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Blood of the Heart | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff Warnings: Death, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 411 Summary: 7th Yr Sequel to Ancient Magic. It is now known the power of immortality resides inside Harry and Ginny. Will their combined powers be enough to protect them from the Dark Lord? Hitcount: Story Total: 198335; Chapter Total: 7102 |
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Disclaimer — I do not own Harry Potter. Harry sat down across from Ron and Hermione, letting his book bag fall to the floor with a ‘thunk’. Ron pushed a plate of bacon toward him, but not before grabbing a handful for himself. Hermione kept her nose glued to her copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry glanced at the paper, wondering if the coverage of the attack on Knockturn Alley had finally made it past the front page. His eye caught on a photograph of a family. Thinking the young girl in the photograph looked familiar, Harry leaned closer to read the caption. The Man Who Might be Minister - Martin and Vivian Blevins and their daughter Joanna on holiday. Story Page Three. Hermione closed the paper with a snap, folded it carefully and placed it next to her plate. Harry’s hand shot out and snagged it. “Yes, Harry, you may borrow my paper,” Hermione remarked slightly put out, as Harry unfolded the paper and turned to the third page. The office of the Minister of Magic issued a statement yesterday saying the current Minister of Magic has no plans of stepping down in the near future, despite the growing public distrust of his office. This statement was released in response to an exclusive interview Martin Blevins granted The Daily Prophet this past week. While not directly saying so himself, Blevins has been mentioned, along with Ameila Bones, as a top candidate to take over as Minster of Magic should the position become open. ”It is time for a change,” Blevins stated. When asked if he was the man to instigate the change, Blevins did not directly respond. He commented there were many talented people in the Ministry. “What we need, though, is more than talent. We need someone who is willing to do what needs to be done.” By his own admission, Blevins is a man of action. A graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where his youngest daughter Joanna is currently enrolled, Blevins was a well respected member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before taking over as head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He has been a member of the Wizengamot for the past four years and a recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, for Services to the Ministry. Over the past months, Blevins has become increasingly vocal in regard to his displeasure with the Ministry’s level of response to the increase of Death Eater attacks, calling it “simply inadequate.” When asked his thoughts regarding the increase of attacks in recent weeks, the current Minister of Magic, Cornielius Fudge, responded, “If I didn’t know better, I would say something set He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named off, almost as if these attacks are a chain reaction of some sort.” The Minister’s answer did not appear to appease Blevins, who had this to say in regard to the Minister’s sentiments. “The Knockturn Alley attack (of November 20th ) seems to be just one more sign that the current administration is not doing enough to ensure the safety of the magical community. We need to devote the proper amount of resources to the issues at hand. We are at war, for Merlin’s sake!” In response, the Office of the Minister of Magic’s spokesperson said the Minister will take all ideas and suggestions into consideration. A disgusted look on his face, Harry waded up the paper and set it on fire right in the middle of the Gryffindor table, much to Hermione’s dismay. “But Harry! I haven’t finished with it yet!” she cried, dousing the paper with water from her wand. “Not to mention, you aren’t allowed to set things on fire in the Great Hall!” “He’s an idiot, Hermione,” Ron argued, grabbing a sausage from the platter in front of him. “Thanks, Ron,” Harry replied sarcastically. “Not you, Harry, Fudge,” Ron said. “Dad’s always said he couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag. It’s high time we get a new Minister, one who knows what’s going on. Dad likes Blevins. He’s worked with him a few times. Says he really knows his stuff.” “Still, that isn’t any reason to set up a bonfire in the middle of breakfast!” Hermione admonished, sweeping the ashes to the floor. “Have you talked to Dumbledore, Harry?” “No,” Harry said, picking up his book back and standing up. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on mending fences or being told that Dumbledore had had his best interest at heart. “You know, Harry —“ “I’ll see you later, Hermione. Later, Ron,” Harry said, turning away and heading toward the doors. “Ron, you should really talk —“ “No, Hermione, I shouldn’t,” Ron said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Dumbledore screwed up. He has put my best mate and my sister in danger. For that, I don’t want to talk to him either.” Hermione sighed. “I just wish I understood why,” she said, gazing up at the sparsely populated staff table. Nathan sat at one end of the table, his eyes focused on a book he had placed in front of him. He never went anywhere without something to read these days, be it rolls of parchment or moldy old textbooks. Hermione had become so curious about what he was reading, she had approached him one morning and asked if he needed help with anything in hopes of being handed a stack of texts to read. Despite looking harried and worn out, Nathan had quickly held the book to his chest, shook his head and told her he was just doing