that what we’re doing is right. It’s working, and it’s the only thing that’s going to stop Voldemort."
Again, there were several muffled gasps and shifting around the table. Members of the Order had become accustomed to Dumbledore using the name, but it still startled them to hear it from someone else.
"Look," Harry said, making a decision. Something told him it was the right one to make. "I know you’re all as dedicated to stopping this war as I am, and I do need some help. If I concede to some stipulations of yours, can you agree to trust the fact that I can’t tell you everything?"
"Fair enough. Dumbledore never shared everything with us anyway," Mad-Eye said before anyone else could agree or disagree. Looking around the table, Harry could tell by their expressions that not everyone was happy with Moody’s decision. Still, there were more that appeared ready to compromise than there had been at the beginning of the meeting.
"The next time you have to leave, we want to know. No more waking up and finding you missing," Moody said, and Harry knew he was beginning with something Harry wouldn’t have a problem agreeing with. It wasn’t like sneaking out again would work, anyway.
"Agreed," he said.
"And we want to know where you’re going and have a way to contact you should the need arise," Remus said.
Harry shook his head. "I can’t tell you where we go. I’m sorry, but I can’t."
"Harry…" Mr. Weasley began.
"No. Not only would Voldemort kill you for that information, it would jeopardize everything if he finds out what we’re doing. I can’t tell you where we are, but I do think I have a way for you to contact us that would be safe," Harry said.
"Which is?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Harry looked towards Remus. "Sirius once gave me a mirror. He said he used to use it to talk with my dad when they were in detention. D’you know what I’m talking about?"
A grin appeared on Remus’s face. "I do."
"I— er...I broke the one I had. D’you think you could charm another couple of mirrors to act the same way? We’ll keep one, and you can keep another here," Harry said.
Remus nodded. "Yes, I can do that. I think that will work nicely."
"That seems to indicate that you think Ron and Ginny will be going with you again," Bill said, frowning.
"Damn straight, we will," Ron said hotly.
"We’re not letting Harry do this alone," Hermione said, speaking for the first time.
"Ginny is not going anywhere," Mrs. Weasley shouted, her face very red. "I won’t have it."
"Oh yes I am," Ginny said, firing right back at her mum. "The others never would have got out of there if it weren’t for me. They need me."
"You’re underage," Mrs. Weasley cried.
"It’s because I’m underage that my magic was undetected. Professor Dumbledore discovered it last year when Harry went with him. Voldemort is too arrogant to believe that anyone underage could be a threat to him. Don’t make the same mistake, Mum." Ginny said, her eyes flashing.
"That’s enough, Ginny," Mr. Weasley said firmly.
"Ginny is your baby sister," Bill said, glaring at Ron. "You never should have allowed her to go along with you."
"She’s not a baby anymore, Bill," Ron said, raising his chin.
Ginny flushed with pleasure and cast a grateful smile at Ron.
"‘E usually ‘az much more common sense except when eet comes to ‘’iz leetle sister," Fleur said, patting Bill on the back.
Fred, George and even Charlie had to cover their snickers. Bill whirled on them.
"You can’t tell me you’re all right with Ginny traipsing across the countryside and living with Harry," he said incredulously.
Anger flooded Harry’s cheeks. How could they be worried about the impropriety of where Ginny might be sleeping when Voldemort had Inferi on the loose killing people? It was just too much.
"I don’t believe this," Harry roared. "I wish the biggest concern in my life was hiding what Ginny and I got up to from all of you, but that’s just not the way it is. We’re fighting this war, the same as you."
"We know that, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, placating him. She again rested her hand on his arm, and this time he didn’t pull it away. "But you have to understand that she’s our child. We won’t stop being parents simply because there is a war raging."
Harry nodded, chastised. "I understand. You really have nothing to worry about; I’d protect Ginny with my life."
"We know you would, dear. That’s partly what we’re afraid of," Mrs. Weasley said tearfully.
"Look," Harry said. "You all know the prophecy, or basically what it says. You know what I’m up against. I might not have a lot of time to give her-"
Shouts of disagreement and dismay met this statement, but Harry held his hands in the air, silencing them.
"Let’s be realistic, all right? There are no guarantees — for any of us. That’s been made painfully clear. This little bit of time might be all I have go give her, so I’m going to take it while its there," Harry said, amazed by his own cheek.
"And what happens afterwards?" Bill asked. "When the war is finished, and you have managed to survive? What happens between you and Ginny then?"
Harry smiled, looking down into Ginny’s warm brown eyes. "Well, that’s the plan. If we manage it, anything that comes after is the whipped cream."
Ginny beamed at him.
"All right, back to the Order," Kingsley said, still scowling. "You won’t tell us where you go, but you will leave us a method to communicate."
Harry nodded. "And what I could use from you is some information. How do you go about tracking a wizard?"
"There is no way to track You-Know-Who, Harry. Don’t you think we’ve tried?" Mr. Weasley asked softly.
"I’m not talking about him," Harry said. "I want to find the location of the fathers of two of my former classmates. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle’s fathers are both Death Eaters. I bet the guests upstairs know their first names. I need to know where they are, that’s all."
Moody nodded. "I can look into that. Does this have something to do with whatever it is they’re guarding?"
"Yes," Harry said shortly. He suspected he knew the location of one of them already, but he thought it best not to announce he was leaving again so soon to check it out. It would be better to let them think he was following one of their leads.
"There is something else I want you to do for us," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, staring intently at Harry.
He saw Professor McGonagall shift slightly while Remus looked away. Tonks gripped his shoulder supportively. Harry knew instinctively that he wasn’t going to like this.
"What’s that?" he asked.
"I would like you to resume Occlumency lessons," Shacklebolt said evenly.
"What?" Harry exploded. "They were a disaster; Professor Dumbledore even agreed on that. Besides, Voldemort hasn’t tried to get into my head for over a year."
"The reason they were a disaster could have been that Snape," Shacklebolt fairly spat the name, "wasn’t doing his best to teach you. If you are hiding something as critical as you say, we cannot take the chance that You-Know-Who can find it without your knowing."
"He couldn’t," Harry said.
"He’s done it before," Shacklebolt fired back, causing Harry to flinch.
"Harry," Remus said gently. "I think this is a good idea. Dumbledore did believe it was a good idea before Snape convinced him otherwise. I think it’s worth the effort."
Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t deny their words, but something inside him told him Occlumency wasn’t the answer. "Fine. Who’s to teach me though? You?"
"No. I’m not qualified to instruct you. We do have a couple of people here, however, who are qualified. If you agree to it, that is," Remus said, his eyes shifting again.
"Here? Who? I thought the reason Snape had to teach me was that there wasn’t anyone else qualified?" Harry asked.
"They weren’t on our side then," Remus replied.
"You can’t be serious," Hermione shouted, looking back and forth wildly between Remus and Kingsley. "You can’t let them inside Harry’s head. No way."
Harry blinked for a moment, trying to figure out what Hermione was saying. The answer hit him like a blow to the gut.
"No way! If you think for one minute I’m going to let Draco Malfoy inside my head-"
"He’s a capable Occlumens, Harry," Remus said mildly. "Weren’t you the one who said he managed to keep Snape out last Christmas?"
"Yeah, but…" Harry stuttered, thunderstruck. "He’s Malfoy."
"He learned from his mother and his aunt. Obviously we can’t trust them completely, but we can use them while they’re here. They’re using us for the same reason; it’s mutually beneficial to both sides," Kingsley said. "Remus has agreed to monitor the situation at all times, so you won’t be alone with them."
"I don’t believe this," Ron shouted, unable to contain himself any further. "First you’re all over Harry about being too young and not trusting you with the answers to things he absolutely can’t tell you, and now you want to let Malfoy and his mother have free reign inside his head? Have you all gone mad?"
"That’s enough, Ron," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Of age or not, I won’t have you using that disrespectful tone."
"You’re all barking," Ron mumbled mutinously.
"It’s your decision, Harry. What do you say?" Remus asked.
Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I told you I’m willing to make some compromises, but this is a big one. I’ll give it a try, but I’m not promising to stick with it if I think things are going badly. And I want you all to remember this the next time I have to do something that you’re not too happy about."
Ginny clutched his hand beneath the table.
What had he just done?
Chapter Thirteen
Setting Things to Rights
The next few weeks at Grimmauld Place were rather tense. Although the air had been cleared amongst them, everyone still walked on edge. Mrs. Weasley kept the foursome under close watch, as if she was afraid they’d disappear under her very eyes. Harry suspected that although she had resigned herself to their continued involvement in the war, she wasn’t happy about it. She appeared to be waiting with extreme apprehension for the announcement of their next departure.
Mr. Weasley had held true to his word and kept them apprised of Scrimgeour’s activities. He’d also told them how the press had reported their appearance in Diagon Alley in vivid detail. Harry’s instructions on how to fight the Inferi had been front-page news for a fortnight, and the Ministry had taken up the cause as if it had been their idea. There were now regular reminders and updates in each edition of the Daily Prophet.
Percy had returned to work without saying much to any of them, his upturned nose expressing his disapproval. Charlie, however, had remained behind, claiming to need a holiday. Harry suspected he was attempting to snap Bill out of his funk. Bill was the only one who apparently still held a grudge about their disappearance, although Harry still felt uneasy around Mr. Weasley, as well.
He had carefully stored Helga Hufflepuff’s charred cup in his trunk along with the diary and the ring. Three down, and he knew what the fourth one was, if not where. That left only himself and one other unknown item. The task still seemed overwhelming, but he was making progress.
Harry’s greatest concern at the moment, however, was Hermione. She wasn’t taking the loss of her hair well, but Merlin help anyone who tried to point that out to her. She was completely irrational on the subject, and refused to listen to anyone’s suggestions. Poor Ron had spent more time trying to dig out of a blunder he’d unwittingly caused than anything else. He’d been desperately trying to be sympathetic, but had only ended up getting on her nerves.
Hermione had virtually barricaded herself in the library, and was rarely seen elsewhere. She’d even skipped most meals, preferring to have a tray sent up to her. At first, this behavior didn’t seem out of the ordinary, but as the days passed, the others had become concerned. While it was true that Hermione was scouring the books, Harry suspected she was hiding more than working.
She spent as much time reading medical journals as she did anything related to Voldemort. Hermione was having a lot of trouble realizing that there was no solution to her hair loss other than to wait for nature to fix it. She couldn’t stand being let down by the library and apparently took it as a personal insult.
Whenever anyone offered to help her, she declined and retreated further behind her books. Ron’s expression waffled between hurt and bewilderment as Hermione most often released her pent-up aggression on him. Harry knew that she tended to act irrationally when she felt overwhelmed, but he was confident she’d pull it together when the logical side of her brain took control. Waiting for that to happen, however, was difficult to endure.
Hermione had kept her navy blue handkerchief wrapped tightly around her head, and she jerked away from anyone who attempted to touch it, particularly Ron. Harry had noticed how often she adjusted it and suspected her fidgeting was due to self-consciousness. He wished he could think of a way to help, but he was at a loss. He knew Ginny was concerned as well, since he’d caught her staring speculatively at the older girl on several occasions.
The one benefit to Hermione’s distress had been the thawing of Mrs. Weasley’s demeanor. She’d remained distant and aloof for several days after the Order meeting, but she’d obviously noticed Hermione’s increasing agitation. Ginny had finally approached her mother for help, and Mrs. Weasley had thrown herself to the task with her typical gusto. It was as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity to swing back into mother mode, and Harry was happy to see her bonding with Ginny again.
Harry was struck by the realization that Mrs. Weasley wanted to be needed. Somehow, he’d always assumed that being an adult meant you grew past that kind of insecurity. It was jarring for him to see otherwise. Still, it felt right to have her bestow warm smiles and fond hugs once again. Harry was startled to realize how much he’d missed it. Ron and Ginny, too — he’d noticed both of them were far more affectionate to their mum since their return. He hoped Mrs. Weasley could help reach Hermione.
Tonks had suggested getting Hermione a wig, and both Weasley women had stared at her blankly. Tonks had to explain how Muggle women sometimes lost their hair after certain medical treatments, and that a variety of stores carried wigs for them to wear in the meantime.
Although she knew exactly what a wig was, Hermione had absolutely refused to accompany them to look for one. She instead burst into tears and accused them of only wanting to make it easier for everyone to look at her. Fleur had joined the conversation, trying to convince Hermione to give it a try and told her not to be ridiculous, but a crying Hermione had fled the room. Surprisingly, Ron had shouted at Fleur —
with whom he’d always been smitten— to leave her alone and went tearing after Hermione.
It was later that evening when Harry and Ginny were sitting in the library — supposedly doing research but actually spending more time studying one another — that Fred and George burst through the door. Harry and Ginny broke apart guiltily and moved to opposite ends of the couch.
"Why, brother, do you have the distinct impression we’re interrupting something?" Fred asked, leaping over the back of the couch in order to sit between Harry and Ginny. Disgruntled, Harry straightened the collar of his shirt while Ginny narrowed her eyes at her interfering brothers.
"I do, brother mine, but what could we possibly interrupt while these youngsters are holed up in here diligently working…behind closed doors…all alone…and so far from the prying eyes of our beloved mother, who only has their best interests at heart?" George asked, also wiggling his way onto the couch between the pair.
"What do you two want?" Ginny asked, rolling her eyes dramatically.
"Now, what kind of attitude is that from our wee wayward lass? I would think you’d be groveling at our feet after frightening us so," Fred replied, holding his chest and batting his eyelashes.
Before Harry had the chance to explode, George laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Keep your knickers on, Harry."
"And you keep yours on as well, by the way," Fred added, waggling his eyebrows at Ginny.
She punched him in the shoulder — hard.
"I’m not here to give you a hard time. That’s Bill’s job," George said.
"He’s being impossible," Ginny said, scowling.
"He’ll get over it, Gin Gin. He still tends to see you as the spunky little sprite you were when he left for Hogwarts," George said.
"I was only a year old when he left for Hogwarts. Certainly he’s noticed a difference," Ginny said, mutinously crossing her arms across her chest.
"Exactly. You were a baby, Ginny, and just a little kid when he came home for summers. He’d already moved out on his own by the time you developed your attitude," George continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
"Now, here you are out fighting the war he wants to fight, but he can’t because everyone keeps coddling him. He was the one left to console Mum after you disappeared, and she was even more adamant about protecting him after you were gone. He’s been unable to go back to work, and even on the Order missions it’s Fleur who gets the more dangerous assignments rather than him because no one wanted to upset Mum any more than she already was."
"That’s not going to sit well with any self-respecting wizard," Fred replied.
"And we really haven’t helped," George admitted grudgingly.
"I suppose we’ve been taking the mickey out of him a bit," Fred conceded. "But we thought we were helping."
"When you and Ron came back, he’d just reached his breaking point. His baby brother and sister are smack in the middle of it, and it was too much for him," George said. "And, lately, the full moons always seem to make him a bit grouchy."
Ginny’s face had softened, but she still appeared unwilling to let it go completely. "Well, he’s going to have to get used to the idea, because I’m not a little girl."
"Never said you were," Fred said easily.
"Yeah, we’ve been on the receiving end of enough of your hexes to know better," George said, sighing. "Maybe you should hex him a few times so he realizes it."
Ginny giggled and lightly shoved George’s head.
"So, you’re okay with it. With Ginny helping me, I mean?" Harry asked, picking at a stray thread on the couch.
"’Course we are. We just wish you would’ve let us come with you, as well," Fred said eagerly. When Harry opened his mouth to respond, Fred held up his hands in a defensive posture. "I know you can’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish it was different."
"Or that you would at least let us help you," George said, leaning forward.
"Yeah, but then we remembered that you did ask us for help. You asked us to locate Dung’s old flat. Which we did," Fred said, his eyes sparkling.
"You did?" Harry asked, sitting up straight. "When? Where is it?"
"It’s in a really dodgy Muggle area of Birmingham. The building owner let us inside. He’s really hacked off that he hasn’t had any rent from Dung in months. He said he was going to let the place to someone else, but I don’t think there’s a long line of people who want to take it since it’s really close to where those fires burned over the summer," George said.
"We went in and looked around, but there’s not much there. It’s filthy, and the stench drove us away before we could take a really good look," Fred said, grimacing.
"Can you take us there?" Harry asked.
George shrugged. "Whenever you want to go."
"Now," Harry replied, standing up.
"Harry," Ginny said, grabbing his arm. "Hermione’s not in any condition to do this."
"I know," Harry said, sighing. "But I need to check."
"I understand, and she would too, if she was in a reasonable state of mind," Ginny said.
Harry watched as she worried her lower lip, as if struggling with something. "Why don’t you and Ron go along with the twins this afternoon while I’m with Hermione?" she said at last.
Harry furrowed his brow. "You’re okay with not coming along?"
"Just this time. We have some plans this afternoon, and they’re important, too. Besides, it’ll be an added bonus to keep Hermione occupied and let Mum ease into letting us go. It might be easier for her if it’s just Ron the first time."
"What are you doing with Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Never you mind about that," Ginny said, standing up and kissing him on the cheek. "Fleur had an idea, and I think it’s a good one, so we’re going to try it."
"You’re going along with one of Phlegm’s ideas?" Harry asked incredulously. He tried unsuccessfully to control the grin that spread across his face.
"Don’t call her that, Harry," Ginny said reproachfully, as if she wasn’t the one to come up with the nickname in the first place. "It’s for Hermione."
Harry bit the inside of his cheeks and nodded solemnly. After Ginny had left the library, he raised a speculative eye towards the twins.
"What do you reckon?" he asked.
"I reckon she’s got you right in her back pocket," Fred said, grinning. "I think you would have agreed no matter what she said, mate."
"Yeah, so when’s the wedding? That’s certainly a way to cheer up Mum," George replied, his grin matching Fred’s.
Harry felt his face burn. "Her back pocket isn’t a bad place to be," he said cheekily and quickly left in search of Ron before had they had time to comment — or smack him upside the head.
**--**--
Since they’d previously been there, the twins were able to Side-Along-Apparate Ron and Harry right into Dung’s old flat. All four of them immediately gagged from the overpowering stench.
"Are you certain Dung doesn’t have a dead body in here somewhere?" Ron asked, gasping. He’d been worried about leaving Hermione in her depressed state, but Ginny had promised to stay with her. Ginny had remained very tightlipped about their plans for the afternoon, but both she and Fleur had been giggling like schoolgirls.
Even Hermione’s spirits had appeared to improve. That alone had convinced Ron that some time with just the girls would be good for her. At lunch, he’d announced that he and Harry were running an errand with Fred and George.
Mrs. Weasley had fretted over both of them, following them right to the door and insisting the twins swear to protect them. She hugged them both fiercely before they left, but she held true to her word and allowed them to go.
"I think it’s coming from the refrigerator," Harry said, attempting to breathe through his mouth while cursing Dung for living in a Muggle flat. He tried to ignore the overwhelming odor, but eventually pointed his wand at the refrigerator and muttered, "Scourgify."
The stench evaporated instantly and was replaced with a fresh, lemony scent.
"Better than Dung deserves," Fred said, taking in a deep breath.
"What about using magic in Muggle areas?" Ron asked, glancing uneasily at the window as if he expected a Ministry owl to appear any moment.
Harry shrugged. "There are no Muggles here now, and I couldn’t concentrate with that stench."
"So, what are we looking for?" Fred asked.
"The last time we saw Dung, he had a suitcase full of trinkets that he’d nicked from headquarters. I need to see what’s in that suitcase," Harry replied, looking at Ron significantly. They’d brought the Spell Detector, but he hoped to avoid having to explain to Fred and George what they were doing with it. Ron removed it from his pocket and quietly slipped into the bedroom.
Housecleaning spells were certainly something Dung hadn’t bothered with, for the flat was a mess. They found an abundance of empty Ogden’s Firewhisky bottles in addition to a variety of Muggle alcohol and little else.
When Fred located a stack of magazines stored inside a footstool, he whistled loudly. "Dung, you old dog. These PlayWizards date back to Dad’s Hogwarts days."
