Chapter 3
The Girl in the Cafe, Chapter 3
Jocelyn closed the door and leaned on it, closing her eyes and grinning at the butterflies that attacked her stomach with no mercy. What girl didn't dream of a little danger and adventure, discovering some magical world among her own and also finding a spot of romance? She was interrupted from her musings when a throat cleared and she saw her mother down the hall, crossing her arms.
Jordan Montgomery was thirty nine years old. Her curly dark brown hair reached down to her shoulder blades and her pale skin glowed slightly from a hallway light that was above where she was standing.
Her natural beauty and the play of light made her look a bit like an angel, though the knowing smirk she was wearing made her more akin to the devil in her daughter's eyes.
"You seemed pretty friendly with Prince Charming outside, dear," she teased, walking towards the door. "So, spill it, who is he?"
Joss moved to the sitting room, sitting on the couch with her mother. "Oh, just a boy," she said with a wistfully. She was pretty sure that she wasn't supposed to share what she'd seen today with any other….what was the word? Muggles?
"And does this boy have a name?"
"Yes he does." There didn't seem to be any harm in that. "Harry Potter." She looked up to the ceiling, not being able to stop her dreamy grinning. "He's…amazing, mum."
"Hmm, that name does sound a bit familiar." She thought about it and then shrugged. "Must have heard it in passing. And does he go to school? He's not some hoodlum, I hope. The characters you meet at the godawful train station…"
"For your information, he goes to a special boarding school in Scotland." She assumed that part was true. She left out the name of the school. She wasn't even sure she'd heard it right; what kind of place was called Hogwarts?
"Scotland, you say?" Again, Jordan thought about something, and Joss looked at her mother with a raised eyebrow.
"Are you feeling alright, mother?" she teased lightly, a smile tugging very lightly at her lips, though she did wonder what was going on with her.
"Nothing, it's nothing. So, what did you two do?"
"Well, he's been at the café a lot lately, and today I finally built up the nerve to talk to him. We met when I got off and went to Ben's place, and…really hit it off." They'd also gotten into a fight with an evil wizard, and she'd found out that he was a wizard as well, and they had a chat with the leader of his world, apparently, but she left all that out. "And then…well, you saw." She grinned wide and thought about that kiss, how it took him a moment to come to his senses and kiss back. "Mum, he's amazing."
"Wow, two occurrences of the word. When do I get to meet this amazing boy?"
Joss blushed. "I don't know. I don't want to rush it and have him meeting the entire family yet." She smiled sheepishly. "You….you didn't tell dad about what you saw, did you?"
"No, but I can't wait to. You think my teasing is bad, just you wait." She nudged her daughter's shoulder as a pouty groan escaped her lips.
"Not funny, mum." She mock-glared, but just couldn't stop the stupid grin from taking dominance of her face once more. "Well, I'm going to get to sleep. I gave him the house number to call, please don't embarrass me if you answer it?"
"No promises," Jordan teased. "Off to bed, you."
Joss smiled at her mother, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading up the stairs. She got ready for bed with an air of happiness akin to when she was just a little girl and had gotten her first crush on a boy. Sitting at her desk, she wrote in her journal for a while, recounting the night's events with a coy smile. When she was ready to sleep, she locked the small book in her desk drawer, and got into bed and curled up into the covers, thoughts of Harry dancing across her mind.
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After the two teenagers disappeared from his office, the minister limped slightly to his desk and sat, letting his visitor stew a bit longer. When he was half-finished with his second glass of mead and the pleasant female voice once again announced Dumbledore's presence, he finally nodded his approval, which allowed the door to open with a click.
In strode the aged form of his former Transfiguration professor and old friend. Of course, over the years the former Ravenclaw Head Boy had acquired a highly decorated career as an auror and was now the Minister of Magic, while the professor had become Headmaster and probably the most respected wizard in the country. Oddly, though, the much older man had seemed to age fifty years in just a few short weeks. The disfigured hand didn't help his image, either. "Minister," Dumbledore said as he walked in and looked around the room.
