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A Proper Epilogue | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 188 Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and everyone in the Wizarding World wants a piece of him, but there is only one witch with whom he wants to speak. How exactly can he hope that she still wants to see him? Hitcount: Story Total: 74327; Chapter Total: 3372 Author's Notes: The best laid plans of mice and magicians ... |
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CHAPTER 20 — RESTORING ORDER OUT OF CHAOS The thud of dead weight reverberated throughout the Leaky Cauldron as Pansy fell to the hardwood floor, raising questions in the minds of nearly all of the guests of the inn. Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom, however, felt nothing but the closeness of each other’s flesh and the erratic thumping of their bed. Neville’s spirit had been pushed to the breaking point while Hannah’s soul ached to share comfort with the incredibly brave wizard whose sufferings in life exceeded even her own. Hannah had desperately hoped that the fall of Voldemort would bring an end to the spread of death and destruction, but the attack upon Harry and Ginny and the deaths of Neville’s grandmother and Professor Sprout proved the old adage that evil would always rise up to replace evil. While Lucius Malfoy might have been less than half as powerful a wizard as Tom Riddle, his ambition had propelled him into action when he was less than half as fully prepared. The result of such imprudent behavior had cost Harry and Ginny the life of their unborn child and had torn the young man Hannah had come to love away from his academic mentor and the grandmother who had raised him since the day his parents had been tortured into madness. How ironic, thought Hannah, deeply saddened, that great evil has been replaced by petty meanness, but the results are equally tragic? “Oh, Neville,” she whispered into his ear as she pressed down upon him with the full weight of her body. “Wh … what?” he replied. “You feel amazing inside me.” Hannah’s words were barely discernible within her gasps as the climax that had been building inside her rolled outward, filling the core of her body in one direction while literally curling her toes in the other. She knew her boyfriend must have been feeling something similar, for his breathing had become ragged shortly before his body lurched in uneven thrusts and his normally soothing voice gave way to a series of feral grunts and moans. “I didn’t know I could ever feel this alive,” Hannah said softly once her heartbeat returned to normal. Indeed, it was the first time she had felt whole since her mother had been murdered. She felt connected in a new and totally different way and realized without doubt that simply being with Neville Longbottom felt perfect. Better yet, it felt right. “I love you, Hannah,” he said in reply, his voice firm, full of trust and adoration. Her heartbeat erupted wildly within her chest when she recognized his tone of voice for what it was — certainty. “I love you, too,” she answered, opening her bright blue eyes to find herself basking in the warmth of his gaze. “Thank Merlin we found each other,” he added, his voice still firm despite the tears that threatened to pour down upon the cheeks Hannah found so adorably round and soft despite the way his body had hardened and matured during a year spent resisting the wrath of the Carrows at Hogwarts. Hannah smiled silently as she continued gazing at the man Neville had become — the brilliant young herbologist who was simultaneously confident enough to stand toe to toe with the world’s Darkest wizard, brave enough to slay the terrible serpent, Nagini, as she prepared to strike, yet unpretentious enough to hold his girlfriend gently and with an obvious sense of awe at the love that bloomed between them. “I want to help,” whispered Pansy as soon as her vision cleared enough to see the look of concern in Ginny Potter’s vivid brown eyes and the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt leaning over the young witch’s shoulder. “Excuse me?" asked Ginny, amazed at Pansy’s reaction. “I want to help … help end this now … and I think I may be the only one who can, although I’ll need some help from Mrs. Malfoy.” “Maybe we should get you some medical attention first,” suggested Ginny, checking Pansy’s pupils for uneven dilation. “Your head hit the floor pretty hard.” “No!” exclaimed Pansy, her voice becoming louder, emphasizing her alarm and growing sense of agitation. “We need to do something now!” “And so we shall, young lady,” said Kingsley, reaching down to help Pansy back to her feet, “but first let’s find someplace more private.” “But I need help from Mrs. Malfoy!” repeated Pansy excitedly. Minister Shacklebolt turned quickly to Ginny and asked, “In a moment, do you think you and Harry could escort Miss Parkinson back to the Burrow?” “Of course,” answered Ginny. “And Ron," the Minister continued, “would you and Hermione let Hannah know her barmaid will be away for the rest of the evening, and then join us at your parents’ house?” Ron nodded in return, took Hermione by the hand, and headed for the staircase in search the pub’s new owner. At last, Kingsley turned to face Narcissa and Draco, who had remained seated, dumbstruck by what was happening directly in front of them. “I’m going to need the two of you to stay with me for a little longer, please.” Ginny couldn’t help being amused by the look on Draco’s face, thinking it defined panic in its purest form. She had spent years loathing, yet slightly fearing, the normally smug, self-satisfied expression he wore habitually. Seeing him lost and more than a little afraid left her with the thought that there might, after all, be some justice left in the world. “Wait a second,” protested Draco. “Surely you don’t expect us to do anything with that nutter.” He was pointing at Pansy, who stood within Ginny’s loose yet protective embrace. “For now, I expect that you and your mother will help us identify the killers of Augusta Longbottom and Pomona Sprout. Beyond that, I’m not entirely sure what to expect.” “Well, let me assure you that our only concern is to stay out of trouble.” Ginny watched in amazement as Narcissa Malfoy’s jaw dropped open, obviously shocked at her son’s open display of selfishness. “I think what Draco means …” started Narcissa before being interrupted by the Minister’s outstretched palm. “I think we all know what Draco means, and I must confess that I find the attitude extremely disappointing,” answered Kingsley, “especially coming from someone who claims to be so anxious to prove his desire to return to the mainstream of the wizarding world.” “B-but … but I am anxious to …” Draco added. “Please!” interjected Kingsley. “I’m not entirely stupid. Neither am I easily made a fool of, young man.” Ginny realized that Draco had probably never before been