A History of Magic: The Harry Potter Era

This is my second attempt at fan fiction. Like other stories in this thread, it looks at the time in the intervening nineteen years between the Battle of Hogwarts and the famous Epilogue. Like my previous story, it centers on the relationship between Harry and Ginny.

Your feedback is greatly appreciated. Please let me know your reaction here:

http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

So, with no further ado,

Chapter 1 – The Morning Commute

The main hall of the Ministry of Magic was bustling with activity. Arrivals using the Floo Network whooshed in a flurry of dust and noise. The area bustled with a flurry of bodies moving rapidly into the Ministry. Wizards and goblins, muggles and witches of all types moved through the atrium, all with a purpose and destination, barely taking note of each other. Among them, a single wizard garbed in the black robes of an Auror followed along the predominant current of humanity, allowing it to carry him towards the elevators. He was of average height, with a head of dark hair, trimmed relatively short. Perched precariously on his nose was a pair of round spectacles, tilted slightly askew from the jostling the man had endured upon his entry to the great hall. Altogether, he presented a rather ordinary picture among the masses engaged in their morning commute, except if one was to look at his eyes. His eyes had the ability to capture a wandering stare, a vivid green that blazed, as if their owner had seen wondrous things and was sharing the afterglow of that experience with anyone who cared to look. As he approached the elevator, the man seemed indifferent to his surroundings. Without a glimpse around him, he boarded the lift and selected his destination. He barely noticed the doors beginning to close.

“Harry! Hold the lift, will you! Harry, hang on!”

Startled out of his morning commute daze, Harry Potter reacted to his name and pushed his hand holding his rucksack between the elevator doors, stopping their closure. Harry saw a pale hand inserted between the doors, followed by a shoulder, higher up on the door, indicating a tall man was trying to pry enough room between them to pull the rest of his body into the elevator. The shoulder was soon followed by a tuft of crimson hair that seemed to pull the rest of the man into the lift. After a moment, Ron Weasley, Harry’s best friend, had managed to board the crowded elevator.

“Thanks mate. I’m glad you heard me.”

“Hi Ron,” Harry greeted his friend, “what brings you down this way? Come to see Hermione?”

“Well, yeah,” said Ron, dipping his head sheepishly. “What?” asked Harry, immediately curious as to what would make his friend so embarrassed?

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Laugh at what? Come on now, Ron, what are doing down here, give it up.”

Ron cast a furtive glance around the lift, making sure there was no one around that he knew, “Hermione usually brings her lunch, and she was too busy this morning, she completely forgot to bring it in.”

“Ron, did you make your wife lunch, and bring it all the way down here?” Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You do remember what happened the last time you tried to make a meal.”

“Oh, now, come on Harry, that was accident. How was I supposed to know that the pot would explode?”

Eager to change the subject, Ron quickly asked Harry about Ginny, Ron’s sister and Harry’s fiancé.

“We haven’t seen much of each other lately. She’s traveling with her team, and I’ve just finished my Auror training, so I’ve been running around, chasing magical lawbreakers, and such.”

“Anything interesting? A swarm of dementers, a horde of Death eaters?” Ron displayed a mixture excitement and anxiety, given the history Harry had with practitioners of the Dark Arts.

“Nothing nearly that interesting, mostly running down violators of the Underage Usage of Magic Ban.” Harry let out a little sigh, “Honestly Ron, I don’t know if being an Auror was what I thought it was going to be.”

“Chin up, mate. You’re only just getting started. Give it some time. You’re just in a mood, when was the last time you saw Ginny, anyway?”

Harry was disturbed that he actually had to think about that question. When was the last time he’d seen Ginny? “It’s been almost two weeks, just before the Harpies started their tour of Europe. She should be back tomorrow.”

“See? Things will get better tomorrow, mate, you’ll see.” Ron leaned into his friend’s ear and whispered, “You just have to make some time for the both you, that’s the best part of being with someone.”

The elevator came to a halt. Harry walked out, while Ron remained on board. As the doors closed, Ron gave his friend a wink, “Chin up, mate! Everything will be right as rain, tomorrow, right as rain!”

Harry stared at the closed lift doors, lost in thought. After a moment, he turned down the hallway that would take him to the Office of Aurors. He turned into the doorway and prepared himself for another day of chasing puckish teens bent on casting spells on their friends for a laugh. Entering the Office, as it was known, Harry continued down a long hallway towards his own office. The passage way had white marble floors and walls, all polished to a high gloss, the polar opposite of the dark image presented by the hall leading to the Department of Mysteries. The walls were dotted with wooden doors, each which led to an office of an Auror. Each door had a white, frosted glass window, each emblazoned with the name of its occupant painted in a glowing reddish-gold script. As one of the most junior Aurors in the Office, Harry’s office was at the very end of the corridor. Halfway down the hall, there was a large section of wall, composed of a free-standing, floating slab of the darkest granite. On the wall, the images and names of fallen Aurors were inscribed, a living memorial to those who had fallen in both battles with the Dark Lord. Each day, Harry had to pass this wall, unable to miss seeing the images of his comrades. There was Mad Eye Moody, large as day, and Tonks, displayed with her hair in a constant state of change.

Taking a deep breath, Harry continued on to his office. The door, recognizing Harry, opened, allowing Harry to enter. Harry tossed down his rucksack, adjusted his glasses and sat down at his cluttered desk.

“When was the last time you saw Ginny?” Ron’s question seemed to echo in his head. His eyes were drawn to Ginny’s picture, occupying the only clean portion of his desk. When, indeed. Two weeks ago they’d given each other pecks on the cheek and scampered off to their respective jobs. It’d really been weeks since they’d spent any time together, simply enjoying each other’s company.

There seemed to be a correlation between his recent funk, and the time since he last held her, and Harry resolved himself to correct this. “Tomorrow, everything would be right as rain.” How did his friend get so wise anyway? Is that what marriage does for a man? Harry let out a low chortle at the thought.

“Ahem, excuse me Harry,” the voice belonged to Sarah Peebles. She was a year out of Hogwarts and starting her first year of Auror training, “Mr. Dawlish asked me to fetch you.”

“Thanks, Sarah, I’ll be right along.” With another glance at Ginny’s picture, Harry walked past Sarah and out into the hall. As he was leaving the room, Sarah thought she’d heard him whisper something under his breath. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d heard him say “Tomorrow.”

Chapter 2 – First Assignment

Dawlish’s office was back near the entryway, so Harry had to traverse almost the full length of the passage way. Dawlish was one of the senior Aurors, in fact, Harry had followed along with him on numerous occasions. Throughout the Voldemort crisis, Dawlish had served as best as he could. At his core, he was opposed to the Dark Arts, and began his active opposition to the Death eaters when their presence was revealed to the public. Today, he was in charge of the Office, as the senior Auror present. When Harry entered his office, Dawlish was huddled over his desk, buried in bits of parchment, with several owls perched on the stoop near his office window.

“Oh, there you are Harry, excellent.” Dawlish extended his arm, indicating that Harry should sit in a nearby empty chair. “Yes, well, how are you, Harry?” Dawlish reclined in his chair, his fingers steepled as he contemplated Harry’s face.

“I’m doing well, sir, just a little anxious, I suppose.”

Dawlish allowed a small smile to creep along the edges of his mouth, “I know exactly what you mean. When I completed my training, I was bored stiff with the mundane jobs they handed out to me.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened a bit, realizing that Dawlish was spot on in his assessment of Harry’s feelings.

“Well,” the senior wizard continued, “I think it’s time we offered you something a little more interesting.” Harry was alert now, his eyes drawn up in anticipation. “We’ve had reports of someone using a banned Crucio curse up near Lochinver in northwestern Scotland.”

Dawlish rifled through the stack of parchment strewn about his desk, “Here it is, a muggle was found wandering the Glencanisp Forest, the apparent victim of a Crucio charm. His rescuers, the man kept repeating, ‘mudbloods, begone, stay away from the Gray Castle’ Anyway, that’s all we have, so far.”

A nagging sense of dread started gnawing at the pit of Harry’s stomach. He wasn’t afraid of the assignment, the majority of the former Death eaters had been captured, exiled or killed, and there hadn’t been a Dementer sighting in over three years, so the assignment itself seemed pretty straightforward. Harry’s torment came from the knowledge of where this assignment was going to take him, which was the wild Highlands of northwest Scotland. There was no way, he thought, that he would be back in time to see Ginny when returned home.

“Sir, er, what is the assignment, exactly?”

“Well, Harry, you’re to go up there, and identify who is using Unforgivable Charms. The Ministry has an office in Lochinver that is in the Floo network. Bring your broom, the forest where the man was found is in a remote area, east of the town. You’ll have to find this ‘Gray Castle’ and see where it leads.” Dawlish brought the parchment closer to his face, “There is a former Auror living up there, in Lochinver, name of Lachlan McCrory, he retired sometime ago and settled up that region. He may be able to help you.”

Harry sat still, his mind racing as the wave of elation he’d been feeling, planning his reunion with Ginny had crashed to a halt based on the fact that he’d have to leave, before she got home.

“Alright Harry, anything else?” Dawlish stood up, and Harry stood up with him. “Right, off you go, I think you should go ahead and leave straight away.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.” Sounding more enthusiastic than he really was, Harry shook Dawlish’s hand and headed out to collect his things.

A little while later, Harry found himself coming off the elevator, heading out to the Floo Exits. As he was entered the main hall, he spied a familiar face near the fountain. Her familiar brown tresses were drawn up in a neat bun, Hermione Granger Weasley was stooped low, talking to a house elf in a rapid whisper. Abruptly, the elf raised both his hands in exasperation and apparated away. Hermione raised herself erect and stomped her foot in frustration. Harry couldn’t help but smile, despite his despair.

“Trouble?” there was a twinkle in the way Harry asked the question.

“You have no idea! Really, why can’t anyone see reason, just once.” She rolled her eyes upward, shaking her head side to side. “It was easier knitting caps for them, then convincing them of their rights.” Her anger slowly fading, Hermione was finally focused in on her friend, noticing that he was wearing his black travel robes. Looking further, she saw his Auror’s traveling haversack over his shoulder and his broom in his hand. “Going somewhere, Harry?”

“Well, yes, they’ve given me my first solo assignment, I’ve heading up to Scotland to chase a Dark Arts mystery.”

Hermione was elated, “Well done, Harry, your first job. Wait, isn’t Ginny…”

Harry cut her off, “I know, I’m sick from it, but I don’t know what to do.” Hermione could see the pain in Harry’s face.

“Don’t worry, Harry, you’ll be back in a flash, I’ll tell Ginny what’s what, okay?”

“I guess.” Harry didn’t really think that would do, but he didn’t really have any choice.

“Look, Hermione, I’ve got to get going, tell Ron, hello, for me, and tell Ginny,” Harry stumbled on what to say, “tell Ginny…”

“I will.” As always, Hermione knew exactly what Harry was trying to say.

Harry headed over to a nearby alcove, where an ethereal greenish-purple flame was burning. He raised an arm in a farewell salute to his friend, and felt his body being whisked away.

Chapter 3 – Homecoming

Spring had come to the Burrow. There was a light breeze filtering along the meadow. At this time of the year, the grass always seemed greener, and the stillness of the air, lent an air of peace to the place. A sudden loud crack broke the silence, and if anyone had been around to hear it, they would have sworn that it was the loudest sound they had ever heard.

Ginny Weasley’s body appeared in the courtyard of her family home. Immediately gaining her bearings, and taking a quick inventory of her collective extremities, her body released the tension of anticipating her return home. She did a quick scan of her surroundings and felt a small pang of disappointment. It was as if she’d been expecting something that didn’t come about. Picking up her leather duffel festooned with the Holyoke Harpies emblem, she traipsed over to her house.

As she entered the house, she dropped her luggage and broom near the door. The house was quiet, but familiar and comfortable. Moving through the living room, Ginny called out, “Hello, I’m home. Anyone?” Nothing, not a sound, just stillness. Ginny went to the door to the kitchen. Stepping through it, she caught sight of her mother, back turned to the entrance and the upper half of her body inside the confines of the oven. Mrs. Weasley was humming a tune and working feverishly on her stove.

“Mum? Um, what are you doing?”

Molly Weasley slowly withdrew her head from the oven. Standing up, she turned to face her daughter. Her hair was wrapped in a scarf, which was dotted with streaks of soot. The soot covered her entire torso, including her cheeks, arms and stomach.

“Well, Ginny, welcome home, dear!” Her mother deftly flicked her wand towards the stove, causing the oven door to close. “Let me look at you!” Mrs. Weasley placed her thoroughly filthy hands and either side of Ginny’s face and kissed her forehead.

“Mum, please, I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks.” Ginny snuck a quick look around, as if still anticipating something, and not seeing what she was expecting. Casually, she asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Well, Ginny dear, you know, your father is at work and well, and it’s just the two of us.” Mrs. Weasley released a little sigh. Ginny was the youngest of seven, now six children taking into account the loss of her brother, Fred. She was grown, and on her own. She hadn’t really thought that the riotous existence that came with a houseful of rambunctious boys and a precocious girl would leave such a hole for her parents.

“Have you seen Harry?” Ginny tried to be as nonchalant as she could in asking this question, she didn’t want to seem anxious.

“Well, no, he hasn’t been by in a couple of days. I expect he’s been quite busy, since he’s a full-fledged Auror and all.”

The disappointment that Ginny felt was deeper than she expected. That little pang of anxiety that she’d felt on arrival had grown to a full grown bout of despair. In her heart, she realized, she’d expected him to be here. She’d hoped that he’d be here. A small part of her had needed him to be here. Her reaction must have been visible. Her mother placed her hands on Ginny’s shoulder, “Now, now, he’ll be along soon enough. Never you fret. Are you hungry, dear?”

At that instant, a loud crack and a cloud of dust heralded the arrival of Mrs. Weasley’s son Ron and his wife Hermione. “I’m hungry, mum, how’d you know?” Hermione gave Ron an quick elbow to the ribs, and walked over to embrace her sister-in-law.

“Ginny! I’m so glad to see you!” Hermione noticed her friend’s less than enthusiastic greeting. “He wanted to be here, he was looking forward to being here when you got back, it’s just they gave him his first solo assignment, and, well, he had to go away.”

Ginny took in everything that Hermione told her. It made sense in a logical way. After all, being an Auror was Harry’s greatest ambition, wasn’t it? She still couldn’t shake her disappointment.

“He had to go away?” Mrs. Weasley had never been quite as enthusiastic with Harry’s choice of a career. Considering the battles that had been fought, and the losses that had been sustained, including that of one her sons, Molly Weasley was of the conviction that Harry Potter had fought enough battles to last a lifetime. “Where did he have to go? I hope it’s nothing dangerous.”

“He’s up in Scotland, I think.” Hermione shared her encounter with Harry, “He really didn’t say what he was going up there to do, although he didn’t seem worried.” She looked right at Ginny, “He just seemed sad that he was going to miss Ginny’s homecoming.”

“You sure you don’t want to eat, Ginny dear?” Ginny wasn’t hungry. With a shake of her head, she turned to go up the steps.

“Oy! Did you run into a bad Floo, then?” Ron was stifling a laugh, while pointing at his sister’s face.

Ginny looked into the mirror hanging near the landing to the stairs. Her cheeks and her shoulder were black with soot, obviously transferred when her mother had greeted her. The apparition in the mirror’s reflection slowly showed the edges of her lips beginning to turn into a smile. Despite her sadness, she began to laugh. With that, the floodgates opened as Ron could no longer contain himself. Before long, all four of them were laughing uncontrollably.

Chapter 4 – The Gray Castle

The Ministry’s “office” in Lochinver turned out to be a pub, naturally. Harry emerged from the fireplace and slowly stepped down from the stone hearth into the establishment. The room was small and dark. The stone walls gave a cave-like feeling to the place. A high, crudely made bar with an array of stools was arranged to his right. The rest of the room consisted of tables and chairs situated in no real pattern, taking up all available space. There were few patrons, who were huddled low, sharing whispered conversations. Several of the customers cast quick, sneering glances towards Harry, but upon catching a glimpse of the Aurors’ emblem on Harry’s robe, they would immediately go back to the intense study of the rims of their mugs.

In one corner of the pub, a wrinkled, poorly-dressed elderly man sat reclining in a chair. His head was tilted skyward, and his snoring was permeating the relative quiet of the place. Behind the bar, a gruff, ill-kempt man of medium stature, appearing to Harry to look like a cross between Grawp and the hind end of a centaur, was giving Harry an icy stare while wiping a mug with a foul-looking rag. Harry walked over to the bar and leaned in to the bartender.

“Hello. I was wondering, well, I was wondering if you could help me.” Harry’s head did a quick turn about the room, just as he’d been trained, ensuring that his initial survey of his surroundings hadn’t changed.

“Really now?” The bartender’s voice sounded like a pail-full of coal being dumped on a slate board. “Well, ‘en who might ye be, then lad?” Taking the filthy rag he’d been working with and flinging it over his shoulder, the bartender crossed his large, hairy arms and glared at Harry.

Harry looked around the room and raised the volume of his voice ensuring that his words carried throughout the room, “I’m with the Office of Aurors. We have reason to believe that someone has used a Crucio Charm on a muggle in this area.”

What little noise had been in the room stopped with his words, save for the snores of the wretch in the corner. The bartender, who seemed to be the spokesman for the group, let out a snort.

“We don’ know of any muggle being cursed, or nothin’ like tha’” Harry could detect an obvious sense of smugness from the man. “See, an’ ‘ow do we know, you be from the Arror’s office, anyway. You don’ look old eno’ to be in here, boy. Wha’s your name, so I can’ tell your da that you’re out after dark?”

Harry squared his shoulders. He was getting no where with this man. He was far from home, far from an answer to the mystery, and most of all, he was far from Ginny. He’d had just about enough of this.
“My father is dead, and you’ll do well not to refer to him again. My name is Harry Potter, and I think it’s about time that we had some straight answers.”

The bartender had a sharp intake of breath. Harry had not had a lot of exposure to the general public in the time since the fall of Voldemort. He’d had enjoyed a good measure of relative anonymity. Ginny, as a star Quidditch player, was much more widely recognized. That was the key, Harry wasn’t widely recognized, because, his time of notoriety was while he was a child and later, a teen. His name however, was legend. Much like Voldemort’s name became He-who-can’t-be-named, Harry’s name evoked awe and a little fear wherever it was raised. Even in this remote place, the Harry Potter name offered a modicum of real respect. The bartender’s arms dropped to his side.

“A Crucio Curse, you say? Well, now that I think on it, I might ‘ave heard word of a little happenin’ out in the Canisp Wood. Tha’s out east o’ here.” The bartender seemed eager to give the information that would have Harry out of here as soon as possible.

“Thank you, is there anything else that you know about what happened?” Harry slowly made eye contact with each of the bar’s patrons, his viridian orbs bore right into each one them. Each man, in turn, forced to avert his eyes Harry’s gaze.

“No, n-no, not a thing.” The bartender seemed smaller now, less sure of his defiance.

“Can you tell me where I might find a former Auror, who goes by the name Lachlan McCrory?”

“Who, Lachlan McCrory, you say?” It seemed as if the barman was genuinely incredulous at the question.

“Yes, Lachlan McCrory, do you know him?” Harry was getting more than a little impatient.

“Ya’, I know him, you’re sure you’ll be wantin’ to meet ‘im?”

“Of course, is he nearby? Does he live close by?”

“Well, in a matter of words, yes, he’s near.” Hesitating slightly, the bartender raised his finger, pointing to the sleeping drunk of a man in the corner, “Tha’ be ‘im there.”

Harry wheeled about, his robes flourishing behind him. The man had shifted slightly, his head tilting to the side, making his snoring a little quieter.

“Sir?” Harry spoke to him. “Sir, Mr. McCrory, sir.” Harry slowly increased the volume and intensity of his calls, “SIR!” The man’s head came up abruptly. His eyes flittered around, annoyed at having his slumber disturbed.

“Are you Lachlan McCrory?” Harry stared at the man.

McCrory stared back at Harry. He had a high-pitched, raspy voice, but nonetheless, it was strong and clear, “Yes, I’m Lachlan McCrory, and who are you?”

“Sir, I’m Harry Potter, with the Office of Aurors. I was told that you might be able to help me.”

“I told Scrimgeour that I was done. He should know better than to send people to bother me. I told him that more than a few people in the Ministry were under Imperious Curses, but he wouldn’t listen.” McCrory stood up and put a bony finger in Harry’s chest, “You tell Scrimgeour that I am not coming back, and that’s final.”

Harry raised his hands. “Sir, Minister Scrimgeour is dead. He was killed by Voldemort and his Death eaters, when they took over the Ministry of Magic, over four years ago. Didn’t you know this?”

McCrory seemed puzzled, “Four years? Scrimgeour is dead?”

“Yes, sir. Voldemort was beaten and now the Ministry is back on the right side of things. You were right, a good number of the staff were under Imperious Charms.”

“Well, Merlin’s beard! I had no idea. Your name’s Potter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any relation to James and Lily Potter?” McGrory had leaned closer to Harry, taking a full look at his face.

“Yes sir, they were my parents.”

“Yes, I can see that now. You look like them.” McCrory waved Harry to an empty table. “Angus! Two firewhiskeys over here, bring them fast! You wouldn’t mind buying an old man a drink, would you?”

“Of course, sir.” Harry dug into his pocket and fished out some galleons. As he was about to lay one on the table, he noticed the one he had in his hand was one of the fake galleons that Dumbledore’s Army carried back during his time at Hogwarts. Harry put it back into his pocket and lay another, this time a real one, on the table.

Angus, the bartender, brought the glasses out. McCrory raised his glass in a seemingly mock toast to Harry and took a long pull at his drink. Harry mirrored his toast, but sipped his drink.

“Don’t call me sir. I’m Lachlan. Now, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?”

“Sir, I mean Lachlan, there’s been a report of a muggle attacked with a Crucio Charm in the Glencanisp Forest. He was saying, ‘mudbloods, begone, stay away from the Gray Castle’. Do you have any idea what he meant.”

Lachlan’s face grew a shade darker, “The Grey Castle, hmmm.”

“Do you know what it means? What is the Gray Castle?”

“I don’t know who might have used the curse, but I know about the Grey Castle.” Lachlan scratched the stubble on his chin. “The Grey Castle is on the Suilven.”

“Suilven?” asked Harry.

“It’s a right notorious mountain, due east of here. You follow the River Inver east, and until you get to Loch na Barrack. The Glencanisp Forest is just north of the Suilven.”

Harry took this information in, “Is there a history of Dark Magic near that area?”

“Not as far as I know.” Lachlan drained the last of his drink. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s wild country out there, the heart of the highlands. Suilven seems to rise right up out of the bogs and moors. The top peak is known as Caisteal Laith, or “Grey Castle”. I would start my search there. It would be no small matter for a muggle to be enchanted near the Suilven and left in the forest, like you described.”

“I appreciate the help, Lachlan.”

“Not a problem. I knew your parents, you know. James was a good man. Lily, though, Lily was an angel. I was devastated when they were murdered.”

“Thank you, Lachlan.”

“Good luck, Potter.”

Harry walked out of the pub. Looking up at the battered sign, he noticed the name of the establishment was “The Targe”. The sign itself, was the shape of the round, wooden shield that the name came from. Dusk had fallen, and a cool mist was forming around him. Harry cinched up the collar of his robe and tightened the straps on his rucksack.

He straddled his Firebolt, not his original gift from Sirius, obviously. This one, he’d bought himself upon his acceptance to Auror training. In an instant, he was soaring above the village of Lochinver. Orienting himself with the North Sea, Harry turned inland, picking up the dark hue of the River Inver. The river seemed to disappear in blackness, darker than that of night. It was almost a portent of something sinister. Putting his head down, Harry guided his broom, directly into the night.

Chapter 5 – Epiphany

Professor Trelawnty was adamant about the power of dreams. If dreams were a testament to understanding the complexities of life, then the dream that was in progress was only serving to bespeak how twisted and complex the life of the dreamer was.

The dream had repeated itself, several times. The dreamer would be walking down a dark corridor that seemed to twist and turn, like a corkscrew, of its own volition. At the end of the hall, there were two paths that the dreamer could take. Looking to the right, the corridor was moving much more violently, and doors abutting the hall were slamming open and shut. In the distance, at the end of the cacophony of motion, there was a single door, obscured, but steady, seemingly unaffected by the eruption of sound and movement that marked the path to its jamb.

Looking to the left, the way was steady, unmoving. The passageway was brilliantly lit, with doors clearly marked along the way. Each door was ornately decorated, etched with intricate designs of woodland scenes and creatures. The doors were gaily colored, in different pastels that added a dance of merriment in color and fantasy to the hall. The dreamer, naturally, would be drawn to the festive path, moving slowly down the hall, taking in each door in turn. On occasion, the dreamer would stop at one of the doors, and open it. The room beyond was small, barely large enough to accommodate a single person; it was plain, with no decoration and no furnishings. It was if the door was the main attraction to the space, and only served to draw one into its dreary midst. At the end of the corridor of lights, was a massive portal. Edged in gold, it had a large silver-cast crest on its front. Peering closely at the crest, the dreamer saw stars and comets, moving around at tremendous speeds, speeding across and back the front of the crest. Reaching down for the handle, the dreamer starts to open the door. The room beyond is bathed in light, too bright to make out what’s happening inside. For some reason, the dreamer pauses before entering the room. Turning around, the dreamer takes a quick look towards the dark, difficult hall. The door at its end has opened, and terrific bolt of lightning comes out of it, landing in its attached, wildly moving passage. The sound is terrific, loud, blotting out all other noise. Despite the sound, the dreamer is certain that a voice has come out it. It was distinct, familiar. The tone was wild and desperate.

“Ginny, Noooooooo!!!”

With a start, Ginny Weasley sat upright in her bed. Her breathing was labored, her chest heaving in rapid motion. Her bramble of red hair was dark, muted; toned down by the perspiration from the experience of her dream. She glanced around the room. She was in her old room in the Burrow. Its décor seemed dated, as it hadn’t really changed since she’d graduated from Hogwarts. More than the Weird Sisters Posters or the “little girl” adornments, the room just didn’t seem to fit her, who she was now, a grown woman, with a life.

She peeked out towards her window, where the first glimpse of dawn was tickling the curtains that hung loosely around the frame. Taking a deep breath, Ginny arose from her bed and walked across the room to her dresser. She took in her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Her night gown hung loosely from her shoulders, her arms were limp at her side. They were strong arms, taut from the years of Quidditch matches where she had made a name for herself, in school and now, professionally. Her hair was matted, tangled, as if it too had fought its own demons during the night.

Absently, she picked up her brush and began to comb out the tangles and the snarls that were strewn throughout her auburn tresses. The dream had started on the first night she left with her Quidditch team to tour Europe. She had been ecstatic about the trip. The Holyoke Harpies had won their division, and were playing exhibition matches against a number of clubs on the Continent. Yet, the dream took its toll on her. It seemingly sapped a part of her essence, every time she had it. It never changed, in structure or content. The more she had it, the more vivid it became. At first, the voice wasn’t audible, its words weren’t discernible. Each night, it became clearer and louder. She just couldn’t recognize who was calling to her, and why she shouldn’t enter the door in the bright hall.

Her gaze dropped to the bottom of her mirror. Wedged in between the frame and the glass was a small, faded photograph of Harry. He had a sheepish smile, his head turned down slightly. His eyes were haunted, distant, as if they’d seen more than their fair share of life. His expression was more of shyness than happy. In many ways, this was Ginny’s favorite picture of Harry, because of his vulnerability. Only she had seen this side of him, and he’d told her more than once, that she was the only person that could ever make him overcome that vulnerability.

She reached down and pulled the photo from its place, “Where are you, Harry? I miss you terribly.” A weight had plopped itself firmly on her chest the first day she’d returned home and realized that he wasn’t around. Every day without word seemed to make the weight heavier and harder to bear. She cupped the picture in two hands and gently brought to her chest. With a sigh, she turned to dress and head downstairs. As with every other night she had her dream, she knew that there would be no returning to sleep.

Dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt, Ginny made her way into the kitchen. Her parents were in their traditional places, her father seated at the table, sipping a steaming cup of tea, his nose buried in today’s edition of The Daily Prophet. Her mother was tinkering with something on the stovetop, fretting about some ingredient that she’d possibly forgotten or added too much of. Seeing her daughter enter the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley allowed a bright smile to cross her face.

“Good morning, dear! I’d expected you to sleep in a bit, after all your traveling. Can I fix you something to eat?” Mrs. Weasley eagerly rubbed her hands with the folds of her apron, hoping that her daughter would let her mum make her a morning repast.

“I wasn’t really tired,” Ginny lied, “but I wouldn’t mind a good breakfast. I hardly had time while were away to eat a good meal. Morning, Dad.” As Ginny passed her father, she reached down a placed a peck on his cheek.

“Good morning, dear.” Mr. Weasley was engrossed in an article within the depths of his paper, “It says here that the Muggles are still insisting that they’ve been to the moon! How remarkable!”

Ginny shook her head in mild amusement. Shortly, her mother placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of Ginny. The sight and smell of the food awakened a rumbling in her stomach that, for the moment, overcame the oppressive weight on her heart. She was hungry, indeed.

Later, Ginny found herself wandering the periphery of the property. Her father had shuttled off to his job at the Ministry and her mother had gone off for a visit with Andromeda Tonks and little Teddy Lupin. As she walked, taking in the beautiful day, she reflected on her dream. What did it mean? It was beginning to haunt her. This was a new feeling for Ginny. Up to now, she’d always been assertive; she was not one to be rendered helpless by anything, especially a weakness from her own mind. Subtly, her shoulders squared up and her chin rose, ever so slightly. She had to take some action. She was not going to allow these dreams to rule over her night.

She appeared in the hallway of a modest apartment building. Looking left and right, to make sure that no one had seen her sudden appearance, Ginny moved down the passage, looking at the apartment numbers on the doors. Upon reaching the door marked Number Seven, she smirked at the small plaque that adorned the front of the door, directly beneath the brass knocker. In a rolling script, it said simply, “The Weasleys”. Ginny reached up and knocked on the door. A muffled flurry of motion and finally, steps reached out from behind the door. After a time, the door opened, revealing the curious face of Hermione Granger Weasley, her sister-in-law, but most importantly, one Ginny’s and Harry’s closest and dearest friends.

“Ginny!” Hermione could barely contain herself. She practically flew across the threshold and buried her friend in a tremendous hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Struggling to breathe, Ginny meekly hugged her friend in return, “Er, Hello Hermione, hope I’m not bothering you guys.”

“Of course not. Ron’s at work and I had the day off. Come in, come in.” Hermione ushered her friend into the flat. It was large, airy and open. The walls had tier upon tier of shelves with an entire wall consisting on several large panes of glass giving an expansive view of the cityscape. The bookcases seemed to reflect both Ron and Hermione’s tastes. On one side, each shelf was crammed with books of all manner and type. On the other side, various jars and glass cases held specimens of Ron and George Weasley’s inventions from Weasley’s Wheezes. Particularly prominent, above the main bookcase, was a frame that contained the Ministry Edict banning the use of products supplied by Weasley’s Wheezes that had hung at Hogwarts during the Delores Umbridge administration.

“You have a wonderful place,” remarked Ginny.

“Thank you, I can’t seem to get Ron to grow up when it comes to decorating, but I’m working on him. What brings you down here?” Ginny hesitated slightly, unsure of how to proceed. Hermione immediately registered her hesitancy, “What is it? Is something bothering you? I know Harry’s off on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

“It’s not just that, it’s, well, I don’t know.” The dam burst. “It’s everything! I haven’t seen him in over two weeks, and even then it hasn’t been for more than a moment at a time. We both have been so busy, it seems like we’re never together. To top it all off, I’ve been having a horrid dream. It repeats itself, every night. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in forever.”

Exhausted by her confession, Ginny flung herself like a rag doll into one of the easy chairs by the window. Hermione gave her friend a thoughtful look, and then began to titter slightly, her hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to hide the smirk that she wore.

“It isn’t funny.” Ginny crossed her arms and assumed the visage of a petulant child.

“I’m not laughing at you, silly.” Hermione no longer tried to hide her amusement. “It’s just that Ron had seen Harry the morning he left, and well, he said the same thing you did, in so many words.”

Ginny looked up at her friend, a look of disbelief on her face. Hermione walked over to where her friend was sitting. Judging by her pose, Ginny could anticipate her friend’s transformation into that of a know-it-all lecturer.

Hermione drew up and assumed the look of absolute surety that typically came when she was stating the obvious to her friends. “Both of you are peas in a pod. You and Harry need each other, as much as you need air to breath; as much as I have always needed Ron. You both just need to stop being so obtuse and remember it’s about the both of you, together. You have to make being together more important than anything in the world.”

Ginny drew back, a little startled at the conviction in her friend’s voice, “All Harry’s ever wanted is to be an Auror. Who am I to stand in the way of his dream?”

“Being an Auror is something that Harry wants to do. His dream, all that he’s ever wanted, has been you, Ginny. That’s it. You are the center.”

Not fully believing Hermione, “I can’t be selfish; I thought relationships were about sacrificing for the one you love.”

“They are!” Hermione’s level of frustration was nearing its boiling point. Ginny was as strong and courageous a person Hermione had ever met, but was as blind as anyone to the realities of love. Hermione decided to turn the tables, “Let me ask you something, what if I were to tell you that Harry thought that all you ever wanted to do was play Quidditch, and if that’s what you wanted to do, he wouldn’t be a barrier to that dream? If you don’t believe me, how hard did he fight your trip? When did he ever ask you to shorten your practice time, to make an effort to be with him, instead of being on the pitch?”

A small light of realization began to form in the back of Ginny’s head. Hermione pressed this opening, “Both of you are so thickheaded. You both think that you are doing what’s right by being the selfless hero, when what you really need to be doing is making sure that there is time for you, together. It’s a question of priorities, really, what’s more important? Ron and I have found that it’s about us. I think it’s completely dreadful that Ron was able to understand this before you and Harry did.”

At that thought, both Ginny and Hermione burst into laughter. The release was needed, as both continued until their sides hurt and their eyes watered. After a while, Ginny looked at her friend, “What about my dream?”

“Tell me about it.” Ginny described her dream to her friend in complete detail. Hermione would nod at different points, and ask clarifying questions to make sure she had it right. When Ginny finished, Hermione sat pensively, contemplating what she’d heard. Absently, she stroked the chin of Crookshanks, her cat. After a while, Hermione sat up.

“It’s quite easy, actually, your dream, that is.” Ginny raised an eyebrow, wordlessly pressing her friend to continue. “Your dream is a manifestation of what we’ve been talking about. The first hall represents your life up to now. Difficult, dangerous, nonetheless, you came through to place where you get to make choices.” Hermione stared intently at her friend. “One passage choice is bright and attractive; it’s easy to navigate, but this isn’t the one to take. The rooms are unsatisfying, no matter how many doors you open, you are never really fulfilled. The other passage choice is the hard choice. It’s difficult to make your way through, but the destination is steady, solid.”

Ginny was barely breathing, Hermione’s words seared into her brain, making a great deal of sense. “How do I know what’s behind the door?” Ginny was wracking her brain, “What about the lightening strike? What does that mean about my choice?”

“You really can be quite obtuse, can’t you?” Hermione’s tone was playful, not teasing. She stretched her wand to a point in the room, “Accio Picture!” A framed picture on a shelf across the room lifted up in the air and floated over to Hermione. Taking the picture in her hands, she looked at it briefly and reversed the frame to show it to Ginny.

Ginny focused on the picture. It was actually a framed Quibbler cover from many years back. Prominent on the page was a picture of Harry, from the time just after the Triwizard Tournament. His hair was standing straight up in the front, as it was wont to do when he had performed a certain amount of physical exertion. Ginny’s eyes were drawn to a very distinguishing feature on Harry’s face. It was a scar, placed there in a stark reminder of the life and death struggle with Voldemort that Harry had gone through. The scar was in the shape and form of a lightening bolt.

Hermione allowed herself a smug look. “Really, Ron had this figured out, well before the both of you.” Ginny cast a searing look at her friend.

Just then, the front door burst open. “Hermione, help!” There stood Ron, his feet were ten times larger. His nose was elongated and hanging down towards his chest. His ears had grown gray and wrinkled and increased in size by a factor of ten. He looked like a rather skinny, redheaded elephant. “George said that our ginger snaps would make me smarter! Really!”

Both girls broke into another round laughter.

***Author's note: I'm trying to get these chapters out as soon as I possibly can, but apparently, my boss likes me to actually work from time to time. As always, your feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463) is coveted and enjoyed!

Chapter 6 – The Mystery of the Grey Castle

Harry swooped down to follow the course of the River Inver. As he left the town of Lochinver behind him, he felt the darkness of the night wrap around him like a blanket of dread. At first, he was able to follow the soft contours of the riverbank, but as the last vestiges of the day evaporated, Harry knew he could no longer continue. Spying an open field adjacent to the river, he alit softly from his manic flight and gently came to a stop in the open area.

“Lumos!” The tip of his wand glowed a soft blue hue, adding a measure of visibility to his erstwhile blackened surroundings. Using one hand, Harry dropped his haversack on the ground below him. The bag had been charmed with the same incantation that Hermione used during their quest for the Horcruxes, so it held the substantial kit required by Auror in the field. Rummaging around the bag, Harry was able to pull his tent and sleeping bag out, and after a few minutes had the makings of a rudimentary campsite working. Drawing on his experience from that time on the run with Ron and Hermione, Harry made sure to cast the requisite protective spells around the place. Reflexively, Harry thought how similar the circumstances were now, compared to the quest. Very similar, thought Harry, unless you add in hundreds of Death eaters, the hexed resources of the Ministry of Magic, and one Dark Lord bent on your final destruction.

Harry laughed to himself, and sat back on the grass, just outside his tent. The evening was cool, with the sounds of the night echoing throughout the air. Looking up, Harry could make out the constellations in the sky. As he did so, an ache began to pervade his chest. It wasn’t physical, in the way that he was being attacked, but it was a psychic hurt, that seemed to permeate every nerve of his body. Reaching a hand back to his bag, he pulled out a picture frame. It was Ginny’s picture, the one from his office. He stared at it with a longing that transcended the simple feeling of missing her. Harry felt as if a physical part of his being was simply, not there. It was a void, and emptiness that could only be filled by her presence. He couldn’t even let her know where he was, that he was alright. An Auror in the field, first and foremost, must maintain low visibility. That was the first rule of being an Auror.
With a sigh, Harry rose and walked into his tent, clutching Ginny’s photo to his breast. Lying down inside his sleeping bag, he tried to fall asleep, thinking of her. After a fitful start, he finally lapsed into a restless, dreamless slumber.

As dawn broke, Harry awoke, unable to recognize his surroundings, at first. Rapidly gaining his bearings, he collected his belongings and began to break camp. With the sun’s first light to illuminate his surroundings, Harry made short work of the process, and before long, he found himself standing in an empty field surveying his surroundings.

It was early morning. The ground seemed to hold on to the morning mist like a recalcitrant child would hold on to a blanket, knowing it was the first day of school. The effect gave the rolling heather slopes an ethereal look; mysterious and beautiful. The terrain was remote, rugged. As far as Harry’s eye carried, there were hillocks and bogs, gorse bush and moorlands. Looking around him, Harry noticed a large shadow, cast on the meadow, like a dark blight in a tranquil garden. Harry’s eyes followed the shadow, towards the direction of the rising sun, and found he was looking at a mountain.

The mountain seemed out of place in the landscape. It rose vertically, high above the surrounding countryside, like a rocky fist punched up from the earth. It’s sides where craggy and sharp, in stark contrast to the gentle rolls of the surrounding hills. It looked predatory and foreboding, its shape like the dorsal fin of a shark swimming towards the rising sun. This had to be the Suilven that Lachlan told him about. If that was the case, then the highest point must be the Caisteal Laith, the Grey Castle. His objective in sight, Harry donned his bag and brought up his broom. In an instant, he was airborne. Flying in a lazy circle, Harry took in his surroundings. The river was flowing lazily towards the sea, beckoning him to turn around and return the way he came. To the north of the mountain was a large, imposing mass of green that seemed to mark the boundary of the Glencanisp Forest. Suilven dominated the skyline. With a slight movement denoting his natural skill with the broom, Harry did a slight roll to his right and plotted a course towards the impressive promontory.

As he approached Suilven, Harry decided to do a quick circuit of the rocky rise, looking for obvious signs of mischief. Close up, the mountain seemed even more forbidding than it did from afar. The sides were for the most part flat, intermixed with sharp, jagged protrusions of rock which seemed to be a defense against those foolhardy souls who would deign to scale it. Moving around Suilven and up towards its highest point, Harry noted the round, bastion-like shape of the peak’s highest point. The rock was a dark shade of slate, turning a sinister shade of midnight blue in the shadows. Harry noted that the moniker “Grey Castle” was appropriate. It was an impressive citadel, repelling times’ hordes, maintaining its vigil as a specter on the horizon.

Harry deftly guided his broom to the apex of the peak. A small, flat area roughly the size of his office allowed him a stable platform to land. Dismounting from his Firebolt, he brought it up in his hands and expertly placed it into the bag on his shoulder. The broom was easily stowed in a matter of seconds. He took a quick look around. The morning sun had fully risen, and the mist in the on ground below had lifted. Harry carefully studied the ground before him. As his eyes slowly studied the various cracks and crannies on the ledge, he noticed a slight depression located at the very edge of the cliff. On closer inspection, Harry noticed that the depression was actually a ramp, a slanted ledge that formed a path down the back side of the platform and led to an opening in the side of the mountain. Harry cinched up his haversack and pulled out his wand. Without a second thought, he proceeded down the ramp, and entered the man-sized cave.

The passage was cool; droplets of moisture beat a slow staccato on the angled floor. It was shaped like tube, barely wide enough for a person to fit through, and canted down. The further Harry descended into the cave, the more he noticed that the walls were curved, and as continued to move downward, he was moving in a spiral. After a few minutes, he no longer had the benefit of light drifting in from the cave entrance. In fact, turning around, he could no longer see the cave entrance.
“Lumos!” Harry was instantly bathed in the comforting and familiar blue glow of his wand. He couldn’t see much ahead, as the tunnel continued its twists. Harry continued his slow progress deeper into Suilven.

Eventually, Harry began to lose track of time. He’d been walking for so long, he had no idea how far he’d gone. The curvy nature of the path and the total lack of any type of adornment or signage had left Harry a little disoriented. After a while, Harry began to notice subtle changes in the passageway. The floor was no longer uneven rock, but had become over time steps, that were obviously carved or cut by human hands. The walls began to straighten, and the incline got a little steeper, along the lines of a flight of stairs. Harry noticed notches in the walls, like hand holds. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry noticed the dim glow of a light ahead. The light had a low orange glow, and flickered like a torch. Contrasted with the general darkness of the cave, the light ahead shone like a lighthouse beacon in a storm.

“Nox!” Harry issued the spell non-verbally. He figured that he was getting close to whatever the mystery the Grey Castle held. Creeping along silently towards the light, he noticed that the walls of the passageway had begun to widen, the path becoming more of an entrance to a great cavern. As he neared the mouth of the great cave, Harry’s ears began to pick up a sound. It was a low murmur, rhythmic, like a chant, that repeated itself over and over. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but as he approached the opening at the bottom of the steps, it was definitely getting louder.

Harry stopped his movement and reached into his bag. After a few frantic seconds, Harry was able to find his Cloak of Invisibility, donning it, he moved into the large, fire-lit cavern.

He found himself at the top of a large veranda, which had a long flight of stairs extending down into the room. At the bottom of the cave was a river, that flowed rapidly, moving from one entrance to an exit on the opposite side. The river had a large bend in the middle of the cave; it was as if the water were trying to avoid something in the middle of the cave. In the middle of the river’s bend was a chasm. The hole was wide, and circular in shape. It had high, vertical walls with elbows of rock and granite protruding out. Some of the protrusions held torches, and Harry was able to see the distant bottom of the chasm. What he saw shocked him. The bottom of the crevasse was littered with the bones and bodies of various creatures. Some were obviously human, some were the remains of magical creatures. Harry picked out a Unicorn and a Thestral. The entire mass was in various forms of decay, indicating that whatever happened had been going on for a long time, and was still going on to this day.

By the time Harry’s brain registered this information, he’d reached the bottom of the steps and was standing on the lip of the chasm. Looking around further, he spied a path leading from the stairs to an arched opening. As he walked towards the opening, the murmuring became much more distinct. Soon, Harry heard a voice. Investigating closer, the voice was becoming more familiar, he’d heard it somewhere before. The walls of this passageway were smooth, lined with hieroglyphics that Harry had never seen before. The passageway opened into a large antechamber, which housed a giant dais. Upon the dais was a fire pit, holding a large black cauldron. The liquid in the cauldron was bubbling, emitting noxious, foul smelling fumes. Around the cauldron were three figures. As Harry neared the dais, he saw that the figures were three old women. Their heads were like skulls, the skin pulled taut, but wrinkled and worn by time. They all had mangy, long white hair, pulled tight into pony tails. They were dressed in tattered black dresses, adorned with the bones, some recognizable, some not. The women looked alike, not only in dress and style, but in mannerisms, as if they were cut from the same sinister cloth. They were addressing someone on the opposite side of the dais from Harry.

“We…”

“Do…

”Not…”

“Fear…”

“The…”

“Ministry…”

When they spoke, they talked as one. Each word coming out of each successive woman, they were able to complete the entire sentence, rapidly, as if sharing each other’s brain.

Harry heard another voice speak, “An’ I tol’ ye, that this is no ordinary Arror! He’s Harry Potter!”

The grating, gravelly voice was instantly recognizable to Harry. It was the barman from “The Targe”, the pub he had arrived at in Lochirven.

“He’s the one that killed the Dark Lord!” the bartender’s voice came out in a whisper.

“That is of not bother to us…” the women said in their round about fashion, “We are a full coven of Furies, and the matters of this world have no meaning here. This Harry Potter, will feed us for a long time to come.”

Furies! Harry gasped. No one had seen hide or hair of a single Fury in over 400 years, but their power was legendary, as was the appetite for death. They fed on the blood and souls of the living, and were almost impossible to defeat. A single coven was enough to become myth in Greek and Roman times. They were known for their vengence and they were without mercy. When Dawlish told Harry that he had an interesting assignment for him, he wasn’t kidding.


Suddenly, the voices behind him became distinctly louder, “There is someone here, sisters! Our guest has arrived. Welcome to Suilven, Harry Potter.”


***Author's note: I know, I know, I want to find out what happens too. I'm working on it. Don't forget to leave your feedback! (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 7 – Furies’ Wrath

Harry froze, scarcely breathing. Had they somehow managed to see him? He looked over to the figures on the platform. No one spoke. The only sound was that of the percolating liquid in the cauldron. The bartender cast a wary eye to and fro, trying to see if he could spot Harry.

“We hear your thoughts, Harry Potter! We know you are near!”

Well, that explained how they seemed to read each other’s minds, although Harry hadn’t considered that this ability extended to reading his mind. His own thoughts drifted back to his initial Occlumency lessons with Snape. Even during his Auror training, he had barely made acceptable marks with them. Now he was facing foes who could read his mind. Harry concentrated on blocking their access, his face knotted in concentration.

“You cannot hide from us forever, Harry Potter. We will feed on your soul.” The women cackled with delight, “Angus, dear, be a good fellow and find Mr. Potter.”

Angus moved towards the spot where Harry was standing, waving his arms from side to side. “Petrificus Totalus!” Harry’s sub-vocal command took immediate effect on Angus, rendering him totally immobile. Unfortunately, the spell also told the sisters Harry’s approximate location. A bolt of lightning struck with a strong concussive force where Harry had been standing, shattering the stone pavers in millions of pieces. Fortunately, Harry had already been on the move, side stepping out of the way, as soon as he had cast the Petrificus charm on Angus.

Harry found an alcove in the wall near where he was standing. Kneeling down, he cast a wary glance at the women. The Furies had moved away from their cauldron, and stood midway down the steps that led to their dais. As one, they raised their arms and began chanting. As if on command, a light snow began to fall inside the antechamber. Soon, Harry’s outline, under his cloak became visible. The sisters soon found where Harry was kneeling. Harry, seeing that he’d been found, raised his wand, “Stupefy!”

His aim was true, but as the spell reached the women, it rebounded as if cast aside by some unseen force.

“Silly man! Our magic is older than anything you can conjure. We are the first practitioners of Dark Magic. “

With that, another bolt of energy shot its way from their collective fingers, hitting the spot adjacent to Harry’s hiding spot. The force of the impact flung Harry to the side, a piece of rock careening off his side, breaking the skin, and, perhaps, cracking a rib.

Harry rolled with the blow, allowing his momentum to carry him further down the aisle and away from the Furies. Quickly, he discarded his cloak, throwing it haphazardly into his rucksack.

“Expecto Patronus!” In the blink of an eye, Harry’s Patronus stag gracefully glided down the path towards the three witches. Raising their arms, the women chanted in unison, generating a figure in the shape of a serpent, bathed in a fire, crimson red. Harry attempted to keep his concentration, but his Patronus started to lose ground to the hags’ serpent. Suddenly, both the stag and serpent exploded in a shower of sparks, white and red fire and light, expanding throughout the antechamber. Harry was blown back towards the main passage, his body flying against the rock wall, his rucksack dislodged by the blow.

The Furies continued their descent, reaching the bottom of the landing. Harry wearily raised his bruised and battered body to his hands and knees. Looking up, he saw the approaching women, and realized that his strongest magic had failed.

“Think!” Time seemed to stand still, Harry head was groggy from the punishment his body had taken. Suddenly, it hit him. Defiantly, Harry stood up, his wand extended towards the three women.

“We told you, boy, that your magic cannot hurt us!”

“Who said anything about using my magic? Oppugno!” Harry’s arm raised slightly, his spell aimed not at the Furies, but at their cauldron, which contained their own abhorrent concoction. It was of their own magic. The cauldron began rolling down the steps, gaining speed with every landing it descended.

Too late, the three sisters realized what was happening. They were directly in its path, and could not veer away. As one, they began to shriek, a horrible sound, which shook the foundations of the chamber, causing rock and debris to become dislodged and fall to the floor. When the cauldron hit them, a huge tempest of fire exploded from their bodies, the whole room bathed in tinges of red, yellow and orange.

Harry stood, watching the spectacle. Enraptured by the sight, he almost failed to realize that the cauldron was still intact, and still rolling towards him. Grabbing his rucksack, he began to run towards the passage that led to the room with the chasm. The cauldron increased in speed, careening wildly towards Harry. When it impacted on the side of the entrance to the passageway, it exploded in one final orgy of light, fire and force. The fireball lifted Harry off of his feet and knocked his bag and wand from his hands. The force of the impact carried Harry into the main cavern and deposited him on the floor, near the chasm. The momentum of his landing carried Harry to the lip of the chasm, and over the edge. Desperately, Harry reached out and with both arms extended, managed to grab one of the torch holders on the wall of the chasm.

His whole body ached, the pain from countless wounds coursed through his body. His glasses had been ripped from his face and he could feel blood leaving him. He was weakening by the second. Slowly, his hold on the promontory was weakening, his strength fading away. He made one last attempt to pull himself up. His fingers weren’t up to the task. Harry fell back into the chasm.

The fall seemed like an eternity. Finally, he hit the floor below, landing on the pile of bones that dotted the pit. Harry could feel his own bones breaking, and his skin punctured by the jagged edges of bone and rock. The pain was excruciating. Soon, all was still, save the rasping of his breath. His legs could not move, and Harry knew that this may be the end. His wand and his bag were up top. He had no way to pull himself up, and he had reached the end of his endurance. As the edges of his vision began to fade to black, he dug his hand into his pocket. His fingers grasped his last chance at being saved. Concentrating as hard as he could, Harry felt he had done everything that he could do. Lying back, he thought of his Ginny. Her face came to him readily. He knew every line, every brilliant red hair. He saw her eyes and her smile. He could almost smell the lilac scent that seemed to be always around her. Harry smiled, and then slowly let the black on the edges of his vision take hold.

Chapter 8 – A Galleon for Your Thoughts

It had been a while since he had a dream. Lately, his nights had been filled with fitful sleep, bereft of dreams. So, he was pleasantly surprised that he was dreaming. This dream wasn’t extravagant, or overly detailed. He was floating in a black space, free of worry and fear. In a flash, he could see her, Ginny. She was as beautiful as he’d ever seen her. Her long red hair cascaded playfully around her shoulders, casting a sheen about her face that highlighted her eyes. Her eyes were staring right through him, boring into his soul and registering the unbound love he had for her. She was smiling at him, a smile that could make him catch his breath, if he were conscious of breathing. This was an extraordinarily good dream. He caught a hint of her scent, it was sweet, like lilacs in the morning with just a hint of sunrise. It must be raining, for he could feel the raindrops on his face, and she was so beautiful in the rain. He knew it was a good dream, because all of his senses permeated the darkness to feel, and every fiber of his being was focused on seeing her, being near her. All that was left was for her to call to him, he so desperately wanted to her to call his name.

“Harry…”

There it was, her voice, calling his name. Her voice rang out again, like a song, “Harry…” Again, he heard her, calling to him, comforting him.

“Harry…” Like a choir, a myriad of voices called his name. He thought it odd, but it was a dream, after all.

“Look, here’s his bag!”

“I found his wand over here!”

“Have you found him?”

“There’s blood all over, you don’t think he’s gone?”

“You shut your mouth, he’s alive, I can feel it.”

All in all, this was a very strange dream. There were different voices, and frankly, he only wanted to hear one.

“Look, down there, there he is! Harry!” There it was the voice he was looking for, that was more like it.

Ginny Weasley stared down the walls of the chasm, her eyes carefully avoiding the carnage of death all around the broken body of her fiancé, Harry Potter. Her cries brought the rest of the people with her running. Clutched in her hand was a single galleon. This was no ordinary galleon. Ginny was one of the founding members of Dumbledore’s Army, who had equipped themselves with fake galleons which could be used to send clandestine messages to its members back during a time when the D.A., as it was known, was an outlaw band.

The galleon in Ginny’s hand was emblazoned around its edge with a simple message, “Harry, Furies, Death, Pain, Love You, Sorry, Ginny”.

Almost immediately Ginny was surrounded by the members of the D.A. who had received the message. Hermione, breathless, came up to Ginny, carrying Harry’s bag and wand. Following Ginny’s arm, she gasped at the sight of their friend down below. Hermione’s heart went out to Ginny, unable to imagine the horror that the scene below must be causing her.

Trailing behind them, Lachlan McGrory and Dawlish, peered down and then apparated down to Harry’s location. After a moment of hesitation, they were joined by Ron and Neville Longbottom, another founding member of the D.A. Carefully approaching Harry’s limp form, Dawlish quickly took stock of Harry’s injuries. He shared a guarded look with Lachlan.

“How is he?” Ginny’s plaintive plea reached their ears, shaking the four members of the rescue party out of their stupor.

Ron had been staring at Harry. The devastated state of Harry’s body brought a gray, ashen pallor to Ron’s pale features. He glanced up at his wife and gave her a look Hermione could only understand indicating that he didn’t think that this was going to end well. Ron’s eyes then briefly flitted over to Ginny, an indication to Hermione, that maybe, she’d want to get her friend away from this place.

“C’mon Ginny…” Hermione tugged on her friend’s arm, trying to pull her away from the chasm.

“No!” Ginny broke her arm loose from Hermione’s hand. Turning her face towards the bottom of the pit, Ginny concentrated and in the next instant appeared down on the floor with Ron and Neville. No one had approached Harry, as if they were afraid to damage him further. Ginny moved towards him, falling down on her knees, ignoring the scrapes from the abhorrent detritus that covered the floor.

“Harry…”

“Harry…”

This was the oddest dream, he thought. Everything was black, as if a whole jar of Peruvian Blackness Powder had been thrown around. All he could make out were familiar voices. It was forcing him to concentrate on the one voice he wanted to hear. He heard it again.

“Harry?” Ginny gently touched his cheek. Forcing herself to ignore the blood that was covering the area on and around his body, she moved to support his head and ran her fingers through his hair. The only sound that could be heard in the cave, was that of Ginny, crying, her tears streaming down onto Harry’s face.

In some dreams, he thought, you could feel yourself falling. In this one, he felt himself moving. His head was moving. That was strange, he considered, but there was something else, it was wet, like rain, but beyond that, the movement. He felt his head move, and, well, it hurt! He felt the pain, and it hurt, as if he were conscious, as if he were alive.

Ginny had bent her head towards Harry, her hair fanned out over his upper torso, like a comforting blanket. As she was leaning in to kiss him goodbye, a groan came from his mouth.

“Harry?” He used all of his remaining strength, pushed all of his will and his love into the exertion, and was able to open his eyes. In the back of his mind, the effort was well worth it, because before him was his Ginny. She was real, and not some construct of his mind. Her face hovered near his, a look of shock and relief alternating on her features. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, seemingly moving from adorable freckle to adorable freckle. It was the most beautiful sight he could have imagined. He had expended all of his physical energy to open his eyes. He had so much to say to her, but all he could muster, was a weak smile.

“He’s alive!” Ginny was triumphant. Gathering herself, she started issuing a flurry of commands, her self-assurance returning with the knowledge that Harry lived.

“We’ve got to get him out of here. Hermione! Start getting everyone moving, and send someone ahead to St. Mungo’s. Tell them we’re bringing Harry and he’s terribly wounded.”

Dawlish moved towards her, “I’ll take him to St. Mungo’s.” Ginny waved him back, “I’ll do it. I’m not leaving him, I’m not leaving him!”

She touched her arm to his, covering it, making contact and in a flash, the both of them disappeared. Dawlish cast a glance over at Lachlan and nodded his head upward. Lachlan met his gaze and with that, both disappeared.

“Neville, Ron. Come on!” Hermione was directing the rest of the rescue party out and away from the cavern.

Ron looked over at Neville, “Come on, mate, we’ve got to go.” Neville nodded his head to Ron. With that, Ron looked up to Hermione, and apparated to her location.

Neville Longbottom hadn’t moved the entire time he’d been down in the pit. His eyes were riveted on the spot where Harry had been. The dim outline of Harry’s body could still be seen in the blood that covered the floor. Neville was rooted there, shocked at what he'd seen. The blood, the bones, the complete evil that the scene represented, it struck an evil nostalgic chord with him. There always seemed to be bad people, he thought, there was always bad people hurting the good. When will it ever end?

After a time, his eyes slowly dropped, as they did, he caught sight of something on the floor. It didn’t belong. Among the bodies and dark reminders, it seemed ordinary. Neville reached down and picked it up. It was Harry’s glasses. One of the lenses was missing and the other had a large crack running down the middle. The frames were bent, broken just like Harry. Neville took the glasses in his hands and smiled. The glasses could be fixed, they had survived and been found, so they could be fixed; just like Harry. With that, Neville apparated.

***Author's note: More to come, I promise. Let's keep the feedback coming, it's helping a lot! (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 9 – Visiting Hours

The waiting area had a panel of windows that allowed visitors to see into the ward where Harry was. Ginny was pacing irritably back and forth along the wall of windows, stopping periodically to look into the room; she would resume her trek with a huff.

“C’mon Ginny, you need to relax.” Ron, Ginny’s brother, was seated on along bench, on the wall opposite the windows. His wife Hermione lay on the bench, sleeping, her head across his lap. It had been almost six days since members of the D.A. and the Office of Aurors had brought Harry to St. Mungo’s. Despite the effort of the greatest healers in the land, it had been a touch and go affair. Since the majority of Harry’s wounds had been more the result of physical punishment, the experience had been near fatal. Aside from the moment when he opened his eyes when Ginny found him, Harry had not regained consciousness until today.

Ginny, who had scarcely been away from the hospital for the entire time Harry had been receiving treatment, had made a quick trip home to change and eat. Upon her return she’d learned that Harry had awoke. Ginny was wracked by guilt at not having been there when he awoke, and now, he was beset by a delegation from the Ministry of Magic, who were debriefing him on his encounter with the Furies. Ron had to almost physically restrain Ginny when the ward’s burly matron refused Ginny entry to the ward, until the Ministry officials were done.

“This isn’t right!” Ron knew his sister had a very short fuse. He smiled at the thought that at least, this time, her temper wasn’t directed at him. “I should have been there, Ron, when he woke up. How stupid! How selfish of me!” Ron’s eyes tracked his sister’s circuit in front of the window. Looking at her face, he saw that she was near tears, and working herself up to a mood that would be legendary in wizard history.

Calmly, Ron guided Hermione’s head to the bench, so that, he could stand up. Ginny saw the movement and marveled at the tenderness Ron displayed in this simple act. Ron moved over to his sister and stopped her momentum. He opened his arms wide and wrapped her in an embrace.

“Stop beating yourself up, sis. He knows you’re here. Blimey, the way you’re carrying on, I think all of London knows you’re here.” He offered a teasing smile to Ginny. “You’ve nothing to worry about. You needed a rest and, thank Merlin, you realized you needed to change your clothes. You were rank!”

Ginny gave Ron a reluctant smile, and then playfully punched his shoulder. “I was not rank!” He smiled back at her and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “If you say so, but you were rank!”

A loud bang sounded in the room and George Weasley suddenly appeared to them.

“I heard he was awake! What’s the news?” George had on a plaid patterned muggle suit. Atop his head was a bowler, from under which his longish, bristly red hair seemed to be fighting a losing battle to escape the fashion faux pas. His outfit was completed by a bright red bow tie and his pants tucked into chaps covering his well-worn brogans.

“No news yet,” said Ron, eyeing his brother’s garish apparel, “Hey, what’s with the get up? You look a sight!”

“Oh, this?” George bowed with an exaggerated flourish. “Lee told me about a muggle showman, P. T. Barnum is his name, I think. Anyway, he showed me a book about him, and well,” George extended his arm as if he were a stage actor making a grand entrance, “There’s a sucker born every minute!”

The commotion in the room caused Hermione to stir. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the site of George in his flamboyant pose, and started laughing. Ginny, despite her frustration, couldn’t help but join in, given George’s ridiculous presence. The tension in the room dissipated immediately.

“He’s awake, but now he’s with the Ministry people. They won’t even let me sit with him. We found him, there’s not much that they can keep us from knowing.” Ginny plopped down on the bench and exhaled a huge breathe. George reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a couple of non-descript packages. With a conspiratorial nod to Ron, he opened the packages and dumped them into his hand. “Extendable Ears, anyone?”

George and his deceased brother, Fred, had created the “Extendable Ears”, which allowed a person to listen to conversations from a long distance. They looked like human ears, with a long strand of flesh-like material connecting them. There use was straightforward, the listener would hold one ear to his or her own, and the other ear would extend on the elastic tether to the area that was being monitored.

Ginny jumped from her seat and grabbed a pair outright. Ron, Hermione and George, grabbed their own sets of ears and knelt down next to her by the entrance to the ward. With the listening end of the ear pressed to her ear, the seeking end wiggled its way toward the group surrounding Harry’s bed. After a moment, Ginny began to hear the conversation going on clearly.

“Furies! Dawlish, why didn’t we have warning of this?” Ginny recognized the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic.

“I don’t know, Minister, there hasn’t been a Fury sighting in centuries. All we knew was that someone was jinxing muggles with crucio charms. That was it.” Dawlish looked haggard; the news of Harry’s encounter with the legendary witches had him on the run, lately.

“Minister,” Ginny recognized Lachlan McCrory’s high-pitched voice, “the area around Lochirven and Suilven has always been quiet, magically speaking. I’ve been there almost five years, and I hadn’t heard of anyone being cursed.”

Kingsley stroked his chin, deep in thought. His rested on Harry, who was sitting up, trying with considerable effort, to follow the conversation. “Dawlish, where did the tip come from about the muggle in the woods?”

“I’ve been trying to track it down, Minister.” Dawlish ran his fingers through his head, a physical indication of his general exhaustion. “The thing of it is we don’t know who sent the warning. No one has been even able to find the muggle that was reported to have been cursed.”

“Interesting,” the voice came from the figure standing in the corner, who had, heretofore, remained silent during the exchange, “this is very troubling, very troubling, indeed.”

Kingsley turned to the man, “What’s that, Miles?”

The man stepped forward, approaching the Kingsley while collecting his thoughts. Miles Jackson-Smythe had a curious affectation for the muggle-created detective, Sherlock Holmes. To that end, he was dressed in a twin-billed hunter’s cap, mounted fore to aft on his head. He had a long, draping wool overcoat, ruffled and pleated, as if worn all the time, never removed, probably even to sleep. The effect was topped off by the large, meerschaum pipe, which extended from his lips. The smoke from the pipe cut perfect circles moving and expanding in a concentric pattern above his head. Jackson-Smythe’s resemblance to the legendary literary figure ended with his clothing. He was short, and rather rotund, the buttons of his overcoat straining to retain the mass of his figure inside its confines. He had long, flowing white hair that looked askance to the anachronistic hat he was wearing. His beard was also long, falling down to near his waist, looking more like Father Christmas than any special investigator.

That was what he was, a special investigator. Miles had a reputation for finding the unfindable. He answered questions that could not be answered. He started his career as an Auror, but his penchant for handling the most troublesome problems earned for him a role which evolved into that of being a “special projects” specialist. For several years, he was assigned to the Minister of Magic, directly, and tasked by the holder of that office. During the Dark Times, as the imperious-induced Thicknesse administration was referred to, Miles had tried to poke his nose in too many places. Unlike Lachlan McCrory, however, he was not fortunate enough to simply retire. His banishment to Azkeban still left visible scars, and no one could tell if the incarceration had left any other types of wounds.
“It’s elementary, my dear Minister!” Kingsley rolled his eyes. Unperturbed, Miles continued, “We have to find the others.” Noticing that his audience was looking at him with blank stares, Miles started to pace, finding a rhythm in his stride to match the cadence of his dissertation. The smoke from his pipe, trailed along, like that of a Christmas train in the winter, “Based on what we know, Furies cannot leave their sanctuary. These Furies could not have hunted the prey they needed to feed on. Ergo, they had to have outside help.”

“You mean this man, Angus? The bartender?” Kingsley interjected.

“Angus,” Lachlan snorted, “that man couldn’t find his way out of a pack of geese.”

“Precisely, my dear man.” Miles had the look of a teacher who seen a brief moment of clarity spark up in a rather dull pupil. “But think deeper, if what you and Mr. Potter have described is accurate, then the help we are discussing is much more substantial.”

“What do you mean, Miles?” Kingsley was visibly concerned, “Substantial in what way? Are you saying that wizards were helping them?”

“Maybe not wizards, but something able to control powerful magic, a goblin, perhaps. The remains of magical creatures were in that pit, including a thestral. The magic required to see, much less capture these beings has to be, shall we say, extraordinary at the least.”

“That’s outrageous! Even the Dark Lord’s minions wouldn’t cater to serving something as loathsome as a Fury, it would be beneath their hatred for anything not pure-blood.” Dawlish was aghast.

“Perhaps,” the brow of Miles’ forehead furrowed deeper, “however, Minister, there is another item to consider. I believe that young Mr. Potter here, may have been specifically targeted. This whole episode may have been a trap, a ploy to lure him to a remote place, thence to destroy him.”

The words caused Ginny to gasp. “Who would want to kill Harry?” Hermione’s whispered question echoed Ginny’s thoughts.

“Who left alive, you mean?” Ron’s retort was lost in the smack to the back of the head by Hermione’s hand, as she shushed him, so that, she could hear more of the conversation.

“That’s preposterous!” Dawlish was flustered as he contemplated the implication of Miles’ observation. “How could anyone know that I would send Harry into a trap, unless you think I’m part of the plot?”

“No, no, don’t be ridiculous, dear boy.” Miles pulled the tip of his pipe out of his mouth, using the end to emphasize each point he was making. “Consider the facts. Over the past few weeks, your senior Aurors were engaged in pursuing random reports, here and there. When this report came in, how many relatively minor cases did you have? Many, I should think. How did you come to picking Harry for this assignment, anyway?”

“I didn’t pick Harry, exactly.” Dawlish thought back, his memory clouded by his weariness. Suddenly, his eyes lit up in recognition, “I remember that I sent a first year trainee out to bring me the first junior Auror she could find. It was Sarah Peebles, I sent Sarah Peebles, and I told her to send me one of the Juniors.”

Miles turned to Harry, “Harry, how far from Mr. Dawlish’s office is yours?”

Weakly, Harry replied, “Mine is at the end of the hall sir, I’d only just finished training a week ago or so.”
Miles neared Harry, “Now concentrate, when you came in the office, were there any other Aurors around? Were you the only one in the office?”

“No sir, in fact, I think I was one of the last to arrive.” Harry’s head was throbbing from the effort to remain awake.

Miles stood fully erect, and whirled around to face Kingsley and Dawlish, “Minister! I submit to you that Mr. Potter was the target of this attack. Dawlish, here, sent someone to fetch any random Auror, and yet she passed all of the doors to specifically fetch Potter. That’s where we should start, Sarah Peebles!” Pleased with himself, Miles assumed a stance he had seen on the cover of one the Sherlock Holmes novels he’d read, his body turned to the side, head up, and the pipe held high in a mock salute.

Kingsley was less than pleased. “Dawlish, find Ms. Peebles and get to the bottom of this. I want to know if this one person, or if we have another Dark Arts conspiracy on our hands.”

“Minister, I would suggest that we keep Mr. Potter in town for the time being, until we figure out what’s going on.”

“I agree. No long absences my boy, you’re to stay put, until further notice.” With that, Kingsley swept the rest of the group with a long stare, “We need to get to the bottom of this, immediately.”

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat on hearing that Harry wouldn’t be taking any trips, any time soon.

There were nods of assent, all around. After a quick goodbye, the group started walking towards the exit. Hurriedly, the four eavesdropping Weasleys pulled their Ears back and tried to settle on the bench, acting conspicuously nonchalant. The Minister’s staff walked out, nodding to them as they passed. Kingsley stopped, turned and looked at them, suspiciously. His gaze halted on Ginny and he gave her a friendly smile.

“He’s fine, why don’t you go see him?” Ginny stood up and entered the ward before the Minister could say good bye. Smiling an apology to Kingsley, Hermione, George and Ron followed her towards Harry’s bedside.

As the foursome approached Harry’s bed, a large, brooding matron was hovering over him. His eyes were closed as the effort of the past couple of hours had overcome him. The Healer saw the four friends and stepped between them and Harry.

“Visiting hours are over. Your friend needs his rest, you’re going have to come back tomorrow.”

Ginny was visibly shaken. The emotional stress of the past week had finally torn a hole right through her being. Tears began to form in her eyes, her knees were on the verge of collapse.

“Wait,” the voice was soft, strained, barely audible. “Please let Ginny stay, I need her to stay with me. I don’t want her to go, please.” They turned towards the source of the plaintive voice. Harry’s eyes were opening, he had tears streaming down his face. His arm reached out his hand, pleading for the warmth of Ginny’s hand.

For a moment, it looked like the matron was going to refuse his request, but Harry’s eyes were directed at her. The look he gave wasn’t pathetic, nor was it begging, it was resolved, deep as if this was his most fervent desire. Understanding the relationship between will and survival, she gave in.

“Alright,” her soft voice belied her external presence, “she can stay, but the rest of you will have to come back tomorrow.”

Hermione rubbed her tear-streaked face with the front of Ron’s shirt. Nodding to Ginny, she pulled Ron and George with her, out of the door.

The matron walked away to visit her other charges. Ginny hesitated a moment, looking down at Harry. He had lain back onto his bed, his body tired, and weak. His eyes were dancing, trying to communicate his need to touch her. As if drawn in, the tears she’d been fighting, began to stream uncontrollably. She reached her arm out to his, taking his hand in her own. She sat down at his side, careful to not displace his tired form. Her touch was light and gentle, but not afraid. She brought her head down to his and placed a kiss on his lips. She held her lips to his, lightly, barely touching, letting him feel her love, but not taxing his spent body. She separated from the kiss, and looked into his eyes. Those eyes told her everything, they were together, and suddenly the oppressive weight that had been crushing her heart had lifted, and she was soaring.

Harry smiled, thinking that he had to tell her so much. He wanted to tell her about the trip, and his feelings about being apart and about being in such despair when they weren’t together. He wanted to tell her that nothing meant more to him that she, and his last, desperate thoughts were of her.

His body just wouldn’t allow it, so all he could muster was a simple, “I love you, Ginny.” With that, he fell asleep, with the knowledge that she was there.

His words hit her like a lightning bolt. It shocked her to her soul. They’d said it to each other before, countless times. This time, she knew that he’d given everything to saying it to her. It expressed more than just what he felt, but reflected what he was, what they were. She leaned close to his ear, and whispered, “I love you, Harry, always.” Unsure whether he heard her or not, she realized that it didn’t matter. This time, her declaration was for her, it was her commitment that they would never be apart. He was her everything, and she would move the Earth for him. Emotionally spent, she lay down beside him and stroked his hair. She would care for him, until the end of time. A thought penetrated the back of her mind as she laid there, someone wanted to kill Harry. Someone wanted to put him in danger. She didn’t care what she had to do; no one would take him away from her. She resolved herself to never leave his side; he would never face the darkness alone again. Slowly, her thoughts drifted back to him, for the moment casting aside the danger or the exhaustion. To her, right now, there was only Harry, and life was good. For the first time in a long time, she allowed sleep to overtake her; confident that her dreams would be good dreams, because, her dreams had come true.

Ron and Hermione had let George go on ahead. Ron was standing behind her, arms wrapped around her as the watched the tableau unfold through the windows in the waiting room. Taking in the tender scene, Ron bent his head and kissed his wife gently on the top of her head. Hermione closed her eyes and smiled. Turning around and facing her husband, she kissed him on the lips and then pulled away.

“Harry’s been through enough. He deserves a normal life, just like everyone else.” Her voice became more and more strident.

“What do you mean? What do you aim to do?” Ron looked down, his admiration for her resolve beaming from his face.

“We are going to help get to the bottom of this. No more conspiracies, no more prophecies. It all ends. Harry and Ginny deserve to be happy.” She paused, and turned to look the sleeping couple, “They deserve to be as happy as we are, she needs to be as loved as I am. That’s the best gift we can give them.” She tugged at Ron’s arm and smiled at him, “Come on Ron, let’s go home.”

Mesmerized by her invitation, Ron allowed her to tug him along. Looking back at Harry and Ginny, he couldn’t help himself. Barely audible, he murmured, “Gift? Why couldn’t we just get them a nice china pattern?”

***Author's note: See what I mean? There's more to the story. Let me know if it's working for you. (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 10 – Potter’s Army

Hermione scampered across the room, her feet moving at a feverish pace as she finished the preparations for the meeting. At her direction, Ron had laid out several sets of tables and chairs on one end of their apartment’s main room and set up a slate board near the windows. Hermione was working to finish the refreshments and preparing her notes for the meeting.

“Oy, Hermione, I’m done with this lot now, what next?” Ron’s face was bathed in perspiration, the result of the work he’d been doing.

“That’s about it, Ron, why don’t go ahead and get ready.” Hermione hadn’t even looked up from her note taking. Ron started to turn for the bedroom and halted in mid-turn. After all this time, he still couldn’t believe his luck. The woman sitting at the table was his wife. She was perfect, in every way, and he loved everything about her. Her back was to him, as she sat at the table, concentrating on her work. He loved the way her hair fell about her shoulders. Without seeing, he could picture her brow pinched in concentration, the eyebrows almost meeting as she worked through problems. He loved her passion and strength. She had kept them all sound during the dark times. In spite of everything, she had chosen him, and he loved her most for that.

Acting on impulse, he moved up behind her and leaned to kiss her neck. She raised her head and smiled. “Now go on, they’ll be here any time.” Her admonishment was delivered with out any real heat, and he laughed and turned to go. She caught his arm and looked up to him. He stopped and granted her silent request for a kiss.

When he had gone, Hermione sat back and thought on the events of the past few days. She was adamant in her decision, they had to help Harry. Ginny and Harry have earned the happiness of a normal life. They deserved the life that she and Ron had. Harry had almost died twice for greater good; well he’d actually died once, now that she really thought about it. The difference now was that he wasn’t alone. He had inspired many people and they were stronger for it. Lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear the knock at the door.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Neville Longbottom. Neville smiled and accepted her invitation to enter the Weasley home. “Hello, Hermione, have you started yet?”

“You’re the first, Neville.” Hermione walked him to the meeting area. “Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Hermione. I owe Harry a lot. He helped me to a stronger person, I couldn’t let him down.” Hermione offered Neville a knowing smile, and pointed him towards the sitting area. She turned to answer another knock at the door. This time it was Luna Lovegood, resplendent in a bright green dress adorned with herbs and flowers. She offered a wistful smile and walked in. Her long, blonde hair flowed behind her, and she spoke a gentle sing-song.

“Hello Hermione, it’s been so long, I’ve missed everyone.”

“Thanks for coming Luna, we really appreciate it.” Hermione closed the door behind them.

“No worries, but I don’t know if he’ll appreciate it. Harry is quite headstrong, and he may not like our meddling in his affairs.” With that, Luna headed over to where Neville was sitting.

Over the course of the next few minutes, the pattern continued, where by ones and twos, former members of Dumbledore’s Army made their way to Ron and Hermione’s flat. The Patil sisters, Padma and Parvati, came next. Followed in rapid succession by Seamus Finnegan and Cho Chang. Dean Thomas was next, clasping hands strongly with Ron when they saw each other.

Lee Jordan and George Weasley came together, George more normally attired this time, but still talking about suckers and P.T. Barnum. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott arrived almost simultaneously. Hermione closed the door and she was convinced that this turnout would be as good as she could hope for. As she walked back towards the living room, she heard a quiet rap on the door. Opening the door, she was taken aback. Standing in the hallway was Dennis Creevey. Hermione’s first impression was that he’d grown. He was as tall as Ron, but broad of chest. He smiled at Hermione and walked in, with a confident stride. The only recognizable feature was his sheepish grin. He was the same Dennis, yet remarkably different. He joined the others in the room.

Hermione’s gaze swept over the gathering. Of the original twenty-nine members of Dumbledore’s Army, fourteen were gathered here based on her call. She’d hoped for more, but was happy nonetheless. Part of her felt a little regret that two of their ranks would never again have the opportunity to join them. Fred Weasley, George’s twin, and Colin Creevey both died fighting during the horrific battle at Hogwarts.

“Thank you, everyone, thank you for coming.” Hermione called the meeting to order. “I’ve asked you to come, because Harry needs help. He just doesn’t know it, yet.”

“What’s going on, Hermione? Are there more Deatheaters out there?” Dennis Creevey’s voice was deep, assertive. He was no longer the little boy they knew.

“Not exactly, Dennis.” Hermione looked at each one of them. “This is much different. Someone, we don’t know who, is trying to kill Harry, they’ve made one attempt, and it very nearly succeeded. This is an evil no one can find or identify.”

Neville’s thoughts raced back to the experience on the mountain. He remembered the chasm of death, and the condition they’d found Harry in. He couldn’t shake the memory. “I’ll help, Hermione, I want to help.”

Hermione smiled, she knew that she could count on Neville. Ron cleared his throat, “Hermione, why don’t we tell them what we know so far?” Hermione threw a loving glance at her husband, thankful for his keeping the meeting moving. She began to layout what they’d seen and what they’d heard from the Minister.

After hearing the tale of the Furies and the idea that Harry may have been lured to a trap. They heard the Aurors’ suspicion about Sarah Peebles and finally learned how near death, Harry had been. The room was somber, no one speaking as they thought on what had happened.

Finally, Cho raised her head, “Doesn’t it ever end? For any of us? Who could want to hurt Harry?”

“That’s what I want us to find out, Cho.” Hermione stood up, ready to defend her position. “I want to find out who’s behind this and make sure that Harry and Ginny are safe.”

A small voice spoke up, Padma Patil raised an issue that most had been thinking about, “Um, Hermione, we all want to help Harry, we’d all do whatever we can, but isn’t this something better left to the Office of Aurors? They have Sarah Peebles in custody, after all. They have access to the information. What can we do?”

Hermione had prepared for this, “That’s true Padma, but we know Harry. We know who has had it out for him. If it’s someone he’s had a row with before, maybe we can find out who it is.”

The assembled friends considered this response. Ernie MacMillan stood up, “That’s all well and good, Hermione, but what do we do then? Do you want us running around like some private vigilante army?”

“No, Ernie.” She hadn’t expected this question; in fact, she hadn’t even considered this issue.

Ron stood up next to his wife, “Ernie, it’s not like that. There are a lot of things that we could do.”

“Like what?” Dean Thomas could always be counted on to rile Ron.

Ron stumbled at first, “Well, we could…, or maybe we might…” then he struck on the right response, “If we find out who’s responsible, we can tell the Aurors. We could offer our assistance to the Minister. Most importantly, we can protect Harry. Several of us could be around him and not be too obvious.” Ron beamed at his grace under pressure.

Hermione was proud of Ron. As always, he came through for her and she never tired being reminded why she loved him so.

“Does everyone agree?” Everyone’s hands went up. They were ready to go back into action.

“Thank you,” a relieved Hermione was pleased that the hardest part was over. “Now, let’s put a plan together, uh, yes Dennis?”

Dennis had raised his hand to get her attention. “Well Hermione, this may seem a little strange, but I was thinking, well…” Dennis hesitated.

Ron spoke up, “What is it, Dennis? Come on, out with it.”

Dennis spoke out, encouraged, “Well, seeing that we don’t have all the members of the original D.A. here. I mean, even if we had everyone, we wouldn’t be able to have, well, EVERYONE.” The images of Fred Weasley and Colin Creevey moved through the minds of all the attendees.

“I was thinking, that maybe we should change the name. Dumbledore’s Army was for a different time, and for different people.” Hermione liked the idea, it made sense. This wasn’t about fighting Voldemort or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts training. This was something that they were choosing to do. It was a completely different proposition.

“Does anyone have any idea of what we should call ourselves?” Hermione placed a parchment on the table.

“Well,” Dennis hesitated slightly, “I think we should call ourselves Potter’s Army.”

It sounded right, it was fitting. The name was accepted without exception. Everyone moved forward to sign the parchment on which Hermione had written, “Potter’s Army”.

George came up to sign his name, and then stopped. He picked up the parchment and held it to the light. “What are you doing, George?”

He continued his inspection and then eyed Hermione closely. “I was just trying to make sure you hadn’t jinxed this one too, I’d hate to have boils growing out of my face.”

The thrown book missed his head by inches.

***Author's Note: My pace may be slowing, but I'll try to keep up. As always, feedback please. (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 11 – Mr. Harry James Potter, Auror


As Ginny arose from her bed, the morning sun was already up past its 10 AM position. Stretching briefly, Ginny smiled; she was happy to be home, but, even more so, she was happy that Harry was there in the Burrow with her. He’d been allowed to leave St. Mungo’s after his physical injuries had fully healed. Ginny and Harry had not been apart for the entire duration of his recovery, but, as she reflected, they had not talked much. The silence wasn’t awkward, but more a result of the recovery that Harry was enduring. Ginny’s mood blackened a bit; she thought back on the extent of Harry’s injuries at the hands of the Furies. She was especially furious at the thought that someone had intentionally put Harry in a position where he was vulnerable.

As she dressed, Ginny’s mind wandered over the events of the past three weeks and tried to put substance to what happened. She’d been so preoccupied with whether Harry lived or died, she hadn’t put any thought as to the who, or the why of the situation. She decided that she should talk to Ron and Hermione about this, if she could catch up with them. Ginny hadn’t seen much of her brother and sister-in-law, since that day in the ward at St. Mungo’s. They would briefly flit in and out of her parents’ house, not really staying for any amount of time. Ginny thought it was curious. She walked out of her room and saw the door to her brother Ron’s old room was open. Mrs. Weasley, her mother, had insisted that Harry stay with them for the duration of his recovery, and, Ginny hoped secretly, for the duration of the crisis at hand.

Peering into the bedroom, she saw that the bed was empty, its bed clothing tidily arranged and clean. Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. She’d expected to see her fiancé there, sleeping, and was surprised by his absence. She went down the stairs at a faster clip than she normally did and burst into the kitchen. Molly Weasley was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea and reading her husband’s discarded copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Good morning, Ginny,” she greeted her daughter, as she came into the room.

“Mum, have you seen Harry?” Ginny’s voice had an edge of concern. The brusqueness of her response caused her mother to raise her head from the newspaper and arch an eyebrow.

Molly Weasley took in her daughter. Molly and Arthur were proud parents, and were grateful for the life and energy that seven children brought to their house. Molly was particularly proud of her daughter. Ginny had grown to be an independent and determined woman. Molly especially enjoyed the fact that Ginny wasn’t one who suffered fools, or was too reticent to let anyone know her thoughts. For a time, when Ginny was at Hogwarts, Molly was afraid that the qualities that made Ginny special, would preclude her from finding the right person to fall in love with. Molly felt that a boy with too strong a personality would try to stifle Ginny, and one with too weak a personality would not complement her daughter. Who could have thought that the answer to the riddle had been in their midst for all this time? Molly was sure that Harry was perfect for her daughter. He’d make her happy. He’d live only for her. He was the only person that could make her daughter, well, frantic.

Molly smiled, “He’s just outside, near the boundary wall, dear. I think he’s just resting in the sun. Can I make you something to eat?”

Ginny walked to the kitchen window and looked outside. The Burrows had a wide stone wall that edged the property. The wall wound itself over the various hillocks and through the glens, adding a frame of age and beauty to the pastoral scene. After a moment, she spied the form of a man, lying on top of the wall, basking in the rising sun. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was Harry; his eyes were closed, his arms interlocked behind his head. He was smiling, as if he was seeing something pleasing, and Ginny hoped, just for a second, that he was thinking of her.

She turned to her mother, “I’m famished!”
Harry Potter’s repose on the wall was enjoyable. He was lying on a section of the wall that was atop one of the larger hills of the property. He was dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt that had to have been one Ron’s from a younger time, as it fit him snugly about the arms. Nearby, a large English elm, untouched by blight or disease, rose majestically from the hill’s apex. A light breeze fanned over Harry, its passage only marked by the sound of the leaves of the tree. Sunlight cascaded down on him, warming his face and body. It felt to Harry as if he were a wilted plant, deprived of nutrition, was suddenly being given sustenance by the pure light of the sun. Harry smiled at that thought, Neville surely would have been pleased by that.

Harry had been thinking on what had happened to him. First and foremost, he was ecstatic about being with Ginny. Although they hadn’t talked specifically about the anxiety he’d been feeling about their relationship before the encounter with the Furies, he had a distinct feeling, based on their interaction over the past few days, that the anxiety and despair would not return. In fact, he was quite sure of it.

He was more surprised as his thoughts turned towards his first mission as an Auror. Harry had been reviewing every action, every response, every minute regarding his travels to Suilven. He had bounced details off of Dawlish and Lachlan, during their visits to him in St. Mungo’s, when they came for follow-up interviews. The startling thing was that Harry was quite satisfied with how the mission went.

In the past, especially during his time at Hogwarts, Harry always questioned himself as to what he was doing, and how events had turned out. If he survived an encounter with Voldemort or his henchmen, he would credit his success to luck or unplanned assistance from some ally. Harry had never been sure of what he was doing; he’d never been confident of his decisions in critical times. On numerous occasions, he’d been paralyzed by indecision, which had made for potentially catastrophic results. Even during the final battle at Hogwarts, Harry had always thought that his actions were dictated by a little panic and a lot of anxiety. Up to that last fateful walk towards Voldemort and Harry’s eventual death, temporarily at least, Harry had never been quite sure that he was doing the right thing, making the right choice.

This uncertainty had carried over into his post Hogwarts life. It had permeated almost every decision he made: Where should he live? How should he be with Ginny? Should he be an Auror? It seemed like in every facet of his life required constant thought and a certain amount of angst. That had all changed with his escapade at the Grey Castle.

Harry reflected on the entire journey. He remembered his confidence in dealing with the patrons at the “Targe”. He made solid decisions, like not flying up to the mountain and night, but waiting for morning. During his encounter with the Furies, his actions were quick and decisive. His responses to them escalated incrementally. He remembered how he tried to stun, then conjured his Patronus and then his final spell to defeat them. Even when he’d fallen down into the pit, he’d still managed to find a way to summon help. During the entire time, he’d not been afraid of dying. He’d already died before, so if that was the worse that could happen, then so be it. Harry had kept his wits about him, and most importantly, as he thought back, he could not think of a single event, a single decision that he made which he would change.

Harry sat up and swung his legs around to allow them to hang over the wall. In retrospect, he’d done quite well. He had always possessed strong magic, exceptional magic, some would say, but he was a boy then. Now, for the first time, he felt grown up. He felt like he was a man, any doubt about his capabilities were erased. In his mind’s eye, he felt like he could see images of Remus, Sirius and his father, smiling at him with knowing grins, as if he’d finally passed some test of maturity. In a small way, Harry’s shoulders began to straighten back and broaden a little, nevermore to slouch in the manner of someone unsure of his path in life.

Ginny exited the door from the kitchen. She began to walk towards Harry, her eyes never leaving his figure. He looks different, somehow, she thought. She really hadn’t seen him upright, unhurt in weeks. Physically, he was taller, his shoulders broader. His taut shirt showed the outlines of a more impressive muscularity. Not over done like some of the men she'd seen on the Quidditch pitch, but lithe, athletic, almost predatory. His legs seemed longer, and his jeans were tight against the curvature of his thighs and calves. Even in his relaxed pose, he seemed coiled, ready to leap up at a moment’s notice. It was as if she was seeing him, again, for the first time. As she neared, she could make out his face, and she could see his eyes. His viridian eyes locked with hers. They seemed almost iridescent as they danced with obvious delight in seeing her. Her heart fluttered, her breath caught in her lungs. She felt a little light-headed. Ever since she was a little girl, that first day she saw him on Platform 9 ¾, she’d thought him handsome. Today, she realized, the man she loved, Harry James Potter, was, for lack of a better term, sexy.

Harry smiled as Ginny made her way towards him. The sun was at her back, its rays dancing through the tresses of her crimson locks. He loved her hair, it’s fiery hue seemed alive as it bounced with every stride she took. It marked the outline of her face perfectly. Harry’s breath always shortened, whenever he saw her face. Every facet, every feature seemed to etch a place in his memory. He could place every line, every freckle, every curve in perfect clarity. Her eyes twinkled in amusement, as if the radiant smile on her lips had a connection with them. Years of Quidditch play had toned her body. She wasn’t that ten year old girl he remembered, nor was she the awkward teen he first fell in love with. She was a woman, of her own mind, which was incredibly appealing. She walked unhurriedly, but definitely with purpose. Her movements drew his eyes to her figure. Her legs were strong and lean. Her body was beautiful, her growth into adulthood had added curves in the right places. Yes, Harry thought, she was definitely a woman, and, bringing a twinkle to his eye, she was incredibly sexy.

Ginny approached the wall and leaned her arms on the top, next to where Harry was sitting. “There you are.”

“Hello, there. Sleep well?” Harry leaned down to place a kiss on her lips.

“Yes, you’re up early, everything alright?”

Harry looked at her, “Of course, I just got tired of being inside, I needed to get out for a bit. Why? Were you worried about me?”

Ginny’s cheeks reddened, “No, don’t be silly.”

“You know, you don’t need to worry about me, Ginny.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry paused, “What I’m saying is that, I’m fine. Actually, I’ve never felt better. Becoming an Auror was the a good decision.”

“That’s good, Harry.” Her tone was less then enthusiastic, maybe her thoughts about his desire to be an Auror were right.

“Ginny…” “Harry…”

Both laughed at trying to start the talk they’d been wanting to get to. Harry inclined his head, indicating that she should start.

“Harry, I’d thought I’d lost you, but the thing of it is, that, I’d been worried that I’d lost you a while back, before your mission.” The look she gave him was almost pleading.

He looked at her, “Ginny, I’d felt the same way about you! I’d thought that, well, with your travel and time with the Harpies, that you’d needed to get on with your life. I love you so much, I thought that, well, who was I to stand in the way?”

Ginny’s expression turned puzzled, then amazed. “I thought that’s the way you felt about being an Auror! I’d always thought you were supposed to make sacrifices for the one you love.”

Harry leapt down from the wall and stood next to her, drawing her to him. “Ginny, when I was down in that pit, when I thought I would not make it out, I thought of you, it’s always been about you. It brought me hope. When I changed the galleon, I knew you would come. I knew, no matter what, you would come. I suppose this is part of learning to be a couple. Perhaps we should really try to work on our communication or something like that.”

“Where’d you learn that? Have you been reading Ron’s book on bewitching witches?” There was laughter in her tone.
“Not exactly, but it was something that Ron taught me, believe it or not. He tried to tell me the day I left.”

Ginny laughed and told Harry about the talk she’d had with Hermione. “Can you believe that Ron would be teaching us about matters of the heart?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Hermione has always been a great teacher, maybe it works better when you have such a blank slate to work with.”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and the burst into laughter. The emotions of loss and love, pain and recovery were all expunged in that one instant. After a while, their giggles subsided and they just looked at each other. Leaning in, together, they kissed, deep.

Harry pulled away slightly, “Never again, Ginny, never again will we be apart. I don’t mean physically, of course, but I mean, I’ll never doubt us, ever. We’re linked, we were meant to be, and I’ll do my best to make sure we are never apart, here,” He pressed his hand to her heart, “I love you, and I want to be together, forever.”

She took his hand in hers, and looked up at him, a tear forming in her eye, “Absolutely. I love you, too, Harry, don’t ever doubt it again.” After a moment, she continued, “I guess it took us long enough. Hermione was right, we are a bit obtuse, aren’t we?”

“I guess it comes with the territory,” Harry continued, “what with the whole saving the world and all.”

Together, they burst into another round of laughter. Finally, they came together in a lasting embrace, tender and loving.

In one of the outer buildings of the compound, unseen, three figures watched the couple on the hill. George Weasley, Cho Chang and Dennis Creevey were carrying out their assigned guard duties.

Cho turned her eyes downward, “I know we’re keeping watch over Harry, but I don’t think we need to use your Extendable Ears. It’s unseemly.”

“Come on, Cho!” George was reeling in the ears, “We’ve got to be sure they’re safe, we’re doing our duty.”

Dennis’ cheeks were tinged with color, he’d been embarrassed at spying on Harry and Ginny’s private moment. “Just put them away.”

“Suit yourself, but if we miss my sister slapping an Imperious curse on Harry, we’ll be sorry.”

This time, the object Cho threw didn’t miss the back of George’s head.


***Author's Note: I think we've pretty much established Ginny and Harry's relationship. Originally, this is where I had intended to end the story, but I've gotten a little carried away, so we're going to have to go ahead and find out who's behind this nefarious plot. More to come, but it helps to hear back from you.


http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 12 – Hero’s Return

The next few weeks were ideal for Harry. He spent every waking minute with Ginny. He felt his life had taken a turn for the better. He’d been surprised over the time he was convalescing; at how many of his old friends from his Hogwarts days had taken time out of their lives to visit. Their visits lasted quite a while and he enjoyed every minute of it.

As the days passed, he began to feel that the time was right for him to return of the Office of Aurors. Harry thought that the conversation with Ginny about his return would be difficult, and it was.

“Why can’t you just stay here, Harry?” Ginny had her arms folded as he attempted to convince her of his desire to return. “They haven’t even found who’s behind this.”

“That’s precisely why I have to return, Ginny.” He straightened up and took her hand. “We have to live our lives. I’m not doing anything, here, Ginny. I have to go back and at least try to help. I promise, I’ll be back, safe and sound.”

Ginny wasn’t quite convinced, but nodded her head hesitantly. Dinner that night was a quiet affair. When Ginny told her parents that Harry had decided to return to work, Molly Weasley immediately understood her daughter’s mood. Arthur Weasley was completely oblivious.

“Splendid, Harry. Why don’t we go in together?” Harry was relieved at the offer. He would be ready the next morning.

That night, Harry had difficulty falling asleep. His thoughts kept drifting to the woman in the next room. Rising silently, he tip toed down the hallway to Ginny’s room. Opening the door slowly, he snuck in and whispered her name, “Ginny, are you awake?”

“Yes.” The reply was immediate. He moved over towards her voice and sat at the foot of the bed.

“Ginny, I…”

“It’s alright, Harry. Really.” She sat up to look at him. “We talked about this. I know it’s different now, but I can’t help but be worried.”

“You’re sure?” Harry tried to catch a glimpse of her eyes in the darkness.

“I’m sure.” This time her voice was much more confident. “I just, well, could you just, hold me tonight?” He didn’t make any response, but simply moved to the open spot on the bed.

Harry rose early the next morning. Easing out of bed slowly, so as not to disturb Ginny’s slumber, he made his way back to his room to dress. He’d been preparing for this day, almost since the first day he was released from the hospital. He dressed quickly, and gathered his bag and went downstairs.

The elder Weasleys were already up and about, in the kitchen. When Mrs. Weasley saw Harry, she didn’t speak, at first. After a moment, she caught herself, and asked Harry if he’d like breakfast.

After breakfast, Mr. Weasley rose from the table. “Well, ready Harry?” Harry rose with him.

