, “All it’ll do is upset you, Harry. It’s not real–in all likelihood, Charlotte wrote it herself.” “I have to try… I don’t remember anything between leaving work and arriving at the house. I don’t remember what happened after I left. Obviously, I was with Charlotte in both instances, so even if these words aren’t mine, these are the ones she put in my head to make me leave. If I can remember that state of mind, maybe I can remember everything else.” Ginny glanced at the article on the desk between them, lifting shaking hands to fold her arms across her chest. Suddenly Harry was reminded of how she looked when she’d appeared at the Leaky Cauldron–as if one word would make her fall to pieces. One word, or perhaps a few hundred of them, twisting their pasts and the truth into something untrue, ugly, and hateful. Words so poisonous that it broke her faith in him; words that haunted her for four years. Harry moved toward her, startled when she took a step back. She met his gaze with surprised eyes, as if her moving away had been automatic. Her eyes filled with tears and she glanced once more at the article on the desk. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect to see that here or that it might even be important for you to remember…” she trailed off distractedly. In a terrible moment, he imagined her sitting at the kitchen table, perhaps holding an infant James, reading those terrible words for the first time. Hearing them in her head as if he was speaking to her. “Ginny–” he tried, desperate to hold her, to attempt to comfort her. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised by her anxiety at having one of the worst parts of their separation come up again so suddenly. She had taken so long to tell him she loved him; he knew she wanted to trust him as she used to. But love was not logical and trust was not easily given. Harry followed her gaze, forcing himself to stay where he was and not risk frightening her. “I can’t see how anyone would actually believe these were my words.” “Quick-quotes quill, unethical editing of your words… I hate to admit I didn’t give it that much thought,” Ginny answered in a tight voice. “How can I not remember any of this?” he asked painfully, snatching the article off the desk. “How can I not remember that I raised my wand to the woman I love? Or that I went to a reporter and said things like ‘I regret only that I could have seen the errors of my ways before giving the curse of my name to a son and to a woman I have wronged through my own delusions’?” Ginny flinched. “Please stop quoting from it.” Harry regarded her for a moment, made sure she was looking at him when he crumpled it up and tossed it carelessly in the fireplace. “I hope that was the original,” Ginny muttered darkly. “I hate that I still can’t remember. Why did Charlotte spend so much time to send me away, to make sure that I wouldn’t come back? Why not kill me?” Ginny seemed to snap out of whatever dark thoughts had filled her mind. “I don’t know, but every day, I’m grateful we’re dealing with the aftermath of a curse, and not the alternative.” Harry moved toward her and she dropped her hands to her sides, intertwining her fingers with his. She didn’t run, but he could see the fear in her eyes, of both feeling all the terrible things from the past again and the fear of loving and losing. He felt them, too. “How could any spell be strong enough to change my mind about what I wanted most in my life?” What he wanted to ask was how could any of the things that came out of his mouth that night–or in the rag of a paper–break her faith in him? Ginny smiled weakly, tightening her grip on his hands. “It didn’t change your mind. You found your way back home.” She surprised him by closing the distance between them and kissing him. It was a tentative kiss at first, but after a few moments, she seemed to push aside all her hesitation and deepened the kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, feeling the tingles of pleasure down to his toes. No magic was strong enough to change his mind about the woman in his arms. When the kiss ended, Ginny smiled shyly and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m heading up to bed. It’s getting late and I have an early practice tomorrow. Coming?” “Yes.” He kissed her forehead. “Just give me a minute to put all of this away.” Harry reluctantly released her to file everything away and put it in his desk. He knew better than to leave it lying around in case James spotted it. He’d just put out the fireplace with his wand and started after Ginny when he suddenly felt dizzy. Maybe it was his frustration or stress, or a combination or the two, but Harry slid into a memory so quickly that he went from standing in his dark study to sitting in