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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: 78108; Chapter Total: 10359







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Chapter Four - Hope, Love and Late Night Misunderstandings




Disclaimer - I do not claim to own any part of JKR's wonderful Harry Potter world.




Hope and joy were two emotions Harry didn't have a lot of experience with in his life, especially recently. The past year, his feelings had been tied up with the searing heartbreak of losing Sirius, resentment of what his future entailed and the mounting determination to be on the winning side of that prophecy. Not to mention, Harry had more practice feeling Voldemort's joy within himself than his own. So as Harry lay in his bed the next morning, it took him a few moments to recognize what he was feeling. He was grinning. His heart felt too big for his chest. He might break into song if he wanted to invite ridicule. He settled on humming and pushed aside the bedclothes.


“Boy, you’re in a good mood today!”


Harry froze. Ron. How could he have forgotten Ron? Ron wouldn’t kill him…would he? After all, at the end of last year, Ron had indicated he would approve of Ginny seeing Harry. And it wasn’t like Harry wanted to hide this. He wanted to shout it from the top of the Astronomy tower. In a couple of days or weeks, that is. Right now, it was all so new, Harry wanted to keep it close to his heart, examine it, and not screw it up.


“Sweet dreams?” Ron teased.


Harry blushed. Ron didn’t want to know about Harry’s dreams last night.


“Uh, yeah,” Harry answered, glancing out the window. “New Defense Against the Dark Arts professor starts soon,” he said, kicking himself for using the first thing that popped into his mind.


“Okay, whatever floats your boat,” Ron chuckled. “I’m going to breakfast. Want to come?”


“Yeah, but I’ll catch up. You go ahead.”


“It’s no problem, really. I don’t mind. I’ll wait downstairs.”


Harry watched Ron leave the dorm room and let out the breath he’d been holding. He had no idea what he would do about Ron, but now was not the time to think about it. Locking his worries away for later, Harry pulled on his jeans and a jumper, glanced in the mirror, gave up trying to fix his hair and bounded down the steps to the common room.


She was standing at the bottom, her back to him. Harry felt a lump jump into his throat and assumed it was his heart. Ginny turned her head at the sound of his thumping on the stairs and smiled at him. He was going to explode.


“Come on Ron,” Hermione was saying exasperatedly. “Let’s go to breakfast.”


“I’m waiting on Harry,” Ron answered annoyed.


“Look, Ginny said she’d wait for him. Besides he’s a big boy and knows his way to the Great Hall,” Hermione said, her eyes shifting to Harry. She shrugged her shoulders as if to apologize. Harry realized she knew, and she was keeping quiet.


“See, there he is,” Ron said, turning to follow where Hermione was looking. “Ginny, get out of the way and let the man through. Breakfast awaits!”


Biting her tongue to keep from giving Ron what awaited him, Ginny stepped aside. “Good morning, Harry,” she said quietly, blushing.


“Hi,” he said, his cheeks growing warm, too.


“I guess we should go,” Ginny said.


“Probably a good idea.”


“Oh, come on you two,” Ron shouted from the portrait hole. “The eggs are getting cold!”


+++++++


"Ancient Magic!" came the voice from the back of the classroom.


Harry jumped and turned around with the rest of the class to see a tall, middle aged wizard standing at the back of the classroom. Harry's first thought was he reminded him of Lupin without all the patches, scratches and mends. While similar in age, build and coloring, this man was wearing a well made gray jumper, perfectly creased slacks and highly polished shoes.


"Obviously, by it's name, you might be able to surmise that Ancient Magic is one of the oldest forms of magic ever studied," the man stated, as he made his way to the front of the classroom, eyes following him as he walked. "Ancient magic is the basis, the foundation for much of the magic we use today."


Malfoy snorted.


"Mr. Malfoy," the man said, as he passed the Slytherin's desk and turned to face him. "Do you have a question?"


"Yeah. Doesn’t anything that begins with ‘ancient’ belong in History of Magic? I mean, really, how is something 'ancient' going to help us with defending ourselves today?"


"Interesting question, Mr. Malfoy," the wizard answered, keeping his tone light. "You are correct in one sense. Ancient magic is littled studied these days. Witches and wizards aren’t all that interested in why what they do works. And true, magic is an ever growing, ever changing beast. What worked a thousand years ago doesn't necessarily work today."


The wizard turned to face the rest of the class. Due to current events, Dumbledore insisted on all students continuing DADA no matter their career path. However, due to schedules, and seeing as some classes were rather small in size, certain NEWT level classes consisted of a combination of members from different houses. Having the Slytherins and Gryffindors in the same Defense Against the Dark Arts class had proved to be interesting the previous term. Harry had a feeling the only reason they hadn't seriously hexed each other was that it had been difficult to do under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore. However, at the end of their last class, the Headmaster informed them their new teacher would be taking over next lesson. Which is why today, Harry had kept his hand firmly on his wand from the moment he entered the classroom.


