"For Death is a master whom none may refuse
That which you love, you are doomed to lose."
-- Unknown centaur poet, sumac on parchment
***
"Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not,
And death shall have no dominion."
-- Dylan Thomas, "And Death Shall Have No Dominion"
Chapter XXXV: Homecoming
The day Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts, spring's first breath was stirring against the cold face of the castle keep. The wind still howled from the upper reaches of the sky, but a network of fine cracks had appeared on the once perfect mirror surface of the lake. In the courtyard, water dripped from the leafless branches of the trees and formed pools of water on the flagstones, earning a curse or two from those not too sure of foot. If one listened carefully, they could hear the singing of an unseen bull thrush, telling anyone who would listen that daybreak had come.
It was a dawn that followed a long, terrible night of waiting; professors, volunteers, and what few men the Order of the Phoenix could spare as guards watched their borders from behind crenellated walls. Everyone else lay awake in their beds, dreading the moment when the war horn would blow, and the forces of the Dark Lord would come raging out of the Forbidden Forest.
But the alarm never came.
Just before daybreak, youngsters came bursting into common rooms, yelling that the Broom Brigade was on the move. People flung off their blankets and hurried to their windows and balconies, just in time to catch a glimpse of cloaked figures riding south against the grey, shrouded sky. As one they hurried to the south wall, forming an uneasy crowd, and again there was nothing to do but wait.
When the eastern sky turned rose and gold, someone cried out and pointed at dark specks in the distance—the riders returning. Another asked if they were back in full numbers, but it was too dim for anyone to tell. But by the time the Brigade began to descend towards the battlements, the crowd began to cheer. The lead rider had raised their banner, the insignia of three united Houses of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor: a sure sign of victory.
The people were falling all over each other trying to reach up to the Brigade, who were circling in an effort to find someplace to land. One of them, a small girl whose long hair glowed like sunfire in the morning light, dropped out of formation and hovered just over their heads. The crowd laughed and waved up at her, but she merely glared down at them and placed the tip of her wand near her mouth. Her voice shattered eardrums.
"YOU LOT CLEAR OUT OF THE WAY! WE NEED TO GET SOMEONE TO THE HOSPITAL WING! MOVE IT!"
The crowd scrambled to make room as the Brigade lowered a net containing an unconscious, auburn-haired boy. The red-haired girl landed and rushed forward to pull him up. Some of the crowd moved to help her. Others merely gaped, because they couldn't understand how a girl so young could be so beautiful and so fierce at the same time.
The Battle of the Forbidden Forest happened as thus:
During the night, the army of Death Eaters, Weepers and giants swept in from the south and made camp just outside the forest border. Fully believing that the Dementor Army was coming in from the east to support them, the generals thought it would be a simple matter to wait until morning, batter down Hogwarts's thin defenses, and lay siege to the castle until those within inevitably succumbed. But when dawn arrived and no word came of the Dementors' arrival, the generals began to worry.
They found an even greater reason to worry when the first twangs of bowstrings sounded through the air and a great war cry erupted from the skies above them, swiftly followed by a hail of Dungbombs. Dumbledore, it seemed, had decided to spare the Death Eaters any further waiting, and sent the combined might of the Broom Brigade and the centaur army to meet them.
Because of their superior numbers, the Dark Army had not been expecting a pre-emptive strike. They put up a clumsy defense, the giants swatting wildly at the broom riders, the Weepers yowling and snapping at the centaurs, who charged in, fired volleys of arrows, then quickly retreated. Commanders shouted for order, but several Weepers of the front line broke formation to pursue the centaurs. This proved a costly mistake.
The Brigade dived down and bombed the attackers, taking them out. As the gas rose into the air, a centaur shaman summoned a great gust of wind, spreading the noxious cloud across the field and through the rest of the Dark Army. Formations broke as Death Eaters fell down gagging. Without orders, the giants fought the best way they could—by swinging their clubs at anything that moved. Chaos ensued.
Disaster and victory came at nearly the same time. As the Brigade's fastest flyers, Ginny's team led the bombing. Every run was as clockwork—dive in, make the drop, pull up to reload. But on their last run, the leader of the giants, the largest and burliest of their number, got lucky. He threw a rock that managed to clip the broom of Anthony, one of Ginny's squadmates. The boy tumbled 30 feet and crashed among the branches of a pine tree. The giant would have swatted him from the treetop like a stunned fly, had Ginny not intervened.
Screaming a shrill war cry that made the giant's gaze snap up towards her, she streaked back into the fray, circling the giant's head like an angry hornet. The giant swiped at her with his club, but she swerved beneath each blow. In the midst of this, Ron and Cho descended, grabbed Anthony and spirited him to safety.