a white room. The room was brightly lit and smelt vaguely of bleach. He was sitting on an exam table, his ankle throbbing, staring at a poster of human anatomy. Harry breathed sharply, turning instinctively to the door he knew would open. His mind was sluggish but the panic that settled in his heart was immediate. He knew he had to get away. Now. A woman entered and closed the door quickly behind herself. She wore a dark blue dress under a long black coat, her dark hair tied into a low ponytail. They stared at each other for a moment, but as she took a step forward, Harry jumped off the table to move away. Unfortunately, his ankle gave out and he stumbled, falling to the floor with the crinkling wax paper sheet he had sat on. Unable to find the strength to stand up again, he edged back against the wall. “You are certainly difficult,” the woman spoke, sounding weary. She was kneeling in front of him now. He hated her. Why was she here? What was her name? He racked his brain, but he couldn’t seem to recall her name. She smiled and reached out to tilt his chin up so they were looking eye-to-eye. She had dark eyes; dangerous eyes. His mind was buzzing with panic now. He had to get away from this person. He could smell her familiar sickly sweet perfume. Forcing his chin up, she regarded him curiously for a moment. Finally, she narrowed her eyes at him and asked quizzically, “Who am I?” Who was she? Who? Harry breathed heavily, thinking hard. His mind was blank, surged with adrenaline. When he didn’t–couldn’t answer–she chuckled and released his chin, giving him a semi-rough shove backwards so that his head bounced off the wall. He had several choice words to call her, but he couldn’t make his tongue work. Harry glared up at her, refusing to look away while she paced a few steps in front of him before studying him again. She looked at him like he was a tiresome problem she couldn’t solve. Where the bloody hell was security? She reached into her pocket and Harry tensed, waiting to see whatever weapon she brought. But she didn’t have a gun or knife, just a slender stick of polished wood. She pointed it at him and then he felt a calm settle over him. Stand up. He did, wondering why he was on the floor in the first place. What a silly, ridiculous place to be! His ankle protested, though, so he leaned against the wall to take the weight off. “How is it you’re still fighting me?” Numbly, he wondered at her words. Fighting her? Had he been fighting her? Was he supposed to be? But why? “Who am I?” This was for him. She sounded frustrated, her voice hard. Harry stared at her, considering the question. His mind was sluggish and there was a loud ringing in his ears. The pain in his ankle began to register through the calm and his fists clenched at his sides. He began to remember that he was in danger. He had to get away right now. “Who am I?” she asked again, forcibly still. Still, he could not form an answer. She made a noise of frustration and gave him another shove against the wall, eyes flashing dangerously. “Answer me! Who am I? Where did you come from?” “I don’t know,” he managed to grit out, wondering over his words. Did he know? Was that a lie? Something in his mind felt he should know… She probably knew he was lying because the woman cursed and raised the slender stick of wood and pressed it into his throat. Harry wondered over what he did to make her hate him so much. “Answer me,” she insisted, angrier still. But there was something else–fear? “No.” The stick of wood pressed hard. “You know. Think. Think really hard!” But he didn’t know and he was sure the wood would break the skin and impale him. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his mind struggling to think through the fog in his head. Finally, he managed to find a bit of strength. He grabbed the wood at his throat and attempted to wrench it from her grasp. “Take me back,” he gasped. He didn’t know where he was supposed to be, but he did know for sure that he was not supposed to be here. And she was making him be here. This was her fault. This was not the answer she wanted, though. Harry choked on the pain of the wand at his neck. Nothingness fell over him and Harry slumped against the wall, bothered only by a sharp pain in his neck and a persistent ache in his ankle. Her voice was far away, but he still heard her. “Forget,” she commanded wildly, dangerously. “Forget it now!” The pain disappeared from his neck and a cold hand dragged him toward the table. Sit down. “Harry?” A familiar female voice–a friendly voice–called from the hallway. The door opened again just as Harry settled on the exam table. “Oh, sorry.” Sam looked from Harry to his first visitor–a nurse in white. The nurse was leaving. “I’m afraid he’s a little groggy–the