Summary: Chapter Six is finally up and ready to read! Sorry for the long wait.
Harry Potter has turned his back on Hogwarts to travel with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger to complete the fateful task that Dumbledore left for him: to rid the Wizarding world of Lord Voldemort. Their world is collapsing into darkness. But in the midst of turmoil and danger, Harry finds love, loyalty, and friendship beyond his imagination.
Categories: Harry/Ginny Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 6
Completed: No
Word count: 11936
Read: 18569
Published: 12/19/05
Updated: 08/13/06
1. Liberation by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
2. Confrontation by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
3. Reconsideration by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
4. Da Vinci's Papers by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
5. Nightmarish Dreaming by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
6. Breakfast Concerns by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Liberation by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Disclaimer: How the marvelous JK Rowling keeps and coming with refreshing ideas, I will never know. And it goes without saying, I do not own Harry Potter and his world...she does.
***
In the End
Liberation
Harry Potter, black haired, green eyed, and bespectacled, lay sprawled on his hand-me-down bed. Surrounding him were all of his school things, still neatly kept within their casings and trunks, all ready to go. His only clattered belongings were newspapers that he had been receiving by owl over the past week. Though only days after his release from Hogwarts, Harry already felt awful. He was clumped together by anger, sadness, and worst of all, self-hate.
Harry hated himself for all that had happened nearly in the past month. He allowed Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, to weaken uselessly and then die at the hands of Severus Snape, the murderer whom Dumbledore foolishly trusted. Then, he allowed Snape, Draco Malfoy, and a band of Death Eaters to escape from Hogwarts without paying the price for their wrongdoing. Worst of all, Harry allowed himself to rid his life of one of the best things he ever had, Ginny Weasley.
Ginny Weasley was Ron’s younger sister. Though they had been friends (only because of his connection to Ron), Harry had never though much of her and her childish crush on him. It was only half through last year that he saw her with a proper eye. And for blissful weeks, they were together. But when Dumbledore died and left Harry with the quest to find and destroy all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, Harry knew that his mission would have to be one without Ginny. He could not endanger her life when already so many people left him. He could not deal with such a loss.
Of course, Harry’s two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, forced Harry to take them along with him, he could not refuse. Though he would love more than anything to keep them out of harm’s way, he knew that he could not refuse them. Their stubborn attitude would prevent him from doing so. Then again, he would love to have them with him, by his side during these perilous times.
Harry sighed. Only a month ago, he would have considered himself the luckiest boy in the whole world. Now, he was back at rock bottom, covered in piles and mounds of dirt and rubbish.
He was half asleep when a sudden tapping came from the window. He jolted with a start and after discovering the source of the noise, he came to the window. There, he saw two owls, one reddish-auburn and the other deep gray.
The red one supported a tight scroll tied around his right leg. The gray one, however, looked faint and weak. It was barely hovering above the windowsill, frantically waving its wings just to keep up. Harry opened the window allowing the red one to fly in. As he grabbed the gray one with his hands, he discovered why it was so frenzied.
A great parcel hung from its legs by weak strings. It was almost two times the size of the owl, and it was bulging from heaviness by the looks of it. The box was labeled Lucinda’s Fancy-Day Wear: Attire for Everyday Fancy Occasions. And scrawled messily beneath the great slogan was Harry Potter.
“Come on in, you,” Harry said, pulling the owl in as he untied the box.
As soon as the box was taken off, the owl dropped to the floor with a big thump. It flew back up, now graceful in flight, glad to be relieved of its burden. It soon flew up with the red owl to Hedwig’s cage, where they shared water.
Harry set the box aside and approached the red owl. He untied the letter attached to its leg and plopped on his bed. He greedily tore the envelope open and pulled out and piece of parchment within.
He eagerly read:
Harry,
Ron here! How are you? Probably miserable, aren’t you? Not to worry, you’ll be rescued from there on Monday so that you can come to the wedding as planned.(Harry grinned widely; Monday was tomorrow!) Anyway, Hermione’s already here helping Mum and Dad around the house. Also, Fleur and her family have come from Paris. They’re here to sort out the wedding. I swear, I’ve had enough French for one lifetime.
You’ll also be glad to know that Hermione and I have kept that whole Horcrux quest under wraps. We’re prepared and just waiting for you to tell us what we need to bring on this. Apparently, Hermione didn’t really understand that whole “waiting” part and she brought practically her whole closet from home with her. Not to worry, though. She was brilliant at coming up with an alibi. You’ll be seventeen by the time that we’re ready to leave. That means that the three of us will be permitted to use magic without being bothered by the Ministry. We’ll just probably Apparate to Godric’s Hollow or to wherever it is that we need to go to first. At least now the journey for the Horcruxes won’t be so hard!
We know that it will be hard but it’s the best plan we’ve got. It’s good enough that Ginny doesn’t know. I’m really sorry, mate. Hermione just told me about your…you-know. I’m sorry. Ginny’s not too swell, as well. But she’s coping. It’s good enough that she didn’t know. Trust me, it’s fine.
Anyway, I guess we’ll see you on Monday. Take care, mate! Until then!
Ron
Harry sighed heavily and painfully. He knew that he hurt Ginny but to hear from her brother that she wasn’t doing well, it was just painful.
He put the letter on his bedpost and turned to the box in front of him. He untied the string keeping it from falling apart. He ripped off the duct tape wrapped all around it and finally opened the box. After removing the order sheet nestled on top, inside was the best looking clothes that he had ever seen in his entire life.
These were the clothes he had ordered from a catalog Hermione sent him. He chose them for the wedding’s theme: fairy wonderland (Fleur’s idea, not Bill’s). The tuxedo was all black on the outside with the lapels ironed nice and neat. The lining inside, however, was pale pink silk, smooth and perfectly appropriate for Fleur’s dream wedding of pinks, purples, blues and greens. A tie came with it, made of the same material as the inside of the tuxedo except a dark maroon color.
Harry placed the clothes back in the box, very pleased with his choice. He clicked his tongue and the two foreign owls came swooping in. Harry gave each of them a small owl treat he kept in a jar usually reserved for Hedwig. They nipped at them happily, then flew out the open window.
He smiled to himself, though still troubled with thoughts of the past days. But he was enlightened; he would be leaving Privet Drive…forever. The idea whisked him to sleep.
**********
“Where are you going?” pestered Dudley, all of his chins flailing around in annoyed excitement.
Harry ignored Dudley as he had been for the last fifteen or so interrogations. He simply continued down the stairs heaving his trunk behind him and then outside to the sidewalk.
In reality, Harry did not know who was going to pick him up or how. But he did not mind taking his things outside. A few more minutes of labor sounded miniscule compared to a lifetime away from his cruel relatives. The sense of defying them was actually liberating. He also knew that whoever was going to pick him up, it was going to be something exciting, whether it be a great hole in the fireplace or by flying car.
As Harry went back into the house, Uncle Vernon approached him, beefy and red in the face.
“You, boy, where are you going!” It was more an exclamation of anger rather than question.
Harry shrugged to irritate his uncle and walked past him.
“Potter, get back here!”
Harry stood in his tracks, smirking.
