Author's Notes: I'm playing catch-up since I'm a bit behind posting chapters here. Hope you enjoy, and thanks again to my wonderful betas, Arnel and seekers_destiny.
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Harry spent the following morning with Williamson at Azkaban, this time interviewing all the guards that had been on duty when Malcolm Van Hyning had gone on his rampage, as well as the Azkaban warden, Warden Singh. None of them had been able to give Harry any reason as to why Van Hyning would turn so suddenly, and the warden had expressed again what an exceptional guard Van Hyning had been.
After the interviews, Harry and Williamson had checked every wand that had been on the premises at the time for the Imperius curse. Nothing unexpected had turned up and therefore they didn't have an explanation for why Van Hyning had seemingly lost his mind.
In the afternoon, Harry and Williamson went to St. Mungo's to speak with the healers in charge of Malcolm Van Hyning and to attempt to interrogate the guard as well. They met the healers in the hallway outside the closed doors, but the healers didn't have anything more to say than they had the night before when they had first examined Van Hyning. Apparently, there had been no change in his condition and they were quickly losing hope that there would be.
Nodding, Harry steeled himself before entering the closed ward and was immediately accosted by a blur of blond hair and purple robes. Williamson grumbled in annoyance and Professor Lockhart grinned broadly at him and then over to Harry. Harry sighed inwardly, as it was always the same every time he had to visit the ward. Lockhart spent his days hovering near the doors in the hopes that anyone would walk through that he could talk to.
The old Hogwarts Defence professor peered intently at Harry and his smile faltered. "Do I know you?"
"Bloody hell, again?" Williamson growled.
"Yes," Harry answered Lockhart, ignoring his partner.
"I thought so!" Lockhart crowed. "You're nearly as rakishly handsome as myself, but your hair, chap." The professor tsked loudly as he noted Harry's messy black locks.
Harry eyed Lockhart's perfectly pomaded and coiffed hair as Williamson chuckled behind him. "The crazy old coot has you there, Potter."
"Would you like my autograph?" Lockhart asked, flashing his still pearly white teeth at Harry.
"I already have one, thank you," Harry answered, trying to move past the man.
Lockhart looked disappointed with this answer and turned his attentions to Williamson who would have nothing of it. "Don't even try, old man."
"Old man!" Lockhart cried. "I'll have you know I am in my prime! I'm told I have a winning smile." He began pulling photographs of himself from inside his robes and a self-inking quill. "Who shall I make the first one out to?"
Fortunately, a healer came over and began leading Lockhart away before Williamson exploded. Harry watched her talk softly to Lockhart and settle him at a table where he happily began scrawling illegibly across the photos and sliding them across the table towards her.
Harry and Williamson headed down the aisle towards the bed Van Hyning was assigned. There weren't many patients in the ward at the moment, and Harry assumed they were either at therapy sessions or perhaps with family members who had stopped by for a visit. They passed by the closed curtains that were the permanent home of Neville's parents as well as the beds of some of the victims from the illegal potions case Harry had recently closed.
Stopping outside an enclosure near the end of the ward, Williamson parted the curtains and allowed Harry to step in first before following after him. Van Hyning looked exactly the same as he had at Azkaban except now he was lying on a bed with the covers tucked tightly around his body. His hands lay limply at his sides and his eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling above him.
"We aren't going to get anything out of him," Williamson immediately commented upon seeing Van Hyning.
Harry nodded, studying the guard. Before arriving at St. Mungo's they had run the same tests on Van Hyning's wand that they had on all the guards at Azkaban. Aside from the Killing Curse Van Hyning had used on Lucius Malfoy all the last spells the guard had conducted had been the normal ones Harry would have expected to find. He stepped closer and examined Van Hyning's eyes. Yesterday when he had looked into Van Hyning's eyes Harry had once again felt the icy trickle run through his scar as he had after his dreams of the soul shard. However, today he didn't feel anything and Van Hyning's dark eyes were blank and soulless.
"He looks like he was kissed by a Dementor," Harry mused aloud.
Williamson stepped up next to him and studied Van Hyning's face as well. "We know that's not possible. Someone would have noticed if a Dementor had entered Azkaban."
Harry silently agreed, but the vacant expression on the Azkaban guard's face troubled him all the same. "I suppose we may never know what set him off."