But Ginny wasn't finished. When the giant lifted his club for an overhead blow, she charged and fired a Stunner right in his eye. Howling in pain, the giant dropped his weapon and clutched at his face, giving Ginny leeway to drop low and set his toes on fire. The giant then leaped straight into the air, slipped on his club, and slammed his head against the sharp side of an exposed rock. It was the last thing he ever did.
After seeing their leader fall, the giants all turned and fled, trampling anyone in their way. Seconds later, the Dark Army was in full retreat.
All over the castle, halls and classrooms were ablaze with the news of triumph. The Dark Army, once feared to be the strongest force assembled in Britain, had been scattered by no more than a group of children and a few centaurs. The sudden victory came like a divine wind, swelling their hearts like sails. There was laughter and songs, and some decided it was not too early in the day to dip into their cups.
In the highest tower of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore watched the crowd from his balcony, then turned his gaze west to the mountains across the lake. His long thick beard could do nothing to hide his wide smile.
In her chambers close to the dungeons, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Adrianna Summershield lay quietly in her bed, her bleary eyes watching the ceiling as she tried to ignore the commotion outside her door. She would not be joining the celebrations. A great disaster had been averted today, but this gave her no comfort. For as long as the castle still stood, she a role to play. And play it she would, to whatever end it led her.
And in Gryffindor Tower, the common room door burst open as the homunculus came rushing in. In his haste he collided with one of the small round tables and went sprawling. Dusting himself, he set the table right side up and paused to catch his breath. His heart was still galloping from the run and the morning's excitement.
There was no one around at the moment as all the Gryffindors were outside celebrating. He wanted nothing more than to join them, but Ginny had a task for him. Anthony lay badly wounded in the hospital wing, bleeding from wounds caused by his terrible fall. He had gone into shock the moment they put him in the net and was unconscious when they returned to Hogwarts. Ginny had asked Jamie to fetch her blanket, the deep blue one with the moon and stars pattern, which her mother had enchanted to keep its user warm. She said it was the least she could do for her teammate. As if she'd already forgotten she'd saved his life.
Though Jamie was concerned for their injured friend, inside he was also burning with pride for Ginny. By now, stories of her courageous act were circulating the castle; he'd even overheard one centaur refer to her as "the Giant-Slayer."
But there was time for celebrating later. He made his way up the stairs of the girl's dormitory (it was easy to fool the sliding staircase once you figured out the secret, which was to climb backwards) and found the blanket. He hurried back down and had just shut the portrait hole door when he heard a voice above him speak.
"Boy."
He looked up and saw a tall, wiry man standing in the picture frame; the Fat Lady looked quite put out while she stood to one side to make room for him. Jamie recognized the thin man as Phineas Nigellus, one of the headmasters of Hogwarts whose portrait adorned the walls of Dumbledore's office.
"Can I help you, Professor?" he asked.
The pale, thin man's gaze missed nothing. "Dumbledore had truly outdone himself…you look exactly like that boy, from tip to toe (sad to say, down to the vacant look on your face)."
The homunculus blinked. "Excuse me?"
Nigellus waved the question away. "I have a message for you from the headmaster. He wishes to see you in his office as soon as possible. If not sooner."
Had it been four months ago, when he was new to the world, the homunculus would not have hesitated for a second. But now he had other priorities. "Thank you," he said. "May I ask why he wishes to see me?"
The old man heaved a sigh. "Why do these simians nowadays see themselves fit to question every single instruction from their superiors? I don't presume to know if Dumbledore wishes to speak with you about anything (assuming you yourself can communicate beyond pointing and grunting), but know this..." His gaze sharpened. "An acquaintance of yours is about to return to Hogwarts via the back door in the south wing. Dumbledore has already sent a student to fetch him. They're surely on their way back now, and it would be completely detrimental for the two of you to be seen together. Do I make myself clear?"
At first Jamie didn't understand. It was as if he had opened a door in his head and entered into a vast, white silence. His limbs had lost all feeling—could no longer even feel the warmth of the blanket in his hands. He was barely even aware of the word, "What?" dropping from his lips.
"Are you as deaf as you are slow, you lout?" Nigellus hissed. "Go to the headmaster's office at once. Your services are no longer required." And he vanished through the left side of the portrait.
"What was that all about?" asked the Fat Lady.
But Jamie was already turning away, striding down the hall with unseeing eyes, the blanket clutched between numb fingers. It can't be, he thought, it can't be. Not after all this time. And—
Your services are no longer required.
