.
So far... Susan and the Horcrux locket have been rescued from Azkaban but Sirius suffered the Dementor's Kiss. Harry also fears for all his other friends aboard Marinda, having himself barely escaped the Dementors in the mini-sub Glissando with the unconscious Susan. Together, he and Susan face a two-day undersea journey back to Harby and an uncertain future... Now read on...
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Chapter 53
Chary Potter and the Lost Souls Part 8
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~~~ Reevaluation and Regret ~~~
Far below the surface of the North Sea, Harry Potter, still not fully dressed, shivered within the confines of Glissando's tiny cabin, and took stock of his situation. He had never had the direct and only responsibility for another's physical welfare before and he was as nervous as a mother with her first baby. He had not foreseen this; it was not part of his plan, and it scared him more than a little.
A basic diagnostic spell informed him that Susan had no serious injuries. All he could then think to do was cleanse her with a charm and tuck her into one of the sleeping bags. While he did so, he parted the white robe to try to remove the locket. When he first saw it, he rocked back on his heels and held his breath, too surprised to think clearly for a few moments. The metal was plain. Certainly it was gold, but there was no letter 'S' on display.
Harry's disappointment quickly turned to disgust as he examined the ornament. During a year of continuous attachment, the locket had turned itself over and partly burrowed face down into Susan's flesh like a grotesque shiny beetle. The back was unmarked but he had no doubt what was on its face. This had to be the true locket of Salazar Slytherin that he beheld, and that it was a Horcrux seemed certain because of Susan's behaviour in her cell and the drainage pipe. A momentary sense of jubilation quickly turned hollow when he considered the price of the victory.
He looked more closely. The skin was inflamed around the pendant. It was an ugly wound and by its pull on the chain, Harry sensed that the locket had attempted to work its way down to her heart. Only the shortness of the chain around Susan's neck had halted its progress at the breastbone, and that alone had limited its rooting and probably saved the poor girl from being invaded completely.
The dark object quivered repulsively between his fingers as he attempted to pluck it away. The injury began to seep blood so Harry decided that after all these months it would be wise to wait a few days until he thought of a solution.
Hermione will know what to...
He tore away from the painful direction of his thinking, applied dittany, zipped up the sleeping bag, and laid Susan as comfortably as he could in the confined space.
She looked serene then, perhaps enjoying the only relief from the Horcrux possession that was possible to her: unconsciousness. But what was he to do if she awoke while he slept? He dare not keep stunning or magically binding her; repeating such spells might do harm. From Hermione's bag he retrieved the broken length of rope that had failed Borath, and as carefully as possible, secured it around Susan's bedding. The front end he hitched up to the bottom rung of the escape ladder. It was all he could think of.
Only after she was tended to, and looking snug and warm, did he remember himself and how cold he had become in just his underwear. Gratefully he pulled on thick clothing and then considered his injuries. With reluctance, he made himself use Sirius's mirror to inspect the side of his head. The blood had dried to a dark brown stain on the bandage and when he eased it aside, the wound was no worse so he decided to ignore the soreness. His hand, however, was swollen and discoloured where Susan had savagely bitten him. Was it already infected? Or only bruised where the tissues had been crushed?
When he pulled Hermione's personal spell book from the enchanted bag and once again saw the familiar, neatly organised handwriting, emotion took over completely and he wept for her, and for all his lost friends, and for Sirius's brave sacrifice — hugging himself shamelessly and sobbing bitterly.
The burden was great for someone of Harry's spirit. Both Hermione and Sirius had warned him that it was suicidal to try to rescue anyone from Azkaban — yet both had laid down not just their lives but probably their souls for his cause while he, himself, had survived — so far. Over and over he visualised them all receiving the Dementor's Kiss, but particularly Ginny, whose soft lips were so precious to him. How was he to endure? How could he ever want to be happy whilst their spirits were in an unimaginable torment without even the relief of sleep that Susan was now enjoying?
You don't know that! There's always hope!
Trying to think positively did not stop his chest aching with the exertion of grief and it was quite some time before he regained control of himself and looked up at the Sat Nav. Its display history indicated Marinda was probably only moving with the current: the ship which had brought them so far was adrift. What if their bodies were still aboard — as living dead, empty and soulless like Sirius's corpse, feeding on worms and worse in its foul ditch?
He fought madness through the rest of the night, busying himself with the resources and books that Hermione had provided so unreservedly. A bowl he filled with Murtlap Essence to soothe his hand. A dreamless sleep potion solved his concerns about Susan, and it would help her to recover too. An hour teasing at the locket with a plastic spoon, however, still failed to separate the parasitic object from its host.
Frequently he lapsed into self-pity fluctuating with unrealistic hopes: had his friends found a way to survive after all? Might Hermione's smart common sense and Luna's eccentric innovation have discovered a solution? But how? Again, Luna's own words arose to torment him:
...sometimes things just go wrong and you can't do anything."
When he tried to distract himself with the success of Susan's rescue, a new problem occurred to him: No one must see the Horcrux locket, so Susan could not be taken anywhere except his home until it was detached from her. But how was she to pass the Fidelius Charm? He had no intention of arousing Riddle's soul within her again and imparting the secret address to it. Pettigrew had managed the trick. Perhaps Harry could Polyjuice Susan into the form of a mouse or a sparrow? But hadn't Hermione said it doesn't work properly with creatures? Scribbles and owls and even pigeons had no trouble passing the protection, though they were true creatures, not transformed humans — the Fidelius Charm only worked on real people. Why then had it failed to stop Pettigrew?
