It seemed that a rash of massacres was the norm now. Yet another small village in Germany had been wiped out the night before. It was the third one in the last month. Muggle government officials from across Europe were beginning to become alarmed and had joined together in a task force to investigate the killings. Harry could only laugh at the absurdity of it all. They would only get themselves killed in the effort.
His door suddenly opened and he heard someone walk in the room and come to a halt behind him. Harry caught a glimpse of a slender hand as it came down to rest on his arm. The touch sent a calming force through him.
“Come downstairs, you’re missing all the celebration.”
“I’m not really feeling up to celebrating right now, Ginny,” he replied, still keeping his back to her.
He could hear her sigh heavily. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill those people.”
Harry wheeled around to face the girl. “No? Are you sure, Ginny, because I feel like I did!”
She took a step backwards alarmed at his sudden outburst. “I know that things have been…”
Harry cut her off. “No, you don’t know. You don’t know at all. People are dying and it’s because I’m not fast enough, not good enough.” Harry sat on the edge of his bed and rested his aching head in his hands.
Ginny sat down beside him. She started lightly running her hands through his hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ve made a lot of progress…”
“But it’s not enough,” he looked and saw the concern in her eyes. It made his heart break and flutter all at once.
“Harry, listen to me. You… we are doing the best we can. You can’t expect results over night.”
He looked away. “I know, but we have no idea where the last two Horcruxes are. We’ve checked everywhere and they just aren’t to be found. Not to mention, we haven’t heard from Hoto or Telford in weeks.”
“Hoto said it would take time to break the curse.”
“Fine, but it’s been over a month. We haven’t heard anything, and Bill can’t seem to find them.”
“You’re worried,” Ginny said simply.
“Yes, I am,” he replied. “Maybe Hermione was right. I shouldn’t have trusted them.”
“Yes, but Bill also said they might be out of touch for a while, something to do with the curse’s complexity and having to monitor everything closely,” Ginny soothed.
Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about it. Something just doesn’t feel right about the whole thing.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure we will hear something soon. In the mean time, I think there are some presents downstairs with your name on them,” Ginny stood up and stretched her hand out to him.
Harry hesitated for a moment. “I thought all the Order members were away investigating the massacre?”
“They are, but mum thinks we should go ahead with Christmas. She thinks just sitting around here moping isn’t good for us,” she gave him a pointed look.
He didn’t move, but asked, “When are they due back?”
“Harry!” her hands went to her hips and eyes began to flare.
“It’s just a question,” he shrugged, trying to ignore her piercing gaze.
She threw up her hands. “I don’t know. They could be back tomorrow, later today, or five minutes from now. We haven’t heard a word since they left early this morning.” She held out her hand once more. “So are we going now?”
He thought about saying no, but only a moment as he caught a stern look from Ginny. “Yeah, let’s go,” he got up, took her hand, and followed the girl out of the room.
Two hours, a mountain of wrapping paper, and a substantial amount of presents later, Harry stretched out on the Grimmauld Place living room floor. Ginny sat next to him and Ron and Hermione weren’t far away.
“Bloody hell, I think that was the best Christmas yet,” Ron grinned as he rummaged through the huge box of some of the newest tricks and treats from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
“You say that every Christmas,” Hermione replied, looking up from her massive new volume of A Witches Brew and other Tricky Home Remedies.
“Yeah, but I really mean it this time. I mean check out this new broom cleaning kit. It’s got everything a guy could possibly as for. By the way, thanks, Harry,” Ron slapped his friend on the back.
Harry simply smiled and watched Ginny as she admired her book Mastering Chaser Techniques for the Serious Quidditch Player. He’d have to thank Hermione later for giving him that tip.
“Hey, what’s that?” Ron said as he pulled a black box from under a pile of wrapping paper.
Hermione shrugged without looking up, “I don’t know.”
“How would you know? You’re not even looking at it,” Ron said irritably.
Hermione finally looked up from her book, peering at the box in his hand, “I still don’t know,” she then went back to reading.
Ron snorted, “Smart-“
“Ron, I believe that belongs to Harry, and watch your language,” Mrs. Weasley scolded as she entered the room with a plate of tea and biscuits.
Ron mumbled something under his voice and handed the box to Harry.
“Who’s it from?” he asked and carefully examined the wooden box.
