years, but look for a glowing color on any of them. If it’s red, it means Dark Magic."
"What are you going to do?" Ron asked
"I’m going to walk through the dormitories under the Cloak and see if I see any of the older-style wardrobes are still in use up there," he replied.
"I’ll go with you," Ginny said. "It’ll be quicker with two sets of eyes in each place.
Harry nodded and raised his arm so she could slip under the Cloak with him. All of his senses suddenly went on high alert once she was pressed so close to him. It was all he could do to focus on simply walking toward the stairs.
"Just looking for wardrobes," Ron said, disgruntled. "No snogging while you’re up there."
"Leave them alone, Ron," Hermione said. "Come on, let’s get started."
Harry and Ginny climbed the stairs and walked quietly towards the wing where the orphans slept. With a massive effort, Harry forced his body to calm down and his mind away from the thought of how nicely his hand fit in the curve of Ginny’s hip as they searched the rooms.
Several times they saw staff workers patrolling the corridors, but the Cloak kept them hidden, and they simply froze until the person had passed. It was during these ‘frozen’ spells that Harry’s mind would once again become overly aware of Ginny’s closeness. He’d have to drag his thoughts back to the present each time they began moving again.
It took a long time to search all the rooms, and they found no trace of any of the old wardrobes still in use. Several of the orphans were still awake and only pretending to sleep when the workers entered the rooms. Harry smiled, remembering doing the same thing to Aunt Petunia when he was younger. He’d frequently sneak out of his cupboard and prowl the house once the Dursleys went to bed, occasionally sneaking food from the kitchen.
"I don’t think there’s anything up here, Harry," Ginny said when they reached the end of the wing.
"No. It was unlikely anyway, but worth checking," Harry replied, feeling slightly discouraged.
Ginny stopped walking, turned around and pressed him against the wall. There was a determined glint in her eyes that he’d never seen before, and a slow smile spread across her features. Harry became instantly aware of every part of her body that was pressed against his, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in place.
"What was it Ron said about snogging?" she asked huskily, her lips so close to his that he could feel her warm breath. The temperature in the corridor must have risen ten degrees, and he didn’t understand how his body could be so warm and yet still shivering.
"That we couldn’t do it," Harry whispered before crushing his lips to hers and kissing her thoroughly.
His hands moved up and down the length of her back, the need to touch every part of her was all consuming, and Harry lost himself in the passion of the kiss. Ginny wound her fingers through his hair, and her body seemed to mould against his as if she were liquid. His heart thrummed in his chest, and he felt his knees growing weak. Thankfully, he was still pressed against the wall. He thought it would be entirely unmanly if he collapsed from the intensity of her kisses.
He had no idea how long they kissed — morning could have dawned for all he knew — before Ginny pulled back, panting. She put her arm against the wall for support, resting her head on his chest. It took several minutes for both of them to calm down and catch their breath.
"I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that," Ginny said, raising her head and looking slightly dazed.
"Like what?" Harry asked, beginning to feel nervous. Didn’t she enjoy it? Because I certainly did…
"Like…like a woman," Ginny said, averting her eyes. Even in the limited light from their wands, he could see a pretty blush staining her cheeks.
Harry’s chest swelled with pride. "You should be kissed that way," he said. After a moment thinking about it, he frowned and clarified, "But only by me."
"Possessive now, are we?" she asked, grinning.
"Absolutely," Harry replied, beaming. Suddenly his heart lightened, and he was unworried about the fruitlessness of their search so far.
Threading his fingers with hers, he tugged slightly, and they began walking back towards the storeroom. Ginny caressed his hand with her thumb the whole way. He could smell her sweet floral scent, and it reminded him of something.
"Sorry to deprive you of your bed partner last night," he said, smirking.
Ginny’s brow furrowed. "My what?" she asked, peering up at him.
"I woke up this morning and felt a lump under the covers. I pulled out what I think was your teddy bear," he said, laughing at her confused expression.
"Oh! You found Snot," Ginny said, giggling.
"Snot? Your teddy bear is named Snot?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Ginny asked, grinning.
"I may have never had one of my own, but I think the general idea behind a teddy bear is that you like them," Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
"But I love Snot," Ginny said, slapping him on the arm.
"Then why would you call him Snot?" he asked, laughing at her scandalized expression.
"I got him when I was really small, and he didn’t have a name. The boys used to tease me about him, saying he was babyish and such, and I would always say ‘he’s not’. Fred and George could make me so mad with their teasing, and I’d screech it at them. They picked right up on it and twisted it so they called him Snot. He’s been called that ever since," Ginny said, laughing. "Even though I was angry with them, it is a funny name, and it fits."
Harry laughed, imagining the scene of a younger group of Weasleys teasing each other. They all had the life every child who lived in this place would give anything to have, and he didn’t think they really had any idea how lucky they were.
"You didn’t pack him though. How come you left Snot behind?" Harry asked as they reached the door that led to the storeroom.
"I’ll just have to find something else to wrap my arms around and snuggle close," she said, impishly kissing him on the nose before she pulled out from under the Cloak and sprinted down the stairs.
Harry was left on the landing, gaping like a fish. Heat rose to his face and neck, and he had to take several deep, calming breaths before following her.
Ron and Hermione were still searching each of the old wardrobes with the Spell Detectors. Stray pieces of Hermione’s hair had pulled loose from her ponytail and hung limply around her face. Ron was sweating and had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone.
"Where have you two been?" Ron asked grumpily. "You’ve been gone for ages."
"It’s a big place, Ron," Ginny said dryly.
"Did you find anything?" Hermione asked. Harry thought she sounded a bit desperate.
"No. We didn’t see any of the old wardrobes upstairs," Ginny said sighing. "How about you? Did you find anything?"
"No. Nothing," Ron said shortly. "It would be easier if we had more than one of these Spell Detectors. We could have cut our time in half."
"I’ll start at the other end of the room," Harry said. "I don’t know if I can sense anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to try."
They spent the next several hours painstakingly searching each row. Harry felt discouraged. He hadn’t sensed anything, but wasn’t confident
enough that he actually could do it to consider the wardrobes he’d searched clean. Ron would have to continue with the Spell Detectors through the whole room.
"Harry!" Ron shouted suddenly, startling him. "I think I’ve got something. It’s faint, but I can definitely see red." Ron’s voice, which had sounded so exhausted only moments earlier, was suddenly filled with excitement.
Harry quickly moved to the wardrobe Ron had indicated. He shut his eyes and ran his hands over it, concentrating intently. He felt something, but he couldn’t quite name what it was. There was a very distant humming, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, almost like the wardrobe was electrically charged.
"Can you sense anything?" Ginny asked after several moments.
"Yeah…I can," Harry said, feeling slightly amazed.
"What do you mean? What do you feel?" Hermione demanded. She’d followed Harry’s example and was running her hands along the wardrobe just as he had.
"Can’t you feel an energy?" Harry asked. "It almost makes me shiver. I think if the traces were stronger, it would."
Hermione appeared extremely frustrated. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry. I don’t feel anything."
"But he’s right, Hermione," Ron said, shoving the Spell Detector toward her. "Look."
Hermione put them on and gasped. "I can see faint red lines. They’re nearly transparent, but they are there."
Harry nodded. "I think they’re transparent because the magical energy is so old. There hasn’t been any magic done here recently, but I’d bet you galleons this was once Tom Riddle’s wardrobe."
Ginny involuntarily took a step away from the wardrobe.
"It’s not here," Harry said, running a hand through his hair and mussing it up further. "We’re not on the right trail."
"But how did you feel it without the Spell Detectors, Harry? I don’t understand how you’re doing that," Hermione said, stamping her foot in frustration.
"I don’t know," Harry said. "I just can."
"So what’s next?" Ron asked, stifling a yawn.
"We should go back to the inn and get some sleep," Harry said. "Tomorrow we’ll see if we can find Hepzibah Smith’s former address. I bet it’s on file at Borgin and Burkes."
"How do you propose getting them to give it to us?" Hermione asked.
"A distraction and the Invisibility Cloak ought to work," Harry said with a grin. "Let’s get some sleep."
A sudden noise at the far end of the storeroom startled them all.
"Who’s there?" a child’s voice called into the darkness.
They extinguished their wands, and Harry raised the cloak in front of them like a curtain just as the boy flicked a switch. Ron flinched when the bright florescent lights lit the room.
"I know there’s someone in here," the child said shakily. Harry could see him now. He was young — eight or nine — and wearing pajamas two sizes too small. He strode through the storeroom with a confidence that hinted, despite the waver in his voice, this wasn’t his first time out of bounds after hours.
The boy began walking up the row, peering underneath some of the furniture. If he got too close, he’d be certain to see them.
Harry raised his wand and sent a spell in the other direction. A scurrying sound clearly emitted from a crack in the wall.
"Just rats," the boy mumbled. "Someone’s probably been sneaking food down here." He turned and quickly hurried up the stairs, dousing the lights as he left.
"That was close," Ron said. "Nice distraction, Harry."
"We can’t just leave him," Hermione said. "He’s wandering around on his own, and he could get hurt. I’m certain that’s against the rules."
"He’s not hurting anyone, Hermione. I don’t think this was the first time he’s done this. Didn’t you ever do some midnight prowling when you were younger?" Harry asked, again remembering the countless times he’d done the same thing. Sometimes, it was the only bit of freedom he’d managed to get.
"I still think we should ensure someone finds him," Hermione said, worriedly twisting her hands. "He was really young to be all alone."
"He’s fine; we’re not turning him in," Harry said, feeling a kinship with the rebellious boy. He Apparated out of the storeroom before anyone could argue with him about it.
***
The four returned to the inn and slept well into the afternoon the next day. Once they’d risen, they plotted how to discover the location of Hepzibah Smith’s former address. Harry and Ron went into Diagon Alley under the Invisibility Cloak, barely getting through the crowded streets without being seen. It wasn’t as easy for the two of them to fit beneath the Cloak as it had once been.
Harry felt a guilty pang when they passed Fred and George’s shop. There was quite a crowd gathered around it, but he didn’t spot either
identical red head. He hoped the rest of the Weasleys weren’t in too much of a panic over their disappearance. Ron walked past the shop, keeping his eyes focused directly ahead, and Harry knew he was worried too.
When they reached Knockturn Alley, Ron slipped out from under the Cloak and entered Borgin and Burkes, holding the door open long enough for Harry to enter unnoticed. Ron poked around inside for several moments while Harry edged towards the desk. The shop had only one other customer, and the clerk kept a wary eye on Ron the entire time he was there.
When the other customer asked a question of the clerk, Ron took advantage of the distraction and knocked over a display of biting coins. The clerk hurried over, scowling at Ron and the two of them tried to pick up the coins without getting their fingers chomped off in the process.
Hidden beneath the Cloak, Harry easily slipped behind the desk and opened a file drawer. Quickly locating several files marked ‘Smith’, he perused each until he found the information he sought. There had been several executors of the Smith fortune since Hepzibah’s death. The current name on the file was a Sebastian Smith. Harry memorized the address and quickly returned the file.
He lightly tapped Ron on the shoulder before moving towards the door, distracting Ron from the biting coins for a moment. Ron immediately got bit and dropped the coin he was holding
"Err…sorry about that," Ron mumbled to the disgruntled clerk.
"Just take your business elsewhere and get out," the man snarled.
Ron didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried to the door and held it open wide so Harry could slip out before following him onto Knockturn Alley. They ducked into a side street so Ron could cover himself with the cloak.
"Did you get it?" Ron hissed once they were both concealed and moving.
"Yeah. I did. It’s here in London. We can go there in the morning — it’s too late now. Ginny and Hermione are probably wondering what’s keeping us," Harry said. They’d left the girls at the inn reckoning it would be easier with just two of them beneath the Cloak.
Ron suddenly slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Over there, look," he hissed.
Harry turned his head to see Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil strolling hand in hand and looking in the windows across the street.
"I thought Parvati’s parents pulled her and Padma out of Hogwarts because it was too dangerous. How come they’re letting her stroll through Diagon Alley, then?" Harry asked, shaking his head.
"Dunno. I want to know when she and Dean became an item. How come all of Ginny’s old boyfriends end up dating your old girlfriends?" Ron asked, smirking.
"Shut it," Harry said, disconcerted. "Parvati was never my girlfriend. We only went to the Yule Ball, and that wasn’t exactly a raving success as far as dates go."
Ron chuckled. "Yeah but, Harry, you didn’t exactly have a passionate relationship with Cho, either. She cried through most of it, remember? You had what, one decent snogging session? As I recall, she even cried through that. A smooth operator you obviously are not. Why else do you think I didn’t mind your dating my sister?" Ron asked, nearly doubling over in glee.
Harry knew Ron was winding him up, but he felt cross nonetheless. He shoved Ron’s shoulder with his own, nearly causing the red head to stumble out from under the Cloak. "If you don’t want to hear any details about your sister’s love life, I’d back off if I was you," Harry said irritably.
"Hit a sensitive spot, have I?" Ron asked, chuckling.
Harry wanted to hit him. He suddenly felt rather nervous about the idea of his kisses being compared to other kisses Ginny had received. What if she found him lacking and hadn’t wanted to say anything? He discarded this notion almost instantly; Ginny was never one to keep her opinion to herself. Never mind the searing kiss they’d shared the previous night. She’d responded with as much passion as he felt. His confidence slightly restored, he still couldn’t let Ron off without some comeuppance.
"I’ve got no worries, mate," Harry said, elbowing Ron in the ribs for good measure. "It’s not like Ginny has ever dated anyone older or more experienced, anyway. Both Michael and Dean were only Hogwarts students, too."
Harry slyly glanced at Ron out of the corner of his eye. His friend had paled slightly as the implication of Harry’s words hit him. Harry smirked, feeling vindicated.
"Shut it," Ron said, grumbling. He shoved Harry forward a bit more roughly than necessary.
***
The next morning, they arrived at the address Harry had seen on the card at Borgin and Burkes. At some point in the last decade, the Smith family had converted the house into a museum. According to the card, part of the house had been kept as living accommodations, while another portion was open to the wizarding public.
The sign on the door read ‘open’, so the four simply walked inside.
It no longer resembled anything Harry remembered in the Pensieve. Gone were all the fussy old lady furnishings, replaced by display cases and slick leather chairs.
"Potter! What in blazes are you doing here?" cried an annoyingly familiar voice.
Harry turned to see a tall, skinny blonde boy striding towards him. Zacharias Smith was a fellow Hogwarts student who made a habit of being an annoying thorn in Harry’s side.
"Smith," he said, nodding.
"I would have thought you’d have gone into hiding somewhere. It can’t be hard to find you if you’re out strolling in public. If You-Know-Who really is trying to kill you, that is," Smith said, sounding as if it didn’t really matter either way.
Harry shrugged, refusing to be baited. "I’ve had things to do."
"Yes. I saw your picture in the Prophet the other day after you got your License to Apparate. It must have been a slow news day," Smith replied.
"What do you want?" Ginny asked angrily. She’d never forgiven Smith for his derogatory commentary during their Quidditch match against Slytherin the previous year.
"What do I want?" Smith asked incredulously. "I think you’re confused. You’re the ones who came in here, remember, dear?" he asked condescendingly.
Harry saw Ginny reach for her wand, and he quickly stood in front of her.
"Zacharias Smith, of course," Hermione said. "Your family runs the museum. I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection."
Smith stared at her, blinking. "You mean you didn’t come in here to see me? You’re here to see the artifacts. I can understand your interest, Granger. You always were an over-achiever, but the rest of you lot never appeared overly interested in the Hufflepuff lineage. What are you on about?"
"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head. "It was Hermione’s idea to come, and we didn’t have anything better to do. We didn’t know you’d be here."
Smith nodded, although he still appeared slightly suspicious. "Well, take a look around then, but don’t touch anything. You’re lucky you came when you did; we’ll be shutting down for a fortnight in September."
"Really? Why?" Hermione asked.
"I assume you’ve heard that Hogwarts isn’t reopening. I’m spending my last year at Beauxbatons. My parents are traveling with me until I’m settled. I’m surprised you’re not doing the same, Granger. How are you going to complete your studies?" Smith demanded.
"My mum is home schooling all of us," Ron said, his ears turning only slightly pink.
"I see," Smith said disdainfully, looking down his upturned nose at them. "I’m certain that will be adequate if you can’t afford to go to France. I’ll leave you to admire the treasures."
"’I’ll leave you to admire the treasures,’" Ron mimicked, prancing after Smith. "Why the little-"
"Ron," Hermione said reproachfully. "Just be quiet and look around a bit so we can Apparate back when we’re ready."
They spent a little time looking over some of the antiques and reading a bit about the known information on Helga Hufflepuff so they wouldn’t further arouse Zacharias’ suspicions. When they gathered back outside, Harry made a decision.
"Okay. If the museum will be empty after September the first, we’ll have to come back then for our search," Harry said.
"Did you feel anything while we were inside, Harry?" Ginny asked.
"No, but I was kind of distracted. We’ll have to do a thorough search when we return," he replied.
"So, where do we look in the meantime?" Ron asked.
"The only other place I know for certain Voldemort spent some time. Albania," Harry replied grimly.
"Albania?" Ron repeated, wide-eyed.
"I know that in fourth year, Wormtail went to look for Voldemort and found him living in the forest in Albania. I can only assume that’s where he went after he lost his powers because he felt safe there for some reason. Dumbledore said that he disappeared for awhile after leaving Borgin and Burkes, so I thought maybe he spent some time there," Harry said.
"I suppose it’s as logical a choice as anywhere," Ginny replied, her eyes betraying the fact she felt overwhelmed.
"What about Borgin and Burkes though?" Ron said. "You just said he worked there. Maybe he hid one there. We should have looked while we were there yesterday."
"I don’t think so," Harry replied, shaking his head. "He was only a clerk, and he likes being the one in control. Besides, there would be too much chance of a hidden object being found and sold. I think he didn’t choose the orphanage because he didn’t feel powerful there. By the same token, he hid the ring right in the Gaunt house after he killed Morphin. I think the killing makes him feel powerful. He killed Hepzibah right in the Smith House, that’s why I think he would have hidden the Horcrux right inside."
"So, we go to Albania. Any idea where we should Apparate?" Ron asked. "I assume Albania is a big place."
"Well," Hermione said, adopting the tone she always used when she was about to spout a mind-numbing amount of facts on them. "About thirty percent of Albania is covered by forest. The Black Pines are mostly centrally located. I think we should start there since it seems like the kind of place Voldemort might hide. There’s an Apparation checkpoint in Elbasan. We could start there, and then move into less populated areas."
"What are you, a walking atlas?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Did you think Ginny and I spent yesterday skiving off while you were in Diagon Alley? I suppose that’s what you would have done. We went to the Muggle library. I assumed our next location would be Albania," Hermione sniffed.
"So you think Elbasan is the best place to start?" Harry asked quickly, trying to head off the brewing row.
"Well, I assume Voldemort would have chosen an area that was sparsely populated, but we know Wormtail ran into Bertha Jorkins at a nearby inn, so he couldn’t have been completely secluded," Hermione said.
"Good point. It looks like we’re heading on a road trip," Harry said, sniggering. He remembered Uncle Vernon cursing about the riff raff youth backpacking across the continent and took pleasure in the idea he was adding one more thing to the list of things his uncle disliked about him.
** ** **
After nearly a fortnight in Albania, they had no more to show for it then when they’d arrived. They were all feeling discouraged and had grown short-tempered with one another.
They’d traveled through village after village asking questions and seeking anything they thought might be related to Voldemort’s presence. All they’d gained was the growing suspicion of the local Muggles. They used the tent for shelter along the way, and although the weather had cooperated, they were growing restless from being cooped up together.
The tent had two rooms, one a sitting area with a small kitchen, the other a bedroom equipped with two sets of bunk beds. The first night, Ron and Harry took the bottom bunks, but Hermione, who’d never cared much for heights, didn’t like being on top so she switched with Harry. Ron was simply too tall to fit on the top bunk, he’d hit his head on the ceiling.
Ron and Hermione’s bickering had resumed with new vigor as the days passed. Harry decided he and Ginny needed a break from them, if just for a little while. On August eleventh, Ginny’s sixteenth birthday, Harry told Ron and Hermione he was taking her out on a proper date. He told them to go out and enjoy themselves, too, just go to a different restaurant. They needed to lighten the mood and this seemed the perfect opportunity.
Ginny, who’d been feeling a little homesick about being away on her birthday, was delighted. She’d squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Harry’s neck when he made his announcement and kissed him repeatedly.
"Oi," Ron shouted. "I don’t want to see that."
"Then don’t look," Harry said, grinning and accepting more of Ginny’s kisses.
Hermione smacked Ron on the arm, frowning in disapproval. "Honestly, Ron. Leave them alone; it’s her birthday."
"Just be sure not to let the celebrating get out of hand," Ron said darkly.
"Yes, Mum," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes.
Neither of them brought any clothes suitable for an evening out, so they decided to do a little Transfiguration. Harry dressed in black trousers and a white button-down shirt, while Ginny wore a sage green sundress that flared out from her waist and fluttered around her legs as she walked.
Harry decided he liked watching her walk.
"You look amazing," he said when he’d finally regained the ability to speak.
"Oh, Ginny. You do look really nice," Hermione said, quickly Transfiguring Ginny’s jacket into a light shawl.
Ginny blushed; her eyes still locked on Harry’s as she took the shawl. "Thanks, Hermione."
"You do look nice when you decide to dress like a girl for a change, Ginny," Ron said. "Better than what you wore to Bill’s wedding."
Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Ron! Can’t you even say something nice on her birthday?"
Ron blinked incredulously. "I just did. I said-"
"I know what you said. You’d do better to keep your mouth shut once in a while," Hermione said, turning her back in a huff.
Harry decided to make their escape while they could. Grabbing Ginny’s hand, he pulled her away from Ron and Hermione. "We’re leaving. Have a good night," he called after them.
"Don’t wait up," Ginny shouted, giggling at Harry’s raised eyebrows.
There was a small pub in the center of the village, the kind of pub every village seemed to have, Harry had noticed. They’d spent some time there on their first evening in town. Those kinds of places were always
good for striking up a conversation with the locals and getting small details it would be otherwise hard to find.
Harry purposely didn’t choose this spot for his date with Ginny. He’d noticed a small inn not too far from it, however, that had a nice restaurant and a quieter atmosphere. When they arrived, Harry was pleased with his choice. The restaurant was dimly lit with candles glowing on each table. Soft music played in the background, and a small portion of the floor space was set aside for dancing.
Harry swallowed hard when he saw the dance floor. He hadn’t considered that and didn’t know if Ginny liked to dance. He remembered her complaining about Neville stepping on her feet during the Yule Ball and didn’t expect that he could do much better. Maybe Ginny didn’t like to dance.
"Oh, Harry. This is lovely," Ginny said, her eyes sparkling brightly.
Harry thought the way the candlelight made her eyes glow was breathtaking, and he decided that birthday or not, he could put up with dancing if that was what she wanted to do.
The waiter sat them at a quiet, romantic table in the corner with a gorgeous view of the mountains. They’d been conjuring most of their food back in the tent, so they hadn’t sampled much of the local fare.
Ginny perused the menu thoughtfully before making her selection. Harry had never been very picky with food; he usually had just been happy to get some, so he was a bit more adventurous than she was.
When a waitress who repeatedly beamed at them served the food, they shared the selections off each other’s plates. Mostly, however, they had eyes only for each other. If asked later what he’d had for dinner that night, Harry couldn’t have answered, but he could describe exactly how her dress clung to her form and the way the firelight streaked her hair with gold.
Ginny was obviously conscious of his stare, for a pretty blush stained her cheeks and the column of her neck. Harry’s traitorous mind wondered if she blushed like that all over, and he was exceedingly glad she couldn’t do Legilimency to hear that thought. The more time they spent together, the less he’d been able to control the direction his mind wanted to take.
Over dessert — a decadent chocolate creation that made his mouth water merely looking at it — Harry handed Ginny a small box wrapped in gold paper with a green bow perched on top. Ginny squealed in delight and immediately began tearing off the paper. Harry laughed, reminded of Ron on every Christmas morning since he’d known his red-haired friend.
Ginny’s smile faltered slightly when she pulled out a long velvet jewelry box. Her eyes sought out Harry uncertainly, biting her lip in what Harry thought was an extremely kissable way.
"Harry," she said hesitantly.
"Just open it," he said, knowing
วันศุกร์ที่ 31 สิงหาคม พ.ศ. 2550
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 150-162)
The kitchen was silent for a moment after her departure. Finally, Ron leaned across the table and whispered dramatically, "I wonder if she keeps her nose stuck so high in the air after living with Lucius and Draco for so many years? She started looking up just so she wouldn’t have to look at them."
Ginny snorted and angrily blew a stray piece of hair from her face. "Never mind her, Harry. Don’t let her spoil your party."
Conversations resumed around the table, and Narcissa’s presence was soon forgotten. Despite his best efforts, Harry’s mood was dampened, however. Said in anger or not, Narcissa’s words were true, and they renewed Harry’s worries for those closest to him. He pasted a smile on his face as he opened his gifts, but was eager to escape and clear his head.
When the dinner was finished, Mrs. Weasley shooed them all from the kitchen and insisted that she would clear the dishes. Harry tried to break away and sprint up to the room he shared with Ron, but his friends apparently knew he was feeling low, and they all followed him.
Ginny sat on his bed beside him, while Ron and Hermione sat on Ron’s bed. Fred and George plopped down on the floor and began rummaging through Harry’s pile of birthday presents.
"Here it is," Fred exclaimed at last, pulling out one of the bottles of Firewhiskey that he and George had given him earlier that day.
"Harry, mate, I think you’re in need of this," George said, handing the open bottle to Harry.
Harry looked at it silently for a moment before tossing it back and taking a long swig.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, scandalized.
"What? He’s of age," Ron said, taking the bottle from Harry, and downing his own swig. Ron handed the bottle to Fred. Each of the twins took a drink before passing the bottle to Ginny.
"Ginny’s not of age," Hermione said, warily watching the bottle. Harry suspected she was more nervous about the fact that her turn would be next rather than Ginny’s age.
Ginny rolled her eyes and took a deep swallow. She looked at them all triumphantly for a moment before her eyes began to water, and she started to cough and splutter.
Harry patted her on the back, grinning. "Have you had Firewhiskey before, Ginny?" he asked.
Still unable to speak, Ginny shook her head, her eyes streaming.
"I had it for the first time on Bill’s stag night. Speaking of which…I felt bloody awful the next morning," Harry said, still rubbing Ginny’s back.
"Ahh, yes, we’ve taken care of everything," George said, rummaging in the box that still held another bottle of Firewhiskey. He removed a phial of murky gray liquid and took a sip.
"Guaranteed to avoid a hangover," Fred said, taking his own sip and handing the phial to Harry.
Ginny handed the bottle to Hermione, who glanced warily at them all. "I really don’t think this is a very good idea. Your mother could be up here at any minute," Hermione said.
Fred lazily waved his hand at the open door. "We’ll hear her on the stairs if she comes this way. She won’t anyway. Tonks is here, and Mum was making tea. Once those two get chatting, it’ll be hours before they’re done. Bottoms up, Hermione," he said, grinning.
Hermione set her shoulders, breathed deeply and took a very dainty sip of the Firewhiskey.
"You can do better than that," Ron said when Hermione had finished coughing. "Think of it as an experiment. You can’t truly tell Harry and me off for drinking if you don’t have first hand knowledge of the full effects."
Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Ron. Without breaking eye contact, she tipped the bottle back again, this time taking a long draught and making the twins whoop with glee.
"You show him, Hermione," Fred said, delighted.
"I always thought there was more to you than that prim and proper exterior," George said, taking the bottle from her.
Hermione frowned and Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Lay off," he said to George in a low voice.
"Don’t get your knickers in a twist, little bro," Fred said, taking the bottle from Harry. "No one is picking on your Hermione."
Ron’s ears turned red, matching the color in Hermione’s cheeks.
As they passed the bottle around and listened to the twins’ amusing stories of events from their shop, Harry tried to shake his unease. The Firewhiskey felt warm in his belly, but he wasn’t as relaxed and carefree as he had the last time he’d drunk it. Narcissa’s words kept ringing in his head.
The people that get close to you have a nasty habit of ending up dead…
Harry angrily took the bottle from Ginny and took another drink, desperately trying to block the implication of the words.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny are the people closest to me now…
Ron had begun slurring his words, while Ginny had developed an uncontrollable case of the giggles. Despite his morose thoughts, Harry
couldn’t help but be amused seeing her this way. At first, she’d laugh at any nonsensical thing the twins’ would say but gradually would giggle if anyone so much as looked at her.
Surprisingly, Hermione appeared to hold it better than either of the Weasleys. She kept right up with the others, but hadn’t started acting silly. She had grown much quieter than usual, however.
Ginny turned towards Harry, frowning slightly as she studied him intently.
"What?" he demanded finally, slightly unnerved by her intense gaze.
"I don’t know where I came up with fresh pickled toad; they’re really more emerald in color. I suppose it was harder to rhyme emerald," she said, giggling so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.
The others roared with laughter, as Harry felt color flame to his cheeks, remembering that horribly embarrassing Valentine from second year.
"Er…right," he said, shifting his position so he could lean back against the wall. "Maybe you’ve had enough of that Ginny." He’d begun to worry what else she might blurt out in her drunken state. He was sitting in a small room with three of her brothers.
"Bloody Hell, Harry, lighten up," Hermione said, shocking them all. Ron’s mouth gaped open.
"Hermione," he said. "You just cursed."
"I’ve spent the last six years practically living with you, Ron. Did you think I hadn’t picked up some of your ruddy habits?" Hermione asked, taking another drink.
Fred and George forgot all about Harry’s Valentine as they turned towards Hermione with calculating expressions.
"Which of his other habits have you picked up on, Hermione?" Fred asked eagerly.
"Well, I haven’t learned how he stuffs an entire potato into his mouth at one time, but I really don’t think I want to know that," she said seriously causing the others to laugh. "But I have picked up a load of curse words and can make my face appear as if I’m listening to you intently when I’m really plotting out an entire assignment in my head. Of course, I don’t think Ron’s really thinking about assignments when he does that, more like a Quidditch roster. I’ve never seen anyone so obsessed with ruddy Quidditch. Back when we were younger — before he was on the team — he used to quote facts and records about every match in history while we watched Harry play."
"I never thought you were really listening," Ron said, stunned.
"Oh, I wasn’t paying attention, but I did like to listen to your voice. You have a very pleasant-sounding voice when it’s not cursing or
shouting about something. You do tend to shout a lot," she said seriously.
The gleeful expressions on the faces of Fred and George told Harry that they would never let Ron live this down.
The people that get close to you have a nasty habit of ending up dead… If they’re going to insist upon following me, it was more than likely that one or all could…
Harry shuddered, knowing he’d never survive their loss. Voldemort could never know that the surest way to destroy Harry would be to hurt any of them. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
"Harry," Ginny said softly, taking his hand. Her eyes were glazed and slightly vacant, but she still appeared to sense his inner turmoil.
His head was spinning, and he suddenly felt very old and tired. He may have only just turned seventeen, but he felt as if he’d already lived several lifetimes.
"Everything will be okay," Ginny whispered, shifting so she could burrow her head under his arm. "Try not to worry so much."
"Oh, isn’t this a sight," a drawling voice said from the doorway.
Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the doorframe, an undecipherable expression upon his pale face. His blond hair was unkempt, hanging over his eyes in a very un-Malfoyish way.
"What do you want?" Ron asked, jumping to his feet and wavering slightly.
"I came to investigate the cause of all the noise. I hadn’t realized I was interrupting your pathetic little party," Malfoy sneered.
Ginny started to laugh, wrapping her arms around her waist to try and control her giggles.
Harry smiled at her, amused, while she caught her breath.
"He really does look like a ferret," she said, gasping.
"Shut it, Weaslette," Malfoy said, his gray eyes flashing. "You pathetic little blood traitor. Consorting with Potter and the Mudblood — you’re a disgrace to your heritage. Of course, you always had a thing for Potty anyway, didn’t you?"
"Watch your mouth," Ron snarled, clenching his fists.
"Leave her out of it, Malfoy," Harry snarled, jumping off the bed and raising his wand. He’d been looking for an outlet for his tension all evening, and the blonde represented the perfect opportunity. "Don’t let me ever hear you speak to her that way again."
Ginny had stopped giggling and was desperately trying to focus on what was happening.
"Leave her out of it? She’s already at the center of it, Potter. God, you really are naïve, aren’t you? Snape already told the Dark Lord all about your little girlfriend. It’s no more likely she’ll survive this war than you will," Malfoy said.
The people that get close to you have a nasty habit of ending up dead…
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry demanded through clenched teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words had any effect on Harry. "I’m certain you were only too happy to confirm that before Voldemort turned on you."
"I was just wondering why the Light’s precious Chosen One is holed up in a bedroom getting pissed with his little band of cronies while everyone is waiting for him to save the world. I don’t think their faith would be that strong if they could see you now, Potter."
"Why not?" Ron asked belligerently, moving to stand in front of Harry. "I think it would do everyone some good to see that Harry isn’t letting V-Voldemort interfere with him living his life."
Malfoy flinched at the name, his eyes widening slightly that Ron had said it. Harry thought it was the first time he’d ever heard Ron actually say it, and wondered how much of that was the Firewhiskey talking.
"In these dark times, everyone needs a few laughs," Fred said, standing up next to Harry.
"Harry told us that a few years back, and he was right. He will win, and he’ll survive. And we’re all going to be right there alongside him making certain he does," George said, flanking Harry’s other side.
Harry’s heart swelled with pride. Looking over at Malfoy, he could see the uncertainty on the blonde’s face. It occurred to Harry how similar his and Malfoy’s situations were. Each was assigned the impossible task of destroying the powerful leader of an opposing force. But their choices had differed greatly. Now, Harry was surrounded by a fiercely loyal group of friends prepared to die with him if they had to, while Malfoy was alone and in hiding from the very people to whom he had sworn his allegiance. Their choices and consequences were so very different.
"Then you’re all going to die," Malfoy spat. "You prats have no idea what you’re getting into. The Dark Lord doesn’t fool around, he won’t tolerate your little jokes."
"Maybe that’s his problem," Fred said.
"Everyone needs a good joke," said George.
Harry spied Ginny out of the corner of his eye. Scowling, she’d stood up on the bed and wavered precariously while holding her wand on Malfoy.
"Ginny, don’t," he said, reaching toward her. He was afraid that in her inebriated state, she’d only end up cursing herself. She fell back, and he managed to catch her before she landed. In the distraction, Harry heard the distinctive whoosh of a spell being cast, although he knew it hadn’t come from Ginny’s wand.
He turned around to see Ron, Fred and George staring in shock at the doorway where a white ferret squealed and scurried up the hallway.
They looked at each other, stunned speechless before turning as one to face Hermione. She sat on Ron’s bed, calmly polishing her wand. "Ginny was right," she said simply. "The bloody wanker does look like a ferret."
The twins roared with laughter, as Ron dropped to his knees in front of her. "I love you, Hermione," he said.
"It’d be nice if you could say that once in awhile when I hadn’t done your homework for you or performed a brilliant piece of Transfiguration," Hermione said primly.
Ron’s ears burned. "I’ll work on it," he said in a low voice.
"On that note, brother dear, I think it’s time we bade them farewell," George said.
"Yeah. Mum should be up here any minute now, and I don’t want her to think we had anything to do with the condition this lot is in," Fred said.
They wished Harry a Happy Birthday and bade them all farewell.
Harry turned to see Ginny curled up on his bed like a cat, sleeping soundly. He covered her with a blanket and softly kissed her head.
"Come on, Ron. Let the girls sleep in here, and we’ll bunk in their room. We’ve got to get an early start," Harry said.
"Right," Ron replied, still staring at Hermione with a curious expression.
Harry snuggled into Ginny’s bed that night, taking a deep breath and smelling that intoxicating floral smell that was all Ginny. Their quest would begin tomorrow, but lying here now, he felt strangely comforted.
Chapter Ten
Delays, Disappointment, and Dating
Harry awoke with a start, momentarily panicked because he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Slipping his glasses on his nose, he stared wildly at the bright yellow walls and abundance of flowers and cosmetics and well…girly stuff. Then he remembered switching rooms with Ginny and Hermione the night before. He’d set an alarm to wake him at dawn, then had cast a silencing charm around the bed so no one else would be alerted.
He could hear Ron snoring heavily, and he had to bite back a laugh seeing his tall friend’s feet sticking off the end of the other bed while the rest of his body was wrapped in a fluffy pink-flowered blanket. He wished he had a camera; Fred and George would pay a huge sum for that picture.
Harry lay back for a moment and stretched, breathing in the scent on his pillow…Ginny’s pillow. He let his eyes wander across the room, now alert and able to focus on his surroundings. It was easy to distinguish Ginny’s side of the room from Hermione’s. One half was neatly organized with everything in its place, large stacks of books precisely tucked in both corners. The floor on the other half was covered with clothing, gum wrappers, stray quills and several copies of Witch Weekly. Harry was disgruntled to see his own likeness winking from a picture in the top corner of one of the magazines.
He shifted uncomfortably, feeling something lumpy underneath his back. He reached down under the covers and pulled out a ragged stuffed animal. It looked as if it had once been a bear, but was now a sorry sight indeed. He grinned, knowing he’d have something to use to take the mickey out of Ginny later.
Yanking back the covers, he put his feet on the floor and immediately stepped on something. He reached down to lift it off the floor. His face flushed brilliantly when he realized he was holding Ginny’s bra.
"What’s that?" Ron mumbled, squinting at him across the room.
"Nothing," Harry squeaked, his voice sounding very high. He guiltily shoved the bra behind his back and tried to change the subject. "You’ve got to get up. We need to move quickly."
"What are you on about, Harry? What’s that behind your back?" Ron asked, fully rousing at the sight of a flustered Harry.
Harry tried to inconspicuously tuck the offending garment beneath Ginny’s covers. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but notice how soft and silky the material felt, and he rubbed his thumb along the edge as he tried to hide it.
Ron leaped out of bed and reached around to grab the bra from Harry. "What are you trying to hide?" he demanded.
"It’s nothing," Harry said, panicked and trying to get the evidence away from him.
At that moment, the bedroom door swung open revealing Hermione and Ginny. The two girls stood there, their faces a mixture of surprise and amusement, staring at Ron and Harry who were facing each other in the middle of the floor, Ginny’s bra stretched between them.
"Well," Ginny said at last. "I hadn’t realized you two had such pervy tendencies. I do have other bras, you know. You don’t have to fight over that one."
Hermione roared with laughter. "Do you have any of our knickers on, as well?" she asked, doubling over at the scarlet hues that suffused Ron and Harry’s faces.
"I- What- He- What are you doing with my sister’s bra?" Ron bellowed, glaring at Harry.
Harry’s eyes widened as all three of them turned to look at him. "Nothing," he stammered. "I stepped on it when I got up, and I tried to put it back, and that’s when you woke up."
"Will you two be quiet," Hermione hissed. "Do you want to wake up the whole house?"
Laughing, Ginny walked over and took her bra from Harry and Ron. She lightly pecked Harry on the nose. "You’re cute when you’re embarrassed," she said.
Suddenly realizing he was standing there in his boxers, Ron grabbed the pink flowery blanket and wrapped it around himself. "What are you two doing in here?" he asked. "We’re not dressed yet."
"I can see that," Ginny said dryly. "I wouldn’t suggest wearing that color though, Ron. It clashes with your hair. That’s why I gave it to Hermione."
Hermione giggled, her cheeks very pink. "We’ve got the stuff all ready. We’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes. Hurry up," she said, staring pointedly at Ron. "Your mother is usually the first one awake."
The girls went downstairs while Ron and Harry quickly dressed. They met Hermione and Ginny in the entrance hall.
"Are we ready to do this?" Hermione asked. Now that the time had come, she looked wary and uncertain.
"Yeah," Harry said, infusing his voice with a confidence he didn’t really feel. Hunting the Horcruxes would feel better than waiting to do it, he was certain. Putting his hand on the door, he took a deep breath, and the four of them stole quietly into the gray pre-dawn light.
They soon reached the address that Mrs. Granger had given them for the orphanage, but it was still too early to enter. They bought some muffins at a nearby café and sat down at a table on the sidewalk with a clear view of the orphanage. Harry narrowed his eyes, studying it. There was a vague resemblance to the building he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, but there was something different that he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.
"It’s definitely the right address," he said slowly, "those steps going in are the same, but-"
"It’s been renovated," Hermione said. "The article my mother forwarded to me said it was completely redone in 1972. They kept some of the old building and added that section over there." Hermione pointed to the
other side of the building that stretched further down the block than Harry had realized.
"They’ve renovated it? How do we know they even kept the section where Riddle lived?" Harry asked, alarmed.
"We don’t," Hermione said, shrugging. "But we have to check anyway, don’t we? It’s not like there’s anything we can do about the fact they renovated, Harry. After all, it’s been ages since Riddle was here. There would have to be some changes for it still to be open."
"Yeah, well, even the renovations were done before we were all born. They’re probably due for more," Ron said around a mouthful of muffin.
Harry shrugged. Hermione was right; he didn’t know why he hadn’t even considered the possibility. Riddle would have first been here over sixty years ago, everything couldn’t stay the same."
"How are we going to get in?" Ginny asked. "They’re Muggles, but they must have security."
"Yeah, but I think I can get past it," Harry said. "Dumbledore used a blank piece of paper to convince the headmistress that Tom Riddle was supposed to go to Hogwarts. I think I can do the same charm. Once I’m inside, I just need to find a secluded spot where we can Apparate later. I think it’ll be better if we go back tonight with the Invisibility Cloak."
"That’s a good idea," Hermione said. "We’ll go rent a couple of rooms for the night. It’ll give us a place to wait."
"All right," Harry said. "I’ll meet you back here in two hours, and you can show me where to go. I want to walk around the building and see if I can recognize anything before I go inside."
Hermione, Ron and Ginny departed, and Harry walked up and down the street in front of the orphanage. He had a strange sense of déjà vu as he passed the stone entrance. This was definitely the same place, and the brick front remained intact. He waited to enter the building until there was some activity on the street.
It had obviously been updated, but Harry found it recognizable. He could see the stone steps that led up to the offices behind a comfortable sitting area decorated in calming blues. A large wooden desk guarded the stairs, and a gray-haired receptionist sat flipping through some papers. She pursed her lips and lifted her reading glasses onto her nose. Something on the paper she held displeased her for she scowled as she pulled the page from the stack and placed it to the side.
Something in the woman’s face reminded Harry of his Aunt Petunia. She had the same disapproving look he remembered seeing so many times while growing up on Privet Drive. His aunt always assumed that everyone was out to take advantage of her.
Harry strode confidently up to the desk. Going with his instincts, he approached her as he would his aunt.
"Good morning, Mrs…Hatcher," Harry said, pretending to read from the paper he carried. He’d actually simply glanced at the nametag she wore affixed to her jacket. "I was sent to look at a problem you’re having with one of your computers. I understand you’ve been having a lot of trouble with it lately."
Mrs. Hatcher, who had looked at Harry with extreme suspicion when he first approached her, puffed out her chest. "Why, yes, we have, young man. Those infernal contraptions are always breaking down and making us lose all our data. I don’t know how you people get away with selling such inferior equipment."
"I’m sorry, ma’am," Harry said, nodding his head stiffly. "If you’ll just direct me to where the malfunctioning equipment is, I’ll be on my way without disturbing your work further."
Mrs. Hatcher appeared mollified that he considered her work important. "We have a family coming in for an adoption later today, and Mrs. Thompson will be quite upset if there is a problem getting all the paperwork ready. Now, which machine is it? Who put in the service call?" Mrs. Hatcher asked.
"I believe the name was Mrs. Thompson," Harry lied smoothly.
Mrs. Hatcher picked up one of the papers in front of her, frowning slightly. "You’re not on the Visitor List," she said, reading it again.
Harry schooled his features into a look of confusion. "I’m not?" he asked, leaning over the paper. Keeping his wand hidden beneath his hand, he wordlessly cast a spell.
"Oh! Here it is. It is Mrs. Thompson; you’d best hurry then. Her office is right up the stairs and to the right. I believe she’s here already," Mrs. Hatcher said, waving him through.
"Thank you," Harry replied, quickly hurrying up the stairs.
As he moved away, he heard Mrs. Hatcher mutter in a very disapproving voice, "They get younger every time."
He quickly walked down the corridor, taking in the sterile walls and worn carpeting. He could see some classrooms down one corridor, and assumed the living quarters were on the other side of the facility. The children inside the classroom again looked well cared for, but Harry thought the sadness and loneliness of the place was palpable.
Uncle Vernon had regularly threatened to send him to an orphanage, and he’d often thought he’d have been better off. Now, he knew he wouldn’t have enjoyed this life, either. He might have been better off physically, but he would have hated the forced conformity. He was certain he would have ended up in loads of trouble, and he shivered at the strange similarity he once again felt with a young Tom Riddle.
He didn’t like the place and wanted to get out as soon as possible. He needed to find a quiet spot that was likely to be unoccupied in the
evening hours. Peering into one office, he saw a janitor fixing a broken shelf on a bookcase.
"You here to fix the computer?" the man asked, glancing only briefly at Harry. He was old and grizzled, reminding Harry slightly of Mad Eye Moody.
"Er…yeah," Harry said uncertainly.
"Ruth said she’d sent you along. This one just mucked up as well," the man said, banging on the bookcase. "Can you take a look at it, too?"
"That looks like a really old bookcase," Harry said, sitting at the desk and pretending to examine the computer. "I imagine they don’t get new furniture here very often."
"Nah, we make do with what we have. They stored a bunch of the old furniture from before they renovated the place downstairs in the storeroom. We bring it up whenever some of the new stuff breaks. They just don’t make furniture the way they used to. The old stuff might look rough, but it’s much sturdier than the crap they make nowadays," the man said.
Harry nodded in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner. "Do they keep any old computers down in that storeroom? Ones that could be used for spare parts?" Harry asked, thinking fast. "It might save you something on the invoice."
The man shrugged. "I dunno. You can check. The door at the end of the corridor leads down there. Can you fix that one?" he asked.
Harry looked at the computer, having no idea what was wrong with it or how to repair it. He glanced over at the janitor, whose back was to him. He discreetly waved his wand and wordlessly cast a Reparo spell.
The computer hummed almost happily.
"It’s all set," Harry said. "Nice to meet you."
The man nodded gruffly but didn’t reply. Harry hurried down the corridor and slipped inside the door to the storeroom. Thankfully, it was unlocked.
Harry was overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of the underground storage space. Rows and rows of metal-framed beds and wardrobes were stacked over every bit of available space. Searching them would likely take all night.
Harry slipped the Spell Detectors out of his pocket and placed them on the end of his nose. He got lucky getting down here; maybe he’d be lucky again. He quickly perused the room, but could see no trace of red that would indicate Dark spells. They’d have to return tonight and look more carefully. For now, he had to get back to the others.
***
That night, Harry side-along Apparated with Hermione into the dusty storeroom, giving her a chance to look around and get familiar with the layout. Then they Apparated back to the small inn where they’d rented a couple of rooms and brought Ron and Ginny back with them.
"This place is kind of creepy," Ron said, glancing warily at all the old furniture stored in piles. The air was dank and musty, and the dim light from their wands cast long shadows on the walls. "I wonder why this room is so deep underground."
"I think it might have been used as a bomb shelter during the war," Hermione said absently, looking around.
"This is a Muggle building, Hermione. They didn’t know about the war," Ron said, puzzled.
"Not with Voldemort. Honestly, Ron, you should have been the one to take Muggle studies. Around the time Grindelwald was terrorizing wizarding Britain, the Muggles were involved in a huge war, as well. During the Blitz, when London was being heavily bombed, people used bomb shelters to try and protect themselves."
"They hid the children down here?" Ron asked, shuddering.
"I’d imagine," Hermione said.
"This place is kind of creepy," Ron said again.
"There’s a lot of sadness here," Harry said quietly. "Come on, I noticed some wardrobes over here."
He saw Hermione lock eyes with Ron for a moment before following him.
"You really think that if there is a Horcrux here, he would have hidden it in the wardrobe, Harry?" Hermione asked. "How can you be certain he would have been able to find the same one he used when he was here?"
Harry shrugged, feeling daunted by the large number of places to look. "If he came back to hide one here, I’m certain that’s where he would have put it. It’s just a hunch, but it’s all we’ve got. He would have been able to find the right wardrobe — I’m certain of it. But, the longer I’ve been here today, the less likely I think he would have left a Horcrux."
"Why?" Hermione asked, startled.
Her brows had knit at his words. Hermione always wanted solid reasons for doing things. Harry suspected much of this quest would involve simply going on gut instincts, and he wondered how she would cope. He knew she wouldn’t like his answer to this question, either.
"It doesn’t feel right; I can’t explain it," Harry said.
"Harry, you’re going to have to do better than that. We can’t base our entire search on your instincts," Hermione said.
"His instincts have got him out of sticky situations in the past," Ginny said, weakly smiling at Harry.
"His instincts have also got him into plenty of sticky situations," Hermione snapped. "We can’t afford any mistakes. We can’t simply act on gut feelings."
"We’re going to have to, Hermione," Harry said. "It’s exactly what Dumbledore did that night in the cave. It was more sensing something than knowing it."
"How did he know it, though?" Hermione demanded, stamping her foot.
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, this place would hold bad memories for Riddle, not powerful ones. He was helpless here. That memory we saw in the Pensieve — where he stored the first tokens he took in that wardrobe, that’s what made me think he might put one back in there. But, I don’t think so. He likes power and the feeling of control. When he first learned he was a wizard…it was Dumbledore who held all the power. Dumbledore had all the answers, and Tom was at his mercy. Voldemort wouldn’t have liked that memory. He wouldn’t have liked feeling that way."
"So, you don’t think there’s anything here? Then what are we looking for?" Ron asked, unable to hide his eagerness at not having to search all the wardrobes.
"Just because that’s what I think doesn’t mean it’s true," Harry replied. "It’s certainly possible that he hid something here. Even if we don’t find anything, I’m certain it won’t be the last dead end we chase before this is over."
"It’ll give us some practice," Ginny said brightly. "Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky."
"You said you didn’t feel anything, Harry. What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked.
Harry sighed. "I can’t explain it exactly. With the diary and again when I was at the cave with Dumbledore… I could sense something. I hadn’t really given it much thought until Moody told me how to sense magic with these," Harry said, holding up the Spell Detectors. "I’m hoping that when we do manage to locate a Horcrux, it’ll happen again, and I’ll be able to explain it better."
Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with his answer, but she let it drop for the moment.
Standing in front of row after row of broken-down old wardrobes, Ron looked overwhelmed. "Are we supposed to go through every one of these? It’ll take ages. They’re all empty, anyway."
"Well, he’s not going to leave anything right where you can see it," Hermione said scathingly.
"Here, use these," Harry said, handing the Spell Detectors to Ron. "I don’t know if they’ll still be able to pick up any magic after sixty
Ginny snorted and angrily blew a stray piece of hair from her face. "Never mind her, Harry. Don’t let her spoil your party."
Conversations resumed around the table, and Narcissa’s presence was soon forgotten. Despite his best efforts, Harry’s mood was dampened, however. Said in anger or not, Narcissa’s words were true, and they renewed Harry’s worries for those closest to him. He pasted a smile on his face as he opened his gifts, but was eager to escape and clear his head.
When the dinner was finished, Mrs. Weasley shooed them all from the kitchen and insisted that she would clear the dishes. Harry tried to break away and sprint up to the room he shared with Ron, but his friends apparently knew he was feeling low, and they all followed him.
Ginny sat on his bed beside him, while Ron and Hermione sat on Ron’s bed. Fred and George plopped down on the floor and began rummaging through Harry’s pile of birthday presents.
"Here it is," Fred exclaimed at last, pulling out one of the bottles of Firewhiskey that he and George had given him earlier that day.
"Harry, mate, I think you’re in need of this," George said, handing the open bottle to Harry.
Harry looked at it silently for a moment before tossing it back and taking a long swig.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, scandalized.
"What? He’s of age," Ron said, taking the bottle from Harry, and downing his own swig. Ron handed the bottle to Fred. Each of the twins took a drink before passing the bottle to Ginny.
"Ginny’s not of age," Hermione said, warily watching the bottle. Harry suspected she was more nervous about the fact that her turn would be next rather than Ginny’s age.
Ginny rolled her eyes and took a deep swallow. She looked at them all triumphantly for a moment before her eyes began to water, and she started to cough and splutter.
Harry patted her on the back, grinning. "Have you had Firewhiskey before, Ginny?" he asked.
Still unable to speak, Ginny shook her head, her eyes streaming.
"I had it for the first time on Bill’s stag night. Speaking of which…I felt bloody awful the next morning," Harry said, still rubbing Ginny’s back.
"Ahh, yes, we’ve taken care of everything," George said, rummaging in the box that still held another bottle of Firewhiskey. He removed a phial of murky gray liquid and took a sip.
"Guaranteed to avoid a hangover," Fred said, taking his own sip and handing the phial to Harry.
Ginny handed the bottle to Hermione, who glanced warily at them all. "I really don’t think this is a very good idea. Your mother could be up here at any minute," Hermione said.
Fred lazily waved his hand at the open door. "We’ll hear her on the stairs if she comes this way. She won’t anyway. Tonks is here, and Mum was making tea. Once those two get chatting, it’ll be hours before they’re done. Bottoms up, Hermione," he said, grinning.
Hermione set her shoulders, breathed deeply and took a very dainty sip of the Firewhiskey.
"You can do better than that," Ron said when Hermione had finished coughing. "Think of it as an experiment. You can’t truly tell Harry and me off for drinking if you don’t have first hand knowledge of the full effects."
Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Ron. Without breaking eye contact, she tipped the bottle back again, this time taking a long draught and making the twins whoop with glee.
"You show him, Hermione," Fred said, delighted.
"I always thought there was more to you than that prim and proper exterior," George said, taking the bottle from her.
Hermione frowned and Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Lay off," he said to George in a low voice.
"Don’t get your knickers in a twist, little bro," Fred said, taking the bottle from Harry. "No one is picking on your Hermione."
Ron’s ears turned red, matching the color in Hermione’s cheeks.
As they passed the bottle around and listened to the twins’ amusing stories of events from their shop, Harry tried to shake his unease. The Firewhiskey felt warm in his belly, but he wasn’t as relaxed and carefree as he had the last time he’d drunk it. Narcissa’s words kept ringing in his head.
The people that get close to you have a nasty habit of ending up dead…
Harry angrily took the bottle from Ginny and took another drink, desperately trying to block the implication of the words.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny are the people closest to me now…
Ron had begun slurring his words, while Ginny had developed an uncontrollable case of the giggles. Despite his morose thoughts, Harry
couldn’t help but be amused seeing her this way. At first, she’d laugh at any nonsensical thing the twins’ would say but gradually would giggle if anyone so much as looked at her.
Surprisingly, Hermione appeared to hold it better than either of the Weasleys. She kept right up with the others, but hadn’t started acting silly. She had grown much quieter than usual, however.
Ginny turned towards Harry, frowning slightly as she studied him intently.
"What?" he demanded finally, slightly unnerved by her intense gaze.
"I don’t know where I came up with fresh pickled toad; they’re really more emerald in color. I suppose it was harder to rhyme emerald," she said, giggling so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.
The others roared with laughter, as Harry felt color flame to his cheeks, remembering that horribly embarrassing Valentine from second year.
"Er…right," he said, shifting his position so he could lean back against the wall. "Maybe you’ve had enough of that Ginny." He’d begun to worry what else she might blurt out in her drunken state. He was sitting in a small room with three of her brothers.
"Bloody Hell, Harry, lighten up," Hermione said, shocking them all. Ron’s mouth gaped open.
"Hermione," he said. "You just cursed."
"I’ve spent the last six years practically living with you, Ron. Did you think I hadn’t picked up some of your ruddy habits?" Hermione asked, taking another drink.
Fred and George forgot all about Harry’s Valentine as they turned towards Hermione with calculating expressions.
"Which of his other habits have you picked up on, Hermione?" Fred asked eagerly.
"Well, I haven’t learned how he stuffs an entire potato into his mouth at one time, but I really don’t think I want to know that," she said seriously causing the others to laugh. "But I have picked up a load of curse words and can make my face appear as if I’m listening to you intently when I’m really plotting out an entire assignment in my head. Of course, I don’t think Ron’s really thinking about assignments when he does that, more like a Quidditch roster. I’ve never seen anyone so obsessed with ruddy Quidditch. Back when we were younger — before he was on the team — he used to quote facts and records about every match in history while we watched Harry play."
"I never thought you were really listening," Ron said, stunned.
"Oh, I wasn’t paying attention, but I did like to listen to your voice. You have a very pleasant-sounding voice when it’s not cursing or
shouting about something. You do tend to shout a lot," she said seriously.
The gleeful expressions on the faces of Fred and George told Harry that they would never let Ron live this down.
The people that get close to you have a nasty habit of ending up dead… If they’re going to insist upon following me, it was more than likely that one or all could…
Harry shuddered, knowing he’d never survive their loss. Voldemort could never know that the surest way to destroy Harry would be to hurt any of them. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
"Harry," Ginny said softly, taking his hand. Her eyes were glazed and slightly vacant, but she still appeared to sense his inner turmoil.
His head was spinning, and he suddenly felt very old and tired. He may have only just turned seventeen, but he felt as if he’d already lived several lifetimes.
"Everything will be okay," Ginny whispered, shifting so she could burrow her head under his arm. "Try not to worry so much."
"Oh, isn’t this a sight," a drawling voice said from the doorway.
Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the doorframe, an undecipherable expression upon his pale face. His blond hair was unkempt, hanging over his eyes in a very un-Malfoyish way.
"What do you want?" Ron asked, jumping to his feet and wavering slightly.
"I came to investigate the cause of all the noise. I hadn’t realized I was interrupting your pathetic little party," Malfoy sneered.
Ginny started to laugh, wrapping her arms around her waist to try and control her giggles.
Harry smiled at her, amused, while she caught her breath.
"He really does look like a ferret," she said, gasping.
"Shut it, Weaslette," Malfoy said, his gray eyes flashing. "You pathetic little blood traitor. Consorting with Potter and the Mudblood — you’re a disgrace to your heritage. Of course, you always had a thing for Potty anyway, didn’t you?"
"Watch your mouth," Ron snarled, clenching his fists.
"Leave her out of it, Malfoy," Harry snarled, jumping off the bed and raising his wand. He’d been looking for an outlet for his tension all evening, and the blonde represented the perfect opportunity. "Don’t let me ever hear you speak to her that way again."
Ginny had stopped giggling and was desperately trying to focus on what was happening.
"Leave her out of it? She’s already at the center of it, Potter. God, you really are naïve, aren’t you? Snape already told the Dark Lord all about your little girlfriend. It’s no more likely she’ll survive this war than you will," Malfoy said.
The people that get close to you have a nasty habit of ending up dead…
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry demanded through clenched teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words had any effect on Harry. "I’m certain you were only too happy to confirm that before Voldemort turned on you."
"I was just wondering why the Light’s precious Chosen One is holed up in a bedroom getting pissed with his little band of cronies while everyone is waiting for him to save the world. I don’t think their faith would be that strong if they could see you now, Potter."
"Why not?" Ron asked belligerently, moving to stand in front of Harry. "I think it would do everyone some good to see that Harry isn’t letting V-Voldemort interfere with him living his life."
Malfoy flinched at the name, his eyes widening slightly that Ron had said it. Harry thought it was the first time he’d ever heard Ron actually say it, and wondered how much of that was the Firewhiskey talking.
"In these dark times, everyone needs a few laughs," Fred said, standing up next to Harry.
"Harry told us that a few years back, and he was right. He will win, and he’ll survive. And we’re all going to be right there alongside him making certain he does," George said, flanking Harry’s other side.
Harry’s heart swelled with pride. Looking over at Malfoy, he could see the uncertainty on the blonde’s face. It occurred to Harry how similar his and Malfoy’s situations were. Each was assigned the impossible task of destroying the powerful leader of an opposing force. But their choices had differed greatly. Now, Harry was surrounded by a fiercely loyal group of friends prepared to die with him if they had to, while Malfoy was alone and in hiding from the very people to whom he had sworn his allegiance. Their choices and consequences were so very different.
"Then you’re all going to die," Malfoy spat. "You prats have no idea what you’re getting into. The Dark Lord doesn’t fool around, he won’t tolerate your little jokes."
"Maybe that’s his problem," Fred said.
"Everyone needs a good joke," said George.
Harry spied Ginny out of the corner of his eye. Scowling, she’d stood up on the bed and wavered precariously while holding her wand on Malfoy.
"Ginny, don’t," he said, reaching toward her. He was afraid that in her inebriated state, she’d only end up cursing herself. She fell back, and he managed to catch her before she landed. In the distraction, Harry heard the distinctive whoosh of a spell being cast, although he knew it hadn’t come from Ginny’s wand.
He turned around to see Ron, Fred and George staring in shock at the doorway where a white ferret squealed and scurried up the hallway.
They looked at each other, stunned speechless before turning as one to face Hermione. She sat on Ron’s bed, calmly polishing her wand. "Ginny was right," she said simply. "The bloody wanker does look like a ferret."
The twins roared with laughter, as Ron dropped to his knees in front of her. "I love you, Hermione," he said.
"It’d be nice if you could say that once in awhile when I hadn’t done your homework for you or performed a brilliant piece of Transfiguration," Hermione said primly.
Ron’s ears burned. "I’ll work on it," he said in a low voice.
"On that note, brother dear, I think it’s time we bade them farewell," George said.
"Yeah. Mum should be up here any minute now, and I don’t want her to think we had anything to do with the condition this lot is in," Fred said.
They wished Harry a Happy Birthday and bade them all farewell.
Harry turned to see Ginny curled up on his bed like a cat, sleeping soundly. He covered her with a blanket and softly kissed her head.
"Come on, Ron. Let the girls sleep in here, and we’ll bunk in their room. We’ve got to get an early start," Harry said.
"Right," Ron replied, still staring at Hermione with a curious expression.
Harry snuggled into Ginny’s bed that night, taking a deep breath and smelling that intoxicating floral smell that was all Ginny. Their quest would begin tomorrow, but lying here now, he felt strangely comforted.
Chapter Ten
Delays, Disappointment, and Dating
Harry awoke with a start, momentarily panicked because he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Slipping his glasses on his nose, he stared wildly at the bright yellow walls and abundance of flowers and cosmetics and well…girly stuff. Then he remembered switching rooms with Ginny and Hermione the night before. He’d set an alarm to wake him at dawn, then had cast a silencing charm around the bed so no one else would be alerted.
He could hear Ron snoring heavily, and he had to bite back a laugh seeing his tall friend’s feet sticking off the end of the other bed while the rest of his body was wrapped in a fluffy pink-flowered blanket. He wished he had a camera; Fred and George would pay a huge sum for that picture.
Harry lay back for a moment and stretched, breathing in the scent on his pillow…Ginny’s pillow. He let his eyes wander across the room, now alert and able to focus on his surroundings. It was easy to distinguish Ginny’s side of the room from Hermione’s. One half was neatly organized with everything in its place, large stacks of books precisely tucked in both corners. The floor on the other half was covered with clothing, gum wrappers, stray quills and several copies of Witch Weekly. Harry was disgruntled to see his own likeness winking from a picture in the top corner of one of the magazines.
He shifted uncomfortably, feeling something lumpy underneath his back. He reached down under the covers and pulled out a ragged stuffed animal. It looked as if it had once been a bear, but was now a sorry sight indeed. He grinned, knowing he’d have something to use to take the mickey out of Ginny later.
Yanking back the covers, he put his feet on the floor and immediately stepped on something. He reached down to lift it off the floor. His face flushed brilliantly when he realized he was holding Ginny’s bra.
"What’s that?" Ron mumbled, squinting at him across the room.
"Nothing," Harry squeaked, his voice sounding very high. He guiltily shoved the bra behind his back and tried to change the subject. "You’ve got to get up. We need to move quickly."
"What are you on about, Harry? What’s that behind your back?" Ron asked, fully rousing at the sight of a flustered Harry.
Harry tried to inconspicuously tuck the offending garment beneath Ginny’s covers. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but notice how soft and silky the material felt, and he rubbed his thumb along the edge as he tried to hide it.
Ron leaped out of bed and reached around to grab the bra from Harry. "What are you trying to hide?" he demanded.
"It’s nothing," Harry said, panicked and trying to get the evidence away from him.
At that moment, the bedroom door swung open revealing Hermione and Ginny. The two girls stood there, their faces a mixture of surprise and amusement, staring at Ron and Harry who were facing each other in the middle of the floor, Ginny’s bra stretched between them.
"Well," Ginny said at last. "I hadn’t realized you two had such pervy tendencies. I do have other bras, you know. You don’t have to fight over that one."
Hermione roared with laughter. "Do you have any of our knickers on, as well?" she asked, doubling over at the scarlet hues that suffused Ron and Harry’s faces.
"I- What- He- What are you doing with my sister’s bra?" Ron bellowed, glaring at Harry.
Harry’s eyes widened as all three of them turned to look at him. "Nothing," he stammered. "I stepped on it when I got up, and I tried to put it back, and that’s when you woke up."
"Will you two be quiet," Hermione hissed. "Do you want to wake up the whole house?"
Laughing, Ginny walked over and took her bra from Harry and Ron. She lightly pecked Harry on the nose. "You’re cute when you’re embarrassed," she said.
Suddenly realizing he was standing there in his boxers, Ron grabbed the pink flowery blanket and wrapped it around himself. "What are you two doing in here?" he asked. "We’re not dressed yet."
"I can see that," Ginny said dryly. "I wouldn’t suggest wearing that color though, Ron. It clashes with your hair. That’s why I gave it to Hermione."
Hermione giggled, her cheeks very pink. "We’ve got the stuff all ready. We’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes. Hurry up," she said, staring pointedly at Ron. "Your mother is usually the first one awake."
The girls went downstairs while Ron and Harry quickly dressed. They met Hermione and Ginny in the entrance hall.
"Are we ready to do this?" Hermione asked. Now that the time had come, she looked wary and uncertain.
"Yeah," Harry said, infusing his voice with a confidence he didn’t really feel. Hunting the Horcruxes would feel better than waiting to do it, he was certain. Putting his hand on the door, he took a deep breath, and the four of them stole quietly into the gray pre-dawn light.
They soon reached the address that Mrs. Granger had given them for the orphanage, but it was still too early to enter. They bought some muffins at a nearby café and sat down at a table on the sidewalk with a clear view of the orphanage. Harry narrowed his eyes, studying it. There was a vague resemblance to the building he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, but there was something different that he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.
"It’s definitely the right address," he said slowly, "those steps going in are the same, but-"
"It’s been renovated," Hermione said. "The article my mother forwarded to me said it was completely redone in 1972. They kept some of the old building and added that section over there." Hermione pointed to the
other side of the building that stretched further down the block than Harry had realized.
"They’ve renovated it? How do we know they even kept the section where Riddle lived?" Harry asked, alarmed.
"We don’t," Hermione said, shrugging. "But we have to check anyway, don’t we? It’s not like there’s anything we can do about the fact they renovated, Harry. After all, it’s been ages since Riddle was here. There would have to be some changes for it still to be open."
"Yeah, well, even the renovations were done before we were all born. They’re probably due for more," Ron said around a mouthful of muffin.
Harry shrugged. Hermione was right; he didn’t know why he hadn’t even considered the possibility. Riddle would have first been here over sixty years ago, everything couldn’t stay the same."
"How are we going to get in?" Ginny asked. "They’re Muggles, but they must have security."
"Yeah, but I think I can get past it," Harry said. "Dumbledore used a blank piece of paper to convince the headmistress that Tom Riddle was supposed to go to Hogwarts. I think I can do the same charm. Once I’m inside, I just need to find a secluded spot where we can Apparate later. I think it’ll be better if we go back tonight with the Invisibility Cloak."
"That’s a good idea," Hermione said. "We’ll go rent a couple of rooms for the night. It’ll give us a place to wait."
"All right," Harry said. "I’ll meet you back here in two hours, and you can show me where to go. I want to walk around the building and see if I can recognize anything before I go inside."
Hermione, Ron and Ginny departed, and Harry walked up and down the street in front of the orphanage. He had a strange sense of déjà vu as he passed the stone entrance. This was definitely the same place, and the brick front remained intact. He waited to enter the building until there was some activity on the street.
It had obviously been updated, but Harry found it recognizable. He could see the stone steps that led up to the offices behind a comfortable sitting area decorated in calming blues. A large wooden desk guarded the stairs, and a gray-haired receptionist sat flipping through some papers. She pursed her lips and lifted her reading glasses onto her nose. Something on the paper she held displeased her for she scowled as she pulled the page from the stack and placed it to the side.
Something in the woman’s face reminded Harry of his Aunt Petunia. She had the same disapproving look he remembered seeing so many times while growing up on Privet Drive. His aunt always assumed that everyone was out to take advantage of her.
Harry strode confidently up to the desk. Going with his instincts, he approached her as he would his aunt.
"Good morning, Mrs…Hatcher," Harry said, pretending to read from the paper he carried. He’d actually simply glanced at the nametag she wore affixed to her jacket. "I was sent to look at a problem you’re having with one of your computers. I understand you’ve been having a lot of trouble with it lately."
Mrs. Hatcher, who had looked at Harry with extreme suspicion when he first approached her, puffed out her chest. "Why, yes, we have, young man. Those infernal contraptions are always breaking down and making us lose all our data. I don’t know how you people get away with selling such inferior equipment."
"I’m sorry, ma’am," Harry said, nodding his head stiffly. "If you’ll just direct me to where the malfunctioning equipment is, I’ll be on my way without disturbing your work further."
Mrs. Hatcher appeared mollified that he considered her work important. "We have a family coming in for an adoption later today, and Mrs. Thompson will be quite upset if there is a problem getting all the paperwork ready. Now, which machine is it? Who put in the service call?" Mrs. Hatcher asked.
"I believe the name was Mrs. Thompson," Harry lied smoothly.
Mrs. Hatcher picked up one of the papers in front of her, frowning slightly. "You’re not on the Visitor List," she said, reading it again.
Harry schooled his features into a look of confusion. "I’m not?" he asked, leaning over the paper. Keeping his wand hidden beneath his hand, he wordlessly cast a spell.
"Oh! Here it is. It is Mrs. Thompson; you’d best hurry then. Her office is right up the stairs and to the right. I believe she’s here already," Mrs. Hatcher said, waving him through.
"Thank you," Harry replied, quickly hurrying up the stairs.
As he moved away, he heard Mrs. Hatcher mutter in a very disapproving voice, "They get younger every time."
He quickly walked down the corridor, taking in the sterile walls and worn carpeting. He could see some classrooms down one corridor, and assumed the living quarters were on the other side of the facility. The children inside the classroom again looked well cared for, but Harry thought the sadness and loneliness of the place was palpable.
Uncle Vernon had regularly threatened to send him to an orphanage, and he’d often thought he’d have been better off. Now, he knew he wouldn’t have enjoyed this life, either. He might have been better off physically, but he would have hated the forced conformity. He was certain he would have ended up in loads of trouble, and he shivered at the strange similarity he once again felt with a young Tom Riddle.
He didn’t like the place and wanted to get out as soon as possible. He needed to find a quiet spot that was likely to be unoccupied in the
evening hours. Peering into one office, he saw a janitor fixing a broken shelf on a bookcase.
"You here to fix the computer?" the man asked, glancing only briefly at Harry. He was old and grizzled, reminding Harry slightly of Mad Eye Moody.
"Er…yeah," Harry said uncertainly.
"Ruth said she’d sent you along. This one just mucked up as well," the man said, banging on the bookcase. "Can you take a look at it, too?"
"That looks like a really old bookcase," Harry said, sitting at the desk and pretending to examine the computer. "I imagine they don’t get new furniture here very often."
"Nah, we make do with what we have. They stored a bunch of the old furniture from before they renovated the place downstairs in the storeroom. We bring it up whenever some of the new stuff breaks. They just don’t make furniture the way they used to. The old stuff might look rough, but it’s much sturdier than the crap they make nowadays," the man said.
Harry nodded in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner. "Do they keep any old computers down in that storeroom? Ones that could be used for spare parts?" Harry asked, thinking fast. "It might save you something on the invoice."
The man shrugged. "I dunno. You can check. The door at the end of the corridor leads down there. Can you fix that one?" he asked.
Harry looked at the computer, having no idea what was wrong with it or how to repair it. He glanced over at the janitor, whose back was to him. He discreetly waved his wand and wordlessly cast a Reparo spell.
The computer hummed almost happily.
"It’s all set," Harry said. "Nice to meet you."
The man nodded gruffly but didn’t reply. Harry hurried down the corridor and slipped inside the door to the storeroom. Thankfully, it was unlocked.
Harry was overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of the underground storage space. Rows and rows of metal-framed beds and wardrobes were stacked over every bit of available space. Searching them would likely take all night.
Harry slipped the Spell Detectors out of his pocket and placed them on the end of his nose. He got lucky getting down here; maybe he’d be lucky again. He quickly perused the room, but could see no trace of red that would indicate Dark spells. They’d have to return tonight and look more carefully. For now, he had to get back to the others.
***
That night, Harry side-along Apparated with Hermione into the dusty storeroom, giving her a chance to look around and get familiar with the layout. Then they Apparated back to the small inn where they’d rented a couple of rooms and brought Ron and Ginny back with them.
"This place is kind of creepy," Ron said, glancing warily at all the old furniture stored in piles. The air was dank and musty, and the dim light from their wands cast long shadows on the walls. "I wonder why this room is so deep underground."
"I think it might have been used as a bomb shelter during the war," Hermione said absently, looking around.
"This is a Muggle building, Hermione. They didn’t know about the war," Ron said, puzzled.
"Not with Voldemort. Honestly, Ron, you should have been the one to take Muggle studies. Around the time Grindelwald was terrorizing wizarding Britain, the Muggles were involved in a huge war, as well. During the Blitz, when London was being heavily bombed, people used bomb shelters to try and protect themselves."
"They hid the children down here?" Ron asked, shuddering.
"I’d imagine," Hermione said.
"This place is kind of creepy," Ron said again.
"There’s a lot of sadness here," Harry said quietly. "Come on, I noticed some wardrobes over here."
He saw Hermione lock eyes with Ron for a moment before following him.
"You really think that if there is a Horcrux here, he would have hidden it in the wardrobe, Harry?" Hermione asked. "How can you be certain he would have been able to find the same one he used when he was here?"
Harry shrugged, feeling daunted by the large number of places to look. "If he came back to hide one here, I’m certain that’s where he would have put it. It’s just a hunch, but it’s all we’ve got. He would have been able to find the right wardrobe — I’m certain of it. But, the longer I’ve been here today, the less likely I think he would have left a Horcrux."
"Why?" Hermione asked, startled.
Her brows had knit at his words. Hermione always wanted solid reasons for doing things. Harry suspected much of this quest would involve simply going on gut instincts, and he wondered how she would cope. He knew she wouldn’t like his answer to this question, either.
