This chapter is a little shorter than usually but I just felt it was a good moment to end it so that all the other things I still wanted to inlcude here can form a chapter on their own. A lot of this chapter is recycled words from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows as I'm sure you can tell. Only Danny is of my own making. And still it took me this long to update...
Big shout-out to xXMizz Alec VolturiXx,as always. This story doesn't get a lot of response so sometimes it's hard to stay motivated. That makes me appreciate your support even more!
Chapter 3
That hideous, egotistical side of me rears its ugly head once more when I wake up and find myself disappointed by discovering the sleeping form of my brother in the bed next to mine. A part of me wanted him to sneak out in the middle of the night by himself, setting me free of the responsibility to protect him. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I hate myself for it. Harry didn't ask for me to make any sacrifices for him in the past and if he was aware of the prophecy, he would have snuck out and left me behind in an attempt to keep me safe. I know that and yet I still can't find it in myself to be glad, even just a little bit, that he doesn't want to do this without me the way he was willing to do it without his two best friends. Choosing me has never made me angrier.
Before I do something as irrational and unfair as hex him for not leaving me behind, I get up and take another shower. Still, the taint of being seventeen and wishing my brother had left doesn't come off. I scrub hard enough though.
I have breakfast before getting ready for the wedding. After I put the finishing touch on my outfit – a pale purple dress with a high collar but an open back, in combination with pearl-white open-toed heels and my new time-telling bracelet, I try to tame my hair by pulling it into a loose side braid. I look good, I suppose, but I've never felt more appalling on the inside. I stupidly fear that Harry will see what I thought this morning by simply looking at me. It makes it impossible for me to make eye-contact with him, not even when he asks me to make sure to shrink both our trunks and put them in my clutch bag. It weighs ridiculously heavy but that's nothing a quick charm can't fix. If only guilt worked the same.
We will be going to The Burrow much earlier, before the arrival of any other guests. Somehow, mother got us roped into helping out with the preparations. I suspect she's just in dire need of an excuse to leave this place that isn't ours.
As soon as we apparate as closely to the Weasley house as we can, the father of the whole bunch runs up to welcome us. I'm sure he was expecting us but he looks flustered and uncomfortable nonetheless. We were invited, right?
"Arthur, is something wrong?" My father immediately tightens the grip on his wand, ready to attack whatever got Arthur looking like this.
"We have a surprise visitor," He frowns.
That's it? You just add an extra chair and you're good. And yet, I can't imagine Arthur Weasley freaking out over someone brining an unexpected plus one. His wife, sure. But not him.
"Who is it?" My mother asks.
"Scrimgeour."
"The Minister of Magic?" Mum gasps but dad doesn't seem to be as surprised as she is.
"He's here for Harry, isn't he?"
Of course he is. He tried convincing my brother once before to join his side into pacifying the crowd and telling them all will be okay and we should all have complete faith in the Ministry. Is he here to try it again?
"Yes," Arthur Weasley looks surprised at my father guessing correctly.
"He's been trying to get invited to my home for weeks now, getting more and more incessant," Dad sighs angrily. "How did he know we'd be here?"
I'm sure the Weasleys have pretty complicated protection spells in place as well, to keep unwanted guests out, like Death Eaters. Perhaps the spells should have included protection against shady Ministry officials as well.
"He heard about the wedding through Percy," Let's all just ignore the fact that we all know the third eldest son won't be attending his big brother's wedding, for reasons we don't need to rehash. "He figured you would be here, already showed up once yesterday actually."
"What does he want?" My mother asks a very good question.
He can't possibly think that Harry changed his mind.
"To read Albus' will."
My heart stops for a nano second and I'm delusional enough to think I can feel Harry's do the same.
Albus Dumbledore left a will. And for some reason Harry's in it. Maybe it's a clue, a path to start on. If I'm going to be really optimistic, I might even hope he left us a couple of horcruxes. That would certainly save us the search. But whatever it is, it's important enough that Dumbledore left it to my brother. Something that can help him fulfil his destiny by himself.
"Finally!" My dad exhales. "They've been holding on to it for as long as they could. Let's go hear what it says."
"Can't." Arthur Weasley shakes his head. "Only people mentioned in the will can be present."
"Let me guess: Harry?" Dad sounds kind of angry but I suppose I would be too when people keep insisting your barely adult son should be more involved than a hard-trained auror.