There was nothing special about it. In fact, it was very plain with no carvings of any kind on the outside. The box was about the size a medium sized book, and it had a gold tarnished clasp on one side.
“Dudley gave it to me to give to you before he left. Poor boy, all alone in the world, I tried to convince him to stay, but he seemed determined to get back to his own life.”
Mrs. Weasley continued to ramble on, as Harry tried to think of why his cousin would ever willingly give him something other than a black eye.
“What do you think is inside?” Ginny asked.
“I don’t know. I’m almost afraid to find out,” he said cautiously. He started to open the lid, but was stopped by Mrs. Weasley.
“Oh wait! I almost forgot. He wanted you to have this too,” she pulled a small envelope out of her apron and handed it to Harry.
He looked at it a moment before gingerly taking it from her. He then carefully opened it immediately recognizing the scratchy handwriting of his cousins.
Harry Potter,
Don’t read too much into this gesture. This box is rightfully yours. I have no right to keep it from you, even if I dislike giving you anything. It was your parents and so it belongs to you.
Don’t worry. I still blame you for the death of my parents, and I’m fairly certain you’re responsible for your own parent’s deaths. You’re a disease, Potter. All those around you die. I hope that you can find someway of living with yourself.
I am giving you this box, because a nice woman was kind to me when I needed it most. For some reason that I do not understand, she thinks the world of you. Molly Weasley is an angel of mercy and kindness- so don’t get her killed.
I first ran across this box years ago when mum was doing her annual attic cleaning. She told me not to touch it. She said that it was important and it belonged to you. Naturally, it perked my curiosity, so I went back after everyone was out of the house. What I found inside was… well you’ll see for yourself. I think that maybe this was what Voldemort might have been after. So you see why I don’t care to have it on me.
So long, Potter. I want nothing to do with you ever again. Stay away from me. Your war is not mine. I just want to forget the past, forget knowing you at all.
Dudley Dursley
“That was nice,” Ginny said sarcastically as she read over his shoulder. In a quieter voice she continued, “Don’t listen to him, Harry. It’s not your fault, none of it is.”
Harry simply nodded unable to speak. It didn’t matter what anyone said, he was responsible. He may not have killed Dudley’s parents or his own directly, but he knew deep down that he had been the cause of their deaths. He threw the letter aside and glared at the box in his lap. What would have been a moment of happiness at receiving something of his parents had been soured by Dudley’s letter.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Ginny urged.
Harry sighed, “Yeah, sure.” He half-heartedly reached down and opened the lid.
On top was a yellowing piece of parchment. He picked it up and slowly opened the folds to reveal yet another letter. This handwriting was unfamiliar to him. He looked down at the signature and his heart soared. It was from his parents.
Dearest Harry,
Our darling son, we love you so much and only wish you the best in your years to come. Today is your first birthday. We celebrated it with all of our closest and dearest friends. We hope that there will be many more, unfortunately Dumbledore has informed us that this may not be so.
Today he told us of a prophecy, a very disturbing prophecy. We do not understand why this is supposed to happen. We don’t know if it even will, but rest assured that we are taking the matter very seriously.
Your father and I have decided that we will do everything in our power to keep you safe. If you are reading this letter, then we were forced to protect you with our lives. Dear son, do not feel sad or abandoned. Know that you are loved and we could never let anything harm you.
Since we are no longer around to help and guide you, we have given you this. It is all we have left to give, except our undying love. Please keep it safe and don’t let it fall into the hands of those who would seek to destroy something so precious.
Against your father’s protests, I have decided to entrust this box to my sister until you become of the appropriate age. Do not judge your aunt too harshly, Harry. She is more compassionate than most people give her credit for. The fact that you received this letter and box proves this.
Be brave, dear son and know that even if we are not with you in person, we are with you in spirit.
P.S. In the bottom of the box you will also find a pendant. It was given to me by my parents, and has been in the Potter family for generations. It is yours now. Wear it. It will keep you safe. Dad.
Your loving parents,
James and Lily
Harry went back and reread the letter three times before tears blinded his vision. He finally set the letter down as he rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand.
“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.
Harry ignored him, reaching for the box in an effort to hide that he’d just been crying. Inside was what looked to be a brown leather book. He picked it up and began to leaf through the tattered and yellow pages. The book was full of large curvy handwriting. It matched the handwriting in the letter.