Prevented by the Fidelius Charm, Luna had been unable to write down the address or even draw a picture of the Harby gasworks. And now it was clear why Ginny and Hermione and Ron together could not force the magical rug window out into the street — it might have identified them and the garden to anyone! Was that how it would be after the long journey? Would he be unable to carry Susan that last step over the threshold of his own home? No wonder then that even Dumbledore had trusted the powerful spell! Yet he could not leave her in the street! What was he to do?
With little to do but worry, the apparent obstacle resolved itself over the next few hours. While pondering Pettigrew's storming of his domain, Harry recalled Ron's return after the Christmas break. Hermione had introduced her wizard boyfriend to the delights of a Muggle meal: pie and chips at the Ultima, but as usual they had not forgotten to bring some home to their other friends. With the two of them overloaded with Christmas gifts and provisions at the door, it was Harry himself who took Ron's bagful of hot pies off his shoulder. Harry, the Secret Keeper, had carried Wormtail past the protective charm! He cursed himself. It had been as good as saying to his face: "Here we are Peter! Our address is 148 Overpool Road!"
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~~~ A Weary Return ~~~
The Dementors crossed Harry's path twice more during the voyage home. The first only a few hours into the next day while he was dozing. But their approach was by chance, not design. They were moving slowly and uncertainly, hunting blindly for their prey. Harry was quickly alerted and, after consulting his charts, had plenty of time to descend partway into a seven-hundred-foot trench, one among several depressions he had carefully marked the week before when defining his return course. It was not too long before Glissando had travelled way beyond the Dementors' search.
As he adjusted his course, he had another nasty shock. Marinda no longer showed on the Sat Nav. That might be a good sign, he told himself. The devices were of a professional quality, sturdy and reliable, so the most likely reason was they had turned it off for some reason. Had they been rescued? If they had retreated into a locked area, the Dementors may have been unable to reach them. Hermione was smart, she could well have found how to turn on the generators and radioed for help. Without Susan, surely his friends would be regarded as unimportant to the Dementors and eventually they would depart.
There's a chance!
Ginny was never far from his thoughts where Dementors were concerned and he rejoiced in the slender hope that she had been spared direct contact with the evil creatures. Yet, he remained uneasy as he proceeded to navigate his way south through the North Sea. There was no certainty of anything.
His final encounter with Dementors was in the early afternoon of the second day, and only an hour from Harby, but it was a small group and they were not too near. It happened that despite his belief there was sufficient air aboard Glissando, the atmosphere had become stale. Perhaps the carbon dioxide scrubbers needed refilling but there was nothing Harry could do about that. Convinced he was beyond the Dementor's hunting grounds, he took the submersible to the surface and, despite the low clouds and persistent rain, was enjoying an open hatch and fresh air as the craft sped along.
The sound of a distant jet engine caused him to look in a new direction. Partly below the horizon was what he suspected might be a Navy destroyer, out from Thorfaran. He only looked at it briefly because a long silvery cigar howled overhead. It was obviously not a manned jet fighter and Harry puzzled over it for a few seconds. All that he could think was that it might be a cruise missile — which he had always supposed were rockets and only used in wartime.
It was while he was staring after the projectile that he saw the Dementors, three or four perhaps, sliding like black sails over the sea's surface in a direction that might bring them too close for comfort. Harry wasted no time calculating the likelihood of that. He closed the hatch and took Glissando down two-hundred feet but his mind was now so weary that a Patronus was beyond his capabilities.
He was reluctant to surface again, and determined to suffer the foul air for the last hour into Harby Port. But within a few minutes he was struggling to breath and it was evident that Susan was having trouble too. He resolved that he would not risk facing Dementors until his last gasp — but his chest was heaving now: what if he collapsed? The only other option he could think of was equally dangerous. Harry chose the quickest end to his miserable voyage: after all, he had used the movement spell before without control — and survived; so had Ron.
Despite feeling more prepared, the thrust he gave Glissando almost killed both himself and Susan. Without realising it, he had asserted more power because there was no strong Dementor's influence to sap his magic. The result was they travelled faster and further. Harry blacked out completely when the submersible broke up under the strain and shook him violently. When he came to, Glissando was scraping along the seabed, driven by the tide and slowly taking on water. Breathing was very uncomfortable now and the only illumination was the red flashing LED of a high-pitched alarm.
"Aaagh!"
Almost two feet of cold, muddy seawater sloshed around the cabin floor. The rope had saved Susan — with the sleeping bag lashed to the ladder rung, her head was mercifully kept clear of the flood. Harry, himself, had only been awoken by the powerful alarm that was hurting his eardrums in the small space. There was panic while he floundered and spluttered and choked in darkness, feeling for his wand which was floating alongside an assortment of empty containers and Hermione's bag.
Once he had his wand, he cast a light, then fumbled the batteries out of the siren which, along with the stifling air, was giving him a headache and making it hard to think clearly. Glissando was a sorry tangle of wires, shattered struts, and only half its original main frame, but although water was seeping in through connectors and torn cable ducts, the thick-walled sphere itself wasn't even cracked. Some internal equipment had become dislodged and broken, and when he fished the Sat Nav out of the water, the dripping display was utterly blank.
He raised the vessel with the movement spell to find himself not far out from his home port so he sailed her cautiously just below the surface into the bay. So severe was the damage, that Harry consigned the wreck to the bed of the harbour once he and Susan were safely ashore under his invisibility cloak — he had other things to worry about.
