Title: The Beautiful Lie

Rating: T

Warnings: Contains Slash, Time Travel, HBP spoilers, and is an AU fic.

Categories: General

Sub Cat: Romance

Summary: Amidst the chaos of war Harry makes a promise to a dying man, and receives the most difficult job yet: raising a child. This is the story of how Harry and little Dorcas Finnegan, with the aid of divine powers, fight the combined evils of Voldemort and Suetekh. Warnings: Contains Slash, Time Travel, HBP spoilers, and is an AU fic.

Ships: HP/GW, eventual HP/SB, LE/JP, DM/RL, AL/FL

A/N: AGAIN: Fist few chapters will be slightly OOC. AND, am STILL in desperate need of BETA, so if any1's interested plz email me!


-- Chapter One: A Favor asked, a promise kept --


The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes were the crisp white sheets of the hospital wing, somewhat fuzzed and disfigured by the absence of his glasses; the second was bright red hair. His heart leapt, and he knew that his Ginny was safe.

Delicately pale fingers grazed his face and he found that he could see completely again. Ginny's tear streaked face hovered above his before he caught her pink lips in a chaste kiss. Hearts heavy with grief they embraced, sobbing silently for a few minutes until Ginny looked up, blinking back tears.

"It's Seamus, Harry, he's been asking after you for a while now…he-he's dying…" she whispered, closing her eyes once more and wrapping her thin arms around his neck. So they lay there in each others arms, basking in the mutual comfort they brought each other. It was a rare moment to find, in these dark times…

Voldemort's forces overwhelmed the order, the ministry had been taken; those who opposed were slaughtered mercilessly, or thrown into prison until they could be dealt with accordingly, and so the wizarding world as a whole, not only in England but internationally, was swallowed by chaos.

Shaking such somber thoughts away Harry made his way to Seamus Finnegan's bed with a slight wobble. All traces of Seamus's trademark impish grin were gone, now replaced with a small watery smile and the sad look of a man who knew he was nearing his end. His hair was long and reached past his shoulders messily; his eyes unfocused and slightly feverish; it was quite clear to Harry and the sobbing child holding Seamus's hand that he was hanging on by a thread.

"Harry is that you?" he rasped out, straining his neck to look at him. Harry took Seamus' free hand and sat down on the bed, "Yes, it's me," he replied in a hoarse voice.

"Good," he intoned, "Because I need to ask you something…" he said, this time with determination as he struggled to a sitting position, aided by Harry.

"I'll do anything I can for you, Seamus, you know that…" Harry said with a small watery smile of his own.

Seamus nodded, sparing the sobbing child a sympathetic glance before turning back to Harry. "Well, I'm going to get right to the point, Harry, I'm dying—" at this point the little girl let out a low mournful moan and buried her face in Seamus's chest, little arms encircling him.

" Dorcas, you know it's true,there's no use crying over spilt milk, is there?" he patted the girl's honey colored hair and kissed the top of her head as she cried. His sad gaze met Harry's, and a look of understanding passed through them.

"Take care of my sister Harry, when I'm gone, please, I'm begging you…" Seamus croaked, tears now streaming down his sooty ashen face. Harry nodded, felt salty tears prick his own eye and Dorcas lifted her head to regard them both. Her green-brown eyes were blood shot and red, and her freckled nose pink.

"Dorcas… promise me that you'll live on longer than I? Promise me that? Do you? I love you Dor, always be good, always…" Seamus said, kissing each of her cheeks in turn.

Dorcas, who was only five, nodded her head sadly and kissed his nose, murmuring "I promise Sea," over and over again, and Seamus drifted off into a deep sleep. He dreamt of long green meadows that stretched out forever, sunflowers as bright as his mum's hair, and it was such a wonderful dream, such a wonderful dream, in fact, that he didn't ever want to wake up from it. And so…he didn't…


Harry woke from his dream in a cold sweat, it had been so long since he had dreamt of Seamus, and of the day he had first laid eyes upon Dorcas Finnegan. Unconsciously he felt around in bed, seeking out his girls. Only once he felt the top of both their heads did he breathe a sigh of relief and slumped back down in bed.

Ginny and Dorcas had become his sole reason for living after Voldemort took over Europe, most of their friends had been thrown into camps where they were mistreated and underfed, if at all. All was chaos.

Dorcas was now almost eleven years old; it had been six years since the battle at Hogwarts, six years since Seamus's death. During those six years they had been in hiding, most of their time spent in continuous running; never staying at one place at a time for more than a month.

During those years Harry had found a useful, alternate (and decidedly muggle) form of personal defense, and ignored by Ginny (favoring her wand rather than "muggle tools") Harry took up the subtle, but effective, habit of using blades in dueling rather than relying solely on magic. It took him the better half of those six years to perfect his aim (with knives) and his stances (with swords) and actually learn anything from the wizened old muggle who taught him; Especially after Mr. Hiragizawa died (of natural causes, oddly enough) two years previous.

As years passed, Dorcas turned eight and both Harry and Ginny had decided it was time to show her how to defend herself, should anything happen to them she would not find herself incapable of holding her own and surviving . Harry taught her what little he could of blades, and between both Ginny and himself they taught her dueling.