“It looks just like the diary you keep, Harry,” Ginny said.
“Men don’t keep diaries, they keep journals,” Ron corrected her.
“Ron,” Hermione hissed.
“What? Why?” he asked, a confused look on his face.
“You know why,” Hermione gave Ron a hard look, nodding her head towards Ginny.
He pointed at his sister and whined, “She mentioned it first…”
“Diary, journal, whatever,” Ginny rolled her eyes and turned from the bickering couple. “It’s pretty cool that you seemed to have picked up one of your mother’s habits,” she said quietly to Harry.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Harry opened the book near the end and skimmed the text at the top of the page.
August 10th, 1981.
We spent the day at Sirius’ house today. Little Harry was fascinated by his Uncle’s collection of broomsticks. He crawled from one to another trying to grab at each. I then caught James and Sirius trying to straddle him across a Cleansweep. Needless to say I gave them both an earful, and took the baby downstairs to play with his own toys. This only made James laugh though and proclaim that his son was going to be a great Quidditch player one day. I warned him that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again, he was going to be in such trouble.
On a more serious note, our trip was a success. Plans are now in motion to protect Harry. Sirius is more than willing to help, but there was never any doubt about that. We have come up with what we consider acceptable arrangements. It will take time to implement, so have decided to stay in hiding until our new home is ready.
Harry couldn’t read any more. He could feel the tears threatening to overflow once again. He decided to take a better look at the diary when he was alone. Harry set the book on his lap and took the next item out of the box.
It was a picture of him with his parents. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old when the picture was taken. He continued to pull out pictures until his lap was full of moving images. The pictures were mostly of him and his parents, but he also saw some with people in that he didn’t recognize.
Once the box was empty of all the pictures, only one thing remained at the bottom of the box, a silver necklace. He held the long chain up and fingered a circular disk hanging from it. He was in awe of its simple elegance as it seemed to shimmer in the light. A delicate carving of a stag adorned the front. Harry thought he glimpsed movement. Sure enough, the stag sprang into action and began to run and jump in place.
“It’s gorgeous,” Ginny gasped.
“Wow, mate,” Ron replied in awe, as he stared at the pendant. “That’s pretty cool, even if it is a necklace.”
“It must be enchanted!” Hermione said excitedly. “Oh, I’ve heard of them, but I never thought I’d actually see one in person. They are so rare.”
Harry looked up. “What do you mean?”
“It’s called a Hart’s Pendant. Theory has it that it’s supposed to have protective powers.”
“Why just theory?” he inquired.
Hermione shrugged. “Like I said, it’s rare. No one’s actually documented seeing one in a hundred years. People who possess them don’t usually advertise they have one.”
“Then how do you know about them?” Ron asked.
“I read about it in a book.”
“Naturally,” Ron muttered.
She continued, ignoring his comment, “But that’s not the only thing that’s special about them?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Part of the legend is that there were only a handful made. Because of this, it was decided that they would keep them in the family and pass them down from generation to generation.”
“Who originally made them?” Ginny questioned.
“Godric Gryffindor.”
The room was silent as the four of them stared at the pendant. The implications of what Hermione said hanging in the air. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
“What are you kids doing in here?”
The four of them jumped at the sudden intrusion as the older members of the Weasley family came into the room. Harry quickly stuffed the pendant in his pocket, and stowed the black box with his pictures and diary underneath his other presents. The diary and pendant were quickly forgotten as the rest of the Weasley family began opening their presents, which was followed by a brutal game of Quidditch in the backyard.
Later in the evening, some of the Order members joined the occupants of Grimmauld Place for a huge Christmas feast. The laughter filled the house as everyone ate and enjoyed each other’s company. But even with the laughter, everyone could feel a strained undercurrent that they all tried to ignore. Each knew that darkness loomed all around, and that tomorrow they would once again have to face it’s terrible embrace.
The next morning Harry awoke to a tapping noise. He groggily pulled himself out of bed and noticed that the noise was coming from his window. He peered through the frosted glass and saw a brown spotted owl. He opened the window and the owl placed a letter on the seal. After sending the owl on its way he opened the letter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
This letter is to inform you that your presence is required at the Ministry of Magic in testament against Severus Snape. Please arrive at the Ministry at 9:00am on 5th January.
Thank you for your cooperation,
Jarvis Williamson
Department of Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic