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 48
Moonlight’s Spell
It was clearly too late to partake of dinner in the Great Hall by the time they arrived back at Lupin’s office. Harry left the others discussing their options while he made a quick trip ostensibly to the boys’ bathroom. Once out of sight, he ducked into the first unlocked classroom to regroup with Dobby.
His task completed, he encountered Ginny returning from a side trip of her own. Harry smiled as he saw that she had loosened her hair from her ponytail and brushed it out until it shone. Waiting until she drew abreast, he brushed back the same errant tendril that had tempted him earlier in the day.
“Thanks,” she started to whisper then stopped short when she realized that Harry had used a quick kiss to convince the strand of its proper resting place.
Harry started to say something else but hesitated at the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the nearest staircase. He ducked down the side corridor towards Lupin’s office to keep from drawing undue attention to himself and, most notably, to the gift bottle he had tucked into the crook of his arm. Ginny caught up with him momentarily.
“Is that a victory gift for Tonks or just a consolation prize?” she quipped.
“You have no room to talk.” Harry smiled back. “Surely, you don’t expect me to believe you and Lupin didn’t have anything riding on the outcome of the last duel?”
“No, I don’t expect you to believe it,” Ginny replied with a flounce of her long hair. “Only to accept that I’m not going to tell you what it was… and neither will he, so don’t ask!”
“I can take it that no house points were involved then?”
“Hardly.”
“Any idea what we should order for supper?” Tonks posed, turning in their direction as she heard the sound of the office door. Then she caught sight of the bottle and her eyes lit up immediately. “Don’t tell me that’s… Harry, how did you know?”
Harry’s smile widened at her obvious pleasure when presented with the gift. “Dobby told me that it was one of your faves.”
“The house-elf?” Lupin asked with surprise.
“The very one.”
“Oooh, I’ll have to thank him personally,” Tonks crooned. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”
Lupin chuckled as Tonks ducked through the far door into the private dining room. “I suspect that helped her to settle the issue of what to order, as well,” he commented.
Satisfied with a delectable platter of Scottish salmon on a bed of sharply dressed salad greens, their conversation naturally turned to all aspects of their recent dueling sessions. Critiques, praise and plans for areas that needed fine-tuning flowed as freely as the wine. Harry was unusually quiet as he savored how the wine complemented each new sensation on his tongue. Ginny would stare daggers at him every so often as she had not been allowed any due to her tender age, but Harry could tell that it was more for show than anything else.
The tart lemon sorbet that they enjoyed for dessert provided the perfect ending to their meal, yet the wine found a way to enhance that flavor as well. Harry sat back with a blissful expression on his face when the last morsel was gone from his spoon, the last drop wrung from the empty bottle. Later, he would tell Tonks about the other eleven bottles waiting for her in the teacher’s pantry.
Lupin caught his eye and smiled warmly. “Do you think we can schedule our next lesson for tomorrow afternoon at three?”
“Of course,” Harry replied.
“Then you’d both better be heading back to Gryffindor Tower; there’s still about half an hour left before curfew. Ginny, I’ll go over today’s class assignment with you when I see you for Saturday morning Apparition practice. You both acquitted yourselves very well today.”
Ginny nodded with a smile and then gave Lupin and Tonks quick hugs on her way to the outer office.
“Thanks again for the wine.” Tonks beamed as Harry said his goodbyes in a similar fashion.
With a last sigh of pleasure, Tonks let the door to the private dining room swing shut. She nestled up next to her husband on the armrest of his favorite chair.
“You seem pleased with the outcome of this evening’s events, darling,” she offered as she ran her fingers affectionately through his hair. “Or is it just the glow from the wine?”
Lupin smiled contentedly up at her and replied, “A little of both. I was almost at my wits’ end when it came to those two.”
“Because they were both so obviously hurting inside?”
“Only partially,” Lupin explained. “From the start, Harry had the misguided notion that Ginny would agree to sit in the background while he went out and saved the world.”
“How chivalrous…” Tonks laughed wryly. “…and outdated.”
“How unrealistic,” Lupin emphasized. “I’ve known Ginny all her life and she can be a force all onto herself. It’s the way in which she survived in a household full of older brothers. But to ignore that force is to court disaster. She might have agreed to Harry’s restrictions on the surface but she would have devised some other way to participate.”
“I like the way she thinks.”