She took to everything quickly, fascinated as she was my knowledge and thirsty for more, absorbing everything like a sponge. Although, she didn't take kindly to swords, as she preferred having both her hands securely around the hilt of something(usually Shamshirs or knives) useful and ready to strike if necessary. She had a natural talent for it, her being as small as she was nimble. It took hours , months (and a couple of years) of hard training for her skills(and Harry's) to actually amount to something useful, but little Dorcas , as young as she was, saw and understood the necessity of it all.

Hexes and Cruses with Ginny seemed a walk in the park after the long hours of training with Harry,but the learning she tackled with most ferocity was her reading, writing and numbers. She found that she was quite adept at her adding, subtraction, multiplication and division if she did say so herself!

In six years the three had completely centered their whole life solely around each other, the protection of each other and themselves, running away from Voldemort and his minions and continuing a somewhat desperate and hopeless search for the remaining two horcruxes. One of which was still Nagini.

So far they had had close calls, but had not been caught. Currently they were taking residence in an old abandoned chapel in France. They had been sharing the church building with the local vampire clan of Paris, and had been relatively undisturbed by them. Until that moment.

Dark haired, pale and beautiful Etienne swept into the room hurriedly with a grace reminiscent to that of a cat. His expressive violet eyes were wide and spoke of the deepest concern. He was the youngest son of the clan lord, rather young by vampire standards (only two hundred) and was considered somewhat of a romantic among his peers.

"You must hasten, leave this place at once, I can sense danger approaching, hence away!" he pleaded, face contorting in fear. Not for himself, but for them. The young vampire had become rather attached to his charge, Dorcas, and wished to see no harm befall her.

Harry nodded and sent the vampire a grateful look before he reached down and gently shook his family awake. "Dorcas, Ginny, they're here, we have to leave…" he whispered lowly.

Dorcas eyes immediately snapped open; she quickly grabbed hold of her belongings from under the bed, strapping her Shamshiers securely on to her waist. They were Arabian ones, well balanced and had long hilts. The somewhat thin yet sharp and curved blade provided for superb cutting power when slashing, and charmed to slash through absolutely anything (even stone), as were her throwing knives ;coated with deadly snake poison.

She then threw her thin arms around her vampire friend in gratitude, both for his brief friendship and the warning. Etienne responded in the like and watched with sad eyes as Dorcas scampered into Ginny's waiting arms.

The three companions felt the familiar tug at their navels and knew that soon they would be transported to a new unfamiliar destination, but it was with a strange feeling of foreboding that they sense that this would be their very last escapade.


"Sand," Dorcas muttered moodily, spitting said substance out of her mouth and looking around her, only to be met with the sight of more sand. Ominously large mountains and mounds of sand, actually, and sand covered guardians looking decidedly peeved about the heat, the location and the, well…sand.

Ginny's long waist length copper hair was down in a messy plait and she was wearing one of Harry's old Puddlemere Untited t-shirts, socks and white pajama bottoms. Harry, similarly attired, was pulling his muggle sneakers out of his backpack absentmindedly. His hair, no longer short and messy, was long (up to the base of his neck) and fell in untidy ringlets, his glasses placed somewhat askew on his nose.

Dorcas sighed, walked over to him and righted them gently, rolling her eyes in mock irritation as he gave her a sheepish grin and righted her own round thick rimmed spectacles. She didn't bother changing, and merely pulled out her own sneakers, watching Ginny pull out her own and some sturdy shorts for what Dorcas supposed would be a rather LONG walk.

"Harry, where are we?" she asked curiously, fishing her backpack for the maps. Harry's green eyes regarded her with a slight smile before he muttered, "In the middle of a desert, in erm…Egypt…" he replied, fishing out a compass from his shirt pocket.

Dorcas nodded and bit the inside of her mouth, watching somewhat amused as Ginny struggled with her shoelaces which were caught in a rather complicated knot, courtesy of a one Harry J. Potter. Cordially giving up, Ginny just forced her foot inside the shoe and stomped hard on the ground, wriggling it for good measure.

"All set," she declared with a triumphant grin.

Dorcas gave her a smile and raised her arms up to her; Ginny gathered her up in her arms and kissed her on the forehead lightly, nuzzling their noses together in an "Eskimo kiss". Harry, compass and maps at hand, watched them with a warm smile on his lips, wiping sweat from his brow.

Dorcas' hair, once a light honey color, had darkened into a more rich amber color , and the freckles on her face had lessened somewhat, covering only her nose and cheeks. She had Seamus's impish smile and some of Harry's mannerisms as well as Ginny's.

Dorcas' biggest virtue was her ability to love; she could love so easily and so deeply, but to betray her or hurt those she loved was invoking the wrath of hell. It was because she was so sensitive that Harry protected her so zealously and also because she was, after all, but a child.

She shot him a loving smile and he ruffled her hair affectionately, settling a map in front of them and analyzing it critically. Just as he was contemplating their next course of action Ginny spoke.

"East, we should go east…" she said hollowly, and he gave her a strange look, and stared down at the map. There was nothing east of them for miles, but he nodded anyways, not questioning her reason. Ginny often had those "feelings" and hadn't led them astray thus far.