And what's going to happen to me now? he wondered. Was he going to be cast off, like an old shoe that no longer fit? He didn't know. But there was one thing he knew for sure.
He had to see Ginny, to know what she knew and learn how she felt. And to see with his own eyes if it was true…that Harry Potter had indeed come home.
Harry decided that Side-along Apparation was not going to be his favorite means of transport. He felt a moment of implosion, like he was a balloon forcibly losing its air, then the world rearranged itself around him and let him breathe again. He was no longer by the sea but on a mountainside, standing not on sand but on stone. The air was coiling and misty and smelled sweetly of pine.
"Steady now." Moody's hand caught Harry's shoulder as he staggered forward. Harry looked about as the others appeared around him. They all stood with him, the survivors. Sirius, Remus, Mad-Eye, Danny, Lyle and the members of the Order, the Aurors. They had only the clothes on their backs, what little supplies they had left, and two weapons their owners no longer needed—the enchanted arquebus Foe-Hammer, and the legendary spear Gaé Bolg. As one, the survivors stood together on the mountainside and looked out over the valley below.
"This is the closest we can get to Hogwarts through Apparation," Lyle said to Harry. "From here we will travel through more conventional means. I have arranged with Professor Dumbledore to have us escorted to the school."
Harry nodded, barely understanding. His eyes were riveted on the castle, so close he could cup it in the palm of his hand. It had been sunset when he left it, Hogwarts, all blues and purples against the dark mirror of the lake. Now the dawn was shining strongly on its ramparts and minarets. Its stones gleamed like amber, the high windows like burnished gold. The silver sheet on the lake would leave him snow-blind in moments. He wondered briefly if this was how knights and kings felt long ago, coming home after many years in the Crusades.
"Sanctuary," whispered Kingsley, staring at the flying banners. "One can hardly believe there's still any left in the land."
"And yet, here it is," said Remus. "Perhaps there will always be sanctuary in the world, as long as there are men and women willing to defend it."
"That is why we're here," said Lyle. "We come seeking it, we come to preserve it, and its hearth fire shall be warmer for our spark."
"And today, Harry Potter returns in triumph to Hogwarts," said Sirius, putting his hand on godson's shoulder. "People will talk about it for years."
"Maybe," Harry replied. He felt his heart swelling at the sight before him, but it was a painful kind of joy. "I can't help but regret…. that some who should be sharing this day with us are gone."
He turned to look at the Gaé Bolg in Kingsley's hands, then to the Foe-Hammer slung on Danny's back. A part of him wanted to weep, but he drew a deep breath, clutched at the Crystal Cage around his neck, and the feeling passed. He had enough of tears for now. They would surely come again later, during inopportune moments, like unwelcome guests at a party. But today he was going back to everything he'd left behind, and that was worth every bit of joy he could muster. Today he was going home.
No one said anything for awhile. It was their moment of peace, won after a long, sleepless night of battle, and was worth savoring. Presently, Moody pointed at the South wall of the castle. A group of broom riders was speeding towards them. It took them only a minute to traverse the Forbidden Forest and the lake. Soon they were circling overhead like hawks preparing to land.
One of the riders, though, streaked straight down to land heavily right before them. Some of Harry's guards raised their wands in alarm, but to their amazement the rider scrambled from his broom, throwing off his headgear to reveal a shock of bright red hair and a long face that trembled with joy.
"Ron," Harry said, choking on the word even as his best friend threw his arms around him.
"Where is he?"
Arms crossed, Ginny tapped her foot as she leaned against the wall beside the door of the Hospital Wing. "I sent him up to Gryffindor Tower ages ago. What's keeping him?"
"Relax, Ginny," Cho said as she sat on the bench beside her. "I know you're worried about Anthony, but he's in good hands now."
But Ginny found she couldn't relax. The adrenaline had long drained from her body, leaving her tired and hollow and fueling the need for something to do, anything to assure her that everything was still under control. Anything but this interminable waiting.
"I know, I know," she said to Cho, "but you saw how bad the wound was, didn't you? You've seen how red his robes were? And how cold his skin felt?"
Cho cast her eyes down. She did not need any reminding how close to death their friend was. "Madam Pomfrey will take care of him. She's never let us down before."
Ginny sighed. "I know. I guess I'm just…I worry too much."
"You're tired. Why don't you go up and get some rest? You haven't slept."