some research. Research it might be, but Hermione also deduced that by keeping his nose in a book, Nathan was able to avoid any contact, eye or vocal, with Dumbledore who was sitting in his customary seat, half way down the table. Hermione noted he too looked a little more worn around the edges, as if sleep wasn’t coming easily. Pushing his chair back from the table, Nathan caught Hermione’s eye and nodded at her. Realizing she was staring, Hermione blushed slightly and returned her attention to breakfast. Nathan tucked his book under his arm and made his way in between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and into the Entrance Hall. Glancing around, he quickly spotted Harry and Ginny at the bottom of the Grand Staircase. “Harry, Ginny,” Nathan greeted as he strolled toward them. “Good morning, Professor Borgin,” Ginny smiled. “We were just talking about our holiday plans.” “Oh? And are you heading home?” Nathan asked. “No, it doesn’t seem like we are,” Ginny said. “Mum and Dad are planning on visiting Charlie, and with the increased attacks, they’ve decided Hogwarts is probably the safest place for us.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Nathan replied, then shook his head. “Well, not really. I’m here for the holidays, too. It will be nice to have some company. Anyway, don’t you have class?” “Yeah,” Harry grinned. “Yours.” “Well then, let’s get going,” Nathan said, turning in the direction of his classroom. “Good day, Ginny.” Giving Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek, Harry quickly fell into step beside Nathan. “What are we doing today?” he asked. “Anna lent me a book on binding hexes used by the Ancient Egyptians. She has this odd fascination for hexes that involve closing people up in spaces. I think it comes from spending too much time in small traveling compartments as a child. Anyway, the Ancient Egyptians would place the sarcophagus in the burial chamber and close it up, leaving just a tiny hole big enough for a wand to slide through and cast a binding hex. The wizard would pull the wand out and plug the hole up. The binding hex creates a type of dust that would attach itself to the items in the room. Should an unsuspecting grave robber try to steal anything within the room, they would be bound. Some of the hexes would bind through fear leaving the grave robber horribly disoriented, only able to exist within his mind, unable to find his way out of the tomb. Another bound the person to the room, not allowing them to leave. They would slowly die of starvation and dehydration. Another one —“ “Uh, professor?” Harry called, three steps behind Nathan. “Yes?” Nathan said, stopping and looking around. “Your classroom?” Harry said, pointing over his shoulder. “You passed it.” “Oh, right,” Nathan chuckled. “I’m a little caught up in the subject. Shall we?” Harry grinned, thinking Nathan’s ‘subject’ was rather caught up in him, too. +++++ “So, Joanna, what are you doing for the holidays?” Ginny asked, sliding into a chair next to her in the library. “Oh,” Joanna said, looking up from her charms homework and propping her cheek against her palm, “in my mind or in reality?” she asked wistfully. “Let’s go for reality first,” Ginny picked, smiling. “Staying here,” Joanna sighed. “Really? Me, too,” Ginny said surprised. “You’ve never stayed before. Why now?” “It’s my dad’s job. Everybody thinks he’s in the running to be the next Minister of Magic so he’s been giving all these interviews. My dad is not known for keeping his opinions to himself. Both he and my mum now have their own entourage following them around for protection. They’ve been talking about making me come home, but I told them I’d be fine here.” “Huh,” Ginny said, sitting back and crossing her arms across her chest. Giving Joanna an appraising look, she snorted. “What?” Joanna asked. “Neville’s staying, too,” Ginny grinned widely. “No. No, he isn’t. He is? Really?” Joanna stuttered, shaking her head, her face contorting with a surge of shocked happiness. “Really?” she repeated. “Uh-huh,” Ginny nodded. “Yes!” Joanna leaned back, stretched her arms up and leaned her head back. “Christmas just came early, didn’t it?” Ginny observed wryly. “Speaking of which, what are you going to get him?” Joanna shot straight back up. “Get him? Neville? Christmas! Oy!” she groaned. “Ironic isn’t it how the first stirrings of romance are so wonderful and so awful all at the same time.” “Cruel,” Ginny agreed. “Hmmm…alright, I can do this,” Joanna said, tapping her fingers on the table. “I mean, I’ve been watching him for six years — oh, heavens, that makes me sound psychotic, doesn’t it?” Ginny giggled. “No, not really.” “Oh, right,” Joanna said, grinning. “You know what it’s like. He’s always there. No matter where he is, you just know. I mean, I’ll be sitting on one end of the common room and I don’t even have to see him, but I can tell you exactly when he comes in the room and where he sits. It’s like he pulls my attention to him.” “You are hopeless,” Ginny said smiling. “Yep,” Joanna grinned happily. “Okay, what to get Neville for Christmas…what do you get for a boy who is sweet, loyal, kind, adorable, with hair you just want run my fingers through and a place on his neck that —“ “Please, Joanna, Neville’s a friend. I don’t need that kind of imagery,” Ginny coughed. “Oh, right,” Joanna said, blushing slightly. “Sorry. It’s just strange how I’ve always known he was there, but since he smiled at me, everything just exploded. That pull he has for me just became ten times stronger.” Ginny went still. “Pull he has for you?” she asked, swallowing, her mind racing. “Has it been like this with any other boy you’ve gone out with?” Ginny asked, trying to keep her voice neutral as she busied herself opening her book bag. Joanna flushed. “I haven’t really gone out with any other boys,” she admitted quietly, her