doctor gave him some pain medication for his ankle.” Sam smiled at the nurse. “Thank you.” Footsteps. The door closed. Harry turned his head, wondering at his racing heart. But the only person in the room now was Samantha Reeve. She smiled at him kindly, holding two take-out paper cups in her hand. “The coffee sucks,” Sam said apologetically. Harry blinked, surprised to find himself back in his study and kneeling awkwardly on the ground. He realized immediately that he had fallen at some point. His knees ached, rather than his ankle. Ginny was crouched in front of him, gripping his shoulders. The room around him was spinning slightly so he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Harry?” Ginny gently cupped his face in one of her hands. “Can you hear me? What did you remember?” Harry opened his eyes slowly, feeling nauseous. Fortunately, the room was barely moving now. It was unfortunate that she had to witness him having a flashback where he fell down. He really didn’t want to lose his dinner in front of her, too. “Charlotte visiting me in the hospital after I’d met Sam,” Harry managed to say. “I guess I wasn’t taking to her curse as easily as she expected.” Ginny stared at him in disbelief. “Do you want to stand up?” she asked distractedly. “Yes,” he said, though he was embarrassed that he needed her help to do it. These flashbacks were exhausting. At least when you relived a memory with a Pensieve, you didn’t feel any physical side effects. “So Sam saw Charlotte?” Harry nodded, thinking quickly. “If Theomane can get Sam to make an official witness statement that she saw Charlotte in the room with me and confirm that my memory isn’t altered or a side effect from a memory charm, he can officially charge her with assaulting you and cursing me.” Ginny frowned. “It’s odd that Charlotte might be so reckless with letting Sam see you, but meticulous about every other detail.” Harry had to agree there. “I don’t think Charlotte considers Sam a threat. They had about four seconds of being in the same room and she transfigured her clothes into a nurse’s uniform. I imagine she never expected Sam to give her a second thought.” Ginny bit her lip nervously. “This may be a big leap and an even bigger insult to you, but I just want to make sure…” “What?” Ginny looked extremely nervous as she blurted, “You don’t think that Sam could have been working with Charlotte?” “No,” Harry answered immediately. “Sam would never be part of a plan to keep me in New York.” Ginny nodded, but didn’t reply. Harry supposed Ginny didn’t trust his answer and he didn’t blame her. He had been in a serious relationship with Sam. He had loved her, lived with her, and had talked about a future with her. Harry was sure that Theomane would ask the same question when Harry told him. But Ginny needed to trust Sam, like he trusted Nick. “Remember this morning when I told you I trusted your faith in Nick? That he’s a good person? I can give you my word about Sam–she would never hurt me.” Ginny smiled sadly and nodded, seemingly convinced. “Okay, then. So what happens now?” “I have to talk to Theomane. He has to get that statement from Sam quickly. What if Charlotte did tamper with Sam’s memory? What if she doesn’t remember? Or worse, what if there were other times that Sam witnessed Charlotte near me?” It suddenly occurred to him that his family, Ron and Hermione might not be Charlotte’s only targets. “You can’t think like that. Let’s hope that Charlotte thought their meeting was inconsequential enough that Sam would never be a threat.” “I hope so,” he said grimly. Ginny gave him what he supposed was a reassuring smile. She kissed him and gestured to the fireplace. “Go make your report to Theomane,” Ginny said after a moment. “But come back as quickly as you can–I don’t like you out of my sight when there’s a psychotic witch out to get you and you’re passing out from powerful flashbacks.” Harry nodded and moved toward the fireplace, still feeling shaky and sick. Clearly, he’d had a lot of memory conditioning on that particular memory. He caught her hand before she left him to his conversation with Theomane. “I’m sorry if I scared you. This has been a rather trying twenty-four hours for us.” Ginny waved away his concern with her free hand. “I’m alright,” Ginny murmured, “It’s you I worry about.” Harry glanced at his watch. “I’m just going to Floo call him since he’s not at the office anyway.” Ginny looked relieved that he wasn’t going traipsing off into the night. She told him she would wait upstairs and left him to it. Theomane would not be happy to be disturbed at home, but this was bordering on an emergency. He had a sense that when it came to Charlotte, it was not wise to wait. |
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