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~~~ The Empty Homecoming ~~~
Apprehension and exhausted hopes forced Harry's aching body down Overpool Road at a grudging pace. The rain had lost its strength too but the pavement was still wet, and he skidded several times with the imbalance of Susan's weight and the encumbrance of keeping both the girl and himself invisibly cloaked. The indifferent front of Number 148 did not honour the hero's approach. No brassy fanfare livened the heartless street and no Ginny yearned at the door to praise and adore him. He hesitated as he turned his key, then pushed on in.
For a few moments he was busily attentive to Susan's passage through the Fidelius Charm, then... emptiness; it hit him like a bad shield spell. His hallway, normally the hub and hubbub of lively movement between rooms and stair, now stood cold and lifeless. And yet... when he elbowed shut the front door behind him to smother the noisy street, he cocked his head on one side: voices from the parlour! It could only be Ron and Neville! Were Hermione, Luna, and Ginny there too!
With Susan in his arms he had to back into the living-room door to push it open and he heard the conversation stop for a moment. He twisted around and stared.
'...still denies all responsibility. Why then, Sir Michael, are you so sure?'
'They are the only country with anywhere near the capability. Many western observers are convinced that, although the K-222 was dismantled, the technology continues to be developed.'
Hermione's radio was his only company, and promptly Susan became a heavier burden. He recalled everyone's anxious haste when leaving on the ambitious escapade. If only they had known what the dreadful price of saving her was to be.
A numbing heartbreak blocked out every intrusion then: sights, sounds, and unbearable feelings. He laid the girl gently on the settee, thrust the cloak bitterly into his bag, then sank into an armchair, emotionally spent, mentally tired, and physically hurting from Glissando's last reckless sprint to safety. Yet he knew he could not rest. There was a Horcrux to be destroyed, and Susan to consider. Harry listened to her breathing peacefully in deep, undisturbed sleep, and almost envied her. He wound himself up to make another effort but his body did not respond.
'...how do you explain the lack of any thermal trail or engine noise? Only by chance was HMS Ledbury up from Portsmouth trialling motion detectors, but their range is very limited and contact was soon lost. The data signifies near perfect stealth at well over one hundred and fourteen knots!'
What he would give for one more glimpse of his friends sitting around him: laughing or complaining, he would not mind. For Luna to spike the mood with an uncomfortable truth or Hermione to scold him — all that would now be unalloyed joy.
'More worrying still was a second alarm not far south of the naval base at Thorfaran, clocked at one hundred and thirty knots. How many are out there? This is no modification: it is a completely new threat against which we have no defence.'
Harry's eyes flickered to the window and the sword that lay beneath it. Groaning with physical discomforts, he pushed himself to his feet once more and went to look out over the garden. Hedwig and Squeegee had not returned and Scribbles was missing too. Harry was too empty to draw out a sigh. He reached down and grasped the sword by the hilt, enjoying its wondrous balance as he lifted it high. Would the mere press of the blade itself be enough to destroy the Horcrux, he wondered.
'...does not justify the scale of the NATO alert.'
He knelt down beside the sleeping girl, delicately parted the white robe to just below the throat, then, holding the sword by the handle and the back of the blade, carefully touched the tip to the locket. There was first a shudder. Then a definite sense of fear emanated from the pendant. He could feel it quite strongly — how, he did not know. Yet still the enchanted metal clung to Susan's chest. There could be no doubt now: it was a dark life within that was being protected by the cursed gold. He would have to smash it open, but how was he to first remove it from the girl's body without harming her? It did not seem possible and the alternative shocked through his dull lassitude .
'...cannot be described so; these are secret but routine training exercises that were planned months ago.'
'A standard response! Are we to believe the...?'
The sword, he let drop upon the carpet, then lowered himself back into his own chair, jostling it irritably around towards the empty hearth as he did so. He could no longer bear to even look at the girl. Certainly to swing the sword at the locket now could not be done without cutting her and the venom-enchanted silver would take her life as likely as the Horcrux's. Was that what it would come down to? He had to choose: both should live or both should die?
He shivered at the unjust decision he had to make but did not care to light a fire in the hearth. Perhaps hot Butterbeer would serve his frozen heart better. When he returned from the kitchen, he carried two large steaming jugfuls and a Firewhisky bottle labelled 'Best at Xmas' under his arm too. He poured out a foaming tankard, spiced it heavily with the spirit, then took a deep slug. It was not at all how he had expected it to taste, but then he had never drank Firewhisky before. It was sweet with a pleasingly sharp after-bite. Had Ron bought this for Hermione now she was old enough to drink it? For a Christmas she would never celebrate?
"Cheers, Hermione! Cheers, Ron!"
As he raised his tankard in salute, he stared past it at the message on the wall above the mantel:
No Matter What Becomes Of Us!
He swallowed another large draught and settled back into his misery...
'...yet you still claim there is no connection with the nerve gas attack near the Orkneys?'
The information about the Horcruxes could no longer remain entrusted entirely to himself, Harry now realised. He had kept his word, held the secret, and his friends had paid a dear price. Now it was up to others. A growing relief passed through Harry with every gulp of the warming beverage. Moody or Lupin, both experts in the dark arts, should know how to remove the locket safely from Susan's body. It was their problem now. Harry took another swig of satisfaction. He must journey to Grimmauld Place — but not today; today he would rest. The tankard was tilted to his lips for a longer time and Harry sank more comfortably into his armchair.
'There is no evidence for either chemical or biological warfare.'
'Three ships' crews suffered near suicidal effects and a—'
'It may only have been food poisoning.'
Yes, Moody would know what to do... Harry stared up at the ceiling, eyes gradually closing, wondering if he really cared anymore.
'...and another sunk with all hands.'
'It was a small vessel that most likely lost power and drifted sideways on to the rough seas — it's not surprising that she capsized.'
An hour passed and so did the afternoon. The sky began to darken and still Harry sat there utterly alone. A drab weather report was being repeated on the radio interspersed with some morbid, dirge-like orchestra, but Harry heard nothing until a smarmy-voiced woman loudly announced a change to scheduling for further discussion of some crisis or other. He dearly wished to throw a shoe at the radio but was too weary. Limply he raised his wand, and the noisy device fell silent at last, and with it, the feeling that his contact with Hermione was also gone forever. While it had droned away, he now realised, it had carried on an action she had initiated days ago when she had turned it on.
Harry sank lower after that. The Firewhisky wasn't healing his deeper pain but merely fogging it into an aching blur. After a while he drifted into a hazy stupor so was too comfortably uncaring to get up when he heard a slight sound behind him. Nevertheless, a tendril of curiosity turned his head to try to glimpse Susan over his shoulder but he couldn't see past the back of his chair. Had she stirred upon Neville's settee? And her foot bumped the floor? Funny, he thought to himself as he surrendered to torpor and closed his eyes, how we think of the sofa as Neville's now... 'we', there is no 'we' anymore...
Harry tried to imagine it really was Neville lying there and not Susan, just as he had lain on the many occasions that Harry had arisen before him. Creeping now upon him as a jest or... If he could just fall asleep until tomorrow, all would be well. Then he would hear Ron or Ginny clumping downstairs and Neville would stir and look at Harry all bleary-eyed and say, Mornin', Harry, everything okay? What's on for today? We have to keep trying, don't we, no matter what. Harry drifted in and out of his tormented half-sleep; either state was preferable to reality.
"We have to keep trying, don't we, no matter what."
"I can't. I just can't..."
"He'd want us to continue, don't you think?"
The muffled mumblings halted suddenly and there was a gasp.
"That's... isn't that... Susan?"
A series of emotional squeals rent the air and Harry blinked his eyes open towards the radio, mildly annoyed at being disturbed.
"HARRY! HARRY! HARRY!"
But it was Ginny, warm and wonderful, that hurled herself upon him, burying Harry in the armchair, and kicking over the bottle of Firewhisky into the bargain. She was sobbing and trying to speak, and blubbering all kinds of funny, incoherent noises all over his face, and, for once, Harry didn't care about the pain.
"Merlin's Sunday garters!" Ron was shouting back out through the open doorway, "Hermione! He's alive! It's Harry! Leave the bags! It's Harry!"
Then they were all there, sobering him up with heart-pumping excitement and a tattoo of questions so rapid he could scarcely tell who was saying what.
"How, Harry, how? — thought they'd got you — or at best you'd suffocated — how long have you been back? — Did you come all the way by sea? — how did you get away? — we were going mental — what happened? — what did you do? — you must have been really lucky — we didn't think it was possible — you won't believe what happened on the Marinda!"
"It was Luna's amulet that saved us," cried Hermione. "The owl, you see! We were under siege in the engine room and Luna's—"
"No, let me tell it!" cried Neville. "We couldn't think straight because of the Dementors at the door! 'OWL OWL OWL,' I kept pounding my head with my fists. Why was Luna's amulet calling to her? OWL OWL OWL. Think, Neville! THINK!"
Ginny was too busy crying joyfully curled upon her Harry-island to speak. Ron couldn't get another word in edgewise and just stood there grinning at everyone.
"Squeegee, my owl, of course!" shrieked Luna, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "I made everyone—!"
"She made us all hook a finger around Squeegee's collar!" shouted Hermione, forgetting for the moment her own belief that loudness wouldn't matter. "I thought she was quite mad. We hadn't considered until then that we might have drifted outside Azkaban's Portkey wards, you understand! It was so obvious with hindsight!"
"Next thing you know we were all—" began Ron, taking advantage when everyone had taken a big breath in the same quarter-second.
"—were all back at Daddy's in a trice!" continued Luna. "Neville and Ginny were sick on our best carpet and we put them to bed with lots of hot chocolate."
The excited assault on Harry's ears eased off then until Ron said, "Hermione too. The effects from being near-drowned and all the stress caught up with her when..."
"The Sat Nav lost you, Harry — you and Susan," said Hermione, in a rush to explain. "That made me more ill than anything. Was it because you were underwater? Could you detect us? I thought it had a sonar device? Was that one-way? There was nothing on the display after Ron and Luna saw hordes of Dementors swarming where we last detected you... I knew you couldn't have gotten very deep yet. I didn't know what to do. We didn't... none of us..."
"I wanted to come straight to Harby but Daddy wouldn't let me," said Luna, mournfully. "I wanted to come yesterday while the others got better."
Ginny partly unravelled herself from her entanglement with Harry and looked around the room, eyes shining like a bride with ten grooms, finally alighting again upon the sofa and locking onto Susan. "And you did it, Harry! You did it! You saved her! You really saved her! Oh, I can't believe she's really real!"
"We ALL saved her," said Harry, firmly. His drab intoxication had been mostly replaced by a pure, blissful state that was entirely new to him. Perhaps he had died and gone to heaven.
