Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 35
The Greenhouse
Despite the satisfaction of a wonderful meal, Harry did not sleep well. The day had been an emotional roller coaster of sorts and his thoughts were in turmoil for much of the night. When he woke, it was with the realization that he needed to speak with Bill before the man left for work that morning.
Seeing Harry’s resolute expression, Bill grabbed a mug of hot coffee and suggested that they take a walk outside. Despite the icy ground, it was going to be a sunny day today and the morning’s rays were a welcome change from yesterday’s monochrome palette. Harry zipped up his jacket tightly and shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep them warm. He hazarded a look at Bill and was surprised to note the stark map of white scars that crisscrossed his cheeks and part of his forehead, courtesy of his battle the night of Dumbledore’s death. They had been much less noticeable in the lambent glow of firelight.
They walked a short distance from the house in silence before Harry felt secure enough to voice his concerns.
“Assuming Plan B gets put into effect, how are we going to survive among the Muggles without any of their money? Most of us won’t have any of the necessary paperwork to gets jobs,” Harry began.
“I’ll make sure that the galleons are changed into Muggle bills,” Bill explained. “We already have a small stockpile stashed in a vault so it will not attract the undue attention that doing a large exchange transaction all at once would. Still with the daily deposits from Fred’s and George’s stores, it’s not that difficult to slip a couple of extra transactions through unnoticed. Why do you ask?”
“I want to add the money that my parents left me into the mix,” Harry stated unequivocally.
Bill looked at Harry shrewdly before shaking his head. “I can’t let you do that. You should not tie up all of your assets in the case of a contingency that may never come to pass.”
“But if it does come to pass, I don’t expect we’ll have a lot of advance warning,” protested Harry.
“That’s true, but there are documents that can be drawn up that would allow someone at the bank to proceed on your behalf. Someone like myself, if that’s what you wished,” Bill explained.
Harry nodded that he understood and then took a deep breath before proceeding to the true heart of the matter. “What about in the case of my death? How can I make sure that my assets are forwarded to the proper parties?”
“Those documents can be drawn up, also. But Harry, this is not a simple matter; there are a lot of factors to take into account, lots of different options. You really should talk to someone, an estate agent, who is much more knowledgeable about such things.”
“I appreciate your advice, Bill, but time is of the essence here. This is not something that I can resolve once I go back to Hogwarts, not without sacrificing the confidentially that I wish to maintain,” Harry replied, allowing the urgency to spill into his voice. “What if I told you that I wished to draw something up on a temporary basis and then still have the option to fine tune it in the future? Is that something that you could handle for me?”
“Yes, but Harry, these are not decisions that should be made on the spur of the moment,” Bill demurred.
“I agree completely, but I really need to know that everything’s not in total limbo should Voldemort decide to strike three weeks from now.” Harry hoped his earnestness would be apparent to Bill.
“Right, I see your point as well,” Bill conceded. “But I won’t be able to have anything for you before I leave for France this evening. How about when I get back in a week’s time?”
“That would be fine,” Harry concurred. “Nothing fancy, just divide the assets equally among the following people.” He handed Bill the strip of parchment on which he had hastily scrawled: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Hagrid. “Five equal parts. And, Bill, you must tell absolutely no one, I cannot stress that enough.”
“I understand, Harry.” Bill nodded solemnly. “But, in return, I must have your promise that you will revisit these issues in the near future. Once you can do so without having an Order member as your ball-and-chain.”
The handshake between them was somber, but Bill followed Harry’s smile of gratitude with a hearty slap on the back.
“It will all turn out all right,” he assured Harry. “That’s what Plan B’s are really all about: to keep Fate from being so sorely tempted to pull the rug out from under you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I have just enough time to gobble some eggs and toast before I have to leave for Gringott’s. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Harry.”
“Likewise.”
Harry took a brisk turn around the yard to warm himself up before turning in the direction of the back door. He felt an indescribable sense of relief that he had completed the chore painlessly with Bill instead of having dealt with any so-called experts.
He encountered Ginny as he was returning downstairs from a hot shower.
“Mum was wondering if you were still hungry for breakfast,” she asked. “She expects that you worked up an appetite after your hike around the yard.”
“I did, Ginny.” Harry smiled in return. “But I didn’t dress warmly enough in the first place, so I couldn’t just go in to breakfast when I got back.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand once you tell her,” Ginny returned. He was almost past her safely when the touch of her hand on his arm stopped him in mid-stride. “Harry, what were you going to say to me last night before you were interrupted?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he whispered. “This is neither the place nor the time.” Giving her hand a quick squeeze, he avoided direct eye contact as he made his way past.