“Tell me now where you’re going, boy, or I swear, I will throw you out of this house no matter what that old codger says-”
“You mean Dumbledore?” Harry said coolly.
“Yes, Doodledorr. Anyway, I’ll throw you out, Volderdorf or not-”
Harry cut him off once more. “It’s Voldemort and frankly, I don’t care at all if you throw me out.”
Uncle Vernon looked as if he had been slapped; his threats had not worked.
“But that Duddledorn said that you had to stay here until you were seventeen unless you wanted to be blown up by that Voldi fellow. You wouldn’t want him to come down here and curse you or anything like that, now would you?” He smirked.
From behind him, horse-like Aunt Petunia whimpered. The thought of Dumbledore, in all of his eccentricity, marching up their lawn was a nightmare.
Harry blinked calmly. “Dumbledore won’t come here and curse me. He’s dead.”
“He’s dead?” piped up Dudley, somewhat eagerly and nervously.
“Dead, died, killed, murdered…however you want to label it,” Harry said.
“But…how?” asked Aunt Petunia.
“He was murdered by one of Lord Voldemort’s followers,” Harry explained, confused by Aunt Petunia’s curiosity.
“So…you’re no longer protected?” she continued.
“I guess not,” Harry sighed, exasperated. “So it doesn’t matter where I go now, does it? I can be murdered any where.”
Aunt Petunia and Dudley whimpered. But Uncle Vernon took the news far too well.
“That’s that then! You’ll be leaving and we can carry on normally! Good day, isn’t it? Well, carry on packing! Can Dudley help speed things along in anyway-?”
“Vernon, stop it,” demanded Aunt Petunia coldly.
He looked absolutely terrified; so did Harry.
She approached Harry.
“Potter…I won’t lie to you. I envied Lily. Yes I did,” she confirmed as she looked upon Harry’s stunned appearance. “And I suppose just being around you…another wizard…it brought back feelings of hatred and admiration toward my sister. And yes, she’s dead. And yes, I miss her. And perhaps, everything I’ve done has been an insult to her memory. She was a brave yet daft, courageous w-witch. Most importantly, she was a wonderful sister to me, despite my cruelty towards her. So I’m saying this as an aunt…take care. I don’t have the slightest idea what comes after this. You’ll be leaving and…I suppose this is all one big apology, both to you and to Lily.”
She gave Harry and awkward pat on the back, but Harry could sense the odd authenticity beneath it. He smiled, Dudley smiled, and Uncle Vernon gaped.
She leaned in and whispered, “And you know, I won’t mind an owl once in a while.”
Harry grinned. “Thank you,” he whispered breathlessly.
As she stepped back with her husband looking frantically to her for answers, pudgy Dudley rose from the couch, a feat not witnessed by Harry in such a long time.
“Goodbye, cousin. Maybe…we’ll meet again soon.”
“Maybe,” Harry replied half-heartedly.
Dudley offered a hand, and Harry shook it. In that brief moment (perhaps Harry had gone crazy), but he felt a sudden rush of electricity travel through their bond. The feeling almost resembled the one he got when holding a wand…
“Well, I have to go,” Harry said.
Dudley stepped away, and both he and his mother waved goodbye. Uncle Vernon merely gazed at him callously.
Harry waved, and stepped out the door.
Waiting patiently by his luggage were the Weasely twins, Fred and George.
“Ready, Harry?” asked George.
Harry shrugged still gazing upon the house.
“You’re not getting cold feet, now, are you?” Fred teased.
Harry shook his head. “No, it’s just that…it could have been a home.”
The twins shrugged. “C’mon, Mum’s got us on a strict time limit,” said George.
“Wha- oh, yeah.” Harry came up to the twins where a small glass paperweight stood on top of his entire luggage, including Hedwig’s cage.
“Ready?”
Harry nodded.
He extended a finger to touch the paperweight as he looked behind him. In a swirl of color, number 4, Privet Drive, vanished, perhaps forever.
A/N: I know that it's not the most exciting chapter in the world and that there really isn't much action, but this is just the foundation of the story. Harry's eventually going to undergo all that he plans on completing, but he's going to have to do some of that "life-correcting" before the real adventure starts.
Confrontation by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Disclaimer: It's all JKR, none of it is me. I'm just a borrower.
***
In the End
Confrontation
The journey of light and color came to a halt as reality dropped back into place. The three of them landed gracefully on their feet as a result of years of practice. The luggage, however, collapsed with the paperweight fluttering down gently on top.
“Right then,” George said, straightening his collar, “welcome back to the Burrow.”
Harry couldn’t help grinning; he was too excited to be here. Here he was, barely a minute into liberation, and he was already miles and miles away from the place that was once his house.
He looked all around and the first thing he noticed was the cool air. It was nearly dusk here, and the sun was barely lingering over the mountains that surrounded the nicely secluded area. A lake sat nestled between a grove of wild trees, glistening and shimmering. Everything else was a green field, completing the sign of serenity. And just behind him was the huge tower of house on top of house that the Weasley’s called the Burrow.
“You are so lucky,” Harry complimented breathlessly.
“Yes, well, I’m not so sure you will be,” Fred said somewhat menacingly.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean?” Fred mimicked. “You should very well know! Ginny!”
Harry shivered involuntarily. “W-What about Ginny?”
“She’s heartbroken,” George sighed.
Harry felt his heart sink low. “S-She…you know?”
Fred nodded grimly. “Yeah. Ron told us.”
“Harry, you see,” George started. “Ginny’s a fierce girl. Heck, she’s the best jinxer in the family. She’s a strong little thing. So it’s quite a shock to see her moping around all the time. She cries everywhere, ever since she got home. I’ve got to tell you, it’s really depressing.”
“R-Really?” Harry trembled.
“Now I know that you probably had a good reason to breakup with her,” Fred said. “And we know that you wouldn’t just hurt her for the hell of it, otherwise you know that you’d have all of us, her brothers, on your tail like that.” He snapped his fingers to make his point. “We don’t mind having you here as a guest, Harry. You’re like an extended brother. So…what we’re about to say is advice. Brothers to brother. Understand?”
Harry nodded.
“Talk to her, mate. She’s never been dumped by a bloke before, nonetheless Harry Potter! She needs someone…a friend.”
Harry didn’t know what to say; he nodded even before his brain registered completely.
“Very well, then!” George said happily. “Let’s go inside! If Mum catches us out here ‘gallivanting,’ she might jinx us. Get inside now, come on…”
Once inside the Burrow, Hermione and Ron greeted Harry.
“Harry!” Hermione cried, pulling him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re here! I know it’s only been a week but I’ve missed you!”
“Let him go, Hermione,” Ron said, prying her away. “Let him breathe. Hey, mate.”
Harry and Ron shared a hug between brothers, smiling as they did so.
“How’ve you been?” Ron asked.
Harry made a weird noise just to show how much.
“Bad, huh? I can pretty much say the same for Ginny.”
Hermione scowled. Harry guessed that what Ron had said was some taboo.
“Oh it’s okay,” Harry lied. “I w-wanted to know how Ginny was. Um…where is she?”
Hermione sighed. “C’mon, she’s upstairs.”
Harry shook his head. “No! No, I’m fine. I-I’ll talk to her myself.”