They all turned to look at Susan then, hardly daring to trust their eyes. She who had dominated their imaginations for weeks was now tangibly there before them. And it was they that had made it happen. Against all the odds, the six of them had achieved the impossible.
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~~~ Ginny's Revenge ~~~
"Is she...?" said Neville. Susan was as motionless as a corpse in his bedding.
"Dreamless sleep potion, just a few drops between her lips," said Harry. "It was all I could think of."
"But the locket..." said Hermione. She looked swiftly about and her eyes were drawn to the sword upon the carpet. "You destroyed it?"
"Can't," Harry said, rising up with Ginny to stand then running his hand through his rumpled hair. "Oh, I tried, but it won't come off and I couldn't..."
Hermione was kneeling by the sofa in a moment and eased back the bedclothes. She gasped when she saw the fearful wound. Ginny cried out and backed away.
Hermione grimaced. "Didn't you try a severing charm? A revulsion jinx? Didn't you even bother looking in my book!"
Hermione's words stung Harry but his reply was almost inaudible. "Sorry, Hermione, I didn't... think."
Hermione's head stayed down and he was unsure of her expression. She had put her magical life and her heart into writing in that log ever since the first year at Hogwarts. Then she had entrusted it to him.
"I'm really sorry," said Harry softly. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.
She flinched slightly... then placed her own hand upon his without looking up, and he sensed her remorse. Ron was mouthing at him how deeply upset she still was about his absence and that she had hardly stopped crying the whole time.
"Just be careful, Hermione!" Harry added quietly. "It's... well, just be careful."
She rummaged in her bag and pulled out the bottle of dittany, then pointed her wand. "You'd... you'd better all stand back."
"Diffindo!"
Susan's jungle roar was bestial in scale. Ron and Harry struggled to pull her off Hermione who was lying on the floor, inert with astonishment. Neville moved in to help them drag the squirming figure of Susan away and pin her against the sofa. The vivid injury and its embedded metal seemed to dominate the room. Her face was rigid, like white porcelain, but her eyes flared scarlet. Ginny took another step back.
"Cannot defeat me!" hissed Susan in a thin, distant voice. "Lives to be taken! All!"
"Do something, Hermione! shouted Harry, struggling her up with one free arm. "Do something!"
"Oh, please hold her really tight!" wailed Hermione. She found her wand again. She pointed it.
"Be first!" snarled the stricken girl, and, like a cornered wildcat, she spat viciously at Hermione.
"Oh, I don't want to do this..." whimpered Hermione. "Relashio!"
The locket just missed Hermione's cheek as it sailed over her right shoulder, while Susan and the sofa behind her were both thrust to the back of the room, taking Neville and Ron with them. She collapsed then into silence and Hermione cried, "Find where the dittany went! Find the dittany, somebody!"
While Hermione tended to the wound, Ron discovered the upturned Firewhisky bottle and took a long swig. He nodded sagely. "Not bad."
"Well, perhaps it's as well you didn't try either of those spells while submerged at fifty fathoms, Harry," said Hermione with a rueful smile. Harry felt he had been forgiven.
His own aches and pains came to his attention again then, and he stood up and stretched, trying not to groan. He looked around swiftly to make sure no one had noticed.
"Ginny?" he said.
Ginny was at the far side of the room with her back to them. She turned. The locket was in her hand. "It's evil. I can feel it." Her eyes were wild and directed at the window. "Where's the sword? WHERE'S THE SWORD!"
"Wait, Ginny!" cried Harry.
But Ginny had thrown down the locket and taken up Godric Gryffindor's blade from the floor.
"I won't have it in our home!" There was the look of Molly Weasley in her stance and the flash in her eyes Harry knew well. He grabbed her arm and tried to wrest the sword away but was astonished when Ginny squirmed angrily away from him.
"Ginny, NO!"
"You haven't a clue what it's like for a girl to know this filth was in her mind and in her soul!"
"But I thought you blacked out? That you didn't remember anything?"
"What, and you think that makes it okay?" snapped Ginny.
She turned towards the locket. "Are you in there, Tom! Can you hear me! I'm taking back what you owe me! YOUR LIFE!"
"Ginny, DON'T!"
The blade flashed; the locket was dashed aside, unscratched. Ginny stared weakly at the torn carpet. "How do I kill it, Hermione!"
"HERMIONE!"
"It might... it might need to be opened first."
Ginny gingerly picked up the Horcrux by its broken chain; it was twitching and twirling as it swung from her hand like a rat dangled by the tail.
"How?" Ginny fumbled but there was no visible clasp to the jewellery. Her gaze fell upon the letter 'S' in the form of a snake.
"Harry!" She whirled around to face him. "Riddle was a Parselmouth so perhaps you can open it too!"
"No, Ginny, I won't." He folded his arms. "It might be cursed. We need more thought about who is to destroy it. It doesn't have to be you. It shouldn't be you."
"I'll open it for you," piped up Luna.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again. He might be leader in name but everyone here had a mind of their own and he didn't want to rouse feelings any higher than they already were.
"Come on then, Luna," said Ginny.
She looked around for a hard surface and finally grabbed the cold, open-backed fire grate, dragging it out over the hearth, spilling slag and ash as she turned it. The angry girl placed the locket securely upon one of its open grooves and sneered in satisfaction. "You're in for it now, Riddle!"
She hefted up the sword; it seemed heavier somehow and she shifted her feet to balance herself.