“I thought you might, cherub.” Lupin flashed her a quick smile. “But you and I both know enough about warfare to recognize that such a rogue force is extremely dangerous; not just to itself, but to those around it as well. At all costs, I must not allow this to happen.”
“Then you plan on taking control?” Her tone indicated that this was an unexpected development.
“Not in the way that you think,” Lupin demurred. “The Order recognizes no generals.”
“Yet it’s always been understood that Harry would be the one to lead.”
“How can we impose that burden on him?” Lupin replied in a thoughtful tone. “He isn’t even a member of the Order. He and I will be partners in this; we’ve been training in such a manner for months.”
“Have you shared this plan with the Order?”
“You know full well I haven’t, but they’ll have no choice but to go along. I’ll invoke privilege if I have to.” The determination in Lupin’s voice was evident.
“What about Ginny then?”
“She will take Harry’s other flank. I intend to convince him of the inevitability of this with the new training strategy.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?” Tonks inquired, wondering what Harry would have to say about Lupin’s ideas.
“No, cherub, but I intend to demonstrate it in no uncertain terms,” he clarified. “From now on, though, those two are not to duel against one another under any circumstances. I want them to learn to react as an inseparable team. It’s the only thing that will work.”
Still uncertain about the viability of this new approach, Tonks pressed, “Are you certain that Ginny truly possesses this ability to recognize Harry by his footsteps?”
“Oh yes! She demonstrated it for me quite unequivocally… and with no more effort than it takes us to draw a breath.”
“I’m anxious to see that for myself.”
Lupin nodded, then added softly, “I will need your assistance in this, cherub. You and I must serve as their opponents in training.”
“You have but to ask, Remus.”
Harry hesitated as they passed the first open window on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The gibbous moon in the sky looked like some cosmic giant had delicately sliced a small sliver from one side.
“Just a minute, Ginny,” he whispered. “I need to check on something.”
Carefully he pulled out the folded Marauder’s Map and positioned it on a square of bright moonlight. In barely a second’s time, he had his answer.
“Come, let’s take a detour.” Harry finished refolding his Map and offered his hand to Ginny.
“But isn’t Gryffindor Tower in the other direction?” Ginny asked with a sly grin.
“Yes,” Harry replied with a smile worthy of the Marauders. All took was an extra tug of his hand to convince Ginny of his alternate plan.
In less than three minutes, they were standing before the impassive gargoyle that guarded the headmistress’ office.
“Excuse me, Harry,” Ginny breathed. “Isn’t the point of the exercise to escape notice?”
“Not in this case,” Harry replied enigmatically. Boldly, he sidled up to the stone guardian and whispered, “MacLeod.”
The statute leapt aside and the circular staircase trundled into view. Harry could feel the waves of curiosity coming from Ginny as he rapped on the headmistress’ door.
“Enter,” came McGonagall’s brisk tone from within.
“Please forgive me for bothering you this late, Headmistress,” Harry offered.
“Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, has something happened that needs my immediate attention?” McGonagall’s concern was evident as she started to rise from behind her massive desk.
“Please don’t disturb yourself, Professor,” Harry continued in a soothing tone. “I only came to ask a special favor.”
“You can always ask,” the headmistress replied cryptically.
“Thank you, Headmistress,” Harry returned in his most formal tones. “Might I show Ginny the moonlight in the semi-circular reading room? I know it’s an imposition…”
McGonagall eyed them both critically then posed, “What has you wandering so far from Gryffindor Tower tonight, if I might ask?”
Harry couldn’t decide whether the headmistress was toying with him or not. Stay the course, he told himself, she too is a worthy adversary -- her methods are just more genteel.
“Ginny and I just finished detention with Professor Lupin,” he offered candidly.
McGonagall’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “That’s an event in and of itself!”
“I believe that was my doing, at least in part,” Ginny admitted meekly.
“Ah, yes.” The headmistress nodded with a barely contained smile. “He didn’t want to be forever branded as an amateur.”
“I’d be glad to fill you in on the particulars if you’d like,” Harry volunteered, rubbing his upper lip to hide his incipient smirk. Ginny’s mantra was indeed the stuff of legend.
“I appreciate your honesty, Harry, but I’ll get an accounting from Professor Lupin in the morning. I’m anxious to hear his spin on it “ I’m sure it will be most amusing.”