“Harry! Wait.” Ginny bound down the stairs. She stopped short upon seeing him. Looking him up and down, she smiled, as if a brand new confidence had come over her. “I just wanted to wish you luck.”

He smiled at her, “I’ll be home for dinner.” He went to her and kissed her full on the lips. Mr. Weasley gave his wife a surprised glance. Molly Weasley simply shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

Arthur Weasley recovered his composure, “Well, I guess we should be off.” He led Harry out to the front courtyard and in a flash, both were gone. Ginny sat down at the table, a look of quiet confidence on her face.

“So, Ginny dear, what do you have planned for today?” Ginny looked at her mother, a decision already made.

“I think I’ll drop in on Hermione. I need to discuss something with her.”

Harry and Arthur appeared in the main hall of the Ministry of Magic. With a nod, Arthur made his way towards his office. Harry paused a moment and adjusted his robes. He took a deep breath; he started his walk into the Ministry.

The Harry Potter that strode into the Ministry of Magic today was remarkably different from the one that was dispatched to Scotland. His gait was long, confident. His shoulders were thrown back which accentuated his height. His head was up, allowing him to face forward, presenting a determined figure to any observer.

More than his stature and carriage, Harry had changed his overall physical appearance as well. He wore black pants, tucked neatly into a pair high black leather boots, which had a mirror shine buff. He’d put on a white collared oxford with a tie decorated in his old Gryffindor colors. His robes were midnight black, and flowed freely as if they were alive. The only hint of color on the robes was the gleaming silver Aurors shield affixed to his left breast. It highlighted his position, and created an aura of authority around Harry. The most dramatic change could be found on his face. Gone were the round, adolescent spectacles that had been his hallmark. In their place were wire rimmed, more rectangular glasses, which were perched firmly on his nose. The effect made his face look narrower and leaner. A further impact was that Harry’s eyes were much better framed, more visible, more mysterious. The only remnant of his uniform from his previous visit was his rucksack. It was beaten and worn from his experience in Scotland and Harry carried it high over one shoulder, displaying it like a talisman, as if to say he had not been defeated.

Instead of shuffling through the foyer, one of many functionaries of the government, the crowd seemed to part to let him through. Here and there, people would stop and whisper to each other as they noticed his passing. Harry ignored them, and made a straight line for the elevators. Within minutes he was back in the Office of Aurors.

After settling in, Harry went down to Dawlish’s office. Knocking on the door, Harry entered to find McCrory and Jackson-Smythe inside with Dawlish. Dawlish had a distinct, exhausted look about him and Jackson-Smythe looked the same as when Harry first met him.

Lachlan McCrory had made a transformation almost as dramatic as Harry’s. Gone were the tattered, worn rags and the mangy, hunted appearance. In their place, Lachlan was groomed neatly and he had on an impressive set of Auror robes. He greeted Harry warmly.

“Harry, good to see you.” He extended his hand and offered him a firm shake. “You look refreshed, ready to get to work.”

“Thanks Lachlan, good to see you as well. Back with us, I see?” McCrory nodded with a smile. Harry turned to Dawlish, “Sir, any news on what’s behind all this?”

Dawlish glanced quickly at Jackson-Smythe. Miles gave him quick shrug of the shoulders. “Well Harry, we interrogated Sarah Peebles, apparently she was the victim of an Imperious Curse.”

Miles interjected, “We think we have some idea that there was some Deatheater involvement, but right now it’s just rumor, nothing concrete.”

“So, what’s our next step?” Harry looked from man to man. “What’s next?”

“Look, Harry. The Minister gave us specific instructions to keep you out of this.” Dawlish offered a sheepish look. “I think he believes that we can’t risk you.”

“Sir, that’s rubbish, there’s got to be something I can do.” Harry was not pleased with the response.

“We’ve got some things for you follow up on, Harry.” Dawlish shook his head no at Harry’s unspoken question as whether this dealt with the Furies investigation. “Your situation isn’t the only thing that the Office of Aurors handles, Harry.”

Harry was visibly disappointed. Dawlish gave him a critical look. “Are you saying that the work we assign other Aurors is beneath you, Mr. Potter?”

Ashamed at the rebuke, Harry shook his head. “Then, I suggest you get to work, we’ll keep you up on what’s going on.”

Harry straightened up and nodded goodbye to the three and started back to his office. When he arrived, he heard a rustle of feathers, and Helios, his owl stood perched on his window sill. Attached to his leg was a small bit of parchment. Stroking Helios’ head, he pulled the paper out and unrolled it.

“Harry, Have a pleasant day back. I can’t wait to see you tonight. All my love, Ginny”

Harry sighed, the sentiment placating the disappointment he was feeling. He re-rolled Ginny’s message and placed it in his pocket. Another ruffle of feathers announced the arrival of more owls with official looking messages.

Sitting down at his desk, the new Harry Potter began to file through the pile of Underage Use of Magic reports that had collected in his absence.

Chapter 13 – The New Recruit

After Harry had left with her father, Ginny ate a quick breakfast and went upstairs to change. For the past couple of weeks, Ron and Hermione had been conspicuous by their absence. Ginny had been so wrapped up in caring for Harry, so she hadn’t noticed. Now that Harry was back to work, she decided to catch up with her brother and sister-in-law.

Later that morning, she apparated back to the building where Ron and Hermione lived. When she turned towards their door, she spied a familiar figure approaching. Luna Lovegood offered Ginny a warm smile.

“Luna, how are you? What are you doing here?”

“We have another P.A. meeting, I’ve missed seeing everyone.” Ginny gave Luna a puzzled look.

“P.A.? Don’t you mean D.A.?” Luna smiled sweetly at Ginny.

“No silly, because we’re here to help Harry. It’s Potter’s Army, so it’s the P.A.” Luna grabbed her friend’s hand. Leaning in towards Ginny’s ear, she whispered, “Anyway, we couldn’t be the D.A., because Colin and Fred aren’t here anymore. It wouldn’t be right if we couldn’t have everyone from Dumbledore’s Army. Now come on, we don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

Luna knocked on the door. When Hermione answered, Luna tugged on Ginny’s arm and pulled her into the apartment, openly startling the assembled group. Ginny’s eyes swept the room, taking in the faces of her friends.

“What is going on here?” She looked at her brother Ron, who quickly lowered his head, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Her gaze shifted to her brother George, who tossed her a quick salute. Hermione stepped up to Ginny and pulled her aside.

“Ginny, why don’t we go speak privately.” The women walked into the adjacent bedroom. “Now, don’t be upset, we only want to help.”

An exasperated Ginny pulled her arm away from her friend, “Help with what? Hermione, what is going on here?”

Hermione described the events that had led to the creation of Potter’s Army. When Hermione described what she and her friends had been doing, Ginny was slightly alarmed.

“You mean to tell me that someone has been watching us this entire time?” Ginny thought back to all of the private moments that she and Harry had shared over the past few weeks. “How closely have we been watched?”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush. Quickly she changed the subject, “You’re not mad at us, are you?”

Ginny grinned, “No silly, I’d come over here to ask for help. I’ve been wanting to do something, and I don’t know what. This is a grand idea.”

Hermione’s relief was apparent on her face. The two walked back to the meeting. Rapidly, they brought Ginny up to date on what they’d been able to find out so far. Neville laid out the details.

“From what we know so far, Sarah Peebles wasn’t working of her own will. She was given a simple instruction and she followed it. We don’t know where or when it happened.” Neville pulled out a parchment. “Our plan was to take two approaches. First, we would put a protective cordon around Harry.”

Hermione interjected, “We couldn’t tell you, Ginny. You were, er, well, close to Harry. We were trying to do this, so that, he didn’t have to worry.” Hermione’s discomfort with their activities was evident.

“We’re sorry about spying on you, Ginny. For what it’s worth, I’m very happy for you two, it was very sweet.” Cho’s words seemed to placate Ginny somewhat.

George chortled, “Yes, it was very sweet!” Ginny’s face became a deeper shade of crimson.

Neville restarted his presentation before George’s ability to walk became a question of doubt. “Er, right, anyway, our second approach was to sit down and identify people that we knew from Harry’s past that would harbor so much hate that they wanted to kill him.”

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. “You started with the Deatheaters, I suppose.”

Dennis Creevey spoke up, “That seemed logical. As far as we know, there are eight still on the loose. We’ve each tried to track down their whereabouts.”

There were nods all around. The first to speak up was Dean Thomas, “Goyle Senior is the shadow of the man we knew. Aurors caught up with him last week, and he’s cooling his heels in Azkeban.” Dean turned to the Lee Jordan on his right.

“Rookwood is accounted for, he was killed by a dragon while he was trying to hide out in Romania. Your brother Charles found his body, or what was left of it.” Lee smiled at the thought. He turned the meeting back over to Neville.

“That leaves Deatheaters that neither we, nor the Ministry can account for: Dolohov, Jugson, Nott and Travers.” Neville hesitated.

Ginny noticed the omission, “Wait, you said there were eight, you’ve only named six. Who’s left?”

Ron spoke up, “Well, it’s the Malfoys.”

“The Malfoys?” Ginny could scarcely believe her ears, “How can they be unaccounted for?”

“That’s just it, both Lucious and Draco have disappeared.” Hermione pulled out a binder that contained appeared to contain several issues of the Daily Prophet. “Lucious fell out of sight about a year ago, and no one has seen Draco in almost a month.”

Cho had a thoughtful look on her face. After wrestling with whatever she was thinking about, she spoke up, “Wouldn’t that exclude Draco?” All eyes locked in on her. “Well Harry was sent to visit the Furies almost six weeks ago, and Draco hasn’t been seen in a month, so, how could he have planned all this being in full view of the authorities?”

The concept resonated with the group. Ron looked up, “Blimey, she has a point, besides that git Draco never had the spine to do something like this. He’s too much of a coward.”

“My money is on his old man.” Seamus Finnegan was firm in his conviction. “He’s been after Harry for years. He was behind the smear campaign at the Daily Prophet after the Triwizard.” Seamus’ still stung from his parents’ and his own belief in the lies that were published in the Prophet during their fifth year at Hogwarts.

“What should we do next?” Ginny was up and moving around. She always did her best thinking while pacing.

“I think we need to concentrate on Lucious, he’s the most obvious. We follow up on each one, until we find them and either exclude them or identify them.” Dennis was more direct in his words; he was taking a more active role in the organization. His suggestion was a good one, and the others indicated their agreement.

Padma Patil meekly raised her hand, “Just one thing, what about the Furies? Even if these men were responsible, how did they know about the Furies?”

“What do you mean, Padma?” Hermione prodded the quiet girl.

“If they knew about the Furies, then why didn’t Voldemort use them when he ruled? They would have made powerful allies.” Padma looked at her friends and gathered herself up, “But they didn’t. We all saw that pit, there had been creatures murdered there for years. Who had been helping them? The Deatheaters were helping Voldemort of a good portion of that time.”

The answer to this question wasn't immediately available to the group. Ginny looked around, “We’ll need to look into that, there’s still something missing here. Padma has a good point.”

“I think we need to research more of this.” Hermione’s brain was working at a furious pace. “Neville and I are best equipped to this.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Ron’s hurt expression brought a smile to Hermione’s face.

“I know that Ron, I wasn’t saying you were stupid. It’s just that I work at the Ministry, I can use their resources to see if there’s any history on the Furies. And Neville is teaching at Hogwarts. He can look through the library there without raising an eyebrow.”

Somewhat mollified, Ron gave his wife a smile and sat down. Ginny smiled inwardly at their exchange. “I think since Harry has gone back to working at the Ministry, we won’t have to watch him during the day.”

Luna raised her voice, “It’s so lucky we have Ginny with us, she can watch Harry at night for us. Do you think you can keep him close during the evenings?”

Ginny had to turn away from her friends in order to hide her fiercely burning face and the guffaws that were emanating from George and Ron.

“Wait, that’s not a bad idea.” Dennis’ brow was creased in concentration, “With all the ground we have to cover, Ginny can give us a warning if she needs us. Ginny, does Harry still have his galleon?”

“I don’t think so, I haven’t seen him with it. I think he dropped it in the pit.”

Dennis was excited, “That’s perfect, you can communicate with us, and he won’t even have to know.” Hermione’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.

“That’s positively brilliant, Dennis.” Hermione spoke out to all of them. “Anything else?”

No one had anything further to add. The meeting adjourned. They began to file out, one by one. Ginny shook hands and helped to walk each out. Finally, it was just her, Ron and Hermione.

“I don’t know what to say.” Her heart was warmed by the support her friends were giving Harry. She no longer felt alone in her fears, and even better, she was doing something proactive to help the man she loved.

Ron sat pensively; he wanted to say something, but was thinking twice about it. Hermione gave him a look that told him to just spit it out. “I don’t like keeping Harry in the dark about this.”

Hermione turned to Ron, “We’ve talked about this. We are trying to take this burden off of him.”

“He’s different Hermione; I don’t think he’ll be happy. He’ll want to be involved.”

Ginny thought about this, “You’re probably right, Ron. I don’t like keeping anything from him either, but we’re so close to an answer. Let’s see if we can come up with something and then we’ll tell Harry, okay?”

Ron was far from convinced. His sister may be in love with Harry, and Hermione was one of Harry’s best friend, but Ron and Harry were mates. They’d fought and hurt together. Ron was also a husband, and knew how the love for someone could blind a person to doing the right thing.

Ginny meant well, but her judgment may have been clouded by the potential that Harry could be hurt. Ron had no such misgivings. He knew that Harry was a man of action, and truthfully, if things turned into a fight, Ron wanted Harry with them.

Ron kept his thoughts to himself. Instead he turned to his sister, “So, how will you keep a close watch on Harry at night?”

Hermione’s elbow was especially sharp this time around.


***Author's Note: Thanks for all the great feedback, it's helping with the story. I'm trying to get these out as fast as I can.

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Chapter 14 – Ron’s Choice

One of Harry’s favorite times of the day at the Burrow was dusk. The sunset this evening was especially dramatic. As he arrived back to the Weasley’s home, he stopped himself in the courtyard to take in the scene. The sun had just dipped below the hills on the western horizon. The sky was symphony of rose, pink and gold that seemed to fighting the inevitable darkness of the night. The moon and stars were visible, spectators to the nightly dance. The air was still, an evening mist covered the fields, like a cool blanket that seemed assure the woodland denizens that it was time for slumber.

Harry enjoyed the time he’d been spending here, but he felt out of place. He was better, his injuries all but gone. He’d have to talk to Ginny, but his goal was to return to his home on Grimmauld Place. Perhaps she could come with him, or they could work something out. He just couldn’t bring himself to feel independent and grown up if he was spending his nights sleeping in Ron’s childhood room. Harry turned to look at the main house and saw that the first story was brightly lit. The din of laughter was emanating from the structure, giving the impression that a party was going on. Harry started his walk towards the house.

The Weasley kitchen was more crowded than it had been in weeks. When Harry walked in, crammed around the table were several of his friends, and when you get right down to it, his family. Ron was sitting across the table with Hermione sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting next to them, the look on Molly’s face was almost rapture. Harry grinned inwardly, thinking that Mrs. Weasley’s definition of happiness was a kitchen full of people that she could foist her succulent concoctions upon. George and Lee Jordan sat in the corner, talking in animated whispers, obviously planning their next mayhem-inducing invention. Harry’s eyes finally rested on Ginny, who’d been sitting at the end of the table, facing the door. When he walked in, her eyes reflected a look of absolute delight mingled with the weariness of relief. He drunk in the sight of her, and tried to give her a look that communicated that all was well and that he’d loved her more now than when he saw her this morning. He often envied the unique way that mature couples had that allowed them to convey a library’s worth of information with a small glance or subtle gesture. He’d seen it with Molly and Arthur Weasley for years, and Ron and Hermione had been developing this ability since their time at Hogwarts, well before their love had even revealed itself to each other.

Everyone in the room shouted in greeting. His arrival had been anticipated, apparently. Except for the elder Weasleys and Ginny, no one had seen Harry’s physical change in its total presentation and the others in the room felt a spark of surprise and interest, as if the lightning bolt on Harry’s forehead had reached out and struck each of them in turn. Ron was especially affected by Harry’s presence. Ron took in the transformation, and a slight tinge of guilt passed before his face, before he was able to rein it in. Hermione wasn’t one to remain speechless for too long.

“Harry! You look splendid! Everything’s healed?” Hermione did a quick inspection, and took special note of Harry’s eyes, now better displayed behind his new glasses. She felt a strength from him, the change was more than in appearance, he just seemed more formidable. Doubt began to filter into her mind, but that was quickly stopped with a brief glance at Ginny.

“I feel great, Hermione. I’ve never felt better. In fact,” He hesitated, and gave Ginny had long look, “I think that I may head back to Grimmauld Place soon.” Looks of alarm and concern passed over everyone. Harry pressed on, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything that you’ve done for me,” He made a point to look right at Molly and Arthur, “It’s just that, I think it’s time.”

Around the table, the clandestine members of the P.A. were furiously trying to come up with a reason to prevent Harry from leaving the Burrows. Unfortunately, the answer had not reached any of them before Arthur Weasley spoke up, “That’s a brilliant idea, Harry. I’d expect an Auror to want to be in his own space. I think it’s positively smashing.”

Ginny wondered, for a moment, whether her father’s motives were tied to some discomfort with her relationship with Harry.

Hermione recovered her wits, “That’s great Harry, I agree.” Ron raised a questioning eyebrow towards her. “Maybe, you could have someone stay with, just until you’re absolutely sure you’re better. You wouldn’t want Mrs. Weasley to worry, would you? Maybe one of us could stay with you, at least for a couple of weeks or so?”

“I can do it!” Ginny’s response came out a little more eager than she intended and drew questioning looks from her parents. “Well, what I mean is that Grimmauld is closer to the Harpies’ headquarters, and there’s so much room over there and I helped with its decoration.”

Mrs. Weasley spoke for the first time, “Ginny, I think it’s a marvelous idea.” Molly offered her husband a warm smile when gave her a barely audible harrumph.

Ron added, “I like it. Aside from Harry, Ginny is the only person that Kreacher doesn’t hate.”

With that, Harry smiled and sat down with them for dinner. The meal passed with everyone avoiding questions about Furies or conspiracies. Instead, most centered on George and how Weasley’s Wheezes was flourishing, now that Lee Jordan had joined the business. The conversation flowed to Harry’s first day back and what interesting things were going on with Hermione and the house-elves. Arthur spoke of some of the wonders that muggles had created like something called a blender and a microwave which both fascinated and appalled the culinary minded Molly. The evening slowly drew to a conclusion and George and Lee took their leave. Harry stood up to announce his intent to pack his things for his return to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Hermione saw an opportunity, “Ron, why don’t you go up and help Harry.” Hermione gave Ginny a “wait here” look. Ron understood Hermione’s need to speak with Ginny outside earshot of Harry and jumped up to help. The two friends proceeded up the stairs while Arthur and Molly headed into the living room for their evening toddy.

Ginny took a quick look around, “So, have you found anything?”

“Not much, Furies had ancient magic. From what I could find out, there was no way for any wizard to control them.” Hermione bit the corner of her lip, an indicator that her vast intellect was analyzing the data “But the curious thing is that they could not travel away from their lair. They feed on humans and magic, but their prey had to be brought to them. Neville checked the library at Hogwarts and found an interesting item, whoever served the Furies in this capacity doesn’t only have to be a wizard. He’d found evidence that goblins and house-elves have served in that capacity.”

A knowing look covered Ginny’s face. “That’s why you want me to accompany Harry to Grimmauld. You want me to talk to Kreacher.”

Hermione nodded. “Ron is a very shrewd person. He was right, you are the only person, aside from Harry that could talk with him.”

Ginny and Hermione put their heads together and finalized their next moves.

Ron and Harry were busily collecting Harry’s things, and placing them in a waiting trunk. They weren’t moving at a brisk pace, taking time to share a laugh about one item or another. As the task neared completion, Ron sat on the bed.

“So, Harry, you and Ginny are better, yeah?”

Harry gave his friend a smile, “Absolutely superb, Ron. You were right about that. It’s been better than I could possibly imagine.”

Ron gave Harry a look, “You know, it gets better than that. I can’t explain it, but it really does get better every day. Every time I think that I couldn’t love Hermione any more, I find more. We really are two parts of a whole, you know. She doesn’t belittle me, she is a part of me.”

Harry took a second look at his friend. He couldn’t help but marvel at his maturity. Ron had grown wise in his time since Hogwarts. Harry’s mind reflected on how marriage had helped Ron along to this point, but considering their past, Harry knew that there was a lot more to his friend than was seen on the surface.

“So how’s the Wheezes business, anyway?” Harry changed the subject.

“It’s great, really. Lee has brought a lot to us. I think he was raised on Eye-Puff Pastries. We’ve never done better.” Harry detected a slight note of hesitation in Ron’s voice. “Anyway, has it gotten better for you as an Auror? The whole near fatal collision with mythological evil witches aside, of course.”

Harry chuckled heartily. “It’s gotten better. You know, it suits me. I’m happy. Even with the minor things I work on, I’m making a difference, I have a purpose.”

“That’s good mate, I’m happy for you, really.” Ron’s eyes turned downwards.

“What is it Ron? What’s bothering you?”

Ron eyed Harry straight on, “Do you remember, back in school, when we both had thought we’d be Aurors?” Harry nodded his head. “When we left school, I thought that I didn’t want to be an Auror, but now, I think that maybe I made a wrong decision.”

Harry was taken slightly aback by his friend’s admission. “What are you saying Ron, you want to an Auror, now?”

“That’s what I’m saying. I want more out of life. I want to make a difference. I want to be more to me and to Hermione than someone who makes Joopy Cushions for a living.”

Harry interjected, “I think the muggles call them ‘Whoopy Cushions’.”

“Whatever, what I want is to be an Auror. It’s what I’m good at, it’s what I want to do. What do you think?”

“I think you should talk to Hermione first,” Ron rolled his eyes, sometimes Harry was master of the obvious. Harry ignored the gesture, “I think that if this is what you want, I’ll ask around at the Office tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Ron looked around for any other articles that needed to be packed. “We’d better get you out of here soon. Judging from my dad’s expression when he found out Ginny was going with you, he might want to put you in that muggle blender himself.”


***Author's Note: I think it's coming together. Keep the comments coming.

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Chapter 15 – Home

Considering that he really didn’t have a lot of possessions at the Weasleys, Harry decided to make the trek back to his Grimmauld Place dwelling, then and there. Ron and Hermione volunteered to help Harry and Ginny carry their things. When the time came to depart, Harry received a grudging handshake from Mr. Weasley which was diametrically opposed to the crushing bear hug Mrs. Weasley had delivered. Harry wondered to himself what his reaction would be, were he and Ginny were lucky enough to have a daughter of their own.

When arrived at the front of 12 Grimmauld Place, the neighborhood was very quiet. With very little fanfare, the two couples carried their burdens up the landing and into Harry’s home. Told to leave the luggage at the foot of the stairs, the four moved into the kitchen. The change to Sirius Black’s former family home had been extraordinary. Harry and Ginny had spent the past few years remaking the entire dwelling to something that reflected their own time and their own vision. Gone were the portraits that reflected the darkness of the Black family, including the spiteful portrait of Sirius’ mother. Harry had installed large bay windows in the front rooms which allowed sunlight to flow throughout the home during the day. The baleful tapestry containing the Black family tree had finally been removed and the room turned into a sitting room, a not so subtle homage to the Gryffindor Common room that Harry and Ginny had spent so many happy times in.

The place was home, moreover, it was Harry’s home. For his entire life, Harry was basically a vagabond, a forced guest in the homes that he lived, whether it be the Dursley’s or even the Weasleys. Hogwarts had become his real home, but even there, he did not have a space to call his own. This was one of the facets of his life that, ironically, made Harry’s life similar to his vanquished foe, Voldemort. The Dark Lord had been an orphan, shuttled from place to place until he found Hogwarts. Harry glowed at the fact that, now he had something else that set him apart from his foe.

The four friends entered the kitchen to find Harry’s house-elf, Kreacher, fussing over the stove. Four mugs of hot chocolate, accented with fresh whipped cream and cinnamon were on the table.

“Greetings Master Harry, Mistress Ginny.” Kreacher nodded to them both, but visibly ignored Ron and Hermione. “It is pleasing to have you home finally.”

“Hello, Kreacher, it’s good to be home.” The aroma of the hot chocolate and whatever Kreacher was baking seemed to overpower Harry’s senses. “How did you know we’d be coming tonight?”

Kreacher shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and faced Harry full on. “Master Harry, please forgive Kreacher for not helping you. Kreacher was not allowed to visit, but Kreacher knew that you were recovering from your injuries.”

“Really? Did you find out from someone at Hogwarts?” Kreacher pulled a tray of fresh chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and placed them directly on the large wooden table.

Giving an insistent gesture for Harry and Ginny to sit down, and deigning to allow Ron and Hermione to follow, Kreacher answered. “Professor Longbottom made a point to inform me of your condition. He said he would give me updates after his P.A. meetings, and he regularly came to tell me about Master Harry.”

Ron, Hermione and Ginny shared an inaudible intake of breath. Secretly they watched Harry’s reaction to Kreacher’s statement. The interval seemed to take forever. The actual passage of time was barely discernable.

“That’s good Kreacher. Never you mind, I am home, and Ginny has agreed to stay with us. Will that present a problem for you?” Harry didn’t seem to notice Kreacher’s inadvertent disclosure.

“Kreacher is elated, Master Harry. I must say, Kreacher can not wait until Mistress Ginny properly becomes your wife. Kreacher is very good at caring for children.” The gnome-like house servant cast an expectant glance at Ginny.

Ginny tried to hide her embarrassment behind a sip of her hot chocolate. She managed to hide behind the massive mug, but her neck had followed her cheeks in turning a deep ruddy red. Soon, their dessert over, Ron and Hermione decided to take their leave. On her way out, Hermione passed a relieved and knowing look with Ginny.

Harry and Ginny bade Kreacher farewell as he made his return to Hogwarts, but he promised to return in the morning. He seemed genuinely pleased that, once again, the Black family estate would have a permanent presence. The couple moved to the sitting room and noticed that Kreacher had started a fire in the large fire place. Holding Harry’s hand, Ginny maneuvered him to one of the large, high-backed chairs that flanked the hearth. She had Harry sit, and then moved to sit across his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat silently, enjoying their first taste of being together, alone. To Harry, the moment was perfect, he could feel every beat of her heart. The scent of her hair drifted permeated the air, and it was intoxicating to him. He heard her every breath, slow, rhythmic, he could not imagine a better place.

After a while, they decided to turn in for the evening. He clasped her by the hand a led her up the stairs. When they reached the door to his room, he paused, offering the decision of whether to move on to her room, or to do something else up to her. She didn’t hesitate, but walked past him into the open door to Harry’s room, leading him by the hand. They closed the door behind them.

The next morning, Harry woke first and he took the opportunity to gaze at her as she lay in the bed next to him. The sun on the windows cast an aura that reflected gently off her hair. He enjoyed to watch her sleep. Today she seemed happier, more at peace, the barest hint of a smile on her face. She seemed to sense his eyes on her, so she slowly opened her eyes and the hint of a smile turned into the real thing.

She rose with him and they both dressed for the day. Kreacher was busy in the kitchen when they came down. Harry downed a brief breakfast and kissed Ginny with a new passion, much like he saw with the happy married couples he knew. With that, he headed off to the Ministry of Magic.

After he’d gone, Ginny sat for a moment at the kitchen table, watching Kreacher go about his morning routine. “Kreacher, would it be alright to ask you something?”

“Of course, Mistress Ginny. How may I be of service?” Kreacher turned away from what he’d been doing and faced her.

“I was just wondering, well, what do you know about the Furies?” Kreacher seemed surprised by the question.

“Kreacher knows something of Furies.”


“What do you know about who serves them? You see, we know that someone had to tell whoever who was after Harry, where to find the Furies, and we know that goblins and house-elves have served them in the past.”

Kreacher’s features were distressed, “Mistress Ginny! Are you saying that Kreacher would send his master to such a horrid fate?” He began to wail and turned to pound his head against the door of the stove. “Kreacher would never betray Master Harry, never!”

Ginny yelled, “No, Kreacher, that’s not it at all. I need your help. Do you know who serves the Furies now? Who would want to hurt Harry?”

Kreacher stopped his attempt at self-flagellation. He turned and looked at Ginny, his eyes wide in understanding. Composing himself, he looked either way, speaking in a harsh whisper, “The goblins have served the Furies for centuries.”

“Do all of the goblins serve them?” Ginny was thunderstruck at the notion that a battle with all goblins loomed.

“No, Mistress. This is very ancient, very dark magic. I do not understand it fully, but house-elves fear it. House-elves only served the Furies because their masters were servants.”

“Do you know which goblin serves them now?” Ginny was close to an answer. She was near a way to save Harry from further harm.

Kreacher looked at Ginny, and shook his head. “No mistress, the name of whoever serves is stricken from all memory, by very powerful spells. I do not know.”

Ginny was devastated, she had been so close, and now, the information was really no more than she had before. Her frustration showed on her face.

“But, Mistress,” Kreacher looked up at her intently, “I know where they live.”

Ginny turned incredulously. “What? What do you mean? You know where the goblins live?”

“It is written in our ancient texts that if we wanted to serve the Furies, house-elves were to travel to Cape Wrath, in the far north. On the highest cliff overlooking Kearvaig, there is a citadel, the Dark Citadel. All servants of the Furies gather there.” Kreacher bowed his head. “It is a dark place, mistress, very dark indeed.”

Ginny’s eyes were wide in astonishment. Here was the first and most concrete clue they had to the mystery. Her heart was racing; she needed to deliver this news as soon as she could.

“Thank you, Kreacher. You don’t know how much this means to me.” She leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

She ran out of the house, without another word. Had she waited one more minute before leaving, she would have been treated to the sight of the house-elf keeling over onto his back, and passing out from the shock of the kiss.


***Author's note: I just wanted to say that it is not my intention to offend those living in Scotland by planting the locations of the evil ones there. I chose the Suilven and Cape Wrath locations by looking at a topographical map of Scotland from 1928, they fit what I was seeking in a location. Check out the Wikipedia entry on Suilven and you'll see what I mean.

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Chapter 16 – Sacrifice

Harry made his way to his office with a definite renewed vigor in his step. He liked waking up with Ginny. He reveled in the idea that they were together, for real. Today’s walk into the Ministry was marked by his nodding and smiling to everyone he encountered, the entire path to the elevators. Upon entering his office, he sat down at his desk. He’d whittled down his past due assignments to a manageable level. Swiveling around in his chair, he turned to face the window and reclined with his hands interlocked behind his head. His brain was chewing on the puzzle that was his own situation. While the Ministry had said that he couldn’t be actively involved in the investigation that did not preclude him from looking into the matter himself.

He’d also been noticing some rather odd behavior by his friends. Friends from his past showing up at the oddest times, while enjoyable, seemed to occur more often than usual to be accounted for by coincidence. Ron and Hermione had made appearances during his recovery at the Burrow, but had not dwelled for any meaningful amount of time. Even Ginny, though completely open about their relationship and its course, was holding something back from him. His mind drifted back to the visits from his friends. Luna, Neville, Dean, Ernie, Dennis, even Cho, had been around. He found it strangely odd that former members of Dumbledore’s Army were suddenly finding convenient excuses to be around. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were members of the D.A. as well.

“The D.A.” A small memory triggered in the back of Harry’s head. “D.A., D.A…” Something familiar was tugging at him; something very recently said.

Harry suddenly stood straight up, “P.A.!!!” Kreacher had mentioned something about the P.A. It wasn’t exactly the same as “D.A.”, but neither was the fact that Harry was excluded. What if his friends, including the woman he loved, were trying to solve this problem themselves? For a brief moment, the experience within Suilven sent a shiver down his spine. He was a trained Auror, after all, and he barely survived. He had to find out what was going on. He grabbed his bag and flew out his office door.

Ginny arrived at Ron and Hermione’s apartment and knocked on the door furiously. After a moment, Hermione opened the door to her friend. Ginny burst into the apartment, a flurry of energy and excitement. Several members of the P.A. were present, part of an ongoing strategy session. Neville, Dennis, Cho and Dean were clustered around a table that contained various books and papers that they had amassed about the Furies. Ginny walked to the table and started pacing in front of it.

“I’ve got something.” The group turned to look at her. “Cape Wrath, the answer is at Cape Wrath!” she announced triumphantly.

Ginny outlined what Kreacher had told her and the location of the Dark Citadel. The excitement that she felt had been conveyed to them. A flurry of discussion ensued.

Hermione caught everyone’s attention. “So, what do we do? Do we go to the Aurors?”

“We need to check it out ourselves, we need to be sure.” Dennis looked around to his friends. “What if we’re wrong? What if the answer isn’t there? We’d have exposed what we’ve been up to and they’ll put a stop to it.”

A quiet settled upon them as they weighed their options. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a look around, I suppose.” Neville’s quiet voice took them by surprise.

Hermione looked at Ginny, “Should we tell Harry?” Ginny was torn, she knew that Harry had to know about this, but at the same time, Dennis’ point was valid, what if they were wrong?

“Not yet.” She pointed to a blank parchment, “Maybe you should leave a note for Ron. The six of us can handle the scouting; we’ll be back before dinner.”

Harry arrived at his home to find it empty. “Ginny!” He ran up the stairs and searched all the rooms. Not finding her, he ran back to the kitchen. A pit began to form in his stomach. Desperately, he shouted, “Kreacher!”

A flash of smoke and light marked the arrival of the house-elf. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“Have you seen Ginny?” Harry’s insistent tone caused Kreacher to take a quick step back.

“No, Master, Kreacher answered her questions about the evil at Cape Wrath and then she went away.” The house-elf appeared to forget his bout of fainting.

“Cape Wrath? Kreacher, tell me exactly what she said.”

Kreacher related the conversation he’d had with Ginny earlier in the day. As Harry took in the account, his eyes narrowed, especially when he heard the context of Ginny’s inquiries. An ember began to smolder in the recesses of his eyes, which progressed to a steady burn as he heard the entire encounter.

Kreacher had barely finished his retelling before Harry turned and ran out the front door.

The six intrepid friends arrived via Floo at an inn in the small village of Kearvaig. Without so much as a look around them, they rushed out the door, brooms at their sides. In the corner of the room, a small, hook-nosed man with black, soulless eyes looked up from his newspaper and watched them depart. He gave a small smile lacking nary a trace of humor. Folding his paper, he walked out of the inn, and out into the town.

With Ginny in the lead, Hermione, Cho, Neville, Dennis and Dean flew at breakneck speeds, hugging the nape of the earth. Even though they had arrived at midday, the sky was an ebon black, with dark clouds hovering seemingly on top of the earth. The oddity was that there was no rain, no moisture; just an arid dryness, like that generated in the throat of a person who is facing abject terror. The advance party of the P.A. tore through the terrain towards Kearvaig Bay, coming upon the craggy promontories of Cape Wrath.

The place exuded a sense of pure, unadulterated evil. The highest point of land on the Cape was its most northern peak. It stood dark, foreboding, rising straight up out of the ocean, out of place like its soulless brother, Suilven. A fearsome North Sea pelted the cliffs of the rock with a relentless fusillade of power, as if the waters knew great evil dwelt there and sought to smite it from the face of the earth. The mountain didn’t move, didn’t falter, laughing at nature’s most fervent attempts to cleanse its midst.

They landed at the base of the tiny finger of land that connected the monstrosity to the rest of the world. Leaving their brooms, they inched their way across the narrow isthmus towards the center of the peak. A heavy shroud of fog enveloped the top obscuring the middle from observation. With a look around at each other, they proceeded to enter the fog upon crossing the land bridge.

Entering the mist, Ginny’s heart started to race. She could not see more than a few feet in front of her. Every few seconds, she would hazard a glance to either side of her, ensuring that her companions were still in sight. As she made her way forward, her progress would be halted every so often by wild bundles of gorse, forcing her to make a painful extrication from their enveloping thorns. After a time, almost an eternity, the fog began to clear, revealing a squat redoubt. Ginny couldn’t help but thinking that it was smaller than she’d expected. It was square, rising barely three stories above the ground. In the middle of a it’s roof, a dome of weathered stone rose above it. The structure was composed of large, ancient rocks that had been smoothed by time and wear. It was a dark gray, dotted with small arrow slits along its periphery. Ivy covered the walls along their entire length, but the plants were dead and looked black as if the building itself were bleeding its evil into the ground and rock itself.

“It looks deserted.” Cho’s quiet voice seemed to reverberate in a loud echo. “Maybe whoever was here left when the Furies were destroyed?”

Hermione contemplated the statement. “We should look inside, just to be certain.” She took a hesitant step towards the fortress. She suddenly felt a tug on her elbow.

“Hermione, wait.” Ginny turned her friend around. “I don’t think we should go in there. Even if they’re gone, well, look at this place. We should go tell the Aurors.”

“Tell them what?” Ginny turned her head, surprised at force behind Neville’s question. “Do we tell them that found a spooky castle? Is that it? What help would we have been to Harry, then? We would be laughing stocks then, I suspect. Harry wouldn’t trust us to conjure up a cloud, would he?”

Ginny was stung by Neville’s comments. “Easy Neville, just take it easy.” Dennis had moved forward and put one very large hand on Neville’s shoulder.

Neville shrugged off Dennis’ hand and started walking towards the large wooden doors at the base of the building. “If you won’t do what it takes to help Harry, I suppose I will.”

Stunned, the others followed him towards the doors. When they got to the ancient double doors, they glanced around, looking for signs of occupancy. No light shown from beneath the doors, nor was their any indication of movement. Neville reached up and pulled on the large, brass rings that were mounted on the portals. After a moment, the door began it move. Its passing was silent, smooth, its great mass moving effortlessly leaving barely a whisper as it traversed the whole course of its opening. They walked into the opening, entering a dark, open space, quiet as the dead.

A deep, familiar sinister laugh penetrated the silence. “Excellent, our guests have arrived. Lumos!”

Hermione was startled by the sudden brilliance that assaulted her eyes. Recovering quickly, she’d almost wished the lights had remained off. “RUN!” Frantically, she pulled her wand while pushing Ginny back.

As she turned to flee, Ginny heard the impact of a spell, then the crumpling of a body. Casting a quick glance she saw Dean fall. Before she could scream, she saw Hermione knocked to the ground by another spell that hit her from above, she was not moving.

Ginny turned to Dennis and Cho, “Keep moving! Tell Harry! Tell Harry!” Cho hesitated for a moment, then was pushed forward by Dennis, breaking into a run.

Ginny moved back towards the entrance, trying to see if there were any signs of life from her friends. Suddenly, she noticed Neville, still standing in the same place he’d been after opening the door. His eyes were glazed over, his arms were inert, unmoving at his side.

“Neville, come on!” She tugged at him, trying to will him to move. She took a quick look at Dean and Hermione and then was knocked back by a curse that flung her to the ground. Darkness crept around the edge of her vision. She turned her head and saw several pairs of arms lifting Hermione and Dean up and away from where they fell. Neville was still standing, seemingly unaware of the activity around him. As she finally gave in to the approaching darkness, a small tear formed in her eye. “I’m sorry Harry. I’m so sorry.”

The disembodied voice let out a cry of glee, “Perfect, all is going according to plan.”

Cho and Dennis maintained their suicidal trek through the blinding fog. Dennis led the way, barreling through the cuts and the scrapes of the gorse bushes. The sound of their pursuers never seemed to slacken. Dennis could feel the sharpness of their curses as they flew past his head or hit the ground near him. Reaching the entrance to the land bridge, Dennis stopped and faced Cho.

“You’ve got to go. I’ll hold them here. Forget your broom, apparate somewhere, anywhere, just go get help!” he pushed her down the path and assumed a defensive posture, his wand held high.

“But…”

Dennis yelled over his shoulder, “Just go, Cho! You’re our only chance!”

Cho turned to run. Behind her she heard the sounds of spells and curses being launched. The sound of battle carrying to her ears as she rushed down the hill. Stopping at the bottom, she heard a hideous scream, one that was unmistakably Dennis’ voice. She froze.

At the top of the hill an arm extended a wand, ready to hurl a spell at the figure of Cho. A hand extended itself over the arm and pulled it down. “Wait, remember, the plan was for one of them to escape.”

The wand’s owner chuckled. “Right. Let’s get this one back with the others.” Behind them, the sound and flash indicated that Cho had mustered the concentration to leave.

Harry ran to Ron and Hermione’s door. It was wide open. Walking within the apartment he stopped short. Ron was standing in the middle of the room, his face carrying a haunted look of anguish and fear. Tears were rolling from his eyes and he gave Harry a helpless, pleading look. “Harry, we’ve got to save her. I can’t go on without her.”

Harry heard a sound. It was a plaintive, heart wrenching wail. He turned to its source. In a corner chair, her hands in her face, Cho Chang was sobbing uncontrollably.


***Author's note: I had a lot of fun writing this one. :drool:
Feedback, please. http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 17 – Evil Most Primal

The scene at the Weasley apartment tore at Harry. A rising sense of dread and panic began to build up in the back of his head. Fighting it back, he pulled himself to his full height and walked to Ron. Barely holding himself together, Ron passed a rolled parchment to Harry.

“Ron, Ginny found out about a possible location for the servants of the Furies. It’s near Cape Wrath. We are going to scout it out. Dennis, Cho, Neville and Dean are with us. Ginny says we’ll be back by supper, so no tinkering in the kitchen. I love you more today, Hermione.”

An unrelenting tide of sympathy hit Harry square in the chest. While Ginny and he had been busy discovering the little nuances of being a couple in love, Ron and Hermione were leagues ahead of them. The blow to Ron was more than physical, more than emotional; it was as if Ron were a ship at sea, being blown by a gale, with no rudder, compass or sail. Harry placed a comforting hand on Ron’s shoulder. Pausing a moment, Harry turned and knelt in front of Cho.

“Cho?” Harry moved his hands to hers, pulling them from her face, trying to look her squarely in the eyes. “What happened, Cho? Where are they?”

Cho’s eyes darted from side to side, avoiding any type of contact with Harry’s eyes, as if looking into Harry’s eyes would cause to fall into a chasm of guilt and pain. “Cho!” Harry was more forceful, more in command. Her eyes locked on his, and he softened his tone. “Tell us what happened, what did you see?”

“I can’t, Harry. I can’t bear it. Dennis, he….” Cho was wracked by another bout of sobbing, “Dennis gave himself up for me, I can’t bear the screams, Harry, and I heard him scream.”

Ron’s expression became increasingly forlorn. He didn’t see any way for them to find out exactly where they were being held. They’d been lured into a trap, so retracing their steps was not a move that Ron considered realistic. Harry, on the other hand, had not spoken but was contemplative his eyes searching the room. He stood and walked to where his bag lay. Reaching inside, he rummaged around until he found the item he’d been looking for. Returning to Cho, he spoke in a soft, reassuring whisper, “That’s alright Cho, there’s a way you can help them all.”


Eyes closed, the rest of her senses were attuned to what was going on around her. She was hanging with her arms bound above her head, of that much she was sure. Her shoulders had become numb to the ache hours ago and she felt the hard, cold stone wall on her back. Her head was foggy, as if she were waking from a deep slumber. It was quiet, tomblike; the only sound was the occasional drip of moisture running its course down the wall. She had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her, she felt the eyes. They were cold, penetrating and they sent a shiver down her spine.

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent! It was so good of you and your friends to join us, my dear.”

Ginny started at the voice. She knew that voice, she’d heard on numerous occasions, at many battlefields. It was distinct, contemptuous and it dripped with venom. Slowly she opened her eyes. At first, the introduction of light to her senses was momentarily blinding, she recoiled a little, trying to focus in on the source of the voice. Her vision began to clear and her eyes were drawn to a tall figure in black, standing a few feet in front of her. He was clad in the garb of a Deatheater, black robes covering him from head to toe. He had black gauntlets on that gave rendered his overall appearance confusing as there was no light to contrast the blackness of his eyes. His face was pale, with blue eyes, burning a bright fire that made them seem almost white. His hair was long, and white, a shock of white fire running down his back. The only thing missing since the last time she’d seen him was his mask, he wasn’t wearing a Deatheater’s mask.

“L-Lucious M-Malfoy…”

“I always knew you were a brilliant child! Quite right! A gold star for one of Dumbledore’s prize pupils. You will make this detention most interesting, Ms. Ginerva Weasley. You will make this evening, special!” Lucious Malfoy clapped his gloved hands together and strode along the edge of the wall. Ginny took a quick glance around and saw Hermione imprisoned in a like manner as she on the wall to her left. On her right, Dennis Creevey hung; he looked a little battered, but none the worse for wear. Peering further, Ginny could just make out the hands and head of Neville and Dean. There was no sign of Cho. Ginny allowed herself a small ounce of hope. Maybe Cho had gotten away. The thought caused her to sit up, just a little.

Malfoy offered her a bemused grin, “Is that hope I’m seeing? Are you wondering where Ms. Chang has gone off to?” Ginny’s stomach turned. “We let Ms. Chang get away. She, fortunately, is the last piece of the puzzle. The last bit for us to achieve our aim.”

“Us?” Ginny felt the dryness in her throat. Her question was the most she could muster for now.

“Of course, where are my manners?” Malfoy whirled around in a grand gesture of mock humility. “Gentlemen, I’d like to present to you, Harry Potter’s betrothed, Ms. Ginny Weasley.”

Out of her peripheral vision four figures appeared, dressed in similarly to Malfoy. He extended an arm to each one, “I believe you know Mr. Dolohov. Over hear is Mr. Jugson. On his right is the esteemed Mr. Nott. Lastly, we have Mr. Travers.” The Deatheaters offered Ginny exaggerated bows as each was introduced. Ginny heard a rumbling, heavy sound of walking coming from behind Malfoy.

“Oh yes, lest I forget, May I present, Groundhammer, leader of the band of goblins that are assembled for this venture. So sorry, now be a good goblin and run along.” The goblin sneered soundlessly at Malfoy, but eased his way back to a far wall.

Malfoy turned to face Ginny, his posture upright and arrogant. “What you see before you is the culmination of years of careful planning and calculation. While you were whiling away your days acting as Potter’s concubine or chasing a snitch, we were planning and acting.” This time he allowed himself a real smile. “Tonight, it all comes to fruition.”

“You will fail.” Hermione’s voice was strong, resounding in the air. It’s strength lifting Ginny’s spirits.

“Oh, dear me, I almost forgot. The muggle. I don’t know why Dumbledore put so much faith in a person of so undeserving of a witch’s power. Maybe he fancied you as a pet. That’s it! You were one of Dumbledore’s pets.”

Instead of a useless retort or a plea born of rage or fear, Hermione laughed, in fact, she let out an outright chuckle. Malfoy looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Look at you!” Hermione’s confidence was growing. “All this talk about your blood’s purity, and yet you find yourself consorting with so-called lesser beings, hiding in a cold, remote hovel worshiping a long-dead, never to return master. Even your new mistresses are no more. I almost pity how pathetic you’ve become, Malfoy.”

A look of loathing crossed Malfoy’s face, passing quickly and changing to one of calmness. “You think this is about the Dark Lord?” Malfoy began to pace in front of them, “You think this about some grand design to resurrect Voldemort or some other evil to rule your miserable world?”

Malfoy allowed himself a laugh, “Of course that’s what you would think. This,” he pointed to the air around him, “all of this is about the most primal evil, the most basic sin that man has ever known. It is the most primitive and the most powerful force that can destroy men.”

“You’re talking about Harry!” Neville’s voice resounded through the room. Malfoy turned to face Neville full on.

“Ah yes, my pawn.”

Neville shouted out, “I’m no one’s pawn!”

“My boy, you have all been my pawns. You were all so predictable, riding off to rescue your hero, Potter. Like you, he will be predictable, too. He’ll come flying in to save his friends, to save his damsel in distress, won’t he, my dear?”

Ginny’s pulse stopped cold, a look of fear crossing her visage, noticeable to everyone in view, including Malfoy.

“You see it, don’t you? I’m right about him, aren’t I? You see, the most primitive evil, the hoariest of magic is vengeance. Every one of us here craves but one, simple thing, to revenge ourselves on one Harry Potter.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in a glimpse of understanding, “You mean this is personal?”

“Another gold star for Dumbledore’s pet! Of course it’s personal. You are all so arrogant, so full of yourselves. You come riding in here hoping to dispel some grand cabal, fighting the good fight. Heroes to the cause! Think on this children, the most basic evil, the most prominent reason to kill isn’t for a cause, it’s always personal.”

Malfoy stood up and raised his arms, encompassing the dark gathering of goblins and wizards. “All of us have some grievance with Mr. Potter. The Deatheaters, well you know why the Deatheaters hate him. He deprived them of their rightful place in society, cavorting with half-bloods and muggles. He robbed them of their power, their destiny. He made them hunted outcasts. Imagine what the killing of the great Harry Potter will do for their self-esteem.”

Malfoy laughed at his joke, “And the goblins? Why, pray tell, would they ever want to harm a single little hair on Mr. Potter’s head? Anyone? How about you Mr. Longbottom?”

Neville’s head dropped slightly, “Gryffindor’s Sword.”

“Gryffindor’s Sword,” Malfoy repeated Neville with undisguised glee. “Not only did Mr. Potter enlist the aid of a goblin to break into Gringott’s, which did not sit well with them, I assure you, he gave his word that the payment for the help would be the Sword,” Malfoy cast a meaningful glance over at the goblins, “rightfully belonging to goblin-kind. He then went back on his word, and stole the Sword, again!”

“He did not! The Sorting Hat provided me the Sword! Harry didn’t steal it! If it was anyone, it was me!” Neville was beside himself with horror, thinking that he’d been, even remotely, responsible for Harry’s peril.

“How noble. Of course they blame Mr. Potter. It was his quest, was it not? It was his task. He, in his usual cowardice, just like now, sent his minions to perform the real hard work, but he is responsible.”

Ginny was stunned. How could they be so stupid? All this time, she and the others thought that they were protecting Harry, and all they’ve done was doom him. Malfoy was right, knowing Harry and his heart, knowing how much they’d grown together, and, with a pang of guilt, how much she’d forced him to make her the most important person in his life; she knew that Harry would come, that was what he was, it’s what he’d always been.

“What about you, Malfoy?” Hermione’s head was high, defiant. “What’s your reason? If I recall, Harry saved your son’s life, and you were far from the Dark Lord’s favorite, so by killing him, Harry saved your life as well.”

“Do you enjoy being a know-it-all? Do you revel in being a freak of nature?” Malfoy’s sneer cast a shadow over all of them. “He made my son a weakling, a pitiful whelp! He ruined the purity of our bloodline. Draco was supposed to be my heir, my legacy. He was supposed to be the power that defended all wizard-kind from the likes of you Ms. Granger and from the likes of Harry Potter.” Malfoy had lost his composure, his eyes blazed in pure hate and contempt. “Why do I hate Harry Potter? I hate him because he made me loathe and hate my son.”

An uncomfortable quiet descended upon the room. The other Deatheaters looked at each other curiously and then turned to leave. Malfoy regained his sense of control and turned to look at his prisoners, “There is no need to fear, we will not kill you, at least not yet. You will bear witness to the destruction of one Harry James Potter. His suffering shall be your punishment.” With that he started to walk away.

“Malfoy!” Hermione’s voice was commanding, assertive, so much so, Malfoy paused a step, but did not look back. “You are a pathetic shell of a man, and I was wrong, I don’t almost pity you, I do pity you.” Her tone was strident taking Malfoy by surprise.

She continued, “By the way, my name is Mrs. Hermione Weasley! Please do try to be accurate with your lectures.”

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Chapter 18 - Mobilization


Harry helped guide Cho to the Weasley’s bedroom. Gently he placed her on Ron and Hermione’s bed and bade her to rest, assuring her that all would end well. Returning to the living room, Harry collected his rucksack and made to leave. On his way out, he spotted Ron, still rooted to the same spot he’d been in when Harry arrived.

“Ron!” Harry grasped his friend by the shoulders. “Ron! We’ve got to go.” Ron eyes had been blank, but the implied notion of action shook him from his stupor.

“Go, Harry? We’re going to do something, then?”

“Of course, come on!” Harry grabbed Ron’s arm and apparated away from the room.

They appeared within moments at the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Beckoning Ron to follow, Harry dove into the crowd, walking purposefully, without hesitation.

“Harry, where are we going? Why are we here? We need to do something now!” Ron reached and grabbed Harry’s elbow, whipping him around.

Harry pulled closer to Ron’s face. The veins in Harry’s neck were visible and he had his teeth drawn tight, in obvious anger. “Do you want to see Hermione alive? Well do you?” Ron pulled back from the intensity of the question, “Well I want Ginny back and there’s only one way I know to do that. Now you can trust me and we’ll do this together, or you can stay behind, and I’ll do it myself. What’s it going to be Ron?”

“How can you say that, Harry? After all this time, after all we’ve been through, you know I trust you.”

“Then come on, we’re wasting time!” With that Harry continued his trek further into the Ministry. When they arrived at the Office of Aurors, Harry led Ron back towards his office. When they reached it, Harry shut the door and turned to the pensieve standing in the back corner. This was one of the only personal items that Harry had brought with him to his new office. This was the same pensieve that had called Albus Dumbledore’s office home until its owner’s death. Reaching into his bag, Harry pulled out the same item he’d used in Ron’s apartment when questioning Cho. It was a small glass vial, colored a deep blue.

“Hey, what’s that?” Ron’s curiosity briefly overcoming his grief.

“Cho was too distraught to be questioned. The memory was too raw for her, so I asked her to share it with me.” Harry removed the stopper from the vial and poured its contents into the pensieve. Harry found himself drifting as if floating along clouds. He turned to and fro, looking for the memory that Cho had shared. He found her image floating and moved towards it. Soon he found himself viewing a scene from Hogwarts.

Cho was sitting with her friend Marietta Edgecombe. Cho had obviously been sobbing, and her friend’s face was covered in acne, a result of a jinx she’d suffered from betraying Dumbledore’s Army. Cho looked up from her weeping and stood tall, “You know, the thing of it is, well, I was beginning to really fall in love with Harry.” He was surprised and shocked at the revelation. For the longest time, he’d thought that her interest in him was solely to be close the person who last saw Cedric Diggory alive. Harry dropped out of this memory, since it obviously wasn’t the one he was looking for.

He searched some more throughout the pantheon of images until he found one that seemed likely. He found himself at an inn, just as Ginny and Hermione were arriving with the rest. As they walked in, Harry noted a figure in the corner, watching the group pass. “That’s Nott!” A Deatheater! Was he the one behind all this, Harry wondered. In moments, Harry was riding along with the group as they careened through the countryside on their brooms. He could see Ginny leading the way. His heart raced a bit, admiring her fearlessness, her ability at guiding the group through the nooks and crannies of the terrain. He raced along with them, taking note of every feature, every detail. Soon he found himself on the ground, walking with them as they approached the Dark Citadel.

He heard their every word, especially when Ginny cautioned them to return. That would have been a wise precaution, and Harry was stunned at Neville’s insistence to proceed. He walked to the entrance, standing by Ginny. He wanted to get her perspective as much as possible. Harry reminded himself, that these were Cho’s memories, her side of the story. He noted that Cho’s eyes seemed to drift towards Dennis, more often than not. When they reached the doors, Harry braced himself for what he’d find. As he studied the room inside the doorway, he noticed that is was a very large and open space. On the far wall was a balcony, which ran the whole length of the building.

To Harry’s left and right, were large staircases mounted to the side walls that led up to the balcony. At the landing of each stairway and along the banister of the of the steps, Harry saw goblins, at least a score on each side. Looking further up the stairs, he noticed the figures of five men, obscured by the light they were casting down on Potter’s Army. Harry’s eyes drifted upward, taking in the massive dome atop the structure. As Harry focused on the dome, he noticed several wispy figures floating in the space of the dome. Dementers! Harry cringed; there were at least ten of the them, maybe more. When the booming voice of Ginny’s captor echoed in the memory, Harry knew immediately who it was. Malfoy!

Harry followed the memory to its conclusion. He was proud of Ginny’s courage, urging Dennis and Cho to get help. He understood Cho’s horror at Dennis’ decision to hold off their pursuit, especially considering the way Cho had been looking at him during the memory. When the memory ended, Harry stepped back from the pensieve and took a deep breath.

“Lucious Malfoy.”

“What’s that, Harry? Malfoy?” Ron turned an incredulous eye towards Harry.

“Malfoy’s holding them. He’s got them and he’s has a whole lot of help.” Harry paced about for a minute and then turned to Ron, “Wait here.”

“What do you mean, ‘wait here?’” Ron’s voice trembled. “Shouldn’t we get the others, I’ve got my galleon with me, I can have them here in a pinch.”

“Don’t! Ron, haven’t you learned anything yet?” Harry’s tone softened at Ron’s hurt look. “Ron, you said you trust me, so just wait here, don’t do anything.”

Harry left his office and flew down the corridor. When he reached Dawlish’s office, he wasn’t surprised to find both Lachlan and Miles sitting there as well. Dawlish turned rapidly, surprised by Harry’s sudden appearance.

“It’s Malfoy!” Harry’s hurried pace forced the words out of his mouth faster than he’d anticipated.

Miles turned to him with a questioning glance, “What? What do you mean?”

Harry took a deep breath and tried to slow down, “The man behind all this is Lucious Malfoy. He’s got goblins and dementers and maybe some of the other Deatheaters, too, but he’s the one. He’s got Ginny and Hermione!”

“Are you sure?” Dawlish looked at Harry, already convinced that Harry was sure. Harry told the men what his friends had found out during the course of their clandestine investigation. “Makes sense.” Was all Dawlish had to add.

“We’ve got to do something!” Harry was starting to let the panic overtake him. Lachlan reached a calming hand out to him, “Easy, lad. We will.”

“We don’t want to rush off, rashly, do we?” Miles assumed a fatherly tone with Harry. “That’s just what he expects. Malfoy is fighting based on what he knows.”

Harry thought on that for a bit, Malfoy hadn’t met the “new” Harry Potter. In the past, Harry would have run off, and just jumped into trouble, mostly alone. Now he was part of a bigger whole, both with Ginny, but in his life. He knew what he had to do, and he knew, in his heart, that this was the best approach.

“We need to get all the Aurors we can and go in a clustered apparition.” Dawlish was already sending out owls to collect his widely spread Aurors. “Do you think that you have enough of the memory studied to act as apex, Harry?”

“Yes, sir.” Was all Harry could manage.

Dawlish continued, “As soon as we mobilized our forces, we can go and get everyone out. We shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” Harry’s face fell. “Remember, son, this is about you, not them, they are the bait. We can wait a little before we spring their trap, we have time.”

“H-Harry?” Outside the office door, Ron stood shaking. Behind him stood George and Lee, both their faces ashen with shock.

Harry’s heart stopped, “Ron, what is it?” Ron extended his hand. Within it he held one of the fake galleons from the P.A. The Protean Charm had been used to inscribe a brief message.

“Potter. Be Here. ½ Hour. Or Ginny Dies. LM”

***Author's Note: Sorry guys, but most likely won't get the next one up until tomorrow. It's a doozy and I want to do it right.

***Feedback, please. http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 19 – King Takes Queen

Lucious Malfoy was a predatory cat, his eyes constantly roving as he paced the length of the balcony in the Dark Citadel. He had his captives arrayed along the back wall of the platform, allowing him to watch them while at the same time; he could keep an eye on the entrance to the keep. It was from here, he was able to blind the members of P.A. during their capture and he hoped he’d have that advantage when Potter arrived.

Potter! The name alone made his blood boil. The Dark Lord had been a fool. While Voldemort pursued his own glory, he never really made Potter the priority he should have been until it was too late. Malfoy vowed to himself that he would not make the same mistake. He would not underestimate Potter as being lucky. Malfoy understood completely that if he regarded Potter as a fully accomplished wizard, then he would take the proper actions needed to finally kill him.

As he roved the balustrade, Malfoy avoided continued conversation with his prisoners, especially the annoying Granger woman, or Weasley, whatever her name may be. Leave it to the Weasleys to muddle their lineage with mudblood intermixing. His anxiety had started rising; he had anticipated that Potter would be here by now. Perhaps, he was giving Potter too much credit for being able to figure out where he needed to go. Unconsciously, he let out an audible snort, the only sign of his frustration.

“Things not going as planned?” Hermione’s comment dripped with sarcasm. “You think, Ginny that our captor has not quite figured out your Harry?”

Ginny smiled at her friend’s audacity. “Well, you know Harry, always refusing to participate in plans for his demise.”

“You both have such sharp senses of humor.” Malfoy was not about to let them see his nervousness. He moved towards a table that rest against the balcony railing. The table contained the group’s confiscated wands and other items. Malfoy danced his fingers across the items on the table. His hand stopped suddenly, a self-satisfied look on his face. He turned his face up towards the girls and smiled.

“I’ll be frank with you both; I’m quite surprised that Mr. Potter has not shown up. Perhaps he’s showing himself to be the coward he always has been.” Ginny’s blood began to boil at the comment. “Perhaps he’s trying to gather more of his friends together to do his bidding?” Malfoy brought his hand up, his hand holding an object up for them to see. It was one of the galleons that held the Protean Charm that allowed them to communicate.

“Hmmm, what have we here? Protean Charm? How quaint. I wonder if we can’t give Mr. Potter the proper incentive to be on time for his death.” He concentrated on the coin for a few minutes. “Well, that should do it.” He held the coin up for Ginny to see clearly. She gasped audibly. With a smile, he showed the coin to Hermione. “You know, if Mr. Potter doesn’t decide that his fiance’s life is worth the effort, perhaps Mr. Weasley will get the message and die in Mr. Potter’s place.” For the first time since their capture, Hermione began to feel a tinge of despair.


“We don’t have a choice, we have to move.” Harry was startled by Dawlish’s statement. “A half hour doesn’t give us much time, but I don’t see what else we can do. We’ll just go with who we have.”

Lachlan looked at Dawlish, “How many do we have?”

“There’s me and you, Harry, Cavendish, Milton, and Dawes.” Dawlish gave Harry a look of apology. “We’ll have to make this a rescue mission instead of a capture mission.” Cavendish was a tall woman, with tanned skin and a shy smile. Her eyes were an amber, which were accentuated by long, silky black hair. Milton and Dawes seemed to mirror images of each other. Both were light skinned, with white hair. Neither bore facial hair, but had age lines that did nothing to hide their seniority. Both had been working together for so long, that neither were distinguishable from each other, save for their eyes. Milton had black, coal-like eyes that seemed lifeless, until he was angered. Dawes’ eyes were a light blue, which seemed to reflect the sky at noon on a springtime afternoon.

“Well, could you use me?” Miles Jackson-Smythe sat comfortably in a side chair, the smoke from his pipe framing his face in a ring. “I’m still up to snuff, if you know what I mean, and I wouldn’t mind having a go at some Deatheaters.”

Dawlish gave Miles an appreciative nod. “That makes seven, enough for a spear.”

“What about us? We can help!” Ron spoke up, wanting desperately to have something to do with saving his wife.

“No.” Dawlish was adamant in his response. “Look, Mr. Weasley, I know your wife is part of this, and I know you want to be an Auror. How would it be, if you died on your first time out with us?”

Ron refused to be denied, “I don’t care about myself, but if you hadn’t noticed, we’re all good in a fight with Deatheaters, and we were the ones that figured out who was behind this whole thing.” Ron gave Dawlish one last desperate plea, “Mr. Dawlish, I’ve got to be there, we can help. Ten is better than seven, no matter how much training we’ve had.”

“He has a point, Dawlish.” Lachlan’s intercession surprised Dawlish. “They can free the hostages while we make short work of the baddies.”

“They’ll be your responsibility, Lachlan.” McCrory gave a nod in agreement. Dawlish looked at Ron, George and Lee in succession. “You can come as long as you do exactly what Mr. McCrory tells you.” They all gave there assent to his conditions. “You will only be there to free your friends. You go in, you release them and you get them out. Do not get in our way; we’ll have our hands full as it is.”

Dawlish pulled up his own Auror’s rucksack and looked around at everyone, and moved out the door. The rest followed in his wake. They moved down to the main hall of the Ministry, their presence of purpose and black robes causing the passers by to move out of their way. Once in the hall, Dawlish turned to his companions, “Okay, form the spear, and ready yourselves for a clustered apparition.”

In Auror terms, the best way to apparate a large group in the face of hostile opposition was to form a spear. The spear was an inverted vee-shaped formation where the lead apparating Auror, called the apex, would stand. In this case, Harry was at the tip of the spear, since he held the knowledge of where they were to appear. Dawlish assumed a position to the left and immediate rear of Harry, while Lachlan stood to Harry’s right and immediate rear. Miles stood to Dawlish’s immediate left and rear and Cavendish assumed the same position relative to Miles. The other two Aurors, Dawes and Milton assumed mirror image positions on the right hand side. Once fully formed, the seven Auror spear stood ready to present a front to an enemy that allowed the individual Aurors to fight together and mutually support each other. Dawlish told Ron, George and Lee to assume positions inside the spear, offering them maximum protection.

A clustered apparition was performed by having every Auror place a hand on the person in front of them in the formation. In this manner, Harry had both Dawlish and Lachlan placing a hand on his shoulders. Likewise, each Auror laid a hand on the shoulder of the one in front. Dawlish had George and Lee clasp onto Ron’s shoulders, who then reached and grabbed hold of Lachlan’s shoulder, to his right. Dawlish looked around at the band of ten heading as they prepared themselves.

“Right, wands out!” In unison, the seven Aurors drew their wands and placed them in their free hands. The three interlopers mimicked their actions. “Well then, ready Harry?” Harry nodded his head. He was surprised that he didn’t feel nervous or tense, in fact, he felt quite reassured. Perhaps the feeling of hands on his shoulders, like supports for the weary, made him feel stronger. He actually felt like he was receiving energy through the connectivity to his comrades. “Well, then, we better be at it, then. Let’s go!”

In the presence of all the people watching at the Ministry, the fist of Aurors, warriors all, disappeared in flash of fire and smoke.

Malfoy’s pacing had increased its speed. He was coiled, ready, his eyes constantly roving the doors below. When he’d charmed the galleon message, he’d turned over a small hourglass in front of Ginny and Hermione, leaving it suspended in the air, in their full view. The sands in the glass were roughly three quarters of the way depleted and his anticipation grew with every grain that dropped. Between circuits of the balcony, he would take time to taunt the hapless captives.

“Maybe he doesn’t love you as much as he loves his own pitiful life, eh?” The words were hurled like missiles and yet, Ginny was calm. This serenity surprised her, but she felt it reflected her true feelings for Harry, her absolute trust, no matter what. Part of her hoped upon hope that he wouldn’t show, that he would remain safe and free. However, in the deep recesses of her being, she knew he’d come, it was just a question of how. Her greatest fear was that he’d arrive as he was wont to do. He was the lone hero, bravely standing up to evil’s plot; that’s what he always did. That’s what he did countless times against Voldemort and that’s what he did against the Furies. Ginny Weasley’s greatest fear was that Harry would be Harry.

Outside the entrance, a loud crack and thunder broke the silence of the tension. Malfoy whirled towards the door, raising his hands in signal to his allies to ready themselves.

“The fool,” Malfoy’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “He didn’t even bother to hide his approach.” He turned and looked into Ginny’s eyes, his own blazing a fire of death and triumph, “He was so desperate to save his sweet Ginny. Enjoy watching your beloved’s death.”

In that instant, the two entryway doors exploded in a shower of light, smoke and debris, showering the first floor denizens with dust and shrapnel. The haze hovered at the entrance, obscuring the vision of those within. Malfoy had unconsciously crouched down at the destruction of the doors. Rising, he peered into the white smoke that permeated the entrance. As his vision started to recover, Malfoy noticed a tall figure coming to stark clarity in the middle of the fog. The tendrils of smoke seemed to drop off the man’s robes as if unable to cling to the absolute purity of his cause. The figure was walking through the smoke, his robes, dark black, marked with a sheen as if a magical aura covered him. His gait was slow, deliberate, the heels of his boots the only sound in the room as he walked across the cluttered pavestones. Malfoy smiled, a genuinely gleeful smile, the fool had come alone.

Ginny’s heart jumped when the doors evaporated in a cacophony of sound and force. As she watched his approach through the mist, her pulse ran in a sing song of love and affection. She saw his face and especially those eyes. His eyes glowed with a fire she’d not seen before. They roamed the hall, taking in every detail. Then they stopped and locked with hers. Ginny saw the love and the relief that reached out and warmed her entire body in that one look. Abruptly, another thought that stunned her to the core. At her side, Hermione had dipped her head.

“He’s come alone.” Hermione couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

Time had stood still. Harry’s walk through the cloud of smoke wasn’t more than a few grains through the hourglass. To Lucious Malfoy, the time was interminable. In a matter of seconds his glee turned to indecision and doubt. As his prey walked further into the room, more figures began to appear on either side of Harry, proceeding through the mist. Malfoy stood incredulous at the temerity of Potter. He had not come alone.

“Kill them! Kill them all!” Malfoy’s scream was hysterical, uncontrolled as the surprise of the Auror spear wrestled with the reality in his mind.

Hearing the words, Dawlish offered a relaxed smile. “Apparently we’re uninvited guests. I’ll take the left, Lachlan take the right. Harry, the dementers if you please.”

The Aurors on either side of Harry sprinted from their positions, attacking the goblins that had positioned themselves on the landings of both flanking stairways. Ron, George and Lee found themselves following the right hand group, keeping pace behind Lachlan. Harry gazed at the domed ceiling. There were at least twenty dementers swirling about in circles making a slow descent towards the combatants. If they reached the embattled wizards, the fight would be as good as finished. Harry raised his wand high above his head.

“Expecto patronum!”

Ginny’s eyes were momentarily blinded by the brilliance of Harry’s spell. As the effect wore off, the image became more and more clear. The aura of white light and haze that were the hallmarks of a Patronus Charm were especially bolder, clearer than any other she’d seen, ever. The spell seemed to burst from Harry’s wand in a symphony of light that momentarily stunned everyone in the room to inactivity. As the Patronus manifested itself into its form, Ginny prepared herself for the comfortable, reassuring form of the stag. This time, as Harry’s Patronus formed, it was not a stag. The figure that burst through into the air was that of a large steed. It’s head kicked back, it’s nostrils flared; and it literally exploded up in the air as if running across a large meadow. Ginny’s heart burst, right there.

When Harry was teaching the members of Dumbledore’s Army the proper method of conjuring a Patronus Charm, he’d told them to lock on their happiest memory. In Ginny’s case, that had been of her first time she’d seen Harry, those many years ago on Platform 9 ¾. Ginny’s Patronus had come in the shape of a horse that danced around the Room of Requirement, much to the delight of Harry, as she remembered. Now, here, she saw, Harry’s Patronus had shaped itself into a steed, a reflection of his bond with her. Hope rose within Ginny’s body, and it followed with a certainty that they would be together soon.

Harry was slightly taken aback by the force and the form of his Patronus. In the past, his happy memory had been of his parents, of some imagined scene of their being together with him in the time before their deaths. It wasn’t a memory that he’d had complete assurance that had occurred, but the power of its love had always helped Harry to produce a powerful Patronus. It’s form was of a stag, like his father’s. Harry had not used his Patronus Charm since that day in the cavern with the Furies. The Patronus had been defeated, so Harry had decided to find another memory to build on. Harry now was possessed of real memories that reflected his passage through life. These were happy memories, raw and embodied with love and passion. The memory he chose was that of Ginny, sleeping, that first morning she’d stayed with him on their return to Grimmauld Place. He’d remembered her rosy hair, not a tress out of place, laying on her pillow providing a ruby frame to her face. Her eyelids were closed, the lashes caressing the top of her cheeks which were carefully highlighted by freckles and curves. Her lips were round, full and had the barest hint of a smile. The sunlight of the dawn highlighted her exquisite beauty, taking his breath away. This was the memory Harry locked in on. This was the image that conjured a Patronus that was unparalleled in force and beauty.

Harry noticed the form of his Patronus and smiled. A stallion was a good form, as he recalled Ginny’s Patronus she’d created back at Hogwarts. A small, detached part of his brain remembered how Tonk’s Patronus had changed to that of a werewolf, a reflection of her unbreakable love for Remus. Even more, Harry remembered how Snape’s Patronus had taken the form of a doe, the same as Harry’s mother, in reflection of Snape’s unrequited love for Lily. Even his parents, James and Lily, had forms in their charms that complemented each other and demonstrated the bond between them in the guises of a stag and doe. Harry smiled inwardly, he and Ginny were near complete in their unity.

The ethereal stallion launched itself upward towards the domed ceiling casting dementers out of its path. When it reached the top of the dome, it trapped most of the dementers against the surface of the ceiling. The effect of the prolonged assault with no where to escape caused hideous tears in the fabric of the dementers’ being. Their existence began to erode, bits and pieces of their bodies and clothing falling away. After a moment, the dome itself shattered upward, blowing the remaining dementers out through its top. Littering the floor, were the remains of several of the foul creatures.

Malfoy stared at the dementers’ remains on the floor. No one, ever, had been able to destroy a dementer. They were the personification of fear, doubt and hate. They were the amalgam of all the negative feelings that pervaded human-kind. Yet, Potter had been able to use a weapon that relied on happiness and love to utterly destroy the hate. A inkling of a doubt began to draw itself into Malfoy’s consciousness. It was the doubt caused by the potential for failure, which could lead to despair. Malfoy refused to surrender to the doubt. He urged his followers on.

When Harry’s Patronus had dissipated, the silence of the pause was deafening. The dazed occupants of the Citadel stood agape at what they’d just seen. Malfoy’s urging knocked the entire room into action. Harry moved to a piece of wrecked stone, using it as cover. He exchanged spells with the Deatheaters on the landing above him. Taking a brief glance around he saw Dawlish on his left, with Miles and Cavendish, in a furious exchange of spells with the goblins in that area. Several of the goblins were prostrate on the ground, both hit by spells from the Aurors and unintentional spells from the Deatheaters above. On Harry’s right, more goblins were down, as Ron, George and Lee added the weight of their wands to the assault by Lachlan, Milton and Dawes. In that instant, Harry saw a flash of a spell from the balcony hit Dawes; his body crumpled to the floor. Harry turned back towards Dawlish, who locked eyes.

“We’ve got to get to the higher ground!” Harry pointed up towards the balcony.

Dawlish nodded his head, “We’ll hold here, you go with Lachlan!” Harry gave Dawlish a grin and moved from his hiding place.

Ginny watched Harry dart from his protective cover. He raced from rock to rock, using the debris as a shield from the incessant attacks from the Deatheaters above. His movements were fluid, graceful, without wasted effort or hesitation. When he reached the side of the stairway, Harry leapt up and placed a hand on the railing, vaulting himself over banister and onto the stairs, behind the embattled goblins and the Aurors. Ginny marveled at Harry’s actions, he showed no fear, no doubt. There was only a cool, calm confidence in his every move, his every step.

Harry turned to face the goblins from his higher position. “Protego!” The shield charm knocked flat all of the goblins facing Lachlan and his group. Just then, a spell from the balcony shattered the stone railing near him, showering him with rock and debris, momentarily stopping his momentum. Ginny’s heart stopped an instant, as she looked for signs of Harry. Within seconds she could see his figure, turning to move up the stairs, his head up, his robes flapping a billowing trail behind him, marking his progress upwards. Leaving his friends to paralyze the helpless goblins, Harry turned to make his way up the stairs, to the balcony. At the top of the landing, Harry saw Nott and Travers racing towards him wands raised.

“Impedimenta!” Harry’s blocking charm brushed the two Deatheaters back from the top of the stairs, allowing Harry, now joined by Lachlan, the ability to reach the balcony. Lachlan turned to pick up the fight with Nott and Travers. He fell into a round of spell, counterspell as Harry raced towards the middle of the balcony, where Malfoy raged.

Malfoy could not believe the turn of events. In his mind, this was not happening. The hourglass that he’d used to mark the time until Ginny Weasley’s death was almost finished, and now he stood with the dementers all but destroyed, over half of his repugnant goblins overcome, and his fellow Deatheaters engaged in a losing battle. Seven Aurors! Potter! He had cheated! Potter was supposed to be the solitary hero. He was not supposed to do this! He wasn’t a real Auror! How had this happened? He turned in time to see Nott and Travers flung back by Harry’s Impedimenta spell.

“Protego!” Lucious sent a shield charm which knocked Harry back onto the floor. Lucious turned without a look back and ran towards a door, hidden in the wall between where Hermione and Ginny hung.

“Stupefy!” Harry launched his charm from his knees; the charm whizzed above Malfoy’s head as the former tormenter ducked into the hidden passageway.

Joined by Milton and the rest, Lachlan’s stalemate with Nott and Travers quickly reversed its fortunes and within seconds both Deatheaters were bound and controlled.

Harry turned to find Dawlish’s party had overcome its goblins and was trading spells with Dolohov and Jugson on the far landing.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Harry’s spell hit both of the remaining Deatheaters square on, ending the battle in the chamber.

Harry turned towards Ginny and saw the waves of relief in her eyes. “Alohomora!” The bindings holding her arms released their grasp and she fell the short way into his arms. The kiss they shared was one that he’d remember for eternity. It was soft but urgent, reflecting the pent of fear of loss he’d been restraining in order to effect her release. Her response was of love and understanding, recognizing that he was a different man, a better man, free from doubt and second guessing. He was resolute, confident in their life together. Releasing from their embrace, Harry eyed Ginny carefully. She smiled and tilted her head. He returned her smile and tore off, through the hidden door after Malfoy.

Ginny grinned to herself. Apparently, she thought to herself, they’d begun to master the silent communication that lovers have. A shout broke her reverie. “Hermione!” Ron came running up to where his wife was held. Quickly releasing her, he caught her and held her tight to his chest, taking time to lift his head and shower her with kisses about her face and lips. Ginny watched the pair, basking in the joy of their reunion, melding the whole that came so close to being torn asunder. Ron seemed older, Ginny thought, more upright, confident. It was not unlike a change in someone else she knew. She looked towards the doorway where Harry had disappeared.

Dawlish and Lachlan met in the middle of the balcony and shook hands. “That was, interesting.” Lachlan snickered at Dawlish’s penchant for understatement. Dawlish surveyed the carnage around him, “What’s our situation?”

Lachlan turned towards the foot of the stairs, “Dawes is hurt, but not badly. We have about twenty goblins tied up and two of our Deatheater friends in custody. How about you?”

“Miles took a nasty fall.” Lachlan gave him a concerned look. “He’s fine, Cavendish is with him. We’ve got the same number of goblins secured over there and we nipped Jugson and Dolohov.”

“Dolohov? They’ve been missing his company in Azkeban.” Lachlan mused a bit. “That Weasley boy, Ron. He did quite well today. Did you say he wanted to be an Auror?”

“Harry mentioned it to me. He was vouching for him.” Dawlish reflected on Harry’s actions today. Harry had done well, in fact, he’d done better than any Auror Dawlish had ever seen. Dawlish thought that Harry may very well be the best he’d ever worked with.

“He’s a good lad, Ron, I mean.” Lachlan watched as Ron and Hermione continued their reunion.

Dawlish looked over at his comrade, “You fancy having an apprentice?”

“Why not? Can’t stay retired forever. Just end up in a pub somewhere for some child-Auror to find me.” Lachlan laughed and looked around. “Speaking of which, where is Harry?”

Harry ran down a narrow passage that led from the Citadel’s main room. Soon he could hear the crashing of the waves, as he approached an opening at the end of the passage. Harry sped out of the opening on a wide open area, overlooking the foreboding cliffs, the surf pounding in his ears. Turning quickly, Harry raised his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” Malfoy had been hiding near the doorway. His spell had sent Harry’s wand flying back into the passage.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes appeared from the ether, binding Harry tight, not allowing any movement. Malfoy moved the point of his wand to Harry’s neck.

“You think you’ve won? Don’t you Potter! You think you’ve beaten me! Now look at you. Rushing out here, in your arrogance! I’m going to kill you, Potter. I’m going to kill you here and now, but I want you to die knowing one thing. I’m going to kill her, too, Potter. I’m going to take away the one person you can’t afford to lose. I’m going to make her suffer and I wanted you to take that with you to your grave.”

Malfoy stepped back freeing his wand from Harry’s neck. His eyes blazed with fury and hate. His mouth was curled into a smile, as the culmination of all his vengeance, all his rage was fixed on the tip of his wand and on the words forming in his mouth.

“Avada Keda-“

“Expilliarmus!” Malfoy’s wand flew over the edge of the landing, flying off into the surf. Turning to face the threat, Malfoy found his extremities paralyzed, no part of his body responding to his commands. A dark figure moved from the shadows of the landing. Garbed in black, the man was tall, pale with a shock of platinum blonde hair that flowed in the wind. His eyes were blue, but haunted. His cheeks were gaunt, ashen, as if the man had a weight on his soul that refused to be moved. His wand pointed at Malfoy.

“Draco.” Draco Malfoy turned a brief eye towards Harry, barely acknowledging his presence. He turned his entire focus on his father.

Lucious recovered from his shock, “Draco? You fool! I was about to finish Potter, what are you doing?”

“Be still, father.” Draco hurled the name like a curse, his lips twisted. “You haven’t earned the right to kill him. You should have spent all of your energy, all of your passion,” Draco’s eyes dropped to the ground, his voice becoming a whisper, “all of your love on teaching me.”

“Love?” Lucious’ jeering laughter rang through the air. “Do you see how you’ve failed me, failed our familiy, boy? Love, you simpering fool? What is love compared to power? What is love compared to fear? You had it in your hands, and you failed, coward. You are not my son!”

His father’s words hit Draco like blows. A light flashed in Draco’s eyes and he raised his wand towards his father’s face. A look of hate and fear permeating his being, the killing curse forming on his lips. As quick as it appeared, a look of doubt that bordered on pity passed over Draco’s face. His wand dropped to his side, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye.

“Coward!” Lucious was livid, he’d raised a son that couldn’t even revenge a slight. “You don’t even have the nerve to kill me, you’re pathetic. You don’t know how to wield real power, and you never will.” Draco’s face dropped, his shoulder’s drooped down as if the weight on him had increased tenfold.

“He’s wielding the greatest power in the world.” Ginny stepped from the passage, Harry’s wand in her hand. She turned to Lucious, “Anyone can kill the helpless. Real power is the ability to grant life, when you have the choice.”

Draco looked up momentarily, his eyes finding Ginny. She smiled at him and looked back to Lucious, “You are pathetic, Lucious. Your whole life has been consumed by power and revenge. You’ve lost sight of the power of love and life. What good is power without someone to share it with? What good is death, if no one remembers you? You worried so much about Voldemort and power and Harry, you lost your most precious legacy, your son’s love.”

Lucious looked away from Ginny, his face taut, his voice silent. “I’m sorry for you Lucious, I’m sorry because you will never have what me and Harry have. I pity you and I feel good about Draco. He can still find it, he can still be a better man.” Her gaze had shifted to Draco, trying to impart her words to him, looking for some sign that what she was saying had meaning.

Draco’s shoulders straightened. He took a deep breath and look of confidence came over him. He cast one last look towards Lucious. Father and son, both filled with contempt for each other, bade each other farewell. Draco turned to look at Ginny and Harry, his bonds having been released by Ginny.

“We’re even now, Potter. You saved my life, now I saved yours. Pray we do not meet again.” Draco Malfoy did not look at his father when he left. He simply turned and walked towards the other end of the cliff and disappeared into the darkness.

Harry clung to Ginny, his mind racing over the events of the past few minutes. They held each other close, their hearts beating together in time. Voices calling their names echoed up to them from the passage. Harry kissed Ginny sweetly and guided her shoulders away from the evil that was Lucious Malfoy.

“Let’s go home.” She smiled up at him, making his heart race anew, and allowed him to lead her up the passage.




***Author's Note: I know, I know, it sounds like an ending, and it can be, however, I think there are some items to tie up and some avenues to pursue, if you want me to. Let me know in the feedback. I've got to go ice my fingers.

http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 20 – New Beginnings

Harry and Ginny followed Ron and Hermione into the Weasley’s apartment. The hour was late and the two couples were exhausted on their feet. The emotional strain of the past few days had begun to show on them all, but more so, on Ron. He’d been quiet since freeing Hermione from her bonds. The near loss of his wife had reinitiated a train of thought within his head that was leading him down a path that he knew, would be for the best. The past weeks had taught him that he needed to be more serious about what he was going to be in the future. Ron wanted to be more than a jokester. His gaze drifted to Hermione, of all of them, she was the steadiest, the most consistent. She was the rock that he and Harry, and now Ginny had all relied on in a crisis. She was decisive, true and strong. Over the recent weeks, it had been she that had brought the P.A. together, she was the one Ginny relied on for matters of the heart; she had been the one with the most faith in everyone. Ron’s mind went back to the decision causing the storm in his brain and a path resolved itself. He would be an Auror, he would be provide strength to complement Hermione, so that, as a family no one could ever tear them apart. Now, his brain, exhausted from coming to that conclusion, how should he tell Hermione and avoid a slow death?

Ron and Hermione half sat, half fell into one of the large easy chairs in the living room. Ginny, for her part, sat in a chair across from them. She beckoned to Harry to join her, but he held a hand, giving her a look, asking her to wait. While his friends watched him, Harry went in the Weasley’s bedroom and saw Cho, lying asleep, her body curled into a ball. Her shoulders were shaking, as if she was still crying, but no sound came to Harry’s ears. Reaching down, Harry touched her shoulder, whispering to her.

“Cho?” There was no response. “Cho, Dennis is all right. Did you hear me? Dennis is just fine, he’s back.”

Her movement stopped, her body tensed. She turned to look at Harry, her eyes read and swollen from her hours of grief and heartache. Her face asked the question, her voice had not quite found the energy to ask.

“He’s at Dean’s house. He’s not injured, just a little bruised. He asked about you; if you had made it back. If you hurry, you might…”

Harry never finished his sentence. She leapt up and ran to through the door. Harry heard the front door slam and he returned to the living room. Harry had a wry smile as he saw the stunned looks on his friends. Ginny, in particular, had a playful, questioning expression on her face. As he joined her on the chair, he told them about Cho. “She has it bad for Dennis. I think it might be mutual, but she nearly lost it when she thought he sacrificed himself for her.”

“I understand her feelings.” Ginny’s retort came without any real bite. She was far too exhausted, far to content to engage in any banter. Harry felt her struggle with consciousness.

“Well, I think we should be off, don’t you Gin?” Harry stood and offered a hand to Ginny. Gratefully she let him pull her from the chair. Harry turned to Ron, “Thanks, Ron. For everything, I don’t know what I’d done without you.” He turned to Ginny, “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Hermione sat smiling in her chair, watching her friends. She was excited that they finally figured it out. She turned to Ron, looking him over, noticing that he was preoccupied with something. His lips were turned in a manner that he only had when pondering things of great consequence. She’d have to ask him about it soon. Presently, though, she had to get something out in the open.

“Harry, what we saw, during the battle, do you think we should talk about it?” She sat up, her tone was quiet, helpful.

Harry looked at her, confused, “Which part? The forty or so goblins, the Deatheaters, or the love of my life strung up like a Christmas ham?”

“I think she’s talking about you, darling.” It was the first time she’d used that word with him. He’d have to figure out if he liked it or not. Right now, it sounded sweet.

“Oh, well, what about it, Hermione? What about my actions do you think is sinister?”

“It’s not that at all, it’s just, well, you displayed some pretty extraordinary powers tonight. You moved so fast, and your Patronus, well no one has ever done that to a dementer before.” Hermione looked at him steadfastly, “I do love the change in your Patronus, that was sweet .”

Harry blushed, then turned to Hermione, “I’ve been trying tell all of you, everyone, that I’m fine. Something happened when I faced the Furies. Call it an initiation, call it maturity, but I feel better than I’ve ever felt. You can thank Ginny for the Patronus, her love, her support, is more than enough power to sustain us, just ask Lucious Malfoy.”

Ginny barely stifled a yawn, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Ginny led Harry by the hand. She gave a wave to Ron and Hermione and walked towards the door. Hermione saw her give Harry a little wink and coquettish smile and soon they were gone, heading home. Hermione let out a little laugh at their fun. She turned to Ron, who was still sitting, quiet, and his mind racing a mile a minute. Hermione planted a small kiss on his cheek.

“What is it?” The kiss broke Ron out of his stupor. He grinned, sheepishly at her.

“It’s nothing really.” The look on his wife’s face did not accept that answer. He wilted under her gaze. “Hermione, it’s just that, well, I want to be an Auror.” There, it was out, Ron held his breath expecting an outburst.

Hermione looked at him for a moment and then smiled, “I already know that, silly. I’ve always known that. It suits you, it was just a matter of time until you figured it out for yourself.”

“You knew? I mean, how, er, how long?” Hermione thought Ron was cute when he stammered.

“I’m your wife, I knew it before you did.” She rose and gave him an inviting smile, her eyes dancing in the light. “Now, come to bed.”

Ron Weasley did not need a second invitation.

As parties go, this one had all the hallmarks of becoming legendary. The room was packed with revelers who were bent on regaling all who would listen, the story of the Battle of Cape Wrath. None were more animated, or more exaggerated than the tales of bravado and heroics being spouted by George Weasley and Lee Jordan. Both men would try to outdo the other in expressing what each other’s reactions had been to the fierce encounter that included goblins, Deatheaters and dementers. Thrown into the mix were their enhancements of their story telling with various samples of their products. Here and there a casted spell was luminated with a fire ball here or a caterwaul there. None of their respective audiences were disappointed in their display, especially given the firewhiskey that was being freely poured.

Harry looked around the room. All the members of Potter’s Army were there. When they’d arrived, all had given Harry contrite looks of apology, but his smile and reassurance let them know that he harbored no lasting disaffection, there would be time enough later to remind them that they were all better working together, than excluding any one member. Harry was curious about how close his guardians had watched him. His gaze turned to Ginny, who was in the corner of the room talking to the Parvati Patil, and his cheeks reddened a bit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lachlan McCrory and Dawlish speaking together in a close huddle. Miles Jackson-Smythe had made a brief appearance to the party, but was called away by the Ministry. Milton was at St. Mungo’s, keeping the injured Dawes company until the latter was able to leave. Cavendish was in the corner, casting a haughty look as Dean Thomas and Ernie MacMillan vied for her attention. Harry smiled and walked over where Lachlan and Dawlish were standing.

“Mr. Dawlish, sir. Thanks for helping me get her back, sir.” Dawlish accepted Harry’s handshake and rolled is eyes at Lachlan.

“Harry, we’ve actually known each other for a long time, please call me John.” Harry mouth dropped open. In all these years, he’d had no idea that Dawlish had any other name, except Dawlish. Lachlan let out a huge guffaw!

“Dawlish, no one in the Office has ever called you John, even the ones that like you, why are you putting this on Harry?”

Dawlish gave his friend a hard stare which turned into a wistful thought, “Based on what I’ve seen from Harry over the past few weeks, it’s more than likely that I’ll be working for him.”

Harry stood, perplexed by Dawlish’s candor. He decided to change the subject. “Oh, er, sorry, um, John. Anyway, about Ron, I was wondering if you’d given his acceptance some thought.” Dawlish gave Lachlan a nod.

Lachlan spoke, “Dawlish and I talked to the Minister and the other senior Aurors. He’s to become and Auror. He’ll be assigned to me, I’ll train him!” Harry beamed, Lachlan was an inspired choice. “Tell him to see me in the Office on Monday.” Lachlan gave Harry a conspiratorial wink, “Tell him to be ready to go to work.” Harry bid adieu to the pair and moved off to find Ron.

Ron and Hermione were still wrapped together at a table across the room. It was as if they’d just discovered that they were in love recently. They were trading soft kisses, and smiling and laughing at each other. Harry was pretty sure that Ron had told Hermione about his intentions, this must be the make up portion after the fight. As he approached their table, Harry carefully scanned Ron’s face and body for signs of injury that Hermione may have inflicted during their “conversation.” Ron looked no worse for wear.

“Hey Ron, do you have a minute?” Harry decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

“It’s okay, Harry, I told her.” Harry gave Ron a skeptical look, unsure if they were talking about the same thing.

“Men!” Hermione snorted with an air of false contempt. “Yes, Harry. Ron told me about wanting to be an Auror. You can stop trying to protect him. He held his own quite well, last night.” She gave her husband a quick wink. Ron nearly choked on his drink and turned to Harry, begging him to speak up.

Harry laughed heartily, “Well, anyway, since you survived last night, and I don’t mean the Dark Citadel, I’ve been asked to have you report to the Office on Monday morning. Lachlan McCrory will be your trainer. He said, ‘be ready to go to work’, if I recall correctly.”

“That’s splendid, Harry. Thanks a bunch!” Ron gave Hermione a huge hug. Ginny had walked up beside Harry and slipped her arms around his waist. She raised a questioning eye to him.

“Ron’s been accepted into Auror training, he starts on Monday.”

“Brilliant, Ron!” Ginny gave a look to Hermione, “How long before he broke down and told you?”

“What? What do you mean?” Ron looked back and forth between Hermione and his sister. “Are you saying you knew it too?” Ginny gave a mischievous grin.

“Ron, a woman always knows what her man is thinking.” She leaned over and gave Harry a kiss on his cheek. “And a woman always shares what her man is thinking with her best friend.”

Both Ron and Harry looked at each other and at their respective mates, mouths agape. Their amazement was broken by a furor by the front door.

“Look, it’s mum and dad!” Ginny pulled Harry towards her parents. Molly and Arthur Weasley entered the room and took in the party in full swing. Spying Ginny and Harry, they moved over to meet them.

“We got your invitation.” Molly Weasley looked around, registering the faces of the guests. “So what’s this all about anyway?”

Arthur Weasley turned to face the couple, “Yes, quite right, did we miss something?”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and burst into laughter.

***Author's Note: After careful thought and consideration, I've decided to go ahead and continue the story, basically to reload and keep going. As I said earlier, this story has grown beyond my original six chapter intent, so what the heck, let's keep going. I've got the story arcs ready and I'll keep going as long as someone reads it. Please remember, it took 18 chapters to give you the battle at the Dark Citadel. I like the rollercoaster effect. I like to write both action and romance, and I'll throw in some humor as well.

As always, I gauge your desire by your feedback, so strap in, and we'll see if you like this little parallel earth, of the JKR universe that I'm trying to string together.

http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 21 – Changes of Plan

The next morning, Harry and Ginny slept in, enjoying the comfort of not having to be anywhere, and especially, not having to worry about assassins around the every corner. They lay together, enjoying each other’s touch and presence. Finally, they rose, and went down for breakfast.

Kreacher had left them a wide array of choices for their meal. The house-elf had already returned to Hogwarts, after telling Harry that he’d only need to call and the house-elf would return. Harry enjoyed the time alone, truly alone with Ginny.

Harry stared at her for a moment, taking in her beauty, drinking in the sheer joy of being with her. She gave him a playful, pixie-like smile, “What?”

“Nothing, really.” Harry smiled back at her. “So, the season is about to start up again. When do you think you’ll be heading back to the Harpies?”

A small cloud crossed Ginny’s face as if Harry had raised a subject; she was not quite ready to deal with. “I have a few more weeks, but there is an exhibition match coming up this weekend.”

“That’s great, Ginny! Who’re you playing? Is it in Holyhead? We could make a weekend of it.” Harry seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the prospect of watching Ginny play.

Ginny’s response was more subdued, “No, it’s against Puddlemere United. It looks like Oliver Wood will be retaining his job at Keeper this year.” Harry was ecstatic at that announcement. During his first year at Hogwarts, Oliver Wood had been the Captain of the Gryffindor House Team. Oliver had made the unprecedented decision to name Harry to the team, and Harry had flourished from there. When Oliver had graduated, Harry was delighted that he’d been accepted to join Puddlemere United, but for the first few years, Oliver was carried as a reserve keeper. Last year, Oliver had finally broken into the starting role and took part in the epic title match against Ginny’s Harpies which lasted almost five days. The match finally came down to a bit of derring-do by Ginny that involved several barrel rolls to avoid a bludger and a grass-level, inverted pass to catch the snitch. Harry laughed to himself at the memory; Ginny received the “Dangerous” Dai Llewellyn Commemorative Medal, awarded for players who take immense risks that produce a winning or entertaining result.

Harry had been lost in thought, his excitement building about the idea of watching a good Quidditch match, that he’d almost missed the cloud over Ginny’s response. “Is there something the matter? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Harry.” She hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. “That last tour, before everything that’s happened recently, took a lot out of me.”

“Of course it did, Ginny, it’s been a long season, and you were exhausted.” Harry reminded her of the Harpies win the Great Britain sectionals, the first in their history.

Ginny wondered if every woman involved with a man was similarly handicapped by their consistent inability to see things that were less than obvious. “Harry, I’m not talking about the sport, I’m talking about, oh never mind!” She sat back in her seat, in a huff.

“Ginny, really, I want to know, what’s bothering you?” Harry was sincerely puzzled. He was wracking his brain, covering every conversation, every observation over the past few weeks. What had he missed? What clue had he overlooked? Was this a bad thing? Harry Potter was a good, possibly great Auror, but he had no way to figure out the mysteries that were the minds of women.