Ron and George quickly peered over their brother’s shoulder as he flipped through the pages. Harry, who had been searching through Dung’s closet and had nothing to show for it but a nasty Doxy bite, was irritated. He was about to snap at them to get back to work when he caught a glimpse of the centerfold they were unfolding. Harry felt his skin coloring. He’d heard the blokes in his dormitory talking about that, but to see it…
After a fairly lengthy delay, they finally dragged their attention away from the magazines and went back to work. The four boys searched Dung’s flat as thoroughly as teenage boys were able to do. They’d found loads of questionable items, including a folded flying carpet tucked under Dung’s mattress, but no suitcase.
Fred and George confiscated the carpet, along with several various odds and ends that they had stuffed inside their pockets.
"It’s not like it was really Dung’s to begin with," Fred said when Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, he just nicked it from someone else," Ron added, admiring the carpet that Fred still held. "Besides, Harry, don’t tell me you don’t want a go on this thing. They’ve been illegal forever. Dad’s never even been able to sneak one home."
Harry grinned. "The way I see it, Dung has a load of rubbish here that’s part of my inheritance. The carpet calls us even — he probably found it at headquarters anyway."
"He did," George said, examining the underside of the carpet. "It’s got the Black family crest embroidered on it."
"Then I get first go," Harry said, grinning.
Fred and George looked at one another, their facial expressions changing in that odd way of silent communication that Harry had seen them use previously.
"Fair enough," Fred said, "but we get to keep the other stuff. Besides, Dung’s landlord is going to chuck it all out before Dung is released, anyway."
"The suitcase isn’t here," Harry said dejectedly. As one final idea occurred to him, he said, "Accio suitcase."
Nothing happened.
"Accio locket," he tried again, holding his breath. Still, nothing happened.
"What do we do now?" Ron asked, glancing around the messy apartment. "Where do we look next?"
Harry frowned, considering his options before an idea struck him. "Do any of you know what happens to your stuff when you get arrested? I mean, if Dung was hauled in by the Ministry, and the suitcase was with him, where would it be?"
"Considering they chucked him into Azkaban without benefit of a trial," Fred said bitterly, "I’d expect it’d still be in a holding cell at the prison."
"Then we’ll have to go out to Azkaban," Harry said, failing to suppress a shudder. He knew most of the Dementors were gone, but even one was too many as far as he was concerned.
"Er…Harry. How exactly do you propose to do that?" George asked, stunned.
"And what’s so bloody important that you’d want to go?" Fred exclaimed incredulously. "Look, Harry, I know it’s your stuff that Dung nicked, but…what could be worth a trip to Azkaban? They’ll let Dung out eventually and then you can ask him for whatever it is you want back."
Harry shook his head. "It’s not that simple. It’s…er…it’s something of personal significance" Harry said, coloring slightly. He hated lying to the twins. "And I’m not the only one who might be looking for it."
George shrugged. "I still don’t see how you’re going to get out to Azkaban. It’s not like you can just stroll right in. Or maybe you can. Rufus Scrimgeour would love to have you owing him a favor."
Harry shook his head. "I’d prefer to do this without Scrimgeour’s input, if possible. I’ll talk to Tonks. She’s been out there on guard duty, or at least she was before we left."
"Yeah, she’s still been going, and looking a right mess whenever she returns. Are you certain about this, Harry? You haven’t always had an easy time with the Dementors," Fred asked, ducking his head. His ears were bright red, something that Harry had seen in the past from Ron and various other Weasleys, but never the twins.
"I know. I’ll deal with it when I get there," Harry said, nodding.
"We’ll deal with it," Ron said, his eyes boring into Harry’s. "Don’t think you’re going out there alone, mate."
"Ron, I don’t even know if I can get out there, never mind bring anyone else along," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
"You’ll just have to find a way," Ron said firmly.
**--**--
Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Harry had hoped to speak with Tonks about her duties at Azkaban, but neither she nor Remus was in attendance. Mrs. Weasley said they’d gone out on a date. Harry was pleased to hear it; Remus deserved to grab a little happiness when he could find it.
Mr. Weasley was working late, as he frequently did, and since returning from Dung’s place, Harry hadn’t seen any of the girls. Mrs. Weasley said they’d been holed up in Bill and Fleur’s room all day. They’d even kicked Bill out without telling him what they were doing. He and Charlie sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine between them.
"Care for some wine, Harry? Ron?" Charlie asked.
With their nods of consent, he poured two additional glasses.
"How did everything go for you lot today?" Charlie asked, and Harry noticed Bill listening intently, though trying to appear disinterested.
"It was a bust," Harry said, sighing. He knew it was too much to hope that he’d find the locket that easily, but he’d still hoped anyway.
"I don’t suppose you want to share whatever it is you’re looking to find?" Bill asked casually.
"Not really," Harry replied, sipping his wine.
The tension was broken by Mrs. Weasley’s startled gasp. Harry looked up quickly to find Ginny standing alone in the doorway. His attention was instantly drawn to her head where her glorious, waist-length hair had been cut so it barely reached her shoulders.
She stood still in the doorway, her eyes avidly searching the room until they rested on him and locked her gaze with his.
"Oh, Ginny! What have you done to your beautiful hair?" Mrs. Weasley moaned, moving toward her daughter and reaching out to pull at the shortened locks.
"What did’ya do that for?" Ron demanded with his mouth full. Bill and Charlie simply stared at her, awaiting her response.
Harry felt as if he’d been hit in the gut, and he swallowed heavily. Ginny’s hair had always attracted him, he hadn’t fully realized how much until he saw her without it. He felt frozen to the spot and simply stared back at her, blinking.
Everything suddenly became clear to him when a beaming Fleur and a hesitant Hermione followed Ginny into the room. Harry felt a bubble of warmth spread inside his belly. Hermione no longer wore the handkerchief that had become her talisman, but instead sported a short, pixyish haircut in the same shade of Weasley red as everyone else at the table, save Harry.
Hermione shyly watched everyone’s expressions, appearing as if she was ready to bolt from the room at the slightest provocation.
"Just what this place needs," Charlie said, grinning. "Another redhead. I didn’t think we had enough of them here."
"There could never be enough of them," Bill said, beaming at Fleur with the first genuine smile Harry had seen on him since their return.
"Eezent eet magnifique? Who knew I’d be zo talented with ‘air? Eet was Ginny’s idea to copy ze Muggles and create a wig, but ‘Ermione deeden’t want to go shopping. Zat is very strange, no? Anyway, she agreed to let us try eet ourselves. I’ve never cut anyone’s ‘air before, but I zought I could do eet," Fleur said, plopping down into Bill’s lap and kissing him soundly. "And I can."
"Hermione," Ron said, blinking, his glass of wine still frozen halfway to his mouth.
Hermione smiled tentatively before sitting down next to him. Ron leaned over and whispered something in her ear that caused her to blush and smile widely at the same time.
"What’s that, brother mine?" Fred asked. "Did I just hear you tell the fair lass that you knew she’d always wanted to be a Weasley?"
"And why wouldn’t she be?" George asked. "Of course, isn’t it really up to you to correct that situation?" George said, smiling smugly at the blushes that suffused both Ron’s and Hermione’s faces.
"Sod off," Ron said, swatting George without ever taking his eyes off Hermione.
"Harry," Ginny said softly. She’d moved from the door to the chair next to him, tentatively looking into his eyes. She worried her lower lip as she waited for his response.
Harry felt a large lump materialize in his throat over what she’d done for Hermione. He didn’t think he could ever be more proud. "You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen," he whispered, running his hands through her new, shorter haircut and pulling her close so he could kiss her.
Ginny’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned into him. "You really think it’s okay? I know you liked it longer, but it’ll grow back," she said, sniffling.
"It doesn’t matter. What you just did for Hermione makes you more beautiful than any hairdo ever could," he said, kissing her again despite the presence of her family at the table.
"Harry’s right," Bill said. Harry and Ginny both looked up to find Bill staring at them, his eyes suspiciously bright. "That was a wonderful thing to do, Ginny. You just reminded me how strong your bond of friendship is with each other. I’d let myself lose sight of that. Hold onto it, embrace it, and don’t let anyone — especially older brothers with chips on their shoulder — stand in the way of it. I don’t think V-V- Voldemort stands a chance against it."
Ginny pushed back from the table and hurried over to Bill. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "Thanks, Bill."
"I’m sorry, Ginny," he whispered into her hair. Releasing her, he looked up and stared intently at Harry, " I owe you an apology, too."
"Never mind," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "It’s like you said, as long as we stick together, Voldemort can’t win."
"Right, even if we sometimes act like prats," Bill said, smiling.
"Don’t worry. Harry knows that even Weasleys can act like prats on occasion," Ron said, joining the conversation.
"Well, he must be very well aware of that since he’s been stuck living with you for the past seven years," Bill said, chuckling.
วันอาทิตย์ที่ 30 กันยายน พ.ศ. 2550
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 207-215)
She handed Ginny a phial of purple liquid that Ginny assumed was a sleep potion. She gratefully gulped it down before anyone could stop her.
"I don’t think anyone is going to get any clear answers tonight," Moody said. "Why don’t we all get some sleep? We can talk about their return in the morning."
The sleep potion was making Ginny warm and so very drowsy. Fog tinged the edges of her vision, and the voices became oddly distorted. Before the tide of sleep claimed her, however, she thought she saw Alastor Moody give Madam Pomfrey the briefest of winks. Her brain must have been addled, because she thought she saw the stern hospital matron actually blush.
**--**--
When Harry opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was how stiff his body felt. The second thing he noticed was how bright the room was due to the sunlight streaming through the undraped windows.
What time is it? And how long have I been asleep?
His eyes scanned the room, noticing the four beds and bedside tables arranged in the otherwise bare room. He was obviously somewhere in Grimmauld Place, but he didn’t remember ever seeing an infirmary while there.
Hermione was sleeping across from him, her head wrapped in heavy white bandages. The other two beds were empty, however, causing Harry’s stomach to lurch with dread. He knew Ginny hadn’t been hurt, but why were both Weasleys missing? Had Mrs. Weasley spirited them away?
Harry half hoped it was true, half dreaded the idea. He didn’t think he had any hope of succeeding without them. Along with Hermione, they each were a part of him now; he needed them.
A small sigh distracted him, and he turned his head. Ginny was asleep on a chair beside his bed, her feet curled beneath her. Her head lolled to the side, and she clutched a tattered old book in her hand.
Harry smiled in relief; she hadn’t left him. He immediately noticed that she’d changed her clothes and wondered again how long he’d been unconscious. A tremendous wave of guilt washed over him. He’d left Ginny alone to deal with her parents’ wrath. Some boyfriend he made.
Standing up and stretching in an attempt to loosen his stiff muscles and joints, Harry watched Ginny sleep for a moment. A few stray wisps of hair covered her face and moved in and out as she breathed. He smiled, imagining it must tickle. He gently brushed the hair away and she stirred slightly, shifting in her seat and causing her book to fall from her grasp.
Harry leaned over to pick it up, wondering what she was reading and if it would help them with their mission. Turning the book over, he found a full-cover moving picture of a witch and wizard locked in a passionate embrace. The witch’s robes were hanging off her in a way
he’d never seen any witch dress, not even Madam Rosmerta. Curious, he flipped it open to a random page and began to read. He managed only a few words that consisted of a heaving bosom and a throbbing…
Harry slammed the book shut and dropped it on his bed, his face coloring brilliantly. He stared at Ginny incredulously. What on Earth was she was reading, and how in Merlin’s name had it put her to sleep? Harry shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling very worried about what Ginny might think of their private snogging sessions. Living in such close quarters with Ron and Hermione hadn’t afforded them the opportunity for much time alone, but they’d taken the opportunity whenever possible.
Harry thought their time together had been nothing short of brilliant, but now he was a bit worried. Exactly what was Ginny expecting? He wished he could talk to Ron about it, but he could just picture the look on his mate’s face if he even attempted to bring it up. Ron never shared anything about what was going on with him and Hermione — a fact for which Harry was eternally grateful — but he had been rather proud and forthright about his activities with Lavender.
Shaking his head, Harry decided he’d have to worry about it later. Right now he had to find out what had been happening while he’d slept. He desperately wanted a shower, but decided even that would have to wait. He was going to look for Ron.
He ran up the stairs to the room he and Ron had shared before they’d left but he didn’t see anyone. The fact the house appeared so empty left him uneasy. The bedroom was empty, not showing any sign that Ron had been there. Harry decided to try the kitchen but pulled up short in front of the door that led to Ginny and Hermione’s room.
Quietly opening the door, he immediately saw what he was seeking. Snot sat perched on Ginny’s bed looking sad and forlorn. Scooping up the bear, Harry shut the door behind him and turned, only to find Malfoy standing directly in front of him with a sardonic grin on his face.
"So, finally awake, Potter? What happened, you just couldn’t stand to lie there any longer without your teddy bear?" Malfoy asked, sneering.
Harry felt warmth flood his face. He struggled valiantly with the urge to shove the bear behind his back, despite the fact he knew it was too late for that. Of all the people that could have found him walking around with Snot, why did it have to be Malfoy? The only worse choice would have been the twins. Something Malfoy said finally penetrated Harry’s embarrassment.
"What do you mean ‘finally awake’? How long have I been here?" he demanded.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Long enough to let your little girlfriend take all the heat for your disappearance. Smooth move, Potter. It’s exactly what I would have done, too, but I thought you’d somehow be too noble for that," Malfoy said with a grimace.
Damn!
"Oh, there’s that Gryffindor pride. I knew it must be hiding in there somewhere," Malfoy said, scoffing. "Don’t worry, Potter. Weaslette apparently can handle her family just fine without your protection. She does a better job than her pitiable brother, anyway. I hear Granger’s going hairless these days. I never would have suspected Weasley was harboring a fetish for bald birds."
Harry angrily shoved Malfoy against the wall. The blonde boy’s eyes widened in surprise. "Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said through clenched teeth. He was disturbed to realize how much attention Malfoy had been paying to his friends. If he were double crossing them somehow…
"Let go of me, Potter," Malfoy said, angrily pushing Harry back a step and straightening his clothing. "Don’t take out your frustration on me simply because you’re unhappy you let your girlfriend down."
"I said shut it. You don’t know what you’re saying," Harry replied.
"Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t know a thing about leaving my girlfriend high and dry, would I, Potter?" Malfoy asked, sneering hatefully. "I’m certain Pansy is perfectly content sitting around wondering if I’m dead or alive. Only thing is, she’s smart enough not to expect me to put myself in any danger simply for her comfort."
Harry blinked, surprised. It sounded almost as if Malfoy actually cared about Parkinson. Who’d have thought? Harry didn’t know why anything had the ability to surprise him anymore. Before he had a chance to contemplate it, or even respond, Ron’s voice echoed loudly in the deserted hallway.
"Harry! You’re awake. What’s going on here? What are you doing with him, Malfoy?"
"Relax, Weasel. If you keep making your face that color it’s going to stay that way," Malfoy replied, lazily leaning against the wall.
"I’m fine, Ron," Harry said, interrupting the other two before they could come to blows. "Are you all right?"
Ron shrugged. "I’m fine; Madam Pomfrey patched me up. What are you waiting on, Malfoy? Go on and scurry away like a good little ferret."
Two bright spots of pink colored Malfoy’s cheeks, but otherwise he didn’t respond to Ron’s taunts. Instead, he turned towards Harry and asked, "So, I take it from all your injuries that you found whatever the Dark Lord is guarding? The only way you’d still be alive is if you came up against an idiot like Crabbe, Goyle or Simmons. What is it, Potter? What are you looking for, anyway?"
"Wouldn’t you like to know?" Harry responded coolly. "You heard Ron, Malfoy. Shove off. I’ve got nothing to say to you."
"Not until you need information again, anyway," Malfoy said bitterly. "Fine. Have it your way, but don’t expect me to be so hospitable next time."
Harry and Ron watched him walk away in silence until Ron finally muttered, "Git," under his breath.
"How could I have been so stupid?" Harry hissed, slapping his hand to his head.
"Huh?" Ron asked, bewildered.
"The Muggle we saw outside the Smith Museum — the one who kept circling the block. That must have been Simmons. I would have recognized Crabbe or Goyle. He was guarding the museum," Harry said.
"Didn’t do a very good job of it, did he?" Ron asked. "We got inside no problem."
"No, but Malfoy did say he was stupid. Don’t you see, Ron? It’s a way to find the other Horcrux — the one we don’t know what it is. Either Crabbe or Goyle is guarding it. If we find them, we at least find where it’s hidden," Harry exclaimed excitedly.
Ron’s expression brightened considerably. "What’s the other one guarding?" he asked.
"I reckon he’s probably at the cave where the amulet was hidden. No one besides the four of us knows it’s not there anymore. I’ll have to check on it," Harry said, running his hand through his hair absently.
"Er, Harry. You do know you’re walking around talking to Malfoy with a teddy bear in your hand, right?" Ron asked, amused.
Snot! He’d completely forgotten he was holding Ginny’s bear. "Er…it’s Ginny’s," he said lamely, ducking Ron’s gaze.
"I know what it is. What’re you doing with it?" Ron asked, obviously amused by Harry’s embarrassment.
Dammit! The lengths he’d go for Ginny Weasley.
He mumbled something undistinguishable as he pushed past Ron and headed towards the infirmary. Ron followed behind him, sniggering the entire way. Scowling, Harry pushed open the door to find Ginny still sleeping where he’d left her.
Ignoring Ron’s snickering presence, he tucked Snot under her arm and gently pulled the blanket around her. He moved towards Hermione, but Ron’s words stopped him in his tracks.
"You’re in love with my sister."
Harry’s steps faltered. He swallowed heavily and continued towards Hermione, flustered by what Ron had said. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t considered himself, but hearing Ron say it out loud was intimidating. How was he supposed to know what love felt like? He had vague recollections of admitting to Ginny that he loved her in the Parthenon, but his memory at the end was slightly faulty. Even if he had, he didn’t want Ron calling him on it.
"Has Hermione awoken at all?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"I knew you fancied her, but you’re actually in love with her. You love my baby sister," Ron repeated gleefully. He was prancing behind Harry and looking like a right pillock.
"Ron! I’m trying to be serious here," Harry said, jerking his shoulder. Ron was really on his nerves.
"You’re trying to change the subject," Ron said smugly.
"So let him," a sleepy voice said from behind them.
Harry whirled around to see Ginny sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Finding Snot, she blinked in surprise before looking directly at Harry and flashing that brilliant smile.
Harry’s mouth went dry. Bollocks! How much did she overhear?
"It’s good to see you up and about," she said, her eyes softening.
"Hi," Harry said, knowing he sounded stupid but unable to think of anything else to say.
Ron had no such problem. "Snap out of it," he said, snapping his fingers beneath Harry’s nose. "You can moon over her later."
"As if you haven’t been the one sitting by Hermione’s bedside mooning for the past three days," Ginny snapped.
"Three days?" Harry bellowed. "We’ve been here for three days?"
"Yes," Ginny said, turning her attention back to Harry. "Nice of you to join us."
"What’s happened while I was out?" he asked, feeling alarmed. "What happened when we got here?"
"Relax, mate," Ron said, taking a seat in the chair next to Hermione’s bed. "When I woke up, Madam Pomfrey had already healed us all," he said, wincing as he looked at Hermione. "It took you longer because you lost so much blood. Ginny’s been giving you a Blood Replenishing Potion. She wouldn’t let anyone else do it — put Mum in a right state, she did."
Ginny shrugged. "I wanted you well, and Bill was a bit angry with you when we first arrived."
Harry cringed. "Sorry to leave you with that, Ginny. What did you tell them?"
"Nothing important, although they have figured a few things out already," Ginny replied.
"Like the fact you went up against another dragon," Ron said.
"Yeah. Madam Pomfrey knew that from your injuries," Ginny said.
"The cup!" Harry exclaimed. "Where is it?"
"Don’t worry. I put it in your nightstand along with your wand," Ginny said calmly. "Things have been rather strained around here since we got back."
"That’s an understatement," Ron mumbled.
"How do you mean?" asked Harry.
Ginny shrugged. "Mum had her big blow up when we first arrived, but since then she’s been…distant. She seems sad, almost like she doesn’t know what to say to us," Ginny said, her voice cracking slightly. "It’s so unlike her. Sometimes I think she’s angry but…"
"All the Order has been in an out. Shacklebolt and McGonagall have been the most demanding. They’re the ones who are the most put-out, I think. Moody’s been the best," Ron said.