"And Danny."
Wait, what?
I look at him in shock, as do my parents. Am I… mentioned in Dumbledore's will?
"Scrimgeour wants to see both of them, as well as Ronald and Hermione. They're waiting on you guys in the living room."
None of them seem to be very happy to leave the Minister of Magic alone with their children but I feel a wild sort of hope flare up in my chest. I'm in Dumbledore's will, meaning there's something he wants to entrust me with, other than the damning prophecy. Perhaps it's a letter that says the whole thing is wrong? I know it's a long shot but I would do anything to have that be included in the will.
"I'm not leaving that man alone with my kids," Our mother frowns.
Who is she calling kids? We're legal adults now, which I'm sure Scrimgeour made sure of before trying to talk to use in private.
"Let's go see what he has to say," I start off in the direction of the Burrow when no one else seems to have the intention to do so.
"Danny?!" Mum gasps.
"We'll tell you guys right after anyway and it's not like he's going to kidnap us." We'll leave that to the Death Eaters. "Let's just get this over with."
It's pretty clear my mum, nor my dad, is happy about the situation but they don't try to stop us when me and Harry step into the Burrow's living room area. Granger and Weasley are already sitting there, looking mighty uncomfortable in the presence of the Minister of Magic. The man himself narrows his eyes at me and my brother when we enter the room, as if we had been interrupting something important. By the looks of it, it was an interrogation because Weasley looks absurdly pleased to see us and I know he spotted me as well.
"Wonderful," Scrimgeour says with such a grim face, I'm sure it's anything but. "Everyone is present. I have some questions for the four of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you three, can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald."
No way. No one is going to suffer through a one-on-one interrogation with that man, not even Weasley.
"We're not going anywhere," I quickly say and by the agreeing nods, I'd say the fellow three were just thinking the exact same thing.
"You can speak to us together, or not at all," Harry tells the man sternly.
Scrimgeour gives him a cold glare for that comment but my brother is actually holding his own in the glaring competition, if not winning.
"Very well then, together," Scrimgeour shrugs like he had been fine with that arrangement the entire time. "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."
Even though we had most definitely not been aware of that a couple of minutes ago, none of us show any sign of surprise. I'm sure he had hoped to shock us with that.
"Dumbledore died over a month ago," I point out because that's how long I've been suffering restless nights and troublesome days. "Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"
I could have used whatever he left me in his will probably during that month. Perhaps it could have even given me some peace of mind.
"It's obvious," Granger answers instead. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!"
"I had every right," The man dismisses the protest. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will-"
"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artefacts," Of course Granger knows this. "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"
"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" Scrimgeour ignores what she actually said.
"No, I'm not. I'm hoping to do some good in the world."
That draws a laugh from Weasley. I would do the same because that was a really good burn but I know she was actually serious. Whatever career path she chooses, and I just came to the realisation that I have no idea what has her preference, I know she'll use it to fight for making this world a better one. Just look at what she's done in the past. Of course S.P.E.W. was a bit misguided since most house elves don't desire freedom or a pay but when Granger sees an injustice in the world, she wants to fight it with all her might. I quite admire her for that, even though I'd never tell her. I'm sure she'll do great things and I never realised before that I would have loved to see that. I already know I won't. I'll miss out on a lot of things, including the progress and accomplishments of everyone I went to school with. It seems like such a small aspect in the grand schemes of all the things I'll never know but it makes me angry once more because I want those insignificant things too. I even want Granger to have the opportunity to rub my nose into it.
"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" Scrimgeour suddenly asks Weasley who looks surprised at the question.
"Me? Not – not really… it was always Harry who…"
Stop talking! If Scrimgeour is already suspicious of the fact that Dumbledore left us all something in his will, he'll be even more so once he figures out some of us never really got close to our late Headmaster. So stop talking!
Weasley's voice wavers as soon as he gets the mental message. It must also help that all three of us are looking at him, forcing him to shut up with glares. Unfortunately, Scrimgeour already got what he wanted and picks in on Weasley's words like he's digging for gold.
"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions – his private library, his magical instruments and other personal effects – were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"
Honestly? I hope it's because he's leaving us some kind of clues for the Horcrux Hunt, probably having assumed that Weasley and Granger would be accompanying us as well. If it's even an 'us' that's going. But we can't really tell Scrimgeour that.