Ginny gave her a wan smile. "Neither have you, right? None of us have. But I can't rest now, I've still got a lot to do. My brother ran off for some reason, so now I have to check with Andy and make sure our brooms are stocked right. Then I have to meet up with the choir to finalize our practice sessions for the week. Then I have to—"
"If you do all that today," said Cho, shaking her head, "you'll wind up in the Hospital Wing yourself."
"Well," said Ginny, sitting down beside her. "I can't get started unless…unless Harry shows up with that blanket."
They sat together quietly for a minute, until Cho said, "Say, Ginny, I wanted to ask you something."
"Yes?"
"Is everything alright between you and Harry?"
Ginny gave her a bemused look.
Cho went on, "The two of you…you're not together, are you?"
"Huh?"
"I was wondering…I know it isn't my business. It's just that everyone says you two are going out. But I look at you and that's not what I feel." She paused. "You seem to hold Harry at arm's length."
"Do I?" Ginny propped her elbows on her knees and held her chin in her hands.
"It's kind of obvious to me," Cho went on. "Though I also have to say that he thinks the world of you. And you're both my friends, so I'm concerned if you two are okay with each other."
Ginny gave a sad smile. "What a pair we make, huh?"
"Ginny?"
"We're…not together the way people think. Not yet, at least."
"How come? You two look so happy together."
"Oh, we're great friends, no doubt about that. But the truth is, I…I really don't know Harry. I thought I did once. But it's all just things I made up in my mind…he must be like this, like that, and so on. Then I got to know him better, and the image in my mind changed. There were so many sides of him I didn't realize, and…"
"But does it matter?" Cho asked.
Ginny lowered her gaze. "Now that I have a chance to think about it, maybe it's not him that's changed after all. Maybe I've changed. After everything I've gone through, I've turned into someone else that…that may not be right for him."
Cho was silent for a while, digesting all this. "Well," she said. "That sounds complicated."
Ginny looked back at her. "Is that really all you're worried about?
"To be honest, I was most concerned about you. I was afraid you were holding back on your feelings."
"Holding back?"
"That's what it seemed to me. Like I said, you hold him at arm's length. But he's not like that, Ginny. You might not think you're the right one for him, but he—"
Before she could say more, the patter of light feet drew their attention as Dennis Creevey came tearing down the hallway.
"Oh, Ginny!" he wheezed, "There you are! I've got a message for you from Hermione!"
"Shhh," said Ginny. "Keep your voice down. Madam Pomfrey can't be disturbed right now."
Dennis lowered his voice, but still spoke in a hurried tone. "Hermione says it's urgent! She wants you to meet her at the south entrance, says there's something there you have to see!"
Ginny and Cho exchanged glances. "It's okay," said Cho. "I'll stay and wait for news. You do what you have to do."
"Thanks. Please give the blanket to Anthony for me." Ginny got up and headed for the stairs. "Did she mention what it was, by the way?" she asked Dennis.
The younger boy only shook his head. "No, but she said it was really important. As in really-really-really-really—"
"OK, I get it." Rolling her eyes, she proceeded down to the ground floor.
Danny hated flying. The matter was settled long ago—heights just weren't for him. He'd sooner face another battalion of Death Eaters than rise any further than his own height above solid ground. But there was no other way to get to the school other than by air, so Danny clutched at the shoulders of the broom rider sitting in front of him, squeezing hard whenever they went too fast or rose too high, until the boy demanded he loosen his grip before he made them crash.
Danny was afraid of heights, yes, but there was something more he feared: that huge castle before him, looming closer and closer, filling his eyes and his heart. It was all the more dreadful because even as he feared it, he also longed for it.
The first time he looked upon the school, it was from a little boat on the lake, surrounded by a number of wide-eyed little First Years. When he left it, it was on foot, alone on a dusty road, trying not to look back and trying not to cry. He had lived in that castle for six years; he'd been away for just as long. But what exactly would he be coming back to?
He didn't know. But he knew one thing, at least—he wasn't coming back home a failure. Not quite a success, but at least not a failure.
"How long has it been?" asked Harry.
He was sitting behind Ron on his own Firebolt, clasping the taller boy's shoulders as he watched the spires of Hogwarts rise over his best friend's head.
"Six months," replied Ron. "That's six months too long."
"Yeah...it feels like forever." Harry noticed that Ron had gotten even taller, and his shoulders broader. Harry reckoned that Hermione must be very happy.
They were past the shining lake, skimming over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. To his right he spied the houses of Hogsmeade, like many brightly colored toadstools lining the far shore. The rushing wind froze his cheeks. His breath fogged up his glasses and made his surroundings seem like a dream.