With his most dazzling smile, Harry agreed, “The professor has a unique talent when it comes to that, Headmistress.”
“I take it you’ve been to my private reading room before?”
“Yes, I’ve done a bit of research with Hermione; you were there… Oh, you mean at night, of course… Professor Lupin brought me here one evening when I was feeling blue.” Harry considered his words carefully as he added, “When I felt that the weight of the world was on my shoulders.”
“Do you often feel this way, Harry?” McGonagall’s tone was kindly.
“Sometimes; but don’t we all?” Harry shrugged.
“I suppose so; but in your case, it might be a bit more warranted than most. Did you find the vista inspiring?”
“Oh yes, Headmistress. It helped me to organize my thoughts concerning the Godric’s Hollow Conundrum.”
McGonagall was taken aback. “You were able to assist Professor Lupin in solving the puzzle?”
“Not with finding the key,” Harry clarified. “Only in convincing him that we didn’t have enough facts to solve it.”
“And Remus accepted this?” McGonagall looked awe-struck.
With a quick nod, he admitted humbly, “Professor Lupin and I work rather well as a team.”
“So I see. But tonight you brought Ginny here for a different reason, I’m sure.” McGonagall’s tone indicated that she saw through all his subterfuge.
In spite of himself, Harry could feel the color rising to his cheeks. “It’s a sight of rare beauty; I wanted to share that with her.”
“That’s understandable, but you realize that this is my own private library. I wouldn’t want set up a maitre d’ stand to take reservations.”
“I’ll understand if you deny my request then,” Harry allowed with a small smile at her wry humor.
“I haven’t turned you down yet, Harry,” the headmistress clarified gently. “Isn’t the Astronomy Tower the usual destination of choice, however?”
“So I’ve heard. But I wouldn’t want to revisit that site voluntarily.”
“I understand why you’d feel that way, Harry,” the headmistress’ voice was soft and intimate. “I will grant you a brief visit to the reading room this once, five minutes only. But you mustn’t tell anyone else about it -- not even the other seventh years. It would not do to have to field similar requests from anyone else.”
“Thank you, I understand.” No doubt about it, she had just made him run a full gauntlet, Harry thought to himself.
“Five minutes only,” the headmistress reminded them in a whisper, as she stepped aside for them to enter the semi-circular reading room. “I’ll knock when your time is over.”
But Harry and Ginny were not listening as their eyes took in a scene of magnificent transcendence. The abundant moonlight seemed to have coaxed individual motes of radiance from the gilded shelves so that they danced around them in increasingly wild and mysterious patterns. The ethereal touch of their movements could almost be felt on the surface of their skin. The moon’s reflection on the ebony lake created a silver path that enticed their gaze towards violet foothills frosted in sparkling ice.
The charged particles in the air seemed reflected in Ginny’s eyes, pulling Harry’s very soul into their depths. He could live an eternity in five minutes, he thought to himself as he drew his lips ever closer to hers. One moment he was flying among the stars in the heavens, the next he was diving headlong into the depths of the jet black lake. He was dancing weightlessly among the swirling snowflakes in the upper air currents, looking down on the slumbering landscape spread out at his feet. This must be what it feels like to be a particle of light, he mused.
The headmistress’ warning knock reverberated to the very depths of his psyche as Harry regretfully pulled away from Ginny’s embrace. The soft tendrils of ginger hair that had become entangled with his floated languidly in the moonlight as if they, too, resented the incursion. Despite the majestic view of the shimmering mountain peaks, it took every ounce of willpower to tear his eyes from hers.
Harry flashed an appreciative smile in the direction of the doorway. “Thank you,” he breathed, walking blindly past the headmistress. “Thank you so much.”
“You found the scenery suitably inspiring?” McGonagall inquired with a soft smile.
“Oh, yes.” Ginny sighed reverently. “It was as if the moonlight had brought the room to life.”
Harry was finally able to untie his tongue enough to offer, “Thank you for your indulgence.” With a sudden impetuous rush, he grabbed the headmistress in a quick hug and kissed her papery cheek. He felt, more than heard, McGonagall giggle girlishly as he released her.
Vaguely, he noted that the headmistress warned them that it was now past curfew and to please be extra careful returning to their common rooms. Should they be stopped by anyone, they should explain that they had been with her and she would back them up.