"Ginny, don't!" said Harry. His head was hurting now from having sobered up so rapidly but he was paying it no attention. Ron looked between them as if unsure what to do.
Luna's large eyes widened to examine the serpentine letter upon the pendant, then she hissed. She did it so well that Harry understood her perfectly. "Open..."
For a moment, Ginny thought perhaps a live cinder, buried in the ash, had caused the contents of the locket to catch fire because a curl of smoke had risen up, but not before she had glimpsed a reddish, eye-like flame, in its midst. Startled, she instinctively stumbled away to avoid the expected blaze, but the black smoke expanded, following her movements...
"Ginny..." It was Harry's voice, silky-soft and enticing, but it was uttering itself from the dark, hooded creature that was forming before her. "MY Ginny..."
From the moment it spoke, Ginny heard naught but its words. She knew nothing about her friends held out of reach nor their warning shouts — an horrific attraction blinded her to all but the hideous spectre. Though it presented the face and feeling of Death, yet the same features were also Harry's, burnt-black and old and severely pitted with scars. Time passed slowly within that off-balance stagger yet scarcely had she recovered from it than the creature, already taller than Ginny, looped a long-bladed scythe around and hooked her into its scabby embrace. "You and I... forever..."
Its breath was so fetid, and her terror so physical, that Ginny, succumbing to giddy confusion, thought she sensed another's voice, one from another world she had long left behind...
"TOM'S LYING AGAIN! DON'T LET HIM TAKE YOU!"
"THE SWORD, GINNY! SMASH THE LOCKET!"
"Trapped by desire, Ginny Weasley, you who cannot resist," hissed the Death-Harry, and its loathsome, pus-drooling mouth sought to close upon hers.
The sword was now so heavy that Ginny felt it slipping through her fingers.
"Yes, yes, accept me in its stead, Ginny! Let that burden fall and I will raise you up forever! Come, accept me, Ginny Weasley, you know you want—"
"I WANT TO DAMN YOU TO HELL, RIDDLE!" The blade's arc silvered through the dark world into which Ginny had slipped. The image of Death shrank into its own worst nightmare. There was a clash of metal, sparks flew, and a long, long shriek that fell away until finally it was lost to her ears.
Ginny stared breathlessly for a time at the shattered, golden fragments that had fallen through the barred fire grate; it seemed fitting that these impudent yet impotent remains appeared imprisoned by the mundane.
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~~~ Luna's Lie ~~~
Ron and Luna provided sandwiches from somewhere and Harry realised then how hungry he was. He watched Ginny while he wolfed them down, and she watched him too, as she pecked at a single tuna sandwich and made it last.
"Not hungry?" asked Harry.
"Susan looks dreadfully thin. When did she last eat?" replied Ginny.
The word 'Azkaban' was forming on Harry's lips when he was reminded of Sirius and guilty realised he had not given him a single thought for over an hour. He stopped munching.
"Don't worry. She wasn't suffering on your journey, I shouldn't think," said Ginny. "We ought to tell her mum and dad though."
"You're right."
He put his last half-eaten sandwich back on its plate and called out, "Luna, could you send a message to Mr and Mrs Bones?" said Harry. "They'd want to know —they should be the first to know she's safe."
"I think we should wake her first," cut in Hermione. "Dreamless sleep potions slow the bodily functions and delay dehydration but she'll be dry and very weak. Nor do we know the after-effects of that foul locket. We can't tell her parents she safe until we know her condition for sure, Harry."
"How bad is the wound now?"
"Better than I dared hope. I cleansed and sealed all the damaged tissues and cleared the inflammation but the skin is... well..." Hermione uncovered it for them all to see.
"Well, that's amazing — no worse than a birthmark, really." said Ginny. "And it's a perfect letter 'S'!"
"Yes, I don't know why it's not reversed. It's as if it wanted to mark her."
"Cool. A birthmark that's her own initial."
"How will she explain it to her parents, though?" said Ron.
"Not only them — how do we explain it to Susan, herself." said Harry. "What are we going to do with her? I doubt she's ever heard of Horcruxes but we don't want her going around chatting about Voldemort's soul contained within a locket, do we? Also, I've given her the secret to this place."
"I wondered about that, Harry," said Hermione, pointing at the comatose figure asleep on the couch. "How exactly did you do it?"
"If the Secret Keeper — that's me — writes down the address, or draws a picture, or carries someone in, then these are just different ways of revealing the secret to them. That's how I figured it out — from Pettigrew. Do you remember, Ron? When you and Hermione came back after Christmas and went to the chippy for pies? It was me that carried your bag inside."
"Oh, Harry..." said Hermione.
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
He turned to Ron. "You were right about nothing being one-hundred-percent, mate, and you were right about the amulets seeing the future too."
"Yes, Luna's owl and her home saved us," smiled Ginny.
"But Ron's was wrong — thank goodness," added Hermione, hastily, but she was frowning. "He didn't get locked up in Azkaban after all. Does that mean the amulets only foretell possibilities?"
"No, it got that right," said Ron. "I did find myself looking through prison bars and seeing a woman, only I was looking into a cell, not out. Remember me telling you we found Bellatrix Lestrange in there?"
"But she escaped again," growled Neville. "It's horrible to even think it but... I wish she had died rather than she cause more suffering."
"Frankly, so do I, now," said Ron, morosely. "It was the bloomin' Dementors dragging me down and the shock of it. I nearly ruined everything."
"Oh, in that case, she did," said Luna.