Ginny watched his face and saw the genuine confusion that reigned there. Her expression softened, because she also saw concern and love in his face as well. He loved her, of that she had no doubt, but maybe she’d need to be a little more expressive as to what was on her mind. She chuckled, remembering his comment about “working on their communication”. Saving the world does put a lot of strain on a relationship. She smiled at him and let him off the hook, just this once.

“It’s not that at all. I’ve enjoyed playing Quidditich, but I can’t help but think that it’s a child’s game. I’ve been playing for three years, and I want more. I want to be married; I want to have children with you Harry.” He smiled at that comment. “Most of all, I want to be an adult.”

Harry had not expected this. He’d always thought that he would be asking too much of her by wanting more of her time. Yet, here she was, expressing the same feelings he’d had. “Is there something else you’d like to do, besides have children with me, that is?” He smiled inanely at her.

She laughed, “I’ve been chatting to the senior Quidditch correspondent at the Daily Prophet, he may be retiring, and there may be an opening for me there.”

“A reporter! At the Daily Prophet!” This turn was certainly unexpected; he’d had no idea that this had been a desire of Ginny’s. Given his history with reporters from the Daily Prophet, Harry was sure he’d blocked out that possibility subconsciously. He made a mental note to remind himself to have a few more conversations with his wife to be in the future. He’d been handed quite a few surprises, and they were scarcely done with breakfast.

“Oh Harry,” Ginny cast a mocking grin at him, “Don’t say it that way, it’s not like you’ll be seeing a juicy expose about the great Harry Potter, it’s Quidditch.”

Harry returned her smile, holding his hands up in surrender, “Well, if there were an expose, you’d certainly have the goods.” She threw a breakfast roll at his head.

When they’d recovered from their laughter, he leaned into her ear, “So, when do you think you’d want to start? Being a reporter, I mean.”

She looked at him, “This year, I would think. I’ll talk to Gwenog after this match and offer to stay on until they find my replacement. I hear that Hogwarts has some really talented players graduating this month, so, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Harry grew serious, “Ginny, I’m obviously delighted. If you are sure that this what you want, I’ll support you as much as I can. I just want you to be happy.”

“Harry, I’m happiest with you. I want to have a life together, not traipsing around the globe, missing you. I don’t want to dream about missing opportunity, not when my real dreams have come true.” She leaned over and kissed him, hard. “We don’t have anything planned today, do we?”

Harry drew back and looked into her eyes and smiled, “No, not a thing.”

************************************************** ********************************

The Holyhead Harpies played an exciting brand of Quidditch. They were aggressive and innovative led by their long-time captain Gwenog Jones. Ginny had fit in with their style of play from the beginning. She was fearless and innovative, often performing feats heretofore unseen on the pitch, as marked by her capture of the snitch against Puddlemere United last season. Harry loved watching her play and he reveled in being a part of the crowd. Frankly, Ginny was a much more talented Seeker, than Harry had ever been. He marveled at her tenacity, which seemed to match her personality. Today, the weather was exceptionally dismal. Rain and swirling winds, combined with cooler temperatures, assured the fans that the match would be a low scoring affair. Harry noticed Oliver making his way to his goal and smiled as his friend gave a cheerful wave to the crowd.

The conditions didn’t seem to matter to Ginny. From the start, she soared and swooped, spotting the snitch, almost straight away. She dove in pursuit, and increased her speed to mind-boggling velocities. She veered suddenly to avoid an approaching bludger sent into her path by one of United’s beaters. Harry turned his head as the crowd roared from a brilliant stop by Oliver on a shot taken by Gwenog Jones. The opposing Seeker had no problem seeing Ginny’s movements. In fact, he took a direct, full speed path towards her, and by association, the snitch. The weather and her own determination hid the opposing Seeker from her view. As Ginny reached for the snitch, she felt a massive blow that rendered her senseless. Wary of a Wronski maneuver, where an opposing Seeker would attempt to lure their counterpart into an uncontrolled dive by chasing an imaginary snitch, the United’s Seeker had seriously misjudged his dive and crashed solidly into Ginny. Both were knocked from their brooms, and both were at a perilous height.

From Harry’s viewpoint, the collision was not readily apparent. The collective gasp of the crowd caused him to turn his head. In a flash, he saw the two falling competitors, and by that time, it was too late for him to react. Harry stared in horror, helpless to do anything. He could not feel himself breathing. All he was aware of was the rampant, incessant beating of his heart, which seemed to be wedged firmly in his throat.

“Ginny…”

Harry leapt from the stands and onto the playing area. He ran at full speed, crying out her name as loud as he could, “Ginny!” He came upon her crumpled form and he tenderly placed his hands where he could support her head. “Ginny! Wake up, please wake up!” He searched frantically for any sign of life. This was not happening, he thought, they’d already planned out their lives. The worst that could happen to them, had already happened.

“Ginny, are you okay? Can you hear me?” The obvious note of worry in his voice rousted her from daze. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. Not the teasing smile of prankster, but the knowing smile of one who understands the panic that comes with the thought of losing someone dear. Harry had put her through similar situations, a countless number of times. A small part of her smiled at the fact that the roles were reversed, and he could finally understand, in a little way, the anxiety he’d put her through.

“I’m perfectly fine, Harry, just a little dazed, that’s all. You should know better, it’s Quidditch, not chess.”

Harry felt the worry leave his body, he exhaled heavily and gazed down at his fiancé. In that few moments between the fear that he had lost her and the knowledge that she would be fine, Harry felt like he had aged years. He wondered, taking in Ginny’s face, if this was what she was going through whenever he was putting his own life in danger. How horrible it must have been to put her through the doubt, the fear of their future ending. Now, their future together seemed so far away. In that moment, he didn’t want to wait, in that moment, he knew that he couldn’t wait. He wanted their future to start as soon as possible.

“What?” asked Ginny, knowing that the look on his face indicated that he had reached some sort of important epiphany. Harry was always amazed, always thrilled about how well she knew him. Their communication was getting much better. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to even wait until next fall. Let’s get married now, Ginny, no more waiting, let’s just do it.”

“Well, if all it took was for me to take a little fall, I would have let some idiot hit me earlier!” The twinkle in her eyes displayed the love and amusement she felt. “Let’s get married next month, Harry. I promised my mother we would have a decent ceremony. One month, please and I’m yours forever.”

“One month, I can wait one month.” One month isn’t all that long, he supposed. He helped her up, to the delightful roar of the crowd. He saw Oliver Wood making his way towards them. Harry raised a hand in greeting and noticed that Oliver had slapped his own hand to his head.

“Hey, Harry.” He turned towards her. Ginny smiled conspiratorially and lowered her arm, allowing her sleeve to slacken as something fell out of it. An object fell from her sleeve and into her hand. Firmly ensconced in her fingers was the snitch! The crowd’s reaction was positively deafening.

***Author's Note: Please forgive the similarity to another fan fic chapter I wrote, but this was pertinent to the story. Imagine how much I'm going to have to expand on the wedding chapter.

***Feedback please: http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 22 – Sunday Dinner

Arthur and Molly Weasley were not the slight bit pleased at being kept in the dark about the Malfoy Incident, as Lee and George had taken to calling the whole affair. Molly was beside herself as the details filtered to her about the danger they’d been exposed to, her anxiety no doubt heightened by the amount of hyperbole George and Lee embellished in their individual telling of the story. Molly was also taken aback by Ron’s announcement of his intent to begin Auror training the following day. The events of the past few weeks had only served to increase her thoughts that Harry should not have become an Auror, and now her youngest son was following his best friend’s path. Mrs. Weasley had resolved herself, however, remain silent on the subject during Sunday Dinner.

When Ginny had announced her intention to move out of the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley was beside herself in depression. Ginny was her youngest, and with her departure, the Weasleys found themselves by themselves in their home for the first time in years. It wasn’t that Molly and Arthur didn’t love each other, nor were they unable to enjoy their time together. Having seven children had imbedded in both their hearts, a love of the noise, of the complete riotousness of having so much love in one place. When George’s twin Fred was killed during the Battle of Hogwarts, Molly’s need for her children became especially sharp. Now that Ginny had moved on, the hole left by life’s progress was rather large.

Arthur Weasley truly loved his wife. Knowing that he and Molly could never go back to the way things were, that is, until his children made a proper go at providing them a whole brood of grandchildren; Arthur proposed a new family tradition of the Sunday Dinner. The family would gather, if possible, every Sunday at the Burrow and partake in a feast that reminded them all of the simpler days, times when all they had were adolescent problems, and no fears; a time when Fred was there. George was all for it, stating that it was a fitting, living tribute to his lost twin. Given that Lee Jordan had drawn close to George during his time as business partner, Lee became an unofficial member of the Weasley clan. At times, Bill and Fleur would attend the gatherings, bringing along little Victoire, the Weasley’s first grandchild. Molly Weasley also insisted that Andromeda Tonks be included in the gatherings, since little Teddy was Harry’s godson, and Molly had found herself quite taken with the lad. The Weasley’s other son Charlie, was still in Bulgaria, working with dragons. He had yet to make an appearance, but Molly knew it was a matter of time.

On this day, the merriment of the dinner was especially ribald, given the recent brush with death, the majority of them had just experienced. Harry and Ginny walked through the front door of the Weasley home, drawn tight together, every so often, whispering in each other’s ears and giggling at the result.

“Please! You two need a vacation from each other. Mum, I don’t think I can eat, I’m feeling too sick from the sweetness!” George’s outburst caused both Harry and Ginny to blush uncontrollably, and their color deepened as the rest of the extended Weasley clan joined into the frivolity. Harry was saved by a slight tug on his trouser leg. He barely felt the pull, and yet it’s insistence was compelling and could only be from one source.

“Teddy!” Harry scooped up his four-year old godson in one fell swoop, swinging him about in a whirl, eliciting giggles of delight from the boy. As he laughed, Teddy’s hair would change color, a kaleidoscope of reds and blues and greens that delighted the others gathered in the room.

“Hi Harry!” Harry was astounded. Little Teddy Lupin had grown a bit since Harry had last seen him. His words carried with a clarity that showed determination and intellect. “Where have you been?” Simple words from a child’s heart can say volumes. Harry hadn’t seen Teddy since the day he was given his first assignment. A child’s concept of time has no correlation with what the “adult” world considers the passage of time. In Teddy’s mind, he hadn’t seen Harry in ages and he’d missed his godfather. Harry had missed him too, especially recently, since he and Ginny had made serious progress towards matrimony. Harry picked up Teddy and carried him further into the house.

Ginny watched Harry’s interaction with Teddy, and felt a warm glow in her own heart. She’d watched Harry with his godson over the years and had not really considered Harry’s potential as a father. Now, as she contemplated their life together and her desire to have children, she was very encouraged with his ease around Teddy. She came into the room and greeted her family. Her mother greeted her with a big hug and led her into the kitchen.

“You sure your alright, Ginny?” Ginny felt guilty that her parents had not heard of her capture by Lucious Malfoy until the evening of the party. “I just wanted to make sure you feeling well. How are you with Harry? Are you two doing well?”

“Mum!” Ginny had never really discussed matters of the heart with her mother, much less discuss her relationship with the man she was going to marry. “We’re just fine.”

Molly let the matter drop and went to finish dinner preparations. Being that is was spring, but more importantly, considering that there was no way, magical or otherwise, that the entire extended Weasley clan could fit around the kitchen table; dinner was being held outside. After a while, Molly started shepherding her flock out the door, into courtyard. Ron and Hermione filed out with Percy, while George and Lee worked their way out snickering about some plan they had for later in the evening. Arthur Weasley escorted Andromeda Tonks out, followed closely behind by Molly Weasley. Bill and Fleur carried little Victoire out, cooing to her in two languages. Harry, carrying Teddy, walked with Ginny out the door. As they watched the family work their way to their seats, Harry put Teddy down and pointed him towards his grandmother.

Harry took hold of Ginny’s hand, looking at her with a question in his eyes. She turned to him and gave an anxious nod. “Everyone!” The din encompassing the table began to quiet and turned towards him. In countless encounters with the most foul of enemies, nothing compared the stares he was receiving from this particular gathering. Here before him were Ginny’s family and his only family. Everyone that made any difference to him in his life was here before him and a rather large frog began to form in his throat.

“Um, er, Yes, well, we, I mean Ginny and I,” he was stammering beyond any real comprehension. As he gazed around the table, his eyes were drawn to Ron and George and Lee, whose simmering hysterics were immediately visible. The task was getting more and more difficult for him. As he began planning his escape, wondering if China would be reachable in a single apparition, he felt the Ginny’s hand on the small of his back, drawing him in and reassuring him with her presence.

“Ginny and I have come to a decision.” His voice was sure, solid. The impending bouts of derisive laughter were suddenly quenched. “We’ve decided that we are going to get married, next month, on the first.” The family was quiet, the importance of the news slowly permeating their minds. As one, the acclamation was unanimous, loud and in definite agreement.

Molly Weasley rushed up and hugged Harry and Ginny at once, the tears had started before the last word in Harry’s announcement. “Oh, wonderful, my dears, wonderful!” Applause spontaneously broke out from all present, with two notable exceptions.

Teddy Lupin was a bit perturbed, because there was a warm apple pie on the table and his progress towards one inviting piece had been abruptly stopped by the watchful hand of his grandmother. The other exception to the frivolity found George and Lee, who, as Arthur was walking past them to congratulate the happy couple, kept hearing the words “bachelor party” bandied about.

Arthur came up to his daughter and gave her a solid embrace, then turning to Harry, he offered a hand. “Of course, the Burrow is at your disposal” Harry felt uncomfortable, but decided to get his request out. He’d talked to Ginny, they’d mulled over this decision for hours. Finally, he just had to clear this one hurdle.

“If you two don’t mind,” His gaze took in both Molly and Arthur, “We’d really like to have the ceremony in Godric’s Hollow, near my parents’ home. There’s a nice meadow near the wood there and, well, we were hoping to get married near them.” Molly offered a grand, welcoming smile, and simply nodded her head, the thought washing out new tears from her eyes.

The party began in earnest, the festivities marked by various plans about the coming nuptials and the events that needed to handled in the immediate month. Again there were two exceptions to the discussions that were in play. Teddy Tonks was exhibiting great perseverance and had finally used Andromeda’s wedding dress discussion with Hermione to finally secure the entire apple pie. He’d dragged the tin down to his eye level and secured it under the table, and now, he was enjoying the rewards of his efforts.

The second exception wasn’t seated at the table. A shadowy figure was watching the proceedings from the top of the hill, just behind the stone wall. The figure stood transfixed as if imbedding the scene and its participants for the long term. The stranger stood for a few minutes, not moving, hidden in plain sight, and finally, turned and walked away, never looking back.

***Author's Note: It's a little slow, I know, but bear with me, I'm getting to a point where we can have some fun and adventure, but I'm trying to get through a couple of major and relevant transitions, Ron's entry into Auror training, and the wedding of Harry and Ginny. I'm going to start laying out the elements of the next great threat, sooner than you think.

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Chapter 23 – Aurors in Training

The main hall of the Ministry of Magic heralded another Monday morning with its usual bustle of faceless functionaries. Its broad plaza found the lifeblood of the society meandering its way in droves past the large fountain in the center. Standing near the entryway, Harry stood resplendent, standing out among the throngs. He returned the greetings of several people that he knew and some that he didn’t. By this time, news of his exploits had been circulated by every means possible. The Daily Prophet had been running daily snippets, serialized to track his story from start to finish, although Harry was definitely convinced that one of the reputed “sources” had to be either George or Lee, given the fantastic exaggerations that had been repeated. The Quibbler had run its own series, but had highlighted the romantic aspects of the tale. Stories about Ginny and Harry, or Ron and Hermione; even one recounting the budding relationship between Cho Chang and Dennis Creevey were popular sellers. The most pervasive way Harry’s legend had grown, was through word of mouth. In pubs, on Quidditch pitches, in the common rooms of Hogwarts; more and more story tellers made a show of how they had been connected to the “Malfoy Incident”, but even more so, with more accuracy than could be expected, Harry was the key feature of the stories. He was even more admired, even more feared, even more respected than before. Harry Potter was now known as one of the greatest Aurors in history, and he was extremely uncomfortable with that reputation.

Harry brushed an imaginary dust mite from his shoulder and adjusted the front of his robes, aligning the Aurors’ medallion on his breast. Presently, a loud whoosh signaled the arrival of travelers through the Floo Network. Harry smirked as Ron and Hermione stood before him. Ron was dressed in a set of nondescript, navy blue robes, his long red hair pulled back, tight in a ponytail. He stood tall, his eyes showing purpose, seriousness hinted by no small amount of nervousness. Over his shoulder, he carried a battered leather satchel, worn by time and probably by proximity to one too many Weasley Wheezes concoctions. Ron’s expression was serious, but he was, from time to time, rolling his eyes subtly.

On Ron’s arm, Hermione was fussing on his appearance, making small adjustments to his robes and chatting incessantly. “I’m so proud of you Ron, this is wonderful. We’ll be able to go to work together, we can see each other during the day, just do your best, there’s no reason to be nervous…” Harry wondered if she’d even stopped talking during their transit in the Floo.

“Hermione! Please! I’ll be fine.” Ron’s exasperated outburst silenced her. Hermione stopped talking, her face dropping a little.

“I’m sorry, Ron, it’s just that…”

Ron completed her sentence, “It’s just that you’re worried and nervous. So am I, but I want to do this, and I know this is the right thing for me and for us.”

“I know, Ron, but with everything that’s happened, I can’t help but worry.” Ron placed a soft hand on her cheek. The expression on his face was kind, reassuring and loving.

“Good, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t worry, and I love you for it. Remember, I love you more today, than yesterday.” With that, he kissed her and felt her body relax.

Harry felt slightly awkward, witnessing his friends’ private moment. When they turned to face him, he’d turned away, offering them time together.

“Good morning, Harry. It’s safe to look now.” Hermione’s playful tone indicated that her emotions were once more in check. “You will take good care of him, won’t you?”

Harry gave Hermione his best “trust-me” look, “Of course, how much trouble could he get in with me around?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and gave one last kiss to Ron, and joined the crowd, heading towards her office. Ron followed her progress until she finally disappeared. With a sigh, he turned to Harry.

“Ready?” Harry looked his friend over one last time, searching for any sign of regret or doubt. Ron stood tall, and faced him squarely. “Good! Let’s go.” Harry turned and led Ron into the throng.

They made their way through the plaza towards the elevators. The found a lift quickly and filed in with a large group. Harry watched his friend, noticing that Ron was shifting his weight from side to side and gazing at the ceiling of the elevator. “Relax, Ron, they won’t bite.” The elevator stopped at their floor and as Harry led Ron off, “at least on the first day.”

When they entered the Office of Aurors, Harry made a quick stop to greet Dawlish. “Harry, good. Hello Mr. Weasley, good luck today. Harry, when you get a minute, can you come by?”

“Certainly, I’m just going to walk Ron over to see Lachlan. I should be back momentarily.” Harry gave Dawlish a jaunty wave and continued on down the corridor. When they neared Lachlan’s door, Ron stopped Harry.

“Do you think I can do this?” Ron’s question had been brewing since his decision to become and Auror. Much like Ron’s first day on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, Ron had been thinking whether his desire to become an Auror matched his ability to be one. In light of recent events, especially watching how the Aurors, especially Harry, had performed at the Dark Citadel, Ron’s anxiety had grown more.

Harry looked at Ron, fixing him with a serious stare, “Ron, you are my friend, and have been for years. We’ve fought, bled and cried together. You are as close to a brother that I have, or will ever have. Believe me when I say, you are more than capable of becoming and Auror, and there is no one else that I’d like to have with me when things get rough.”

Ron seemed to grow several inches with this lecture. Harry smiled at him and knocked at Lachlan’s door. “Come in!” The high pitched, clear voice penetrated the door and coincided with the door’s opening. Lachlan McCrory sat at his desk, already cluttered with parchment and books of various sizes and description. Owls dotted his window ledge, fluttering in and out, bringing and taking away correspondence at a dizzying rate.

“Harry!” Lachlan rose and gave Harry an embrace. “Good to see you! You won’t believe it, we have reports of an Occamy in Portsmouth! Can you imagine!”

Harry reached back into his brain, trying to remember Hagrid’s instructions on magical beasts. Ron spoke up, “Occamy, aren’t they only found in the Far East?” Harry’s surprise at his friend’s recollection was clearly evident.

“Precisely Ron! Excellent, starting off your first day on the right foot. Are you ready?” Lachlan offered Ron a gentle smile. Ron made a furtive glance at Harry and nodded. “Good, let me see your satchel, then.” Ron hesitated, and then slid his satchel down his shoulder and passed it on to Lachlan.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve packed, shall we?” Lachlan began rummaging through Ron’s bag, commenting on various items that he found. “Peruvian Instant Blackness Powder, good, that should come in handy. What exactly is Ton Tongue Toffee?” Ron shrugged sheepishly. After a hard look at Ron, Lachlan tossed out the item. “Hmmm, what is ‘U-No-Poo’?”

Harry let out a low chuckle and eased his way out of the office. He made his way back to Dawlish’s office; the senior Auror was engrossed in conversation with Gawain Robards, the Head of the Office of Aurors. Dawlish greeted Harry with a grin. Gawain’s greeting was more pronounced.

“Harry! Good to see you! I just ran into Arthur, congratulations! I’m assuming you’ll be wanting some time off next month?” Gawain was clad in a tweed muggle suit, colored in various muted shades of brown and gray. Atop his head was gray fedora, the brim perfectly aligned with the line of his brow.

“Er, yes sir. Thank you sir.”

“No problem, my boy.” Robards leaned in towards Harry, his voice dropping in volume level, “Just remember the invitation, my wife says this will be the social event of the year!” Robards turned towards Dawlish and gave him a brief farewell, and then left the office.

Harry’s ears were ringing with the echoes of the phrase “social event of the year” which somehow kept translating in his brain to mean “pain in the….”

“Ahem.” Dawlish interrupted his musings.

Harry looked up, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Harry. I have a bit of a dilemma, and I was wondering if you can help me with it.”

“Of course, anything.”

Dawlish brushed his hands through his hair, a nervous habit he performed, Harry noted, whenever he had to deliver uncomfortable news. “It’s about Sarah Peebles.”

Sarah Peebles was completing her first year of Auror training, and during the recent crisis had been the victim of an Imperious Curse, where she’d been compelled to help Malfoy lure Harry to his eventual appointment with the Furies. Initially, she’d been under great scrutiny, and had to bear under the pressure of lengthy and intense interrogation.

“What about her?” Harry’s tone was questioning, puzzled. As far as he was concerned, Sarah’s involvement with Malfoy was as blameless as Ginny was when she was overcome by Voldemort, which is to say, completely.

“Harry, you have to understand your reputation in this Office.” Dawlish was very uncomfortable; it seemed as if he would wear away the hair on the top of his head. “Many of our colleagues are refusing to train Sarah, because of her role in your, shall we say, adventures.”

“That’s preposterous!” Harry’s indignation was clearly visible. “If an inability to resist an Imperious Curse was a crime, I daresay quite a few of the members of this organization would be in Azkeban, based on their activities during the Thicknesse reign.”

“I know, and I think that guilt is playing a large part in this. Everyone is so adamant about being on the right side.”

Harry pondered a moment, “How many have refused to train her?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?” Harry could not believe his ears. “Not a one volunteered?”

“Well, Lachlan offered, but we have your friend Weasley assigned to him.” Dawlish stopped short, the main point of this conversation seemed to hang in the air.

“What is it that I can do? Would you like me to speak to the other Aurors, try to convince them?” Harry was immediately suspicious of where this was going.

“No, I don’t know what good that would do. No, Harry, I’d like you to take over her training.”

Harry’s head spun. It was practically unheard of for a junior Auror to be assigned to the training cadre, much less one under a year out completing training, like Harry was.

“John, you can’t be serious, I’m no where near ready to train someone. I’m barely out of training myself.”

Dawlish stopped fidgeting and locked onto Harry. “Harry, I’ve had quite enough of that. You are, quite frankly, the best Auror in this Office. You are possibly the best that has ever come through.”

Harry lowered his head, his modesty taking hold.

“Stop that, Harry! At some point in your life, in your career, you have to acknowledge your strengths and deal with them. You have something very valuable to offer young Sarah, and I expect you to perform the task to the best of your ability, is that understood?” Dawlish’s expression would not take no for an answer.

“Yes, sir.” Harry’s chagrined countenance told Dawlish that his words had the effect he’d hoped.

“She’s waiting in your office. Harry, you know what to do, the most important thing is to teach her to learn for herself. Train her to be an Auror you’d want in your spear. It’s as simple as that.”

“She’s in my office? You knew I’d say yes?” Dawlish smiled at Harry, the tension disappearing from his shoulders and from the room.

“I couldn’t afford to hear you say no.”

Harry walked from Dawlish’s office and shook his head. Passing Lachlan’s office, he caught a glimpse Ron’s figure, standing in the same position as before. The sound of Lachlan’s voice drifted out into the corridor.

“Goodness, whatever spell you have on this bag, it’s wonderful! What else do you have in here? Oh my, candies!”

Ron made a plea that went ignored. “But, sir, you might not want…”

“Nonsense, I have quite the sweet tooth. Hello, what’s this? I absolutely adore Nougats!”


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Chapter 24 – Field Work

As Harry arrived at his office, the door opened to reveal the slight figure of Sarah Peebles, sitting forlornly in a corner chair. She was a wisp of a girl, slight, thin, with a pale complexion. Her hair was a russet brown, curly and long, falling about her shoulders in a careless fashion. When Harry saw her, she sat with her shoulders slumped, her robes barely capable of sitting on them. Her eyes were brown, sad; puffiness framed them as if she’d been crying recently, and for a sustained time. Harry’s blood began to boil on seeing the abject misery this girl had endured.

He offered her a smile, “Well hello, Sarah.”

She tried to return the smile; her attempt was wan, not really reflecting her mood, “M-Mr. Potter, Mr. Dawlish told me to come see you, really.”

Harry shook his head, Sarah had been put through a ringer, he supposed, she was questioning her every move, trying to justify her every action, this was not a good start to resuming her training. Importantly, her condition was not her fault, and this simple fact was the core around which Harry resolved to help her.

“I know, Sarah, and call me Harry.” Her smile turned a little brighter, a little more genuine. “Do you know why Dawlish sent you to me?” She shook her head, apparently having no clue as to what why she was there, but expecting it was part of some complex punishment that had been devised for her.

“I’ve been appointed your trainer; I’m taking over your final two years of Auror training.” Sarah’s mouth dropped open in obvious disbelief, which Harry mistook for disappointment. “I know that this isn’t what you wanted. You deserve a much more qualified Auror than me to be your instructor, however,” Harry paused trying to find a delicate way to tell her that she was unwanted by the other Aurors, “circumstances are such that, I’ve been pressed into service.”

Sarah gaped at Harry for a moment, then her mouth broke into a huge grin, “No, M-Mr. P-Pot…I mean Harry, this is wonderful. Thank you so much! I was certain I was being sacked!” She suddenly broke into a fury of rapid fire chat, “I’m so sorry about before, I don’t know what happened, I hope you’ll give a chance to prove myself, I really want to be an Auror…”

Harry held up his hands, bringing her nervous harangue to a halt. “That’s enough of that. Let’s get one thing straight, once and for all. I do not hold you remotely responsible whatsoever for what happened before. Period. I don’t want you to apologize; you’ve nothing to apologize for. I don’t want atonement; you have nothing to atone for. I don’t want you proving yourself, because I will test your resolve in the normal course of your training. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She had regained control of her senses, delighted in her new worldview and at the turn of events in her life.

Harry was pleased at how rapidly she adapted to the changing circumstances, but now he had to think of something to do. When he’d been going through his training, he remembered countless days of drilling and dueling in the Auror Arena down the hall, but in Harry’s mind, the most fulfilling training hours were done in the field. At that time, his owl, Helios, his golden feathers bristling in the sun, alit on his ledge with a note. Harry gave Helios an affectionate pat, and read the message. His eyes lit up as an inspiration hit him.

“Have you completed your training on using Switching Spells?” She nodded. “Good, grab your bag, and come with me.”

They filed out of his office. A nasally, high pitched, voice belonging to a rapidly walking figure passed them, “What, in Merlin’s name, did you put in those Nougats?” Lachlan came speeding by, his head was tossed back, a handkerchief pressed against his nose.

Trailing behind him, looking distraught, Ron was waving his wand, trying spell after spell to staunch the blood flow from Lachlan’s nose.

“Finite! No, that’s not right. Reparo! No, that’s not it. I’m really sorry Lachlan, I mean Mr. McCrory. I’m sure I can fix it. Wait.” Ron gave Harry a baleful look, shrugging his shoulders, and then tore off after Lachlan as the made for the infirmary.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he laughed heartily at the sight. Turning to his new pupil, “See, your day is looking up, your training couldn’t be as bad as that.” Her laugh told Harry that she just might make it through.

************************************************** ************************************************** *********

Mortimer Gafney and Silas Hornsby were not pleasant children. In their third and fourth years, respectively at Hogwarts, they had not been the models of behavior their parents thought them to be. Silas was older, a Slytherin in the old mold. He was a loathsome child, overweight, bordering on obese. His size made him bullyish, a person that enjoyed pushing other, smaller students around. Mortimer was the complete opposite in appearance to Silas. He was small, skinny and awkward. At first glance, he was someone that Silas normally would have made the butt of unending abuse. Mortimer was in Ravenclaw, a testament to his intellect. Despite their differences, the boys found that they were kindred spirits, bad seeds, who sought no other pleasure than to pick at and pick on those weaker than they.

They’d worked out an effective formula. Silas would have the sadistic impulses, the ideas of how to better taunt and challenge their intended victims. Mortimer had the brains, the capability to puzzle out ingenious methods to carry out the schemes, and to cover them up. Both found great pleasure in taunting muggles. This was made more a challenge by the ban on the use of Underage Magic, which was so stringently enforced. Mortimer, as usual, had hit on a unique and innovative solution. He thought that stealing the wands of others, may mask who was casting the spells. On the last day of school, the pair had used the chaos to swipe five or six of their unwitting classmates’ wands. Up to now, plan had worked perfectly. They’d spent their time hexing bicycles to bite their riders and putting illusions over open manhole covers, waiting for muggles to fall through.

Today, they felt, was truly inspired. They’d gone to a park and spied several muggle children kicking a white and black ball on a field. They were pushing this ball with their feet and propelling it through goals located on either end of the field. It seemed to be a pedantic form of Quidditch. Mortimer’s eyes glistened with opportunity. He deftly removed one of the purloined wands, and aimed it at the ball. Instantly the ball grew to about ten feet in diameter. Around its edges, a row of teeth appeared. The ball began to propel itself, chasing the terrorized children around the pitch. When a child would go past one of the erstwhile goal posts, arms would reach out and capture the child and place it into the goals maw, becoming hopelessly entangled in its netting. Staying a few moments to watch the fruits of their labors, the two boys began to run from the scene.

As they ran, they entered a pedestrian tunnel that allowed the park pathway to continue unobstructed across the road. They entered the tunnel and spotted a figure at its opposite mouth. It was a tall man, dressed in a finely tailored muggle suit. The man was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, giving off a casual air of nonchalance. When the boys reached the part of the tunnel near the man, he stood straight and faced them, a small smile on his face.

“Now, what have you boys been up to?” Harry glanced at the boys, trying to read their expressions, trying to determine if this was going to be a standard encounter, or to see whether the two boys would attempt something foolish.

“What’s it to you?” Silas, the larger of the boys, stepped forward, unimpressed by the presence of a mere muggle, adult or not. “Move aside or you’ll regret it.”

Harry laughed, placed his hands in his pockets and leaned a shoulder against the wall of the tunnel. “Is that a fact, all right. Go on then. Give it a go.”

Mortimer gave Silas a skeptical glance, and then both boys pulled wands from their pockets.

“Expelliarmus!” Sarah’s voice carried through the tunnel, her spell sending the two boys’ wands flying across the path. “Petrificus Totalus!” Silas and Mortimer were frozen in place, save for their obviously terrified expressions. Sarah moved towards where Harry stood. She was dressed in a light blue dress, framed in lace with a white bodice. She had white knee-high stockings and black patent-leather shoes. Harry made a mental note to discuss updates in muggle-wear in order to maintain an air of obscurity.

“Good, Sarah, now what shall we do with them? What is the purpose of this exercise?” Harry found himself falling into a role more familiar than he expected, just like when he’d been instructing his friends in the Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

“We should arrest them, they’ve broken the law.” Sarah was sure in her response; she looked at Harry for confirmation.

“Yes, we could do that; that is a good, sound option, but what is it we’re trying to accomplish, especially with boys this age?”

Sarah thought for a moment, not expecting this tack, “Well, we want them stop, to not use their magic for mischief. We want them to have a little justice.”

“Good. Exactly, and what is justice for them? How would you conduct their education?” Harry swung his arm towards the boys.

Sarah smiled. “Densaugeo!” Immediately the teeth in the boys’ mouths began to grow at a frightening speed.

“Finite! Reparo!” Harry’s voice startled Sarah, the tone indicating that perhaps, she’d made an improper choice. She recoiled, expecting an explosion of fury from her mentor.

Instead, Harry’s response was worse than she expected, it was soft. It was disappointed. “I see we have more to discuss.”

Harry turned towards the boys and leveled his green eyes towards their faces. “My name is Harry Potter, from the Office of Aurors.” Silas and Mortimer choked in fear. “Now as my colleague says, we could simply arrest you both, and you can wait for the mercy of the court. There is no age limit for incarceration at Azkeban.” The boys’ faces blanched, and both had almost stopped breathing, altogether.

Harry’s voice softened. “There is an alternative.” Harry saw looks of desperation, which were turning into a modicum of hope. “I didn’t say it would be easier, just not Azkeban. You two will return to your parents and arrange for transportation back to Hogwarts. You will report to Professor Longbottom and confess your activities, and hand back your stolen wands. You will then ask Professor Longbottom to assign detention to you for the duration of the summer at my request. You will also tell Professor Hagrid the same. You will perform your summer detention to Professor Longbottom’s satisfaction. He will determine the length, it may last all summer, it may last all next school year, it may last two years, but you will not deviate from his instructions. Do you understand?”

Silas’ nod was quicker than Mortimer’s. Mortimer understood that detention tasks with a Herbology professor and a half giant that cared for magical creatures had the potential to be hard labor, to say the least. But it wasn’t Azkeban. Besides, they’d have a chance to plot their way out of the predicament. A small smile passed Mortimer’s lips.

“Oh no, my young friend.” Harry continued. “You see, I will know, before you do, if you are planning to renege on our agreement. I’ll be watching you,” Harry looked at each boy in turn, “personally.” Harry’s foreboding presence clarified his position to the boys. With a flick of his wand, and a quick non-verbal command, the boys were released. Harry flit his eyes, and the two former tormenters ran off to accede to their side of the bargain.

Sarah was dumbfounded, the elegance of the solution dawning on her. “What did you do wrong?” Harry’s question was innocuous, innocent.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders, replaying the entire incident in her mind. She couldn’t find where she’d failed.

“You enjoyed punishing them, Sarah. The Desaugeo Charm was hurtful, and that meant you stooped to their level.” Harry put a hand on her shoulder. “Being an Auror is about justice and peace. We use spells defensively, to protect the innocent and the weak. We must never use our position to exercise power over the helpless. Regardless of what those boys had done, we must never give in to revenge.” For a brief moment, the contorted face of Lucious Malfoy leapt to Harry’s brain. He smiled at her. He wasn’t going to break her down and build her up on the first day.

“It’s not a problem, you did well with their disarming, but I think we need to address your wardrobe. A friend of mine showed me a muggle magazine called “Vogue” and it may….”

He led her off out of the tunnel.

***Author's Note: We're getting there, patience, patience.

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Chapter 25 – Home Again

Ron opened the door to his home and slammed it shut. The silence abounding within told him that his wife had not returned from work, which added another burden to his shoulders, considering that she’d probably expected him to wait for her at the Ministry. He crossed to one of his favorite chairs and sat in a huff. The day had been a disaster. Not only had his tutor eaten a good sized piece of Nosebleed Nougat, it’d taken the better part of the morning for healers in the infirmary to stop to the bleeding. It finally took an impassioned call out to George Weasley himself, to reverse the effects of the bleeding. Ron had no doubt that the speed that this information would be distributed would be unparalleled in modern history.

The afternoon had been marked by a sub-par performance in the training arena. Lachlan had been of a mind to test Ron’s defensive skills from the start. At first, Ron held his own, countering spells and launching a few of his own. But in order for Lachlan to instruct Ron, he had to talk, and a residual amount of after-effects remained from the morning fiasco. So Lachlan’s normally clear, yet high pitched voice, sounded stopped up, blocked, adding a squeak to his inflection and tone, thoroughly distracting Ron from performing the nuances of his defensive spells. Finally, Lachlan waved his hands wearily.

“Rond, dust gobe hombe.” Ron’s shoulders fell noticeably, the day’s events carrying him down. He felt as if he’d let down Harry, Hermione, his family, but most of all, had let down himself.

Sitting in the beginning dusk, the shadows of the day passing him by, he stared out the windows, his thoughts focused on his failures and trying to figure out how he’d tell his wife.

So lost in his depression, he didn’t hear the door open and close behind him. He hadn’t realized someone was in the room until the warmth of a hand covered his chest and softness of a kiss touched his cheek. Looking up, he saw her smiling at him, her gaze loving, her eyes wiping away the harshness of his thoughts of the day.

“Hermione, I…” She didn’t let him speak, but simply placed a finger on his lips.

“I know, Ron.” The statement was simple and yet spoke volumes. She knew of his despair. She knew he was hurting, that he doubted himself, and yet, none of that mattered. Her smile was reassuring; it provided energy to his soul. She knew and yet it didn’t matter, after all, she loved him.

She kissed him on the lips, the last vestiges of doubt, pity or pain leaving him. He wrapped his arms around her and thought of how fortunate he was, how lucky he was to have her in his life. They had known each other for years. There weren’t any secrets, really.

She grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him from the chair, leading him towards their bedroom. Her smile was teasing, playful. “You know, I love you more today, than yesterday.” That was exactly what he needed to hear.

************************************************** ************************************************** **********

When they returned to the Ministry, Harry told Sarah to go home. He watched her head out and then he returned to his office. He finished some of his more pressing correspondence and then called it a day. On his way out, he stopped at Lachlan’s door, which was ajar. McCrory was humming a tune to himself and beckoned Harry to enter.

“What a day, eh, Harry?” Lachlan looked no worse for the wear. “I was just reading that there were reports of Inferi being seen in Wales. I wonder who was assigned that one?” Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“You could have told Ron that you knew what was in the candies.” Harry’s tone was scolding. “He probably thinks you’re permanently injured or that you hate him.”

Lachlan couldn’t repress his laugh. “You know how it is, Harry. A trainee has to be off guard, especially Ron. He’s been in too many pressure situations; there was really no way to put stress on him, other than to make him have doubts of his own.”

Lachlan pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled a glass bottle and two glasses from the bottom, causing Harry to offer a raised eyebrow. Pouring a couple of fingers of golden liquid out of the bottle and in to the glasses, Lachlan offered Harry a glass.

“This is called ‘scotch’, the muggles have different names for their whiskeys and this one is a fine single malt. You have to have seen death, I think, before you can drink this down. Cheers.” Harry followed the older wizard’s lead and attempted to drink down the contents of the glass. As the “scotch” went down his throat, he felt it burn, taking his breath with it. The warmth continued down to his stomach and his head became a little light.

“Yes, not for the fainthearted, and should only be drunk in moderation.” Lachlan laughed. “Your friend, Ron, he’ll be fine. He did well with the defensive testing. I had to resort to changing my voice a bit, just to get any type of rise out of him. I’ll build him up in the next few days or so. I hear you’ve taken on Sarah Peebles.”

Harry nodded, “I don’t know if I’m using the right technique. I had her in the field today, and she was a little too hasty with a punishment spell on some kids.”

“Don’t read too much into it. Just get her to be able to learn for herself. You want to be able to trust her as part of your team, even in your spear, if you need her.”

Harry chuckled loudly, “That’s just what Dawlish told me!”

“Good to hear, you see, I was Dawlish’s tutor, and I’d hate to think that he forgotten all my wisdom.” Lachlan’s eyes twinkled. “Look Harry, being a tutor isn’t structured, neither is the training itself. Take Ron, for example. I have no doubt that we can accelerate him through the first year. His experience will help with that. The only formal requirement is that they pass their M.A.G.E for the year.”

Harry nodded. The Ministry of Magic had only one real, formal requirement for Aurors in training. Those were tests, aligned with their training year group called M.A.G.E.’s or Master Auror Governing Examination. M.A.G.E.’s were more practical than a written or oral test. They placed trainees in situations where their decision making was measured and evaluated. An Auror in training could take an annual M.A.G.E. at any time, but if he failed, he had to wait at least three months until he retook the test. If an Auror failed any year’s M.A.G.E. three consecutive times, that Auror was eliminated from the program. Harry had taken his first year M.A.G.E after only two months of training, but didn’t take his second year until fourteen months later, when his training Auror felt he was ready. Readiness was purely subjective and the test was tailored each trainee’s individual traits and abilities.

“You’re right, of course. Still, this is, well, rather unprecedented, having me as a tutor.”

Lachlan tossed back his head and laughed, “Well Harry, if there was a word to describe you, then ‘unprecedented’ would fit more than most.” Harry couldn’t help but be caught up in Lachlan’s merriment.

************************************************** ************************************************** *********

He arrived home, later than usual, his detour with Lachlan helping reassure him, but also inevitably delaying him from returning to his home until after dark. As he entered the long hall, he heard voices. One was obviously Ginny’s, but the others he heard were of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Arthur was guiding a set of large clothing trunks down the stairs. Ginny saw Harry standing in the hall, and beckoned him into the kitchen, giving her mother a quick mental signal.

Harry, puzzled by the commotion, waved at Arthur and returned Molly’s silent hug, before following Ginny into the kitchen. “What’s all this?”

Ginny gave him a strong kiss, when she pulled back, his lips tingled and his confusion upon entry to the house had disappeared. He looked into her eyes, excited. Her expression was different, so Harry referred to his mental catalogue of her face, a catalogue he’d been collecting in an effort to gain a better grasp of her nonverbal communications. He hit on the one that matched her expression. He shuddered, her eyes were saying, simultaneously, she was up to something, she’d made a decision, and Harry was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it.

Ginny’s shoulders conveyed a certain excitement, as if she’d had an inspiration that she just had to share. “Well mum had a splendid idea. Since we’re putting together the wedding preparations, she thought that it would make sense for me to move back home, so that, she can help me.”

Harry wasn’t as thrilled with the idea. “She did, did she?”

Ginny hadn’t registered Harry’s skepticism with the plan, “Oh yes!” In fact Ginny seemed to be very excited by this proposition. “Isn’t it romantic? I’ll be getting ready, to be your bride over the next month we can prepare ourselves for the big day. The next time we spend the night together, we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter. Couldn’t you just die?”

Harry’s brain began to calculate the number of minutes in an hour, the number of hours in a day and the number of days in a month. He’d just assume try to figure out how long he could hold his breath unassisted. What is it about a bride that makes her mental as the wedding approaches anyway?

“I could, just.”

***Author's note: OK the last three came out pretty fast, because I'm ready to get to the Bachelor Party and the Wedding. So, by tomorrow, I should the bachelor party out there, ok? Happy now?

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Chapter 26 – “The Party”

As Harry feared, the weeks leading up to his wedding had passed more slowly than he could ever imagine. He would see Ginny, frequently, but she was lost amid the bustle of the preparations for the wedding. Her happiness was his ultimate goal, but after two or three shopping excursions, picking out robes, and colors and place settings, he determined that her happiness was better served by his absence from those activities. He issued her a line of credit from his accounts at Gringott’s and stepped merrily out of the way.

When he’d seen Ron at the Ministry, he noticed that his friend’s demeanor was decidedly more assertive, more confident. Lachlan had trained many Aurors and his methods were finally taking hold of Ron. Lachlan had miscalculated in one area, Ron had mustered the capability and the will to complete his first year M.A.G.E. in three weeks. He’d passed with an outstanding, much to the delight of Hermione.

Harry’s own confidence in his ability to tutor Sarah had been increasing as well. She’d taken her first-year M.A.G.E. with Ron and had passed with an outstanding as well. Harry was buoyed by her success, and noticed that she was beginning to come out of her shell. The main quality, it seemed, that all Aurors must have is a confidence in their own abilities and in the their cause. He’d seen it when they’d been seven against many, and he’d seen it on countless other occasions. Harry’s own abilities seemed to be strengthening. He was able to perform more and more complex spells. His biggest surprise came while he was training with Sarah in the arena.

They’d been practicing defensive combinations. In this way, an Auror could disarm an opponent and immediately stun them. Sarah had sent and effective “Expelliarmus” spell at him and his wand had flown from his grasp. While she was following up with a stunning spell, he’d reacted, unconsciously, by issuing a “Protego” command, even though he’d lost his wand. Sarah’s spell rebounded off the shield that formed from Harry’s words. He’d been able to generate a sufficiently powerful shield charm, without his wand. He felt guilty, because he’d allowed Sarah to think that she’d missed with her spell, but Harry wasn’t quite ready let anyone know that he had the ability to cast wandless spells, just yet. He wanted to see if this were an isolated incident, or if this was something larger.

His wedding day was fast approaching, and he felt more and more isolated from everyone. His friends were avoiding him. He felt a rising anxiety, not from being ignored; he wasn’t at all upset at his isolation. No, he was anxious because he knew his “friends” were plotting something and given the insidious nature of his friends, it only mean some sort of pre-wedding ritual. It was something the muggles called a bachelor party. Harry didn’t know what occurred at bachelor party, he’d never been to one and those that participate are sworn to secrecy, using a Fidelius Charm. Therefore, all Harry had seen were the aftermath of such events, and usually only the shells of the people who survived the festivities. Even when Ron was married to Hermione, he only was allowed to attend the bitter, dawn-interrupted end of the festivities. Today was Friday, and he was due to get married tomorrow at 3 PM. Harry felt it was inevitable, his friends, if they were going to do anything, would have to strike today.

It was early afternoon, and Harry was sitting in his office reviewing several reports of magical animal incidents. Over the past few weeks, there had been quite a few sightings of creatures that were not necessarily native to the Isles or had not been seen in centuries. Normally, this would be a case for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but Harry had noticed that there had been an increase in sightings of beasts that were potentially more dangerous. There were rumors of a chimaera sighting in the north to match the occamy seen in Portsmouth. Harry’s instincts were telling him that these incidents were related, but as of yet, he was the only person who saw any type of pattern, and to put it bluntly, Harry had nothing concrete to go on.

As he pored over the reports, Dawlish leaned his head in Harry’s office, “Harry, go home. You’re getting married tomorrow, there’s nothing going on right now.”

Harry hesitated, but had no real response, “I’m heading out right now, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, now pack it up and get out of here.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his haversack to leave. Harry walked out the office and headed out to catch an elevator to the lobby. Making his way through the main entry hall of the Ministry, he noted that pedestrian traffic was relatively light. Harry made his way to the fires of the Floo Network and absently called out his home at 12 Grimmauld Place. Arriving home, he set his rucksack down and changed out of his robes and work garb. He made his way to the kitchen, mulling over the magical creature incidents. There was a pattern there; he just couldn’t figure it out.

As he pushed through the door to the kitchen, he was suddenly hit by Petrificus spell. His body went rigid, and Harry had no idea who or what had hit him. His eyes were shrouded as a dark hood was placed over his head. He heard, rather than felt his body manhandled out of his front door. His assailants spoke not a word; their moves orchestrated, rehearsed so as to eliminate the need for talking. Soon Harry was side-along apparated from his home to a new location. Harry heard his captors set him standing. Finally, he heard his captors speak for the first time, a muffled “finite”.

His extremities were suddenly his own to move. He brought his hands to his head and removed his hood. He blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. He was in a familiar place. He was in a single room, a pub, one he’d been in on numerous occasions. The room was dirty and dark. Standing before him was a robed figure, hooded and hidden. He was in the Hog’s Head Inn, a smaller, less frequented bar in Hogsmeade near Hogwarts. The proprietor, Aberforth Dumbledore, was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty save for the lone figure, whose robes were crimson, fiery, foreboding.

The red garbed figure moved towards Harry and moved to pull his hood back, revealing the smiling face of Ron Weasley. Ron’s grin was wide, mischievous; Harry felt his tension replaced by puzzlement and annoyance. Harry had no idea what he was doing here, and why Ron was dressed in such a manner. When he’d arisen this morning, he had not anticipated this result.

“Harry, you are going to have a bachelor party, and this is the first part of it.” Harry eyed his surroundings, skeptical of Ron’s declaration. “Harry, there is a ritual to these events. Wizards due to be married are supposed to be guided by their closest, married male relative through the ritual. It was decided that I be your guide.”

Harry was thoroughly confused. “I don’t understand. What is this? What ritual are you talking about? I thought bachelor parties were drunk free for alls where my closest friends try to put me in compromising situations that serve to talk me out of marriage.”

Ron dropped his voice slightly, “That’s later on.” Ron straightened his back. “You see Harry, like I said before, this is something that’s passed on within a family, and well, it’s important.” Ron’s earnestness struck Harry.

“What does it entail? What are going to do?”

“You see Harry, when you get married, you are committing everything you are to the woman you marry. In one way, you surrender who you’ve been, but you gain so much more as you join together.” Harry couldn’t help but notice how much like Hermione Ron sounded, just then. “We’re going on a journey, where you we will celebrate the gifts you bring to the marriage.”

Ron motioned Harry closer. Harry assumed that Ron intended a side-along apparition, so he closed in with his friend. Ron smiled and in a flash, they had left the Hog’s Head. Almost immediately, they’d disapparated outside the gates of the Hogwarts School. Ron led Harry along the walls to a small cemetery located near the school. Harry recognized the place. It was the place where most of the fallen from the Battle of Hogwarts had been laid to rest. Standing in the middle of the monuments was a large man, whose features became clearer as the two approached. It was Dennis Creevey, standing beside the grave marker of his brother Colin, who’d been killed during the fighting at Hogwarts. Colin had stayed behind to fight with Harry’s allies, even though he was one of the under aged wizards instructed to leave. He’d been killed during the battle.

Dennis drew up his shoulders, his face solemn, serious. His gaze held Harry’s as he spoke, “Harry, I’m here to introduce your first gift to your betrothed.” Dennis’ cadence was unhurried. “The gift I speak of is Sacrifice. You may think that the sacrifice was made by my brother, but the sacrifice we are talking about was one you made to help make us free. Your willingness to give your life for all of us made our victory possible. It made Colin’s death worth something. He would have been proud of you Harry.” Dennis’ voice trembled, slightly breaking, his will, challenged.

Dennis pulled out a small translucent stone, no more than half the size of his palm. The stone was a deep blue, bright with facets that shone in all directions. He pointed his wand at the stone. After a moment, it began to glow, its radiance increasing, until the stone itself disappeared into frenetic beams of light. Dennis reached his hand over towards Ron, who was holding a small leather pouch. Dennis’ hand placed the shimmering light into the open pouch. When Ron pulled the strings on the pouch, the rays of blue light disappeared.

Dennis smiled at Harry, “See you later, Harry!”

Ron waved at Dennis and pulled Harry away from the cemetery. “This isn’t exactly what I expected.” Harry was grateful for the sentiment, but still didn’t understand exactly what was going on.

“Harry, trust me, this is required. It’s so important that they usually put a Fidellius Charm on the proceedings.” Ron maneuvered Harry along a familiar path.

“Maybe they keep it secret so that the grooms don’t try to avoid it.” Harry was surprised at his own disappointment. The more he’d dreaded a traditional bachelor party, the more he’d been looking forward to some unadulterated fun. They made their way down the path that Harry knew, led them to Hagrid’s. Their old friend was standing outside his house, waiting their arrival.

“Well, ‘arry m’ boy. Tomorrow, y’ll be a man!”

“Thanks Hagrid, you’re coming of course!” Harry couldn’t imagine the ceremony without the half Giant.

“O’ Course. But firs’, I git the pleasure of presentin’ the second gift y’ll be givin’ swee’ Ginny. Y’ see, your gift is tha’ o’ Compassion. You saved Buckbeak, an’ for tha’ y’ll be blessed ‘arry.”

At that time, the hippogriff, Buckbeak swooped down, as if timed with the presentation. Come to think of it, Harry thought, it probably was.

Hagrid held open his hand, and within was an emerald green stone. He took the stone and seemingly broke it open, like opening an egg. A shimmering green light exploded from the fracture, radiating out from Hagrid’s hand. He then reached his hand, with the brilliant light over towards Ron’s waiting hands containing the pouch. Hagrid placed the green light into the pouch.

“I’ll be seein’ y’ later, ‘arry!” Hagrid waved them off as Ron pulled Harry back towards the gates of the school. The made their way back up to the school in silence. This experience was very strange to Harry, what exactly was this all about?

They made their way into the school, where they were met by the familiar figure of Neville Longbottom. Neville was the school’s Herbology professor and the role seemed to fit him. He walked like a man familiar with his environment, confident in his place in the world.

“Hello, Harry!” Neville’s handshake was firm. “By the way, I’ve got Silas and Mortimer diluting a bushel of bubotubers right now. Don’t you worry; I think it’ll be a long time before they’ll be causing mischief.”

“Thanks Neville.” Harry’s thoughts drifted back to his capture of the two boys, his first training session with Sarah. “So where are we going?”

Neville stayed silent. Leading his two friends up to the seventh floor, he found the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance. Neville put his head down and walked past the tapestry three times. On his third pass, a doorway appeared.

“The Room of Requirement!” Harry’s outburst broke the silence. Ron nodded his head and pointed Harry ahead of him to follow Neville into the doorway. The room was configured as it had been when Dumbledore’s Army was being trained by Harry in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. Neville had moved to stand in the middle of the room. He gestured Harry over.

“Harry, I’m to tell of your third gift for your wife to be, that being the gift of Strength. Your strength in the dark times inspired us to learn how to defend ourselves. Even when you had to go on your quest, we were inspired to fight the battle from here. In this room. You are giving Ginny that strength to continue the fight, against all odds, no matter what the foe.”

Neville’s voice had been strong and steady during his presentation. He removed a clear golden stone from his sleeve and tapped it with his wand. Like the others before him, the light reflected the color of the stone, which Neville also placed in Ron’s pouch.

After leading his friends back to the gates of the school, Neville shook Harry’s hand. “I’ll be seeing you later, Harry. Good luck!”

“Ron, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I have to say that this has been quite unexpected.”

Ron laughed, “I believe you, Harry. Think about my situation for a minute. When I got married, I got taken around by my dad. Considering who my brothers are, I was a little disappointed at first, but as you remember, the evening did become, interesting.”

Harry agreed, the night had been interesting to say the least. Ron tapped Harry’s wrist and together they disappeared into the air.

Harry couldn’t hide his surprise at their next destination. They’d landed in the pedestrian tunnel near his Aunt Petunia’s house at 4 Privet Drive. It was in this tunnel that he and his cousin Dudley had encountered two dementers back before his fifth year at Hogwarts. Ron pulled Harry towards the playground where he’d spent many a day, hiding from his aunt and uncle, and observed his cousin bullying smaller children in company with his hanger-on friends. As they approached the park, a large, overweight man made his way towards them. It was his cousin Dudley, grown now. Dudley looked different than when Harry had seen him last. His face was the same, but there was a kindness and alertness that Harry had never seen before in his face.

Dudley smiled at Harry and offered a hand. Harry took his hand. Dudley’s grip was firm, but not overpowering. “Hello, Harry. It’s been a while.”

“Yes it has, how are your mum and dad?” Harry’s Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister. The Dursley’s were Harry’s only remaining blood relatives, yet his life with them had been a less than enjoyable experience. The one key element of living with the Dursley’s was that his mother’s protection extended to his safekeeping within their house, so Harry endured the harshness of the existence.

Dudley took a look at Ron, who returned a wink. “Harry, I know I’ve never treated you kindly or civilly for that matter. My mother and dad never really treated you as family either. But, you saved our lives, regardless. You saved my life. I’ll never forget it. We’re family, you and me. I’m glad to hear that you’re to be married, so I wanted to be part of it.”

Harry allowed himself a sharp intake of breath; this was beyond his wildest expectations.

“The fourth gift you’ll bring to your wife, Harry, is the gift of Family. Despite the fact that you’ve never had the chance to enjoy a family, you’ve more than acted the part. This is your family’s blessing of your wedding, so that you don’t have to be alone.”

Harry was visibly moved by Dudley’s gesture. It meant that some connection from his mother, through her nephew, was going to be part of his wedding. Dudley again checked with Ron, and then pulled out an amber stone. Holding it up in his hand, he threw it to the ground, seemingly shattering it. Only instead of breaking, the stone burst into a bright orange light. Dudley looked at the starburst hesitantly, then reached down and picked it up. Moving towards them, he dropped the light into the pouch.

“Will you be there tomorrow, Dudley?” Harry wanted his cousin to be at his wedding, to get a chance to meet his wife.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Harry, but don’t worry, I’ll see you later tonight.” He gave Harry a pat on the back and walked off away from them.

“Tonight, why does everyone keep saying that? Is there some other ceremony going on? Wait a minute Ron, does Ginny have to do this too?”

“I don’t know about Ginny, Harry. We only have two more stops.” Ron grabbed Harry’s arm and apparated away.

Their last destination was King’s Cross Station. At this time of the evening, it was less busy, less confused. Guiding Harry along, Ron led them to Platform 9 ¾ where it all started. This is where he left for Hogwarts for the first time, where he met Ron and Hermione, and where he caught his first glimpse of Ginny Weasley, his wife to be. The platform was deserted, no sounds save for their steps could be heard. At the end of the platform, Hermione Granger Weasley stood, alone, smiling.

“Hello Harry.”

Harry leaned towards Ron’s ear, “Some bachelor party, the best man had to bring his wife.”

Ron laughed, which was abruptly halted on a look from Hermione.

“Harry, this isn’t a ‘bachelor party’ in the strictest sense. This is part of your commitment ritual. My loving husband hasn’t been calling it a bachelor party, has he? I’m sure he would have told me if he’d planned such a juvenile event, wouldn’t you Ron?”

Ron nodded his head soberly. Harry’s confusion was at its peak. “So, you’re part of this commitment ceremony?”

“I’m the last part of the gift you are giving to your fiancé.” Harry looked at Ron, as if to say “I thought you said we had two stops remaining.” Ron shushed Harry with his eyes.

Hermione continued, “This is where it all began, for us. You and I and Ron met here. Your gift is that of Friendship. It’s a bond that near unbreakable. You’ve always been our friend, Harry, and I can think of no greater gift to bring to a marriage.”

With that, she brought out a red stone, brilliant like a ruby. Pointing her wand towards the stone, it broke into the anticipated radiance Harry had seen from the other stones. Instead of placing the light into Ron’s pouch, she waited for Ron to approach her.

Ron had opened his pouch and waved his wand over the opening. Like butterflies in a summer wind, the four collected radiances fluttered out of the pouch and began a dance in the air, around Hermione’s hand. The colors mixed together in a whirl of reds, blues, yellows and greens. Eventually the pallet of lights came together, fusing in one last explosion of energy that flashed a blinding white. When the light cleared, there remained in Hermione’s hand, a perfectly round, gold ring. Harry reached over and picked up the ring.

“It’s Ginny’s wedding band.” His statement was matter of fact, as if he’d known it all along, and yet, he hadn’t.

“The wedding ring you give Ginny is built on the energy of your gifts to the marriage. That’s what this is about.” Her smile warmed Harry, he reached out and hugged her tight.

“Thanks Hermione. Thanks Ron. This means everything to me.” Ron shrugged his shoulders, then moved over and gave his wife a kiss.

“Well, I should be getting Harry back, he’s got a big day tomorrow.” Ron hurriedly pushed his friend back down the platform.

“Ron.” Hermione had not moved from her spot on the platform. “Try not to get him too drunk. You had better keep Lee and George in check. I will know.”

Ron’s nervous laugh was lost in her glare. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” Ron quickly grabbed Harry’s arm and apparated the both of them away.

They arrived back in Hogsmeade, in the alley just outside the Hog’s Head Tavern. Harry brought the ring up to closer to his face, examining its features. It had a simple beauty, unblemished with but a simple inscription on the inside. The scroll work was small, but blazed with its own light.

“A man sees himself through the eyes of the woman he loves”

Harry smiled and looked over to Ron. “So, that was a bachelor party. It wasn’t exactly what I expected. Thanks, Ron.” Harry embraced his friend, the memories of years together overwhelming his senses.

Behind them, the door to the Hog’s Head opened. “Hey, they’re here! If you two are done kissing, we’d like to start the festivities!” Harry turned to find George Weasley’s frame filling the door way.

Harry turned to Ron in bemusement. His friend simply shrugged his shoulders. “What? You really didn’t think your bachelor party amounted to something from Dicken’s ‘Christmas Carol’, did you?” Harry surrendered to his friend’s prodding and allowed himself to be drawn into the pub.

The interior of the Hog’s Head was noticeably different from his visit only a short time before. The room was packed with his friends, all in various states of inebriation. Alberforth Dumbledore the brother of Harry’s mentor, was in his familiar place behind the bar, doling out mugs of something that didn’t exactly look like butterbeer.

Harry’s arrival caused a general tumult of greeting, as the party goers made their way to congratulate him. First to reach him was Neville, who gave Harry a strong embrace and clap on the back. Soon Harry was engulfed by a wave of hugs, handshakes and pats on the back by his friends. Dennis approached him, using his size and strength to clear a path through the well wishers. In his hand, he held a tankard of frothing liquid, amber in color and cold to the touch. He handed the mug to Harry, encouraging him to take a sip. Harry raised a wary eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Lee Jordan walked up leading Dudley by the arm. “Dudley here brought it. It’s called beer. It’s a traditional muggle drink for these occasions.”

“What’s it do?”

“Not a thing. From what I understand, it’s just traditional, but has no mentionable properties or effects on the constitution, right Dudley?” Lee ushered Dudley away before the large man could utter an intelligible response. Harry gave his shoulders a shrug, much to the delight of the gathering.

The party got into full swing, with Harry being handed several tankards of the “beer” in a very short time. When he’d gotten to a point where he felt he’d needed to stop, the assembled co-conspirators broke into rounds of toasts, in order to ensure Harry’s continued consumption.

At one point, Oliver Wood stood up holding his stein high. A small, unobtrusive part of Harry’s brain seemed to note that the drink in Oliver’s mug looked a lot like butterbeer, and not the concoction that Harry was drinking. That small cognitive voice was soon drowned out by the placement of another glass of beer in Harry’s hand, in preparation for Oliver’s toast.

“Friends, we are here to celebrate Harry.” Cheers broke out all around. “Let me just say, that I was the first person to recognize Harry’s skill in Quidditch, putting him on the Gryffindor team in his first year! We won the cup!” More cheers, with some hissing from the non-Gryffindor contingent in the room. Oliver continued, “However, I may not be the best judge of talent. I mean, all Gryffindor had to do, was wait one more year. Because as of tomorrow, the best Quidditch player, the best Seeker with a Potter name, will be Harry’s wife Ginny!” Laughter broke out at that, but Oliver had one more point to make. “Here’s to Harry, who had the will, the fortitude, the strength and the foresight, to convince Ginny to become a reporter, so I don’t have to face her on the pitch, ever again!” The crowd roared in its applause, encouraging Harry to down his tankard of beer.

As the night progressed, Harry felt warm and lightheaded. His brain muddled by the drink and the fun. On one occasion he found himself taking the scene in. He’d just received a toast from Lachlan McCrory, which included a full glass of the man’s infernal “scotch”. Now Lachlan, George and Dudley were huddled in a corner, casting nervous glances Harry’s way. Harry had risen and was walking past them. Harry managed to hear a brief snippet of their conversation.

“So Dudley, let me see if I have this straight, liquor before beer, everything’s clear; beer before liquor, everything’s sicker. Now, which did Harry drink first?” Positive glee emanated from George’s voice.

During a lull in the party, basically a time for the food and drink to be replenished, Harry managed to work his way outside, for a breath of air. He walked down the alley to the main street of Hogsmeade, while the sounds of the party drifted across the night. It was cool, a slight breeze hit his face rousting him from his haze. He stood in the street, looking up at the night sky. The stars seemed brighter, closer and full moon shone down on the town below. Harry basked in the moon’s glow, a brief flicker of memory triggered towards Remus which introduced a flood of reflections, on Sirius, on his father, on his mother. Harry’s thoughts drifted to Teddy, and then to his friends. The drink had clouded his vision somewhat, so his memories passed in a rapid fashion, but not altogether unpleasant. Finally, one image crystallized in his brain. Her face came to focus with a clarity that, temporarily at least, sobered Harry with its warmth and vitality. Ginny was his base, his core, his whole life. He smiled, knowing that everything would be different tomorrow, everything would be better.

“What are you laughing at?” The voice shocked him into alertness.

Standing in front of him was Ginny. She was there! What was she doing there?

“Ginny, er, um, hi, um, what are you doing here?” She laughed at his confusion.

“Well, my party is down at the Three Broomsticks, I just needed a breath of air.” Harry’s eyes grew wide. Party? Ginny’s having a party, too?

They shared a laugh. The past month had been hectic, to say the least, but the past few months had been positively dizzying. What had come out of their experiences though had been a realization of how much they needed each other. Her expression was amused, playful, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. The moon’s glow created a halo around her head, filtering through her hair, merging with each lock lending an ethereal quality to her gaze. His breathing grew shallow, her presence taking the air from his lungs; he reached out his hands, grasping hers as a swimmer grasps a life line. She smiled at him; the effect more intoxicating than any drink he’d ever had. He drew her towards him and they kissed their last kiss as two separate people. He felt an electric shock through his being, warmth radiating from her lips to his, transferring down to the ground through his toes. After a moment, their lips parted, but Harry felt the residual energy remain, as if they were still connected.

She turned from him, her smile glowing wider, “Tomorrow, Harry, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He gave her a speechless wave, a dumbfounded smile on his own face. He reached his hand to his mouth, his lips still tingling.

“Hey, there you are!” Ron had walked up behind Harry, but had not seen Ginny’s receding form, preserving the moment as one that she and him were privy to. “What are doing out here?”

“Just getting a breath of fresh air, I don’t know what’s in that beer, but my head is a little funny.”

Ron snickered, “No, you’re imagining that. Come on, now, we’ve some games to play!”

Harry took one last look down the street, then turned to his friend. “Games? Nothing strange, I hope.” Ron gave Harry his best reassuring expression.

“Fine, let’s go play those games. Ron?” Ron looked at his friend, curious as to the question being poised.

“It might be the beer, but did I see George and Lee leading a donkey into the Hog’s Head?”


***Author's Note: Ok, so maybe, deep down, I'm a sap at heart. Sue me. Working on the Wedding Chapter, I've decided to write it from scratch, so it will be a departure from my previous fic. It should be ready by tomorrow.

Feedback and toasts to the happy couple are welcome.

http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463

Chapter 27 – Mr. and Mrs. Harry J. Potter

The room was a scene of destruction and chaos. Dawn’s light had begun to filter through the cracks of the weather-beaten shutters. Here and there, tendrils of the sun’s warmth would illuminate the aftermath of the devastation. Furniture was flung about in random patterns as if a tornado had ripped through the center of the small edifice. An observer happening onto the scene would immediate lock on to the bodies strewn about grotesquely, the smell permeating the air around them. In the immediate center of the room, one of the fallen had landed directly under one of the tables. His arms were askew in an unnatural angle, his face pressed hard against the cold, stone floor. Upon further observation, the body in the center of the room began to stir.

He felt an emptiness in his head that seemed to traverse the extent of his body. His mouth felt like he’d swallowed a bed sheet with the latter part catching in his throat. The resounding toll of bells seemed to echo in his head, as if his brain had shrunk to a quarter of its normal size and was rattling around incessantly in his empty skull. He made a quick attempt to open his eyes and immediately regretted the choice, as the insides of his eyelids seemed to be coated with broken glass. He knew he had to find out where he was, so he attempted the eyelid opening maneuver using just one eye and moving very slowly. After an eternity, he managed to slide one eye open, well half way, anyway. The green of his eye was framed with a bright red, making focusing a difficult proposition. As the room came into focus, he was able to see the dingy gray of the pavestones. He knew they were pavestones, because his mouth was physically attached to one of them. Slowly, he lifted his head from the floor, trying to keep his head attached to his shoulders using a delicate balancing act.

Harry slowly moved his body upright and scanned the surrounding area. What was left of his party, including empty mugs, plates, food and especially his friends were scattered across every horizontal surface of the bar. Ron was wedged firmly on the steps, a gentle snore emanating from his body. George Weasley had various caricatures painted on his face, while Lee Jordan and Harry’s cousin Dudley were passed out, heads together, with incriminating magic markers in their hands. Dennis Creevey was laid out flat on the top of the bar, his arms hanging limply and Harry had no idea how it was physically possible for Seamus Finnegan to be lying on top of the fireplace mantle. All in all, it was a very good party.

About that time, he managed to open his other eye. Now armed with both his eyes, Harry noticed that the aftermath of his bachelor party was worse than he thought. There was a slight nagging thought, as if he had something to do, but couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Merlin’s Left Eyeball!” The shout penetrated his skull like a hot knife through, well, like a hot knife through his skull. Hermione Weasley and Cho Chang stood framed in the doorway of the Hog’s Head Inn. “Harry, it’s nine in the morning, of your wedding day.”

Harry thought, “That was it, that’s what I have to do today.” Then he immediately regret the effort that thinking took and the pain generated by it.

Hermione spied her husband Ron, lying peacefully in his corner of the pub. “Ron Weasley!” Her first attempt caused Ron to turn over onto his side and induced a louder bout of snoring from him. Hermione looked around and picked up a bucket of water, located near the bar. Harry really wanted to warn his friend, but thought the effort wasn’t really worth the pain. So he watched Hermione rear back with the bucket, and toss its contents onto Harry’s best man. Ron sat upright immediately, sputtering the mouthful of water he’d immediately received. “Ron, dear. You may want to escort your friend and future brother-in-law home to get ready for his wedding.”

Harry knew Ron was in deep trouble, because Hermione’s tone was level with a hint of sweetness. That was definitely not a good sign. Ron pulled himself up and immediately shot a hand to his head. Good, thought Harry, he wasn’t the only one who had a gnome with a hammer banging on his forehead. Gathering himself with some semblance of pride, Ron walked gingerly across the room stepping over the undisturbed bodies of his friends, and helped Harry stand, a move that caused both of them a modicum of discomfort. Holding his head high, Ron pulled Harry out the door. As they walked up the alley, they heard Cho and Hermione begin the indelicate task of rousing the rest of the co-conspirators of the bachelor party.

Eventually, Ron mustered enough concentration to side-along apparate Harry and himself back to Harry’s street, not trusting himself to get them too close to the building. Side by side, the two friends made their way into 12 Grimmauld Place. Somehow, they managed to crawl to the kitchen and collapse at the table. It seemed like a good decision to wait for a while, before doing anything at all.

Their mutual misery was exacerbated by the loud crack of a disapparation inside the kitchen. Harry’s house-elf, Kreacher, was making his morning appearance to Harry’s kitchen.

“Master, good to see you home!” The small gray figure of the house-elf held himself momentarily in a bow. “Kreacher is so pleased that Mistress Ginny will be returning today, as your wife, no less.”

Harry managed a barely audible, “Thank you, Kreacher.”

Kreacher took a closer look at Ron and Harry, noting their lack of animation and general comportment. Having served generations of the Blacks, several of whom had been legendary carousers, Kreacher had a good idea of what ailed his master, and a remedy for it. Moving quickly and efficiently around the kitchen, he prepared a special tea for Ron and Harry, adding ingredients in a manner only he remembered. Within minutes, he was placing piping hot mugs of this tea in front of the two men.

“Master, drink this please. It will prepare you for this special day!” Harry was willing to try just about anything at this juncture, so he took a tentative sip at the tea. Immediately, the brass band in his forehead ceased playing. Drinking down a bigger sip, the spike lodged behind his eyes began to withdraw itself, slowly. Soon Harry had downed the entire mug and he was feeling worlds better. Looking across the table, Harry saw that the tea had similar recuperative effects on Ron.

“Kreacher, you are a life saver. That was splendid, thank you.”

The stooped house-elf offered a bow and moved off to tinker in the kitchen. Ron was stretching his arms, checking the soundness of his limbs.

“Well, that was an interesting evening.” Ron had a friendly twinkle in his eye. “You ready for today?”

Harry eyed his friend, “I was hoping that you’d been able to enact the Fidelius Charm, so that, no one could ever speak of what happened last night.”

Ron’s laugh proved infectious and the two friends laughed together.

The bachelor party notwithstanding, Harry was ready for today, in fact, this was a day he’d been ready for practically his whole life. Today, he was getting married to Ginny completing a long journey and starting a whole new one. For the greatest part of his life, he’d been without family, his parents murders and his blood relatives had not really wanted him. He’d had surrogates, the Weasleys and the people he’d met at Hogwarts, but in terms of real family he’d been isolated and alone for the most part. Even when he’d thought that he was close, as when he finally had met his godfather, Sirius, that was taken away from him as well. Today, the emptiness, the loneliness would be wiped away forever. He’d be part of a family, with Ginny, and no one could take that away.

Feeling completely refreshed, Harry went up to his room to gather his formals for the trek to Godric’s Hollow. Harry placed his belongings in his charmed Auror’s haversack and went down to collect Ron. Together, they made their way to the living room to avail themselves of the Floo Network. Within moments, the two friends found themselves at the pub located at Godric’s Hollow. The place was packed, apparently the news of Harry and Ginny’s upcoming nuptials drawing guests and curiosity seekers alike to the sleepy hamlet. Upon seeing Harry, many of the pub’s patrons offered their good wishes and offered to buy him a drink, which of course, he politely refused, helped invariably by the rumbling in his stomach at the thought of any liquid touching his insides, at that moment.

They’d arrived about noon, so Harry asked Ron if they could pass by the cemetery where his parents were buried. They walked in silence, Harry’s thoughts racing as they walked towards the church near the cemetery. As the walked through the kissing gate, Ron fell back a bit, allowing Harry to carry on in private. Harry made his way to his parents’ resting place and stood for a moment, reflecting on the day and allowing a tinge of regret that they were not there to witness it.

“Mom and Dad,” Harry didn’t know why, but saying the words out loud helped him feel closer, connected to his parents. “Ginny and I are getting married today. She’s a wonderful woman; she’s everything that I’m not, and more. Dad, I don’t know what you felt , that made you want to marry Mom, but if it was anything like the way I feel about Ginny, I completely understand.” He took a moment to brush a small blade of grass that the breeze had blown onto their grave marker. “I miss you two. I wish you were here.” He dropped his head for a moment and turned to join Ron. They started their walk to the ceremony site.

************************************************** ************************************************** *******

Godric’s Hollow has a relatively small number of dwellings, surrounded by open country all around and dotted with small copses breaking up the open space. Harry and Ginny had chosen the floor of a hidden vale as the site of their wedding. Ringed by rolling hills, the location was positioned to allow breezes in but shade the midday sun from its visitors. Since their decision to hold the ceremony on this day, Molly Weasley had marshaled a virtual army of compatriots to transform the low valley into a suitable location for the wedding. Andromeda Tonks was especially delighted to help the couple, losing herself in the preparations that seemed to provide a cathartic release for her, a final farewell to her lost family through the happiness of her grandson’s godfather.

When Harry and Ron arrived, Molly immediately placed Ron to work at some last minute details of the ceremony. Harry smiled and moved towards an area that held several tall tents, being used as changing areas and gathering places. Harry entered one of the structures and changed into his wedding robes. He’d selected, well Ginny had selected anyway, an ensemble that reflected his career choice as a Auror. His robes were midnight black, solid, impenetrable, yet lacking menace. The robes were softened by his Auror’s shield affixed to his left breast, its comet and stars tracing a slow orbit around the perimeter of the talisman. On his right breast, he wore his Order of Merlin, First Class which had an animated crystal attached denoting Harry’s second award of the medal. He wore his black leather, knee-length boots, polished to a high sheen, with blousing pantaloons tucked into them. He took one look at himself in a full length mirror, deemed his appearance acceptable, and moved outside to take in his surroundings.

Checking his watch, a gift from the Weasleys on a Christmas long ago, Harry noticed he’s still had well over an hour until the ceremony. Having been shooed away from any attempt to assist in the preparations, Harry wandered up a hill to be alone with his thoughts. He walked to the summit, and stood next to a birch standing sentinel over the countryside. Taking in his surroundings, his mind went over the events of his life, fast forwarding through the harshest parts and dwelling on the most pleasant. As he so often noted, most of the pleasant memories involved Ginny. With a sigh, he made his way down to start greeting guests, who had begun to arrive.

Spring was an ideal time in Godric’s Hollow. The breezes across the countryside provided a refreshing escape from the midday sun. The valley had been transformed; a large pavilion had been erected to house the ceremony. A sheer white fabric covered the top of the pavilion with the ends charmed to ebb and flow in slow, concentric patterns. Chairs were arrayed in rows, facing towards a raised dais, which was covered in rose petals that constantly replenished their numbers. Daffodils and lilacs seemingly grew wild, in random patterns across the floor of the pavilion, and floated free throughout the air, allowing their scent to permeate the gathering. Soft music pulsed about, its source unseen and its temp changing with the events going on at the time. Harry took in his surroundings and closed his eyes. The setting was perfect because it reminded him of her. The flowery aromas of the lilacs, daffodils and roses blend to just give justice to the scent of Ginny’s hair. The soft music danced melodies that gave life to her eyes. The dazzling white of the sun’s rays through the fabric reminded him of aura of beauty that she held whenever he saw her. Suddenly, he wanted this to happen now, he felt a mild ache, from missing her and he wanted to be with her, at that moment, as if the wait for the next hour would be torture.

His discomfort was saved by the sight of some of his approaching guests. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Dennis Creevey’s approach. On Dennis’ arm, holding him close, was Cho Chang, smiling coyly, her eyes barely leaving Dennis. “Hello, Harry.” The smile on Dennis’ face telling the story of his own happiness.

“I see you were able to revive him, Cho.” Her blush made Harry smile. “Welcome, you two. I’m glad you could come.”

They smiled and made their way towards the seating area. As Harry watched them go, he felt a tap on his shoulder, “Hello, Harry, it’s about time you two were married, I really don’t know what you were waiting for.” The whimsical quality of the voice sang in Harry’s ear.

“Hello, Luna. Welcome, Mr. Lovegood.” Harry nodded to Luna’s father, who’d continued his way into the pavilion. Luna offered Harry a smile.

“You two have a bond, a connection. You should have seen how admirable her restraint was at her party!”

“Er, thanks, Luna.” What kind of situation had merited restraint? Harry never really got a chance to ask the question as Luna had moved on to follow her father. Harry shook his head and found himself seeing a familiar face.

“Hello, Sarah. I’m very glad you could come.” Harry’s trainee had taken his wardrobe advice to heart. She was wearing a simple black dress which accentuated her figure. “You look absolutely lovely.” The compliment caused a rush of blood to her cheeks, causing her to turn her eyes down.

“Thanks Harry. Thanks for inviting me, everything is so beautiful.” Harry chuckled as Lee Jordan practically fell over himself to provide Sarah an escort down to the seating area. A commotion drew Harry’s attention as several statuesque women made their presence known, led by Gwenog Jones. The Holyhead Harpies had arrived together, but also simultaneously with the Puddlemere United, lead by Oliver Wood. The two teams stood at the entrance, staring each other down, not wanting to cede the path to the other. A scene was in the making. Oliver, ever the diplomat, made a pronounced exaggerated bow, and offered his arm to Gwenog. She laughed openly and took his offered arm, and the two escorted each other down the aisle. The rest of their teams followed their leave, making for a parade of Quidditch excellence.

In almost no time, he felt another hand on his shoulder, and turned to see the face of his best man, Ron. “Well, are you ready?” Ron’s question was earnest, kind. “It’s time to get you up on the dais.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I’m ready.” That was all he could manage. Ron gave a laugh and grasped Harry by the shoulders.

“Harry, relax. You’re my best friend. I love my sister and she’s marrying my best friend. I can’t think of anything better in the world. Being with Hermione has made me a better man, and Ginny will do the same for you. So relax, and let’s go start the rest of your life.” Harry breathed a little easier, and followed Ron down to the dais. Alone atop the platform, Harry was met by the faces of the countless numbers of friends, families and strangers looking back at him. A sudden feeling of vertigo began to overtake him, a nervousness born of his natural unease with being the center of attention. He felt his knees weakening and his mouth drying to uselessness. How would he get through this?

Then it happened, as if timed to appear during his greatest distress, the linen parted at the entrance to the tent at the far end of the pavilion. Ginny was standing in the archway, preparing to move down towards him. His anxiety melted and the faces staring at him disappeared as his only focus was the vision of beauty down the aisle. She was resplendent in her white gown, her shoulders bare and intricate beadwork patterns dotting the bodice. The train floated behind her, seemingly floating along on their own volition. Her auburn tresses hung freely, unencumbered by restraint, yet dignified and controlled as if willed to frame her face, providing a crimson aura around her countenance. Her expression was calm, happy and loving, all at once. Her eyes sparkled, somehow dancing with a lively light, yet never leaving his as she made her way to him. Her lips were rounded into a gleaming smile and her cheeks had reddened, offering color to her porcelain complexion.

When she rose to the top of the dais, joining him, he sensed the same tingling of energy that they had shared in their previous kiss, except it was more intense, more pleasurable. Grasping hands, he felt the electricity course through his body, almost paralyzing, yet at the same time relaxing. His eyes didn’t leave her. He made no acknowledgement of anyone else, except her. She was everything to him, his whole life. He had to remind himself to breathe. She gave him a reassuring glance and they turned to face the figure that had joined them on the platform.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, former Auror and legacy member of the Order of the Phoenix had volunteered to conduct the wedding. He stood before them, his smile genuine, his enthusiasm transparent. He had told Harry, that this would be his most favorite task as Minister.

“To all gathered here, in this place. We seek to acknowledge the everlasting bond between two souls, Harry and Ginerva. Love is the greatest power on this world, and when we are fortunate to love, we must ensure its endurance. Harry and Ginny have declared their love, and so we join them in matrimony.” Kingsley recitation of the words rang throughout the area, but Harry barely heard them. His consciousness, his total awareness centered on her, the vision of absolute beauty before him.

The ceremony continued apace. As the approached the ending of the ceremony, the time came for the exchange of the rings. For the first time since Ginny had made her appearance, Harry turned from her to welcome his godson, Teddy up to the platform. Teddy’s face was serious, his task solemn. He was in charge of the rings, for his Uncle Harry. That made him a big boy, and he was going to make Uncle Harry proud. Teddy made his way up to Harry and held up the pillow holding the rings. Harry and Ginny bent down to retrieve the rings from Teddy’s charge. Harry touched Teddy on the top of the head in thanks and Ginny offered him a kiss on the cheek. Teddy’s hair turned a deep shade of red, then green, then blue in reaction to the affection. Giggling, he turned and returned to his grandmother’s side.

The ritual of the rings was the most important part of the ceremony. It was here that the two become one by the symbol and magic in the rings. Once again facing each other, Ginny offered her hand to Harry, who placed the ring fashioned by his gifts on her finger. A series brilliant shoots of light emanated from the ring, swirling around the couple and forming the letters of the inscription on the ring. Harry intoned the words, that reflected his heart.

“A man sees himself through the eyes of the woman he loves.”

Ginny’s eyes shone at the sentiment, the love she felt for him penetrating his soul and reflecting out to the assembled crowd.

Next it was Harry’s turn to place his hand in hers. She placed a ring on his finger and a matching cacophony of light shared its brilliance. The inscription on Harry’s ring displayed to the crowd.

“I love you - those three words have my life in them.”

Her eyes never left his as she repeated the words. Clasping hands together, Kingsley waved his wand over the both, causing an explosion of light and sound that danced over their heads.

Kingsley closed the proceedings. “Harry and Ginny are bonded, they are as one. Let us endeavor to support them and their love as they make their way, together down the path of life. Harry, you may kiss the bride.”

The last time their lips had met, it was private, under a full moon, a stolen moment between two people. This kiss was a new beginning, the start of their lives together. Their lips met, softly, their smiles matching. As it progressed, a passionate insistence caused the kiss to become more urgent, as if their souls were melding in this one contact. They heard no sound, they had no awareness of their surroundings. There was only the two of them, together at last and this kiss was the seal to the bond between them, that when they sat back and thought about, was fated from the first day they saw each other.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, loudly announced. “It is my pleasure to present for the first time in public view, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter.”

They were still locked in their first kiss, and did not hear the roar of applause from their friends and family.

The reception was as Gawain Robards had promised, the “social event” of the year. Aside from their friends and family, there were functionaries and self-important dignitaries that had to make an appearance at the festivities. Harry and Ginny did their level best to avoid them. Instead, they focused their energies, on each other. Sitting alone, their first stolen moments of their day, they took the time to survey the party, now in full swing.

The members of the Harpies were still paired with members of the United, but the most impressive sight was that of Oliver Wood dancing with Gwenog Jones. She stood almost a half a head taller than him, so when looking from afar, no one could really tell who was leading.

Hermione and Ron were also dancing, but seemingly unaware of the music. They danced to a tune only known to them. Her head rested on his chest, his cheek resting on the top of her head. Ginny placed her head on Harry’s shoulder.

“They were meant for each other, weren’t they?” Her voice immediately drawing a small kiss from him.

“Of course, although it was funny, for the longest time, they were the only ones that didn’t realize it.” This drew a laugh from his bride. “We were meant to be, you know.” His tone was serious.

“Of course I knew that.” She gave him a small tap on the head. “You were just too busy saving the world to take advantage of that.”

He smiled, “I’m hoping to rectify that error, soon enough.” Her elbow found his ribs, obviously Hermione had been giving her lessons.

The party continued well into the evening, the revelers enjoying the happiness of the newlyweds. Molly Weasley’s continued weeping for joy, finally caused Arthur to usher her home, hoping that this wasn’t a portent of the Sunday Dinners to come.

The departure of the elder Weasleys seemed to signal the other guests to draw down the festivities. One by one, couple by couple, the well wishers trickled home. Soon, all that remained were the happily married couple and Ron and Hermione. They sat around a table, recounting the day’s events.

“Congratulations, you two, but it’s time for me to get this one home.” Hermione pulled on Ron’s arm. “Come on, Ron.” She turned to her friends, her mind reflecting on the how perfect they were together. “We don’t expect to see you two out and about for quite a spell, ok?”

Ginny laughed, “No need to worry, we’ll find something to do.” Ginny watched as Ron pulled Hermione to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and disappearing, together. The simple way their bodies fit together, for an act as common as any, but the tenderness, the love showed through and brought a smile to her face.

“Come on Harry, let’s go home.” Harry didn’t argue, the exhaustion of the day overpowering him. Ginny pulled him close to her, facing him and realizing that her body fit perfectly within his arms. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead, and together they disappeared.

They arrived outside the home at 12 Grimmauld Place. Holding hands, they made their way up the landing. Harry gathered a sudden inspiration and scooped up Ginny in his arms. Kicking the front door open, he kissed her hard on the lips, and carried his bride across the threshold.

As the door shut, a brass plaque on the front of the door was knocked askew. A flash of light and sound announced Kreacher’s arrival outside the door. He reached a small hand up and adjusted the plaque on the front of the door, and waved his hand over it. Satisfied, he disappeared in a flash. The plaque had been cleaned and shined up. The scrollwork had once simply said “Black”.

Now it had a flourishing script in red and gold letters that glittered in the night. It’s new inscription boldly announcing the home’s occupants to the world:

“The Potters”



***Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it. I did. This one was for all us mushies.
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Chapter 28 – Prisoner Thirteen

Between the northeastern shores of Britain and the southeastern coasts of Scandinavia lies the North Sea, a foreboding body of water that challenges the heartiest of souls. Oftentimes, it is masked by dark clouds and thundering seas. Only the bravest and the most capable dare to traverse its waters and even then take their lives into their hands. There is a small island in the middle of the sea, its shores besieged by the unrelenting surf and wind, waves crashing in crescendo against the rocks and crags that surround the isle. Rising from the island, a gray stone tower reaches skyward, seemingly meeting the perpetual black clouds that hovered in the sky. The prison called Azkeban had seen its share of tumult over the past few years, the rise and fall of Voldemort had weakened its unassailable reputation as the time was marked by countless escapes by high profile prisoners and desertion by its erstwhile guards, the dementers.

The Shacklebolt regime in the Ministry of Magic realized the need to review and rebuild both the prison itself and its reputation. Given the fact that the roundup of Voldemort’s Deatheaters had continued at a rapid pace, Shacklebolt knew that the need for a secure holding facility was paramount. The structure of the prison had been rebuilt, its walls smoothed and charmed with the strongest holding spells known. Sphinxes roamed the grounds, answerable only to the Minister himself or his junior undersecretary, who was at this time, Percy Weasley. Trained Aurors patrolled the halls, their loyalty sealed with Unbreakable Vows, to each other and to the Minister’s office. Gone were the dementers and with them the experience associated with their presence. No longer were the prisoners subjected to the daily torture of enhanced hopelessness and the madness that had come with it over time.

This is not to say that the prisoners were free of discomfort or that their sentences were light or without punishment. Shacklebolt understood the nature of the prisoners that were to be incarcerated within the prison and knew that by their sheer evil nature, they required an environment that illuminated their status. The prison relied on isolation and hard labor as the primary means of punishment. The prisoners were kept from each other with no contact or interaction whatsoever with any other soul, excluding the occasional glimpse of their guards. Even then, the Aurors assigned to Azkeban all wore masks which hid their individuality, keeping their charges from identifying with them. Every day, the prisoner would be led from their cell, the time of day varying, so as not to allow a routine to develop, and would be brought to a room with rock piled to the ceiling. The prisoner would be forced to move the individual rocks from one side of the room to the other. It was backbreaking labor and it reinforced the loneliness the prisoners felt. The prisoners weren’t even called by name, but only by a number, further reducing their identification with their past.

Percy Weasley led the procession into the main arrivals area of Azkeban. His red hair was the only color that could be seen in the place. The only faces were his own and the blindfolded countenance of his charge. Several masked Aurors were leading the paralyzed form of Lucious Malfoy into the room, his face impassive, and a blindfold covering his eyes. By design, no one said a word, Percy nodded at the Auror receiving Malfoy, turned and walked away. When Percy had left, the head Auror uttered the first sounds that Malfoy had heard his entire transit to Azkeban.

“You are Prisoner 323. You will only respond to Prisoner 323. Any deviation will result in harsher punishment. Take him away.” The procession escorting Prisoner 323 moved down a long hallway, the first steps down the long journey towards the end of his life.

In another part of the prison, Prisoner 13 sat alone in her cell. The only sound was the drops of water from the wetness seeping through the cracks in the stone walls. She’d been alone for so long, that she’d almost forgotten her previous life, almost. She was a stickler for order, for control. She marked her time in her cell by fastidiously adjusting the bits of rock and dust to meet her rigid standards of propriety. When not straightening the imaginary furniture and articles, she sat on her cot, upright, erect, in other words, proper. She had been close to forgetting who she had been, how she always worked to preserve the order. She’d been close to forgetting her hatred of the unclean and those that lacked purity of bloodline. She almost forgot how much she hated children, especially the muggle loving brats at that hideous school. She was a heartbeat away of accepting her fate and completely discarding her life as it had been. That was until the voice entered her head. When she heard its words and understood their meaning, she resolved herself to never forgetting who she was. She would not forget, that she was Delores Umbridge.

The voice was soft, feminine and at first Umbridge thought that she was imagining it. The silence of her surroundings, however, slowly gave a resonance to the voice. It was definitely there, insistent. Umbridge took a while to really comprehend what the voice was saying, but what was time in a place like this, after all?

“Are you of pure blood, Delores Umbridge?”

For days, that was the only words that voice uttered. Umbridge would think to herself, “Of course, how silly a question.” But the question continued to be asked.

“Are you of pure blood, Delores Umbridge?”

Finally frustrated, Umbridge snapped out a retort, “Of course I am, that’s why I’m here, in this place, because I’m of pure blood and tried to preserve the real order.”

These had been first words she’d uttered in almost the entire time she’d been in Azkeban. The effort was hoarse, but defiant. She’d spoken forcefully and with intent.

“Will you serve to preserve the true order?”

Umbridge chortled at the thought. Serve? How? Where? From here? Perhaps the so-called justice-minded officials in the Ministry had developed an Azkeban not unlike the one before, maybe she was going mad.

“Will you serve to preserve the true order?”

She stopped herself from jeering this time, her mind racing. Would she serve? She’d always served, that was what she dedicated her life to. The mindless mongrels that constituted the new Ministry never understood what all this intermingling would mean to the preservation of the magic world. She saw herself as a beacon, a martyr to the true order. Would she serve? She had always served, and she served the true order now.

“I have always served the true order. I serve the true order today.” Part of her mind wondered if, indeed, she was suffering from dementia, hearing voices demanding her service would be an indicator.

“Come to me, and serve the true order.”

Not only was she going mad, but apparently her new “visitor” was mad as well. She was in Azkeban, she was coming to no one.

“Come to me, and serve the true order.”

Umbridge was thinking of an appropriately derisive retort when she felt a chill breeze cross her body. Her cell had no window. Umbridge had no idea what part of the prison she was in, what floor she was on. The current of air took her by surprise, there was no obvious source. The wall opposite the door began to shimmer, dissolving into nothingness, exposing the air outside her cell to her. It was storming, rain adding its force to the assault of the surf below. The sky was dark, punctuated by violent flashes of lightning that exposed the lack of horizon in the distance. She rose from her cot, and took a cautious look at her cell door. There was no sign that anyone had could hear the noise of the weather coming from outside.

“Come to me, and serve the true order.”

She moved towards the open wall, peeking into the darkness, when the sudden burst of another lightening strike illuminated a scaly body, hovering outside the opening in the wall. There was a leather saddle atop the form, with straps leading up to an unseen head. She paused for a moment, wondering if her madness had started conjuring up visions as well as voices. She took a breath and put her hand out in front of her, testing the reality of the hole in the wall. She drew her hand back. It was wet, from the rain. It was real.

She straightened her prison gown and brushed an imagined speck off her front. Drawing herself up, she walked through the opening and climbed onto the saddle. The figure drew itself up and banked away from Azkeban, unseen. The wall leading from her cell slowly resolved itself back into its original form, the only indication that the interior of the cell had seen the outside was a small puddle of water collected on the floor.

Overcoming her terror, Umbridge looked at the creature she was astride. It was smaller than a dragon, almost like an adolescent. While dragons had four legs and wings on its back, this creature was more upright, with two legs and true wings instead of upper legs/arms. Umbridge realized that she was on a wyvern, a creature similar to a dragon, but controllable by the darkest magic. Wyverns were fierce, violent and relished the taste of human flesh. Whoever controlled this animal must possess great power. The first rays of hope began to flash in her mind. She would serve. She would preserve the true order. By the looks of things, she would be able cleanse the Ministry of the muggle influences. She would be able to punish those who had led her ordered society astray. One face resolved itself in her mind. Her mouth curled into a twisted grin.

She would be able to punish Harry Potter.


***Author's Note: OK, I'm starting a new arc. Umbridge is a necessary tool, but don't think for a minute, she's as bad as it can get.

Ta ta for now!

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Chapter 29 – Isle of Apples

Umbridge noticed that her flight upon the wyvern’s back avoided land. Once out of sight of Azkeban, the sky had cleared noticeably and her reptilian conveyance had descended to a few feet above the water’s surface. Having not been aware of the passage of time while in prison, she had no real perception of how they had been traveling other than by her weariness in the saddle. Eventually, they stopped making course corrections and seemed to be focused on a nearing destination. She looked ahead and saw a large white fog bank in the distance. The wall of mist extended from the sea to the sky, seemingly without end. The wyvern’s course was directed at the mist and Umbridge assumed that her mysterious benefactor lie within.

They approached the vaporous shroud, and without hesitation, the wyvern plunged into its midst. She felt cold and lost as both as her vision was clouded by the mist and the temperature dropped as they escaped the warmth of the sun. The wyvern continued on its course, suddenly coming to a break in the wispy barrier, revealing a small island, isolated on the sea. The island was luscious, green with a large volcano at its center, seemingly dormant. The verdant dot of land was covered with a canopy of trees, which rang with the song of birds. The wyvern made a direct line for an area at the base of the mountain. As Umbridge looked towards where her beast’s nose was pointed, she spotted a splash of white on the side of the dark rock of the volcano. As they neared, the pale features of the mountain began to show the regular outlines of something constructed, artificial. The horizontal plane of walls and the vertical features of towers began to become clear. It was a castle, carved right into the walls of the mountain. It was made of alabaster stone, gleaming brightly against the black, foreboding surface of the natural rock. After a brief roll, the wyvern alit gently outside the gated entrance to the bastion.