After a moment of silence, Ron said, "I don't know what to say to you. For weeks I was thinking about the things I was going to tell you when you came back, stuff that happened while you were away. But I now I can't think of a single damned thing."
"I can't think of anything either," said Harry, "although I should ask if you have a million different questions." He paused. In truth, he was afraid to ask. How had things changed while he was gone? If Ron had changed this much, how had Hermione changed? And Ginny?
"I'm sorry I was away so long," he finally said.
"Don't be," Ron said softly. "At least you were just away. You weren't gone."
Harry replied, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "I dreamed every day of coming back. Of seeing everyone again. Of actually eating a decent meal and sleeping in a real bed. I've got a lot of catching up to do and I can't wait to get started."
Ron grunted, "Good. Because I haven't forgotten that you owe me and Hermione those butterbeers."
They were laughing together as they descended towards the gardens near the south wall. Ron stuck out his long legs and caught the flagstones; Harry stretched his own to help but found he couldn't reach the ground. They swerved into a semi-circle before coming to a halt.
"I've forgotten how good it feels to fly," Harry said as he stared up at the descending riders.
"Well, you're going to get used to that feeling," said Ron as they got down from the broom. "And you'll be brushing up on your Quidditch skills as soon as possible, because I'm recruiting into the Broom Brigade. And this time, I'm not taking no for an answer."
Harry chortled. "What are you, a captain now or something?"
Ron cocked a brow at him. "You'd better believe it. So I don't care what hang-ups you got, you're going to be one of us, you hear me?"
Harry felt only the slightest twinge inside at the thought of Cho and Cedric. "I'd be glad to," he said. "Captain."
This time, Ron laughed. "I was the only bloke left after all the seniors fled from Hogwarts. You should be the one in my place, you know."
"Shut up, Ron. You're there because you deserve to be. And if I heard right from Moody, you've done a hell of a job."
The other broom riders and their passengers were alighting around them, and soon they were all striding towards the south side entrance of the school.
"Glad to have you back, Harry," said Ron.
"No one's more glad to be back than me," Harry replied. But his words were tested the very next moment as the door swung open for him, and a sobbing, bushy-haired girl threw her arms around both of them.
On her way to the south entrance, Ginny was stopped twice by friends who wanted to hear about the battle, and she had to weasel her way out by throwing off a few details and a promise to tell more when she had the time. She arrived at her destination several minutes later than necessary, and the first thing she noticed was the crowd blocking the doorway.
Ginny slowed down to get a better view of what was going on. It was not a large group of people, unlike the one that had greeted the Brigade earlier. It looked like it was mostly composed of members of the Order of the Phoenix, plus some bystanders who stopped to see what the fuss was about. Few spoke, mostly they seemed to be listening to a conversation happening just outside the door.
Then the crowd began to cheer.
Some men were coming in from outside—worn and haggard-looking travelers, it looked like. The guards of the Order greeted them like old friends, shaking hands and hugging, slapping their backs. None of the people looked familiar to Ginny.
Wait. There was Mad-Eye Moody, his magical eye watching everyone with perennial suspicion. Immediately after him followed another prominent member of the Order, her former professor Remus Lupin. Then came Hermione, head lowered in a familiar way that meant she'd been crying and was trying to hide it. Then her brother came in, with his chest puffed out like a rooster who'd just strode out of the henhouse. And then—
Ginny froze in mid-stride.
It was only a glance, a quick look before a tall blond man got in the way, but that was all it took. She recognized him because she had long memorized how he stood, how he walked, the exact shape of his face and shade of his hair, how he gazed about when he felt confused or upset. He was as familiar to her as her own name or the face she saw each day in the mirror.
He's alive. He's here. He's home.
Ginny could not move, could not speak, could do nothing but stare and try to catch him again, as if he were a mirage that would fade if she came a step closer. The crowd parted a little more, just enough for her to see Sirius Black put a hand on the young man's shoulder—and then she was sure it was Harry Potter. Sirius had never seemed more protective of anyone else.
No one else from Hogwarts seemed surprised to see Harry—they probably assumed that he'd gone along with her brother to greet these newcomers, but how could they miss how Sirius and the rest seemed to form a defensive circle around the young man? They did their work well, too. Harry could not see her standing there. Neither could Ron or Hermione.
He was perhaps only twenty paces away. Ginny wanted to call out his name, wanted to reach out and grasp his sleeve. But she still stood there, gawking. None of her limbs worked, and her mouth seemed to have fused itself shut.
Alive. Here. Home.
"Excuse me, young miss," a voice said to her. "Have you by any chance seen the Grey Lady about?"
