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The War We Fight | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff Warnings: Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 175 Summary: This is the story of a war. A war between good and evil, light and dark. This is the war Harry will fight, where he will learn the meanings of life and death, love and friendship, sorrow and betrayal, honor and hardship. This is the war where he will fulfill his destiny. H/G with some R/H sixth year fic. Hitcount: Story Total: 95170; Chapter Total: 3122 Author's Notes: So, here is a new chapter. As always, sorry for the delay, but unfortunately RL takes precedence over fiction. It is a long chapter, and for once Iām very happy with it ā I hope you all enjoy as well. Thanks to Sorakage Sama for going over it before posting ! |
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Past rustling apparatus To its gloomy beginning, the original Chasm where brambles block The entrance to the underworld; There the silence blesses his sorrow, And holy to his dread is that dark Which will neither promise nor explain. W. H. Auden (As yet the young Hero’s’) Chapter 23: Meltdown Harry had gotten through two weeks of classes when his carefully constructed world came crashing down around him. As he stepped into the Great Hall one morning, he felt the tension in the air even before he heard the quiet whispering and the half-hidden glances thrown his way. Frowning slightly, he stepped up to the Gryffindor table and found his usual spot next to Ginny. The gloomy countenances surrounding him weren’t reassuring. “What happened?” he asked quietly as he sat down. Hermione handed him the Daily Prophet without a word and let him find out for himself. Splayed in the front page in bold lettering, above a picture of a small village riddled with Dark Marks, was the title, “Wave of attacks washes over Britain — thirty official dead”. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the sudden tightness in his chest — he was the one supposed to stop this madness. But he knew he was doing the best he could. Harry started reading the body of the article, and, as he reached the end, suddenly couldn’t breathe. “One of the unifying factors of these simultaneous attacks was the message painted on the wall of every house that was hit during the night. Always the same mysterious sentence, like a bloody signature left mocking the dead: If this is the cost of information, I am prepared to pay.” “Oh my God,” Harry whispered, standing up shakily, feeling the slight trembling in his hands. “This is all for me, he’s doing this for me.” He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t control the sudden wave of guilt and anger and pure unadulterated hate that suddenly swept through him, and he new he had to get out of that room, away from those people, because he wasn’t sure he would be able to control the raging inferno inside him. Faintly, he heard Ginny calling out his name, but he knew he had to get away; already he could feel the excess magic pooling around his hands, and he couldn’t muster enough will to let it go, to let it flow through him, like Elektra had taught him. The building pressure felt comforting — reminded him that he was alive, that he could fight this psychopath, this monster. He barely noticed the front doors opening before him, as he ran outside. The air around him smelt of the Forbidden Forest and the slight tang that came from the lake. But once outside, he didn’t know what to do. The phrase kept repeating itself inside his head, “If this is the cost of information, I am prepared to pay.” Voldemort couldn’t have been any clearer — he had given him a clear way to stop the killings. But Harry knew that it was a lie, that that Madman couldn’t be trusted. That if he gave him the information he wanted, there would be no point continuing to fight. Harry was perfectly aware of the fact that once Voldemort knew he was the only one who could stop him, then there would be no reason to fear anyone else, and no obstacle that Voldemort could not blast through. It would be utter chaos, until, and if, Harry finally managed to catch up to him. And he knew he wasn’t ready. He was getting stronger, and faster, and actually felt slightly hopeful that he might survive this madness. But not yet. He couldn’t give Voldemort this weapon, and he had to survive long enough to end this. There was no other way. And yet, the knowledge, however deceitful, that he might save lives, and that he was consciously refraining from doing so, was slowly unraveling weeks of carefully built control, and he felt that if he didn’t do something, and soon, something explosive was going to happen. Elektra was in her classroom, preparing for her first class of the day, when she felt the first ripples in the energy surrounding her. At first, she dismissed the whole thing as Hogwarts’ usual capriciousness, and continued working, but just as she finished aligning cushions for her fourth years practice with stunning spells, she realised she recognised the patterns in the magic, and knew something was happening to Harry. Running down the stairs in a mad rush, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be too late, she followed the ragged patterns of energy. She found a large gathering in the entrance hall, being held back by some of the Professors, and quickly made her way through them, trying to reach the front doors. She crossed Minerva on the way, and asked quietly, “What happened?” “Voldemort attacked a series of villages during the night. Harry just found out.” Elektra frowned, and continued running outside. That couldn’t be it, she had come to know Harry during their intense training together, and she didn’t think the boy would have such a reaction to such news. She had taught him better than that. There must be something else to it. Outside, she found the Headmaster, holding back a livid Ginny Weasley, and watching the wards with a concerned expression. “Elektra,” he said in relief, as he saw her approach, “Thank Merlin you got here in time. I think he’s about to lose control.” “Then let me go, Professor!” Ginny ground out from between clenched teeth. “I am sorry, Miss Weasley, but I cannot in good conscience permit that — your well being is my responsibility.” Elektra had never seen such an angry glare as the one Ginny shot the Headmaster at his response, but he had one hand clenched firmly around one of her arms, and his wand ready at his side. The girl didn’t stand a chance. Harry’s other friends were also keeping their distance, obviously confused as to what was going on. Well then, Harry still hadn’t told them what he could do and explained all the mystery. She’d have to talk to him about it again. But first things first. Harry stood at the edge of the lake, his hands glowing up to his elbows, a magical wind whipping his cloak around his legs. It was quite the sight, she thought, if one didn’t know just how very dangerous. She took a deep breath, and started towards the boy she was supposed to train, and who was unconsciously throwing away weeks of painstaking work. She felt a tightening in her stomach as she got the first look at his face. The whirlwind of emotions in his eyes matched the one he was conjuring — anger, pain, hate and misery of the acutest kind. “Harry,” she whispered. His eyes, entirely silver, turned towards her. She wondered if he knew who she was, or if he was falling too deep into the magic to recognise her voice. “Harry,” she repeated, carefully taking hold, with both hands, of one of his arms. She felt his muscles clench, but he didn’t pull away. At least he didn’t perceive her as a threat. Taking a deep breath, she started drawing the magic away from him, letting it flow through her in an intoxicating wave. “Harry, remember your training,” she whispered, calling his name again. This time, she felt a sudden shift in his magic as he stopped fighting her, and saw that his eyes were returning to normal. “Harry, come on, you can do this. Remember your training.” It seemed to take forever, but little by little the stifling feeling of magic around her started to recede. She kept a steady flow of magic from Harry’s body, through hers, and released it harmlessly into the ground. “Harry?” she asked finally. He