"The spells of Ancient Magic are manipulative; the potions are addictive. People dismiss them, as you pointed out, Mr. Malfoy, because they are found written on tomb walls, described on petrified papyrus paper in pyramids, and carved on large stone tablets. Ancient magic is about observation and being able to make the proper connections. If you can observe a pull, a tug, you can push something or someone in directions you never thought possible. "


The wizard continued, walking around the classroom, finally stopping in front of Harry.


"There is a war going on, a war that is the result of one wizard's under-estimation of a very old spell, a spell of a mother's love." The wizard looked directly at Harry's face, but unlike most people who saw him for the first time, his eyes did not travel up to Harry's forehead. It was as if they didn't need to. "In every war, there are two sides, the victorious and the defeated. If you study these two parties, you will learn that often, the defeated underestimated their opponent."


The wizard's blue eyes stared into Harry's green. "I will not allow you to underestimate your opponent. Therefore, we will be studying a very powerful weapon that while old, is at His disposal as much as it is yours."


The wizard held out his hand to Harry and introduced himself.


"My name is Nathan Borgin and I am here to teach you about Ancient Magic."


Harry hesitated before shaking the offered hand. He knew that name.


"Yes, Mr. Potter, one and the same," Professor Borgin commented, noting the expression on Harry's face. "No, I cannot read minds, but the family connection is a hard one to miss. Borgin and Burkes is my Uncle’s shop."


Returning his attention to the class, Borgin continued.


"I understand from Professor Dumbledore you have had a thorough if not varied defense education. I have also consulted with one of your past professors and have an idea of what you are all capable of."


"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"


"Professor Borgin," Draco Malfoy drawled, "Exactly how is knowing ancient magic going to get us through our NEWTs? My father has always said ancient magic is little more than biology."


"While your father and I have never seen eye to eye on this, Mr. Malfoy," Borgin commented, "he is somewhat correct. Ancient magic is partly concerned with what today is known as biology in the muggle world. However, it goes beyond that."


Professor Borgin leaned his hip on the table at the front of the room. Harry could tell by the way he spoke, this was a subject he was passionate about.


"Ancient Magic is organic. It's emotional. It's based on the very thing that makes a human being, witch, wizard or muggle live. Wizards who practice and believe in ancient magic tell us that the very pulse of everything flows through us in our
blood. Life…death…even immortality."


"Many wizards do dismiss ancient magic as simply biology," Borgin said, nodding at Malfoy. "However, I wouldn't dismiss it too
quickly. Your Headmaster deems it a necessary part of your education."

At this, Malfoy rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore’s voice floated across Harry’s mind. “In the end it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.”


Mr. Malfoy," Borgin continued, smiling benignly at Malfoy, "might I suggest you take your learning opportunities where you can get them? After all, you never know what I might be able to teach you if you simply open your mind.”


Harry hid a smile as he watched Professor Borgin turn to the blackboard and begin to outline his first lesson. Based on his first impression, his flare for the dramatic aside, this man obviously did his homework.


++++



"Yes, yes, Weasley. Anything else?" Fudge urged, bored and a bit put out. "I need to be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in ten minutes to settle a dispute about uniforms. Supposedly some witch has it in her head we should take a page out of the muggle poly-ice handbook and have them. It wouldn't be so bad except she's suggesting they be fluorescent pink to
be easily noticed." Fudge sighed and looked expectantly at Percy.


"Yes, sir," Percy responded. "I have one more thing. You wished to be informed first of any discrepancies on the inventory reconciliation sheets prior to my alerting Lewis Fielding. Last week, I fou-"


"Minister? Have you a moment?" Mafalda Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic Office stuck her head in the doorway.


"Oh, I apologize," she said, noticing Percy. "I didn't mean to interrupt."


"No, no," waved Fudge dismissively. "Not to worry, Mafalda. Weasley and I were finished."


"But sir," Percy interjected, "the discrepancy. It was a missing book from Bor-"


"Forget it, Weasley," Fudge interrupted. "Those reports are a waste of time if you ask me. Way to keep headcount up in the department. Don't worry about it. In fact, if it's just a book, I wouldn't bother to pass it on. No need to increase
Fielding's workload, eh?" Fudge said standing up. "Mafalda, walk with me. I'm headed to the second floor."