Ginny felt a cold presence at her side, but she didn't even spare a glance. "I'm sorry, Nick. I haven't."
Nearly-Headless Nick nodded, causing his head to topple off to his right. "Yes, well, I was afraid you'd say that. She hardly shows herself to anyone anymore these days. I can't help but worry. I say, what is that commotion about? Is that Harry Potter there with them?"
Ginny felt her mouth go dry. "It looks like it."
"I wonder what's going on. And who are these people with him? They look like they've just gone through a battle." He paused. "Pardon me for saying, this but you look quite pale yourself, young lady. Are you feeling well?"
"I am," Ginny replied in a flat voice.
"I see. Well, anyway…I should be going. And if you do see the Grey Lady, let me know." And he vanished through the wall. The crowd, meanwhile, had closed around Harry and was heading up a nearby flight of stairs, leaving Ginny alone.
Ginny wasn't aware when her feet started walking; certainly she didn't think of anywhere specific to go, but she soon found herself moving down the hallway.
Away from Harry.
Jamie ran until he was nearly out of breath, but to his dismay, only Cho was waiting for him at the Hospital Wing. She eyed him quizzically. "Are you alright?"
"Where's Ginny?" he gasped as he approached her.
"She already left. Hermione asked for her to go to southern entrance. Do you know what that's about?"
Jamie felt cold all over. He realized that was the one place he could find her, and while every cell of his body dreaded what he might see there, he couldn't help but go.
"Take this," he said as he handed Ginny's blanket to Cho before dashing off again.
He arrived at his destination with his lungs close to bursting. Passing some empty suits of armor, he found himself on an empty upper landing that led down to the south entrance…just in time to see Harry and his friends come in through the door.
Jamie gasped and stepped back into the shadows. Seeing Harry drove a cold spike into his stomach. His predecessor looked thin and haggard in those travel-worn clothes, but he looked every bit as strong and real as the moment they first laid eyes on each other in the carriage, seemingly a hundred years ago. And as before, Jamie felt afraid. He thought he might turn into mist if he so much as looked Harry in the eye.
His gaze turned to the left, and his breath left his lungs in a whoosh. Ginny stood not 20 feet away from Harry, watching him through the surrounding crowd. Her mouth was hanging open, her face drained of all color. Harry had not seen her. She looked too stunned to try to reach out to him.
Jamie wanted to call out to her, and he would have—consequences be damned—if he had any breath to do it. He stumbled towards the stairs, just as the crowd below was starting to climb. He could not imagine what she must be feeling at this moment. Surely he could comfort her. He was the one she would turn to during her hardest moments. She needed him, perhaps the only one who needed him. Surely, through her, he could find a reason to go on.
A cold, heavy hand grasped his shoulder and dragged him back down the hallway before he could utter a sound. Turning his head, he found himself between two suits of armor, who each grasped him by the arm. One of the portraits nearby shimmered and Phineas Nigellus slipped into view. He regarded Jamie without a trace of surprise on his face.
"As I once told Dumbledore," he said, "if you need to find a delinquent student, look first in the place he is likely to cause the most damage." He shrugged. "Well, enough time has been wasted on your account. Be sure to come quietly, lest these servants make you."
"No," said the homunculus. "No, please, I just need—"
But one of the suits clamped a mailed hand over his mouth, and he could say nothing more.
Ginny wandered aimlessly through hallways. The people around her were nothing but noise, babbling shadows that laughed and shifted and vanished into rooms. Some of them called her name, but she simply nodded to them and kept walking.
She had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing or where she was going. Her mind kept replaying the moment that Harry Potter walked through the back door of Hogwarts. A face that, she realized now, she never expected to see again in this life.
To her surprise she found herself at the Quidditch grounds, and realized she was supposed to make sure that their brooms were properly stored. But Ernie McMillan was already there, overseeing the reserve team on cleaning and stocking their equipment. She was not needed there.
Ginny racked her brain for something else to do, then realized that she was due to meet her choir. She sped off to the main hall, but after half an hour of waiting she was forced to give up. She and Hannah were the only ones who had shown up—the other members were busy partying with the rest of the school.
Why did I even bother, she wondered as she sat down to have a meal. Of course no one wanted to work today. It seemed only she wanted to have something constructive to do. This, she realized, was a trait she'd picked up from her mother. During her hardest moments, when she felt sad or confused or frightened, her mother did chores. She claimed it was therapeutic. Ginny had scoffed then, but now here she was, looking for something—anything to keep her own hands busy. As if the simple act of tidying up could set her own head in order.
