Chapter Twenty-Four
“So, have you forgotten my news, or were you waiting for your hair to fall out before you asked?” asked Hermione wryly.
“Oh yeah! What is it?”
She gleefully smiled. “I went straight to the library when you told me what Dumbledore said-“
“I win-“
“We ALL win-“
“ANYWAY. I have been working on the translation in a way. I’ve been digging for a little background information, thinking it could help me along. I hadn’t been finding anything, really, on Salazar Slytherin. At least, not on this particular battle. I figured that it wasn’t really a well-known fact. Well, the Slytherins have their own library of sorts, so I needed to find a way in. I thought Ginny might know, because she-“
Ginny hissed at her. “Because she knows a Slytherin, and she might be able to get them to tell her.”
“Does ‘them’ mean him or her?” asked Ron.
Hermione ignored them and continued her story. “So during second class, she asked him what it was, and he told her-“
“He just TOLD her? That’s kind of hard to believe . . .”
“Don’t ask, and I won’t lie,” said Ginny cryptically.
Hermione glared at them until they were all paying attention again. “The only problem was finding out how to get in there unnoticed. So after second, I magiced your cloak downstairs, ran in, and grabbed whatever I could in seconds.”
“So you just took it?” he said, very annoyed.
“Please, Harry, just let me explain. I decided to read during the time it took to go to Lupin’s classroom. In the very top book- The Life and Times of Salazar Slytherin- the first chapter was abut his rise to power, which began when he fought Merlin-“
“THE Merlin?”
“Yes! Well, Slytherin fought him because he was trying to get to his son-“
“He had a son?”
“Yes! Now will you listen? Hold all questions until the end. The son’s name was ARTHUR. The Muggle legends said something else, because naturally, they never knew what really happened. Arthur was a half-blood. After his father died, he went into hiding and became a potter.”
“Is that a pun?” asked Harry. “A potter as in ‘Oh, nice pot,’ or as in my last name?”
She leaned forward excitedly. “My guess is both.”
Harry scoffed. “The parchment you found probably had nothing to do with me, then. Just Arthur the potter.”
“No, Harry, it was a surname in the parchment. It’s written differently than the occupation.”
“Couldn’t there be a million Potters in the world though?” asked Ron.
Ginny chimed in. “Maybe, but how many of them are wizards?”
“Exactly. It can’t be all that common among wizards, because I’ve never heard or read that name in connection to any other witch or wizards, excepting your parents.”
“First you think I could be the Heir of Slytherin, and now you’re telling me I could be the great great great great grandson of Merlin or something?”
“We have to look at it as a distinct possibility, Harry,” was all she said. Hermione reclined in her chair, looking distinctly satisfied.
Harry took her cue to flop down in a nearby chair. He slouched there, attempting to be as comfortable and lazy as possible. His mind was racing with possibilities. What would Slytherin want with a half-blood? Of course, the same could have been asked about Voldemort a few years back. Why would Merlin want to dilute his magic with a Muggle? Wasn’t he supposed to be the greatest wizard in history? After about twenty minutes of looking like a zombie, Ginny said, “It might help for you to write thoughts in that journal I gave you for your birthday.”
The visual dawned in his memory. “Oh yeah! It answers questions I ask about myself, right?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He took the steps two at a time, dived into his trunk, and brought out the leather journal. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He took out his quill and suddenly felt like he was holding Riddle’s diary again. He shook away the flashback, and wrote. To give it a test run, he asked, “What is my name?”
“That varies,” was the reply. “Harry Potter, Potter, Harry, Golden Boy, Dumbledore’s groupie, lackey, Prat, Dream Man, Gorgeous, Poor Boy, Boy . . .”
It went on and on. Harry was dumbstruck. It was listing every name anyone had ever called him. He privately wondered who thought he was a man, much less a dream man. Feeling satisfied as to the truthfulness of the new journal, he took a breath and tried to decide which burning question to ask first.
“Is Merlin my ancestor?”
“Yes.”
He gasped, surprised.
“Why did Salazar Slytherin kill Merlin?”
“I cannot answer.” Harry was stumped, but soon remembered that he could only ask questions about himself.
“Can my Mum and Dad see me?”
“In some way.”
Harry’s lip curled. What kind of answer was that? “How?”
“Only they know.”