"Yeah, well. He knew we were up to something and was okay with it," Harry said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
"I know, but Remus knew too, and he definitely seems off," Ron said. "And Dad just looks sad."
Harry shifted uneasily.
"Don’t you dare start feeling guilty, Harry. We’ve no time for it, and there was nothing else you could have done," Ginny said firmly.
"Besides, showing up here unconscious was the best thing that could have happened. It put Mum right in the ‘poor dear’ mode. I think it helped all of us," Ron said, grinning.
"Great. What about Bill? You said he was upset," Harry asked.
"Yeah, he’s definitely off," Ron said.
"I think that might have more to do with the fact that we were out doing something important, and he’s feeling stifled. We’re just coming off the full moon, you know. His wounds have never healed completely, and Gringotts won’t let him come back to work until they do," Ginny said.
"What? Why not?" Harry asked indignantly.
"They’re afraid," Ginny said, sighing. "Werewolf contamination and all."
"That’s rubbish," Harry said.
"Tell it to the Goblins," Ron said bitterly.
"I think I will," Harry said furiously.
Hermione shifted on the bed, most likely disturbed by their loud voices.
"Madam Pomfrey was able to heal all Hermione’s burns, but she wasn’t able to save her hair," Ginny said quietly. "The spell that hit her was Dark Magic, and the hair cells were completely destroyed. Madam Pomfrey said it would all have to grow back naturally. She’s pretty upset."
"No, she’s not," Ron said, his expression blank. "It’s just hair; it’ll grow back."
Ginny shook her head. "I know it’s just hair, Ron, but trust me, it matters."
Ron shook his head. "She could have been killed, Harry. Madam Pomfrey said the effects of the curse were most likely lessened because it was split between us. I think the fact we both tried to move away helped, as well. If it’s a choice between Hermione and some hair, I’ll take Hermione every time."
"Of course you would. We all would, and she knows that, too. It doesn’t make the idea of losing all her hair less intimidating. I think you’d be hard put to find a witch that didn’t have some vanity about her hair," Ginny replied, patting Hermione’s leg.
"How come she’s still unconscious, and you’ve been up for days?" Harry asked Ron.
"She’s been awake, too," Ginny said, and Harry could tell she was trying not to laugh. "She found a bunch of medical books in the library, and she’s been consulting with Madam Pomfrey about all her options. I’ve noticed she takes a kip every time Madam Pomfrey gives her a Healing Potion. I think the Madam Pomfrey has been slipping her a Sleeping Draught."
"Wish we had some of that when she starts going off on elf rights," Ron said, whispering despite the fact Hermione was sound asleep.
Harry snickered. "Better not let her hear you say that."
"I won’t," Ron said adamantly.
"I suppose we should let everyone know you’re awake. They’ve been waiting to have a meeting," Ginny said quietly.
Harry instinctively reached out and grasped her hand. "I suppose we should get it over with then."
**--**--
A full meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was held the following evening. Harry had to force himself not to fidget as he waited for the others to file into the room. Ron and Ginny, naturally, were both attending the meeting, but he noticed Mrs. Weasley giving them furtive glances every few seconds, as if she longed to boot them from the room. She’d been as pleasant as always to Harry, and very concerned over his
health, but he could sense a distance, a barrier, that he’d never felt before. His chest constricted whenever he thought about it too much.
Hermione was also in attendance. She entered the room wearing a navy blue handkerchief on her head to hide the bandages and leaned heavily on Ron. He’d wrapped his arm protectively around her and hadn’t removed it even after they’d sat down. Hermione was much more subdued than normal, which disturbed Harry.
Both Bill and Lupin had been scarce since Harry had awoken, but they were here tonight, both casting disapproving looks in his direction. Only Mad-Eye Moody appeared happy to see him, and greeted him almost warmly. Well, as warmly as Mad-Eye ever was, anyway. Tonks sat beside Lupin, her hair a hideous shade of olive green. She winked at Harry and stuck her tongue out at Remus when he frowned.
Of all the Weasleys, only Fred, George, and, surprisingly Fleur had acted as if nothing was wrong. The twins were eager to tell him about business and ask loads of questions about the dragon. They also enjoyed teasing Harry and Ron about living unsupervised with the girls. That teasing had caused many disapproving glares from the elder Weasleys, and made Harry fear for the stability of the tentative truce they’d apparently reached.
Charlie and Percy arrived for the meeting, in addition to many other members Harry had only seen on occasion. Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt both sat at the head of the expanded kitchen table, each wearing a grim expression. Professor McGonagall’s lips were compressed so tightly they had lost their color. Harry had seen that expression from her before, and it was usually followed by a particularly foul detention.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He wasn’t a kid called to task in front of a professor. He was an adult now with a greater responsibility than any of them knew. He would not be cowed, and he wouldn’t allow them to revert to treating him like a child.
"Good evening," Professor McGonagall began. "I think it best if we call this meeting to order and get right to business. Mr. Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Harry returned her stare, forcing his voice to remain calm. "What would you like to know?"
"What I’d like to know is where you’ve been over the past month," she said sternly.
"And why my children went along with you, despite my express wishes that they not be involved," Mrs. Weasley added, glaring at Ron and Ginny with tears in her eyes.
"Harry," Remus Lupin said. "We’d like to know why you left the way you did, without leaving us any means of contacting you. Do you understand how worried we were? How helpless you made us all feel?"
"The Order was assigned the task of protecting you by Albus Dumbledore, someone you supposedly respected," Shacklebolt said, apparently
impatient with the emotional turn the meeting had taken. "And yet you saw fit to ignore every measure of protection we had in place to go out on your own. I’d like to know why. What could possibly have been so important?"
Harry expected the barrage of questions, but he was slightly stung by the tone in Remus’s voice. He cleared his throat before speaking, and when he did, he looked directly at Remus.
"I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry that you were worried, but I honestly didn’t see there being another way. If I’d told you my plans to leave, would you have stood aside and let us walk out that door?" he asked.
"Harry, we’re here to help you," Remus said. "We want to help you."
"You can’t," Harry snapped.
"What do you mean we ‘can’t?’" Professor McGonagall demanded. "Of course, we can, Potter. That’s the entire purpose of the Order."
"We are aware that you believe Albus left you with a job to do, but we can’t believe he meant for you to do this alone, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, resting a hand on his arm.
Harry pulled his arm away. "You still don’t get it, do you?" he demanded. "He didn’t leave me a job to do. It is my job to do — all of it. Everything the Daily Prophet has said about this ‘Chosen One’ business — well, it’s about the only thing they’ve ever got right. I know it, and Professor Dumbledore knew it. You all say you trusted him, that what you did came down to whether you trusted his judgment or not. Well, leaving this task to me was his judgment."
"But he’s gone now, Harry," Professor McGonagall said. "Things have changed."
"Nothing’s changed; what has to be done remains the same," Harry said vehemently. "Dumbledore once said that he will have only truly left when no one here is loyal to him. You have to decide if you still can be, even if what he’s asking isn’t easy."
"You have to choose between what’s right and what’s easy," Ginny whispered. "We all do."
"How can we choose what’s right when we don’t even know what it is you’re doing?" Kingsley demanded. "You’ve obviously told your friends. Why can’t you tell us?"
"I told them because Professor Dumbledore told me I could. He thought I’d need some support, and they’re the ones I’m closest to," Harry said, leaving out the fact Ginny had only been included later.
"I can’t believe Albus would do this," Mrs. Weasley moaned. "Ginny isn’t even of age."
"Neither was Ron when Professor Dumbledore told Harry he could share this," Ginny snapped. "You have to stop dwelling on our ages and see
"I don’t think anyone is going to get any clear answers tonight," Moody said. "Why don’t we all get some sleep? We can talk about their return in the morning."
The sleep potion was making Ginny warm and so very drowsy. Fog tinged the edges of her vision, and the voices became oddly distorted. Before the tide of sleep claimed her, however, she thought she saw Alastor Moody give Madam Pomfrey the briefest of winks. Her brain must have been addled, because she thought she saw the stern hospital matron actually blush.
**--**--
When Harry opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was how stiff his body felt. The second thing he noticed was how bright the room was due to the sunlight streaming through the undraped windows.
What time is it? And how long have I been asleep?
His eyes scanned the room, noticing the four beds and bedside tables arranged in the otherwise bare room. He was obviously somewhere in Grimmauld Place, but he didn’t remember ever seeing an infirmary while there.
Hermione was sleeping across from him, her head wrapped in heavy white bandages. The other two beds were empty, however, causing Harry’s stomach to lurch with dread. He knew Ginny hadn’t been hurt, but why were both Weasleys missing? Had Mrs. Weasley spirited them away?
Harry half hoped it was true, half dreaded the idea. He didn’t think he had any hope of succeeding without them. Along with Hermione, they each were a part of him now; he needed them.
A small sigh distracted him, and he turned his head. Ginny was asleep on a chair beside his bed, her feet curled beneath her. Her head lolled to the side, and she clutched a tattered old book in her hand.
Harry smiled in relief; she hadn’t left him. He immediately noticed that she’d changed her clothes and wondered again how long he’d been unconscious. A tremendous wave of guilt washed over him. He’d left Ginny alone to deal with her parents’ wrath. Some boyfriend he made.
Standing up and stretching in an attempt to loosen his stiff muscles and joints, Harry watched Ginny sleep for a moment. A few stray wisps of hair covered her face and moved in and out as she breathed. He smiled, imagining it must tickle. He gently brushed the hair away and she stirred slightly, shifting in her seat and causing her book to fall from her grasp.
Harry leaned over to pick it up, wondering what she was reading and if it would help them with their mission. Turning the book over, he found a full-cover moving picture of a witch and wizard locked in a passionate embrace. The witch’s robes were hanging off her in a way
he’d never seen any witch dress, not even Madam Rosmerta. Curious, he flipped it open to a random page and began to read. He managed only a few words that consisted of a heaving bosom and a throbbing…
Harry slammed the book shut and dropped it on his bed, his face coloring brilliantly. He stared at Ginny incredulously. What on Earth was she was reading, and how in Merlin’s name had it put her to sleep? Harry shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling very worried about what Ginny might think of their private snogging sessions. Living in such close quarters with Ron and Hermione hadn’t afforded them the opportunity for much time alone, but they’d taken the opportunity whenever possible.
Harry thought their time together had been nothing short of brilliant, but now he was a bit worried. Exactly what was Ginny expecting? He wished he could talk to Ron about it, but he could just picture the look on his mate’s face if he even attempted to bring it up. Ron never shared anything about what was going on with him and Hermione — a fact for which Harry was eternally grateful — but he had been rather proud and forthright about his activities with Lavender.
Shaking his head, Harry decided he’d have to worry about it later. Right now he had to find out what had been happening while he’d slept. He desperately wanted a shower, but decided even that would have to wait. He was going to look for Ron.
He ran up the stairs to the room he and Ron had shared before they’d left but he didn’t see anyone. The fact the house appeared so empty left him uneasy. The bedroom was empty, not showing any sign that Ron had been there. Harry decided to try the kitchen but pulled up short in front of the door that led to Ginny and Hermione’s room.
Quietly opening the door, he immediately saw what he was seeking. Snot sat perched on Ginny’s bed looking sad and forlorn. Scooping up the bear, Harry shut the door behind him and turned, only to find Malfoy standing directly in front of him with a sardonic grin on his face.
"So, finally awake, Potter? What happened, you just couldn’t stand to lie there any longer without your teddy bear?" Malfoy asked, sneering.
Harry felt warmth flood his face. He struggled valiantly with the urge to shove the bear behind his back, despite the fact he knew it was too late for that. Of all the people that could have found him walking around with Snot, why did it have to be Malfoy? The only worse choice would have been the twins. Something Malfoy said finally penetrated Harry’s embarrassment.
"What do you mean ‘finally awake’? How long have I been here?" he demanded.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Long enough to let your little girlfriend take all the heat for your disappearance. Smooth move, Potter. It’s exactly what I would have done, too, but I thought you’d somehow be too noble for that," Malfoy said with a grimace.
Damn!
"Oh, there’s that Gryffindor pride. I knew it must be hiding in there somewhere," Malfoy said, scoffing. "Don’t worry, Potter. Weaslette apparently can handle her family just fine without your protection. She does a better job than her pitiable brother, anyway. I hear Granger’s going hairless these days. I never would have suspected Weasley was harboring a fetish for bald birds."
Harry angrily shoved Malfoy against the wall. The blonde boy’s eyes widened in surprise. "Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said through clenched teeth. He was disturbed to realize how much attention Malfoy had been paying to his friends. If he were double crossing them somehow…
"Let go of me, Potter," Malfoy said, angrily pushing Harry back a step and straightening his clothing. "Don’t take out your frustration on me simply because you’re unhappy you let your girlfriend down."
"I said shut it. You don’t know what you’re saying," Harry replied.
"Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t know a thing about leaving my girlfriend high and dry, would I, Potter?" Malfoy asked, sneering hatefully. "I’m certain Pansy is perfectly content sitting around wondering if I’m dead or alive. Only thing is, she’s smart enough not to expect me to put myself in any danger simply for her comfort."
Harry blinked, surprised. It sounded almost as if Malfoy actually cared about Parkinson. Who’d have thought? Harry didn’t know why anything had the ability to surprise him anymore. Before he had a chance to contemplate it, or even respond, Ron’s voice echoed loudly in the deserted hallway.
"Harry! You’re awake. What’s going on here? What are you doing with him, Malfoy?"
"Relax, Weasel. If you keep making your face that color it’s going to stay that way," Malfoy replied, lazily leaning against the wall.
"I’m fine, Ron," Harry said, interrupting the other two before they could come to blows. "Are you all right?"
Ron shrugged. "I’m fine; Madam Pomfrey patched me up. What are you waiting on, Malfoy? Go on and scurry away like a good little ferret."
Two bright spots of pink colored Malfoy’s cheeks, but otherwise he didn’t respond to Ron’s taunts. Instead, he turned towards Harry and asked, "So, I take it from all your injuries that you found whatever the Dark Lord is guarding? The only way you’d still be alive is if you came up against an idiot like Crabbe, Goyle or Simmons. What is it, Potter? What are you looking for, anyway?"
"Wouldn’t you like to know?" Harry responded coolly. "You heard Ron, Malfoy. Shove off. I’ve got nothing to say to you."
"Not until you need information again, anyway," Malfoy said bitterly. "Fine. Have it your way, but don’t expect me to be so hospitable next time."
Harry and Ron watched him walk away in silence until Ron finally muttered, "Git," under his breath.
"How could I have been so stupid?" Harry hissed, slapping his hand to his head.
"Huh?" Ron asked, bewildered.
"The Muggle we saw outside the Smith Museum — the one who kept circling the block. That must have been Simmons. I would have recognized Crabbe or Goyle. He was guarding the museum," Harry said.
"Didn’t do a very good job of it, did he?" Ron asked. "We got inside no problem."
"No, but Malfoy did say he was stupid. Don’t you see, Ron? It’s a way to find the other Horcrux — the one we don’t know what it is. Either Crabbe or Goyle is guarding it. If we find them, we at least find where it’s hidden," Harry exclaimed excitedly.
Ron’s expression brightened considerably. "What’s the other one guarding?" he asked.
"I reckon he’s probably at the cave where the amulet was hidden. No one besides the four of us knows it’s not there anymore. I’ll have to check on it," Harry said, running his hand through his hair absently.
"Er, Harry. You do know you’re walking around talking to Malfoy with a teddy bear in your hand, right?" Ron asked, amused.
Snot! He’d completely forgotten he was holding Ginny’s bear. "Er…it’s Ginny’s," he said lamely, ducking Ron’s gaze.
"I know what it is. What’re you doing with it?" Ron asked, obviously amused by Harry’s embarrassment.
Dammit! The lengths he’d go for Ginny Weasley.
He mumbled something undistinguishable as he pushed past Ron and headed towards the infirmary. Ron followed behind him, sniggering the entire way. Scowling, Harry pushed open the door to find Ginny still sleeping where he’d left her.
Ignoring Ron’s snickering presence, he tucked Snot under her arm and gently pulled the blanket around her. He moved towards Hermione, but Ron’s words stopped him in his tracks.
"You’re in love with my sister."
Harry’s steps faltered. He swallowed heavily and continued towards Hermione, flustered by what Ron had said. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t considered himself, but hearing Ron say it out loud was intimidating. How was he supposed to know what love felt like? He had vague recollections of admitting to Ginny that he loved her in the Parthenon, but his memory at the end was slightly faulty. Even if he had, he didn’t want Ron calling him on it.
"Has Hermione awoken at all?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"I knew you fancied her, but you’re actually in love with her. You love my baby sister," Ron repeated gleefully. He was prancing behind Harry and looking like a right pillock.
"Ron! I’m trying to be serious here," Harry said, jerking his shoulder. Ron was really on his nerves.
"You’re trying to change the subject," Ron said smugly.
"So let him," a sleepy voice said from behind them.
Harry whirled around to see Ginny sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Finding Snot, she blinked in surprise before looking directly at Harry and flashing that brilliant smile.
Harry’s mouth went dry. Bollocks! How much did she overhear?
"It’s good to see you up and about," she said, her eyes softening.
"Hi," Harry said, knowing he sounded stupid but unable to think of anything else to say.
Ron had no such problem. "Snap out of it," he said, snapping his fingers beneath Harry’s nose. "You can moon over her later."
"As if you haven’t been the one sitting by Hermione’s bedside mooning for the past three days," Ginny snapped.
"Three days?" Harry bellowed. "We’ve been here for three days?"
"Yes," Ginny said, turning her attention back to Harry. "Nice of you to join us."
"What’s happened while I was out?" he asked, feeling alarmed. "What happened when we got here?"
"Relax, mate," Ron said, taking a seat in the chair next to Hermione’s bed. "When I woke up, Madam Pomfrey had already healed us all," he said, wincing as he looked at Hermione. "It took you longer because you lost so much blood. Ginny’s been giving you a Blood Replenishing Potion. She wouldn’t let anyone else do it — put Mum in a right state, she did."
Ginny shrugged. "I wanted you well, and Bill was a bit angry with you when we first arrived."
Harry cringed. "Sorry to leave you with that, Ginny. What did you tell them?"
"Nothing important, although they have figured a few things out already," Ginny replied.
"Like the fact you went up against another dragon," Ron said.
"Yeah. Madam Pomfrey knew that from your injuries," Ginny said.
"The cup!" Harry exclaimed. "Where is it?"
"Don’t worry. I put it in your nightstand along with your wand," Ginny said calmly. "Things have been rather strained around here since we got back."
"That’s an understatement," Ron mumbled.
"How do you mean?" asked Harry.
Ginny shrugged. "Mum had her big blow up when we first arrived, but since then she’s been…distant. She seems sad, almost like she doesn’t know what to say to us," Ginny said, her voice cracking slightly. "It’s so unlike her. Sometimes I think she’s angry but…"
"All the Order has been in an out. Shacklebolt and McGonagall have been the most demanding. They’re the ones who are the most put-out, I think. Moody’s been the best," Ron said.
"Yeah, well. He knew we were up to something and was okay with it," Harry said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
"I know, but Remus knew too, and he definitely seems off," Ron said. "And Dad just looks sad."
Harry shifted uneasily.
"Don’t you dare start feeling guilty, Harry. We’ve no time for it, and there was nothing else you could have done," Ginny said firmly.
"Besides, showing up here unconscious was the best thing that could have happened. It put Mum right in the ‘poor dear’ mode. I think it helped all of us," Ron said, grinning.
"Great. What about Bill? You said he was upset," Harry asked.
"Yeah, he’s definitely off," Ron said.
"I think that might have more to do with the fact that we were out doing something important, and he’s feeling stifled. We’re just coming off the full moon, you know. His wounds have never healed completely, and Gringotts won’t let him come back to work until they do," Ginny said.
"What? Why not?" Harry asked indignantly.
"They’re afraid," Ginny said, sighing. "Werewolf contamination and all."
"That’s rubbish," Harry said.