Hermione looked as if she was about to protest, but Ron silenced her by taking her hand. Even Harry was shocked. Was this it? Were they finally together? Had the bickering become a thing of the past?
“W-What’s this?” Harry asked, already grinning.
“Um,” stuttered Hermione. “R-Really it’s nothing.”
Ron scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Harry, um…you see, um, s-something h-happened-”
“It’s fine,” Harry said, raising a hand. “No need to explain anything to me. I’m just glad that one of us are happy. It just so happens that it’s the two of you.”
Hermione beamed, Ron grinning. She leaned into his chest. “Thanks for understanding Harry.”
“Yeah,” Ron whispered.
“Well, I need to…you know.” He pointed upstairs.
“Sure!” Ron said, and he led Hermione by the hand to the kitchen.
Harry took a deep breath, and walked up the stairs. He continued along the balcony until he approached the door that Harry knew belonged to Ginny’s room. It was closed, and Harry got a feeling that maybe he shouldn’t go in. He was overwhelmed by discretion, but he knew that he would have to face her one way or another…
He inhaled, and turned the doorknob, opening the door.
Ginny’s room looked just as she remembered. It was painted light blue with furniture to match. Posters of international Quidditch players were posted everywhere, all of them zooming in various flying patterns. Ginny was lying on her stomach on her quilted bed, frantically writing on a piece of parchment.
She looked up and nearly fell off the bed. Even the posters went still.
“Harry!”
She stood up as fast as she could, the ink flying everywhere and the parchment falling to the ground.
“Oh damn,” she cursed.
Ginny turned around and Harry could have died there. She looked unlike he had ever seen her. Her red hair, usually kept neatly and sleek down to her elbows, was now frizzed and messed up, flying every which way. She was still wearing her pajamas, as if she had been trapped in her bedroom all day. Most of all, her eyes were rimmed red and swollen, watermarks streaming down her cheeks; she had been crying.
“Ginny,” Harry whispered softly.
Ginny looked swiftly to the parchment on the ground and said, “Um, I was just about to write you…but since you’re here…” She bent over, picking it up and ripping it apart. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Harry slowly approached Ginny. She backed away.
“No! I mean, no…you don’t need to come near me. I told you, I’m fine.”
“Ginny, I really don’t think you are. Come here, I need to talk to you.”
Ginny shook her head. “No! I don’t want to talk. I don’t need to talk! Everyone around here is treating me like a baby, like I’m incapable of taking care of myself or something…”
But Harry was already taking her into his arms. She flailed about, but it was useless. She was held tight already. Harry sat her down gently on the bed and he sat right by her. He ran a finger through her hair, which she protested.
“Ginny, I think you’ve earned a right to know why it is that I broke up with you.”
Ginny sat up, alert. She had been waiting for a rational reason, and now here it was.
Harry explained to her in detail everything that he had learned ever since his fifth year. He told her about the prophecy and how he and Voldemort couldn’t survive if one of them didn’t die. He then told her of all that Dumbledore taught him last year. He explained thoroughly about Voldemort’s path to immortality. He explained how the Horcruxes came into play and how two of them had already been destroyed. He told her of what Dumbledore and he were going to do, and then told her the awful truth of how he saw him die, and what he had to do with Ron and Hermione. He also told her the importance of seeing his parents.
Ginny was silent for a while, until she said, “Wow.”
He nodded grimly. “There. I told you.”
“Harry…I’ll never understand you completely. Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to you. There’s a darkness around you; you’re vague. You have such a haunted history that needs tending to. You need a normal life; you need to be able to live without having the worries that even normal adults would never have in their lifetime. I can do all these things for you. I can help you. I want to.”
“Ginny, you can’t-”
She set a finger on his lips. “Harry, I want to do these things for you because I love you. I love you.”
Harry did not know what to say. He knew how she felt about him. And he knew how he felt about her. But would it be enough to show her that she needed to stay? Was it enough to show her the importance of staying behind? He hoped so.
“Ginny, I love you, too. That’s why I can’t let you come with me. That’s why I can’t be with you.”
“Harry…”
“No, Ginny, no! I can’t! I love you too much to let you get in this kind of danger!”
“What about Ron and Hermione?” she snarled.
“T-That’s different…”
“How?” She was angry now. “Why are you like this? Why do you have to be such a coward?”
“Coward? I’m trying to do the right-”
“I know! ‘The right thing!’ It’s always the right thing, the noble thing, isn’t it Harry? You know what? It’s stupid! You think you’re being noble but you’re just hurting everyone else! To hell with our feelings, what about yours? You never listen to what you need!”
Harry was flabbergasted, incapable of speaking.
Ginny calmed down and tentatively approached Harry. Once they were dangerously close, she just lifted a hand and brushed away a thick tendril of black hair covering his forehead. She saw his lightning bolt scar, and ran a finger over it, trembling.
“Harry, if you can’t open your eyes up for even a minute, then you really aren’t the hero I thought you were. And,” she added, held back tears now glistening fiercely in her eyes, “if you can’t for once listen to this,” she said, pounding a hand over his heart, “then you’re right. We really can’t be together. It’s…it’s not possible.”
She lifted her hand to his cheek, touching him ever so gently. Then, after what seemed an eternity, she took it away. For a moment, Harry thought he saw a ghost of a smile on her face, but it was just as dark as ever. She walked past him leaving him alone in her room.
Harry groaned. She had seen things his way, but he wasn’t so sure that his way was the right way after all.
A/N: Some of you will agree with me and some of you will not, but I can safely say that Harry really needed that rude-awakening. The interesting part about writing this chapter is writing the way that Ginny feels. We've mostly been seeing Harry's side of the breakup, in this fanfic and in HBP. But we've never seen Ginny's side, and in this chapter, she really lets loose of all her emotions instead of keeping them well-hidden.
Reconsideration by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Disclaimer: Jo is the main storyteller...maybe I'm one of her house elves.
***
In the End
Reconsideration
The next day at the Burrow, Harry woke up with a heavy weight on his heart. He felt like retching, and for a moment he thought it was inevitable. He inhaled deeply as Ron’s monstrous snores rang through the air.
Harry leaned over to the window hanging over his bed. The sky outside was dark violet, tinged lightly with dawn’s first blaze. The moon, tilted on its side, was held suspended above everything else. The soft glow emanating from it reflected how Harry felt exactly, dark and gloomy. He looked below, and nearly lost his breath just seeing it.
The whole backyard had been transformed into what Harry could only describe in one word: wonderland. It had been cut and trimmed neatly in preparation for the wedding. Not only had the long stalks of foreign grasses and plants in the Burrow’s backyard disappeared, but also every fantasy of Fleur’s had been put into full construction. A gazebo had been established in the middle of everything, elegantly decorated with lace covering and satin ribbons. Four white carpets extended in a long stream from the gazebo, running through the white benches surrounding concentrically. To the northwest of the gazebo, a great dance platform had been set up, levitating lanterns hanging overhead. And to the far right where Harry knew the gnomes once lived were long elongated tables where Harry knew the buffet would be set up. Every other open space not occupied was decorated with floating ornaments that Fleur chose herself in Paris. The grass had completely disappeared as Mr. Weasley had cast a Non-meltable Snow Charm upon his land. Everything was blanketed in a thin sheet of glimmering snow.
“Wow,” Harry uttered under his breath.
Later, once Ron woke up, the two boys headed downstairs, showered and cleaned up to get ready for the wedding. Mrs. Weasley, feeling a little too pricey, had also hired a hairdresser and makeup applier to get everyone except Fleur (she had her own handmaiden) ready for the wedding. The man named Kraill escorted Harry and Ron away to a small station he set up himself in the living room. And once they were finished, they headed back upstairs to change into their tuxedoes for the wedding would start in about an hour.
Fully changed, they went outside where they were thoroughly surprised.
The gnomes that lived in the backyard had been bewitched. All of them were dressed in small tuxedoes varying in pastel shades. Some carried towels, prepared to jump into any beverage catastrophe, while some practiced holding trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. The small female gnomes were dressed in wonderful ballerina dresses, dancing gracefully across the snow.
Harry couldn’t help but grin. He felt that this was going to be an interesting wedding…
***
“May I introduce to all of you, for the first time ever, Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley!”
Arthur Weasley’s magically loudened voice left the gazebo in which he stood and carried all across the wintry backyard. Deafening applause coming from every table and corner in the backyard greeted his announcement, and their attention was drawn to a ribbon-draped arch in the center of the dance floor. White smoke encircled the arch, and out stepped the newlyweds in party attire.
Fleur, in a white cocktail dress, stepped out dramatically with her silvery hair flowing behind her. She squealed in glee and ran surprisingly fast to all of her relatives’ tables, showing off her marvelous wedding ring. Harry couldn’t help but notice how Fleur treated herself as queen of the day. But she had every right; it was her wedding day after all.
It seemed as though Bill was thinking across the same lines. He acted as an escort to his wife, following her to every table she went to. The whole time, he grinned sheepishly, the scars from his attack at Hogwarts now just faint scratches on his handsome face.
Finally, after Fleur completed her rounds, Mr. Weasley stepped up to the gazebo once more. He raised his wand to his throat, and announced, “It is time for the newlyweds’ first dance!”
This time, it was Bill’s turn to show off. He swept his bride of her feet and delicately lifted her into the air. Catching her, he fluidly slid her into the center of the dance floor where he took ahold of her waist. Fleur was still breathlessly surprised, yet they moved together, elegantly and smoothly. Every once in a while, he would lift her into the air once again, or he would dip her slowly and pull her back into him.
After minutes of isolated dancing, Mr. Weasley took Mrs. Weasley by the hand and led her to the dance floor. Mr. and Mrs. Delacour soon followed suit, followed by other couples prepared to dance, including Ron and Hermione, who were both blushing.
Harry couldn’t help but look around for Ginny and see who she was going to dance with. He finally saw her sitting close to the gazebo. He sighed thankfully. He took a minute before he gingerly stood up and puffed his chest out. He slowly walked towards her, ideas of how to talk to her rushing through his head. Perhaps it was his heavy thinking that blinded him temporarily. But when he looked at her once more, she was accompanied by one of Fleur’s cousins. He helped her stand up and both of them headed to the dance floor.
Harry was in awe. How could she have found someone so quickly? Most importantly, how could she do this to him? It was simply unfair that she could have fun at this wedding while he couldn’t.
He scanned the empty tables, seeing if there was anybody that he could interest in a dance. His eyes landed upon Mr. and Mrs. Delacour’s table, where he found Fleur’s thirteen-year-old sister, Gabrielle, sitting alone.
Not anymore, Harry thought.
He swiftly came up to her. She looked up at him, surprised, and her eyes wide.
“’Arry? ‘Arry Potter?”
Harry feigned a grin. “Would you care to dance, Gabrielle?”
She jumped up in joy and squealed. She took his hand as she replied breathlessly, “Come on, ‘Arry! Zis is one of my favorite songs!”
The both of them made it onto the dance floor when Harry led her fiercely into the middle where he knew Ginny and her pompous dance partner were. He stationed there, and began to dance with Gabrielle, blinded by excitement to see that Harry was just using her.
Harry finally caught Ginny’s attention, but she just turned away pointedly. Ginny just stared at the both of them in disbelief. When Harry’s eyes finally met Ginny’s, he said coolly, “Fancy seeing you here, Ginny.”
Ginny’s dance partner merely looked then returned to dancing with Ginny, clumsily stepping on her feet while she would squirm with pain.
She mouthed to Harry, “What are you doing?”
Harry just shrugged and took Gabrielle deeper into the sea of dancing people. He found that dancing with her wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Or maybe he was just too focused to Ginny to notice.
He was still dancing when he saw Ginny’s red hair out of the corner of his eye. She was marching up to the pair, clearly angry. She was red in the face and she was glowering at Gabrielle, who did not notice her.
“May I cut in?” Ginny asked coldly.
Harry ignored her, but Gabrielle turned to face Ginny.
“Excuse moi? ‘Arry is dancing weeth me, so please step aside.” Gabrielle tossed her hair to the side, blocking Ginny from view.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I take him aside for a bit!” Ginny said heatedly, pulling Harry away from Gabrielle by his arm.
Gabrielle was scandalized and shrieked in anger. But Ginny had already taken Harry away before she could do anything about it.
When Ginny and Harry entered the Burrow, she pushed him into the living room and into a seat. She stood cowering above him, her hair frenzied.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Harry stood up. “I could ask you the same question!”
Ginny stared at him fiercely. “It just so happens that Bleu asked me to dance before you-”
“Bleu? Oh that’s rich! I thought you of all people would be least attracted to French people, what with Fleur and all-”
“It just so happens,” Ginny argued, completely scarlet, “that I get to decide who I can or can’t like! Plus, Bleu is kind, sweet, gentle-”
“But he’s not me!”
Harry’s words echoed through the room and silenced Ginny. She stared intently into Harry’s emerald eyes, now filled with guilt and shame. He turned away from Ginny as his cheeks flushed.
For a moment, there was silence. But then Ginny approached Harry with caution, and gently held his arm. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“H-Harry?” she entreated. “Are you…jealous?”
He couldn’t bring himself to answer her.
“Harry,” she said with more force, “Are you?”
“What if I am?” he whispered.
Ginny wasn’t sure how to take this. Did this mean that he wanted her back, or was this just some boyish phase that would have him ignoring her again once she opened up? She wouldn’t allow her heart to be broken again. She wouldn’t lose Harry again.
He turned to face her. Ginny was surprised to see that this time, he had the blazing look on his face that she would normally have when she looked at him.
“Ginny, I don’t know what to feel,” he confessed. “All I know is that I’m scared.”
Harry sat down as Ginny looked at him.
“Oh, Harry. Of course you are! You would be stupid not to be. But it doesn’t mean that you have to stop loving me.” She inhaled deeply. “And…it doesn’t mean that I have to stop loving you.”
“But he’ll hurt you,” he argued. “If he kills you, I’ll…” He couldn’t continue.
Ginny faintly understood what Harry meant.
“He won’t hurt me, he can’t.”
“Oh yeah?” he questioned her. “How about when his diary started controlling you and nearly killed you?”
