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SIYE Time:7:39 on 29th March 2024
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Ancient Magic
By kjpzak

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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 158
Summary: Love is the most ancient form of magic there is. Harry and Ginny begin to discover they may have a love that will endure forever. He Who Must Not Be Named certainly thinks so. Could their love be the key to fulfilling one of his greatest wishes?
Hitcount: Story Total: 78110; Chapter Total: 10944







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Chapter Two - Written in the Stars






Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of the Harry Potter world.



Mr. Borgin surveyed his shelves with satisfaction. he could see the Galleons piling up in his Gringotts safe just standing there. But today was inventory day and he must get to it. Doing inventory was a tedious job, but a necessary one when some of your best customers were reputed to have very sticky fingers. Shelf by shelf, Borgin walked, his self-writing quill marking off the items on the hovering inventory sheet floating behind. Last eveining, he completed the inventory of the backroom, leaving only the items on display for the morning. He had just started on his collection of hexed potion viles when the door of his shop opened.


A middle-aged wizard entered the shop, brushing the rain from the shoulder of his cloak. Borgin could tell from the cut of the cloth and the polish of his shoes, this was a wizard of means. Borgin straigtened his collar and stepped forward.


“Good morning, sir. What may I help you with today?”


The wizard inclined his head as he took off his goves, sliding them in the pocket of his robes. Borgin noticed this wizard didn’t seem to mind getting a little dust on his fine clothes and watched him with curiosity as he went from shelf to shelf, touching a head here, an amulet there. The wizard’s voice startled him out of his observations.


“You don’t recognize me, do you?”


Borgin blanched. Had he just insulted a customer with obvious wealth? “No, sir, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, moving closer, “I’m afraid I do not.”


“Well, it’s nice to see you, too, Uncle.”


++++


"Harry, quit scowling at Neville and just go talk to her."


"Huh?" Harry turned to face Hermione who was sitting across from him at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, a plate of eggs untouched in front of him, his fork held still in the air.


"Stop scowling at Neville as if you were trying to turn him into Trevor's twin because he's talking to Ginny. You should just go down and talk to her. He'll leave. Especially if you keep looking at him like that."


Harry blinked at her and returned his attention to his now cold eggs. "I don't know what you are talking about."


"Harry, come on," Hermione said, tilting her head to the side and smiling. "You've been watching Ginny ever since we came back to school."


"I have not!" Harry replied indignantly.


"Yes, you have. You fancy her." Hermione said, helping herself to some toast.


"I do not!" Harry tried to argue unconvincingly.


"Yes, you do." Hermione replied, pointing her triangle of toast at the flush that had started creeping up Harry's cheeks.


“Ron would have a fit,” Harry muttered to his eggs. “You saw how he acted when she was dating Dean last term.”


“Well, Ron’s not exceptionally rational when it comes to his only sister, but he likes you. And I do have to agree with him about Dean and Ginny. They weren’t a good combination to begin with,” Hermione mused.


"Well, she doesn't like me anymore," Harry's shoulders slumped as he stared at his plate.


"And how do you know that? Have you asked her?"


"No!"


"Then…" Hermione gestured toward Ginny with her toast.


"I missed my chance, Hermione," Harry resigned.


Hermione sighed. Why is it, she thought, do I have to hang out with the thickest teenage wizards in school when it comes to girls?


"Harry," she patiently explained, "things happen when they are supposed to. You weren't ready to have Ginny before. You wouldn't have appreciated her and probably would have screwed it up."


"Thank you, Hermione," Harry replied sarcastically.


"No, I mean it," she said earnestly. "Harry, you weren't mature enough to lean on Ginny, to need her and let her be your support. Now you are. You're just lucky she's a patient person."


Harry looked up at Hermione. "What do you mean?"


"Go. Just go." Hermione urged, before popping the last bite of toast in her mouth and standing up.


"But Hermione-"


"Bye, Harry!" Hermione waved over her shoulder as she moved toward the entrance to the Great Hall.


Harry watched Hermione's retreating back with dismay. Hermione was right, he had been watching Ginny. He couldn't help himself. Somehow, she had become a necessity for him. He found himself trying to be in places where he could catch a glimpse of her, often finding himself on the receiving end of disapproving stares from his own professors as he slid into his chair late. Now Hermione had put his crush out in the open and he’d have to act on it or she wouldn’t let it go. Damn her! She knew he was as clueless as Ron when it came to girls. And when it came to Ginny, he knew deep down, he couldn't afford to muck this one up.


Harry looked back down the table to where Ginny and Neville had been having breakfast. Neville was gone. Ginny had pushed her plate back and was gathering her book bag. Harry's decision was made.

Before rational thought returned, Harry grabbed his books and called, "Hey, Ginny! Wait up!"

Ginny turned, a look of surprise on her face.

"I'll walk with you," Harry said, a little breathlessly as he caught up to her.


"Harry! Don't you have Potions now? I'm headed to Transfiguration…"


"Uh, yeah, but…I need to check with Professor McGonagall about quidditch. I'll go with you."


"Okay. Suit yourself!" Ginny said, smiling at him.