Upon entering the warm kitchen, Harry discovered that Mad-Eye Moody would be on guard duty for the day.
“Figured Hestia was due for a change of scenery,” he growled amicably to Molly. “Can’t say that a day in the country didn’t appeal to me after the mayhem in London yesterday. It’s not like I have any last minute holiday shopping on my agenda, neither. Morning, Harry,” Moody added without actually turning in the direction of the door.
“You’re a hard one to sneak up on, old man,” Harry replied in greeting as he swung himself into the chair opposite. Molly immediately placed a full plate in front of him. “Sorry for the delay, Mrs. Weasley, I couldn’t face the day without a hot shower first.”
“Quite all right, Harry, dear,” she replied warmly. “Ginny was a bit worried about you so it gave her a bit of a pretext to go looking for you.”
“So what’s on the agenda for today, Harry?” Mad-Eye asked with interest. “Molly tells me she and Ron will be going down to the village, so it looks like it’s just you, me, and Hermione--”
“”me, too,” exclaimed Ginny as she plopped herself down next to Moody to savor another cup of cocoa. “You don’t mind if I bow out, Mum, do you? I’ve had enough of shopping for a while. I bought way too much stuff yesterday!”
“Did you manage to bring some coins back in your pockets?” Moody winked at her.
“Quite a few as a matter of fact,” Ginny replied earnestly. “Tonks knew where all the best bargains were. Which reminds me, I have something I need to ask Hermione…”
As she dashed out of the room, Molly picked up the empty cocoa mug and turned towards the sink to hide her smile.
“What’s the big secret, Molly?” Moody’s non-magical eye twinkled in her direction. “You know you can’t hide from me.”
“Oh, Alastor, you always see right through me,” Molly conceded as she turned to them with a conspiratorial look. “Now promise me you won’t tell anyone else “ that includes you, too, Harry…. Ginny outdid herself recruiting business for Fred and George this fall, what with the Halloween costumes and then gowns for the Slytherin girls; why the orders are still coming in. Only she wouldn’t take the full amount of commission the boys offered her in exchange, though it was only her due. Said she was only too happy to help a family member.”
“That sounds like Ginny,” Moody agreed.
“So Fred and George opened an account at Gringott’s in her name and deposited the extra earnings there,” Molly continued with a proud smile. “Yesterday, when Bill exchanged her galleons for Muggle bills, though, he used a ‘special rate’ that incorporated some of the additional amounts from her account. Ginny was too unfamiliar with Muggle money to know the difference, but it gave all of us who knew an extra bit of satisfaction to know that Ginny had a bit of a holiday bonus. I sure hope she remembered to buy something for herself!”
“I don’t think you have to worry on that account,” Hermione commented as she took a seat at the table. “I just finished casting an enlarging charm on her bedroom closet. She didn’t want to get in trouble for doing underaged magic herself.”
“That should keep Ginny occupied most of the morning then,” Molly observed. “Alastor was wondering what you had planned for today, dear.”
“Actually, I could do with some quiet time to work on my assignment for Professor McGonagall,” Hermione confessed. “She’s just taken over as my advisor and I don’t want to disappoint her with my first report. I haven’t even started on it.”
“I wanted to do a bit of research among Bill’s books as well,” Harry added.
“Sounds like you two have it all worked out then,” Molly returned with a smile. “I’ll leave you in Alastor’s capable hands while I nip down to the village. Anything you need? No? I hear Ron trooping down the stairs. See you around lunchtime.”
Hermione divided the last of the cocoa among the three of them as they watched Molly and Ron walk out of sight down the lane to Ottery St. Catchpole. In the soft winter sunlight, their ginger hair glowed like molten metal even though it was still cold enough to see their breath.
Moody turned to them with an impish look. “Are the ruins of the old glass greenhouse within the Weasley property? I think I’ve figured out how to turn it into a temporary hot house for sunny winter days. Can’t imagine a more peaceful place to do a bit of quiet studying, can you?”
“But, Mad-Eye, aren’t you supposed to be on guard duty?” Harry inquired with a sly grin. “Hestia made a big point of saying she couldn’t interact with us and still keep a lookout.”
