The moon had already sent the sun behind the Earth by the time Harry had found himself able to even be around human life. Molly had a giant ornamented chocolate cake placed in the center for her guests that even Harry couldn't resist to cut a slice and pick at. Bill, Ron and Hermione occupied three out of the eight empty seats surrounding Harry; Hermione's eyes were so red you could barely tell they were brown from where Harry was sitting.
"Harry, the wedding can be rescheduled. It's on Friday, but Fleur and I have no problem postponing it." Bill spoke up.
"Bill, its not my right to take that happiness away from you. If anything, it's what we all need. Keep the wedding date, I can apparate in the morning to Colorado." Harry replied.
Bill nodded graciously.
Later that evening, up in the attic Harry stared into the soft wooden planks holding the Weasley's ceiling together wondering if he even had any sanity left. Harry wondered if he imagined the whole relationship, or if even Ophelia Bloom existed. Voldemort had a way into Harry's mind and it wasn't too ridiculous of a statement for Harry to wonder if all of it was just a sick insanity playing out on a movie screen in his head.
Hermione's hand crept over Harry's while Ron snored away in the late evening hours.
"Are you okay, Harry?" She whispered.
"I'm not really sure." Harry replied.
"I'm not. I can't stop thinking that this is more than coincidental. Do you think Bellatrix purposely sought off to kill her anyway? Do you think she maybe got her memories back before….?" Hermione was barely able to squeak out before she quietly wept.
"I can only hope that she got her memories back." Harry wished.
"All I know is that her death has been easier to handle than that moment she walked away not knowing who I was…."
"And hardest thing is knowing that if she never met me, she might still be alive." Harry choked.
"Do you think with her kind of personality that she would've watched from the sidelines while Death Eaters ransacked Hogwarts or even the entire world at that matter? I think that no matter who she knew, there was always going to be a chance with the way she would charge off into battle."
"Yeah."
With the last word that left his lips, Harry was able to roll onto his side and let his eyes close to sleep.
LINE
It was the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding, one day after Harry's birthday and also the arrival of the Minister of Magic. The minister distributed the objects meant for Harry, Hermione and Ron that was set in Dumbledore's will.
To Ronald Billius Weasley, the Deluminator, a power to douse all lights in a surrounding area.
To Hermione Jean Granger, the Tales of Beedle the Bard
To Harry James Potter, the sword of Gryffindor and the very first golden snitch caught in his Quidditch game.
The Minister had no additional information that Dumbledore might have left about their impending mission, so the trio quickly dismissed him to expedite their preparations for the Weasley wedding.
Lavender drapes were hung over everything, including the hundreds of chairs that Harry took the task of setting up underneath the reception tent. Being the seldom soul inside of the tent, Harry gravitated toward the wedding arch, which had a nauseating magnetization to it. His two feet planted firmly on the right side, where he gazed off into the white lattice intertwined with random wildflowers from the backyard. Harry's imagination began to run wild as vines of flutterby crept up through the square holes and a faint figure of Lia curled her fingers around the back of his ear. Even though Harry knew it wasn't a real event, he let his mind trail off, watching Ophelia's faint freckles disappear in the crinkles of her wide smile underneath the arbor. The image melted into the invisible afternoon air, and Harry was left alone underneath an empty arch with his fists clenched.
All guests had arrived, and Harry took a seat in the far back corner avoiding confrontation of any kind among the wide variety of witches and wizards. Bill and Fleur's wedding was quick and simple, but not lacking in elegance or beauty. Harry truly smiled for the first time in a long time watching something wonderful happen in the darkest times of many of their lives. It was a beacon of hope the minute Bill leaned in to kiss Fleur and smote the evil, if only for a few hours.
Wild dancing ensued, where Ron and Hermione blithely joined in with Luna, who was spinning in lazy circles. Ginny urged for Harry to dance with her, but Harry couldn't handle the eyes watching him, not knowing if someone was going to leap from a chair and snatch him away to the Dark Lord.
A burst of light came spirally from the west side of the tent and blared Kingsley's voice.
The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.
Instinctively, Harry's eyes went straight for Hermione and Ron who were already hustling through the crowd with anxious looks on their faces. No sooner, black vengeful clouds starting spinning through the mass, casting curses in flying lights of color. The three connected their hands and sucked through the vortex being whirled through time and space until they landed face down onto a pile of earth. Hermione and Ron landed only a few feet from Harry, and when he stood all he saw was a dense area of towering trees and forestry. There was no sight of civilization for what seemed like days, but only a few rabbits in the distance scurrying from the display of humans.