The bracketed candles in the corridor seemed unnaturally harsh after the soft splendor of the headmistress’ domain, causing Harry to have to blink a few extra times before his eyes adjusted.
“I can’t believe you actually hugged the headmistress!” Ginny gaped.
“It was a personal favor she granted. I wanted to show my gratitude,” Harry elaborated, refusing to be embarrassed by his generosity.
“But she’s always so stern and businesslike…”
“You just haven’t seen through to her gentle, grandmotherly side.” Harry smiled at the memory before catching Ginny up in a similar embrace.
“Not now,” she protested with a giggle. “We could be ambushed at any moment. Please check your Map.”
A quick review showed no bodies between them and Gryffindor Tower as they set off at a brisk pace. They hadn’t crossed more than a few corridors before the stillness of their surroundings tempted Harry to start up another conversation.
“You’ve been very quiet this evening,” he whispered. “I didn’t think the headmistress intimidated you so.”
“She doesn’t, but I didn’t want to throw off your rhythm,” Ginny conceded.
“So you also felt that it was a duel with words?”
“Only more serious in nature; the end result really mattered to you.”
“What makes you say that?” Harry was curious about how her mind worked.
“You kept at it very patiently and for much longer than I would have.”
Harry laughed softly. “That just means I’m more stubborn…or more competitive.” But he knew it was the third, unmentioned reason that was the truest of all: that he was so utterly taken with Ginny that he was willing to do absolutely anything for her.
As they approached the long row of windows on the third floor corridor, Harry drew back into one of the alcoves to double-check the Map. This was the most direct route to the far side of the castle where Gryffindor Tower stood but it was also the most exposed portion of their route. It wouldn’t do to be seen from either the courtyard or the opposite corridor if someone like Filch happened to be in the wrong spot at the right time. They could always take an alternate, albeit longer, path if necessary.
No Filch in sight but coming up behind them was Peeves. Of all the lousy luck! He wouldn’t spy them until he turned the corner, but at that point they would be fully visible unless they could reach one of the empty classrooms on the other side of the windows. All the alternate avenues behind them were now closed.
Harry barely had time to stuff the Map under his sweatshirt before he and Ginny took off at full speed. The first two classrooms were locked so they continued down the corridor at break-neck speed. Peeves was now so close that they could hear his sing-song voice spouting vitriolic nonsense.
Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm unexpectedly and wretched him into a dark room. Noiselessly, she closed the door behind them and rested her back against it until they could see well enough to turn the lock. They didn’t dare light their wands tips for fear of discovery. Harry tried to gulp air into his lungs as quietly as possible despite the fact that his heart was pounding like an entire drum section.
As his eyes slowly adjusted to the surroundings, Harry saw that the room had a particularly high ceiling, rimmed with a row of small transoms along one side. The path of the moonlight had not yet reached the windows so the room was still mostly in shadows. He suspected that when the angle was right, though, enough light would pour through to allow him to consult the Map. Perhaps not to read the tiny name tags, but well enough to avoid the dots. A glint of something metallic followed by a quick flash of a reflection on glass alerted Harry that they were in the third floor Trophy Room. Of course, he should have realized it sooner. Then his heart sank when he recalled that the Trophy Room doors did not lock. Wait, there were two separate doors, which meant a back exit! But they’d better wait until they could determine that the coast was clear along the adjoining corridor.
He whispered his conclusions in Ginny’s ear as she nodded and sank down on the floor to wait. Her back was still forcing the door shut, but she didn’t dare hold the doorknob as that would immediately alert anyone who tried to turn it.
Harry resisted the urge to cover his ears with his hands as Peeves drew closer and closer. True, the poltergeist would have to take voice lessons before he could properly sing off-key, but he made up for that in volume and general enthusiasm coupled with a stunted six-year-old’s penchant for bawdy lyrics. If they could only find a way to trundle him off to Voldemort’s lair, their victory would be assured! The obvious flaw in the plan was that it was not possible to bottle a supernatural manifestation in any sort of container, but that was only a small detail to be overcome as far as Harry was concerned. He allowed himself to daydream about the size of the trophy for services to the school that ridding Hogwarts of Peeves’ presence would demand. They would probably have to rearrange the entire trophy case, maybe even tear down the wall into one of the adjacent classrooms, he thought happily.