"It's a hard profession," Williamson commented. "Even without Dementors patrolling the grounds, Azkaban is a nightmarish place. It takes a tough breed to be a guard there and even the toughest nut can crack."
"Yes, but why?" Harry pressed. "Warden Singh said Van Hyning never exhibited any signs of distress prior."
"He certainly isn't going to be telling us." Williamson gestured toward the prone guard. "It's like the healers informed us, he's gone, Potter."
Harry blew his breath out in frustration. "I don't like unsolved cases."
"This isn't an unsolved case, Potter," Williamson tersely said. "The guard lost his mind, plain and simple. Now we'll go back and file the report and close this case."
Williamson chalked the entire matter up to the stress of the job finally affecting the man, as had happened with a guard or two in the past. However, that didn't explain why Van Hyning was now a permanent resident of the closed ward and little more than a vegetable.
When Harry returned to his office, he sat down at his desk feeling as if dark storm clouds were following him around wherever he roamed. Even changing the view outside his window from the Cliffs of Dover to the sandy beaches of Nice, where he and Ginny had honeymooned did little to raise his spirits. Pulling the blind down over his window and effectively blocking out the cheerful sight of the beach umbrellas flapping in what was certainly a warm, salty breeze, Harry turned his back on the window and looked down at the ink blotter on his desk instead.
With the state of Van Hyning, Draco's convictions, the dishes, drawer, his medal, and Ginny's vision, Harry was beginning to have serious doubts that they were simply dealing with a mischievous poltergeist.
After arriving home late last evening and finding Ginny in the state she had been in, Harry had spent the better part of the night cradling her in his arms and lying awake, examining the issue from every angle. When she had calmed down, she had insisted she must have imagined the whole thing, and since Harry hadn't been there, he had no way of knowing if that were true or not.
From within his robe pocket, he withdrew his Order of Merlin medal and placed it on his desk. He brushed his fingers over the marred surface, feeling the rough ridges scrape over the pads of his fingers. It had been naïve to think the damage had been caused by some natural event, as it was clear that it had been deliberate.
Draco had suggested Harry had missed something five years ago, but Albus had been extremely thorough in his research of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Harry unconsciously rubbed the scar on his forehead and thought about the unsettling dream he had had over a month ago. He'd felt an icy trickle within the scar when he had examined Van Hyning yesterday, but it had been fleeting, once again like a faint echo of the intense pain it used to cause him. Could Voldemort's ghost cause him to experience the strange sensation?
Ghosts weren't that difficult to deal with, usually. The Ministry had ways to force ghosts who were haunting helpless wizards and witches to leave them alone and return to the place of their death. He had never heard of a ghost actually possessing a living being and forcing them to do its will. There again, when Voldemort had been in spectral form he had possessed Quirrell, just as Draco had said, but Voldemort also hadn't really been dead, merely disembodied. Not only that, but Voldemort had also been able to possess Harry, albeit briefly, and that had been when he was once again in his human form. There was the slight possibility that Van Hyning may have been possessed and not Imperiused, as Draco had suggested.
One of the problems Harry foresaw if it came down to him discovering that indeed the ghost of Tom Riddle was haunting him and possibly Draco Malfoy, was convincing the Ministry of that fact. He didn't want to think of the repercussions it was going to cause him if word of this ever got out. The second bigger problem was where would the ghost return to?
Gathering up the medal and shoving it back in his pocket, Harry stood, realizing at the moment there was only one person he could go to with this issue, and that was Hermione. Locking his office behind him, he headed to the lobby and called a lift to take him to the fourth level where the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was located. Hermione had chosen to work in the Being Division of this department in order to pursue her campaign to one day free house-eves. So far she was not having much success in that endeavour, but had been very instrumental in spear-heading some other significant changes that had been beneficial to centaurs and goblins.
As Harry walked through the hallways towards Hermione's office, various people called 'hello', but none of them bothered to ask if he needed any help. By now they were all used to him popping down from time to time to pay his old friend a visit.
When he reached Hermione's door, he found her surrounded by piles of books pertaining to ghosts, apparitions, and poltergeists and furiously scribbling across a piece of parchment. Her normally bushy hair was pulled back in a loose bun on top of her head, but long strands had worked their way free and stuck out in frizzy spirals by her ears and forehead. She brushed one errant curl away from her eyes in exasperation causing Harry to chuckle.