"Tell it to the Goblins," Ron said bitterly.
"I think I will," Harry said furiously.
Hermione shifted on the bed, most likely disturbed by their loud voices.
"Madam Pomfrey was able to heal all Hermione’s burns, but she wasn’t able to save her hair," Ginny said quietly. "The spell that hit her was Dark Magic, and the hair cells were completely destroyed. Madam Pomfrey said it would all have to grow back naturally. She’s pretty upset."
"No, she’s not," Ron said, his expression blank. "It’s just hair; it’ll grow back."
Ginny shook her head. "I know it’s just hair, Ron, but trust me, it matters."
Ron shook his head. "She could have been killed, Harry. Madam Pomfrey said the effects of the curse were most likely lessened because it was split between us. I think the fact we both tried to move away helped, as well. If it’s a choice between Hermione and some hair, I’ll take Hermione every time."
"Of course you would. We all would, and she knows that, too. It doesn’t make the idea of losing all her hair less intimidating. I think you’d be hard put to find a witch that didn’t have some vanity about her hair," Ginny replied, patting Hermione’s leg.
"How come she’s still unconscious, and you’ve been up for days?" Harry asked Ron.
"She’s been awake, too," Ginny said, and Harry could tell she was trying not to laugh. "She found a bunch of medical books in the library, and she’s been consulting with Madam Pomfrey about all her options. I’ve noticed she takes a kip every time Madam Pomfrey gives her a Healing Potion. I think the Madam Pomfrey has been slipping her a Sleeping Draught."
"Wish we had some of that when she starts going off on elf rights," Ron said, whispering despite the fact Hermione was sound asleep.
Harry snickered. "Better not let her hear you say that."
"I won’t," Ron said adamantly.
"I suppose we should let everyone know you’re awake. They’ve been waiting to have a meeting," Ginny said quietly.
Harry instinctively reached out and grasped her hand. "I suppose we should get it over with then."
**--**--
A full meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was held the following evening. Harry had to force himself not to fidget as he waited for the others to file into the room. Ron and Ginny, naturally, were both attending the meeting, but he noticed Mrs. Weasley giving them furtive glances every few seconds, as if she longed to boot them from the room. She’d been as pleasant as always to Harry, and very concerned over his
health, but he could sense a distance, a barrier, that he’d never felt before. His chest constricted whenever he thought about it too much.
Hermione was also in attendance. She entered the room wearing a navy blue handkerchief on her head to hide the bandages and leaned heavily on Ron. He’d wrapped his arm protectively around her and hadn’t removed it even after they’d sat down. Hermione was much more subdued than normal, which disturbed Harry.
Both Bill and Lupin had been scarce since Harry had awoken, but they were here tonight, both casting disapproving looks in his direction. Only Mad-Eye Moody appeared happy to see him, and greeted him almost warmly. Well, as warmly as Mad-Eye ever was, anyway. Tonks sat beside Lupin, her hair a hideous shade of olive green. She winked at Harry and stuck her tongue out at Remus when he frowned.
Of all the Weasleys, only Fred, George, and, surprisingly Fleur had acted as if nothing was wrong. The twins were eager to tell him about business and ask loads of questions about the dragon. They also enjoyed teasing Harry and Ron about living unsupervised with the girls. That teasing had caused many disapproving glares from the elder Weasleys, and made Harry fear for the stability of the tentative truce they’d apparently reached.
Charlie and Percy arrived for the meeting, in addition to many other members Harry had only seen on occasion. Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt both sat at the head of the expanded kitchen table, each wearing a grim expression. Professor McGonagall’s lips were compressed so tightly they had lost their color. Harry had seen that expression from her before, and it was usually followed by a particularly foul detention.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He wasn’t a kid called to task in front of a professor. He was an adult now with a greater responsibility than any of them knew. He would not be cowed, and he wouldn’t allow them to revert to treating him like a child.
"Good evening," Professor McGonagall began. "I think it best if we call this meeting to order and get right to business. Mr. Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Harry returned her stare, forcing his voice to remain calm. "What would you like to know?"
"What I’d like to know is where you’ve been over the past month," she said sternly.
"And why my children went along with you, despite my express wishes that they not be involved," Mrs. Weasley added, glaring at Ron and Ginny with tears in her eyes.
"Harry," Remus Lupin said. "We’d like to know why you left the way you did, without leaving us any means of contacting you. Do you understand how worried we were? How helpless you made us all feel?"
"The Order was assigned the task of protecting you by Albus Dumbledore, someone you supposedly respected," Shacklebolt said, apparently
impatient with the emotional turn the meeting had taken. "And yet you saw fit to ignore every measure of protection we had in place to go out on your own. I’d like to know why. What could possibly have been so important?"
Harry expected the barrage of questions, but he was slightly stung by the tone in Remus’s voice. He cleared his throat before speaking, and when he did, he looked directly at Remus.
"I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry that you were worried, but I honestly didn’t see there being another way. If I’d told you my plans to leave, would you have stood aside and let us walk out that door?" he asked.
"Harry, we’re here to help you," Remus said. "We want to help you."
"You can’t," Harry snapped.
"What do you mean we ‘can’t?’" Professor McGonagall demanded. "Of course, we can, Potter. That’s the entire purpose of the Order."
"We are aware that you believe Albus left you with a job to do, but we can’t believe he meant for you to do this alone, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, resting a hand on his arm.
Harry pulled his arm away. "You still don’t get it, do you?" he demanded. "He didn’t leave me a job to do. It is my job to do — all of it. Everything the Daily Prophet has said about this ‘Chosen One’ business — well, it’s about the only thing they’ve ever got right. I know it, and Professor Dumbledore knew it. You all say you trusted him, that what you did came down to whether you trusted his judgment or not. Well, leaving this task to me was his judgment."
"But he’s gone now, Harry," Professor McGonagall said. "Things have changed."
"Nothing’s changed; what has to be done remains the same," Harry said vehemently. "Dumbledore once said that he will have only truly left when no one here is loyal to him. You have to decide if you still can be, even if what he’s asking isn’t easy."
"You have to choose between what’s right and what’s easy," Ginny whispered. "We all do."
"How can we choose what’s right when we don’t even know what it is you’re doing?" Kingsley demanded. "You’ve obviously told your friends. Why can’t you tell us?"
"I told them because Professor Dumbledore told me I could. He thought I’d need some support, and they’re the ones I’m closest to," Harry said, leaving out the fact Ginny had only been included later.
"I can’t believe Albus would do this," Mrs. Weasley moaned. "Ginny isn’t even of age."
"Neither was Ron when Professor Dumbledore told Harry he could share this," Ginny snapped. "You have to stop dwelling on our ages and see
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 198-206)
terrible sunburn. An unearthly scream rent the air, shaking the very foundation of the arena. The dragon howled in misery before crumpling to the ground and dissolving as if it had never been there.
A blaze of fiery red hair suddenly streaked across his face as Ginny landed next to him on a broom.
"What happened? Where did it go?" she shrieked. "Are you all right?"
"The cup," Harry croaked weakly, pointing to where it lay on the ground.
Ginny scooped it up in her hand. The gold was scorched and blackened, but it remained intact.
"Just a cup now," Harry muttered, feeling lightheaded. "Wonder if it still works as the key?"
"Come on, let’s get out of here," she said, helping him off the ground and onto her conjured broom.
Harry slumped against her weakly as she rose in the air and flew them to the opposite end of the arena.
"I thought the lady was supposed to stay in the stands and shriek for her Champion to get up," he said, smiling weakly.
"Who says I’m a lady?" Ginny shot back.
Harry grinned, feeling slightly delirious. "I love you, Ginny," he whispered, his eyes failing to stay open.
He felt her body start. "I tried to get to you sooner to help, but it was like some kind of barrier held me in place. I wasn’t able to break past it until you were on the ground," she said, sniffling.
"’S’okay," he mumbled.
Ginny reached around to shake him fiercely. "Stay with me, Harry. Just a few minutes more. Here’s the entrance; fit the cup into the slot."
Harry tried to lift his arm, but it felt like jelly, and he couldn’t make it cooperate.
"Here, I’ll do it," Ginny said as she grabbed the cup and fit it into the slot. The door slid open, revealing that deep blackness once again.
Ginny flew the broom right into the archway, and moments later they flew right back into the sitting room at the Smith Museum. Ron and Hermione were still huddled together by the wall.
"Did you get it?" Ron asked anxiously.
Harry nodded towards the charred cup. "Found and destroyed," he said weakly, his legs refusing to hold his weight as he stepped off the broom. Ginny grabbed onto him and eased him to the ground.
"Mate, what happened to you?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.
"We’ll discuss it back at Grimmauld Place," Ginny said in a take-charge voice. "Ron, do you still think you can Apparate with Hermione?"
Ron nodded. Clutching an unconscious Hermione to his side, they Disapparated with a pop.
Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry. "Hold on tight to me, Harry," she whispered.
"I can take us," Harry said stubbornly.
"Thanks, but no. I don’t feel like being splinched today. I’ve had enough excitement for one day."
With a cheeky grin, she kissed his cheek and brought them both back to headquarters…back to her family.
**--**--
Chapter Twelve
Repercussions
Ginny opened her eyes, steadied herself and stared at the gloomy outline of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She had just Apparated onto a small grassy patch of land shadowed by a large tree a short way from the house, and hoped she wouldn’t get a reprimand from the Ministry about underage magic since she was in the company of several of-age wizards.
The sun had set long ago, and the street was quiet and dark, not even a Muggle vehicle disturbing the stillness. She could see dim candlelight burning in several of the windows of headquarters and was relieved that it was still occupied. Harry slumped against her, finally losing his long battle to stay conscious. She struggled to let him down gently and ended up pinned beneath him. Merlin, for a thin bloke he was heavy. She shuddered at the stark purple bruises covering his pale face.
Ron sat on the ground next to Harry, cradling Hermione in his lap. He was listless and barely had the strength to speak.
"Sorry, Ginny," he said, gasping. "I tried to fire sparks at the door, but I missed."
"It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine, Ron. How’s Hermione?" Ginny asked. The older girl was frighteningly still, and Ginny couldn’t bear to look at the awful wounds on her head.
"She won’t wake up, Ginny," Ron said, sounding like the frightened little boy that Fred and George used to tease with spiders.
"She will," Ginny said with a confidence she didn’t have. She suddenly didn’t feel very grown up, at all. "This isn’t finished yet, and
Hermione is way too tenacious to give up in the middle of a project. Stay with them a minute; I’ll be right back."
She gently untangled herself from Harry’s limbs, wincing at the raw slashes across his chest. Her hands were slick with blood from gripping him so tightly when they Apparated.
He’d been magnificent against the dragon. Ginny had been awed watching him, despite her terror. After the dragon had first whipped him with its tail, she’d begun trying to conjure a broom to help him. Conjuring items was a sixth-year spell, and she’d never attempted it. All she had to go on was the memory of Harry conjuring his own broom. It had taken her several attempts to get it right, and she knew her own panic and frustration hadn’t helped. Once she’d finally had the broom, something in the magic of the place wouldn’t allow her to leave the stands to help him.
Still, despite knowing all he’d done and how much he’d been through in that arena, she couldn’t help the slight twinge of annoyance over being the only one conscious and unhurt and able to deal with the wrath that awaited her on the other side of the door. She knew she was in for a barrage of questions, and she wished she didn’t have to face it alone. It might be childish, but that’s how she felt.
She’d let the others recover, but once they were well again, she had every intention of pointing out that despite all their protests about her being underage, she was the last one standing. Steeling her resolve with a grim smile, Ginny climbed the steps of number twelve.
She tested the handle of the door and found it unlocked. Her heart gave a slight twinge knowing that her mum would have left it that way in case they returned. Biting her lip, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
I have to be strong.
Directly inside the entrance hall, Bill, Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody were arguing heatedly, but Ginny was too tired to pay attention to their words. None of them noticed her straightaway. Remus looked up first and caught her standing uncertainly in the doorway.
"Ginny," he said, startled.
Bill and Moody’s heads whipped around, but otherwise they were all frozen.
"Uhm…I need some help outside. We’ve got some injuries," Ginny said finally, biting her lip.
It was as if her words unfroze them. Remus and Moody pushed past her and sprinted outside, but Bill caught her by the arm before she could follow.
"Oh no, squirt, you’re not going anywhere," he said, and despite the old familiar nickname, she could tell he was angry.
His anger snapped something inside her and released her courage. There was no way she was going back to being treated like a baby — not by Bill — not by anyone.
"Let go of me, Bill," she demanded, jerking her arm free. "Hermione is really hurt, and I know right where she is. I’ll answer your questions later, but I don’t have time for this right now."
Ignoring the surprised look on her brother’s face, she turned and sprinted out the door, leading Lupin and Moody to the others.
"She’s been burned," Ron said as Remus leaned over Hermione. "She needs Madam Pomfrey right now."
"Let me take her inside, Ron," Remus said, gently lifting her from Ron’s arms. "I’ll Floo Poppy, and she’ll be here in no time."
Ron nodded, struggling to stand. Moody pulled him to his feet and grabbed him around his waist when Ron started to sway.
"Easy, lad. I’ve got you. Just lean on me, and we’ll get you inside," the old Auror said, surprisingly gently.
Bill stared down at Harry’s crumpled form, an unreadable expression on his face. After waiting a moment, Ginny finally nudged him, and he leaned over to lift Harry. He pulled Harry to his feet and threw him over his shoulder none-too-gently. Ginny bit the inside of her cheeks, breathing through her nose, and followed them inside.
When they arrived in the entrance hall, they followed Remus and Moody into one of the smaller sitting rooms where Bill unceremoniously dropped Harry to the floor in a heap.
Ginny couldn’t control her temper any longer. She whirled on her brother in a rage, holding her wand on him.
"That’s enough," she snarled.
"Ginny," he said, his own temper rising.
"Not another word from you," she spat. "You have absolutely no idea what’s going on here, and if you mishandle Harry one more time, I’m going to make certain you wish you’d never taught me the Bat Bogey Hex."
"That’s enough," Remus said sharply. "We’re not going to start fighting amongst ourselves. We’re going to tend these injuries before we sit down and calmly discuss what’s happened. I’m going to Floo Poppy. Bill, I think you should go and get your parents."
Bill frowned at Ginny for a moment before turning on his heel and leaving the room without a word.
"Stay with Harry, Ginny. I’ll be right back," Remus said, squeezing her shoulder gently.
Moody sat Ron on a chair, but he immediately moved to the floor next to the couch where Hermione lay. He held her hand tightly, gazing intently at her closed eyelids. Ginny imagined he was willing her to wake up from sheer desire alone.
Moody helped her move Harry to the empty chair, and she gently rested his head to the side. The floor where Bill had dropped him was smeared with his blood, and the fabric on the chair where they placed him was rapidly becoming stained.
"He’s going to need a Blood Replenishing Potion, but we’ll let Poppy look him over first," Moody said, his good eye fixed on Ginny while his magical eye kept spinning to watch the other three.
A commotion in the doorway caused Ginny to look up to see her parents, Bill, Fred and George all staring back at her. Her mum was pale, although Ginny could see two bright spots of color growing rapidly on her cheeks.
That was never a good sign.
Ginny glanced at her father’s face. She could read relief there, but had to look away from the disappointment she saw reflected in his eyes. What was it about parents that could make you feel so small and unsure, no matter how strongly you believed in what you were doing?
She knew she’d been right to go along with Harry and the others. She knew what they were doing was important, and that they were following Professor Dumbledore’s instructions. She also knew the great burden Harry carried, and that he was stronger with her by his side. Why, then, could the simplest look from each of her parents make her feel as if she’d done something terribly wrong?
"Ronnie," her mum wailed, finally noticing the burns on Ron’s arm. She ran across the room and grabbed his hand, trying to straighten out his arm and inspect the wounds.
Ron jerked his arm away roughly. "M’fine," he slurred, letting them all know he was anything but. "’Erminee’s hurt."
"I want to know what in the name of Merlin happened to all of you, and I want to know right now. I’m aware that you were in Diagon Alley earlier today, and now you show up here injured. Where have you been, and what have you been doing?" Molly demanded, drawing herself up to her full height. She glared at Ginny while keeping her hand on Ron’s shoulder. Molly Weasley wasn’t a tall woman, but when she was angry she appeared to grow before their eyes.
"The questions will keep, Molly," Remus Lupin said mildly as he reentered the room followed closely by Madam Pomfrey. "Let’s get their injuries healed first."
Madam Pomfrey’s expert gaze swept the room and each of the four teens before moving directly to Hermione. She set her bag on the floor and in a no-nonsense voice told Ron to move aside. Ron shifted back, although admittedly not very far.
"Are you injured, Ginevra?" her mother asked stiffly.
"No," Ginny replied, knowing what was coming and steeling herself for it.
"Then I want you upstairs and in your room. I’ll be up to discuss this with you after I’m certain your brother will be all right," her mum said in a shrill voice.
Ginny swallowed, clenching her fists so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. "No, Mum. I’m staying."
"Don’t you dare argue with me, young lady. I’m on my last nerve with you as it is, disappearing in the middle of the night without so much as a note. There’s a war going on out there. You could have been killed," her mum shouted.
"Molly," her dad said, placing a restraining arm on her mum’s shoulder.
"No, Arthur. I want her upstairs now," her mum insisted, pointing at the door.
"No, Mum. I’m staying here until I know they’ll be all right," Ginny said, swallowing hard. "Hermione and Harry are unconscious, and Ron’s nearly delirious. I’m the only one who can tell Madam Pomfrey anything she might need to know."
She knew she was using the health of the others as her trump card, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving the room. She felt this first battle of wills was pivotal in how the rest of the Order was to see them. Besides, she wasn’t about to leave Harry defenseless with her brothers in the room. Still, it was terrifying to defy her mother. There had been a time not all that long ago when she’d never have considered doing it.
"She’s right, Molly," Remus said, and Ginny could have hugged him. She looked over at him gratefully, but he averted his eyes.
Her mother’s lips thinned, and she looked as if she might cry, causing Ginny’s heart to pinch again. What she really wanted to do was to fling her arms around her mum and just hang on, but she knew she couldn’t do that. If she wanted her family to see her as an adult, she was going to have to act like one. No matter how hard that proved to be.
"This is Dark magic," Madam Pomfrey cried, pulling away from Hermione, her eyes wild. "This child is covered in Dark magic."
"Does that mean you won’t be able to heal her?" Ginny asked, panicked. She could hear the tremble in her own voice, but couldn’t hide it. All she could remember was Professor Dumbledore’s blackened hand and how dead it had looked.
"I don’t know. It’s going to take me some time to see how bad the damage is," Madam Pomfrey said, obviously shaken. "She’s stable for now, but I can’t heal these burns without some additional research."
"How did Hermione get these burns, Ginny?" Remus asked. "Can you tell us that?"
"Hermione," Ron said, his voice cracking as he attempted to move closer to her.
"Sit down, young man," Madam Pomfrey demanded. "Let me take a look at you before you go anywhere. You," she said, pointing at Bill and the twins, "begin Transfiguring this furniture into beds and make me an infirmary. I want all four of my patients in the same spot."
"Ginny’s not hurt," Bill said, staring at his sister with that same unfathomable expression.
"I’ll be the judge of that. Just do as I say," Madam Pomfrey snapped, returning to tending Ron’s wounds.
"Ginny, who caused these injuries to the others?" Remus asked, attempting to stop the bleeding on Harry’s chest with the sleeve of his robe. "We haven’t had any reports of Death Eater activity tonight."
"Voldemort," Ginny said flatly.
There were several gasps, and her mother visibly flinched.
"Ginny!" she cried as if Ginny had cursed. "Don’t say the name."
Ginny rolled her eyes. She was tired and stressed and the adrenaline from the night’s activities was beginning to wear off. She had no patience for this. "I will say the name. I’m not going to be a hypocrite about it."
"Don’t talk to your mother that way, Ginny," her father said sternly. It was so rare that her dad ever reprimanded them that it mollified her instantly.
"I’m sorry," Ginny said. "It’s been a stressful night, and I’m worried about them."
Her mother’s expression softened slightly, although she still hadn’t made a move to touch her. Ginny wished she would; she could use a hug.