"Headmaster." Scrimgeour looked up from his glass to the professor, looking interested and innocent. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I can see you've already excused Harry. Back to the Burrow, I hope?" He accepted the glass of mead that had filled and floated to him as he sat down in front of the desk.
"Yes, and unharmed, to your surprise, I'm sure. Did you think I would eat the boy, Albus?" he asked the old man, the question seeming to have much more meaning beyond its joking tone.
The Headmaster chuckled lightly, but his amusement was fabricated. "After his experiences with your predecessor, I'm sure you cannot blame me for my worries."
"Ah, is that why you've intercepted any attempt I've made to contact him? You thought I'd try to label him a nut and toss him into Azkaban?"
"That, or make him into a mascot for your administration."
"You're getting a bit warmer there," Scrimgeour answered with a nod and a point. "That is to say that I was planning on something like that. But we both now know that he's too smart to fall for it."
"Am I to assume, then, that he won't be standing another underage magic trial?"
"On the contrary, I've removed his Trace and offered to brush up his defensive skills."
The mask of pleasantry broke from Dumbledore's face, revealing the inner emotions of shock and anger, though only slightly and for just the smallest fraction of a second. "A bold move, Rufus. One that might have required some thought before making."
"You don't trust him? It's my opinion that the boy's more capable than most wizards a few years out of Hogwarts, and mature enough to know when not to abuse his abilities. Or does this make him too difficult to control?" He watched for Dumbledore's reaction, studying the man.
"I cannot argue your points on Harry's competence and maturity, as I'm sure you wouldn't expect me to." It was quite apparently that Dumbledore had much to argue on the matter, but he didn't bring them up or take the Minister's bait. "Did he tell you what happened to him?"
"I expect the Death Eater he subdued will provide us with a full account of what happened. I've ordered a veritaserum interrogation on him."
"Subdued?" asked Dumbledore, surprise on his face. "Who was it?"
"Amycus Carrow. Harry came out unscathed, save for a cut on his shoulder that I healed. And he managed to make sure his little friend was unharmed completely." Another look of curiosity adorned the older man's face, followed by a knowing smirk by Scrimgeour. "A muggle girl that he's been eyeing for weeks now. What's quite humorous is ‒"
A paper airplane flew with purpose out of the vent of the Minister's office, unfolding in midair in front of his face. He read the message with an unsurprised wince of disappointment. "Unfortunate."
"Something the matter, Rufus?"
"Quite. Carrow is dead."
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Jordan opened the door of the master bedroom, hoping not to awaken her husband, Franklin, but he was always a light sleeper, and as such he stirred and sat up slowly, looking up at her. He was the most handsome man in the world, in her opinion, with dark brown skin and extremely short hair. And his eyes, her most favorite thing about him, seemed to gaze into one's soul even when they were as glossy and drowsy as they were now. "Joss back home yet?" he asked tiredly.
"Yes, apparently she met a boy and really hit it off with him."
"Uh oh," he said with sarcastic misery, as his wife got back into bed and cuddled up to him. "Should I be worried?"
"No, no, from what she says, he's completely harmless. And I saw him from the porch window, the boy doesn't look like he could hurt a fly. Quite scrawny, glasses, and hair that desperately needs a comb."
"Good thing," he commented, closing his eyes as they both lay back down. "After the last trainwreck of a boyfriend, it's refreshing to have her find a pleasant one. And it might give her a reason to stay at home longer than she planned."
"Darling?" she asked after they'd been still for a moment or two. "That school you went to, all those years ago. It was in Scotland, wasn't it? The boy went to a 'special school' up there, as she put it."
"Yeah, it was up in Scotland," he answered slowly, raising his eyebrows but keeping his eyes closed. "You don't think….."
"I mean, I guess it could be the case. I mean, you and I met in London, didn't we? Just like them. You wouldn't have a problem with that if he was….like you, would you?"