"It doesn’t feel right; I can’t explain it," Harry said.
"Harry, you’re going to have to do better than that. We can’t base our entire search on your instincts," Hermione said.
"His instincts have got him out of sticky situations in the past," Ginny said, weakly smiling at Harry.
"His instincts have also got him into plenty of sticky situations," Hermione snapped. "We can’t afford any mistakes. We can’t simply act on gut feelings."
"We’re going to have to, Hermione," Harry said. "It’s exactly what Dumbledore did that night in the cave. It was more sensing something than knowing it."
"How did he know it, though?" Hermione demanded, stamping her foot.
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, this place would hold bad memories for Riddle, not powerful ones. He was helpless here. That memory we saw in the Pensieve — where he stored the first tokens he took in that wardrobe, that’s what made me think he might put one back in there. But, I don’t think so. He likes power and the feeling of control. When he first learned he was a wizard…it was Dumbledore who held all the power. Dumbledore had all the answers, and Tom was at his mercy. Voldemort wouldn’t have liked that memory. He wouldn’t have liked feeling that way."
"So, you don’t think there’s anything here? Then what are we looking for?" Ron asked, unable to hide his eagerness at not having to search all the wardrobes.
"Just because that’s what I think doesn’t mean it’s true," Harry replied. "It’s certainly possible that he hid something here. Even if we don’t find anything, I’m certain it won’t be the last dead end we chase before this is over."
"It’ll give us some practice," Ginny said brightly. "Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky."
"You said you didn’t feel anything, Harry. What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked.
Harry sighed. "I can’t explain it exactly. With the diary and again when I was at the cave with Dumbledore… I could sense something. I hadn’t really given it much thought until Moody told me how to sense magic with these," Harry said, holding up the Spell Detectors. "I’m hoping that when we do manage to locate a Horcrux, it’ll happen again, and I’ll be able to explain it better."
Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with his answer, but she let it drop for the moment.
Standing in front of row after row of broken-down old wardrobes, Ron looked overwhelmed. "Are we supposed to go through every one of these? It’ll take ages. They’re all empty, anyway."
"Well, he’s not going to leave anything right where you can see it," Hermione said scathingly.
"Here, use these," Harry said, handing the Spell Detectors to Ron. "I don’t know if they’ll still be able to pick up any magic after sixty
วันพฤหัสบดีที่ 30 สิงหาคม พ.ศ. 2550
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 143-149)
well if You-Know-Who doesn’t suspect that you’re missing,” Mr. Weasley replied.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, grinning.
“I can use some contacts at the Ministry to ensure the press is alerted to where you’re going to be when you want them there. I think Percy might also be able to help us with that endeavor,” Mr. Weasley said, smiling.
“Thank you,” Harry replied, his throat feeling suddenly tight.
They were interrupted when Ron came through the door, beaming and carrying his own Apparition license.
“Eyebrows and everything,” he said, grinning.
“Well done,” Harry said, clapping him on the back.
“Congratulations, son. I knew you had it in you,” Mr. Weasley said.
“Thanks, Dad,” Ron replied, his ears turning bright red.
The receptionist rose from her chair and opened a door to the right of her desk. “Congratulations to both of you. There is an Apparation point located right outside this door you can use,” she said, looking hopefully at Harry once again.
Mr. Weasley put an arm around each of the boys and began ushering them towards the door. Harry took a few steps before stopping.
“Isn’t there an Apparation point in the main lobby, Mr. Weasley?” he asked.
“Yes, there is,” the witch answered before Mr. Weasley could open his mouth. She appeared suddenly nervous and unsure of herself. “We have this separate location since our testees are usually so anxious to use their new license. Right through this door.”
She attempted to steer them through the exit, still smiling, but Harry detected a panicky look in her eyes.
“Thanks, but I think I’d like to take the walk,” he said, stopping despite the pressure of her hand on his shoulder.
She grabbed his arm, trying to halt his progress. “Mr. Potter…Harry, there really is no need-“
“Oh, but I think there is,” Harry said, pulling his arm free and leaving through the same door they’d arrived.
“What are you on about, Harry?” Ron asked, following him towards the lift.
Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly. “Boys, I need to get up to my office. I trust you can make it back on your own?”
“Yes, Mr. Weasley. We’re right as rain…and thank you,” Harry replied.
“Think nothing of it,” Mr. Weasley replied, heading in the opposite direction.
When Ron and Harry reached the main lobby there were a number of reporters still mulling around hoping to catch Harry’s exit. They spotted him almost instantly and began to move towards him. Harry raised his hand in the air, flashing his new license for all of them to see. Several flashbulbs snapped the pose.
“I did it,” he cried jubilantly, knowing there would no longer be any questions as to why he was there.
He and Ron shared a smile as they sprinted to the Apparation point and Disapparated in time to escape the questioning reporters.
***
When they returned to Grimmauld Place, after a long and very public walk through Diagon Alley, they found a birthday feast fit for a king awaiting them. They’d made several stops along the way, including a visit to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George had gifted Harry with his birthday present while they were there, claiming it was better opened away from Mrs. Weasley’s prying eyes.
Harry opened the package to reveal two bottles of Ogden’s Firewhiskey.
"Those are Everlasting Party bottles," Fred said.
"Guaranteed to last for the length of any single party," replied George.
"Or at least until you pass out," said Fred with a grin.
As they traveled along the busy street, they’d run into several classmates and had their photographs taken several times. All in all, Harry thought it was a very successful outing.
Upon their return, he was overwhelmed by the amount of food Mrs. Weasley had prepared. A knot of guilt twisted in his stomach over his planned deception, and he attempted to impress upon Mrs. Weasley how grateful he was for her kindness.
She brushed him off as if it was nothing, but Harry thought he saw a look of understanding in Mr. Weasley’s eyes.
"Mmm, roasted lamb," Ron said, sitting down and pulling a plate towards him.
"Never mind the food, Ron. How did you do?" Hermione asked, biting her lip anxiously.
"How’d I do with what?" Ron asked through a mouthful of potatoes.
Hermione was flabbergasted. "With what? With your test, of course. Honestly, Ron. Where have you been all this time?" Hermione asked.
"Oh. Passed," Ron said, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.
"I knew you could do it," Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.
Ron’s eyes flew open wide before a very self-satisfied smile crossed his face, causing Fred and George to snigger.
"And you, Harry? How did you do?" Ginny asked, sidling up next to him and taking the chair next to his.
"Got my license," Harry said, grinning.
"I knew you’d do it," she replied, leaning over and pecking him on the cheek. Harry felt his face burn.
"They did it despite Rufus Scrimgeour’s attempts to distract them," Mr. Weasley said, serving himself some of the dinner.
"What do you mean?" Remus Lupin asked, looking up in alarm.
"It was nothing," Harry said, shaking his head.
"What was nothing?" Remus asked.
"Scrimgeour had a bunch of reporters waiting to ambush Harry," Ron replied. "You know how he’s been after Harry to make appearances at the Ministry. He wanted them all to see him there. They tried to shoo us out after we finished our tests, too, but Harry wouldn’t let them do it. He strode right through the lobby flashing his new Apparation license so they’d all know why he was there. I’d love to see Scrimgeour’s face when he hears about it."
"He already did," Mr. Weasley said grimly.
"What happened?" Harry asked, alarmed by Mr. Weasley’s expression.
"He wasn’t happy. The evening edition of the Daily Prophet is already out and filled with your picture and several stories. Absolutely nothing about your support for the Ministry as he hoped, however. He sacked the witch who worked in reception at the testing center," Mr. Weasley replied.
Harry felt dreadful. He’d wanted to upset Scrimgeour’s plans, but he hadn’t meant to get the receptionist in trouble.
"Not your fault, Harry," Ginny said firmly, correctly reading his expression. "You can’t control what everyone else does. What you did was right, and you can’t help that Scrimgeour acted like a prat."
Mr. Weasley smiled fondly. "Although I won’t go so far as calling the Minister for Magic a prat," he said, his lips twitching, "Ginny’s right. It wasn’t your fault so don’t let him make you feel guilty."
"Enough of this," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning. "This is Harry’s birthday dinner. Let’s talk about something pleasant."
Harry remembered how upset she’d been the previous year when news of the war interrupted his birthday celebration. He knew she meant well, but she still wasn’t accepting the fact that he was part of this war, whether she liked it or not.
He was startled from his thoughts when Tonks entered the room looking pale and exhausted. Her mint green hair hung limply on her shoulders. "Sorry I’m late," she said, sinking wearily into the chair Remus had pulled out for her.
"You look terrible, Tonks," Mrs. Weasley said, alarmed.
"Rough day," Tonks replied with an attempt at a smile.
"Did they have you out at Azkaban again?" Remus asked, handing her a glass of wine and fixing her a plate of food.
Tonks nodded, sipping the wine gratefully. "That place is horrible."
"Azkaban?" Harry asked. "What are you doing at Azkaban?"
"The Ministry has had Aurors guarding the prisoners there since most of the Dementors fled," Tonks replied.
"Most of them?" Harry asked. "There are still some there?"
"A few of the older, more infirm ones," Tonks replied heavily. "Miserable creatures. I suspect some of the ones that stayed did so simply for the easy prey. They didn’t want to have to go and look for their own food. Doesn’t matter that there aren’t many left, however. The walls of Azkaban are nearly alive with their scent because they’ve been there so long. It’s a horrid place."
Mrs. Weasley shuddered. "I can’t believe they send you there. I remember when Arthur had to go out there once. It took him days to recover," she said tearfully.
Mr. Weasley comfortingly squeezed her hand. "Now, Molly. Someone has to guard the prisoners, don’t they? There really isn’t another option."
"I think the Ministry should consider building an entirely new prison, away from the effect the Dementors have had on Azkaban," Bill said. He and Fleur had recently returned from their honeymoon and both were tanned and appeared well-rested. "We could use charms to keep them incarcerated and house-elves to supply the food."
"Zat is what we do in France," Fleur said, staring at Bill adoringly. "Eet eez a much better way, I zink."
"Maybe after the war, something like that will be done here. Right now, all the Ministry’s resources are focused on You-Know-Who and the destruction he’s causing," Mr. Weasley said heavily.
The paper had reported new Dementor attacks almost daily while the Dark Mark had been seen more and more often in Muggle areas. During the past week, several buildings had caught fire in Birmingham and despite their
best efforts, Ministry officials had been unable to extinguish the flames.
"When we’re finished with dinner, I’ve made a treacle tart for pudding. That one is your favorite, isn’t it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, glaring at both Bill and Mr. Weasley.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. Despite wanting to hear more about what was happening at Azkaban, he couldn’t help but be pleased with the prospect of Mrs. Weasley’s treacle tart.
Conceding to Mrs. Weasley’s desire for a happier subject, the rest of the guests let talk of the war rest for the moment. The remainder of the dinner was spent pleasantly with laughter and the twins’ teasing of Ron about his first failed attempt at gaining an Apparation license.
All of them were so immersed in the festivities that no one noticed the kitchen door opening once again. Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the kitchen with a wary expression, carrying a stack of empty trays. She walked towards the sink and placed them next to it, glancing with distaste at the countertop.
"Narcissa," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "Would you care for something to eat?" Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley didn’t jump up to serve her as she usually did when someone entered the kitchen.
Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear. "I don’t believe it. She brought the trays down. She must be hungry; she hasn’t eaten all day."
Mrs. Malfoy appeared affronted by the invitation. "I’d prefer to take a tray upstairs," she said stiffly.
"Well, there’s plenty of food, and I see you’ve brought down some trays. You’ll just have to clean them up since there aren’t any clean ones left, and then you can help yourself," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. She turned towards her own dinner without a backward glance.
Mrs. Malfoy stood slack jawed, staring with revulsion at Mrs. Weasley. Her long, bony white fingers gripped a tray in shock. "Certainly, there are house-elves to do such things," she said, aghast.
Mrs. Weasley smiled and shook her head. "Oh, not since Kreacher left for Hogwarts. Not that he was ever much help anyway. No, we all have to pitch in with the chores around here if we want anything to get done."
"Malfoy Manor has a full staff of house-elves. Certainly it won’t cause any difficulties if I have one of them come to work here," Mrs. Malfoy said haughtily.
"No," Remus said harshly, sounding angry. "We discussed this when you arrived. You proved it yourself that a house-elf’s loyalty cannot be guaranteed."
Harry’s stomach clenched as Narcissa raised her nose in the air without apology.
Hermione folded her arms across her chest and scowled at the mention of the house-elves. Harry knew it was taking all her self-restraint not to start arguing over elfish welfare. She had to know her pleas would fall on deaf ears. Still, he knew Hermione well enough to realize she’d be unable to stay silent for long.
"I’m expected to prepare my own food?" Mrs. Malfoy asked incredulously, her pale blue eyes widening in disbelief.
"Only if you want to eat," Mrs. Weasley said, still smiling although her tone had turned frosty.
Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned, feeling this was one of the best birthday gifts he could have received. Still stung over the reminder of Kreacher’s betrayal, Harry didn’t think Mrs. Weasley was making the Malfoys’ stay nearly as unpleasant as it should be. Narcissa Malfoy had met her match in Molly Weasley, however, and Harry didn’t think the arrogant woman had any idea with whom she was dealing.
He glanced over at Fred and George, who were leaning back in their chairs sipping wine and swinging their heads back and forth as if watching a net ball tournament. Ginny was biting her lip to keep from laughing. No one said a word.
Narcissa was furious. She glared daggers at the entire party. Harry thought she would turn on her heel and storm from the kitchen, but her hunger must have overridden her pride. She grabbed a tray and slammed in into the sink, disdainfully wiping it off.
Walking stiffly towards the table with her head held high, Narcissa’s cold gaze roamed over the many delectable items, finally resting on the cake with the words Happy Birthday, Harry written on top.
Her ice blue eyes locked on Harry. "This is your birthday dinner," she said arrogantly. It wasn’t a question.
"It is," Harry said, smirking.
Narcissa put the tray back on the counter. "I’ve lost my appetite," she said, her gaze sweeping over the Weasleys and the other guests. "I’m surprised there are so many willing to get so close to you. The people who do have a nasty habit of ending up dead."
Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself not to flinch. His face must have paled, however, for Ginny immediately grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
She turned towards Narcissa and said, "While those nearest you have the nasty habit of ending up in prison."
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, but before she could retort Mrs. Weasley sharply said, "That’s enough."
Narcissa turned on her heel and left the room with her nose in the air.
Harry let a breath out through his nose.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, grinning.
“I can use some contacts at the Ministry to ensure the press is alerted to where you’re going to be when you want them there. I think Percy might also be able to help us with that endeavor,” Mr. Weasley said, smiling.
“Thank you,” Harry replied, his throat feeling suddenly tight.
They were interrupted when Ron came through the door, beaming and carrying his own Apparition license.
“Eyebrows and everything,” he said, grinning.
“Well done,” Harry said, clapping him on the back.
“Congratulations, son. I knew you had it in you,” Mr. Weasley said.
“Thanks, Dad,” Ron replied, his ears turning bright red.
The receptionist rose from her chair and opened a door to the right of her desk. “Congratulations to both of you. There is an Apparation point located right outside this door you can use,” she said, looking hopefully at Harry once again.
Mr. Weasley put an arm around each of the boys and began ushering them towards the door. Harry took a few steps before stopping.
“Isn’t there an Apparation point in the main lobby, Mr. Weasley?” he asked.
“Yes, there is,” the witch answered before Mr. Weasley could open his mouth. She appeared suddenly nervous and unsure of herself. “We have this separate location since our testees are usually so anxious to use their new license. Right through this door.”
She attempted to steer them through the exit, still smiling, but Harry detected a panicky look in her eyes.
“Thanks, but I think I’d like to take the walk,” he said, stopping despite the pressure of her hand on his shoulder.
She grabbed his arm, trying to halt his progress. “Mr. Potter…Harry, there really is no need-“
“Oh, but I think there is,” Harry said, pulling his arm free and leaving through the same door they’d arrived.
“What are you on about, Harry?” Ron asked, following him towards the lift.
Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly. “Boys, I need to get up to my office. I trust you can make it back on your own?”
“Yes, Mr. Weasley. We’re right as rain…and thank you,” Harry replied.
“Think nothing of it,” Mr. Weasley replied, heading in the opposite direction.
When Ron and Harry reached the main lobby there were a number of reporters still mulling around hoping to catch Harry’s exit. They spotted him almost instantly and began to move towards him. Harry raised his hand in the air, flashing his new license for all of them to see. Several flashbulbs snapped the pose.
“I did it,” he cried jubilantly, knowing there would no longer be any questions as to why he was there.
He and Ron shared a smile as they sprinted to the Apparation point and Disapparated in time to escape the questioning reporters.
***
When they returned to Grimmauld Place, after a long and very public walk through Diagon Alley, they found a birthday feast fit for a king awaiting them. They’d made several stops along the way, including a visit to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George had gifted Harry with his birthday present while they were there, claiming it was better opened away from Mrs. Weasley’s prying eyes.
Harry opened the package to reveal two bottles of Ogden’s Firewhiskey.
"Those are Everlasting Party bottles," Fred said.
"Guaranteed to last for the length of any single party," replied George.
"Or at least until you pass out," said Fred with a grin.
As they traveled along the busy street, they’d run into several classmates and had their photographs taken several times. All in all, Harry thought it was a very successful outing.
Upon their return, he was overwhelmed by the amount of food Mrs. Weasley had prepared. A knot of guilt twisted in his stomach over his planned deception, and he attempted to impress upon Mrs. Weasley how grateful he was for her kindness.
She brushed him off as if it was nothing, but Harry thought he saw a look of understanding in Mr. Weasley’s eyes.
"Mmm, roasted lamb," Ron said, sitting down and pulling a plate towards him.
"Never mind the food, Ron. How did you do?" Hermione asked, biting her lip anxiously.
"How’d I do with what?" Ron asked through a mouthful of potatoes.
Hermione was flabbergasted. "With what? With your test, of course. Honestly, Ron. Where have you been all this time?" Hermione asked.
"Oh. Passed," Ron said, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.
"I knew you could do it," Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.
Ron’s eyes flew open wide before a very self-satisfied smile crossed his face, causing Fred and George to snigger.
"And you, Harry? How did you do?" Ginny asked, sidling up next to him and taking the chair next to his.
"Got my license," Harry said, grinning.
"I knew you’d do it," she replied, leaning over and pecking him on the cheek. Harry felt his face burn.
"They did it despite Rufus Scrimgeour’s attempts to distract them," Mr. Weasley said, serving himself some of the dinner.
"What do you mean?" Remus Lupin asked, looking up in alarm.
"It was nothing," Harry said, shaking his head.
"What was nothing?" Remus asked.