Her steed lowered its body, indicating that she should dismount, which she did after a certain amount of awkwardness. Pulling at her prison gown, she glanced over at the wyvern, which leaned its head down towards her and let out a ferocious roar, bearing its massive maw of razor sharp teeth. She cringed backward in terror, pulling her arm in front of her face, waiting for the feel of jagged edge onto her flesh. When her evisceration did not immediately take place, she lowered her arm in time to see the wyvern lift itself into the sky and fly off. Umbridge took a deep breath, and looked at her surroundings. She stood in front of a pair large iron doors, unadorned and massive. Looking outward from the gate, she was surrounded by a large grove of apple trees that appeared to dominate the arboreal population of the island. It was an island of apples.

Behind her, the gates began to slowly open, groaning under their sheer weight, scraping across the stone floor as if they had not been opened in centuries. When they had fully opened, she peered into the courtyard that had been revealed. It was dotted with more of the apple trees, with a white, stone pathway leading from the gate into a building at the far end of the plaza. Umbridge started walking the path, her bare feet the only sound she could hear. She could feel the wind as it passed through the trees, but no sound came from its caress of the leaves. As she made her way towards the far building, her throat dried, her heartbeat resounded in her ears. Reaching the entrance to the structure, she noticed that the doors swung open, as of their own volition. She forced herself to enter the open door.

The chamber she entered was massive, open. The floors were marble, the walls made mostly of the native slate, but reflective, making the space seem larger, vast. Tapestries depicting a variety of pastoral scenes adorned the walls while torches hung providing more light than would be expected. In the center of the room, a dark pool edged in black, polished stone was the dominant feature. Umbridge walked to the area around the pool.

“You will serve to save the purity of your line?”

The voice was louder, familiar. It didn’t originate within the confines of her head, but came from a shadow at the far end of the room.

“I serve to restore order, yes.” Umbridge’s back straightened, finally able to face the source of the voice. “Whom do I serve?”

Surprisingly, the voice laughed, a beautiful, charming laugh. “That is not important right now. I must know if you are worthy of service. You must prove your worth.”

Delores Umbridge was a survivor. She was not one to blindly follow anyone, she did not appreciate being out of control. “How do I prove my worth?”

The figure seemed to consider the question. “Who are the guardians of the impure?”

Another riddle, Umbridge was perplexed. The only guardians she could think of were the Aurors that had imprisoned her and undoubtedly hunted down the balance of Voldemort’s fools. If the “impure” were those who ran the Ministry, then the guardians would be the Aurors.

“The guardians of the impure are the Aurors that do their bidding.”

“Excellent. Attack the Aurors and you will prove your worth.”

This time Umbridge did laugh. “If I could destroy the Aurors, I would have and I’d be running the Ministry.” Convinced that her mysterious patron was mad, Umbridge made to turn and leave.

“Stop!” The shrouded figure moved forward, coming into the light. The torches revealed the countenance of a woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her face unblemished, smooth, and soft. Her hair was long and flowing and had a golden hue that seemed otherworldly. She was dressed in a black shroud, which hugged her figure, accented by her walk. Her lips were red, a deep contrast to her pale skin. Her voice was melodic capturing its listeners with its siren quality.

“I will give you the instruments to fight the Aurors.”

“Why me? You obviously have power, why do you need me to do this for you?” Umbridge took in the vision before her, this woman seemed strangely familiar, but she could not place where she knew her from.

“I can not leave this place, this island. I am the guardian of our purity, of our order. I want to help you restore what should be.”

“I see, and what then? What do you want? You just want pure-bloods to rule? Is that it?” Umbridge suspected that more was wanted, more would be required.

“No, what I want is for my son to rule, serve my son and you will be rewarded.” The woman raised her arm, pointing to a large crystalline block standing to the side. Encased with the crystal was a man. He was handsome, the resemblance to the woman striking. His prison was translucent with an amber hue. “My son will rule, and you will serve.”

Umbridge stood stunned. This person had exhibited great power, and Umbridge believed her when she said that she had ways to defeat the Aurors, but serve her and her son? She’d served others, Fudge or Thicknesse, and served them well. She hesitated for a moment, a spark of intuition striking her. She’d not served these various ministers, she’d always served herself. Perhaps, here she would serve herself. She would use this woman to eliminate the mudbloods and then take power for herself. This woman said she couldn’t leave this place. Delores Umbridge saw an opportunity, and she would seize it.

“I will serve, how do I destroy the Aurors?”

The woman smiled and clasped her hands together. The pool at the center of the room began to froth. An object began to rise out its depths, and was soon free from its watery confines. It floated through the air and set down near Umbridge. She looked at the object. It was a book. It’s binding was worn, old, with framings of copper around the edges. It’s pages were looked worn, ancient. Warily, she picked up the book. It was relatively small, thin, with very few pages, almost the size of a diary. Carefully, she opened the book and glanced at the first page.

“Imperium Creatura Periculum”

Umbridge cast a questioning glance to the woman.

“This will allow you to transform any animal into a dangerous magical being, a chimaera or manticore, even a nundu. This is dark magic for you will have command of these beings. Your can only compel these creatures to kill and you must be able to see the person who must die.”

When she heard what power she was being granted, Delores Umbridge found her humor. Her smile was cold, evil, contemplating the path before her. The Office of Aurors would suffer and she would be the instrument of their pain.

The woman interrupted her thoughts, “Remember, you must be able to see who you wish to kill, and never lose touch with the book. If you conjure a killing creature and you drop the book, the creature will turn on you.”

Umbridge scarcely heard the admonition, her mind turning on the possibilities.

After two days, she was ready. A wyvern had been placed at her disposal. Mounting it, she felt empowered and refreshed. She’d been provided with clothing arrayed in pinks, lavender and rose. Astride her mount, she looked like an innocuous grandmother riding pure evil. She left with no fanfare.

The woman watched Umbridge’s departure with casual interest. Her lips pursed together and she turned to reenter the building. Approaching the encased body of her son, she mused aloud.

“She will not succeed, she’s too ambitious, too weak, but she will sow confusion, dread. When chaos reigns, then I will send you, my pet.”

A low snarl emanated from a dark corner of the room. She smiled at the reaction, convinced that the guttural noise was one of delight.

“And when I send you, it will be to destroy the best of them. When this Harry Potter is destroyed, then my son can awaken, and I will be free of this prison.”

She glanced back out towards where Umbridge had flown out. “I will destroy this abomination of a society that fool, Merlin created. The muggles will cringe in fear of my name. The beasts of the magic world will bow before me. They will rue their mockery of my name as so much entertainment. The wizard world will worship me as before.”

Her face broke into a smile that was ugly on such a beautiful face.

“The world will once more fear the name of Morgana, dark sorceress and Queen of Avalon.”


***Author's Note: Told you, no more Deatheaters. Next chapter may not come out until Monday. Hey, don't look at me like that, I have a life (well maybe not, but delaying let's fake it.)

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Chapter 30 – Gambit’s Beginning

He was awake, but he lay there with his eyes closed. The sounds of the morning rang through his ears. The morning robin was singing outside his window and somewhere a bluejay called to its mate. He could feel her presence next to him, the warmth of her body touching him, energizing his being. She stirred and he heard her offer a low purr of contentment as she stretched. He felt her move, laying her body across his chest. He felt her fingers running across his face, through his hair. He thought he could hear her smile. He opened his eyes, and was rewarded with the beauty of her smiling face, near his.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter.” Her voice had an air of mischief.

He smiled, still not believing that she was there, and would be for all time. “Good morning, Mrs. Potter.”

Ginny giggled at his greeting. The words rang in her ear, “Mrs. Potter”, she was “Mrs. Potter” and it was wonderful. She loved the way he looked at her, the joy he conveyed with his eyes, and the look took her breath away, still. Her fingers ran through his hair, confirming the reality of their life together for her. She loved him; it seemed, for as long as she could remember. Her fingers traced the line of scar on his forehead, causing her to remember the time of pain and triumph. She drank in his eyes, remembering the fear and sorrow that dominated them for the longest time, and the elation and adoration that had replaced them, every time he looked at her. She loved him, that was obvious, but she had not imagined how much pure happiness would result from being his wife.

Harry groaned, “What time is it?” He turned his head and looked at the ancient grandfather clock on the other end of the room. Seeing the time, he laid his head back and groaned once more. “I’m not ready to go back, yet.”

She laughed, “Then don’t, but it’ll just be you and Kreacher. I’m starting my first day at the Prophet today.” He swung a pillow at her head, but missed.

They had disappeared for a month. Using Grimmauld Place as a sanctuary, they’d wake up each morning and decide on some location to visit and go, or they would decide to stay home. It seemed to Harry, that they chose the latter option more often. Not that he minded, they were discovering that married life was better than they had ever imagined.

“Well, I guess I’d better go in. I wouldn’t want them starting up a search on my account.”

She laughed, “Oh yes, can you imagine the embarrassment when they found us?”

He shared her amusement, and sitting up, he turned his legs to allow his feet to touch the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, her hair covering his shoulders, a silky warm blanket. “You don’t have to go in right now, do you?” Her tone was decidedly more impish.

He turned his head and kissed her lips. “Well, I guess I don’t have to rush right in.”

“Good.” She kissed him back and grabbed his arm.


************************************************** ************************************************** ***********

If it were possible to float and walk at the same time, Harry Potter was the best practitioner of the art. As he walked into the Office of Aurors, he made for a picture of happiness, which thoroughly amused his friend, Ron. While Harry made his way to his office, Ron followed along, pestering him with questions.

“Come on, mate. Where’ve you two been? What do you think? Was it everything I told you?”

“Ron,” Harry stared his friend right in the eye, “She’s your sister, a fact that makes this line of questioning really uncomfortable, and she’s my wife. I never bothered you about your honeymoon with Hermione, did I?”

The response halted Ron in mid question. Harry let his friend off the hook by changing the subject. “How’s your training coming?”

Ron’s face lit up, “Very well. Considering you were, um, away, Sarah and I have been working with Lachlan, and we’ve done quite well. Lachlan says we’ll both be taking second year M.A.G.E.’s in no time.”

“Good for you, Ron!” Harry was genuinely pleased for his best friend. “I knew you could do it, I’m proud of you. Anything else going on?”

“You hear about Umbridge?” Ron’s face was serious. Harry shook his head. “She escaped from Azkeban.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Ron read his reaction. “No one knows how. There were no passages and no evidence of the security spells being violated. She simply vanished.”

“That’s not good. There’s any number of us that she has a grudge with. The whole of the D.A. to name a few.” Harry’s mind turned towards his wife. He’d have to take action to up her security.

“Robards has upped a watch on all of our friends, who may be likely targets, but Harry,” Ron turned serious, “Let’s face it, you are the person she most hated.”

“Ron, I can take care of myself. You and I are Aurors, but the others are in the wind. Neville should be relatively safe at Hogwarts, but the rest need looking after.” Harry pondered the new development. “I’m going to talk to Dawlish.”

Ron nodded his head, “I’m going to meet up with Lachlan, if you don’t mind, he’s taking Sarah and me into the field. Some report of mischief on the tube.”

“That sounds good Ron, good luck, and remember, the socks should be under the pants.”

Ron offered a gesture that told Harry that maybe Hermione should limit Ron’s access to television.

Harry made his way down the corridor, eventually finding himself at Dawlish’s office. He knocked, and walked in as the door opened to admit him.

“Harry, welcome back! Married life treating you well?” Dawlish looked rested, calm.

Harry took the proffered chair and shook Dawlish’s hand. “Better than I deserve, I should think.”

“You’re a lucky man, Harry. I suspect you’re here about the Umbridge situation.” Harry nodded. “Well, we’re making sure that your former compatriots in the D.A. are covered by Aurors.”

“I appreciate that sir, um, is anyone watching Ginny?” Harry felt uncomfortable asking something for himself. “We have someone watching her right now. I’ll keep this up until we have some idea of what Umbridge is up to.”

“Thanks John, it would make me feel better.” Harry stood to return to his office. Another thought struck Harry. “John, there’s something else.” Dawlish gestured for Harry to continue. “What do you know about being able to cast wandless spells?”

Dawlish was surprised at the question. “Not much, it’s tricky, difficult to do. It takes a powerful wizard to even predict which spells he can cast without a wand, and even then, to know what intensity he can cast them with. Dumbledore was the best I’d seen.” Dawlish’s memory flashed back to the time in Dumbledore’s office when he and Kingsley had accompanied Cornelius Fudge and suffered the shock of a very powerful spell from the wandless Headmaster. “Why, Harry?”

Harry hesitated, and then told Dawlish about the incident in the training arena with Sarah. Dawlish didn’t seem surprised. “You know Harry, ever since the Malfoy apprehension, I’ve believed that you have extraordinary gifts. If there is anyone who would be able to cast wandless spells, it would be you.”

“How do I learn to control it? Can you help me?” Harry’s interest was more than piqued.

Dawlish gave him a laugh, “No, Harry, I’m just a simple wizard who’s been doing this job for a long time.” He thought for a minute. “You know, Miles has some knowledge in this area. Miles has knowledge in a lot of areas, he might be able to help you.”

“Great, thanks John. I’m going to look through some of the correspondence.” Harry turned to leave Dawlish’s office. Dawlish stopped him.

“Harry, with all that’s happening, watch yourself. Delores Umbridge can be dangerous, especially to those who’ve crossed her the most.”

Harry nodded and walked on to his office.

************************************************** ************************************************** ***********

Ron, Sarah and Lachlan appeared in the main receiving area of the Ministry, Lachlan lecturing them on their latest trip. “You see, the muggles aren’t typically used to their house plants trying to eat their pets. That was the most obvious indication of some enchantment.”

The two Auror trainees shared a laugh with their mentor and began to walk towards the elevators. Ron stopped abruptly. “What is it?” Sarah noticed the pause.

“I’ve got to meet my brother for lunch. I’ll catch up with you this afternoon in the arena.” With a wave, he hurried off to Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was bustling with activity as Ron made his way to #93, the location of Weasley’s Wheezes. His brother George and his business partner, Lee Jordan had decided to avail themselves of the café that was situated right outside their shop. Spying Ron, they hailed him and set aside a seat for him to join them. Over lunch, the three talked about George and Lee’s favorite new inventions and how well the business had been doing. Ron happened to look up the street and spotted a familiar face.

“Ginny!” His sister was walking the alley and smiled upon seeing the three men. She rushed over to join them. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m working at the Prophet’s office down the alley.” Ginny motioned behind her. “I’m just heading out for some lunch.”

The three men rose to hug her. Ron, standing in the middle, noticed a flash of movement directly behind her. Reacting, rather than thinking, Ron shoved his sister to the side and pulled his wand out, “Impedimienta!”

Ron’s spell impacted on the four-legged form that was in mid-air, striking towards the spot where Ginny had been. A lion’s head, with teeth bared roared in surprise as the creature was turned to the side and thrown against a shop wall. The beast had the body of a goat, and its tail was long, scaly, like that of a dragon. “Bloody Chimaera! George, get Ginny away from here!”

The chimaera rolled to its feet. Ron moved to a position between it and his sister. The legs of the beast coiled, prepared to strike, when the flash of another spell struck, impacting its flank, slamming it against another wall. Ron followed that strike with an Incarcerous charm, effectively subduing the creature. He turned to see the source of the spell, his eyes meeting the figure of Cavendish, emerging from her hiding spot in an adjacent alley. “Thanks, lucky you were there.”

Cavendish kept her mysterious amber eyes on the bound chimaera. “No luck about it, I was watching out for Ginny, what with Umbridge out and about.”

Ginny’s eyes grew wide, “Umbridge is out?”

“Yes, about two weeks ago, she escaped from Azkeban. Dawlish is keeping an eye on all the former members of the D.A. he can, just in case. Good thing he did, that thing came right at you."

Just then, a snarl roared from behind them. Another of the beasts leapt from a second story landing. George pulled Ginny down, forcing Ron to take the full brunt of the animal’s strike. The force of the blow sent him reeling onto his back. He felt its claws tear into his arms and chest, his head rebounding heavily on the pavement. The chimaera kept running with the momentum of its leap and was on Cavendish before she could react. Its lion’s head sunk its jaws into her shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain from her lips. In that instant, the Auror found herself driven to the ground, the chimaera biting down harder into her flesh. “Protego!”

Ignoring the pain of his injuries, Ron had pulled his wand up and slammed his shield charm into the attacking chimaera. The beast was knocked onto its back. “Petrificus Totalus!” All movement from the chimaera stopped. The alley was silent. Ron’s breathing was forced, the pain from a probable broken rib making respiration troublesome. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Cavendish’s prone body. The upper portion of her shoulder and arm had been savaged.

“I’ve got to get her to St. Mungo’s.” Ron looked at George, and pointed to Ginny. “George, get Ginny to the Ministry, and don’t let Hermione leave until I get back!” Ron looked at the figures of the chimaeras laying on the alley floor. “Bloody hell.”

No one noticed the frumpish form in the window of a shop above them. The figure closed the book in her hand, and walked away from the scene. When she did, the two chimaeras began to change their form, becoming in an instant two ordinary house cats. “Bloody hell!” Ron shook himself at the sight and leaned over to side-along apparate Cavendish to St. Mungo’s.

The furor in the passageway caused Harry to raise his head from the paperwork on his desk. Rising, he went out and was greeted by the sight of his wife, looking more than disheveled, coming down the hallway, Lee and George trailing behind. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, something was wrong. He ran to meet her, grasping her to his body as soon as she was near.

“What’s happened? Are you alright?” He looked her over quickly, assessing her injuries.

She nodded, almost breaking down. “Ron…”

Her voice stunned him, he’d not even considered anything had happened to anyone else. He looked around and did not see his friend. “Where’s Ron, what happened to Ron?”

“He’s okay, a little worse for wear, but he’s taken Cavendish to St. Mungo’s.” George and Lee recounted the afternoon’s events to Harry. As they finished their tale, Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione entering the Office. Leaving his wife and friends, he ran over to his good friend.

“Hermione.” Her eyes were lost, her expression haunted and fearful. He embraced her, offering support for her weakening knees. For the first time since he could remember, his friend seemed weak, unsure of herself.

“I don’t know what I would do without him Harry. I feel like I’ve lost a part of me.”

“He’s going to be fine, Hermione. From what I heard, it was a good thing he was there.” Dawlish’s voice broke the panic and tension in the air. She turned towards Dawlish’s voice while he continued. “He saved Ginny and George and basically subdued two chimaeras in a closed public space. I’m proud of him.”

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and gave Dawlish a smile, wordlessly agreeing with him. Ginny, George and Lee had came up to join them. They began to prepare themselves to head over to join Ron at St. Mungo’s. While they talked, Dawlish beckoned Harry over towards his office.

“There have been five attacks on your ‘club’ so far today. Fortunately, the Aurors we’ve assigned to them managed to stop the attempts, but I’ve got four Aurors seriously wounded.” Harry chewed on the information. He looked at the senior Auror and Dawlish had begun his nervous hair threading, “We have a problem Harry. I have not received any word from the Auror watching over Luna Lovegood. I don’t know if he was even in place before this all started.”

“Luna’s family home is pretty isolated, difficult to get someone out there secretly.” Harry’s mind sped, the Lovegood’s had rebuilt their tower, but the location was still remote, open.

“I think we’re above surreptitious guardianship, don’t you think.” Dawlish was giving a hidden suggestion. Harry nodded and ran out the door. His family, he still relished calling them that, were making their way towards the exit. Ginny looked at her husband and immediately noticed the change in his bearing.

“We’re heading to check on Ron. You coming?” She knew the answer before the question, she just needed to hear his voice, a tinge of worry creeping over her.

“No, I’ve got to check on Luna, we haven’t heard from her.” He saw a figure walking towards them, it was Sarah Peebles, his trainee. “Sarah, will you go with them to St. Mungo’s?” He pulled Sarah to the side, out of earshot, “I don’t want them unprotected, can you watch over them for me, watch over Ginny? I need someone I can trust.”

Sarah was speechless, shocked at the implied trust of his question. “Of course, Harry. I’ll take care of her, and of them. You can count on me.” She moved to walk with them. Harry couldn’t help but notice Lee’s more than casual interest in her, apparently indicating that his antics at Harry’s wedding had not been the extent of his interest in the woman.

Assured that Ginny would have protection, Harry straightened his back and turned to his wife. He saw the worry in her face. She saw it returned in his own. For the moment, there was just the two of them, and Harry moved to seal the seconds remaining before they parted. He moved to her and kissed her, soulfully, his relief in her survival releasing itself in the love he was imparting in this embrace.

“I’ll be along shortly.” He smiled at her and waved farewell to his family. With that, he ran out the door. Ginny held back the tears that threatened to overcome her. She reached an arm across Hermione’s shoulders, lending her sister-in-law support, and guiding her out the door. As they walked, Ginny looked down the hall where Harry had disappeared.

“I’ll see you soon, Harry.” Her voice shook, more hopeful than confident.


***Author's Note: I'm trying a chapter a day, but no promises. Please bear with me.

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Chapter 31 – Elementary, My Dear Potter

He arrived to Ottery St. Catchpole via the Floo Network in relatively short order. Pulling out his Firebolt, he vaulted into the air, swooping north towards the Lovegood home. After a few miles, he spotted a rocky black cylinder sited on top of a hill, denoting the Lovegood home. Descending rapidly, Harry alit near the front door of the edifice. The place was quiet, surreal, not a sound permeating the area. Harry instinctively pulled his wand, searching for signs of life.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Harry searched around for signs of anything; violence, peace, any disturbance of the eerie scene. He reached up and knocked on the door. “Hello!” His voice seemed to carry, and still no response. Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from the shed of an outer building. The building was made of wood, open like a barn or safe area for other livestock. It was a rhythmic tapping sound, soft but mechanical in nature. He walked slowly towards the source of the sound.

As he approached the barn, he continued surveying his surroundings. No sound, no movement, nothing. Harry slowly entered the open double door of the barn. The interior was open, stalls lined each side of the long edifice. A loft covered in straw and alfalfa was built into a second story above. The sound got louder, it was closer. Harry thought he heard a metallic quality to the sound.

“Clack, clack, clack…”

The sound appeared to be coming from the stall at the far end of the building. He prowled towards that sound, his wand raised, ready to strike.

“Clack, clack, clack…”

He approached the stall, peering in, seeing hay strewn about in a haphazard pattern. At first glance, the stall seemed empty, the sound still resonating. Harry inspected the corner of the space, spying some sort of block and tackle rig hanging on the wall. The metal casings on the hardware were tapping against rail of the stable wall, the wind keeping its rhythm consistent. Harry felt the tension ebb from his shoulders and neck. He smiled in relief and self-admonishment. He’d been a little jumpy and he needed to get a hold of himself.

“Hello, Harry! So nice to see you!”

Harry whirled around, his wand hand raising up to face the voice. Before he spat out a defensive spell, he recognized the slight form of Luna Lovegood, her whimsical smile radiating in puzzlement and friendship.

“Luna! You’re alright!” Harry’s relief manifested itself visibly.

“Of course I am, silly, why wouldn’t I be?” Luna led Harry back towards her house. Her feet were bare, as usual and she had a flower lei hanging from her neck.

Harry’s heartbeat had slowed to a reasonable rate. “Delores Umbridge escaped from Azkeban, and there have been attacks on Dumbledore’s Army. We sent someone to watch over you, but we haven’t heard from them.”

“Well, it’s been quite peaceful here, I’ve not seen anyone, and my dad is on safari, looking to replace the Crumple-Horned Snorkack Horn that the Deatheaters destroyed when they damaged our house.” Harry gave a silent snicker, remembering the Erumpent Horn which exploded when Xenophilius Lovegood cast an errant stunning spell. Harry, more than any of Luna’s other friends, really never thought that the tow-headed woman with him was crazy or touched. He was always struck by how incisive she could be and how, when everyone doubted him, she never did, not once.

“That’s odd, I wonder where your guardian go to?” Harry’s eye caught some movement in the distance. A flurry of wings and feathers seemed to erupt from a small grove of trees on a hill past the barn as a number of black birds burst into the air. The flock seemed to circle a spot in the copse of trees.

“Those birds seem to be dancing, don’t they? They’ve been attached to that one spot, all day.” Luna’s words were matter-of-fact. Harry felt the grip of dread come over his chest. He started walking to the spot, Luna trailing behind him. Harry broke into a run, his heart racing. When he got to the tree line, he spotted tuft of dark fabric on the ground.

“Stay here, Luna, don’t move!” Harry moved towards the spot, his eyes scanning the ground. A body, clothed in dark robes lay sprawled on the ground. The only evidence that it had been a man, was the general outline of the figure. It had been ravaged, the clothing tearing with the flesh underneath, its face unrecognizable. A glimmer of metal flashed in the sun. Harry reached down and picked up an Aurors’ medallion, apparently rent from the robes during the struggle. The name “Masterson” was inscribed underneath the blood crusting on the badge. Harry had found Luna’s guardian.

They appeared at St. Mungo’s, Ginny’s relief at his safety readily apparent. They shared an embrace and then Harry inquired as to Ron’s status. Ginny filled him in, “Ron’s fine, he had some cuts and broken bones, but they’re healing nicely. Cavendish was touch and go, but she’ll pull through. Harry, there have been eight attacks and six Aurors have been seriously wounded, but none of our friends have been hurt and thankfully, no one killed.”

Harry eyes immediately betrayed how wrong she was. “At least one has been killed. I found Masterson’s body near Luna’s house.” Ginny looked over at Luna, checking her for injury or trauma, and then raised a questioning eye towards her husband. “She didn’t see a thing. She was fine when I arrived.”

“Ginny, can you keep Luna with you? I’ve got to go and talk to Dawlish. Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

“You’d better check in on Ron, first.” Harry smacked his forehead with his hand, and walked into the ambulatory ward.

Ron lie on his bed, a pile of pillows supporting his back, so that, he could sit upright. Hermione was sitting on the bed with him, relief emanating from her tear streaked eyes. “Oy, Harry! Luna is okay, then?”

“She’s fine, Ron.” Harry decided not to tell his friend about the murder, especially in front of Hermione who just now returning to a semblance of her former self.

Hermione smiled at the news. “It’s fortunate that the Aurors were watching for us. Can you imagine what could have happened?”

“Fortunate, yes.” Harry left it at that. Bidding his friends goodbye, he walked back to Ginny. “Stay close to Sarah, Luna can stay with us. I have to go into the Office.”

She pulled his arm, arresting his movement out. Drawing him near, she gave him a kiss on the lips. He immediately calmed, his breathing controlled. She knew exactly has to steady him, how had he ever survived without her?

He gave her a quick smile and made for the Ministry.

The Aurors’ leaders were assembled in Gawain Robard’s office when Harry arrived. They were engaged in a heated debate on next steps. Harry threw the Masterson’s blood-stained medallion on the middle of the table they were seated around. The effect chilled all debate while all eyes drew towards Harry.

“He’s dead. Looks like he ran into a pack of the creatures and they savaged him.” A somber gloom fell over the room. “Luna is fine, but she didn’t see anything.”

“One dead and six wounded, we’ve taken some serious losses. Fortunately, we’ve been able to keep Umbridge’s minions from hurting their targets.” Dawlish turned towards Robards. “We’ll have to get these wizards somewhere that we can better protect them. Hogwarts, maybe?”

“Too open, too isolated.” Lachlan’s voice drew nods from the collective group.

“Where then?” Dawlish scanned the room, eyes drawn to a figure in the corner, dressed rather anachronistically and puffing on an absurdly large pipe. “Miles, what do you think?”

Miles Jackson-Smythe had been lost in thought. His attention returned on hearing his name. “Yes, it would be sensible to gather the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, all things being equal…”
He hesitated, his brain working at full speed.

“But?” Dawlish knew something was troubling the master wizard.

Miles looked up, “We have to review the facts. Something doesn’t fit.” Harry looked at the elder wizard, realizing his gut was telling him the same thing.

“What is it then? What are we missing?” Harry’s question mirrored the thoughts of his colleagues.

“It’s elementary, my dear Potter. Your experience at the Lovegoods provides a new set of facts, confirming a different hypothesis.” Miles stared over the room until settling on Harry as the object of his lesson. They began a byplay, as if each were working the same problem, figuring out its nuances.

Miles started, “It would make sense to bring the members of the D.A. in one place…”

“If they were the targets…”

“But Ms. Lovegood was not attacked while her escort was and the sum total of our casualties have been to Aurors, ergo?” Miles looked carefully at Harry, much like the expression Dumbledore would have when walking Harry through a lesson.

“The members of Dumbledore’s Army weren’t the intended victims, the Aurors were.”

“Precisely, Mr. Potter. Something else to consider. Delores Umbridge has never had the capabilities these spells indicate, and her willingness to ignore Luna, who played a prominent role in the insurrection at Hogwarts, indicates what?”

Harry pondered the question. “It indicates that she is getting help from somewhere, her unlikely escape from Azkeban demonstrates that as do these more formidable powers. Someone unknown, someone powerful.”

“Well done, Harry!” Miles beamed with pride.

Dawlish turned to look at Miles, “So what should we do now?”

Miles’ tone turned serious, casting aside his Holmes’ persona for the moment, “We’d better find out who is behind this quickly. I fear that this will get bloody. This situation will worsen before it gets better.”

The men in the room grew silent. Each assessing the information, each having their own fears, each feeling a conflict between their rage with their sense of duty.

Harry drew a deep breath, “Well then, we’re just going to have to find out who’s behind this.”

Dawlish raised an eyebrow, “And then what?”

“We defeat them, what other choice do we have?.” Harry’s face tightened in a mask of resolve.


***Author's Note: By popular acclaim, I'm going to have the rest of the story occur in a wardrobe. I mean, that's never been done before, has it? Just kidding, anyway, I couldn't wait until tomorrow to get this one out.

More to follow.

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Chapter 32 – De inimico non loquaris male, sed cogites. “Do not wish ill for your enemy, plan it.”


Delores Umbridge sat at the desk and rest her cup of tea on its matching saucer. Her bright pink cardigan shone brightly in stark contrast to her surroundings. As an escaped felon, her choices of abode were limited and this abandoned shanty on the outskirts of London served her purposes nicely. Besides, she thought, after her accommodations at Azkeban, her present circumstances were quite opulent.

Umbridge was happy, her first day of her task to hurt the Aurors could not have gone smoother. How fortunate that the powers that be, had interpreted her objective to revenge herself on those insolent brats from Hogwarts. In doing so, the Ministry had practically spoon fed her easy targets of opportunity. By assigning Aurors individually or in pairs to Dumbledore’s idiots, she’d been offered the chance to pick off the Auror ranks, one by one. That fool in Ottery St. Catchpole had no chance alone, when she sent four pseudo-manticores after him. She simply adored kittens so she was more than amused by the fact that she could change their cute exteriors into instruments of destruction on her path to power.

Power. That was her ultimate goal. Whatever ill will she harbored for the children who led the insurrection against her management at Hogwarts was secondary to the accumulation of power. What’s more, she could hurt a good many of them by using their own fears for their safety to accomplish her objective. Plus, she reasoned, there was an added bonus. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were both Aurors, thus were fair game. She allowed herself a brief titter at the thought. She could only imagine the horror and the pain she would inflict on those mudblood loving brats when she killed the great Harry Potter and his worthless sidekick. One must always take pride in one’s work; that was her motto.

Her mysterious backer had also occupied a good deal of Umbridge’s mind. Who was she? Her words, her situation seemed familiar, but Umbridge was never a good student and she really couldn’t place the woman in any context. The woman was powerful; the little book in Umbridge’s pocket was a testament to that. But her power was limited, her reach could not extend past her island fortress, else why would she need Umbridge’s assistance? That was her weakness, Delores thought, and that is a weakness that can be exploited when the time came.

Her eyes drifted to a scrap of parchment lying on her desk. She’d come upon it during her last scouting sojourn into Diagon Alley. Her mouth crinkled in a smile, or so it could be technically called. She placed a white-glove encased hand on the paper, stroking the letters on the headline, almost caressing it. It’s announcement making for another opportunity, one to deal a blow with true meaning for her. Just this once, she may even make it a point to kill everyone involved.

”COME ONE, COME ALL!!! THE GRAND OPENING OF WEASLEY’S WHEEZES IN HOGSMEADE! CUNNING OBJECTS OF ENTERTAINMENT! JOKES, SPELLS AND GAGS, GALORE! FREE SELF-INKING QUILLS TO THE FIRST TEN CUSTOMERS! THIS SATURDAY, 10 AM.

GEORGE WEASLEY AND LEE JORDAN, PROPRIETORS”

George Weasley, he’d been the instigator of the rebellion at her school. His twin brother and he had humiliated her, made her look foolish and weak. The twin Weasleys were both cowardly and not very impressive wizards, especially having to resort to tricks and chicanery. That fact was made abundantly clear by Fred’s death at the hands of real wizardry. Here was a real opportunity. Hogsmeade was remote and isolated. At most, she could count on four or maybe six Aurors protecting the grand opening of this shop. The rest would be spread thin, watching over the other twenty or so cowards across Britain. Umbridge allowed herself a toothy smile, which accentuated her toad-like appearance. She looked across to two kittens lapping saucers of milk near the door, perhaps she could spare a chimaera or two to deal with George Weasley as well. After all, all work and no play makes for a very disorderly day, and how she hated disorder.

She broke the silence in the room, “So much to do, so much to do. We have an appointment, you and I, Mr. George Weasley.” She picked up the two kittens, tut-tutting to them and smiling, “Would you like to meet George Weasley?”

“George Weasley!”

Ginny’s voice rang up and down the aisles of Weasley’s Wheezes, echoing to the farthest reaches of the store and assaulting George’s ears. He was sitting at a table in the back stock room. Lee, Harry and Ron were seated with him while his and Lee’s Auror guardians, Dawes and Milton, were curiously taking in the inventory stored there. George turned to see the deliberate and fast-paced march Ginny was taking, with Hermione following behind her. Ginny looked decidedly furious and George saw an incriminating flyer clutched tightly in her hand.

“George Weasley, you can be such a donkey's behind!” Her voice was forceful and somewhat shrill, her indignation dripping from her shout.

“Such language, this is a family establishment.” George rose to face his younger sister, hands raised in a ‘What have I done?’ manner, “and as far as being an donkey's behind, could you be a little more specific?”

This drew snickers from the men around the table that were immediately stifled by looks both Hermione and Ginny gave them. Hermione plucked the crumpled flyer from Ginny’s hand and raised it in front of George’s face.

“What is the meaning of this? You’re opening another shop, in Hogsmeade, now?” George took the flyer, pretending to read it.

“Yes, you both know that’s been the plan as far back as…” He hesitated, but they knew he meant to say, “As far back as when Fred was alive.”

George looked the women in the eye, “Look, we got a great deal on Zonko’s shop, so we jumped at it.”

Hermione took the lead, Ginny too enraged to talk at the time. “George, it’s not just about the shop, do you realize the danger that Umbridge presents? You’re just asking to be attacked.”

George stole a glance at Lee, and then straightened his shoulders. “Why did we fight? Why did we sacrifice so much?” He looked at Hermione and then stared straight at Ginny. “Why did Fred die? So we could be free to make our choices. Isn’t that what you’re always harping on Gin? What is it now, you’re free to make choices but no one else is?”

Ginny’s face burned with shame and anger; shame in his rebuke, and anger that her own argument was being turned against her. The building crescendo was like a volcano waiting to erupt. Hermione spoke up to prevent the eruption, for now.

“George, it isn’t just you and Lee. What about your protectors?” She pointed to Dawes and Milton, who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to blend in with the walls. “The Aurors have sacrificed a great deal to protect us from Umbridge, and now you’ll expose them to additional risk.”

“Ahem,” Dawes strode forward, his light blue eyes dancing with not a little amusement, “Frankly miss, we’re exposed wherever we go. It’s really no trouble, Milton and I are volunteering.”

His comment froze Hermione, leaving her no argument, save one and that one was the eruption point for Ginny. Mount Vesuvius had reached critical mass.

“What about Ron and Harry?” She looked down at the table at her husband and her brother, “Do you think that they wouldn’t go too? Umbridge has a special hate for the both of them. Aren’t you putting them in danger? How dare you, George! Just for some stupid joke shop! You’re going to make me a widow to sell more of your trinkets!”

It was out, the real worry behind Ginny’s rage. The silence in the room was deafening. The shock of the verbal assault caused George to slowly sink back to his seat and lower his head. Ginny’s eyes roved over all of them, daring them to contradict her, daring them to excuse the foolish task they’d planned.

After a moment of her harsh gaze, Harry found his voice. “Ginny, could I speak to you in private? Please?” He stood and held his hand out to her, begging for her indulgence. She hesitated, not sure where he would take the argument, but reached her hand to his nonetheless. He led her out a back door, to a relatively isolated part of Diagon Alley.

He turned to face her, “You were a little unreasonable and harsh, don’t you think?”

“Don’t, Harry. After what we’ve been through the past few months, with you at death’s door, don’t lecture me on worrying about your safety. Don’t.” She wasn’t going to be deterred. Her fears were heightened because she’d reached a pinnacle of happiness she’d never thought she could experience. Before, she was afraid of losing him because of what might be, now she was terrified, because now, she knew what she had to lose.

His voice lowered, becoming gentle, soothing; he reached a hand to caress her hair, “I’m not telling you not to worry. It’d be like telling the sun not to rise. I love that you worry, but George is right, we need to be free, Ginny. Free to choose, free to live, even free to sell Nosebleed Nougats.” He gave her a smile. She reluctantly returned it.

“All I’m asking, Ginny, is do you trust me?” Harry’s question was earnest.

Her annoyance began to surface, “Harry, what kind of silly question is that? What do you mean…”

He cut her off, this time he was terse, forceful. “Do you trust me?”

She read his eyes, her back straightening, her eyes blazing, “Of course, I trust you.” He smiled and hugged her tight. A decision had been made, and the two headed back to the help the others plan the trip to Hogsmeade.

Saturdays in Hogsmeade are especially festive, as the students of Hogswarts find themselves perusing the shops and cafés of the uniquely all-wizarding community. An undercurrent of excitement was especially rampant today, as the flyers announcing the grand opening of the Weasley specialty shop had been delivered throughout the school, due in no small amount to the efforts of one Professor Neville Longbottom. The street was crowded outside the balloon and ribbon festooned shop. Its prior occupants, Zonko’s, had been forced to close down during Umbridge’s stay at Hogwarts. Even though an attempt at reopening had been made, there was really no way to recover from losses, especially given the success that Weasley’s Wheezes had been having.

Frederick Dawes and Henry Milton walked casually with Lee and George. The two Aurors had been near inseparable since their time at Hogwarts. They’d met during their first ride on the Hogwarts’ Express, been inducted into Gryffindor together and joined the Office of Aurors together. Those that did not know them, would swear that they were brothers, twins even. They were almost identical, save for Dawes’ pale blue eyes and Milton’s dark black orbs. They’d been best men at each other’s weddings. For almost thirty years, they’d fought, laughed and cried with each other, and were as close to twins as could be. Milton, was the more playful of the two despite his foreboding eyes, was talking earnestly with George, holding a quill that he’d been given.

“So you’re saying that all I have to do is think the words, and this will write it down?”

“That’s the idea. Are you sure you don’t want to try the self-correcting quill?” Milton laughed.

“No mate, my testing and schooling days are far behind.”

Trailing the four travelers, Ron and Harry kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Coming up the main street, the group approached the new Weasley’s Wheezes without incident. Harry took a studious sweep of the surrounding area. The buildings surrounding the shop seemed drab, in contrast with the festive adornment of the new business. Gladrag’s stood silent, even its owners out on their stoop to watch the opening, the wife shooing away strays that were trying to enter the open door. Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop was closed up, a sign indicating that the owner was gone until Monday, and its upper story shutters closed tight, no sound coming from them. Only Honeyduke’s seemed to be having any type of consistent traffic, students stopping in to sample candies that wouldn’t explode or itch, and then coming to see the wonders of George and Lee’s shop.

At precisely ten o’clock, George stepped up to the raised porch in front of his new shop. He was outfitted in his ridiculous P.T. Barnum outfit, the bowler perched firmly on his head.

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! It is my pleasure and yours too, to open here in Hogsmeade, your very own Weasley’s Wheezes!” The crowd burst into applause. “Now, who’ll be the first come up and enter?”

As if on queue, a roar broke from the rooftop of the opposite building. Three chimaeras were staring down at George and Lee, mouths salivating on their lion’s heads. The beasts launched themselves at the dais, claws extended.

From the street, inhuman shouts emanated from the six manticores that stood line abreast. Their heads were human like, but perched on a lion’s body, scorpion tales held up in an aggressive posture. Their screams echoed off the close confines of the buildings, and they launched their attack, plunging through the crowd.

The people caught in the attack made a mad rush away from the fighting. Harry and Ron drew their wands, ushering the mass of humanity towards safety. Harry heard the loud cracks of stunning spells, as Dawes and Milton mounted their defense, pulling George and Lee down behind the solid railing of the platform. All around, manticores and chimaera appeared from out of thin air, it seemed, loping down towards the beleaguered defenders. Harry and Ron stood back to back, covering the stage from across the street. Harry lunged backwards, pushing Ron to the side, narrowly evading a striking scorpion’s tale, the barb passing inches from his face. Ron sent a shield charm to ward off the attacker, driving it into one of its cohorts.

“Harry, we can’t hold for much longer!” Ron assessment of the tactical situation was accurate. The more of the beasts they dispose of, the more seem to appear. Harry’s mind was working in overdrive, considering the possibilities. Suddenly, he knew.

“Right, Ron I’ve got it!” Harry beckoned Ron to follow, looking over at Dawes and Milton who were just managing to stave off being overwhelmed.

Dawes saw Harry’s movement and yelled, “Now?”

Harry didn’t halt his stride, “Now!”

Dawes nodded to George, who pulled a small fireworks canister from his jacket pocket. Setting it off, the combustible flew up into the street, and burst into a fiery display, spelling out the word, “Now.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, as Disillusionment Charms and Invisibility Cloaks were discarded, thirty Aurors made their appearance, blasting the attackers from behind, severely blunting the attack. Led by Dawlish and Lachlan, the Aurors formed a protective cordon around the platform, whose railing had been reinforced to provide shelter from the assault. Wands out, the Aurors fought off the continuing attacks with an unassailable wall of spells.

Harry made a beeline for the entrance to Gladrags. He remembered the owner having to chase away stray cats that were hovering near the door. Bounding for the rear of the shop, Harry led Ron up the stairs, to the second floor. Moving room to room, Harry reached the doorway to the room overlooking the street. Framed in the window, a slight, prudish woman, dressed in a pink sweater was furiously pouring through a small book, oblivious to their approach.

“Hem Hem.” Harry’s mocked Umbridge’s affectation for a slight cough when she wanted her attention.

Umbridge turned rapidly, surprised by the intrusion.

“Expelliarmus!” Ron’s spell knocked the book from her hand.

“Accio Book!” The little leather-bound journal flew into Harry’s hand.

“Incarcerous!” The ethereal bonds flew to surround Umbridge, Ron’s wand moving to ensure compliance with his spell.

Umbridge choked in surprise, a note of sheer terror in her voice, “Potter, you have no idea what you’ve done! You’ve killed me!”

Snarls began to emanate from the base of the stairway behind them. The loud impact of bodies could be heard against the closed shutters of the windows. Harry and Ron moved into the room and slammed the door behind them. They could hear movement on the roof above, with scratches indicating that something was tearing through the thatched roof. All around, they’d become the focus of rage for the remaining beasts without.

Umbridge began to shiver in fear, her voice quaking, her control completely lost. “Potter, you’ve got to save me, you’ve got to keep them away from me please!”

Harry’s voice was cold, bitter. “Why should I? What will you do for me?”

Umbridge’s face froze momentarily, the decision weighing in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump at the door, the unmistakable sound of its wood frame cracking.

Harry turned back to Umbridge, “You’d better decide soon, time is about up.”

The door crashed open, the snarls of its batterers filling the room.



***Author's Note: (Yawn) I think I'll just end the story here. What do you think?

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Chapter 33 – Moral Compass

The grand opening of Weasley’s Wheezes at its Hogmeades’ location would be remembered for quite some time. It’s comparison to other inaugural events would be mundane on the details. There were balloons and streamers and a showman in the guise of George Weasley made for a better than average start. It was the relentless assault by the vicious, dark magic-induced beasts that would set this opening apart from countless others. Sarah Peebles took in the scene from her vantage point in the circle of Aurors that was surrounding the stage in front of Weasley’s Wheezes. She and her colleagues had been granted a reprieve from their battle with Umbridge’s manticores and chimaeras when the savage animals had ceased their attacks and begun to descend on Gladrags. Somewhere in her memory, Sarah seemed to recall that her mentor, Harry Potter had disappeared not too long ago into the depths that that building. While the Aurors collected themselves and policed up the area, she stole away to find entry into the building.

“Protego!” Ron’s wand flashed, driving the mass of visceral flesh back from the door’s opening. “Reparo!” the assorted pieces of the door and its frame lashed themselves back together, offering a moment’s respite. Harry nodded to Ron, cognizant of the thrashing and banging across the entire perimeter of the room. He turned to Umbridge, his eyes blazing.

“What will it be, Delores? Will you give me the information we need, or do we leave you to your fate?”

Umbridge took in Harry’s expression, not sure, really, if he was serious, or if he was bluffing. In her mind, she couldn’t take the chance. She’d already escaped from Azkeban once, albeit with assistance, and she could do it again. She couldn’t do anything if she was dead.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know, just get me away from here. All you have to do, is transport me out of sight of those things.” Umbridge’s voice grew higher, shriller as the crashing against the doors and windows got louder.

“That’s not good enough, Umbridge! We already know that you can’t be trusted. This is the price for your life.” Harry held up a small blue shaded vial for her to see.

Delores Umbridge was no fool. Her only real value was the information in her head. She’d thought that she could bargain by holding things out, but by giving Potter her memories, she’d be out of chips to bargain with. A splintering crash at the window revealed a long talon making its way through the wood. It also made her decision much easier.

“I’ll do it. When you get me out of here!”

Harry laughed, “Nice try, do it now! Ron!” He tossed the vial over to his friend, who’s relieved expression was evident on his face. Umbridge tossed a cruel, heated glance at Harry, and then closed her eyes. Eventually, a blue, viscous liquid emitted from the corners of her eyes. Ron opened the stopper on the vial and allowed the liquid to fill the glass. When he finished, he put the top on the vial and nodded to Harry.

“Make sure those memories get to the Ministry! That’s the whole point of this, Ron. Get to the Ministry as fast as you can!” Harry looked back towards Umbridge.

Ron stared at his friend, “What about her? We can make it together!”

“Don’t worry about Umbridge, I’ll be right behind you, just make sure the memory gets to the Ministry!” Ron gave Harry a hard, knowing look. With a quick glance at Umbridge, Ron disappeared from the room.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, oblivious to the noise of the creatures outside, staring into space. After a moment, he cast a cold, menacing gaze at Umbridge.

“What are you waiting for Potter! Get me out of here!” Umbridge’s voice was louder, more desperate. “I gave you what you wanted!”

Harry looked at her, his eyes filled with a steely resolve. “What’s the rush? These are your pets after all. Maybe, I should leave you to them.” Harry turned his back on her, his mind racing, the rage in his breast making him hesitate.

Her voice steadied a triumphant laugh in her tone. “Well, well, well, the great Harry Potter is a horrid little man, after all. Apparently we aren’t so different, after all.” She wavered as another talon pierced the ceiling above. “We had an agreement, Potter! You weren’t going to let me die!”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to live! Maybe I’m doing the world a favor! You’ve hurt a lot of people, Umbridge! You’ve murdered for the sake of what? Power? You’re a threat to my friends, my family!” Ginny’s image came to his mind, the image right after her encounter in Diagon Alley, suddenly a place on his hand began to itch, the same place that Umbridge had forced him to ‘write lines’ those years ago. “You’re a threat to me. Maybe it’s best that you can’t hurt anyone else, anymore.” He stared her down, and for the first time, Delores Umbridge truly feared for her life.

“You can’t Potter! You can’t let me die!” Her voice was panicked, faltering; a bout of hysteria was following close behind. Harry took a last look at her and slowly turned his head. His mind began to concentrate on a destination, anywhere, but away from her.

“Harry.” The voice was quiet, soft and warm. It was unexpected, and it wasn’t Umbridge. Harry turned and found himself looking at Sarah. She’d found a small spiral ladder that had led up to an adjacent room, too small for the creatures to navigate. She’d come through a connecting door and found him about to leave the dreadful Umbridge woman to her fate.

He was startled by her, unsure of his actions. Her words hit him to the core.

“You don’t want to do this, Harry. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Sarah looked at him, ignoring the vigorous nods of agreement from Umbridge or the chaos of the enraged animals crashing through.

“Sarah! What are doing here, get out of here! Can’t you see that she deserves it? She’s evil! She’s murdered people! She’s tried to hurt the people that I love. She tried to hurt Ginny! She’s hurt me!” Harry was spent, unsure of what he should do next, his mind swirling with thoughts of the greater good and what was right.

Sarah’s voice dropped in volume, “You once said that being an Auror was about justice and peace, and that we must never use our position to exercise power over the helpless.” Her arm dropped to the bound woman nearby.

Harry stood, his eyes never leaving Sarah, shamed by what he’d almost done. He stared at his pupil and found she was teaching him a lesson. He nodded his head and walked over to Umbridge. Grasping her and Sarah’s arm, he apparated them out of the room, away from Hogsmeade.

Outside, Henry Milton was keeping a watch on four would-be chimaeras that had been stunned by multiple spells from the phalanx of Aurors. When Harry moved Umbridge from their proximity, the chimaeras changed their form. In front of Milton, were four kittens, mewling in fear and probably hunger. “Blimey.” The Umbridge threat was over.

Harry and Sarah arrived at the Ministry of Magic with Umbridge in tow. They brought her up to the Office of Aurors and placed her in one of the rooms especially charmed to hold wizards of her ilk. Harry walked with Sarah back to his office, emotionally spent from the encounter.

“Sarah,” he paused, the shame of his actions hitting him, “Thanks, I almost did something I would have regret.” She smiled at him, placed a small hand on his shoulder.

“It’s what you’d done for me. ‘You will not apologize, because you have nothing to apologize for.’” She was definitely teasing him.

“How long am I to expect you to keep reciting my own words back to me?” He started laughing with her, his mood lightening ever so slightly.

“For as long as you’re my tutor. I’m lucky to have you training me, Harry. You looked out for me when no one else would. You’re a good teacher, and I’m glad I’m your student.” Her face was proud, unembarrassed and unashamed.

He blushed, “Thanks Sarah, I definitely needed that.” She looked at him with a little more seriousness.

“Harry, you still have one more thing to do, don’t you?” He looked at her, unsure of what she spoke. They still had to figure out who was behind all this and how to stop them. There was probably more than one thing left. She laughed at his confusion, “Don’t you think you should go and let Ginny know you’re okay? She’s liable to tear down the Ministry before long.”

He laughed out loud, his mood definitely getting better. “Well, we can’t have public property being destroyed. I want to check on Ron first, and then I’ll go save the Ministry from total destruction.” He got up and walked out of his office. He moved down the corridor. As he passed the granite memorial wall, he noticed that Masterson’s name and image had been added already. He made his way to Lachlan’s office and knocked. The door opened, and he entered to find Ron waiting.

“You made it back? Good.” Harry skimmed the office and saw the vial sitting on Lachlan’s desk.
“Where’s Lachlan?”

Ron looked at his friend closely, concern covering his face. “He hasn’t returned yet. Um, Harry, where’s Umbridge?” The unspoken question was had Harry left her to die? Harry looked at his friend, and saw the fear in Ron’s eyes.

“She’s in a cell, down the hall.” A visible sigh of relief overcame Ron. “I almost did it, Ron, I almost became just like her. Maybe, I am just like her deep down.”

Ron was more shocked at that statement than he was thinking that his friend had killed Umbridge. “Don’t say that Harry. You’re nothing like her, nothing at all.”

“I felt it, Ron, I felt it in my being to let her die.” Harry sat down, his face crestfallen.

Ron stood and paced, his mind furiously at work. “So, why didn’t you do it? No one would have stopped you, why didn’t you let her die?”

“Sarah showed up, and well, she said Aurors don’t use their powers over the helpless.” Ron’s eyebrow raised a hint.

“Who taught her that, I suppose?” Ron’s mouth was moving towards a full smile.

“I did, I guess.”

“Well, now, I guess you were a better teacher than you thought.” Ron’s voice became steady, confident. “And maybe, just maybe, despite all that you’ve been through and all that you’ve become, the great Harry Potter is not above learning something new, from time to time.”

Harry laughed at his friend’s comment. So many times, over the past few months, he’d had to lead and to act, but in the greater scheme of things, he was still relatively new to his new role, both as an Auror and as a husband, and he still had a lot to learn about both.

A commotion burst out in the hall outside, as the Aurors from Hogsmeade began to file into the Office. Harry peered a head out and motioned for Robards and Dawlish to make their way over. Joined by Lachlan, they crowded into the office with Harry and Ron.

“Umbridge is locked up down the hall, sir.” Harry addressed Robards, but swept his gaze over the others.

“Well done, Harry, we can start her interrogation straight away.” A relieved Robards made a gesture over to Dawlish.

Harry interrupted him, “That won’t be necessary, sir.” That stopped the conversations about interrogation momentarily. “You see sir, I got her to give us her memory, especially those subsequent to her escape from Azkeban.”

“How did you manage that, Harry?” Robards was obviously impressed and curious.

“I made it worth her while, sir.” Harry gave a sheepish grin. “It was more important for her to cooperate with us, than not.” Robards let the matter drop, to Harry’s relief.

“Well, let’s see it, we’ll use the Pensieve in the meeting room.” Harry grabbed the vial from the desk and the group proceeded down to the Auror meeting room. They gathered around the Pensieve located in the corner of the room. It was larger than the one Dumbledore had, the one currently in Harry’s office. Harry poured the contents of the vial into the large stone basin, allowing its contents to merge with vapor and mist floating within. As one, the assembled group concentrated on the memories floating in the mist. Selecting one, they found themselves watching the details of Umbridge’s assisted escape from Azkeban. The flew along with her on the back of the wyvern, noting the fact that these beasts hadn’t been seen in centuries.

The memory skipped through the flight across the ocean, and followed her to the fog covered island. They looked at each other, curious at the citadel in the mountain and leaned forward at the point the mystery woman made her plea to Delores. No one recognized the beautiful woman who was casually issuing demands for their own deaths. The memory took them from the island and drifted to the a pastoral scene, in a field, outside a house that looked like a big black rock. The image of a man in black robes, standing behind some trees, watching a house. Dawlish drew a deep breath inward, recognizing the figure as that of his man, Masterson, who had been assigned to watch over Luna Lovegood. They watched as Masterson was being stalked by four shadowy, menacing figures. Harry knew what would happen next. The image of Masterson turned around, his expression passing from surprise to shock, to finally terror.

“Enough!” Robards’ voice boomed across the room. “I think we’ve seen quite enough.” No one had an argument, no one wanted to live that memory.

“Well, we’ve seen our enemy, but does anyone know who she is?”

There were blank faces around the room. The woman’s face had not registered. Her identity was a mystery. Harry’s expression was distracted, deep in thought, his memory drifting back across the years. “One minute sir, I’ll be right back.” Harry darted out the door, heading back to his office. Within minutes, he returned, a little winded from his dash. He held a deck of peculiar cards in his hand.

“Harry, why on earth do you have Chocolate Frog Cards in your hands?” Ron, like everyone else, had no idea why his friend would have children’s playing cards out. Harry ignored his friend and rifled through the deck until he came to a card. This was a card he’d received in his first deck, so many years ago on the Hogwart’s Express. He held up the card and tossed it on the table in the center of the room. On the card was a face, the face of the woman who’d they seen in the memory. Looks of incredulity went around the room.

“You can’t be serious, Harry.” Robards could not believe where this was going.

Dawlish was thoughtful, “I think Harry may be onto something, what other explanation is there? Think about the type of magic it took to free Umbridge, think about the wyverns and look at her. The face is identical.”

“Morgana? Morgan Le Fay? She’s been dead for centuries! This is preposterous!” Robards sputtered, not ready to believe.

Lachlan spoke up for the first time, “Well sir, I’d be inclined to agree with you sir, but the last time I saw a Fury was on one of those cards and we know where the next time we saw a Fury was.”

“Well assume it’s possible. What do we do?”

“We have to confirm this.” Dawlish was thoughtful. “We need to have some background on Morgana, find out about her, and see if she has a weakness.”

There were nods around from the rest. Robards agreed to the situation for the mean time, but his skepticism remained. With nothing else to discuss, they filed out of the room, more afraid than before they went in.

Harry and Ron left the meeting room, idly walking back to his office.

“Harry James Potter!” Harry was intimately familiar with the voice. Oftentimes, it had provided solace for him in the darkest times. Right now, it had a tone with which he wasn’t too familiar. It seemed sinister. Ron ducked his head and blend into the wall and did his best disappearing charm, escaping the wrath of the voice. Harry turned around, and offered his wife a smile. She was standing, her weight on one leg, leading toe tapping in a furious beat. Her arms were crossed and brow furrowed in a fierce look. Her eyes blazed and her hair seemed a deep shade of red, almost fire-like, much like her present mood.

“I’ve been crazy with worry, waiting for you. Would it have killed you to let me know that you were still alive?”


***Author's Note: I wonder if Ron told Harry the part about making up?

Your feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=12) keeps me going, it is the light of my life...sniff, sniff.

Chapter 34 – Night's Minions

Morgana’s citadel stood white, noble in the morning sun, its beauty belying the evil which had gathered in its midst. The black sorceress had amassed her followers, who had taken centuries to collect and lifetimes to put into place. Morgana was an animagus, the original animagus. Her form was of a bird, not some dainty robin, but of a crow, a carrion crow, feeding on the carcasses and eggs of living beings. In her avian form, she landed near the dark pool in the center of her chamber. She transformed back into her regular form, spinning about to take in her denizens in the room.

The chamber was filled with movement, dark bodies standing restless, ill at ease, as if they were racers, impatiently awaiting the sound of the starter’s pistol. Sounds of breathing, huffing, snarling permeated their ranks, creating an olio of terror, of hatred which drew its strength from the woman in white before them. The darkness of the room gave hint of shadows, moving to and fro, pacing, luminescent pairs of red eyes dotting the room like fireflies on a warm spring night. One of the shadows moved forward, a robed figure, out of place in the menagerie, human, a man. The figure knelt in supplication before Morgana, face down, eyes to the floor, awaiting his mistress’ bidding.

Morgana allowed herself a smile, soon, she thought, soon I will be free of this place and I can take my rightful place as ruler of this world. “The Umbridge woman has been captured.” Gnashing of teeth and low growls came in response to the news. “That was part of our design. Now those who could stop us are uneasy. They will be distracted with saving their own lives, while we proceed with our task.”

She looked to the figure kneeling to her front, “Merwyn? Are you ready for your quest?”

The man raised his hooded head, his eyes soaking in her beauty. He seemingly basked in her glow, “Merwyn the Malicious is at your service, my lady. As have I always been.”

Morgana lent her toady a brief flicker of a smile and turned to the gathered masses. “We will continue to confuse and terrify our enemies. It is time for those that would oppose us the guardians of the false order, to truly fear for their worthless lives. The end draws near for this ‘Ministry of Magic’ and its so-called Aurors.” She turned to the darkest corner of her domain, “Come here, my pet.” Her voice was loving, tender and was met by a low-throated animal growl. “You and your minions are free to kill the Aurors. Kill them all, but make sure the rest feel fear. Their fear will be their undoing.”

A chorus of howls and grunts met her words, raising in volume, rebounding off the high walls of the chamber. She soaked in its effect, taking a brief moment to enjoy, how near she was to her goal.

“Merwyn, you’d best be on your way. Bring me the Bone of Ullr.”

************************************************** ************************************************** ********
12 Grimmauld Place had a sitting room in the front part of the house, which held a large fireplace. Near the hearth, two rather large, overstuffed high-backed chairs offered its occupants a comfortable proximity to the fire and a good view of the room, which had been redone to mirror the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts. The sun was setting in the afternoon sky, while there were two chairs in the room and two occupants of the home, more times that not, the fire would be witness to both of the home’s live-ins sharing but one chair, nestled in comfort in each other’s arms. Such was the case this evening.

Harry sat in the chair, his wife, Ginny, lay sideways, arms dangling over the arms, her own arms wrapped around his neck. Harry’s eyes were closed, a smile on his face, random thoughts drifting through his head. After a moment, he allowed a quick laugh to escape his lips.

“What?” Ginny could not help but smile at his mirth.

He looked down at her face, the flicker of the fire causing her eyes to dance, “It’s nothing really. It’s just that Ron always told me that being married was so much better than I could possibly imagine, that it got better and better each day.” He kissed her lips. “I was just thinking that if I knew this was how arguments were going to be settled, I almost want to have one every day.”

She gave him a mockingly stern look, “I wouldn’t want to put that theory to the test too often, although, this ‘making up’ is very nice.” He laughed and stood, lifting her up in his arms.

“I think I still have some things to make up to you for.” He kissed her again. She giggled in delight and expectation. He carried her up the stairs. Neither saw the dark shadow that passed the outer window. It was there, and then gone in an instant.

************************************************** ************************************************** ********

Ron fumbled with the door to his apartment. Hermione had insisted that he stick to non-magical mannerisms as much as possible while he was out and out and about in their muggle neighborhood. He felt mostly at ease, but keys seemed to give him a little bit of trouble. Eventually, he managed to unlock his door and turn the knob, practically falling into his home. He turned and shut the door and grunted from the impact of a mass of hair and Hermione impacting him, pushing his back onto the door.

“You’re alive!” Hermione’s face came up to his face, showering him with kisses. She stood off and hit him solidly in the chest. “You should have sent word earlier, I’ve been worried sick!”

Ron had the bedraggled look of complete confusion that is usually endemic to men married for longer than a year. Surrendering to the inevitable, he touched her cheek, “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time.”

They both broke into laughter. The guffaws were a mixture of relief and happiness. They drew together and kissed deeply. Ron drew back and caressed her face, looking at her, immersing himself in her beauty. The sun was setting outside the large picture windows, casting a soft rosy glow on her hair, face and eyes. He absolutely loved looking at her, he knew every expression on her face and cherished every moment in her presence. A cloud passed over his own face, his worry not for what happened, but for his friend, Harry. Although he felt that Harry’s core was not a reflection of his actions today, he knew that Harry would have doubts, and those doubts could hurt him. He looked at Hermione, knowing that she was someone, the only person he could confide in.

“Hermione,” He searched for a way to interrupt this moment with her, to talk to her about the day’s events. She shushed him, and led him towards their bedroom. She smiled back at him, “Later, tell me later.”

Ron smiled as he followed her. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed movement across the way, outside his window. The glare of the sunset seemed to be playing tricks on him. The shadow he thought he saw, disappeared almost as soon as it was there.

************************************************** ************************************************** *********

Henry Milton walked out into the night, waving back at George Weasley and Lee Jordan as he left Weasley’s Wheezes in Hogsmeade. Although the Umbridge threat had abated, he and Dawes had made a point to drop in and say hello to the two entrepreneurs. Milton was especially taken with the wit and innovation of the men’s wares. There was no moon and the night was especially dark, which made his eyes appear as holes in the paleness of his face. Dawes had left earlier, a pressing engagement at his home cutting short his fun. The night was getting late, and Milton figured that he would have a lot to answer for when he got home.

He made his way down the main street, intending to use the Floo access at the Hog’s Head. As he passed an alley, he thought he heard a sound that was out of place with the quiet of the night. An experienced Auror, Milton had an instinct that the sound was out of the ordinary. Pulling his wand, he moved down the alley. It was dark. With no moon, and the nearest gas lamp out on the main street, he couldn’t make out shapes in the dead end.

“Lumos!” The end of his wand glowed with a bright blue light, casting the aura of midday in the confined quarters. At the end of the alley, he spotted a shape. It was muddled, dark, like the figure of a mannequin. He moved closer, his eyes narrowing, trying to distinguish whether it were a live person or not. As he approached, he thought he recognized the robes on the figure. They were midnight black, but frayed and torn, shredded from the neck to the stomach. He looked closer still, and saw that it was person and the robe was covered in blood, the body beneath, dead, mutilated. He drew his wand up to the face, hoping to identify the victim and when he did, he recoiled in horror, drawing back against a nearby wall, an audible howl coming from his mouth. It was Dawes. His friend’s light blue eyes were open, lifeless, like doll’s eyes. His expression was horrific, as if he was seeking help and there hadn’t been any. No one had been there. Milton hadn’t been there.

A low, continuous growl began to emanate from the street entrance. He turned, and peered past his light at the source. Ten pairs of red, glowing lights looked back at him, getting bigger as the source of the growling drew near, slowly as if stalking him. Three massive, horrible figures came into view. The center figure was massive, the size of a full grown lion, muscular, broad, almost the entire width of the alley. Three massive canine heads were connected at the junction of its shoulders, they were low, feral, sharp teeth bared as all three heads growled in unison. On either side of the massive creature were two large dogs, also black, but slightly smaller. Their heads were identical, mouths open, nipping at the tail of the three-headed leader. All three creatures looked deadly, all three were looking right at him, and all three seemed to be smiling.

Henry Milton was not a coward, years of training, of confronting evil, had honed him into one of his kinds best, an Auror. He would die bravely. He raised his wand, shooting a stunning spell towards the largest of the predators. The red bolt impacted squarely on the beast’s chest, with little or no appreciable effect. Milton cursed and tried another spell, again this one rebounded with no effect to the creature. The sound of the animals’ throats were especially louder, crisper, as if announcing his own end.

“Protego!” Desperately, he threw up a shield, trying to keep the creatures at bay. The leader paused, its three heads sniffing the lighted specter, and then the center head plunged into the shield, slowly pulling the rest of its body through. Ever so slowly, Milton watched its progress through his last line of defense. He didn’t want to die without reason, he wanted his sacrifice to mean something. Furiously, he dipped his hands into the recesses of his robe, as the first tip of a snout began to work its way through his shield. His hand grasped at a piece of parchment and threw it to the ground, slightly annoyed, he reached in again and found what he was looking for. The first head was almost through to the ears. The snouts of the other two heads started exiting the barrier. Frantically, he tossed the object down and reached one last time into his robe. Grabbing a small cylinder, he smiled. He’d done what he could do. Slamming the base of the cylinder on the ground, it erupted into a cascade of fireworks, one of Weasley’s specials. The air above the alley was illuminated in shades of blue and green and red. The different whirls of fire and smoke rang through the village exploding in a cacophony of festive figures.


The explosions masked his screams, as the creature made its way through his shield and leapt onto his chest.

***Author's Note: It's not Fluffy!!! So don't tell me about Fluffy. Bad dog, Fluffy, bad dog.

Your good wishes and thoughts will help bring Tinkerbell back here (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=12).

Chapter 35 – Taking Action

Harry walked down the alley, which on the surface seemed relatively benign in the morning light. As a student at Hogwarts, he’d passed this area countless times, and never had he imagined the destruction that could occur, in so tranquil a place. The end of the alley was a charnel house, blood cast everywhere. He approached the two men standing near the bodies of Dawes and Milton, heads locked together in conversation. They turned to acknowledge Harry’s arrival, their faces somber.

“Lachlan” Harry gripped his friend’s hand, “Dawlish” He turned to greet the senior Auror. He viewed the devastation from up close, his stomach doing somersaults. “What could have done this? More of Umbridge’s pseudo-beasts?”

Lachlan shook his head. “Not this time, the damage is too extensive. Besides Frederick and Henry were good Aurors, look at the way they held out when we captured Umbridge. I think Morgana may have introduced something new to the mix.”

Harry felt a chill pass through his body. Morgana represented ancient evil, the darkest magic, much like the Furies. Nothing in his power had stopped them; he’d relied on their own magic to kill them. His eyes skimmed the alley, trying to take all of the details, without looking into the blank, dead eyes of his two murdered colleagues. A flapping piece of parchment, lodged in the seam of some masonry caught his eye. He reached down to pick it up. It was one of announcements for Weasley’s Wheezes from the other day. He smiled a bit and then flipped the parchment over. There was writing on the back of the parchment, hurriedly scrawled, barely legible. Harry looked up from the paper and spotted a quill on the pavement, a self-inking quill, much like the ones George had given out, much like the one George had given Milton. Harry turned to the other two Aurors.

“I think we’ve got a problem.” He extended his arm out, holding the parchment open for them to see.

Dawlish read the writing; his hand automatically started a rapid pace through his hair. Lachlan whistled and took a deep breath. “That, my boy is an understatement.”

The script on the paper was in red, as if written in blood. Its statement was brief, but a world of knowledge, Milton was a professional, to the very end.

“Cerberus and 2 Barghests killed me and Dawes tonight. No spells work. Could not apparate. Tell my wife that I love her. Milton.”

“Apparently Dawes was killed first, Milton happened upon them later. Milton obviously held the beasties off long enough to use the self-inking quill. He died to get us this information.” Dawlish started to choke up, his voice wavered.

“This is bad, Harry. We’ve no way to stop Cerberus. The Barghests are a stroke of genius.” Lachlan looked over the scene; Harry gave him a questioning look. “Cerberus is immune to most magic, so the best defense is to get away, apparate. It can’t follow a transportation. The Barghests have some property that nullifies our ability to apparate. Working together, it’s a lethal combination. About the only thing working for us is that Barghests can only be out after sundown, they are night creatures.”

Harry looked up to the sky, mentally figuring out the hours until night, until they were vulnerable again.

The entire Department of the Magical Law Enforcement was in an uproar. The threat posed to wizard-kind had never seemed so extreme. Assembled in the chamber normally reserved for Wizengamot hearings, the Department’s leadership was seated on the benches reserved for judges and interrogators. In the middle of the chamber, on the lowered floor where the accused were usually assigned, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, stood with Gawain Robards, Dawlish, Miles Jackson-Smythe and Harry. It was as if the five were on trial instead of presenting evidence of a horrific threat. Kingsley held up his arms, asking for quiet.

“There is no doubt, that we face a dangerous situation. We must assume that Morgana is alive, and that she wants to return. The only questions are what is she after and how do we stop her?”
A riot of argument and name calling ensued, drowning out the Minister. Most of the suggestions were foolish and not particularly helpful. “Ladies and gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen!” The Minister’s voice was commanding; the voices stopped and he regained their attention. He smiled and turned towards Jackson-Smythe, offering him the floor.

“We know that Morgana can not leave her island, ergo, she must be seeking a way to remedy the situation, most likely by reviving her son, Mordred.” He swept the room with his gaze, emphasizing each point with the tip of his pipe. “We know that Merlin himself was the wizard who banished her to what we thought was death, but what apparently turned into exile.”

The room was silent, not even breathing. Miles did love a rapt audience. “I would say, considering Morgana is alive, there is a reasonable expectation that we could find where Merlin lies and see if there is any information on how to stop her.” This drew murmurs from the crowd. “What we need is a journey, a seeker to find this place. What we need is a quest. We need a quest for Merlin’s tomb.”

Dawlish led Harry out by the arm, as the meeting devolved into a general shouting match.

A few hours later, a weary Kingsley and Robards walked into Dawlish’s office, their faces inscrutable as to the outcome of the debate. Harry, Lachlan and Dawlish rose, offering seats to the visitors, curious as to what was going to happen.

Kingsley spoke, “Well, they said to for us to proceed. There was a lot of debate; many think this is a fool’s errand.” He rubbed his head, working his way into the details. “But if there is a chance that we could find Merlin’s Tomb, then they want us to find it.” He hesitated, his eyes locking with Harry’s, “Actually, they want you to find it, Harry.”

“Me? What? This is absurd; there are more experienced searchers than me! I’m barely out of training, sir. They can’t be serious, can they?” Harry offered pleading looks around the room. “Why me?”

Robards took his turn to speak. “There are two reasons, Harry. First, you are a talisman; you’ve succeeded where no one else has, so if there is an impossible task, you are the one who could complete it.” Robards stopped, stealing a look at Kingsley. Robards did not say that on some level, many believed that Harry would decoy attention from the rest, his high profile may draw the ire of the dark sorceress.

Harry saw the look, “What’s the other reason? Tell me!”

“You were right; you are inexperienced, so to speak. They wanted the senior Aurors to stay in house, to attempt more ‘conventional’ means of stopping the immediate threat.” Robards was trying to be diplomatic.

“I’m expendable, that’s what you’re saying. They wanted the Aurors to remain who could be of greater help, and they’re sending me because I’m expendable.” Harry’s point ushered in a prolonged bout of silence.

Dawlish raised a concerned voice, “We’re not sending him out there alone, are we? He’s got to be able to take someone with him. Let him go with Lachlan or Savage.”

“No, he can not take any of the senior Aurors. Look, we have a lot to prepare for. They want us to arm the Hit Teams with goblin weapons. There is a thought that metal weapons may injure the beasts.” Robards couldn’t look Dawlish in the eye.

Dawlish’s brain was moving at a faster pace, “Ok then, he won’t take a senior Auror with him. Let’s go, Harry.” He led Harry from his own office, leading him down the hall to Harry’s own space. As soon as they entered, he shut the door.

“Look Harry, you can’t take any of us with you, but they didn’t say anything about someone training to be an Auror, do you get my meaning?” Dawlish saw understanding dawning in Harry’s eyes. “Normally, I wouldn’t even suggest this, but I don’t think you should do this alone. You need help, and you need people you can trust.”

“John, I need you to promise you’ll watch over Ginny and Hermione. I mean, I’m taking Ron with me, that’s what we’ve been talking about, isn’t it? If we go out there, we’ll need to know. I’ll need to know that my family is safe.”

“You have my word, Harry. I’ll watch over them with my life. I promise.” Dawlish’s words were serious and somber, his oath a sacred bond, one made between friends, which could be more binding than an Unbreakable Bond at times, because in the Unbreakable Bond, the only real punishment was death.

“Thanks, John. I’d better go find Ron, and then, I’ve got to figure out a way to tell my wife that I’m putting my head in it again.” He could only imagine how she’d react. For a brief instant, his step bounced a bit. Well, he thought, this could mean that a “make up” was just around the corner. He hurried his stride out the door.



The Weasley apartment was quiet as they sat at the table, contemplating Ron’s news. Hermione, for the first time in a long time, had nothing really to say. She couldn’t solve this problem, there wasn’t a riddle to solve, there wasn’t a Horcrux to destroy. Her husband was going out on a dangerous assignment, in a dangerous world. For a moment, she was lost, her eyes on him, but not focused. Every permutation of the worst possible outcome was spinning through her head as she seriously contemplated what losing him would mean.

She’d been fully supportive of his decision to become an Auror. She knew of his desire to be more, both to her, but especially to himself. She was proud of his efforts, how hard he worked to overcome his own doubts and to tap into that hidden reservoir of talent and ability that was just beneath his exterior. Yet, this was different somehow. She’d never really stopped to think of the rollercoaster of emotions that Ginny went through. Hermione had known Harry for so long; she just accepted that he would bear the burdens and risks of being Harry Potter. That was the price he paid for being who he was. Ron was different, she’d thought. Sure, he’d been in danger, but not like this. The enemy was formidable and the potential for failure very real. For the first time since they’d been married, she was afraid, and it rocked her to her soul. She could not hold back her tears.

Ron walked around the table to hold his wife. She was everything to him and he wondered how he could express his fear of losing her. Part of him knew that he had to go with Harry, to finish an impossible quest to stop an implacable foe. That was something; at least, they’d done before. Here, however, he was afraid of losing her, and he could not bear that thought. He felt a little selfish, because he was taking action to make a difference. She would remain behind, exposed to the danger of creatures that no one had the power to repel. He could not bear the thought losing her. He was sure that he was letting her down, somehow. Why else would she be crying?

He took her body in his arms, her shoulders wracking with her sobs. She allowed him to support her, to hold her tight. He stroked her back and caressed her cheek. Her tears were flowing, her eyes wide but watery.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I don’t want to let you down.” His voice was low, his eyes downcast, unable to face her.

She rubbed her eyes, unsure of what she just heard. “Wha-What? What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving you alone, exposed to go with Harry, I should be here to watch over you. I guess I’m acting the coward here, going off into the country while you are facing the danger.”

Her fastidious mind went through the calculations. She revisited her own thoughts and then processed his words. When she finished, two plus two hadn’t equaled five. She couldn’t help herself, despite all of her fear and pain, she burst out laughing.

“You git!” Ron was now beyond his normal confused state, he couldn’t be more confounded if he was unconscious. “I’ve been worried about you putting yourself in danger! I was afraid of losing you.”

Ron saw a sliver of understanding peeking through the recesses of his brain. “But I was afraid of losing you, I thought you were thinking that I was abandoning you.”

When married couples work through communication issues, there are sparks when understanding is achieved. Were one to be an observer of the apartment, one would swear that the sparks were visible to the naked eye. Ron pulled Hermione to him, and kissed her as if it were the first time. He kissed her as if there wouldn’t be another. He kissed her and then carried her into their bedroom. The door slammed shut behind them with an urgent force.


Her reaction wasn’t what he’d expected. Ginny didn’t rave or yell or rage against the unfairness of it all. She simply went to him and put her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his head on hers. She didn’t cry, there would be time for that later. She looked up into his eyes, her look pleading and urgent. She didn’t say a word, what could be said? She loved him with every fiber of her existence, she breathed because he existed, how could she possibly express that?

She understood, he had to go, not because he was a thrill seeker or because even, it was his job. Deep down, she knew, he had to go because there was simply no one else who could even remotely get the job done. He was special, if anyone could accomplish the task, it would be him. All she could do was to enjoy what may be their last night together. So she looked at him, wordlessly, conveying her love, conveying her need and most importantly, conveying her understanding of the task he had to perform.

They kissed, their bond solid, unwavering; their love transferring back and forth, strengthening them both. Their embrace became urgent, needing. He took her by the hand and led her upstairs, and yet not a word had been spoken. There’ll be time enough for that later. Right now, there was only need.

When they disappeared upstairs, an ugly, stooped house-elf walked out of the kitchen. Kreacher looked up the stairs where his Master and Mistress had disappeared. He took up a position on the stairs, in his hand a rather oversized meat cleaver. Folding his arms carefully, he kept vigil, watching the front door, determined to give Harry and Ginny, one last night of peace.


***Author's Note: I gave you three chapters in a day. My brain hurts. The pace will slow somewhat, so be patient.

Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=12), please. Like it was my last time writing.....

Chapter 36 – Auror’s Quest

When Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic the next morning, the atmosphere was that of a kingdom under siege. A palpable air of fear hovered over everyone who passed through the great hall entrance. Harry was momentarily taken aback by the presence of Department of Magical Law Enforcement Hit Teams and Aurors stationed along the main atrium of the Ministry. While extra security was not, considering the present crisis, a surprise in and of itself, what did make Harry look twice was the fact that these wizards were clad in mostly ill-fitting goblin armor and armed with an assortment of halberds and swords. Most of the erstwhile guards seemed ill-at-ease with their equipage, their outfitting an obvious testament to Robards’ attempt at “conventional” means to deter the threat of the Cerberus. Harry wasn’t sure about the utility of the armed presence, considering it was the beginning of the day, and they’d already established that the Cerberus was a night time threat, based on the availability of the Barghests. Harry shrugged his shoulders, coming to the conclusion that the guards and their arms were more a means of reassuring the general public that activity was happening to combat the threat of Morgana.

“Harry!” He turned his head to see Ron making his way towards him. He and his friend were dressed alike, with jeans and a sweatshirt over a tee-shirt. Leather work boots covered their feet, and Ron carried his beaten leather satchel over his shoulder. Harry had his equally weary rucksack over his own shoulder. Offering Ron a smile of greeting, the two met in the middle of the morning crowd.

“How’d it go with Ginny, last night? Everything alright?” Ron knew that his sister could be formidable when roused.

“Surprisingly, she was very understanding. I guess the wonders of married life will never cease. How about Hermione?” Harry also knew how stubborn Hermione could be, and part of him was surprised that she wasn’t insisting on tagging along.

“We worked it out.” A slight blush came over Ron’s face, immediately changing the subject, he cinched up his satchel. “So, ready to start? Where to first?”

Harry had given the topic some thought, “Hogwarts, I suspect. We’ll need to research some things, but I think the best place to start is Hogwarts.”

Ron nodded in agreement, and with that, the pair headed to the Floo entries near the entrance.

“Harry!” A decidedly feminine voice rang in his ears, above the din of the bustle. He turned, and spotted Sarah Peebles pushing her way through the crowd. She, like them, was dressed in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and light jacket completing her ensemble. Over her shoulder, her Auror’s bag hung loosely. She looked like a person ready to start a journey. Uncomfortably, Harry thought, she seemed to be looking to go with them on their journey.

“Going somewhere?” Harry’s question had more bite than he had intended.

She stopped short, her voice confident, “Yes, I’m going with you two. I am your student, after all.”

“Look Sarah, this may be dangerous. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to have raw trainees on this assignment.” Sarah’s gaze fell to Ron, her skepticism at Harry’s last statement prominently displayed.

Harry would not be deterred. “Sarah, I appreciate the effort, I really do. I know what Ron brings to this quest. What would you bring to it? Give me one good reason why I should have you along?”

She didn’t hesitate, and her confidence made Harry proud of her.

“I’m your conscience.” Her statement was earnest, matter of fact, and her eyes blazed with the assurance in her conviction of its truth.

Ron snorted and made a half-hearted attempt to study the ceiling. Harry gave him sharp look but considered what she’d said. Was he so accomplished that he was above humbling or mistake? Of course not! She had a distinct point, and Ron echoed his thoughts.

“It looks like she has you there, Harry.” Harry knew she did, so he smiled and relented. Now they were a band of three. They headed for the Floo entrance and filed in, one by one.

Professor Minerva McGonagall sat at the desk that had served the Headmaster or Headmistress of the Hogwarts School for centuries. She was scanning a set of parchment, which surprisingly told her that the behavior scores for Mortimer Gafney and Silas Hornsby were good. The two normally were the center of mischief but now seemed to have taken a keen interest in Herbology and their activities seemed to have dampened their wayward impulses. She made a mental note to commend Neville about his unique teaching manner with the boys. Her thoughts were interrupted by noisy announcement of arrivals to her hearth, through the Floo network. She took a quick glance at the empty portrait of Albus Dumbledore and rose from her desk, and smiled when she recognized her guests.

“Harry! Ron! Ms. Peebles! Welcome!” She felt genuine warmth for the returning alumni. Her normally austere demeanor gave way to hugs and embraces for the three of them, along with a slightly curious look.

Harry spoke up for the three of them, “Sorry to intrude, Professor McGonagall, it’s just that, we need some help. We’re on a mission, and we need to gather some information, if we might.” Harry gazed around the familiar office, a pang of loss momentarily overcoming him, especially when he noticed that Dumbledore’s painting was empty. “Where’s Professor Dumbledore?”

“Oh, he’s at the Ministry of Magic, trying to help Kingsley prepare a defense of some sort. He told me of your mission, and frankly, the best source is Cuthbert Binns.” Harry had to stifle a yawn that almost always appeared whenever his former ghostly History of Magic professor’s name was mentioned.

Harry shook his head, knowing that she was right. After all, Professor Binns, reluctantly, had let them know the history of the Chamber of Secrets, even though he had a natural aversion to myth and legend. He dealt in fact and would be hesitant to talk at length. Nonetheless, he would be a good place to start.

“You’re probably right, Professor.” Harry saw the look of absolute dread pass over Ron’s face. “We’ll head down, straight away.”

The trio made there way down the spiral staircase and continued down towards the main entrance hall. When the reached the door to the teachers’ staff room Harry immediately noticed that the sentinel gargoyles had been removed, a reflection that lessened sense of threat that the school was under, or an indication of the amount of damage the school had sustained during the climactic battle waged there. They gave a knock and entered the staff room.

“Professor Binns?” Harry scanned the room, looking around for any sign of their former teacher. Moving towards the fire place, Harry heard the soft drone of snoring, emanating from one of the large chairs. The transparent figure of Cuthbert Binns was asleep in the chair, the same chair he was rumored to have died in. The story goes that he’d died in his sleep, and his ghost had simply risen, leaving his body behind, the ghost moving on to teach. It was also said that there was no noticeable difference between the droning teaching style of the poltergeist and the real man.

Harry raised his voice a little louder, “Professor Binns!” The figure in the chair rose with a start.

“Wha-? Who? Oh, Mr. Potter. Sorry, you can’t have extra credit.” He made to return to his slumber.

“Professor! We need to ask you something. Something about history.” Binns turned his head up, an unbelieving stare returned to Harry and Ron, two of his former students with less then sterling reputations for interest in his subject.

“History, you say? What do you want to know about history?” He floated above the chair, more alert, or as alert as he could muster.

“Well sir, we’re trying to find Merlin’s tomb. It’s quite important.”

The apparition of Cuthbert Binns gave an exasperated snort. “Myths? Legends? I thought you wanted to know history, not anything to do with some child’s fantasy about a sword in a stone! Leave me alone.”

Sarah spoke up, “Professor Binns, wait! Didn’t you say that it was an established fact that our current structure of laws regarding muggle secrecy was handed down to us by Merlin, himself?”

“What was that? Who said that?” Binns leaned down to look at Sarah more closely. “Ah, Ms. Peebles, isn’t it? Yes, you were like Ms. Granger in my classes, taking notes, paying attention.” He cast an accusatory look at Ron and Harry. “Yes, I do seem to remember saying that, so what of it?”

Sarah continued, “Wouldn’t finding Merlin’s tomb, the known source of our laws, be a key element in reinforcing its veracity?”

“Yes, yes, I can see your point. Very well, ask your questions.” Harry jumped at the chance.

“Professor, where is Merlin’s Tomb?” The ghost seemed to ponder the question.

“No one knows, there’s really no record. What’s written was that Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, lured Merlin to a cave and sealed him inside. She is the only person who would know.”

“Where do we find her?” Harry felt the quest getting more difficult. “What lake?” There were literally thousands of lakes between Britain and France, which were the centerpieces of the Arthurian legend.

“Legend states,” they could hear the distaste in Binns’ mouth at having to divulge the historical version of gossip, “Sir Bedivere threw Excalibur to Nimue in the lake near Arthur’s last battle at Camlann.” He looked down his nose at them. “It is a fact, that Camlann is also known as Slaughter Bridge, in Cornwall.” Muttering to himself, he disappeared through an adjacent wall.

The three headed over to the library and located a map of England. Tracing a path down towards the southwestern coast, they found the point marking the location of Slaughter Bridge. A small pinprick of blue stood near the location. It was called Dozmary Pool.

“Sounds like as good a place as any to start.” Ron’s energy was up. He’d not expected to find any lead at all to follow. “How do we get there? Thestrals?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” Harry agreed. “Let’s go and talk to Hagrid.”

Within a short time, the three were astride thestrals, although only Harry and Ron could see what they were riding. Harry and Ron had seen their share of death. Sarah, for all of her aptitude and the experiences of the past few weeks, had not experienced death first hand. Harry hoped that he could keep it that way.

The sun was setting as they made their way south. Harry picked out the lights of London as they passed. A chill went through him as he thought of the evil that stalked the streets. His thoughts were on Ginny, and he hoped that she was safe, that he would complete the task before too many people lost their lives. So many depended on this mission. The lives of his family and friends relied on his ability to locate the Lady of the Lake.

His thoughts were of his wife, Ginny. What was she doing, how was she feeling? Was she thinking of him? So preoccupied with her, he did not lend any thought to the three brooding shadows stalking a deserted Diagon Alley, looking for an inattentive Auror to prey on.


***Author's Note: OK, a little dry, heavy on the expository, but I had to get the three stooges on the road. I made the decision to keep Sarah alive, for now.

I'm on a quest for some FEEDBACK!!! (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=12)

Chapter 37 – The Lady of the Lake

Darkness had fully grown when they’d landed near the town of Camelford. The thestrals chortled merrily, and flew off when the seekers had dismounted. Harry watched their departure, amazed at the grandeur and grace of such creatures. Nothing is ever as it seems, as it was with the thestrals. Harry led the way as they followed a small road, a path really along its course eventually coming to a non-descript stone bridge fording a non-descript creek. A small sign on the side of the road, indicated that this was Slaughter Bridge.

Harry looked around, seeing nothing that resembled a lake or any other reasonably sized body of water. They decided to follow the stream, upwards, to find its source. They trod silently, their eyes attuned to the darkness of the night. Eventually, the trees that marked their route dissipated as they broke into a clearing of gently rolling hills, marked by heath and bogs. The moorland went on as far as they could see. The creek they had been following tracked between the shallow slopes, running off into the distance. The three continued their trek through the marshy ground, their breathing labored as they followed the creek to its source.

“Harry?” Ron spoke in a hushed voice, like they were back in the Hogwarts’ library. “Do you recognize where we are?” Harry shook his head. “It’s Bodmin Moor!”

Harry’s eyebrows rose a bit. Bodmin Moor was the site of a famous Quidditch Match, that ended after six months of play, because the snitch had escaped the playing arena, never to be found. The story was that whoever found the snitch would be granted good luck. Part of Harry wanted to find the snitch, because he needed some luck, just about now.

Their legs grew tired, the hard slog through the soft ground tearing at their endurance. Finally, in the distance, they saw the open nothingness of a body of water. The moorland around them seemed to just terminate into a large, smooth pool of water. The surface seemed flat, no waves, not even a ripple broke the mirror-like quality of the water. They’d reached Dozmary Pool.

The area was quiet, the silence resounding in their ears. Ron could not restrain his question, “So now what? How do we find this Lady?”

“I don’t know.” Harry pointed along the shore of the pool. The three headed further along its rim, trying to determine what was happening. As he was walking, Harry kept is eye on the middle of the pool, imagining an injured Sir Bedivere galloping to the water’s edge, and hurling the mighty Excalibur into the pool, at his dying master’s request. In growing up with the legend, he’d heard different names for the Lady of the Lake. Vivienne or Morgause, he’d even heard Morgana, which he knew to be false. He’d never heard the name Nimue. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? He stopped in his tracks and faced the middle of the pool. His companions stopped as well, not sure what he was doing. The stories said that when Arthur sent Bedivere to throw the legendary sword into the lake, that he beckon the lady to come. Mediaeval manners always had him crying “My Lady!” which had become the canon response. What if he’d actually called her name?

“Nimue!” The name echoed into the distance, his voice carrying across the moorland and the hills. The water remained still, silent. “Nimue!” The night held no sound, no chirping of crickets, no wind blowing, just silence. Harry’s head dropped, he had hit a wall. He fell upon the ground; his shoulders slumped, at a loss at what to do next.

Ron’s gaze had never left the lake. It’s smooth, glassy surface mesmerizing him, drawing his eye. At first, he noticed a small ripple, as if a hidden current were pushing the water along. He narrowed his eyes as the ripples turned to waves, the waves to a froth, as if the timid current had become rapids in a manner of seconds.

“Look! Look at the water!” Harry stared up at his friend, his eye following the pointed arm out to the middle of the lake. A fountain of water cascaded out of the center of the pond, its apex shining white in the darkness of the night, seemingly carrying its own luminescence. The fountain moved towards them, the pillar of water slowly creeping its way to the shore. Harry stood up and went next to his friends. They were awed by the sight, their feet rooted in place as the water drew nearer to the shore, the violence of its actions causing waves to break near their feet. The water spout stopped just short of the shoreline, hovering in its fury. The figure of a woman drew out of the column walking on the water between her fountain and the land. She placed her bare feet on the soft march of the shore.

“Who called my name?” The voice was lyrical, beautiful matching the woman who spoke them. She was tall and lean, wearing a soft green shift that accented the curves of her body. Her hair was long, flowing and colored an iridescent green that shown in the starlight and glowed, seemingly of its own accord. Her skin was pale, soft, no hint of wetness from the sojourn from the middle of the lake. Her lips were red and pouty, as if she’d been disturbed in the middle of a very important task. She had emerald eyes, that sparkled, belying an underlying happiness, but downcast, as if that happiness was dampened by an overwhelming sadness.

“I called for you.” Harry wasn’t sure what to expect. His wand was in his hand, after all, this was the woman who’d betrayed Merlin and yet, she was the woman who helped Arthur in his desperate times. She’d raised and trained Lancelot, and yet he’d betrayed the trust of his friend. Her history was one of contradictions and she was not one to be trifled with. She turned towards him, her eyes locking with his own viridian orbs. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition as if she’d seen his eyes before. That glimpse of recognition caused her to smile, exposing the full radiance of her beauty.

“And who are you?” She didn’t sound menacing or threatening, simply curious.

“My name is Harry Potter, these are my friends, Ron Weasley and Sarah Peebles.” He gestured towards his companions. “We are seeking your guidance in a most important matter. We seek the location of Merlin’s Tomb.” Her eyes narrowed at Merlin’s name, suspicious almost defensive.

“Why do you wish to find Merlin’s Tomb?” Her gaze was penetrating and alluring, her hair moving in seeming time to the motion of the water.

Harry had not considered what to say. He’d not really believed, deep down, that he’d actually get this far. So he opted for the truth, “We are looking for a means to defeat Morgana. We wish to keep the dark witch confined to her isle and way from the land of men.”

Nimue showed surprise. In the past, when fortune seekers had found her, they’d lied about their intent; they’d been looking for the reputed wealth and treasure that was said to be buried with Merlin. She could find no deception in these seekers and if they were correct, Morgana posed a grave threat to them all. She pondered her response, the gravity of the situation weighing her down, commingling with the guilt that she had spent an eternity living with. Unconsciously, her sadness caused an inadvertent tear to drop from her pristine face.

“Why are you crying?” Sarah’s question was simple enough. The query born of real concern, something she’d not experienced in almost a lifetime. She smiled.

“Do you know why Merlin is entombed? Do you understand how Arthur lost the counsel of his dearest friend at his time of most urgent need?” The question was rhetorical; she had wanted to release herself of the burden of her secret.

“It is a question of arrogance; really, my arrogance deprived Arthur of his greatest friend and set the stage for Arthur’s death.” She had a wistful, far away look, as if her mind was traversing the centuries, transporting her to the time of regret, “I’d always wanted to be the greatest magician of all time, I had to be the mightiest sorceress there had ever been. So, of course, I had to learn from the greatest wizard of our age, Merlin.”

The darkness didn’t seem to affect her; in fact, the space around her seemed brighter, almost as if the night had no place hiding her beauty. “When I met him, all I saw was his power, his magic and I lusted after those abilities. I absorbed his teachings, making him give me more and more of himself. Little did I know that the reason that he was so willing to give so much to me was because of love. He loved me so much, he gave me everything.”

She gave a small laugh, the gesture humanizing her as much as was possible. “When I’d thought he had given me all the knowledge he had, I wanted to ensure that I was the only person who he taught. So, I lured him to a place that had a cave on the promise that the secret to my love could be found there. I rolled a large enchanted stone in front of the entrance and conjured a special guardian to make sure he was never freed.”

“The irony is that once he was gone, my magic was never as powerful as his. I am powerful.” She held a palm skyward allowing sprinkles of stardust to dance madly at her whim. “But never as powerful as he was. Now, I live forever, but I am empty. I can not move beyond this form, can not live beyond this. I suppose it’s because of my duty to care for Excalibur.” The three listeners raised eyebrows at that. “But something is missing. An element is not there in my magic, something has always been missing.” Her voice trailed off as she lost herself in her memories.

“Love.” Harry’s voice carried over all of them. It penetrated Nimue’s soul, the word reverberating through her being. She looked over to Harry, almost pleading, looking for the answer to her loneliness, looking for a lifeline to sanity, absolution for her sins. “The missing element to your powers is love. That’s what made Merlin truly powerful, his love for Arthur and his love for you; they were the basis of his power. Maybe, you’ve finally realize, that you loved him too?”

She didn’t respond, the tears in her eyes told them that Harry was right in his assessment. She looked to the sky, crying from her eyes, a smile of understanding on her face. She turned to the companions, her aura brighter, “Morgana will be difficult to defeat. Her powers are centered on her son. Mordred is evil. If he is freed, she is freed, and together they will unstoppable. However, stop Mordred, you will stop her. They are bonded.”

Harry was stunned, their task was beginning to unfold before them. “How do we stop them? How do we stop Cerberus and her creatures?”

“You must go to Broceliande, a forest near Paimpont in Brittany. In the center you will find an ancient oak, whose roots form a cave. That is Merlin’s resting place, but beware, the guardian is a questing beast who can only be defeated by the magic within, by your own focus. Perhaps there is something within the cave to aid your quest.”

Ron spoke up, “Excuse me, my lady, but would it be possible for you to lend us, er, well, Excalibur?”

“No dear, Excalibur must be held for Arthur’s return. This is my final charge, my final duty, what I do to confess my love for Merlin, in hopes that one day, he will forgive me.” She looked towards the southern sky. “When men have traversed this area, they talk of a village called Plymouth, in that direction, you should be able to find transport there.”