spoken to in such a manner, based upon the confused, helpless look that glazed his eyes. “So, Narcissa, will you be joining us at the Burrow, or would you and your son prefer a trip to Azkaban?” “Azkaban? For what reason?” “Yes, Azkaban — for obstruction of justice and providing aid to a known criminal conspiracy.” Defeated, Narcissa Malfoy nodded her consent. The summit at the Burrow was more sparsely attended than Harry had anticipated, although Kingsley explained that it was imperative to limit the number of participants to those whose loyalty was completely beyond reproach and who had a proven ability to maintain confidences. Things were going to be dicey enough with Narcissa, Draco, and Pansy involved at a high level, although Harry was convinced that the latter had already proven her trustworthiness. The surviving members of the Malfoy family were another matter entirely. With each passing conversation, Harry was coming to have a grudging sense of respect for Narcissa. While it was clear that the witch was as self-serving as he would expect of any true Slytherin, it had become equally certain that she possessed a certain degree of steely courage that made it possible for her to do things that would otherwise run against her nature. He had seen it first in the Forbidden Forest when she had summoned the courage to tell her lord and master that Harry was dead. Yes, that particular bit of subterfuge had been in the Malfoy family’s best interest, but it had required courage, nonetheless, just as the plan this small group was incubating would demand of Narcissa Malfoy. Her assigned task was to approach Diana Parkinson, apologize for missing the previous night’s gathering of Death Eater spouses, and attempt to solicit an invitation to join the group of disaffected witches if and when they were to assemble again. Kingsley had spoken passionately about the probability that the group would soon strike at Harry, especially now that they believed the Elder Wand to be in their possession. Once the time and place had been determined, Draco was to deliver the news to Pansy, who would continue in residence at The Leaky Cauldron. That way, if their activities were for some reason being monitored, nothing suspicious would appear to be happening, for neither Pansy nor Draco had yet had the opportunity or the inclination to spread the news of their breakup — if what had transpired between them had ever meant they were truly together. Once Pansy received Draco’s warning, she would be able to pass the information to her new boss, Hannah Abbott, and things could be put into motion. Harry mulled the plan over in his mind, pleased with its simplicity, but worried that its success or failure hinged upon the willingness and ability of the Malfoys to stay true to their word. He comforted himself with the insight Horace Slughorn had shared with him during his sixth year at Hogwarts — that Slytherins didn’t inherently lack for bravery, but that their courage was always tempered by self-preservation. Harry knew that both Narcissa and Draco possessed a stronger than average share of this instinct which had previously kept them loyal to Voldemort. Harry hoped their incentives for self-preservation were, by this time, sufficiently tied to Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Ministry for Magic and set about the implementation of his own part of the plan. He and Ginny had been instructed to remain in hiding, with their whereabouts known only to Ron, Hermione, and the Minister, as a safeguard against the possibility of treachery on the part of the Malfoys, or a preemptive strike by Diana Parkinson and her crew. So, the young couple waited impatiently at the only home they had not yet visited — their estate in Cornwall. Afternoon temperatures had been hovering in the upper sixties, which was about normal for early June in Cornwall. Harry enjoyed the feeling of warmth on his back as sunlight bathed the moors surrounding Potter Manor. He tried to keep up with the pace set by Ginny as she hastened to reach the entrance to Merlin’s Cave. “Come on, Potter! Keep up!” she shouted over her shoulder. “We’re almost there.” “I’m coming as fast as I can,” shouted Harry. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have Apparated.” “And missed all of this?” asked Ginny excitedly. “To miss walking on the grounds where Merlin and Arthur first met? No way!” Harry would ordinarily not have complained, but his wife had taken an immediate liking to Potter Manor and the surrounding grounds — an interest that had only grown when Kreacher had shared the mythology that surrounded Harry’s ancestral property. Unable to enjoy the life of most newlywed couples due to her injury, Ginny had made it her objective to cover every square inch of available land. If they were going to be exiled for their own safety, she meant to take full advantage of every opportunity. “There’s the entrance!” she shouted, as Harry pulled up behind her. “If Kreacher is right, we’ll be able to see the ruins of the castle at Tintagel Head once we get there!” “Arthur’s birthplace?” asked Harry, fairly certain that he remembered things correctly. “You have been listening!” said Ginny, reaching up to place a kiss on her husband’s cheek. Thanks to the exercise, his skin was hot and a little sweaty. Harry looked up at the yawning mouth of the cave — a dark chasm opening in the verdant hillside — and shivered in anticipation. As hard as he had tried to appear nonchalant about visiting Merlin’s Cave, Ginny’s excitement was infectious. Now that they had reached their day’s objective, he was more than a little excited. He pulled her into a firm embrace and kissed her deeply. “You’re amazing, Ginny.” “I know. And you’re a lucky man, Harry Potter,” she added, trying to maintain a straight face, but failing completely. The wicked grin that Harry loved so intensely simply refused to remain beneath the surface. Harry kissed her again, overwhelmed with love for this young witch who meant the world to him. He couldn’t stop reflecting upon the multitude of facets that comprised her personality — her sense of humor, her compassion for those wrongly accused, her impatience with arrogance and stupidity, her commitment to justice, her hair-trigger temper, and her fiery passion. Harry shuddered as his fingers laced into her incomparably silky red hair, and the force of his own passion surged within him. His lips trailed along her jaw line until he settled into the spot behind her ear, and she moaned. “Fuck!” muttered Harry, suddenly pulling himself away from her. “What?” she asked. “We can’t do this,” he grumbled. “It’s okay,” Ginny replied, an equal amount of frustration lacing her voice. “Healer Smethwyck said it was only a precaution. We can use the contraceptive charm.” “No!” gasped Harry. “Not when you were so upset about losing your chance to have children.” “Then at least let me do something for you,” Ginny countered, slipping her right hand down his chest and grasping his belt buckle. “G … God!” Harry stammered. “Not unless we can do something for you, sweetheart.” “But who says it won’t be for me?” Ginny responded. “Please, Harry!” Harry felt his willpower crumbling as he contemplated another twelve days and nights of abstinence, and the extra difficulties they would face while being exiled at Potter Manor. The place was magical in more ways than one, and neither he nor Ginny had been prepared for the effects of being at his family’s homestead. He hadn’t thought anything could make him want Ginny even more than he had before, but this excursion had done so. They were the last of the Potters, walking and breathing where Harry’s ancestors had lived — where Merlin, himself, had lived — newly married and looking forward to years and years together, assuming Diana Parkinson and her group could be thwarted. Everything seemed somehow to intensify in importance. “God, Gin …” Harry gasped, unable to finish his thought due to the passion that raged within him. “Please, Harry,” she repeated. Harry’s eyes fastened upon her amazing brown eyes that had never glistened more brightly, not entirely due to the soft sunlight that continued to linger about them even now that they had stepped into the cave. He wanted her more than he could ever have thought possible and, suddenly, the noble gesture of waiting until she could fully participate in marital activities started to seem rather stupid — especially when she was literally begging for the chance to make love to him as fully as their situation allowed. “Okay,” he gasped, amazed by the simultaneous smile that spread across his wife’s face. “It’s about time, Potter,” she grunted while pulling forcibly on Harry’s belt buckle. But a sudden crack split the air, causing both Harry and Ginny to switch gears without warning. It was a testament to their commitment to constant vigilance that both turned on the spot, instantaneously producing their wands and aiming at the source of the disturbance. “M-Master Harry! M-Mistress Ginny!” stammered Kreacher, obviously terrified to be staring at the business end of both wands. The couple lowered their wands immediately. “What is it?” asked Harry, knowing full well that Kreacher would not interrupt their time together without good reason. “Minister Shacklebolt sent his Patronus to the manor. He says it is time to move.” “Already?” asked Harry, though he did not waste time before looking in Ginny’s direction. “Let’s go,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I’ll see you at the Burrow,” he replied before turning on the spot and disappearing into the crushing darkness. Narcissa Malfoy had anticipated that she and Draco, alone, would attend her husband’s burial ceremony. In fact, it had taken her several requests before she had been able to find an authorized wizarding liturgist who would agree to celebrate over the burial. She had known that the Weasleys, Harry, or the Minister for Magic would have agreed to intervene on her behalf, but she had not wanted to risk public association with anyone from the Order of the Phoenix. So she had been shocked to look up and find a small crowd of witches moving in her direction as she and Draco stood beside the open grave that would soon be the final resting place for Lucius Malfoy. Diana Parkingson, Tina Mulciber, Liz Yaxley, and Alison Avery had walked up silently only moments after the liturgy began. Afterward, Diana, alone, had approached Narcissa and whispered into her ear. “Tonight — my house — 8:00 PM. And, Narcissa, we’re very sorry for your loss.” Without another word, the group turned as one, Disapparating to destinations unknown. Narcissa looked at her son and shared the news. “You know what to do, Draco. Do not let us down.” “Yes, Mother,” Draco replied before heading off to Diagon Alley, where he first stopped at Gringotts to provide an excuse for his journey, and then moved on to the Leaky Cauldron and an uncomfortable rendezvous with Pansy Parkinson. The scout team, comprised of Kingsley, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Pansy, Apparated onto a ridge in southeastern England, somewhere near the village of Stourmouth. Like most magical dwellings, the Parkinson mansion was well-disguised from human eyes, both magical and Muggle, so the team would have been hopelessly lost in their efforts to find their objective without Pansy’s assistance. “Could I see the photo album?” Pansy asked. Her tone was almost brusque, the tension in her voice doing little to instill confidence in her compatriots. “Certainly,” answered Hermione, digging rapidly in her beaded bag before producing the requested object. Her hands shook involuntarily. Pansy opened the album to a large magical photograph of her family home. Immediately, Harry recognized the orchard that filled the valley that spread between them and the river below. “That river is the Little Stour,” said Pansy, “and the larger river in the distance is the Stour, itself. Even at dusk, you will be able to make out these landmarks with little difficulty, which should help in your orientation.” Harry glanced over at Ron, whose eyes moved carefully between the map and the landscape below them. He had never seen Ron so totally focused before — a sight that brought comfort to Harry despite the tension growing among the group. Pansy drew a deep breath and continued: “We will follow the trail downward from where we now stand until we reach the edge of the orchard. Beyond that point, you will need my assistance to enter the grounds of the property. The protections are simple blood-wards, so anyone accompanying me will be granted access to the property. However, anyone trying to do so on their own will set off a Caterwauling Charm, and we will lose all hope of surprise.” “And what about when we enter the property?” asked Harry, hoping that Pansy’s mother had not yet thought to modify the protections that had been set up around the premises. Pansy flipped a few pages in her photo album and began, “This is a photograph of the rear of the house, taken from a point very close to where we will enter tonight. As you can see, the Great Room is located in the center of the building and opens onto the back terrace.” “If we are able to maintain the element of surprise,” added Kingsley, “we must move quickly to prevent escape through either the foyer or onto the terrace. Hermione’s team will make their way to the front staircase and must move immediately to seal off the main entrance.” “That’s right,” said Pansy. “Please remember that Apparition is not possible through the wards or within the house itself. However, it is possible to Disapparate from any point on the property outside the house, proper. We must seal both the front and back entrances at exactly the same moment that the attack group enters the house.” “Ginny’s team will have responsibility for securing the doorways onto the back terrace,” continued Kingsley as soon as Pansy had completed her warnings. “But I want to fight with Harry,” protested Ginny. “No!” commanded Kingsley. “Our roles are offensive in nature and must move with dispatch. We’ll have adequate protection for Harry, but we simply cannot allow any of you to become distracted from your objectives. If you or anyone else can’t live with that, Ginny, then you’ll have to stay behind.” Harry turned his attention to his wife and saw the resentment cross over her face before she nodded her reluctant assent to the plan. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings,” added Kingsley, “but I believe Remus and Tonks might still be with us had they not been fighting together.” Harry’s temper flared briefly then subsided just as quickly when he remembered his decision to protect Ginny rather than attack Voldemort. “Okay, Kingsley, we get it,” he concluded, fully aware that he would always — always — put Ginny first in his life. “I will lead the primary attack team, which will include Pansy, Ron, Arthur, Bill, and, if necessary, Harry,” said Kingsley. “Pansy will guide us through the kitchen entrance.” The Minister for Magic pointed at a single doorway to the left rear of the mansion before nodding at Pansy to continue the discussion. “We will pass through the kitchen and move into the Butler’s Pantry. It’s easily large enough for our team of six people, and we can wait there for the final signal to attack. If Mrs. Malfoy has done her job properly, we should have an easy time of it.” “And if she hasn’t?” asked Harry, overwhelmed with thoughts of a battle raging within the Parkinson residence. “Then Hermione and Ginny will lead their teams into the residence, where we will hopefully gain victory through superior numbers,” added Kingsley emphatically. As long as Mrs. Parkinson’s group isn’t larger than we believe, thought Harry silently, in which case we could be royally buggered. “Any other questions?” asked Kingsley, looking at each member of the scout team in turn. “Then let’s get back to the Burrow where each of you can brief the members of your respective teams and hopefully get some rest.” At precisely eight o’clock in the evening, Narcissa Malfoy arrived at the edge of the Parkinson property by way of the main road that approached directly from the east, near the confluence of the rivers Stour and Little Stour. The walk had been short and familiar from her chosen Apparition point, although it was the first occasion on which Narcissa had visited without her husband’s company. As she reached the boundary of the area protected by the wards, her eyes could detect a slight shimmering that might have been nothing more than an optical illusion created as the sun sank toward the horizon in the west. She drew her wand to cast an Announcement Charm, but the effort proved unnecessary. Diana Parkinson appeared suddenly right in front of her, allowing Narcissa a glance at the gray stone mansion through the opening in the protective charms. “Welcome, Narcissa,” said her hostess, whose voice seemed to resonate with true concern. “We are pleased that you could join us.” “Thank you, Diana,” answered Narcissa, trying to remain calm. “I hadn’t planned on leaving home tonight, but your invitation seemed so urgent — almost a command, if I didn’t know better.” “Not a command, my dear, but we do have important things to discuss and precious little time in which to act.” “Why is that?” asked Narcissa, virtually certain of what Diana and her coven of Dark witches had in mind. Reminding herself of Kingsley’s warnings, Narcissa shifted her mind smoothly into a protected state, her full powers of Occlumency already at work. While none of the Parkinson family was known as a skilled Legilimens, the same could not be said for Alison Avery. “Is something wrong?” asked Diana. “Not at all,” replied Narcissa. “I’m just not used to being without Lucius.” “I’m so sorry,” whispered Diana, her eyes remaining cast upon the ground. “I still can’t believe my own daughter betrayed us on Saturday.” “She said she didn’t mean to kill Lucius,” whispered Narcissa, as her emotions began to war against one another. No matter what else she might have thought about his schemes, Narcissa had truly loved her husband, just as she truly loved her son … her son who was waiting behind at the Burrow, unarmed and watched closely by Molly Weasley, the witch who had killed Narcissa’s sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Molly’s daughter-in-law, Fleur, a former Tri-Wizard Champion. If for no other reason, Narcissa blocked out any thoughts of deviating from the plan she had agreed upon with Minister Shacklebolt. Draco was undoubtedly no match for such powerful witches. “Regardless of her intentions toward Lucius, my daughter betrayed us all when she tried to save Harry Potter. I will never forgive such disloyalty and have disowned her outright,” hissed Diana, her face etched with hostility rather than remorse. “Really?” asked Narcissa, careful not to divulge the fact that she already knew of the falling out between mother and daughter. “Yes,” spat Diana. “And as soon as Malcolm returns, we will go to the Ministry and to Gringotts to make it official.” Narcissa rejoiced inwardly at the news that nothing “official” had yet been done to disinherit Pansy, although her face remained unchanged. Narcissa Malfoy remained a grieving widow to the outside world, with no visible trace of the treachery she intended to commit against her former allies and social acquaintances. As long as Pansy remained an official member of the Parkinson family, perhaps nothing had yet been done to prohibit her access to the property — access that was absolutely crucial for the success of their mission. The two witches climbed the front staircase, which rose in grand fashion from the garth to the main floor of the mansion. Narcissa checked her watch and realized that the peace in which she and Diana now traveled would be rent asunder in less than seventeen minutes. She hoped the group of assembled witches would get right to business. Otherwise, she feared the attack would begin before the Elder Wand might be brought into the room. Her fears abated as soon as Narcissa entered the mansion’s Great Room. Two wing-backed chairs stood before the hearth to her right-hand side. The chairs faced a seating arrangement comprised of a settee that was flanked by smaller upholstered sofas that could hold no more than two people each. In the middle of the seating arrangement was a low table, but instead of a silver tea service, the table supported a glass case containing a single wand — a wand she had last seen flying through the Great Hall of Hogwarts before coming to rest in the outstretched hand of Harry Potter while the Dark Lord had fallen dead to the floor. The furniture arrangement was exactly as Pansy had described during their brief planning session. With any luck, thought Narcissa, things just