“Will I ever see Sirius again?”
“In some way.”
Harry felt like he was writing to a Magic 8 Ball. However, he knew that this journal was likely more legit. What answers he did get were comforting. By and large, he was quite thankful Ginny had thought to give it to him. It was also a lot of information to ponder and digest. After all, the journal told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was related to Merlin. Malfoy can’t beat THAT bloodline, he thought. He wondered in what way he would see Sirius again . . .
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Harry had been downstairs for some time working on his Care of Magical Creatures essay. Hermione had been so proud of him for getting to work on it quickly. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he could care less, and wasn’t so much working as making interesting doodles. His mind kept wandering. Hermione wasn’t helping by speaking her essay aloud, of course, but Harry bit his tongue. He could handle it for one night. He could also hear the scratching of Ginny’s quill. He then realized something. “Um, Ginny? Don’t you have classes?”
“Oh, a mere technicality. I’m not going to go today,” she whispered so Hermione couldn’t hear.
“Won’t you catch a fair bit of heat for that?”
“I only had Divination. The woman’s as high as a kite. She won’t notice.”
Harry grinned. She was so much like Fred and George. Their relation was unmistakable. Then he thought of another use for the journal. “Water closet,” he said, and dashed upstairs. As soon as he got to his dormitory, he ripped open the leather cover and wrote “Do I fancy Ginny Weasley?”
“Yes.”
“Do I fancy Luna, too?”
“In a way.”
“What way?”
“You lust for her.”
“Why can’t I figure girls out?”
“Because you are male.”
He laughed a little. At least now he had a clue as to what was going on. The only problem was that Ginny and Harry had liked each other for a while, yet they had settled into a comfortable pattern. He didn’t know if he had the guts to pursue anything with her. Then, there was Luna. “Should I talk to Luna?”
“Yes,” came the reply.
He looked at the clock. Five in the evening. He sighed. Now was better than never, he guessed. Without saying more than ‘bye’ to his friends, he walked out of the portrait hole, intent on finding Luna.
He saw a couple of Ravenclaws, and stopped them. “Have either of you seen Luna Lovegood?”
“Yeah, just saw her in the library,” said the boy.
Harry said, “Thanks,” and jogged to the library. He slowed to a walk when he got there. He spotted her within seconds, absorbed in an essay she was writing. Pulling out a chair opposite her, he sat awkwardly. “Can we talk?”
She glanced up with mild interest. “All right, let’s go,” she said, collecting her belongings. Without a second look or a glance back, she glided out of the library. Harry had planned on doing all of the talking in public, and in a place where no one could speak louder than a whisper. Unfortunately, she was ruining that plan.
Following behind her, he was sure he knew where she was heading. They arrived at the place, and she did the pacing ritual to gain access to the room. Before he knew it, he was alone in the Room of Requirement with Luna, and unsure of what was going to happen. Inside were a table with chairs and a candle, as well as a raggedy sofa off to the side.
“What did you need to say?”
“I’m sorry about the other night.”
“I’m not,” she said, utterly unconcerned about his regret.
“I just . . . have a lot going on.”
“I didn’t want to talk, really.”
“I know . . . huh?”
She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. “Was that all you had to say?” she asked, merely for politeness’ sake, because she didn’t bother waiting for the answer. Harry found himself stumped for words, but at that point, his brain had shut down anyway.
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Quite a few minutes later, Harry peeked out the door to the Room of Requirement to make sure the coast was clear. When he saw that it was, he briskly walked down to the Great Hall, as it was time for dinner. He didn’t look to see if Luna came out behind him. She was in the past. Despite other things that had happened, he had managed, in the end, to let her know that he simply did not have time to continue a relationship with her. She said she’d known all the long, and that was that. Harry knew one thing: he would never tell a soul what happened.
Upon entrance into the Great Hall, he soon saw his friends and sat with them. “Where’ve you been, mate?” asked Ron.
“Oh, taking care of stuff. Stopped by the library. You know.”
Ron only nodded and shoveled some rice into his mouth. Hermione looked delighted. “Good for you, Harry! It’s so nice to see someone working hard on their studies.”
“Um, sure,” he said, and flushed slightly. Ron caught it and smirked out of his girlfriend’s sight.