He flashed a smile of encouragement in Ginny’s direction but did not let his eyes linger; it was too easy to become distracted with her close proximity. There was no point involving themselves in escapades that the headmistress might not forgive as readily, he reminded himself.
After what seemed like ages, Peeves’ disjointed ramblings faded into the distance. Harry scampered up silently and approached the small patch of moonlight that was visible on the wall. By standing on tiptoe, he could barely slip the top edge of the Map into the soft light. After a bit of artful refolding, he was able to display just the portion that showed the immediate area of the Trophy Room.
To his dismay, he saw two dots approaching from the opposite direction. By the meandering path of one of them, Harry concluded that it must belong to Filch’s despicable cat, Mrs. Norris. He could not imagine anyone else weaving so drunkenly without collapsing into a heap. Mrs. Norris must have been alerted to something as she suddenly took off like a rocket “ right around the corner and down the back corridor. Harry waited for her to move on, but she was retracing her steps in a small area. Probably searching for a late night mouse snack among the baseboards, he concluded morosely.
He focused his attention on Filch’s dot as the man ambled slowly past the Trophy Room along the parallel corridor, then hesitated when he came abreast of the row of windows. Harry could not tell whether it was his imagination or whether he could indeed smell the faintest whiff of tobacco, but it was obvious that Filch had decided to stop at a picturesque spot for a bit of relaxation. Didn’t the man ever sleep? Oh yeah, during the day in a coffin, he scoffed silently. How could he have forgotten?
The patch of moonlight was slowly expanding so Harry was able to stand more comfortably as he unfolded additional areas of the Map, searching valiantly for an escape route. If yesterday someone had suggested trapping him in the Trophy Room with only Ginny for company, he probably would have offered them a bag of galleons to make it happen. But dreams seldom played out exactly the same in the hands of reality, he sighed.
He felt Ginny’s feather touch as she wound her arms around his waist and then rested her head dreamily against his back. He could tell by her posture that she was feeling just as exhausted as he.
Finally, Mrs. Norris trotted off to join her master, probably with a furry prize clamped triumphantly in her mouth. Harry pointed wordlessly to the Map and then to the back door to alert Ginny of his intent. She pointed to another dot that stood at the base of Gryffindor Tower. Harry strained in vain to distinguish the diminutive lettering. Was it just wishful thinking or did it actually say Neville Longbottom? Ginny shook her head to indicate that she was unable to see it any better.
“I’m willing to take the risk at this point,” she breathed with determination. “It’s two against one and we both know how to duel with wands.”
Harry nodded his agreement and then whipped his wand out to be ready. Slowly and deliberately they made their way towards the base of Gryffindor Tower. It was so unnaturally quiet, they soon found themselves jumping at shadows unnecessarily. Fatigue was finally taking its toll on their reflexes, Harry concluded.
Finding no one where the dot had been, they proceeded up the staircases with wands poised. Skirting a particularly ominous suit of armor, Harry staggered slightly and then found himself being abruptly hauled up by the collar.
“Unhand him!” Ginny hissed as she pointed her wand at their assailant’s neck with a grimace worthy of Severus Snape.
Harry felt himself being released as the dark form behind him cried, “Ginny, Harry, we were worried about you! No one’s seen either of you since the afternoon.”
“I’m glad to see you, too, Neville,” Harry returned with a weak smile. “We were--”
“No time for excuses now, Harry. Let’s get you both back to your common rooms before you collapse.”
Neville ushered them, bodily at times, up the remaining staircases that must have grown exponentially in length. They stopped briefly to allow Ginny access through the portrait hole and then climbed the final short flights to the seventh-year common room. Harry stumbled into the nearest chair once inside the familiar surroundings.
“I’m so glad you found him, Neville!” Hermione exclaimed as she ran up to Harry in her nightclothes.
“I was about to start another rescue party for you, bud,” Ron admitted with a crooked smile. “Neville kept coming back empty-handed from his rounds.”
“Where have you been?” Hermione urged as she pulled up the nearest footstool.
“That’s an answer I’d like to hear, also,” came Neville’s solemn tone.
“Ginny and I were serving detention with Professor Lupin,” Harry offered with an incongruous grin.
“That much we knew already,” Hermione returned. “Word was that Lupin was furious with Ginny.”
“News travels fast,” Ron observed by way of explanation.
“What’s your part in this, Harry?” Neville asked.