The three turned south, obviously being dismissed. Harry looked at the forlorn Lady of the Lake, trying to find a way to comfort her pain. His heart ached for her. “It’s never too late. The best thing about love is that it is eternal. It never dies, so he still loves you, and you can still return that love.”

The tears returned to her face, “He knew, you know. He could see the future, he knew that I would betray him and yet he still went, because he still loved me.”

Harry smiled, “No, perhaps he went, because he knew that one day, you’d remember that you loved him too, and that would be worth a lifetime of exile, to live for that one day.”

She smiled back at him, this time warm, hopeful. “If he is still there, Harry Potter, if he has the answers you seek, please, tell him.” What message do you convey? What do you tell someone after a lifetime of regret? “Tell him that I wait for him, and that I will always wait for him.”

Harry lifted his arm in salute and Nimue, the Lady of the Lake reached behind her, and raised a bright shining sword into the air. Light sprang along the length of its blade, showing them the way towards Merlin’s Tomb. She held Excalibur high, and disappeared beneath the surface of Dozmary Pond in a flash.

************************************************** ************************************************** **********

Morgana stood by the pool, its reflection changing as she surveyed the results of her minions’ hunt. Merwyn the Malicious had left on his quest for the Bone of Ullr. The spells on the bone were ancient and dark and held the key for her to release her son from his amber tomb. His freedom would mean hers, and she could taste it. The only guardians who could stop her were huddled in fear, hiding from her magnificent Cerberus and his hellhounds. None of her enemies came out after dark. They cowered in their hovels, thinking that they were safe. She smiled, an evil sneer of a smile that disfigured the beauty of her face. When the next night came, they would find out just how wrong they were about being safe.


***Author's Note: When I next post, I'm going to be changing the title of the thread. The new title will be "A History of Magic: The Harry Potter Era"

Enjoy and as always please provide your feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=12), especially about the title change.

Chapter 38 – The Magic Within

The Burrow was a strange and wonderful place to live. Its various landings and levels jutted in every direction making it a given that it was held together with magic. Arthur and Molly Weasley, the owners, had built onto their home with the addition of every child, so through the years seven energetic children made for a wildly frenetic structure. As has been the case throughout their time in the Burrow, the Weasleys provided a base for their family to feel secure in the darkest times. When danger threatened, the family came home. Over the years, that family had grown, and so in this time of threat, the Burrow opened its arms, once again to the Weasley family, including its additions.

Ginny sat at the window of her room on the third landing of her family’s home. Being back in her old room felt comfortable, as if she were a little girl and all she had to be fearful of were the dreams that could haunt the mind of a nine year old girl. In her maturity, however, Ginny knew that there could things in the world worse than nightmares. The real world could be infinitely worse. She stared out her window, wishing for someway to know that Harry was fine, that he was safe and doing well. She knew that he was alive, somehow, she thought, she would know otherwise. She really couldn’t contemplate the alternative.

“Ginny?” The voice from her door was warm but plaintive. Hermione’s was a kindred heart, her mind telling her that her husband was doing what was best, but her heart aching for his presence and hoping for his safety. “You think they’re getting anywhere?”

“I think that if anyone can get to the answer, it would be Ron and Harry.” Ginny’s voice was strong and confident, belying her fear. “Besides, Sarah is along to keep them on the straight and narrow.” She’d received an owl from Neville, telling her of the travelers’ visit to Hogwarts. They’d departed rather hastily, as if a destination had been found. “About all we can do, is to keep ourselves out of trouble.”

Hermione bit the bottom of her lip. “I don’t think I can be that woman.” Ginny turned to look at her friend. “What I mean is, I’m not cut out to be the dutiful wife, waiting breathlessly at home for word that my husband is dead or alive.”

Ginny understood her sister-in-law’s sentiment. “You want to do something, don’t you?’

“Yes. Maybe not something that would be able to help Harry and Ron directly, but something that doesn’t have us just sitting here, waiting.” Hermione was gearing into her former self. Her confidence was beginning to manifest itself. “Maybe we can figure out a way to defeat Cerberus and the Baghests.”

Ginny smiled, her feelings mirroring Hermione’s. She was not one to sit back and allow events to be dictated for her. Part of her melancholy was that she could not act, and she was a person of action. She stood, “Yes, I do believe we should take a deeper look at the problem.” A flash of light to the southwest caught her eye. It was stark, glaring in the night sky, like a lighthouse beacon on a rocky shore. Instead of being startled or afraid, the light warmed her. Somehow, she thought that light had something to do with Harry, and that light meant he was just fine.

Southwest of the Burrow, the lake in the middle of Bodmin Moor shone brightly with the explosion of light from the sword in the Lady of the Lake’s hand. It was Excalibur, the sword of Arthur Pendragon, as it was raised in salute to Harry and his companions. Harry smiled as Nimue disappeared into the lake leaving them to continue their journey. The intrepid seekers pulled their brooms out of their satchels, and flew off towards the lights of Plymouth. When they reached the port, Harry spotted the landing for the Brittany Ferries. They had just enough time to book passage on the eleven o’clock overnight crossing to Roscoff on the MV Port l’Abbe. They’d managed to secure berthing in a three bunk couchette. That meant that they each would have somewhere to sleep, but would have to share facilities with other couchettes. The past day had been arduous and they fell asleep with little trouble.

When they arrived in Roscoff, they found spaces on a bus heading to Rennes, which would offer a stop in the village of Paimpont. The ride lasted almost three hours through the scenic countryside. Hedgerows and rolling hills dominated their view, but they trio stayed quiet, each contemplating the task ahead. By the time the bus rolled into Paimpont, it was close to midday. After a quick lunch, they started their walk into the Broceliande.

At first, the forest was ordinary. The sun showed through the openings of the trees, warming their faces and bodies with its touch. As they progressed deeper into the forest, the interval between sunlight and shadow deepened. Soon, there was more darkness than light and a pall of death hung over their path. Dry rotting trees and plants littered the way, and the titter of birds had grown silent. The three pulled their wands, their eyes peering from side to side, aware of a sense of danger, unable to identify its source.

“This is creepy, Harry.” Ron’s quip shattered the silence of the wood. The silence was creepy, even when they stepped on a bit of twig or a piece of branch, no sound came out. It was if they were jinxed with a Muffliato spell. Harry stopped abruptly, holding his arm up to his friends.

“Finite!” Nothing. No response, the silence in their ears stayed the same. Harry moved in a quick circle, his wand out, looking for traces of a presence, trying to use his other senses to find the source of the silence, because he was convinced there was a muffling effect on their ears. He returned to his course towards the center of the wood. Then he heard the sound of galloping feet, like a stag running from the hunt and the thud of an impact.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice carried to him causing him to turn towards the sound of his friend’s voice. When he found Ron, he was meters away, his body crumpled at the base of a large tree, his wand flung to the side. Harry made to move towards Ron’s unconscious form, beckoning Sarah to follow. He offered her a quick sidelong glance. His eye caught a blur of movement followed by the sight of Sarah being propelled through the air into another tree. In the space of seconds, their numbers had been cut by two thirds, and Harry hadn’t even seen their antagonist. Harry crouched, attempting to decrease his profile. His eyes wandered the forest as he looked for some sign of his tormenter. He felt a massive blow to his back, sending him flying through the air to land roughly on the ground at the base of a tree. A wayward root, exposed on the ground made contact with his wand hand, the momentum knocking it loose across the forest floor. For the first time during the entire encounter, he heard a sound. It was bellowing, like forty hounds baying inside a closet. He turned and before him, the questing beast howled at him, ready to pounce.

The specter in front of him looked like the lords of the forest had thrown several animals into a muggle blender. The head was of a large snake, its eyes dead, a forked tongue testing the air, sensing his weakness. It had the body of a leopard, spotted and lean, it looked fast. Its hindquarters were of a lion, the rear legs muscular and ready to strike. It had the feet of a hart both solid and fleet. Despite the strangeness of its appearance, the most remarkable feature was the sound. Its roars emanated from its stomach, a muffled howl as if forty dogs were fighting within the confines of its pallet. Harry stretched an arm out.

“Accio Wand!” His wand flew towards him, reaching his hand as the beast leapt towards him.

“Protego!” His shield launched at the beast, hitting it with no discernable effect. Harry took the brunt of the charge on his chest, powered backward against another tree. He barely maintained his senses; the edges of his vision were hazy as if the fog of sleep were making a concerted move to take over.

“The guardian is a questing beast who can only be defeated by the magic within, by your own focus.” That’s what she’d told them. “The magic within…” What had Nimue meant by that? Harry looked down at his wand, the beast pacing just outside his vision, its serpentine maw open exposing fangs dripping with venom. “The magic within.” He looked down at the wand in his hand. “The magic within.” Harry stood to face the beast. He calmly put his wand in his pocket.

Ron was slowly regaining consciousness. He shook his head from side to side, trying to clear the dull ringing in his skull. In his blurred vision, he could make out Sarah’s form nearby. With a considerable amount of effort, he crawled over to her and was relieved by the fact that she was breathing. After a moment, she stirred, and sat half upright.

“Where’s Harry?” They both scanned the forest around them. Both settled on the sight of Harry standing, his hands in fists, by his side. The caught their first glimpse of the questing beast, its hideous form coiling in what looked like its final attack on their unarmed friend. Ron desperately grasped about him, trying to find his wand.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry brought his fists together and clasped them in front of his body. A bright white light burst from the collision of his hands, forming a halo of brilliance around his body. At once the sparks coalesced into the form of a stallion. Its body was sleek, muscular like a wild mustang, body rearing, snorting in contempt. The Patronus charged the coiled beast, knocking it back, buffeting it in a flurry of light and power. The questing beast howled one last piercing wail and then disappeared as if it had never been there, as if it were a puff of smoke in a strong breeze. It was gone.

“Blimey.” Ron’s voice broke Harry’s thoughts. “Harry, what, I mean, how, what just happened?”

Harry held his hands up to his face, not believing his eyes. “She said that the magic within could defeat the beast.”

Sarah’s eyes widened, “Wandless magic. Our wands were useless; the beast had to be defeated by a wandless spell.”

Harry looked at his friends. “I didn’t know if I could do it. The Patronus is such a powerful spell. I remember Dumbledore conjured his Patronus without his wand, remember Ron? When Fudge tried to arrest him.”

“Well, does that mean you don’t need to use a wand?” Ron contemplated the implications, what it meant for his friend.

“I don’t know, but I think I’ll keep it handy until we can find out, don’t you think?” They laughed.

They made their way towards the center of the forest. When they’d gone a little farther, the dense foliage opened to a clearing, which had a large, ancient oak tree in its midst. Approaching the oak, they saw its roots were knotted and contorted in various directions forming openings. One such opening had a large round stone plugged into its frame. Harry drew his wand, muttering a charm to move the stone. There was no movement. Looking at his friends, Harry stowed his wand and held his hand out to the stone, fingers extended.

“Locomotor Stone.” The round rock began to turn on its axis, moving to the side, revealing the mouth of a large cave. A light reflected towards the back of the entrance, as if calling them, as if welcoming them in. Without any further discussion, the explorers entered the cave, heading towards the beckoning light.


***Author's Note: Reminder that the name of the thread has changed. Like Pollux, I've been planning a few more years of adventure. Bon apetit!

Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=12) please.

Chapter 39 – The Price of Immortality

The cave was dark and wet; the walls were of mud, root and the decaying remains of centuries of animals. The light at the end of the tunnel offered a general idea of where they could step. The ground was uneven and the smell of the place was musty, old. Harry led the way towards the beckoning light. As they neared its source, the passageway widened until it opened into a large chamber. The walls of the room were stone; the ceilings were high, well above their heads. Along walls were jewels and gold coins covering chests and implements of war and peace. At the center of the room was a large slab of marble, flat on top of which lay a coffin of sorts. The coffin was of the clearest crystal, allowing the three to see the occupant. The light in the room seemed to be emanating from the table and crystal covering the man in the coffin. The man looked like he was sleeping, as if at any moment his eyes would fly open. He was young, barely into his thirties, with shoulder length blonde hair and a goatee. His lips looked as if he were smiling, remembering some eternal joke that he carried with him into his repose. On his body, he wore a long set of purple robes, adorned with moons and stars set in diamonds. He reminded Harry of a forty’s action hero he’d seen once in a movie, so many years ago.

“He’s handsome!” Sarah gasped out the words. She walked to the casket and bent down to look at his face in profile. “I had not expected this; he looks like he’s alive!”

“What about all this, then?” Ron swept his arm around the room, taking in the vast treasure and trinkets that dotted the area. “This is incredible!” Harry could only nod, walking closer to the body on the table.

Sarah was quite taken with the man’s appearance. “I can’t believe how good looking he is. I wonder how he’s stayed so preserved? He hasn’t aged at all.”

Ron snickered, teasing her a bit, “What about Lee? I guess he can’t compare to the ‘greatest wizard of all time’, eh?”

Sarah blushed, telling Harry that maybe he’d better pay more attention to what was going on in the world around him and Ginny. She recovered quickly, “It’s not that, it’s just that he’s so gorgeous. I’d expected an old man, with a beard and wrinkles, not Adonis.”

“Why, thank you, very much, young miss.” The voice echoed in the chamber, rebounding off the gold and jeweled covered surfaces. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard a compliment.”

The three spun towards the voice, its source emanating from a figure in the far corner of the room. It was a man, the same man whose body lie in repose on the dais in the middle of the room. He stood, a puckish smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with merriment. He was the doppelganger of the body in the coffin with one very noticeable exception, he didn’t appear solid. The faint outline of the objects behind him the room seemed to show through his body. The three wizards raised their wands, not sure of his intent. He laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

“You’ll not need those; I couldn’t harm you if I wanted to. I’m not here, I’m in there.” He pointed a finger at the body in the crystal case. He walked into the light, the smile never leaving his face.

Ron couldn’t quite make the connection, who was this man. “Are you a ghost? Are you the ghost of Merlin?”

This brought a new bout of laughter from the image, “Ghost? No, let’s just say I’m the image of my mind, projected in this room centuries ago. I’m not a ghost, but I’m not fully alive, either.”

“Who figured it out? The secret to the Questing Beast, I mean. Who did it?” He peered at his visitors. Harry raised his hand sheepishly, trying to figure out the man in front of him.

“Glorious job, lad. So, what was the secret?”

Harry turned his head to his friends, “I was to find the magic in myself, no wand, no help.”

“Excellent, takes a good wizard to perform that magic. Which spell did you use?” the man seemed giddy with excitement. Harry told him it was his Patronus.

“A Patronus Charm, you say. I bet that caught you off guard, didn’t it. That was a pretty powerful spell to attempt with a beastie like that boring down on you.” He whistled in almost admiration. “Don’t you worry, though; the powerful magic was designed for this test. From the looks of you, you don’t seem old enough to control the harder spells without a wand, but if you are good wizard, you’ll develop the capability in time, and when you need it most.” He smiled heartily and walked to where his ‘body’ lay.

“My word, I, and my friend here,” He pointed to the body in the translucent coffin, “are Merlin Ambrosius, wizard and counselor to Auther Pendragon, King of the Britons.” He gave a mock bow of greeting.

“Nice to meet you sir.” Harry spoke up, introducing his compatriots to the image of the ancient wizard. Merlin gave a bow to each, reserving a wink for Sarah, whose face turned an inelegant shade of crimson at the attention.

“Well, well, why are you here, come to take my treasure, is it?” Harry’s face displayed shock over the notion that they were grave robbers. “No? Well then, why are you here?”

Harry said one word. “Morgana.” Merlin’s face froze, the mirth leaving it suddenly. He bade Harry to tell him more. For the next few moments, Harry outlined the events of the past few months, especially detailing the brutal attacks by Cerberus. He ended his story, “The Lady in the Lake says that this is about Mordred and his bond with her. We don’t know what she’s quite up to.”

Merlin’s face snapped to Harry. “Lady of the Lake? You saw her? You spoke to her?” Harry nodded, bringing a sparkle to Merlin’s eyes. “Was she beautiful? Was she the most beautiful woman you had ever seen?” His voice was wishful, his eyes seeing her from his memory.

“She was beautiful.” Harry studied the ancient mage, deciding on a course of action. “But she was sad.” Merlin snapped out of his reverie.

“Sad? How was she sad? What do you mean?” Interesting, after centuries of isolation that the world’s most renowned wizards could be reduced to the caterwauls of a schoolboy when it came to matters of the heart. The thought made Harry smile.

“She was sorry; she’s been trying to atone for her betrayal. She found out that she loved you as much as you loved her, but felt it was too late to do anything. She felt that you’d never forgive her. She gave me a message, to give you, if I saw you, that is.” He looked at Harry expectantly. “She said that she’d wait for you; she said she’d always wait for you.” .

Merlin’s eye dropped, a tinge of sadness, or was it relief, crossing his face. “I knew she’d come around, I saw it every day, right along with her betrayal. I never blamed her, she had to be what she was, so that she could become the Lady of the Lake. It’s good, then, we’ll be together, eventually.”

Ron looked around, “How’s that? You’re a ghost, aren’t you? You’re dead, aren’t you?”

“Yes and no.” Merlin laughed at Ron’s completely lost expression. “You see, my body, in that coffin is dead, but I am not. I merely wait for my release to go on down the road. My release is to be with my beloved Nimue. As long as she is obligated to watch over Excalibur, she must remain on this plane of existence, and so too, must I.”

“I understand.” Harry did, he’d been given the choice to “live or move on”. He felt sorry for Merlin, because there was no choice, he had to hold and allow his fate to be tied to Nimue’s duty. It was a lonely existence.

Ron brought them back to the subject at hand. “Sir, about Morgana, do you have any idea what she’s trying to do?”

“Yes, quite right.” He began to pace the room. “Nimue was right, this centers on Mordred. Morgana was a great sorceress, but had a single, fatal flaw. She relied too much on ancient magic. She never developed her own, and thus was always vulnerable to originality, to flair. More than likely, she is trying to get the Bone of Ullr.”

Sarah looked at the others, “What’s that?”

“Many years ago, a wizard named Ullr, some say he was Thor’s brother or Odin’s uncle, something like that, decided to write his most powerful spells on his leg bone, to keep them secret.” The image of Merlin held his hands out summoning a living picture of Ullr. “Ullr was a vain man, and angered his brethren in Asgard and attempted to flee across the wild Northern Sea. He was killed by a bolt of lightning from Odin and his body cast upon an island.”

Merlin resumed his pacing, “The gods of Asgard created guardians to protect the bone from being found, and the island from being seen.”

“What kind of guardians?” Ron’s eyes rolled in his head. Merlin laughed and projected an image in the air. The picture was a creature with a low-slung body, reddish brown hair covering it. It was highlighted by five club-footed legs around its body. Harry shook his head, while Ron let out a groan. “Quintapeds, that’s a quintaped. The Bone is on the Isle of Drear.”

Sarah looked at Harry, “I thought that the quintapeds were the result of a feud between two wizard clans that went awry.”

“Apparently not.” Ron began to pace around the room, scanning the objects. “Look, Merlin, sir, is there anything you can do to help us? We’ve come all this way and, well, you were supposed to have killed Morgana.”

Merlin laughed. “She is formidable, isn’t she? Well, let me see.” He walked through the chamber peering at the various items on the floor. “You see, when I was entombed here, I became the guardian for a variety of things. As their original owners died, these items would appear in this room. Gold, silver, jewels, treasure of every type is found here. There are some special items in here. The Four Treasures of Ireland, the Thirteen Treasures of Britain are all here. There are items I can’t begin to describe.” He motioned for Harry to come over. He pointed to a scabbard without a sword. It was made of plain leather, no adornment of any kind. He nodded for Harry to pick it up.

“That is the scabbard of Excalibur. Nimue holds the sword for Arthur, but the scabbard is in my charge. Any man that wears the scabbard will not bleed from any wound. The problem with Cerberus isn’t being able to wound it; it’s being able to survive the fight. This scabbard will help you survive the fight.”

Merlin continued walking and pointed to a sword leaning up against the wall, its blade dull, cobwebs covering its hilt. Harry reached over and picked up the sword. “This is the Sword of Rhydderch Hael called White-Hilt. It is one of the Thirteen Treasures. Its blade is true, you should be able to slay the devil hound with it.”

Harry stood back, waving the sword, testing its heft. Merlin nodded appreciatively and pointed towards Sarah. She moved towards him and he led her to a frail looking oxcart. Its timbers seemed older than the tree that entombed him, hole dotted the slats. There was space for six or seven people, standing up in the cart. “This is the Chariot of Arianrod also known as Morgan the Wealthy. It is another of the Thirteen Treasures. You will be its guardian, my dear. It will take you wherever you wish to go, just think it and you will appear there, instantly.” He left her surveying her new conveyance, as she wondered if it would support their weight.

Merlin moved to another section of the cave, his eyes signaling for Ron to follow. He pointed to an ordinary rock, smoothed by years of wear and water. It was the size of a man’s fist. It was bluish-gray, ordinary. He indicated that Ron should pick it up. “That is one of the Four Treasures of Ireland, better known as The Hallows of Ireland. That, my boy, is the Stone of Fal, cast it at Mordred’s tomb, and you will stop his rebirth.”

Merlin took them all in, “These items are loaned to you, however I do not know if they will be enough. The magic on the Bone of Ullr is ancient, and I can not foresee the outcome of this battle. In any event, you would be best served by trying to keep the Bone from Morgana.”

Harry stood holding White-Hilt, he turned it in his hand, and tried placing it in the scabbard at his waist. Surprisingly, it fit. “Thank you sir, but what about you? Now that the curse is lifted, can’t you join us?”

Merlin smiled a sad smile, his eyes drifting to the entrance to the cave. “I could always move that stone. The enchantment that holds me here is born of love. I gave my being to Nimue, and here I must stay, until the day she is free of her duty to Arthur. On that day, we will leave this place, together.” Harry saw hope in his eyes, and felt a surge of pride in his chest. Looking to his friends, he moved towards the “chariot” in Sarah’s charge. Looking at the oxcart Harry mused, things are never what they seem.

They boarded the cart and grasped on to the side. Harry whispered to Sarah and she nodded and began to concentrate. Harry looked at the image of Merlin, standing tall next to his body. He saw the hope in Merlin’s eyes at the prospect of being reunited with Nimue. Harry smiled, and nodded his head. Merlin gave a last wave, and then the cave blinked from existence.

***Author's Note: Here we are, moving right along. We're getting to the good stuff. Hope you stay with it.

Please, please I need FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463&page=16).

Chapter 40 – Mortal Peril

The tapping at the door grew more insistent. The visitor’s rhythm on the window pane became increasingly frantic. Eventually, the knocker timidly tried the knob on the front door and carefully pushed it open. The Weasley home at the Burrow was quiet, deserted. Harry walked into the living room, and made for the kitchen. Dusk in the Burrow would usually find Molly Weasley busily tinkering in the kitchen, but when he entered, he could find no sign of the Weasley matriarch. Harry returned to the living room, pondering his next move. Looking around, his eyes stopped at the old grandfather clock in the corner. When Harry had first visited the Weasley compound, the clock had nine golden hands that had the name of each of the members of the family inscribed. The hands would point to various bits of writing on the face of the clock, which indicated where or what state the person named was in, like “school” or “prison”.

Harry looked at the fine antique device, taking in the subtle changes that had occurred. Two more golden hands, much brighter indicating their recent vintage, had been added with his and Hermione’s names etched onto their surfaces. Hermione’s read “home” and his read “work” as the resting places for the hands. A baleful smile crossed Harry’s face as he saw the hand for Fred simply said “lost”. Harry’s eyes carried to the hands for the senior Weasleys. Arthur and Molly’s hands were over a section labeled “Tonks”. Perhaps, Harry thought, they were keeping Andromeda and Teddy company during this crisis. He chuckled, thinking about how much his godson must enjoy the graces of a doting Molly Weasley and his grandmother.

As he looked around, two of the hands began to move. Hermione’s and Ginny’s hands began to slowly pivot towards the “work” sign. That was curious, Harry reflected, it was near evening and neither should have been going to work, much less moving around during the night times. He glanced at Ron’s hand, and its position still read “work”. Ron and Sarah had dropped Harry at the Burrow, before heading to the Isle of Drear to find the Bone of Ullr. The gifts that Merlin had bestowed dictated what tasks would be performed. Harry was given weapons to deal with Cerberus, so that dispatch of the devil hound would be Harry’s task. Sarah and Ron had a means of transport and the Stone of Fal, so they would make an attempt to recover the Bone before Morgana, despite Ron’s misgivings about the quintapeds. Harry chuckled at Ron’s outward reluctance, because he knew that deep down, Ron was as stalwart, as brave as any man that Harry knew, and that when it really came down to it, there was no other man Harry would trust with the task. The clock drew Harry’s eye once again. Ginny and Hermione’s hands were moving once more. Harry stopped breathing, in the hope that the hands would roll over to the “home” position. The movement was slow, seemingly coming to a rest on “home” but then continuing their progress around the face of the clock. When both hands came to rest on “mortal peril”, no one was there to see it. Harry had already run out the door.

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Eric Munch had been the security wizard at the Ministry of Magic for as long as he could remember. His station at the little desk near the Floo Network entrance was a familiar site to the countless scores of visitors and workers at the Ministry. Visitors would enter the great atrium and Eric would check their wands in, like clockwork. The visitors that apparated in the center of the atrium would not be checking their wands on this evening. Eric looked up from his desk, his attention drawn by the inhuman snarling and growling of the beasts in front of him. In the center of the entry hall, Cerberus and his two Barghest companions were surveying their new surroundings, jaws snapping, muscles taut. Eric Munch had been at the Ministry of Magic for many years. He was a wizard who knew his limitations. Unseen, almost casually, he reached back to the wall behind him and set off a unique caterwaul charm. He then tapped on a slight depression on the wall, revealing a trap door connected to a long chute. With admirable dexterity, he jumped down into the black tunnel, his task of sounding the alarm having been accomplished. The unwelcome visitors to the Ministry strode towards the central atrium, their collective mouths apparently salivating at the sight of the nervous guards in ill-fitting armor who had taken station before the fountain in the entrance. Spears and swords were lowered, most quivering at the sight of the approaching beasts of death. With a great roar, the three black hounds leapt to attack.

“Hermione, what did you expect to find here?” Ginny kept pace with her friend as they walked through the fourth level of the Ministry of Magic. They’d been reviewing literature in the reference area of the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, trying to piece together some clue on how to stop Cerberus.

“I don’t know, Ginny. There are only two documented times where someone has bested Cerberus, and that was by putting him to sleep. I don’t know about you, but my singing is horrible, so that approach is not going to work.” Hermione’s brow furrowed, working the problem through her head.

Ginny smiled, “Well it worked when you put Fluffy to sleep.” Hermione gave an annoyed look at her friend.

“I think we can pretty much assume that this is definitely not Fluffy.” Hermione’s brain was still working, not able to work the problem. “What do we really want to get done? What is our real goal here?”

Ginny thought, her mind going through the possibilities. “We’re thinking too big; we’re trying to defeat Cerberus. All we really need is a way for people to survive. Normally, the idea would be to apparate away, but the Barghests prevent it.” A light turned on in her eyes, Hermione drawing the same conclusion simultaneously.

“We need to find a way to eliminate the Barghests! They’re not as immune to magic. We find a spell to knock out the Barghests, and then an encounter with Cerberus becomes survivable.” Ginny nodded in agreement. “Come on, let’s find Dawlish.” The pair ran towards the bank of elevators to hitch a ride up to the Office of Aurors. When they arrived, they ran down the hall, and turned into Dawlish’s office. He was none to pleased to see them.

“What the blazes are you two doing here, after dark?” His annoyance was visible and his fingers began their nervous tattoo through his hair. “How am I to keep you two safe, if you are gallivanting around outside your homes at night?”

Ginny gave him her best smile and maybe, even a subtle batting of the eyelashes. “John, we’re trying to help. I think we may have something for you.”

“Do tell.” The skepticism in his voice was dripping. “What have you figured out? What have found that would not in a million years have been deduced by the collective brainpower in this office?”

The women drew back at the rebuke, now unsure if their finding was even a revelation. Hermione decided to press ahead, “We thought that we were concentrating on stopping Cerberus, but really, he may be the wrong target.” Dawlish became pensive, pressing her to continue. “We thought that the real goal was to survive an encounter, so why not concentrate on knocking out the Barghests? That way the option to apparate from danger would be there.”

Dawlish was silent for a few moments. “That might work. We have been focusing on the greatest threat, so naturally that was Cerberus. Still, I gave Ron and Harry my word that you two would stay out of danger. This could have waited until morning.” The shriek of a caterwaul permeated the air, the prearranged signal of danger. Dawlish grabbed an old sword that had been thrown on his desk. He looked at the two women as if to say, “I told you so.” He then ran into the passageway sword raised.

Dawlish turned to face the elevators, one still sitting where the Ginny and Hermione had arrived. He saw Lachlan and Robards come into the hallway along with about a dozen other Aurors, querulous looks on their faces. A small Hit Team phalanx came bounding down the hall, and stopped near them, unsure as to the nature of the threat. An ominous thumping noise was coming from the elevator shaft. Dawlish stared at the open cab, the pounding sound becoming louder and louder. Suddenly, the floor of the elevator bent upwards, as if hit by a sledgehammer. A terrific howling accompanied the assault on the car, as holes began to appear in the floor, like paper tearing. Soon the elevator car floor ceased to exist and the dark forms of Cerberus and his minions pulled themselves up, out of the shaft and onto the landing of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dawlish whirled to face Hermione and Ginny. “Run!”

The Hit Team dove into the attack, swords held high, not lacking for courage. The crash of metal and bodies hit their ears, as Ginny and Hermione fled down the corridor. Dawlish turned to the Aurors standing near him, “Go for the Barghests! Eliminate them, and people can escape.” Dawlish raised his sword, Robards, Lachlan and a recently arrived Cavendish standing near him. As one, the rest of the Aurors joined the fray.

Ginny and Hermione ran down the hall, passing Harry’s office, the name on its door giving Ginny a momentary pang of regret. She wished he were here, but was also glad that he wasn’t. They passed Harry’s office and found a door marked “Training Arena”. Opening the door, they ducked into the large, open room, lined with a myriad of obstacles and simulated streets and buildings. They headed into the middle of the room, finding hiding places in the mock buildings. They had no idea how long they’d been hiding. The door to the arena muffled the noises from without. Ginny shared a glance with Hermione. Maybe, they could escape notice. When Hermione gave her a nod, the door to the arena flew off its hinges, blowing into the room.

The three-headed apparition that entered the arena stood as tall as a horse. Its body was marked by nicks and gouges indicating the price that the Ministry’s defenders had extracted. Cerberus moved into the room, each head moving independently, red eyes scanning the environment, looking for prey. The center head stopped suddenly, its nose held high, as if detecting a scent. As one, the remaining heads locked onto the same scent. A low growl that increased in volume and intensity focused on the spot where Hermione and Ginny hid. The dark hound began to move towards their hiding spot. Hermione motioned towards its approach, her focus not on the menacing form, but on the lack of an accompanying Barghest. Desperately, she locked eyes on Ginny, communicating for them to apparate out. Both focused, trying to disappear to another location, any location. Nothing happened. The women looked out from their hiding spot, watching Cerberus near.

Another snarl joined the symphony. Over Cerberus’ shoulder, a single Barghest, bloodied, dipped its body into the entrance of the arena. The women had no place to go, they were trapped. Ginny searched around her area and found a length of wood, with Hermione doing the same. The friends stood to face their stalking death with what they had. Ginny steeled herself and raised her ad hoc weapon. With fierce determination, she said out loud.

“I love you Harry.”



***Author's Note: Personally, I believe cliffhangers constitute an unbearable cruelty to the reader....That's why I use them so much!

Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463), please or maybe I leave the story right here, hmmm?

Chapter 41 – Close Calls

A loud clap of thunder and a cloud of dust marked the arrival of the Chariot of Arianrod. Ron kept his white-knuckled grip on the weathered rail of the oxcart. After a moment, he and Sarah dismounted and surveyed their surroundings. They were in a clearing, edged by large trees whose boughs overhung the area casting shadows throughout. Sarah had simply thought, “Bone of Ullr” and the chariot had brought them to this location. They knew that they were somewhere on the Isle of Drear, but the precise location of the Bone wasn’t known. The clearing abutted a vertical cliff face that rose into the sky. At the base of the cliff there was a large cave opening that was edged by a granite arch, runes etched into the posts.

Ron drew his wand and made a rapid search for signs of quintapeds, the inhabitants of the Isle of Drear that craved human flesh. Sarah, likewise, had also drawn her wand, her eyes pointed towards the gaping cave entrance.

“The thought that I used was simply ‘Bone of Ullr’. I bet it’s in that cave over there.” She pointed over to the cavern.

“I’m beginning to not like caves, personally.” Nevertheless, Ron began a confident stride over to the cave, his eyes never ceasing their scan of the area. The island was balmy, almost tropical, marked by mugginess that that gave an aroma of death and decay. A heavy mist covered the area and trees barred their view of greater than a few feet inland. The cliff in front of them appeared unnatural, because there was no mountain visible to the naked eye. It was almost as if the rock face was a scar on the landscape, an injury that seeped decay from its essence.

The two Aurors approached the cave and entered. The path was lit by torches mounted along the walls. The floor sloped upward and was marked by a smooth and wide walkway, easy to navigate. They proceeded cautiously, warily eyeing an opening at the end of a landing they were rapidly approaching. Ron placed a finger on his lips, and took the lead heading to the main cavern entrance. The room they found was massive, the size of aQuidditch pitch. The ceiling had several openings that allowed sunlight to filter into the space, lighting the room with the brilliance of midday. The walls were etched with ledges that were dotted with cave entrances that seemed natural, almost like the openings to an anthill. The key feature of the space was the floor which had a large lake filled with black water that bubbled periodically, giving hint to movement beneath the surface. In the center of the lake was a massive longboat, its markings distinctively those of ancient Vikings. Its bow had a brightly painted dragon figurehead, the color looking fresh, almost of recent vintage. The mainmast had a beige sail with a black dragon emblazoned on its main area. The entire vessel seemed new, as if just launched but still with no movement on the deck.

“Would you look at that?” Ron’s awe at the sight had reduced him to a whisper. “I suppose that’s as good a place as any to find the bone of a Viking wizard.”

“You suppose?” Sarah gave Ron a laugh. They began to make their way down the path that led to the bridge to the ship. By the time they reached the gangway, they had a better look at the center of the longboat, which was loaded with treasure and weapons. They crossed the span that led onto the boat and began to search for the Bone. Sarah poked around one mound of treasure working her way aft while Ron searched the other side. Eventually Sarah came to a strongbox, hidden beneath a shield on the deck. Kicking the strongbox open, she saw a long femur covered in cobwebs and dust. Reaching in, she pulled the bone out and blew the dust away with her hand. Etchings, like scrimshaw, covered the length of the bone, the language was unknown, but looked exceedingly ancient. With a smile of triumph, she raised the bone above her head, showing the prize to Ron.

“Great, let’s get out of here.” Ron’s tone was insistent. “This has been too easy. Something doesn’t feel quite right here.”

Sarah nodded to him, and the pair began to cross the gangway rapidly. Sarah led the way, carrying the bone while Ron maintained a vigil while bringing up the rear. Sarah had just about completed the crossing, when the center of the gangplank disappeared in a shattering explosion of dust and splinters. The impact sent Sarah flying onto the embankment where she landed with a thud, the bone flying out her hand, skidding across the ground.

A deep, hysterical laugh resounded throughout the cavern. “Thank you for retrieving that for me. Accio Bone!” Sarah watched the bone float up in the air and into the bony fingers of Merwyn the Malicious. Morgana’s lackey was sitting astride a stone gray wyvern, hovering with the bone in his hands. “I don’t know about you, but I’d see to my friend over there, before you have visitors.” Waving the bone above his head, his mount turned on a wing and rose through one of the openings in the ceiling.

Sarah pounded the ground in frustration and remembered her compatriot. She looked back at the remains of the bridge to the ship. It had shattered in the blast and there was no sign of Ron. She rose and ran to the lip of the lake, looking for any sign of her fellow Auror. Frantically, she spotted a grouping of bubbles breaking the surface. Without hesitating, she drew up and dove, headfirst, into the murky water. For a few moments, the room was still, the only sound the ripples of the water being displaced. In short order two heads broke the up, out of the water. Sarah tugged at Ron’s deadweight, pulling him up and pulled with all of her energy. She strained her muscles, pulling his body up onto the shore. She looked to him, and couldn’t discern any sign of breathing.

She coughed, spitting brackish water out of her lungs. She drew her wand, “Anapneo!” She watched his face anxiously, waiting for any sign of breathing. Her spell began to work. Ron took a large breath inward, and then spat up what seemed like gallons of the fetid water. Sarah beat his back, trying to help him catch his wind. Ron lay on his back staring at the ceiling. Then he rose, offering Sarah a smile.

“Thanks for that. What happened?” He spat out a little bit more of the water.

Sarah’s head dropped, “Someone hit us. There was a wizard riding a wyvern. He blasted the bridge and took the bone. We’re too late.” A low rumble began to pass through the cave. “He said something about having visitors.”

Ron looked around, his eyes focusing on the small caves that lined the walls of the cavern. The low sounds seemed to emanating from every single one of the holes. The two stood, wands outward. Ron glanced up to the rise that led to the exit. Out of one of the nearest caves, a low, furry body dragged itself out by several clubbed-footed legs. The quintaped let out a snarl, double rows of razor sharp teeth gnashing at them.

“Confrigo!” The creature exploded in a flurry of fur and flesh. Ron tugged on Sarah’s sleeve, leading up the ramp. They skid to a halt, as the sounds in the caves began to get louder, upon the death cry of the quintaped. Almost as one, black and orange furred bodies began to emerge from their holes, and all seemed to be looking right at the pair of Aurors.

************************************************** ************************************************** **********

A loud yelp rang through the training arena. Ginny heard an inhuman whimper and the thud of a body hitting the floor. She peered around the corner of her obstacle in time to watch Cerberus whip around and snap at something behind it, towards the door. She gave Hermione a quick glance, and the two women peered out, trying to determine what had caught the beast’s interest. Her eyes grew into saucers as she saw Cerberus issue a growl at a figure at the entrance. Her mouth was stretched into a smile.

Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic, the horror of scene washing over him. The path that Cerberus and the Barghests had tracked through the main hall was marked by the bodies of the defenders that had been left behind. Harry dropped down the elevator shaft to the second level that housed the Office of Aurors. His appearance on the floor was met by more of the same he’d seen at the entrance. The casualties were heavy, the bodies littered the hall. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement didn’t go lightly, the body of a Barghest lay on the floor. Here and there, people moved, helping their comrades who were in need. Harry was relieved to find Cavendish helping Lachlan, who was propped up against the wall holding an obviously broken arm. Harry gave Lachlan a wave. Looking further down the hall, he spotted Dawlish kneeling over the body of Gawain Robards. Harry went over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“People forgot.” Harry gave a quizzical look , “Everyone thought Gawain was an administrator, but he was always an Auror, a brave man.”

“Where’s Ginny, John?” Dawlish looked up and pointed down the hall. Harry took off at the run. He saw the door missing at the training arena and ducked into it. He drew White-Hilt and took in the scene. Cerberus was standing low, its attention directed at something near the center of the room. A Barghest stood nearer to Harry; it turned and moved to strike at him. One swipe of White-Hilt separated its head from its shoulders, but also drew Cerberus’ attention to him.

Harry raised his sword above his head and moved to the attack. He brought the blade down in a single overhead strike, cutting into the neck of the right hand head. Cerberus’ center jaw bit down on his shoulder, driving its teeth into the flesh. He felt the pain, he felt the tearing of the skin, and yet his strength remained. His free arm swung the magical sword and severed the left head of Cerberus. The center head howled in agony, releasing Harry’s shoulder. The devil hound reared back on its rear legs, growling in pain and rage. It gathered itself for one last attack, one last try at lashing out at its tormenter. Harry staggered, the pain in his shoulder paralyzing him. Cerberus leapt to attack, rising through the air, its one remaining head focused on Harry, eyes glaring. Harry brought White-Hilt up, raising its point in line with the breast of the beast. The entire mass of the monster’s weight hit Harry, burying him in a pile of muscle and sinew.

The room was still. Ginny and Hermione ran from their hiding spots and rushed over to the pile of bodies on the floor.

“Harry!” They moved around the body of Cerberus, the blade of White-Hilt protruding from its back, having impaled itself in its attack on Harry. Harry pulled himself up from the floor, and turned to the voice calling his name.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Ginny grabbed him around the neck buried him in kisses. He winced at the pressure.

“Ginny, the scabbard keeps the wounds from bleeding, but I think I need some help with them.” She drew back, inspecting his shoulder.

“Harry, where’s Ron?” Hermione’s question was worried, unsure if her husband was alive or dead.

Before Harry could answer, “Hermione!” Ron burst into the room, Sarah trailing behind. Ron made his way over to the trio and placed a kiss on his wife’s relieved lips. He pulled back after a moment and looked at Harry. Ron was out of breath, his body marked by cuts, some of them serious, “We missed the bone, Harry. Morgana’s man got there, she’s got the bone. We were too late.”

Harry drew himself straight. Today had been hard. They were injured, the Aurors depleted and Morgana was close to achieving her goal. He turned to his wife and gave her a kiss. It was passionate, full, all of the longing and the discovery of the past couple days emitting from the embrace. His breathing slowed, his heart rate steadied, the proximity to the woman he loved calming him. He looked into her beautiful brown eyes where the worry and fear had been replaced by merriment and joy. He smiled at her, turned and nodded to Ron and Sarah, and then looked back to Ginny.

“I may have to work late, so you might not want to wait up.”

Ginny looked at Hermione, the communication was clear. “Oh no, Mr. Potter. You’re going to be taking me on this business trip with you, this time. “ Harry was learning when not to argue with his willful wife, and this was definitely one of those times. So, he looked at her, his strength slowly returning and replied.

“Yes, dear.”



***Author's Note: From Gator's guide to surviving marriage, "Yes, dear." works every time.

Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463).....you can do it! Just leave a message.

Chapter 42 – Unto the Breach, Dear Friends

Order was slowly recapturing the corridor of the Office of Aurors. The training arena, being the largest room on the level, was pressed into duty as a temporary morgue. When Harry walked out into the passageway, he spied a beleaguered Dawlish briefing the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Dawlish turned to face Harry, eyeing the sword and scabbard belted to his waist.

“It’s a long story, John, but suffice to say, we still don’t have a moment to lose. This has all centered around Morgana being able to revive her son, Mordred. Now, we think she has the means to do just that.” Harry gave the Minister and Dawlish an overview of the quest from the past few days. Dawlish shared a worried look with the Kingsley.

“We’re at rock bottom, Minister. Most of the Aurors and the Hit Teams are either too injured to function, or dead. Whoever we have left will probably be needed to mount some sort of defense of the Ministry, if Morgana is making a move towards us.” Dawlish’s hand was moving apace through his scalp, his look of worry falling on the covered figure of Gawain Robards. Kingsley’s mind was working at a rapid pace. He looked at Harry.

“What do you propose, Harry? Dawlish is right, we don’t have the bodies for a full assault, even if we knew where to go.” Kingsley’s eyes were tired, his expression resolute but without a tremendous amount of hope. Knowing Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Ministry would resist with him right in the middle of the action, but he held no real notion of the outcome.

“Well sir, if it’s all the same to you, we have a means to carry the fight to Morgana.” Harry pointed to the barely noticed, but completely out of place oxcart in the center of the passageway. “We have one last chance. Merlin gave Ron one of the Irish Hallows, so I believe we take that chance.” The group around Harry nodded in agreement.

“Harry, Ron and Sarah do need some immediate medical attention, Minister.” Ginny spoke up, not wanting the obviously serious injuries to go untreated. “But Harry’s right, this is a chance we can’t pass up. Hermione and I are volunteering. It’s better than sitting home waiting for something to happen.”

“I’ll go with them as well.” Cavendish had made her way to the group. Her amber eyes shone with fire against her light complexion. The loss of the past night fraying the edges of her eyes, building worry lines along her face. Her jaw was set. “John, given a choice to fight here or there, I prefer to carry the fight to the enemy.” She fixed Dawlish with a level gaze, her eyes brooking no argument.

Dawlish looked at Kingsley, a small nod passed from the Minister of Magic. Dawlish gave a shake of his head and raised a hand for one of the passing healers, signaling him to give Harry, Ron and Sarah a quick once over. He then turned to face Cavendish, his expression lightening, his eyes softening. “You watch yourself out there, Elizabeth, you still owe me dinner.” Without warning, he leaned towards her and touched his lips to hers, the kiss fierce filled with need and passion, his hand grasping the back of her head and her arms crossing around his neck. After a moment he backed away and turned to Harry, waving goodbye as he returned to his duties.

The stunned looks on the friends caused Dawlish to shrug his shoulders before he was off. Their gazes turned toward Cavendish, who had a silly smile on her face, her hand on her lips, barely believing the sentiment. Harry tried to hide a small smile while Ginny let out an outright giggle. Sarah blushed with Cavendish, the unexpected display having relieved tension and fear. Hermione was holding Ron’s shoulder as a healer was working on repairing his injuries, but Hermione also had a knowing smile that grew as she noticed the perplexed look on Ron’s face.

Momentarily forgetting the pain of his recovery, Ron decided to ask the most obvious question, he thought, that was resting on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

He turned to Cavendish and emphatically asked, “Your name is Elizabeth?”

Hermione made sure to find a relatively uninjured part of his body to elbow.

Chapter 43 – Remembrances of Avalon

The cacophony of sound that met Morgana as she strode to the middle of her chamber was deafening. Bestial growls mingled with hoots and whistles as she arrayed the collected might of her followers. Hobgoblins were rubbing shoulders with wyverns. The roars offering the evil enchantress their fealty as she strode towards the pool. Kneeling in front of the pool, Merwyn the Malicious awaited her arrival, a smile of triumph and self-satisfaction on his face. As she neared him, she called for him to rise and present his prize.

“My lady, the Bone of Ullr.” He extended both arms, the bone stretched between both his hands, offering it for her inspection. Her smile broadened, a look of pure avarice crossing her face. She reached with one hand and grasped the bone in her fingers.

“Not to worry, my boy, soon you will be free, and so will I.” She walked to the space where her son’s body was held frozen in time. She laid a tender caress on the surface of his capsule, almost like a lover’s touch. She began to study the Bone in her hands. She turned it over and over, mesmerized by the runes that dotted its surface, trying to discern their meaning, trying to find where one charm started and another ended.


Apparition and disapparition had always been characterized by a loud thunder-like crash and a display of smoke. Even transportation through the Floo network had always been accompanied by some sort of theatrical show of light and sound. Scholars who looked into the spells behind the phenomenon had theorized that the sudden appearance of matter into a spot that heretofore had been empty required the loud displacement of the air in order to allow the body being transported to have room to appear. In the case of the Chariot of Arianrod, the wizards who had created this unique form of egress had intentionally wanted it to be flashy. Its original owner, Morgan the Wealthy was convinced that his entrances on the “Chariot” needed to announce his status to those so fortunate to witness the event. The area in Morgana’s chamber began to rumble, a flicker of flame and smoke rising from a point in the room. A small beam of light hovered in the middle of the smoke, slowly expanding, growing, rays emanating in a variety of colors forming a bubble within which the rickety frame of the Chariot of Arianrod began to form. The cart was translucent and slowly gelled into a solid form. Within the box cart area, the six figures of its occupants coalesced into view and with an explosion of light and sound, the Chariot of Arianrod made its arrival known.

They jumped from the oxcart in pairs, Ginny with Harry, Ron with Hermione, and Sarah with Cavendish. Harry took in their surroundings with a careful eye, scanning the entire room while somehow keeping a wary watch on Ginny. Deep in his heart, he knew she was more than capable, but could not restrain the need to protect her, to watch over her as the entered danger’s grip. As their eyes became accustomed to the light in the chamber, they noticed that their entrance had not gone unnoticed. Their ears rang with the roars of a pair of wyverns that circled the massive room, as they waited a command from their mistress. The floor was covered with scores of hobgoblins, who looked like a twisted combination of a house-elf and goblin that carried a perpetual look of pain, as if the joining had left them tortured.

“Ah, Harry Potter! It was so kind of you to join us!” Morgana looked up from her scrutiny of the Bone of Ullr. “You will be witness to a truly magical event, the rebirth of my son, and our escape from this prison.”

Harry drew back, the horde of hobgoblins and the circling dragonets closing in on the small group. Ron looked over at his friend, unsure as to why Harry had not sprung to action. Harry was rooted to his spot, his eyes taking in Morgana, but never really straying from Ginny. It dawned at Ron that perhaps Harry was more worried about Ginny than about Morgana, and that hesitation could prove fatal. Ron stepped forward and aimed his wand a small statue that sat near the edge of Morgana’s reflecting pool.

“Expulso!” The statue shattered into pieces, raining debris all around and bursting the bubble of calm that had descended since their arrival. “Harry, I’m going to try and cast the Stone of Fal at Mordred!”

The eruption of sound and smoke snapped Harry out of his stupor. His focus on Ginny had almost made him forget the reason they were there. He shook his head and allowed his instinct take rein.

“We’ve got to help Ron! Follow him!” Harry’s voice was more commanding, automatic. For the moment, he was able to segregate his feelings for Ginny’s safety and his need to act as an Auror in the field.

A wave of hobgoblins blocked Ron and Hermione’s path to Mordred. They heaved spells towards the pair, which mainly seemed to consist of a form of impedimenta charm, but instead of erecting barriers, the ground beneath the couple began to liquefy into thick syrup. Ron and Hermione found their pace slowing, unable to keep up any momentum through the morass.

“Duro!” Hermione fired a counter spell at Ron’s feet causing the ground to harden somewhat, enough for her husband to pull himself out and continue his trek towards Mordred. Ron’s pace quickened and he fumbled for a moment pulling the stone from his pocket. Finally, he grasped the Stone of Fal and heaved it towards the still form nearby. The eyes of the wizards traced the path of the stone; Ron’s aim had been true. It reached its apogee and began its descent towards the rock holding the son of Morgana. At the very last instant before contact, a thin, bony hand reached out and caught the stone. Ron turned to the source of the hand, and found himself staring at the face of Merwyn the Malicious.

Ron knew who the dark wizard was immediately. An avid collector of Chocolate Frog wizard cards, Ron had been slightly ecstatic at procuring one of the relatively rare Merwyn the Malicious cards. Based on the card, Ron knew that Merwyn was relatively obscure, known for creating nasty jinxes and curses. Ron also knew that Merwyn was reputed to have died over a thousand years ago, so his appearance in this room was surprising, to say the least.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Ron’s surprise was complete as Merwyn’s paralyzing spell struck him.

“Ron!” Hermione struggled to find traction. She raised her wand and aimed at the skinny wizard in tattered black robes that had stopped her husband. Her stunning spell missed Morgana’s toady as he whirled and apparated in that exact instant. Sarah and Cavendish had finally caught up to the struggling Hermione and helped extract her from the bog. With catlike grace, Hermione moved towards her husband's still figure and aimed her wand to free him.

“Aguamenti!” Merwyn had disapparated nearby and a large plume of water washed over the three women.

“Duro!” The evil wizard cackled as he froze the streams of water around them, effectively locking them in place, rendering Sarah, Hermione and Cavendish helpless. Within a few seconds the band of intrepid friends had been reduced by two thirds and they were no where near stopping Morgana.

Ginny Potter had been engaged in a long range exchange of spells with the hobgoblins that were closing in on her and her husband. She turned and saw Harry hovering near her, his movements constrained to the area behind her, but he was not making any real moves towards Mordred or their friends. “Harry, you’ve got to stop Morgana! The stone failed. We have to try something else!”

Harry turned towards his wife, held by a reluctance to leave her there alone. She smiled at him, not a coy smile, but one of resolve and dedication. One of the things that had endeared her to him was her fierce independence. The look she was giving Harry reminded him that she was more than capable and that he need not worry. He smiled back at her and drew the sword at his side. With a nod, he apparated away in a cloud of smoke and thunder. Ginny chuckled and began to cast shield charms and stunning spells to clear a path through the hobgoblins to her friends. The fury of her assault caused the creatures to fall back, unable to sustain any real resistance to the woman with the fierce eyes and fiery mane. Every once in a while, Merwyn would make an appearance, trying to engage a curse here or there to knock Ginny off her path, but she was ready, a counter spell or shield charm up to deflect his attempts. She knew, however, that it was only a matter of time before she was overwhelmed; the weight of numbers simply was too great.

Harry disapparated on the dais where Mordred’s body stood. As he approached the shell, he saw Morgana on her knees, rapidly chanting from the runes etched on the Bone. A small beacon of light was shining from the center of Mordred’s encapsulated body. Harry raised White-Hilt to strike one last, desperate blow at the block of stone and gem that housed Mordred’s body. The blade of the sword struck the crystalline coffin and rebounded, making nary a scratch on its surface. Morgana paused from her incantations and hit Harry with a quick shield charm that sent him flying and White-Hilt dropping to the ground. With flit of her eye, one of the massive wyverns landed, dropping one of its talon-laced rear legs directly on Harry’s chest, its claws piercing Harry’s shoulder, literally pinning him to the floor. He made an effort to find Ginny, to say he was sorry for failing. His eyes found hers, she’d finally succumbed to the numbers and was bound tight in a sea of hobgoblins.

“You are too late, Potter. It was a gallant try, but in the end, you can not stop me.” Morgana finished the series of incantations. The crystalline casing holding Mordred’s body began to brighten, heat radiating from its surface. Fractures began to form along its surface and the cracks became larger and larger. Soon, like an ice floe in a tropical current, the material of his coffin melted from his body, revealing the figure of an unbelievably handsome man. The man drew a deep breath, opening his eyes for the first time in millennia. Despite the weight of the creature on his chest, Harry moaned, drawing Ginny’s attention to him. She smiled, briefly, recognizing that Harry lived, but her gaze was unavoidably drawn to the man waking on the platform near her husband. Mordred took in his surrounding, completely comfortable with the chaos and tumult that reigned. He moved his arms, flexing his hands to test their dexterity. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on the smiling figure of Morgana as she approached him. He smiled the same twisted caricature of a smile that she had on her own face.

Opening his mouth he called to her, “Hello mother, it’s so nice to see you.” Harry’s heart dropped, a dull ache crashing through his body. Morgana’s laugh seemed soulless. She moved towards her son and laid a loving hand on his shoulder. His smile mirrored hers, less loving, more evil. He tested his legs and moved with his mother to the center of the room.

“Look, my son, we are free to leave this prison and you are free to take your rightful place as ruler of the land.” Her gaze fixed on Harry. “This is the champion of this world; of this time. I offer his life to you, so that, you may show them that resisting you would be pointless.”

Mordred smiled and walked towards where Harry was pinned to the floor. He stopped and knelt down to pick up Harry’s discarded sword. He tested its heft and found it suitable. Ginny’s intake of breath was audible, painful. Her eyes widened; she was unable to move, unable to act. Mordred raised White-Hilt over his head, its blade aimed for Harry’s neck.

“That will be quite enough, Mordred!” The voice was commanding yet lyrical. Its timber was youthful and energetic with a hint of age and wisdom. Its resonance with Mordred froze the evil knight in mid strike. Lowering his sword, Mordred made a slow turn towards the source of the call.

Morgana was less composed, the years of imprisonment having worn on her, but the voice was that, truly, of the only man who held the power to stop her.

“Arthur!”

Standing near the reflecting pool was a man. He was tall, almost larger than life. On his chest was a silver breast plate, adorned with the image of dragon as it gleamed with an unearthly aura. He had various pieces of armor on his legs and arms, also cast in silver, shimmering brightly as if with their own luminescence. His he had on stark white pantaloons and blouse and a broad white cape flowed from its attachment to his armor. His face was young, but bordered by eyes that had experienced life and death and the eternity in between. His eyes were bright blue pools, deep enough to get lost in, but brilliant enough to make one turn away. He was smiling, his mouth framed by a goatee similar to Merlin’s and the smile was soft; almost as if he was part of a joke and the punch line was just simmering below the surface.

“Hello, Morgana. It has been a very long time.” His smile deepened, the joke, it seemed, was on Morgana herself; she just hadn’t gotten it yet.

The dark witch was apoplectic, “How is this possible? You can not be here. I do not believe it!”

This time Arthur Pendragon allowed himself a deep-throated laugh. “I’d like to say that you posed such a threat that Britain’s need for Arthur’s return was necessary. I’d like to say that your powers were so vast, that only I, Arthur, could stop you.” He looked down at Harry, and winked.

“But that would be giving you too much credit. The real reason I am here is your own stupidity and ignorance.” She bristled at the words. “You see, Morgana, the spell you tried to use from the Bone of Ullr was a universal spell. It not only affected your son, but me as well. When you freed Mordred, you freed me. You had no idea what you were doing, did you?”

Her face turned a dark shade of purple. The insinuation of her incompetence burned into her soul. Arthur’s grin had not left him. He turned towards the pool, “Nimue!”

The waters of the pool began to bubble, frothing into a tall waterspout that cascaded to the ceiling. The Lady of the Lake emerged from her fountain, and stood next to her king. He held out his hand and she smiled a joyful smile. She drew Excalibur from behind her and handed it hilt first to its rightful owner, Arthur.

He held the sword limply in his hand, feeling its familiar weight, sweeping it from side to side. Finally he held it high in the air. A bright light exploded from its tip, the song of angels seemed to echo through the chamber. The creatures serving Morgana simply disappeared, including Merwyn leaving only the dark sorceress and her son standing alone in the center of the room. Arthur turned to them and smiled.

“Whatever shall we do with you two?” Arthur seemed to weigh his options. “My return has been premature, to say the least. You, Morgana, are almost more trouble than you are worth. Perhaps there is a certain amount of justice to be had here.” The king glanced at Nimue and she bowed. Arthur nodded once more and pointed Excalibur at Morgana and Mordred.

Mordred raised his arms defensively, and realized, too late, that the crystals had begun reforming around his body. He barely managed a scream before the glass-like substance encased his body, imprisoning him once more. Morgana’s screams were not restricted and she sobbed, not for her son, but for herself, unable to resolve the turn of events.

“What will you do to me?” She was defiant, her beauty transcending her evil.

Arthur smiled, “I could just leave you as before, imprisoned and bitter. Maybe, however, I have not been completely fair to you, Morgana. You crave freedom from Avalon? So be it, you are free.”

Morgana, Morgan Le Fay, Morgause; she’d been known by many names, and now she could not believe her fortune. Her nemesis, her foe, her brother; had granted her freedom in some convoluted display of justice. The word justice dripped from her mind, like a curse. Her elation soon turned to discomfort, then to horror. Her brain began to numb, and her body compressed and changed itself. She stared at the reflection pool and the image of a carrion crow shone back at her. She tried to muster the concentration to change back, and found that she could not. She was stuck in her animagus form.

“Morgana, this is the price of your freedom. You will remain in that form, forever. However, you are free to go, wherever you chose.” This time Arthur didn’t laugh, the gravity of Morgana’s punishment weighing on him.

The six friends had been freed from their respective bindings. The disappearance of Morgana’s minions had released their spells. Harry ran his hands over the places where the wyvern’s talons had dug into his flesh, but no sign of injury could be found. He turned to King Arthur and knelt.

“Oh do get up, would you?” Arthur put a hand down and helped lift Harry up. “I would like the return of my scabbard, though, if you don’t mind.” Harry peered down at leather case on his belt. He unbuckled it and handed it to Arthur, who lost no time in sheathing the mighty sword and belting it to his own waist. Arthur turned to the beauty beside him.

“Nimue. Thank you for safekeeping Excalibur for me. I have but one more duty for you.” Her head dipped lower, almost in resignation. Arthur smiled. “Would you be so kind as to return the items these brave people borrowed from Merlin?” She looked up, unsure of what Arthur was saying. He clarified the point a little more. “I think you’ll find that Morgana’s spell was truly universal. If I’m not mistaken, our wizard friend is alive and well in his cave, but waits for his true love to release him. I was wondering if you could return these items, since you were heading that direction.”

Her eyes trembled with tears as her green tresses bounced at anticipation. She reached up and boldly gave Arthur a kiss on the cheek. She raised her hand and summoned the Stone of Fal and White-Hilt to her hands. She started walking towards the Chariot, her conveyance back to her true love. As she passed Harry, she stopped, her beauty enhanced by the smile that radiated from her face.

“You’ve been granted a great gift, Nimue. Love is eternal, and a second chance at a life with love is the greatest gift. Be well.” Harry raised his hand to her. She leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek and whispered in his ear. With that, she practically flew to the oxcart and climbed on. The last view of her was the vision of love and happiness emblazoned on her cheeks as she whispered a simple destination, “Merlin.”

Harry and his friends turned to King Arthur. His smile had not left his face and he turned to them.

“It is not my time. I am not needed. You are the champion of your era, and you must be ready to face whatever trials come.” He looked at Harry, imparting a sense of duty. “I will remain here on Avalon, until I am needed. Do not look for me, for this isle is enchanted, and will disappear in time and history until a great need summons us.”

“You have all done well. I am proud of my heirs, but stay vigilant against the darkness. It will always be there, lurking, waiting for the opportunity to strike.” He smiled once more, and raised Excalibur over his head. “Farewell, my friends. We will meet again, someday.”

The room, the island and King Arthur disappeared in a flash. The six friends found themselves in the middle of a circle of ancient rectangular stones.

“Stonehenge!” Hermione’s voice broke their amazed silence. “He sent us to Stonehenge!” Ron moved to his wife and embraced her with a tight hug. Harry put an arm around Ginny, the glow of the encounter still visible on his face.

“I can’t believe what we just saw.” Sarah’s eyes were wide, the awe of the moment shaking her.

Harry looked up at the sky and saw a shooting star blaze a trail across the darkening night. “I believe it.” He looked back down at Ginny and kissed her tenderly. He then looked around at his companions.

“Let’s go home.”

***Author's Note: I apologize for the substandard first effort. I rewrote this scene with more of the emphasis I wanted. I also took out the cliffie and went for the resolution. I hope this is better.

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Chapter 44 – Autumn Breezes

The summer closed with a whimper. Cool autumn breezes filtered through the land like a fresh breath, driving away the fear and grief of the past few months. Since their wedding, Harry and Ginny had been involved in the events surrounding Morgana’s glorified escape attempt, and any attempt at normalcy or routine had been fleeting, at best. The cooling temperatures helped to level the fears and anxiety that permeated the Ministry of Magic. The losses to the Cerberus attack turned out to be lighter than first feared. Over the months since the assault, the injured had returned to a modicum of health. The dead were mourned, and the granite memorial wall in the passageway in the Office of Aurors had been appropriately decorated with the names and images of the seven Aurors that had been lost. Harry walked passed the wall, reflecting on the dead. He saw Masterson, who was ambushed trying to protect Luna Lovegood. Beside him were faces of Dawes and Milton, forever bound together in memory as they were friends in life. Harry continued to reflect on the images, his eyes passing through and finally resting on Gawain Robards. Gawain had been the head of the Office of Aurors for years, and in fact had recommended Harry for acceptance to that august group. Robards had fallen, facing the enemy, but his loss was felt to this day.

“Harry!” The voice knocked him out his reflection. Turning, Harry saw the approaching figure of John Dawlish, newly designated chief of the Office of Aurors. “There you are, I thought you were heading to the training arena?”

“I’m heading there later; Lachlan wanted to run Ron through some advanced scenarios, so I asked if Sarah could join them. Lachlan is much more devious than I am.” Ron and Sarah were flying through training. Their experience over the summer had allowed Dawlish to take the unprecedented step of passing them through their Year Two M.A.G.E.’s. The added bonus was that both were now taking accelerated training to take their third and final M.A.G.E. by Christmastime, allowing them to become full Aurors more rapidly than anyone else had, in the history of the office. Part of the reason was the holes left by the losses, but both Ron and Sarah had distinguished themselves in the field and practical experience trumped school lessons any time.

“Lachlan is devious.” Dawlish let out a chuckle. “When he was my tutor, he liked to set my wand on fire with a flagrante charm, forcing me to either cast a spell or drop the wand. Speaking of which, how have you been coming along with your trials at wandless magic?” Since his return, Harry had been working with Miles Jackson-Smythe on refining his skills at casting spells without a wand.

“It’s been inconsistent. I do pretty well with defensive spells and charms. It’s the offensive spells I seem to have problems with. We’re working on it.” Harry laughed, the level of weakness of his stunning spells versus his shield spells when he cast them without his wand was over a factor of ten. “How’s Cavendish?”

Dawlish’s cheeks reddened; a completely different look for the older wizard. His budding romance with the mysterious amber-eyed Auror had caught the Office by surprise, but was appreciated, nonetheless. Since his elevation to head the Office, Dawlish had been reticent to discuss the matter, feeling that he didn’t want to show favoritism. Harry’s view was entirely different, liking the fact that Dawlish was exhibiting signs of life outside the office. He let his friend off the hook, “Did you need something?”

“No, I’m heading up to the Minister’s office.” Dawlish gave a wave and made for the bank of lifts at the end of the hall. Harry waved him off and continued his stride down the hall. ‘

With the carnage that had occurred inside the Ministry and in the Office of Aurors, Dawlish had instituted a massive overhaul of their facilities. While the training arena was kept, the Aurors were now housed in one large room lined with office cubicles. Each Auror was assigned a cubicle with senior Aurors assigned spaces towards the front of the row. Dawlish made sure that seniority in the ranks had nothing to do with time in service. His senior Aurors were now Lachlan McCrory, Savage, Proudfoot and Harry. Each had office space at the head of a row of cubicles. The Aurors who sat in the adjacent office spaces in their row were members of the senior Aurors’ team. Each team consisted of eight Aurors, including their leader and the Ministry had mandated that the Auror population would not exceed thirty members, unless required by crisis. Dawlish was aiming for a leaner, more agile organization. The unspoken offshoot of this method, was that the Aurors became the elite of the elite. The Azkeban guardians were assigned to the Ministry directly and the Hit Team was still being reestablished. For now, the Office of Aurors was the primary law enforcement mechanism for the Ministry and Harry was a key part of it.

He walked to his desk and sat for a moment, ignoring the piles of paperwork and memos that were stacked upon it. A flutter of wings announced the arrival of his owl, Helios, a great golden owl that had been a gift to him from Ginny when he turned eighteen. A note hung loosely from his leg so Harry rose up and pulled it from its binding. Absently, he rubbed the owl’s proud head as he perused the message, Ginny’s unmistakable scrawl marking its words.

“Harry, I’ve decided to drop in and pick you up at work. If you turn around, you’ll see me standing just behind you. Love Ginny.”

His hand dropped to his side and he turned around and there she was, bright as day. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, her normal wear for work as she spent the bulk of her time at
Quidditch pitches, in her role as the chief Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet. She was leaning against a wall, her arms crossed. Her brown eyes sparkled, matching the full lips of her smile. He soaked in her beauty, her auburn locks framed around her face, making her stand out. Her expression was sly, coquettish, the hint of mischief in her face. He felt a pulse of electricity cross the space between them and hit him between the eyes and stop his heart. He honestly could say that she’d never seemed more beautiful and that he loved more, right now, then ever before. Heedless of where he was and what he was doing, he walked over and grabbed her up off her feet and swung her around in a circle, delighted at her presence. Before he allowed reality to set in, he kissed her and the electricity he’d been feeling turned into a full power surge. The power of her presence, the softness of her lips, the smell of her hair, her total essence caused his knees to buckle and he found himself trying to lean against a nearby wall, overcome with Ginny being, well, Ginny.

“What are you doing here?” His question wasn’t alarmed; in fact, he absolutely radiated thorough elation at her visit.

“Work is fine; I just finished my story for deadline. I was thinking,” She winked at him, turning her head down slightly, “Well, it’s just that I missed you and I had to find you straight away.” He gave her a wry look, still not really piecing together where she was going.

“Have you seen the weather outside, Harry?” The turn of the conversation was odd, but seeing that he hadn’t been outside, really outside, not just seeing the weather patterns produced on the Ministry’s walls in almost a week, he shook his head no. “It’s beautiful out. The trees are turning colors, the wind is brisk, and it’s one of my favorite times of the year. I love walking outside in the fall almost more than any other time, but do you know what I enjoy more than walking in the fall?”

Harry couldn’t stop himself; he was, after all, a man. “I’ve got a few guesses.” His tone was decidedly more teasing.

She blushed, telling him that he’d not been far off the mark, but she recovered enough to offer him a playful punch to the shoulder. “Manners! That’s not what I had in mind.” Her cheeks were burning furiously, their shade almost matching her hair. “What I was saying before your mind went to the gutter was that what I fancy more than a walk outside on a cool autumn day is taking that walk with my man.”

She pulled him by the arm; he didn’t really offer much resistance. “That is, if I don’t break his legs for embarrassing me in front of his coworkers.” She was playful and he loved that part of her as well.

“Now that was just dirty!” Ron Weasley entered the cubicle area trailed by Sarah and Lachlan who could barely restrain a tremendous bout of laughter. Ron’s clothing was in tatters, all shredded save for his boxers which were adorned with large hearts that had 'H loves R' in perpetual rotation around each.

Harry controlled his response, while Ginny hid her head behind his back, shoulders wracking in an uncontrollable bout of hysterics. “Ron, what happened?”

“What happened?” Ron turned towards Harry with an obvious attempt to retain some portion of his pride. “Lachlan over here used a Reducio spell on my clothes, Harry. Those robes were a gift from Hermione! He shrank my clothes and then disarmed me when my shirt sleeves drew too tight.”

Harry nodded sagely. “Ron, you’ve been in some nasty rows, you know that there aren’t any rules to fighting, except maybe, to win.” Harry’s neck was turning a brilliant shade of red, and he was desperately trying not to make eye contact with the perpetrators of Ron’s predicament. “There is one bright spot, though, Ron.” Harry choked on his words.

Ron eyed Harry closely, just now noticing the form of his sister who was gasping for breath behind her husband, unable to stifle her laugh. “What’s that, Harry?”

“You can tell Hermione that Lachlan didn’t destroy all of the clothes she gave you.” Harry began to snicker, his control fading. “Although, I’m hoping that the reducio spell hadn’t hit your boxers, because, imagine the size they were before being reduced?”

Ginny just managed to pull Harry down the hall before Ron “reduced” his best friend. As they ran down the hallway she leaned to Harry and whispered, “Remind me that I have to find you a different present for Christmas.” She paused, the image of Ron’s mishap in her mind, “Hermione already stole my idea.”

Harry stopped and stared at her for a moment. Cinching up his trousers, he chased after her disappearing form hoping she’d been joking.


***Author's Note: More of a lower key. I'm going to have a little fun with the next few chapters and I'm not going to keep doing it at Ron's expense, especially since Harry hasn't really been truly embarassed yet. I'll work some adventure elements, but no big evil-laced arc until sometime after Christmas (in story time, not in real time. Are you crazy? That's almost 5 months off.)

Thanks for putting up with the rewrite. The Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463) helped me catch the error and make a correction. Now you know why I think Styphon and Pollux are the best.

Chapter 45 – Office Politics

A palpable change permeated the air in Diagon Alley. As the days of autumn passed, the merchants at the various establishments prepared themselves for the Halloween and Christmas rushes. They peddled their wares more aggressively, highlighting specials and exclusives to the increasing numbers in the throng of shoppers passing by. The crowd both inside and outside of Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes was especially exuberant as its proprietors, Lee Jordan and George Weasley took every opportunity to ensure that this season’s new product lines were aggressively marketed to the masses. This year, they had a new employee. For the most part, muggles did not flourish in the wizard world, however, the Wheezes had an especially popular section that specialized in muggle sleight of hand and illusion. Dudley Dursley had bonded with Lee and George during Harry’s bachelor party and his particular expertise in muggle tricks and gaffs offered Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes a unique source of products. The partnership was doing extremely well and the association with George and Lee had brought Dudley out of his shell and made him more open, more fun.

Of course, Ginny would never acknowledge that something beneficial could be made out of an association with George and Lee, but she was willing to give Dudley the benefit of the doubt. She shook her head as she passed 93 Diagon Alley, the home office of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, watching Dudley and Lee trying out an assortment of “Whoopie” cushions on several unsuspecting diners at a nearby sidewalk café. Dudley had purchased several of the rubber bladders and brought them to the Lee, who’d added a foul scent to the standard offering, which completely changed the dynamic of the joke. Ginny had to make her way past her brother’s shop everyday she went into the offices of the Daily Prophet, and tried with as much aplomb to disassociate herself with their antics.

Her role as the chief Quidditch correspondent for the Prophet was going well. It hadn’t hurt that she was still renowned for her prowess on the pitch and she leveraged her past relationships to find storylines with impact. She made a point to avoid the more salacious aspects of her subjects. The Quidditch world had been buzzing ever since rumors of a torrid relationship surfaced between Gwenog Jones, captain of her former club, the Holyhead Harpies and Oliver Wood, the starting keeper for the Harpies’ rival Puddlemere United. While there may be some truth to the rumor, kindled in part, by their meeting at Ginny and Harry’s wedding, Ginny felt that her role was to report real news, not gossip. This did not, however, preclude other members of the Prophet staff from trying to dig into the private lives of others, most notably Rita Skeeter.

The wizard world’s answer to tabloid journalism had resurrected her reputation with her exclusive interview of Harry for the Quibbler and through her fantastical book on Dumbledore. The Daily Prophet, in its drive to reinvigorate its own tarnished reputation after the Thicknesse dalliance, had brought Skeeter back as a special “investigative” correspondent. What this really meant was that the newspaper was giving her a blank check to pursue any vapid rumor or story on any person of note that she could. Ginny’s stomach literally turned at the sight of her and even more so when Rita made attempts to curry favor while at the same time take surreptitious peeks at items on Ginny’s desk in order to find juicy tidbits on notable Quidditch players or on Ginny’s immediate family, who were celebrities in their own right, especially Harry who’s relationship with Skeeter was rocky to say the least.

Such was the case when Ginny was walking to her desk. As she rounded the corner to the open area that housed their work spaces, Ginny spotted a platinum blonde set of tight curls nestled over the top of Ginny’s desk. The flashy hair held a pair of bejeweled spectacles in place and the eyes behind the glasses were busily poring over a journal that had been left on the desk.

“Ahem,” Ginny’s annoyance with Skeeter was rising to the surface, “Is there something I can help you with, Rita?”

Not perturbed at being caught, Rita raised her heavy-jawed face to reveal some thickly penciled eyebrows and gave Ginny a toothy, crocodile smile, “Not at all dear, just looking over your material, seeing if I can give you hand with your prose. There’s nothing like showing the ropes to the wife of my great friend, Harry Potter. How is dear Harry? Is everything alright with you two?” Her tone was syrupy and bracing at the same time.

Ginny opted not to answer the question this time. Any response would have been convoluted into some impossible situation. If she said everything was fine, then Skeeter would report that Harry and Ginny were barely on speaking terms. If Ginny expanded in any way, then Skeeter would have Harry running off with the nearest witch in the Office. Ginny decided to ignore Skeeter altogether and waved the vile woman off.

Rita Skeeter’s byline the next day spoke of “Trouble for the Heroic Power Couple”. The story contemplated a rocky road for Harry and Ginny Potter as their hectic lifestyles had driven them apart. Skeeter speculated that perhaps Ginny’s high flying career as a socialite reporter had led her to ignore her wifely duties. Skeeter then offered commentary as to how sad she was for her good friend, Harry Potter, who deserved happiness in marriage. Rita Skeeter dedicated herself to making sure that Harry Potter had a happy life. She committed a whole series of her columns to the endeavor, and she desperately hoped that neither Harry or Ginny were making the problem worse by straying from each other.

Over the next few days, Rita began her series by following Ginny around. Unfortunately, Ginny herself was writing a detailed story on the Holyhead Harpies and their season. Skeeter had not been able to find anything juicy since a woman covering an all-female Quidditch team would not inspire much suspicion. Skeeter than turned her attention to Harry. Whenever he left the Ministry, she would maintain a vigil as to his comings and goings. For the first couple of days, Harry was always alone, and went straight home after work, so Rita decided to loiter in the main hall of the Ministry during the daytime hours. Her persistence paid off, as Harry came bounding from the elevators with Sarah Peebles in tow. The two Aurors were talking in whispers. Skeeter’s eyebrows raised up in a gesture of satisfaction. Now here was a story she could follow up on.

The next day, Skeeter was seated at her desk, filling in the pieces to her big expose on the questionable relationship between Harry and his protégé. As she edited her piece, she saw Ginny sitting at her own desk, considerably troubled by something. Rita watched as Ginny threw a folded piece of parchment into a wastebasket and ran from the room. While corroborating facts were never necessary for her stories, Rita was always on the lookout for items that made her writings half-way digestible. Skeeter walked over to Ginny’s desk and eased the discarded paper from the trash can. She ran back to her own desk and opened the scroll eagerly, smoothing it out to make out the words:

“How could they get together? Harry and Sarah, Wednesday, Lunch, Grimmauld Place”

Visions of noon time trysts played out in Rita’s mind, especially when thrown in with the idea that a noisy confrontation would follow with the rejected wife. Rita wrote a tantalizing piece for the evening edition, proclaiming a scoop of earth-shattering proportions to rival her book on Albus Dumbledore. She was absolutely giddy about her prospects. The only thing that would make this better, she believed, was to have witnesses, credible witnesses. She penned a quick note and sent it out by owl. The stage was set.

Seated at a bench outside 12 Grimmauld Place, Rita wore darkened glasses in some misconceived notion of anonymity. She heard the footprints approaching,

“Ms. Skeeter, I got your note, what is it that absolutely required the interruption of my day?” Percy Weasley was visibly annoyed. Skeeter’s note had been to the Minister, but given Kingsley outright contempt for Skeeter, but unable to avoid her missive, the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister was tasked to see what she wanted.

“Mr. Weasley, your presence is almost better than the Minister’s. You see, I’m the bearer of bad news. The great Harry Potter is stepping out on his wife, your sister and you will be witness to this infidelity.” Percy’s expression became horrified. His stunned face was word enough to Skeeter that her news was more than enough to get his attention. Percy was having difficulty looking at Rita, the disbelief he displayed offering a note of triumph to Rita. She was back, she could feel it, and it would be at the expense of the great Harry Potter. A couple was approaching from down the block. From a distance, she could see that the woman was Ginny Potter. As she neared, Rita saw that she was with Lee Jordan, a family friend. Obviously, Ginny had tried to get help from her brother George, and his erstwhile business partner had come to assist her in the confrontation. This story was getting better and better by the minute.

Approaching from the other direction, Rita saw the great Harry Potter walking up the street, on his arm, Sarah Peebles. The moment of truth had arrived.

“Harry James Potter!” Ginny’s voice rang through the air, freezing everyone. Ginny stormed up to Harry and Sarah, looking at both of them in anger.

“You’re late!” Ginny burst into laughter and kissed Harry and offered Sarah a hug. She motioned to Lee to approach. Lee was somewhat shy, his eyes lowered a bit.

“You two have been tap dancing around each other for months.” Ginny pulled Lee’s hand over to Sarah’s. “It’s about time you two decided that you liked each other and did something about it.” Somewhat chagrined, Lee smiled and closed his hand around Sarah’s.

“You’re right, of course.” Lee bent down and kissed Sarah on the top of the hand, “Would you care to join me for lunch?” Sarah was blushing unabashedly, her face beaming. She turned to look at Harry.

“Take the rest of the day.” Harry winked and the couple went off. “You finished, Miss Matchmaker?” Harry teased his wife.

“Not just yet.” Ginny turned and strode purposefully over to where a shocked Rita Skeeter stood. “Hello, Percy. What did I tell you?”

“You were right, Ginny. Quite shocking, indeed.” Percy gave a snicker and moved away from Rita Skeeter.

“What is the meaning of this? What is this all about?” Skeeter was perplexed, trying to figure an angle to pursue on this.

Ginny looked at the tabloid diva with strident expression. “This was part one of a two part lesson in ‘Leave the Potters Alone’, Rita. Keep your nose out of our business.”

“I don’t know what you mean. What lesson? What are you talking about Mrs. Potter? What are you up to?” Rita’s voice was haughty. How dare this strumpet talk to her like that?

Ginny’s voice lowered, becoming menacing. “It means that I won’t stop at fighting you *** for tat. You will find, that I am the one Potter or Weasley, for that matter that will not just get even, I get ahead.” With that, Ginny handed Rita a small package and turned to catch up with Harry. The two walked off arm in arm, laughing.

Rita Skeeter looked down at the package in her hand. She unwrapped the plain brown paper offering and found a mirror with a note attached. The note had a brief message in Ginny’s hand.

“Rita, Part two of your lesson is in your hand. The paper you stole from my wastebasket was jinxed, courtesy of my sister-in-law. Remember, I don’t get even, I get ahead. Regards, Ginny Potter.”

Her hands trembling, Rita Skeeter raised the looking glass to her eyes. The sight caused her to gasp and fall to the ground in a dead faint. Her golden curls had receded from her forehead and her brow was covered in large pustules of acne. The welts had formed themselves into a word that covered all the skin. There was only a single word, which punctuated the fact that Rita Skeeter had been had. The acne formed word was,

“LIAR”.


***Author's Note: Never cross a Ginny!

Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463) is greatly appreciated, go on, the link isn't hexed.

Chapter 46 – All in the Line of Duty

The entire cadre of Aurors was gathered in the training arena. The murmur of individual conversations buzzed through the hall while every few moments eyes darted to the set of double doors set onto the far wall. Harry and Lachlan stood huddled together, both conversing but neither really hearing the other. Every so often, Harry would take to pacing back and forth, his strides were hurried.

“They’ll be done when they’re done!” Lachlan’s exasperated drawl finally penetrated Harry’s focus, causing him to look towards the senior Auror. “Don’t you remember your own? It must have taken more than few hours to complete.”

Harry nodded and resumed his pacing, like an expectant father. A clamor at the doors drew his eye as the force of two bodies crashed the doors open. Two tired but elated figures burst into the room holding sheets of parchment over their heads.

“We did it! We passed!” Ron Weasley’s beaming face radiated in elation, matching the expression of Sarah Peebles who was trailing behind him. “No trouble at all, we passed with flying colors!”

“Brilliant, Ron! I knew you could do it.” Harry turned to his own trainee, Sarah, whose smile warmed Harry’s heart. “I definitely knew you could do it, Sarah!” Her blush highlighted her triumphant smile.

Ron and Sarah had just sat for and passed their Year 3 M.A.G.E.’s, or Master Auror Governing Examination, the last step for a trainee in the process of becoming a full fledged Auror. Given that they were both taking the tests well before their eighteenth month of training was testament to their experiences and hard work over the past few months. Of course, Harry and Lachlan would often point to their own tutelage as key indicators of success. Nevertheless, both Ron and Sarah had now completed the final stage to becoming Aurors.

The two were surrounded by the new colleagues receiving salutations and congratulatory pats on the back. The crowd parted revealing the proud faces of Hermione Weasley, Ron’s bride and, to everyone’s surprise, Lee Jordan, Sarah’s newly found beau. Hermione ran to Ron and embraced him fully, smothering his lips with hers in a wildly passionate and somewhat public display of affection.

“I’m so proud of you Ron!” Hermione was at a loss for words, the superlatives seeming inadequate to the accomplishment. Ron smiled, happy for the chance to share this seminal moment with the person he loved the most on the planet. He knew her support and guidance had been integral to his achievement. He laughed with Hermione as they saw Sarah grab Lee stridently and kissed him full on the lips. It had been many years since they’d seen the normally loquacious Lee Jordan taken aback, unable to speak.

“May I have your attention, please?” The distinguished form of John Dawlish stepped to the front, carrying two cardboard boxes. He placed the boxes on the floor in front of him and continued, “Could I have Mr. Weasley and Ms. Peebles step forward with their tutors?”

Harry moved to the center of the room with Sarah and Lachlan accompanied Ron. Dawlish drew his wand and motioned for Harry and Lachlan to do so as well The three pointed their wands at the boxes in the center of the room while Dawlish began to intone an oath.

“The greatest privilege is to serve others. The choice to protect society through the promotion of justice and peace is one that is not entered lightly. The commitment to protect the innocent and the helpless is one that requires dedication. Ron Weasley and Sarah Peebles, you have demonstrated persistence, loyalty and courage. It is my pleasure to accept you into the Office of Aurors. Muto Lamnia!”

Harry and Lachlan repeated the spell, offering the power of their wands as teachers, “Muto Lamnia!”

Incandescent beams of golden light struck the nondescript boxes, causing them to glow internally. The cardboard making up the boxes disappeared leaving two glowing silver pieces of metal on the floor. Harry and Lachlan reached down and took one piece each. Holding the brilliant talismans up for the crowd, the two approached their graduated protégés. The metal pieces had shaped themselves into Auror shields with comets and moons in orbit around their fronts. Harry walked up to Sarah and affixed the shield to her robes. When he’d finished a shower of sparks etched her name onto the shield. When Harry turned towards Ron, he saw that his name was similarly etched on his own shield. Dawlish approached the two and shook their hands. The party was just beginning.

Later in the day, Harry had slipped away and was working through a pile of paperwork on his desk. Dawlish came up and slapped Harry on the back.

“Well done, Harry! You did an exceptional job with Sarah’s training.” Harry took the congratulations well. “Did you notice that no one had even thought twice about turning down Sarah all those months ago?”

“Well, saving the world tends to buy you a lot of goodwill.” Harry harbored no real ill feelings towards his friends and colleagues. The pain and loss over the past few months had washed that all away. Dawlish smiled brightly and his laugh was genuine, heartfelt. Harry tested Dawlish’s humor, “So, you headed home or have you made plans.”

Dawlish stifled his laugh, but couldn’t help his smile, “Elizabeth and I have plans, if you must know.” Harry smiled, happy for his friend. “What about you, Harry? Isn’t about time for you to head home?”

“I will, there’s a party down at the Burrow to celebrate. I’m going to head there, but I think I’ll take the stroll.” Dawlish’s smile became a little more serious. “Harry, you’re a good Auror, but remember why you do this. You should go and be with your family.”

“I will John, I just like to do it.” Dawlish nodded, understanding Harry more than most laymen would. With a wave, Dawlish left the room.

“The Stroll” was a tradition started by Gawain Robards years ago that consisted of an Auror walking the length of Diagon Alley, much like a police officer in the muggle world would walk his neighborhood beat. In fact, the inspiration for Robards came from his affectation for police dramas on television he’d watched at home with his muggle parents. The practice had been stopped when Voldemort had secretly seized control of the Ministry and the Aurors had become an extension of his terror policies. Robards had rekindled his Stroll when the Dark Lord had been defeated, as a means to reassure the public. When Robards had died, Harry had taken up the practice, as a dedication to Robards and to his colleagues who had passed away.

Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry found the place packed with patrons knocking back drinks to forget the day. Making his way to the entrance to Diagon Alley, Harry adjusted his robes, ensuring his talisman of office was prominently displayed. Confident that he looked suitable for the task, he walked into Diagon Alley. Harry nodded to the passersby, taking in the sights and sounds of the shopping arena. He passed the apothecary and looked in its window. A loud bang from the nearby cauldron shop drew his attention.

“Watch out!” The voice from above was too late, and a flood of liquid poured down onto Harry’s head from a second story window. It was green and thick. The perpetrator of the accident was an rotund face, kindly, but shocked at the mess she’d caused. “I’m so sorry there, Mr. Auror, the pot just got away from me!”

Harry shook his hands, the viscous ooze spraying all around him. “No worries, ma’am. Nothing that can’t be cleaned.” Harry took a quick look up at the woman with his one clear eye, “Is it?”

The woman had disappeared leaving Harry to wonder. He cleaned himself off as best as he could and gave serious thought to just heading home, but decided he could continue. As he walked, he began to notice a peculiar smell, almost rancid. When he turned to find the source, he discovered that he was the source of the aroma, the liquid emanating a particular rotten effervescence. Sighing, he continued his walk trying to avoid as many people as possible. As he passed Eelops Owl Emporium a flurry of feathers and muscle zoomed from the door.

“Puck! Come back here!” An owl was effecting an escape from the shopkeeper. Without knowing, it flew right into Harry’s chest, feathers flying everywhere and then landing on Harry’s sticky robes and holding fast. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what’s come over him. He’s normally very tame.” Harry looked at the owl, one of its eyes pointed up and to the right and the other straight down.

“I can see how he was able to hit me.” Harry chuckled and nodded to the keeper. Now Harry was covered in an odiferous slime and covered with owl feathers. He tried his best to brush the feathers off and moved on down the alley. As he approached Florean Fortescue’s, he made a mental note to stay on this side of the alley in an effort to avoid the entrance to Gringott’s. While the goblins had said they forgave him for his breach of their vault almost five years ago, he didn’t want to give the guards pause in his present state. So preoccupied with this thought he didn’t see the child that ran out of the ice cream parlor and right into his leg. Harry bent over to check the boy, and noticed that entire contents of a double chocolate fudge sundae had made its way to the knees of his robes, coating them with the hot, sweet remnants of the dessert. Topping the whole scene off, the boy began to cry uncontrollably and was pointing at Harry with an accusing finger.

“He pushed me and made me drop my ice cream!” Harry was mortified as were the child’s parents who had chased him outside. Trying to apologize, Harry handed the family a few scythes to replace the ice cream and hurried off. When the first mishap had happened, Harry had doubts about continuing his walk, now he was sure of his doubts. Harry’s wandering made him lose sight of his surroundings. Peering up, he found himself outside Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The horror that George, Lee or Dudley would find him this state sent him running. As he looked back to check his escape, he failed to notice the obstruction that tripped him up and sent him flying headfirst into an open trash bin. Harry pulled himself up, bits of flotsam and food hanging from every part of his body. He also found himself missing the smell of the green ooze from before, because now he smelled of rotten refuse. Throwing his hands in the air, Harry apparated away leaving a smoky, trashy smell behind.

Near the trash can, snickers began to turn into full fledged guffaws. Two pairs of shoes, followed by two pairs of pants and so on, began to reveal themselves as two figures were revealed as they removed the Invisibility Cloak they’d been sharing.

“I win, you said he’d leave after the owl shop.” George Weasley’s carrot topped head beamed in a large smile as he gloated to his partner in crime, Dudley Dursley.

“Well I thought tripping the kid with ice cream was low, but the trashcan trick was brilliant!” Dudley laughed out loud.

George winked, causing the muscles around his lost ear to contract obscenely, “That’s the best part, I had nothing to do with the trashcan. You owe me, he lasted longer than you said he would. The ‘tar and feather’ trick was classic.”

“Double or nothing.” Dudley didn’t like losing a wager. George shrugged his shoulder. “I bet he goes home and changes first, then goes to the party at your parents’.”

George pondered the dare, “You know, Ginny warned him not to be late to the party, or she’d make him pay. You’re on!”

Dudley grinned and reached out to shake George’s hand, sealing the bet. “By the way, are you sure that my video camera was able to get the entire thing through that invisible cloakee thingee?”

“I dunno, let’s check.”

Dudley rewound a few seconds of the tape in the handheld video camera he was carrying. He saw Harry’s last forlorn fumble into the trash heap. Dudley looked at George, a devilish grin on his face, “Oh yes, we got the whole thing. Christmas will be fun, this year.”

George smiled with his friend and grabbed his arm, side-along apparating, heading to the burrow to confirm the winner of the latest wager.

***Author's Note: Christmas is coming! My birthday is Christmas Day, so be forewarned, I may be a little more mushy than usual.

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Chapter 47 – Christmas Gifts

He lay awake. He knew it was close to dawn, but winter’s onset made it harder for the sun’s rays to permeate the window in his bedroom. He was a slightly anxious, almost nervous lately as the day approached. He’d been anticipating today almost as much as he’d anticipated his wedding. He felt tightness in his chest and it seemed all he could do not to hyperventilate as he reflected on his plan. He rolled on his side and gazed at her. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes resting on her dimples which were accentuated by the freckles that dotted her face. Her red hair glowed, every strand seemingly with a mind of its own but placed as if they were of the same intent, which was to frame her beauty. Her red full lips were closed with the hint of a smile, as if she were thinking of a joke that only she knew the punch line to. One rebellious tress of crimson broke away from its brethren, falling carelessly across her face, tickling her nose causing it to twinkle unconsciously. He reached up and gently moved the recalcitrant strand from her face, his touch soft, loving, trying to avoid disturbing her slumber and breaking the spell of awe he felt every time he looked at her. He slowly rolled over and quietly rose from the bed. Putting on his robe and slippers, he silently made his way from the bedroom and down the stairs to kitchen.

“Good morning, Master Harry!” Kreacher, Grimmauld Place’s resident house elf was rustling around the kitchen.

Harry looked at his home’s only permanent moving fixture. He’d freed the house-elf months ago, but the octogenarian pug decided to continue to service the home and its owners and still insisted on calling Harry, “Master”. This reality was even more awkward than when Kreacher had technically been a slave, still, Harry could not imagine Sirius’ old family home without Kreacher and would learn to live with it.

“Master Harry, would you like some breakfast?”

Harry shook his head, “Not yet, thank you, just some coffee. I’ll wait until Ginny gets up before I eat.”

Kreacher nodded sagely, “Very good, Master Harry. Kreacher will be heading back to Hogwarts, but you will find what you need warmed in the oven.” Harry smiled his thanks, but noticed that Kreacher was eyeing him strangely.

“What is it?” Harry could swear that the house-elf was smiling, only if Kreacher’s lips were physically capable of doing so.

Kreacher bowed, “Everything is prepared for today. If I may be so bold, Master Harry, Kreacher is not getting younger, it would make his life complete to care for little Potters.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Ever since his freedom, Kreacher’s favorite words were “If I may be so bold, “which was invariably followed by something blunt and usually inappropriate. Hermione would probably hex him, but sometimes Harry found himself missing the days when Kreacher was a slave and hated him. Of course Harry didn’t mean it, but Harry had only really known two truly free house-elves before Kreacher and his interactions with them hadn’t been as intrusive.

“Kreacher, I’ve told you again and again, it will happen when it happens. We’re just living our lives. We have time enough for all that.” Harry grasped the mug of steaming coffee that Kreacher placed before him and took a small sip.

Kreacher bowed, again an almost-smile on his face, “Time is a mystery, never enough and sometimes too much, but Kreacher only knows what is.” With that, the small gray figure apparated away.

Harry had no idea what Kreacher meant and playing the words over in his head did not make it any clearer. With a shrug, Harry took his cup into the front seating area of the house. He made his way into the room, adorned like the Gryffindor Common room and saw Kreacher had lit a fire to combat the cold from outside. Instead of making for one of the easy chairs, Harry went to stand in one of the large bay windows. Drawing back the curtains, he took in the winter spectacle outside. Harry especially enjoyed winter. Its briskness and freshness always seemed to cleanse the landscape. With Christmas near, the world’s denizens, muggle and wizard alike seemed cheerful and happy. Hope was abounding and Harry always seemed to draw strength from the spirit of the season and the time.

A new snow had fallen the night before, covering every part of the street and park outside. It was early still, so nothing moved. No birds, no people; all was still. An endless wave of drifts and valleys covered in a magical white blanket of newness instantly calmed his pulse, settling him down. The edges of the window were coated in frost and ice painting mosaics of crystal on the panes like the border to a fine winter landscape. A light dusting of flakes fell in a haphazard fashion, driven to their resting places by a gentle breeze. The best part of this time of year, was that magic seemed to permeate all of the society and Harry thought that was perfect.

He heard her steps on the hardwood floors, the soft tread of her stride as she neared him. His heart began to race, how was it after being married for six months and having known her for so many years that her mere presence elicited such a response from him? She walked up behind him and reached an arm around his waist. He raised an arm and placed it around her shoulders. Her body fit perfectly into his; they were meant for each other. He looked down and the vision of her washed over him, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Her smile was warm, welcoming and always with a hint of daring and playfulness. He reached down and kissed her, the power of that simple gesture weakening his knees. She was beautiful, kind, soft and warm, but at the same time strong, independent and brave. This was not contradictions in personality, but the foundation of the most perfect person he’d ever met and his eyes watered slightly as he, judged himself unworthy of her presence, but lucky at his good fortune.

“Good morning.” His smile was warm. She returned his greeting. Her nightgown was flannel, extending to her knees. She was wearing a pair of soft fuzzy slippers in the shape of a bunny’s ears, a gift from Hermione on her birthday. She hugged him tightly.

“I love the way you look at me” Her brown eyes glowed, basking in his attention. She reached up and kissed him again. “You’re not working today?”

“It’s pretty slow, and Lachlan’s team is covering everything. I was hoping you’d want to spend the day with me, if you don’t have anything else planned.” Harry had made sure that her calendar at work was free. He’d even consented to lifting the hex on Rita Skeeter, so that, Ginny’s publisher would clear the next few days for him. “Its only a few days until Christmas and I wanted to have some alone time with you, before we head to the Burrow.”

She thought for a moment, realizing that she’d really had nothing planned. “No, I think I’m free until after the holiday.” A wicked smile came over her. “So, we don’t have anywhere to be and no one is around.” She pulled his arm, drawing him to the stairs. Harry didn’t need a second invitation.