turned slowly towards her and took a deep breath. She felt more of the pressure ease, and the glow that still surrounded his hands dim. “This is all for me, Professor, and there’s nothing I can do,” he said quietly, in a dead voice. She felt a pang in her heart once more at his tone, and the very real pain she could see in his eyes. “Sit down, Harry. We aren’t done here,” she said finally, not sure how to respond to his statement, not even sure what he was talking about, trying to give him the comfort of a simple task. They sat down, facing each other, knees touching lightly, in a position that had become familiar in the last weeks. “Now, Harry,” she said in a light tone, “We’ll get this under control together. Even if we have to sit here all day, I’ll get you back to the point we were earlier today.” Her tone, and her easy smile seemed to calm the boy sitting in front of her — and for all his power and responsibility, she thought, he was still a boy, and looking like one right now. She was rewarded with a very faint smile and, most importantly, a further loosening of the stifling feeling of magic in the air. “Harry, before anything else, I need you to let go of the magic you’ve accumulated. We can’t work while your whole system is so charged. Go on, close your eyes, and focus on your breathing. Whatever happened, you have to take control of yourself before doing anything.” She saw his shoulders relax, the glow slowly drain away from his body as he let the magic flow through him. Elektra let go of a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, and felt some of the tension ease out of her own body. They had come very, very close to disaster today. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ginny, finally released from the Headmaster’s grasp, come running towards them, but she shook her head, and motioned for her to stay back. Harry needed to focus right now, to concentrate. Things were by no means completely safe yet. “Now, Harry, I want you to strengthen the conduits that were ruptured — that should be easier than actually building new ones. I hope we can get you back on track quickly.” She let her hands rest lightly a few centimetres above his, between their bodies, and tried to guide his magic with the help of her outside perspective. She hoped Dumbledore wasn’t expecting her to cover her classes. The two of them would be here for a while. The sun was starting its slow decent towards the horizon when Elektra finally opened her eyes, stretched her legs and said, “Okay, Harry, I think we’re safe for now. Do you mind telling me just what in bloody hell happened here?” Her tone made it quite clear that it wasn’t a request, and that she expected a truthful answer. Harry stretched out in the grass, and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep through his skin, trying to empty his mind of everything but the present. “This was a message for me, Professor. All those lives, all those families, and it was all to get my attention,” he whispered, clamping down on his emotions, trying not to drown in the anger. Beside him, Elektra felt the shift in the magic, and reached out a hand to her student, letting it flow through her. “Harry, concentrate, you can’t let this sort of thing happen. You know better,” she scolded lightly. “I know, I know!” he answered in a tired voice, covering his eyes with one arm, trying to get back to even a semblance of internal balance. “Why do you think this night was for your benefit, Harry?” she asked, standing up quietly, stretching, and letting the tension of the last few hours drain away. “He told me, Professor. He left a message inside every house, with every body. He was talking to me.” Frowning slightly at the defeated tone in Harry’s voice, she asked, “What message Harry? I don’t really know what happened in any sort of detail.” “He doesn’t know the prophecy yet. Not the important part, at least. Not that I believe this situation can last,” he added, rolling his eyes. “Any secret kept by more than two people is no secret at all, and it feels like all of Hogwarts and the Order knows about it,” he stated, a hint of the bitterness he felt at being excluded from decisions concerning his own welfare seeping into his voice. “I still can’t believe the Headmaster told all those people but waited so long to tell me.” “But how does that relate to today?” she asked, frowning slightly. Something wasn’t right about this. “He left a message in each house that said he was willing to do whatever it took to find out what the prophecy said. Everywhere, the same message, “If this is the cost of information, I am prepared to pay.” That’s what he used to tell me, you know, when he’d make me come up to chat...” He closed his eyes against the rush of memories, refusing to get sucked into a flashback. “He meant that he understood information was a rare commodity, but that he was prepared to pay for it. And he’d taunt me, to see just how far I would go, what was my price.” He let out a humourless laugh, dropping the arm he was using to cover his eyes, and finally looking at his teacher. “He knew, though. He knew that the moment he put Ginny in front of a cruciatus, I’d break. The rest was just for his own sick amusement. Because, you see, Professor, we understand each other, Tom and me. Since I’m no longer under his direct control, and Ginny is out of reach, he’s wondering if maybe what he can’t do with my friends, he can accomplish by sheer mass.” “What do you mean, Harry?” Elektra asked quietly, half knowing the answer, and half afraid of having her own suspicions confirmed. “That this is only the beginning. That tomorrow, or next week, or next month, he’ll do it again. In fact, it will probably be worse. And it is all for me.” He felt it once more, then, speaking what he knew to be truth aloud. The tightness in his muscles, the tingling in his hands that meant he was about to lose control of his emotions. And the strange thing was, he didn’t feel angry, or desperate. The long day of effort had taken its toll, and all he felt was numb. Anger he knew how to deal with, to push back, and force his mind to clear. This nothingness was something knew, and much harder to work with. He saw Elektra watching him in concern, and realized he needed a distraction, or they’d have to start all over again. Standing up quickly, he groaned aloud and almost fell down again, feeling all his muscles protest the movement, as if he’d just run a marathon holding 60 pound weights in each hand. “Sore, are we?” Elektra asked him, an entirely too smug smile gracing her lips. “Uhg,” was all Harry felt like replying, as he stood there, trying to find out if there was a single muscle in his body that didn’t ache. “Well, Harry, this is your own fault, you know. You should know better by now,” she chided him quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder, and guiding him back to the castle. Harry sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling his muscles tremble at the forceful gesture. He’d have to skip training if he wasn’t better in a few hours. Michael would kill him. “Come on, Harry, we need to eat,” his professor said gently, but he felt his stomach turn at the simple thought of food. Just what in Merlin’s name was wrong with his body? “I know you don’t feel like it, just now, but trust me, you’ll just have to force it down. Your body needs energy right now, or you’ll feel awful that much longer.” Harry didn’t think he had the energy to argue the point, so he just nodded, and felt a strange warmth at the obvious affection in his mentor’s eyes. He couldn’t deny the fact that it felt good, having someone care for him when he clearly didn’t feel well. They were ambushed by House Elves as soon as they stepped into the kitchen, and Harry let Elektra deal with them, only exchanging a few words with an ecstatic Dobby, who was simply too glad to serve them, even in the middle of the rush that were Dinner preparations. As they sat on a small table out of the way of the Elves waiting to be served, Harry let his body fall back on the chair, trying to empty his mind, and ignore his body. “Harry,” Elektra said quietly, and he opened his eyes, seeing her concerned glance resting on him. “I’m okay,” he said quietly in reply to her unasked question. “Just tired.” “I