Harry noticed the young Miss Weasley looked especially happy tonight. Her eyes were sparkling and she was laughing and smiling more than usual. Currently, she was deep in conversation with a fifth year girl. Suddenly, he was very thankful that she’d given him the journal. When she finished her chatting, she caught Harry’s eye. “So we can do the thing right after dinner?”
“Right,” he smiled. At least Hermione couldn’t harp on him about homework, as he already had begun his essay. He was so distracted at the time that it probably looked like at two-year-old wrote it; but Hermione didn’t need to know that.
Without warning, there was the echoing sound of something hitting the floor- hard. Harry turned toward the sound, which came from the Slytherin table. It was a picture for the time capsule. Malfoy stood near the long bench at his table. There was quite a distance between him and anyone else, which was highly unusual, being the affluent student he was. The closest ones to him were holding their noses and grunting in an unattractive fashion. Malfoy glared at the whole lot angrily, and seated himself. The careful observer noticed his teeth clenched in a tight grip. He filled up his plate as Snape walked over, and guided him, with his full plate, out of the Hall.
“Oh poo! Snape’s probably going to help him!” Ginny complained.
Hermione glanced over snottily. “Perhaps. He’ll have a difficult time trying,” she said proudly.
The others only laughed at her and ate the rest of their meals companionably.
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Ginny had suggested Harry’s dormitory for comfort and privacy, but soon after, they saw Dean head up, and thought it was a bad idea after all. They weren't keen on riling up her ex boyfriend again. She then suggested the Room of Requirement, but Harry shot that suggestion down without any explanation. They settled for a semi-private corner of the common room, a bit later in the evening to avoid bystanders.
“So are we going to do another reading, then see if I have another dream?” Harry asked as he crossed his legs on the floor.
“No, I read you all the time- well, on accident. I was thinking we’d try something . . . if you are all right with that, I mean.”
He thought about it for a moment, and decided to go ahead with her plan. “What’s your idea?”
“I was thinking today about how my reading made it easy for you to see inside Voldemort’s mind-“
“You say his name?”
“Yes. But I was thinking about when Hermione said his defenses were lowered. They’re probably not anymore. So we’ll need more strength. If my reading you from a distance was strong enough to induce a form of Legilimency, then maybe a direct reading would be more powerful.”
Harry raised an eyebrow in answer. “You don’t think so?” she asked.
“No, I mean, I do . . . it’s just . . . well, that’s pretty clever of you.”
She grinned happily. “Thanks.”
“So, what kind of direct reading are you thinking of?”
She put her hands out in front of her, palms facing Harry. He, recognizing what she meant, did the same. “I need you to focus on whatever kind of connection you have with Voldemort. I will basically just try to do the reading, but I expect it to be a little different.”
Harry only looked at her curiously. She wasn’t looking into his eye, and their hands weren’t yet touching. She was avoiding being thrown into a reading, he knew. She looked unsure, and it unsettled him a bit. “Um, I don’t really know how long this could take, and I don’t know what we’re going to get. If you want a break, just kind of nudge me, you know? And I’m going to close my eyes. You can too.”
She took a deep breath and closed her hazel eyes. After a minute, Harry felt silly staring at her, so he closed his eyes also.
It was almost as if the two had drifted off to sleep. It was taking all of their mental energy, though. Harry was having a hard time concentrating. He knew she was only seeing his thoughts and memories. He didn’t mind too much, but certainly didn’t bring up the horrible ones. Suddenly, his mind pulled up the memory of Voldemort sticking out of Quirrel’s head, and he latched onto it. He could feel Ginny’s encouragement at this development, so he held on to it with even stronger will.
Then, in his mind’s eye, he dove into the eyes of the sickening, snake-like face. He knew it was at that point that he truly began to sap at Ginny’s energy. He could feel himself pulling it away from her. Through it all, he felt like she was right behind him. He felt more secure with her there (strangely, as she had only been in battle with him once), and it gave him a push to continue.
At first, the blur of thoughts was too immense, he couldn’t make a clear picture out of any of it. Then, he saw a familiar thought. The crying baby with the screaming mother. Everything slowed down enough for Harry to comprehend, albeit quickly. There was a flash of Lucius Malfoy. “It’s in his friends! It’s them!” and his gruesome death. Then, a horror appeared before him. Percy, looking ragged and pale. He was shaking badly, and covered in gashes and bruises. “I won’t tell you! I won’t!” There was a muttering from Voldemort. “Kill me then! Do it!” A great flame leapt up in front of Harry.