“Ah well, that’s Hestia,” Moody grumbled happily. “I, on the other hand, can keep an eye on more than one thing at once. I’m the ultimate multi-tasker!” Catching the startled look on Hermione’s face, Moody just chuckled and volunteered, “What, girl, don’t you think Remus practices any of that Muggle slang you’ve been teaching him with the rest of us?”
Racing upstairs to get their study materials, Hermione ducked her head into Ginny’s room to let her know where they would be. From what little Harry could see through the open door, it looked like a multi-colored tornado had just rearranged the entire contents of her chamber. Glad that he was not being corralled into helping with that job, Harry hurried down the stairs to don his coat and gloves.
Moody’s idea of transforming the ruined Victorian greenhouse turned out to be truly inspired. The overgrown area that had been cleared over the summer had not grown back so it was mainly a matter of generating some warmth underneath the cold stone benches, adding some cushions Hermione transfigured from broken bricks, and turning the cracked center fountain into a hearth with the addition of bluebell flames courtesy of Moody’s wand. Moody used an unfamiliar variation of the incendio charm to warm the old, moss-covered flagstones so that their heat radiated upward, yet they were not so hot that they were uncomfortable to stand upon. Within the space of a few minutes, the same spell had heated the stone benches to a comfortable temperature as well. The sunlight warmed the broken glass walls enough to melt any of yesterday’s ice and the resulting puddles reflected the light like so many tiny mirrors.
Harry added a bubble shield that helped to contain the heat enough so that they would be comfortable without coats and gloves. It wasn’t warm enough for them to remove their heavy jumpers, but it was still a good approximation of a sunny autumn day. He quickly taught the others the spell to re-establish the shield and cautioned them that it was subject to collapse if hit with another spell or if it came in contact with their bodies, the latter imparting an unpleasant stinging sensation.
Although the renovations were only temporary, there was a fairy tale quality about the ruin that made it seem cozy as well as impossibly fragile at the same time, a rare soap bubble creation in a sea of turbulence. Harry had never thought of Moody as being much of a visionary, but it was clear he was going to have to re-evaluate his assessment.
Moody positioned himself so that he was outside the shield yet standing upon the old steps that led up to the greenhouse. Leaning comfortably against one of Hermione's pillows, he settled himself upon the steps so he could still benefit from the heated flagstones. Harry surmised that the man could keep an eye not only on the greenhouse interior, but also on the Burrow that was just visible through the bare tree branches.
Harry and Hermione spent most of the morning in companionable silence, each engrossed in their books from benches situated at opposite ends of the cracked fountain. The bubble shield softened ambient sounds so Harry found it easy to concentrate on the tales of ancient tombs within the fabled Valley of the Kings. By propping his book directly on the bench, the slightly tingling warmth to his hands made him feel that he had been transported to the sands of Egypt. He found the author’s effortless style quite engaging as it made everything seem murky and mysterious, but there was really very little that could be of assistance in his search for Horcruxes. Having reached the book's midpoint, he wondered whether it was even worth his trouble to continue to the end. After all, Bill had a whole shelf full of other books.
He thumbed through the remainder of the pages sluggishly, paying more attention to the infrequent diagrams than to the words themselves. He seemed to catch the word “Horcrux” out of the corner of his eye as he flipped impatiently, but then he couldn’t locate the exact page as he went back more carefully. The index did not have any such listing under the letter H. Assuming that the whole thing had not simply been a product of his imagination, Harry tried flipping through the pages more slowly, attempting to duplicate his earlier actions. There! He saw it again and managed to stop a few pages beyond it. He slowly scanned the paragraphs and found the word “Horcrux” in the middle of a lengthy description. He turned the corner of the page to mark the spot, but resolved that he would have to go back to the beginning of the chapter to get a good idea of what they were referring to in context.
Feeling as if he had at least accomplished something, Harry stood up from the bench and stretched his limbs languidly. Hermione was still bent over her book, making copious notes on a parchment pad next to her. He turned around to get the blood flowing into his legs and noticed that Ginny had joined Moody at his post.
Overcome with curiosity, Harry wandered over to the far wall to see what they were discussing so intently. As he neared, Ginny threw her head back in laughter but he could only distinguish the melodious sound very faintly through the shield. She looked up to find him watching and smiled in his direction. Moody turned around with a tea mug in his hand and brought down the shield with a curt wave of his wand.
“Was wondering when you’d be ready for a break,” he commented in his gravelly voice. “Ginny was kind enough to bring me some tea and then fill me in on how I inspired her to create an award-winning Halloween costume.”