“That was different. I didn’t know. I’ve learned,” she pressed.
“That doesn’t matter…”
“Of course it does, Harry! Besides, Ron and Hermione are closer to you more than anything! How come he hasn’t hurt them? How come he hasn’t come after every single person at this wedding?”
That hadn’t occurred to Harry.
“Harry, it isn’t worth making both of us miserable if it isn’t going to help either of us. Look at the clock.”
Harry looked at the clock where all of the Weasleys’ faces were placed. All of their faces were pointed to “mortal peril.”
“What use is it trying to protect me if I’ve got as much a chance of survival as any one else does?”
Harry raised his gaze to meet Ginny’s. “You know, I think you could give Hermione a run for her money. You’re just so smart.”
Ginny giggled. “Does this mean that you’ll reconsider our relationship?”
Harry didn’t think. He just swept in and placed his lips on top of Ginny’s sweet, tender ones. He kissed her lightly yet passionately and made sure that she knew how he felt about her before, how he felt without her, and how he felt about her now.
“I’ve reconsidered,” Harry said as soon as he pulled away.
Ginny slipped her tender hands into Harry’s warm ones. He brought her down with him, and he sat down with her on his lap. And just for this moment, they forgot the wedding, let go of their fears, and did not look to the darkness ahead.
A/N: There it is. Bill and Fleur have finally gotten married, just as the way that JKR intended. But after that, I took control of the wheel and fabricated my own plotline. But of course, you really didn't expect me to just keep Harry and Ginny away for so long, did you? How can Harry fully correct his life without bringing Ginny back in?
Da Vinci's Papers by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Disclaimer: JK Rowling...I suppose I don't have to dedicate this to you as this already belongs to you. All of it.
***
In the End
Da Vinci's Papers
Harry, Ron, and Hermione marched up to the wooden door at the end of the spiraling, stone staircase. It had been two weeks since the wedding, and a week since Hogwarts opened. They were on their way to Godric’s Hollow when they received an owl from Headmistress McGonagall asking them to come and meet with her.
As they continued up, torches on the right wall suddenly lit up with flame and illuminated the way ahead. Finally, they ended up in front of the door, frozen.
“What do we do now?” Ron asked stupidly.
“We knock, Ronald,” Hermione explained teasingly as she stepped up and rapped her knuckles against the door.
There was silence. She tried knocking again, but received the same reply. She resorted to taking out her wand and pointing it at the keyhole, which glowed temporarily, but did not open at all. But it resulted in a panicked voice from behind.
“Who is that? I will have you know that this door will not open under simple charms! I am smarter than that!”
Despite the harsh greeting, Hermione’s face lit up. She smiled.
“Prof “ Headmistress McGonagall, it’s me. Hermione Granger.”
The door flung wide open and swishing emerald robes filled the doorway. Minerva McGonagall was a woman whose face was wrinkled by worry and stress. Atop her graying brown hair was an askew pointed hat. She had her wand in front of her in security and a small glass vial in the other hand.
“Oh Ms. Granger!” McGonagall exclaimed wildly. “Thank Merlin that you’ve arrived! You, too, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley.”
Harry and Ron went pink in the ears.
“What’s the problem, professor?” Harry asked. “We received your owl, but you were really vague.”
“It’s Albus. He never seems to rest! He has been constantly beckoning for the three of you. I swear, his portrait is disturbing all the rest! Phineas has colorful jargon when he’s angry…”
“Do you know why?” Harry continued.
“No, but I assume everything will get better once you three see him. Come on; let’s not waste time idling out here!” McGonagall ushered them in and slammed the door behind in a hurry.
The office of Headmistress McGonagall was the same as it had been when it was Albus Dumbledore’s. There were only minor changes, like an extra bookcase squeezed between two antique ones. This one was filled with books on Transfiguration and Charms.
What else do you expect from a former Transfiguration professor? Harry thought, amused.
But Harry noticed that one of Dumbledore’s treasures was sitting out. The Pensieve, a large stone basin, was erected in the middle of the office. Silver memories were swirling against each other, creating a sea of thoughts with silky consistency. Vials similar to the one in McGonagall’s hand were on the side of the basin, empty and filled.
McGonagall took notice of Harry’s curiosity.
“Albus insisted that I use it,” she explained, surprising Harry. “He didn’t want it to be auctioned off at a Ministry function like Scrimgeour intended. In fact, Albus’ portrait got into a row with our Minister. In the end, it was decided that it would be put to far better use with me.”
“That’s better than having some inexperienced wizard use it. It is better that it went with a great witch like you.”
McGonagall seemed to blush, but continued to walk along.
“There,” she said, pointing to a wall ahead. “That’s his portrait. I doubt he’ll be upset to see you lot.”
Indeed, Albus Dumbledore’s gold-framed portrait was mounted on the wall. He looked as aged as ever, wrinkled and creased. However, he looked surprisingly different than from when he was alive. He was more serene and calm, though his brow was furrowed “ in anger? “ when he looked the other way. His hands were folded patiently, though you could barely see them in the greatness that was his azure cloak spangled with yellow stars.
His head turned to see that Harry was walking up to him, along with Ron, Hermione, and McGonagall. His face filled out with excitement, happiness, and eagerness.
“Harry!” the portrait exclaimed loudly that several other ones jumped. “Merlin’s beard! You three seem to have grown up quite significantly since our last meeting!”
Harry beamed. “Professor McGonagall said that you needed to see us.”
“Why, of course! If you remember, the last time we saw each other, it was just before my unfortunate accident.”
“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, sir,” Harry said, attempting to sound as innocent as he could, “But the last time we saw each other, you were murdered. By Snape!”
“Yes, well, there be no need for regret this late in the game. I made an error in judgment.”
“Sir, he murdered-”
“Anyway,” Dumbledore pushed forcefully, “I brought you here because I believed that we had much business that was interrupted that has yet to be accomplished.”
Again, without trying to be rude, Harry said, “But sir, I doubt that you can go look for Horcruxes again like you did.”
“I do not plan on doing anything of the sort,” Dumbledore said airily. “I plan on giving you the rest of my knowledge of Lord Voldemort and everything else I know that may help aid you on your quest. Except this time, we will be including Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger in our endeavors.
“Now, as Minerva has told me, you were on your way to Godric’s Hollow when her owl intervened with your travels. Is that correct?”
Harry nodded with Ron and Hermione.
“Then I suppose the time is ripe for me to inform you of your former home, Harry. You see, the Order of the Phoenix suffered a catastrophic loss on the night your parents were murdered. We lost two of our best agents, not to mention our most important ones. Along with that, we were devastated when your parents’ home was destroyed.”
“Why were my parents so important?” Harry interrupted. “And why was our home so important?”
“I was hoping you would ask exactly that question, Harry. As you know, I was the Secret-Keeper of the Order. Now, in the light of my death, the job has gone to Minerva. I will not go into details, as ‘passing my torch” involved complex magic. But I will tell you that I was not always the Secret-Keeper for the Order. In fact, your parents were the original Secret-Keepers.”
“Secret-Keepers?” Harry asked incredulously. “You can have two of them?”