eyes focused on her hands in her lap. “I think I’ve always just wanted Neville.” Joanna looked up as Ginny’s chair scraped backwards. “Hey, Ginny, where are you going?” “Uh, I forgot I need to see Professor Borgin about something — a question regarding the essay he assigned us,” Ginny said a little loudly over her shoulder, earning a disapproving glare from Madam Pince. “But Ginny, Professor Borgin didn’t assign us an essay,” Joanna called out confused, watching her friend leave. Smiling weakly at the perturbed looking librarian, Joanna reluctantly returned her attention to her Charms book and the more pressing problem of a Christmas present. ++++ “Nathan, I’d like to have a word with you,” Dumbledore said from the doorway of Nathan’s office. “Is it about my curriculum?” Nathan asked, not looking up from the parchment on his desk. “No,” Albus replied. “Then you can keep your words. I don’t want to hear them.” “Nathan, I think you should consider talking to Anna about moving into the castle,” Dumbledore said, ignoring Nathan’s retort. “What makes you think you have any right to offer advice on my relationships?” Nathan snapped. “No one has any right to comment on your relationships,” Dumbledore said, “but I care about both your and Anna’s safety. Due to the recent events, I’m not sure she is safe in Hogsmeade.” “What about the wards?” Nathan asked, making a note in the margin of the essay in front of him. “The wards are in place, but she is your wife and that makes her a target.” “No thanks to you,” Nathan replied churlishly, his eyes still downcast. Silence, thick and electric, filled the office. Nathan knew he had read the same line four times waiting for the Headmaster to leave, but Dumbledore was not leaving. Giving up, Nathan sighed and dropped his quill on the desk. He pressed his fingers to his forehead, applying pressure to the insistent throb above his left eye. “Why, Albus?” Nathan asked, dropping his hand and leaning back in his chair, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Why? You knew what it meant, didn’t you?” Dumbledore crossed the threshold and, with a wave of his hand, closed the door behind him. The latch clicked as he sat down on one of the chairs opposite Nathan’s desk. Nathan watched as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry deflated before his eyes. Albus Dumbledore looked worn out. His complexion was grey; the lines on his face were deeper; his eyes had lost their twinkle. The power seemed to seep out of him as he sunk into the chair. Dumbledore slowly nodded. “I don’t understand you, Albus,” Nathan said sadly. “I’m not sure I understand myself, either,” Dumbledore replied. “The potion should have disabled him.” “Well, it did that,” Nathan replied sarcastically. “Nathan, I wanted to buy you time and I was rather sure you wouldn’t have time if we did things your way,” Dumbledore said. “We almo-“ Dumbledore held up his hand. Nathan stopped, anger mixing with his annoyance. “Nathan, one of my greatest faults has always been my heart. I may have done you and Harry and Ginny a horrible wrong. I am not going to deny that. But at the time, it was in my mind the best course of action. The groundwork had been laid. Had you gone to Tom and told him the potion was not a viable option, it would have only been a matter of time until he determined he was being deceived, and he would kill you. “In some ways, Nathan, you remind me very much of Harry. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you were a lost, lonesome boy, fighting against constraints put upon you by powers beyond your control. I was given the opportunity to help you escape those restraints and then the joy of watching you become so much more than I think even you ever dreamt of. All of my students have a place in my heart, and I admit, some more than others. Selfishly, I wanted to grant your wish and give you more time and I did,” Dumbledore explained, sadness and regret radiating off him in waves. “But at what cost, Albus?” Nathan asked quietly, eyeing the Headmaster wearily. He was surprised at the thought that occurred to him as he studied the wizard. Nathan could imagine the weight of the world sitting on Dumbledore’s shoulders. He knew that wasn’t an easy thing to bear. A nagging voice poked him in the back of his brain. ”We all make mistakes, Nathan. You must learn from them and move on. Otherwise you will end up stuck in a quagmire of anger and frustration for the rest of your life. Do you want to be remembered for being a resentful old wizard? Or for being a wizard who lived? Believe me, Nathan, I may only be your mother, but I know both sides. Live. Life is too short for that much anger.” Nathan almost grinned. Even from the afterlife, his mother was an annoying know it all. Sitting up straighter in his chair, Nathan looked at Dumbledore, his eyes full of challenge. “Nathan, you know I will protect them with my life, as you will,” Dumbledore said quietly. Nathan nodded slowly before speaking. “You realize I don’t trust you. And I don’t think they do either.” Dumbledore nodded sadly. “I expected as much,” he said quietly, standing up to leave. “The heart is a powerful weapon. It has the power to make us live or die, the power to gain forgiveness and influence trust. For better or worse, I followed mine. Now, the most I can hope for is understanding.” Nathan mulled this statement over as the Headmaster left. Leaning his chair back so it rested on the two back legs, Nathan propped his feet up on his desk and furrowed his brow. The power to make us live or die… +++++ Ginny raced up the stairs to Nathan’s office and pounded her fist on the door. Barely latched, the door swung open with a swoosh and banged against the wall. Nathan looked up from the essays he was grading in surprise. “Sorry, Professor,” Ginny said breathlessly. “No worries, Ginny,” Nathan replied