"Where are we?" Ron asked
Hermione composed herself, picking a few branches from her hair and pulling out a few sweaters for the boys from her purple bag. Harry cringed from the sight of it, where Hermione quickly noticed and swung the memorable bag around onto the backside of her.
"The Rocky Mountains, not too far from Eaglecrest and-"
"And Lia's cabin." Harry shot back.
"Right before Kingsley's warning came, Ron was spinning me by a floral arrangement and I just recalled a moment where Lia was talking about the wild flowers that grew in a preserve about 5 minutes from her house."
"Betasso Preserve, I remember it clearly from her stories." Harry added.
A trickling noise was the only sound being made in the vast forest while the trio all separated for a moment to strip down and change into more comfortable clothing.
"I think this is Boulder Creek right here. If we follow it we might be able to find the cabin. I know Lia said that you could see her Uncle's beat up truck while she was ankle deep in the creek."
Harry's clunky stride wasn't exactly the best to follow for Ron and Hermione seeing as that not one of them were fashioned hikers. The mountain was difficult to navigate, let alone the poorly lit tip of Harry's wand as he tried no to add any extra distraction to themselves. The edge of the creek bank was soft beige sand that Harry had to be extra observant of, knowing that with one slip he would be floating down the water current. Harry wasn't even quite sure they were following the river in the correct direction, but the night was still young and there was still plenty of energy built up in their spirits.
A Betasso Preserve sign passed the trio as they silently hiked on through the edge of the Rocky Mountain, avoiding any impending danger. Harry knew what they wanted to ask. It was obvious that the two of them were wondering what to do now. There was no set plan, and both of them knew that Harry was flying by the seat of his pants due to no instructions left by Dumbledore after his untimely death.
"I think it's only about a quarter of a mile up here." Hermione stated, flicking her wand to an emerging paved road roughly 5 meters from the water.
The creek took a sharp 90 degree turn and led underneath a quaint wooden bridge, where a tiny lantern could be seen flickering from behind a plaid curtain. A red rusted pickup truck sat idly in a gravel driveway, sitting like a silent guard in front of the cabin. The wood only traveled up one story, and a mini front porch had enough room to fit one rocking chair with a knitted quilt lying over the top of it.
"Harry are you-"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Let's get out of the night."
Without hesitation, Harry let his wand fall out of his sleeve and into the palm of his hand as Ron approached the door and gently knocked. Hermione could see from the window a weathered man sitting in red striped pajamas completely enthralled in a television program.
"Ron, knock harder." Hermione urged.
Ron obeyed and slammed his fists against the door where loud howling ensued and Lia's Uncle John opened the door while holding a basset hound back by it's red collar.
"Can I help you?" The man calmly asked, being able to subdue the hound.
"John Bloom?" Harry asked, not one hundred percent sure of the man's identity.
"Hutcherson, but close enough." He exhaled.
Harry barely recalled the appearance of Lia's uncle; he had only seen him the one time, and it was on the worst day of Harry's life thus far.
"Harry, I barely saw you back there." John said with his sleepy eyes scarcely open.
"Come in, warm your feet."
John fully opened the door, cleared off a small spot for Hermione on the couch, and offered the two boys a spot next to his dog resting on a floor mat.
"You recognize me?" Harry inquired.
"I'm not as stupid as I look, boy. Your face isn't one that someone forgets. Now might I ask what y'all are doing showin' up on my porch at midnight?"
"We had no where else to go." Hermione pleaded, "And we thought it be appropriate to pay respects before tomorrow…"
"Ah yes. Tomorrow's the day isn't it? Funny thing is that most of Lia's life, at least since she was in my care, I always knew that something like this was gonna happen to her. It's why when she came back here, with no memory of what she was…. I was happy. We spent time together with no magic, no spells, nothin'. Her auntie lost her life doin' the same stuff. I always thought she was just a wild spirit with the potions and spells. But Lia, I saw magic come from her hands. Prim, she never made much with her whispers and wand; why so many years I pretended it was a joke, a big made up fairytale in her head. But Ophelia, she was a gift, and it took me too long to realize."
John stopped to sip on a strong substance in his large burgundy mug. In the few moments of silence, Harry recalled very vaguely about a woman Lia had mentioned a few times named Primrose, assuming that was her late aunt.