“One of my more brilliant ideas,” Dumbledore stated proudly. “I thought, and my colleagues agreed with me, that having two Secret-Keepers increased the Order’s chance for concealment. It was very unfortunate that we lost both of them.
“Shortly after their death, the Order went into chaos. I’m sure that you can comprehend the situation, Harry: the two Secret-Keepers of the Order have been killed off, meaning that our location was free game to Lord Voldemort. He could have found us at any time and got rid of us in one swift motion. Fortunately, I do not think that Voldemort could have realized the importance of his kill; to him, your parents’ murder was only top-priority because of the prophecy. I became the next Secret-Keeper.”
Behind Harry, Ron and Hermione were exchanging whispers with each other. But he did not pay attention.
“Professor, you still haven’t told me just why our house was so important.”
“Ah. Harry, I’m sure you know that Grimmauld Place was never our original headquarters. Usually, it was at the household of the Secret-Keeper, except in the case of the noble house of Black.”
“Meaning,” Harry said excitedly, “That our house was the headquarters for the Order!”
“I see you have caught on Harry,” Dumbledore said, adjusting his half-moon spectacles atop his crooked nose. “Yes, Number 24, Godric’s Hollow was indeed the headquarters for the Order. And with this information, I assume that you realize why it was so upsetting that the house was destroyed on the night that your parents were murdered. It meant that if Voldemort had managed to enter the house that Halloween night, he would have also been able to gain contact to our most precious secrets, even if they were concealed under many charms.”
“Did he get anything from the ruins?” Hermione piped up.
Dumbledore looked down at her. “No, Ms. Granger. Luckily for us, he did not. As I am sure you know, moments after turning his wand on Harry, Voldemort was ripped from his body and into his ghostly form. Of course, he fled as soon as he could, leaving behind all of our secrets. But this brought to us new troubles: what if all of our books and journals were destroyed along with the house? So right after learning of the murder, we sent Sirius to the site, not to confirm our fears, but to also assure that nothing had been ruined. But of course, this was before he was convicted and sent to Azkaban. Then, Hagrid followed to take Harry away.”
“What happened after?” Harry asked eagerly.
“I went to Godric’s Hollow myself,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. “The area was concealed from the Muggle population, but it had not been searched thoroughly. I was able to arrive before the Ministry sifted through the site. Of course, I had to whisk away all evidence of the Order, otherwise, it would have been another conspiracy for Fudge.
“Then, I proceeded to restore the estate. I added additional charms and spells so that not even the smartest, wittiest wizard or witch would be able to gain access to your parents’ old home. I kept our old papers and journals there, so that they would be saved for an occasion when all goes terribly wrong.”
“And when will that happen?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore’s eyes suddenly twinkled. “I hope that you will be able to decide that, Harry.”
Harry remained silent.
Dumbledore smiled at him. “I daresay, one of your questions at the moment must be ‘Now what?’ Am I correct?”
Harry nodded.
“Now, you must return to your journey and travel to Godric’s Hollow. It is imperative that you go there for there will be answers, but much more important, more questions.”
But it was McGonagall that spoke next.
“Albus, is it time?”
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Oh yes! Bring it in, Minerva.”
McGonagall whirled around and walked past the Pensieve to her desk. She opened a drawer from which she pulled out what looked like an envelope. It was old and fragile, dusty and brown with age. She walked back and put it gently in Harry’s hands.
“Open it,” Dumbledore instructed.
Careful not to tear anything, Harry began to open the envelope. He found that inside it were even older looking papers, torn at the edges. He unfolded one of them and to his dismay, he found that it was blank.
“What is this, professor?”
“That, Harry, is Da Vinci’s legendary papers!” Dumbledore said it as though he could not control his excitement.
“What exactly do they do?”
“I know!” squealed Hermione. “I know, Harry! But, oh, Professor, how could you have these? These are so…” She could not finish.
“Would you mind explaining them to me?” Harry asked irritably.
“Harry, these are Memory-Relaying Papers! This means that whoever has a capable mind (and there are not many) can use magic to transmit thoughts and memories into words and onto these papers! This is how Professor Dumbledore is going to contact you!”
“Very good, Ms. Granger. I see that your reading has not faltered.” Dumbledore looked pleased.
“Yes, sir!” exclaimed Hermione. Ron looked at her oddly.
“I wanted to be able to give these to you Harry before you left. This is why I needed you to come down here. Now that I have done so, you can get back on your journey to find the Horcruxes.”
Horcruxes? Suddenly Harry remembered something. R.A.B. Harry thought.
“Professor, I-”
He heard snores above him and saw that Dumbledore had fallen asleep. But he looked down at Da Vinci’s Papers to see that on one of them, loopy, black writing was appearing. When it was complete, Harry read:
I must go to sleep, Harry. Good luck.
A/N: Perhaps questions came to mind when you began to read this, maybe just after you saw the title of the chapter! First of all, the name of this chapter derives from the popular rumor that spread across the Internet, claiming that one of HBP's chapters would be titled Lupin's Papers. Second of all, I chose Da Vinci because his name is not only popular, but it sounds legendary and quite dark. Maybe you've heard of The Da Vinci Code? Anyway, I hope that none of you think that things may have speeded up too quickly, because this is only the beginning. I have some more secrets stashed up my sleeve.
Nightmarish Dreaming by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Disclaimer: JK Rowling is a fabulous author…who incidentally owns what I am writing off of.
***
In the End
Nightmarish Dreaming
“Couldn’t you stay, at least until Halloween is over?”
Harry smiled sorrowfully. “You know that I would do anything in the world to be here with you. Hogwarts is my home. But, “and it tore at his heart when he saw Ginny wince, “we’ve stayed here longer than we anticipated, which could mess up all of our plans. We need to get to Godric’s Hollow, at least before October ends.”
Harry and Ginny were sitting together in a scarlet lounge chair in the Room of Requirement. The two of them snuck up while everyone was still in the Great Hall eating breakfast and Hermione was in the library catching up on some last minute reading. The trio had been at Hogwarts for over three weeks, living in Gryffindor dormitory. But as comfortable as they were, they knew that they had to leave right away, and that they couldn’t hold off their departure forever.
Ginny, sitting on Harry’s lap, took his hand into hers. She could sense his anxiety and his fear, like a jolt of feeling rushing into her soul.
“I know,” she admitted. “I just don’t want to see the three of you go, especially you. It was…making Hogwarts feel like home again.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. He merely brushed aside a strand of her hair obscuring her left eye. He kissed her cheek gently.
After moments of silence, Ginny whispered, “Just make sure that you write at least every week.”
Harry chuckled. “Everyday.”
Ginny turned around and looked him boldly in the eye.
“Harry Potter, don’t make any promises that you can’t keep.” Then she softened her stare with a faint smile tickling her lips. “I know that you’ll be busy with things much more important than writing to me. But as long as I receive one letter a week, I’ll know that you’re fine.”
Harry returned the bold, smoldering stare, slightly tightening his grasp on her hand. “I promise you, Ginny, that I will write you everyday. That is what you can count on.”
Ginny furrowed her brow for a moment, and then sank back into Harry.
“Fine. Then make it two letters a week.”