"Eek!" Hermione cried, turning around, pressing her hands to her chest and dripping ink from her quill down her pink blouse as she glared up at Harry. "Harry! You scared me! What are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you today."
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said apologetically. "I stopped by to ask you something, but I can see you are already up to your elbows in research."
"For you," Hermione accused, glancing down at her blouse and grimacing. "Oh, look what you made me do!" She picked up her wand that had been resting on the edge of her desk and waved it over her blouse. Immediately, the blotches of ink on her blouse disappeared and she sighed in satisfaction. "You would have owed me a new blouse if those hadn't come out."
Harry nodded absentmindedly, stepping completely inside and closing the door behind him. He sat in the one chair Hermione had for anyone who visited and picked up a book off the top of the pile nearest to him and read the cover, The Care and Keeping of Ghosts by Damia Spectre.
"That one is pure rubbish," Hermione commented. "It recommended making a bed out of dust bunnies in order to appease restless spirits."
"Have you discovered anything worthwhile?" Harry asked, placing the book back on the pile.
"Well," Hermione began. "I found out it takes a lot of psychic energy for a spirit to be able to affect the physical world. Most don't possess the ability. So whatever yanked your desk drawer out had to be very powerful."
Harry thought this over. "Moaning Myrtle was able to make the water splash in the toilets when she dove into them."
"That's because she was always highly agitated during those times and the splashing water was caused by the aftershock of her psychic energy," Hermione explained.
"How about possession?" Harry asked. "Are ghosts capable of that?"
"I don't think so," Hermione answered. "I haven't come across anything like that in the books. Now, demons are another story."
"What's the difference between a demon and a ghost?" Harry asked.
"Demons are considered unclean spirits or evil angels," Hermione explained. "They have the capability to possess a person, but again they have to be very powerful. Why are you asking? Has something else happened?"
"A guard at Azkaban murdered Lucius Malfoy yesterday," Harry informed her, glancing over at the door to ensure it was indeed closed. "Malfoy said he thought the guard was Imperiused, but I wasn't able to find any evidence of that."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Merlin, Harry, I didn't read anything about it in the Daily Prophet this morning."
"It was late," Harry replied. "More than likely it will be in the evening edition."
"Is Draco still insisting that it's You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked and Harry couldn't help but snicker. "Why are you laughing?" she asked indignantly.
"You-Know-Who, Hermione?" Harry asked between chuckles.
She grimaced. "I was trying to be discreet for your sake!"
"Whether you say You-Know-Who or Voldemort, everyone knows who you are talking about," Harry replied. "But, to answer your question, yes, Malfoy is still insisting this is all Voldemort's doing."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. "You know that can't be true." Harry didn't answer this immediately, causing Hermione to study him intently. "You are beginning to believe him!" she exclaimed, incredulously. "Is there something else you haven't told me?"
"I don't know," Harry answered. "Ginny's had a couple of bad spells, flashbacks of the Chamber and my scar has tingled, and..." Harry blew his breath out in frustration. "Every time I say it out loud I hear how ridiculous I sound."
Hermione looked sympathetic. "Harry," she said gently. "It's normal to experience nightmares from time to time, especially with everything that happened to the two of you."
"Ginny hasn't had nightmares since before we were married and the last one was waking," Harry replied, not hiding his concern.
"Waking?" Hermione asked.
"She thought she saw writing on the mirror and it triggered a flashback," Harry further explained.
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sincerely. "Is she all right?"
"I think so. She felt better today," Harry said, slipping his hand in his robe pocket to finger his medal.
"Are you all right?" Hermione pressed, looking at him intently.
"I'm fine," Harry said, shaking his head to clear it and coming to a decision. "Would you mind looking into what is needed to bind a ghost?" Harry asked. "It's not going to hurt anything."
"All right," Hermione agreed. "My department doesn't have cause to perform binding rituals much, so it may take a little digging. I think Myrtle may have been the last ghost to be bound, actually, and that was over fifty years ago. Most ghosts are content to haunt a place that has sentimental meaning to them and don't interact much with the physical world."
"What about the other ghosts at Hogwarts, then?" Harry inquired.
