Harry woke up feeling dreadfully fatigued with a strange numbness in his mind. The hooting of the owls and the darkness that swallowed up the room indicated that it was still the middle of the night. When he made peace with the fact that sleep was not likely to overcome him again, he sat up and switched the bedside lamp on. Despite his blurred vision he was quickly able to locate his glasses and put them on. As he leaned back against his bedpost recollections of the previous day swept over him. He strained his ears to see if he could hear anyone moving about, but the inhabitants of the house were quite still. That meant that he would have to wait for news about Mafalda until morning came.
He stifled the urge to go look in on Ginny, assuring himself that she was alright. Instead, he considered what had happened to her the previous night. Dumbledore’s shouts that she would be lost if she stayed in the kitchen with Dudley continued to echo in his mind. Her abilities were something magnificent, yet terrifying at the same time. The possibility that she could get hurt because she was a Volcen was something he had waved aside, now he was reconsidering his previous enthusiasm about the whole subject of Volcency.
Than there was his Aunt Petunia who was sleeping three doors down. There were so many things he had never known about her, like the fact that she had lived with his father’s family in the past…after her own parents had been murdered before her eyes. Originally, Harry had assumed that his aunt hated magic because it was the method used to kill her parents, though now he knew better. His aunt had gone to stay with the Potter’s and had learned some form of magic from Mrs. Potter after the death of her parents.
He was mulling over the possible events that could have unfolded to make his aunt detest magic when a brainwave hit. He kicked himself for having forgotten the gift that Lupin had bestowed upon him, for it surely held the answers he was looking for. After rummaging in his truck for several minutes and tossing old socks and dirty trousers about the room, he found what he was looking for. He quickly said, “Alohamora,” and began to scan through the pages of the Marauders Memoirs looking for a little flying “P”. After ruffling through the memoirs no less than three times he found only one page that had what he was looking for.
The little flying “P” was fluttering around the head of a werewolf who was taking a whiff of the lily that lay next to him. Before Harry could tap any one of the inhabitants of the page the door of his room unlocked itself and swung open to reveal an annoyed looking Ginny.
“Thinking of going someplace without me?” she asked in a caustic manner.
He made his way to the door and helped Ginny into his room, seating her on his bed.
“Are you alright?” he asked, sounding excessively concerned.
She dropped her demeanor all at once and gave an audible sigh while closing her eyes for a spell.
“I’m alright,” she told him at last. The fact that she was shaking her head seemed to contradict that, but he took her word for it.
“What happened…earlier?” Harry asked, but she shook her head more vehemently.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” she whispered, so he didn’t pursue the topic.
“If I knew you were awake…” Harry began.
“…you would have looked in on me,” Ginny completed his thought, “I know.”
Her statement confirmed his suspicion that she had been listening to his thoughts.
“Since you woke up.”
“Excuse me,” Harry asked dimly, sure that he had missed something.
“I’ve been listening to your thoughts since you woke up. I was also listening to see if anyone was awake.”
Harry grinned. “You’ve got better hearing than I do,” he replied cheekily and she had the courtesy to look abashed.
“I want to go into the memory with you,” she told him without preamble.
“It’s just about my aunt,” Harry explained airily, “I wanted to see…”
“…how she learned magic,” Ginny took the words right out of his mouth. “Like I said, I’ve been listening to you for a while…you’re the only one awake right now.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably trying to go over what he had been thinking about and trying to clear his mind simultaneously.
“Quit it Potter,” Ginny said affably, “you’re giving me a headache.”
That broke the tension as Harry sat next to her on the bed and shared what his Aunt Petunia had told him and Dumbledore in their closed session. It felt funny to Harry that he was sharing this information so openly with Ginny when he had not yet talked it over with Hermione and Ron.
“So your grandmother taught a muggle magic,” Ginny gave a low whistle, “big breach of the secrecy laws. Sounds like she and dad would have had a gay old time picking out spark plugs together.”
Harry laughed as Ginny took the Marauders Memoirs in her lap and pulled out her wand.
“It’s time for some answers,” she told him, tapping each of the three Marauders on the page. A small screen expanded unto the page and began to play the memory.
“After you,” Harry invited cordially.
Ginny put her eye to the screen and was sucked into the memoir. Harry followed her lead and soon felt the sensation of falling head first before landing, with a small thud. Harry recognized the house they were standing before. He had seen his father and godfather talking on the patio of it in a previous memory.
“I think this is my dad’s home,” he whispered to Ginny.
She signaled him to be silent as a young, slightly shabby, yet surprisingly good looking Lupin walked up the steps and knocked on the door. Ginny gave the young Lupin an appraising look and winked in Harry’s direction.
“Sorry, he’s taken,” Harry whispered with a grin and Ginny pretended to pout.
The door of the house swung open and Lily pulled Lupin in while teasing him about his excessive politeness. Harry and Ginny barely had time to squeeze through the door before Lily slammed it shut.
“Look Moony, I’ve told you a million times that there’s no need to knock, just let yourself in.”
The young Lupin shuffled his feet a bit and looked embarrassed. Despite his mother’s reassurance, Harry was positive that the next time Lupin visited he would be knocking on the door.