She ate what she could, but her appetite seemed to have given up and closed shop like the rest of the school. Sighing, she got up and started walking again.
As she passed through a hallway, she heard someone mention Harry's name. She turned her head and saw two men having an animated conversation as they strode in the opposite direction.
"...something straight out of the demon legends!" one said.
Intrigued, Ginny slowed down to listen. The storyteller, dressed in worn traveling clothes, seemed to be one of the newcomers that came in with Harry. "I'm telling you, the Cimmerian Sorceress returned!" he said.
"The Rathgrith?" his companion asked. "That's just fairy tale, tha' is! Me mum used to scare me to sleep with tales o' her!"
"It's true! From what I heard, Harry Potter made a bargain with her so she would fight the Dementors for us, then he tricked her into waiting till the sun came up and she burned like a torch!"
They turned the corner and Ginny heard nothing more. None of what they said made any sense to her. Perhaps she would find out about it later from Ron, or Hermione, or maybe even Harry himself. If Harry wanted to talk to her.
She found herself wondering what would have happened if she had arrived on time at the southern entrance, if she would be with the three of them at wherever they were now, involved in whatever they were discussing. She wondered about how Harry's face would look if he actually saw her. Then she began to wonder what he was doing now, if he was already back at Gryffindor Tower, asking for her.
The thought made her heart leap and she found herself running all the way up to the seventh floor. But when she arrived, panting and sweating, at the portrait, the Fat Lady told her that neither Harry, Hermione, or her brother had arrived.
Disappointment flooded into her. What was taking them so long? Why did it seem that the world was keen on keeping Harry away from her?
She decided she'd had enough of this; in all likelihood they were in Dumbledore's office. She would wait outside his door until they emerged. Then she'd have all the answers she wanted.
But when she turned away from the portrait hole, she spied a dark-haired girl trudging down the hall towards her.
"Cho?" Ginny said. "What are you doing here?"
The Ravenclaw girl walked with her head bowed, her bangs shielding her eyes. She had the enchanted blanket rolled up in her arms. When she looked up, Ginny saw that she was crying, and went cold all over.
"Cho?" Ginny whispered.
"Ginny," Cho said, "Anthony's dead. Madame Pomfrey came out and told me…it was hemorrhage…she could heal his outer wounds but not the internal ones…he…he bled to death, Ginny. I'm so sorry."
"No." Ginny felt her guts clamp together. "No, it can't be… He was still alive when I left. He was …"
Cho held out the blanket to her, and Ginny took it in her hands. That made the revelation all the more real. She kept saying, "no, no," but her mind was losing contact from everything else. Anthony. Dead. Just like that, the Brigade had lost one of their own.
Cho put her arms around her. "It's okay, Ginny. It's not your fault."
"Isn't it?" she said, and slowly disengaged from Cho's arms.
"Ginny?"
"I have to tell my brother," she whispered, and proceeded down the hallway.
But Ginny didn't go to find Ron. Instead, she made her way to the west wing, out the side door and into the garden of elder trees. As always, the enchanted fairy ring kept the snow from its borders, and the trees and grass remained in the full bloom of summer.
The sound of her footsteps on the grassy ground did not go unheard; a niffler tumbled out of its den among the roots of a nearby tree and waddled towards her.
"Hello Nap," whispered Ginny, picking up the creature and poking its belly with her finger. "I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while. But I just couldn't think of any place else to go today to be alone. I can't find the people I wanted to see, and now I don't feel like seeing anyone at all. Things keep happening and somehow I just can't seem to catch up."
She carried him to the nearest tree and sat down with him on her lap. He playfully nipped at her fingers.
"Harry's back," she said to him. "I don't know how he did it, don't know where he's been or why he didn't write or send a sign, anything to tell us he was okay. But he's back. I should be glad, like everyone else is. It's just that…I don't know what that means for me. For the longest time I thought he was gone, and I just carried on. And now my world's going to change again, and I don't know how to face that."
She paused. A leaf drifted onto her hair and she flicked it off. Her eyes wandered up to the sun shining through the canopy above her.
"There's something else, Nap," she said, "a friend of mine died today, while we were fighting the Dark Army. His name's Anthony and he's a Gryffindor just like me. He was only 14."