"Scrimgeour had a bunch of reporters waiting to ambush Harry," Ron replied. "You know how he’s been after Harry to make appearances at the Ministry. He wanted them all to see him there. They tried to shoo us out after we finished our tests, too, but Harry wouldn’t let them do it. He strode right through the lobby flashing his new Apparation license so they’d all know why he was there. I’d love to see Scrimgeour’s face when he hears about it."
"He already did," Mr. Weasley said grimly.
"What happened?" Harry asked, alarmed by Mr. Weasley’s expression.
"He wasn’t happy. The evening edition of the Daily Prophet is already out and filled with your picture and several stories. Absolutely nothing about your support for the Ministry as he hoped, however. He sacked the witch who worked in reception at the testing center," Mr. Weasley replied.
Harry felt dreadful. He’d wanted to upset Scrimgeour’s plans, but he hadn’t meant to get the receptionist in trouble.
"Not your fault, Harry," Ginny said firmly, correctly reading his expression. "You can’t control what everyone else does. What you did was right, and you can’t help that Scrimgeour acted like a prat."
Mr. Weasley smiled fondly. "Although I won’t go so far as calling the Minister for Magic a prat," he said, his lips twitching, "Ginny’s right. It wasn’t your fault so don’t let him make you feel guilty."
"Enough of this," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning. "This is Harry’s birthday dinner. Let’s talk about something pleasant."
Harry remembered how upset she’d been the previous year when news of the war interrupted his birthday celebration. He knew she meant well, but she still wasn’t accepting the fact that he was part of this war, whether she liked it or not.
He was startled from his thoughts when Tonks entered the room looking pale and exhausted. Her mint green hair hung limply on her shoulders. "Sorry I’m late," she said, sinking wearily into the chair Remus had pulled out for her.
"You look terrible, Tonks," Mrs. Weasley said, alarmed.
"Rough day," Tonks replied with an attempt at a smile.
"Did they have you out at Azkaban again?" Remus asked, handing her a glass of wine and fixing her a plate of food.
Tonks nodded, sipping the wine gratefully. "That place is horrible."
"Azkaban?" Harry asked. "What are you doing at Azkaban?"
"The Ministry has had Aurors guarding the prisoners there since most of the Dementors fled," Tonks replied.
"Most of them?" Harry asked. "There are still some there?"
"A few of the older, more infirm ones," Tonks replied heavily. "Miserable creatures. I suspect some of the ones that stayed did so simply for the easy prey. They didn’t want to have to go and look for their own food. Doesn’t matter that there aren’t many left, however. The walls of Azkaban are nearly alive with their scent because they’ve been there so long. It’s a horrid place."
Mrs. Weasley shuddered. "I can’t believe they send you there. I remember when Arthur had to go out there once. It took him days to recover," she said tearfully.
Mr. Weasley comfortingly squeezed her hand. "Now, Molly. Someone has to guard the prisoners, don’t they? There really isn’t another option."
"I think the Ministry should consider building an entirely new prison, away from the effect the Dementors have had on Azkaban," Bill said. He and Fleur had recently returned from their honeymoon and both were tanned and appeared well-rested. "We could use charms to keep them incarcerated and house-elves to supply the food."
"Zat is what we do in France," Fleur said, staring at Bill adoringly. "Eet eez a much better way, I zink."
"Maybe after the war, something like that will be done here. Right now, all the Ministry’s resources are focused on You-Know-Who and the destruction he’s causing," Mr. Weasley said heavily.
The paper had reported new Dementor attacks almost daily while the Dark Mark had been seen more and more often in Muggle areas. During the past week, several buildings had caught fire in Birmingham and despite their
best efforts, Ministry officials had been unable to extinguish the flames.
"When we’re finished with dinner, I’ve made a treacle tart for pudding. That one is your favorite, isn’t it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, glaring at both Bill and Mr. Weasley.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. Despite wanting to hear more about what was happening at Azkaban, he couldn’t help but be pleased with the prospect of Mrs. Weasley’s treacle tart.
Conceding to Mrs. Weasley’s desire for a happier subject, the rest of the guests let talk of the war rest for the moment. The remainder of the dinner was spent pleasantly with laughter and the twins’ teasing of Ron about his first failed attempt at gaining an Apparation license.
All of them were so immersed in the festivities that no one noticed the kitchen door opening once again. Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the kitchen with a wary expression, carrying a stack of empty trays. She walked towards the sink and placed them next to it, glancing with distaste at the countertop.
"Narcissa," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "Would you care for something to eat?" Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley didn’t jump up to serve her as she usually did when someone entered the kitchen.
Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear. "I don’t believe it. She brought the trays down. She must be hungry; she hasn’t eaten all day."
Mrs. Malfoy appeared affronted by the invitation. "I’d prefer to take a tray upstairs," she said stiffly.
"Well, there’s plenty of food, and I see you’ve brought down some trays. You’ll just have to clean them up since there aren’t any clean ones left, and then you can help yourself," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. She turned towards her own dinner without a backward glance.
Mrs. Malfoy stood slack jawed, staring with revulsion at Mrs. Weasley. Her long, bony white fingers gripped a tray in shock. "Certainly, there are house-elves to do such things," she said, aghast.
Mrs. Weasley smiled and shook her head. "Oh, not since Kreacher left for Hogwarts. Not that he was ever much help anyway. No, we all have to pitch in with the chores around here if we want anything to get done."
"Malfoy Manor has a full staff of house-elves. Certainly it won’t cause any difficulties if I have one of them come to work here," Mrs. Malfoy said haughtily.
"No," Remus said harshly, sounding angry. "We discussed this when you arrived. You proved it yourself that a house-elf’s loyalty cannot be guaranteed."
Harry’s stomach clenched as Narcissa raised her nose in the air without apology.
Hermione folded her arms across her chest and scowled at the mention of the house-elves. Harry knew it was taking all her self-restraint not to start arguing over elfish welfare. She had to know her pleas would fall on deaf ears. Still, he knew Hermione well enough to realize she’d be unable to stay silent for long.
"I’m expected to prepare my own food?" Mrs. Malfoy asked incredulously, her pale blue eyes widening in disbelief.
"Only if you want to eat," Mrs. Weasley said, still smiling although her tone had turned frosty.
Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned, feeling this was one of the best birthday gifts he could have received. Still stung over the reminder of Kreacher’s betrayal, Harry didn’t think Mrs. Weasley was making the Malfoys’ stay nearly as unpleasant as it should be. Narcissa Malfoy had met her match in Molly Weasley, however, and Harry didn’t think the arrogant woman had any idea with whom she was dealing.
He glanced over at Fred and George, who were leaning back in their chairs sipping wine and swinging their heads back and forth as if watching a net ball tournament. Ginny was biting her lip to keep from laughing. No one said a word.
Narcissa was furious. She glared daggers at the entire party. Harry thought she would turn on her heel and storm from the kitchen, but her hunger must have overridden her pride. She grabbed a tray and slammed in into the sink, disdainfully wiping it off.
Walking stiffly towards the table with her head held high, Narcissa’s cold gaze roamed over the many delectable items, finally resting on the cake with the words Happy Birthday, Harry written on top.
Her ice blue eyes locked on Harry. "This is your birthday dinner," she said arrogantly. It wasn’t a question.
"It is," Harry said, smirking.
Narcissa put the tray back on the counter. "I’ve lost my appetite," she said, her gaze sweeping over the Weasleys and the other guests. "I’m surprised there are so many willing to get so close to you. The people who do have a nasty habit of ending up dead."
Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself not to flinch. His face must have paled, however, for Ginny immediately grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
She turned towards Narcissa and said, "While those nearest you have the nasty habit of ending up in prison."
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, but before she could retort Mrs. Weasley sharply said, "That’s enough."
Narcissa turned on her heel and left the room with her nose in the air.
Harry let a breath out through his nose.
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 140-143)
"And he needs to have something in his stomach to do well on his test," Mrs. Weasley said, moving over to the table and placing a few more slices of toast on Harry’s plate. "Harry, you look flushed, dear. Are you feeling all right?"
Mrs. Weasley put the back of her hand on Harry’s forehead to check if it was warm.
"I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry murmured, feeling anything but fine. He’d completely lost his appetite and felt as eager as Ron to leave the kitchen and the dangerously smirking twins.
"Don’t let the test worry you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, misinterpreting his unease. "I’m certain you’ll do fine. And even if you don’t, you can always take it again later."
"If Harry’s feeling peckish, Mum, I’m certain Ginny will be able to take care of him," Fred said with an evil grin. "She seems to know a lot about his needs these days."
Not wanting to hear anything more, Harry jumped from his chair and managed to spill his coffee all over the table in the process. Mrs. Weasley hurriedly grabbed a towel and began to sop up the mess.
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, flustered. This only caused Fred and George to laugh harder.
Ginny glared at her brothers. "Ignore them, Harry," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Good luck. You too, Ron."
"Yeah," Ron said, barely acknowledging any of them as he dragged Harry from the kitchen.
***
They had to use the visitor’s entrance when they arrived at the Ministry, causing Harry’s stomach to churn unpleasantly. Mr. Weasley placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze while they were inside the telephone box. Harry was grateful for the support but was even more appreciative of Mr. Weasley’s silence. He couldn’t bear right then to talk about what had happened the last time he’d been there. The memories were all too close to the surface.
When the telephone box sprang open, they stepped out and into the atrium. Harry had only a moment to notice that the fountain in the center of the room had been replaced before a throng of reporters rushed forward towards them.
"There he is," one of them shouted. "Mr. Potter, could you look this way."
Flashbulbs began going off in all directions while so many questions were fired at Harry that he couldn’t hear any of them.
Surprised, he remained motionless for a moment, staring blankly at the number of reporters. Mr. Weasley grabbed his arm and began pushing him
towards a glass doorway. Ron walked on his other side, attempting to shield him from view.
The doorway opened suddenly, and Percy Weasley stood motioning them inside. They sprinted through just as Percy slammed the door shut and sealed it with his wand. Harry could see the reporters banging on the glass while still shouting their questions and snapping pictures.
"This way," Percy said, leading them down a corridor and out of sight.
"What the devil was that all about?" Mr. Weasley asked, straightening his robes.
"That," Percy replied grimly, "was the Minister’s idea. He informed the press that you’d be arriving here this morning, Harry."
"Did he bother telling them I’m only here to get my Apparation license?" Harry asked, firing up at once.
"No. Although he never said you were meeting with him, he left the reason for your appearance very ambiguous," Percy replied, not meeting Harry’s eyes.
"What else aren’t you saying?" Harry asked instinctively.
"I was sent to get you away from the reporters and take you through security before you had time to answer any questions," Percy said, two bright spots of color appearing on his cheeks.
"You did what you had to do to keep your job," Harry said, waving his hand. "Besides, I didn’t really want to talk to those reporters, anyway."
Percy started for a moment, blinking behind his horn-rimmed spectacles. Finally, swallowing heavily, he said, "Thank you, Harry."
Harry again waved his hand in the air, "Bygones. We have more important worries at the moment."
"Still, I treated you very badly. I can see that now," Percy said, shifting uncomfortably. Harry could tell that apologizing was something Percy found very difficult to do.
"Percy, the best thing you can do now is to make things right with your family. These are dangerous times, and you don’t want to leave anything undone or unsaid until it’s too late. Take it from someone who knows," Harry said seriously.
Percy nodded gravely, his eyes shifted for a moment towards Ron who stood with his arms crossed across his chest and a scowl on his face.
"Your mother will be pleased to hear we spoke, Percy," Mr. Weasley said, his voice sounding slightly choked.
"I’ll visit her soon. You’d best head up to the testing center. They’re expecting you," he said before turning on his heel and hurrying down the corridor.
"I can’t believe you let him off that easily," Ron said, shaking his head.
"He’s your brother, Ron," Harry replied.
"All the more reason he shouldn’t have acted like such a git," Ron said, scowling. "It’ll take a bit more than that for me to forgive him."
Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley, expecting him to reprimand Ron. The older man didn’t, however, apparently accepting that Percy would have to mend his relationship with his siblings on his own.
"We’d best go upstairs," Mr. Weasley said brightly, pressing the button for the lift and wearing a wide grin that made him appear younger than he had in months.
When they reached the testing center, they found it empty except for a young witch who was sitting at the reception desk. She smiled engagingly and lowered her lashes, telling them to take a seat. They sat in comfortable chairs while the witch cast flirtatious smiles across the desk. Harry shifted uncomfortably while Ron perked up straightly in his chair. After several moments, the witch began to pout, sticking her heavily painted lip out dramatically. She obviously was seeking Harry’s attention, but he wasn’t heeding her advances.
Ron scowled when he realized the witch wasn’t paying any attention to him, and he began to fidget. His leg quickly bounced up and down as he shifted in his seat.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry finally hissed. “You’ll do fine. You’ve done it before.”
“I hate tests,” Ron hissed back.
Mr. Weasley sat with his face behind a magazine pretending not to pay attention, although Harry could see his body twitching with suppressed chuckles. Thankfully, Harry’s name was called first, and he followed the stern-looking witch down the corridor and away from the receptionist and Ron’s nerves.
He emerged twenty minutes later sporting a huge grin with his Apparation license in his hand.
“Well done,” Mr. Weasley said, patting him on the back. “Well done, indeed. Why don’t you have a seat while we wait for Ron?”
Harry had the distinct impression that Mr. Weasley had something particular that he wanted to discuss, and Harry’s stomach twisted with nerves.
“Now you’ve come of age, I imagine some things will change,” Mr. Weasley said a bit too casually, while picking at a stray thread on the sleeve of his robes.
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, resisting the urge to tug at his collar. His neck suddenly felt very hot and prickly.
“I’m aware that you were working on something with Albus before he died, and I can only assume you intend to finish what you’ve started,” Mr. Weasley said.
Harry forced himself not to fidget and to control his urge to blurt out everything. It was much harder to keep the truth from Mr. Weasley than it had been from Moody or Remus. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I really can’t-“
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything that you’re not comfortable in telling me, Harry. I do want you to know, however, that you can always come to me, or to anyone in the Order, for assistance if you feel you need it,” Mr. Weasley said solemnly. “You can come to me at any time, Harry.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, surprised. He knew that Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t like his involvement in anything to do with the Order, but he’d never considered the possibility that Mr. Weasley might see things differently, more objectively.
“I’m not promising that everyone in the Order will feel this way,” Mr. Weasley said, shifting his position. “I suspect there will be several people quite angry with you, actually. But I’ve watched you over the years as you’ve grown, Harry, and I know you are a more-than-capable wizard. You and Ron are adults now, and I can no longer expect to make decisions for you.”
“And Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked, fearing the answer. Harry dreaded her disapproval almost as much as he had Dumbledore’s.
“Molly will be angry, but I think you know that. You and Ron will always be her little boys. She doesn’t want to let go. She’s a strong witch, though; she’ll be all right. She loves you, Harry; she’ll forgive you,” Mr. Weasley replied, his expression softening.
Harry noticed that although Mr. Weasley suspected that Ron would be leaving with Harry, he had no idea about Ginny. He wondered if his feelings would change when his daughter disappeared, as well. Somehow, he suspected it was easier for Mr. Weasley to see his sons as men than it was to see Ginny as a woman.
“I hope so,” Harry replied earnestly.
“Might I suggest that you make a very public trip through Diagon Alley after you leave here?” Mr. Weasley asked cagily. His eyes gleamed slightly with mischief, reminding Harry of Fred and George.
“But...won’t that draw a lot of attention?” Harry asked, confused. The Order had always made such a point of keeping his movements secret and hidden.
“Precisely. And if every so often you’re seen publicly, those half-wits downstairs will be more than happy to report it. It would serve you
Mrs. Weasley put the back of her hand on Harry’s forehead to check if it was warm.
"I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry murmured, feeling anything but fine. He’d completely lost his appetite and felt as eager as Ron to leave the kitchen and the dangerously smirking twins.
"Don’t let the test worry you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, misinterpreting his unease. "I’m certain you’ll do fine. And even if you don’t, you can always take it again later."
"If Harry’s feeling peckish, Mum, I’m certain Ginny will be able to take care of him," Fred said with an evil grin. "She seems to know a lot about his needs these days."
Not wanting to hear anything more, Harry jumped from his chair and managed to spill his coffee all over the table in the process. Mrs. Weasley hurriedly grabbed a towel and began to sop up the mess.
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, flustered. This only caused Fred and George to laugh harder.
Ginny glared at her brothers. "Ignore them, Harry," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Good luck. You too, Ron."
"Yeah," Ron said, barely acknowledging any of them as he dragged Harry from the kitchen.
***
They had to use the visitor’s entrance when they arrived at the Ministry, causing Harry’s stomach to churn unpleasantly. Mr. Weasley placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze while they were inside the telephone box. Harry was grateful for the support but was even more appreciative of Mr. Weasley’s silence. He couldn’t bear right then to talk about what had happened the last time he’d been there. The memories were all too close to the surface.
When the telephone box sprang open, they stepped out and into the atrium. Harry had only a moment to notice that the fountain in the center of the room had been replaced before a throng of reporters rushed forward towards them.
"There he is," one of them shouted. "Mr. Potter, could you look this way."
Flashbulbs began going off in all directions while so many questions were fired at Harry that he couldn’t hear any of them.
Surprised, he remained motionless for a moment, staring blankly at the number of reporters. Mr. Weasley grabbed his arm and began pushing him
towards a glass doorway. Ron walked on his other side, attempting to shield him from view.
The doorway opened suddenly, and Percy Weasley stood motioning them inside. They sprinted through just as Percy slammed the door shut and sealed it with his wand. Harry could see the reporters banging on the glass while still shouting their questions and snapping pictures.
"This way," Percy said, leading them down a corridor and out of sight.
"What the devil was that all about?" Mr. Weasley asked, straightening his robes.
"That," Percy replied grimly, "was the Minister’s idea. He informed the press that you’d be arriving here this morning, Harry."
"Did he bother telling them I’m only here to get my Apparation license?" Harry asked, firing up at once.
"No. Although he never said you were meeting with him, he left the reason for your appearance very ambiguous," Percy replied, not meeting Harry’s eyes.
"What else aren’t you saying?" Harry asked instinctively.
"I was sent to get you away from the reporters and take you through security before you had time to answer any questions," Percy said, two bright spots of color appearing on his cheeks.
"You did what you had to do to keep your job," Harry said, waving his hand. "Besides, I didn’t really want to talk to those reporters, anyway."
Percy started for a moment, blinking behind his horn-rimmed spectacles. Finally, swallowing heavily, he said, "Thank you, Harry."
Harry again waved his hand in the air, "Bygones. We have more important worries at the moment."
"Still, I treated you very badly. I can see that now," Percy said, shifting uncomfortably. Harry could tell that apologizing was something Percy found very difficult to do.
"Percy, the best thing you can do now is to make things right with your family. These are dangerous times, and you don’t want to leave anything undone or unsaid until it’s too late. Take it from someone who knows," Harry said seriously.
Percy nodded gravely, his eyes shifted for a moment towards Ron who stood with his arms crossed across his chest and a scowl on his face.