It was so close, he physically leapt back, trying to break the connection. Ginny grabbed his fingertips so tightly, they throbbed. As he felt himself being slowly pulled back from Voldemort’s mind, he heard a loud scream. Still, he was tenderly stepping away until he opened his eyes.
Ginny’s face was shimmering in the firelight. She was heartily crying. Then she jumped up and shouted “Ron! RON! We have to tell Dumbledore! He’s got Percy!” She didn’t wait for his reaction as she ran, full-blast, out of the common room and into the hall way. She wasn’t reacting like someone terrified. The tone of her voice was one of determination, courage and anger.
Ron and Hermione shot him frightened looks before all three tumbled out of the room after Ginny, hoping against all odds, Percy could be rescued. Ron, being rather tall and lanky, had the advantage in running, and soon passed his younger sister. Harry and Hermione were left a bit further back, struggling to catch up. When Ron reached Dumbledore’s office door, he whipped around. “What’s the password?” he shouted at Harry.
“Dung Beans!” he yelled back at him. The door opened to reveal the spiral staircase, and Ron dashed up, with Ginny only inches behind. They burst through the open door to his office, surprised to have such easy access. Ginny spoke as soon as she spotted the bespectacled professor. “Professor Dumbledore, Voldemort’s got Percy! We have to stop him!”
Seated behind his desk, Albus Dumbledore looked sadly at them. Harry and Hermione ran in at that moment, and saw the picture before them with the awful truth imbedded in every air particle. “I am sorry. Ginny, Ron. Percy is gone.”
“What? No! I saw him! He’s still alive; we have to hurry!” When Dumbledore didn’t stand, Ginny became irate. “Aren’t you going to do anything?” she asked venomously, leaning over the headmaster’s desk. “All you do is sit there, all high and mighty! But you won’t even lift a finger to go help my brother!” she spat at him.
“There is nothing any of us can do now, Ms. Weasley . . .” he responded with regret.
“Yes there is!” shouted Ron. “Where is he?”
“He is in Romania. The Dark Mark was seen over an abandoned home, where he was being held,” he said slowly.
Ginny’s eyes widened and she shook. Harry couldn't tell if it was with sadness or fury. Ron glanced from his sister back to Dumbledore. “But . . . he can’t be. She . . . saw him . . .” Ron’s face fell as he finished, knowing the truth. Harry and Hermione looked on in shock. The latter had her own tears spilling onto her cheeks. Harry clenched his fists to stop them from shaking.
Dumbledore stood, took out a cauldron, and said “Portus.” He looked at the small assembled group. Harry and Hermione were in the background, unsure of how to feel. Ron was holding a wrenching Ginny, who alternately struggled to get away and collapsed back into his arms; having a difficult time figuring out how to react. Tears rolled down her face with wild abandon.
“I will arrange everything here. You two shall stay with your family through the weekend.” He brought the cauldron to them and motioned for them to hold it. They did so mournfully. “I am so very sorry . . .” he said, before they disappeared, transported to Grimmauld Place.
“Why can’t we go?” asked Harry accusatorily.
“You will. Tomorrow evening. Tonight, they need time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? They’re as good as my family!”
“As am I! Ron would want me there!”
“I have no doubt as to the truth in that,” he replied diplomatically. “However, I need you two here.”
“For what? What’s more important than-“
“I need to know how- and what- Ginny saw.”
“It can wait!” shouted Harry, but knew it wasn’t true; even through his nauseating wrath.
Hermione’s head hung, “We have to now, Harry. It could help, maybe. Or some other time, it could . . .” She glared hard at the floor.
Dumbledore indicated for them to sit, and they did so, but Harry held on to Hermione’s hand, for her comfort as much as his. He decided to explain the situation to his headmaster, but would demand that he be transported to London immediately after. He bit down his bitter anger.
“We tried to do a stronger reading . . . where . . . where we could see his thoughts even when his defenses are up. At first, it was hard to break in, but then I kind of got in through one of my memories of him.”
He nodded. “I surmise she saw everything you did?”
“Yes. We were connected . . . physically.”