might go off as planned. She immediately chastised herself for allowing such thoughts to enter her mind, for Alison Avery’s eyes fastened sharply upon her own. Was the other witch already trying to penetrate her mental defenses? Narcissa calmly shifted back into the type of concentration that would be necessary to properly protect her thoughts, simultaneously trying to make these precautions as unnoticeable as possible. As the wife of a highly ranked Death Eater, she had long before learned the tools of Occlumency! The assault team arrived on the ridgeline overlooking the Parkinson property over a period of almost four minutes. Each “pop” of Apparition was therefore a singular event, guaranteeing that they would remain undetected by anyone who might be on guard duty at the mansion. Apparently their preparations were rewarded and their arrival remained undetected, for no response was heard from the property below. Using Disillusionment Charms, and in Harry’s case, his invisibility cloak, the group moved quietly down the trail that the scout team had reconnoitered earlier in the day and gathered behind their respective team leaders. Joining Hermione’s unit were Neville Longbottom, Percy Weasley, and a pair of Aurors, John Smythe and William Holmes, both of whom were personally trained by and enthusiastically vouched for by the Minister for Magic. Due to the size of the back terrace, Ginny’s team was larger. Her brothers, George and Charlie were with her, along with Luna Lovegood, Hannah Abbott, and Aurors, David Woodson, John Dawlish, and another trio Harry had not previously met — James Simonton, and the McKenna twins, Cullum and Hamish. Harry had never before gone into battle with a group of people with whom he was not thoroughly acquainted, and the presence of so many outsiders unnerved him a bit. He found himself particularly uncomfortable with the inclusion of John Dawlish, who seemed to work his way onto elite units regardless of who was the current Minister for Magic and to which cause that Minister owed his allegiance. Kingsley had spoken strongly in defense of Dawlish when Harry had objected, but now that his wife, his closest friends, and almost all of the Weasleys were about to enter a potentially lethal confrontation, he cursed the fact that this situation had arisen before he had a chance to become more intimately familiar with the entire staff of Aurors. Of course, Kingsley had taken the opportunity to remind Harry that he had been offered the chance to take control of the Auror Department less than three hours after Voldemort had fallen. The conversation had taken place in front of Ron, who had begun to stick to Harry like glue the moment his best friend had arrived back at the Burrow from Cornwall, as if it was his sole responsibility to guarantee Harry’s safety. Harry had also taken note of the fact that Ron nodded enthusiastically whenever the Minister mentioned the amount of time that had already been lost in the effort to shore up the Ministry’s front line of defense against the Dark Arts, time that could have been used to prevent the situation in which Harry had suddenly found himself found himself — being largely dependent upon unfamiliar faces to thwart their enemies. The assault teams waited in silence as Pansy walked up to the point where the property’s defenses stood unseen to anyone present. Harry expected the young witch to engage in some sort of elaborate ritual in order to gain entry, but learned quickly that he had been mistaken. Pansy held up her hand to ensure that everyone remembered not to follow her. The wards required members of the family to exit the property in order to escort guests back onto the grounds. She stepped forward and suddenly disappeared from view. “Remind you of anything?” Hermione whispered into Harry’s ear. “Yeah, of being cold, hungry, and scared out of our bleeding wits,” he replied. “But what do they do to make an Invisibility Charm cover an entire estate?” “It’s relatively easy, Harry,” answered Hermione. “I read about it in Advanced Magical Theory right after we attended the Quidditch World Cup. You see, all you have to do is …” But Hermione’s explanation was cut off by Pansy’s return through the invisibility barrier. “Shh!” she hissed in Hermione’s direction. “Follow me, and for goodness sake, be quiet!” The assault teams moved forward, one person at a time, with each successive combatant taking Pansy’s hand in turn, as if being assisted across an open threshold. Once the final member of the group, Arthur Weasley, passed onto the Parkinson’s property, Pansy turned and moved back to the forefront. She nodded at Kingsley. “Thank you, Pansy. Unless we’re terribly mistaken, our plan has worked perfectly so far. Now, I want each of you to follow your team leaders into position. And, Aurors, I know you are used to leading these sorts of missions, so I must ask you to please pay close attention to each of your team leaders. Hermione and Ginny are well versed with our strategies and are both experienced at working with Harry. They will lead you well, but you must give them a chance to do so.” Harry watched suspiciously as Dawlish exchanged unhappy glances with the McKenna brothers. He wished momentarily that he had talked to Kingsley about leaving Ginny at the Burrow, but knew he couldn’t have done so. He had given her his promise that she would never again be left behind against her wishes, although as much as he had meant those words, he couldn’t completely dismiss the protective desires that rose instinctively within him. Ginny Potter was the center of his personal universe and always would be — whether leisurely hiking across the moors of Potter Manor or facing a moment of near-certain death. Tonight’s mission, he prayed, would not approach that unthinkable level of danger. “It’s now exactly 8:00 PM,” Kingsley continued, breaking through Harry’s reflections. “We have precisely eighteen minutes to be in position — no more, no less. We cannot afford for anyone to arrive late, but we must not chance being seen before it is time to strike. Move out! Quietly! Now!” And with that, Hermione’s team disappeared into the orchard that flanked the northern edge of the mansion and would lead them within a short jaunt of the front staircase. She moved with the skilled precision of a person who had spent months successfully avoiding capture in the wild during a time when she and her companions had been the most wanted persons in the wizarding world. Ginny led her team in the opposite direction, sliding invisibly through the hop field that grew from their present location all the way up to the finely mown grass of the back garden. Her team would face the most dangerous course, as they had to cross approximately thirty yards of open lawn in order to reach the estate’s back terrace. It was critical that she lead her team into position before Narcissa created a diversion within the Great Room itself. Hopefully, that