"Did? Did what?" frowned Ron.
"Died. She's dead. Bellatrix is dead. It was I that trod in her blood and made the footprint then I covered her body with the invisibility cloak."
"WHAT! cried Harry and Ron together.
"But you told me I should tell a lie if it was for a good cause, Harry!" cried Luna. "I thought you wanted me to!"
"Er... yeah, but, Luna..."
"I wanted to help Ron," she whimpered. "He thought he was a murderer. He was hurting. Dementors love that. And we all needed Ron badly."
Neville gave her a reassuring hug. "I think you did great. You did the right thing, Luna."
"So I should keep on practising my lies?" She blinked away a sparkling tear.
"Luna, you don't need to practise — your lying is outstanding, actually," said Harry. "But no more bloody footprints, okay?"
"Okay, Harry, I promise."
Ginny looked agitated. She dragged Ron over to Hermione's writing bureau and whispered hoarsely, "You said before, you saw a woman threatening you through the prison bars. How could you see that in your amulet?"
"I didn't. It just sort of... dunno. Look, I was staring at it, trying to think what those lines reminded me of and it came to me like remembering something in the past."
"Except it was in the future!" cried Ginny, and the others looked across at them both. Ginny pulled out her own amulet. "So, I need to stare at it so I'll know if something bad is going to happen to me?"
"Dunno, Ginny, I think it'll just pull on you at the right time."
"If only we knew what they all meant," said Luna, "perhaps we might have better warnings?"
"Yes, we still don't know what the others do," said Neville. "Ginny's heart, my lion, Harry's tent or boat thing, and Hermione's book."
"I already know mine," said Harry.
"Harry!" cried Ginny. She came back then. "What happened?"
"It was in the mini-sub. The Dementors nearly got me. I was done for. The amulet kind of... made me want to look at it. There's a broken circle round the edge that for some reason reminded me of the lake at Hogwarts and Ron using the uncontrolled Impello spell to—"
"Harry, you didn't!" cried Hermione. "I told you never, ever—"
"Yeah, I did, Hermione, and it saved my life. It pushed me and the sub really fast for a couple of minutes." He grinned. "Nearly broke my neck, mind you, but I got away from the Dementors."
"So your amulet does symbolise a boat within water!" said Ginny, "How could the amulet know so long ago you were going to be taking a boat inside the sea? And then remind you to use the spell without control?"
"Professor Dumbledore was a genius at so many types of magic," said Hermione, firmly. "I wonder if...?"
Ginny looked down at her amulet thoughtfully. "So it's no use me looking at it? I have to wait for it to draw my attention?"
Ron said, "Dumbledore was totally mental. Why didn't he just tell me, oh by the way, Ron, you'll be in Azkaban but no worries, you'll—"
"Because he didn't know!" cried Hermione. "Don't you see? When he realised Voldemort would move the Horcruxes beyond all knowledge then only a great wizard like Dumbledore could charm these with..."
"What is it, Hermione?" said Harry.
"...runes." She held up her own amulet to the light then squinted hard at the reverse. "We'll never know. They're all so melted that faintly scribed Runes would be lost."
"Yet they can't be, Hermione, can they, because they still work?" smiled Luna.
Hermione looked thoughtfully at the girl. "That's right... they do..."
"So, uuh, are we doing this or what?" said Neville, gesturing his head towards Susan.
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~~~ The Lost Year ~~~
"Ron, Neville, hold her arms," said Hermione.
"Susan can't still be possessed, Hermione," said Harry.
"She might be completely mad, though. I think we should be prepared. You and Ginny hold her legs. Luna, you hold her head in case she hurts herself."
"Watch those teeth then, Luna," said Harry, holding up his bandaged hand.
"Ready? Brace yourselves. Three ... two ... one ... Rennervate!" cried Hermione.
"What ... just ... happened? Why ... holding me?"
"Are you feeling alright, Susan?" said Hermione.
"Am I ...? Oh..."
"You were in Azkaban. Do you remember?"
"Ooh... I have to get home... please let go of me," wailed Susan.
Harry and Ginny released her legs. Ron and Neville let her sit up but kept hold of her arms. Luna helped her to sip water from a beaker.
"I'm sorry, you can't go home quite yet," said Hermione. "Do you remember Azkaban?"
"Yes, yes. But when can I go home? We never miss Christmas together."
"Susan, it's only the start of November, there's plenty of time," said Hermione.
"It is? I thought..."
"You need to rest for a few days and get your strength back."
Ginny took Susan's hand. "Susan, it's November, 1996 not December, 1995. You've been... sort of... asleep a long time."
"It's... 1996?" She looked startled and struggled to look around the room. Her eyes were wild suddenly. Ron and Neville held her arms more tightly.
"Do you remember... did anyone talk to you... in your cell?"
Susan's eyes widened. "NO! NOBODY! I was on my own. NOBODY was with me! Why would you say that? I was on my own ... on my own."
Ginny exchanged glances with Harry.
"It was Tom, wasn't it?" she said softly, after a while.
"You know? You know about... Tom?"
Ginny nodded.
"He said never to tell anyone. He said..."
"It's okay, Sue, He's gone now. Gone forever."
"Gone?" Susan began to weep. "He made it bearable — all those weeks in Azkaban."
"Susan, it was many months — almost a year. He was using you."
"NO! Tom loved me. He took care of me!"
"He wanted you to accept him so he could... possess you, use you."
"You're wrong. Why are you saying this?"
"Susan, he did the same to me," said Ginny.