Harry, knowing that Ginny had won the battle, said, somewhat stubbornly, “Fine.”
***
It was a dark room. In fact, there was probably no light at all except for the candle hanging from the ceiling. And even that was beginning to be taken over by the darkness, its flame slowly dying out.
But in its weak light, it revealed a throne-like seat in the middle of the black room. It seemed as though the throne was made up entirely of monstrous sliver serpents piled up on top of one another, tangled and ominous. Their eyes were made of oval emeralds casting a faded green hue to the floor below. The colors were oddly familiar, as though seen somewhere else before…
Suddenly, the room erupted with black smoke. But it disappeared almost as fast as it came. When the smoke cleared, a hooded figure remained, sitting on top of the throne. Its face could not be seen, but red slits behind the hood glowed like embers. Skeletal, white arms slithered out of the sleeves while one hand held a sharp wand. When it breathed, it made a dangerously rasping sound, like a branch scraping against a wall.
“Come in,” Lord Voldemort said venomously.
A door appeared out of the darkness. It opened and a blond teenager walked in. He was pale in the face and was terrified to be in the room. His clothing was ragged and torn; he appeared to have traveled for a long time. He shivered more and more as he came closer to the overlord before him.
“Get on your knees,” Voldemort ordered lazily.
The boy did as he was told and fell to the ground immediately. He took a fleeting glance at Voldemort’s wand, but then kept his stare fixed firmly on the ground, afraid to look the other in the eye.
Voldemort could sense this.
“You will not look me in the eye? Hmm, no matter. Bella, bring her in!”
Out of the shadows stepped Bellatrix Lestrange. Her eyes glimmered in the darkness and her black hair perfectly blended with the black all around her. She had a cruel smile painted on her face as she dragged in her arms a chained blond woman, bruised and muzzled. The woman moaned and wailed in terror as her eyes went from Lord Voldemort to the boy.
“Nicely done, Bella. I shall reward you…you have brought your sister, your own flesh and blood, to me. Nicely done…”
“Only for you, my lord,” Bella said.
“Now back away from Narcissa as I talk to her myself. Go!”
Bellatrix backed away until she was fully engulfed in the darkness.
“Narcissa,” Voldemort said, “You know why I have brought you here.”
She moaned, but Voldemort took no notice.
“I sent Lucius on a simple mission, yet he failed me. He is dead now, of course.”
Narcissa opened her eyes wide in terror.
“Now, it seems as though both your men have disappointed me. Your son has failed me, as well. Oh yes! “ Dumbledore may be dead, but he was not killed by him has I ordered.
“So, I have brought you here for one purpose only before you, as well, are finished. You are here to witness the death of your son…and the end to the Malfoy line.”
Both mother and son screamed in horror. They did not notice that Voldemort was already lifting his wand and pointing it at the pale, blond boy.
“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort cried.
Once the momentary flash of green light was lifted, the room returned to darkness. The boy was found to be dead in a great mound on the floor.
Narcissa did not stop screaming. Tears swelled in her eyes and fell down in shimmering streams. As she stared in shock at her son’s unmoving corpse, she continued to weep from behind her muzzle.
Voldemort turned his attention to Narcissa. In another flash of green light, she fell to the ground as well, dead.
Soon after, another man strode into the room. He was cleaner looking except for the fact that his long black hair was slicked back with grease. Unlike the others, he walked in much more confident. He took a look at the two bodies on the floor and merely kept walking. He looked at the Dark Lord directly in the eye, unafraid.
Voldemort’s red eyes flickered from behind the hood. “They had to be killed, Snape. You of all my Death Eaters know best what happens to those who disappoint me…”
The man named Snape bowed respectfully. “Of course, my master. I understand completely.” But there was a flicker of resentment in his beady eyes.
“Though you have returned to me only recently, it is time for you to embark on yet another mission for me. Surely, you are prepared for this one was well? After all, it is quite simple.”
“Yes, my master.”
“Good. Now, bring them to me alive. They must be, otherwise he will not come here.”
Snape nodded.
“I understand this, my lord. Do you wish for me to get the girl at the school as well? He is quite fond of her, after all.”
“No! I have no further use of Dumbledore’s rotting school. No, let it be. We needn’t trespass again so soon.
“Now go!”
Snape twirled on his heel and left.
Harry woke up, his scar bursting with pain.
A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, though most of it was in the dream (and italicized). And for those of you who hoped that Malfoy would be snuffed out...well, this is for you. For all you who didn't...you can hope that JKR doesn't. *** Also, I am very sorry if I have upset you in anyway because of this chapter's length. Thankfully (or not for some of you), I will be going on a temporary, and most likely short, hiatus. These first five chapters were prewritten a while ago, and now, I have to write more chapters. In the meantime, you may submit MORE reviews, constructively criticizing.
Breakfast Concerns by WiCkEdWoRkInGs
Author's Notes:
Here is the newest chapter after...seven months. I apologize for the late addition.
Disclaimer: This is all JK Rowling’s work. Just like everyone on this site, I just spin off of it.
***
In the End
Breakfast Concerns
Harry jolted upright from his sleep. His lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead was red in searing pain. Sweat dampened his forehead while clear streams were sent trickling down his cheeks. His eyes were close to watering as his lip quivered in fear.
In the moonlight that fell from outside through the windows, Harry could see that Hermione, in her nightgown, had jumped out of her bed on the opposite side of the room and was running towards him. She grabbed her wand off the nightstand, igniting all of the four candles in the room with magic. As well as that, she whisked a glass of water out of thin air and handed it to Harry.
“You’ve gotten good,” Harry complimented between wheezes.
“No time for that,” Hermione scolded, though Harry thought he saw a shadow of a smirk on her face. She directed her eyes to Ron’s bed and said, “Ronald! Get your arse out of bed right now!”
Ron, wearing an embarrassing nightcap, limped over to the two in tiredness and sleepiness. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and said, “Gave me a damn right scare, Hermione.”
“Shut up Ron. That was Harry. He had a nightmare. Didn’t you Harry?”
To avoid answering Hermione’s question, Harry immediately guzzled the glass of water, thankful for the cool sensation that was brought to his throat. He felt his body regaining its wholeness.
Once he drank the majority of the water, Hermione asked in a whisper, “What was it? It must have been horrible for you to scream like that.”
Along with the scar, it was torture to even recall the nightmare. But he brought himself to summarize everything for Ron and Hermione.
“Voldemort was in a room,” Harry started. “It was quite dark and cold, like death. Then Malfoy walked in. Voldemort forced him to kneel to him while Bellatrix stepped out of the shadows with Draco’s mum in her arms.”
“Her own sister?” Hermione intervened in surprise.
“Yeah,” Harry explained. “Anyway, Voldemort told her that he had already killed her husband, you know, Lucius. Then he went on to tell her that she was here to witness the death of her son. And right then and there, he…he killed Draco with Avada Kedavra. Right after…she was dead, too.”
Ron and Hermione’s eyes were wide in disbelief but both said nothing. Harry just loosened out in his bed, his scar reducing to a manageable soreness. He let the silence fill the room while his two friends processed this new information; he finished the rest of his water to hydrate his dry throat.
Moments passed, and then Harry spoke up again.