"Your mother will be pleased to hear we spoke, Percy," Mr. Weasley said, his voice sounding slightly choked.
"I’ll visit her soon. You’d best head up to the testing center. They’re expecting you," he said before turning on his heel and hurrying down the corridor.
"I can’t believe you let him off that easily," Ron said, shaking his head.
"He’s your brother, Ron," Harry replied.
"All the more reason he shouldn’t have acted like such a git," Ron said, scowling. "It’ll take a bit more than that for me to forgive him."
Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley, expecting him to reprimand Ron. The older man didn’t, however, apparently accepting that Percy would have to mend his relationship with his siblings on his own.
"We’d best go upstairs," Mr. Weasley said brightly, pressing the button for the lift and wearing a wide grin that made him appear younger than he had in months.
When they reached the testing center, they found it empty except for a young witch who was sitting at the reception desk. She smiled engagingly and lowered her lashes, telling them to take a seat. They sat in comfortable chairs while the witch cast flirtatious smiles across the desk. Harry shifted uncomfortably while Ron perked up straightly in his chair. After several moments, the witch began to pout, sticking her heavily painted lip out dramatically. She obviously was seeking Harry’s attention, but he wasn’t heeding her advances.
Ron scowled when he realized the witch wasn’t paying any attention to him, and he began to fidget. His leg quickly bounced up and down as he shifted in his seat.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry finally hissed. “You’ll do fine. You’ve done it before.”
“I hate tests,” Ron hissed back.
Mr. Weasley sat with his face behind a magazine pretending not to pay attention, although Harry could see his body twitching with suppressed chuckles. Thankfully, Harry’s name was called first, and he followed the stern-looking witch down the corridor and away from the receptionist and Ron’s nerves.
He emerged twenty minutes later sporting a huge grin with his Apparation license in his hand.
“Well done,” Mr. Weasley said, patting him on the back. “Well done, indeed. Why don’t you have a seat while we wait for Ron?”
Harry had the distinct impression that Mr. Weasley had something particular that he wanted to discuss, and Harry’s stomach twisted with nerves.
“Now you’ve come of age, I imagine some things will change,” Mr. Weasley said a bit too casually, while picking at a stray thread on the sleeve of his robes.
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, resisting the urge to tug at his collar. His neck suddenly felt very hot and prickly.
“I’m aware that you were working on something with Albus before he died, and I can only assume you intend to finish what you’ve started,” Mr. Weasley said.
Harry forced himself not to fidget and to control his urge to blurt out everything. It was much harder to keep the truth from Mr. Weasley than it had been from Moody or Remus. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I really can’t-“
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything that you’re not comfortable in telling me, Harry. I do want you to know, however, that you can always come to me, or to anyone in the Order, for assistance if you feel you need it,” Mr. Weasley said solemnly. “You can come to me at any time, Harry.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, surprised. He knew that Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t like his involvement in anything to do with the Order, but he’d never considered the possibility that Mr. Weasley might see things differently, more objectively.
“I’m not promising that everyone in the Order will feel this way,” Mr. Weasley said, shifting his position. “I suspect there will be several people quite angry with you, actually. But I’ve watched you over the years as you’ve grown, Harry, and I know you are a more-than-capable wizard. You and Ron are adults now, and I can no longer expect to make decisions for you.”
“And Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked, fearing the answer. Harry dreaded her disapproval almost as much as he had Dumbledore’s.
“Molly will be angry, but I think you know that. You and Ron will always be her little boys. She doesn’t want to let go. She’s a strong witch, though; she’ll be all right. She loves you, Harry; she’ll forgive you,” Mr. Weasley replied, his expression softening.
Harry noticed that although Mr. Weasley suspected that Ron would be leaving with Harry, he had no idea about Ginny. He wondered if his feelings would change when his daughter disappeared, as well. Somehow, he suspected it was easier for Mr. Weasley to see his sons as men than it was to see Ginny as a woman.
“I hope so,” Harry replied earnestly.
“Might I suggest that you make a very public trip through Diagon Alley after you leave here?” Mr. Weasley asked cagily. His eyes gleamed slightly with mischief, reminding Harry of Fred and George.
“But...won’t that draw a lot of attention?” Harry asked, confused. The Order had always made such a point of keeping his movements secret and hidden.
“Precisely. And if every so often you’re seen publicly, those half-wits downstairs will be more than happy to report it. It would serve you
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 132-139)
"Dumbledore was a fool, and his fondness for the boy was one of his greatest weaknesses. I don’t want any of you to concern yourself with Potter. Leave him to me. I have very specific plans for the boy. He needs to learn what it means to defy me, but he is by no means a threat to our plans," Voldemort said.
Snape looked as if he would argue, but lowered his head and backed away. "Yes, Master."
"Have any of you incompetent fools learned how it was that the blood traitors managed to repel the Dementors from the wedding reception?" Voldemort asked in a low voice.
"Potter and the eldest Weasley, the one I marked as one of my den, managed to strengthen the wards, my Lord," Fenrir Greyback said.
"I see," Voldemort hissed. "I expect, Fenrir, that you will want to be the one to see that this Weasley is punished?"
"Yes, my Lord. I’ve marked him, and I am certain he is now feeling the frustration over how the Ministry regards our kind. He’ll be ripe to turn to our side once I make him a full werewolf," Greyback said, grinning maniacally.
"Excellent. What of our missing Malfoys? Have they been apprehended?" Voldemort asked.
The Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.
"I asked a question, and I expect an answer," Voldemort said without raising his voice. Still, the threat in his tone was unmistakable.
"No, my Lord. They appear to have vanished," said a woman’s voice.
"How is this possible?" Voldemort asked.
Again, he was met with silence.
"Answer me," he bellowed, green sparks flashing from his wand.
"They could not have done it without aid," Bellatrix replied, still huddled on the floor. She gasped in pain as she rose on her knees. "My sister doesn’t have any contacts who would aid her against you, my Lord. An acquaintance of Draco’s must be offering them sanctuary."
Snape’s face remained impassive.
"I want them found and brought before me, along with whomever it was who facilitated their escape. Whichever of you finds them will, of course, earn my favor and a small measure of my gratitude," Voldemort said.
"What about Wormtail?’ Bellatrix asked. "He’s not here. Perhaps he allowed my sister to escape."
"Wormtail lacks the courage to do anything so bold. I am aware of his location, as I am aware of each of your assignments. Never forget that, Bella," he said menacingly.
"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said, wincing.
"You all have your orders; don’t disappoint me again. I will be far less gracious the next time we meet if you again have nothing to report but utter failure," he said, his cold, snakelike gaze raking over all of them. "Severus, please remain behind. I have something I need to discuss."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, bowing stiffly.
The remaining Death Eaters Disapparated as quickly as they could, eager both to do their master’s bidding and to be away from his wrath.
"It has been over a month since Albus Dumbledore’s death, Severus, and there has not been a single sign of movement towards any of my Horcruxes. I believe you were mistaken that Dumbledore would have made someone else aware of what he was doing," Voldemort said, his voice a low hiss.
Snape bowed his head and moved slowly toward the desk. "Of course you may be right, Master. However, I feel I knew the Headmaster very well after rendering my services to him for so very long. He always had contingency plans."
"Yet you’ve said that you’d lost some of his trust towards the end. You said you thought he was keeping something from you," Voldemort replied, his scarlet eyes narrowing into slits.
"Yes," Snape said, shifting uncomfortably. "He didn’t feel I was doing enough to learn what the Malfoy boy was planning. I was unable to reveal what I knew and without Draco’s cooperation, the stories I fabricated were proven false. As you know, Dumbledore always believed everyone could be saved. He’d hoped that I could offer the boy the chance to reform."
"Yes. His compassion was one of his greatest faults. He could never understand that there are those of us who never wanted to be saved," Voldemort said, a hideous smile twisting his face.
Snape grimaced as if swallowing something slimy and unpleasant. "He also refused to reveal what he was discussing with Potter on their many evenings together."
Voldemort waved his hand carelessly. "You said you’d ensured that Potter was unable to learn Occlumency the previous year. Perhaps Dumbledore attempted to teach the boy himself and caught on to your deceit."
Snape bristled, an ugly sneer crossing his sallow features. "The boy is incapable of using the simplest of techniques. Saying he was unable to learn was not far from the truth."
"Still, Dumbledore was fond of the boy," Voldemort said, apparently amused by Snape’s naked hatred of Harry.
"Yes," Snape replied through gritted teeth. "He was so fond of him that he often allowed the boy to interfere in matters that should have been left to those more capable. I fear that Potter might actually be the one Dumbledore confided in about the Horcruxes. The boy’s ego is certainly large enough that he would believe it was something he could handle."
"Ridiculous. Dumbledore always had a weakness for his favorites, but he would never share the information that could destroy me with a sixteen-year-old boy. Be careful, Severus, your jealousy is showing," Voldemort said, amused.
Snape cocked his head slightly. "If I may respectfully point out, my Lord, you assigned a sixteen-year-old a similar task."
Voldemort’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed again. "I assigned the Malfoy boy his job as a punishment to his father. I knew he’d be unable to complete his task, and I was right. It was you, Severus, who destroyed my enemy. I never expected the Malfoy boy to survive. Dumbledore was far too noble to ever willingly place anyone he considered a child in such danger. His love for the Potter boy would never have allowed it."
Snape scowled. "My Lord-"
"Enough! I do not want to hear any more of this, Severus. I have plans for Harry Potter. I believe the prophecy referred to him as a threat because he is a Horcrux, not because he is anything special on his own. Once I realized what had happened, it became clear to me. I can handle Harry Potter. He is no longer a threat to me. My plans to dismantle the Ministry can now begin. There is no one who can stop me," Voldemort said, his eyes glowing.
"Yes, Master," Snape replied, an uneasy frown upon his face. It was no secret that Snape believed that Harry’s reputation was highly overrated, but he also had to know that it wasn’t wise to underestimate the boy. He had a nasty habit of being in the right place at the right time.
Chapter Nine
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?
Harry awoke early on the morning of his birthday after a night mercifully unmarred by dreams. Lying in bed and luxuriating in the feel of the warm sunlight streaming though a crack in the curtains, he breathed deeply.
He was finally of age, finally a man.
The Dursleys briefly crossed his mind. The magic his mother invoked by giving her life for his would have ended at midnight. He wondered idly what that would mean for the Dursleys, if anything. He knew the Order was still keeping an eye on Privet Drive, and he also knew the Dursleys
would never accept an offer to go into hiding. As far as they were concerned, they were done with him and his world. For their sake, Harry hoped that was true.
He suspected that before they had departed, Ron and Hermione had done something to let the Dursleys know they were unhappy with the treatment Harry had received through the years. He purposefully hadn’t asked them, however. If he didn’t know what they’d done, there was no way he could feel guilty about it. Besides, it wasn’t as if the Dursleys didn’t deserve a bit of torment, anyway.
Shaking his head, he tried to steer his thoughts away from his relatives. He never had to go back, and that felt good. He had a busy day ahead, and tomorrow…tomorrow his adventure would begin. Remus had supplied him with a magical tent, and it was now tucked away inside his rucksack. The four teens had packed lightly, uncertain how long they would be gone and not wanting to have to lug heavy bags with them.
He and Ron had an appointment at the Ministry at nine o’clock to take their Apparation tests. Mr. Weasley had agreed to accompany them to the testing center on his way to work. Harry was looking forward to it, although slightly apprehensive that Rufus Scrimgeour would try to take advantage of his appearance at the Ministry.
Harry glanced over at Ron’s bed and was surprised to find it empty. It was a rare occasion that Ron was up before Harry. He knew that Ron was feeling extremely nervous about the test, and he hoped that his friend wouldn’t let his nerves unhinge him. They had to be able to Apparate once they began their quest. Harry was nervous about the fact that Ginny would have to SideAlong for another year before she was of age, although she’d hinted at the fact that she already knew how to do it.
His door opened with a creak, startling him, and he squinted his unfocused eyes at the blur of red streaking towards him.
"Good morning, Harry! Happy Birthday," Ginny squealed, kissing him soundly as she sat on the edge of his bed.
Harry grinned widely, feeling inexplicably giddy all of a sudden. "Thanks, Ginny. I’d have turned seventeen sooner if I’d known I’d get a greeting like that," he said, smiling cheekily.
Ginny grinned and gently ran her hand along the side of his face. "Mum’s making an enormous birthday breakfast, so I hope you’re hungry."
"I am," he said, turning to kiss her hand. "I hope this test goes all right for both of us. I’ll be happy when it’s done and over with. Where is Ron? Have you seen him?"
"He’s in the kitchen. Mum’s trying to coax him to eat something, but he looks really nervous. When will the prat ever learn that he only mucks it up because he convinces himself that he’s going to do so?" she asked in exasperation.
"I know," Harry said, grimacing. "He’s not a prat though; he’s just nervous."
"He’s a prat," Ginny said firmly. "Everything is all set to go tomorrow. I hope Mum won’t be too upset."
"I know," Harry replied worriedly. He really didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Weasley, but he also knew that she’d never allow them to leave without knowing where they were going. Even if they’d come up with a plausible excuse, she’d most likely resist the idea of their leaving the safety of headquarters.
Hermione’s mum had found the name and address of the orphanage fairly quickly. Luckily, it was still open and hadn’t been torn down or converted into anything else. Its location wasn’t all that far from the Leaky Cauldron, although they’d decided it was safer to avoid the pub and travel as Muggles.
They planned to sneak out of Grimmauld Place at dawn, before the rest of the household had arisen. He was certain that they’d have to deal with the fallout upon their return, but he hoped by then to have one more Horcrux recovered. It would put him on firmer ground while holding off the Order.
"Hopefully, this little battle of wills she’s been having with Narcissa Malfoy will keep her occupied so she won’t fret too much," Ginny said, biting her lip.
Narcissa Malfoy had yet to make an appearance since they’d all arrived at Grimmauld Place. She’d remained sequestered in her rooms, requesting that meals be sent up to her. Mrs. Weasley had prepared the trays nicely enough, but she’d refused to deliver them to her, forcing Narcissa to either get them herself or have someone else do it. Mrs. Malfoy had also refused to return any of the trays to the kitchen after using them, and Mrs. Weasley was determined not to collect the growing pile that stood in the hallway. She wanted Mrs. Malfoy to return and clean them herself.
"I’ll be sorry to miss that row when it happens," Harry said, grinning.
"Yeah. I’ve noticed Fred and George have been hanging around a lot recently. I think they’re just hoping to be here when everything blows," Ginny replied.
"I hope your mum and dad won’t be too angry with me when they realize we’ve left," Harry said. "They’ve done a lot for me." Although he didn’t say it, the idea of the Weasleys’ disapproval troubled him greatly. They meant a lot to him.
"Don’t fret now, Harry. We’ll deal with things as they come, together. Actually, I think Dad might suspect we’re up to something. He’s not as unaware of what’s happening around him as he sometimes appears," Ginny said, smiling fondly. "He’ll help with Mum. He’s not having as hard a time admitting we’ve all grown up as she is."
Harry wondered if that were true for Ginny as well as her brothers. Somehow, he suspected that Mr. Weasley might have a much harder time accepting the idea that his little girl had grown up enough to run off with a boy in order to face an insane Dark wizard and a bunch of Death Eaters than the fact that one of his sons had done it.
When Harry remained silent, she reached out and gently caressed the side of his face. He leaned his head into her palm, relishing the comfort.
"How are you doing?" she asked, her expression grave. He knew at once exactly what she meant.
None of them had discussed the Seventh Horcrux with him since his startling revelation. It was as if the subject had become taboo, and they all tiptoed around it carefully while discussing anything to do with the search. On several occasions, he’d discovered Ginny, Ron and Hermione with their heads huddled together and whispering frantically, although they always broke apart when he’d entered the room.
He suspected they’d spent a lot of time discussing him and seeking a possible escape from his situation. The fact none of them had approached him didn’t bode well, and Harry didn’t have the heart to ask. He was only holding it all together by moving forward and keeping his eye on the prize.
One Horcrux at a time had become his mantra.
"I’m okay," he whispered, shrugging. "Have to be, don’t I?"
"Not with me," she whispered gently. "I promised myself to be the one to prop you back up if you falter. You might be determined to save the wizarding world, but I’m determined to save you."
A lump rose in Harry’s throat as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Speaking into her shoulder he said, "That might not be possible, Ginny."
Ginny’s grip tightened around him. "It is possible. Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve. I’ve told you that before, don’t you remember?"
"Yeah, I remember," Harry said, smiling. "You came to my rescue then, too."
"That’s me, Ginny Weasley: hero rescuer," she said, still clutching him tightly. He could feel rather than see her grin.
"I’m no hero," he said gruffly. "I don’t even know what I’m doing."
"It’ll be all right, Harry. I know it seems insurmountable when you look at what we’ve got to do as a whole, but if we take it a little at a time, sooner or later the puzzle pieces will come together and everything will fit," Ginny said. He couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded confident, and it soothed him.
"You make me feel like I can do anything," he whispered.
"You can."
"I saw my mum and dad’s graves when I was in Godric’s Hollow," he said. He’d left that part of the story out when he’d told them all about
Wormtail. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly had the urge to talk about it with her.
"That must have been hard for you," she said, running her fingers through his hair.
Harry shrugged, enjoying the sensation her fingers were creating. "It was strange. I’ve always wondered about them, but I thought when I finally saw their resting place that I’d feel some sort of connection to them or something. I dunno. It’s stupid really."
"It isn’t stupid, Harry."
"It was hard to be there; it made me think of how different things should have been, but I didn’t feel like they were there. I didn’t feel any different about them then I always had. Does that make any sense?" Harry asked.
"I suppose," Ginny said carefully, "that maybe it’s not the place where they are buried that connects us to the people we’ve lost, but the feelings we have inside for them. I’ve never lost anyone really close to me, so it’s not like I know what I’m talking about, but Mum lost a couple of her brothers in the last war. I never knew them because they died before I was born, but I know she still talks to them sometimes, particularly when she’s feeling stressed. Fred and George were named for them, well, their initials anyway.
"I don’t remember Mum ever going to their graves, but it doesn’t mean she loved them any less. Maybe some people need a grave as a place to grieve and others don’t. You never had a gravesite to go to, right? You’ve always just known they died, so you’ve found other ways to feel connected to them."
"I suppose," Harry said, burrowing his face into her hair and smelling that sweet floral scent he loved so much. Until he was eleven, he’d believed his parents had died in a car accident. He could remember lying in his cupboard and having imaginary conversations with them. He’d never considered that it was a form of grieving.
"So, what do you want to do for your birthday?" Ginny asked, and he knew she was trying to cheer him up. Feeling in the mood to actually celebrate his birthday for a change, he let her.
"I know exactly what I want to do," he said, nibbling on her ear, "but I think your mum might object if we spend the day up here — not to mention your army of brothers."
Ginny giggled, moving her head to give him better access to her neck. She moaned softly as he continued to plant kisses along the slender column of her throat, and he thought the sound might drive him mad.