"As long as he didn't bring her into any trouble. I left that world behind, but I still hear things. It sounds like trouble is starting back up again, like it was when we first met. Did you happen to get the kid's name?"
"Yeah, it sounded familiar to me, actually. Harry Potter."
Franklin's eyes opened.
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Harry landed on the Burrow's path and began walking to the large home off in the distance, a bit more hop in his step than usual. He was over the moon, if he was being completely honest. His date with Jocelyn had taken a turn for the worse before somehow ending off on a good note, and with a goodnight kiss and her phone number scribbled onto his hand, he didn't think he had done half bad.
He made it to just outside the burrow before a stunner shot from a random spot in the lawn, and he gasped and dodged it at the last minute, dropping to the ground and taking his wand out, but not aiming it at the person approaching.
Tonks was rushing towards him. "Identify yourself! Speak or lose your head!"
"Tonks, Tonks, it's me! What's going on!?"
She kept approaching suspiciously, her eyes narrowed as she looked him over. "When we left Privet Drive last Summer, what was the question I asked you just before we took off?"
"Come on, Tonks –" Her wand stiffened at him and there was no joking in her eyes. "Geez! You asked if both of my buttocks were still on."
Tonks then lowered her wand, a small smile tugging at her lips the he matched, though he was still freaked out. She threw a tight hug at him and then pulled back, smacking him over the head. "You absolute fool!" She aimed her wand towards the Burrow and a huge flare-like spark escaped it, as well as a loud bang. "I got him!"
People left the house in a humongous horde, nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix, in addition to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Tonks took a fistful of his upper sleeve and dragged him towards the Burrow, and brought him to the mercy of the court, it seemed. Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and hugged him as tight as she ever had, making him yelp out a bit; he was getting a bit sore from the duel with Carrow. "Harry dear, we were worried sick! What happened to you?"
They had to be expecting something like a kidnapping, some tale like the Department of Mysteries fiasco, Harry being lured to a place Voldemort's followers could snatch him up, and him having to battle for his life once again. It was half-true, but no one expected the answer that came from his mouth. "Err, I went out?"
"Went out?" Mrs. Weasley looked confused, turning her head around at everyone else as if they could assist her in understanding. "What on Earth did you not have here that you would go out for?"
Tonks answered for him, admittedly a bit abrasively. "It isn't completely obvious, Molly? The stupid grin that hasn't completely fallen off of his face even after I drew my wand at him, the only just faint trace of lipstick on his lips, and of course, this…" She held his hand out for everyone to see, and Harry blanched with embarrassment. "Harry got us all riled up so he could go meet a girl."
Just about everyone, especially Fred and George, looked ready to laugh, with a few exceptions. Mrs. Weasley was still confused about why Harry would do something like that, Mad-Eye Moody was grumbling something about teenage hormones losing the war for them, and Ginny had already begun walking back towards the house before anyone else.
"Alright, everyone," Mr. Weasley said, calling to the Order. "I think things are more than under control. We'll let Dumbledore know that Harry's safe and sound, and you can head back to your rooms, or … you know, your own houses." People scrambled around back towards the house, though it was obvious they had a great deal more to ask. Harry made to follow Ron and Hermione once they were inside, but Mr. Weasley put his hand on his shoulder. "If you don't mind, Harry, I'd like to have a chat."
He nodded and followed the man across the kitchen and down a hall to a room that Harry had never seen before. It was mostly open, modestly decorated and sporting a desk in the corner that was kind of organized, in an admittedly messy way. In another corner was a muggle drafting table that had a number of odd and ends likely to be found in an old thrift shop. Harry assumed the table was just a small sample of what was in Mr. Weasley's workshed that he'd heard so much about over the years.
He spoke before Mr. Weasley could. "Look, sir, I'm really sorry about….well, all of this."