A few hours later, they sat in the kitchen wolfing down the breakfast that Kreacher had left them. As usual, the offerings were delightfully succulent. They enjoyed being in each other’s presence, casting sly glances at each other, and giggling like adolescents.

“I have a surprise for you.” Harry broke the silence.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“Yes, we’re going on an overnight.”

“You mean you had something planned for today, besides the obvious?” She reveled in the torrid shade of red his face became.

“Yes, so pack a bag. We can go anytime.” She bolted from her seat and ran up the stairs.

************************************************** ************************************************** *****

They disapparated on a lonely country road near an old stone bridge. The trees were laid bare by winter’s hand and freshly fallen snow covered everything. Harry grasped Ginny’s hand and led her down the lane. As they neared the bridge he waved a hand wiping the snow from the small brass plaque affixed to the side of the bridge.

“Slaughter Bridge?” Ginny read the name on the sign, her breath visible in the cold air.

Harry nodded, “This is where the Battle of Camlann was fought. This was the place that Mordred and Arthur fought to the death. This was where we came to find Nimue, the Lady of the Lake.”

Ginny took in her surroundings, a look of wonder on her face. Harry smiled and led her across the bridge to the slope on the other side. The sound of bells rustled in the air. Ginny turned towards the sound and found a simple sleigh standing in the clearing near the stream. It was white with silver trim. A broad, black leather seat was its main feature with two flame-lit lanterns attached on gambols on either side of the seat. They walked toward the sleigh, the drifts coming up to their knees, making progress difficult. With little effort, Harry leaned down and picked her up and carried her to their conveyance. He gently placed her on the seat and reached on the platform behind them and pulled out a heavy down blanket, protecting her from the chill of the open Bodmin Moor. Reaching to the rear of the seat once more, he pulled out a thermos and poured a cup of steaming hot chocolate, and gave it to her, the aroma surrounding them in the quiet spot.

Ginny took a sip of her cocoa and looked forward to the team that was attached to the sleigh. Two sinewy thestrals nuzzled each other, cooing in their ethereal language. Ginny smiled in wonder and looked up at her husband in amazement. He smiled back at her and drew on the reins lightly, prompting their chargers to move on. They followed the contours of the moor, the rolling hills covered in a smooth white blanket. The scene was unrecognizable from last summer when Harry, Ron and Sarah had trudged through the muck and mud of the moorland in the summer. The thestrals maintained a slow and steady gait, while Harry leaned back and put his arm around Ginny. She put her shoulder on his and opened the blanket to share. They cuddled, taking in the landscape, not speaking, but hearing everything that transpired. She loved the sound of the bells as the thestrals gracefully traversed the countryside. The runners on the sleigh slid effortlessly through the perfect snowfall. She closed her eyes for a moment, and imagined that she could hear Harry’s heart beat, pounding in love and care for her. She thought, for a moment that the wind swept cold made her eyes water, but realized in an instant that the love she felt for this man next to her was close to overwhelming. The moment was perfect.

They continued over the hills, eventually happening on an open area where the hills met the running stream.

“That’s Dozmary Pond. That’s where Bedivere brought Excalibur and threw it to Nimue.” The lake drew nearer, the edges covered in ice, the water a dark black, smooth, almost like ice itself. The sleigh drew to a halt near the edge of the Pool. Harry extended a hand to Ginny, helping her out of the sleigh and walking her near the water’s edge.

“Do you remember when we were in Avalon? When Arthur freed Nimue from her service?” Ginny nodded, remembering the scene. Nimue was delighted, wanting to renew her love for Merlin. She’d come over to Harry and kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

“She said something to you, didn’t she?” Ginny’s curiosity was piqued. Harry nodded.

“She said, ‘You alone understood the hope that love gave me. You realized that love was eternal. You will be blessed by your own love. My gift for you is here.’ She’d put something in my pocket.” Harry pulled a faded parchment from his pocket and read it. “Ginny, take out your wand, please.”

Ginny was confused, the request unexpected. Trusting Harry, she drew her wand and stood next to him.

“I’m going to conjure my Patronus and I need you to do the same. We’ll do it together, out towards the center of the lake. Ready?” Ginny nodded. As one they pointed their wands to the lake.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A flash of brilliant white light extended from both wands, overpowering the white of the snow on the ground. Cast against the blackness of the water, they noticed the light changing into their forms. A large shining stallion was joined by an equally stunning mare. The pair frolicked together and ran off towards the middle of the lake, nuzzling each other, helping each other across. The Patronuses disappeared over the horizon of the lake.

The surface of the lake began to roil near its middle the blackness frothing white in a turbulent display of energy and power. A small point of white began to rise from the water, slowly growing to become the top of a tall spire. The spire was attached to a tower which continued to rise until in the midst of the pool stood a castle of ice, shimmering in the winter sun. The castle sat on a floe that was motionless and stable. A long finger of ice stretched from the flow to the point on the shore where they stood. Harry smiled at Ginny and led her onto the ice bridge, towards the castle. When they got to the ice floe, they noticed that every structure, every gate, every step was made of ice, perfectly formed into its integral parts. They entered the main keep area and saw torches of white light emanating from the walls and arches. In the middle of the main room, a fountain of water ushered into the air. In the middle of the fountain, a full sized image of Nimue floated, suspended in the streams of water. The eyes of the image shone a bright solid hue of emerald, its green hair flowing as if caught in a summer breeze. The image smiled down at them.

“Harry, welcome to my winter palace. At first, I’d always thought of this place as my prison, but what it became was a monument of my love for Merlin. I share this with you so that you can have the opportunity to display your commitment to your own beloved. This place is yours for the evening. All you need do is ask and your every need will be answered. Know that Merlin and I are together and happy. Remember your own words, Harry, love is eternal and its power is the greatest magic.” With that, she disappeared in a shower of light.

Ginny took a deep breath, finding her voice. “This is incredible. You’ve planned this all this time?”

“It’s good to know that I can still surprise you.” Harry winked and then kissed her deeply. “Let’s see how this works.” In his mind’s eye, he pictured a piping hot cup of tea. In an instant, a table with cup and saucer appeared in front of them. “That was easy enough.”

They explored their surroundings and glimpsed the wonders of the place. Doors were adorned with priceless gems and jewels in their surfaces. Harry got an inspiration and led Ginny up a spiral staircase to the top of the tower in the center of the castle. When they reached the summit, they gasped at the view. They could see for miles across the lake over the snow capped hills. It was as if they were monarchs governing their own solitary magic realm. Harry turned to his bride.

“Ginny, I have one more surprise. I know that Christmas is only couple of days away, and I have something for you when we are at your parents, but I have something for you, something special.”
He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a small gift box. Opening the box, he turned around so she could see it.

It was a locket. It was very simple and small. It looked to be made of plain gold, smooth, with intricately etched scroll work on its edges. Its chain was fine, thin but sturdy. Ginny smiled and took the locket, opening it. A small shower of light displayed two images, one of Harry and Ginny holding each other, and one of another couple, very familiar to Ginny.

“Are those your parents?” Her voice shook, amazed by the images. Harry straightened his shoulders.

“A while back, I went to meet Dudley out at a small café near Privet Drive. When I got there, he was sitting with my Aunt Petunia. Needless to say, I was surprised. Dudley explained that he’d been working on her, arguing about how wrongheaded she’d been, and, well, she wanted to talk with me.” Harry paused, his heart racing, his mind in a whirl as to what he should say. Ginny put her hand on his arm, urging him on.

“Anyway, Aunt Petunia apologized for her attitude and well, told me she was happy that I’d gotten married. We had a good talk.” Harry chuckled. “The thing of it is, when my parents died, Aunt Petunia was given whatever possessions they had to hold for me. It wasn’t much, but this locket was part of the bunch. She’d forgotten about it and when they returned to Privet Drive after Voldemort was defeated, she found it.” Ginny had a sharp intake of breath, the implications of Harry’s words coming clear.


“You see, that locket belonged to my mother. Aunt Petunia said that it belonged to Lily’s family. She’s right. It belongs to Mrs. Potter. It belongs to you.”

Ginny began crying openly, she reached up and hugged him tightly. He drew back and took the locket by its chain. Opening the clasp, he laid it around her neck and closed the clasp. It fell nicely at the bottom of her neck, as if it were meant to be there. He touched her cheeks tenderly, wiping the tears from her face and kissed her, soulfully, no other person near them, the world theirs for this one lasting moment.

After a moment, Ginny chuckled and began to laugh softly. Harry looked a question towards her.

“It’s nothing, really.” She looked up at her husband, the devil may care twinkle back in her eyes. “I was going to give you your gift early too.”

“You don’t have to, you know. I can wait until Christmas.” Harry was curious.

Ginny gently fingered the locket on her neck, the symbol of the gesture making her float higher than the tower she was on.

“No, I think I’ll give you your gift.” Looking around the castle and the landscape, she smiled. “After all, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Harry anticipated a kiss the likes of which he’d never had, much like his birthday present the first time they’d gotten together.

Ginny’s smile grew wider, “Your gift is, well, we’re going to have a baby!”

Harry stopped breathing for a moment. His heart stopped. Everything stopped as he processed her words. He looked at her, his love bursting from every pore of his body. He swept her up and kissed her solidly. Finally letting her down gently, he turned to the open expanse of water and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“We’re going to have a baby!!!”




***Author's Note: Leave it to the woman to get the last word. Oh well. The Weasley Family Christmas is up next.

How 'bout a bundle of FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)?

Chapter 48 – Christmas with the Weasleys

The Weasley home near Ottery St. Catchpole consisted of an odd assortment of additions and stories. As more children were added to the family, the more area was added to the home. From the outside it appeared to grow higher and wider, like a boxy inverted pyramid. The only thing really keeping the structure from collapsing on itself was the magic that Arthur Weasley employed to keep the building sound. The concept of the Sunday Dinner was a resounding success, however, the tradition that seemed to bear the test of time was the Weasley Family Christmas. Molly Weasley would lock herself in her kitchen almost a full week before Christmas, running all curiosity seekers out with forceful spells. At various times in the past, George or Fred or Ron would try secretive ways to find out what their mother was up to, to no avail. Even after George and Fred had started their fledgling business and had access to a wide array of gadgets and spells, Molly would find a way to thwart their attempts at premature knowledge of the Christmas feast.

Arthur, for his part, would take over the living room, trying to create the “perfect” Christmas atmosphere. His projects were always muggle-inspired and almost always abject failures. One year he was infatuated with Christmas carols, but drew his example from a muggle singing group called “Alvin and the Chipmunks”. It took Molly Weasley almost two weeks to reverse the spell that had elevated Arthur’s voice to a pitch that dogs could barely hear. Another year, Arthur was completely taken with finding the perfect tree. He scanned movies and magazines to find the image of the ideal tree. Once he’d settled on the right look, he began a frantic search for an evergreen that would fit the bill. Unable to find a pine of the proper height and girth with the appropriate fullness of branch, Arthur found a small Douglas fir sapling and using an engorgio charm, which caused the small tree to explode up to thirty times its size and density. Arthur had been pinned against a wall by the wayward boughs and the stairs that had passed directly above the living room were not navigable until a team of wizards and loggers appeared to clear the way. It was almost three months until the last vestiges of pine needles, cones and limbs were finally cleared from the living room, and a little longer until Molly would actually speak to Arthur in anything but monosyllabic words. To this day, a fresh pine-scented aroma wafted through the living room as a reminder of the Great Tree Fiasco of 1990.

This year, Arthur was particularly inspired by the whole notion of “The Christmas Village.” He’d read that this phenomenon in an American magazine that talked about the lengths people would go to create a perfect Victorian village scene, complete with lit ceramic buildings, landscapes, snow and of course, trains. Arthur adored trains and the idea that he could use magic to enhance a basic diorama of utopian Yule time living was almost too much to ignore. Further, since this involved a panoply of effects and detail; George, Lee and Dudley were more than taken in with the project, assisting in every aspect of the creation of what fast became a monstrosity of urban renewal, right in the middle of the living room. All of the furnishings from the living room were removed, except for the Weasley family grandfather clock, and that remained because a belligerent Molly Weasley had stood with her arms folded, head and shoulders covered in flour, toes tapping, and threatened serious bodily injury if the precious heirloom was touched.

The entire living room had been transformed into a rolling landscape of hills, dales and rivers in perfect three dimensional display. Various portions of wizarding Britain were represented: Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Quidditch stadiums and the like. A scale model of the Hogwarts’ Express ran from a miniature King’s Cross station up and back to Hogsmeade station. Arthur had pleaded with some of his colleagues in the environmental section at work to lend him snow spells, which he employed to keep a constant dusting of the powder in perpetual covering of the area. Lee had been responsible for the lighting and he’d conjured fireworks and flames to represent the sun and the moon as well as street lights, but always added an explosion here or there to make the display have what he called “character”. Dudley was fixated on automobiles and would bring in remote controlled cars and place them on a continuous loop throughout the display. Of course, no one really thought that it mattered that a modern era monster truck was really incongruous with a Victorian scene. George was responsible for populating their production with human figures, people. He started with the mundane, but eventually allowed his base side to carry the day. Soon there were images of Deatheaters on brooms colliding in fiery ways with the ground or a train or other flyers. The plumes of smoke marking their detonation always were a crowd pleaser. As with all of Arthur’s Christmas endeavors, he probably would not hear from his lovely bride until Christmas Day. Her issue this time was that given the number of people coming to the party this year, he’d used their only interior entertainment space for his gadgetry. In fact, he’d also blocked their Floo entrance for their visitors, causing a very circuitous trip around the diorama in order to gain access to the rest of the house. Arthur began furiously erecting a pavilion in their court yard to accommodate their guests.

Christmas morning arrived with a flourish causing the senior Weasleys to race around attending to last minute details. George and Lee had stayed overnight, making last minute changes to their creations on the Christmas Village. The extended Weasley clan began its arrival around mid morning. Ron and Hermione made their appearance, having spent Christmas Eve with her parents. The couple stepped onto the hearth and was immediately struck by a flash of light and snow that constituted the sunrise and blizzard of the ornate scene in the living room. For a moment, they were stuck in their position, with any one path through impossible. Ron picked his bride up and tossed her over his shoulder, in a fireman’s carry, much to her consternation, and tiptoed through the village with minimal damage.

“You could have just let me apparate to the courtyard, you git!” She gave him a playful smack and turned to greet her mother-in-law. Ron felt a tug on his trousers.

“’allo, Uncle Ron!” A radiant Victoire Weasley was demanding his attention and he was more than happy to oblige. Nearing five years of age, the tow-headed daughter of Ron’s brother Bill and his wife Fleur was the distinct copy of her mother. Her hair was fair and came down to just below her shoulders. She had a regal bearing about her, but Ron noticed, right away that her smile was distinctly Weasley in origin. Her smile was mischievous as if she’d placed a Weasley’s Wheeze under the dining room table, which, the more Ron thought about it, she just might have. She was the dangerous mix of her mother’s brilliant beauty and her father’s family riotousness.

“Hello, sunshine!” Ron picked her up and held her close, putting a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Uncle Ron! Put me down! I’m a big girl and a lady. Ladies do not get bear hugs!” Ron smirked at her reaction and put her down.

“Well then, Lady Victoire, what is the proper greeting for a lady of your stature?” Ron’s tone was serious, no trace of mocking or humor.

Victoire stood straight and raised her nose slightly, an air of arrogance in her voice, “Well, if you must know, this is the way a lady is greeted.” She put her arm out, hand with its palm down.

Ron gave an exaggerated bow and took her hand, placing a small kiss on the top. “Is that better, m’lady?”

Her cheeks reddened, smile breaking out on her lips. “Much, thank you. Teddy!!!” All pretense at decorum dropped as Victoire ran like mad to embrace the new arrivals to the Burrow. Andromeda Tonks and her grandson, Teddy, were wending their way through the door. Teddy heard his name and saw the flash of blonde hair approaching. His own hair turned a dark black and he rolled his eyes. He looked helplessly at his grandmother and braced for the assault. When Victoire reached him, she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Teddy’s hair instantly turned a deep red, almost matching the purple in his cheeks either from the crushing force of the hug from Victoire or from the embarrassment of the display. It was probably a good dash of both.

“Merry Christmas, Teddy!” Victoire released him and drew a deep breath. “Did you bring me a present? I have one for you.”

Teddy’s hair began to shuffle between a multitude of colors reflecting how flustered he was. Red turned to blue turned to green turned to orange as he stammered through his greeting, “Yes, er, Victoire, um, well Merry Christmas to you. Um, no, er I mean yes, we have, that is, my grandmother and me got you a gift, er” His eyes drifted through the room, pleading for rescue, but Teddy knew that there were Weasley boys about who reveled in his discomfort. It almost seemed as if they ate their own.

“Victoire! A lady never flusters a man. Let Teddy breathe!” Fleur Weasley came to his rescue, shooing her daughter away. “Well, Teddy! You look so handsome! You are what, seven?”

“Almost.” Teddy’s hair turned a calm shade of aqua, thankful for the rescue.

Fleur smiled, “you ‘ave grown so tall. What a ‘andsome young man!” She gave him a peck on the cheek causing him to blush harder while his hair became almost plaid as it flew through another range of color changes.

“Remind me to teach him how to play poker.” George whispered to Lee. “He’ll never be able to bluff.” Teddy saw George and Lee whispering and knew immediately that’s where the fun and mischief of the day would be. He walked over and greeted them. The two “role models” quickly began to tutor Teddy on the fine art of the whoopee cushion.

More and more guests arrived. Sarah Peebles was not too far behind Ron and Hermione, having decided that she’d much prefer being with Lee than at home. Right after Sarah, Charlie Weasley made his appearance, looking none the worse for wear for someone that spends his days in the company of dragons. The party was hitting full stride with everyone heading outside to the heated pavilion. A large table with a fire pit was set up in the middle and soon everyone began to congregate around the table. A crack and whoosh announced the arrival of Dudley, his mother Petunia in tow.

Petunia looked disoriented and clung to Dudley for dear life. George and Lee came up and shook Dudley’s hand fiercely. Dudley seemed a little out of sorts.

George gave him pat on the back, “What’s the matter, Duds? You have problems with the port key? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, yes, no problems, but” Dudley held up the object in his hand, “I know you have to use common objects, but a toilet seat? Couldn’t you have used something else?”

His two friends snickered and shrugged their shoulders, dragging Dudley with them to fill him in on their latest caper.

Molly Weasley approached Petunia Dursley and took her hand. “Welcome to our home. It must be a little strange for you, but I absolutely loved Lily, she was one of a kind.”

Petunia was a little shaken and she had problems finding the words, “Th-thank you. You have a wonderful home.” Her eyes widened a miniature witch on a broom flew past her face. “Where’s Harry, by the way?”

As if on cue, Harry and Ginny appeared. They were holding each other, gazing, smiling at each other, seemingly oblivious to anyone around. Molly looked at them, a memory of the last family gathering where Harry and Ginny had huddled around like that. “OK, out with it, what are you two up to anyway?” Molly put her hands on her hips.

Harry didn’t hesitate. He looked up from Ginny and at his mother in law, his voice carrying across the entire space. “We’re going to have a baby!”

Everything stopped. There was no noise and no activity. It was if the words hung like a balloon in the air. Molly Weasley was a dedicated family woman. Her emotions were tied to the sanctity and safety of her large family. Her expression was raw, loving. Her only daughter was going to be a mother. Her youngest child was going to have a baby. Molly Weasley let out a huge wail and started bawling, then grabbed Harry and Ginny up and squeezed them together.

“Wonderful! That’s wonderful. Arthur, come here, your baby is going to have a baby!”

The mood of the party became more uplifting, more upbeat. Everyone crowded around the happy couple, clapping them on the back, a surreptitious hand here and there touching Ginny’s stomach, as if the baby were coming just then.

Harry saw his Aunt Petunia. Leaving Ginny to enjoy the attention of their moment, Harry walked over to his aunt. He was unsure of what to do, hug her or shake hands. He was caught in the middle. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m so glad you could come.” She nodded. “It means so much that you’re here Aunt Petunia. I want you to meet Ginny.” Ginny and Harry’s communication was much better. As he was saying those words, he felt a hand in his, Ginny having moved over to where he was. “Ginny, this is my Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia, this is my wife, Ginny.”

Petunia smiled, “Pleased to meet you. You are so lovely. Congratulations on the news.” Petunia turned towards Harry, “Your mother would have been so happy for you, Harry.” She spied the locket around Ginny’s neck and smiled as a tear dropped from her eye.

Dudley had made his way over to them, “Everything alright, mum?” Petunia smiled at her son.

“Everything is perfect.” She smiled knowingly at Ginny and Harry.

With everyone abuzz about the news, the feast kicked off in high gear. Dudley had helped Mr. Weasley understand how to work the disk player, so Christmas music piped in to their ears as they dined and enjoyed each other’s company. They celebrated another year together and toasted their lost family members.

Everyone exchanged gifts, the children Teddy and Victoire receiving the lion’s share of packages to open. When everyone had settled in, Dudley and George moved to head of the table and set up a large television on its end.

“We have a gift for everyone.” George smirked at Dudley. “You see, we have in our midst, a great man, the greatest Auror ever.” George nodded at Dudley who started the small video player near the television. George continued, “But even the most accomplished wizard and Auror can be had, with the proper motivation.”

The video showed Harry’s Diagon Alley misadventures. Harry’s face showed shock and his face reddened. The assembled partygoers broke into applause as Harry’s carefully executed face plant into the trash can was displayed. He couldn’t help himself, he laughed. He’d been had. When the video ended, George stood up. Harry rose from his seat and looked at his cousin, accusingly.

“He imperialized me.” Dudley pointed to George. George held up both of his hands.

“Now Harry, you know it was all good fun. I mean, you can’t hold a little thing like this against me, can you?” A small bolt of lightning struck George in the rear end. Harry looked around, he hadn’t cast any spells. He looked at his wife; she was as stunned as he was.

“Bugger! I’ll get you!” Lee Jordan had his wand out and began to hurl charms at his erstwhile partner, who began to flee outside. The noise caused the whole room to become a flood of noise, spells and excitement. Molly was chasing after Lee and George, trying to keep them from escalating the battle. Dudley was right behind, his video camera at the ready.

Andromeda Tonks and Fleur were trying to separate little Victoire from Teddy, who she was trying to drag towards a tuft of mistletoe hanging over the tent entrance. Arthur, Bill and Charlie were chasing the miniature Hogwarts’ Express that had escaped its panorama in the living room and was making a beeline for the front gate. Ron and Hermione had locked arms and walked over to where Harry and Ginny were standing. They were soon joined by Sarah, who was shaking her head.

“What was that all about? What got Lee so riled up?” Harry looked at Sarah, wondering what was going on.

“Lee feels that it was a betrayal to leave him out of such a ‘perfect’ gag. He said it was lower than if they’d done the gag to him.” Sarah shook her head. “I’d better make sure they don’t hurt themselves.”

Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny looked at each other and laughed uncontrollably. The riot of sound and fury was all around them, a continuous cacophony of disorder and mayhem. Somewhere a Christmas tune was playing, not matching the flurry of activity going on. Harry turned to his bride, a bright smile on his face.

“You know what?” He raised his voice slightly, pointing to the madhouse around them. “This is perfect.” He reached down and kissed her.

Ginny knew what he meant. She’d grown up in this environment. The fights, the tumult, the craziness, all these things came with being part of a loving family. She and Harry were starting their own family, and as she saw Harry taking every bit of the silliness in, she saw that he was right. Everything was just perfect.


***Author's Note: It's like Christmas at my house! The feedback helps, I had not intended to incorporate the video, but there were requests. This your story as much as mine, so remember:

FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?p=4755796#post4755796)

Chapter 49 – New Year’s Resolutions

One of the most interesting things about being newlyweds is that every event or holiday that the couple experiences in their first married year is a new feeling. The new family is creating traditions and memories that will endure for their lives and the lives of their children. Sometimes the effort that young couples put into making signature holiday events memorable can be harder than the event themselves. Harry and Ginny wracked their brains trying to figure out how they should spend the New Year’s holiday together. They knew that while they would spend Christmas at the Burrow, they wanted New Year’s to be something that was uniquely theirs. In the end, it came down to history. The Weasleys were family and they’d always have family time. The new Potter family tradition for New Year’s Eve had been decided.

The man was bent over his desk, the light of a single candle the only source of illumination as he furiously scribbled into a battered journal. Splayed about were numerous bits of flora set at different angles near his work. He’d lost track of time, as was his wont. He was so engrossed in his work that he did not hear the approach of the footsteps to his door. He reached for another bit of leaf sitting on his desk and held it up to the feeble light.

“Neville, knock it off! You’re going to miss the whole thing.” Dean Thomas was standing in Neville Longbottom’s office door. Neville had been so engrossed in his research for the upcoming term that he’d lost track of time. The truth of the matter was that as the resident Herbology professor at Hogwarts, Neville was having the time of his life. He often found himself lost in the vagaries of exotic plant life and its relationship to magic. He was uncovering new and different applications of all parts of the plants he cared for and took great pleasure in passing his discoveries on to his students.

“Right, sorry Dean. Thanks for coming up for me.” Neville grinned and shut his journal. Extinguishing the candle with a wave of his hand, he walked over and joined his friend. They made their way down the corridor towards a nearby flight of stairs that led up to the seventh floor. Absently, they stopped talking and walked past the same place three times. Before long a doorway appeared on the wall nearby. Neville pulled on the handle and held the door open for his friend.

The Room of Requirement had configured itself into a large ballroom that was filled with revelers. Above them, the ceilings were high, marked with raised arches and grand chandeliers. White flower petals fluttered about and the sound of music drifted throughout the room providing a festive ambience to the party. At the far end of the ballroom, a clock face covering the entire wall kept steady time, a phantom pendulum swinging. Along either side of the room, buffet tables loaded with all kinds of food and dessert and a bar serving all manner of drink were stationed for the party goers. The crowd was gathered around a raised dais in the center of the room, amidst the dance floor.

“I found him!” Dean waved to the group which cheered in greeting and delight. “He was fiddling with his weeds, again.” Dean pat Neville on the back and guided him to the group. Atop the platform, standing by a podium, Harry raised a glass of champagne in mock salute to the late comers.

“Now that we’re all here, I’ll continue. Ginny and I were trying to come up with the best way to ring in the New Year. We thought about all the romantic or memorable things we could come up with and nothing seemed right.” He took in the faces of the people looking at him. “We thought about you, our friends. We’ve been through so much together. We’ve been through life and death and we’ve survived and won. All we could think of was that the only way to spend New Year’s was with Dumbledore’s Army!” The crowd burst into spontaneous applause.

“Well done, Harry!” Seamus Finnegan raised a mug of beer, suds flying. As if by premonition, the lights dimmed and the music began playing in earnest. Harry dismounted from the podium and it rose up out of the way. The party goers and their dates began to whirl around the dance floor.

Harry walked over to where Ginny, Ron and Hermione were standing, near a punch bowl. He gave Ginny a quick kiss, then turned and kissed Hermione on the cheek and shook Ron’s hand.

“Great idea, mate.” Ron sipped his drink and took in the room. “Using the Room of Requirement was inspired.”

Ginny spoke up, “Actually, that was Neville. When we owled him about the party, he came up with the idea of using the room.”

“It’s beautiful.” Hermione admired the décor. The music was ringing through their ears and the rhythm combined with the dance made her do a twirl. Grasping her husband’s hand, “Come on Ron, I fancy a dance!”

Harry laughed at his friends and put his arm out to his wife. She took it and he led her out to the dance floor. Fireflies flit about their heads, like fireworks in the night. The light in the raised ceiling blackened and pinpricks of light, like stars gave the illusion of dancing under an open sky. Harry kissed his bride, his hand slyly moved to her stomach, his eyes locking with hers, enjoying the moment. The kissed once more and held on tight through the music.

Neville stood by the punchbowl, his toe tapping time to the music. His eyes surveyed the people who had made the party. Cho Chang and Dennis Creevey were holding each other tight, barely moving on the floor. George had a beautiful blonde woman on his arm and he seemed to be chatting seriously with her. Lee and Sarah were seated on a bench seat, kissing passionately. Everywhere, people were with other people. The fact of it was, Neville’s love was his work and he’d not even thought about something social. He wasn’t sad about it. It was just life. He sighed and sipped his drink.

“You don’t like to dance?” The lyrical voice of Luna Lovegood cut into his reflection.

“Oh, hi Luna. I really don’t dance.” Neville turned to his friend, a pleasant smile greeted him as she sipped on punch.

“Of course you do, everyone likes to dance. It seems to me that you just don’t have a partner.” She held out her hand to him and the walked over to the dance floor. They joined their friends in moving to the music and Neville found himself more fleet of foot than he expected. There was something calming for her friends whenever they found themselves around her. Luna’s smile was innocent but knowing. It was if Luna was the mistress of her own universe and everyone else were welcome visitors.

As the night wore on, and the hands of the clock approached midnight, a noticeable anticipation moved across the crowd. Ron had been congregated with George and Lee, chatting over some new aspect of their business. As he would always do, his eyes roved the room, looking for his wife. He spotted Hermione standing by herself and noticed a wistful look on her face, which disappeared as Padma Patil walked over to talk to her. Ron saw the look. Something was troubling her. He excused himself from his conversation and walked over to her.

Padma had moved on and Hermione noticed Ron’s approach. Anyone who knew her would say that nothing seemed awry, but Ron saw the flicker of difference in her eye. He approached and kissed her.

“What’s wrong?” His question was direct, knowing.

She didn’t go through the dance, she admitted that she had something on her mind. “We’ve been married almost two years. Harry and Ginny have only been married a few months. It’s just that…”

He jumped to the heart of the matter. “You’re ready for children?” Her eyes cast downward. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. “If you’re ready, then so am I.”

She looked up at him, searching his eyes for indications of hesitancy or condescension. She saw none. Instead she saw an earnestness that filled her heart with warmth and love.

“I do, Ron. I’m ready.”

“Hermione, we’re a family. I love you more than life itself and I can’t wait to have children with you.” Her eyes welled with tears, and he pulled her to him, hugging her tight, stroking her hair.

“Come on you two! It’s almost time!” Harry was walking past them with Ginny in tow, moving towards the center of the room, in front of the large clock. Ron and Hermione followed them and by the time they’d arrived with the rest of their friends, the long tones of the clock marking the arrival of midnight began to toll.

As the last peals of the clock finished, they group exploded in a rousing cheer of “Happy New Year!” Here and there, couples marked the arrival of the year with kisses, as for the most part, everyone in relationships saw this new year as emblematic of huge change. Dennis and Cho kissed deeply, new love kindling with the promise of something more. Lee and Sarah embraced still awkward but soft, telling of a new encounter with the promise of something more. Neville and Luna shared a kiss, less romantic but more friendly, symbolic of the fact that everyone here would always be close and there to support each other. Hermione and Ron kissed with a renewed passion, sealing their commitment on moving forward with the next phase of their marriage. Harry and Ginny kissed, their bodies melded, sharing the energy of new life. Their year had been marked by loss, joy and the ultimate renewal.

As was always the case, the Room of Requirement anticipated the needs of the people inside. The lights dimmed and as the New Year arrived, the stars on the ceiling began bursting into a lightshow of fireworks and sound. The music began playing “Auld Lang Sine” and the party goers were singing along. Dumbledore’s Army had renewed their commitment to each other and knew that the D.A. had found a way to express their solidarity.

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The changing over of a new year is an event of renewal and growth. It can also mark a time of change. The man walked into the foyer of the large mansion. The corners and crevices of the entryway were shadowed in darkness. He walked into a main gallery, where light had not penetrated in years, save for the flicker of candles surrounding a small figure in the center of the room. The man walked towards the figure and knelt, his head bowed low.

“The time has come. The last of Voldemort’s fools have been captured.” The figure was shrouded in a blood red hood and robe. “That idiot Voldemort hampered our ascension with his selfish pursuit of glory and pure blooded nonsense, but now we can proceed.”

The man basked in the glow of the raw power of his patron. His voice was low, supplicating. “Perhaps he’s unwittingly helped us in our task. The fools are now convinced that they have faced down the worst evil they will ever face. They are complacent.”

The hooded figure looked at its minion. “That is true, and I have always been patient. We will destroy them from within. We will unify the wizarding world and the Minister and his lackeys will help us win. Their arrogance will make them unaware. Their compassion will make them weak. Their lack of ruthlessness will paralyze them. Their faith in each other will be their ultimate defeat.”

The man allowed himself a small smile. Truer words had never been spoken and the anticipation of ultimate victory washed over him. His master rose to full height.

“You may begin. The end of all things is at hand and there is no one to stop our rise.” The man joined in his master’s glee, their laughter echoing through the open space of the gallery. The time was finally at hand.


***Author's Note: Sorry for my tardiness. It's Labor Day weekend here in the US and my wife and I through a kicking '80s party last night, so I was busy, ok? Anyhow, a New Year is here in the story and we have some new things going on. I hope you enjoy.

The move into the main Flourish and Blotts area has opened us up to more readers. Your FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463) is greatly appreciated.

Chapter 50 – Grand Re-openings

The defeat of Lord Voldemort and the subsequent search for his followers had occupied the Office of Aurors for the better part of five years. The capture of the last few Deatheaters signaled a sea change for the Ministry of Magic. For almost twenty years the pursuit of dark wizards was exclusively tied to finding the Dark Lord’s minions. The Office of Aurors had grown to unprecedented numbers. Tragically, those numbers had been diminished by the countless battles that had been fought to protect wizard society. The Ministry had come to the decision that the number of Aurors would not exceed thirty total, unless otherwise needed. John Dawlish was assigned to head the Office and he’d reorganized the office into four working teams, each headed by a seasoned and blooded senior Auror. His four team leaders were Harry, Lachlan, Proudfoot and Savage. Each had six colleagues in their team for four groups of seven. With Dawlish, the current manning for the Office of Aurors stood at twenty nine. The graduation of Ron and Sarah marked the last such event for the foreseeable future, barring death or retirement. There were no trainees in the pipeline.

Harry walked into the open area that held the cubicles for the Aurors. His team was arrayed in a series of work spaces in line with his own. In addition to Sarah, he had five other Aurors of differing experiences and backgrounds. Ron, with Harry’s agreement, had elected to stay with Lachlan’s team, avoiding the awkward chance that he’d have to take direction from his close friend and brother-in-law. Since the end of the Morgana episode, the Office of Aurors had primarily been engaged in pursuing minor practitioners of the Dark Arts. The curses that these pseudo-dark mages were using were small and inconsequential, but still required follow up. The majority of their tasks ranged from checking on tips about the use of dark magic to the pursuit of adolescents who’d violated the ban on underage magic. Even now, Harry’s team were out, checking on a variety of mischief complaints from a muggle school, where several bouts of boils had broken out for no apparent reason. Harry was checking through several reports that had crossed his desk, especially an interesting announcement that Borkin and Burke’s establishment was re-opening under new management. Just as he was thinking that this was something to keep an eye on, he heard some muttering from the adjacent row of cubicles. Peering over to the familiar sound of his friend’s voice, Harry spied a red-headed body struggling with tying a tie.

“What’s up, Ron?” Harry walked over to where his friend was about to rip the tie from around his neck and made a slight adjustment to the knot, straightening out the problem.

“What do you mean? Don’t you have to get ready?” Ron checked the alignment of his tie in a nearby mirror. “The S.P.E.W. reception is at seven.”

“Sorry, old boy. My team is on the clock tonight, so I have to stick close by, looks like you’re on your own.” Ron rolled his eyes, picturing a long night ahead. Part of what Hermione had brought to her job with the House Elf Relations Office was to bring the patrons and members of S.P.E.W., the Society for the Promotion of the Elfish, together with members of the government in order to facilitate the systemic liberation of the house-elves. Tonight, one of the largest fundraisers and networking events for S.P.E.W. was being held at the home of one of the most influential backers of the organization. Members from the highest levels of government and wealth were coming together and Hermione was leading the way. As her husband, Ron was expected to attend and tonight, he’ll be going without the support of his best friend. Ron slumped his shoulders and walked out of the office, as Harry shook his head in mock sympathy.

Ron arrived through the Floo, one of many guests making their way to the large mansion. The fireplace was in a large ballroom, marked by high ceilings and elegant chandeliers. Several liveried wizards were carting trays of hors de oeuvres and drink to the attendees. A group of instruments, sans musicians were in the corner of the room playing a minuet. Ron dusted himself off and wandered about the room. He saw Cavendish and Dawlish standing together in a muted conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. Ron nodded to Dawlish and continued his search of the crowd. He saw Hermione standing near the center of the room, engaged in a conversation with a house-elf standing near Ron’s brother Percy. Ron straightened his tie again and walked over to join his wife.

Hermione saw his approach and raised her hand briefly. “Ron! I’m glad you could come, I’d like you to meet someone.” Ron glanced at Percy, who had a bemused look on his face. “Mrs. Burke? This is my husband, Ronald Weasley.”

A diminutive woman had been masked by the crowd from his eyesight. She came forward and offered her hand to Ron. She was old, very old. The creases and lines of age were well drawn into her face, yet her eyes were a vivid azure, full of life. She stood erect, not worn down by time’s weight. Her hair was jet black, not a hint of white or gray. Her grip was firm, solid and she had a pleasant smile as she greeted Ron.

“Kirklees Burke, Mr. Weasely. May I call you Ron?” He nodded. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a great pleasure to meet you.”

Ron murmured something perfunctory and looked at the woman. She was the oldest scion of a pure-blood wizard family possessing enormous wealth. Most of the members of her clan were not known as being overly sympathetic to non-pureblood causes, yet Kirklees had been outspoken in her support for elf’s rights as well as a fighter against prejudice based on background. She was distantly related to the former proprietor of Borgin and Burke’s in Knockturn Alley. Even though she was the oldest surviving member of the Burke clan, she’d poured a lot of effort and a lot of money into the cause and had reaped a sterling reputation for her efforts. Hermione was an absolute admirer. Ron smiled at her attention, amazed at her sharp intellect which belied her octogenarian exterior. The evening wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it be.

Evening in Diagon Alley had a different feel than the daytime. For the main concourse, there was an air of romance and mystery. The shops were gaily decorated in an assortment of lights and gas lamps that lent itself to couples looking to spend a few lost hours together. Like it’s widely accepted sister, Knockturn Alley took a distinctively different feel at night. The lighting was more sparse, casting ominous shadows across the open spaces. Walkers tended to tread rapidly, as if every dark place hid danger. Visitors would swear that they could make out eyes watching them from blackness of the side alleys and buildings. For years, Borgin and Burkes was the cornerstone of Knockturn Alley, its looming façade dominating the vistas in the walkway. The shop had been closed since the fall of Voldemort, its owners implicated in a number of crimes associated with the Deatheater wars, including the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry walked down the middle of Knockturn Alley, his shoulders erect and his robes flowing around him. Even though his attire was midnight black, it stood out from the shadows that dominated the thoroughfare. His viridian eyes absorbed every detail of his surroundings, settling on the entrance to Borgin and Burke’s. The double doors were thrown wide open, a fire pit lit on the front terrace. The flames were a brilliant red, casting a sinister glow on the building, as if it were bleeding. Harry chortled to himself and walked directly into the shop. The store was cramped and crowded with display cases and shelves housing any number of dark arts related artifacts. Books of dubious origin dotted a number of bookcases along the wall and bones and bottles littered the displays. A few patrons were scattered about the store, browsing the aisles. A number noticed Harry’s entrance, and quietly moved away from his proximity. One person, however, did not seem bothered by Harry’s presence. He took in Harry’s robes and prominent Auror’s talisman. He smiled in welcome.

He was dressed in black trousers that covered highly polished ankle length shoes. He wore a blousy black long sleeved shirt that buttoned down the front. A blood red ascot covered his neck. His ensemble was completed by a black sports coat, with a three button front, left open. The man was pale, almost translucent, as if the sunlight had never touched his skin. His hair was also black, straight and fell down beyond his shoulders and was pulled tight into a pony tail. He was tall, over six and half feet and his eyes were black, like onyx. The indication of age was the tufts of white hair that peppered his goatee, near the chin. His appearance matched the nefarious inventory that populated the store. Harry noticed the man’s stare and walked up to him.

The man held out a hand, “My name is David Farrant, I’m the new owner here. How might I help a representative of the Ministry?”

His grip was firm, but cold and clammy, like Harry had reached his hand into the depths of a crypt. Harry looked at Farrant over the top of his glasses. “I’m Harry Potter. I read somewhere that someone was opening this place up again. I was just coming by to see what’s changed.”

“I am honored to have this grand opening graced by your presence. It’s not often that we have a legend cross our threshold.” His smile twisted his face into a vile grimace exposing rows of shiny, thin teeth that seemed predatory. “As you can see, we carry most of the same items as the previous owners, with a few additions. These are all for nostalgic or sentimental purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry felt immediately that a game was being played. “This place doesn’t have a good reputation for straight forward business dealings.”

“One should not judged by one’s past. You were friends with Sirius Black, were you not? I dare say he wasn’t to be judged by his family history.” His tone was dripping, but Harry could not make out if it was contempt, sarcasm or humor. Harry chose to ignore the tone altogether, even at the mention of Sirius.

“Quite.” Harry looked around, his eyes taking in the tomes on black magic and blood purity. “Still, one should also learn from the past and not be doomed to repeat its errors. Don’t you agree?”

Farrant bowed at the waist. “I see your point, Mr. Potter. As you can see, this is just a curiosity shop. You’ll find no looming nest of dark conspiracies here.” He chuckled, the laugh sounding like earth thrown on top of a coffin.

Harry looked at David Farrant closely. After a minute or so, Harry smiled its tone was menacing, giving hint to an unspoken warning. “You’re right, of course. It would be complete idiocy to expect evil to pervade an establishment when the eyes of the Office of Aurors are being so watchful, wouldn’t it?” The challenge was issued not so subtly.

“It would be, were something underhanded were being done.” The challenge had been received and understood. “If there is anything I help you with, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, and welcome to the neighborhood. I hope your enterprise flourishes.” Harry bowed at the neck and strode out into the night. He’d have to keep an eye on this place and its curious new owner.

The pub was like hundreds of others that dotted the landscape of London. James Robins was no one. He was a simple man, a plumber who liked to spend his hours after work indulging in a pint or two after a hard day cleaning up the refuse of his fellow men. He stumbled out the door of the establishment and started walking towards the tube entrance. Passing an alley, he heard a scraping noise, followed by the mewling of a cat. A compassionate man, James Robins made the decision that would cost him his life. He walked into the alley to find the cat that was in distress. He reached the midpoint of the alley and peered towards a box that seemed to be the source of the noise. He never saw the shadow rise behind him. He never saw the darkness that passed over him. He never had a chance to scream before his life was stolen from him in one fatal, brutal stroke. James Robins disappeared from the face of the earth and no one in his muggle world had the first inkling as to how or why.


***Author's Note: Next chapter may not be until tomorrow or Tuesday, depending on my schedule. I'm working on it.

Fans and Pans are both appreciated...help me out here....FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 51 – Motion

It was well after midnight when he arrived back to his home. Harry took in the familiar surroundings of his sitting room at Grimmauld Place and tried to be as silent as possible. He tip toed up the stairs to his room and wordlessly removed his clothing and put on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. He turned towards the bed, his eyes barely making out the shape on the far side, moving in regular patterns. Harry took off his glasses and laid them on the bedside table. He lifted the bedcovering and slid his body slowly into the bed. Harry lay on his side, facing the bed’s other occupant. The form next to him continued its steady, rhythmic movement; Ginny had apparently not heard his arrival.

“You’re late.” Her voice was soft but clear, apparently his initial assessment was wrong. “Did everything go all right?” She turned to face him.

The dark of the night made it difficult to make out her features clearly, yet her face was bright and clear in his mind’s eye. He reached over and pushed hair from her face and he could feel her smile on him. “Everything’s fine. I had to go meet the new owners of Borgin and Burke’s.”

He played with her hair, stroking it back for her and caressing her forehead. She purred like a content kitten. He smiled, an electrical shock shot down his spine every time she did that.

“What about you? How did your day go? Is the Chudley win streak for real?” The Chudley Cannons had been on a tear of late, pushing through several teams and assuming the lead of their sectional.

“It looks that way. They meet up with some of the stronger teams in the League next month, so we’ll get a better idea then. Merlin save us from Ron if they actually win something.” Harry chuckled at that and reached a hand to his wife’s cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Harry’s hand reached to touch her stomach. She was only a little over a month into her pregnancy and had not yet begun to show. Nonetheless, a visible change was beginning to take hold. Her face seemed to glow and her smile was warmer. Her hair seemed a more brilliant shade of red and had a lot more life. Her body seemed more curvaceous, more alluring. In short, he found her more attractive, more beautiful than any other time he’d known her.

“I’m fine; I really don’t feel anything yet.” She placed her hand over the top of his. “Although, come to think of it, I am feeling a little strange.”

His heart checked at his throat. “What? What is it? Do you want me to get you to St. Mungo’s?”

“No, it’s not that at all. I’ve got this feeling; I don’t know.” He looked at her, concern emanating from his gaze. She smiled coyly, “You’re not sleepy, are you?”

Harry discovered another interesting change that came over women during pregnancy.

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When he arrived at the Ministry the next morning, Harry didn’t feel as tired as he ought to. He bumped into Ron in the Floo entry area and the two walked together to the lifts that would bring them to the Office of Aurors.

“I’m telling you, Harry, it really wasn’t all that bad.” Ron was regaling his friend about the S.P.E.W. reception the previous evening. “Mrs. Burke was very interesting. She’s known some of the most famous wizards of recent times. I had a good time, really.”

“That’s good Ron. I’m glad to see that you weren’t bored.” He clapped Ron on the back and the two exited the lift. They entered the Office of Aurors and were met by its normal bustle as interdepartmental memos and owls intertwined with the general conversation and movement into and out of the room. Harry nodded towards Ron and the two made their way to their collective desks. Harry watched Ron greet Lachlan, his own team leader. Harry gave a wave to Lachlan and then went down the row of his own team to determine who had made it in.

Sarah Peebles was at her desk, furiously scribbling away at a parchment, finishing a report on something or another. She gave a silent wave to Harry and continued her labors. Next to her was Williamson, a veteran Auror whose actions during the Thicknesse regime were not quite accounted for. He had an affectation for scarlet robes which were remnant from a cross cultural exchange he’d participated in decades ago with the Russians. He sported long hair bound in a ponytail, but spoke rarely. He did not acknowledge Harry’s gaze.

Next to Williamson was Leonora Sigismund. She wore light blue robes adorned with stars and moons. She had bright platinum hair cut short into a bob. Her eyes were a deep blue while her lips were lush red. Her skin had an olive tone, belying a Mediterranean background. She was thin, but athletic and could more than hold her own in a fight. Leonora was usually very pleasant to be around. She had a quick wit and a quicker temper and Harry found himself trying to keep her emotions in check, especially around her more intemperate colleagues.

Speaking of intemperate colleagues, one such specimen filled the desk next to Leonora, Sean Manchester. Manchester was short, but solidly built. He had the rough hands of a longshoreman and his head was like a square block resting on top of a cinderblock. His voice was rough like gravel and he lurched rather than walked when he moved. His massive arms hung out to the side and seemingly would drag his hands on the ground were his elbows not bent. His face was marked with pits and scars the result of an illness when he was a child. He was generally not what Harry would consider a “people person” and Harry had to watch for Manchester whenever he interacted with others, especially Leonora, who Manchester took special pleasure in annoying.

The final two office spots were taken up by Carter Coombs and Monroe Burby. Both men had been in the same year at Hogwarts. Coombs had been a Gryffindor while Burby had been a Ravenclaw. Over the years, they’d worked out a relationship that complemented each others’ strengths and weaknesses. Coombs as the smaller of the two, slight of build. He wore his black hair short in a crew cut. He had a long, narrow nose upon which a thick pair of glasses sat, causing his brown eyes to magnify in the lenses. His robes were almost always in a state of disarray and he talked with shy, almost pronounced stutter. One other thing, he was probably the most capable fighter in the Office. His friend, Burby, was Coombs’ polar opposite. Burby was tall, well over six feet. His skin was dark bespeaking the West African background of his muggle parents. He wore his hair in a crew cut as well. His robes were tidy and he had a massive, brooding way about him that seemed ominous, menacing. He spoke in deep, resonant voice, but by nature was introspective and analytical. He was the details person of the duo and together, they were the most formidable team in the Office.

All in all, Harry had a functional team, one he was always a little intimidated by due to his own relative inexperience in the job. While he realized that he was world renowned for his exploits, he hadn’t quite seen how that translated to this colleagues and what their perception of his ability was. He decided to plug his way through, much like he’d survived through the years, and take things as they came to him. He sighed a bit and rose by his chair.

“All right, let me have everyone’s attention.” Six pairs of eyes drew towards where he was standing. “It looks like we’re caught up on the minor casework. Monroe, where are we on finding Arnold Paole?”

Monroe spoke up, his rich baritone filling the air, “It’s odd, Harry. He’s seemed to have just disappeared. I can’t explain it.” Burby’s brow was gnarled in frustration, the inability to explain the disappearance of their target not a comfortable position for someone of his intellect. “He’s always been a bit player, small time. He’s thrown covering spells our way that are radically advanced for his ability. I just can’t explain where he’s got to.”

Harry sympathized with his massive subordinate, he nodded his head. “Keep me updated on any changes. Sean, where are we with the Adam’s search?”

The squat Auror let out a porcine snort. “We’ll have him by tomorrow evening. He’s going to visit his girlfriend and a Hit Team will be there waiting for him.” He chuckled. “James Wray from the hit team is going to take polyjuice to look like the girlfriend.” He couldn’t hold back his enjoyment of the thought. The rest of the team joined in the humor.

Harry calmed them down after a while. “Good, that’s good. All right, it seems we’re caught up. I’d like us to keep an eye down Knockturn Alley. I made a visit to Borgin and Burke’s and something doesn’t feel right with this new owner. I can’t point to anything specific, but I’m feeling an itch.”

Williamson had seemed completely disinterested in the whole conversation up to this point. He rolled his eyes and whistled. “Harry, your itches always seem to lead to trouble. Sean and I will keep an eye on the place.” Williamson gave a glance to Manchester who offered him a noncommittal shrug.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Harry looked over his team. “That’s it, check the incoming board and make sure your paperwork is up to date.” A flurry of activity down the way, near Lachlan’s team, caught his attention. He dismissed his own team and walked over to Lachlan’s desk, raising an inquisitorial eye.

Lachlan smiled at him. “We’ve got a strange report of some muggles that have been murdered down in the West End. They were petrified and killed. The strange thing was that there’s no sign of an Unforgiveable Curse. Physically, their bodies are dried up, but there are no marks whatsoever. I’m taking my team down to take a look. It definitely looks like dark magic.”

Harry gave Lachlan a pat on the back wishing him luck, as Lachlan’s team began to file out. Harry saw Ron and walked over to him. Ron nodded his head to Harry while he collected his satchel.

“You want me to let Hermione know you’ll be running late?” Harry looked over at the time, dusk was rapidly approaching.

Ron shook his head, “No, she’s working late. Her and Mrs. Burke are meeting with some House-Elves from the West Country to see how they were enjoying their freedom.” Hermione had been instrumental in approaching families around Ottery St. Catchpole and Godric’s Hollow to collectively emancipate their House-Elves. The success had been extraordinary and now she was looking to build on that success.

“Fine then, keep your eyes open, Ron. This sounds big.” Harry shook Ron’s hand and watched as he and Lachlan’s team made their way out the door.

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The crimson robes shone in the darkness as the man knelt in before the figure wearing them. His hunts were now being investigated, which had been the plan all along. He basked in the raw energy of the evil in front of him. All his years, he’d worried about pure blood versus mudblood and he’d wasted his time. Real power came from magic, dark magic that was used to its fullest potential. There were too many examples of the power of magic having no correlation to blood lines. The man was excited that his master recognized this as well. They were focused on power, and they would soon get it.

“You have done well.” The voice was low, barely a whisper. He coveted the slight praise, treasuring its infrequency, adoring its presence. “You know what to do next.”

“All is prepared. The Office of Aurors are acting exactly as you predicted. We will soon be in a position to undermine and dictate their every move.” He bowed low, enjoying the building laughter emanating from his patron. All was moving precisely according to plan.



***Author's Note: Sorry for the choppy previous chapter. I'm trying smooth out the information delivery.

Help! The FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463) has absolutely been critical.

Chapter 52 – Illusions

The rundown warehouse was made of century old brick, its front long deteriorated by time and neglect. Its windows were dark, marked with broken panes along its length. Lachlan’s team disapparated in a spear formation, arriving in the center of the open space. Dust flew in the air and a musty smell, like an old basement permeated the area. Lachlan took in the warehouse, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the shadows. The room was old, worn with signs of periodic squatters around highlighted by the remains of fires and refuse scattered about. Lachlan’s eyes were drawn to the incongruous sight of a man in a three piece gray suit who affected a relaxed posture near one of the walls. The man had the appearance of a dandy, making a conscious effort to avoid touching any of the surfaces in the room. He held a monogrammed handkerchief to his nose and mouth as if the smell of the building’s decay were a deadly contagion. Lachlan led his team towards the man.

“My name is Hennessy. The Prime Minister asked that you be brought into this because of the unique nature of the crime.” He pointedly avoided Lachlan’s extended hand. “Our own constabulary is quite upset at being excluded from this investigation. Quite frankly, I don’t see the need to involve you people in this.” He emphasized “you people” with a special contempt and his nose was slightly raised to mark his attitude.

Lachlan snorted. “We’ll try to remain out of your way.” He extended his arm to his team, fanning them out. “However, if there is dark magic at play, you will be thankful for our intervention, I suspect.”

Hennessy made no acknowledgement of Lachlan’s statement. “You’ll find the victims in the basement. I trust you won’t linger here long. We can not afford an incident.”

“I understand, we’ll be gone before you know it.” Lachlan’s words fell on deaf ears. Hennessy had already turned and left without another word. Lachlan shook his head and pointed his team towards a nearby flight of stairs. They proceeded down the darkening stairs, the only sound the creak of the ancient timbers as their weight bore down. Ron was in the lead, his wand held high, a luminescent blue light highlighting the space. They descended to an open room. Long planks of wood dotted the ceiling. At the end of the room, there appeared to be five slabs of meat hanging from the rafters. As the group approached, the figures clarified into resolution. Ron made out the hanging figures to be the bodies of four men and a woman. They were bound and the ropes hung from hooks suspended from the ceiling.

Lachlan made his way forward noticing that the bodies were hanging upside down, feet raised towards the room, heads barely suspended above the floor. Their skin was gray, ashen and shriveled, revealing the contours of their skeletal structure. Their eyes were a solid black, as if their blood had filled the eyeballs, like a glass full of wine. Lachlan bent down and inspected the face of the nearest body. It was of a man, a working man by the looks of him, a plumber or electrician. His face was contorted in pain, rigor mortis freezing his last gasp of horror for posterity. His body looked empty, as if the total internal volume had been emptied, yet no visible signs of injury could be found. There were no marks and no cuts. Lachlan stroked his chin in thought.

“It’s like their life forces have been drained from them.” Ron’s declaration mirrored Lachlan’s thoughts. Lachlan looked on the floor directly below the bodies. There was no blood, no detritus. Lachlan motioned for Cavendish and Ron to approach and indicated for the rest of the team to spread out and conduct a thorough search of the surroundings. Ron and Cavendish moved up to the dead, unconsciously recoiling from the horror of the scene.

“It looks like they’ve been exsanguinated, yet I can’t find any sign of blood or puncture marks. This is odd.” Lachlan searched the surrounding area. Finally straightening his back, he reached into his bag and pulled out an old-fashioned kodachrome camera. He extended the accordion lens and handed the camera to Cavendish. “Take a few pictures. This camera has been charmed to create full three dimensional images. Make sure you get the bindings.”

Ron walked up to Lachlan, as Cavendish began to snap pictures of the hapless victims. “So, is this dark magic?”

Lachlan started up from his musings, “I wasn’t sure for a moment, but look at the bindings. They’re remnants from an Incarcerous Charm. I don’t know what killed these people, but a wizard definitely bound them. Whatever happened to them, there was magic involved and we’d better find out who’s behind it.”

***

Williamson and Manchester worked their way down Knockturn Alley. Their dress was disheveled, almost like vagrants. They blended with the normal traffic that surrounded the alley. Coming to a shrunken heads shop directly across from Borgin and Burke’s, they proceeded to secure seating in a run down café directly across from the shop. They ordered tankards of ale and kept a constant watch on the front door of Borgin and Burke’s.

The sun fell and the traffic dropped at their target. Williamson saw a flash of movement near the side of the building which drew his eye. He focused on the movement and caught sight of a person who should not be there. He nudged Manchester, pointing down the alley. Manchester did a double take and looked back into the open doorway at Burke’s. David Farrant was still firmly ensconced behind his display case, but the figure in the alley was still, frozen. Manchester looked at Williamson who nodded in agreement. Paying their tab, the pair rose and moved towards the alley. They kept their movements subtle, relying on their training in Stealth and Tracking to obscure their intent from the casual observer. They slid into the alley, each walking down a side, approaching the familiar figure at the end of the alley. Williamson peered at Manchester, who shrugged his head.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The figure didn’t speak, but had a lost look on her face. “Why don’t you let us get you out of here, I’m sure your family would be worried about you.”

The woman spoke, her voice familiar to the pair, “Oh no, I’m perfectly fine and soon, so shall you both.” She smiled and raised her hand, her wand displayed, “Petrificus Totalus!” The spell reached from her wand and engulfed Williamson with its glare freezing him.

Manchester drew his wand, still shocked from who was attacking him. As he raised his arm, he was hit from behind by another paralyzing spell. As he fell, his eyes caught a glimpse of his attacker. A pair of dark eyes stared back at him, an evil smile on the face.

“Do not worry. Soon, everything will be perfect.” The man strode to his partner, who looked up at him with a blank face. “You’d better be moving along, my dear, before you are missed.” She nodded and walked out of the alley, her curls trailing smartly behind her.

The man turned towards the paralyzed Aurors, his face sneering. “You will thank me for this.” This time his smile was pure evil. Williamson tried to scream and realized his efforts were fruitless.

***

Burby and Coombs appeared suddenly at the hearth of a non-descript pub in Plymouth. It was near midnight and the Aurors found the place half filled patrons nursing their drinks. The two glanced at the bored bartender and walked out into the street. It was drizzly, overcast, the threat of a heavy storm lingering over the harbor. Their pace was brisk but unhurried, Coombs’ eyes searching like a falcon on the hunt. When they reached Pier Thirty, they found a quay with a warehouse sitting right atop the water, tall derricks reaching up into the night, their tops disappearing into the clouds.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Coombs kept his scan going, his free hand on his wand, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Burby was lost in thought, his partner’s voice bringing him out of his reverie. “What? Yes, this is the place. Pier Thirty, Plymouth. Arnold Paole was seen out here. This is where he is holing up.”

Coombs snorted. They reached end of the pier, where they found a decrepit Liberty ship moored alongside the pilings. The paint had long since faded, rust the dominant color. There was a decaying gangway leading to the pier, but no sign of life about the decks or within. The two Aurors drew up to the bridge and walked up onto the quarterdeck. There was no sound, only the wind filing through the holes in the hull and superstructure. Coombs looked up to the bridge and caught sight of a flicker of light. He pointed to the light and led Burby up the external ladder to the bridge. Rounding the corner, they found themselves staring at the back of a man.

The man turned around. He was bald, almost fifty years old. He smiled revealing brown teeth and gaps where several were missing. He began to cackle and raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Arnold Paole. You are under arrest for practicing dark magic on muggles and wizards.” Coombs had his wand up pointed at Paole. He was unprepared for the stun charm that hit his partner full in the back. Whirling around, Coombs took the brunt of another stunning spell in his chest. He flew back onto an old binnacle which housed a broken compass rose. He fell to the floor, his eyes darkening. As he lost consciousness, he saw a flurry of long black hair and the glare of amber eyes, his attacker very familiar to him.

“No need to worry, Carter. All will be revealed soon enough.” The shock of knowing who’d ambushed him followed him into his slumber.

***

Ron walked into his home, the old pendulum clock reading a little after ten in the evening. The apartment was dark, save for a small light near the high backed chairs near the window. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed that his wife, Hermione, was seated in one of the chairs.

“I didn’t see you there.” Ron smiled, grateful for her presence. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

She seemed lost in thought, staring out the large wall of glass that faced out into the city. After a moment, she seemed to snap to reality and noticed him standing there, as if she hadn’t seen him come in.

“Oh, hi Ron, how was your day?” He looked at her, puzzled by her reaction. For as long as he could remember, her brain worked on a razor’s edge, quick and sharp. Today, she seemed preoccupied.

“Interesting. We had an interesting situation develop.” He was about to delve into the mystery surrounding the dead muggles, but she seemed to lose her focus again, retreating into the depths of her mind. “Hermione? Hermione!” She returned her focus back to him. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, more it seemed, to clear out the cobwebs, than to say no. “It’s nothing. I just had a bad day; we couldn’t get any movement on some of the more wealthy families and house-elf emancipation. We’re at a standstill.”

Ron was slightly perplexed. She looked at him as if she had more to say, as if something more was troubling her. He turned to hang his robes on a coat stand. When he turned around, she had moved directly behind him. He started, not expecting her to be so close to him, and not having heard her approach. He was delighted and his love for her radiated from his being. He reached a hand to hers, and she jumped a bit as if hit by a jolt of electricity. She turned her eyes down.

“What is it? What’s bothering you?” He searched her eyes, the conversation from New Year’s echoing in his brain. “I told you that I’m ready to have children, is that the problem?”

She returned his glance, a small smile on her lips. “No, really, I’m just so very tired.”

“We’ve both been working so hard. We’ve barely seen each other over the past couple of weeks.” Ron was trying to be empathetic. He tried to communicate how much he loved her. Her mind, her energy, her passion all seemed at low ebb. He’d never seen her like this. The pressure of the weight of the world seemed to hang over her.

She gave him a half smile, thankful for his effort. “You’re right.” Wearily, she turned and moved towards the bedroom. “I think I’m going to turn in.” Without even a look back, she walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Ron stood, speechless, replaying the evening in his mind.

***

The next morning, Ron caught up with Harry in the corridor leading to the Office. Ron seemed frayed and worried and Harry stopped.

“Ron, you look a sight. Is something the matter?” Ron took a couple glances up and down the hall and lowered his voice.

“I don’t know, Harry. Hermione doesn’t seem herself. She seems distant.” Ron related last evening’s conversation and the commitment that they’d made to each other during the party at Hogwarts.

“I wouldn’t read too much into it, Ron. She’s been at the House-Elf Relations office for almost four years and has done more in that job than anyone else, ever.” Harry placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The wear and tear of that effort has to get to you. Maybe she’s just hit a wall. All you can really do is be there for her.” Ron gave a sheepish grin, Harry’s thoughts echoing his own.

“I know, but I hate feeling this helpless. I wish there was something I could do for her.”

Harry chuckled. “I know what you mean, but Hermione isn’t some fragile damsel in distress. In a lot of ways, she’s stronger than the both of us combined. Give her some time, she’ll pull around.”

Ron was grateful for his friend’s advice. The two continued their walk into the Office. Harry gave Ron a wave and walked over to where his team’s cubicles were positioned. He threw his haversack down on his desk and pulled a parchment from his inbox.

“All right, everyone, updates?”

Williamson looked at Manchester than spoke in an even, monotone voice. “Nothing to report from Burgin and Burke’s. Everything was quiet last night.”

Harry nodded and turned towards Burby and Coombs. “Word has it that you guys had a line on Paole last night, anything?”

Burby’s low baritone echoed, “We thought we had a lead, but we missed him.”

Harry grunted and looked down at his sheet. “Right, I’ll go and update Dawlish.” Harry turned and walked towards the other side of the room.

He did not see the hard glances exchanged by Williamson, Manchester, Burby and Coombs. After a moment, the four turned away from each other and looked towards their desks. Their shared moment lost in the morning buzz of the Office.


***A/N: Ah, the plot thickens, I think. (Long maniacal laugh as I twist the end of my handlebar mustache)

Please, I actually write this for the FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463).

Chapter 53 – “The Minister’s Acting Funny!”


Dawlish and Lachlan waited in the front office outside the massive oak door that housed the inner sanctum of the Minister of Magic. At length, the door opened and Percy Weasley came out, his arms full of scrolls and books, a harried look on his face. He smiled at the two familiar faces.

“He’s ready to see you. I’m sorry I took so long, affairs of state seem to be unending.” The two laughed and walked in the door. Kingsley Shacklebolt was seated behind a large wood desk that seemed to be carved out the stump of a gnarled tree. He was writing furiously and seemed engrossed in the task. The two friends moved to the front of the desk, not saying a word. The silence in the room was awkward; the only sound really was the scratch of quill on paper. After a long few moments, Dawlish cleared his throat.

“Ahem, Minister?”

Shacklebolt looked up, as if noticing their presence for the first time. His visage was empty, preoccupied.

“Ah, gentlemen. Please, sit.” He indicated the chairs in front of the desk. They shared a curious glance. “Sorry, the Wizengamot is considering a motion to emancipate all house-elves. I’ve just begun to review the legislation. What do you have for me?”

Dawlish looked at Lachlan, prodding him to start. “Well, Minister. It seems we have a bit of a Dark Arts mystery on our hands. The ramifications could be huge, considering the loss of life among muggles.” Lachlan related his findings from the warehouse. At times, Kingsley looked a little dazed and uninterested. When the senior Auror had finished presenting his facts, Kingsley took them in with a more serious gaze.

“That’s all you have?” Kingsley locked eyes with Lachlan causing the Auror to fidget a bit. “It seems to me that the evidence of any magical involvement is shaky, to say the least. Wouldn’t you think this is something for the muggle authorities? I would believe that the involvement of our Aurors would lend our community to greater exposure.”

Lachlan was stunned. Granted, he was working on a lot of conjecture, but he knew the signs of magic when he saw them. Shacklebolt had been one of the finest Aurors in his day, why couldn’t he make the connection?

Dawlish leaned forward in his chair. “Minister, I agree with Lachlan’s findings. There are distinct indications of magical involvement. The nature of the crimes is very troubling. We should delve deeper into this.”

Shacklebolt peered at both men, his brow furrowed. “I disagree, however, I’m not one to interfere with an ongoing investigation, especially when an Auror is chasing a hunch. However, I think you’ll find less nefarious reasoning behind these killings. We’re not even sure that they were murders. I expect your investigation to conclude as expeditiously as possible and then for this matter to turned over to the muggle authorities. Is that clear?” His gaze would brook no argument. “That is all, gentlemen.”

Their summary dismissal left them stunned. Rising, Dawlish tugged at Lachlan’s sleeve, leading him out of the office. They bumped into Percy on their way out.

“All done?” Percy’s demeanor was pleasant.

“Percy, is the Minister all right?” Dawlish looked back into the open office, catching sight of the Minister back to scratching away at his parchment.

“Of course he is, why?” Percy was genuinely perplexed.

Lachlan’s temper was rising to the surface. “The Minister’s acting funny.” Percy stepped back from the tirade and Dawlish laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“He’s just been very busy. We’re coming to a head with the house-elf business. It’ll be the crowning achievement of his administration and a lot of names will be made. Hermione will be in very high standing, I should think.” Percy was proud of his sister-in-law, especially considering that the Weasley name was attached to the legislation.

“That must be it, good luck with that Percy.” Dawlish pulled Lachlan away and headed for the elevator bank.

***

Ginny walked up to the door in the non-descript apartment house. The door was labeled “Number 7” and was adorned with a brass knocker that was engraved with the Weasley name. Tapping the knocker, she waited a few minutes. When no one answered, she turned the knob and found the door unlocked.

“Hermione?” Ginny was greeted by silence. The blinds on the main windows were drawn casting dark shadows throughout the main room. Ginny looked around and saw the bedroom door ajar. Slowly, she moved toward the door and touched it open wider. A large, four-poster bed stood in the middle of the room. The bed covers were tangled and matted. Ginny noticed a bundled nest of brown hair nestled on a pillow and the form of her friend lying atop the covers.

“Hermione!” Ginny raised her voice and shook the sleeping form on the bed. Slowly, Hermione raised her head.

“Ginny? What are you doing here? What time is it?” Hermione looked at a nearby alarm clock and saw that it was around ten AM.

“It’s morning. What are doing still in bed?” Ginny moved and drew open the drapes covering the windows allowing the sun to firmly penetrate the room. Hermione recoiled a bit, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“I took the day off. I’ve been on the go for so long; I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep. Is something wrong?” Hermione bolted upright. “Did something happen to Ron?”

“No, Ron’s fine. I’ve come to check on you.” Ginny found herself tidying up some clothing that had fallen to the floor. “Ron’s been worried sick. He thinks that you’re mad at him or some such thing.”

“That’s rubbish! I’ve just been busy. We’re going to free the house-elves. All of them. I’ve been working days on end, that’s all.” Hermione rose from her bed, pointing Ginny towards the living room. Ginny walked into the living room and hesitated for a moment, feeling as if her friend’s eyes were boring into the back of Ginny’s skull. When Ginny turned, however, Hermione was not immediately behind her, but had moved to put on a bathrobe hanging from the door.

“Tea?” Hermione walked towards the kitchen while cinching up her robe.

“No thank you. I read somewhere that I have to watch what I drink. I’m eating and drinking for two, you know.” Ginny patted her stomach, which had still barely begun to show signs of her pregnancy.

Hermione beamed, her smile was warm and genuine. “Ron and I have decided to give it a go. I guess that’s why he’s so up in arms. I’ve been kind of drifting lately. We’ve had no time for…” She paused, blushing.

Ginny laughed, relieved that nothing was really the matter, except that her friend was still adjusting to married life to an Auror. Ginny could attest that routine things, like family and love could be seriously hampered when one is an Auror.

“Do me a favor?” Hermione looked up from her ministrations at the stove. “Can you please put Ron at ease? He’s been impossible lately. I’ve got to freshen up.”

Hermione pointed to a door near her bedroom. “Believe me; I’ll make this up to him. Everything will be perfect!” Ginny laughed and moved towards the bathroom. Hermione watched her friend disappear behind the door.

***

“Harry, would you join me and Lachlan in the conference room?” Dawlish called to Harry from a door leading off of the main floor of the Office. He handed a parchment to Williamson and moved off towards Dawlish, not noticing the stare the Auror gave his back.

A voice rang from the cubicle near him, “Manchester, what’s biting you? It’s been a whole week since you made fun of my knobby knees!” Leonora Sigismund was teasing Sean Manchester.

He smiled weakly, “You’ve gotten boring to make fun of, Leonora. Maybe it’s the long robes you wear to hide your scrawny legs?”

She laughed, “I was beginning to worry about you.” He shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Williamson, whose eyes were still locked on the closed conference room door.

“What gives, John?” Harry walked to the large round table that took up the bulk of the conference room. Dawlish shut the door and invited Harry to take a seat.

“Lachlan and I have been puzzling over the muggle murders he’s investigating. We’ve just come from the Minister and the meeting was less than satisfying.” Dawlish related their encounter with Shacklebolt.

“You think he’s been imperioused?” Harry was doubtful, but always gave the benefit of the doubt to his two friends.

“I don’t know.” Lachlan rose, pacing as the thought. “He’s not acting in a stupor or as if he’s under someone’s control. In all things, he’s been quite normal.”

“Except this.” Harry turned to Dawlish, who nodded.

“I want to try this.” Lachlan pulled out a pair of ordinary spectacles, which looked very much like the glasses that Harry was wearing. “They’re Extrico Imperium lenses. The wearer sees a red aura around anyone who is not in full control of their faculties.”

“We want to be unobtrusive about this, Harry.” Dawlish was working his hands through his hair.

“You want me to go see Kingsley with these on.” Harry made a statement, not a question. Lachlan nodded and handed the glasses to Harry. He took them and replaced his own glasses with them.

“I’ll be right back.” As Harry walked out of the conference room, he made his way to his desk. Williamson looked up, and rose.

Harry looked at Williamson and paused for a moment. Fixing a steady gaze on the Auror, Harry adjusted the glasses and smiled.

“I’ve got to run up the Minister’s office, can it wait?” Williamson nodded and Harry left the room.

About a half hour later, Harry returned to the conference room and handed the glasses back to Lachlan. “Nothing. There was no red aura, nothing.” Lachlan seemed disappointed.

“Still, that doesn’t hide the fact that something is not right.” The three dropped into chairs around the table.

“Let’s take a step back. Why don’t we go over what we have, from the beginning?” Harry motioned for Lachlan to step through his evidence.

Lachlan reviewed the findings, stepping through every element of the crime scene. He pulled the photos of the bodies and their bindings to illustrate why he was troubled. Harry mused over the pictures.

After a few minutes, a thought came to him. “What if we assume that your theory about a wizard being involved is correct? It seems to me that we have to get to the root of how these people were killed. Forget their kidnapping or incarcerations, what’s your instinct tell you about their condition?”

Lachlan was silent. He reviewed the withered state of the victims and the condition of their bodies. The ashen pallor cast by their lack of blood or organs resonated with him. “If I had to guess, without really looking for injury, I would say that they were killed by vampires.”

“Come on, Lachlan! Vampires? That’s absurd.” Dawlish was noncommittal in his retort; his response was knee jerk and not wholehearted.

Harry gave Lachlan’s theory some thought. An inkling of an idea was rattling around in the back of his head. “Why, Lachlan? As you said, there were no indications of physical injury. From what we know about vampires, their bite is pretty distinctive.”

“True, but we really don’t know a whole lot about them, do we?” Lachlan began to run down his mental catalog on vampires. “We know they’re dark creatures. We know that they prefer darkness, although we really haven’t confirmed whether sunlight is deadly. Garlic and mirrors can repel them and the only way to truly kill them is to drive a stake, preferably made of aspen, wild hawthorn or whitethorn in their hearts. They procreate through some sort of blood exchange and the only way to free their slaves is to kill the primary, the initiator of the family chain.”

“Can you imagine if we went to the Minister with this story?” Dawlish’s palms were sweating; the notion that vampires were loose in London was disconcerting, to say the least. “If you thought he was skeptical before, just wait until he hears this one. Besides, we still haven’t accounted for the magical elements of the crime.”

Lachlan was stumped. His theory’s major flaw was the magic employed on the victims and the noticeable lack of tell tale bites. He clamped his mouth tight, unable to respond. He looked at Harry, who was staring at the photos on the table. “What?”

“It’s nothing, really.” Harry’s mind was churning at an unbelievable pace. The nagging thought revealing itself to the front of his brain and exiting out of his mouth. “I was just thinking. For centuries we’ve considered vampires to be dark beasts, creatures of the night.” His thoughts drifted to his godson, Teddy and Teddy’s father, Remus. “But Remus Lupin was bitten by a werewolf and retained his wizard powers while still being a werewolf. What would happen if a vampire happened to be a wizard, or vice versa? What if a wizard happened to be a vampire?”

Lachlan stared at Harry for a moment, mouth agape. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, it’s unprecedented!”

“As you’ve said before, Lachlan, unprecedented is a term that I am intimately familiar with. So, back to the original question, what kind of power would a wizard vampire have? What would be the consequences?”

Lachlan stood mute. Dawlish let his head droop and raised a hand to his eyes. “The consequences would be deadly.” As one, their eyes dropped back to the haunting images on the table.


***A/N: Best be nice to Styphon, kiddies. I'd planned to hold this one until tomorrow, but he insisted that was cruel and unusual. While I'm not above torturing my readers, Styphon keeps hexing me, so I posted it. Enjoy.

11th Commandment: Thou shalt provide FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463).

Chapter 54 – Uncertainty and Betrayal

The man knelt before his benefactor, drinking in the anticipation of the moment. Everything was going as planned. He’d served others in pursuit of higher goals, but never for something so important, never for something so meaningful. He could feel the power coursing through his veins; he’d never felt this alive. He thought to himself, what good was power without being able to wield it for a good cause? He had a cause. He had several causes, all higher than he, all worthy of his attention and all, now, within his grasp.

His patron stood before him and smiled. He could sense his disciple’s nervous energy. “Rise, rise. We are beyond this, stand up.”

The man rose, pulling the hood from his head. The fiery red head of Percy Weasley revealed itself in the light permeating the room. “We are nearing our destination. The others are moving to gain our final recruits.”

“Good.” His patron walked forward, pulling his own hood away from his head. “You have done well. Soon we will be in a position to unify our brethren. Think of it, no pure-bloods, no mudbloods, no muggles. All united in purpose and in magic by one blood. There will be no more slavery and no more elitism, only one goal, to live in harmony.” Percy smiled, lost in the moment. In one fell swoop, he would be an instrument in the introduction of a new utopia for wizard kind. He looked up at his sponsor, and saw his own smile reflected in the twisted sneer of David Farrant.

“Finish the mission.” Percy bowed and walked out the door.

***

Sarah and Leonora walked down the main street in Hogsmeade, their strides purposeful, confident.

“Thanks for coming with me.” Sarah was scanning the storefront windows, searching their wares intently. “Lee’s birthday is coming up, and I have no idea what to get a man who makes gag gifts for a living.”

Leonora laughed, “I don’t know what help I’d be, but I had to get out of the Office. Our partners have been boring lately.” Sarah let out a giggle. She’d not been with the team long, but had noticed that the men in her team had been very focused of late. She had no idea whether this was normal, but apparently to Leonora, it was out of character.

Leonora was enjoying the walk, the brisk February air filling her lungs. As they passed the alley leading to the Hog’s Head, she thought she saw Williamson’s familiar black mane flash into the pub.

“Wait a second. I think that was Williamson.”

“Where?” Sarah tried to follow where Leonora’s gaze led. “I didn’t see him.”

“Over there, heading into the Hog’s Head. I thought he was watching Burgin and Burke’s.” She was curious, now. “Let’s go check it out, besides, Aberforth is kind of a jokester, maybe he has an idea of what to get your man.”

Sarah blushed a little, and agreed. They turned down the alley and walked down to the entrance to the Hog’s Head. Pulling the door open, they walked into the establishment. The room was dark and their eyes took a few seconds to adjust. The room was mostly empty, no sign of Aberforth Dumbledore’s presence. In the corner, a group of people, garbed in black and crimson robes were gathered around a table. The noise of their entrance caused the group to turn towards the pair.

“Sean?” Leonora recognized her dwarfish colleague. “What’s going on here? What are all of you doing here?”

“Leonora, um, you shouldn’t have come.” Manchester walked away from the table, joined by the group. Sarah glanced at the group, unease building in her as she recognized the faces.

Williamson, Burby and Coombs joined Manchester standing in front of the table. Sarah’s instincts were blaring. She did not know whether finding this group at a pub in mid day was a normal occurrence, but their body language was distinctly suspicious. Unnoticed, Sarah allowed her wand to drop from the sheath in her sleeve into her hand. She held her hand behind her leg.

“It isn’t what you think, Leonora.” Williamson stepped forward hands out. “We’re working for the future, for all of us.”

“What do you mean?” Leonora was definitely puzzled by the development. Her own instincts were numb. These were men she’d fought and bled with. They’d earned the benefit of the doubt. Her thoughts were processing the scene when the stun charm hit her in the chest. Using Williamson to shield his movements, Manchester was able to get a spell off against the unsuspecting Leonora.

Sarah moved quickly, her own shield charm arcing out and knocking the four closely standing figures to the floor. She dove to her left, dodging a return bolt that Coombs had fired while he was being knocked back.

“Reducto!” Sarah’s curse destroyed the ceiling beam near her antagonists. Wood and plaster poured down on them, and obscured her, for the moment from their sight. She spied the door, still wide open and close by. She saw Leonora’s prone form covered in dust, not moving. During her training, she’d been tested in simulated situations where she had to make quick decisions. In all of the tests, there were no right answers and no wrong answers, just decisions and consequences. Flee or fight? It was a primal question. In the second that it took to decide, the answer was abundantly clear. She would get her partner out of there. In the end, neither choice would have mattered. As she ran towards Leonora, a pair of figures appeared in the door.

“Stupefy!” The stun charm hit her square in the back. Sarah was propelled into the wall, her head slamming onto the surface. She fell down near Leonora’s unconscious form. The haze began to overcome her as she fell into darkness. She desperately had to see her attackers. She had to know who had beaten her. Standing in the door, Elizabeth Cavendish’s amber eyes were fixed on the person holding the extended wand. The shock of the figure that stunned her completed her journey into slumber. She mustered one final effort, giving voice to her shock and disappointment.

“Hermione!?!”

***

The sun’s last vestiges were disappearing in the western sky. Harry tugged on the collar of his overcoat as he made his way to the warehouse where the victims were found. He glanced around quickly, ensuring his solitude. Reaching into his bag, he withdrew his Cloak of Invisibility and donned it quickly. Assured of his concealment, he ducked into the warehouse through a broken slat in the door. He made his way down to the basement, wanting to get a view of the area for himself. As he made his way down the stairs, the sound of voices drifted across the room to his ears. He drew his wand and crept to the wall, easing his way to the figures at the end of the room.

“You’ve done well. Our numbers are now sufficient to complete our task.” Harry’s eyes widened as he recognized David Farrant’s face as the new owner of Burgin and Burke’s was addressing a group of robed figures, whose backs were to Harry.

“The first step will be the House-Elf Emancipation Act. We will be taking our first move to unifying the magical world.” Harry choked back a shout. Percy Weasley’s voice echoed in his brain. The evening’s surprises were just starting.

“The elimination of slavery in our society is a great thing.” Kingsley? Kingsley Shacklebolt was involved in this? What was going on here?

Williamson’s voice carried to Harry, another hammer blow to his psyche. “We have all the Aurors, save four. For some reason all attempts at enlightening Ron Weasley, John Dawlish and Lachlan McCrory have failed. We’ve been unable to get close to Potter. He has thwarted every attempt.”

Farrant stood for a moment. “What about his wife, your sister?” His gaze was fixed on Percy.

Percy smiled balefully, “For some reason, our enlightenment charm has had no effect on her, much like with Ron. I was hoping you could help us understand.”

“It is of no matter. We have the numbers we need, and when they see the good we are doing, they will come to the light of their own accord.” Farrant was troubled by their inability to turn the three most powerful obstacles in their path, Dawlish, Lachlan and Potter. Their magic, apparently, was not infallible.

“Anyway, we have to finish why we are here.” Farrant turned and led the group to the figures of four bound humans. All were unconscious, their clothes ragged and torn.

“There is no other way?” Harry’s stomach turned. Sarah was among them. “Must we do this to accomplish our task?”

Farrant smiled patiently, like a father guiding a learning child. “These are criminals. They are thieves and rapists. They prey on their own kind. Their blood will be for the greater good and they will stop causing suffering and they will stop their own suffering. I’m sorry, child, but this is necessary.”

“It’s all right, Sarah. We have all done this. It really is for the greater good. Think of all those souls we will free.” Harry stopped breathing, altogether. Hermione! Tears began to stream down his face. He crumpled into a ball along the wall, his legs no longer able to support his weight. The betrayal was complete. He looked over and saw his friend, his best friend’s wife, the only sister he’d ever had. Hermione stood erect, her long brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Her face was pale and she had a serene smile on her face. The smile was a contorted version of her normal, pleasant grin. The long, dagger-like teeth changing her face into something feral. All of them had the daggers. All of them were vampires.

Sarah nodded and pointed her wand to the four figures on the floor. “Levicorpus!” As one, the four bodies levitated by their ankles. Sarah cast a glance towards Farrant, who prodded her to continue.

“Vacuus Sanguinious Corpus!”

The bodies began to shrivel and shrink, as if the skin were being pulled taut against their skeletons. A bright ball of light began to form in the middle of the group. It began to expand and turn red, as if the blood from the bodies were filling the luminescent vessel, which is what exactly was happening.

Soon, the light stopped growing. Farrant stepped towards the ball and waved his wand, muttering in ancient tongue. The orb burst in a blast of light and sound, tendrils touching each of the assembled vampires, causing each to feel a nourishing energy build in their bodies. Farrant turned to a smiling Sarah and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Well done.” She blushed at the praise. “We must go now. The time has come to make our move. Tomorrow night, we will announce our presence to the world. We have the event to do so and we have the numbers to make a difference. Now, return to your homes. Remember, keep silent!”

“What about Harry and Ron? I still don’t understand why we haven’t been able to help them see truth.” Hermione sounded distinctly like her old Hogwarts’ self, questioning the norm. This act of normalcy was the cruelest hit of all.

“Leave them alone. We don’t want to hurt them; we only want them to see the light. The Emancipation Announcement will give us that opportunity.” Somewhat mollified, Hermione joined the rest in a circle. As one, but to separate destinations, they apparated from the room.

Harry sat alone in the dark, his Cloak of Invisibility unable to mask the pain and hurt that he was suffering from. He had no idea where to start. He had no place to go. The tears streamed from his face. He had no idea if he had the strength or the will to stop them. How could he fight his friends? How could he help them return to their true selves? How could he heal their pain?

How in the world, would he be able to tell Ron?

The only answer available was the silence of the dead in the room.


***A/N: Okay, not the most uplifting chapter I've written, but as they say, it's always darkest before the dawn. Please forgive me.

As always, please let me have it HERE. (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 55 – Denial and Resolve

He had no idea of the passage of time. When he finally rose from his spot on the floor, he felt drained, all of his energy sapped by the depth of the loss he felt. Harry went out into the street. Removing his Cloak and stowing it in his bag, he wandered a bit, no clear direction and no real sense of what to do. His thoughts drifted to Hermione and the pain that Ron would go through when he learned the truth. Who to trust? The entire Ministry was compromised and it seemed everything hinged on the House-Elf Emancipation signing ceremony, which was scheduled for the following evening. He walked a few blocks, the full moon offering a lighted path down the deserted street. His head was down, the shock was wearing off and his mind was exploring a myriad of paths to follow. He stopped, his heart interjecting itself into his thinking. Ginny. The baby. His first job was to get them to safety. He couldn’t fight with them in danger. He pulled himself up and checked for any passers by. In a flash, he apparated home.

“Ginny!” He arrived home, the evening having settled into night. He ran up the stairs and into their bedroom. “Ginny!” His heart was racing, where was she? His eyes grew accustomed to the dark and focused on the bed.

“Wha-what? Harry? What is it, what’s wrong?” She stirred from the bed, sleep still offering confusion to her expression. His pulse slackened as he finally exhaled. She saw his face, its tear-streaked lines marking its features. His eyes were panicked and darting, as if he were worried, afraid and hurt at the same time. She’d never seen him in this state. She snapped to awareness.

“Harry? What’s happened? What’s wrong?” She rose and pulled him to her. He let himself go in a flurry of sobs, unable to talk. She held him. She was frightened, she couldn’t fathom what would put him in this state, but she knew he needed to release the fear, so she just held him.

After a moment, he settled and stood up straight. He guided her to the bed. “Sit down, I need to tell you something. It’s something horrible.” He told her everything. He related his experience in the warehouse and the events leading up to them. She took it quite well, for the most part. Her eyes began to water and she felt her own energy draining from her. Her brother and her best friend were part of a terrible conspiracy involving the darkest evil. Harry had left out a lot of the details, but what he told her shook her being to the core. As ever, though, her own inner strength overcame her fear.

“So, what are we going to do?” Her eyes blazed, she was determined. “Who can we trust?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. You seem to be immune to their influence, but we have to protect the baby. The first thing we have to do is get you somewhere safe.” Harry had moved to her dresser and was packing some things in a duffel bag.

“Where? The Burrow?” She hated the fact that he was right. It wasn’t just about them, anymore. They had to think about the life they’d created and the consequences of her safety.

He shook his head. “No, we can’t know who’s been affected or how long. Either Percy or Hermione may have gotten to your parents.”

“Where, then?”

He didn’t speak at first, making sure her belongings were secure. “Kreacher!”

The stooped house-elf flashed in being outside their door. “Yes, Master Harry?”

Harry didn’t bother to correct him. “Kreacher, I need your help. Ginny’s in great danger. Can you do something for me?”

“Of course, Master Harry, all you need do is ask.” Kreacher bowed low, confusion in his eyes.

“Please take Ginny to Hogwarts. Take her to Hagrid’s. The entire Ministry has been overrun by vampires. Trust no one but Hagrid and don’t let anyone near them. Will you do that for me? I don’t know who else to trust.”

Kreacher stood in stunned silence. The magnitude of the honor he’d been bestowed was almost more than he could bear, almost. “I will guard Mistress Ginny and the Potter child with my life.” His voice was solemn and his bearing was more erect, his duty more than any other he’d been charged with.

“I know you will, thank you Kreacher.” Harry turned to his wife and kissed her hard, grasping her in his arms. “I need you to do this, Ginny. I need to know you and the baby are safe. Hagrid and Kreacher will protect you.”

“I know, Harry. What will you do?” She was afraid for him. This wasn’t the simple task of defeating evil. He had to fight the people closest to him and he had to win. There was simply no other choice.

“I’m going to kill Farrant, and set them free. No matter what it takes.” His voice had an edge she’d recognized. It was his resolve to do his best, even unto death, to do what was right.

She kissed him back, her lips soft, reassuring, not conveying the sense that they were parting for the last time. He touched her stomach, almost in farewell to his unborn child. He looked at Kreacher, who stepped forward. The house-elf gently took hold of Ginny’s hand and nodded to Harry. In an instant, they were gone. Within minutes, so was Harry.

***

Harry entered the Office of Aurors more wary than he’d ever been. He surveyed the cubicles and did not see anyone about. He walked further back and spotted a familiar shock of red hair. Ron and Lachlan were seated together, reviewing some paperwork.

“Harry! What are you doing here so late?” Ron looked tired, the rigors of being the Auror on call wearing on him a bit, and perhaps the feeling that something was not quite right between him and his wife also hitting him. Harry felt a pang of guilt. Ron had no idea how wrong things were.

“Is Dawlish around?” Harry looked towards the Head Auror’s desk, it was empty.

“No, just me and the kid, here.” Ron snorted but noticed immediately, that Harry was not joining in the mood. Something was very wrong. Lachlan picked up on Harry’s mood as well. “What is it?”

Harry pulled on his Auror’s shield and held it in front of his face. “Dawlish!” He spoke the words clearly, directing them at the rotating comets and stars on the silver medallion. He beckoned his two friends to follow him into the training arena. Wordlessly, he drew them into one of the simulated buildings and waited. Before long, he heard his name and Dawlish appeared in the doorway, holding his own Auror’s shield. It was shining a brilliant gold with dark blue lettering stating, “Harry Potter, Training Arena.”

“What is it, Harry?” Dawlish walked towards them. “I was about to head home from Diagon Alley when I got your call.”

Harry looked at the three Aurors, all that were left of the team that Dawlish had meticulously rebuilt. “We’re in trouble.” The understatement of the century was followed by the most incredible and most horrible story ever told. His friends grew fearful and aghast. For a moment, no one spoke. What could be said? Finally, Ron broke the silence.

“Rubbish! Harry you’re wrong. You know Hermione. You know she could never do what you said she did.” Ron’s eyes blazed at his friend. Harry took a step back as it seemed that Ron was even ready to draw his wand. “You’re making it up! If she was a vampire, why hasn’t she turned me? Are you saying that I’m a vampire?”

“No, Ron. That’s just it, they were complaining that you and John were immune, for some reason. They were just as puzzled as I was. I have no idea why me and Lachlan haven’t turned.” Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“I do, to both counts.” They turned to face Lachlan, who had stood. “First, I’m a descendant of the great wizard and vampire hunter, Van Helsing. Our blood lines are immune to vampire takings. I had no idea that vampires could turn wizards and take blood in the way you describe, but it makes sense in a certain way. But if a vampiring wizard has enhanced magical abilities, it goes to mean that some of our weaknesses are there as well.”

“What do you mean?” Harry was intrigued.

“Come on, Harry, what’s the greatest power you’ve ever encountered. What has kept you alive, even after death?” Lachlan wasn’t impatient.

“Love.” Dawlish’s voice resonated. “It’s love. Hermione couldn’t turn Ron because her love for him made him immune. It’s the same reason that Elizabeth couldn’t turn me.”

“What about Ginny?” Harry was beginning to see the light.

“Well, Harry. She’s with child. There is a special kind of love that a mother has for a child. It surrounds them both and protects them together. Vampires can’t have babies in the way humans do. The concept of giving birth out of love is alien to them. You of all people should know how powerful a mother’s love for her child is.” Now Lachlan was definitely a little frustrated with Harry.

“You all have lost your bleeding minds! This is preposterous!” Ron was fuming, the implication that his wife was creature of the night was too much for him to process. Love also makes one blind. “I won’t hear anymore, I’m going home.”

Ron stormed for the door. “Ron, wait!” Harry chased after him. “Think about it, man!”

Harry caught up with his friend and stopped abruptly. Ron had drawn his wand and placed the point on the skin on Harry’s neck. “Don’t try to stop me, Harry. If you hurt her, I will kill you, am I clear?” Harry raised his hands and gave a small nod of his head. Ron turned and left the room.

“We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to prepare.” Lachlan grabbed Harry’s arm. Harry nodded, still watching the door where his friend had disappeared.

Dawlish joined them, “Where do we go? Everyone knows our haunts.”

“I know a place. Feel like a drink?” Lachlan smiled and led them out the door.

***

Ron huffed into his apartment. It was dark and he sped around the place looking for his wife. He searched the bedroom and saw no sight of her. Their house was empty. His heart raced, there was no way Harry could be right. The turning of the knob at the door announced her arrival.

“Oh, hello Ron. Did you just get home?” He nodded, unable to speak. “Good day at work?”

“S-sure. How about you? You’re out late.” He tried to be nonchalant, normal.

“Oh you know, the Emancipation is tomorrow. So many people will be enlightened, Ron. It’s so exciting.” For the first time in weeks, she was animated and excited. He hadn’t seen her that way about him or them. In fact, everything they’d wanted to do had been cast by the wayside for this crusade of hers.

“I’ll be glad when it’s over, then we’ll have more time together and we can go back to trying to have a baby.” He was hopeful, this was the trial balloon, maybe, after all, it was just the rigors of work.

“Come on, Ron! This is just the beginning. First it’s the house-elves, than goblins and maybe even we can stop all this pure-blood nonsense. There’s so much we have to do. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready to have a baby.” She smiled. “I’m turning in, you coming?”

“No, I have to go back to the Office.” She smiled and went into their room.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready to have a baby.” His heart broke. That wasn’t Hermione. They’d discussed this. After three years of marriage and a lifetime of experiences, having a family was all they’d wanted. A person doesn’t change like that. He stumbled out the door. His shoulders were limp, his head downcast. The truth had hit him like a sledge hammer. Harry had been right.

***

The only change to the Targe was the man behind the bar. With the death of Angus during Harry’s encounter with the Furies, the bar had been placed for sale. Lachlan had purchased the place and hired on a gruff, heavyset old woman named Mary. No one knew her full name, she was simply Mary. The Targe was no stranger to patrons drinking into the dawn hours and if the owner of the place wanted to sit with his friends, so be it. Lachlan, Harry and Dawlish nursed tankards of beer at a table, very near the place where Harry had first met Lachlan. Things were different then.

“So, what do we do?” Harry looked at his two companions. They were a trio against the world and the odds were grim. “Personally, I think Farrant is the key. We kill him and the rest are released.”

Lachlan nodded. “True, but remember, he’s got Merlin knows how many people. It won’t be easy, especially since we won’t want to hurt anyone to get to him.”

“We have no choice. They’ll only get stronger. There’ll be a lot of people there tonight, most of them not vampires. I think they’re using this opportunity to get to the most influential people.” Dawlish took a long pull at his drink.

“There’s one more thing. Even though we’re immune from this ‘enlightenment’, we can still be turned the conventional way, I think.” Harry looked at Lachlan. “They can bite us, Harry. Their bite can turn us.”

“Well then, we’d better make sure we get Farrant before that happens.” Harry was more afraid than before.

“One other thing.” Lachlan leveled his gaze at Dawlish. “You can’t hesitate. I know we don’t want to hurt them, but these are no longer the people you knew. You have to be ruthless, we can always heal the physical wounds. There is still something of our friends inside, else Farrant wouldn’t have to use this Emancipation pretense to keep them in line, but make no mistake, they will fight and we will have to fight back. Are you prepared to do that?”

Dawlish drew a deep breath. “I am.”

Lachlan turned to Harry who sighed. “I am.”

“I am, too.” They turned to the voice. Ron stood near the fireplace. He had on his black robe, his Auror talisman blazing bright silver. He had his wand in his hand and a bandolier around his chest with wooden staves inserted in the holders with their edges shaved to a point.

Harry didn’t smile. This wasn’t a happy time. He nodded to his friend and offered him a seat. Mary brought over another stein of ale and Ron took a deep pull. Now, they were four and that would have to be enough.


***A/N: I'm a little drained. The next chapter is titled "Civil War" and it should be a little like "King Takes Queen". I'm shooting for tomorrow, but I may take a tad bit longer.

Let me know what's going on HERE (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463).