calmly. “I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to have students clamoring to get into my office. Now I know. It’s noisy. What can I do for you this afternoon?” “Well, I was in the library with Joanna Blevins just now and she has a crush on Neville and she says she has always liked him since she first saw him first year and since he smiled at her the pull she feels for him has just gotten worse and now she’s trying to figure out what to get him for Christmas and since they’re both staying here that will be a nice chance for them to get to know each other better which is good because I think Joanna might be Neville’s bond.” Ginny sucked in a large breath and fell into the chair in front of Nathan’s desk. She looked up at him expectantly. Nathan reached for the pitcher of water on the side of his desk and poured Ginny a glass. Standing up, he walked around the end of his desk and handed it to her. He folded his arms across his chest and perched himself on the edge. “She feels a pull?” he asked, sorting out the pertinent information from Ginny’s outburst. Ginny nodded her head as she took a sip of water. “How long has that pull been there?” Nathan asked slowly. “Six years,” Ginny said swallowing. “Well, that is a bit long for a simple crush, isn’t it?” Nathan said furrowing his brow. “I thought so, too. And, Professor,” Ginny said, leaning forward to set her glass on the desktop, “you know the Prophecy, right? About the one who would face the Dark Lord being born in July to parents who defied him three times? What if — if fate decided to prepare both boys born in July, just in case?” she pondered, biting her bottom lip. “I — I know this sounds stupid, but what if some strange force out there decided to help them out in the only way it could?” Nathan thought about it for a moment. “I’ve long since learned not to question those strange forces,” he admitted. “It could have been either one that Voldemort chose,” he said slowly. “Ginny, did you say anything to her about your bond?” Ginny shook her head. “I haven’t told anyone, except Ron and Hermione. Harry hasn’t either.” “Alright, do you remember those meditation exercises my mother had you work on? When you were simply trying to direct your bond because it didn’t have an anchor at that point in time?” Ginny nodded, unsure of where Nathan was going with this line of questioning. “I want you to close your eyes and instead of concentrating on your bond, concentrate on Joanna. See if you can see anything.” Ginny shrugged her shoulders and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath and slipped into herself, finding her center. The sounds of Nathan’s office melted away and soon she was within herself looking out. She reached out to her memories of Joanna. At first, her thoughts were on physical aspects, Joanna’s blonde hair, her expressive brown eyes, her plant stained fingers from too many hours spent in the greenhouses. Knowing the physical didn’t matter, Ginny reached for the intangible, the easy laughter, the ability to not take herself too seriously, the deep, generous nature and the loving heart. The heart drew Ginny in, wrapping her in its emotions, warming her, comforting her. Ginny gasped and her eyes flew open. “Ribbons. I saw ribbons.” Nathan smiled and nodded. “I want us to talk to Joanna,” he said chuckling. “My mother always said Mediators just know other Mediators. Kind of like a sixth sense type of thing.” Ginny smiled appreciatively at Nathan. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, Ginny. You mentioned she was staying here for the holidays, as is Neville. Let’s plan on approaching the subject with them then.” “Can I tell Harry?” Ginny asked hopefully. “As long as he doesn’t spread the word, I don’t see why not. Of course, you realize what this means, don’t you?” Nathan said, returning to his chair behind his desk. “No, what?” Ginny asked, standing up. “You’ll have to train her,” Nathan replied. “Me?” Ginny said aghast. “I couldn’t!” Nathan snorted. “Ginny, if anyone can do it, it’s you.” Ginny glowed bright red. “Really?” “My mother wouldn’t have said so if she didn’t believe it,” Nathan said in all honestly. “But first, let’s see if Joanna is game. And Neville, of course.” “Right,” Ginny said, her face flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, her feet cemented to the floor. “Ginny?” “Yeah?” “Did you need anything else?” Nathan asked. “Uh, no,” Ginny said, shaking her head free of clouds. “I just got caught up in…” Nathan grinned. “It’s rather cool, isn’t it?” “Yeah, rather,” Ginny smiled back, before turning toward the door. ++++ Harry landed against the back wall with a thud. He threw his arms over his head just in time to avoid a mop thwacking him on top of the skull. He heard the door slam shut and felt a calming touch on his arm. “Harry! You’ll never guess!” Harry pushed the mop out of his way. He squinted in the dimness. Ginny was crouched in front of him, her nose almost touching his, in the cramped broom cupboard. “Ginny, you just threw me into a broom cupboard,” he said incredulously. “Yes! I had to! I have something to tell you,” she said, her eyes alight with excitement. “You’ll never guess!” “You know, when a girl throws a boy into a broom cupboard, it usually isn’t to talk,” Harry said, trying to find a comfortable sitting position in the musty smelling cupboard. “We can get to that after,” Ginny replied, kneeling. “Harry, Joanna is Neville’s bond.” “Huh?” “Joanna is a Mediator — well, untrained. But it’s there, Harry. I saw it. She’s got ribbons. And Neville is her bond. Or at least I think he is. It makes total sense!” “It does?” Harry asked, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes it does,” Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “I talked to Professor Borgin. This may be strange, Harry, but before Voldemort picked you, there were two babies