would distract their enemies long enough for Ginny and her followers to reach the terrace and prevent any of the assembled party from Disapparating to safety. Kingsley’s team set out on the heels of Hermione’s party, and in less than ten minutes had reached the point at which the trees were no more than twenty feet from the back door to the kitchen. Harry looked in each direction and, as expected, was unable to see either group of his compatriots. He took a deep breath and waited for Kingsley to give the order to move forward, all the while begging the powers that be for the safety of his wife and friends and feeling impotent to help them. “We will move forward in just a few seconds,” commanded Kingsley, the tone of his voice reflecting the practiced skill with which he had led many missions as a senior Auror. “And, Harry, I want you to get back under your invisibility cloak now. And stay there, young man. No heroics! Do you understand me?” “Yes, sir,” answered Harry. “And once you are in the Butler’s Pantry, you are to stay there, invisible, until and unless you are called for. Correct?” “Yes, sir,” muttered Harry again. “Listen to me, Harry. We cannot afford for anyone to defeat or disarm you in battle. That will cause everything we have done to date to go to waste. It will make your defeat of Voldemort meaningless if you allow anyone else to gain mastery of the Elder Wand. You understand this, yes?” “Of course,” hissed Harry, tired of being lectured like a little boy. He understood the importance of not creating a new and deathly powerful Dark Lord. “Control your temper, Harry,” cautioned the Minister for Magic. “You are here for the sole purpose of facing down Diana Parkinson or any other of our enemies in the event — and only in the event — that they seem to have mastery over the Elder Wand. You are our last resort, for the wand will not work against you.” “And hopefully not against my friends and allies,” finished Harry. “I understand everything, Kingsley, but I don’t have to like it.” “Very well,” said Kingsley. “Let’s move ahead. Remember, from now until we reach the Butler’s Pantry, we are following Pansy.” Harry slipped the invisibility cloak over his head, suddenly thankful for being hidden from his friends and fellow comrades. After years of active resistance against the most powerful Dark wizard in history, he was disgusted with the thought of being reduced to a contingent role — condemned to hiding in a closet while his friends fought against evil. “Psst!” hissed Ron in Harry’s general direction. “It’s okay, mate. I know exactly how you feel right now, but let it go. We’re here for you, Harry. Let us do our part.” Harry simply shook his head in amused disbelief. Since becoming engaged to Ginny, he had almost forgotten how incredibly well his friend knew him. “Okay, git!” Harry replied, amazed to hear a touch of levity in his own voice. “I’ll be a good boy, I will.” Narcissa Malfoy sat bolt upright in the wing chair closest to the foyer, the table and Elder Wand between her and the southern wall of the Great Room. Her eyes darted momentarily to her right, straining to find a single illuminated wand tip, which would be her sign to spring into action. She glanced at her watch, the fifth time she had done so in the last five minutes. “Do you have an appointment, Narcissa?” asked Diana from the wing-backed chair to her right. Obviously Narcissa’s nervousness had drawn attention, for their hostess had been in the process of describing her plan to lure Harry Potter into an attempt to retrieve the Elder Wand. “No, of course not,” Narcissa replied. “I’m just not quite right since Lucius died. Everything seems out of sync — even time.” “Yes, Lucius,” said Diana harshly, “the wizard whose arrogance and impatience cost him his life.” Something clenched inside Narcissa, possibly due to Diana’s tone of voice, or maybe just a function of yet another insult being thrown at her husband. She tensed, stared directly at Diana, and said, “Yes, he overreached, but your husband had no problem following him into disaster.” “My husband,” stressed Diana, “is safely abroad in Romania and has already been informed that we are in possession of the Elder Wand. He is busy pulling together like-minded wizards and will soon be spreading our network across Europe. All we need to do now is learn all we can about Harry Potter so we can entice him into our web when the time is right.” “A much better plan than the one hatched by my late husband,” Narcissa acknowledged softly, regaining control of her temper. The other witches murmured their collective approval from the settee and side chairs. “That, of course, is where you come in Narcissa.” “In what way,” she asked, somewhat discomforted by the wild look that had crossed Diana’s face. “Expelliarmus!” screamed Tina Mulciber as she leapt to her feet, her wand pointing directly at Narcissa. “What?” screeched Narcissa, watching helplessly as her wand flew across the room to the witch who had suddenly disarmed her. “We know all about you and Harry Potter,” said Diana, condescension dripping from every word. “About me and Harry Potter?” asked Narcissa, meanwhile fighting against panic and desperately attempting to maintain her composure. While this was not the diversion she had planned on creating, it would have to suffice. She glanced out the window, hoping to see Ginny’s illuminated wand tip, but it had not yet been lit. “Yes, Gregory Goyle told us how Potter and his friends saved your son. And John Dawlish filled in the picture for us, telling how Draco claimed to be helping Pansy derail Lucius’s attack. He also told us what you did in the Forbidden Forest!” “What lie did Dawlish tell you?” asked Narcissa, now fighting for time. “Dawlish informed us that Harry Potter gave testimony to the Minister of Magic that you intentionally misled the Dark Lord into believing that Potter was dead.” “Dawlish is a two-faced liar and a gormless berk!” protested Narcissa as, at last, Ginny’s wand tip glowed in the twilight. Improvising, Narcissa rose from her chair, swayed dramatically, and crashed down upon the glass box that shattered between her falling weight and the mercilessly hard surface of the table upon which the Elder Wand had been displayed. Pain shot fiercely through Narcissa’s chest as her world faded into darkness. The last things she heard was the clatter of the Elder Wand as it bounced aimlessly across the room. As instructed, Harry had been the last member of the attack team to enter the Butler’s Pantry, where he remained under the protection of the invisibility cloak. They had arrived exactly on schedule, giving them three minutes’ grace period before Ginny was due to cast the Lumos Charm, thereby giving Narcissa the signal to begin her diversionary tactics. Surprisingly, however, the appointed time had come and gone while the assembly of witches in the Great Room remained quiet. Suddenly, the silence had been broken and the Disarming Spell had echoed through the house, followed immediately by frightening accusations being hurled at Narcissa. Harry cursed himself for submitting to Kingsley’s judgment to include Dawlish on the assault team and began to wonder if he was in cahoots with the McKenna twins, with whom he had shared such a pointed expression about Ginny’s leadership. If that was the case, Ginny and her entire team were in grave danger. Knowing that his role would most likely be relegated to hiding in the Butler’s Pantry while others fought in his stead, Harry reacted on instinct. He couldn’t sit idly by, knowing all the while that his wife’s team included at least one, and possibly three, traitors. He thought momentarily about sneaking away to assist Ginny but reconsidered. Instead, Harry tugged at the sleeve of the wizard standing in front of him. “Ron!