Susan stared at Ginny for a while, then suddenly slumped back. "I thought..."
"Let me tell you all about him..." began Ginny.
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~~~ Cover Story ~~~
Luna led Neville out to the kitchen. Harry and Ron soon followed. They sat around a pot of tea, sipping and talking and wondering about Susan's future.
"She's dangerous," said Ron. "I don't suppose you can undo the Fidelius Charm for her so she doesn't know where we are?"
Harry shook his head. "We have to get Susan to her parents; they're really worried. Luna, would you send that message to them now?"
"What should I say?"
Harry thought for a while. "Tell them... only tell them she has been rescued from Azkaban and is safe and is being cared for. She's weak and needs a few days rest. Let them know it's too risky for her to come home but Grimmauld Place is—"
"No," said Hermione, as she came in through the doorway, "Grimmauld Place might not be safe now."
Luna lowered her wand and looked at Harry. He paused for a moment, trying to clear his thoughts, then said, "Why not?"
Hermione was fumble-searching various cans in the cupboard, grimacing, scowling, and frowning at each in turn. Finally, she retrieved a can of chicken soup, opened it, then tipped it into a saucepan. "The estate would normally be inherited by the next male heir, but since there isn't one, then presumably it might go via Bellatrix Lestrange to her husband Rodolphus, we don't know properly how it—"
"WHAT!" cried Ron. "Death Eaters in Grimmauld Place!"
"It's out of our hands now Sirius is dead," said Hermione. She busied herself preparing a tray and popped a cup of tea upon it.
"Except that Sirius is not actually dead, is he?" said Harry, irritably. "He's enduring a kind of life that we can't imagine."
"He would be regarded as legally dead," said Hermione.
"Then we keep it quiet," said Ron. "Maybe nobody knows what happened to Sirius but us."
Harry looked aghast. "Everyone ought to know about his sacrifice. I think we ought to publish an article in The Corrector."
"We must tell Professor Moody, at least," said Hermione. "Explain the situation to him. Let him decide what happens to the Order's headquarters."
Harry nodded. "I'll do it. Grimmauld Place must surely be still safe for a day or two. I'd better go see him as soon as possible. I don't want to just send an owl for this." He glanced at his watch.
"Harry, you're exhausted. You need rest," said Hermione, in a rather motherly tone.
"I'll be back in an hour or so — or maybe sleep there overnight. Moody should be told straight away. It's only right. Anyway, like you said, tomorrow it might not be safe."
He watched Hermione stirring the soup for a while, then said, "You know you could all be tried and sentenced for your part in helping a prisoner to escape. I say that is what we should keep secret. We did nothing but risk our necks and make a mess of it anyway. Every one of us would have died — or worse. It was Sirius that actually got Susan out so tell her that. Let him have the honour and to hell with Grimmauld Place. The Order will have to find a new place to meet."
Luna said, "I agree. Mr Black gave his soul to save mine; it's the least I can do."
Neville nodded. "I'll tell Gran that, and Auntie too if she... if she... got away safely."
"Agreed then," said Ron.
"Agreed," said Hermione. She poured the soup into a bowl and put it on the tray then retrieved a slice of cold elderberry pie from the fridge and popped it in the microwave.
"Luna," said Harry, "would you go ahead then please and tell the Bones that Susan is safe and they'll see her... within a few days."
As Luna finished casting her Patronus, a warm, sweet, fruity smell filled the kitchen and the microwave pinged. Hermione popped the piece of hot pie onto the tray beside the soup, added the sugar bowl from the table as an afterthought, then Luna added a small glass.
"What's that for?" said Hermione.
"Elderberry wine," said Luna. "Not only does it taste lovely, It will help Susan recover."
"Ah, you're right," said Hermione. "I read in 'Forsooth's Herbal Remedies' that it can combat the effects of poor diet — and stress too. Where is it?"
"It's the bottle marked 'Best at Xmas'," said Luna, "but it should be very good already. I bewitched it so it's quite potent. Be careful."
Harry and Ron exchanged furtive glances as Hermione carried out the tray but Luna did not seem to notice.
Within a few minutes, Ginny entered the kitchen. "I'm coming too."
Harry nodded. "How's Susan? What did you tell her about the rescue?"
"Nothing. We only talked about Riddle. I told her who he really was. She cried out the worst of it. I don't think she'll ever fully get over it though; I never have anyway."
Harry seemed to slump a little then. He looked at her expression for a while then sighed. "Our story is to be that Sirius rescued Susan. We weren't involved, okay?"
"Yeah, Hermione said." Ginny glanced up at the wall clock. "It's gone nine. Are we really going tonight?"
Harry said, "Yes, Moody had been staying with Sirius for quite a while. He ought to be told."
.
—oOo—
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Author's Notes
About the Fidelius, there is a precedent for my belief that carrying someone in will give them the secret. In the original Deathly Hallows, Yaxley grabs hold of Hermione as she Apparates from the Ministry to the front step of Grimmauld Place. Everyone who knew the secret became a Secret Keeper after Dumbledore's death so effectively, Hermione informed Yaxley of the secret and the trio had to flee again and start living in the tent.
Also in canon: Harry had a wound from the locket after Godric's Hollow and Hermione had to use a severing charm to detach it. I didn't like the idea of a girl having an ugly scar on her chest so I devised the letter S mark to make it more acceptable for Susan. What a softy I am!
I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Half Blood Prince (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character.
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. :)
- Hippothestrowl
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