Harry grinned back and fell into step beside her. He hoped he would be able to wipe the grin off his face before class. But then again, he didn't really care.


++++


“Nathan?” Borgin asked, eyes widening in recognition. “Nathan…you’re back.”


“I see you’ve wasted little time in disposing of my father’s estate,” Nathan Borgin remarked, surveying the shop shelves. It had been many years since he spent any time with his father, but the memories of his childhood were vivid. After all, it’s a bit hard to forget while his peers were decorating their rooms with pictures of witch crushes, wearing the colors of their favorite quidditch teams and riding their first broomsticks, he had been dressed in black, his room papered with intricate diagrams of hexes and was amassing an impressive collection (or so his father told him) of shrunken mammal heads.


The shopkeeper cleared his throat, tugging at his collar nervously. “Yes, uh, well, when the solicitors couldn’t locate you, they contacted me as the next of kin.” Realizing the impact this was going to have on his bottom line, Borgin sighed heavily. “I’ve kept accurate records of the estate sales and all shop sales. Transferring the funds shouldn’t be an issue,” he said reluctantly.


“I don’t want the money,” Nathan said bitterly. “I don’t want anything to do with my father or this shop. I just stopped by out of a sense of family obligation.”


“Ah…” Borgin replied, hesitantly.


“Don’t let me keep you,” Nathan said. “I’ll just look around.”


Borgin nodded, nervously watching his nephew peruse his store shelves. Reaching out to grab his self-writing quill and parchment from mid-air, Borgin walked behind the counter and began to reconcile his inventory.


“Hmmm…”


“Pardon?” Nathan asked, stopping his browsing.


“Oh, my apologies,” Borgin said, looking up. “I didn’t realize I spoke aloud.”


“Problem?”


“Yes, there seems to be one of your father’s manuscripts missing.”


“Which one? Are you sure?”


Mysteries and Myths. It was some nonsense about death and what comes after. And yes, I’m sure, I keep very good records,” Borgin replied, offended.


Nathan gazed through the grimy window, watching the suspect characters weave through Knockturn Alley. This place had always unsettled him.


“I’m familiar with that one. My father spoke of it often as I was growing up,” he said mildly.


Of all his father’s manuscripts, this one had been his passion. Death fascinated Bartholomew Borgin. His life long dream had been to die and yet…not die. The idea of immortality fascinated him, the thought of a life that would never end. As a child, Nathan could only wonder why you wouldn’t get bored living that long. If it had been any other of his father's collection of notes, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. However, Nathan knew that during his last years, his father’s rantings and ravings about the possibility of immortality had actually begun to have some truth to it. Enough truth that in the wrong hands, the notes could prove to be very dangerous.


“This isn’t a big issue,” Borgin muttered, “however, the Ministry has been wanting to know about the disappearance of such things. They require my inventory sheets to be handed in weekly. If I report a disappearance, I will have ministry employees posted at my door day in, day out. Damn.”


“To whom do you hand them in?” Nathan asked, keeping his tone light.


“I’m sorry?”


“To whom do you hand your inventory sheets to?” Nathan repeated.


“Oh, uh, the Minister’s assistant. Weasley, Percy Weasley, I believe is his name.”


“Fine. As it is, I am on my way to the Ministry. I will stop by and inform Mr. Weasley of the missing manuscript,” Nathan said, reaching into his pocket for his gloves and slipping them on.


“No! No, no,” Borgin waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t trouble yourself. I will take care of it. I have business there later.”


“Suit yourself,” Nathan commented, shrugging his shoulders. He would remember this, though. His Uncle might be family, but family was not to be trusted. “If you need to reach me, you can send an owl to Hogwarts. I’ll be there for the remainder of the semester.”


With that, Nathan Borgin turned and left the shop. Mr. Borgin watched his nephew wind his way through Knockturn Alley, wondering why Hogwarts would have use for any member of his family.


++++


Lucius Malfoy stood in the hallway. The peeling white paint on the study door in front of him matched the state of the house. The Dark Lord deserves better, he thought.


A voice rang out. "Wormtail, show him in."


The door opened and Malfoy passed in front of the short, stooped figure of Volemort's servant. The room was dimly lit, the pulled moth eaten velvet curtains blocking the early morning sun from highlighting the fraying edges of the rug. Voldemort, standing by one of the windows, turned to face his caller.


"Yes, Lucius, not quite what I had imagined either. But it is temporary. Wormtail tells me you have found something I might find of interest."


"Yes, my Lord, I believe I have."


++++


Ginny found Harry, his head in his hands, massaging his forehead. The tabletop in front of him in the common room was covered with parchment and texts. Ginny knew NEWT level potions was leaving it's toll on him. Professor McGonagall hadn't said it outright that he owed his place in Snape's class to her, but she had implied that she was keeping a close eye on his performance. Not wanting to disappoint her, Harry was trying his best to not screw up.


"Stressed, Potter?" Ginny asked, resting her hip on the table.


Harry looked up and grinned when he saw who it was. "Yeah, you could say that."


"Me, too," she confessed with a sly smile. Ginny leaned close to Harry's ear and whispered, "Want to escape?"