"I… dunno. I… when I say we weren't close… I mean, I think he liked me."
"You're being modest, Ron." Granger to the rescue. "Dumbledore was very fond of you."
Lying it is then. I'm sure Dumbledore liked Weasley well enough, as well and me and Granger but none of us had the close, mentor-like relationship he had with Harry. He's also the only one who ever had personal one-on-one contact with the wizard. Of course, there were those lessons he gave me last year but no one will ever know that.
Scrimgeour doesn't seem like he believes us but pulls a scroll out of a drawstring pouch anyway.
"'The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore' … yes, here we are… 'to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'"
And then he pulls out the silver cigarette lighter with the ability to suck and restore light out of any place that was Dumbledore's Deluminator, which is now Weasley's, I suppose. It's a pretty cool thing to own, I guess, but I don't see how that's supposed to help with the Horcrux Hunt. Is that not what Dumbledore was trying to do here? He didn't just want to shove his personal belongings on us, right?
"That is a valuable item," Scrimgeour says while handing over the Deluminator to the stunned red-head. "It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"
Excellent question, and one Wealsey can't seem to come up with an answer to either.
"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," The Minister continues. "Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you four. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr Weasley?"
"Put out lights, I s'pose," He mumbles. "What else could I do with it?"
The man doesn't seem to like that answer but nor does he have any suggestions of his own so he turns back to Dumbledore's will.
"'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'"
Scrimgeour reaches into the pouch again to pull out an ancient-looking little book. Granger silently takes it from him and stares at it intensely. I assume it's to figure out some hidden meaning behind this book until I see silent tears filling her eyes.
"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?"
"He..he knew I liked books," Granger says with a voice thickened by emotion.
"But why that particular book?"
Why indeed? Of all the most likely interesting books out of the Headmaster's personal library, this is the one he leaves the star pupil? Nothing rare or even valuable. This is a book you can find in nearly every wizarding home. Well, not ours because mum always found some of them unfit for children but that never stopped dad from telling us the more appropriate stories from the top of his head. I never really read any of them myself, even though I know dad altered most of them a bit. I'm fairly certain there are no stags in the original works.
"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."
There has got to be more to these passed-down items than that, right? There still has to be something Dumbledore's trying to tell us with these.
"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"
"No, I didn't. And if the Ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will." Granger has shed the emotions to make room for fierce snark.
Weasley awkwardly puts his hand around Granger's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her while Scrimgeour returns to the will.
"'To Miss Danielle Lilliane Potter,"
My heart attempts to jump out of my chest by the mere mention of my own name. Let's see if Dumbledore left me some hope.
"I leave my Pensieve, in the hope that it will help her seek answers and the bravery to face them.'"
I know Scrimgeour is watching my face as he puts the stone basin on the table in front of me, looking for some kind of reaction to what Dumbledore left me. And even though I know I shouldn't show him anything, I can't help all the blood pulling out of my face and I'm straining my mouth so hard not to show the outraged scowl I feel threatening there. To see answers and the bravery to face them?! How dare he!? Even from beyond the grave he is telling me to get off my ass and go die for him and his bloody cause!? Just to ensure that I would not run away from this, that I'll certainly do what he's telling me needs to be done. Fuck him!
"You look upset," Scrimgeour can barely contain a smile himself.
"I'm touched," I lie through my clenched teeth, pretending that the tears welling up in my eyes are from grief instead of blood-boiling anger. "I always liked his pensieve."
Why wouldn't I like a permanent reminder of the prophecy that foretold Dumbledore – who knows how long ago! – my death?
"What does he mean by seeking answers?"
"I don't know," I grit out.
"And what do you believe he wanted-"
"I don't know!" I snap angrily, not as aggravated by the man in front of me as I am with the man who cruelly mentioned me in his will. "The man was an enigma. I barely understood what he meant when he was still alive to explain it, let alone this."
The Minister doesn't seem too happy about a seventeen-year old girl yelling at him like this but he clearly gets that he's not getting any explanation from me. He chooses to continue with the reading of the will over chastising me.
"'To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch Match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'"
Even though it must be unreadable to a stranger like Scrimgeour, that's definitely disappointment I spot on Harry's face as the golden ball is pulled out of the bag as well. At least someone else doesn't like their gift either.
"Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?"