know. What we did today was a stretch, even for someone who is fully trained. But I needed to put you back on track, and if we waited too long, we’d be back to square one tomorrow,” she explained, a slightly guilty look in her eyes, Harry noticed. “It’s okay, Professor. I brought it on myself. I know better by now.” He really didn’t blame her in the least, and actually felt grateful that she’d been able to stop him before something unforgivable happened. He was simply too tired to make his case with any more conviction right now. He felt drained, in every possible aspect of the word — emotionally, physically and even magically. Everything felt stretched, ready to snap at the slightest pressure. He heard her sigh quietly on the other side of the table, and reach out a hand to rest on his arm. “It’s perfectly understandable, Harry. I’m just surprised it took you this long to snap. And I am sorry I had to push you this hard. You’re already stretched too thin as it is — I wanted to talk to you about that.” “Talk to me about what?” he looked at her confusedly. “I saw how your friends reacted to what was happening today, Harry. The only one who knew what was going on was Ginny. You need to start trusting people and delegating tasks. Or you’ll burn out before the end of the month. Trust me, Harry, I know the signs.” Her voice was caring, but also absolutely inflexible. “But there’s nothing I can do — there’s just too much I need to be doing right now,” Harry answered tiredly, watching her reaction through bleary eyes. “There are tasks you must do, it is true, but there are others you can delegate. The Quidditch team, for example —” “No,” he cut her off brusquely. “That’s one of the last good, normal things in my life. I’ve earned at least that much,” he continued, a note of pleading entering his voice. He saw his professor’s eyes soften, before she spoke, “What about the D.A. then? I’m not telling you to stop teaching it,” she said, before he could interrupt her, “only pointing out that you have friends that are perfectly capable of assuming a more important role, so that you can focus on other things. If you talk to Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna, explain what is going on, what you and Ginny are doing... They can take over, prepare the classes, and you’ll just need to show up to help if needed. You know the material either way, and they can come to you for advice.” Harry frowned slightly, running a hand tiredly through his hair. “They’d need to know everything... It’s the only way to explain why I need them to do this... I’m not sure I want to do that.” “What are you afraid of? They’ll learn the truth soon enough. I think it’s time you started trusting people again, Harry. I understand, believe me, I understand, just how hard it can be, after what happened to you during the summer, but you have to work on it. And Harry, you need the help,” she finished earnestly, tightening the hold she had on his arm. Harry looked at her, not exactly sure of what was happening, simply feeling the tension rise in him, adding to his exhaustion, and suddenly, the very smell of food was turning his stomach, and he hurried to the nearest trashcan to be sick. He felt a warm hand on his back, and Elektra by his side, repeating “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Harry...” “S’okay,” he mumbled feebly, wondering why he felt this awful, and grateful once more to have someone by his side. “But it’s not! I shouldn’t have pushed so hard, I’m so sorry,” Elektra continued, obviously pained. She helped him to his seat, and put a huge cup of strong tea in front of him, motioning that he should drink. “Go on, it should make you feel better.” Harry took a tentative seep, wondering if he’d have to rush to get up again, and instead felt the comforting warmth of the tea settling in his stomach and spreading through his body. He closed his eyes in relief, and took another sip, burning his tongue, but not feeling the hurt. “Maybe you’re right, professor,” he whispered, breaking the silence, “maybe I do need help.” Elektra had left him as they exited the kitchen, with the suggestion that he take a long hot bath, and a promise to show up to his training session to keep Michael in check. Harry was feeling slightly woozy, even if the light dinner Dobby had forced on him had helped with the nausea somehow. He had to remember never to lose control like that again - the feeling was not pleasant. At all. Just as he turned a dark corner, with images of hot tubs and scalding water the only thought in his head, he felt another body hit him from behind, forcing him rather forcefully against a wall, a strong arm against the back of his neck holding him in place. He struggled against his mysterious attacker, but stopped as all his muscles ached in protest. He couldn’t overpower whoever was holding him in place physically in his present condition, but he was by no means powerless. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he started gathering his power, and was about to blast the person behind him into the opposite wall, when his attacker spoke. “Potter, just stand still, I don’t want to hurt you.” The sentence, spoken urgently, and in a voice he immediately recognized, made Harry pause. “Malfoy?” he asked in surprise, holding back on his attack. “Just... Stand still, I need to talk to you,” the other boy said hurriedly, in a voice tinged with nervousness. “You have a funny way of showing your peaceful intentions, Malfoy,” Harry snapped back. “I’m sorry for that, I had to make sure you would listen.” Harry expelled an exasperated breath, thinking to himself that he really didn’t need this today of all days. Forcing himself to stay calm and collected — after all, Malfoy wouldn’t stop by for a chat to ask about the weather — he said, “Okay, since you can imagine this wall is not exactly comfortable, Malfoy, how about you get to the point of this little intervention?” Malfoy relieved some of the pressure on his back as he realized Harry wouldn’t struggle, and, in a low, intense voice, said, “Potter, there is something you need to know... But I can’t be the one to tell you.” Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation and ground out, “So can you let me go then? Because this is starting to sound like a futile experience.” “No, you idiot,” Malfoy hissed in his ear, “You need to know. But I trust you’ll forget where you came across this information, if you know what’s good for you.” Tired of talking to a wall, Harry shoved back against the Slytherin holding him in place and managed to turn around. “Why exactly are you doing this, Malfoy?” Harry asked. As the question came out of his mouth, the strangest expression crossed Draco’s face, something like regret, anger and despair mixed together, and kept tightly in check. “That is none of your concern, Potter,” he snapped. “On the contrary, Malfoy, it is very much my concern, especially if you want me to do something I probably won’t like.” “I don’t want you to do anything, Potter, I merely expect you to absorb what I have been trying to tell you, and forget where you heard it,” Draco spat, the first hint of his usual arrogance surfacing. “And how can you expect me to accept anything you say at face value, Malfoy?” Harry asked reasonably, without raising to the bait. Dracon hesitated, his hold on Harry’s cloak loosening even more, before spitting out, “Everyone’s heard the rumours, Potter. And I know where you spent a good portion of your summer — he wouldn’t have bothered with you if you were just anyone. You have a big role to play in what’s coming; anyone with half a brain can see that. And-” he paused, hesitating, before whispering in a furious voice, “and the reality of the Dark Lord is not as glamorous as the fables. I am a Malfoy! I do not grovel!” Harry snorted contemptuously, and said, “Now I understand. Not so keen to follow in Daddy’s footsteps anymore, are we? So, what happened, did you do something to warrant a round of cruciatus, Draco? Or just too proud to kiss the hem of a madman?” Harry saw the other boy’s teeth clench in annoyance, but he answered calmly enough, “He needs to be stopped. I won’t make a habit of this, Potter, so don’t get your hopes up. But you need to know. Will you listen?” Harry nodded, curious in spite of