Harry groaned slightly and shifted his position. Ginny immediately turned to him and brushed the hair from his eyes. "Harry?" she said.
She could see his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed lids, but she suspected he was dreaming rather than trying to wake.
"I’ve healed most of his burns. They weren’t as severe as Miss Granger’s. Still, I need to do a little research before I can be certain," Madam Pomfrey said. Ron was sleeping peacefully in the bed Fred and George had Transfigured. Ginny suspected that Madam Pomfrey had given him a sleeping draught. She wished she could get one in order to avoid the questions she knew were coming.
"I have some questions I need answered as well, but let me tend to Mr. Potter first," Madam Pomfrey said.
"I think we all have a lot of questions," her dad said, his gaze boring into Ginny and causing her to flinch.
When Madam Pomfrey reached Harry, she waved her wand over him once and jerked back. "These aren’t burns," she said, nonplussed.
"No," Ginny replied, swallowing hard. She didn’t want to reveal anything she’d promised to keep quiet, but she had to make certain the others’ injuries were tended. She found herself wishing these weren’t her decisions to make and had a new respect for the burden that had been placed on Harry. No wonder he frequently appeared so on edge.
She desperately wanted to do the right thing, but what happened if what was the right thing wasn’t entirely clear? How was she supposed to know, let alone decide? Professor Dumbledore’s words from after the Third Task drifted back to her, something about choosing between what was right and what was easy. It would be easy to simply fall on her knees and confess everything to the Order, to place the burden of what to do on their heads. But that wasn’t what Harry would do. He’d choose the right path, no matter how much it cost him. Ginny had to choose to do what was right, as well.
"These injuries were caused by a magical creature, a dragon, if I had to hazard a guess," Madam Pomfrey said, staring at Ginny intently.
"A dragon?" Fred and George both asked, speaking for the first time. Ginny thought they looked rather impressed.
"Where on earth did you find a dragon?" her mum shrieked, looking slightly deranged. Her hair had pulled from its bun, and her eyes were wild.
"Can you heal him?" Ginny asked, ignoring everyone else in the room. Nothing was as important as getting Harry well. She needed him well so she could give him hell for leaving her here with all of them.
"Of course I can," Madam Pomfrey said indignantly. "He’ll need some Blood Replenishing Potions that will have to be taken in intervals over the next two days. He’ll probably sleep through most of it, but he’ll be fine. There won’t even be any scarring."
Two days? Oh, that’s just great.
"I’ll help with giving him the potions," Ginny said firmly.
"That won’t be necessary, Ginny," her mother said. "We’ll make certain Harry gets his potions. You have some questions to answer."
"I’m not going anywhere until I know they’re all going to be okay," Ginny said, refusing to back down. "And I don’t trust any of you with Harry right now."
"Ginevra Molly Weasley," her mother said, scandalized. "We might be upset with all of you at the moment, but we certainly would never do anything to hinder Harry’s recovery."
"Bill’s already dropped him on the floor, despite the fact he’s injured," Ginny fired back mutinously. She glared at her eldest brother, still feeling unforgiving.
"He what?" her mother bellowed, turning towards Bill.
Despite being a fully qualified wizard, not to mention a grown and married man, Bill Weasley blanched. "I would have done the same to Ron, too, if he were the one I was carrying. They had no business dragging Ginny off on their little adventure."
"’Little adventure,’" Ginny shrieked. "You have absolutely no idea what we’ve done, or what we’ve been through."
"How about you enlighten us then," Bill snarled. "Tell us why you nearly broke your mother’s heart. Do you have any idea how much you upset her? Madam Pomfrey had to be called to give her a Calming Draught that first morning. But you wouldn’t know about that since you never bothered to check or even write a note to let us know you were all right, never mind where you were. I knew Harry was up to something, but I never thought he’d drag the rest of you right into danger with him."
"He didn’t drag us anywhere," Ginny spat. "In fact, we had to force him to let us come. Professor Dumbledore left him a job to do. Completing his task is the only way Harry can beat Voldemort in the end. That’s exactly what he’s going to do, and we’re going to help him do it."
Again, the others cringed when Ginny said the name, but she didn’t care.
"Ginny," Remus began, but she didn’t let him finish.
"Look at you. All of you cringe just hearing the name. How can you possibly believe you can handle this better than us?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Professor Dumbledore trusted him; why can’t you?"
"You are just children," her mum said stubbornly.
"We’re not children. Harry’s never even been allowed to be a child, and I haven’t been since I was eleven. I’ve been touched by this war more than any of you, even you, Bill," she said, nodding towards her brother’s scars. "How any of you think you can keep us safe is beyond me. You couldn’t do it then, you can’t do it now."
"That’s enough." Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "Miss Weasley, climb into that bed." She nodded towards the one empty bed left in the impromptu infirmary, the one next to Harry’s.
"We need to ask Ginny some questions, Poppy," her dad said.
"Not right now you don’t," Madam Pomfrey said indignantly. "Minerva isn’t even here, and this is developing into nothing more than a shouting match. These children have obviously been through a shock, and nobody is going to upset them until they have a good night’s sleep. I’ll return in the morning with more information on Miss Granger."
A blaze of fiery red hair suddenly streaked across his face as Ginny landed next to him on a broom.
"What happened? Where did it go?" she shrieked. "Are you all right?"
"The cup," Harry croaked weakly, pointing to where it lay on the ground.
Ginny scooped it up in her hand. The gold was scorched and blackened, but it remained intact.
"Just a cup now," Harry muttered, feeling lightheaded. "Wonder if it still works as the key?"
"Come on, let’s get out of here," she said, helping him off the ground and onto her conjured broom.
Harry slumped against her weakly as she rose in the air and flew them to the opposite end of the arena.
"I thought the lady was supposed to stay in the stands and shriek for her Champion to get up," he said, smiling weakly.
"Who says I’m a lady?" Ginny shot back.
Harry grinned, feeling slightly delirious. "I love you, Ginny," he whispered, his eyes failing to stay open.
He felt her body start. "I tried to get to you sooner to help, but it was like some kind of barrier held me in place. I wasn’t able to break past it until you were on the ground," she said, sniffling.
"’S’okay," he mumbled.
Ginny reached around to shake him fiercely. "Stay with me, Harry. Just a few minutes more. Here’s the entrance; fit the cup into the slot."
Harry tried to lift his arm, but it felt like jelly, and he couldn’t make it cooperate.
"Here, I’ll do it," Ginny said as she grabbed the cup and fit it into the slot. The door slid open, revealing that deep blackness once again.
Ginny flew the broom right into the archway, and moments later they flew right back into the sitting room at the Smith Museum. Ron and Hermione were still huddled together by the wall.
"Did you get it?" Ron asked anxiously.
Harry nodded towards the charred cup. "Found and destroyed," he said weakly, his legs refusing to hold his weight as he stepped off the broom. Ginny grabbed onto him and eased him to the ground.
"Mate, what happened to you?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.
"We’ll discuss it back at Grimmauld Place," Ginny said in a take-charge voice. "Ron, do you still think you can Apparate with Hermione?"
Ron nodded. Clutching an unconscious Hermione to his side, they Disapparated with a pop.
Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry. "Hold on tight to me, Harry," she whispered.
"I can take us," Harry said stubbornly.
"Thanks, but no. I don’t feel like being splinched today. I’ve had enough excitement for one day."
With a cheeky grin, she kissed his cheek and brought them both back to headquarters…back to her family.
**--**--
Chapter Twelve
Repercussions
Ginny opened her eyes, steadied herself and stared at the gloomy outline of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She had just Apparated onto a small grassy patch of land shadowed by a large tree a short way from the house, and hoped she wouldn’t get a reprimand from the Ministry about underage magic since she was in the company of several of-age wizards.
The sun had set long ago, and the street was quiet and dark, not even a Muggle vehicle disturbing the stillness. She could see dim candlelight burning in several of the windows of headquarters and was relieved that it was still occupied. Harry slumped against her, finally losing his long battle to stay conscious. She struggled to let him down gently and ended up pinned beneath him. Merlin, for a thin bloke he was heavy. She shuddered at the stark purple bruises covering his pale face.
Ron sat on the ground next to Harry, cradling Hermione in his lap. He was listless and barely had the strength to speak.
"Sorry, Ginny," he said, gasping. "I tried to fire sparks at the door, but I missed."
"It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine, Ron. How’s Hermione?" Ginny asked. The older girl was frighteningly still, and Ginny couldn’t bear to look at the awful wounds on her head.
"She won’t wake up, Ginny," Ron said, sounding like the frightened little boy that Fred and George used to tease with spiders.
"She will," Ginny said with a confidence she didn’t have. She suddenly didn’t feel very grown up, at all. "This isn’t finished yet, and
Hermione is way too tenacious to give up in the middle of a project. Stay with them a minute; I’ll be right back."
She gently untangled herself from Harry’s limbs, wincing at the raw slashes across his chest. Her hands were slick with blood from gripping him so tightly when they Apparated.
He’d been magnificent against the dragon. Ginny had been awed watching him, despite her terror. After the dragon had first whipped him with its tail, she’d begun trying to conjure a broom to help him. Conjuring items was a sixth-year spell, and she’d never attempted it. All she had to go on was the memory of Harry conjuring his own broom. It had taken her several attempts to get it right, and she knew her own panic and frustration hadn’t helped. Once she’d finally had the broom, something in the magic of the place wouldn’t allow her to leave the stands to help him.
Still, despite knowing all he’d done and how much he’d been through in that arena, she couldn’t help the slight twinge of annoyance over being the only one conscious and unhurt and able to deal with the wrath that awaited her on the other side of the door. She knew she was in for a barrage of questions, and she wished she didn’t have to face it alone. It might be childish, but that’s how she felt.
She’d let the others recover, but once they were well again, she had every intention of pointing out that despite all their protests about her being underage, she was the last one standing. Steeling her resolve with a grim smile, Ginny climbed the steps of number twelve.
She tested the handle of the door and found it unlocked. Her heart gave a slight twinge knowing that her mum would have left it that way in case they returned. Biting her lip, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
I have to be strong.
Directly inside the entrance hall, Bill, Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody were arguing heatedly, but Ginny was too tired to pay attention to their words. None of them noticed her straightaway. Remus looked up first and caught her standing uncertainly in the doorway.
"Ginny," he said, startled.
Bill and Moody’s heads whipped around, but otherwise they were all frozen.
"Uhm…I need some help outside. We’ve got some injuries," Ginny said finally, biting her lip.
It was as if her words unfroze them. Remus and Moody pushed past her and sprinted outside, but Bill caught her by the arm before she could follow.
"Oh no, squirt, you’re not going anywhere," he said, and despite the old familiar nickname, she could tell he was angry.
His anger snapped something inside her and released her courage. There was no way she was going back to being treated like a baby — not by Bill — not by anyone.
"Let go of me, Bill," she demanded, jerking her arm free. "Hermione is really hurt, and I know right where she is. I’ll answer your questions later, but I don’t have time for this right now."
Ignoring the surprised look on her brother’s face, she turned and sprinted out the door, leading Lupin and Moody to the others.
"She’s been burned," Ron said as Remus leaned over Hermione. "She needs Madam Pomfrey right now."
"Let me take her inside, Ron," Remus said, gently lifting her from Ron’s arms. "I’ll Floo Poppy, and she’ll be here in no time."
Ron nodded, struggling to stand. Moody pulled him to his feet and grabbed him around his waist when Ron started to sway.
"Easy, lad. I’ve got you. Just lean on me, and we’ll get you inside," the old Auror said, surprisingly gently.
Bill stared down at Harry’s crumpled form, an unreadable expression on his face. After waiting a moment, Ginny finally nudged him, and he leaned over to lift Harry. He pulled Harry to his feet and threw him over his shoulder none-too-gently. Ginny bit the inside of her cheeks, breathing through her nose, and followed them inside.
When they arrived in the entrance hall, they followed Remus and Moody into one of the smaller sitting rooms where Bill unceremoniously dropped Harry to the floor in a heap.
Ginny couldn’t control her temper any longer. She whirled on her brother in a rage, holding her wand on him.
"That’s enough," she snarled.
"Ginny," he said, his own temper rising.
"Not another word from you," she spat. "You have absolutely no idea what’s going on here, and if you mishandle Harry one more time, I’m going to make certain you wish you’d never taught me the Bat Bogey Hex."
"That’s enough," Remus said sharply. "We’re not going to start fighting amongst ourselves. We’re going to tend these injuries before we sit down and calmly discuss what’s happened. I’m going to Floo Poppy. Bill, I think you should go and get your parents."
Bill frowned at Ginny for a moment before turning on his heel and leaving the room without a word.
"Stay with Harry, Ginny. I’ll be right back," Remus said, squeezing her shoulder gently.
Moody sat Ron on a chair, but he immediately moved to the floor next to the couch where Hermione lay. He held her hand tightly, gazing intently at her closed eyelids. Ginny imagined he was willing her to wake up from sheer desire alone.
Moody helped her move Harry to the empty chair, and she gently rested his head to the side. The floor where Bill had dropped him was smeared with his blood, and the fabric on the chair where they placed him was rapidly becoming stained.
"He’s going to need a Blood Replenishing Potion, but we’ll let Poppy look him over first," Moody said, his good eye fixed on Ginny while his magical eye kept spinning to watch the other three.
A commotion in the doorway caused Ginny to look up to see her parents, Bill, Fred and George all staring back at her. Her mum was pale, although Ginny could see two bright spots of color growing rapidly on her cheeks.
That was never a good sign.
Ginny glanced at her father’s face. She could read relief there, but had to look away from the disappointment she saw reflected in his eyes. What was it about parents that could make you feel so small and unsure, no matter how strongly you believed in what you were doing?
She knew she’d been right to go along with Harry and the others. She knew what they were doing was important, and that they were following Professor Dumbledore’s instructions. She also knew the great burden Harry carried, and that he was stronger with her by his side. Why, then, could the simplest look from each of her parents make her feel as if she’d done something terribly wrong?
"Ronnie," her mum wailed, finally noticing the burns on Ron’s arm. She ran across the room and grabbed his hand, trying to straighten out his arm and inspect the wounds.
Ron jerked his arm away roughly. "M’fine," he slurred, letting them all know he was anything but. "’Erminee’s hurt."
"I want to know what in the name of Merlin happened to all of you, and I want to know right now. I’m aware that you were in Diagon Alley earlier today, and now you show up here injured. Where have you been, and what have you been doing?" Molly demanded, drawing herself up to her full height. She glared at Ginny while keeping her hand on Ron’s shoulder. Molly Weasley wasn’t a tall woman, but when she was angry she appeared to grow before their eyes.
"The questions will keep, Molly," Remus Lupin said mildly as he reentered the room followed closely by Madam Pomfrey. "Let’s get their injuries healed first."
Madam Pomfrey’s expert gaze swept the room and each of the four teens before moving directly to Hermione. She set her bag on the floor and in a no-nonsense voice told Ron to move aside. Ron shifted back, although admittedly not very far.
"Are you injured, Ginevra?" her mother asked stiffly.
"No," Ginny replied, knowing what was coming and steeling herself for it.
"Then I want you upstairs and in your room. I’ll be up to discuss this with you after I’m certain your brother will be all right," her mum said in a shrill voice.
Ginny swallowed, clenching her fists so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. "No, Mum. I’m staying."
"Don’t you dare argue with me, young lady. I’m on my last nerve with you as it is, disappearing in the middle of the night without so much as a note. There’s a war going on out there. You could have been killed," her mum shouted.
"Molly," her dad said, placing a restraining arm on her mum’s shoulder.
"No, Arthur. I want her upstairs now," her mum insisted, pointing at the door.
"No, Mum. I’m staying here until I know they’ll be all right," Ginny said, swallowing hard. "Hermione and Harry are unconscious, and Ron’s nearly delirious. I’m the only one who can tell Madam Pomfrey anything she might need to know."
She knew she was using the health of the others as her trump card, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving the room. She felt this first battle of wills was pivotal in how the rest of the Order was to see them. Besides, she wasn’t about to leave Harry defenseless with her brothers in the room. Still, it was terrifying to defy her mother. There had been a time not all that long ago when she’d never have considered doing it.
"She’s right, Molly," Remus said, and Ginny could have hugged him. She looked over at him gratefully, but he averted his eyes.
Her mother’s lips thinned, and she looked as if she might cry, causing Ginny’s heart to pinch again. What she really wanted to do was to fling her arms around her mum and just hang on, but she knew she couldn’t do that. If she wanted her family to see her as an adult, she was going to have to act like one. No matter how hard that proved to be.
"This is Dark magic," Madam Pomfrey cried, pulling away from Hermione, her eyes wild. "This child is covered in Dark magic."
"Does that mean you won’t be able to heal her?" Ginny asked, panicked. She could hear the tremble in her own voice, but couldn’t hide it. All she could remember was Professor Dumbledore’s blackened hand and how dead it had looked.
"I don’t know. It’s going to take me some time to see how bad the damage is," Madam Pomfrey said, obviously shaken. "She’s stable for now, but I can’t heal these burns without some additional research."
"How did Hermione get these burns, Ginny?" Remus asked. "Can you tell us that?"
"Hermione," Ron said, his voice cracking as he attempted to move closer to her.
"Sit down, young man," Madam Pomfrey demanded. "Let me take a look at you before you go anywhere. You," she said, pointing at Bill and the twins, "begin Transfiguring this furniture into beds and make me an infirmary. I want all four of my patients in the same spot."
"Ginny’s not hurt," Bill said, staring at his sister with that same unfathomable expression.
"I’ll be the judge of that. Just do as I say," Madam Pomfrey snapped, returning to tending Ron’s wounds.
"Ginny, who caused these injuries to the others?" Remus asked, attempting to stop the bleeding on Harry’s chest with the sleeve of his robe. "We haven’t had any reports of Death Eater activity tonight."
"Voldemort," Ginny said flatly.
There were several gasps, and her mother visibly flinched.
"Ginny!" she cried as if Ginny had cursed. "Don’t say the name."
Ginny rolled her eyes. She was tired and stressed and the adrenaline from the night’s activities was beginning to wear off. She had no patience for this. "I will say the name. I’m not going to be a hypocrite about it."
"Don’t talk to your mother that way, Ginny," her father said sternly. It was so rare that her dad ever reprimanded them that it mollified her instantly.
"I’m sorry," Ginny said. "It’s been a stressful night, and I’m worried about them."
Her mother’s expression softened slightly, although she still hadn’t made a move to touch her. Ginny wished she would; she could use a hug.
Harry groaned slightly and shifted his position. Ginny immediately turned to him and brushed the hair from his eyes. "Harry?" she said.
She could see his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed lids, but she suspected he was dreaming rather than trying to wake.
"I’ve healed most of his burns. They weren’t as severe as Miss Granger’s. Still, I need to do a little research before I can be certain," Madam Pomfrey said. Ron was sleeping peacefully in the bed Fred and George had Transfigured. Ginny suspected that Madam Pomfrey had given him a sleeping draught. She wished she could get one in order to avoid the questions she knew were coming.
"I have some questions I need answered as well, but let me tend to Mr. Potter first," Madam Pomfrey said.
"I think we all have a lot of questions," her dad said, his gaze boring into Ginny and causing her to flinch.
When Madam Pomfrey reached Harry, she waved her wand over him once and jerked back. "These aren’t burns," she said, nonplussed.
"No," Ginny replied, swallowing hard. She didn’t want to reveal anything she’d promised to keep quiet, but she had to make certain the others’ injuries were tended. She found herself wishing these weren’t her decisions to make and had a new respect for the burden that had been placed on Harry. No wonder he frequently appeared so on edge.
She desperately wanted to do the right thing, but what happened if what was the right thing wasn’t entirely clear? How was she supposed to know, let alone decide? Professor Dumbledore’s words from after the Third Task drifted back to her, something about choosing between what was right and what was easy. It would be easy to simply fall on her knees and confess everything to the Order, to place the burden of what to do on their heads. But that wasn’t what Harry would do. He’d choose the right path, no matter how much it cost him. Ginny had to choose to do what was right, as well.