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m going to stop Dawlish from whatever he’s doing.” Ron hesitated for no more than a second before responding, “Then go! I’ll handle things here.” Hermione’s team ascended the front staircase in total silence. The evening was warm and the air was alive with the sounds of nocturnal insects waking from their day of rest. Neither they nor the group of witches and wizards had any clue that things had gone mad within the quiet-seeming mansion. Things were entirely different for the team that approached the building from the rear. “Freeze!” shouted John Dawlish as Ginny moved to her appointed position. Standing behind the rest of the team, Hamish and Cullum McKenna had also drawn their wands. Surprised, the others in the party stopped in their tracks. “I thought they didn’t know what was happening,” said Hamish, his voice sounding more sheepish than Dawlish would have anticipated given the situation. “They don’t,” Dawlish replied. “We’ve been with Kingsley all day, so I had no chance to send a warning. However, we can’t let them capture the wand! If they do, everything is over.” “So, you’re going off on your own?” asked Cullum. “What choice do we have?” said Dawlish, answering a question with a question. “I don’t know,” muttered Hamish, “but I didn’t intend to be exposed in public. We’re not prepared to flee the country tonight.” “Who said anything about running away?” replied Dawlish. “We’ll just kill this lot and no one will know they didn’t die in the battle.” “What battle, you moron?” spat Cullum. “It’s as quiet as a church service in there.” “Well, it’s too late now,” said Dawlish. “Let’s do it now!” Unable to believe that three members of her group had paused to discuss something, Ginny knew instinctively the time had come to act. Throwing her own safety to the wind, she whispered, “Lumos!” instantaneously lighting the tip of he wand. She held it steady for a few seconds, unsure why her group was not following the established protocol, but not knowing that Dawlish and his cronies were preparing to strike. Instead, there was silence. Neither Dawlish nor either of the McKenna twins acted, each apparently afraid to be the first to act, none intelligent enough to improvise effectively. “Now!” Dawlish repeated, yet nothing happened. Satisfied that she had held the signal long enough for Mrs. Malfoy’s notification, and deeply disturbed by the apparent mutiny within her ranks, Ginny whispered, “Nox” and dropped her arm to her side, planted her pivot foot, and turned into the suffocating pressure of Disapparation. Less than a second later, she reappeared behind the turncoats who had ceased to follow her commands. Tired of waiting for his compatriots to act, Dawlish quickly cast a Cutting Curse at the spot Ginny was in the process of vacating. The spell flew harmlessly past her suddenly empty location and smashed ineffectively against the back patio. At the same time a dreadful crash could be heard coming from the Great Room as, without warning, all hell appeared to be breaking loose inside. “Stupefy!” shouted Ginny the moment she rematerialized behind her adversaries, aiming first at Dawlish. This aggressive action on Ginny’s part seemed to be the impetus the McKenna brothers needed to force them both into action. Cullum turned, spotted Ginny, and screamed, “Stupefy!” in return. A red bolt of light erupted from his wand and sped toward Ginny, who had no time to react. However, a split second before the spell would have collided with its target, Ginny felt herself being tackled from the side, and the red flash sailed harmlessly behind her. “What the hell?” Ginny cried, pleased to have been spared the force of the offensive spell, yet surprised to have been knocked off her feet. “Move, Ginny! Move!” came Harry’s disembodied voice. Understanding at last what had happened, Ginny saw a blast of sickening green light. “Avada Kedavra!” screamed Hamish while pointing his wand in Ginny’s general direction. Appalled to see the Killing Curse coming at her once again, Ginny hurled herself back toward the spot where she had been standing before the initial attack. Hamish had guessed erroneously that Ginny would continue in the same direction in which she had been moving. Again, the spell sailed harmlessly by. Not requiring additional instruction, she dove back amidst the windswept hops and out of the sight of her attacker. After knocking his wife out of the way of the attack launched by Cullum McKenna, Harry leapt to his feet, launching the most aggressive spell in his arsenal, Sectumsempra! Cullum crumbled in a blood-soaked heap, totally disabled. “Petrificus Totalus,” roared Charlie, and his spell found its mark with perfect accuracy, causing the last of the three traitors to tumble forward, completely petrified. “Harry!” Ginny gasped in disbelief while emerging from the field of hops. “Are you okay?” Harry asked while disentangling himself from his cloak. “I’m fine, thanks to you,” she answered. “How did you know?” “Long story,” he replied. “For now, let’s get up to the terrace and try to close off their escape route.” But it was too late. As the remnants of Ginny’s team closed upon their originally assigned target, three soft “pops” split the air, and three witches who had only moments earlier fled from the building were gone to destinations unknown. Kingsley’s assault unit had burst through the door that separated the Butler’s Pantry from the Great Room, wands at the ready. Narcissa Malfoy lay disheveled across the table, blood pouring freely from a wound beneath her right breast. Her complexion was even paler than normal, and her breathing was already ragged. His first inclination was to leap to her assistance, but Kingsley realized that the primary objective was still to regain possession of the Elder Wand, followed closely by their charge to capture Diana Parkinson and her associates. Narcissa’s needs, no matter how critical, would have to wait. Alison Avery was the first to spot the intruders as they entered the room. Kingsley saw recognition flash