"No idea. For the reasons you read out, I suppose… to remind me what you can get if you… persevere and whatever it was."
"You think this is a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"
"I suppose so. What else could it be?"
Something more than just rubbish and death threats would have been nice.
"A snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"
My brother shrugs and I have to admit to not knowing the answer either. But as always, Granger does.
"Because Snitches have flesh memories."
I did not know that. I'm certain Harry and Weasley didn't either.
"Correct," Scrimgeour says. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you."
Harry doesn't say anything as he stares at the Snitch in the Minister's hands, probably trying to figure out how to take it without revealing what Dumbledore must have stored away in it.
"You don't say anything. Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?"
And for a second I wonder if maybe, he does. Perhaps the things left to us by the late Headmaster aren't random items at all. What if all of them mean something to the person who inherits them. The way I know exactly what that Pensieve means even though I pretend I don't, the other three might know exactly what Dumbledore's trying to tell them with the Deluminator, children's book and Snitch. Perhaps they've gotten one final mission from the man as well.
But then Harry tells Scrimgeour he doesn't know and I know he's telling the truth. I'd pick up on a lie coming from Harry's mouth. It's just me Dumbledore's trying to screw over from the grave then?
"Take it."
We all watch with bathed breath how Harry slowly reaches out towards the golden ball in the palm of the Minister's hand. His fingers close around it, the wings flutter and go still. Nothing happens.
So much for anything of use being left in the will. This was an utter waste of time.
"That was dramatic," Harry mocks coolly.
"That's all, then, is it?" Granger prepares herself to leave the room.
"Not quite," Scrimgeour says, who doesn't look as gleeful as he did five seconds ago. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."
"What is it?"
More rubbish? Perhaps a little death threat of his own?
"The Sword of Godric Gryffindor."
What?
"So where is it?" Harry asks when the sword does not get pulled out of the pouch.
"Unfortunately, that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artefact, and as such, belongs-"
"It belongs to Harry!" Granger says hotly. "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat-"
I'm not sure that makes it his though…
"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided. Why do you think-?"
"Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?" I'm sure we could have all finished that very predictable question. "Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."
"This is not a joke, Potter!" He growls. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the Sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He Who Must Not Be Named?"
"Interesting theory," Harry says. "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people on that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators, or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So is this what you've been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying but there's been no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!"
After those words, I can't even blame the Minister for letting go of the pretence that this was just a civil conversation.
"You go too far!" He shouts, standing up to meet Harry chest to chest with his wand pressed to my brother's sternum.
"Oi!" Weasley jumps up, pulling out his own wand but is stopped in time by Harry telling him we're not students anymore and Scrimgeour can easily arrest us for such an action.
And while they're all trying to cool down without losing face, I find myself staring at the scene as some curious bystander. Rufus Scrimgeour, who we should never forget is a powerful wizard as well, just threatened my brother with his wand to his chest and I did nothing. I felt the need to do nothing and just watch it play out in front of me. I didn't jump to Harry's defence like I've done countless times before. I'm just tired of standing by his side. So dead tired. But if I'm not Harry Potter's sister, protective of him to a fault, then who am I? There's not much left.
"Remembered you're not in school, have you?" Scrimgeour breathes hard in Harry's face and still I sit by the side-lines, simply waiting for what comes next instead of deciding what it will be. "Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"
"It's time you earned it!"
When the words rumble through the room, the door suddenly opens and in step our parents and Weasley's.
"We heard voices," My father narrow his eyes in a vicious glare to the man standing threateningly close to his son.
"It-it was nothing…" The Minster steps away from my brother, seemingly realising he should have kept his cool when being provoked by a seventeen-year-old. "I… regret your attitude. You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you – what Dumbledore – desired. We ought to be working together."
"I don't like your methods, Minister. Remember?" Harry raises his fist to the man's face where I know he can read the scars spelling I must not tell lies. Scrimgeour's expression hardens before he turns away and leaves the house.
The others explain to our parents what he wanted while I find myself oddly sympathising with the man. I have no love for the Ministry, nor the man in charge of the whole operation but perhaps today I've caught a glimpse of what they see when they look at The Boy Who Lived. For the first time I didn't see my brave twin, ready to take on injustice in the world. Instead I saw a pig-headed teenager who doesn't know shit. Not someone to follow, and definitely not someone to die for.