"These injuries were caused by a magical creature, a dragon, if I had to hazard a guess," Madam Pomfrey said, staring at Ginny intently.
"A dragon?" Fred and George both asked, speaking for the first time. Ginny thought they looked rather impressed.
"Where on earth did you find a dragon?" her mum shrieked, looking slightly deranged. Her hair had pulled from its bun, and her eyes were wild.
"Can you heal him?" Ginny asked, ignoring everyone else in the room. Nothing was as important as getting Harry well. She needed him well so she could give him hell for leaving her here with all of them.
"Of course I can," Madam Pomfrey said indignantly. "He’ll need some Blood Replenishing Potions that will have to be taken in intervals over the next two days. He’ll probably sleep through most of it, but he’ll be fine. There won’t even be any scarring."
Two days? Oh, that’s just great.
"I’ll help with giving him the potions," Ginny said firmly.
"That won’t be necessary, Ginny," her mother said. "We’ll make certain Harry gets his potions. You have some questions to answer."
"I’m not going anywhere until I know they’re all going to be okay," Ginny said, refusing to back down. "And I don’t trust any of you with Harry right now."
"Ginevra Molly Weasley," her mother said, scandalized. "We might be upset with all of you at the moment, but we certainly would never do anything to hinder Harry’s recovery."
"Bill’s already dropped him on the floor, despite the fact he’s injured," Ginny fired back mutinously. She glared at her eldest brother, still feeling unforgiving.
"He what?" her mother bellowed, turning towards Bill.
Despite being a fully qualified wizard, not to mention a grown and married man, Bill Weasley blanched. "I would have done the same to Ron, too, if he were the one I was carrying. They had no business dragging Ginny off on their little adventure."
"’Little adventure,’" Ginny shrieked. "You have absolutely no idea what we’ve done, or what we’ve been through."
"How about you enlighten us then," Bill snarled. "Tell us why you nearly broke your mother’s heart. Do you have any idea how much you upset her? Madam Pomfrey had to be called to give her a Calming Draught that first morning. But you wouldn’t know about that since you never bothered to check or even write a note to let us know you were all right, never mind where you were. I knew Harry was up to something, but I never thought he’d drag the rest of you right into danger with him."
"He didn’t drag us anywhere," Ginny spat. "In fact, we had to force him to let us come. Professor Dumbledore left him a job to do. Completing his task is the only way Harry can beat Voldemort in the end. That’s exactly what he’s going to do, and we’re going to help him do it."
Again, the others cringed when Ginny said the name, but she didn’t care.
"Ginny," Remus began, but she didn’t let him finish.
"Look at you. All of you cringe just hearing the name. How can you possibly believe you can handle this better than us?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Professor Dumbledore trusted him; why can’t you?"
"You are just children," her mum said stubbornly.
"We’re not children. Harry’s never even been allowed to be a child, and I haven’t been since I was eleven. I’ve been touched by this war more than any of you, even you, Bill," she said, nodding towards her brother’s scars. "How any of you think you can keep us safe is beyond me. You couldn’t do it then, you can’t do it now."
"That’s enough." Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "Miss Weasley, climb into that bed." She nodded towards the one empty bed left in the impromptu infirmary, the one next to Harry’s.
"We need to ask Ginny some questions, Poppy," her dad said.
"Not right now you don’t," Madam Pomfrey said indignantly. "Minerva isn’t even here, and this is developing into nothing more than a shouting match. These children have obviously been through a shock, and nobody is going to upset them until they have a good night’s sleep. I’ll return in the morning with more information on Miss Granger."
วันอาทิตย์ที่ 2 กันยายน พ.ศ. 2550
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 190-197)
"It’s in here," he whispered. "I bet he used a spell similar to the one Dumbledore used on the Mirror of Erised in our first year. I think that if someone wanted to open this door simply to use the wardrobe, it would open, no problem. But it somehow knows we want what’s hidden inside."
Hermione withdrew her wand. "Should we try an unlocking charm?" she asked.
Harry didn’t think it could be that simple, but he remembered Dumbledore letting him try a Summoning charm before he tried anything trickier.
"Give it a try," he said shrugging.
"Alohomora," Hermione said firmly.
Something sparked, but the wardrobe remained firmly closed.
"Didn’t you say the entrance to the cave demanded payment in blood?" Ron asked, swallowing hard.
"Yeah, but I don’t think Voldemort would use the same protections twice. It’s something different," Harry said, absently.
"The doorknob is off center, just like the fireplace," Hermione said, twisting her lips from side to side.
"I wonder…" Harry said.
"What…" Ron asked.
Harry moved his wand to the center of the wardrobe, where he thought a knob should logically be.
"Aparecium," he said.
Slowly, the blurry outline of a doorknob became visible. It was distorted and it shimmered, almost as if they were looking at it through intense heat.
"Whoa," Ron said, breathing deeply. He put the Spell Detector back on his nose. "It’s covered in red, Harry. Loads of Dark Magic all over it."
"We’d better not touch it directly then," Hermione said. "I’ll use my wand to open it." She waved her wand without using an incantation.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted, grabbing her arm as a jet of white-hot flames shot out from the knob. The blast hit Hermione on the side of her head, knocking her backwards as her hair ignited in a ball of flame. Hermione screamed and moved away, batting at the flames with her hands.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted again, panicked. His shoulder and arm had also been hit with some of the blast, and the flames quickly destroyed the sleeve of his shirt and began to spread. He waved his wand helplessly, as if he couldn’t remember the spell to douse the flames.
Harry’s primary school lessons popped into his head as he thought to push them to the ground and roll them to smother the flames, but his wand would be faster.
"Aguamenti," he shouted. A spray of water issued from his wand, covering both Ron and Hermione.
Hermione lay on the floor, moaning and only half-conscious. The hair on the entire left side of her head was singed, and her scalp was covered with angry red burns that oozed painfully. Ron sat on the floor beside her, dazed and blinking slowly. The skin on his upper arm and shoulder was blackened and raw. He had inched toward Hermione before collapsing and sat gently stroking the uninjured side of her head.
"Hermione," he whispered, his voice cracking.
Harry felt nausea rise within his chest as he stared back and forth between his two friends. He ran a hand through his mussed hair. He’d known this would happen. He hadn’t wanted them to come because he’d known they would end up getting hurt, but he was weak and allowed them to come because he’d wanted company.
He’d seen the terrible damage to Professor Dumbledore’s hand, and he’d let them walk in here anyway. He felt frozen on the spot, his hands shaking and his breath coming in painful gasps.
"Ron? Hermione?" he said, sinking to his knees beside them.
Pull it together. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never fallen apart under pressure like this.
"Episky," he said, holding his wand to the burns on Ron’s arm. He knew it wasn’t the best choice of spells. There must be a healing spell specifically for burns, but this was the only one he knew. The wounds on Ron’s arm did heal slightly, enough to hold him until they could get help, anyway.
He was more concerned about trying it on Hermione, whose burns looked much worse.
"Harry, Ron," Ginny’s voice sounded from the hallway. "Where are you?"
"Ginny!" Harry called desperately.
"Merlin’s Beard! What happened?" Ginny asked, rushing over to her brother and staring at his arm in horror.
"I’m okay," Ron mumbled, brushing away her hands. "Hermione’s hurt."
Harry held his wand next to one of the smaller burns on Hermione’s neck.
"Episky," he whispered, grimacing when Hermione moaned. He felt a stinging behind his eyes and blinked rapidly. The wound healed, so he tentatively moved to her head. He continued to patch her up as best he could, desperately wishing Madam Pomfrey was here.
"I’m sorry," Harry whispered when Hermione cried out as he tried to heal the largest of her burns. "It’s the only healing spell I know."
"It’s all right, Harry," Ginny whispered, gently rubbing his shoulders. She’d stood behind him the whole time, gently urging him on, and he was grateful for her calming presence.
"That’s something we’ll have to do later — learn more healing spells. For now, we’ve just got to do what we can to make them comfortable," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"There’re traces of Dark magic all over the wardrobe. We found the separate knob, but they got hurt when Hermione tried to open it," Harry said gruffly.
Ginny nodded and moved towards the wardrobe before anyone could stop her. She pointed her wand at the strange knob, opening it with ease.
Harry’s jaw hung open. "How did you…? Ginny, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? That’s exactly how Ron and Hermione got hurt. I don’t know how you opened it, but we can’t keep taking stupid chances."
"It wasn’t stupid if it worked," she snapped back. "Professor Dumbledore told you that you were able to go along with him last time because you were underage, right? He said Voldemort was foolish enough to believe that someone underage and not fully qualified could never be a threat. Well, I’m still underage — as you’re all so fond of pointing out — so my magic shouldn’t register anymore than yours did."
Harry gaped like a fish, knowing she was right and yet wishing she wasn’t. He needed help, and she was able to provide it. It should have been a simple choice, but despite the fact his head knew it, a more primitive part of him kept demanding to protect her from it all.
"We don’t have time for your caveman heroics, Harry," Ginny said in a bored voice, almost as if she’d read his mind. "I’m going with you. I already told you that we’re not letting you do this alone, so just shut it and take all the reasons that are about to explode from your mouth and stick ‘em up your arse," Ginny said, her eyes blazing.
"Ginny-"
"Are you coming or not?" she asked firmly.
"We can’t just go. We have to get some help for Ron and Hermione," Harry said. He knew he was stalling, but she could be so infuriating that it was hard to think straight. "We’ll Apparate them back to Grimmauld Place and get Madam Pomfrey."
"After we get the Horcrux," Ginny said, swallowing hard. Her eyes flickered briefly to Ron, whose eyes had closed.
"What? No-" Harry said.
"Yes, Harry," Ron said, opening his eyes and pulling himself up against the wall. "We didn’t get this far to turn back now."
Harry stared at the steely determination in his friend’s pale face, knowing he was right, yet unable to move.
Ron gasped as he pulled himself closer to Hermione. "Bring back the damn Horcrux, Harry."
"Use your Patronus if you need to call for help," Harry said, looking right into Ron’s eyes. "Do you think you can Apparate?"
"Yeah," Ron said, gasping. "If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll take Hermione back and bring some help. I need to stay with Hermione."
He looked as if it pained him to say it, as if being asked to choose between his two best friends was tearing him apart.
"Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. You’re hurt, and you can’t leave Hermione here alone. We’ll be all right, and we’ll be back as soon as we can," Harry said, staring intently in Ron’s eyes.
The two communicated silently for a moment, each knowing the other would easily give his own life to save his friend.
"Take care of each other," Ron said. "Listen to Harry, Ginny. Don’t do anything stupid just to prove yourself."
Ginny scowled, but nodded resolutely. She turned her back to him and stepped into the wardrobe, her hands splayed out in front of her as if she were blind.
Harry hurriedly joined her inside the wardrobe. It was pitch black and cavernous. He took several shuffling steps before realizing there was no way there should have been this much room inside.
"Ginny," he whispered, knowing she was only a step ahead of him but unable to see her.
How am I supposed to protect her when I can’t even see her?
"Yeah?" she replied, sounding frightened for the first time.
He didn’t blame her. Although he’d never admit it, he was scared, too. The pitch dark was unnerving, and the nagging worry for Ron and Hermione nearly undid him. He reached out until he found her hand.
She clasped his tightly, threading his fingers with hers, and he thought it would take a bigger wizard than Voldemort to make her let go.
They shuffled in silence for what felt like an impossibly long time, although he knew it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Suddenly, the darkness ended and they stepped out into blazing sunlight.
"Where are we?" Ginny gasped in wonder as she looked around.
Harry’s mouth hung open as he spun around in circles. They were inside what looked to Harry like the Parthenon in Ancient Athens, except that it was intact rather than in ruins.
Ginny took a step backwards. "I don’t have a good feeling about this, Harry," she whispered.
A sliding sound caused them both to spin around. They were staring at a solid stone wall.
"What happened to the door?" Ginny asked, panicked.
The door had vanished completely, leaving only a small indentation in the shape of a cup.
"Obviously there’s no going back without the Horcrux as a key," Harry said grimly. "But where is it?"
"And what’s guarding it?" Ginny asked, swallowing
A huge wooden gate at the other end of the Parthenon groaned as it slowly began to rise.
"You had to ask," Harry said tonelessly, taking a step in front of Ginny.
The waited with bated breath as the gate fully opened. For a moment, nothing moved, and Harry and Ginny barely breathed. Suddenly, a great, thunderous roar echoed throughout the arena, shaking the stone and causing both teens to cover their ears.
Their eyes widened as a huge, monstrous beast lumbered from the cavern. It was greenish in color with a yellow head and enormous bluish wings. The claws on its feet were as sharp as knives, and its wings and tail were similarly tipped. The dragon raised its head, the irises in its glowing yellow eyes narrowing dangerously when it saw them. It roared again, emitting a blast of fire so intense it caused a fireball to fly across the Parthenon at them.
Harry and Ginny jumped over a wall and ducked in the stands as the flames soared over their heads and scorched the seats above them.
Harry cursed, breathing heavily. "I swore I’d never battle another dragon again as long as I lived.
"It’s a Serbian Scythe-tip," Ginny said, clutching Harry’s arm and sounding awed.
"How do you know?" he asked incredulously.
"You couldn’t grow up in the same house with Charlie and not know something about dragons. The Serbian Scythe-tip and the Hungarian Horntail are the fiercest dragons, therefore the coolest as far as Charlie’s concerned," Ginny said, tentatively peering over the ledge.
"Great," Harry said, grumbling. "He sounds like Hagrid."
"Yeah. Harry, I can see the Horcrux!" Ginny said, her voice rising.
"What? Where?" Harry asked, rising on his knees to peer over the stone next to her.
"There!" she cried, pointing.
Squinting, he could just make out a nest tucked inside the gate where the dragon had fully emerged. The Scythe-tip stalked to and fro in front of the opening as if daring them to try and pass.
"You can do this, Harry," Ginny said. "It’s just like the First Task only now the Horcrux is your golden egg."
"But, Ginny, I don’t have my Firebolt. It’s back in London, and somehow, I don’t think a Summoning charm is going to work through that stone wall," he said, pointing to the now-hidden doorway that led back to the wardrobe.
"Harry, you’re a wizard with more experience than you had then. Conjure one! You don’t need it to last for long, just long enough," Ginny cried, exasperated.
"Right," Harry said, swallowing nervously. His palms were sweating, but he knew he could do this. Picturing his Firebolt in his mind, he conjured a nearly exact duplicate.
"You did it!" Ginny cried.
"Don’t get too excited. I still have to get the cup," Harry said.
Ginny smiled tremulously and pulled the ribbon from her hair. She then knotted it around Harry’s upper arm.
"What’s that for?" he asked, staring at the yellow ribbon.
Ginny shrugged. "Well, I’m not Hermione, so I’m not certain I have my history right, but I think before a tournament battle, the lady is supposed to tie her colors around her Champion of choice to wish him luck."
"Thanks," he mumbled, feeling awkward. He stared at his shoes as he shuffled his feet.
"Don’t thank me yet," Ginny said wryly. "For all I know, yellow is the color that will make a dragon charge."
"Thanks, Gin. Your encouragement is overwhelming right now," he replied, but he grinned when he said it. No matter what the circumstances, she could always make him feel better.
"You can do this, Harry," she said earnestly before grabbing his face and pressing her lips to his.
He returned the kiss, enjoying the searing heat that filled his belly until another roar from the dragon grabbed his attention.
"Here goes nothing," he said, before mounting the broom and soaring into the blue sky.
"Be careful, Harry," Ginny called after him.
He rose well above the arena, circling it and trying to find his best angle. It only took a moment for the great beast to spot him. Roaring in fury, it spread its massive wings and took to the sky after him.
Despite his predicament, Harry couldn’t help but be awed by the creature. Its wingspan was so large that it nearly shadowed the entire width of the Parthenon. It soared gracefully into the sky before turning its voluminous yellow eyes on Harry.
He maneuvered the Firebolt in a steep dive, attempting to fly underneath the dragon before it could turn. He hadn’t counted on its tail, however. The dragon’s tail was long and thin, and the beast used it like a whip. It lashed out at Harry and the scythe-like tip ripped his shirt and cut into his chest, drawing blood.
The beast roared, and its nostrils flared at the scent of Harry’s blood. Harry dove again, but the tail whipped into his back this time. Twice more Harry attempted the dive, and twice more the dragon’s sharp tail sliced into him. His shirt hung in tatters and dripped with blood. His Firebolt was fast, but this dragon was faster.
Harry swung upward, climbing steeply. The dragon was confused and bellowed its ire. It followed Harry’s climb, gaining on him. It breathed out heavily, and Harry could feel the heat from the approaching fireball. He turned quickly, ducking low as he felt the hair on the back of his neck singe. He wrapped around the Parthenon wall and dove between two columns.
The dragon shrieked in rage when it realized it couldn’t follow Harry through the opening. It had to turn and fly up and over the top. Harry took the opportunity and dove towards the dragon’s lair. He had nearly reached it when that whip-like tail lashed out, slicing into him again.
He hissed in pain and had to pull up to avoid another blast of fire. He was growing frustrated and felt slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood. Something had to go his way soon, or he was a goner. He climbed steeply and once again looped over the top to fly back between the columns. He didn’t pause to check if the dragon followed, but instead aimed right for the nest as fast as his broom could carry him.
The dragon shrieked, enraged. Instead of turning this time, it crashed right through the columns. The force slowed the beast slightly. Harry sped towards the ground, pulling up just in time and aimed the broom into the entrance of the cavern. As he leaned down to grab the cup, his broom vanished.
He swore violently. He’d never claimed to be an expert on conjuring spells, but damn it, his timing couldn’t have been worse.
Before he had time to conjure another, he heard the piercing screech of the dragon, and it sounded as if it was approaching fast. He tucked the cup inside the waistband of his jeans and sprinted outside. He dove for the stands just as a fireball streaked overhead.
The dragon bellowed in fury as it clawed at the low wall separating the arena from Harry’s hiding place. He crouched low and tried to move away, but the wall collapsed, leaving him exposed. The dragon’s arm struck the wooden gate that had been sealing the entrance to the lair, shattering it effortlessly. Harry cried out as hundreds of sharp splinters rained down upon his back.
The dragon’s huge arm crashed down again, this time closer to him, and the scythe-tipped claw lanced his side beneath his ribs. The impact of the blow threw Harry in the air, knocking the wind from him. He crashed onto the dirt, panting and clawing at the ground as he tried to get away from the angry dragon.
Before he could move, before he could utter a sound, the dragon’s tail encircled his ankles, hog-tying him, and began to pull him closer. He was certain he could see victory reflected in the sickly yellow eyes. Harry forced himself to stay calm, although he was shaking all over.
The dragon’s tail jerked upward, leaving Harry hanging upside down near the dragon’s mouth. He could see tendrils of smoke spiraling away from the nostrils.
If that thing breathes a fire ball now…
Bruised and bloodied, Harry waited until he was as close the dragon’s face as he dared. He pulled out his wand, aimed it right at those malevolent yellow eyes, and blasted off the most intense Conjunctivitis curse he could manage.
The dragon reared its head and roared, sending out a wave of blistering heat. Harry was released from its hold and he dropped to the ground with a thud. His body ached, but he couldn’t find the strength to move away from the rampaging dragon. The beast was howling in pain, its huge arms clawing at its eyes, which were running and covered with a white slime.
If Harry couldn’t pull himself up, he’d be crushed under the tail or a massive foot. Panting heavily, he tried again to stand, but it was useless. What would happen to Ginny if Harry were killed here? He at least had to get the cup to her so she could escape. Groaning as he rolled to his side, he pulled the gleaming cup from the waistband of his jeans.
He was surprised to see how the gold shone, despite being unpolished for so long. Helga Hufflepuff’s golden crest glinted in the sun. As the dragon sent more flames towards him, Harry instinctively raised the cup like a shield and tossed it into the approaching fire. He rolled to the side to avoid being fried, crying out in pain as he did so.
When the cup made contact with the fire, a blast of bright white light filled the arena. Harry covered his face, feeling as if he’d got a
Hermione withdrew her wand. "Should we try an unlocking charm?" she asked.
Harry didn’t think it could be that simple, but he remembered Dumbledore letting him try a Summoning charm before he tried anything trickier.