his exhaustion, and of his annoyance at the boy in front of him, and motioned for Malfoy to continue. “Everything he is doing — the attacks, the cracks at Gringotts, his recruiting abroad — everything is a ruse. A smokescreen. What he really wants is to conjure Avatars. You can’t let him do it, do you understand? He has plans in place once he has mastered them that will destroy our society,” he tightened his hold on Harry’s collar, shaking him slightly to emphasize his point. “I might not approve of all of this,” his motioned with his head, somehow designating Hogwarts but also the whole of magical society, “but the alternative is worse. So do something, Potter.” Malfoy let him go, then turned his back and walked away at a brisk pace. “Of course,” Harry mumbled, “I’m just supposed to make everything better.” He gave a light kick at the wall and ground out in frustration, “Why does this keep happening to me?” Ginny raised her eyes for the thousandth time as she heard the portrait whole open, and jumped to her feet when a wave of nervous energy coursed through her body as she finally recognized the person crossing the threshold. Harry seemed exhausted. She had seen him tired and in pain, but his face, his whole countenance at that exact moment brought back painful recollections of the summer. She quickly made her way to him, and felt a warm glow as his eyes lighted up at her approach. Without waiting for an invitation, she threw her arms around him, and simply enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers. It made everything, all the anxious waiting and frustrating lack of information unimportant. What mattered was that he was here, and he was safe. “Ginny,” he whispered in her ear, dropping a light kiss in the curve of her neck, making her shiver. No matter how many times she felt Harry’s arms around her, his lips on her skin, she never seemed to get over that first trill of pleasure. “Merlin, Harry,” she whispered relishing the warmth of his body against hers, “don’t ever worry me like that again.” She felt his smile against her cheek, and the tight knot of tension in her stomach loosened some. He was fine, after all. “I’d think you’d grown used to it by now, Gin,” he whispered cheekily close to her ear. But she felt his arms tighten around her in silent apology. With a long-suffering sigh, she replied in kind, “Seems to be my lot in life.” Her lightness was rewarded with a quick smile, and she felt the last of her uneasiness evaporate. Taking Harry’s hand in hers, she towed him to one of the comfortable overstuffed armchairs by the fire, and sat down beside him, wanting a quiet moment of privacy to take stock of the day. “Are you really fine, Harry? You look exhausted,” she asked quietly, watching his eyes for any sign of falsehood. “I am, Gin. But it was my fault — I totally lost control when I saw that article. You saw what he left behind on the scenes of the attacks?” He lifted his eyes, and met her concerned gaze. “Yes. I wondered if he was talking to you. It would be just like Tom to drop in a little psychological warfare into the mix. And he knows you. He knew how you could have reacted.” Ginny tightened her hold on his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t do anything stupid, Harry.” He raised an incredulous eyebrow, and she amended her statement, “Or anything more stupid.” “Thanks, I guess,” he chuckled. “I know what he was doing, I know he was just playing with me, messing with my head. But at the time all I wanted was to have him right in front of me so that I could give him a taste of his own medicine,” he continued, his voice sombre. “You know you’ll have your chance, Harry. But the time isn’t right yet. If our training with Michael has taught us anything it’s our own incompetence.” Harry smiled slightly at that, and, changing the subject, said, “I have a question for you, Gin, since you’ve been around our world for longer than me — do you have any idea what an Avatar is?” “Nope, no idea,” she replied, “Why the sudden interest?” She noticed his frown, and straitened a little in their sofa to pay better attention. “I had a run in with Malfoy on my way back here...” He paused for a second, as if assessing the seriousness of what he had to say. “He said that Voldemort is using those attacks, and his pokes at Gringotts, his recruiting abroad — everything we’ve noticed of his operations, really, as a smokescreen. To hide the fact that his real plan is to conjure those things, or whatever. I’m not even sure if conjure is the right word, actually, since I have no idea what he was talking about.” Ginny frowned slightly, disturbed for some reason by this account. She wondered what could possibly be so bad as to preoccupy Draco Malfoy and force him to contact one of them. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trick, Harry? I have a hard time believing Malfoy could give us any useful information.” “I know, I know... But he has been acting strangely lately, and he seemed genuinely concerned... I don’t know, Gin,” he sighed tiredly, “I just can’t see how he could gain anything out of telling me this. If it’s misdirection, it isn’t done very smartly — no one with an ounce of sense would use Malfoy to pass on information to me. And if it’s the truth, he’s taking a big risk. Voldemort would kill him in a heartbeat, and never think twice about it.” “We’ll have to do some research, then, see what this is all about,” Ginny said. At this, Harry shook his head. “No, not us. I’ve had a talk with Professor Tedakis, and she... convinced me that I need to learn to delegate. So we’ll have to talk to our little gang, and divide the work. We’re already swamped with training and Quidditch, and research is Hermione’s department.” Ginny looked at him, surprised by this sudden change of behaviour, but secretly grateful that Harry was finally ready to trust other people again. “Okay. But if this is going to work, Harry, you’ll have to bring them up to speed. And I mean really up to speed, about everything we can talk about. Training with Michael is off, but they have to know about all the rest.” She noticed his shoulders tense, and, speaking softly, continued “Why is this so difficult, Harry?” He was silent for so long, she stopped hoping for an answer, but finally said quietly, “I don’t know, Gin. I know they need to be told. But... It’s just hard these days, to believe that people are dependable. Even people like Ron and Hermione, that I can remember, a few months ago, trusting with my life.” “Then trust me, when I tell you that this will work out, and that we need the help.” He nodded, and she decided they’d had enough serious talk for the evening. “Will you be up for training tonight?” she asked excitedly. Harry smiled, and rolled his eyes. She smiled sweetly back at him, not the least bit embarrassed that she had taken to the rough training Michael put them through every night like a fish to water. She loved the physical activity, the knowledge that her body was little by little learning how to react to any given situation, and the challenge that working magic in the middle of a battle was. Harry looked at her obvious passion with a touch of indulgence, something that ticked her off, if she was honest with herself. However, it did make her work harder, if only for the desire to, one day, rip the smile off his way too handsome and way too smug face. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to serve as your personal punching bag tonight, Gin, professor Tedakis did say something about taking it easy. We’ll see if I can be of service later, if you want, though.” It was her turn to roll her eyes, since Harry was still quite a bit more talented than she and beat her regularly when they sparred. “Maybe this will force Michael to give us the night off.” Harry snorted at that, “I sincerely doubt that, Gin. He’ll just come up with something that isn’t as physically challenging as usual, but will still leave us completely knackered. You’ll see.” Ginny smiled, conceding the point. She leaned down, planning on giving Harry a quick kiss before sending him up to change and putting the finishing touches on her latest Transfiguration essay. But her plans were curt short when, as soon as her lips touched his, his hold on her waist tightened, and she felt his other hand caressing her face, bringing their bodies tighter together. She didn’t fight him, and joyfully gave herself up. “Harry, are you sure you are up for this?” Ginny asked him again. He didn’t look fit for any sort of physical activity, she thought worriedly. His clean black t-shirt only emphasised how pale he was, and his usually graceful movements were stilted, as if he was in pain. Harry rolled his eyes at her concern, and replied, “I’m fine, Ginny. Just tired. Professor Tedakis said she’d stop by to make sure Michael doesn’t go overboard.” She nodded, still not completely convinced that his place wasn’t in the Hospital Wing, but pushed the door to the Room of Requirement open anyway, and stepped through to their usual training room. “Hello, Professor,” she said, seeing Michael standing by one of the windows. He flashed her an annoyed glance. “Michael, Ginny, when we’re alone. How many times do I have to tell you that?” He turned towards Harry, then, and, in a tone Ginny couldn’t quite read, a mix of amusement, affection and annoyance, continued, “So, Harry, did you get it all out of your system this morning? You do realize we’re only allowed one meltdown a year, and that this constitutes yours?” Harry smiled back sheepishly, “Understood. No more meltdowns for me.” At the same time, the door opened once more, and Elektra stepped through. “Well, well, Ella — come to make sure I behave, have you?” asked Michael, watching her make her way into the room, and take in the large table covered in maps, floor plans, charts and other assorted papers, the board in one wall, and the lack of space for duelling. “That was the idea, but I see you’ve decided to behave,” she replied, smiling. “I can leave if you want.” “No, no, stay. I’ll just put these two to work.” He turned once more towards Harry and Ginny who had been stealing curious glances at the papers spread out on the table, and wondering what they’d have to do tonight. “Since Harry here never does things by halves, even his little temper tantrum this morning has unforeseen consequences, and any sort of physical training would be useless. We’ll be working on planning instead. Before you is all the information you may need to plan a raid on a given location. The objective is to reach the room marked in red, steal what is kept within, and get out. Stealth is preferable, but not imperative. Everything else is up to the two of you. You have an hour, then I’ll come check up on your progress.” Leaving his two students examining documents on the desk, he requested a pair of comfortable armchairs in a corner of the room and motioned for Elektra to join him. He might have teased Harry, but he could see the kid wasn’t at his best, and he needed to know just how much that morning had hurt him. Plus an evening of quiet study would do them good — Ginny needed to learn to think more before she acted, and Harry had shown some real aptitude for analysis and planning. Falling down on his chair, and waving his wand to put up a silencing charm around their little corner, he asked Elektra, “How bad is it? Harry looks half dead, Ella. You didn’t have to come, I’d never have made him train after taking a look at him.” “That’s mostly my fault. I pushed him a lot today… Perhaps more than I should. I’m surprised he’s even up, and more or less functional. I half expected him to be unconscious by now.” Michael frowned at her, “Why did you push so hard? And just what happened with his powers? I saw what was going on — everyone saw, really, even if very few, I imagine, really understood. Did he almost cause a backlash?” “He was halfway there, I think. I got there in plenty of time, and he might have come back on his own either way… I don’t know, Michael. But he did destroy weeks worth of hard work in just a few minutes. That’s why he’s exhausted — I forced him to keep going until I got all of his conduits stabled, and got him to secure the bonds in his core. I imagine he’ll be hurting for a few days, but you can start him up on physical training again tomorrow. Some light exercise will help loosen his muscles.” She grinned at him, and added. “If you can bear the whining, of course.” “Heh, he wouldn’t try that with me, Ella, I don’t mollycoddle anyone.” At her raised eyebrow, he continued, “The first time one of them complained, I doubled their morning run. I assure you, there was no repetition.” Laughing quietly, she said, “As I’ve said a number of times, Michael, you are a sadist.” “Am not,” he said, a petulant frown crossing his brow. “I’m an excellent teacher.” With a strangled laugh, Elektra said, “You are aware one doesn’t preclude the other, right?” Michael grunted noncommittally, but didn’t have any smart-mouthed rejoinder. He didn’t want to get too sidetracked, and his conversations with Elektra could quickly degenerate into wicked repartee if he wasn’t careful. “I’m worried about him, Ella. I understand he had a strong reaction to the attacks, and that is somewhat understandable, but it was just one instance where he lost control. He’s angry all the time, even if his training has taught him to control his temper.” He could feel Elektra beside him, and see the small frown in her brow at his statement. He couldn’t deny that he had come to feel protective of the boy. Harry had a forceful personality and a quick mind that appealed to Michael, and most of all, he was a survivor. He would have respected him for that alone, but the kid had hidden depths, and was learning to trust in himself more, and in his magic. That he could help him with — he knew without a doubt he could turn Harry into a fearsome warrior, given a little time. One of the very best. But he couldn’t help him face himself. “I thought he was getting better, until this morning.” She sighed. “We can’t expect him to be completely unaffected by his imprisonment, Michael. He might have healed physically, but this sort of thing leaves invisible scars that are just as real. And some injuries never truly heal — you simply learn to live with them.” “I know, Ella. But anger is not a reliable emotion. It can power your magic, but it makes you loose perspective. It can kill as surely as any curse.” “Speaking from experience?” His eyes flashed as her retort reached his ears, and he glared at her until she looked away. “You know very well I am. He doesn’t need to repeat my mistakes.” “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” she whispered. “Yes, it was,” he snapped. He let the silence stretch, not in the mood anymore to discuss serious matters. He glanced at his two students, glad to see they were organising the material he had given them, using the board behind the table to pin up maps and plans, marking defences and wards in them in different colours. They were progressing nicely, even in the two weeks he had been training them. Natural talent was a thing of beauty, in his own humble opinion. They acted as if they had been born to do this. Which wasn’t surprising, really, since they had. He sure as hell didn’t believe in any of that blood purity nonsense — but magical bloodlines as strong as the ones in front of him left indelible traces in its heirs. “What about Ginny?” Elektra finally broke the silence. “I don’t know her as well as I know Harry. How is she responding to the training?” “With an overabundance of enthusiasm. Which is a very good thing — she’s teaching Harry not to take life too seriously, to roll with the punches and laugh at the universe. They are very good together, and their magic is incredibly compatible. The two of them will make an exceptionally powerful pair.” “I’m glad. Maybe she’ll help him heal. If he can still laugh, then he might get through this.” “Maybe.” He had been keeping track of Harry’s and Ginny’s work, and suddenly waving his wand to drop the privacy charms, called out to them. “Strike one! You’re dead!” Before grinning wickedly at their startled expressions and putting the charms back in place. He felt, more than saw, Elektra roll her eyes, and quipped, “What? They would be! It’s obvious they have to bypass that corridor. And they have to learn to think three-dimensionally.” “Of course, Michael. And the shouting is just a bonus.” “Of course not,” he replied, his tone suddenly offended. “You know as well as I that pain is the best teacher, followed closely