“But that wasn’t all.”
“It wasn’t?” Ron asked.
“Snape walked in. He coldly walked pass their bodies as though he didn’t care they were dead.”
“Of course he didn’t care!” Ron shouted, almost in anger. “He murdered Dumbledore, for heaven’s sake! What’s a teenager’s death going to mean to him?”
“Calm down, Ron,” Hermione said, gently taking Ron’s hand into hers. “Go on Harry.”
“So then Voldemort told him how they had to be killed, and Snape understood. He then said that he had another mission for Snape. He ordered him to bring him some people that he wanted alive to lure me in. Snape asked him if he wanted to get a girl at the school that I was fond of, but he told him no-”
“Ginny!” Ron and Hermione cried in unison.
“Merlin, Harry!” Ron cried again, this time standing up. “Snape is going after my sister!”
“Voldemort told him not to, though,” Harry explained anxiously. “He wouldn’t disobey his master, would he? After all, Voldemort gave him explicit directions.”
“Still,” Hermione said, “you should still write her to keep her safe. The two of you still have that code that you came up with, right?”
“Yes,” Harry answered scratching his head. “But I’ll write her tomorrow morning. Hedwig still hasn’t come back yet and I doubt that Snape will have gotten that far. As for the three of us, let’s get back to sleep. I’m fine!” Harry added, seeing the worried looks on his friends’ faces.
They reluctantly returned to their beds. Ron fell back into his mattress as Hermione, with two flicks of her wand, made the glass disappear and put out the candles. Once everyone was back into bed, drowsiness came over them once more and they fell straight to sleep.
***
…so please don’t worry for me. Security here has been pushed to the limit, especially with all the protective charms and spells cast on the school by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from the Ministry, Professor Waterhogg (don’t worry; she’s not crazy). Besides, after some nighttime prowling with Neville and Luna, we discovered that more than half of the Order sleeps here at night. Take good care of Ron and Hermione.
Ginny
Harry groaned; increased security at Hogwarts didn’t matter. After all, even all of the Order and Hogwart’s faculty didn’t prevent Snape from killing Dumbledore last year. And it wouldn’t help now, with what few professors left and Dumbledore out of the picture. He refolded the letter and stuffed it into his cloak pocket.
It was barely noon, and the trio was down in the dining room of the inn. They had checked out of their room earlier on so that they could look around the town for anything that could help them on their journey to Godric’s Hollow. It had proved difficult over the last few days to pinpoint its exact location because it was just as mysterious as McGonagall claimed it to be.
While they sat at the counter, the rest of the dining room was empty. Old vinyl booths gathering with dust were all around the room, their salt and pepper shakers untouched. There was only one window in the very back of the room, hardly enough to let some daylight in. And in the silence, a great, antique grandfather clock in a corner ticked annoyingly, accompanying it with a gong every fifteen minutes.
Harry stared down at his untouched breakfast plate constructed of one egg, several strips of bacon, and one large piece of buttered toast. While he was indifferent to his food, Ron and Hermione inhaled their breakfast. He suspected that they had gone through at least three plates already, and on more than one occasion, Ron asked Harry if he could have his serving. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he said no.
“Harry,” Ron mumbled behind his sausage, “You don’t need to worry. Ginny said herself that security has improved at Hogwarts!”
Harry shook his head. “But it didn’t matter last year, did it? The Death Eaters still managed to enter the castle and Snape still managed to murder Dumbledore. Even with the Order, we were sitting ducks.”
“But we were unprepared last time,” Ron explained, chewing vigorously on his toast. “This time around, the Order is actually sleeping there. I bet they patrol every night with the prefects, just for extra security measure.”
Harry, in a very Hermione-like fashion, rolled his eyes.
“As much as I would like to see it from your point-of-view, Harry,” Hermione started, “I have to agree with Ron. There was something in the Prophet about this. Nothing about the Order, of course, but that the Ministry sends officials every other day to the castle to do a clean sweep. Scrimgeour said in an interview that Waterhogg was a skilled Auror back in her day and that even in her prime, she’s still as sharp as she ever has been!”
Harry just sighed, taking his fork and stabbing his bacon unceremoniously. He still wasn’t hungry.
The clerk in charge of the counter came back from the storage room. He had in his hand a goblet that he was cleaning with a cloth. Upon seeing the three still eating at the counter, he grimaced. How long someone, even the hungriest person, sit at a counter and eat for two hours straight?
Hermione saw the clerk and her eyes lit up. “Can I please have another mug of your coffee?”
The clerk angrily muttered under his breath, but said nothing to Hermione. He set down his goblet and reached over from as far as he could to get her empty mug; he was afraid to get near the ravenous redhead. He walked over to the coffee pot and poured. Once he got the mug to Hermione, he returned to the storage room.
When he was out of sight and earshot, Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron. “How much do you think he knows?”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked, barely able to say it past the barrier of sausage in his mouth.
Hermione looked at him in disgust, but shrugged it off.
“I’ve been trying hard the last couple days to locate Godric’s Hollow. I’ve had no such luck. I’ve tried everything that this small town has to offer, including those cheap maps in the lobby. I think what we need here is a bit of local help. You know how these places always have their urban legends. Considering Godric’s Hollow is a Wizarding settlement secluded from Muggles, we might be able to find something out from their stories.”
“Worth a shot,” Harry said lazily.
Hermione waited patiently for the clerk to come out again. She took sips of her coffee, keeping an intent stare at the storage room door. Finally, the clerk came out, and he became aware of Hermione’s stare.
“More coffee?” he whined.
“No thank you,” Hermione said. “But I would very much appreciate some of your help. You see, my brothers and I are just passing through the town on our way to a relative’s house. But they did request that we stop by somewhere else before our arrival.”
“I’m not so sure that I’ll be much help. Maybe you should check the maps out in the lobby. They pretty much have everything.”
“Not everything,” Hermione said coolly. “I’ve checked.”
The clerk sighed. He knew that there was no talking with this woman, however young she was. He set the goblet in its proper place and pulled up a chair, sitting in front of Hermione. “Fine. Let’s see what I can help you with.”
“It’s a place called Godric’s Hollow,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.
A look of understanding and maybe relief crossed the man’s face. He smiled faintly and said, “No wonder. You’re one of them.”
Fear flickered through the three, fear that he had found them out. And unless he was a wizard himself, they were in trouble. Hermione dug into her jeans pocket and gripped her wand, just in case.
Hermione recomposed herself. “What do you mean by ‘them?’”
The clerk leaned in so that only the three of them could here. But it wasn’t like there was anyone else in the room that could listen.
“I can’t exactly put a label on them, but they’re an odd kind of folk that pass through here more often than you would think. They all wear some sort of exotic clothing, colorful and eccentric. They talk oddly, but not in a foreign tongue. Though it might as well be; I can’t understand a thing the say. And even though you three are still young and normal-looking, I can tell that you’re one of them nevertheless.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes; it was her way of gaining control over the conversation. “I’m not sure what you mean, but if you have any doubts of us whatsoever, let’s pretend that this is the first time you’ve heard the question, and that this is your first time answering.”
The clerk chuckled, surprised by her assertiveness. He decided he would play along.
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