“I was partially to blame for her being late to class.” Harry tried to wipe the smile from his face but his facial muscles were just too tired to respond. He waited for them to exchange the inevitable knowing looks.
“You two are quite the celebrities, you know,” Neville added. “I don’t believe the professor has ever given detention to anyone else.”
“That explains why he followed his own set of rules then,” Harry remarked. “He had Tonks order us a late supper afterwards.”
Hermione laughed softly. “That does sound more like the professor we know.”
“I still can’t believe Lupin kept you so late after curfew,” Neville commented. “At least he should have walked you back to your common rooms.”
“He’s not to blame,” Harry allowed, reminding himself to tread softly. “We made a small detour by the headmistress’ office.”
Hermione’s face registered surprise while Ron’s smile widened mischievously. Harry couldn’t see Neville’s expression without turning his head and he was just too exhausted to really care. Let them all think what they wanted, they had the gist of it right anyway. The truth couldn’t be any more implausible and he preferred to keep the details to himself.
“The headmistress will back up my story if you need confirmation, Neville.” Harry yawned as he used the last of his strength to rise from the chair. “If anyone needs me in the meanwhile, please have them contact my next of kin.”
The previous day seemed like a blur to Harry when he woke up the next morning. Surely, he must’ve imagined it all. The selfless act of comforting, totally oblivious to all those curious faces that filled the courtyard at that hour. That would certainly be fodder for the gossip mill. The exhilarating dueling sessions in a true Roman arena where the blood of gladiators and exotic beasts alike had fertilized the grass in their glory days. Tonks’ delight at the gift of her favorite wine, topped off by a superb meal that demonstrated precisely why she had arrived at her conclusion in the first place. Sharing a seemingly boundless kiss with Ginny while being caressed by shimmering particles of moonlight “ he could still feel the whisper of her lips on his.
He chuckled at the farcical hide-and-seek session with Peeves and Filch, all of them stuck in their traditional roles. He and Ginny could just have invoked the headmistress’ name and she would have absolved them of all guilt. Granted, there was always a risk that Filch would be self-motivated enough to inflict punishment personally before calling for his superiors. But it had been much more sporting to play cat-and-mouse games and outsmart him in the end.
Fondly, he recalled how spooky the Trophy Room had been when he lost his way as a first-year and ended up there during a rainstorm. Each flash of lightning had made the metallic faces of the trophies into grotesque caricatures with oversized handle ears. Each peal of thunder had made the tall glass of the cabinet fronts quaver ominously. When the hailstones had pelted the transom windows like so many tiny bullets, Harry had covered his head with his arms, envisioning that the glass towering above him had come crashing down.
He hadn’t thought of that memory in years, Harry mused, wondering what made him dredge it up all of a sudden. Had it rained in the night? A quick peak out the window revealed that the castle grounds were dry except for the last stubborn patches of melting snow, grey and dirty from underlying soil and gravel.
There was something about the trophies in the cases that he just couldn’t get out of his mind, though. Last night, they had seemed like angry soldiers, scowling at him in the moonlight. The silvery ones blended into the background while the golden ones shone with bravery in the half-light. There in the case was Napoleon Bonaparte himself, the diminutive general who shone brighter than all the other soldiers and who had led two separate armies for the glory of France.
Harry jolted upright with sudden understanding! He shoved his glasses haphazardly onto the bridge of his nose and threw his dressing gown over his pajamas. He was still tying the knot as he stood before Hermione’s door.
“Hermione, I need to talk to you about something important!” Harry cried through the closed door.
“I’m coming, Harry,” was her muffled response, followed shortly by the door flying open before him. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I found another Horcrux!” Harry whispered so that only she could hear.
“Who else is still about?” she asked suddenly, grabbing a robe from the peg beside the door and struggling into the arms.
Neville’s door was open, the sheets still wadded up on the empty bed. Clear signs that he had already left of his early morning patrol. Since he was usually accompanied by Luna on these rounds, it could be hours before he returned, depending upon how many stolen moments they could find in their schedules for that day.
Not wanting to exclude Ron, Harry tried to shake him awake before simply guiding his comatose body into the common room. With Hermione’s help, they propped Ron on the sofa and placed a cold glass of pumpkin juice in his hand. His natural reflexes took over at that point and Ron’s eyelids fluttered to life after he swallowed half the contents of the glass.
“Please repeat what you just told me, Harry,” Hermione suggested once she saw that Ron was finally alert.