in the witch’s eyes as they made contact, albeit briefly. To the Minister’s surprise, Avery dropped her wand hand and took a quick look at her surroundings before sprinting toward the front door of the mansion. “Impedimenta!” bellowed Kingsley, instantaneously knocking Avery to the side of the foyer where she slammed against the wall. Before she could move, Kingsley was upon her. “Incarcerous” he shouted, binding the witch securely. Satisfied that she was well and truly bound, Kingsley returned his attention to the others in the room. Bill Weasley and Pansy Parkinson were gathered together over the form of Narcissa Malfoy, with Bill chanting softly and moving his wand slowly over her wound. For her part, Narcissa was barely conscious, but murmuring her son’s name repetitively. Ron was on his hands and knees, searching frantically for the Elder Wand. “Mrs. Malfoy said the wand went flying across the room, so I figured it was most important to find it before someone else could.” Three soft “pops” came from the terrace, confirming for Kingsley that the second phase of their mission had failed. Diana Parkinson and two of her compatriots had escaped. Kingsley felt frustration rising in his chest then halted momentarily; as quickly as his temper had risen, it receded. What more could he have expected from this mixed team of gifted, yet untrained witches and wizards? Shocking those surrounding him in the Great Room, Kingsley actually laughed. At the same time, Harry rushed in from the terrace. “What are you doing, Ron?” he asked when she saw his best friend scouring the floor. “He’s trying to find the Elder Wand,” said Kingsley, trying mightily to contain his laughter. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?” “Why don’t you give me the chance?” answered Harry. “What’s so funny?” asked Ron, color rising in his cheeks out of frustration at becoming the butt of some unknown joke between Harry and the Minister for Magic. “Accio Elder Wand,” commanded its master, causing the wand to leap into the air from beneath the settee and sail safely into Harry’s open palm. “Shite!” muttered Ron, slapping his hand against the floor. “Well, at least I didn’t have to listen to Hermione asking whether or not I’m really a wizard.” “So, how do you think Hermione will take this decision?” Ron asked as he and Harry strolled quietly across the moor closest to Potter Manor. “She was there, Ron. She already understands that Kingsley has been right all along. The Auror Department is in a shambles and he needs good people to straighten it out.” “But I never imagined myself working in the Ministry,” countered Ron. “And George had been talking to me about joining him at the joke shop. He needs a hand now that Fred is gone.” “You just said so yourself, Ron. We already know of at least one group that is actively planning to overthrow the Ministry, and I’m willing to bet that the Parkinson group isn’t the only one that would like to see the current order stood on its ear.” “Maybe George will have room for me later,” said Ron hopefully. “You know, after you have taken over as Minister and Hermione is running the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” “I thought Hermione didn’t want to work in the Ministry,” said Harry, surprised to hear that she might have changed her mind. “And I will never be Minister for Magic. Never!” “She had her own change of heart after yesterday’s confrontation,” Ron explained. “She wants to make a difference, but she has had enough of the battlefield.” “Haven’t we all?” asked Harry. “Yeah,” Ron replied, shaking his head in frustration. “But I don’t think some of us are going to be able to avoid it.” “As long as no one can find the Elder Wand,” said Harry softly, “perhaps it will be some time before anyone makes another attempt to seize power. Hopefully the recent failures will convince the bogus Dark Lords out there that it isn’t in their best interests to try to destroy us.” “Right, mate,” Ron replied. “As long as we can be certain that no one is working from within to tear us down.” “Exactly!” exclaimed Harry, reaching an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Which is also the reason Hermione will be completely understanding of your decision.” “And it’s not like we won’t be together most nights and evenings,” added Ron. “With the Headmistress allowing us to live at Hogwarts and all.” “And all,” Harry agreed. “But what about Kingsley?” Ron fretted. “What about our training?” “Don’t worry,” Harry said reassuringly. “I’ve already made arrangements to begin formal Auror training tomorrow, with Kingsley providing much of the training personally. But I’m definitely taking two weeks off for our honeymoon at Lac Annecy. I’m sure he’ll happily allow the same arrangements for you.” As they climbed out of the moor, the Elizabethan manor that had passed into the ownership of Harry and Ginny came impressively into view. “Ginny loves it here in Cornwall,” said Harry casually. “We had been planning to live in Godric’s Hollow, but with the need for extra security, we’ve changed our minds and intend to live here instead. After Ginny finishes at Hogwarts, of course.” “B-Bu …But it’s so huge,” stammered Ron. “Lots of room for an official Quidditch Pitch,” said Harry jokingly. In reality, there was room enough for more than a hundred stadiums, each large enough to host the Quidditch World Cup. “You know Ginny still has it in the back of her mind to play professionally once she finishes at Hogwarts.” Ron nodded silently, not surprised that his dynamo of a sister would aspire to such an occupation. “And, of course, plenty of room for a large family to visit,” Harry replied. “Ginny and I decided it would be the perfect place for loads of Weasley cousins to gather, once we have our own children, of course.” “And does Healer Smethwyck think things are promising?” Ron inquired. “We really won’t know for sure until we start trying to have a family, but for now we’re following healer’s orders. However, I never realized two weeks could seem like an eternity.” Ron recoiled dramatically, although Harry could detect a smile lurking beneath the surface. “Careful, Potter,” he protested. “That’s still my sister you’re talking about.” The warm afternoon sun beamed down upon them as they crossed the well-manicured lawn leading to the back terrace of the manor. Ginny and Hermione stood side by side, waving at the men they had chosen to spend their lives with while sipping happily from a selection of fine mead that Kreacher had discovered in the cellar. “We have so much to be thankful for,” said Harry thoughtfully. “And even more to look forward to,” answered Ron. Harry looked up at Ginny, a lump forming quickly in his throat and momentarily preventing him from speaking. “Everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” he thought with a smile. “Everything and a considerable amount more.” |
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