"Give it a try," he said shrugging.
"Alohomora," Hermione said firmly.
Something sparked, but the wardrobe remained firmly closed.
"Didn’t you say the entrance to the cave demanded payment in blood?" Ron asked, swallowing hard.
"Yeah, but I don’t think Voldemort would use the same protections twice. It’s something different," Harry said, absently.
"The doorknob is off center, just like the fireplace," Hermione said, twisting her lips from side to side.
"I wonder…" Harry said.
"What…" Ron asked.
Harry moved his wand to the center of the wardrobe, where he thought a knob should logically be.
"Aparecium," he said.
Slowly, the blurry outline of a doorknob became visible. It was distorted and it shimmered, almost as if they were looking at it through intense heat.
"Whoa," Ron said, breathing deeply. He put the Spell Detector back on his nose. "It’s covered in red, Harry. Loads of Dark Magic all over it."
"We’d better not touch it directly then," Hermione said. "I’ll use my wand to open it." She waved her wand without using an incantation.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted, grabbing her arm as a jet of white-hot flames shot out from the knob. The blast hit Hermione on the side of her head, knocking her backwards as her hair ignited in a ball of flame. Hermione screamed and moved away, batting at the flames with her hands.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted again, panicked. His shoulder and arm had also been hit with some of the blast, and the flames quickly destroyed the sleeve of his shirt and began to spread. He waved his wand helplessly, as if he couldn’t remember the spell to douse the flames.
Harry’s primary school lessons popped into his head as he thought to push them to the ground and roll them to smother the flames, but his wand would be faster.
"Aguamenti," he shouted. A spray of water issued from his wand, covering both Ron and Hermione.
Hermione lay on the floor, moaning and only half-conscious. The hair on the entire left side of her head was singed, and her scalp was covered with angry red burns that oozed painfully. Ron sat on the floor beside her, dazed and blinking slowly. The skin on his upper arm and shoulder was blackened and raw. He had inched toward Hermione before collapsing and sat gently stroking the uninjured side of her head.
"Hermione," he whispered, his voice cracking.
Harry felt nausea rise within his chest as he stared back and forth between his two friends. He ran a hand through his mussed hair. He’d known this would happen. He hadn’t wanted them to come because he’d known they would end up getting hurt, but he was weak and allowed them to come because he’d wanted company.
He’d seen the terrible damage to Professor Dumbledore’s hand, and he’d let them walk in here anyway. He felt frozen on the spot, his hands shaking and his breath coming in painful gasps.
"Ron? Hermione?" he said, sinking to his knees beside them.
Pull it together. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never fallen apart under pressure like this.
"Episky," he said, holding his wand to the burns on Ron’s arm. He knew it wasn’t the best choice of spells. There must be a healing spell specifically for burns, but this was the only one he knew. The wounds on Ron’s arm did heal slightly, enough to hold him until they could get help, anyway.
He was more concerned about trying it on Hermione, whose burns looked much worse.
"Harry, Ron," Ginny’s voice sounded from the hallway. "Where are you?"
"Ginny!" Harry called desperately.
"Merlin’s Beard! What happened?" Ginny asked, rushing over to her brother and staring at his arm in horror.
"I’m okay," Ron mumbled, brushing away her hands. "Hermione’s hurt."
Harry held his wand next to one of the smaller burns on Hermione’s neck.
"Episky," he whispered, grimacing when Hermione moaned. He felt a stinging behind his eyes and blinked rapidly. The wound healed, so he tentatively moved to her head. He continued to patch her up as best he could, desperately wishing Madam Pomfrey was here.
"I’m sorry," Harry whispered when Hermione cried out as he tried to heal the largest of her burns. "It’s the only healing spell I know."
"It’s all right, Harry," Ginny whispered, gently rubbing his shoulders. She’d stood behind him the whole time, gently urging him on, and he was grateful for her calming presence.
"That’s something we’ll have to do later — learn more healing spells. For now, we’ve just got to do what we can to make them comfortable," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"There’re traces of Dark magic all over the wardrobe. We found the separate knob, but they got hurt when Hermione tried to open it," Harry said gruffly.
Ginny nodded and moved towards the wardrobe before anyone could stop her. She pointed her wand at the strange knob, opening it with ease.
Harry’s jaw hung open. "How did you…? Ginny, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? That’s exactly how Ron and Hermione got hurt. I don’t know how you opened it, but we can’t keep taking stupid chances."
"It wasn’t stupid if it worked," she snapped back. "Professor Dumbledore told you that you were able to go along with him last time because you were underage, right? He said Voldemort was foolish enough to believe that someone underage and not fully qualified could never be a threat. Well, I’m still underage — as you’re all so fond of pointing out — so my magic shouldn’t register anymore than yours did."
Harry gaped like a fish, knowing she was right and yet wishing she wasn’t. He needed help, and she was able to provide it. It should have been a simple choice, but despite the fact his head knew it, a more primitive part of him kept demanding to protect her from it all.
"We don’t have time for your caveman heroics, Harry," Ginny said in a bored voice, almost as if she’d read his mind. "I’m going with you. I already told you that we’re not letting you do this alone, so just shut it and take all the reasons that are about to explode from your mouth and stick ‘em up your arse," Ginny said, her eyes blazing.
"Ginny-"
"Are you coming or not?" she asked firmly.
"We can’t just go. We have to get some help for Ron and Hermione," Harry said. He knew he was stalling, but she could be so infuriating that it was hard to think straight. "We’ll Apparate them back to Grimmauld Place and get Madam Pomfrey."
"After we get the Horcrux," Ginny said, swallowing hard. Her eyes flickered briefly to Ron, whose eyes had closed.
"What? No-" Harry said.
"Yes, Harry," Ron said, opening his eyes and pulling himself up against the wall. "We didn’t get this far to turn back now."
Harry stared at the steely determination in his friend’s pale face, knowing he was right, yet unable to move.
Ron gasped as he pulled himself closer to Hermione. "Bring back the damn Horcrux, Harry."
"Use your Patronus if you need to call for help," Harry said, looking right into Ron’s eyes. "Do you think you can Apparate?"
"Yeah," Ron said, gasping. "If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll take Hermione back and bring some help. I need to stay with Hermione."
He looked as if it pained him to say it, as if being asked to choose between his two best friends was tearing him apart.
"Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. You’re hurt, and you can’t leave Hermione here alone. We’ll be all right, and we’ll be back as soon as we can," Harry said, staring intently in Ron’s eyes.
The two communicated silently for a moment, each knowing the other would easily give his own life to save his friend.
"Take care of each other," Ron said. "Listen to Harry, Ginny. Don’t do anything stupid just to prove yourself."
Ginny scowled, but nodded resolutely. She turned her back to him and stepped into the wardrobe, her hands splayed out in front of her as if she were blind.
Harry hurriedly joined her inside the wardrobe. It was pitch black and cavernous. He took several shuffling steps before realizing there was no way there should have been this much room inside.
"Ginny," he whispered, knowing she was only a step ahead of him but unable to see her.
How am I supposed to protect her when I can’t even see her?
"Yeah?" she replied, sounding frightened for the first time.
He didn’t blame her. Although he’d never admit it, he was scared, too. The pitch dark was unnerving, and the nagging worry for Ron and Hermione nearly undid him. He reached out until he found her hand.
She clasped his tightly, threading his fingers with hers, and he thought it would take a bigger wizard than Voldemort to make her let go.
They shuffled in silence for what felt like an impossibly long time, although he knew it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Suddenly, the darkness ended and they stepped out into blazing sunlight.
"Where are we?" Ginny gasped in wonder as she looked around.
Harry’s mouth hung open as he spun around in circles. They were inside what looked to Harry like the Parthenon in Ancient Athens, except that it was intact rather than in ruins.
Ginny took a step backwards. "I don’t have a good feeling about this, Harry," she whispered.
A sliding sound caused them both to spin around. They were staring at a solid stone wall.
"What happened to the door?" Ginny asked, panicked.
The door had vanished completely, leaving only a small indentation in the shape of a cup.
"Obviously there’s no going back without the Horcrux as a key," Harry said grimly. "But where is it?"
"And what’s guarding it?" Ginny asked, swallowing
A huge wooden gate at the other end of the Parthenon groaned as it slowly began to rise.
"You had to ask," Harry said tonelessly, taking a step in front of Ginny.
The waited with bated breath as the gate fully opened. For a moment, nothing moved, and Harry and Ginny barely breathed. Suddenly, a great, thunderous roar echoed throughout the arena, shaking the stone and causing both teens to cover their ears.
Their eyes widened as a huge, monstrous beast lumbered from the cavern. It was greenish in color with a yellow head and enormous bluish wings. The claws on its feet were as sharp as knives, and its wings and tail were similarly tipped. The dragon raised its head, the irises in its glowing yellow eyes narrowing dangerously when it saw them. It roared again, emitting a blast of fire so intense it caused a fireball to fly across the Parthenon at them.
Harry and Ginny jumped over a wall and ducked in the stands as the flames soared over their heads and scorched the seats above them.
Harry cursed, breathing heavily. "I swore I’d never battle another dragon again as long as I lived.
"It’s a Serbian Scythe-tip," Ginny said, clutching Harry’s arm and sounding awed.
"How do you know?" he asked incredulously.
"You couldn’t grow up in the same house with Charlie and not know something about dragons. The Serbian Scythe-tip and the Hungarian Horntail are the fiercest dragons, therefore the coolest as far as Charlie’s concerned," Ginny said, tentatively peering over the ledge.
"Great," Harry said, grumbling. "He sounds like Hagrid."
"Yeah. Harry, I can see the Horcrux!" Ginny said, her voice rising.
"What? Where?" Harry asked, rising on his knees to peer over the stone next to her.
"There!" she cried, pointing.
Squinting, he could just make out a nest tucked inside the gate where the dragon had fully emerged. The Scythe-tip stalked to and fro in front of the opening as if daring them to try and pass.
"You can do this, Harry," Ginny said. "It’s just like the First Task only now the Horcrux is your golden egg."
"But, Ginny, I don’t have my Firebolt. It’s back in London, and somehow, I don’t think a Summoning charm is going to work through that stone wall," he said, pointing to the now-hidden doorway that led back to the wardrobe.
"Harry, you’re a wizard with more experience than you had then. Conjure one! You don’t need it to last for long, just long enough," Ginny cried, exasperated.
"Right," Harry said, swallowing nervously. His palms were sweating, but he knew he could do this. Picturing his Firebolt in his mind, he conjured a nearly exact duplicate.
"You did it!" Ginny cried.
"Don’t get too excited. I still have to get the cup," Harry said.
Ginny smiled tremulously and pulled the ribbon from her hair. She then knotted it around Harry’s upper arm.
"What’s that for?" he asked, staring at the yellow ribbon.
Ginny shrugged. "Well, I’m not Hermione, so I’m not certain I have my history right, but I think before a tournament battle, the lady is supposed to tie her colors around her Champion of choice to wish him luck."
"Thanks," he mumbled, feeling awkward. He stared at his shoes as he shuffled his feet.
"Don’t thank me yet," Ginny said wryly. "For all I know, yellow is the color that will make a dragon charge."
"Thanks, Gin. Your encouragement is overwhelming right now," he replied, but he grinned when he said it. No matter what the circumstances, she could always make him feel better.
"You can do this, Harry," she said earnestly before grabbing his face and pressing her lips to his.
He returned the kiss, enjoying the searing heat that filled his belly until another roar from the dragon grabbed his attention.
"Here goes nothing," he said, before mounting the broom and soaring into the blue sky.
"Be careful, Harry," Ginny called after him.
He rose well above the arena, circling it and trying to find his best angle. It only took a moment for the great beast to spot him. Roaring in fury, it spread its massive wings and took to the sky after him.
Despite his predicament, Harry couldn’t help but be awed by the creature. Its wingspan was so large that it nearly shadowed the entire width of the Parthenon. It soared gracefully into the sky before turning its voluminous yellow eyes on Harry.
He maneuvered the Firebolt in a steep dive, attempting to fly underneath the dragon before it could turn. He hadn’t counted on its tail, however. The dragon’s tail was long and thin, and the beast used it like a whip. It lashed out at Harry and the scythe-like tip ripped his shirt and cut into his chest, drawing blood.
The beast roared, and its nostrils flared at the scent of Harry’s blood. Harry dove again, but the tail whipped into his back this time. Twice more Harry attempted the dive, and twice more the dragon’s sharp tail sliced into him. His shirt hung in tatters and dripped with blood. His Firebolt was fast, but this dragon was faster.
Harry swung upward, climbing steeply. The dragon was confused and bellowed its ire. It followed Harry’s climb, gaining on him. It breathed out heavily, and Harry could feel the heat from the approaching fireball. He turned quickly, ducking low as he felt the hair on the back of his neck singe. He wrapped around the Parthenon wall and dove between two columns.
The dragon shrieked in rage when it realized it couldn’t follow Harry through the opening. It had to turn and fly up and over the top. Harry took the opportunity and dove towards the dragon’s lair. He had nearly reached it when that whip-like tail lashed out, slicing into him again.
He hissed in pain and had to pull up to avoid another blast of fire. He was growing frustrated and felt slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood. Something had to go his way soon, or he was a goner. He climbed steeply and once again looped over the top to fly back between the columns. He didn’t pause to check if the dragon followed, but instead aimed right for the nest as fast as his broom could carry him.
The dragon shrieked, enraged. Instead of turning this time, it crashed right through the columns. The force slowed the beast slightly. Harry sped towards the ground, pulling up just in time and aimed the broom into the entrance of the cavern. As he leaned down to grab the cup, his broom vanished.
He swore violently. He’d never claimed to be an expert on conjuring spells, but damn it, his timing couldn’t have been worse.
Before he had time to conjure another, he heard the piercing screech of the dragon, and it sounded as if it was approaching fast. He tucked the cup inside the waistband of his jeans and sprinted outside. He dove for the stands just as a fireball streaked overhead.
The dragon bellowed in fury as it clawed at the low wall separating the arena from Harry’s hiding place. He crouched low and tried to move away, but the wall collapsed, leaving him exposed. The dragon’s arm struck the wooden gate that had been sealing the entrance to the lair, shattering it effortlessly. Harry cried out as hundreds of sharp splinters rained down upon his back.
The dragon’s huge arm crashed down again, this time closer to him, and the scythe-tipped claw lanced his side beneath his ribs. The impact of the blow threw Harry in the air, knocking the wind from him. He crashed onto the dirt, panting and clawing at the ground as he tried to get away from the angry dragon.
Before he could move, before he could utter a sound, the dragon’s tail encircled his ankles, hog-tying him, and began to pull him closer. He was certain he could see victory reflected in the sickly yellow eyes. Harry forced himself to stay calm, although he was shaking all over.
The dragon’s tail jerked upward, leaving Harry hanging upside down near the dragon’s mouth. He could see tendrils of smoke spiraling away from the nostrils.
If that thing breathes a fire ball now…
Bruised and bloodied, Harry waited until he was as close the dragon’s face as he dared. He pulled out his wand, aimed it right at those malevolent yellow eyes, and blasted off the most intense Conjunctivitis curse he could manage.
The dragon reared its head and roared, sending out a wave of blistering heat. Harry was released from its hold and he dropped to the ground with a thud. His body ached, but he couldn’t find the strength to move away from the rampaging dragon. The beast was howling in pain, its huge arms clawing at its eyes, which were running and covered with a white slime.
If Harry couldn’t pull himself up, he’d be crushed under the tail or a massive foot. Panting heavily, he tried again to stand, but it was useless. What would happen to Ginny if Harry were killed here? He at least had to get the cup to her so she could escape. Groaning as he rolled to his side, he pulled the gleaming cup from the waistband of his jeans.
He was surprised to see how the gold shone, despite being unpolished for so long. Helga Hufflepuff’s golden crest glinted in the sun. As the dragon sent more flames towards him, Harry instinctively raised the cup like a shield and tossed it into the approaching fire. He rolled to the side to avoid being fried, crying out in pain as he did so.
When the cup made contact with the fire, a blast of bright white light filled the arena. Harry covered his face, feeling as if he’d got a
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 184-189)
They remained still as the second reporter — the wizard — and his cameraman stopped directly in front of them.
"Which way did he go? I thought I saw him run this way with the red-haired girl," the reporter demanded.
The cameraman shrugged. "I thought so, too."
"Damn! I got a direct quote, though. That ought to be worth something," the reporter said, reading over his notes.
"He said to use fire to fight the Inferi," the cameraman said. "Is that true?"
"No idea," the reporter replied, shrugging. "It doesn’t matter, though; it’ll make a great headline, and the public will eat it up. Come on. I’m certain he was headed in this direction."
Harry swore violently as the two moved away. "Did you hear them? Fire is the way to fight an Inferius, but they didn’t even care," Harry said, fuming.
"I know, Harry. They just wanted their story. Still, since it is the truth, they might be able to save themselves one day, and if they quote you directly, you’ve just done more than Scrimgeour has during his whole stint as Minister," Ginny replied, patting him on the arm consolingly.
Harry sighed. There was no use getting frustrated. It wouldn’t help, and he had too many other things to accomplish this day.
"Let’s go back and rejoin Ron and Hermione," he said, leading Ginny back towards the Apothecary.
"We should go around through that street there," Ginny said, pointing. "It’s less crowded and no one will brush against the Cloak."
Harry nodded and they began to move through the crowded streets, finding it very difficult not to jostle the many passersby. Several people turned with a start on more than one occasion when either Harry or Ginny brushed against them.
"I wish we could just Apparate," Ginny whispered.
"I know. I thought the same thing when the reporters were chasing us. It’s too crowded though, and no telling if we’d appear in front of your family or the Order. I suspect word is out that we’re here by now, and I’m certain the area is crawling with Weasleys," Harry replied.
"Hey! I resemble that remark," she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
Harry grinned, rubbing his abdomen. "I never said the Weasleys weren’t some of my favorite people, I just don’t want to see most of them right now."
"Smooth, Potter," Ginny replied with a grin. "I see that living with Hermione and me for the past month has taught you a few things."
"More than you could possibly imagine," Harry replied, grinning as his mind traveled over the many scraps of information he’d learned from living in such close proximity with the girls.
Ginny cursed suddenly, shocking Harry out of his musings. He expected that kind of language from Ron, but hearing it from Ginny caught him off guard, and he desperately tried to control his urge to laugh.
"Ginny," he admonished, failing to keep his face stern.
"Shhh," Ginny hissed, tugging on his arm until they were backed against a brick wall. "There."
He looked in the direction she was pointing and felt his breath hitch in his chest. On the other side of the street stood Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They were obviously searching for something…or someone. They were asking questions of various witches and wizards on the street. Shacklebolt flashed his Auror badge several times, and appeared rather put-out.
It was the expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face that made Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably. She had that determined Weasley glint in her eye that Harry had come to know so well, but she looked tired and thin — as if she hadn’t been eating or sleeping well for the past month.
"Oh, Mum," Ginny said, clutching Harry’s chest tightly. He forced himself not to wince as her nails dug into his flesh.
Kingsley said something that caused Mrs. Weasley to snarl at him, her words carrying across the street. "I’m not leaving until I find my babies. They’re here somewhere, and I will find them."
She reminded Harry of a mother tiger protecting her young as she prowled up and down the street, her eyes absorbing every detail.
Bill placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders and whispered something soothing in her ear. Mrs. Weasley began to cry and buried her head in Bill’s shoulder.
Ginny stiffened in Harry’s arms and quickly turned her face away.
"We’d better hurry and find Ron and Hermione to warn them," Harry said gruffly.
Ginny swallowed and they moved away, obscured beneath the Cloak. They fiercely clutched one another’s hands as they hurried along the street.
"We’ll be able to see her soon, Ginny," Harry whispered, his throat raw. "I promise."
Ginny nodded woodenly, her eyes remaining fixed in front of her, but her grip tightened.
As they reached the Apothecary, Harry momentarily panicked when he didn’t see Ron or Hermione. A mere second later, the two poked their heads around the corner. Harry and Ginny sprinted over to them.
"We’re here," Harry whispered. "We have to get out of here quickly, though."