“…just too polite for your own good,” Harry missed some of the words that his mother was saying as she placed freshly laundered items within a closet. “Right than,” Lily put her arms on her hips and looked around thoughtfully, “…where to work?”
“Perhaps where we always do?” Lupin suggested tentatively.
“Right you are!” She placed a laundry basket against her hip and they followed her to the kitchen where she deposited it and disappeared within a walk-in cupboard. The younger version of Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen, trailing after a happy-go-lucky witch.
“Remus! Dear boy, it’s nice to see you again. I heard you’ve been sick.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lupin nodded turning very red, “I’m happy too…to see you, I mean…that is to say…”
The laughter of the witch cut him off, “I must compliment your parents on raising such a polite young man. You all will be joining us for dinner next week, won’t you?”
“Erm…um…yes ma’am, I believe we will.”
“Excellent! We’re up to ten people for you to meet Petunia,” she told Harry’s aunt while placing an arm around her shoulders. “All of them with handsome son’s,” she whispered mischievously to a scandalized-looking Petunia. “Care for some juice Remus?”
Harry gave Ginny an amused look. The unnamed witch sure moved quickly from topic to topic.
“Thanks,” Remus said with a blush.
“I think he fancies her,” Ginny told Harry with a giggle.
Harry pointed to the younger version of his aunt who was eyeing Lupin with much interest. “I think she fancies him,” he told Ginny with a wink.
“Brilliant,” Ginny said in complete amusement.
“Mrs. Potter,” the young Petunia said, “would you like me to help you prepare dinner?”
Harry caught Ginny’s eye as he gaped in open-mouthed shock. Was this hip, attractive, carefree witch his grandmother?
“I’d love that! You’re just so helpful and adorable!” His grandmother gushed over the young Petunia pinching her cheeks. Harry, who had never seen his aunt this enamored with anyone save for Dudley, was in shock. It looked as though his highly eccentric grandmother had won a place in his aunt’s heart. His grandmother pulled a long strand of her hair from her head and proceeded to wrap it around her wand. Harry looked at Ginny to see if this made any sense to her but she looked as confused as he felt.
“Here you go dear,” Harry’s grandmother handed her hair-wrapped wand to Petunia.
His aunt looked rather psyched and began casting spells to peel the potatoes, strain the beans, and chop the lettuce all at once.
“Transitive property,” Harry whispered, “that’s genius.”
Ginny still looked confused but brushed it off. Just then, his mother reappeared with several wooden hoops.
“I’m going to get the hang of this apparating thing if it’s the last thing I do,” she swore fervently, laying the hoops in random spots around the kitchen.
Mrs. Potter chuckled. “James has been rather unbearable since he passed his test,” she confided in Lupin.
“And I haven’t been able to apparate once!” Lily said in a huff. “Boy, he’ll have a field day if I fail that test!”
“I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Lupin said exuding a bit of confidence into his voice.
“That’s the spirit!” Mrs. Potter yelled out while draining the pasta. “It’s not that hard once you get over the fear of splinching.”
“What’s that?” Petunia asked, clearly yearning for more information about the wizarding world. As Mrs. Potter gave her an explanation with rather graphic stories of apparition gone wrong, Lily’s face turned every shade that the rainbow encompassed.
“I bet she failed it,” Ginny whispered, taking note of his mother’s queasiness. He felt grateful that he had another year to go before he could learn to apparate.
Perhaps in the span of two seconds, the atmosphere turned from sunny, lighthearted fun to a queer darkness with a terrifying chill. At first Harry thought something had gone wrong with the memoirs but than his grandmother’s voice screamed, “It’s a dementor attack! Get down!”
He reached for Ginny and pulled her down to safety. He heard his grandmother yell, “Expecto…” but only silence came after that. Looking around desperately he spotted the outline of his grandmother, she was being held by a cloaked figure while another figure dropped the hood of his own cloak. Before Harry had a chance to react Lupin was shouting ‘Expecto Patronum.’ His flimsy Patronus managed only to hold off the dementors that were creeping Petunia’s way. Harry spotted his mother lying on the ground, completely unconscious. He couldn’t bear to watch as the dementor kissed his grandmother, tearing her soul from her body.
Ginny began to shake and perils of sweat formed on her forehead as she watched the scene.
“Don’t get lost,” Harry said, holding her tightly in his arms. “It’s just a memory,” he told her with a detachment that he didn’t really feel. Complete darkness settled around them and Harry, feeling that the memory was over, whispered ‘Evancesco’ and they were wrenched from the memoirs.
They found themselves laying on Harry’s bed, back in reality. Harry held Ginny tighter when he noticed the look of abject horror on her face. He couldn’t believe that his fun-loving grandmother had been a victim of the dementor’s kiss but Ginny was his top priority.
“Come back to me,” he whispered desperately in her ear while closing her eyes, they had not stopped darting around the room since they got back. “Ginny…please,” he begged.
Ginny began to take deeper breaths, blinking several times. She reached for him as her tears began to fall. They laid in each others arms for hours, as their tears dried up. Holding, comforting, and just being there for one another. As dawn began to creep through the curtains Harry pulled away just enough to get a good view of Ginny’s face. He stroked her cheek with his hand and she leaned into it, clearly needing his strength.
“Gin…” he did not complete his thought but instead kissed the soft tenderness that was her lips.