“I could use a bit of tea myself,” Hermione remarked from the far bench as she lowered her quill and parchment. “I’ll just trot up to the house, if you don’t mind, stretch my legs in the process. Can I get you a mug, Harry?”
“Actually I could do with something cold after reading about the arid sands of Egypt,” Harry replied.
“I’ll see if I can find some butterbeer,” Hermione agreed. “I know how evocative books can be if the story catches your imagination.”
Ginny made to go past Moody into the greenhouse but he blocked her with his walking stick. “Just where do you think you’re going, missy?” he countered with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You could be just anyone trying to soften me up so you could get at the target here.”
“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to poison your tea then?” she returned roguishly.
“Have the antidote right here,” Moody rejoined as he patted the flask on his belt.
Ginny giggled playfully in response. “Patronus check?” she offered gamely, pulling out her wand.
“Not on your life!” Moody warned. “They’ll have you for underaged magic in a heartbeat. You’ll have to convince me of your true identity in some other manner.”
“And what exactly did you have in mind?” Ginny countered with a saucy hand on her hip.
Harry did his best to hide his smirk as he waited for Moody’s next move. Perhaps he could get a few ideas on how to deal with this situation if he encountered it again, he thought to himself.
“Let me see,” Moody screwed up his face into a fearsome scowl. “What embarrassing little facts can I get you to divulge to me to prove yourself?”
“You wouldn’t know if they were true or not,” Ginny replied with flawless logic.
“Naw, but I sure would enjoy watching you squirm,” Moody attested with a sharp laugh.
“Tell you what, old man, how about if I show you the mole on the back of my neck?” Ginny suggested.
Moody shook his head. “Polyjuice Potion would replicate that in a second. Got any ideas, Harry?”
Suddenly put on the spot, Harry didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he could think of tons of personal facts about Ginny, mostly involving himself as well, but he was dead certain he didn’t want Moody to know any of those.
“Er…I’m not really good at these types of games,” he confessed.
Moody glanced at Ginny, and realizing that he had finally hit home with his teasing, decided to let up. “Go ahead, nobody can manufacture that combination of chagrin and consternation,” he relented, backing up the steps to let her pass. Hobbling over to Harry’s side, Moody muttered, “Don’t be so modest, lad; you did a great job of calling out Severus Snape when it counted!”
“The headmistress swore everyone to--” Harry choked, then stopped as the error of his reasoning became evident. “That didn’t apply to members of the Order, did it?”
Moody shook his head as a playful smile curled on his lips. “But I wouldn’t let it bother you. You’ve become a bit of a folk hero at that.” Seeing that Ginny was examining the renovations in more detail, Moody added with a knowing wink, “I’ll just be over here if you need me.”
Suppressing an involuntary shiver, Harry noted that the ambient temperature had already dropped considerably in the short time that the shield had been released. He indicated to Moody that he was re-establishing it temporarily until Hermione returned from the house.
Harry sat down on the same bench he had previously occupied and laid his hands, palms down, on the stone to warm them. The radiating heat worked its way into his shoulders and upper torso as well. He continued to watch Ginny as she made her way around the old fountain, entranced by all the enhancements that had been made.
“Come sit next to me, the benches are warm,” Harry offered as he scooted over to one side. Noticing that her eyes had been drawn to the pillows, he added, “Hermione transfigured those; who knows how long the spell will actually hold?”
Ginny positioned herself at the far end of the bench so she could turn around half-way to face Harry directly. The bench was not made to hold more than two or three persons, so in reality she was still sitting relatively close, but Harry was relieved that there was enough empty air between them to keep his hammering heart in check. Suddenly, he had no idea what to say to her and he was not about to take up their conversation from the night before right there in front of Moody.
“Were you planning on keeping this delightful refuge to yourselves?” she asked with mock innocence. Something in her tone seemed to warn Harry to be careful where he stepped.
“It’s just an impromptu study area. Moody’s idea actually,” Harry commented with a small shrug. “You’re welcome to join us if you have something quiet on which to work. It’s rather pleasant reading in natural light.”
“I’m sort of in the middle of a different type of project,” she admitted with a hint of regret. “I just came down to have a word with you before Mum and Ron got back.”
This had all the hallmarks of a disaster, Harry intoned inwardly, but he didn't know how to avert it. She was sounding too much like all the other girls he’d encountered “ and too little like herself. He let his skepticism show in his gaze.