He'd meant to continue, but the man interjected. "Molly and her brothers were, well, nothing like their parents. The Prewitts, while not as extreme as the Blacks or Malfoys, bought into pureblood supremacy, and fervently disapproved of their daughter dating a Weasley. Needless to say, I'd need many more hands than I have in my possession to count the number of times Molly and I found it necessary to sneak out to see each other during Summer. My point, Harry, is that I don't blame you for doing what you did. Please just take into account that you are number one on the list of people You-Know-Who wants dead, not to mention the fact that nobody in the Order knew where you were going, and we all thought the worst. I know it's not the most enticing idea to have had a chaperone with you, but in these times…"
"I understand, Mr. Weasley. I just…well, you know."
"I was fifteen once too." He gave a kind, warm smile and sat at his desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"I take it the new job is a heavy workload?" Harry asked, noting the invisible aura of stress that seemed to always allude the man until now.
"That, among other things. Namely, Rufus Scrimgeour did more than give me a promotion. He named me Deputy Minister. Anything happens to him and I'm to take his place. It also adds a considerable workload to my plate, not that I should be complaining."
That came as a pleasant shock to Harry. While he respected Mr. Weasley's line of work, he had learned that his interest in muggles had made him something of a pariah to the Wizarding elite like Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps Rufus Scrimgeour really was bringing about a change in the Ministry that Harry believed it desperately needed. "Congratulations, sir."
"Oh, thank you. I don't pretend it isn't a gigantic honor, though a part of me does wonder if it was based on merit, or Scrimgeour trying to score points with Dumbledore. The two of them have had quite the heated set of talks, from what I hear. They definitely have differing ideas on how to handle the war."
"You don't think that he could be trying what Fudge did with Percy, do you?"
"That is exactly what I had thought when I heard, though he assures me that he means nothing of the sort, and even swore a wizard's oath on the matter."
"Well, if his motives are innocent, Mr. Weasley, I'm not surprised. If anyone is fit to lead us at a time when we need it most, you'd make the short list, I'm sure." Actually, besides Dumbledore, who apparently never wanted the job, he couldn't think of anyone better for the job than Arthur, if Scrimgeour were to be killed while in office.
"Thank you, Harry. It's really appreciated. Now, back to this girl. I trust that the next time you feel the need to see her, you'll arrange it with Molly, me, or someone in the Order? We can be more than accommodating, but we just appreciate honesty and communication. I know you're not our son, but ‒"
"As good as." Harry had cut him off with a smile, repeating Mrs. Weasley's words from a heated discussion at Grimmauld Place last year. It brought a slight pang in his stomach at his own reminder of Sirius, but he was sure it would go away soon...he hoped. "Thank you sir. If I may, tomorrow I'd like to try and use your telephone, if that's alright. Or, I guess tomorrow might make me seem a little desperate. Two days? Three?"
Mr. Weasley laughed. "Trust me, tomorrow is when you want to call, and yes, I'll fish it out of the shed for you in the morning. I'm sure Dumbledore will be here with questions for you tomorrow about the small speed bump that occurred during your date," he added knowingly. Apparently he'd received some kind of heads up from Scrimgeour or Dumbledore, and it seemed the rest of the Order was either unaware or was told not to mention the underage magic usage or the duel with Carrow. "Off you go now, before Ron's head explodes with his own questions for you."
Harry nodded with a chuckle and left the room, heading up the stairs to the twins' old room to get changed. When he opened the door, though, he saw the room wasn't empty, as Hermione was sitting on his bed and Ron was leaning on the wall near the window.
Immediately Hermione exclaimed, "Harry!" and ran to hug him. He was definitely sore now, and let out a cry of hushed pain.
"Ah, careful, Hermione." He winced and pulled away, chuckling at her.
"What happened?" she asked, concern on her face that Ron matched as he too headed for Harry.
"Yeah, mate, why are you so sore? I mean, is that what happens after ‒ ow!"