born at the end of July to parents who defied the Dark Lord three times.” “Ginny, there isn’t anything in the Prophecy about bonds —“ “I know, Harry, but what if fate or kismet or destiny or whatever you want to call it decided to give both babies what it could in order to help. Maybe this unseen force knew you both would grow up without parents and would both face hardships most of us don’t. Maybe these powers that be decided to give you both a boost and give you both bonds.” Ginny’s hands were palm down on the floor, her body tilting into his, her eyes bright and full of the excitement of discovery and possibility. The fresh scent of her hair wafted up and around him. Harry swallowed, struggling to keep his mind on the topic at hand. He cleared his throat. “Wh — what did Professor Borgin say?” he asked distractedly. “He had me do a mediation exercise. I saw the ribbons, Harry,” Ginny exclaimed excitedly. “Joanna is Neville’s bond.” “Does Joanna know?” Harry asked, his eyes darting to her lips. “No, and you can’t tell anyone. At least not yet,” Ginny said, sitting back. “Professor Borgin wants to talk to them over the holidays. Since they will both be here, it will be a perfect time to do it,” she said, clapping her hands together happily. “Ginny?” “Yeah?” “You dragged me into a broom cupboard to tell me that?” “No, not entirely,” Ginny said, leaning back down to touch her nose to his. “I also dragged you in here to snog you senseless, but if you’ve got someplace you need to be…” “No, I believe my schedule is wide open,” Harry replied huskily, “completely wide open.” ++++ Several days later, Neville stood still as a statue two feet away from his bed. A light covering of nervous sweat added a sheen to his pale face. His breathing was shallow, his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide with disbelief. Ron stepped tentatively up to his side and peered over his right shoulder. Harry looked over Neville’s left. The velvet curtains hanging around Neville’s four poster had been pulled back to reveal a neatly made bed. In the middle of the blankets rested a present. The package was the size of a loosely rolled piece of parchment. It was wrapped in simple silver paper and tied with a deep green ribbon. Harry could tell it was heavy from the indentation it made in the blankets. Harry glanced down at Neville’s hand. A small silver card that matched the wrapping paper was clutched tightly in his fist. “What’s up?” Seamus asked, joining the group from behind. “Something wrong with your bed?” Dean chimed in, stopping beside Harry. “Oy! Neville, who’s the present from?” Harry could hear Neville audibly swallow next to him. “A — a girl,” Neville whispered, his pale, clammy complexion becoming splotchy red. Harry had a feeling he knew who that girl was. A reverent silence fell as the group of seventh year boys (almost men) contemplated the wrapped package and what it meant. Eyes riveted on the green bow, Ron cleared his throat. “You know what this means, don’t you?” As if all connected to the same spine, Dean, Harry and Seamus slowly nodded simultaneously. “We need to shop,” Dean said dazed. “And fast,” Seamus added. “Any ideas, Harry?” Ron asked hopefully. “None,” Harry answered gloomily. “We’re pathetic,” Seamus observed. “At least we’ve got each other,” Dean observed. “No offense, you lot, but I’m not snuggling up with any of you on Christmas,” Ron replied. “None taken,” Seamus said. “You coming?” “Uh, in a minute,” Harry said, his eyes still on the package. “Right,” Dean nodded, following Seamus out of the dormitory. Harry heard Neville breathing, in and out, in and out, and wondered briefly if he was going to pass out. Then Neville spoke. “Guys?” “Yeah?” “What should I do?” “Uh, well, I’d say open it,” Harry suggested. “Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Right,” Neville nodded, his feet firmly cemented to the floor. Hiding his grin, Ron poked Neville in the back. Startled, Neville stumbled forward into his bed. Righting himself, he reached out his hand and stopped. He glanced back uncertainly at Ron and Harry. “Neville, it’s not going to bite you,” Harry assured him, crossing his fingers behind his back that that was really the case and glancing at Ron for reassurance. Ron shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “You can never be too sure.” Neville took a deep breath and scooped up the package. Pulling at the ribbon, he dropped it to his bed and slipped the wrapping paper off. “Wow,” Neville breathed, his hands running over a soft brown leather cover. “What is it, Neville?” Harry asked, leaning forward to get a better look. Neville unbuckled the case and rolled it out on his bed, revealing a set of handcrafted pruning tools. Carefully, he pulled a set of gleaming silver shears out of their pocket and turned them over in his hand. A gold colored strip twinkled on the handle. Harry could read the initials, ‘NL’ and grinned as the red splotches in Neville’s cheeks spread until his face was a bright, shining crimson. “Who are they from?” Ron asked, looking around for the card. “Uh, Joanna Blevins,” Neville said distractedly as he pulled each tool out of the case to examine it. “She’s one of Ginny’s roommates. I didn’t realize you two were going out,” Harry said, feigning ignorance. “We’re not,” Neville said, stopping all movement. “Harry! Ron!” “What?” “Do you suppose this means she likes me?” Ron snorted. “Yeah, Neville, I think that’s a good sign.” Neville swallowed and nodded, his face now devoid of expression and color. “Harry, what should I do?” he whispered. “Uh, well, I suppose you should thank her,” Harry answered slowly. “Do I need to get her a gift, too?” Neville asked. “I suppose so,” Ron said, nodding. “What are you getting Ginny?” Neville asked, looking dazedly at Harry. Harry looked at Neville’s hopeful expression, a nagging sense of