Ginny hesitated momentarily, then ploughed ahead, “There’s really no way to sugar-coat this. Robert Anderson asked me to go out with him before we left for Christmas “ earlier than that even, but I’d told him I wasn’t ready to see anyone then “ but I think I’m going to accept his offer when we get back to school… There, I’ve said it.” Then in a softer tone, she added, “I wanted you to hear it from me.”
Harry felt such a rush of emotions that it would take him days to properly sort through them all, but he knew that she was expecting him to say something in return. “If that’s what you want, Ginny,” was all he could manage.
“I’m really sorry, Harry.”
No, you’re not, his insides screamed as he ignored the sincerity in her tone, you’re just trying to force my hand. He fed the defiance that he suddenly felt into his eyes to mask the pain and then turned to her with feigned calmness. “You don’t really owe me any explanation. You don’t really owe me…anything.” He stopped there, knowing his voice might not make it any further.
Harry stared fixedly at his feet, willing the rise and fall of his chest to return to normal, knowing that if he looked up now she would see that his eyes were swimming. It seemed like Ginny sat there silently for a long period of time and he wondered whether this encounter had proceeded in the manner that she had originally intended. Well, that was not his problem, he thought callously.
Finally he heard the unmistakable sounds of her standing up and walking slowly towards the greenhouse exit. At the last moment, he lowered the shield bubble so that she could pass through harmlessly. Harry watched her walk doggedly up the slight incline to the Burrow, the image wavering in and out of focus before his eyes.
Abruptly he felt a wave of anger wash over him, urging him to action. He was tired of being everyone’s pawn, tired of feeling like he was constantly reacting to the chaos that others created before him. It was long past time that he stood up for himself. Not caring one whit for the consequences, he whipped out his wand and Apparated to a spot right behind Ginny.
Before the quiet popping noise alerted her to his presence, he had grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around to face him. Their bodies were so close that he could feel her heartbeat through the rise and fall of her ribcage. Inexplicably, the anger that he had felt just moments before evaporated like so much smoke. Wordlessly he kissed her softly and tenderly, the soft brush of his lips in counterpoint to the iron grip he still maintained on her wrist. When he was certain that her internal turmoil was equal to his, he released her and walked resolutely back down the hill to the greenhouse without looking back.
Harry sat down woodenly on the stone bench and waited. He thought he’d seen Moody and Hermione watching them from the shadows of the front porch, but right now he really didn’t care. Even though he could feel that the air had become bitterly cold around him, the blood in his veins felt overly hot in contrast. He looked up when footsteps told him that Ginny was standing right before him. He turned solemn eyes to hers, entranced by the sparks that he found dancing in their depths. He could tell that she was teetering on the fine line between anger and tears. Good, he thought to himself, at least he’d done that right.
“Bloody hell, Harry!” she sputtered. “What was that supposed to mean? What’s the meaning of kissing me in that manner?”
Determined that this was one round she was not going to win, Harry looked at her defiantly and noted, “Goodbye. I was kissing you goodbye.”
With a calm demeanor that masked his inner pain, he reached for the book that he had marked and opened it to the dog-eared page. Not that any of the printed words were in focus, but there was no way Ginny could know that, Harry consoled himself. Without moving his head, he could see enough around the edges of the book to assure himself that she had not moved.
He waited a few long heartbeats and then softly ventured, “Ginny, please leave. I really don’t want to lose my temper with you.”
When Harry heard the distant sound of the Burrow door closing, he finally raised his head from the unread pages of the book. Moody and Hermione had returned to the ruined greenhouse.
“I hope you enjoyed the floor show,” he muttered as he shrugged into his coat with trembling hands. Already he knew that any satisfaction from his words and actions was going to be short-lived.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione implored, sitting down next to him and handing him a bottle of butterbeer. “I’ve never seen Ginny with such a murderous look on her face!”
“If you don’t mind, Hermione, I’d rather not talk about it right now. It’s going to take me awhile to sort through it myself, to tell you the truth,” Harry replied candidly. Already he could feel the fallout starting: his pulse had returned to normal only to be accompanied by a dull ache in his chest. “Right now I just feel like breaking something.”
“Why don’t we go for a walk then?” Moody suggested gruffly.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: Harry considers that he may not survive an encounter with Voldemort; pent up frustrations explode as Ginny steals a few moments alone with Harry.