Chapter 56 – Civil War

The main hall of the entry gallery to the Ministry of Magic had been transformed to host the gala. Balloons and streamers festooned the area and a raised dais with a podium had been erected near the large fountain in the center of the room. The three towering figures of a wizard, goblin and house-elf shadowed the podium offering a frame for the festivities. A large crowd milled in the open area. They were the best and brightest of wizarding Britain’s elite. Government functionaries mingled with industrialists. Rights advocates chatted up intellectuals. An air of anticipation covered gathering as well over two hundred beings noted a hallmark change in the world as they knew it.

“How little do they really know.” David Farrant allowed himself a brief grin. He made small talk with the other invitees around him, but his eyes scanned the room, making contact with the sixty or so converts he had intermixed with the crowd. He could not believe the progress he’d made and soon, he would be the de facto ruler of a new, powerful world. His heart, if he had one, would be racing with excitement. He was so close to victory. His eyes stopped on a monument in the corner of the room. It was erected to commemorate the victory over Voldemort. It displayed the figure of Harry Potter casting the spell that rebounded the Dark Lord’s killing curse and had brought victory. Harry Potter. He was the main obstacle to his total victory and no one had seen him in over thirty six hours. He knew Potter was plotting something. There was no sign of his wife and the other three seemingly immune Aurors. It was only a matter of time before they did something and he had to be ready. He motioned for Williamson to draw near.

“Any sign of Potter or the others?” Williamson gave a shake of his head. “We need to be ready, they may make a move and try to disrupt these proceedings.”

“We’re ready, the bulk of the Enlightened are distributed around the area. Once we have lifted the veil of ignorance, our numbers will have tripled.” Farrant nodded at Williamson’s report. They were as ready as ever.

A buzz began to make its way through the crowd. Kingsley Shacklebolt, followed closely by Percy Weasley, approached the podium and raised his hands for silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming here. This is an auspicious occasion, for today marks our entry into a new era. No longer will we have the stain of slavery and bigotry to mark our passage through time. No longer will one man hold himself above others in some fruitless search for advantage. When I sign this document, all house-elves in Britain will be free from bondage and equal members of our society.”

The crowd burst into thunderous applause. Kingsley removed a quill from his robes and leaned down to sign an impressive looking parchment. His movement was fluid, graceful and he whirled through the signature with little aplomb. When he finished, he handed the quill to a nearby house-elf who affixed his own mark. With a shake of the hands, the bargain was sealed. The roar of the crowd became deafening. Kingsley basked in their adoration, but after a moment, raised his hands once more.

“Many people put in tireless effort to make this day happen. I’d like to take time to thank these people. To my right is Gabney, the leader of the House-elf Coalition.” He paused as the crowd acknowledged the diminutive figure near Kingsley. “Hermione Weasley ran most of the groundwork.” More applause. “Kingslee Burke of S.P.E.W.” The applause was polite. “Percy Weasley.” More clapping. Kingsley worked his way down a list of functionaries who had worked on the project. As he drew to the end of his list, he cast his gaze towards Farrant.

“There is one man who was the true linchpin of this great achievement. David Farrant, please, come to the podium. Mr. Farrant was the man who helped us see the light and made it possible to move forward. Through his efforts, we were able to transcend the biases of the past and craft a new order of light. Without him, we would not be here, in a place where blood origins no longer matter. Where, after tonight, we are truly one people. David, a few words, please?”

Farrant feigned embarrassment as he approached the podium. So close. He could feel their eyes on him and he reveled in the attention. Soon now. He approached the dais and raised his hands in mock humility. After a moment, he began his speech.

Harry found it difficult to make his way through the crowd towards the speakers’ platform. Even though hidden under his cloak, he was playing a dangerous game of avoiding everyone. He took a circuitous route, slipping through gaps in the bodies working his way forward. While doing so, he was playing a dangerous game of vampire/no vampire. Who had been turned? He and his cohorts had deposited their shields behind the bar at the Targe. There would be no tracking them through that means. The fear gripped his body as he passed friends and family, all of whom he could not trust. He finally came to a spot near the fountain, behind the speakers and waited for the signal.

Three of the entry floos burst into a cloud of smoke and light marking the arrival of visitors to the Ministry. Eric Munch rose from the security desk and was promptly rewarded with a stun charm to his chest. The noise of the arrival and the sound of the attack drew the attention of the crowd. Standing line abreast, Lachlan, Dawlish and Ron strode into the main hall, wands raised and fire in their eyes. They didn’t hesitate, but strode confidently towards the gathering.

“David Farrant. You are under arrest!” Dawlish had no intention of arresting Farrant, but his voice carried and continued the distraction. Two of his Aurors separated from the crowd and smiled at Dawlish, trying to convince them of their benevolence. Ron struck them both with a shield charm and continued his walk.

Farrant gazed at their entry. “Stop them!” His minions moved towards the three interlopers, wands drawn, curses flying. Farrant gazed at the stunned onlookers who were unsure of what was happening. He raised his own wand, “Produxi Immortalis Cruentus!” A red light exploded across the room slamming into the assembled wizards. For a moment, their eyes glazed over then their front canines began to narrow and lengthen. Almost as one, the crowd turned towards the three embattled Aurors and moved to join the fray.

Harry knew that the moment had come. The odds had gotten significantly worse. He had to make a single desperate strike. He flung off his cloak and leapt into the waters of the fountain. He drew his wand in one hand and raised the stake in the other over his head. He made a headlong dash for the back of Farrant, who stood at the podium. Harry moved fast, any hint of his approach disguised by the pandemonium around him. He hopped on the platform and brought the stake down hard towards Farrant’s back, on his heart side. He nearly pulled it off. The stun charm lifted him bodily off the platform threw him to the side, into the far wall near the elevators. Harry rolled with the blow and jumped to his feet in one movement. His wand came up and he threw up a shield just as another spell impacted on its surface. Harry saw through the haze that he’d been thwarted by Hermione. She stood, side by side, with Cavendish and Sarah, covering Farrant’s back. Their faces were feral, their bestial incisors protruding in grins of pure hate.

The frontal assault was continuing. Lachlan and Dawlish had been driven to the left while Ron pressed his attack to the right. They relied mostly on their stunning and shield spells, but the weight of numbers would soon tell the difference. The three moved with amazing speed and grace, coordinating spells and evasions with practiced ease. Ron fought like a man possessed his anger and fear propelling the innate skill to a sharp edge. He rolled to avoid a spell cast by Coombs and sent Dean Thomas reeling across the floor. He destroyed a stanchion supporting a colorful banner, which brought the sign down onto a mass approaching at a run. He flung a shield charm at the Patil sisters who had been bearing down on him from the side. He didn’t stop his movement and dove headfirst for the floor and slid across the marble floor stopping behind a column to collect himself.

“Cover me!” Lachlan yelled at Dawlish, who nodded, moving into position to assist his friend. The older wizard moved with surprising agility and knocked more of their attackers away. He pointed his wand towards the towering statues over the fountain. His spell flew and slowly the large bronze figures began to move. They swept their massive arms through the crowd, sending bodies flying and giving the vampires another thing to worry about. Lachlan moved back to Dawlish’s side and engaged the Aurors pressing on their flank.

Ron had seen Harry’s flight across the room. As he peered around the column that was his temporary refuge, he saw his friend on his back, wand out, shield charm flying repelling the assault from the stage. Ron bolted from his cover and darted for the source of the attack.

“Stupefy!” His spell hit Cavendish in the side and sent her reeling into Sarah. Ron turned his wand towards the last figure hurling curses at Harry.

“Ron, help me!” Harry’s voice was insistent as other spells were making their way towards him. Ron stood still, his wand hand wavering, aimed at Hermione, who was continuing her assault on Harry’s shield. She turned her face towards her husband, her features had returned to their classic beautiful state. Her eyes bore right through Ron, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was haunted and stunning. He loved her so. He began to cry, openly. His teeth were clenched as he fought with himself. Ron straightened his wand and locked in on his wife.

“Harry! I can’t! Merlin, help me. I can’t do it.” Ron looked over to Harry and dropped his wand hand. Harry nodded. Ron never saw Percy’s stun charm him nor did he feel the darkness that overtook him.

They’d failed. Harry took out a small capsule and threw it against a wall nearby. A harsh, shrieking sound pierced the room. Dawlish and Lachlan heard the prearranged signal an bolted for the exit Floos. Within seconds, they were gone. Harry was not so lucky. He was the last of the assault force. He was holding his ground, but his will was failing. When Lachlan had departed, the animated statues had ceased their movements. Now, Harry had the full attention of the crowd. He fought on, flinging his friends to and fro. As the crowd began to close in on him, a sudden inky blackness covered the area. Harry felt hands on his shoulders that were pulling into one of the open elevators on the wall nearby. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the howls of frustration and the random casting of spells as his tormenters tried to pierce the shroud of the thrown Peruvian Blackness Powder. Harry let himself be carried away. He felt an arm cover his and then he felt the familiar feeling of apparition take hold. The Battle of the Ministry was over, and his side had lost.

He appeared in the familiar confines of Weasley’s Wheezes in Diagon Alley. He turned to his rescuer and saw the grim visage of Lee Jordan looking back at him. Nearby, he saw Dennis Creevey holding Cho Chang tightly. Lee had tears in his eyes but Harry also saw a building anger in Lee’s face.

“What the blazes is going on, Harry?” Lee was definitely angry, none of the happy go lucky character of the co-owner of a gag shop. “George was one of those things. I don’t know why I wasn’t changed, but I don’t like it at all.”

“It’s a long story, Lee, but we can’t stay here. It will only be a matter of time before they figure out who helped me and where you’d take me.” Lee raised his wand, as if attackers were outside the door. Harry put his hand over Lee’s wand. “Come on. We’ve go to go.” Harry led them to the stock room and gestured for the three to join hands. Harry grasped their hands and transported the quartet out of there. He only hoped that the others had been able to escape and make the rendezvous.

***

Ron woke with a start. He was laying on his back a hard, cold surface. It felt like rock. He tried to rise, but found he was secured tightly by bonds. He had a gag in mouth, rendering him completely unable to speak. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was not at the Ministry, but in a large room, almost like a ballroom. He was on top of a massive stone table. Surrounding him were scores of the same people he had been fighting a little while before. His eyes found his brothers, George and Percy and he pleaded with them. They had content looks of peace, as if they were parents about to punish a recalcitrant child for his own good. The crowd parted and several people, led by David Farrant made their way to him.

“You and your friends have been very nettlesome.” Farrant’s smile was cold but hidden from the rest. “You only need see the light. We will help you see the light.” Ron’s mind raced and tried to figure out what was happening. “I don’t know why you have been so obstinate, Ron. Our method of distributing the truth has not had an affect on you. An old friend once said, the old-fashioned methods remain tried and true.” He opened his mouth, displaying his massive front fangs then he halted and turned to Hermione.

“Perhaps, your husband would be more comfortable learning the truth of the one blood from you?” He waved and arm towards Ron. Hermione nodded almost numbly. She turned towards Ron while her gentle features transformed into its vampiric form. She smiled and started the slow walk towards her husband’s bound form on the table. Despite the gag, Ron screamed.

***A/N: The next chapter will have more thrills and chills, oh and a resolution to the problem. Stay tuned for more.

Feedback (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 57 – Highgate Manor

“What the devil is going on?” Lee was infuriated and his eyes blazed at Harry. “Sarah was one of those things. She was a vampire.” Lee Jordan looked around The Targe. The small pub was empty save for Lachlan, Dawlish, Harry, Cho, Dennis and Lee. Lachlan had sent Mary home and shut the pub down. It was early morning and the sun had not yet risen for the sleepy town of Lochinver. Each of the six survivors of the Ministry encounter had made their way to the pub and were busily licking their wounds. Harry gave Lee a sympathetic look. He waited until his distraught friend settled down and filled him in on the situation. Needless to say, Lee took the news rather poorly.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Harry?” Lee rose from his seat and began to pace.

“Who could he tell, Lee? Who could he trust?” Dennis walked over to Lee and put a massive hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If Hermione could be turned, who could Harry trust? As far as he knew, any one of us could have been a vampire.” Dennis glanced at Cho who had a slight grin on her face. “What is it?”

“Considering what Harry told us, you must really love me, that’s how we survived.” Her grin became a smile showing her teeth.

Dennis blushed a little, but recovered quickly. “How do you know that it doesn’t mean that you love me? I’m pretty sure it works both ways.” That brought distinct coloring to Cho’s cheeks.

“Why don’t you two stuff it?” Lee was not in the mood to hear their chatter. “Everyone that we know is a dark creature and they’re getting more recruits as we sit here. We’ve got to do something, Harry.”

Dawlish and Lachlan moved to join the quartet at the bar. “Yes, we can’t stand pat, we need to do something.”

“There’s an old philosopher, Sun Tzu, who once said, when in death ground, attack.” Harry stood and looked each one in the eye. “We’re in death ground, there’s no where else to go. We attack.”

“Where? Do we go back to the Ministry?” Dennis put his arm around Cho. “They’ll be stronger there.”

“No, our target has never been all of the vampires. We have to go after Farrant. He’s the key.” Harry looked over at Dawlish and Lachlan. “Highgate Manor?”

Dawlish nodded. “Highgate Manor.”

When Harry had started his investigation of David Farrant, he was surprised to learn that Farrant had purchased an old mansion located on the grounds of Highgate Cemetery. The home had been empty for almost three hundred years. Its previous occupants had been a family of dark wizards who’d unleashed a firestorm of death and destruction on wizards and muggles. Their defeat had been costly and their home abandoned. Farrant’s purchase of the property was interesting to say the least.

Harry looked around at his friends. “We’ve got to try, we owe that to our friends.”

***

Hermione approached her husband’s bound form on the stone table. A pair of hands grabbed his head and turned it to expose his neck. She could see the veins pulsating as his fear pushed his blood through his body. She opened her mouth, the fangs of her mouth glaring white in the room. She leaned down and stared at Ron’s eyes. She took in the fear and trepidation. That was normal, but there was something else. She paused. She saw disappointment. Why was that there? Why was Ron disappointed? She looked deeper, he was disappointed in her. He did not want this.

“Go on, child.” She turned towards Farrant and nodded. She turned back towards Ron and again, she hesitated.

Finally, she pulled back. “I can’t. He doesn’t want this. It’s not right.”

“You’re helping him see the light.” Farrant came down to the table. “Don’t you want him to help us? Don’t you want him to help you?”

“Yes, but we’re doing this so everyone can be free, right? Even those who don’t want to be enlightened.” She stood and looked at Farrant.

“You’re right, of course.” Farrant approached her and smiled. “However, if we don’t have your husband with us, no one can be free. Don’t you worry, I’ll do this for you.” He nudged her aside and approached the table. He would not hesitate. He would take care of the Ron Weasley problem and Hermione would fall into place. Nothing could stop him now.

An entire wall exploded in fire and mortar just as he moved to bite Ron. The force of the blast floored the vampires that were in the room. Swooping in on brooms, Harry led his intrepid warriors into the open hall. They peeled apart and began to engage the seventy odd vampires in the room. Harry spotted Farrant rising from the floor near the stone table that held Ron’s bound form. Harry turned the nose of his Firebolt headed towards the pale wizard.

“Impedimentia!” Farrant raised his wand causing a wall to rise directly in Harry’s path. Too close to avoid the block, Harry’s broom shattered against the obstruction sending Harry’s body flying down to the floor. His body landed with a thud on the wooden floor throwing the air out of his lungs. He recovered enough to dodge a spell cast by Ernie Macmillan and rolled away from the onslaught of vampires heading his way. He rose to his feet and threw a shield to clear a path towards Farrant.

“Expelliarmus!” His wand flew from his hand. He turned to see Hermione aiming her wand at him. He spun around and saw that he was surrounded. George and Percy Weasley had their wands pointed in his direction. Harry looked to see if any of his companions were nearby. Lee, Cho and Dennis were being backed into a corner on the far side of the room. They were still fighting but too far to be of any help. Dawlish’s prone body was lying across a slab of masonry surrounded by ten unconscious foes. Lachlan was locked in a duel with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Leonora Sigismund. He was being pushed back and Harry could tell that he would not last much longer. Farrant walked towards him, a ring of wizarding vampires surrounding Harry.

“You’ve lost, Mr. Potter. You should save yourself any more harm and surrender.” Harry lowered his head and took a deep breath.

“I’m not in the habit of surrendering, especially to the likes of you.” Harry extended his arms in front of him with his palms out. “Protego!”

In almost all cases, wands are used to cast spells in order to ensure that any charm has the proper force and focus. There have been cases where wizards have been able to cast spells without wands, but for the most part, there really is no way to ensure accuracy or depth of power. There are some wizards, a small few, who could deliver powerful spells without wands. Tonight, Harry found out that he was one of them. His shield charm wasn’t focused, but in the close quarters he found himself, that was not a problem. The real story was the power of the spell that was delivered. Every one of the foes that had been standing in a semicircle around him had been literally thrown to the four corners of the room.

“Accio wand!” Harry’s wand flew to his hand. Although he could cast without a wand, he was much better with one and tonight he needed his wand. He dove to his right and ran at Farrant, who was groggily rising to his own feet.

“Expulso!” Farrant’s spell impacted on the floor beneath Harry, throwing his body in the air. Harry brought his legs together and somersaulted in the air towards Farrant. The vampire allowed himself a grin and he displayed his teeth to Harry. Farrant would have Potter now. He would turn Potter and there would be no limit to his power. Time slowed down as Harry’s transit towards Farrant drew to a close. The dark haired vampire reached his arms out and grabbed Harry in a remarkably strong grip. He pulled Harry down to him and leaned in to bite Harry’s neck. His teeth sank into Harry’s flesh and Harry yelled in pain.

Suddenly, Farrant stopped and drew back his mouth from Harry’s neck. He threw Harry down to the floor and staggered back staring at Harry’s bleeding form. His hands reached up to the object protruding from his chest and he stared at Harry in shock. When Farrant had gone for the bite, Harry had jabbed his wand directly into Farrant’s breast.

Farrant stumbled and fell to his knees. His skin began to dry and crumble into ash. He screamed until he lost his voice. His face froze in a mask of hatred and surprise while his legs and arms disappeared. His body slowly faded into dust and within moments, all that was left was Harry’s wand, sitting on top of a pile of silt. Harry walked slowly to the remains of David Farrant and picked up his wand. He had a hand over the wound in his neck and he glanced around the room. Lachlan was down on the other side of the room, seemingly unconscious, like Dawlish. Lee, Cho and Dennis walked up to Harry.

“Episkey.” Cho pointed her wand at the wound on Harry’s neck, immediately staunching the flow of blood.

“It’s over.” Lee looked around for Sarah. He saw her prone form lying on the ground near the stone table. He walked over to her and turned her body over, checking her for injury. As she rolled over, her eyes flew open and she hissed as her mouth opened exposing her sharp canines to her beloved. Lee stumbled backwards. “H-harry. Something’s wrong. They’re still vampires.”

They stood in a circle, their backs to each other as the stunned undead began to rouse from the impact of the battle. Harry was shocked. “How is this possible? We killed the alpha, the primary vampire.”

“Of course you didn’t.” The voice was vaguely familiar. “David was a loyal servant and I enjoyed his company, but he was never smart enough for this. All that has occurred has been based on my design.” A hooded figure appeared near the main doors. The new arrival’s robes were a fiery crimson which glowed in the light of the fires smoldering from the assault. “It’s unfortunate that he could not turn you, Harry Potter. You would have made a powerful servant.”

“Who are you?” Harry could not make out the face of their new enemy. “I’m no one’s servant.”

“You think you can best me or my children?” The alpha vampire spread its arms to encompass the rest of the now recovered vampires in the room. “You’re battered and bloody. You have no more energy to fight.” Small, withered hands removed the hood from the alpha’s head.

“Kirklees Burke?” Harry was stunned. The benefactor of the greatest humanitarian crusades in the world was most powerful vampire in Britain.

Her deep blue eyes absorbed his surprise. “You see, this is my house. I grew up here almost seven hundred years ago. I am the oldest of my kind.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have done much to impede my plans for this world. I may have to kill you to make an example of you.”

Harry’s body tensed and he raised his wand. “I won’t stop fighting, ever. Eventually, I will win.”

“My boy, you can not win. The essence of the one blood will triumph. Just think about what I will bring to the world. There will no longer be an issue of blood purity. No one will be a muggle or mudblood. I will bring unity to the magical world.”

“At what price?” Harry felt his anger rising. “How many have to die for this to be real? What about humans?”

“They are cattle. They exist to feed us.” She stepped forward, just beyond the door. “We are superior! We are the future. We are the powerful. Why can’t you see that?” She pointed at Harry. “You have power, but you never use it. I know how to use power. Power will make this world mine. Power will make us rulers over all. It is a new order and there is absolutely nothing you can do about…”

The front of her robe rose forward. The point of a shaft of wood tore through the fabric and became visible. Burke’s eyes grew wide with shock. She looked down at the wooden shard exposed on her chest. Her scream was piercing and her death was more turgid, more violent than Farrant’s. Her body writhed and quivered as bits of dried and desiccated flesh tore from her body. The skin disappeared from her body leaving an inhuman skeleton in its wake. Her voice was still ringing through the room when the bones of her skeleton exploded into nothingness.

The room was silent as the echoes of her screams reverberated throughout. Harry kept his wand up and pointed out towards the figures of their former foes. He looked for any sign of change.

“It worked!” Harry turned to Lee who was cradling a sobbing Sarah Peebles in his arms. “She’s back! Harry, she’s back!”

Harry’s gaze shifted to the stone table in the center of the shattered room. Hermione had freed Ron from his bindings and she had collapsed in a heap, crying in shame over what she had almost done. Ron sat up on the table, unsure of what he should do. His own face was a mask of shame and pain. This battle had been costly, in more than just physical pain. It would be a long time before they all recovered from this, if ever.

Harry turned back towards the remains of Kirklees Burke. He wanted to see who had saved them all. Coming from the shadows of the doorway, Ginny appeared holding the shattered remains of Harry’s Firebolt, which she’d used to impale Burke. Ginny was trailed by Hagrid and Kreacher, both with chagrined looks on their faces. Harry’s heart soared at seeing her, but his expression had an unspoken question. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Have you noticed that the bad guys always seem to talk too much? That woman simply would not shut up!” She looked down at the remains of Harry’s broom. “I guess we’re going to have to get you a new one.”

Harry laughed and took her in his arms. He kissed her hard and she smiled even more. For the moment, they were together and safe. He looked over at Hagrid and Kreacher. He would have to discuss some things with them later. He turned his eyes back towards his wife. Her eyes danced teasingly.

There would be time for introspection and reflection tomorrow. Thanks to Ginny, there would be a tomorrow and that was all that mattered.



***A/N: We have a lot to cover in the recovery from this. Ron and Hermione, especially have some healing to do. Just some tidbits. Sean Manchester and David Farrant were known as the men who discovered a vampire in the Highgate Cemetary (allegedly) in the 1970's. Manchester also purported to have evidence of the Nun of Kirklees, who was the vampiress who eventually killed Robin Hood (again, allegedly).

Moving back to lighter fare next, but never you worry, I have a different action arc in the works so don't get too comfortable.

We're 57 chapters into this and I'm really digging all your responses, so please, continue the FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463).

Chapter 58 – Reconciliation

The sun rose in the eastern sky casting a soft pink glow across London. The warm bath of light caressed the large floor to ceiling windows of the apartment. Ron Weasley sat in his favorite oversized chair watching the birth of a new day make its appearance. Since he and Hermione had returned home, he’d sat in this position, unmoving. She’d gone into their room and neither had spoken. He sat up a bit and rubbed the rope burns on his wrists and unconsciously put a hand on the spot on his neck that only hours before was the place his wife had hesitated to place a bite. The events of the past few weeks caused a brief shudder. He took a second to glance at the closed door of his bedroom, wondering if he should go in and hold her but afraid of her response. A small part of him felt empty as if she’d betrayed him while the greater sum of his being felt guilty for holding the situation against her. As always, when confronted with great conflict in his emotions, he locked up. He couldn’t speak. For many years now, he’d relied on her strength and her presence to center him and now, she was the reason for his pain and indecision.

The bedroom was dark, all of the shades drawn. The dawn had no means of penetrating the gloomy interior of the room. The bed remained made, untouched. She was in the farthest corner of the room curled in a ball, hugging her own legs tightly. Her sobs had stopped hours earlier, her body completely empty of tears as she’d poured her emotion into the horror of what she’d done and almost done. She remembered everything and her actions shamed her. What scared her most was that she remembered the absolute certitude she felt in committing her actions. She recalled the absolute righteousness of her cause. She was freeing the house-elves and she felt she was doing an absolute good. During the night, she traced her actions and the betrayed faces that Sarah, Harry and Ron had frozen in her mind. Ron. He had tested her. The last night in the apartment, he’d asked her a simple question and she’d failed in the most complete way. She’d totally rebuked their life together in one sentence and now, only after the fact, she recalled the sadness in his eyes. Even the terror she saw when he was bound to the stone table could not compare to the abject sadness she saw when she told him she didn’t want to have a family with him. Even though she was cried out, new tears formed in her eyes and she began to rock back and forth.

Dawn had broken and the new morning had become reality. The full light of day was breaking and the bustle of the city below began to filter to his ears. Ron stood to his full height. He adjusted his ponytail and gazed out into the morning sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen. Spring was fast approaching and the first arrivals of the birds from their winter migration were making their appearance. He wanted to be angry, but try as he might, he really couldn’t bring himself to feel the rage. How different, really, was what happened to Hermione from when he left her and Harry during the quest for the Hallows? Actually, in his mind, his “betrayal” was more damaging, because he had done it of his own free will. Hermione was the victim, wasn’t she? The border of his mind was tinged in sadness and guilt. He loved her, that was for sure, but could they recover from this?

He walked the room, taking in the pictures and mementos of their life together. Here and there, he’d let out a small chuckle or a sigh as the memory of events past flowed past. He came to a picture of Tonks and Lupin. Ron’s mind settled on the image of their bodies lying together after the last battle. They were together, forever, bound by love and marriage. His eyes came to a picture of his niece, Victoire sitting with her mother and father. The image of Fleur’s undying love for Bill, even when Fenrir Greyback had bitten Bill, was vivid in Ron’s mind. It had not mattered one whit what had happened, Fleur was steadfast in her devotion. Incredibly, that was the memory that overpowered all of Ron’s thinking. All his life, he’d played the amiable fool. His friends and family knew better, but he always doubted himself. He always felt that he was playacting a role. He muddled through school and playing Quidditch. He always doubted whether he truly belonged. When he left Harry and Hermione in the woods during that fateful last year, it wasn’t because of frustration but because of doubt of his own ability. When he chose to become an Auror, he’d always thought that somehow he was barely making it, that some amazing turn of fate had allowed him the ability to continue. When Hermione had fell in love with him and married him, a small part of his mind always thought it was a fluke, that she’d made some mistake.

The thing of it is, Hermione never doubted him, ever. She always believed in him. She never played him for a clown or a fool. She never allowed him to feel that way. She was always there to bolster his spirits and to keep him on track. She was his center and now she needed him, more than ever. He’d told her all those years ago, that he’d never abandon her again. He wasn’t about to abandon her now. All thoughts of his own doubts and his own pain washed away in that instant. Right now, she needed him. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through and he felt like an absolute heel for being caught up in his own sorrow. His eye drifted to the bedroom door. Without a second thought, he walked to the door and slowly opened it.

She didn’t hear the door open, but felt the light hit the room as the sun’s rays drifted in the open jamb. She felt his presence in the room. She hazarded a careful glance at him, expecting to see anger or fear or, worse yet, disappointment. She saw none of that. He was smiling. She picked her head up from her arms and looked at him fully. He’d changed in the years they’d been together. His shoulders were broad and his body had filled in with muscle and mass. He was no longer the gangly, awkward teen who hunched over from his height advantage over his friends, now he was tall and lean. He’d let his hair grow down beyond shoulders and she loved the way he kept it pulled back into a ponytail using one of her ribbons to hold his hair together. His eyes were calm and reassuring, with a touch of worry as he moved toward her. He knelt next to her and placed a hand on her bare arm, causing a bolt of electricity to course through her body. Her eyes were streaming with tears and she tried to say something, anything to him.

“Ron, I…” What could she say? How could she take anything back?

He shushed her, gently, by putting a finger to her lips. Instead, he pulled her up and drew her into his chest, enveloping her in his arms. She buried her face into the warmth of his embrace and allowed him to support her, drawing strength into her legs from his love. Within seconds, they’d disappeared from room.

They arrived at the Burrow, his family home. He silently led her out of the courtyard to the outer wall. They walked together, hand in hand, out the gate into the surrounding countryside. The landscape was marked by pasture and rolling hills. The tops of the hills had the odd tree, but for the most part, the land was open and a vivid green. He walked to the top of one of the highest hills and stood beside an aging oak whose branches were just now budding, the promise of spring and a new life foretold on its extremities, just like it had done for countless decades before. Finally, he turned to face her.

“When I was a boy, this was my favorite place to go when I was home. With all of my brothers and my sister about, this was the only place where I could go that gave me a small amount of privacy.” He walked around the trunk of the tree. “I did this after our first year at Hogwarts. It was difficult; I had to do it by hand, no magic.”

He pointed to a spot on the tree, weathered by time, yet she could see the etching. The writing was crude, but the depth of the carving was demonstrable of the effort required to place it there. She peered closely and saw the writing.

“R.W. + H.G.” Her eyes widened when she considered when he’d said he done this.

“I’ve hoped for a long time, Hermione Granger Weasley, that our lives were destined to be together. I’ve always known that my life would never be complete without you.” She stood transfixed by his eyes, which burned with a fire of certainty. “I’ve always dreamt about us. Imagine my surprise when my dreams came true.”

Fresh tears burned her cheeks. He wasn’t railing at her and he didn’t seem hurt or sad, only resolved.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, not really. What’s important is that I have you back. I’m not whole without you.” He hesitated. “It’s never been about children or having a family. For me, it’s about us, and I don’t want to lose us. If you don’t want to have children, so be it. I would die if you didn’t want to have me.” His voice drew off and he cast his eyes downward.

“I’m sorry, Ron.” She placed a finger on his chin and raised his eyes to her. “I’m sorry I hurt you so much. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He chuckled a bit, his humor suddenly making its return. “I mean, you were taken over by an evil vampire. I think I can give you the benefit of the doubt, just this one time.” His eyes twinkled.

She smiled for the first time in a long time. ”I do want children. I want us to have a family, Ron.”

“Good, but there's time for that later. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about what happened?” His question was earnest. She saw the concern. She nodded. She was an analytical person. Normally, she could piece out puzzles by working them out, but the problem was about her, and frankly, she’d no idea how to be introspective. Here he was offering her a chance to have a shoulder to lean on and a way to analyze the events of the past few months. He smiled and drew his wand. He muttered a few words and one of the exposed roots of the tree expanded and transformed into a flat, bench-like construct. He took her hand and seated her on the branch. He reached into the inner folds of his robe and withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed it on her eyes.

Handing her the handkerchief he smiled. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” She drew up a breath and she told him everything.

They sat for hours, he listened while she spoke. Sometime during the discussion, he reached down and took her hand, gently caressing it as she worked her way through the horror she’d experienced and that she inflicted. He never wavered and held her eyes with his as she made her way through the tale. When she finished, they sat quietly.

After a while, he turned and looked at her. “That Burke woman used your compassion and your selflessness against you. You didn’t betray any one, Hermione. You had your best nature perverted in an evil way. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Hermione felt the warmth of his hand and the strength of his conviction. He stood and knelt next to her. “It’s going to be difficult for you. Even if our friends have forgiven you, you will feel the pain because you haven’t forgiven yourself. I’m going to be there with you, always. No matter how long or how difficult, I will be there with you.” He stood and pulled her up on her feet.

“I love you, Hermione.” His words were direct, his eyes were locked on hers and she felt them down to her soul.

“I love you too, Ron.” He smiled at her and leaned down and kissed her full. Their embrace was desperate and reassuring. They’d found each other again and realized, once more, that they belonged together.

When they separated, she wiped her eyes. “I was serious about what I said. I do want to have children.” A new sparkle came to her eyes and he finally noticed it.

“What? You mean, now?” She nodded, now the sparkle extended to the smile on her face. He smiled himself and pulled her to him, preparing to return them to their home.

“One thing, though, if I may?” He gave her a quizzical look, wondering what the condition would be. She gave a slight hesitation and the words came out in a little slowly. “Well, um, I was hoping…”

“What is it? Anything you want, you know that.” His response was a little quick and impatient.

She smiled. “Could you remove the garlic in your pockets and around your neck? It smells something fierce and it’s a myth anyway. Garlic doesn’t repel vampires, only lovers.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now you tell me. I’ve had a score of cloves on for the last two weeks.”

“I can tell.” They disapparated while laughing uncontrollably.


***A/N: Let the healing begin. We're going to build up to Baby James and some other things. I also have to lay the groundwork for some other things. It's all good.

Thanks for the great feedback, it helps. I got a little mushie this time, so let me know what you think.

HERE BE FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 59 – “Why is everyone acting so strange?”

Spring was blossoming into its full beauty at the Burrow. It was the Sunday after the events at the Ministry and Highgate Manor and Molly Weasley was unsure if her weekly family outing was going to come off. Despite her doubts, she conducted her preparations with all the vigor and aplomb of her normal efforts. She’d owled everyone telling them that she was going to put on a spread and hoped that the family would be together, like usual. Molly and Arthur had missed the goings on at the Ministry, but a visit from Kingsley Shacklebolt was enough to shock and amaze the elder Weasleys as to the gravity of the situation. Molly’s first action was to go to Weasley’s Wheezes in Diagon Alley. The shop was closed and no sign of either Lee or George could be found. Nonplussed, Molly went to Percy’s apartment. She found him there, and after some great effort, got him to fill her in on the details, as he knew them.

Percy anticipated that he’d be shunned, as before, but Molly Weasley was a powerful woman. Most of all, she was a mother who saw her children suffering and she wouldn’t allow any of her kids the opportunity to wallow in guilt or sadness. She set about doing what she did best; she comforted Percy and he felt a small bit better, so much so, he agreed to come to Sunday Dinner. Her attempts to get to Ron and Hermione had been slightly better, but Ron let her know that he was comforting his wife and he needed some time to make things right. Ron also agreed to make Sunday Dinner.

When the sun crossed its midday line, Molly was working feverishly in her kitchen while having Arthur finish his task of erecting the pavilion. It was the first time since last fall that they could have the dinner outdoors and Molly was going to take full advantage of the opportunity. As Mr. Weasley finished the final preparations on the tent, the first of the extended Weasley clan began to arrive. Bill and Fleur came in with their precocious five year old daughter, Victoire. For a moment, little Victoire forgot her lady-like trappings and leapt into her grandfather’s arms.

“There’s my little princess!” Arthur adored the affection his granddaughter gave him and always had a bauble or trinket to give her. “Let me see if I remembered to get you something.” He reached into his pocket and rummaged around for a bit. “Ah, here it is!” He pulled out a tiny crystalline figure in the shape of a unicorn. Its facets captured the sunlight and reflected in a prism of color. The little girl’s eyes danced a beautiful shade of blue and she squealed in delight.

“Thank you ‘papa. It’s pretty!” She held up the piece to show her parents.

“No prettier than you are, my sweet!” Arthur kissed Victoire on the cheek and whirled her around helping her to chase the butterflies that had started to congregate in the courtyard. Bill and Fleur smiled at their daughter’s glee and turned to see Molly coming out of the house. Bill gave his wife a quick nod and went over to give his mother a hug.

“Any word from the others?” Molly gave slight shrug of the shoulders. “It’ll be difficult, but they’ll make it through. You raised a strong family, mum.”

Molly smiled at his gesture. A sound in the living room announced the arrival of more guests via the living room floo. She turned to see Andromeda Tonks and her grandson, Teddy Lupin, exit the house and come out into the garden. Andromeda was carrying several pies and Molly went to help her carry them into the house. Teddy stood for a moment surveying the grounds and planning his misadventures for the afternoon. He had just turned seven and struck a remarkable figure for someone his age. His hair was a dark shade of blue and his eyes blazed with mischief and curiosity. He was the king of his world and no one could knock him off of his hill. No one, that is, except one tow-headed fireball of a girl who had made him her own personal possession.

“Teddy!” His hair turned an odd shade of purple and red as he heard Victoire’s voice. In a snap, he was running towards a nearby orchard, pursued at full gallop by a smooch-faced blonde bombshell almost half his height. Fleur made to follow, but Bill touched her arm.

“It helps for her to work off some of that energy.” Bill winked and Fleur couldn’t help herself, she smiled with him. About that time, Harry and Ginny made their appearance and immediately moved to greet Bill, Fleur and the rest of the family.

“Where’s Teddy?” Harry asked Andromeda the whereabouts of his godson.

She smiled and pointed out towards the sound of wailing and screaming. “He’s saying hello to Victoire.” Harry laughed and looked around, hoping the others would come as well. Eventually, the rest of the family except Charlie who was engrossed in the hunt for a rare blue dragon egg he’d had reports of in the Mt. Ararat area of Turkey. Ron and Hermione made their way to the Burrow and quietly greeted the family, followed almost immediately by George who had none of his usual wit and charm about him. Percy came right after George and shyly made his way to the pavilion. Finally, Lee and Sarah arrived. Sarah studiously avoided everyone, especially Harry, unable to make eye contact with him. An immediate air of tension took hold of the gathering. The conversation was light but forced, intentionally ignoring any hint of the events that had rendered half the family walking undead. Molly ushered them to the table and had everyone sit.

Most of the affected avoided eye contact, their heads down. Harry was at a loss. Any attempt at starting up a conversation seemed to fall on deaf ears. He turned to Ginny, wondering how he could get through to the rest of them. She shrugged her shoulders and had no answer for him. The feast that lay out before them was the most sumptuous, most extravagant that Molly Weasley had ever prepared, yet they mechanically made their way through the food with little enthusiasm. George Weasley was poking at layer of mash potatoes with his fork. His head was down as he studiously avoided looking at Lee and Sarah. In doing so, he failed to see the perfectly made chocolate crème pie that sailed in a perfect arc and landed precisely on the top of his head and splattered on his face and on Lee and Sarah, who were sitting in close proximity to him. Slowly wiping the smooth chocolate filling from his eyes he looked up to see who’d thrown the dessert.

“Gotcha, Uncle George!” Teddy’s hair was a brilliant shade of aqua, a self-satisfied color because he’d made that pie with his grandmother for just this occasion. George had long been trying to torment the young lad, and he’d resolved himself to get even. Teddy looked around, expecting a rebuke. Instead, the table was dead silent. “Hey, why is everyone acting so strange?”

Why indeed, thought Harry. Teddy looked around the table and figured that he’d gotten away with his gag. He was so wrong. Ginny took up a spoonful of mashed potatoes which went flying in a perfect strike to the side of Teddy’s face. The smug smirk on Ginny’s face was immediately wiped out by slab of roast beef that landed on her cheeks. She whirled and saw that the culprit had been her own mother, who was busily hurling peas and shepherd’s pie at Arthur and Bill. The food fight was on, joined in earnest by George, Lee and Sarah who formed a triangle of culinary sharpshooters taking aim at Hermione and Ron at the far side of the table. Soon the entire pavilion was a panoply food and drinks being tossed this way and that and covering everything. Ever the lady, Victoire Weasley stood outside the tent, calmly petting her grandfather’s owl and tut-tutting at every wayward morsel that was thrown. Soon, when every scrap had been expended, and every party-goer was covered in every morsel available, the scene burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Each member of the family was holding onto another and enjoying the side-splitting guffaws of their catharsis.

Molly Weasley stood up and gathered herself as best as she could. Wiping a smattering of baked beans from her eye and tossing a piece of pasta from her hair, she stood, dignified and raised her hands. “We are a family. It doesn’t matter what we’ve been through, or what has happened, we are always there for each other.” She looked around at the mottled faces of her assembled loved ones. “We need each other now, more than ever, and I hope we all can recognize that, now.” She received a round of applause. They broke into groups as each person went and said the words to others that had been lacking just minutes before.

“I’m sorry, Lee.” George reached out a hand to his friend. George looked over to Sarah. “Go easy on her, it was difficult to live through, you have no idea what it was like to have your body do things your mind knew were wrong.” Sarah nodded and reached a hand out to Lee.

Lee Jordan had already forgiven them. He was not, by nature, a vindictive man. “I know. We’ll all be fine.” He gave Sarah and quick peck on the lips and a promising wink. “Besides, when we get the shop reopened, I have a fantastic idea.” Lee spread his arms out. “We need a line of food fight favors!” George beamed, it was a capital idea.

Percy made his way over to Ron. “I’m sorry I stunned you, back in the Ministry.” Ron blushed a bit, waving his brother off.

“It’s over Percy, we won and you’re back to normal.” Ron gave his brother a big, gooey hug, rubbing more mashed potato into his head. “Besides, it was quite a thing to see you and Hermione agreeing on anything.” Percy laughed at his brother and winked over at Hermione.

“Don’t you want to clean some of that off, Teddy?” Harry walked over to his godson and pulled a bit of celery out his now green hair. Teddy shook his head vehemently. “Why not?” Teddy nodded over to the tent where little Victoire was lecturing the owl next to her.

“…And if that Teddy Lupin thinks that I’m going to go anywhere near him when he’s covered in food, he’s got another thought coming to him…” Victoire’s nose was raised in the air. Teddy looked at Harry and grinned, his hair becoming a definite shade of pink.

Harry walked over and sat next to Ginny. He put a gravy coated arm around her shoulders and watched the healing overcoming the family. They would be fine. Ginny started and for a second, Harry thought something had scared her. She smiled at him and grabbed his arm and put his hand on her stomach. He felt a slight bump against his hand, unsure that he was feeling what he felt. He looked at her, his eyes wide.

“The baby’s moving!” she confirmed. It was magical, barely believable. He felt the small tremor, once more and it sent shivers down his spine. He reached over and kissed her again and laughed at the sensation.

Molly and Arthur watched their family get back to normal and enjoyed the inherent lunacy of a Weasley family gathering. “What ever possessed Teddy to whack George like that?” Molly grinned at Teddy, giving him a wink.

“Who knows, dear? George has been teasing him for so long. He is Remus and Tonks’ son, maybe he just had had enough of it?” Arthur gave her a pull on the shoulders and peck on the cheek. Molly wandered off to get the family going on the clean up.

Arthur was surprisingly untouched by the “festivities” and walked silently out of the pavilion and out into the courtyard. “Uncle Arthur?” He turned to the voice and spotted Teddy Lupin following him out of the tent. “Did I do all right? I did what you told me to do.”

Arthur placed a reassuring hand on Teddy’s cleaned up face and mussed his hair. “Yes, my boy, you did just fine. You did exactly what I asked.”

“That was fun; will we be able to do it again?” Teddy was already trying to figure out what George would look like with a chocolate cake crown.

“No, I think your Aunt Molly wouldn’t take to that to well.” Arthur knelt down and looked Teddy in the eye. “In fact, why don’t we just keep this to ourselves? We may need to try it again someday.” Teddy gave Arthur a quick conspiratorial grin.

The two instigators of the Great Weasley Food Fight walked off to the western wall to watch the sun set and share in their success.



***A/N: Nothing, and I mean nothing is better for the soul than a good food fight. I learned that from the esteemed Senator Blutarsky, Faber University '64, Delta House. (Those that know what I'm talking about, God Bless You)

In the words of Sen. Blutarsky..."FOOD FIGHT! (and Feedback)" (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

"Fat, Drunk and Stupid is no way to go through life, son."

Chapter 60 – Remembrances


The arrival of spring coincided with the recovery of not only the Weasleys and their extended family, but with the general recovery of everyone involved. Kingsley Shacklebolt and his administration were under a considerable amount of scrutiny and criticism for allowing dark forces to insinuate themselves so deeply into the fabric of the government, but the effect was blunted by the implementation of the House-Elf Emancipation Act and by the vociferous support of Harry Potter on Kingsley’s behalf. The Office of Aurors was in a state of disarray, considering that the majority of its members had been turned, but Dawlish, Lachlan and Harry had made the Office’s recovery their primary mission. As May came around, Harry was fully engaged in bringing his team back to its fighting trim, but also, Harry was keeping a weather eye on his wife as she entered the last trimester of her pregnancy.

Harry sat at his desk reading over some dispatches that had arrived via interoffice memorandum. He heard the flutter of wings and saw Helios, his golden owl, preening himself on the cubicle wall. Harry took a treat out of his desk drawer and tossed it to the majestic owl and pulled the message affixed to his leg. Giving Helios a brief pat on the head, Harry unrolled the parchment and immediately recognized Ginny’s handwriting. He scanned over the contents of the message while his brow furrowed. As he moved to the end of the message, he allowed himself a little smile and rolled the message back up, then placed it in one of the inner pockets of his robe.

“What’s that, then?” Ron had walked up from his own desk located in the adjacent row to Harry’s.

“Not much, really, just a message from Ginny. She went to see the midwife and everything is fine with the baby.” Harry stood from his chair and pushed it under his desk.

Child delivery in the wizarding world was conducted, for the most part, under the guidance of a midwife. These were older or retired healers whose sole function was to assist expectant mothers with birth of their newborns. St. Mungo’s Hospital usually reserved itself for trauma treatment, and was not normally a facility designed with prenatal and obstetric care in mind. The midwife was usually consulted at the beginning of the first trimester of the mother-to-be’s term in order to determine a good course of prenatal care and delivery preparation. Ginny was due sometime in July and her visits from the midwife were scheduled weekly.

Ron gave a smile, “So, have you two picked a name? I hear Ronald is a popular choice.” Harry chuckled.

“We’re having a bit of a disagreement on this one. Ginny likes James and I’m partial to Arthur, if it’s a boy.” Harry tidied up the papers on his desk. “If it’s a girl, we’re both pretty set on Lily.”

“What? No Ronald, at all?” Ron teased his friend.

“Well, everyone knows that my favorite Weasley son is Percy, but he already asked us not to consider that name.” Ron gave a mock look of hurt.

“So, it’s been six years, are you going to the memorial?” The weekend would mark the sixth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Every year subsequently had been marked by a memorial on the grounds of the school near a grand memorial that had been erected near the cemetery for those lost in the fight with Voldemort.

“Of course I will. It’s sad, though.” Ron nodded his head in understanding. The turnout on the first anniversary of the Battle had been extraordinary, but each succeeding year had seen a noticeable drop in the attendance. Last year, it had only been the immediate friends and family of those lost. This year they expected the numbers to drop even further. Such was the nature of free societies when a crisis passes. The freedom to choose also causes very short term memories as to the sacrifices made to secure that freedom. Harry and Ron knew that the trend would only continue, until the arrival of the next dark lord.

“Listen, I’m meeting my team in the training arena. I’ll see you later?” Ron gave a wave and Harry walked out of the office area. Harry went down the main corridor and stopped at the door to the training arena. He adjusted his robes and walked into the massive, high ceiling chamber. Normally, the arena contained several mock ups of buildings and streets, but today it was an open space, like the bottom of a Quidditch pitch with several blocks and boxes laid about, like obstacles. The room was dark, the ceilings a dark purple with accent lighting dotted around the periphery of the moldings. Harry walked in purposefully and strode to where his team had gathered. They weren’t talking and none, save for Sarah, had looked at him since he’d entered the space. They milled about and avoided each other. Sarah stood with her shoulders back and head held high. Manchester and Williamson sat on boxes at the far end of the group. Leonora Sigismund milled around aimlessly and walked to avoid colleagues. Carter Coombs stood rigidly, his fingers twirling his wand in a variety of patterns, almost like a nervous tic. Monroe Burby sat idly, his massive size dwarfing his fidgeting partner, Coombs, while he crossed his arms and inspected a dust mite on his sleeve. The tension was palpable in the room, despite its openness.

Harry walked down to the arena floor and scanned each of their faces. Their guilt and regret for their roles during the vampire crisis were etched in great detail. Harry felt a momentary pang of empathy for them, but he also knew that for his team to retrieve its edge, a food fight was probably out of the question. He allowed a brief smile to cross his lips which buried into a scowl. With professionals such as these, the only real way to restore their confidence was to focus on the work. He’d read each of their reports on the events and Harry figured he had the way to bring them back.

“I can’t tell you all how disappointed I am in you. You should all be ashamed of your performance!” Harry’s voice grew in volume as he continued. “I’ve never seen such a poor display from Aurors in my life.” They all looked up. Sarah had a puzzled look on her face; this was definitely not the pep speech she’d been expecting. The others recoiled in shock, not expecting their normally fair minded leader to chastise them.

Williamson stood up. “It’s my fault, Harry. I led the rest in becoming vampires. I converted most of them. I should have been able to resist. You’ll have my resignation within the hour.” The crimson clad Auror dropped his head.

Harry didn’t let up. “Williamson, do you really think this is about you becoming vampires?” Harry stared down the veteran Auror. “What I’m talking about is how shoddy your performance was during this whole time.” Harry pointed to Williamson and Manchester, then to Coombs and Burby. “You four allowed Sarah over here,” Harry pointed to where Sarah stood. “to incapacitate you with a single blast charm.” The four Aurors recalled their fight to overpower Leonora and Sarah at the Hog’s Head. Sarah had destroyed one of the overhead beams which covered them in debris and effectively removed them from the fight.

“Leonora! At that same fight, you hesitated, even though you knew that the presence of your teammates was out of sorts. You let them get the drop on you!” Harry’s face was beginning to color as he really was becoming angry at their performance. “Sarah, why didn’t you attempt to escape at the Hog’s Head?”

“I made a judgment call, Harry. I was trying to save Leonora.” Sarah stumbled a bit, but was confident in her decision.

“Your first duty was to all of us. You should have made an attempt to escape and warn the rest of us. Your decision resulted in both of you being turned, not just Leonora.” Sarah’s head dropped as well.

“During the battles we fought, at no time did my side have more than six people and no more than four Aurors and yet you all failed to take us down.” Harry’s eyes lit up and burned into them. “In the Ministry, there should have been no way for the four of us to do the damage we did or to escape. That was a horrible performance.” Harry placed his hands on his hips and his tone softened. “I blame myself, really.” That drew surprised glances from his team. “I’ve been too easy on you all. I’ve neglected your training, allowed you to get soft. Well, I intend to remedy that situation. We are going to work harder, train more often and we will hone your skills to a fine edge.” Harry slowly drew his wand and took a defensive stance while whispering a stun charm. “I think we’ll start your training right, about, now.”

Harry watched them enter the office area. They were tired and frustrated. Their faces were animated as they discussed the session and went over strategies to combat the beating they had just taken from Harry. He allowed himself a smile. They were fixated on becoming better and he saw no evidence of the guilt or remorse that had been present before. Their own healing had begun.

***

They chose a perfect day to hold the memorial service. The sun was high in a deep blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Hogwarts was turned out in its finest regalia, the student body drawn up together, no houses, no class distinction, much like the students who’d fought against Voldemort. Tiers of seating were arrayed before the large monument that marked the entrance to the cemetery that held the slain from the battle. Seated were the survivors of the battle and families of the fallen. On the whole, it appeared to be an impressive gathering, but Harry knew better. Missing were the beneficiaries of the losses. The people who did not fight or did not sacrifice a love one were no longer attending the ceremony. Their lives had moved on and their memories had become lost. Only those personally affected seemed to remember the battle that was fought and they sat among themselves, keeping the memory insular.

Harry glanced around and saw the survivors of Dumbledore’s Army drawn up, all attending and all remembering their fallen. Dennis Creevey sat with his father near him and Cho on his side while he stared past the monument to the marker that identified the place where his brother was laid to rest. Harry sat with the Weasleys, his hand in Ginny’s while Molly and Arthur kept their own counsel, sharing their thoughts of Fred and his sacrifice. Andromeda Tonks sat with Teddy. She allowed a small tear to escape her eyes, but kept a surreptitious watch on her grandson. Teddy had attended every memorial, but this year was different. This year, he truly understood why he was here. He wore a black suit, with a white shirt and black tie. His hair was jet-black to reflect the occasion. He sat straight, his eyes focused on the eternal flame of the main monument, but straying every so often to the pair of grave markers beyond that sat together; the final resting place of his parents.

Neville Longbottom walked to the podium erected in front of the monument. It was an obelisk crafted from the finest white marble capped with a crystalline jewel which refracted the sunlight in a myriad of colors. Its sides were smooth, only marked with the carving of a large lightning bolt that was filled in gold. The monument framed Neville’s figure. Harry noticed that Neville stood tall, his shoulders wide and he approached the lectern with a confidence that he’d not had while a student. He was a teacher now, and his stature among the student body was growing every day. He placed a set of notes on the platform before him, but he never seemed to look down, the occasion perfect for extemporaneous reflection.

“Six years ago, we fought. The battle had been joined for many years and over time, had cost us many friends and family, but six years ago, this school and these people at rest behind me took up arms in a great cause.” He paused and surveyed the gathering. “We are all that remain to remember them, but it is of no matter, really. It is the nature of free societies that a special few fight and die for the liberty of the masses. That is what we must always remember.”

Neville hesitated, the weight of the memories bowing his shoulders slightly. He fought the sadness of the loss of his parents to madness and he tried to rein in the tightness in his chest over the deaths of that night, six years ago. His head dropped a bit, and the familiar shyness began to rear its ugly head. He felt a hand on his back, light but reassuring. He looked to his side and saw that Luna Lovegood had walked silently up to the podium and was looking at him with an earnestness that was her special gift to her friends in times of need. He felt his confidence begin to grow and he stood tall.

“I won’t say that our smaller numbers today don’t bother me. I won’t say that I feel a little let down by the fact that members of our government and our society have not shown up today.” Neville delivered his remarks without animus, but the bite was still there. “It really doesn’t matter in the end, as long as we, here, remember them. These were our friends and our families and our best tribute to them is remember their sacrifice and to remain vigilant against the return of oppression.”

Neville’s eyes began to water, but his eyes shown brightly against the afternoon sun. “The past six years have demonstrated that evil is always lurking. It doesn’t recognize your house, or your class or your politics. Your status or your notoriety has no bearing on your safety. We must be on the watch and support each other in keeping the darkness at bay.” Neville’s eyes finally rested upon Harry, boring into him with a depth that caused Harry to start. “I, for one, will always be there to fight, no matter what the cost, in order to preserve the freedom these people died for. That’s the least I can do to make sure that the price they paid all those years ago was worth the investment. I, for one, intend to earn their gift, each and every day.”

Neville stepped from the podium and leaned down to hug a teary Luna. He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and took her hand, leading her from the podium. A hush covered the crowd, the resonance of his words and conviction washing over them with a solemnity that finally brought appropriateness to the occasion. There were no cymbals crashing or contrived lightshows, just the gentle breeze off the lake and the rustle of the leaves from the orchard of trees nearby.

When the ceremony had ended, Harry made his way through the crowd, offering the umpteenth apology for the losses that the families had endured. He made his way into the cemetery and saw Teddy standing in front his parents’ graves, their headstones were joined by an arch at the top with an ethereal image of Remus and Tonks standing together, sharing a kiss. Teddy eyes were fierce, but there were no tears. He stood tall, staring at their picture. They seemed so alive and happy. Harry recalled Tonks’ unconditional love for Remus which overwhelmed the reserved man. She had unlocked the secret to his soul and Harry was absolutely convinced that they died happy because they were together.

“Uncle Harry?” Teddy finally spoke, his voice was strong. Harry looked down at him and grasped his hand, pressing Teddy to continue. “I’m ready now. Can you tell me how they died?”

Harry and Andromeda had tried to fill in the gaps of how they’d lived, who they were and how they loved. By mutual consent, they’d agreed to leave the darker aspects of their deaths until Teddy was older, when he the distance from the event matched his maturity to handle the details. His godson, Harry was discovering, was beginning to be wise beyond his years. Harry recalled his own childhood, raised as an orphan. He remembered the questions he had and how lost he felt by the emptiness of not knowing.

“Are you sure?” Harry knew the answer before Teddy did. Harry, after all, had been there before. A small glint came to Harry’s eye. Remus had been so prescient. In naming Harry godfather to his son, Remus had chosen the only person who could truly relate to the boy as he grew up. Harry wasn’t sure that Remus knew that Teddy would be an orphan, but coincidences in life are hard to come by. Harry took Teddy’s hand and let him towards the shore of the lake. As they walked, Harry turned and began to tell Teddy the story of the Marauders and of his first meeting with a rather peculiar Defense Against the Dark Arts professor by the name of Remus Lupin.

The crowd began to dissipate, heading back to their lives built on the sacrifice of the dead. Dennis Creevey gave Cho a quick kiss on the cheek and walked over to his father, who had not stirred from his seat since the end of the memorial.

“Are you alright, dad?” Dennis towered over his father, but his manner was gentle. “I can take you home, if you like?”

Lionel Creevey woke from his reflection. “I thought you were going to have a reunion with your D.A. club?”

“It’s no bother, I can get you home. I don’t want you to be alone.” Dennis smiled at his father, trying to shore up his flagging emotions.

“Don’t mind me, Dennis. I get this way this time of the year.” The hardworking milkman rose from his seat. “Since your mum and Colin died, it gets difficult, but I’ll be fine. You go on, now. Go with your friends.” Lionel Creevey looked over and spotted Cho walking with Dean Thomas. “She seems nice. You like her?”

Dennis blushed, “More than I can tell you. She’s the one, I think.” Lionel clapped his son on his broad back.

“Good, everyone should have someone. Hold on to her, son. Your life seems to always be unpredictable. It’s good to have something solid to hang on to, but there’s always a chance it can be torn away. You and I both know that.” Dennis glanced at his father, the tone of the response held a trace of bitterness.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I don’t mind taking you home, Dad.” Lionel gave his son a chuckle and his best brave face.

“Never you mind, I’m not feeble, you know. I’ve got the port key and I’m going home and going to bed. I’ve an early start tomorrow, so I’ll watch some TV and toddle off. You run along, I’ll see you next weekend. Bring that lovely girl of yours around and we’ll have dinner, ok?”

Dennis smiled and hugged his father, placing a kiss on his balding head. “Ok, Dad. See you then.” Dennis strode off at a pace to catch up with Cho. Lionel Creevey watched his son’s receding back. He pulled out the ancient key that his son had charmed that helped him transit from home to Hogwarts and back. He turned it in his hand, and the fear and the rage returned to his face. The darkness that filled his thoughts day after day, night after night, returned. He sighed heavily and transported home, to be alone with his feelings.


***A/N: I had not planned for this chapter to coincide with the sixth anniversary of 9/11 but it seemed fitting. For those that haven't gathered, I'm a former officer in the United States Navy and I've lost several colleagues both during the attacks and since. I was grateful to pour some of that into this chapter and I hope you excuse my portrayal.

Thanks.

FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 61 – The Third Trimester Tournament

Summer crept up on Harry as he worked his team through its new training cycle. His team had finally pulled itself from its funk and now had an edge that was, in fact, better than they’d been before their experience with the vampires. The team immersed itself into its work, tracking down the odd dark arts practitioners and generally diving into their work with a professionalism they’d never had before. It was just as well for Harry, because as June gave way to July, he found himself immersed in a constant battle to the finish line as the impending birth of his first child began to dominate his time.

It started just into May. Ginny was showing more prominently and her ability to get around was becoming more and more hampered. Harry’s experience with expectant mothers had been pretty much limited and very distant. He’d watched from afar as Bill and Fleur went through Victoire’s birth and admittedly, had not seen the day to day demands that a husband must attend to, while the mother’s body adjusts to the hormones that were overloading her body. To make matters even more interesting, Ginny was a witch and the hormones seemed to be enhanced by the magical properties imbued by the baby’s parents. This made Ginny’s high points, very high, and very enjoyable from Harry’s perspective, but her low points were very low, and at times, Harry was hoping for the appearance of an army of Deatheaters, just so he could have a little peace.

Harry finally broke down, one day, and cornered Arthur Weasley in the Ministry. Arthur always seemed to walk in a kind of peaceful calm that indicated after fathering seven children, including the aforementioned Ginny; he would have some sort of insight as to how to handle the situation. Harry was desperate and browbeating his father-in-law seemed to be the only recourse. Arthur, of course, was more than happy to lend some advice, man to man, of course.

“There’s nothing you can do, Harry. You’re just going to make sure she’s happy.” Arthur gave Harry a benign smile. His response, coupled with Arthur’s look of complete seriousness, convinced Harry that the man was wandering through life drunk, or at least he made his way through Molly’s seven pregnancies in that state.

“It’s true, Harry. If Ginny is anything like her mother, and believe me, she is, then you’d be better off ramming your head into a brick wall than try to find some way to change her at this time. All you can do is try to give her what she wants, and be understanding. Besides, it’s not long now, you can take anything for a month or so.” Harry gave Arthur a puzzled look.

“You do know we’re talking about Ginny, right?” Harry leaned in, hoping he’d smell the tell tale odor of some inebriating substance on Arthur’s breath.

“Yes, yes I do.” With that, Arthur bade Harry farewell, and went towards the floo network, a smile on his face and a distinct twinkle in his eye. Harry didn’t care what anyone said, he had a firm suspicion as to where the wild side of the Weasley children came from. Harry allowed a heavy sigh to escape his chest and made for home.

When Harry entered the front door, he found himself in the hallway, completely surrounded by packing boxes and cans of wall paint. The front room, his favorite room, had been completely changed over with a coat of bright red paint and new furniture that included a chaise and a sofa. Gone were the Gryffindor colors and the immaculate oak bookcases and his easy chairs, especially his favorite easy chairs. A flowery border adorned the middle of the wall and the room had the distinct odor of drying paint. A loud crash resounded from upstairs and Harry braced his shoulders while making the long, treacherous climb up the landing. When he reached his bedroom, he paused, swallowed, and pushed the door open.

The bedroom was a wreck, with bed pillows and throw rugs tossed everywhere. The large four-poster bed was dismantled and all of their classic furniture was shoved to a corner of the room. Seated on an ottoman, Ginny reclined to take the pressure off of her lower back, but she was pointing here and there and giving out orders. Carting boxes and moving furniture, Dennis Creevey and Ron were moving at a hectic pace, while Kreacher stood next to his mistress holding a serving tray with what appeared to be a glass of chocolate milk and vial of honey. Dennis noticed Harry’s appearance and gave his friend a haggard, pleading look.

Harry hesitated. Ginny hadn’t quite noticed him yet. There was still a small chance that he could join Charlie on the dragon egg hunt in Turkey. He seriously contemplated his escape.

“Welcome home, Master Harry.” Kreacher gave Harry a wicked grin and Ginny turned to face her husband.

“It’s about time you got here. It’s lucky that Ron and Dennis came by to drop off a present, or else I’d have no one to help me.” Ginny kind of scooted around and faced Harry.

“Yes, it’s very lucky indeed.” Ron grumbled while struggling with the old grandfather clock. Ron put the clock down and motioned to Dennis. “Well, it looks like Harry’s home. Come on Dennis, we have to go do that thing for Hermione.”

Dennis dropped the piece of bed frame he was carrying. “Thing? Oh yes, the thing. Right. See you Harry!”

Before Harry could utter a word, his two friends, men who had risked life and limb against the greatest evils in history for him, ran out the door like rabbits to the hounds. Harry dropped his bag, sullenly and faced his wife.

“What’s all this, then?” He pointed to the tsunami strewn room that used to be his bedroom.

“Well, we’ve got a baby coming and we have to have everything ready.” Ready? What did she mean by that? “We can’t just have all this stuff around, we need to prepare and the house was filthy besides, wasn’t it Kreacher.”

“Certainly, Mistress Ginny.” The bland smile never left Kreacher’s face. Do house-elves drink too?

“What about the sitting room?” Harry felt that he was out of control; he had no idea where she was going with this.

“Oh Harry, it was time for a change. Our baby can’t walk around some dark, drafty room and those book cases were dangerous.” Dangerous? Book cases?

Arthur’s words from before echoed in Harry’s brain. Harry sighed and took off his robe. Taking out his wand, he set about rearranging the furniture and redecorating the bedroom at his wife’s insistent commands. As he set about his work, he couldn’t help but notice that Kreacher’s smile never left his face. Harry was going to have to re-inspect the liquor cabinet.

A few hours later, their task complete, Ginny felt tired suddenly and drew herself into the bed. Satisfied at their labors, she had a peaceful look about her. She definitely glowed and Harry couldn’t help but think how beautiful she was. In fact, he’d never seen her so beautiful and he gently kissed her forehead as he tucked her into the newly moved and repainted bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. Silently, he snuck out and made his way to the kitchen.

Kreacher was fussing about the kitchen, replacing this or that and generally tidying up the room. Rarely used cooking implements had been strewn throughout and Harry was curious as to what had been going on while he’d been away.

“I’m sorry about all this, Kreacher.” Harry looked around. “What’s all this?”

Kreacher turned to Harry and now Harry was sure there was a light in the house-elf’s eye. “It is of no bother, Master Harry. Such has been the way of my mistresses that were with child.”

“What do you mean?” Harry sat wearily at the table. The house-elf seemed to sense his master’s exhaustion and anxiety. He placed an ice-cold tankard of beer in front of Harry.

“Mistress Ginny is ‘nesting’. When the time for birth approaches, the mothers prepare their homes for the arrival of the youngling.” Kreacher put away a large skillet. “When house-elf mothers are about to give birth, they must blast a new burrow into solid rock. It is the way of things.”

Harry sipped his beer. Maybe Kreacher had something there. “What about all this? It looks like you’ve been cooking for an army.”

Kreacher bowed, “Well, when mothers approach the birth of their baby, they get desires for exotic food and drink. I can not explain it fully, but Mistress Ginny has been requiring me to prepare very interesting food combinations.” The house-elf hesitated.

“What?” Harry leaned forward, unconsciously finding himself hanging on the first being that actually was explaining what the blazes was going on.

“I’m sorry, Master Harry. There will be some requests that I cannot fulfill.” Harry was surprised; the little gnome was usually quite resourceful. “The mothers can be very specific. They may ask for an item from a particular establishment, a human establishment. Unfortunately, there are places in the muggle world that I cannot go.”

That was an understatement. “Well, Kreacher, you seem to have this figured out. Maybe we can work out a way for me to find the harder to get items, but you have to keep me informed.”

“That would be acceptable, I think.” Kreacher beamed once more.

***

June turned into July and the team of Harry and Kreacher did their level best to keep pace with the extraordinary requests that Ginny’s cravings came up with. The problem with the cravings, as with a lot of pregnant women, was that there was no rhyme or reason as to what the mother desired. In fact, Harry had no idea how Ginny had even had a notion about the foods she wanted; because as far as Harry could tell, there were items she’d never had before, ever.

“A Twinkie? What in Merlin’s name is a Twinkie?” Kreacher, who’d Harry had arranged to disapparate directly into the Office of Aurors, near his desk, shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows what a Twinkie is?” Harry raised his voice to the room. Most of the Aurors, especially those in his team knew better than to openly laugh at their leader’s predicament, but Sean Manchester couldn’t help himself. He burst into tear-emitting laughter.

Dawlish, ever the diplomat, and the best poker player in the Office helped Harry. “A Twinkie is a yellow spongecake filled with crème filling. It’s a mass market product from the States, why do you ask?”

Harry pointed to Kreacher. “Ginny wants a Twinkie with lemon sherbet and covered with,” Harry looked down at the house-elf to confirm the last ingredient. “HP Sauce.”

Even the normally stoic Dawlish couldn’t help himself. The laughter permeating the room exploded into a roar and Harry could barely be heard through the din. “Right, very funny everyone. Does anyone know how to get a Twinkie, or do I have to go the States myself?”

“Don’t worry, Harry. I have a friend, a wizard, who is at the American Embassy. I’ll owl him and see what we can do.” Dawlish wiped a tear from his eye and walked to his office. Within the hour, Kreacher was off with a small baggie that contained two vacuumed packed bundles of sugary delight called Twinkies.

***

Kreacher and Harry held their own as the weeks progressed through July. As the month ended, it was all but certain that the baby would be there any day. An office pool had been started to guess the exact date and time while another side bet was on the sex of the baby. Everyone seemed to be getting in on the joy of the moment. Harry was finding himself more anxious than ever. Every appearance by Kreacher held the potential of telling him it was time, yet every appearance brought out an increasingly more difficult to find item. Baguettes from Paris, no imitations. Belgian waffles? Did he have to go to Antwerp for those? What exactly was a caramel macchiato anyway?

Harry also was trying to clear his work plate, ensuring that his team was functioning and that his paperwork was gone. When the baby arrived, he wanted to take some time off. One night, Harry found himself alone in the Office, plying his way through any number of mundane reports that covered his desk. A loud bang announced the arrival of Kreacher. Exhaustion and stress had taken its toll on Harry, so his exasperated greeting was not unexpected.

“What does she want now? Honey covered chicken wings? Pickles and whipped cream?” Harry cast a weary glance to his house-elf.

Kreacher stood silently, a large and tooth grin on his face. He bowed deeply at the waist. “It is time, Master Harry.”

It was a simple statement which eliminated all traces of tiredness from his body. Harry jumped up and began hurry to and fro. He grabbed his bag and began to toss everything within sight into it. As he scampered about, Kreacher reached up grasped Harry’s arm. Harry stopped suddenly and looked down at the house-elf. Harry took a deep breath and nodded to his companion. Kreacher transported the two of them to Grimmauld Place.

Harry and Kreacher arrived in the living room. Arthur Weasley stood there in a bathrobe and pointed upstairs. “Molly and the midwife are already there.”

Harry ran upstairs and heard the muffled sound of shouts. Was Ginny really calling him those names? He gave a pause and then rushed into the room.

Harry held her hand, her grip vise-like and crushing. She gave one last effort and then collapsed back onto the bed. He couldn’t see what the midwife was doing and he felt a momentary pang of fear. What if something was wrong? Soon, he heard the clear chorus of crying, the sound loud and strong. The midwife brought a small swaddling bundle over to Harry and Ginny.

“It’s a boy.”

The words pounded into his head. He turned to Ginny, her smile shining as they realized their good fortune. The midwife handed the delicate package to Harry, who lay it gently near Ginny’s chest. His face was small and round and he had a small tuft of soft black hair. His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed in a bundle of lines and rolls. His lips puckered slightly and his hands moved without direction. The baby’s skin was pink, darkening to red and he seemingly rolled his head to get closer to his mother’s heartbeat. In a magical world, it was the most fantastic thing Harry had ever seen in his life.

Molly daubed her eyes as she wiped away her tears. “What will you name him?”

Ginny looked at Harry and nodded. Harry looked to his mother-in-law.

“James. His name is James Sirius Potter.” Ginny’s eyes glowed. He’d made a good choice. Ginny nuzzled little James and kissed his forehead. She looked up, and Harry moved closer to kiss her. When they pulled apart, Ginny whispered in Harry’s ear.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.”

It was 1:02 AM, July 31st. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but Ginny had given him an extraordinary, hard to top, birthday present, again.


***A/N: I did not make up the craving thing, OK. You tell me where to find a red jelly donut at 3 AM in the middle of nowhere and to make sure I put A-1 steak sauce on it. That's a true story, so there.

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Chapter 62 – The Babysitters

Harry was dreaming. He was flying along on his Firebolt, rising high above the clouds. Ginny was flying next to him and the pair soared high in the sky, laughing at their own daring. Her light brown eyes shown quixotically and her long red tresses trailed her as she banked and climbed in unison with him. He heard a slight rustle in the wind, an incessant buzzing noise in his ear. He tried to keep his focus on Ginny, but the noise was getting louder and louder, like an approaching train. He hesitated and looked over towards Ginny. She seemed to be calling his name. “Harry…” “Harry…”

“Harry!” He woke with a start. His eyes open, he was looking at Ginny who’s tired and cross features he could barely make out in the darkness of their room. “It’s your turn!”

Harry lay there confused, and then the buzzing noise in his ear resolved into the banshee wails of young James, who was crying in the nearby bassinet. Harry’s brain finally resolved itself into some semblance of consciousness. Wearily, he nodded and rose from the bed. He shuffled over to where his son was emptying his lungs of all oxygen in the known universe and gently lifted James out of his bed. Harry cradled the infant in the crook of his arm. Still barely awake himself, Harry toted the boy off to adjacent room and changed the baby’s diapers. James, Harry noted, was now fully awake. Harry tried, for a moment, to be cross with the boy’s timing. It was, after all, three in the morning, but James’ eyes were wide and they looked at his father with a look that demonstrated unconditional love.

Or, as Arthur Weasley told Harry the other day, the boy just had gas. It didn’t matter to Harry; he liked the unconditional love explanation better. Harry finished swaddling his son and carried him downstairs to the kitchen. When he walked into the kitchen, Kreacher shuffled out of small door leading to an alcove off of the kitchen area. The house-elf said not a word but simply walked up to Harry and handed him a bottle. His task complete, Kreacher did an abrupt about face shuffled back into the door and shut it behind him. Harry held the bottle and stared at place where Kreacher had disappeared. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry upended the bottle, allowing a few drops of the milk to touch his wrist.

In reality, Harry had no earthly idea what the ideal feeding temperature for James’ bottle was supposed to be. He figured that somewhere between scalding and ice cold would be just right, and the test on his wrist seemed to fit that criteria. Harry grabbed a new dish towel from the counter and walked into the sitting room. Through careful negotiation where he laid out a thoughtful argument, Harry was able to finally wait out Ginny’s decision to return the sitting room back to its Gryffindor splendor. One remarkable change was the addition of a large, cushioned rocking chair near the fire place. Harry carried James over to the chair and sat down. Carefully supporting the baby’s head with his arm, Harry placed the nipple of the bottle between James’ lips and the starving baby began to take long pulls on the milk within. Harry began a gentle rocking motion in the chair, never taking his eyes off his son.

His son. It’d almost been two weeks since his birth and Harry still could not believe that this small being was there in his home. Ginny and Harry had their lives turned upside down and shaken up by the power of the love that they could have for this tiny person. Harry studied every inch of his son’s face. He saw how puffy his cheeks became as the baby sucked on his meal. As his stomach began to fill, James’ eyes began to grow heavy; the feeling of satisfaction combined with the warmth of his father’s touch calmed the boy. After a time, the bottle was near empty and James’ eyelids were drooping towards closing. Harry removed the bottle and moved to the chaise that sat in the corner of the room. Harry carefully placed the towel over his shoulder and gently brought the baby up to the shoulder. He began to lightly pat the baby’s back, until he heard the tell tale sound of burping. Exhaustion began to build in Harry’s bones and he lay back on the chaise, placing James on his own chest. Maybe he’d lie there for a few minutes and give James the chance to fall back asleep. Soon, Harry was sleeping himself, his son nestled on his chest and in a deep sleep.

Ginny rolled over in her bed and reached an arm to where she normally found Harry. His spot was empty and she smiled. The first rays of dawn were peering through the shutters on the windows and she sat upright. She stretched out her arms and knowingly looked over to the bassinet. She rose and pulled on a bathrobe and padded down the stairs, bypassing the kitchen and made beeline for the sitting room. The two men in her life were sleeping soundly on the chaise and she paused for a moment in the doorway gazing at them. Harry was lightly snoring, but he had an arm firmly around his son’s body. The baby was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side, as if his ear were turned to listen to Harry’s heartbeat. There was a slight smile James’ face. Ginny chuckled and knew her father would probably tell Harry that it was gas.

Ginny moved over to sleeping pair and gently picked James up from his father’s chest. She lightly kissed him on the forehead and with little movement he remained asleep as she repositioned him on her arm. She leaned down and kissed Harry gently.

“Harry.” Her voice was warm, reassuring. Harry stirred and smiled, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips. “Harry.”

He opened his eyes and saw them, the rays of the morning light casting a warm glow on the figure of his family. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, yourself.” Ginny’s eyes cast a glow of mystery and romance. “You’d better get up; you’ll be late for work.” Harry groaned, the moment was lost. He rose and went upstairs to get ready to go into the Office.

***

Ron came into work whistling a tune. His life was extraordinarily good of late. One thing about Hermione, when there was something to be accomplished, she approached it with a vigor and a single-minded focus that was enviable, to say the least. She always completed what she starts out to do. Lately, her focus had been on two things. First, she wanted a complete reconciliation and rapprochement with her husband and secondly, she was fixated on starting a family. Both objectives seemed to always have positive net gains for one Ronald Weasley. Ron walked to his row of cubicles and looked over to where Harry sat. His friend was at his own desk, hunched over with his head firmly ensconced on a pile of papers from the inbox, like a pillow. Ron could swear that he could hear the tell-tale murmur of snoring, but couldn’t really be sure. Nonetheless, Ron smirked and walked over to his friend’s sleeping form and clapped him soundly on the back.

“Late night again, mate?” Harry jumped up with a start, his eyes were bloodshot and his clothes in haphazard disarray. “You look a sight, Harry.” Ron started to giggle a bit.

Harry grimaced and attempted to straighten his clothes. “It was my night to feed James. I’m tired as I’ve ever been. I’m barely keeping my wits.”

Ron couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think, my boy, that your wits are gone forever. Just look at my dad, the man is a walking zombie.” Harry gave Ron an evil stare. “By the way, not that you haven’t thought of this, but what are you doing for Ginny’s birthday, it’s tomorrow, you know. Of course you know, silly me, she’s your wife, the mother of your child, the light of your life, etcetera etcetera, etcetera.”

Harry’s eyes shot open, he was immediately awake. He shot a glance at a nearby calendar. The date read August Tenth. Ginny’s birthday was tomorrow. Ron saw the sheer terror in Harry’s eyes and smiled even more. “You didn’t remember?” The look on Harry’s face told the whole story.

“Ron, you’ve got to help me!” Harry’s brain worked through the dilemma. “Can you and Hermione watch James tomorrow night?”

“I’m sorry, my friend, but Hermione and I have dinner plans with her parents, and I can’t back out of them.” Ron was almost genuinely sorry for his friend. The greater sum of his emotions, however, was that he was glad that he wasn’t in Harry’s position. “Why don’t you ask my dad?”

Harry nodded and ran to an adjacent door that led to the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Harry peeked into the open door and saw his father-in-law, Arthur Weasley sitting behind a cluttered desk and writing on a newspaper. The room was full of an assortment of confiscated items and books. The items ran from the mundane, like tissue boxes to the odd, like a miniature guillotine that was nominally used as a cigar cutter. Harry had no idea how that particular object had been “misused.” Arthur looked up from his desk and saw Harry’s entry.

“Ah, Harry, I so love trying to complete the crossword, but without the proper context, I have no idea what word belongs where. Do you know a four letter word for a hint to a mystery?”

“Clue.” Harry stared at Arthur while the man filled in the answer.

“Capital, Harry! I’d been trying to figure a way to work Pensieve in there. What brings you around? You look like you’re holding up…” Arthur searched for a word to fit Harry’s bedraggled appearance. “…admirably.” Much like the men with Custer at the Little Big Horn, they’d held up ‘admirably’ until the end too, Harry thought.

“I was hoping that you and Mrs. Weasley could take James tomorrow night. It’s Ginny’s birthday and I’d like to take her out.” Harry’s eyes were pleading, desperate.

“Forgot that her birthday was tomorrow, did you?” The reddening of Harry’s cheeks told the entire story. “I’m afraid we can’t help you tomorrow Harry. You see, Molly and I have our own plans for tomorrow. With all the children out of the house, we’ve been rediscovering our relationship. We’ve got tickets to a show and who knows what’ll happen after that?” Arthur gave Harry a playful nudge with his elbow and a sly wink. Harry’s stomach started turning, but he didn’t know if was from the anxiety of not having a babysitter or contemplating the elder Weasleys new dating patterns.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re a resourceful chap, and what’s the worse that can happen? Ginny is a reasonable person.” Arthur couldn’t help but laugh, as if Harry’s discomfort was a source of considerable entertainment. “Let me know how it turns out.” As Harry walked out of his office, Arthur began to imagine what this week’s Sunday Dinner would bring.

Harry ran through the Office and passed Ron without a word. He had to find Ginny a gift and he was desperate to find someone to sit with James. He’d have to accomplish both tasks by tomorrow and he had no time to waste. Harry ran out the door to catch a lift to the atrium.

***

Another sleepless night passed, but this time he wasn’t awakened by James, but he was kept awake trying to find a resolution to his problem. Andromeda Tonks was not available and Bill and Fleur had taken Victoire on a visit to Fleur’s parents in southern France. Harry was growing desperate as his time grew short. He had but one more option and in his current state, he was willing to try it.

He arrived home early from work and found Ginny in the sitting room. She’d laid out a large down blanket and placed James in its center. She was making faces and chatting with him. His eyes were wide, drawn to the dulcet tones of her voice and the glow of her eyes. Harry paused. She was still the most beautiful creature on the planet and the joy she expressed playing with their son, radiated down to his soul. His breath slowed and his heart rate slackened. He walked in knelt on the blanket beside them.

“Happy Birthday, Ginny.” He kissed her and gave her a bouquet of red and white roses. “I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

“What about James?” She was a little anxious given that she’d not been apart from her son since his entry into the world.

“Not to worry, I found someone to sit for us. It’ll only be for a couple of hours. We both need the break, I think.” She smiled, still a little uncertain, but also looking forward for a couple hours respite. She ran up the stairs to change. A little while later, she reappeared, ready to go out on the town.

“So, who did you find to watch him?” Her question was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. She pulled it open and stepped back in surprise.

Lee, George and Dudley strutted through the opening. George looked around and spotted James lying on the floor in the sitting room. He turned to his sister, “I heard the little squirt wanted to spend some time with his three favorite uncles. Well, your babysitters are here.”

Harry carefully watched Ginny’s reaction. She was immediately incredulous, but as she worked through the possibilities her face morphed into a completely different expression. It wasn’t agreement or happiness. Neither was it disappointment or anger. Ginny Potter was a Weasley and had as big a love for irony as any in her family. A small part of her saw the potential mischief that could happen with these three overconfident men watching her small bundle of joy. The look Harry saw was a kind of twisted, like that of a person who knows that a practical joke was about to happen and couldn’t wait for the results. .

Ginny’s response was syrupy sweet. “You all are so kind to do this for us. James is really no trouble at all. Do you have any questions for us?” She batted her eyes a bit.

“Questions? He eats, sleeps and gets changed. How hard could it be?” George snorted.

Perfect, thought Ginny. How hard, indeed? Harry led Ginny from the house and took her to a nice dinner out on the town. Later, they walked along the park leading back to their house. Harry reached into his bag and pulled out a carefully wrapped present.

“Happy Birthday, Ginny.” She smiled and took the package from him. Gleefully, she removed the bright ribbons and tore through the paper. She opened the box within, and pulled out what appeared to be an old Kodachrome camera. She looked up at Harry.

“It’s similar to the cameras we use in investigations. It takes a full three dimensional image.” She raised an eyebrow at her husband. “I figured it would come in handy while you’re covering Quidditch matches. You could take pictures of the action, that is, if you want to go back to work.”

She stopped for a moment. She’d been torn with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to stay home all the time with James, but part of her didn’t want to lose her identity. She loved her mother, but she didn’t think that Molly Weasely’s life was the one Ginny Potter wanted to have. She felt a little guilty for wanting to have a career and to be a mother. She’d been unable to raise the issue with Harry, unsure of what his thoughts were on the subject. This simple gift, this small gesture told her volumes. He understood her dilemma. He understood her completely and he’d known.

“I do want to go back to work, eventually. How did you know, Harry?” He shrugged. It was always good to have a friend like Hermione who basically knew everything. She’d clued Harry into what was on Ginny’s mind a few days ago. Sometimes it was like taking the N.E.W.T.s with an open book. Ginny gave Harry a huge hug and kissed him deeply.

“Well, it’s still your birthday, what do you want to do next?” She thought for a moment and looked down at her camera.

“Really? I miss James. Let’s go home. I just feel like looking at him.” Her gaze softened, because her explanation was mostly true.

Harry grinned. “Is it just because you miss James or is there another reason?”

She checked the film in the camera. “Oh, obviously I have ulterior motives. Let’s go.”

The almost ran the rest of the way to the house. Carefully opening the door, they walked into the hall. Diapers littered the hallway and silence dominated the space. They inched their way to the sitting room and found it a shambles. The blanket was tossed up on the ceiling and an unidentifiable residue covered the walls. The couple smiled at each other and moved to the kitchen where pots and pans were strewn about with several opened and half empty baby’s bottles. A pot was boiling over on the stove and Harry took it off the flame and shut the gas. His eyes pointed up the stairs.

They crept up the stairs to their bedroom, which where the devastation from downstairs was repeated. The bassinet was upended and clothing was cast around. The three erstwhile babysitters were sitting on the floor with green and white liquid covering them. Their backs were resting on the large bed in the middle of the room. On the bed, James lay on his back. His hands had just discovered his feet and he was grasping them. As if sensing their arrival, James turned his head and smiled, a devilish grin, his dark brown eyes twinkling. Harry thought he was too young to be this much trouble, it had to be just gas.

George saw them enter, but couldn’t muster the strength to rise. “Projectile vomiting! How does that much liquid come from so small a person?”

Dudley looked up, “His crying could raise the dead. I’m telling you, I have permanent hearing loss.”

Lee didn’t even bother to look up. “You didn’t tell us you gave Kreacher the night off and you didn’t tell us that putting on a diaper could be so dangerous.”

Ginny smiled with distinct pleasure. She raised the camera up and centered the lens on the three pathetic men collapsed on her floor.

“Smile, everyone!” She snapped the shutter and waited for the film to develop. When image resolved itself, she laughed and turned to Harry.

“What a splendid birthday present!” Harry laughed and returned his gaze to his son. James burped and giggled at his own ingenuity, but at only two weeks of age, Harry was pretty sure, it only gas.

***A/N: Again, you can't make some of this up. When my oldest was born, I would swear he was smiling at me, but my mother-in-law would say it just gas. Of course, when he smiled at her, he was smiling at nana.

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Chapter 63 – Jealousy and Pie

The summer progressed rapidly while Harry and Ginny learned the intricacies of being parents. What they found out, ultimately, was that they would never know everything there was to know. Harry constantly felt that he was forgetting something or missing something. He had been a better than average student, both at Hogwarts and as an Auror, but there was not textbook on child rearing. Nothing, anyway, that matched the experiences he and Ginny were going through. The fact of the matter was that the times they felt inadequate were far overshadowed by the times of pure joy they felt as James began to grow. Every day brought a new discovery, a new motion, a new experience and Harry and Ginny cherished watching James discover his world.

James immediately became the center of the Weasley universe and it was no more telling than at the Sunday Dinner. Each time Harry and Ginny arrived, they were bombarded by constant requests to hold little James. For his part, the young Mr. Potter seemed to relish the attention. He had a particular affinity for Hermione, who displayed very capable mothering techniques. James cooed for her and his eyes danced every time she talked to him. Aunt Petunia was now a regular at the gatherings and made a distinct fool of herself every time she held James. Not to be outdone, Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks began a friendly competition of seeing who could get young James to say a word, even though these two supposedly “experienced” parents knew full well that actual words were still months away.

Everyone treated the new arrival with great pleasure. Everyone, that is, except young Teddy Lupin. He’d been the first child of the post-Voldemort era and had, for a time, been the focus of attention for the family. Now, the arrival of James Potter had changed that dynamic. Even when Victoire had been born, Teddy still had a place in the eyes of the people gathered here, because, after all, Victoire was a girl. But now, everything had changed. His Uncle Harry barely spoke to him and Uncle George was more interested in the sounds the little baby made. Ever since the memorial, Teddy started to get the feeling he that he was alone and that he didn’t belong. Even now, his grandmother was doting on the baby. Teddy began to brood and act out a bit. It started with small things, but slowly began to progress into full blown rebellion.

Today’s party was especially festive because Charlie Weasley was able to make an appearance. Of course, Teddy thought, Charlie paid more than enough attention to James. He’d barely noticed how much Teddy had grown since Charlie had last been in the Burrow.

“Teddy!” He felt the grip of the pair of arms grab his waist and squeeze. Normally, he was simply embarrassed. Today, he was just mad. He tried to ignore Victoire, but the irrepressible cherub would not be swayed.

“You can sit next to me, if you like.” Her royal highness had deigned to offer Teddy the ultimate prize, proximity to her person.

“I don’t want to sit next to you. In fact, I just wish you’d leave me alone!” Teddy pulled her arms from his waist and walked off, away from the adults. What would it matter, he thought, no one would notice anyway.

A small tear formed in Victoire’s eye. She looked around hoping that someone had noticed how rude Teddy had been to her. She glanced at her parents, but they were engaged in some small talk with Charlie. A lady doesn’t tattle, either, she thought. In a huff, Victoire walked off to find Crookshanks. Someone had noticed the exchange, someone who always kept a watchful eye on Teddy and had noticed his darker mood. Andromeda Tonks shook her head and walked over to where Harry stood talking to Ron.

“Harry, could I speak to you for a moment?” Harry excused himself and walked over to where she stood. “I think Teddy is a little jealous.”

Harry looked around for his godson, but didn’t see any sign of him. “What do you mean?”

Andromeda sighed. “He’s getting older, Harry and he feels alone. With James around, he thinks we’ve all abandoned him. He thinks that you’ve abandoned him.”

“That’s preposterous! I’ve just been busy, that’s all. I don’t mean for him to feel like I don’t love him.” Harry rewound the events of the past few months, and discovered that Andromeda was probably right.

“He’s seven years old, Harry. Just like when you were his age, he’s beginning to understand that he doesn’t have any parents and he’s trying to fit in somewhere. Large changes in his world can unsettle him. It would unsettle anyone in his shoes.”

“It was unsettling for me.” Harry’s tone was somber, as he remembered. He nodded to her and walked off to find Teddy.

Teddy had walked out of the Burrow and out to a nearby pond. He was angrily hurling stones into the pond, watching the ripples on the water. The force of his throws increased with his fury. He picked up a good sized rock and looked directly at a duck near the pond’s far shore. Teddy reared back to throw the rock.

“You don’t want to hurt anyone, or anything. You’ll regret it.” Harry’s voice froze Teddy. Teddy’s hair turned a bright shade of red and he dropped the stone, heavily into the water.

“What do you care?” Teddy was sullen, his anger giving way to shame and sadness.

“Of course I care Teddy. You’re important to this family.”

“I don’t have a family, ‘cept Gran. I don’t have anyone when she’s gone.” Teddy collapsed on the ground and buried his head his knees. Harry could hear his sobs and the sound hit him squarely in the chest.

“That’s not true, Teddy. The Weasleys are your family and I’m your family. James is your family, too.” Harry sat down next to Teddy and put a strong arm around his shoulders. “Do you remember when I told you that we were the same? I lost my parents, just like you?”

Teddy looked over at Harry and nodded.

“Well, there is one difference. I didn’t have anyone like you have. You should ask Dudley or my Aunt Petunia. You’re very lucky. All these people love you.”

Teddy sniffled a bit. “I thought that you didn’t want to be around me, because of James. He’s your real son, after all.”

“Yes, yes he is and I’m sorry I’ve neglected you. I’m still learning how to be a good godfather and a good dad. I’m not perfect, you know.” Harry smiled and for the first time that day, Teddy smiled with him.

“I was pretty rotten to Victoire.” Teddy stood, and helped Harry up. “I guess I should apologize.”

“Perhaps.” Harry stared Teddy down, causing Teddy’s hair to brighten to a shade of purple. “I love you, Teddy. You will always be part of my family. Sometimes, you just got to help me remember, but keep this one thing in mind.” Teddy looked up at Harry earnestly. “You are never going to be alone, ever.” Teddy smiled and allowed Harry to take his hand and lead him back to the party.

Teddy approached Victoire who turned her back to him and raised her nose. “I’m sorry, Victoire, I was a real heel to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

The golden haired beauty was surprised at his sincerity and she immediately forgave him, however, being a lady, she decided to let him stew about for a few minutes. When she turned around to face him, her eyes grew wide with shock and surprise.

A large pie, twice the size of a normal pie made a graceful arc through the air and landed firmly on Teddy’s head. Victoire turned to the source of the pie and spotted George standing beside Dudley and Lee, snickering.

“I got you, Teddy! I’ve been waiting months to get you back and I finally got you!” George roared in triumph.

“George Weasley!” Ginny walked up to her brother and made to pull on his ear.

“This side, sis.” George redoubled his laughter, pointing to his one good ear.

Ginny turned a brilliant shade of purple. Teddy watched in awe as he wiped the remnants of the pie from his face. “He’s seven! You’re picking on a seven year old boy!”

George’s grin grew sheepish. “He started it.” That was all he could muster.

Ginny dipped a hand into her pocket and removed the photo she took of George and the other babysitters. She turned to face the three, Dudley, George and Lee. She waved the incriminating picture in their faces.

“What you three juvenile delinquents seem to forget is that I work for a widely published newspaper!” Ginny walked over to Teddy and took his hand. As they walked away, Teddy turned and stuck his tongue out at George.

Lee looked at George. “She wouldn’t, would she?”

Dudley looked over at Lee and then at George. George returned their stares. “Yes, I think she would.”

***A/N: A little shorter, but fear not, the next chapter is almost ready and will be up by tomorrow.

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Chapter 64 – The Pain of Loss

Dennis Creevey, Cho Chang and Lionel Creevey sat around the dinner table of Lionel’s home. The conversation was light and Lionel didn’t feel the burden of the pain that always seemed to find him. He was happy that his only remaining son had found someone he cared for deeply. He noticed how Cho and Dennis rarely let their glances drift too far from each other. Dennis was working in the government in some capacity, Lionel wasn’t really clear as to what and Cho had become a developer of sports equipment for some game played in their world. That was the key phrase, “their world”. The details escaped Lionel and yet, they dwelled on the events and the people that inhabited the strange world that had been introduced to Lionel and his wife so many years ago.

Dinner wound down and Lionel made to clear the table. “That’s alright Dad, we’ll get it.” Dennis drew his wand and began to motivate the dirty dishes towards the kitchen. Lionel’s face became a dark cloud.

“Don’t do that!” Dennis cast a quick look at this father, not expecting the harshness of the rebuke. “I mean to say, you don’t have to do that. I like doing this myself, besides what if one of the neighbors happened by. We still need to be discreet, Dennis.”

Dennis nodded his head and had the wayward crockery return to their spots on the table. He was still puzzled by the vehemence of his father’s shout, but decided that it was just a case of the blues. His father had seemed to be in a deep funk, despite the fact that it’d been over six years since Colin had died. Their mother had passed almost a month later, overcome by the shock of the loss of her oldest son. That had left their father alone and the proud, hardworking milkman had never seemed to shake the dual blows of the losses. Dennis had some news that he hoped would help his father lighten his mood, if only for a little while.

“Cho and I are getting married!” Lionel stood mouth agape. He looked at Cho whose face was flushed, her eyes downcast. He recovered quickly and went to embrace the two.

“That’s wonderful, Dennis. I’m happy for you both.” He moved to a sideboard and removed a well-used bottle from the cabinet. “I’d say this calls for a drink. When are you going to tie the knot?” He poured three glasses of the amber liquid and handed them out to his son and his fiancé.

“Probably sometime in November, we were thinking of doing it on the grounds at Hogwarts.” Lionel smiled once more and raised his glass.

“To my son and his lovely bride-to-be, may you be blessed in life, marriage and parenthood.” The last caused Cho’s face to darken more. They touched glasses and drank to the toast. They made small talk about the upcoming nuptials. After a while, Dennis and Cho rose to leave, and kissed Lionel goodbye.

“Are you sure you will be fine with this Dad?” Dennis looked at his father. “Are you okay, Dad?”

Lionel looked at his one remaining family member. Dennis had grown. He was well over a head taller than his father. Dennis was a hulk of a man; he had a broad chest and massive arms, but he still had the look of the little boy that Lionel had sent off to that place.

“I’m fine, Dennis. I’m just a little tired. I’m proud of you, boy. Just remember, take care of each other. You live in a very dangerous world, and I want to see my grandchildren.” Lionel’s voice was heavy and low.

Dennis beamed, the confidence of youth combined with experience eking out of his being. “Don’t worry about a thing, Dad. I’m pretty good at this.” Dennis winked and walked out the door with Cho.

By the time he’d cleaned up the dinner plates and tidied up the kitchen, darkness had fallen. Lionel poured himself another drink and decided that he didn’t want to turn on the lights. Instead, he fell into the recliner in the living room and turned on the television. He didn’t hear the program that was playing; instead he grabbed a small picture frame that was propped up on the table nearby. He stared at the picture. It wasn’t one of those magical photos that Dennis and his like used; it was a simple image of Lionel and his wife with the two boys when they were children. It was from before the kids knew they were special, before Lionel was convinced to send them off to that school, before Albus Dumbledore walked into his house and convinced Lionel to make the decision that would take the lives of his oldest child and his beloved Dorothy.

He grasped the picture solidly while his eyes darkened. He’d been brooding more, lately. He was happy for Dennis, but how long before his “magical” colleagues got him killed? Dennis was a good boy. He was a man, now, no longer a boy, but he was immersed in that world and Lionel feared that there was no way to convince his son of how terrified Lionel was of that secret alien existence. Now Dennis was going to marry another of his kind, another “magic” person. Lionel was sure that he’d lose his son, as sure as the sun would rise. The thought caused his depression to start to turn to hate and the hate kindled a fire within him. He wouldn’t lose his son, not to “those people”.