by humiliation. They might be doing the training in a very unorthodox way, but I don’t want them to miss too much of the experience.” He grinned at her, taking the sting out of his words. “Plus, it builds character, and they don’t seem to mind too much.” “I don’t know if it’s possible to have any more character than those two have,” Elektra groused. “Maybe. But they have some serious work ahead of them. We can’t fail with those two, Ella. It’s simply not an option.” Elektra trained her eyes on him, her beautiful, shifting eyes, and suddenly a small smile graced her lips. “I don’t think we will, Michael.” And the only thing he could think was that he never grew tired of watching her. Ginny watched as all the members of their own little inner circle sat down in the fluffy couches the Room of Requirement had provided for them. Hermione sat next to Ron, her intelligent eyes carefully roaming the room, watching her friends carefully. Ginny knew it must be grating on her nerves not to know why her presence had been required for this gathering. Her brother was quiet, an improvement to what she had experienced over the last months, and obviously expecting to be overlooked. Luna’s appearance surprised her — her long blond hair was held up in a bun, and she seemed much more composed, much more present, than she was used to seeing her friend. She wondered for a moment if maybe she wasn’t the only one who had had a difficult summer, and what could have caused such a drastic change. The girl in front of her, watching Harry with thoughtful eyes, hands resting on her knees, reminded her painfully of the childhood friend she had known, the bright, serious child that had been her playmate for most of a decade. Neville sat in the armchair next to Luna’s, nervously fiddling with his wand, his jaw clenched and his eyes restless. She could understand his nervousness — their group hadn’t been exactly friendly since school started, and he was perceptive enough to realize that circumstances must have changed to force a meeting. And Harry… Harry was watching them all intently, with a quiet intensity that had nothing to do with insecurity. There was an easy confidence to his posture that she was seeing more and more often and a very slight smile in his face and eyes. When everyone had taken a sit, he glanced at her, and she sealed the room with a triple layer of imperturbables, locking and silencing charms. This was one conversation none of them wanted overheard. Harry and her had spent the last few days scrounging the Restricted Section in order to prepare for this meeting, and be as certain as was possible that what was said inside this room stayed there. Harry sat up in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, and meeting the eyes of every person in the room. “Ladies, gents, thank you all for coming,” he said. “I know things have been strained between us, and that if we didn’t have the D.A. to run we might not say ten words to each other every day. But things are changing, events are speeding up outside of our little protection bubble here at Hogwarts, and it is time we started acting instead of reacting.” He paused to take a steadying breath, and Ginny saw his efforts to keep his emotions in check, his expression and body language calm. She was sure, as well, that she was the only one who noticed the struggle — Harry was developing quite the poker face, she thought. Before her mind could digress to other pleasant thoughts centred mainly on a few other skills he was developing, she forced herself to concentrate. This was an important meeting. Harry continued, “I want your help. We have faced much together, the six of us, and we each have skills and strengths that could be of infinite use in this fight against Voldemort. But for us to work together, we have to share information. More precisely, I need to divulge dangerous secrets to all of you. And when I say dangerous, I don’t simply mean hazardous for your health and continued existence. I mean this is information that can put hundreds, thousands of peoples lives at stake.” Dead silence settled in the room. Finally, Luna whispered, “Yes… trust is always the first to be eaten.” “Eaten?” Neville asked. “By the dark.” Harry nodded slightly, and forged ahead, his voice filled with authority and strength. “I’ve discovered that trust is a rare commodity indeed. And while I might be willing to trust my life to the word of everyone in this room, I’m no longer willing to trust the lives of the thousands of people I mentioned before. I won’t be repeating my parent’s mistake.” He clasped his hands together in front of him, and leaned forward, concentrating on his small audience. “So this is what will happen: Ginny has come up with an unbreakable oath of allegiance. The wording of this oath is very precise, it won’t in any way impede your freedom, but it will stop you from betraying our cause, divulging my secrets, and all in all, turning over to the dark side. The oath is non-negotiable: anyone who wants to stay in this room will take it.” He leaned back once more in his chair, before seeming to remember something else. “Oh, I think I should also mention that I am the only one who can release you from it. Any questions?” “Harry,” Hermione said hesitantly. “Magical oaths are dangerous! They can kill!” Harry turned towards her, his eyes cold. “Yes, Hermione, they can. That is the idea. I’m tired of being betrayed, and having people die on me because of broken promises. This isn’t a difficult oath to keep — if you are truly fighting Voldemort, you’ll be fine. In fact, short of actually practicing Dark Magic and blurting out secret information, you should be fine. We took into account the imperious curse, so only voluntary betrayal carries consequences. Now it’s up to you to choose. The door is over there, and I’m not forcing anyone to do this.” Ginny saw Hermione’s eyes widen slightly at that, and her face turn pale. She seemed to have finally grasped that the stakes had changed. Neville was the first to move, and shifting his wand to his right hand, said, “Okay, give me the exact words of the oath.” Ginny saw Harry’s eyebrows rise slightly, as he said, “Really?” “Yes,” Neville declared. “You’re my friend, Harry. If you need help, if I can be useful, expect me to be there. It’s easier that way.” Ginny handed her fellow Gryffindor the page where the specific words of the oath were spelled out, and he read them once, silently, obviously making sure he was comfortable with all the terms. Then grabbing his wand, he recited the words aloud, a soft luminescence covering his whole body before he finished, and the light dimmed and then disappeared. Harry chewed his lip, then smiled and whispered, “Thanks, mate. That means a lot.” The other boy simply nodded, before handing the sheet to Luna, whose eyes had lost their focus somehow, but who read the oath in a clear voice. “It is good to be a part of something important, Harry. Thank you for including me.” “Of course, Luna.” “Won’t Ginny have to do this, too?” Ron asked suddenly, talking for the first time in the meeting. “Actually, Ron, she was the first to swear it, to make sure it worked,” Harry answered coldly. “There are no double standards here, if that’s what you’re implying.” “Of course, that’s not…” Ginny felt a small vindictive sort of satisfaction watching her dear brother’s ears turn crimson. “Give that then!” he grumbled. As her brother read the oath, and glowed just as brightly as the other two before him, Ginny felt a small glimmer of hope take root in her heart. Sharing a long look with Harry, she knew he felt it too. They would get back together, and they would find a way out of the mess the world was turning into. As Ron finished his oath, Ginny realized he had finally relaxed in their presence. He was even smiling, something she hadn’t seen her brother do in months. Maybe, she realized, he had been feeling the stress on their relationship as much as them, but didn’t know how to bridge the gap. But the oath was undeniable proof he was on their side, and willing to work with them. He raised his eyes to Harry’s, and they locked gazes for an infinite moment, and she knew the two boys had fit a whole conversation into that look. Finally, Ron nodded slightly, and handed the parchment to Hermione. But the