But he'd been cut off by Hermione's elbow hitting his ribs. "After what, Ronald?" He rubbed his ribs, not answering as Hermione turned back to Harry, looking ready to hit him as well. "And you! You mean to tell me that you were here and just decided to leave without even saying anything to us?"
Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, you guys were asleep, and I didn't have much time. I'm not sore 'cause I went to meet her, I kind of….well, there was a death eater."
"A what?!" exclaimed both of his friends in unison. Ron shook his head and said, "Only you, Harry."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Care to elaborate?"
They moved away from the door, Harry on the edge of the bed with Hermione at the other end of it and Ron propped up against the wall on the floor as he recounted the encounter with Amycus Carrow, and then his conversation with Scrimgeour.
"You can do magic now?" Ron said, flabbergasted. "Wicked."
"It is not wicked, Ron!" said a frustrated Hermione. "Harry, are you sure the Minister isn't trying to use you in any way?" she asked him, carrying a careful tone. "I mean, it sounds great, everything he's offering you, but it seems a little….convenient."
"Believe me, Hermione, I'm not completely sold on the man yet, and I'm not letting my guard down. But if it means I get the trace lifted and I finally get to learn the things I need to in order to survive, I can't pass this up. Even if he's using me for anything, I can make sure I use my connection with him for the better, as well."
She nodded in agreement, though it was hesitant. "Just be careful, alright? Remember how absolutely chummy Fudge was with you when you first met him." When Harry nodded back, knowing that she was completely and fairly right, her face sported a bit more smile and less concern. "So, a girl?"
He smiled sheepishly. "Her name's Jocelyn." And then he told the other half of the story, the one that came first, about their time together before Carrow, before skipping to the end, to the kiss. "And then I portkeyed back here, right into Tonks' line of fire, apparently."
"She cute?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows, prompting Hermione to reach randomly into a box near George's bed and toss the first thing she could grab at him. Ron disappeared in a puff of black smoke as he exclaimed in pain. With the black cloud dissipated, he was clutched his eye. "What the bloody hell, Hermione?!"
"Sorry!" she cried sheepishly as the small telescope she thrown rolled away from Ron, a fist protruding from it on a spring. She'd leaped from the bed and knelt by him, lowering his hand to reveal his eye swollen and puffy and a dark purple.
"Damn thing punched me right clean in the eye…can barely see," Ron mumbled as Harry bit back a laugh. He and Hermione exchanged a knowing look as Ron winced in pain. "I'm going to kill the twins, leaving trash like that in here."
"Oh calm down, you know if it were one of us that got hit you'd be on the floor laughing." Hermione laughed and stood. "I'm really sorry. Do you need your mum to come in and take a look at it?"
"No, I'll get it fixed tomorrow," he said with a grumble, apparently trying to appear tough which made it harder for Harry not to laugh.
"Alright," Hermione answered, looking down, then back to the bed. "Well, I'll have to get to sleep. You okay, Harry?"
His mind traveled back to earlier that night, which seemed like days ago. Dumbledore had all but told him to get it done with and tell them about the prophecy. But now after the incident with the telescope and talking about Jocelyn, the moment didn't seem right to bring up the fact that he was either marked for death or had to kill to stop it from happening. "Yeah, I'm good. Get some rest, Hermione." He smiled at her and she bade them goodbye as Harry looked back to Ron, getting up and helping him to his feet. "And yeah mate, she's gorgeous."
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Unfortunately, the happy thoughts of Harry kept Jocelyn awake, trying to get to sleep, so when the door creaked open, she opened her eyes and looked up towards the doorway. She had to have already been asleep and dreaming, for it couldn't have really been her father standing there, wearing the saddest look she'd ever seen on his face as he pointed a wand just like Harry's at her, and softly spoke the word, "Obliviate."
With not a single thought of Harry or magic or wizards left in her head, Jocelyn fell asleep easily.
(Of course, feedback is greatly appreciated, and I'll take praise and criticism with equal eagerness.)