With a deep swig of juice to clear his throat, Harry explained what he had seen in the moonlit Trophy Room the previous night. How the unique quality of the light allowed one small trophy to glow more majestically than the others.
“That’s Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup masquerading among the trophies,” Harry concluded. “It matches the item that I saw in the Pensieve, but I suppose I should get a better look in the daylight.”
“Hiding in plain sight all these years!” Ron was incredulous.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Hermione warned. “It may only have been a recent addition. We should evaluate who had access to the keys.”
“Just about any of the teachers and staff,” Ron observed.
“Then that avenue won’t tell us anything,” Harry concluded. “We’d just better deal with the fact that the Cup is there and not worry about anything else.”
“I’ll peek in on my way to the headmistress’ library,” Hermione offered.
“I’ll check with you later then,” Harry agreed. “I don’t meet with Lupin until three.”
“That gives you a good chunk of time to catch up with Ginny then, doesn’t it?” suggested Ron with a wink. Then after stifling a last minute yawn, he added, “Is anyone else starving?”
Harry followed Ron down to the Great Hall and watched in awe as his friend downed enough food to appease the likes of Hagrid. Harry was pretty hungry himself, but one heaping plateful was his limit. He knew that would tide him over if he worked through lunch as he often did when he got distracted in the golden library.
Ron agreed to accompany Harry to the third floor Trophy Room just in case there was need of a lookout. They waited until the next set of classes had begun and then wandered in that direction, deep in conversation about the latest Quidditch standings as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which it was. When they saw that none of the few people they passed paid them the slightest heed, they ducked into the Trophy Room unnoticed.
It was much different in the daylight, ordinary even; the spirits of the warriors that had inhabited their effigies in the night lying dormant once more. All the golden trophies shone equally brilliantly in the muted sunlight from the transoms so it took Harry a few moments to locate the small cup in question. It stood among the awards from the earlier part of the century, all of which were engraved with totally unfamiliar names. Harry did not remember the cup in the Pensieve being decorated with anything other than a small badger -- and that had appeared only on one side. However, the trophy before him had names and dates of the Quidditch Cup winners from 1908. Harry quickly jotted down the information for further research. He longed to glimpse the reverse side of the cup but it was wedged in among the others so perfectly, it would be impossible to see anything even if one peered down from atop the glass case.
“We’re going to have to take it out to check for the badger carving,” Harry whispered to Ron.
“Tonight, when everyone is involved in Friday night activities,” Ron suggested decisively. “We should check that it reacts with the locket as well.”
“Absolutely,” Harry agreed. “But I don’t want to do that while it’s inside the display case, either. Sound has a way of making these cabinets vibrate and I’d hate to have to deal with cracked or shattered glass.”
Harry and Ron parted company outside the Trophy Room, Ron to his appointment with Professor Flitwick, Harry to locate Ginny. He couldn’t help smiling as he withdrew Ginny’s class schedule from the pocket of his robes. Hermione would be so pleased that he was finally using it to locate Ginny instead of just to avoid her. Seeing that she would soon be finishing up a double-Potions session, he set off at a trot so he would be waiting for her in the dungeon corridor.
Ginny was one of the last to leave the classroom, still deep in conversation with Professor Slughorn. Harry shifted his position in the shadows slightly to catch her attention. Instead, it was Slughorn who noticed Harry’s presence first and broke into a welcoming smile.
“Harry, my boy,” he said, drawing up beside Harry amicably. “Haven’t seen you in these environs in ages. Is there something I can do for you today?”
Seeing that Slughorn’s eyes twinkled in good spirits, Harry responded in kind, “Sorry to disappoint you today, Professor, but you’re not exactly my type.” He nodded wordlessly in Ginny’s direction.
“Say no more.” Slughorn laughed easily and retreated back into the classroom, making a big show of closing the door behind him.
Ginny was giggling as Harry pulled her into the nearest alcove for a bit of privacy. It took all his willpower not to draw her into an immediate kiss.
Instead he whispered tersely, “Tonight, after dinner. Sevenish, in my common room. I’ll have Neville or Hermione come for you.”
Ginny smiled coyly. “Sounds more like a secret meeting of the Order than a romantic encounter.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Harry grinned. “In the meanwhile, no one else is to know anything. Please, Ginny, I need you to respect that.”