Percy watched Fudge take Mafalda Hoplink's arm and steer her out of his office. Six months ago, Percy would have followed Fudge's direction and filed his note in the rubbish bin without a second thought. But something about this wasn't right. Maybe it was the title of the missing manuscript that bothered him so much, Mysteries and Myths — Notes of truth about Dark Magic, Death and What Happens Next . Or maybe it was the way Mr. Borgin had reacted when Percy entered his shop. Borgin hadn't responded to the two owls Percy had sent, so he had felt obligated to follow through. Much like Fudge, Borgin was evasive and dismissive, brushing Percy's questions aside, saying it obviously was a mistake and he would remedy it with the next report. Borgin practically threw Percy out the door in his effort to rid his store of a Ministry employee.


"Fudge is missing things, Percy." His father's voice rang in his ears. Percy sighed. One of these days, he might have to start listening to it again.


++++


A week following his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Nathan Borgin, Harry looked up from his breakfast to see Hedwig swooping in with the other mail owls. Landing gracefully next to his glass of pumpkin juice, Hedwig held out her leg as
she dipped her beak in his glass.


"Good morning, girl," Harry said softly, as he untied the roll of parchment from her leg.


"Whotcha got, Harry?" Ron said, in between bites.


"Letter from Lupin," Harry said, unrolling the parchment. "I wrote him to find out what he knew about Borgin."


"Oooo, what does it say, Harry?" Hermione asked, leaning over.


"Yeah, what does he say?" Ginny asked interested. "He's odd, but as Lavender Brown says, 'positively dreamy' " Ginny repeated giggling.


Harry looked at her disgruntled. Ginny, catching the look, winked at him.


"Of course, he's not as dreamy as you, Harry," Ginny flirted, batting her eyelashes at him.


Harry choked on the gulp of pumpkin juice he had just taken while Ron had to cover his mouth before he spewed out his bacon.


"Ron!" Hermione admonished, struggling to hide her smile at Harry's shocked look.


"Sorry! Didn't mean to," Ron said swallowing. "Just was caught off guard there," he said, staring at Ginny who was grinning wickedly at her eggs.


Hermione elbowed Harry back into reality. "What does it say, Harry?"


Harry turned his attention back to the parchment and read.


Dear Harry —

I'm glad to hear all is going well. And congratulations on your quidditch victory against Ravenclaw. I understand your catch was not quite as spectacular as some of Ron's saves (will you tell that boy it helps if he keeps both hands on the broom to fly?) but it still did the trick.

We are doing well. Molly has done an amazing job with the place. Last week we celebrated our first week as a "magical creature free headquarters". Most of us celebrated by eating. Tonks celebrated by burning the troll leg umbrella stand in the fireplace. Now we're trying to determine if we can be a 'creature free AND stink free headquarters'.

As far as your inquiries regarding your new professor, yes, I know Nathan Borgin. We were at Hogwarts together. We ran in different circles as he was a few years ahead of us and was a Slytherin.


“No way!” Ron exclaimed. “He seems so nice!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry continued reading.

What I remember about him was that he kept to himself. I’m not sure why he was sorted into Slytherin except that he was certainly pureblood. He had an extensive knowledge of the dark arts (perhaps another reason to be sorted into Slytherin) but he always seemed so nice.

“See!” Ron exclaimed.

I got the impression at school he was not proud of his background. I’m glad to hear he’s able to at least use his knowledge for something he can be proud of today. And yes, he did stop by on his way to Hogwarts.

His relationship with his family was strained. You could tell whenever they came to visit (and his father came frequently). There was some sort of scandal after he graduated, however, I must admit, I had other things on my mind and wasn’t terribly interested in whatever was going on outside Hogwarts. I know he did leave the country shortly after and did not return until recently.

Dumbledore says he comes with the highest credentials. His family connections, while suspect, may prove to be helpful to the Order's cause.

If I had to put my finger on why he’s there it is simply that once again, Dumbledore has his finger on the pulse, so to speak. He’s identified a potential threat and has moved to prepare you the best way he can. I would take that as a compliment, too. My understanding of Borgin’s area of specialty is that it is more mental preparation than spell/hex heavy. This means Dumbledore thinks you’re doing a fine job with the DA. Keep up the good work.


More later —

Remus Lupin




"Hmmm," said Hermione as Harry rolled the parchment back up.


"Hmmm? What does 'Hmmm'? mean?" Ron asked.


"Hmmm means, it’s rather vague but overall, it sounds like Dumbledore has your best interests at heart, Harry,” she said shrugging.


“Now see, here I thought ‘hmmm’ meant maybe Lupin was right and Ron should consider flying lessons,” Ginny said cheekily, ducking as a napkin flew her direction.


"Well, I think it sounds like Borgin is a good guy. It will be nice to have another professor around here we can trust," Ron commented as he stood up.


"Yeah," said Harry begrudgingly, "it would be.”


Harry studied the letter before rolling it up and putting it in his book bag. He wasn’t sure he wanted another professor he trusted. He wasn’t sure he could handle losing another mentor, especially one he was afraid he could really grow to like.


++++


"Father, you won't believe who that crackpot has hired now. You must take me out of here."


"Draco, I cannot do that. It would look suspicious. Besides, you are needed there."


"Needed here? What can I do here? I'm not learning anything. Our new defense teacher is a bigger joke than that oaf teaching Care of Magical Creatures."


"I heard Dumbledore hired Nathan Borgin."


"Yeah, he did. Borgin even went as far to imply he knew you. Probably just wanted to make everybody think he had connections and knew what he was talking about."


"What is he teaching you?"


"Nothing useful."


"Don't be so shortsighted, Draco. You might be surprised. Is Potter still in the class with you?"


"Yeah, like he'd be any place else."


"Anything going on with Potter these days? How are his classes?"


"What do you mean?"


"He is a troublemaker, Draco. It's important you don't let him derail you on your way to being Head Boy. I'd keep an eye on him."


"Yes, Father."


"Keep your eye on him, Draco."


"Yes, Father."

++++


“Miss Weezey, wake up! Misses Weezey, Dobby needs you to wake up!”


“Go away!” Ginny mumbled, batting at the annoying tug on her elbow.


“Dobby can’t, Misses Weezey. Harry Potter has asked Dobby to deliver something. Dobby is very honored to do a favor for Mr. Harry Potter. Dobby will not let Harry Potter down.”


Ginny lifted her head off her charms spellbook which she had been using for a pillow. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to focus on the persistent house elf.


“What?” she asked, fuzzily. “What does Harry want? What time is it?”


Ginny had hidden herself away in the library after dinner in hopes of digging her way out from under the massive amount of homework fifth year brought.


“Late, Misses Weezey, late. Dobby wants to give this to you for Harry Potter.”


Dobby held up a folded piece of shimmering, silvery fabric. Ginny recognized it as Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. Reaching for it, Ginny felt the fabric slip through her fingers like a soft breeze.


“What does he want me to do with this?” she asked puzzled, still not quite awake.


“Dobby asked Mr. Harry Potter the same thing. Mr. Harry Potter said to Dobby that Misses Weezey might want to use it to come see him at night. While Dobby is always happy to help, Dobby did ask Mr. Harry Potter why he didn’t just give this to his Misses Weezey himself. Mr. Harry Potter said he didn’t want anyone to see.”


Any remnant of sleep left in Ginny drained from her mind in seconds as the full impact of what Dobby had just said hit. How DARE HE?! What kind of girl did he think she was? Ginny glared at Dobby. Dobby’s eyes were the size of saucers as he backed up, bumping into the bookshelf behind him.


“Uh, Dobby asks Misses Weezey’s pardon,” he stammered, keeping his eyes on Ginny’s livid expression, back pressed to the bookshelf, feeling his way toward the library door with his hands. “Dobby must get back to the kitchens, Misses.”


Dobby backed his way out of the doors, his orb like eyes never leaving Ginny’s face, thinking for the first time ever, he was glad he was not Mr. Harry Potter.


++++


Ginny stormed into the Gryffindor common room. Despite the hour, many of the tables and chairs were still occupied with stressed, tired looking students studying for their O.W.L.s and NEWTS, attempting to stay ahead of the ever mounting workload. Eyes turned to follow the ball of fiery red anger headed straight toward the middle of one of the tables.


“Hey Ginny. Want to sit —“ Neville started, as Ginny marched past. One look at her flushed face and he decided it best to keep quiet.


“Harry James Potter,” she hissed, slamming her hands palms down on the table and leaning over, her face a hair’s breadth from Harry’s very surprised one. “Follow me.”


Without looking to see if he obeyed, Ginny turned on her heel, fists clenched at her side, and marched back out the portrait hole. If Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived thought he also got to be Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Got to Bed Ginny Weasley, he had another thing coming. Ginny stopped just to the side of the portrait of the Fat Lady, right behind a statue of Murphy Mulligan, a depressed looking wizard holding a broken wand. Whipping around, she almost belted Harry who was standing right behind her looking terribly confused. Ginny, regaining her composure and balance, let loose.


“How dare you,” she seethed,” think that I am the type of girl who would do that with you. I’m fifteen years old. No matter how much I love you, Harry Potter, I am not doing that with you or anyone else until I am at least of legal age and even then, it will have to be more than just a clandestine meeting in a dorm room! Why do all boys have to be completely controlled by hormones!”