She realized she was trembling; she could see her hands shaking before her. But her voice somehow stayed calm, even when the first few tears fell onto Nap's fur. "Anthony was the most cautious one in the Brigade, you know, the one who had the hardest time aiming because his hands shook so much when he got nervous. During diving runs, he was usually the first to drop and come up, and he usually dropped them too high. I kept telling him, Anthony, you have to dive lower, dive lower, or you won't hit anything. And today…today he did just that…"
She touched her temple; it was as if someone had fastened an iron band around her head and was tightening it mercilessly. She almost welcomed the pain. "Just this one time," she said, "he fell behind me as we were fleeing the giants, and...and one of them threw a rock, and…"
She pulled Nap's rotund body closer, burying her face against his neck. "I was responsible for him!" she cried. "I was older than him. I trained with him. I led him and Fiona in every dive. Oh, why didn't I watch out for him? Why didn't I make sure we were all clear? I couldn't save him, Nap. I turned my head and he was already falling. Cho says it wasn't my fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. But that doesn't make it any better. He's still gone."
Nap made not a sound. When she raised her head, he reached up and licked at her tears.
"Thank you," she mumbled. "You're always happy to see me, aren't you? I'm so glad I came here. Do you mind if I stay awhile? Just to rest for a bit?"
Ginny unfurled her blanket and wrapped herself and Nap in it, then pillowed her head with her arms. She gazed up at the blue, cloudless sky through the leaves of the trees. "This is such a safe place," she sighed, "so warm and green. I can almost forget that there's a war, and that nothing stays the same."
Her words drifted off as she gave into her exhaustion, and her sleep was deep and dreamless.
When she opened her eyes again, the late afternoon light was filtering in through the leaves. Pins and needles erupted on her limbs, so she sat up and stretched them. Nap had rolled free of the blanket and was off to the side, snoozing on his belly. She decided against waking him. She rolled up her blanket and whispered her goodbye, promising to return soon with some poached eggs.
This time her appetite was open for business, gnawing at her insides for not having a proper lunch. Groaning, she let herself in through the side door and headed for the Great Hall. Perhaps now people would be more inclined to do sensible things, like get ready for dinner.
She sighed when she realized that there was still much to be done. She had to organize her choir, coordinate with the others regarding Quidditch practices, and go back to Gryffindor Tower to do whatever studying she still could. Life goes on.
And someone had to tell Anthony's mother out in London about what happened to her son.
The hallways were dark as twilight descended on the castle. Very few souls were wandering about—perhaps the rest took to their bed early after the celebrations. She passed a stairway just as someone descended from it, only the third living person she'd seen so far. Ginny wondered if anything else had happened while she was asleep. She decided it might be a good idea to find someone who might know, a professor or a member of the Order. It wouldn't do if—
Behind her, the footsteps on the stairwell stopped.
"Ginny?"
Ginny froze. The voice sounded terribly familiar to her ears. For a long moment she didn't move, feeling her pulse thudding in her throat. She turned to look.
Harry was standing at the foot of the stairs, his eyes all white in the gloom. They stayed that way for several moments, not speaking, gazes locked.
"I was…I was looking all over for you," Harry finally managed. "They said you were at the south entrance when I arrived, but I guessed we missed each other. They…they brought me to Dumbledore's office for debriefing, but somewhere in the middle I guess I fell asleep and they let me rest and when I woke up it was late and I…" He fell silent, staring at her.
He's changed so much, thought Ginny. He was taller, for one. She knew that if he came close she'd have to crane her neck to look into his eyes. His dark hair was wild and tousled and in terrible need of cutting. And he looked thin. The fingers peeking out of his sleeves were just little reeds, and his cheekbones seemed to have been chiseled out of his pale face.
But his eyes were just as green as she remembered them, like the sea beside white shores. She thought she could walk into that gaze of his and drown.
"Ginny," he whispered, and his voice was sweet and full of longing.
Without a word, Ginny turned and fled.
To be continued
Author's Notes:
First of all, I want to give my most heartfelt apologies to those who waited and waited for a continuation of this story. Some of you have written me and asked/demanded/begged for some sort of update, and got only platitudes in return. For that, I'm terrible sorry. This little chapter, I'm sure, won't be enough of a compensation—but it's a start. And if anything, it's a sign that I haven't forgotten nor do I intend to abandon my fic. I will see it through to the end and I don't intend to make you (or me) wait another year for it either.
Still, I've done well for myself this year, despite abandoning a regular 9 to 5 job. I write online to make ends meet, and I've managed to make two novellas on the way. Now that the money's coming in somewhat steadily and my family's alright, I believe I can find the time to write and finish TPATS to my heart's content.
And so. This chapter begins the third and final arc of The Phoenix and the Serpent.
Up next: Twilight time. True stories. Dumbledore's offer. Jamie decides. Us.
Chapter XXXVI: Warmer for the Spark.