“She would have lent great strength to your Legilimency powers.”
“I guess so . . . I didn’t really think of it as Legilimency, though . . .”
“Ah, but that was the act you performed. In a less traditional manner, yes. Harry, I must now ask you exactly what you saw.”
“Well, I saw Percy . . . he had been tortured, but said he wouldn’t tell. Then . . . th-there was a scream.” He looked at Hermione, and saw her lip trembling. It reminded him of something else he saw. “Malfoy. He was there.”
“It had to have been an older memory you saw, then. Lucius, I presume?”
“Yes. He was on his knees and saying something like, ‘It’s his friends.’”
If possible, the headmaster’s face fell to a disappointment abysmally deeper than sadness.
“What?” he asked, worried now and slightly regretting mentioning it. “What does that mean?”
“It means Voldemort has discovered something I had hoped he would not dignify as anything significant. It is something Malfoy would have known through his son, however, and one day, I suppose, he was bound to tell him.” He sighed regretfully. “Part of the reason you’ve survived these many obstacles and battles, is through the assistance of your friends. Do you agree?”
“Well, yeah, but-“
“You’ve been blessed with the uncanny ability to make deeply dedicated, loyal friends. Until this point, Voldemort dismissed them; they were unthreatening because they were young. Now, he heard Mr. Malfoy’s argument, has looked into your mind, and found verification.”
“Verification? Of what? That I have friends?”
“That your friends have, and will, continue to make you stronger.”
Although he hadn’t always expressed it, Harry’d always held an appreciation for his friends. He’d never thought of them in the guardian angel light, as that seemed to be what Dumbledore was implying. Now that he thought about it, he began to wonder what would have happened if Hermione hadn’t figured out the basilisk, or if Ron hadn’t won that giant Wizard Chess game.
“Ms. Granger, may I ask for your account of this evening’s events?”
“Well, Ron and I were keeping an eye on the reading. Ginny asked us to, in case anything went wrong. They were sitting there for fifty minutes or so before it started.”
“How could you tell?” asked Harry.
“Your faces tensed up. Ginny was pushing hard against your hands. You two were like that for about twenty minutes, when you tried to pull away really hard. She held on to you though . . .”
“I remember that. Why?”
“Harry, do you recall the night when Mr. Weasley was attacked?”
“Yes.”
“When you awoke, you jerked out of Voldemort so abruptly, it alerted him to your presence. Ginny stopped you, so you both could back away unnoticed. I’m impressed with such self control. Especially under the circumstances.”
Hermione’s brow was creased. “Harry? Has Voldemort still been getting into your mind often?”
“Yeah. So what? I’m used to it,” he said distractedly.
“Well . . . we can’t just let him know everything . . . you know?” she said cautiously.
“Well, what do you want me to do? Walk around blindly, not knowing anything? Do you even remember that that was how Sirius got killed?” he shouted.
“Well, I was just thinking that m-maybe you could try Occlumency again . . .”
“That I should buddy up with Professor Snape? Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen.”
“I would like to teach you, Harry,” said Dumbledore.
“But you said-“
“I learned my lesson last year, Harry. I’m afraid we must choose between Occlumency, and keeping you in the dark, which is an option none of us care for.” He gave the tiniest nod toward Hermione.
They both looked at Harry expectantly until he finally muttered, “Fine. But I want to go to see the Weasleys’ now.”
“I’m afraid that would be inadvisable.”
“Why?” he said, newly angry.
“They need time to heal, before-“
“I want to go too!” said Hermione, standing. “We can’t stand idly by. We have to help in whatever way we can, and we can’t do it by staying here.”
Harry stood straight with determination. “If you won’t portkey us, we will walk there,” he said matter-of-factly.
Dumbledore sighed. “Even with events as these, Molly would never forgive my allowing you two walk the night . . .”
Hermione looked at him with pools of saltwater in her eyes. She circled his desk and pulled him into a tight hug. “Oh thank you! The longer we wait, the worse it would be. I think it best that we go now.”
Dumbledore grabbed a quill from his desk. “Portus.” He paused a moment. “It will be difficult to see what you will, and still think there is good in the world. Without perseverance, we, as people, would no longer exist. Let this remind you of what you can do to change the world.”
The two nodded, grabbed the quill, and their navels pulled them straight into London.