Feeling tears begin to gather behind her tired eyes, Ginny turned on her heel and strode purposefully down the corridor before Harry could witness the anger dissolve into the misery she’d been holding at bay.


Harry was stunned. Staring at her retreating back, he attempted to get his head around what Ginny had just said. What had happened to set Ginny off? All he’d done was send her the Invisibility Cloak. Hormones? Well, sure, he had his moments, but he didn’t think he was as bad as some, at least not according to the talk that floated around the dormitory. Harry rarely participated in the conversations simply because he didn’t think his love life needed to be anyone’s business but his own. But it was hard to not listen when conversations flew around him about who did what with whom and how far — Harry’s eyes widened as realization struck.


“GINNY!” Harry shouted, running after her.


Catching up to her, Harry grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a nearby alcove. Ginny didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes focused on her shoes.


“Ginny,” Harry said, catching his breath. “Ginny, I don’t know what Dobby said to you, but what you think is not what I was thinking. I don’t want to do that with you.” Harry felt his cheeks growing warm. “I mean, I do want to do that with you, obviously I want to do that with you, but not now!” he rushed on. “I sent you the cloak in case you wanted to come and, I don’t know, talk or just be together.” Harry took another breath. “With quidditch and you studying for O.W.L.s and the DA and my occlumency lessons and all, we just haven’t had any time to ourselves, to be alone. The only time we both seem to be free is after dark and since I can’t come to you, I thought, well, maybe…” Harry trailed off, at a loss for how to further explain to Ginny that all he wanted to was be with her, hold her close and feel the peace she brought with her.


Ginny stared at the floor, letting Harry’s words seep through her anger and threatening tears. Harry wasn’t Dean, she thought. Harry was Harry. Ginny bit her bottom lip. Oh, how could she have ever thought such a thing about Harry? Embarrassment
quickly replaced anger as the cause of her glowing red cheeks.


Harry watched Ginny’s shoulders begin to shake. Oh, Heavens! Was she crying? He really hadn’t meant to cause that. Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. Would he ever understand girls? Then he heard it. Ginny giggled.


Ginny looked up, her hands clamped over her mouth her eyes bright with self-conscious laughter. Harry shook his head confused. No, he would never understand girls.


“Oh, Harry,” Ginny said, smiling sheepishly. “I am so sorry. When Dobby gave me your invisibility cloak and said you wanted me to come see you at night…” Ginny shrugged. “I just jumped to conclusions.”


Harry thought about it for a moment and then grinned. “Yeah, I could see how that might happen,” he chuckled.


“It’s a lovely thought though, being alone and just talking…it would, of course, be breaking a million rules, but I could ask Hermione how it’s done,” she replied, eyes twinkling.


“Hermione?” Harry said, his eyes growing wide. “Hermione comes to visit Ron? Oh, thanks for the visual, Ginny.”


“Anytime, Harry. Anytime,” Ginny replied, raising herself on to her tip toes to give Harry a kiss.


“Harry! What are you doing to my little sister?”


“Nothing!” Both Ginny and Harry said quickly, jumping back, as Ron walked up to the alcove.


Harry and Ginny looked at each other and burst laughing.


“What? What did I say?” Ron asked perplexed.


Ginny giggled. “I need to go get my books from the library. I’ll catch up.” Ginny headed off to the library, throwing Harry a smile over her shoulder.


“Come on, Ron,” Harry said grinning. “Let’s go to the common room.”


Taking Ron by the arm, Harry steered him down the corridor. He was almost to the Fat Lady when he stumbled, suddenly realizing what Ginny had said.


Ginny had said she loved him.


++++


“Nathan Borgin. My son told me you were teaching here.”


Borgin turned around to see Luicius Malfoy standing by the wall across from his classroom. He looks ready to pounce, Borgin thought.


“Lucious Malfoy,” Borgin said nodding and walking closer. “Here to check up on your son? Or checking up on me?”


“No need to make a separate trip. I expected you to be wearing your colors, Borgin.”


“I’m trying not to show favoritism to one house.”


“There shouldn’t be any other houses.”


“Your time in Azkaban didn’t soften you up any, did it Malfoy?”


“Did yours?”


Borgin studied Malfoy for a moment. Then, he held out his hand.


“It’s good to see you again, Lucious.”


Malfoy looked at the hand for a moment before grasping it firmly with his own.


“And you, Nathan.”


++++




A/N — Next time…love spells and a compromising position.

Thanks for reading! As always, suggestions, comments and reviews welcomed! Enjoy!

Reviews 158
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