"It didn't last long though. The first month she was back everything was going smoothly. Soon Lia started wakin' me up screamin' in her sleep. The last few weeks I barely saw the girl. She was out walking those trails again, or had herself locked in her room….and then Monday came. I was out working on my truck and we could hear the explosions all the way out here. Lia immediately came running onto the porch and took off sprinting toward the black smoke in the sky. All she said was 'See ya later, Uncle John.'
The man paused bunching his hand on a pile of newspaper collecting dust on an end table.
"The next time I saw her she was laying on metal slab in the hospital downtown. Her lips were blue, and she was covered in black soot from head to toe. Paramedics said that the impact of the blast killed her nearly instantly."
The details began ripping Harry's insides apart, and the twisted look on his face gave Lia's uncle a hint to stop talking about it.
"You kids are welcome to sleep in her bedroom tonight. I would offer you a bed of my own if I had one, but this here couch is where I rest my head." John gestured to the worn flattened couch cushions.
The three exited the conversation and found a quaint black hallway with only one door connecting to it. Hermione and Ron let Harry take the lead, whereas he really had to work the tarnished handle to get the door lock to crack open. A rush of lilac scent came billowing toward Harry, and for a second, Harry's mind freed itself from the calamity. The room was bigger than the living area and the first thing that caught the trio's attention was the expected amount of plants in Lia's bedroom. Her bed was large and unmade, with a purple palmette style comforter dangling from the edge. There were more busy patterned shawls tacked up against on wall of her room for what they assumed was a cheap way of decorating. A desk was on the far wall, sitting to the left of an open window where Harry found the source of the fragrance that was overpowering the room.
A row of lilac bushes lined the edge of the cabin where Lia's room was, including the one that blocked the entire view of the window and nearly growing inside of the room. An object similar to a lab rack was pushed against the wall with vials filled with cloudy liquid labeled lilac oil. Among it was other tins and recycled bottles with labels of products that Lia must have made herself out of the abundant plant residing outside her window. Harry couldn't help himself and lifted one of the corked vials and placed it inside of his bag, hoping that the scent would lift his spirit in times of despair.
No one mentioned anything, but Harry wasn't quite aware of the poverty level Lia lived in when she home for the summers in her tiny log cabin, and this trip was an eye opener.
Hermione sifted through Lia's books, wondering if her friend had any additional information about Horcruxes in one of her American Wizarding history books on the large handcrafted shelf. Ron nearly dozed off with his back resting against Lia's bed as he watched Hermione's eyes scan through the pages. Harry, on the other hand, laid face up staring at Lia's ceiling admiring a mural painting of the moon and stars directly above her pillow.
"Alohamora" Hermione whispered, unlocking a rather large drawer on Lia's desk.
Hermione softly gasped as nearly her entire arm disappeared into the light colored desk drawer, sinking down so far that her shoulder touched the edge. Harry watched as Hermione pulled about a dozen racks of tiny phials containing liquids of nearly any color you could imagine. With that, a thick string bound book was resting on the top of the racks labeled "Key."
"It's all potions." Hermione exclaimed.
She carefully lifted a few vials taking note that a number was etched into the glass, which corresponded to a specific spot in the bound book.
"Number 57- Pepperup Potion. Note: to reduce amount of steaming side effects, added ¼ tsp of wild Henry's Garnet. " Hermione read aloud.
"Number 87 – Unnamed Experiment – Ingredients: A pinch of powered essence of dittany, half of a crushed common dragon horn, the liquid of 4 squeezed dandelions, add two vials of neem oil. Brew for appx. 15 minutes until daught turns gold. Add a pinch of horehound. Brew 5 minutes. Cool with 2 cups cactus juice. Let completely cool. Effects: Reversal of flesh wound completely without scar. Near regeneration of perfect cells."
Harry stomach muscles pulled him up from the lying position, "Do you think it works?" Harry asked.
"Lia did spend a lot of her time in Snape's office practicing brewing. It wouldn't shock me that she spent her summers here creating potions and then using that skill at Hogwarts.." Hermione admitted, shoving as many racks of the potions she could inside her bag, along with the guide.
"I feel horrible taking these things, but I know if Lia were with us, she would have done the same." Hermione sighed puling the strings on her bag tight.
"You're right, don't feel bad, Hermione."
Ron's body made a loud thump as the rolled over onto the plush beige rug on the floor, reminding Harry and Hermione that they definitely needed sleep for sun arriving in the morning. Harry nuzzled against the wall, allowing enough space for Hermione on the edge with the limited arrangements for sleeping quarters. It was a calming sleep, almost feeling as if the lavender blanket of Lia's was wrapped around him like her arms back in the Gryffindor tower only a few months earlier.