So they picked up their backpacks, slung them over their shoulders methodically and started walking east. For days on end they walked east. On the eve of the fifth night they set camp. Ginny was making the fire, and Harry was setting up the tent while Dorcas was fishing in their bags for that night's meal. Their stashes were running low, but it would last them a few more weeks.

Ginny unshrunk the food and pots and set to work on making dinner, and little Dorcas sat next to her, awaiting any commands. Silently setting the sleeping bags inside the spacey tent, Harry heard a CRACK. He stiffened, whipping out his wand and making his way towards the girls.

He cast a shield on them and looked around wildly; a few feet away from them a black robed figure pointed its wand menacingly at them. Then there was another CRACK.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

They were surrounded by the robes figures, some of the faces familiar while others were not. Draco Malfoy was present, his face a bit green, Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, Zacharias Smith, both generations of Crabbes and Goyles, Dolohov, and Snape.

"Snape," Harry hissed, dagger at one hand and wand in the other. Dorcas was fingering her throwing knives with relish, while Ginny glared, absently eyeing something behind the horde of death eaters. A large slab of rock: twice the size of Hagrid long and just as thick.

"Stupefy!" Harry roared, taking down Dolohov. Everything erupted into a wave of movement at that point. Harry and Ginny expertly dodging curses and hexes and Dorcas' dexterous blades were being caught deftly by the deatheaters…with their throats.

Six were down, either dead or unconscious. Ginny levitated the large slab of rock that she'd been eyeing earlier, above three death eater's heads and let it fall with a sickening crunch. Concentrated as she was with the rock, she didn't notice the dark curse being fired her way and had no time to dodge it as it collapsed painfully with her side.

Blood erupted from the wound almost immediately and she dropped to her knees, eyes rolling to the back of her head. Dorcas let out a growl, retrieving her blades from her newest victim (Zacharias Smith); she hurled them at the remaining death heater's back, slicing cleanly through his neck just as Harry sent him a rather nasty curse.

All in all, it would suffice to say that Severus Snape had a rather bloody demise Without batting an eyelash Dorcas ran to Ginny's side ignoring that she had just killed her first man or that it was the very first time she had sliced her wicked blades into something other than wooden targets. All that mattered to her was Ginny, who lay on the floor bleeding.

"Enneverate," Harry murmured, taking out various potions and salves, but it was no use. The curse was slowly freezing Ginny inside out; Harry had seen the likes of it before in the few and far between battles that he had partaken in. Turning everything blood, organs, cells, into ice. Its victim became a true human Popsicle. It was a curse of the darkest nature and irreversible, anything they tried from this point on would only help speed the curse's progress.

Dorcas and Harry could only watch helplessly as Ginny took her last dying breath, uttering her dying words to them. She did not wish to be mourned, but rather to be remembered as a smiling face, wanted them not to be miserable on her account or dwell on the past. Her last request was for them to move on, survive, and ultimately find pace and love. Specifically to Harry she requested that he allow someone else, when the time came, to love him as she had.

Tears streaming down their faces, they nodded their agreement and watched in horror as part of their world closed her eyes and left them forever.

They reached a small town, the deserted remains of the ancient wizarding culture of Egypt, and settled for the nigh and gave Ginny a small and modest burial. Muttering morose and half-hearted words of comfort to each other they settled their sleeping bags in the throne room of an ancient and forgotten temple of Isis, goddess of magic.

Colorful hieroglyphs of a beautiful bronze skinned woman holding a sistrum(a musical instrument formed as a sticklike wooden or metal object, with a frame and small metal disks that rattled when the instrument was shaken by hand. The head of Hathor was depicted on the handle) and a tiet(variation of the ankh, which it resembles except that its crossing arms curve downward).

The same woman sat on the throne then, perfectly chiseled and carved out of the purest stone. Her long dark hair fell in graceful waves onto her back, holding the sistrum in her left hand with her right delicately folded under the left.

Briefly, and somewhat foolishly (as Dorcas later admitted to herself), she knelt at the statue's feet in silent prayer. 'oh goddess, We are always fighting this hopeless fight against evil, and I am afraid that we will loose, juts as we now lost our Ginny…I don't think I could take loosing Harry' she confessed, more to herself than the statue. 'But I know that we are right in fighting for the good, and maybe we will win, but I don't think so. Will you help us?' she prayed, unconsciously sliding the cool metal of a knife into her palm and slashing delicately across it. She placed the small droplets of blood at the feet of the goddess and turned away, oblivious to the stone figure's glowing eyes or to the now alight chamber and laid herself to rest, spooning herself into Harry's sleepy embrace.


stargirl29: thank you so much for reviewing, before you did I briefly considered taking down the story, because I thought no one would like it at all, but then you did review and it gave me the impulse to continue it. So thank you! My only regret is that I could not make this first chapter any longer that it now is, but I do promise that I will make them longer as the story continues to progress!

To any one else reading I plead that you tell me your thoughts (good or bad) about my story by clinking that nice, and glorious little button and review!

Hoping you liked my first chapter,

Camelopardalis