unease settling in his stomach as he uttered the truth. “I don’t know. Ron? Hermione?” “No clue,” Ron sighed. “Not a single clue.” +++++ The past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts whispered as Harry and Ginny stood in front of Dumbledore’s desk. The instant they had stepped off the stairs and onto the rug, the portraits had become a sea of motion, subjects moving from frame to frame. Ginny had been somewhat impressed at how sprightly the older witches and wizards were, but then again, gossip is an amazing fuel. Not wanting to sit for fear of loosing hold of her anger, Ginny stood, her gaze flitting over the empty frames and resting on the several that were crammed with conversations being held behind gloved hands. Ginny felt a giggle bubble up as she wondered if a frame could break from too much weight. “What?” Harry asked, seeing Ginny’s mouth twitch. “Oh, nothing,” she said, looking back at Harry. “How are you doing?” “Fine,” Harry answered automatically. Ginny raised her eyebrows at him and he sighed. “I don’t know how I’m doing. You?” Ginny shrugged her shoulders and reached out for Harry’s hand. “This may sound odd, but I’m glad to finally be here. We’ve been avoiding Professor Dumbledore for weeks. I feel as if I’ve been walking around with this solid rock of anger and confusion inside my stomach since we got back from the registration but I haven’t known how to ask him why without shouting at him.” “Do you know now?” Harry asked. “No,” Ginny said, shaking her head, “but after watching Professor Dumbledore, I can’t help but get the feeling he’d rather we yell at him than give him our silence.” “What, so he can feel better?” Harry asked sarcastically. “No, so we can move past our anger,” Ginny said simply. “He’s always been old, but recently he’s looked old. And worn out. You know, everyone has always expected him to have the right answer, to take the right path, but he’s not perfect. And he made a mistake and I think he knows it,” she shrugged. “I do,” Albus Dumbledore agreed softly from behind them. “And you are both correct in my reasons for wanting to see you. However, there is another.” Harry turned and watched Dumbledore who didn’t step behind his desk, but instead chose to stand in front of them as if he was more than their Headmaster. Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him. This close, Harry noticed what Ginny had said about Dumbledore aging. He was surprised that it made his heart constrict despite the anger rolling within. The deepened lines, the ash gray complexion beneath the startling white beard, the eyes without their customary twinkle - it made Harry realize the only wizard Voldemort feared was indeed mortal. And while the thought didn’t lessen Harry’s anger any, he found himself more willing to listen. “I have some news, Harry,” Dumbledore said, his sorrowful eyes meeting Harry’s stony cold ones. “There has been an attack on Privet Drive. Your aunt and uncle and cousin were not harmed.” Harry exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He might not feel any love toward his blood relatives, but they were still family. “The attack was not centered on your family,” Dumbledore continued quietly. “The Death Eaters went after Mrs. Figg.” Harry felt cold and hot all at once. The sounds of cat food tins clanking together filled his head. His middle ached as he thought of her tartan carpet slippers and the smell of cabbage. His voice cracked as he spoke. “Who’s going to look after the cats?” A small twinkle flickered in Dumbledore’s eyes as he answered. “The ones who survived have been taken to Grimmauld Place. Mr. Tibbles, however, insisted on going to the Burrow, much to your mother’s chagrin, Ginny. She claimed she just got rid of one opinionated feline, but in the end, agreed.” Harry blinked his eyes rapidly as they swelled with moisture. Ginny wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Dumbledore cleared his throat, breaking the sad silence. “As far as the other,” he started, his voice crackling with regret, “I — I’m not sure what to say. This world of ours isn’t black and white. If it was, we would not be standing here.” Dumbledore paused, gathering his thoughts. He swallowed and looked into their eyes. “I wanted to buy us time,” he explained quietly. “I wanted to keep us all safe and buy some time.” Ginny watched as the wizard who never seemed to falter for the right - if not slightly off beat - thing to say, struggled to find the correct words to express his emotions. The rock in her stomach was still there, but her immediate anger had deflated. She couldn’t argue in the face of such utter defeat. She glanced up at Harry who was looking much like she felt. She squeezed his hand and met his gaze. Harry looked between Ginny and Dumbledore. He was at a loss for words. His anger warred with his heart. He didn’t know if it was Ginny’s observations or Dumbledore’s admission or the news of Mrs. Figg, but Harry felt a connection with the Headmaster. Even though the Prophecy was not public knowledge, Harry walked around each and every day feeling as if all the eyes of the wizarding world were looking to him to save them again. He knew what it was like to make a mistake, thinking he was doing the right thing. Loosing Sirius had taught him that much. He also couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t make another mistake in hopes of keeping the ones he loved safe. Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand back. Slinging his book bag over his shoulder, Harry met Dumbledore’s eyes and nodded. He then tugged Ginny’s hand. Ginny flashed a small smile at the Headmaster and followed Harry out of Dumbledore’s office. “You know, Albus, I think those two might be growing up,” Phineas Nigellus observed in a bored tone from his frame on the wall. “Really, Phineus?” Dumbledore remarked, his eyes on the stairs. “I would have to agree. And much to your dismay, I’m sure, I find myself aspiring to be more like them every day,” he commented softly. ++++ Ginny sat crossed legged on her bed, her hands in her lap weaving multiple silk strands together. Periodically she would glance over at an open book on her bed then back at the project in her hands, double checking her work. Multiple strands of silk lay in front of her, spread out like a rainbow against the quilt. Chehalis sat on his haunches, tracking the moving the thread. Ginny wove the muted colors in and out and over each other. Chehalis’ paw shot out, anchoring the burgundy thread to the blankets. “Chehalis, you aren’t helping,” Ginny said, tugging the thread from under the cat’s paw. Chehalis’ paws batted at the movement, attacking the silk. Ginny sighed exasperatedly at the cat. “You are a Mediator’s cat, Chehalis. You should know about these,” she said, waving the woven band in front of the cat’s face. “You know you — hey, stop that!” Ginny laughed, as Chehalis stood on his haunches, his front paws waving in front of him in hopes of catching his silken prey. Chehalis fell back down on all fours as the door opened to the dorm. “Hey, Ginny,” Joanna said, sitting down dejectedly on the side of her bed. Ginny looked up and smiled widely at Joanna. She couldn’t wait to tell her. No, not tell her, Ginny thought, approach her. This might not be Joanna’s idea of fun, after all. “Are you alright?” Ginny asked, gathering up her project. “Get off, Chehalis. This isn’t for you!” she scolded, swatting the playful feline away. “I don’t know,” Joanna said, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Ginny? Have you — oh, hello Joanna,” Hermione said, poking her head inside the room. Taking in Joanna’s expression, Hermione stepped into the room. “Is everything alright?” “Yes — no, oh, I don’t know,” Joanna said, flopping backward on her bed, her arms widespread. Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ginny who shrugged. Putting her threads on the table, Ginny scooted off her bed and sat cross legged on one side of Joanna’s bed while Hermione took the other. “What happened?” Ginny asked. Sighing deeply, Joanna flipped over on her stomach and propped her chin on her hands. “I gave him the gift.” “Gave who what gift?” Hermione asked curiously. “I gave Neville a set of pruning tools. The catalogue said they were ‘a must’ for every herbologist. They were charmed to never become dull or rust. I even had them engraved,” Joanna said, her cheeks reddening as she moved her chin and dropped her forehead into her hands. “Then I left them on his bed this morning.” “Joanna, I’m sure he loved them,” Ginny said reassuringly. “Of course he would,” Hermione said, patting the younger girl on the back. “I don’t know,” Joanna said, turning her head so her cheek rested on her arms. “He — he just stopped me in the corridor and…” Joanna stopped, pushed herself up into a sitting position between Ginny and Hermione. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. “He couldn’t say a word,” she said in wonder, a smile beginning to spread across her face. “Well, it is Neville,” Hermione commented dryly. “Hermione!” Ginny scolded. “Just because you’ve never been at a loss for words, doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t experience momentary lapses of speech.” “Sorry,” Hermione apologized, flushing slightly. “You’re right.” Ginny rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Joanna who was smiling widely. “Ginny,” Joanna giggled, “you know what?” “What?” “He couldn’t say a word. You know what that means?” she said, excitedly. “He likes you?” Ginny said, Joanna’s smile becoming contagious. Joanna squealed and fell backward once more. “He likes me! Oh, damn.” “What?” Hermione asked, as Joanna sat back up again, her eyes wide, her face pale. “He likes me. What do I do now?” she said, looking between Hermione and Ginny. “Well, what have you done when you’ve gone out with other boys?” Hermione asked patiently. “I don’t know,” Joanna said perplexed. “I’ve never really gone out with anyone else. No one has ever made me feel like he does.” “A complete idiot?” Ginny teased gently. Joanna giggled. “Yeah. What do I do?” she asked. “I can’t even form an intelligent sentence around him!” Ginny took a deep breath and pasted an encouraging smile onto her face. “Wish him a Happy Christmas,” Ginny said. “And see if you can catch him under some low hanging mistletoe.” “Ginny!” Joanna exclaimed, blushing. “What?” Ginny grinned. “You don’t have to say anything under mistletoe!” ++++ Anna tightened the belt of her robe around her middle and turned from her desk. Pushing the rug on her office floor back with her toe, Anna held her wand over the passageway entrance. ”Wingardium Leviosa.” Anna levitated the section of flooring up and over the side. Gently setting it on top of the rug, she lit her wand and leaned over to peer into the passageway. “Hello, Harry.” Harry’s head came into view, his surprised eyes meeting hers. “How’d you know…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he climbed the stairs. “Harry, I’m a tomb raider,” Anna replied, smiling indulgently. “Knowing how to determine if someone or something is sneaking up on you is a job requirement. No one ever wants to be surprised by an irate, half wrapped mummy. For starters, underneath all those wrapping, they begin to sweat when they get angry. Century old perspiration is not pleasant.” “Uh, yeah,” Harry said, brushing off his jeans and straightening up. “So,” Anna said, crossing her arms in front of her. “I’m guessing you’re not here to discuss this, but I have to ask. How long have you known you’re a Legilimens?” Harry flushed and looked at the toes of his trainers. “I’m not,” he started. “Well, I mean I’m not trained. Professor Bor — Nathan and Dumbledore are helping me with