The noise of the television caught his attention. A reporter was on location at a bookstore, it seemed, interviewing a doddering old man, who sat a table, a stack of books displayed.

“This is Diane Hoss. I’m here at Jacob’s Books with Professor Elias Cohen, author of the book ‘The Hidden World of Magic’. Professor Cohen, many people thought that this was a ‘how-to’ book on magic tricks, but you’re saying it’s something different entirely.”

The old man had a kind face, the top of his head prominently displaying a receding hairline. His hair was starkly white and he had a bushy mustache that covered the area from his nose to his lip. He wore a bright red running suit and his eyes were a cool blue, younger than his apparent age.

“Yes, Diane. You see, there’s a hidden magical world that most humans are kept from. It’s as if a secret society exists in the midst of our own, causing great harm sometimes, but often filling the world with wonder.”

The reporter’s skepticism was demonstrable on her face. She allowed her eyes to roll faintly, nevertheless, she kept her microphone trained on her guest’s face.

“I don’t know why we’ve been kept from interacting with this world, but I’m sure there is government involvement, all the way up to Ten Downing.”

“But Professor, this sounds like another one of those ubiquitous conspiracy theories; instead of black helicopters, you say there are black robes.” The reporter was sure she’d scored points with her producers back at the station with her deftness at handling this obviously deranged man.

Cohen didn’t notice her slight. Instead, he chuckled. “I understand that you don’t believe it. It’s an interesting story, though, that the most famous secret organizations of our history were related to this magical world. The Freemasons, Illuminati, Skull and Bones, or the Order of the Dragon, were all mechanisms for wizards and witches from this secret world to gain entry into ours. They are all the same.”

The reporter knew that this interview had long passed its point of real value, so she quickly signed off and the broadcast moved to other things.

Lionel switched off the television and stared at its blank screen for a time.

“Filling the world with wonder, that man is an idiot.” Lionel brooded at the interview. The haze of the alcohol was clouding his head. “He has no idea how deadly that world is.” Lionel pulled himself out his chair and made for the door. He was going to tell that “professor” how wrong he was.

***

When Lionel arrived at bookstore, he had difficulty finding the man he saw on the interview. The table he’d seen was placed far in the back of the store and when Lionel finally found him, Professor Cohen was sitting idly, not a soul nearby, an untouched stack of books on the table.

“You’re that man who knows about the magic world.” Lionel’s voice was gruff, angry.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Cohen straightened up and pulled on the bottom of his track suit jacket. Aside from the reporter, no one had been there at his book signing. “Do you want me to sign a book?”

“I’m not interested in your bleeding book. You’re wrong. There’s nothing wonderful about wizards and witches. It’s all rubbish.” Cohen was struck by the venom in the man’s tone. It wasn’t the tone of a doubter, it was much more real.

“What do you mean? Mister?” Cohen offered his hand.

Lionel ignored the gesture. “My name is Creevey. The world you think you know is dangerous and evil. It killed my son and wife and more people than you can imagine. It’s not wonderful at all.”

Cohen was really intrigued. In his time, he’d met the crackpots and he’d been called one too. This man in front of him was genuine and he had to know his story. A sense of anticipation swelled in his chest. This man may hold the key. He may be the one they’d been looking for.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Cohen offered Lionel a seat. Lionel paused for a moment, the exertion of his outburst having drained him of the pent up emotions he’d been feeling.

“You won’t believe me. No one ever believes me. The only thing real is that my boy and my Dorothy are dead and they were killed by magic.” Lionel’s head drooped, the effects of the liquor and his depression combining to increase the weight on his shoulders.

Cohen head burned in anticipation. The whole point of this “book” was to try to draw someone out who could get them a line in to Britain’s magical society. He was so close.

“I’ll believe you. Tell me your story, Mr. Creevey. You look like someone with a good one to tell.”

Lionel Creevey unburdened his soul. He started with the oddities that began to happen when his boys were growing up. He told Cohen of the visit from the mysterious headmaster of a peculiar school that would educate his sons in the ways of their abilities. Creevey spoke of port keys and Diagon Alley, of wands and owls and finally of death and loss.

“Their world is dangerous, Professor Cohen. Don’t get me wrong, there are good people there, but the good are always fighting evil and their evil ones are very bad. My son, Colin, died fighting one the worst of the lot.” Lionel felt the weight on him slacken. He was relating feelings that he couldn’t even share with Dennis, but for some reason, this strange man before him seemed to be a kindred spirit of some sort. “Now my only remaining son is getting married, to a witch no less. He will be a part of that world for rest of his life, how ever long that may be.”

Elias Cohen had been waiting for Lionel Creevey for a long time. He savored the opportunity that the pathetic man in front of him gave him. Cohen nodded his head at the right times, but was fixated on the chances that an association with Mr. Creevey might bring.

“You know, I’ve always believed that if these “magic” people were less secretive and more open to the rest of the world, they’d be less of a threat.” Lionel looked at Cohen, his mind working. “I think part of the problem is that no one knows about them and if the public did, then maybe everyone, humans and wizards, would be safer.” Cohen placed greater emphasis on the wizards word. Essentially, he was focusing Lionel’s grief and pain on the secrecy portion of the equation.

“It doesn’t matter. They keep to themselves and they’re good at it. I don’t know how much you or me could accomplish by just telling folks about them.” Lionel shrugged his shoulders. Cohen smiled broadly, his teeth showing beneath the long tendrils of his whiskers.

“What if I were to tell you that I had a very powerful sponsor, who had the power to change both worlds? Wouldn’t that be worth your son’s life?” Cohen went for the kill. Lionel pondered the question. Was it possible? Lionel Creevey wasn’t sure, but he would do anything to keep Dennis alive. Lionel couldn’t bear to think about any other alternative. He would do anything.

***

Professor Elias Cohen was walking down the deserted street. He had his cell phone to his ear and was conducting a vigorous conversation with the party on the other end of the line.

“I’m telling you Simon, this one is the key. He’s perfect!” The voice speaking back to Cohen wheezed, trying to get the words out forcefully, but only managing a whisper.

“I hope you’re right Elias, we’re running out of time, maybe only until the end of the year.”

“I know Simon, but this is the only way. I’m bringing Mr. Creevey around tomorrow. We’ll start the background with him then. Will you be able to put on a good show?” Cohen heard a pause on the phone.

“I want the strongest we can find, Elias. Everything else is secondary. Do you think this Creevey will know who that is?” The man known as Simon broke into a bout of hacking coughs.

“He’s already mentioned a name. It keeps resurfacing. The most prominent and apparently the most powerful is a man by the name of Harry Potter.” Cohen let his words echo across the distance.

“Good. That confirms some of the other information we have. Bring Mr. Creevey around, I’ll be ready. Our target is now Mr. Harry Potter.” The line fell dead with a click.



***A/N: And so we start the new arc. Some will say "EWW, Dennis and Cho?" Yep, Dennis and Cho.

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Chapter 65 – Illumination

His office was a reflection of his power. It covered the entire top floor of his headquarters. He sat behind the expansive desk and surveyed his surroundings. Banks of large flat-screened monitors, manufactured by his own company of course, covered a wall to his front. A wide array of business programming blanketed the televisions spewing an unending crescendo of information from the multitude of markets that his company traded on. His was the penultimate position of power in this world, and yet, he still felt powerless.

Simon Clark had risen from the depths of poverty to create the richest conglomerate in the world. Clark Industries was heavily diversified in everything from computers to shipbuilding, biotechnology to military hardware. He was young still, barely thirty-five. Clark was tall and lean, in most respects, the picture of health. He shunned all of the vices that tempted men of his means. He didn’t drink or smoke and he rigidly monitored what he ate. He wasn’t married, and was not one for casual dalliances. For all of his money and influence, for all of his healthy lifestyle, Simon Clark could not stem the flow of the inevitable. He was dying.

Doctors called it the rarest of genetic defects. So rare, in fact, that his was the only known case of the disease. His body was literally eroding from the inside out. He reclined back in his chair. An innocuous metal pole stood sentinel next to him. Affixed to the pole, a clear plastic bag of liquid was suspended with a long tube extending from its bottom. The tube ran into his arm, feeding a controlled amount of a special drug that his research division had developed. The drug was not a cure, in fact, his scientists felt that every time he took a dose of the drug, it literally removed a day of life from his frail body, but the drug, when taken, gave him the opportunity to function normally. He was once more the titan of industry that his persona portrayed to the general public. After a course of the medicine, he was able to forget, at least for a few hours, that his time on this planet was limited.

He’d tried every known remedy. Blood transfusions, bone marrow transplants, gene therapy and holistic medicine, everything he tried failed without any trace of success. Then he met Elias Cohen. Elias, at the time, was an unknown curmudgeon who was peddling an even lesser known theory in the form of a book to one of Clark’s publishing companies. Elias would have been unknown to him except for his appearance in Clark’s research in the occult. Cohen’s story was different. He didn’t speak of tricks or religion. Instead, Cohen’s theory posited that evolution had created a different race of humans. These humans were imbued with fantastic magical properties and, more importantly, life spans more than double ordinary humans. When Clark brought Elias into his office, he was amazed when the doddering old man regaled him with stories of the magical world. Clark was a skeptic at first. He cross checked every fact that he could and what he found was that Cohen was more right than wrong. Their relationship began a pursuit. It was a race against time based on whether they could unlock the mystery of these wizards before Clark’s body succumbed to the inevitable. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship. Clark wanted to live while Cohen was motivated by the desire to unmask the hidden world. Together, they would achieve both their aims in the person of one Lionel Creevey.

***

Lionel Creevey found himself exiting the Regent’s Park Tube Station to a rainy, dreary September day. He turned the collar on his coat and quickly consulted the small sheet of paper in his hand. Gaining his bearings, he followed along Great Portland Street until he came to where the large roadway met Weymouth Street. On the northwest corner, a large red brick building rose almost ten stories in height and extended the length of the block. Lionel hesitated a moment and then spied Elias Cohen standing in front of the glass entrance to the building. Cohen was in a royal blue jogging suit, completely ignoring the rain pelting his head. Seeing Lionel, Cohen waved and Lionel walked to meet with him.

“Good, right on time.” Elias ushered Creevey into the entrance to Clark Industries. They ignored the receptionist and walked straight through the elaborate security apparatus constructed at the front door. Cohen led him past the bank of lifts to the rear of the building and punched a code into a keypad outside a set of lift doors that were separated from the main bank. The lift doors opened immediately and Cohen pressed the only button on the panel. They rode silently, Lionel’s eyes were lowered and his mind raced with doubts as to what he was doing. His thoughts were erased when the doors opened and he walked into another alien world.

“Mr. Creevey? A tall, ball headed man walked from around the large desk in the room he’d entered. The man walked confidently and he had a pleasant smile on his face. He approached Lionel and gave a nod to Elias, then extended his hand in greeting. Lionel shook his hand and noticed the firmness and self-assurance behind the gesture.

“I’m Simon Clark. Welcome, sir. Won’t you sit down?” The young man invited Lionel deeper into the office and indicated one of the large comfortable seats in front of his desk. Instead of returning to the area behind the desk, Clark sat in an adjacent chair, on its edge, leaning forward.

“It’s so good of you come. May I call you Lionel?” Creevey nodded. “You see, Lionel, I’m in the business of providing a better life for all mankind. Elias here has told me your story and I think there’s a way for me to help you and for you to help all of mankind.” Lionel’s interest perked up noticeably.

“What do you mean?” Clark smiled.

“You see, Elias here believes that a lot of our world and the wizards’ world as well suffers from the secrecy that they live in. I would think you would know more about this than I do.” Lionel again nodded. “In my mind, there’s more to this than just knowing about each other. There’s so much that would benefit all of mankind by our capability to share in the magic world’s knowledge.”

Lionel hadn’t quite thought about this issue in that light. He’d been fixated on the danger that living in a small insular world had brought to his son. He’d never really thought about benefits.

“What do you mean?” For the first time, he was open to hearing more.

“Did you know what the life span of a wizard is?” The blank stare greeted his question. “It’s up to almost two hundred years.” Lionel gave a look of shock. “Wouldn’t it benefit all of us to find out why and make our world better?”

Lionel pondered the question. In the final analysis, he really didn’t care. What good was it for his children to have a long life expectancy if they didn’t survive their world? In his mind, his object was to lift the veil of secrecy and allow Dennis the ability to live in the light, free from fear. He told Clark as much.

Clark, for his part, didn’t bat an eye. “I understand. Believe me, your goals are my goals. The thing of it is, if you can help me, I can help you. Are you willing to work with Elias and myself to do that?”

Creevey sat back in his chair. His mind raced at the possibilities. He’d be able to see his son marry and have children.

“I will.” Lionel was committed.

“Splendid! We’re going to make a better world, for you and your son.” Clark rose and offered his hand. “Please follow Elias. We’re going to ply you for some information, but believe me, when it’s all said and done, we will make history. Who knows, maybe young Dennis can work here for me!”

Lionel smiled at the notion. His mind pictured Dennis having a normal life with a normal job. He readily followed Elias out a door at the side.

***

Clark watched the man follow behind Elias. When he disappeared out the door, Clark felt his energy draining from him. He slowly made his way towards his seat at his desk. He dropped into his chair and hit a small button on his desk. Another door opened and a large, brutish man dressed in a finely tailored three piece suit. His muscles stretched the fabric of his coat and he had the tell tale bulge of a weapon holstered tucked beneath his left armpit. His brown eyes were constantly moving as if looking for a threat. His hair was cropped short and he had a large forehead and a jutting chin. His bearing was military and utterly deadly. Anthony Stephens was ex-military, a commando, no less. He had a reputation for ruthlessness which had got him mustered out of the service to begin with. He was a deadly instrument of mayhem and he was completely devoted to Simon Clark.

Stephens walked to his boss and began the complex process of connecting a vial of intravenous fluid, this time containing a solution designed to replenish Clark’s nutrients. Clark nodded at Stephens as he felt the cool sensation of the liquid entering his veins. After a moment, Clark sat up and focused on a monitor imbedded in the surface of his desk. The image was that of a conference room and he saw a large table where Lionel Creevey, Elias Cohen and a transcriber keying into a laptop. From the audio, Lionel was speaking without pause. Clark smiled and turned to his brooding companion.

“Prepare your assault team with a maximum load. We’ll have a target for you soon enough.” The giant henchman bowed slightly and turned to leave the room. Clark noticed the small smile on his team leader’s face. Stephens was relishing this chance and apparently he hoped that he’d meet some resistance.

Clark leaned back in his chair and contemplated this opportunity. If he was right, he’d not only be cured, but he’d live a lot longer. He savored the possibilities. Why on earth would he share this power with anyone? He’d be the most powerful man on the planet. Clark smiled even more deeply. No, there was no need to share this ability; he’d just have to make sure that he was the only one to reap the benefits of his efforts. The knowledge gained from this venture would have to be compartmentalized, after all.

***
Hours passed and Lionel began to tire. Elias dismissed the stenographer and decided to call it a day. He motioned for Lionel to follow him out the door.

“Do you want to see something interesting?” Lionel shrugged his shoulders. They walked down a long corridor that led to an open room. The room was filled with display cases much like a museum. The cases held a variety of wands and robes and other objects that Lionel had only seen in the display windows during his visits to Diagon Alley with his sons.

“This is the sum total of our knowledge of that world. These artifacts were recovered from all over the world.” Lionel spotted a familiar face on the wall. Elias noticed his focus. “Yes, that’s Benjamin Franklin. He, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams were all members of the Freemasons.” Lionel recognized the names, but had no idea who the Freemasons were. “They were all wizards, who rather dwelled in the human world, not their own.”

“Muggles.” Elias looked at Lionel curiously. “They call humans, muggles. It sounds kind of like the name of a pet.”

“Muggles, then. The wizards still enforced their secrecy, but these secret societies sprouted up.” Elias pointed to the gallery. “This would have never happened had we not found out about these societies.” Cohen lost himself in the moment. Indeed, there were Illuminati members that will play a key role in their gambit. “Anyway, let’s get you home.”

Cohen escorted Lionel to the front door. With a wave, he watched the tired man walk towards the tube station. Cohen took the lift back to Clark’s office and plopped himself in front of the desk.

Clark remained stationary, allowing his medicine to take hold. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think we have a very good opportunity.” Elias watched his patron turn in his chair towards him. “We can use the Creevey boy’s wedding to make our move. Potter is sure to be there and we can use Lionel to gain access to the proceedings.”

Another door opened and Anthony Stephens lumbered into the room. Clark turned his head towards him. “Have your team ready to go in six weeks. Your objective is the retrieval of a man named Harry Potter.”

“What about collateral damage?” The voice was deep.

Clark looked at Elias. “The device will render them impotent so resistance should be negligible.”

Clark nodded. “Be that as it may, should anyone try to play the hero, use all available means to secure Potter. I want him alive, all other considerations are secondary.”

Stephens snapped his heels together and turned about. Clark let out a sigh and wheezed deeply. Finally, he spoke. “Are you sure the device will work? Everything depends on its utility.”

“It was crafted by one the world’s most powerful wizards over one hundred years ago.” Elias was sure.

“How do you know?” Clark knew the answer, but he couldn’t leave anything to chance.

“You know the answer, I was his assistant.” Elias steepled his fingers. “I was there.”

Assured, Clark closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him.


***A/N: What device? Elias is a wizard? Stay tuned, the answer will come soon enough.

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Chapter 66 – Illuminati Scientia

The Potters sat around the dinner table enjoying a quiet meal at home. James was seated in a high chair and his parents took turns feeding him from jars of food that sat in front of them. He didn’t much care for the orange goo that his mother was feeding him and disliked the yellow mush that his father was feeding him. His parents, as usual, were ignoring his insistence that the quality of his meals get better.

“Getting married?” His mother’s squeal caused James to giggle which was fortunate because he was growing bored with smearing his food on his high chair.

Harry wiped a large section of yellow paste off his son’s cheek. “Yes, Dennis said they were going to hold the ceremony at Hogwarts. I saw him in the training arena.”

Dennis had been selected to lead the new Magical Law Enforcement hit team that was being reconstituted after its decimation during the Morgana crisis. Dennis was ramping up the training regimen and using Harry’s team as a training cadre for his recruits. In the beginning, Harry’s team of Aurors won every contest, but Dennis’ diligence was bringing the Ministry Hit Team up to full proficiency.

“That’s wonderful.” Ginny fed James a spoonful of orange paste which he immediately pushed out of his mouth with his tongue and smiled at his ingenuity. “I wonder what I’ll wear? We can get my parents or Andromeda to sit for us. I can’t wait.” Ginny crammed a bit more of the orange paste into James’ mouth and held the spoon to prevent a repeat of his tongue feat. “I’m going to see Cho tomorrow at the shop.”

Cho was an equipment designer at the Quality Quidditch Supply Shop. Ginny saw her often in Ginny’s capacity as senior Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet.

“That’s great, why don’t you try to get a line on a good gift for them?” Harry picked up James from the high chair and head up the stairs to bathe him. He left Ginny who was scribbling furiously on a notepad a list of things to do to prepare for the wedding.

The next day, Ginny found herself walking along Diagon Alley towards her job at the Daily Prophet. On the way, she stopped at the Quality Quidditch Supply Shop and looked for any sign of Cho. Spotting her in a corner of the shop, near a rack of new Firebolts, Ginny almost ran to Cho, squealing in delight.

“I’m so happy for you!” She embraced her friend with a crushing hug. Cho took a deep breath, trying to replace the air that Ginny had squeezed out of her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, not really, I think we’ve pretty much got it sewed up.” Cho noticed Ginny’s disappointed expression. Noticing the camera strapped around Ginny’s neck, Cho had an inspiration. “We don’t have a photographer, though. Do you think, maybe, you can take some shots of us?”

“I’d be delighted!” Ginny beamed. “How’s Dennis doing?”

“He’s gotten into the swing of things. He’s out with his father right now. I think this whole wedding has brightened his Dad’s outlook.” Cho gave Ginny a hopeful grin.

“That’s great!” Ginny leaned in conspiratorially. “Now, never mind all that, let’s see your ring.”

***
Dennis sat with his father at a pub down the road from the senior Creevey’s home. They were watching a fiercely contested rugby match on the television and tipping back ales.

“Dennis, can I ask a favor about the wedding?” Lionel’s tone was measured.

Dennis took a sip of his beer. “Sure Dad, anything.”

“I was wondering if I could bring a few friends with me.” Dennis gave him a curious look. “They’re all part of a grief counseling group I belong to. Everyone lost someone during the Voldemort problem.”

Dennis thought for a few moments. He was surprised by the request. Mostly, he was taken by his father’s mention of the word friends. Given the morose mood his father had been in the past few years, Dennis was overjoyed by the fact that his father was socializing.

“Sure Dad, how many were you thinking?” Dennis took another sip of his drink.

“Just myself and four others. We’ll use my port key to get there.” Lionel watched his son’s nod as he drained his own drink. In the background, one of the team’s scored eliciting a rousing cheer from the pub’s patrons. Dennis found himself distracted by the applause and failed to notice his father’s inability to look him square in the eye.

***

“How many? Four? That should be enough. Good work, Lionel. Think of it this way, you’ll be giving Dennis quite a wedding present. You’ll hear from us soon.” Elias hung up his cell phone and turned to Clark who was resting on a couch in his office.

“It’s on. He’ll be able to get four in without much notice.” Elias smiled in triumph. Clark returned with a wan grin of his own.

“I should prepare the device for transport. Where’s Anthony?” Elias looked around and spotted the ever present soldier of fortune. Cohen gestured to Stephens and motioned for him to follow. With a wave to Clark, Elias led Stephens out of the room.

They made their way through the wizard gallery in the center of the floor and walked up to a panel in a wall. Elias waved a pass card over a spot on the wall and it raised into the ceiling revealing a large room. The room was large with bright lights illuminating the portraits of six men. Cohen sighed and looked at a glass display case in the center of the room. In the middle of the display case was a battered, ancient pocket watch. Its hands were of iron and the outer covering seemed to be made of brass, which had lost much of its luster. Carefully, Elias swiped his pass card over a reader on the side of the display case and the front of glass popped open. Cohen reached in and removed the watch and turned the rusty wheel at its top until the time read twelve o’clock. The watch began to emit a dull red glow. Satisfied that it was working, Cohen reset the hands by spinning the wheel, causing the glow to fade. He rubbed the front of the watch and handed it to Stephens. The device was lost in his large hands.

“Remember, set the time for noon. Its range is roughly one kilometer, so make sure you stay in the open. When it’s activated, your electronics should be able to work.” Stephens barely nodded, instead he wheeled about and left the room. Cohen stayed behind, his mind dwelling on the pictures of the six men in the room. He sighed and let his memory return to a time almost one hundred years ago, when these men had last gotten together.

***

He was younger then, his hair thick and blonde. The men had been called together by Alfred Nobel, who was the first of them to renounce their lives as wizards. Around the table the greatest minds of their era were collected to discuss the future. Nobel sat at one end of the table. At his right, Thomas Edison and Nicola Tesla had their heads together discussing dynamos and alternating currents. On Nobel’s left, Albert Einstein and Guglielmo Marconi studiously ignored each other, the result of a disagreement on theories of energy. The other end of the table was occupied by an understated man, who at first glance seemed to be out of place among the mental colossuses seated near him. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose and smiled. H.G. Wells cleared his throat drawing the attention of the others present.

“I think we’re all here, Alfred. What’s on your mind?” Wells removed his glasses and wiped them down with a handkerchief. Replacing them, Wells smiled. “It’s quite dangerous for us to be meeting like this.”

“Quite right, Nobel. We could have a Ministry posse here at any time.” Edison’s retort was gruff.

Nobel raised his hands and asked for silence. “Gentlemen, I know we’re taking a risk but it was imperative that we meet. I’ve come to a decision that may impact all of us.”

This brought stares from all of them. Nobel sipped water from a nearby glass. “What do you mean?” Einstein stared the older man down.

“We all left the world of wizards because we wanted to share our power and knowledge with the masses. We used our powers to move mankind along the path to discovery and knowledge. Edison, you and Tesla have been introducing the muggles to the possibilities that electricity can give.” Nobel gave them a careful look. “Marconi, you’ve been helping to introduce mass communication through your gift of wireless. Wells, you’re stories have filled them with hope and anticipation of a brighter future.”

They noticed that he’d skipped over Einstein. “Albert, I’m not sure what you bring is truly a gift. For myself, I gave the world dynamite, which, even now, has been perverted into a dreadful weapon of mass killing. I thought I could make war so terrible, that men would think twice about killing. I was wrong.” Nobel sighed. “Imagine what they’ll do with your theories on the nature of energy. The devastation would be indescribable.”

These men had known each other since their days at Hogwarts. When Tesla had discovered the Room of Requirement, the six men began to hold regular meetings there. Ravenclaws all, they called themselves the Illuminati Scientia. As they finished their times at the school, they came to an agreement that knowledge was for all, not just the magical few. At first, their chafing at the International Statute of Secrecy could be written off as youthful rebellion, but as they matured, there was seriousness to their goal and each had left the wizarding society, even with the threat of arrest and imprisonment. Having fancied themselves modern versions of Prometheus, they felt their mission outweighed the risks.

Nobel creased his forehead. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m already responsible for more deaths than my conscious can bear. I don’t wish to participate any longer. I’m dedicating my life to peace.”

“You can’t speak for us, Nobel. You may want to quit, but you made a commitment to us. It’s not something that you can just walk away from.” Edison’s tone was surly, menacing. “You wouldn’t want us to take matters into our own hands, would you?” Edison twirled his wand in his hand, the point never really leaving Nobel’s general direction.

“You forget, Thomas that I’m in possession of Tesla’s trinket.” Nobel removed a shiny brass plated watch from his pocket. It was glowing red. “When Nicola conjured this device, ostensibly, it was to keep prying Aurors from tracking our meetings. I will keep possession of this device.”

Audible gasps came from around the table. “Your aim is to blackmail us?” Wells tinny voice carried across the table. “I suppose your conscience won’t rest until all of us are serving your penance in Azkeban?”

“No. As I said, I don’t wish to participate in creating machinery of death. Albert’s work terrifies me. It cannot be allowed to see the light of day. I will make it my mission to prevent that day from happening. I am sorry, Albert.” Einstein glared at his old friend.

“You won’t live forever, Alfred.” Edison stood up and motioned to Tesla. The meek younger man rose as well. “Magic isn’t the only means we have at our disposal.” With that, the two left the meeting. Wells looked at Marconi and nodded. As one, they left the room without saying goodbye.

“I understand your fear, Alfred, truly.” Einstein’s voice was quiet. “You only see the evil in my work. There are limitless possibilities for good my work. It holds the secret that could power human society for ages. Man could go to the moon or to the stars.”

“You know that man’s tendency is to destroy, not to discover.” Nobel thought of his invention of barbed wire and how it’d been used to make killing men easier.

“Maybe so, but one day, even as a weapon, this information may be needed to stop a greater evil than the knowledge itself. I guess your altruism about helping the muggles wasn’t very sincere, after all.” Einstein rose and offered his hand to Nobel. “I wish you luck, Alfred, but keep this in mind. Edison was right. You do not speak for us and you can not speak for me. My work will continue.” Einstein left the room.

Nobel sat motionless. He looked up when he noticed Elias enter the room. “I suppose, Elias that could have gone better.”

“Yes, sir.” Cohen agreed with Nobel. “What more could you have done? I know you’re thinking about the muggles in your decision.”

“True, but I’m not so sure that the rest think so.” Einstein’s rebuke burned in his mind. “Nevertheless, I can only do what’s in my power.” He stared at the glowing pocket watch.

“Will you keep it, sir?” Elias’ eyes stood locked on the watch.

“Yes, if only to keep the rest in line, at least until I die.” Nobel chuckled at the thought.

Elias laughed at his mentor. “Well, let’s hope that’s not for quite a long time.”

“Indeed.”

‘Quite a long time’ lasted exactly three more years. Nobel died under mysterious circumstances after establishing his foundation dedicated to peace. During that entire time, Elias Cohen nearly ever strayed from his side. The watch was active during that entire time. Elias was so used to not having the use of magic, that he almost forgot that he was a wizard. When Nobel died, Cohen had been away on an errand. The old man died and his body and the watch were spirited away by the members of his foundation. Elias returned and found Nobel gone. Nobel’s death unnerved him. An even bigger shock was when he tried to use his wand to conjure a seeking spell, Elias found that he could not execute the magic. He could not use any magic. Somehow, the prolonged exposure to the watch had robbed him of his ability to cast spells.

Elias lived on, his magic gone. To Cohen, it was like losing a limb only deeper. His mind began to wallow in madness. Slowly, his loss and fear turned to hatred for the remainder of the great men who’d driven Nobel to make his decision. Cohen tracked them all down and turned them into the Ministry, anonymously. One by one, over the course of fifty years, hit teams came for the other five and took them away. The last was Einstein, and Cohen made sure he was there when they took him away. Once his task was completed, the madness turned to the society that birthed him. Elias vowed to make the magical world which had granted him his gift, pay for taking it away.

His crusade brought him to where he was today. His association with Clark allowed for the retrieval of the device. He hadn’t told Clark everything about his background; just enough to find a way to get the watch, but when they finally had Potter, maybe the device would give him a way to take Potter’s powers for himself. Once he had them, he would be the most powerful wizard in the world. Clark would have to be eliminated, of course, but what was the life of a dying muggle to him anyway?

***A/N: OK, enough of the background. We are going to be getting into the serious action next chapter. The tentative title: "A Wedding to Remember" since "Wedding Crashers" was used somewhere else. Pfft...Movies, bah.

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Chapter 67 – A Wedding to Remember

November at Hogwarts brings bright, clear days marked by brisk temperatures and blue sky. It’s as if the school was preparing its students for the harshness of winter, while reminding them of the beauty of the spring. Cho particularly loved this time of year as her memory brought her back to the vigorous Quidditch practices she’d participated in all those years ago. That was why she picked November for her wedding. Dennis had readily acceded to her request although, his main stipulation was to have the ceremony on the grounds at Hogwarts, essentially to be in sight of his brother’s final resting place. Cho’s parents had gone all out in their preparations and a large array of seating was set up facing the lake. A raised stage using the backdrop of the lake was constructed in front of the seating. Today, the crowd was standing room only, with all of their friends in attendance. As Cho peaked out from a tent that had been set up just to rear of the seating area, she saw members of the staff and faculty of Hogwarts were in the crowd as were the members of the current student body. Towards the front, dignitaries representing the Ministry had made their way in as had the collected membership of Dumbledore’s Army. At the very front of the seating area, she saw her mother and father sitting patiently but on Dennis’ side, Lionel hadn’t arrived yet. Cho took a quick look at her watch, she had a little over thirty minutes until the rest of her life began.

“Half an hour!” Dennis started in his shoes. Harry’s exclamation revealed the anxiety he was feeling. He gave Harry a half-hearted grin.

“I know, were you this nervous on your wedding day, Harry?” For the umpteenth time, Dennis adjusted the knot on his tie.

Harry grabbed Dennis’ hand and made a slight adjustment to the bow tie. “Worse, Dennis. I couldn’t speak or breathe. You’re doing fine.”

“I hope so. Thanks for doing this for me, Harry.” Dennis took another peek out of the tent. It seemed like he was looking for someone. “I wonder where my dad is? Oh wait, there he is.” Harry followed Dennis’ eyes and saw Lionel Creevey walking up from the Hogsmeade road in the company of four well-appointed men. Three of the men were non-descript, finely dressed and their faces seemed to be in the spirit of the occasion. The fourth was a beast of a man. He towered over Lionel. He wasn’t as animated as the other and his eyes roved the area like a predator. A nagging sensation buzzed in the back of Harry’s brain, there was something distinctly out of sorts about that man.

“It’s my pleasure, Dennis. I’m glad to be of use.” Dennis had asked Harry to officiate at the wedding, a gesture which surprised and delighted Harry. “I’d better head up to the podium, you won’t change your mind, will you?” Dennis laughed at Harry and shooed him off. Harry made his way down the side of the seating area and spied Ginny standing off to the side. In her hands, she had her camera and she was fiddling with the lens and snapping pictures. Harry walked up behind her and placed his arms on her hips. He placed a soft kiss on her neck. She spun around and smiled at him, her brown eyes twinkling in the fall sun.

“Go on, Harry, we’ve got work to do.” Harry smiled and placed a full kiss on her lips, savoring the electrical shock he received every time their lips met. Ginny had a devilish grin on her face. “You know, my mum will have James overnight. We have the entire evening to ourselves.” Her smile was impish and her eyes had an invitation which sent his heart racing.

Harry kissed her once more and head for the stage. She watched his back, her mind on their plans for the evening. She felt someone brush on her shoulder and she was passed by Dennis’ father and four men. The largest of the men had bumped into her while they were making their way to the seating at the front of the crowd.

Lionel and his guests made their way to their seats. Anthony Stephens took the end seat, his eyes never stopping their scan of their surroundings. Stephens was bursting with anxiety and nervous energy. He was a little unsettled by the small feats of magic that were demonstrated all around. He watched flowers orchestrated in a variety of patterns around the ceremony area. He watched the wizards and witches perform mundane tasks with a wave of their wands. He could sense the raw power behind those simple tasks, and his job was to seize the most powerful of the bunch. The main fact of the matter was that this was his job. He was a professional and he knew that he had a mission to complete. Stephens felt the weight of Tesla’s Device in his inside jacket pocket.

“Which one is Potter?” Stephens leaned into Lionel, masking his voice from the surrounding people.

Lionel looked up at the stage. “That’s him there, the one behind the podium. He’s wearing glasses.”

Subvocally, Stephens communicated to the rest of his team. “We’ll move right before the ceremony begins. Creevey, I suggest you try to keep your son and his bride out of our way. I’d hate for either one to get hurt on their wedding day.” There was a hint of dark humor in his voice. Lionel felt a distinct sense of menace in Stephens’ voice. A tinge of doubt crept into Lionel’s conscience.

“Don’t.” Stephens’ voice was heavy and evil. “This is going to happen. The only variable is how many people get hurt. If you want to keep the harm to a minimum, you’ll cooperate. Cross me, and I can’t predict who’ll get hurt. Maybe it’ll be your son, or his fiancé. You control the outcome, Creevey.” Lionel Creevey felt a pit form in his stomach. He had made a dreadful mistake and it was too late to do anything about it.

Harry arranged his notes on the lectern, preparing for the beginning of the wedding. He gave a quick wave to Ron. Members of the DA were seated round the area Ron sat and Harry found himself giving a nod to Dean Thomas. Harry’s eyes fell on George, Dudley and Lee and Harry felt a bout of anxiety. Where those three could be found, mayhem was sure to follow. Harry made a note to himself to keep an eye on the brain trust behind Weasley’s Wheezes. He scanned the crowd, recognizing people here and there, and reflecting on how young the Hogwarts students seemed. Harry chuckled, had he ever been that young? Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Lionel and his odd quartet of companions. The man on the end seemed to staring at Harry. Again, Harry felt a nagging pull in his brain. The man made him nervous. The ceremony was about five minutes from starting, but Harry couldn’t shake the odd feeling he had about Mr. Creevey’s guest. Harry gave a glance to Ron, whose querulous look turned into understanding. Ron nodded to Sarah Peebles who was seated next to Lee. Unaware of the situation, Sarah reacted based on instinct. She saw Ron’s glance and saw Harry moving from the stage. She let her wand fall out of her sleeve into her hand as she rose to follow Ron down the aisle.

Harry moved down the side of the stage, his wand suddenly appearing in his hand. Stephens watched Harry’s movements. Stephens moved his hand into his pocket and removed the watch. He whispered to his team to ready them and turned the hands to the twelve o’clock position. Stephens replaced the watch into his pocket and drew the TASER.

Harry felt strange. He glanced around him and saw the enchanted flower petals no longer twirling in patterns, but lost on the whims of the wind. Nothing magically motivated seemed to be moving. No on, as yet, seemed to notice the change. Harry noticed the four men with Lionel Creevey rise from their seats. He noticed the large man pull something from around his waist. In his hand, the man held a narrow, boxy object and extended his arm towards Harry. Harry snapped up his wrist and extended his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” The man flinched momentarily, but when nothing happened to him, he grinned. A rapid flash of light and smoke extended from the object in his hand and reached out towards Harry. Small barbed darts trailing wires behind them imbedded themselves in Harry’s chest. He felt a surge of power ripple through his body. He lost control of his hands and legs and was thrown to the ground by the hammer blows of thousands of volts of electricity. His wand dropped to the ground and he felt consciousness slipping from him.

The four men moved with military precision. Stephens incapacitated Potter with the TASER and motioned to his men to take up positions. One of the men reached underneath his jacket and pulled a small canister out of his belt. He pulled a pin at the top of the canister and tossed it towards the center of the crowd of wedding guests. Smoke began to filter from the object filtering among the guests. The billowing clouds of CS gas assaulted the nearby guests, bringing tears immediately to their eyes and causing bouts of nausea and discomfort, effectively rendering the majority of them incapable of action. All three of the remaining pulled weapons from inside their coats. Stephens handed the TASER to one of the other men and drew his own sidearm from its holster.

“Harry!” Ron saw his friend struck down. Ron raised his arm and tried to stun the four men moving towards Harry. Nothing happened. He felt his lungs choking up from the gas and for a moment, felt his knees weaken. Ron ignored his own discomfort or his own inability to cast a spell. Harry was his friend and his brother, and he wasn’t going to let him down. Ron stood and sprinted towards the men, with no idea of what he would do when he got there.

Stephens turned and saw the red haired man running towards him. Stephens gave a twisted smile and raised his arm. Aiming carefully he squeezed the trigger of his weapon and saw the charging man thrown back by the impact of the bullet. Stephens tracked the rest of the crowd with his weapon and called out in a clear voice.

“We just want Potter. Anyone who tries to interfere will be shot. Make no mistake, your health is not my concern.” He pointed his gun towards Ron’s prone form.

“Ron!” Hermione leapt from her seat as she saw her husband fall. She ran to his body and turned him over. A red stain was rapidly increasing in size on his left shoulder. When she saw that there was no way to use magic, she tore pieces of her robe and clamped them down tightly on the wound. The blood flow as slow and she heard Ron moan. She felt Sarah join her and try to assist in her ministrations to Ron’s wound. Off to the side, she heard the loud report of another gunshot.

“No! This isn’t what we agreed to!” Lionel Creevey attacked the man nearest him, grabbing his gun and fighting for control of the weapon. While they struggled for the pistol, the barrel of the gun got turned inward on its owner. The gun went off and Lionel came away possessing the firearm, its previous owner crumpled to the ground. Stephens didn’t hesitate. He snapped up his wrist and fired twice, hitting Lionel twice in the chest, dropping the older man in his tracks.

Stephens cast a glance at his fallen man and couldn’t see any movement. He turned to one of his remaining men. “Get the beacon on line!” The man nodded and removed a small, square device that had a keypad on it. Typing in a sequence of numbers, a small integrated circuit inside the device transmitted a signal to a satellite flying miles overhead. The satellite noted the men’s location and sent the precise coordinates to a similar device mounted on the dash of a helicopter orbiting the bright Scottish skies. The pilot of the helicopter looked back in the passenger compartment and gave thumbs up to the man seated in the cargo seat. The man nodded and the pilot pointed the nose of the rotary aircraft towards a point on the compass.

The scene at Hogwarts was in a tumult. The appearance of smoke and the use of dangerous weapons combined with the nullification of their use of magic had caused the attendees to panic. The panic turned into a rout as teachers pointed their students back towards the school. Bodies flew in every direction save for the one which held the three remaining attackers and their prize, Harry Potter. Lost in the confusion, Ginny Potter tried to get to Harry. The mass of people fleeing the other direction and the shooting of her brother caused her to pause. In a matter of fleeting seconds she fought down the impulse to charge the man, her thoughts on Harry and on James. What would Harry want her to do? What would Harry need her to do? She fought back her tears and screwed her face into an expression of resolve. She raised her camera to her eye and began to snap pictures of the assailants. Later, she would tell herself that the tear gas was the cause, but as she took the pictures, tears began to pour from her eyes.

Stephens walked to Harry’s prone form and removed a hypodermic syringe from his pocket. Removing the protective sleeve, he pushed the needle into Harry’s arm and pushed the plunger down full. The sedative took immediate effect and Harry felt his world disappear into a haze. Stephens motioned to the other two men and they picked up Harry’s body between them. They dragged the dazed Auror towards an open field area nearby. Stephens looked up in the sky and spotted a dark speck in the sky that was slowly getting bigger. He smiled and kept his weapon trained on the area that held the seating area. The large black helicopter approached the field, circled momentarily, allowing the pilot to verify the identity of the men summoning him. Quickly, the helicopter alit on the field and the passenger cast open the doors and stepped down on the grass, beckoning the men to hurry. Elias Cohen looked over at the high walls of Hogwarts and sighed in reflection. The sound of screams and reports of gunshots snapped him out of his reverie. He helped the two men drag Potters body onto the helicopter and turned towards Stephens’ approaching form.

“Hurry, we’ve got to go!” Stephens turned towards them and ran. When he reached the door, he turned one more time and tossed an aimed shot down towards the wedding party. Elias reached and pulled down the big man’s arm. “Enough! We’ve got to go!” Elias hissed with vehemence.

Stephens turned and put the muzzle of the pistol under Elias’ chin. “Don’t tell me what to do!” Stephens looked into the helicopter and saw the stunned looks on the faces of his men. Returning to his senses, Stephens dropped his grip on Cohen and climbed into the cabin. Cohen took one last look at the scene and followed him. The pilot pulled up on the collective and pulled the helicopter up and away from the scene. Stephens looked out the rear window and watched the spires of Hogwarts recede in the background. As they pulled the Tesla Device out of range of the school, the charms that had shielded the school from detection for hundreds of years took hold and it disappeared in a shroud of spells and magic.

The entire encounter had lasted for less than fifteen minutes, yet the chaos continued to reign over the scene. Several bodies littered the ground, attended to by several people. The return of their ability to cast spells allowed for substantially better treatment and transport to St. Mungo’s. Nevertheless, several were critical and there had been one death. Cho wandered the area and spotted Dennis, who was huddled over the lifeless body of his father. Dennis saw her approach and looked at her through pleading, teary eyes.

“I’m alone now. Nobody’s left of my family.” Dennis cast his eyes down and sobbed heavily.

Cho reached down and put her arms around him. “You’re not alone, Dennis. You’ll always have me.”

“I know.” He smiled gratefully and they mourned the death of Lionel Creevey together.

***A/N: Man, I want to hurt Stephens. Who will lead the effort to rescue Harry when Harry is the person who's been leading the rescues to date?

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Chapter 68 – Captivity

The haze of the sedatives cleared momentarily. Harry tried to move his hands and found himself laying on a chrome bed. His hands were manacled by shiny bindings that kept his hands locked above his head. His legs were in irons that locked them to the foot of the metal frame. The bed was raised at his head, leaving him reclined at a forty five degree angle. He looked around the room. The walls were all white. There was a large mirror on one wall and a single door that had a small window. To his side, a small cart with a screen and monitor was connected by a plastic tube to his arm. He saw red fluid flowing from his arm into the apparatus on the cart. He was dressed in hospital scrubs and his feet were bare. His head felt light and a wave of dizziness overcame him as he opened his eyes fully. Banks of high powered klieg lights were aimed at his face and he had difficulty determining how long he’d been there.

He heard a rustle at the door as it was unlocked. He made out several figures walking into the room, including the beast of a man who’d fired the strange weapon at him. The large man walked deferentially behind a tall, bald man whose eyes gleamed with delight at seeing Harry conscious. A couple of attendants stayed in the background, well away and deferential to the bald man. In the corner of the room, a white-haired old man wearing an obnoxious yellow track suit hovered, his sharp blue eyes fixed on Harry.

“Ah, you’re awake. Welcome, Mr. Potter.” The man pulled a plastic white chair from out of Harry’s vision and rolled it beside the bed. “You don’t seem to be any worse for the wear.”

“Where am I? What do you want from me?” Harry’s tongue felt heavy. He was still fighting the power of the drugs that had been injected into his system.

“Where you are is not important and as for what we want from you? We’ve already taken it.” The man smiled and nodded to the tube that was slowly draining Harry’s blood. “Where are my manners? My name is Simon Clark. This rather menacing gentleman, whom I believe you’ve already met, is Mr. Stephens. The older gentleman in the corner is Professor Elias Cohen.”

Clark turned as the door opened and a short, rail-thin man wearing glasses and a lab coat entered the room. “Ah, Dr. Kendall, you have news for us?”

The clinician cautiously approached his boss. His face belied fear and failure. Clark’s expression turned dark. He turned and nodded to Stephens who closed the distance to the doctor. Kendall cleared his throat and began his report.

“We’ve finished our analysis, sir. There is nothing distinctive in the blood chemistry of the subject. His blood is a normal O positive type. His white blood cell count is nominal and his neurotransmitters are fine. I can find nothing peculiar about this subject.” Kendall bowed his head and hoped that Clark’s wrath would be visited on him.

Clark brooded for a moment. “Adrenaline.” He stood up rapidly. “We need adrenaline. Specifically, we need the adrenaline induced by pain.” He looked at Cohen who shrugged his shoulders. Clark made a motion to Stephens, who retrieved another cart from another portion of the room.

Stephens removed a sheet covering the top of his tray. A variety of sharpened instruments covered the cart mixed with wires and probes of all types. Stephens looked expectantly at Clark who smiled and turned to Harry.

“You see, Mr. Potter. I need what you have inside your blood. Your DNA may hold the key to my survival. We thought we could just take what we need from your blood, however, we were not so lucky. My friend over there,” He pointed to Stephens. “is very proficient at inflicting and prolonging pain. You see, when humans feel pain, they produce adrenaline. Our theory is that this is where your ‘magic’ resides. We want to tap that magic, Mr. Potter. The life you save, may be mine.” Clark smiled at his own attempt at humor. He rose from the seat and pulled the chair away. He looked over to Stephens and nodded. The hulking lackey smiled, enjoying the chance to ply his trade.

Harry watched Stephens grab a scalpel from his array of implements and approach his bound form on the bed. Stephens cut open Harry’s shirt, revealing his chest. With no hint of softness, he pushed the blade of the knife into Harry’s shoulder, just above the chest, cutting a small incision. He repeated the process on the opposite shoulder. Harry tensed as the cold metal sliced his skin. Stephens repeated the process on each side of Harry’s temple. Stephens repeated his handiwork on Harry’s stomach, piercing the skin with matching three inch incisions on either flank. Harry could feel the wounds bleeding, not overly so, but enough to be a reminder of the pain.

One of the orderlies in the room flinched momentarily at the sight, but recovered before anyone noticed. Clark watched his henchman with great interest, offering commentary as each cut was made. “You see, the pain fades. We need to prolong the pain, without letting you pass out to quickly. Mr. Stephens is quite able at this type of work. I think you’ll find this next step interesting.”

Stephens removed six probes from the table. Each had a wire leading from one end and barbed point at the other. With little warning or subtlety, he inserted a barbed point into each incision. He then casually walked over to a panel on the wall on the far side of the room. Clark looked over at Harry. “You see, each probe injects a small dosage of acid into your wounds, and then we hit the wound with a suitable amount of voltage. We repeat the process and are able to keep the pain lasting. We’ll have to adjust this until we find the proper threshold. Too much and too soon, you will pass out. Too little and not soon enough, you will not produce the right amount of neurochemicals. Please bear with us, we are experimenting, after all.”

Clark waved at Stephens who pressed some buttons on the panel on the wall. He then began to slowly turn a knob on the panel, activating the probes. Harry felt the stinging warmth and sharp pain of the acid being pumped into his cuts, which were immediately followed the hard jolt of current that followed the acid into his wounds. The pain built and he grit his teeth to fight off his weakness. He failed. His screams rang through the room until the pain was too much to bear. All the while, the machine at his side would extract a sample of his blood, whirring periodically as it drew the fluid into its midst.

***

Harry’s team sat around the conference table with Dawlish, Lachlan, Proudfoot and Savage. Spread about the table were the photos of the incident that Ginny had managed to take during the assault. For the past several hours, they’d wracked their brains trying to figure out who had taken Harry and why. The fact that they’d lost their powers during the attack had shaken the establishment to the core. They had been powerless to prevent Harry’s kidnapping and now, were even more so in trying to find who’d taken him.

“Williamson, you’ll lead Harry’s team until we get him back.” Dawlish’s first order of business was to establish that they would, indeed, get Harry back. The crimson-clad Auror nodded his head soberly and glanced over at the rest of his team mates. “We don’t know who is behind this, but maybe there is a clue that the muggles can determine from the dead man we recovered. We need to get over to Lionel Creevey’s home and see if he left anything to tell us about this. One thing’s for sure, he was involved somehow.”

Dawlish looked up as the door to the conference room burst open. Ginny, Hermione and Arthur Weasley entered the room, leaving the guarding Auror in their wake.

“Where the hell is my husband, John?” Ginny practically shouted at them. “It’s been almost two days and you’ve not done anything.” Dawlish recoiled at her verbal assault. She wasn’t hysterical, which made her outburst even more disconcerting. “Don’t lie to me. My brother is still in the hospital and there’s not sign of Harry. What exactly are you doing to get him back?”

Dawlish lowered his eyes. “We don’t have anything to go on. We’re going to have to take this to the muggle authorities.” Ginny’s jaw lay agape. They’d accomplished nothing in getting Harry back. The shock of the reality numbed her. She fell into a nearby seat and put her hands in her head. Hermione placed an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

Arthur Weasley felt desperate. His son had been viciously wounded in a heinous attack involving muggle projectile weapons. His son-in-law, the father of his grandson and the husband of his only daughter had been brutally taken in a precision assault. Arthur put his hands in his pockets and glanced down at the pictures of the attack. He laid a finger on one of the pictures. A small, detached portion of his brain reflected on the image of the helicopter, the muggle machine that had conveyed Harry away from the site. He looked closer at the man in the running suit that’d opened the door when the helicopter landed. A pang of recognition overcame Arthur. It was memory from his past, of a time before Arthur was working in muggle relations. Arthur picked up the picture, the memory of a time years ago came flooding to him. He looked up sharply and held the picture out to Dawlish.

“I think I may know someone who can identify this man.” His words echoed through the room. Ginny lifted her head up and stared at her father. Arthur looked over to his daughter then turned back to Dawlish. “I’m going to have to talk to the Minister. I need to call in a favor.”

Dawlish and Arthur walked into Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. Kingsley was sitting with Percy Weasley poring over reports of the clean-up from the attack. The lifting of the protective spells around Hogwarts had exposed the school to thousands of people in the surrounding communities. Teams of Aurors and Ministry officials were busy trying to blank out the memories of the event. This had been the most egregious violation of their muggle protection in history and the fall out was still poring in. Kingsley rose as he saw Dawlish and Arthur enter.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry. How’s Ron doing?” Kingsley invited the two to sit.

“He’s recovering. He lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, Hermione knew rudimentary first aid and probably saved his life.” Arthur gratefully accepted the invitation to sit.

“Kingsley, I need a favor, I think I may be able to help piece together who’s behind the attack.”

“I already know who’s behind it.” Kingsley’s words rocked his two friends. “The muggle Prime Minister informed me that the helicopter belonged to a man named Simon Clark.” Dawlish gaped at Shacklebolt. “I spent a long time as an assistant to the Prime Minister. I still have contacts.”

“That’s great, Kingsley. Where can we find him? We’ve got to get a team out there at once.” Arthur leapt to his feet. Kingsley raised his arms.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. There will not be an assault from a team of Aurors. We are not to interfere with the muggles in this.” Kingsley’s words hammered at Dawlish and Arthur.

“Minister, what do you mean?” Dawlish was incredulous. “Who knows why they took Harry?”

“My hands are tied, John. The Prime Minister is concerned about the exposure we’ve had already. Simon Clark is a very powerful man and no one in the government is willing to take him on. I am bound by oath to accede to the Prime Minister’s request. I’m sorry.”

“This is bleeding preposterous!” Arthur’s face was a fiery crimson. “How much does that boy have to give before he gets a small modicum in return?” Kingsley’s face flushed in shame. “Minister, please accept my resignation, effective immediately. I can not work for an administration that has so little regard for its heroes that it leaves them to their fates. I intend to make it my mission to see that your administration is finished in the next election.” Arthur wheeled around and left a stunned Kingsley Shacklebolt in his wake. Percy gave an apologetic glance to Kingsley and ran after his father.

“Dad! Dad! Will you stop!” Percy reached his father and pulled around abruptly. “That could have been handled better, Dad.”

“Percy, don’t lecture me on fairness. We’ve all been in the fight. Harry, more than anyone else. Kingsley should know better.”

Percy glared at his father. “He’s bound by an unbreakable vow that he took when he was an aide to the Prime Minister during the Dark Lord’s rise. He can’t do anything, Dad, it’s not his fault!”

Arthur raised his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, Percy. I just feel so helpless. You might want to keep Kingsley away from your sister, there's no telling what she'll do to him.” Percy put a hand on his father’s shoulder. Arthur’s hand drifted to his pocket, feeling the picture he’d placed there from conference room. “Percy, I need a favor.”

“Sure, Dad, anything.” Percy looked at his father.

“I need you to set up a meeting for me. I need to ask someone some questions.”

***A/N: OK, bear with me. I should have another chapter out sometime tonight and another tomorrow. The suspense is killing me.

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Chapter 69 – Action Stations

The high towers of Azkeban rose into the sky and were lost among the dark storm clouds that chronically swept the island. A small twin-masted wooden ketch plowed through the stormy seas, plying through the waves effortlessly. As it approached the rocky promontory that the prison lay on, the ketch rose out of the water and floated in the air, its sails limp on its spars. It flew to the side of the prison, stopping at a balcony near the middle of the high ramparts. A gangplank extended from the ship and rooted itself on the balcony. The figures of two men bounded across the gangway and into the prison.

A team of Aurors transported Prisoner Number One to a small room off the main receiving area. The masked guardians of the prison placed the old man in the room and released his bindings. He was old, his white beard flowing down to his waist. He peered around the room, the first time he’d been out of his routine in years. He rubbed his wrists, trying to restore circulation. He noticed a glass ewer with water and a couple of glasses on the table in the room. He plucked a glass off the table and poured himself some water. He sat at the table and casually sipped his water. He saw the door open and an older version of a familiar face appeared in the threshold.

“Hello, Nicola.” Arthur Weasley walked into the room and sat across from Nicola Tesla, the man he’d helped apprehend almost fifty years prior, as a member of the Ministry’s Hit Team.

“Arthur Weasley. My, my, my, this is a surprise.” Tesla stroked his beard allowing a smile to crease his lips. “What ever brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Arthur noticed how frail Tesla had gotten. His skin hung on his bones and his hair had grown longer and stringy. His eyes remained vibrant, a sense of delight and humor in the gaze.

“I’ve come to ask for your help, Nicola. Someone from your past seems to be making some trouble and I was hoping that you could help me.” Arthur scooted the picture from Hogwarts onto the table and pushed it towards Tesla.

“Why should I help you, Arthur? I’m serving my time. I’ll die here.” Tesla never looked at the picture. He simply crossed his arms and stared Arthur down.

“Because, the attack was on my son and my family. Because, the man in the picture was present at each one of the arrests of the Illuminati Scientia and because he used your device to accomplish the task. Thousands of muggles saw Hogwarts when its protective charms were lifted. Children are at risk and you are partially responsible.” Arthur sat back and stared Tesla down. For his part, the mention of his device provoked a spark in Tesla’s expression. He slowly looked down at the picture. Recognition flared in his eyes. He smiled.

“That’s Elias Cohen. He was Nobel’s assistant. He was a fairly decent wizard, however, I don’t know what became of him.” Tesla laughed hard. “I’m sure he was very surprised at what the device did to him.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur leaned forward.

“Using the device when set to twelve o’clock for a prolonged period, like a year or more, eliminates your ability to cast spells. It was a safeguard I built into it to ensure no wizard could use it to hold power over others.” He gazed at the pictures of the carnage from the assault. “I had not anticipated that an alliance with muggles would be the result.”

“The man backing Cohen is named Simon Clark. He’s rich and powerful and ruthless. We know where he is, but how do we defeat the device?” Arthur’s eyes bore in on Tesla.

Tesla sighed. “The device relies on vision. A wizard in an Invisibility Cloak should be able to access the device. If you set it for precisely nine thirty five, you will render it powerless, forever.”

Arthur rose and picked up the photos. “Why nine thirty five?”

“Because that’s what time it was when I finished building the device.” Tesla laughed. “Arthur, I hope you succeed. It wasn’t our intention to hurt the world. We thought we were saving the world, for both muggles and wizards. Nobel was right, we just didn’t see it. Our interference caused more harm that good.” The man known as Nicola Tesla bowed his head. Arthur Weasley left the man to his thoughts.

Arthur walked into the reception area and greeted his son, Percy. “We’ve got to go.”

Percy looked back at the meeting room as a team of Aurors walked in to take Prisoner Number One back into his cell. “You’re going to defy the Minister?”

“I don’t work for the Minister, Percy, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget this meeting. I wouldn’t want your career to suffer.”

Percy winced at the rebuke from his father, but Arthur delivered the line with no real venom. Percy smiled. “I don’t know, Dad, apparently violating Ministry rules always seems to result in a promotion. I think I’m in the mood to bump up my career.”

Arthur clapped his son on the back and the pair head for their ride back to London.

***

The pain had stopped. Harry felt unable to open his eyes, but began to hear the sounds permeating the room. He heard the hum of the machinery which gave a rhythmic temp to his heartbeat. Harry heard the voices of the people in the room.

“Nothing?” Clark’s voice echoed in Harry’s skull. “You’ve found nothing at all?”

“No sir, I’m sorry. There’s simply nothing different from normal human chemistry. There were elevated levels of norepinephrine, but nothing unusual for the amount of, er, persuasion the subject had been subject to.” Kendall’s voice had a high pitch.

Elias interjected. “Perhaps it’s the device? It took away my powers, maybe the device nullifies all traces of magic in his system?”

“Do you think that’s possible?” Clark’s question demonstrated his willingness to try. “How do we ensure he won’t use the magic against us?”

“Well, for one, he doesn’t have his wand. He’s too young to really be able to cast spells without one.” Cohen murmured his response. “For another, if you keep him under heavy sedation, he won’t be able to speak the required charm, even subvocally.”

Harry opened one eye carefully in time to see Clark remove the watch from his pocket. Clark noticed Harry’s gaze and nodded to Stephens, who turned up the amount of sedative dripping into Harry’s arm. Harry felt the heavy fog of sleep overtaking him. He felt a difference in his body, as he thought about Clark turning off the inhibiting device. Soon, he was overwhelmed by drowsiness and drifted off into a slumber, an image of Ginny emblazoned in his mind.

***

The orderly who blanched at Harry’s earlier treatment entered the room. Clark and his associates had retired elsewhere. She was pretty, petite, with long brunette hair and hazel eyes. Her uniform fit her figure nicely and she obviously took rigorous care of her body. She glanced about her and approached Harry’s sleeping figure on its bed. Harry stirred briefly, his eyes opening to catch a quick sight of her. The one image he had before he drifted into slumber was that of the orderly turning off the sedative drip that was feeding the tube in his arm.

***

They sat around the dinner table at the Burrow. Sarah, Ron, Dawlish, Lachlan, Cavendish, Dean Thomas, Ginny, Hermione, Percy and Arthur had been huddled around each other going over what Arthur and Percy had discovered as to the nature of Harry’s assailants.

“We know the building is near Regent’s Park. Do we have enough Invisibility Cloaks?” Arthur was leading the meeting, collating the data they’d collected thus far.

“No, we have three between us all, including Harry’s.” Dawlish looked around at the other people at the table. “Three of us will have to go in first and disarm the device, and then the others can give us back-up.”

Lachlan nodded. “Well then, who gets to go first?”

“I’m going.” Ron’s response was firm but weakened, he’d only just returned that morning from the hospital. His answer drew a sharp look from Hermione.

“No you don’t, Ron Weasley. You’re not strong enough and you’re not leaving my sight.” Hermione faced down her husband causing him to give in.

“It needs to be Aurors.” Arthur’s voice filled the room. He looked his daughter down, anticipating her response. “Ginny, you’re not entirely objective here, and you need to think of James.” The answer stung her, more from its truth, than from its heat.

Dawlish spoke up. “It’ll be me, Lachlan and Sarah.” Cavendish gave him a sharp look. “Don’t look at me like that Elizabeth. You have to lead the rest in after we’ve succeeded.” She didn’t buy his explanation at all, but nodded nonetheless.

Arthur resumed the meeting. “Very well. John, you and your team will disable the device. We will move in once that’s accomplished. How will we know if you succeed?”

Ginny stirred and pulled two galleons out of her pocket. She affected a Protean Charm on the galleons. “He’ll be able to send us a message, if the device is turned off.”

Dawlish smiled. “Right then, when do we go?”

“Tonight.” Arthur looked around at the small group of wizards and each nodded in assent.

***

The humming of the machinery was clearer. He could discriminate between the hum of the lights and the thumping of the blood extraction unit in his arm. He carefully tried opening his eyes and was surprised when he succeeded. He turned his head and looked at the manacles holding him in place. Slowly, he put his parched lips together.

“Alohomora.” The word came out in a whisper. He glanced at the bindings around his wrist. He kept his eyes focused on the clasps that held the metal band together. Imperceptibly, the lock turned and the binding clicked open. Harry allowed himself a smile and turned to the other locks holding him in place.

***

Dawlish, Lachlan and Sarah walked into the lobby of Clark Industries, following behind several employees while they entered the doors. Outside, the rest of their team kept vigil, anxiously peering at the large façade to see if they could ascertain the whereabouts of their friend.

“He’s got to be up there on that top floor.” Dean Thomas, who’d been keeping watch at St. Mungo’s over Ron had taken his role literally and followed his friends to undertake the rescue. “Maybe we should use our brooms?”

Cavendish gave his suggestion some thought. After a moment, she nodded. It made sense to bypass the lower floors of the building and attack the penthouse level directly. The gathered wizards grabbed their brooms, looking like an army of chimney sweeps. Ginny anxiously peered at the galleon in her hand.

“Hang on Harry, hang on.” She thought she’d said these words to her self. Hermione reached over and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“He’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

The hidden Aurors made their way to the stairwell. They were much too exposed in the lift. They silently made their way up the stairs, Dawlish in the lead, with Lachlan placing a hand on his shoulder and Sarah doing the same to Dawlish. They pulled their wands out and proceeded up the stairs towards the penthouse level.

***

Harry swayed a bit, finally free from his bonds. He looked around and found his clothing resting inside a drawer along the wall. Quickly he dressed, but hissed at not being able to find his wand. He went to the door and with a whispered spell, it opened with relative ease. He eased himself out into the passageway. He was free, but now time was working against him. As soon as Clark realized Harry was free, the device would be activated and Harry would have no means to defend himself. Harry crept along the corridor, his senses slowly returning to a relative state of stability. He heard some movement ahead of him around the bend of the hallway. Peering around the corner, he saw the orderly that he remembered shut off his sedative rustling around in a broom closet. With a quick movement, Harry swept up behind her and placed a hand on her mouth. He shoved her into the closet and pulled the door behind him.

He turned her face towards his and gave her a motion to remain quiet. Silently she nodded her understanding. He removed his hand from her mouth.

“Who are you? Why did you help me?” He whispered.

“My name is Stephanie Munson. I’m a member of the Nobel Peace Foundation.” Harry gave her a puzzled look. “We’re a secret branch of the Nobel Foundation. We were charged with keeping the Tesla Device in safe keeping.”

“Apparently you failed.” Harry’s voice held a trace of sarcasm.

She gave him a glare. “Well, Clark has it and he’s willing to use it for his own gain.” Harry relented from his own suspicions. She had, after all, helped him.

“Can you get me out of here?” She shook her head no.

“I’ve helped you as much as I can. My mission is the Device.” Harry’s shoulders drooped. “Look, you have some time. He’s in the main lab in the basement, awaiting the results of your DNA scan. If you go to the far end of the hall, there’s a door that leads to the roof. Can’t you make yourself invisible or something to avoid detection?”

Harry smacked the top of his head. Of course, he could use a Disillusionment Charm. He smiled thanks and whispered the incantation and ran to the door at the end of the hall. He made his way up the stairs and pushed his way onto the roof. Just as his feet hit the gravel on the rooftop, he heard the telltale siren scream of an alarm. They’d noticed he’d gone missing.

***

Dawlish pushed open the door into the penthouse. He and his two companions rushed in, wands drawn, still hidden beneath their cloaks. They swept the room and ran into the office area. When the reached the landing of the office, they stopped in their tracks, shock blazing over their faces. Dawlish reached into his pocket and pulled out the galleon.

Ginny felt the galleon in her hand grow warm. She looked down at the letters and her face fell, her eyes generating real tears.

“The floor is empty, no furniture, no walls. There’s no one here. Harry is not here.”

***

Harry rushed to the side of the roof. The skyline was of a city he did not recognize. All around, tall buildings reached up into the night. He looked down and realized he was at least eighty stories in the air. He felt a strange sensation that his powers were gone. He attempted to cast a spell and nothing happened. Clark had reactivated the Device. Harry went back to the stairwell and heard the tell tale sounds of booted feet climbing the stairs. They were looking for him. Without his magic, he was defenseless and it was just a matter of minutes before they reached the roof. He was trapped.


***A/N: OOOOO, How I love my cliffies! Tee Hee!

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Chapter 70 – On the Run

The rooftop door burst open. Anthony Stephens led a group of black-clad men armed to the teeth with wicked looking automatic rifles. All of the men had their faces covered by balaclavas and their pockets bulged with assorted weaponry. Stephens motioned with his hand and the armed men dispersed, searching for the escaped wizard. Stephens’ eye was caught by some movement on one side of the wall. He drew a large, chrome plated pistol and ran to the edge of the roof. Glancing down the side, he swore and pumped his fist, recalling his men. He led them down the stairs. He whispered into a microphone in his sleeve. Running at full speed, the team found a high speed elevator waiting. They ducked in and depressed a button for the street level. A few minutes later, they reached the street and rushed around the side of the building. An empty window washer’s scaffold rested on the sidewalk and there was no sign of Potter to be seen. He sent his team back into the building and called for more men who were dressed less obviously in order to begin a grid search of the city. How far could one, helpless wizard get?

The answer to Stephens’ question was not that far. Harry watched him from the roof top. He’d sent the scaffolding down by itself, hoping that it’d draw his pursuers downward. He’d not expected it to reach street level to cause a bigger distraction than intended. He watched Stephens direct his men in street clothes to various quadrants in a radius from the scaffold. Harry watched as a motorcade of large vehicles roared up to Stephens’ location. The large soldier-for-hire leapt into the lead vehicle and Harry watched the procession drive off. In a few moments, he felt a change in his body. He grinned.

“Lumos!” The end of his index finger glowed a bright blue. “Nox!” The light extinguished just as rapidly as it came. Harry looked over at an adjacent rooftop and apparated from his location. He appeared on the next rooftop. He repeated the process until he was well away from the location.

***

“How the hell did he escape?” Cohen watched the blood rush to Clark’s face. Clark whirled at Cohen and grabbed the older man by the front of his jacket. “You told me to turn off the device! This is your fault!” Clark was beset by a bout of coughing, causing him to lose his grip on the defrocked wizard.

“Ahem, sir?” Dr. Kendall stood in the door, a clipboard held in his hand. “I think I found something.” Clark steadied himself and turned to face his doctor. “We passed the blood through a micron filter. There are elevated neuron levels. They’re off the chart. There’s definitely something different here. I think this is what you were looking for.”

Clark smiled wanly and patted Cohen on the chest. “Do we have enough to try on me?” Kendall shook his head. Clark threw his hands in the air and then grabbed a handset off his desk. “Stephens, find Potter. I don’t care how, but find him. When you do, we need him alive, at least until we can drain every pint of his blood from his body. Is that clear?” He received an affirmative response from his team leader. Clark threw down the radio and collapsed into his chair, his energy gone.

***

“Where did they go?” Ginny paced the living room of her parents’ home. “How do we find out where he is? He could be anywhere in the world!” The despair in her voice tore at her father’s heart.

“I may have an idea where they are.” Dudley appeared at the door, his hand clinched around a bundle of papers. “I searched out some information on the Internet. His main headquarters is in Berlin. It’s where his main research hub is. If he’s got Harry, that’s where he brought him, I’d wager. His headquarters is in the Glasturm am Potsdamer Platz.”

“Berlin? How do we get there? Floo?” Ginny’s mind was going a mile a minute.

Arthur pondered the possibilities. “I have to check the registry. We have to find a proper fireplace to land in.” He rushed and grabbed a large book that looked very similar to a telephone directory. He thumbed through the pages and found the appropriate passage. “Ah, here it is, Berlin’s Central Post Office.”

“Wait a minute, Arthur. You can’t expect to bring all of these people through. It’d be too obvious.” Dawlish stared at the people sitting around the living room. “Everyone can’t go.”

“Well I don’t know how you’re going to keep me from going.” Ginny planted her foot and crossed her arms. No one dared oppose her. No one save for Hermione.

“Ginny, you have to be reasonable.” Hermione’s voice was steady and calm. The past few days had frayed her nerves to no end. “You know you can’t go. Not only do you have James to consider, but what if they’re wrong? We need to be here to react if things change.”

Ginny’s lower lip protruded from her mouth. She wasn’t ready to give in. “It’s Harry, Hermione. I won’t lose him again. I can’t.” She faltered her voice breaking. “I can’t bear to live without him.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Hermione felt the same way about Ron. “But Ron is healthy enough to travel. He’ll go, won’t you Ron?” Ron nodded vigorously, awed by Hermione’s willingness to agree to such an arrangement.

Ron gave his sister a solemn look. “I promise, Ginny, if he’s there, we’ll find him and we’ll bring him back.” Ginny gave her brother a crushing embrace. Ron returned her hug and gazed lovingly at his wife. He was making a promise to her as well. He was promising to return home, safe.

“Besides, if I know Harry, he’s causing them all kinds of trouble, probably more trouble than he’s worth.” Dean’s words helped to release the tension in the room.

***

“This Potter is more trouble than he’s worth!” Stephens muttered beneath his breath. His patrols had not caught any sight of the escaped wizard. Wizard, bah! Stephens didn’t really believe in any of this hocus pocus mumbo jumbo. He held the device tightly in his hands. Berlin was a large city, and he was searching for a very well hidden needle in a large haystack. Perhaps Clark was hoping that Potter would simply fall back into their laps?

Harry was tiring of his apparition from roof top to roof top. He had no idea what city he was in. The landmarks weren’t familiar and he was hesitant to go to street level, lest he be stranded and trapped when the Device came into proximity to him. Still, he had to get his bearings, so he decided to chance an apparition near the street. He spied a lower roof top, barely a second story above the surface. He concentrated and appeared on the roof top. He saw an advertisement written in what he recognized as German. Berlin! He was in Berlin. He smiled and concentrated hard. He conjured his Patronus and sent it rushing off into the ether. He glanced up at a nearby skyscraper and concentrated on transporting himself upward. He disappeared and immediately reappeared in mid air above the street. He fell from the sky and landed hard in the middle of the road. The motorcade came to a screeching halt. The Device had been brought within range, just as Harry was apparating away. In fact, he had fallen into their laps.

Harry rolled onto his back, his body hurt from the fall, but nothing was seriously hurt. He raised his head in time to see the punch from Stephens land on his face. Then there was blackness.

***

As they finalized their plans, Ginny stole upstairs to Ron’s old room and looked in on James. Her son was sleeping soundly. He’d rolled onto his back, his head turned to the side. His arms were raised above his shoulders and he had a slight smile on his face as if he were dreaming about something wonderful. She reached a hand and lightly touched his cheek. Her heart ached at seeing him. She knew that Hermione was right. Suddenly, the room filled with a bright white light as a miniature version of Harry’s stallion Patronus appeared in a flurry of mist and light. She heard one word, but it was enough. She took one last look at James, and then ran down the stairs to her friends.

“Harry sent me a message by Patronus! It said ‘Berlin’! He’s in Berlin!” She was giddy with excitement.

Dudley raised his eyebrows. “That’s interesting isn’t it? You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Of course, silly. It means he’s alive!” Ginny’s relief was evident on her face.

“Well, yes, of course.” Dudley looked around at the rest of the faces drawn in his direction. “If he could send a Patronus, doesn’t that mean he’s out of range of the Device? I mean, doesn’t it mean he’s escaped, or something?”

The shocked looks on the gathered faces registered the simple conclusion. Dawlish gave a quick command and soon, five of them were exiting the living room floo, on a course for Berlin.

***

Stephens was not gentle returning Harry to his master. He tossed Harry into the room that he’d escaped. Harry had been roughed up, but Clark was happy to see him nonetheless. Stephens coupled Harry back on the bed.

“Mr. Potter, you had us worried!” Clark looked worse. His breathing was labored and his skin grown ashen. “I was concerned about your escape, so I checked the security tapes.” The door opened and two security guards walked in carrying the battered form of Stephanie Munson between them. “Imagine my surprise when I found out you had help. It’s a good surprise, mind you. By day’s end, we will be able to turn off the Device and you know what happens next?” Harry glared at Clark. His captor returned the look with a sneer. “It means every ounce of blood in your body will be mine.”

Stephens had returned the needle to Harry’s arm and turned on the sedative drip. Clark smiled and turned to the guards holding the unconscious form. “Take her to the roof of an adjacent building, and throw her off.”

The intravenous fluid continued its progress into Harry’s body, as if counting down his death.

***A/N: Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.....who's going to Berlin? Will they get there in time? tick, tick, tick, tick....

FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 71 – Gravity

The Glasturm am Potsdamer Platz was a massive structure, rising to touch the darkening sky in a pillar of black glass and gray steel. Clark had built the skyscraper amid a flurry of protests from his German competitors who opposed the presence of such a wily and ruthless competitor in their midst. A few well-placed bribes to some highly placed politicians had gained Clark the ability to build his monstrosity and now it was the headquarters of his entire operation. The top five floors of the building were reserved for his biotechnology research division and his own private living quarters. It was here, he’d spirited the captured Harry Potter after the attack at Hogwarts, and it was here the dying industrialist hope to cheat his own death, through the murder of Harry.

They had eschewed laying him on a bed. Instead, Harry was suspended from the ceiling by his arms with is wrists bearing the brunt of his weight by their containment in titanium shackles. His legs hung down with his toes barely touching the floor and his shoulder ached from the position. He’d been gagged with a gauze rag doused with ether which was kept in place by a generous wrapping of duct tape. The ether was keeping him groggy and the gag prevented him from speaking or muttering any words. The reedy Dr. Kendall was busily attaching a tube to Harry’s leg, using a long needle to penetrate the large vein in his thigh. With a nod, he backed away from his handiwork.

“You see Mr. Potter, when the neurochemical count in your blood reaches the levels we need, we’re going to bleed you dry.” Clark eyes were wide; he was pacing the floor wildly. “Are those sedatives taking hold yet? I don’t want him to be able to get away when I turn off the device.”

“He’s has enough sedatives in his system to tranquilize and elephant. Heck, they might even be elephant sedatives, for all I know.” Stephens checked some monitors and looked at Harry. “He should be completely under in a few minutes.”

“Good, nothing can stop us now.” Clark cackled in positive glee. He could almost feel Harry’s blood coursing through his veins.

***

Dawlish felt the Ron’s firm grip on his shoulder. He could only assume that Arthur had a similar grip on Ron’s shoulder as the three cloaked wizards made their way into Clark’s glass fortress. They moved slowly and silently through the lobby. The moment of greatest exposure came when Dawlish propelled them rapidly into a closing elevator. Fortunately, its lone occupant kept to the far side of the cab, allowing the three to stay well away from him. Nevertheless, they all held their breaths, afraid that the slightest sound would give away their gambit. The rider strode off on a floor somewhere on the thirtieth floor. Dawlish reached out and pressed the button for the penthouse level.

“When we get up there, we need to split up. Arthur, you go left, Ron you go right. I’ll take the center of the floor. Our first priority is the device. Once we turn it off, we should have no trouble rescuing Harry.” Dawlish disembodied voice echoed through the car. He was afraid to remove his cloak, lest someone with video surveillance catch sight of him.

Arthur spoke, “Don’t bother casting spells. You can under your cloaks, but they dissipate once out in the open. We’ll need to destroy the device first.”

Dawlish took the further silence as indication that they were ready. “Okay, prepare yourselves.” The silence of the car was only broken by the insistent chime of the controls as they made their way up to the ninetieth floor.

Lachlan and Cavendish left the elevator and moved out onto the roof. They were on a building adjacent to their target. Their vantage point was slightly lower than the Clark’s building, but they could see across to the windows of the penthouse level. The sky was black, no moon to shine on them. The building across the divide had reflective windows and Lachlan could not make out any movement in the offices across the way. Cavendish looked over at him, her amber eyes afire with anticipation.

“Why didn’t John let me go with him? I can handle myself.” She huffed almost like a petulant child. Lachlan chuckled as he responded, his high, clear voice tinged with a light Scottish lilt.

“You know the reason better than I do.” Her face flushed at his comment. “I’m surprised he let you come at all. I would think he’d want you to stay back in London, out of danger.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to chuckle. “We’ve been working on the relationship. He doesn’t try to affect my job and I don’t ignore him.” Lachlan looked at her to see if she were joking. She was. “It’s a great arrangement.” She laughed, her voice beautiful, her hair bouncing but her heart was still anxious as to Dawlish’s predicament.

The two grasped tightly to their brooms. Lachlan’s was battered and old, yet he held it tight. Cavendish eyed the broom, a question in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s Mad Eye Moody’s. I got it from Robards, before he died. Mad Eye was my tutor many years ago. He didn’t have any family and Robards thought I’d like to have it.” Lachlan stared wistfully at the adjacent building.

Suddenly, the door they’d come out of burst open. A pair of black camouflaged figures was dragging a woman between them out onto the roof top.

“Stephens says to toss her over the side.” The two Aurors sidled into the shadows. “He says she helped that strange prisoner over there escape.”

“Don’t you find everything a little strange?” His partner was nervous, the events of the past few days shaking him. “I mean, the man just disappeared in thin air and then reappeared.”

His cohort shrugged his shoulders. “Look, they pay me fine and every once in a while I get to shoot people.” He adjusted his burden and surveyed the roof. “Really, what can an ex-convict really ask for out of life?” His friend laughed heartily. Together, they proceeded towards the edge of the roof. Silently, Lachlan tried to stun the guards to shake them of their intent, but they were well within in the Device’s effective range. Lachlan looked over at Cavendish who saw his intent in his eyes. Gripping Mad Eye Moody’s broom by the handle near the sweep, Lachlan quietly paced out of his cover, sneaking up on the men. Cavendish mirrored his movements with her own broom. They crossed the distance between themselves and the henchmen. They’d just about gotten to within striking range when a rustle of a pebble beneath Cavendish’s feet caused one of the men to turn. With a shout, he warned his partner and quickly drew his pistol. He pointed the weapon at the two wizards.

“Stay where you are.” The man who liked his job because he got to shoot people immediately sensed that his job satisfaction quotient was about to go up. “I think we have ourselves more of those loonies.”

His partner held his own weapon out, “Yeah, but look at that one. She’s definitely a looker. Maybe we can have some fun first?” His sneer sent chills down Cavendish’s spine.

***

“I think he’s ready, sir.” Kendall stepped away from his monitor and flipped a page on his clipboard. He winced and put his finger in his mouth, the paper cut he’d received was deep, but not serious.

Clark whirled and smiled. He withdrew the Device and turned it from the twelve o’clock position. The red glow ebbed and died. He looked over at his medical assistant.

“Last time, we saw results in five minutes, no more.” Clark’s eyes blazed with glee. He turned to Stephens and tossed him the Device.

“Put that in the safe.” Stephens bowed and made for the door. “Oh and Stevens?” The ogre-like assassin turned to face his master. “I think Professor Cohen has outlived his usefulness. Please inform him that I am terminating his employment…permanently.” Clark’s eyes were lustful, insane. There was no way he was going to share this power with anyone. Stephens smiled, his own grimace matching his master’s madness. He turned and made his way out the door.

***

The lift reached the top floor and the doors opened with a bell. The receptionist looked questioningly at the open doors but no one seemed to be there. She felt a whisper of wind pass by her but ignored what she thought was a momentary rush of the air conditioning. She smiled at the two armed men near her and they returned the gesture, each trying to figure a way to get close to the pretty office worker.

The clandestinely clad Aurors separated as arranged. Ron made his way down a long corridor, stopping to glance in each office door as he passed. He came to a bend in the hallway and heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Ron pressed his body against the wall and nearly gasped as the large man who led the assault on Dennis’ wedding strode past. The big man was so near, Ron could smell the sweat on his frame. The man waved a gorilla sized arm near Ron and made his way around the bend. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back to look at the spot where Ron had been standing curiously. Ron crept around the corner and made his way down the adjacent hall.

Stephens looked back at the corridor. His instincts were blaring an alarm. He stared at a spot on the wall where he thought he’d seen a ripple of light, like the air around the wall had bent briefly than went back to reality. He stared for a second replaying the incident in his mind. He was many things, but above all he was a highly trained killer. He always trusted his instincts. He pulled his pistol from its holster and walked down the way Ron had gone.

***

Lachlan raised his arms slowly, dropping his broom, nodding for Cavendish to do the same. The two armed men ignored their prisoner and moved towards the pair of Aurors. The one directly across from Cavendish gave her a perverted smile.

“We’re going to have some fun, aren’t we pretty?” He placed the muzzle his pistol right on her neck, tracing the outline of her chin.

Lachlan’s stare became hardened. The other guard noticed the older man tense up and pulled back the hammer of his own weapon in warning. At that instant, Lachlan felt a tingling sensation in his body, as if a switch had been turned on and power was once again flowing. Lachlan bent his wrist, pointing his wand at his assailant.

“Stupefy!” The targeted guard went flying across the roof top and slammed into the wall near the door where they’d exited. The sickening crunch of flesh and bone impacting on concrete sung out across the area. His partner looked at Lachlan wild-eyed. He spun his gun towards the aging wizard only to blasted by a shield charm from Cavendish. The solid impact of the shield sent the man flying and he landed near the edge of the roof. Unable to stop his momentum, he skid across the tar and gravel and flipped over the ledge. He made a desperate grab for the rim around the ledge but missed and he continued over the side of the building, terror in his eyes replacing the lustful sneer of only moments earlier. His screams were drowned out by the wind and distance of the fall.

Lachlan retrieved his broom and looked over at Cavendish who was knelt over the prone figure of Stephanie Munson. “Did you do that on purpose?” Cavendish shrugged her shoulders and picked up her own broom.

“She’ll be alright. We’d better go.” Lachlan watched as the impossibly beautiful Auror sat astride her broom and leapt up into the night. He smiled and followed her lead.

***

Ron came to an opulently appointed office. He walked in and strode around looking for a clue as to the whereabouts of the Device. He noticed a painting located in a nave inside a book case. He lifted it gently and surprisingly found it had been hinged and opened out into the room. He glanced at the dialed knob and handle of the safe door. He took a quick glance around and lifted the hood of his cloak off his head. Figuring he had to try something, he whispered the unlock charm, not expecting what happened. He heard an audible click. He reached up and tried the handle and the door swung open soundlessly. Inside he saw a battered brass pocket watch. He reached in and noticed the time read eleven thirty. It wasn’t activated and soon, it would be rendered permanently impotent. His fingers worked their way to the dial. Nervously, Ron began to manipulate the hands to destroy the Device.

“Drop that, right now.” Stephens’ gravelly voice carried through the room. Ron whirled and saw the brute standing in the doorway, his gun raised and pointed at Ron’s head. “I thought I saw something moving.” Stephens was slightly taken aback, all he could see was Ron’s head floating in air and one hand moving on its own. He did not see Ron slide his wand out into his other hand. Ron raised his wand arm up in one movement and jumped to the side.

Stephens’ martial instincts kicked in at Ron’s sudden movement. He gripped the trigger, squeezing rounds out in a staccato. He felt the heat of the stun charm as it passed by his head, while he pelted the area where Ron had been with several rounds. Ron had leapt behind the large desk in the center of the room. He peeked out from under the desk and spied his enemy’s booted feet bolting to a position that would allow the man a clear shot at Ron from behind. Ron dove over the top of the desk, in mid air the twisted his body and brought his wand up and aimed it at Stephens’ direction.

Stephens caught Ron’s movements and brought his weapon up, aiming for a spot where he thought the disembodied head’s torso should be. He fired a couple of shots before his pistol went flying out of his hand and across the room. Ron felt the heat of pain on his shoulder. He looked down and saw a tear in his cloak and the tell-tale red of escaping blood. Even though the bullet had only grazed him, he was hoping that Hermione wouldn’t be too disappointed, even though he’d promised her to return unharmed. Ron stood up and removed the cloak from his body, freeing up his limbs for better movement. He spotted Stephens as the bigger man was charging him from across the room. In the mercenary’s hand, a wicked K-Bar fighting knife had appeared, its serrated top blade reaching for Ron’s throat.

“Protego!” Stephens’ body was halted in midair and he was sent flying into a nearby bulkhead, the air squeezing out of his lungs. He recovered quickly and gave a yell. Spotting Ron’s steady form in the open, he charged again, hoping to overpower the Auror with brute force.

Ron calmly allowed Stephens to gather steam. With a slight smile, Ron gave a whisper. “Levicorpus!” Ron laughed as Stephens body was elevated in the air by his ankle.

“Let me down!” Stephens’ face was purple from his rage and position. “I’m going to kill you. You freak! Let me down!”

Ron gave his own deadly smile. “Reducto!” The floor to ceiling windows near the desk shattered in a blast of glass and air. The wind at this height buffeted Ron’s body. Without bothering to respond to Stephens’ threats Ron motioned his wand at the man. “Locomotor Man.” Stephens’ felt a force compelling his body to move towards the open window. His heart began to race.

“Wait! You don’t have to do this! I’m just a follower!” His cries were getting desperate as his body drifted out the windows and he hung suspended in the air, ninety stories up.

“A follower? You seemed to enjoy your little attack. I saw the smile on your face up close while you shot all those people.” Ron’s voice was icy cold, his eyes darkened. “You wanted me to let you down, so maybe I should let you down?”

Stephens felt a coldness grip his chest. “Wait, that Potter guy says you guys are cops. He says you’re the good guys. Why don’t you just arrest me and we can all go home?” Slowly, Stephens dipped his hand into this breast pocket, grabbing for his backup weapon, a small derringer-type pistol.

“We’re not ‘cops’, we’re Aurors. We battle the dark because we are the light. We represent justice and peace.” Ron sighed and started walking from the windows. Stephens smiled to himself. Like all cops, this one couldn’t bring himself to kill him. That was why the powerful dominated the weak. The weak didn’t have the nerve to do what was needed. His hand grasped the pistol as he wait for the fool to reel him in to make the “arrest”.

Ron turned and faced the suspended man and noticed the hardness in the killer’s eyes. Ron smiled and pointed his wand at Stephens.

“Finite.” The magic holding Stephens above the city disappeared, as did the bodyguard, as he was caught by gravity and propelled almost three hundred meters to the asphalt below.

Ron turned and ran to the spot where the Device had fallen. Quickly, he turned the dial to read nine thirty five. The watch burned a bright blue and then broke into scores of tiny pieces. Springs and sprockets fell from Ron’s hands, casting about on the floor.

Ron heard a sound behind him and spun around and raised his wand. His muscles relaxed as he saw Lachlan and Cavendish alit on their brooms. Lachlan approached Ron, glancing out the window.

“The Device?” Ron pointed to the floor where Lachlan saw the remnants of the watch strewn about. Lachlan looked back at the window. The screaming form of Anthony Stephens had drawn his attention to the entrance. “What was that all about?”

“Justice and peace.” Ron saw Cavendish give him a knowing nod. Ron returned the look and set his jaw. “Let’s go find Harry.”


***A/N: Sorry for my tardiness and only half a resolution. I was out of Wifi range for a while and the endgame is a lot. I figured I'd give you half now and half later. I'd hate to leave you guys hanging.

FEEDBACK (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=110463)

Chapter 72 – Justice

Clark paced madly about the room. He felt his body giving out, his last bit of energy devoted to this one, desperate grasp at life. Every so often, his eyes were drawn to the vessel of his salvation. Harry’s head drooped down on his chest, the sedative working its way through his body. Off to side, Dr. Kendall was staring at a computer monitor, watching the raw data filter through from the probes that were inserted directly into Harry’s blood stream. The flow of information raced past the screen, seemingly keeping pace with the footsteps of Clark. The sine curves met with Kendall’s tolerances. He looked up and nodded to Clark.

“At last! Drain him dry!” Clark rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He resolved himself to watch every last drop of blood leave so unworthy a human being. Clark would be a god, possessing of the power necessary to rule the planet. His mind buzzed with the possibilities.

Kendall walked to a machine that held a plastic drum topped by two large gyroscopes, much like a heart bypass machine. Harry’s blood would collect in the drum and be processed for infusion into Clark’s body. Satisfied that the machine was order, Kendall walked to the two-way mirror on the wall and placed a hand on the panel nearby. With a look to Clark, Kendall’s hand hovered over the switch that would turn on the extraction pump. In a matter of seconds, every pint of Harry’s blood would be suctioned out of his body. Harry would die, of course, but Kendall knew that was the price of science. Clark’s eyes burned with a fire, part lust and part anticipation.

Suddenly, the mirror near Kendall exploded. Large shards of glass and wall plunged into the frail doctor’s torso, killing him instantly. Clark was blown back by the door. The dust and debris seemed to wash over a blank space in the room. A floating head appeared as Dawlish removed his hood. Clark’s eyes narrowed, but he reacted instantly and ran out the adjacent door. Dawlish ignored Clark’s escape, his eyes focused on Harry’s suspended figure. With a flick of his wand, the blood extraction equipment exploded in a shower of sparks. Dawlish made his way to Harry and took on his friend’s dead weight onto his own shoulders. The Head Auror raised his wand and released the shackles holding Harry’s wrists. Slowly, Dawlish lowered Harry to the floor, looking for signs of life.

***

The explosions had caused the building’s internal alarms to ring out. Elias Cohen scampered fervently about his office, cramming money and valuables into a satchel. Spying a gem of particular worth on a far table, he spoke an Accio command, almost out of habit. He’d been used to decades where nothing had happened. The diamond left its mounting and flew into his palm. Stunned, Cohen stared at the gem in his hand. He felt different, as if he’d been a paraplegic who’d risen one morning and walked across the room. He stared at his hand and smiled. He was a wizard again.

“Going somewhere, Professor Cohen?” The voice seemed to emanate from thin air. Arthur Weasley allowed his cloak to drop to the floor, exposing the voice’s source to Cohen.

“You!” Cohen recognized the tall man who’d led the apprehensions of the Illuminati Scientia so long ago. By instinct, Cohen raised his arm and let fly a curse towards Arthur. The elder Weasley was ready, his shield deflecting the blast. Even though Cohen had regained use of his magic, he was wandless and almost one hundred years out of practice. The curse had been poorly aimed and had limited power.

Arthur moved, his speed belying his age and his sedentary lifestyle. With a quick move of his wand, Arthur froze Cohen with a paralyzing charm, locking the older man rigid in place.

“It’s been a long time, Professor Cohen.” Arthur’s smile held little humor. The man had helped wrought significant tragedy on his family. “The irony of the matter is that you held the power to reclaim your magic with you all the time.” Cohen’s eyes bore in on Arthur. “According to Dr. Tesla, the Device couldn’t deprive you of your magic, it only nullified it. When it was destroyed, it returned your powers. Ironic, don’t you think?”

***

Ron, Lachlan and Cavendish systematically worked their way down the corridor. The alarm had brought down the entire private army that Clark had at its disposal. Every corner and every doorway held a heavily armed assailant, intent on shooting them on sight. The going was slow and their progress incremental. They’d worked out a system where Cavendish would shield them from the oncoming fire while Ron and Lachlan incapacitated the source of the fire with spells. They worked methodically, gaining momentum as they burst through each barricade with unbridled power.

Ron’s eyes kept up a roving scan and his movements were elegant, everything timed and thought out. He and Lachlan kept up a pirouette of motion, crossing over thresholds and leaping barriers, all the while covered by Cavendish’s well placed shields. Not everything was easy. The volume of fire and the use of grenades by their enemy made their defense far from impregnable. Soon, all three were bleeding from multiple wounds as stray rounds and shrapnel tore into their flesh. Nonetheless, the three Aurors kept up the fury of their assault, driving the mercenaries further back into Clark’s sanctum.

Clark ran down the hall, urging his men to buy him time. A dim corner of his mind reflected his discussion with Potter about adrenaline and its power. Clark’s adrenal glands were working overtime. It was the only explanations for why he’d not collapsed from his body’s inner demons which he felt were tearing away at his insides. He ran into a corner office, his real office which was separate from the large one he’d reserved for public displays of his power. This office was full of the accoutrements required to keep him alive. He felt his pulse slackening. He was running out of time. He reached his desk and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out a syringe with a long, ten inch needle. Without hesitation, he jabbed the needle into his chest, directly into his heart and pushed on the plunger. A steady flow of epinephrine flooded his heart wall. He felt a surge of energy. He figured he had just enough time to make these mutants pay for foiling him. He’d lost, but so would they. He pressed a button on his desk and the top flipped open, revealing a computer screen and keyboard. He furiously typed in a command. A distended female voice hailed from the speakers mounted over the desk.

“Self-destruct charge, armed. What time setting do you wish to employ?” Clark typed in a few more commands and waited. “You have coded in ten seconds for detonation, please press ‘Y’ to acknowledge this setting.” Clark pressed the Y key on the keyboard. The screen flashed a large number ten. A panel on the desk flipped open, revealing a large plastic red button, encased in a clear case. Clark flipped open the case, exposing the button. His eyes moved rapidly from the screen to the button. All his life, all his power and all of his fortune had been spent trying to cheat death, now here he was, ready to end it in a matter of seconds. He hesitated. He took a long breath and reached down to press the button. Just before his palm could reach the plastic, Clark felt a force collide with his chest, raising his body in the air. He collided with the thick, bullet resistant windows and rebounded onto the floor. He looked up to see the bloodied and battered form of Ron Weasley standing in the doorway.

“Whatever you were thinking, I’d just assume you didn’t press that button.” Lachlan and Cavendish entered the room, assuming flanking positions on either side of him. Both of them were a similar condition as Ron, cuts and bruises from shrapnel and concussive forces dotting their bare skin. “That’s him. That’s Clark. He’s the one that started this all.” Ron strode towards Clark, the muggle moving to his knees, his eyes defiant.

“You aren’t worthy to have your powers. I am superior.” Clark stood and thrust his chest out.

Ron’s face was grim. He pointed his wand at Clark. “I’ll show you what real power is.” Lachlan and Cavendish stood to the side, anticipating Ron’s solution to the problem.

“Ron.” The voice was weak and soft, yet Ron heard the rebuke in its tone and the owner’s disappointment in what he was about to do. Ron turned and saw Harry in the door, his arm draped around Dawlish as the senior Auror helped him into the room.

Ron’s eyes blazed with fury. “Harry, don’t. He could hurt us more than you could possibly know. We can’t just allow him to run free.”

“We won’t, Ron.” Harry limped away from Dawlish and reached a hand out to his friend’s shoulder. “But, this wouldn’t be justice. He’s dying Ron, his body is tearing itself apart. You would only be granting him mercy.” Clark stared at Harry, hatred permeating his gaze.

Harry looked at the billionaire with contempt, but then his gaze turned to one of pity. Harry neared Clark and raised an arm. Clark flinched, expecting to be smitten from the earth, or whatever these wizards did to their prey.

“Episkey.” An ethereal glow emanated from Harry’s outstretched hand and extended to Clark. His posture straightened as he felt warmth pervade his body. His lungs ceased their pleas for air and for the first time in his life, Simon Clark felt well. “All you really had to do was ask.” Harry turned to his companions and saw Arthur Weasley enter the room, preceded by the frozen form of Elias Cohen.

“That’s it? You’ve cured me and now you’re going to leave me be?” Clark was incredulous. The weakness that Harry was displaying demonstrated that without a doubt, the dark haired wizard was undeserving of his gift. Clark began to laugh until he felt his extremities lock into rigidity as Dawlish petrified him with quick spell.

Harry gave a quiet thanks to Dawlish, who moved over to attend to Cavendish’s injuries. Harry turned to the paralyzed Clark, staring the man in the eye. “Not quite. Sometimes, there are worse things than death.”

***

They’d gathered on the adjacent building, the six companions and their two charges. Stephanie Munson was gone. In her place was a note, weighed down by one of the discarded weapons of her would-be murderers.

“The Nobel Society knows all about you. Keep the Statute of Secrecy and all will be well. Violate it to your own detriment. Hope that we do not meet again.”

“That’s gratitude.” Lachlan rubbed a sore shoulder, it had been a long night. Harry chuckled and walked to where Ron sat astride his broom. Wi