She nodded gravely in response to the desperation in Harry’s tone. The earnestness in her gaze was such that Harry relented and allowed himself to place a finger gently across her lips to remind her of her oath. Even the brush of her lips on his finger was intoxicating, he reminded himself as he made his way up the stairs to the headmistress’ library.
Hermione was surrounded by piles of books in the golden sunlight of the reading room. Harry moved a few of them over so that he could join her.
“I got the names from the Cup--” he began.
“Already on it.” Hermione looked up and smiled in triumph. “All the data is fake. Quidditch was cancelled in 1908 as it was one of the years that Hogwarts hosted the Triwizard Tournament.”
“So you think someone had the Cup engraved in order to hide its true identity?”
“Not exactly, I think they cast a charm that creates an illusion. No one would have wanted to mar the surface of a valuable artifact in that manner.”
Harry outlined Ron’s plan for this evening. Hermione concurred that she would probably be able to sense the presence of a charm, but that she was not talented enough to trace the magic to its origin.
“Is that even possible?”
“A wizard of Dumbledore’s caliber might have done it--”
“”but since we already know this all originates with Voldemort, is there really a point in it?” Harry cut across her.
“Only if we wish to discover if one of his accomplices is within our halls,” Hermione argued.
“But we already know there have been numerous accomplices: Quirrell, Barty Crouch Junior, Snape, Pettigrew “ although I doubt he could have carried the Cup in his little rat paws. I’m not 100% sure about Umbridge, for that matter. And that was just within the years that we’ve been at school. It’s practically been a revolving door here!”
“That must have been one of Voldemort’s intentions when he jinxed the Defense Against the Dark Arts post,” Hermione commiserated.
“I would love to know if there was anyone currently on hand that could alert Voldemort once we destroy the Cup,” Harry relented.
“We’ll just need to wait as long as we can before we do it then,” Hermione concluded. “And be ready to supply a decoy of our own to hide the fact that the original is no longer present.”
Hermione’s analysis was flawless and Harry wasted no time in praising her. She smiling warmly in return then scooted her chair until it was touching his.
She leaned over and whispered, her tone laced with hopefulness, “Do yesterday’s events mean that you and Ginny are back together again?”
Harry had expected her to ask sooner or later, so he had no trouble responding with complete honesty, “I’m not exactly sure. It’s one of the reasons why I invited her to the common room this evening. The only thing that’s definite is that Robert is out of the picture.”
“How can you not be sure? You were there, weren’t you?”
“And perhaps if you had been there you would know better?”
Hermione laughed good-naturedly. “That’s circuitous logic. You sound just like Lupin.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Harry chuckled happily. “Honestly, Hermione, I’m still struggling for a way to make this work for me. I can’t possibly already have the words to define it.”
“You’ll let me know then.”
“Absolutely.” Harry smiled briefly. “But Hermione, this is not for public consumption in any form. Not the smallest, most minute kernel can leak out. Paint me as the blackest, most insensitive ogre that won’t talk to you, if you need to…. I know I’ve been absolutely beastly to you at times, anyway.”
“I could never hold that against you, Harry. The pain was so evident in your eyes.” Hermione’s voice was so muted, Harry had to strain to hear her next words. “Do you still think that she could be used as a weapon against you?”
There was no use denying it to one of his oldest friends so Harry allowed, “The prospect absolutely terrifies me, but it’s obvious I’m powerless to do things any other way.”
Lupin’s comments later than afternoon were laced with his customary understatement.
“Minerva informed me of your special request,” he began in a leading manner.
When Lupin didn’t elaborate, Harry finally had to prod back, “Your point?”
“She only allotted Tonks and me fifteen minutes and we’re married to one another!”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “If it’s any consolation, Remus, she made me walk a verbal tightrope before she agreed to the five minutes we got.”
“So I take it that you’ve revised your decision concerning Ginny?” Lupin’s knowing look contained just the slightest hint of smugness.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I don’t have the willpower to deny myself “ or to deny her “ for very long without it affecting everything around me. Call it a weakness, a fatal flaw, whatever; that’s the reality of the situation.”
“You realize that you’re smiling like an idiot, don’t you?” Lupin grinned.
“Self-discovery makes me happy,” Harry returned.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: Lupin changes training tactics; Harry convinces Ginny to take the scenic route home giving rise to complications and unexpected discoveries.