other girl made no move to take it. “Hermione?” he asked. She looked at Ron, her eyes wide and unblinking, and he slowly lost his smile. “Won’t you- “ He stopped, and Ginny felt that, for Ron, this situation was so completely unexpected that he wasn’t even sure what question to ask of Hermione. “I—I…” “Hermione, what are you waiting for?” Ron asked, quietly. “It’s dangerous! People have died by accident with magical oaths! One wrong word, one thoughtless action and you’re dead, or your magic is gone and you’re suddenly alone in the middle of the North Pole, or any number of horrible things!” Her voice had a slight panicky quality to it. “Well, then you have nothing to worry about, Hermione, I have yet to see you do anything without thinking about it first,” Neville told her quietly. Ginny turned her eyes to Harry, wondering why he didn’t comment on the conversation, but he simply shook his head slightly. And she understood that this was something each of them had to choose for themselves: the danger, the commitment, it had to be a choice. And Harry would not be the person he was if he budged in on it. But apparently, Hermione wanted his advice, because she turned her eyes, slowly filling with tears, and called softly, “Harry?” He sighed and said, watching her carefully, “Look, Hermione. We have been friends for years, and I would like nothing more than to have you by my side again. But this must be your choice. You will do what you think best. I won’t change my mind about this — I won’t divulge sensitive information without an Oath.” She shook her head slightly, obviously distressed. Ron was frowning looking at her, and finally asked, “I don’t understand why this is such an issue, Hermione. It’s not as if any of us is planning on betraying Harry — the oath is just a safety measure, like your charmed parchment for the D.A.” “That’s different! I know the penalties a true oath of allegiance carries! This — this thing you just swore without blinking an eye can kill you as surely as any Killing Curse, Ronald!” He frowned at her, clearly incensed. “That isn’t it at all! This can kill me if for some god forsaken reason I decide to give up everything good in this world, to turn my back on everything I believe, and become my enemy. Honestly, Hermione? I’d rather be dead, then. So if Harry needs an Oath before he can trust us again, well, I don’t care! I’m just as glad to know I won’t be betraying myself either!” By the end of his little tirade, he was standing up, and his face was red, and Ginny, seeing this, felt a smile stretching her lips. She knew, at that moment, that she had her brother back. Hermione was blinking quickly, clearly stunned. “I — I need to think, I’m sorry.” And with those parting words she fairly ran from the room. Harry let out a deep breath, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of clear frustration. “Why can’t we all seem to get along for more than a couple of minutes at a time?” “And we needed her help, as well,” Ginny added, frowning at the door. Harry had told her he thought Hermione would be the most difficult of their friends to convince, but she hadn’t believed him, thinking that rational Hermione would see the logic of their demand. Clearly he knew the other girl better. “She’ll come back,” Ron said, sitting back down, his eyes dark. “Yes, eventually,” Harry said. “No, soon. She just needs a little time to think in peace,” the other boy countered. Neville sighed, slouching back on his seat. “So, Harry, why are we here?” “Right. Ginny put the charms back up, and a proximity alert, please. I guess we’ll have to do this without Hermione.” Once she was done, Ginny took a seat next to Harry, and he started talking. “So, here is the deal, guys. There is a prophecy, a true one, and it states that I am the one that has to deal with our little scaly problem. I won’t give you the precise wording, since it’s already a poorly kept secret, and Voldemort wants it badly — I spent two weeks this summer trying to keep him out of my head, and those latest attacks are his way of putting pressure on me to reveal it to him. That phrase he left on the walls — the price of information — that’s what he used to tell me, that he would find a way to make me talk, no matter the price.” Ginny noticed the way Harry clenched his fists, his eyes darkening. She felt the slight tendrils of magic escaping his control; much fainter than previously, but still evidence that he was struggling with his magic and his temper. She reached over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. He covered her hand with one of his, a silent thanks. “Are you sure of this, Harry?” asked Neville. “Not that it is a great shock or anything, anyone with an ounce of sense can see you have a big role to play in this war, if for no other reason than Voldemort hates your guts.” “Yes, the Prophecy is clear, I’m the one that has the power to defeat him. And even if my healthy scepticism regarding Divination hasn’t changed, the fact that Voldemort believes it kind of leaves me stuck with the bloody thing,” Harry answered. “So, even if you wanted to ignore it, he wouldn’t let you,” Ron said. “Exactly. So when I found out it existed — I was told when we came back from the Ministry last term — and just what it said, I realized I couldn’t just go on like before.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “But there are other factors in play, that have an impact on the way we’re going to act. Stuff you guys have a right to know now. When Sirius died, last year, he left precise instructions regarding my guardianship. Mainly, that I no longer have one, and be emancipated. This means that I should be legally an adult in the wizarding world right now.” “So you aren’t restricted by the underage wizarding laws anymore? That’s wicked!” Ron exclaimed. Harry sighed. “It hasn’t worked out like that, since some people blocked the claim in the Wizengamot — but I’m working on that.” “Who blocked the will, Harry?” Neville asked. “It could be a Voldemort sympathizer, wanting to make sure you aren’t free to use magic outside of school… Do you know the name of the person?” Harry’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he fairly growled, “It was the Headmaster, Neville. For reasons I absolutely do not agree with. But in this matter, I’ll very soon have the upper hand, my lawyer is very good.” A wolfish grin lit his face, making his eyes flash. Ron’s eyebrows rose to nearly his hairline, “You’re taking on the Headmaster on top of Voldemort?” He seemed to hesitate a moment. “Is that altogether wise?” Ginny rolled her eyes, mumbling, “Why start now?” Harry cleared his throat loudly, drawing attention back to the matter at hand. “Anyway, all of this does mean that I’ve come into my full inheritance early, since Gringotts recognised Sirius’ will, and I’ve been using the influence that comes with all that money to try to shake things up a bit and have a more pro-active attitude in this war. My attorney has been helping with this, basically receiving information, and serving as a go-between for Ragnok, the leader of the Goblin High Council, and me. We’re aware of a number of things happening: first, Voldemort has been recruiting in the continent, and turning magical governments there.” He chewed on his lip a moment, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Truth be told, that’s too far away to really concern us at the moment. The second thing we have noticed is political pressure against the Goblin High Council — he wants them to turn against the ministry, causing panic and economical chaos. And finally, he has his Death Eaters busy with the waves of attacks here at home. I’m dealing with the Goblins — we have some plans that should come into effect if there is any other incident with the ministry, and their bloody prejudiced laws. We can’t do anything about attacks while we’re stuck at Hogwarts, except hope that the Aurors and the Order do their jobs…” He paused. “So what do you need us for, Harry?” asked Neville. “Well… It’s like this: I have a source — not a very reliable one, I admit, but one that seemed genuine this once — that has said that all of this activity in the other camp is a smokescreen, that Voldemort is using it as a stalking horse to hide his true plans, which are to conjure