Occlumency. We haven’t worked on Legilimency.” “Have you told them you are capable of it?” Anna asked curiously. Harry shook his head. “You might want to,” Anna said, slipping her hands in the pockets of her robes. “Otherwise you’re going to be learning a whole lot about me you might not want to know.” Harry nodded, his eyes on his shoes. He looked up when he felt a light touch on his elbow. “That was a joke, Harry,” Anna said, smiling softly. “I’m capable of guarding my thoughts when I need to be. It’s my mouth that I seem to have issues with.” “Oh,” Harry said, looking back over his shoulder at the open passageway, wondering if this had really been a good idea or not. “Harry, how about I get some tea and you can tell me why you’re here,” Anna said gently. “Go have a seat by the fire. I’ll be right in.” Harry nodded and followed Anna out of the office. As Anna turned to the left, he turned right and entered the cozy sitting room, falling into a chair to the side of the hearth. The fire was burning brightly, casting happy strands of flickering light over the room. The warmth enveloped him like a blanket and Harry soon found his eyelids growing heavy. He jerked as Anna set a mug next to him. “Milk?” she asked, holding out a glass bottle. “Thanks,” Harry said, taking the bottle from her and adding some to his tea. Anna sat down and wrapped her hands around her mug. “So, Harry, even as Head Boy, I’m assuming you’re breaking a good five rules by keeping me company. Care to tell me why?” she asked, taking a sip. Harry inhaled the smell of warm tea and milk mixed with burning wood and cozy cottage, and exhaled, his shoulders deflating and his face falling. “I need to get Ginny a Christmas present,” he said, his eyes gazing hopelessly at the fire. “And?” Anna prompted, after a few moments of silence. “And I want it to be special and I simply have no idea what to get her and I was thinking she might have said something to you and I wanted to ask you when she wasn’t around and I was just hoping you might have an idea — if she said anything, maybe?” Anna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Leaning over she patted Harry’s knee. “Breathe, Harry,” she teased gently. “We’ll figure this out.” Harry looked hopefully at Anna. Anna smiled back. Harry sunk gratefully back into his chair and breathed. “Ginny hasn’t expressed any wish to me,” Anna said, sitting back and tapping her fingers on the side of her mug. “So, let’s start with some basic romantic gestures — flowers, chocolates, poetry —“ “No!” Harry exclaimed, startling Anna. “No poetry. No books. Nothing that comes in a book.” “O-kay,” Anna said amused. “Muggles do this thing called a tattoo, perhaps you’ve heard of them? But then again,” Anna said, tilting her head to the side and glancing up at Harry’s forehead, “you’ve got enough permanent markings on your body already, don’t you,” she commented, setting her mug down on the floor by her feet and leaning forward, clasping her hands together. If anything, she could empathize with Harry’s plight. It had taken weeks for her to figure out what to get Nathan for Christmas. She had sat, staring at a similar fire, thinking of what Nathan liked, going around in a circle, over and over. The man liked books. The man owned his own bookstore. The man liked books. At the point of giving up, she had realigned her thinking. Maybe that was what Harry needed to do, too. “Harry,” Anna said, turning to face him, “what do you think of when you think of Ginny?” Harry coughed on the sip of tea he’d just taken making Anna laugh. “No, don’t tell me,” Anna said, waving her hands in front of her. “You - just you - need to know that. But really, think of that for a moment and see if it helps.” Harry set his mug down and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. He watched the fire, the golds and reds, reaching up, twisting, turning, sparking. It reminded him of Ginny’s hair. He felt the warmth wash over him, coaxing his eyelids closed again, as the comforting silence lulled him to relax. His eyes closed and he thought of Ginny. Anna’s eyes twinkled as she watched a smile play around the corners of Harry’s mouth. His eyes opened and he grinned. “Got it?” Anna said, raising her eyebrows, attempting to stifle a yawn with the back of her hand. “Got it!” Harry exclaimed. “Good,” Anna said, with a definite nod of her head. “I’ll make sure to ask her when I see her after the holidays.” “Are you going somewhere?” Harry asked as he followed Anna back to her office. “No, I’m here. I assumed you would be, though. Aren’t you going to go to be with the Weasleys?” “No, Ginny’s parents are going to visit Charlie so we’re staying at Hogwarts,” Harry shrugged. “Really?” Anna paused, the wheels turning. “I wonder if Professor Dumbledore would allow you to come here for Christmas dinner? I was going to see if Nathan wanted to come. Do you think you might want to, as well? I could invite Bill and the twins, too, although I’m not sure where I would put everyone,” Anna said, biting her thumbnail. “The wards are in place, and we’re right by the castle should anything happen….” Anna looked expectantly at Harry who grinned. “Will you have tarts?” “What flavor?” Anna asked, bouncing up and down on her heels in excitement. Before she could stop it, a yawn escaped and she giggled. “Go,” Anna waved at Harry. “I have a big day tomorrow. I have a menu to plan and a Headmaster to sweet talk. Good night, Harry.” “Good night, Anna,” Harry said, from the bottom of the steps, lighting his wand and heading back toward the castle. Humming, Anna levitated the passage cover back in place and kicked the rug over it. +++++ A/N — My thanks to wvchemteach who thought Neville deserved a bond, too — as always, a wonderful idea. To Anya for catching everything my eyes don’t — thank you! |
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