With you, always, ran through Harry's mind. He hoped he hadn't said that out loud. Instead, he whispered back, "What did you have in mind?"


Ginny didn't answer, but grabbed his hand and pulled him up. With her other hand, she motioned for him to follow. She led him through the common room and out the portrait hole.

"Where are we going?" he asked, as they made their way quietly through the hall.


"Shhh," Ginny held her finger up to her lips. Eyes twinkling, she replied, "Somewhere we're not supposed to be at this time of night."


Ten minutes later, Harry found himself lying on a blanket Ginny had pilfered from the one of the changing tents, staring at the stars. The night was crisp and cool, the grass frosty with the January air. Ginny wrapped a second blanket around her shoulders and handed the last one to Harry.


The stands of the Quidditch Pitch blocked the castle from the view, making the field seem rather private despite its size. Harry watched the stars shine, keenly aware of Ginny lying next to him. He knew if he turned his head, he could bury his face in her hair that was spread out on the blanket, breath deep the fresh, clean scent that filled his dreams. He held his breath only so he could listen to her breath.


"Beautiful, isn’t' it?" Ginny's question broke through the stillness.


"Yeah," Harry answered, and it was. Harry moved his hands to the back of his head and began to relax.


"I come out here to think, sometimes," Ginny offered, feeling a compulsion to share with Harry something that nobody else knew. "You know with O.W.L.s and all…and having to come up with a career plan…" Ginny paused. "I just can't help but get this feeling there is more to my life than choosing a job. It's like I don't have a choice in certain things, things bigger than me."


Harry turned his head away from Ginny. He knew exactly what she meant.


"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry. That was terribly insensitive of me. Here I am babbling on about career choices and well, look at what you've got to face and I'm just really digging myself into a deeper hole here, aren't I? Damn. This isn't what I wanted to do tonight!"


Harry looked over at Ginny who was now sitting up, hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them, staring at her shoes. He could see her breath forming clouds and drifting away into the night. He untucked one of his hands from the blanket and reached for one of hers.

"It's okay," he said as he felt the warmth of her hand in his. "I don't mind talking about it with you," he admitted, glad of the dark that hid the flush he felt creeping up his neck.


Keeping her hand in his, Ginny smiled and lay back down next to Harry, this time close enough so their bodies touched. Once again, Harry found himself holding his breath, putting all his energies into keeping his thoughts proper. They fell silent, content on watching the skies. Harry listened to Ginny's breathing become deep and even. He knew they couldn’t stay out here much longer, but he wasn’t ready to disrupt the sense of peacefulness enveloping them. Finally, unable to resist, Harry turned his head, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair. Before he thought about it, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, feeling the softness of her hair on his lips. Harry stayed like that, Ginny’s head tucked under his chin listening to the sounds of the night.


++++


"Ginny? Wake up, Ginny. We need to get back." Harry nudged Ginny's shoulder in an attempt to wake her.


Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes. She grinned sheepishly at Harry. "I guess I fell asleep."


"I won't take it personally," Harry said gallantly. "We'd better get back."


Harry stood up, and held out his hand to Ginny. She placed her hand back in his and he tugged her up. Pulling her blanket tightly around her, Ginny gathered the other blanket with her free hand. After replacing the blankets in the changing tent, Harry and Ginny made their way back to the castle, quietly sneaking through the hallways back to Gryffindor tower.

Climbing back through the portrait hole, they found the common room deserted. Stopping at the stairs leading up to their dorms, Harry reluctantly let go of Ginny's hand.

"Goodnight, Harry. Sweet Dreams," Ginny smiled softly at him and turned to go up her stairs.


"Uh, Ginny —" Harry started.


"Yes?"


"Thanks. And goodnight." Harry wished back.


"Harry —"


He turned. Ginny ran up the steps to where Harry stood. She placed her hand on his arm, stood on her tiptoes and kissed Harry's cheek. As quickly as she had run up them, Ginny ran back down the stairs. At the bottom, she looked up and smiled at Harry. "See you tomorrow, Harry, " and she disappeared.


Harry touched his cheek where her lips had been. "Yeah, see you tomorrow," he whispered to the space where Ginny had been seconds before.


++++


“Good evening, Firenze. Taking advantage of the stars tonight, I see,” Dumbledore greeted the Centaur.


“The are in movement, yes” Firenze replied, keeping his gaze on the skies.


“I've always enjoyed star gazing,” Dumbledore chatted easily. “I find it a helpful way of reminding myself of how insignificant we really are.”


The remained silent for several minutes, contemplating the cosmos. Then Firenze spoke.


“It is beginning.”


“What is beginning?”


“The celestial bodies are telling us it is beginning. There is a shift in power happening.”


“I see.”


“There is darkness between the stars.”


“Odd, since the moon is a full one,” Dumbledore observed.




“The positions of the planets also speak of strength, a strength that if it comes to fruition may severely impact the darkness.”


“Ah,” Dumbledore responded calmly.


A/N: As always, feedback, reviews, suggestions welcomed! They inspire!

Next...some time spent with a long lost brother and some snogging (not with the long lost brother!)
Reviews 158
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