Avatars.” He ran a hand through his hair, getting up to pace the room. “Ginny and I, we have our plates very full with training and school, and in the free time we have available, we haven’t been able to find any reference to these things here in the library. We need you guys to help.” He took a pile of blank parchments and stacked them in front of Ron. “Here are the latest reports of Death Eater activity, plus quite a few alternative sources of Intel. Everything my attorney, John Hellington, was able to get his hands on.” “Uhh, Harry, these are blank,” Ron said. “Yes, they are secure communication sheets, they need a blood identification to let you read them. Here, I’ll authorise you.” He reached inside his robes and drew out a small pocket-knife, with which he opened a small cut in his left index, then he handed Ron the knife, motioning for him to do the same. He then smeared his blood along the side of the stack, and waved his wand, making the blood disappear. Then, grabbing Ron’s finger, he repeated the procedure. “There, now all you need to do is prick your finger and touch the page and you’ll be able to read everything.” “Prick my finger? But there are like… Two hundred pages here!” “Don’t be an idiot, Ron, no more than a hundred, I’ll wager, and some of it is probably repetitions of the same things from different sources. Now, don’t be a baby. I need you to read all of this and see if you find any patterns we might have missed, anything that might indicate that my source was right. We can’t afford to be surprised. You understand?” Harry asked, his voice loosing the lightness of his teasing. “Yes, I understand. I’ll do my best, Harry,” Ron answered, meeting his friend’s eyes. Harry nodded, and turned towards Neville. “Nev, Luna, I’m giving you control of the D.A. we need to step up the pace, maybe separate the group into levels according to skill, meet more times a week… I don’t know, I’m open to suggestions. I’ll try to be present as often as possible, but I need you to pick up the slack in organising the lessons, meeting with Professor Tedakis, and really getting everyone up to speed. We can’t play around anymore, and the more people able to fight when they leave this school the better.” Neville nodded, a serious look on his face. “And you, Harry? What will you be doing?” asked Ron. “I’ll be training. I guess it’s time I told all of you what’s been happening to me.” “Does it have something to do with the little display of pyrotechnics the other morning?” Neville asked. Harry smiled sheepishly. “Yes, actually. When I was captured by the Death Eaters, something happened with my magic. During my escape, I forced myself a bit too much, and ruptured my core.” “You unlocked your talent without a ritual?” Neville asked, an amazed light in his eyes. “Yes. How did you know that?” Neville lifted his left hand, showing off the signet ring in his finger. “My family is part of the Old Council, Harry. My bloodline has a talent as well, but I’d never even think about trying to unlock it without a ritual. I’m still not sure I want to do it even with a ritual.” “I didn’t know that, Neville. You’ll have to tell me more about it sometime, this is all pretty new to me.” “Sure, Harry.” Neville smiled slightly, “I can teach you all about being a member of one of the Noble Houses and looking down your nose at all the other mere mortals of the world.” Harry laughed, and cracked a smile, “You do that!” Ron cleared his throat noisily, and asked testily, “Can someone explain to us mere mortals just what you two are talking about?” Neville laughed, and said, “I can explain, Ron, but I think I should point out that you are no mere mortal, my dear friend — is your mother not a Prewitt?” “Yes, Mom is a Prewitt. But what has that got to do with anything?” Ron exclaimed. “Well… The Prewitt family are the descendants of one of the Houses, Ron, and since your mother is the last Prewitt, the title should pass on to the Weasleys,” Neville said. “At least, that is how it works with my family, maybe yours has different rules.” “But, I never knew! No one ever told us!” Ron whispered, his face white. “Yeah, Mom doesn’t like to talk about it, especially since her brothers were killed because they were Heirs, and her father had more or less cast her out when she married Dad. She lost her whole family while she was estranged from them, never had a chance to make peace. She never got over it, and she forbade Dad from telling us, Ron. I found out quite by accident this summer, doing research with Harry, and forced Dad to tell me the truth.” “But, what happened to everything? The money, the titles?” He paused, then whispered, “The family Vault?” “I don’t know, Ron,” Ginny answered, “Dad didn’t want to talk about it, he refused to answer questions, and only confirmed what I already knew. I think maybe Mom was officially disowned, so she can’t inherit, or maybe she doesn’t want to use the money, I don’t know, I’m only guessing at this point.” “But… But… She’s been lying to us! Our whole life! How could they keep something like this a secret? It’s not right!” Ginny could see that Ron was working himself into a full fledged temper tantrum, and they didn’t have the time for it, so she decided that an interruption was in order. “You’re right, Ron,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the increasingly loud volume of his voice. “But now is not the time. I’m all for confronting Mom about this, but we need to finish here, okay?” He nodded, obviously still angry but making an effort to control his temper, and sat back down. “If you want, Harry, I can try to explain a little,” Neville said, and at Harry’s nod, picked up the narrative. “As I imagine you know, the Old Council was composed by the heads of thirteen Wizarding families, that are known today as the High Houses. Some of the Houses have disappeared, some have merged, almost all have changed names a few times over the millennium, but one thing remains constant, and that is the presence on the Heirs of the bloodlines of latent magical talents. In my family, for example, we have a small measure of Elemental Magic, that is the ability to control one, sometimes two elements. Me, for example, if I decide to go through with the rituals, I’ll probably end up a woodcrafter or maybe an earthcrafter. At least, that’s what Gran says, since I’m so good with plants. She’s a watercrafter, by the way.” “So, each House has a special power?” Ron asked. “Yes. Those talents were what allowed them to be selected for the Council in the first place. I don’t know all the latent powers, many Houses chose to keep them a secret… There was a family, the Thornthons, that had some sort of control over spirits and other non-corporeal entities, for example. I think they still have a couple of descendents around. I know there were families with farsight, and prescience… Well, you get the picture, right?” “Do you know what the latent talent of the Prewitts was?” Ginny asked. “I wonder if some of us have it.” “Sorry, I don’t. I don’t even know what the Potter one was,” he added, turning towards Harry. “We can unseal our core, as I said before. It gives us sorcerous powers,” Harry said quietly. “Wow, that’s really cool, Harry,” Neville said, smiling. “Wandless magic, then? And probably the ability to control ambient magic as well…” “Yeah, but since I did it with no ritual, the result was somewhat messy, and I need to learn to control my magic properly again. I’ve been working with Professor Tedakis, and she’s helped me a lot, but it takes time, and meanwhile, there are other things that need to be done. So I need your help.” “Of course — “ Neville’s answer was cut shore by the sudden blaring of an alarm, and a quiet knock on the door. Ginny waved her wand, dispelling the protection charms, and Hermione came in, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve decided to do it. It didn’t feel right, to be away from you at a time like this. I still don’t think it’s right, but if that’s what it takes to be here, then I’ll do it.” Ginny saw Harry smile, and then say quietly, “Thank you, Mione. I’m glad you’re here.” A/N: Thanks to everyone still reading: next chapter is about ¾ done, so it shouldn’t take as long as this one. I hope you enjoyed! |
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