Harry had just managed to relax and begin to enjoy himself when he heard Mrs. Weasley hollering to them that breakfast was ready. Harry and Ginny broke apart reluctantly, both panting and looking rather rumpled.
"Well," Ginny said, standing up and straightening her clothing. "It’s nice to see that my mum’s timing is as impeccable as always."
"Yeah," Harry replied grumpily, attempting unsuccessfully to flatten his extremely mussed up hair. "It’s just brilliant."
"Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to continue our activities once we’re out from under her eye," Ginny said with an impish wink. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turned and left the room, leaving a gaping Harry to follow in her wake. Her words had sent his mind into overdrive, and he was suddenly very keen to begin their quest for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Horcruxes.
When they entered the kitchen, they found it already crowded. Everyone turned to stare, causing both of them to blush brightly. Harry was surprised to see Ginny coloring; she was usually better at not letting her family get to her than he was.
"Appears as if our birthday boy might have already received one of his presents," Fred said innocently.
Harry felt heat flame in his face and neck and knew that he’d turned even redder, if that were possible.
"Shut it, you," Ginny said in a low voice, piling a scoop of scrambled eggs onto a plate. She handed the plate to Harry and filled another for herself.
"Yes, Ginny," George said, grinning mischievously. "What took you so long? Was it hard to get Harry to rise this morning?"
Harry choked on his eggs, looking around wildly to make certain Mrs. Weasley was still busy at the stove and hadn’t overheard their conversation.
Ginny appeared to have regained her composure. She casually cast her eyes downward at Harry and muttered, "Not really."
Fred and George sat motionless except for their eyes, which darted back and forth between Harry and Ginny. They wore identical stunned expressions before both broke out in hearty laughter.
Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He was certain any one of her many brothers was about to curse him from existence. He was glad he’d at least come of age, so he could defend himself when they chose to attack. He glanced warily at Ron only to find that his friend wasn’t even paying attention to them. He was pushing food around on his plate and glancing at his watch every few seconds. Ron was impatient to leave.
Sensing Harry’s stare, Ron looked up. "Get moving, Harry. You don’t have time to eat. Dad’s ready to take us to the Ministry; he just went to grab his cloak."
"Ron," Ginny said, grabbing Harry’s arm as he went to stand. "This is his birthday breakfast; he should get to enjoy some of it."
Snape looked as if he would argue, but lowered his head and backed away. "Yes, Master."
"Have any of you incompetent fools learned how it was that the blood traitors managed to repel the Dementors from the wedding reception?" Voldemort asked in a low voice.
"Potter and the eldest Weasley, the one I marked as one of my den, managed to strengthen the wards, my Lord," Fenrir Greyback said.
"I see," Voldemort hissed. "I expect, Fenrir, that you will want to be the one to see that this Weasley is punished?"
"Yes, my Lord. I’ve marked him, and I am certain he is now feeling the frustration over how the Ministry regards our kind. He’ll be ripe to turn to our side once I make him a full werewolf," Greyback said, grinning maniacally.
"Excellent. What of our missing Malfoys? Have they been apprehended?" Voldemort asked.
The Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.
"I asked a question, and I expect an answer," Voldemort said without raising his voice. Still, the threat in his tone was unmistakable.
"No, my Lord. They appear to have vanished," said a woman’s voice.
"How is this possible?" Voldemort asked.
Again, he was met with silence.
"Answer me," he bellowed, green sparks flashing from his wand.
"They could not have done it without aid," Bellatrix replied, still huddled on the floor. She gasped in pain as she rose on her knees. "My sister doesn’t have any contacts who would aid her against you, my Lord. An acquaintance of Draco’s must be offering them sanctuary."
Snape’s face remained impassive.
"I want them found and brought before me, along with whomever it was who facilitated their escape. Whichever of you finds them will, of course, earn my favor and a small measure of my gratitude," Voldemort said.
"What about Wormtail?’ Bellatrix asked. "He’s not here. Perhaps he allowed my sister to escape."
"Wormtail lacks the courage to do anything so bold. I am aware of his location, as I am aware of each of your assignments. Never forget that, Bella," he said menacingly.
"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said, wincing.
"You all have your orders; don’t disappoint me again. I will be far less gracious the next time we meet if you again have nothing to report but utter failure," he said, his cold, snakelike gaze raking over all of them. "Severus, please remain behind. I have something I need to discuss."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, bowing stiffly.
The remaining Death Eaters Disapparated as quickly as they could, eager both to do their master’s bidding and to be away from his wrath.
"It has been over a month since Albus Dumbledore’s death, Severus, and there has not been a single sign of movement towards any of my Horcruxes. I believe you were mistaken that Dumbledore would have made someone else aware of what he was doing," Voldemort said, his voice a low hiss.
Snape bowed his head and moved slowly toward the desk. "Of course you may be right, Master. However, I feel I knew the Headmaster very well after rendering my services to him for so very long. He always had contingency plans."
"Yet you’ve said that you’d lost some of his trust towards the end. You said you thought he was keeping something from you," Voldemort replied, his scarlet eyes narrowing into slits.
"Yes," Snape said, shifting uncomfortably. "He didn’t feel I was doing enough to learn what the Malfoy boy was planning. I was unable to reveal what I knew and without Draco’s cooperation, the stories I fabricated were proven false. As you know, Dumbledore always believed everyone could be saved. He’d hoped that I could offer the boy the chance to reform."
"Yes. His compassion was one of his greatest faults. He could never understand that there are those of us who never wanted to be saved," Voldemort said, a hideous smile twisting his face.
Snape grimaced as if swallowing something slimy and unpleasant. "He also refused to reveal what he was discussing with Potter on their many evenings together."
Voldemort waved his hand carelessly. "You said you’d ensured that Potter was unable to learn Occlumency the previous year. Perhaps Dumbledore attempted to teach the boy himself and caught on to your deceit."
Snape bristled, an ugly sneer crossing his sallow features. "The boy is incapable of using the simplest of techniques. Saying he was unable to learn was not far from the truth."
"Still, Dumbledore was fond of the boy," Voldemort said, apparently amused by Snape’s naked hatred of Harry.
"Yes," Snape replied through gritted teeth. "He was so fond of him that he often allowed the boy to interfere in matters that should have been left to those more capable. I fear that Potter might actually be the one Dumbledore confided in about the Horcruxes. The boy’s ego is certainly large enough that he would believe it was something he could handle."
"Ridiculous. Dumbledore always had a weakness for his favorites, but he would never share the information that could destroy me with a sixteen-year-old boy. Be careful, Severus, your jealousy is showing," Voldemort said, amused.
Snape cocked his head slightly. "If I may respectfully point out, my Lord, you assigned a sixteen-year-old a similar task."
Voldemort’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed again. "I assigned the Malfoy boy his job as a punishment to his father. I knew he’d be unable to complete his task, and I was right. It was you, Severus, who destroyed my enemy. I never expected the Malfoy boy to survive. Dumbledore was far too noble to ever willingly place anyone he considered a child in such danger. His love for the Potter boy would never have allowed it."
Snape scowled. "My Lord-"
"Enough! I do not want to hear any more of this, Severus. I have plans for Harry Potter. I believe the prophecy referred to him as a threat because he is a Horcrux, not because he is anything special on his own. Once I realized what had happened, it became clear to me. I can handle Harry Potter. He is no longer a threat to me. My plans to dismantle the Ministry can now begin. There is no one who can stop me," Voldemort said, his eyes glowing.
"Yes, Master," Snape replied, an uneasy frown upon his face. It was no secret that Snape believed that Harry’s reputation was highly overrated, but he also had to know that it wasn’t wise to underestimate the boy. He had a nasty habit of being in the right place at the right time.
Chapter Nine
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?
Harry awoke early on the morning of his birthday after a night mercifully unmarred by dreams. Lying in bed and luxuriating in the feel of the warm sunlight streaming though a crack in the curtains, he breathed deeply.
He was finally of age, finally a man.
The Dursleys briefly crossed his mind. The magic his mother invoked by giving her life for his would have ended at midnight. He wondered idly what that would mean for the Dursleys, if anything. He knew the Order was still keeping an eye on Privet Drive, and he also knew the Dursleys
would never accept an offer to go into hiding. As far as they were concerned, they were done with him and his world. For their sake, Harry hoped that was true.
He suspected that before they had departed, Ron and Hermione had done something to let the Dursleys know they were unhappy with the treatment Harry had received through the years. He purposefully hadn’t asked them, however. If he didn’t know what they’d done, there was no way he could feel guilty about it. Besides, it wasn’t as if the Dursleys didn’t deserve a bit of torment, anyway.
Shaking his head, he tried to steer his thoughts away from his relatives. He never had to go back, and that felt good. He had a busy day ahead, and tomorrow…tomorrow his adventure would begin. Remus had supplied him with a magical tent, and it was now tucked away inside his rucksack. The four teens had packed lightly, uncertain how long they would be gone and not wanting to have to lug heavy bags with them.
He and Ron had an appointment at the Ministry at nine o’clock to take their Apparation tests. Mr. Weasley had agreed to accompany them to the testing center on his way to work. Harry was looking forward to it, although slightly apprehensive that Rufus Scrimgeour would try to take advantage of his appearance at the Ministry.
Harry glanced over at Ron’s bed and was surprised to find it empty. It was a rare occasion that Ron was up before Harry. He knew that Ron was feeling extremely nervous about the test, and he hoped that his friend wouldn’t let his nerves unhinge him. They had to be able to Apparate once they began their quest. Harry was nervous about the fact that Ginny would have to SideAlong for another year before she was of age, although she’d hinted at the fact that she already knew how to do it.
His door opened with a creak, startling him, and he squinted his unfocused eyes at the blur of red streaking towards him.
"Good morning, Harry! Happy Birthday," Ginny squealed, kissing him soundly as she sat on the edge of his bed.
Harry grinned widely, feeling inexplicably giddy all of a sudden. "Thanks, Ginny. I’d have turned seventeen sooner if I’d known I’d get a greeting like that," he said, smiling cheekily.
Ginny grinned and gently ran her hand along the side of his face. "Mum’s making an enormous birthday breakfast, so I hope you’re hungry."
"I am," he said, turning to kiss her hand. "I hope this test goes all right for both of us. I’ll be happy when it’s done and over with. Where is Ron? Have you seen him?"
"He’s in the kitchen. Mum’s trying to coax him to eat something, but he looks really nervous. When will the prat ever learn that he only mucks it up because he convinces himself that he’s going to do so?" she asked in exasperation.
"I know," Harry said, grimacing. "He’s not a prat though; he’s just nervous."
"He’s a prat," Ginny said firmly. "Everything is all set to go tomorrow. I hope Mum won’t be too upset."
"I know," Harry replied worriedly. He really didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Weasley, but he also knew that she’d never allow them to leave without knowing where they were going. Even if they’d come up with a plausible excuse, she’d most likely resist the idea of their leaving the safety of headquarters.
Hermione’s mum had found the name and address of the orphanage fairly quickly. Luckily, it was still open and hadn’t been torn down or converted into anything else. Its location wasn’t all that far from the Leaky Cauldron, although they’d decided it was safer to avoid the pub and travel as Muggles.
They planned to sneak out of Grimmauld Place at dawn, before the rest of the household had arisen. He was certain that they’d have to deal with the fallout upon their return, but he hoped by then to have one more Horcrux recovered. It would put him on firmer ground while holding off the Order.
"Hopefully, this little battle of wills she’s been having with Narcissa Malfoy will keep her occupied so she won’t fret too much," Ginny said, biting her lip.
Narcissa Malfoy had yet to make an appearance since they’d all arrived at Grimmauld Place. She’d remained sequestered in her rooms, requesting that meals be sent up to her. Mrs. Weasley had prepared the trays nicely enough, but she’d refused to deliver them to her, forcing Narcissa to either get them herself or have someone else do it. Mrs. Malfoy had also refused to return any of the trays to the kitchen after using them, and Mrs. Weasley was determined not to collect the growing pile that stood in the hallway. She wanted Mrs. Malfoy to return and clean them herself.
"I’ll be sorry to miss that row when it happens," Harry said, grinning.
"Yeah. I’ve noticed Fred and George have been hanging around a lot recently. I think they’re just hoping to be here when everything blows," Ginny replied.
"I hope your mum and dad won’t be too angry with me when they realize we’ve left," Harry said. "They’ve done a lot for me." Although he didn’t say it, the idea of the Weasleys’ disapproval troubled him greatly. They meant a lot to him.
"Don’t fret now, Harry. We’ll deal with things as they come, together. Actually, I think Dad might suspect we’re up to something. He’s not as unaware of what’s happening around him as he sometimes appears," Ginny said, smiling fondly. "He’ll help with Mum. He’s not having as hard a time admitting we’ve all grown up as she is."
Harry wondered if that were true for Ginny as well as her brothers. Somehow, he suspected that Mr. Weasley might have a much harder time accepting the idea that his little girl had grown up enough to run off with a boy in order to face an insane Dark wizard and a bunch of Death Eaters than the fact that one of his sons had done it.
When Harry remained silent, she reached out and gently caressed the side of his face. He leaned his head into her palm, relishing the comfort.
"How are you doing?" she asked, her expression grave. He knew at once exactly what she meant.
None of them had discussed the Seventh Horcrux with him since his startling revelation. It was as if the subject had become taboo, and they all tiptoed around it carefully while discussing anything to do with the search. On several occasions, he’d discovered Ginny, Ron and Hermione with their heads huddled together and whispering frantically, although they always broke apart when he’d entered the room.
He suspected they’d spent a lot of time discussing him and seeking a possible escape from his situation. The fact none of them had approached him didn’t bode well, and Harry didn’t have the heart to ask. He was only holding it all together by moving forward and keeping his eye on the prize.
One Horcrux at a time had become his mantra.
"I’m okay," he whispered, shrugging. "Have to be, don’t I?"
"Not with me," she whispered gently. "I promised myself to be the one to prop you back up if you falter. You might be determined to save the wizarding world, but I’m determined to save you."
A lump rose in Harry’s throat as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Speaking into her shoulder he said, "That might not be possible, Ginny."
Ginny’s grip tightened around him. "It is possible. Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve. I’ve told you that before, don’t you remember?"
"Yeah, I remember," Harry said, smiling. "You came to my rescue then, too."
"That’s me, Ginny Weasley: hero rescuer," she said, still clutching him tightly. He could feel rather than see her grin.
"I’m no hero," he said gruffly. "I don’t even know what I’m doing."
"It’ll be all right, Harry. I know it seems insurmountable when you look at what we’ve got to do as a whole, but if we take it a little at a time, sooner or later the puzzle pieces will come together and everything will fit," Ginny said. He couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded confident, and it soothed him.
"You make me feel like I can do anything," he whispered.
"You can."
"I saw my mum and dad’s graves when I was in Godric’s Hollow," he said. He’d left that part of the story out when he’d told them all about
Wormtail. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly had the urge to talk about it with her.
"That must have been hard for you," she said, running her fingers through his hair.
Harry shrugged, enjoying the sensation her fingers were creating. "It was strange. I’ve always wondered about them, but I thought when I finally saw their resting place that I’d feel some sort of connection to them or something. I dunno. It’s stupid really."
"It isn’t stupid, Harry."
"It was hard to be there; it made me think of how different things should have been, but I didn’t feel like they were there. I didn’t feel any different about them then I always had. Does that make any sense?" Harry asked.
"I suppose," Ginny said carefully, "that maybe it’s not the place where they are buried that connects us to the people we’ve lost, but the feelings we have inside for them. I’ve never lost anyone really close to me, so it’s not like I know what I’m talking about, but Mum lost a couple of her brothers in the last war. I never knew them because they died before I was born, but I know she still talks to them sometimes, particularly when she’s feeling stressed. Fred and George were named for them, well, their initials anyway.
"I don’t remember Mum ever going to their graves, but it doesn’t mean she loved them any less. Maybe some people need a grave as a place to grieve and others don’t. You never had a gravesite to go to, right? You’ve always just known they died, so you’ve found other ways to feel connected to them."
"I suppose," Harry said, burrowing his face into her hair and smelling that sweet floral scent he loved so much. Until he was eleven, he’d believed his parents had died in a car accident. He could remember lying in his cupboard and having imaginary conversations with them. He’d never considered that it was a form of grieving.
"So, what do you want to do for your birthday?" Ginny asked, and he knew she was trying to cheer him up. Feeling in the mood to actually celebrate his birthday for a change, he let her.
"I know exactly what I want to do," he said, nibbling on her ear, "but I think your mum might object if we spend the day up here — not to mention your army of brothers."
Ginny giggled, moving her head to give him better access to her neck. She moaned softly as he continued to plant kisses along the slender column of her throat, and he thought the sound might drive him mad.
Harry had just managed to relax and begin to enjoy himself when he heard Mrs. Weasley hollering to them that breakfast was ready. Harry and Ginny broke apart reluctantly, both panting and looking rather rumpled.
"Well," Ginny said, standing up and straightening her clothing. "It’s nice to see that my mum’s timing is as impeccable as always."
"Yeah," Harry replied grumpily, attempting unsuccessfully to flatten his extremely mussed up hair. "It’s just brilliant."
"Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to continue our activities once we’re out from under her eye," Ginny said with an impish wink. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turned and left the room, leaving a gaping Harry to follow in her wake. Her words had sent his mind into overdrive, and he was suddenly very keen to begin their quest for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Horcruxes.
When they entered the kitchen, they found it already crowded. Everyone turned to stare, causing both of them to blush brightly. Harry was surprised to see Ginny coloring; she was usually better at not letting her family get to her than he was.
"Appears as if our birthday boy might have already received one of his presents," Fred said innocently.
Harry felt heat flame in his face and neck and knew that he’d turned even redder, if that were possible.
"Shut it, you," Ginny said in a low voice, piling a scoop of scrambled eggs onto a plate. She handed the plate to Harry and filled another for herself.
"Yes, Ginny," George said, grinning mischievously. "What took you so long? Was it hard to get Harry to rise this morning?"
Harry choked on his eggs, looking around wildly to make certain Mrs. Weasley was still busy at the stove and hadn’t overheard their conversation.
Ginny appeared to have regained her composure. She casually cast her eyes downward at Harry and muttered, "Not really."
Fred and George sat motionless except for their eyes, which darted back and forth between Harry and Ginny. They wore identical stunned expressions before both broke out in hearty laughter.
Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He was certain any one of her many brothers was about to curse him from existence. He was glad he’d at least come of age, so he could defend himself when they chose to attack. He glanced warily at Ron only to find that his friend wasn’t even paying attention to them. He was pushing food around on his plate and glancing at his watch every few seconds. Ron was impatient to leave.
Sensing Harry’s stare, Ron looked up. "Get moving, Harry. You don’t have time to eat. Dad’s ready to take us to the Ministry; he just went to grab his cloak."
"Ron," Ginny said, grabbing Harry’s arm as he went to stand. "This is his birthday breakfast; he should get to enjoy some of it."
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