"Where have you been?" Ron asked loudly. His eyes looked slightly wild.
"Be quiet, Ron," Ginny hissed. "We saw Mum and Bill. The Order is here looking for us. Apparate to the Smith Museum, and we’ll tell you all about it."
Harry and Ginny waited for Ron and Hermione to disappear before following. Right before he side-along Apparated Ginny to the museum, he saw Bill and Mrs. Weasley run around the corner, heading straight for the Apothecary.
**--**--
As nightfall finally blanketed the city, and insects began buzzing around the street lamps, Harry sat staring at the entrance of the Smith Museum. The late summer evening was warm, and many people roamed the street, choosing to walk rather than ride the tube. One Muggle in particular appeared to be simply out for an evening stroll, passing them every few minutes while on the opposite side of the street, as if he was circling the block.
They’d conjured sandwiches for supper — thank goodness Ron and Ginny were Weasleys and knew all the best food-conjuring spells — and eaten them on a bench across the street from the museum. Harry could hardly believe they’d finally reached this point. Tonight he’d know for certain if they’d managed to locate another Horcrux…With any luck, after tonight they’d be one step closer to the final confrontation and ending this thing. He shivered slightly, and Ginny put her arm around him and rubbed his arm, thinking he was cold.
Having her next to him felt nice, but the thought nagged at him that by letting her stay so close, it would make it all the harder to let her go and do what he had to do in the end. At night, when sleep wouldn’t come no matter how exhausting the day had been, Harry’s thoughts always turned to the fact that he didn’t think he would survive the final confrontation.
He still hoped that Hermione would come up with some brilliant plan, but as of yet they’d found nothing to change his mind. He found it profoundly ironic that now — at what was most likely the end of his life — he finally had such an intense desire to live. In the past, although he’d certainly never wanted to die, he’d never had any great passion for living. It had never mattered much either way to him.
Now, it mattered.
As he grew closer to Ginny, the more he thought that having to say goodbye to her would do him in without Voldemort ever getting involved. Still, he wouldn’t trade this time he’d spent with her. If he couldn’t give her forever, he could at least give her now, and he wanted to make every moment worth the memory.
"I don’t see why we didn’t just Apparate inside and wait there," Ron moaned for about the hundredth time.
"Honestly, Ron," said Ginny, exasperated. "For the last time, we don’t know if there is anyone still working inside. If there is, they should be going home now."
"Besides, there are Anti-Apparation wards in place," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
"How do you know?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking up from her sandwich.
Harry stared at her, feeling slightly confused. "That humming sound, don’t you hear it? It’s the same sound I always heard at Privet Drive. I can hear it near the gates at Hogwarts, too. I reckon it’s the wards, right?"
All three pairs of eyes stared at him in astonishment.
"You…you can hear the wards?" Ron asked, finally.
A wave of apprehension went down Harry’s spine. Not again. "Can’t you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
All three shook their heads, Hermione frowning.
"Look, we can discuss this later," Ginny said finally, taking charge. "If there are anti-apparation wards in place, how do you propose we get inside?"
"Are you the sister of Fred and George Weasley or what?" Harry asked, grinning as he pulled a hairpin from his pocket. "They showed me how to do this after you lot rescued me from the Dursleys before second year."
"Figures they’d show you and not me," Ron grumbled.
The twins had done their job well, and it took Harry only a moment to pick the lock on the front door. The four quickly and quietly slipped inside the museum, closing the heavy door behind them.
"Well, here we are," Ron whispered, staring around the room at all the old artifacts. The light from the street lamps cast long shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with tension.
Harry could understand Ron’s urge to whisper, he felt it, too and had to force himself to overcome it. A prickle of apprehension ran down his spine as he moved further into the room.
"Come on. Let’s spread out and start looking. Ron, you wear the Spell Detector again," Harry said. "Hermione and Ginny, just keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, and we can double check it with the Spell Detector."
They all nodded and fanned out, although Hermione appeared doubtful. Harry shut his eyes, envisioning the scene from the Pensieve. Riddle had met Hepzibah Smith in a sitting room, and it couldn’t have been too
close to the entry hall since the little house-elf, Hokey, had taken a few minutes to retrieve Riddle when the doorbell had rung.
Harry wandered away from the other three, peeking into several rooms until finally entering a small room located off the main hallway. The hairs on the back of his neck rose the moment he entered. The room was much neater than in the Pensieve memory, but it was unmistakably the same. In fact, several of the polished display cases contained some of the orbs and celestial globes he remembered, and in one sat the jeweled mirror that Hepzibah had used repeatedly to check her appearance. Harry suspected the mirror didn’t reflect the whole truth, which is probably what had appealed to Hepzibah.
"Ron," Harry called. "Bring that Spell Detector in here, would you?"
He stared around the room, an odd feeling of déjà vu overpowering him as he listened to Ron’s clomping footsteps moving closer toward the sitting room. Every instinct in Harry’s body told him there was something here. He was tense and alert, and he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, following Ron into the room. "Oh, this is the same room, isn’t it?"
"You can feel it too, then?" Harry asked, relieved.
"Feel what?" Hermione asked.
Harry furrowed his brow. "You knew this was the same room. I thought…" Harry mumbled, his words trailing.
Hermione shook her head. "No. I remember it. The architecture is the same even if it’s been painted. I recognize those windows, and the fireplace is slightly off-center."
Harry blinked looking around the room. She was right; the fireplace was off-center. He was again amazed at Hermione’s ability to pick up obvious details that he somehow always overlooked.
"Where’s Ginny?" he asked.
"She said there was no point in all of us searching the same room, so she kept looking in the entry hall. She said to call her if we find anything," Hermione replied.
"There is loads of magical energy here," Ron said, looking around with the Spell Detectors, "but I don’t see anything Dark."
"Keep looking," Harry said grimly. "It’s here." He knew it; he could feel it as certainly as if Felix Felicis was telling him.
Harry moved towards the center of the room, imagining the scene in his mind. He could see Hepzibah sitting at her table; Riddle moving towards the locket, drawing his wand. Hepzibah’s eyes widened in fear, perhaps realizing too late that she was in trouble. She tried to grab the cup and the locket, but Voldemort would have Banished them from her grasp. They would have flown off the table and landed….here.
Harry opened his eyes, the vision in his mind’s eye vanishing as he found himself standing in the corner of the room. A section of the wall was covered with a large, intricately carved wardrobe. He began to shiver, as if a strong, frigid gust of air had blown through him. He could hear Ron and Hermione speaking in the background, but he’d completely tuned out their words and was focused instead on the distinct hum he could hear around the wardrobe.
Using his wand, he moved the large piece of furniture away from the wall and began inspecting it, running his hands all along the rough, painted surface. Muttering to himself, talking through the same movements he’d seen Dumbledore make several months ago.
It was no use; the wall didn’t have that same energy. It had vanished the moment he’d moved the wardrobe. Again using his wand, he levitated the wardrobe back in place. Immediately, his shivering returned as his senses heightened.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving next to him.
Harry didn’t answer. He began running his hands along the outside of the wardrobe. The vibrations shook him to the core.
"Is there something inside?" Ron asked, putting his hand to the knob and trying to pull it open.
"Watch it," Harry hissed, shoving Ron back.
"What did you do that for?" Ron asked, sounding irritated.
"Don’t just go putting your hands on it, Ron," Harry said, firing up. "We have no idea what kinds of protective spells are here."
"We don’t even know if it’s there," Ron fired back. "Besides, nothing happened. It didn’t even open." As if making his point, Ron tugged on the handle again. It still wouldn’t open.
Hermione and Harry each tried to tug on it, but it didn’t budge.
"Why would they keep an old wardrobe if they couldn’t even use it?" Ron asked, looking around the room at all the family artifacts.
"It’s really old and probably valuable, Ron. It has the Smith family crest engraved at the top. I assume it’s a family heirloom," Hermione said, scowling. "They’re obviously are very proud of their heritage, and Riddle would have known this. If he hid something here, they’d keep it here forever."
"How do you know that’s the Smith crest?" Ron asked, staring at the top of the wardrobe.
"Look around. It’s everywhere here," Hermione replied, exasperated.
Harry ignored them. He ran his hand along the front of the wardrobe, feeling the heat emanating from it.
"Which way did he go? I thought I saw him run this way with the red-haired girl," the reporter demanded.
The cameraman shrugged. "I thought so, too."
"Damn! I got a direct quote, though. That ought to be worth something," the reporter said, reading over his notes.
"He said to use fire to fight the Inferi," the cameraman said. "Is that true?"
"No idea," the reporter replied, shrugging. "It doesn’t matter, though; it’ll make a great headline, and the public will eat it up. Come on. I’m certain he was headed in this direction."
Harry swore violently as the two moved away. "Did you hear them? Fire is the way to fight an Inferius, but they didn’t even care," Harry said, fuming.
"I know, Harry. They just wanted their story. Still, since it is the truth, they might be able to save themselves one day, and if they quote you directly, you’ve just done more than Scrimgeour has during his whole stint as Minister," Ginny replied, patting him on the arm consolingly.
Harry sighed. There was no use getting frustrated. It wouldn’t help, and he had too many other things to accomplish this day.
"Let’s go back and rejoin Ron and Hermione," he said, leading Ginny back towards the Apothecary.
"We should go around through that street there," Ginny said, pointing. "It’s less crowded and no one will brush against the Cloak."
Harry nodded and they began to move through the crowded streets, finding it very difficult not to jostle the many passersby. Several people turned with a start on more than one occasion when either Harry or Ginny brushed against them.
"I wish we could just Apparate," Ginny whispered.
"I know. I thought the same thing when the reporters were chasing us. It’s too crowded though, and no telling if we’d appear in front of your family or the Order. I suspect word is out that we’re here by now, and I’m certain the area is crawling with Weasleys," Harry replied.
"Hey! I resemble that remark," she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
Harry grinned, rubbing his abdomen. "I never said the Weasleys weren’t some of my favorite people, I just don’t want to see most of them right now."
"Smooth, Potter," Ginny replied with a grin. "I see that living with Hermione and me for the past month has taught you a few things."
"More than you could possibly imagine," Harry replied, grinning as his mind traveled over the many scraps of information he’d learned from living in such close proximity with the girls.
Ginny cursed suddenly, shocking Harry out of his musings. He expected that kind of language from Ron, but hearing it from Ginny caught him off guard, and he desperately tried to control his urge to laugh.
"Ginny," he admonished, failing to keep his face stern.
"Shhh," Ginny hissed, tugging on his arm until they were backed against a brick wall. "There."
He looked in the direction she was pointing and felt his breath hitch in his chest. On the other side of the street stood Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They were obviously searching for something…or someone. They were asking questions of various witches and wizards on the street. Shacklebolt flashed his Auror badge several times, and appeared rather put-out.
It was the expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face that made Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably. She had that determined Weasley glint in her eye that Harry had come to know so well, but she looked tired and thin — as if she hadn’t been eating or sleeping well for the past month.
"Oh, Mum," Ginny said, clutching Harry’s chest tightly. He forced himself not to wince as her nails dug into his flesh.
Kingsley said something that caused Mrs. Weasley to snarl at him, her words carrying across the street. "I’m not leaving until I find my babies. They’re here somewhere, and I will find them."
She reminded Harry of a mother tiger protecting her young as she prowled up and down the street, her eyes absorbing every detail.
Bill placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders and whispered something soothing in her ear. Mrs. Weasley began to cry and buried her head in Bill’s shoulder.
Ginny stiffened in Harry’s arms and quickly turned her face away.
"We’d better hurry and find Ron and Hermione to warn them," Harry said gruffly.
Ginny swallowed and they moved away, obscured beneath the Cloak. They fiercely clutched one another’s hands as they hurried along the street.
"We’ll be able to see her soon, Ginny," Harry whispered, his throat raw. "I promise."
Ginny nodded woodenly, her eyes remaining fixed in front of her, but her grip tightened.
As they reached the Apothecary, Harry momentarily panicked when he didn’t see Ron or Hermione. A mere second later, the two poked their heads around the corner. Harry and Ginny sprinted over to them.
"We’re here," Harry whispered. "We have to get out of here quickly, though."
"Where have you been?" Ron asked loudly. His eyes looked slightly wild.
"Be quiet, Ron," Ginny hissed. "We saw Mum and Bill. The Order is here looking for us. Apparate to the Smith Museum, and we’ll tell you all about it."
Harry and Ginny waited for Ron and Hermione to disappear before following. Right before he side-along Apparated Ginny to the museum, he saw Bill and Mrs. Weasley run around the corner, heading straight for the Apothecary.
**--**--
As nightfall finally blanketed the city, and insects began buzzing around the street lamps, Harry sat staring at the entrance of the Smith Museum. The late summer evening was warm, and many people roamed the street, choosing to walk rather than ride the tube. One Muggle in particular appeared to be simply out for an evening stroll, passing them every few minutes while on the opposite side of the street, as if he was circling the block.
They’d conjured sandwiches for supper — thank goodness Ron and Ginny were Weasleys and knew all the best food-conjuring spells — and eaten them on a bench across the street from the museum. Harry could hardly believe they’d finally reached this point. Tonight he’d know for certain if they’d managed to locate another Horcrux…With any luck, after tonight they’d be one step closer to the final confrontation and ending this thing. He shivered slightly, and Ginny put her arm around him and rubbed his arm, thinking he was cold.
Having her next to him felt nice, but the thought nagged at him that by letting her stay so close, it would make it all the harder to let her go and do what he had to do in the end. At night, when sleep wouldn’t come no matter how exhausting the day had been, Harry’s thoughts always turned to the fact that he didn’t think he would survive the final confrontation.
He still hoped that Hermione would come up with some brilliant plan, but as of yet they’d found nothing to change his mind. He found it profoundly ironic that now — at what was most likely the end of his life — he finally had such an intense desire to live. In the past, although he’d certainly never wanted to die, he’d never had any great passion for living. It had never mattered much either way to him.
Now, it mattered.
As he grew closer to Ginny, the more he thought that having to say goodbye to her would do him in without Voldemort ever getting involved. Still, he wouldn’t trade this time he’d spent with her. If he couldn’t give her forever, he could at least give her now, and he wanted to make every moment worth the memory.
"I don’t see why we didn’t just Apparate inside and wait there," Ron moaned for about the hundredth time.
"Honestly, Ron," said Ginny, exasperated. "For the last time, we don’t know if there is anyone still working inside. If there is, they should be going home now."
"Besides, there are Anti-Apparation wards in place," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
"How do you know?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking up from her sandwich.
Harry stared at her, feeling slightly confused. "That humming sound, don’t you hear it? It’s the same sound I always heard at Privet Drive. I can hear it near the gates at Hogwarts, too. I reckon it’s the wards, right?"
All three pairs of eyes stared at him in astonishment.
"You…you can hear the wards?" Ron asked, finally.
A wave of apprehension went down Harry’s spine. Not again. "Can’t you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
All three shook their heads, Hermione frowning.
"Look, we can discuss this later," Ginny said finally, taking charge. "If there are anti-apparation wards in place, how do you propose we get inside?"
"Are you the sister of Fred and George Weasley or what?" Harry asked, grinning as he pulled a hairpin from his pocket. "They showed me how to do this after you lot rescued me from the Dursleys before second year."
"Figures they’d show you and not me," Ron grumbled.
The twins had done their job well, and it took Harry only a moment to pick the lock on the front door. The four quickly and quietly slipped inside the museum, closing the heavy door behind them.
"Well, here we are," Ron whispered, staring around the room at all the old artifacts. The light from the street lamps cast long shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with tension.
Harry could understand Ron’s urge to whisper, he felt it, too and had to force himself to overcome it. A prickle of apprehension ran down his spine as he moved further into the room.
"Come on. Let’s spread out and start looking. Ron, you wear the Spell Detector again," Harry said. "Hermione and Ginny, just keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, and we can double check it with the Spell Detector."
They all nodded and fanned out, although Hermione appeared doubtful. Harry shut his eyes, envisioning the scene from the Pensieve. Riddle had met Hepzibah Smith in a sitting room, and it couldn’t have been too
close to the entry hall since the little house-elf, Hokey, had taken a few minutes to retrieve Riddle when the doorbell had rung.
Harry wandered away from the other three, peeking into several rooms until finally entering a small room located off the main hallway. The hairs on the back of his neck rose the moment he entered. The room was much neater than in the Pensieve memory, but it was unmistakably the same. In fact, several of the polished display cases contained some of the orbs and celestial globes he remembered, and in one sat the jeweled mirror that Hepzibah had used repeatedly to check her appearance. Harry suspected the mirror didn’t reflect the whole truth, which is probably what had appealed to Hepzibah.
"Ron," Harry called. "Bring that Spell Detector in here, would you?"
He stared around the room, an odd feeling of déjà vu overpowering him as he listened to Ron’s clomping footsteps moving closer toward the sitting room. Every instinct in Harry’s body told him there was something here. He was tense and alert, and he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, following Ron into the room. "Oh, this is the same room, isn’t it?"
"You can feel it too, then?" Harry asked, relieved.
"Feel what?" Hermione asked.
Harry furrowed his brow. "You knew this was the same room. I thought…" Harry mumbled, his words trailing.
Hermione shook her head. "No. I remember it. The architecture is the same even if it’s been painted. I recognize those windows, and the fireplace is slightly off-center."
Harry blinked looking around the room. She was right; the fireplace was off-center. He was again amazed at Hermione’s ability to pick up obvious details that he somehow always overlooked.
"Where’s Ginny?" he asked.
"She said there was no point in all of us searching the same room, so she kept looking in the entry hall. She said to call her if we find anything," Hermione replied.
"There is loads of magical energy here," Ron said, looking around with the Spell Detectors, "but I don’t see anything Dark."
"Keep looking," Harry said grimly. "It’s here." He knew it; he could feel it as certainly as if Felix Felicis was telling him.
Harry moved towards the center of the room, imagining the scene in his mind. He could see Hepzibah sitting at her table; Riddle moving towards the locket, drawing his wand. Hepzibah’s eyes widened in fear, perhaps realizing too late that she was in trouble. She tried to grab the cup and the locket, but Voldemort would have Banished them from her grasp. They would have flown off the table and landed….here.
Harry opened his eyes, the vision in his mind’s eye vanishing as he found himself standing in the corner of the room. A section of the wall was covered with a large, intricately carved wardrobe. He began to shiver, as if a strong, frigid gust of air had blown through him. He could hear Ron and Hermione speaking in the background, but he’d completely tuned out their words and was focused instead on the distinct hum he could hear around the wardrobe.
Using his wand, he moved the large piece of furniture away from the wall and began inspecting it, running his hands all along the rough, painted surface. Muttering to himself, talking through the same movements he’d seen Dumbledore make several months ago.
It was no use; the wall didn’t have that same energy. It had vanished the moment he’d moved the wardrobe. Again using his wand, he levitated the wardrobe back in place. Immediately, his shivering returned as his senses heightened.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving next to him.
Harry didn’t answer. He began running his hands along the outside of the wardrobe. The vibrations shook him to the core.
"Is there something inside?" Ron asked, putting his hand to the knob and trying to pull it open.
"Watch it," Harry hissed, shoving Ron back.
"What did you do that for?" Ron asked, sounding irritated.
"Don’t just go putting your hands on it, Ron," Harry said, firing up. "We have no idea what kinds of protective spells are here."
"We don’t even know if it’s there," Ron fired back. "Besides, nothing happened. It didn’t even open." As if making his point, Ron tugged on the handle again. It still wouldn’t open.
Hermione and Harry each tried to tug on it, but it didn’t budge.
"Why would they keep an old wardrobe if they couldn’t even use it?" Ron asked, looking around the room at all the family artifacts.
"It’s really old and probably valuable, Ron. It has the Smith family crest engraved at the top. I assume it’s a family heirloom," Hermione said, scowling. "They’re obviously are very proud of their heritage, and Riddle would have known this. If he hid something here, they’d keep it here forever."
"How do you know that’s the Smith crest?" Ron asked, staring at the top of the wardrobe.
"Look around. It’s everywhere here," Hermione replied, exasperated.
Harry ignored them. He ran his hand along the front of the wardrobe, feeling the heat emanating from it.
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