"Oh, well, they were invited to represent the houses," Hermione supplied. "As for Peeves, I think Professor Dumbledore found him amusing and that's why he was allowed to stay."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said.
Hermione gazed up at him. "I'm glad you trust me, Harry. I was worried after the daft things I said last weekend you would avoid seeking my help."
Harry smiled reassuringly. "I know you only have my best interests at heart, like always, Hermione. Listen, I should get back. I still have to file the final report on Lucius, and more than likely give a statement for the Prophet." That thought had just occurred to him and Harry dreaded it.
"I'll let you know when I find out what we need to perform the binding," Hermione replied.
Harry nodded his affirmation and left her to resume her research.
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Ginny fingered the emerald green scarab amulet that hung from a long golden chain around her neck as she stared at her reflection in the master bath mirror. Bill had bought her the necklace at a bazaar in Cairo when she and her entire family travelled to Egypt to see him the summer after her disastrous first year. He had explained to her that the ancient Egyptians believed that the scarab could ward off evil spirits and thought perhaps it would make her feel better. It had at the time, and she had never taken it off throughout the remainder of her time at Hogwarts. However, after the end of the war as things had settled down into normalcy, she had to admit she had become complacent and there had been days where she had taken the necklace off and forgotten to put it back on.
Before he left for work that morning, Harry had offered to move her toiletries into the bathroom on the first floor if she wanted, but Ginny had dismissed this idea and berated him for being overprotective when she was perfectly capable of looking out for herself. Never mind the fact that he had found her in a helpless heap the night before and she had cried all over him until the front of his robes were soaked. This was the second time in less than a month he had found her in an agitated state over blasted memories of the Chamber.
She scowled at herself in the mirror. She was stronger than a memory and was damned if she was going to let herself succumb again. Dropping the necklace inside her robes, Ginny turned away from the mirror and exited the bathroom. She decided the best thing she could do was to focus on doing her best at her job, and with that thought headed to the Harpies stadium.
Like Harry, soaring in the air did wonders at clearing her head and she didn't mind at all when Gwenog pushed the team to their limits. Ginny welcomed the exertion and how tired she was by the end of the day. She was happy to note that she hadn't even thought about the incident in the bathroom all day. She showered and dressed and as she was exiting the lobby picked up an edition of the Evening Prophet that was sitting on the corner of the reception desk. She was gratified to see the blazing headline: Just Desserts for Death Eater and read how Lucius Malfoy had been cut down by the Killing Curse and Harry's statement that previous victims and their loved ones who had been tormented by the man could rest easy this evening. She knew that general comment was for her and for her alone and her heart swelled in her chest.
When Ginny arrived home, she found Harry sitting at his desk in his study staring out the window at the setting sun and wordlessly she moved to sit in his lap and give him a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she settled against him, and resting her head next to his, looked out the window as well. The sun dipped below the tree line and cast long dark shadows across the back garden. The sky beyond the trees was a bright yellow at the horizon that graduated heavenward to deep orange, rose-red, seashell pink, lavender, and finally dark indigo with several stars already twinkling high in the sky.
"I read your statement to the press tonight," Ginny murmured. "Thank you. I'm sorry I snapped at you this morning."
"You're welcome," Harry replied. "You don't have to apologize to me, Gin. I understand."
"I cleared my head today," she continued. "I feel better."
"Good," Harry said, pulling her closer. "I did another sweep of the house when I came home tonight, and it's clear."
"Do you think we need to worry?" Ginny asked, idly fiddling with the chain of her necklace.
"You tell me," Harry answered, taking her hand and withdrawing the necklace until the pendant swung down to sway gently from their entwined fingers.
Ginny sighed. "I feel foolish."
"Don't," Harry assured her. "There's nothing wrong with having a little reassurance, no matter the form. Do we need to worry further, Gin?"
"No," she whispered. "It was my imagination, I'm sure of it."
Harry nodded. "Do you still want to have our friends over on Friday?"
Ginny squirmed in his lap, making him drop the pendant as she turned to look at him. "Yes. I don't want our lives to stop because of this."
"I agree," he said sincerely, gazing at her. "I'd do anything for you, you know."
"I know," Ginny uttered, staring into his beautiful green eyes. "Ditto, love."
