Thunder rumbled, and Harry wasn't sure of the hour. The light beyond the windows was muted. He focused on the young woman sitting beside his bed, running a needle and colourful thread through material with nimble fingers, a candle beside her in the dimness, her ruffled silk dress a dusky rose.
She had bright red hair but wasn't the wet nurse, whose name he couldn't recall. She certainly wasn't Luna. He stared at the needlepoint, the design some kind of flower.
"Ginny?"
Her head shot up, and a wide, slightly horsey smile broke out over her face,
"Harry! How do you feel? Let me fetch Luna and send a messenger for the surgeon. He was here earlier, but you were sleeping very soundly. We must call him back before the storm hits. Are you thirsty?"
At his nod, she helped him drink. Her forehead was high, brown eyes bright and kind.
He felt as though he'd been sleeping for weeks, which he supposed he had. At least his head was clearer, and when he tried to lift his hands, they cooperated. Although the stab wound ached like it was open and bleeding, his boost in energy was an encouraging sign.
Before she could call anyone, he asked,
"When is the trial? For Captain Voldemort?"
Ginny opened her mouth but then closed it again, glancing to the door, which stood open. She whispered,
"I don't think they want you troubled with it. At least not until you give your testimony."
"Testimony?"
"At the upcoming trial, such as it will be with our…limited resources. The pirate is being transported back here."
His heart hammered dully,
"From where?"
"I'm not sure. But apparently, he and his men led the privateers on a chase all the way to Hispaniola. The pirate ship was damaged and listing badly, but some of the crew escaped ashore, to a peninsula. Apparently, the captain created a diversion, allowing his men to flee. I suppose there is some honour amongst thieves after all."
Harry could only nod, the faces of the crew running through his mind. Who had survived? Dour Mr. Snape? Lestrange?
"When is he arriving?
"I don't know. A hurricane might be brewing."
He registered that she'd mentioned a storm earlier. Indeed, a gust rattled the windowpanes,
"Is he injured?"
Ginny had glanced at the windows, her lip between her teeth,
"The pirate?"
She shrugged,
"He'll be dead soon anyway."
The words were a punch to his wounded stomach. He wanted to lash out but restrained himself. It certainly wasn't this girl's fault. None of it,
"Is the courthouse nearby?"
She grimaced,
"They will merely build a platform in the town square. An actual courthouse is still to be constructed and now never will be, like most things on this wretched island."
Ginny seemed to catch herself, and she painted on a smile,
"Don't trouble yourself with any of it, my dear."
Tentatively, she took his hand, and he stared down at their linked fingers with puzzlement.
How strange it was that this pleasant-enough girl he'd woken to was his betrothed. He burned to tell her immediately that they'd never marry, but he only listened as she said,
"I can't tell you how happy I am that you're alive. We'll be able to build a good life back in Jamaica once you're well enough to travel. Or England, even."
"What of this place?"
Ginny's cheeks flushed,
"Don't worry yourself about it. My father will see us set up nicely elsewhere. No matter how stubborn your father is. As I said, nothing to worry about! Luna is lovely, and she's told me so much about you. I feel I know you already."
"Uh…"
This was the part where he should say something kind in return, but he could only blink at her, his mind blank. Luna appeared, thank goodness,
"Oh! You're awake again. Mr. Taggart is here."
The tall, balding man had much to say about how lucky Harry was and how the wound nearly killed him outright, never mind the infection. Ginny and Luna stood back, giving the surgeon room, but Albus strode right in and practically elbowed him aside before demanding
"Are you finally in your right mind?"
Harry blinked up at him, seeing him again for the first time in years. The curls of his white wig were perfectly powdered, and his pale shirt, waistcoat, jacket, and breeches weren't creased despite the syrupy heat.
Harry had remembered him as an old man but saw now that he was still relatively young. His face was lined as he neared fifty years, but his spine was straight, a sharp vibrancy about him that called to mind a knife's edge.
"Yes, Sir"
Albus seemed slightly mollified,
"Well, good. Since you were almost murdered by that pirate, we've been eager for you to recover."
"I… Thank you. But he didn't stab me. Captain Voldemort. It was your emissary."
Albus laughed like the crack of a whip,
"Nonsense. Your mind is clearly still muddled. Surgeon?"
"Oh yes, some confusion is quite natural. Don't trouble yourself, m'lord."
"But I'm telling you, it wasn't the captain or any of his men who injured me."
Mr. Taggart leaned over Harry,
"Now, now. Don't agitate yourself. Too much laudanum will slow your recovery."
Harry cringed at the thought of the bitter medicine and the powerless, long sleep it brought. He needed his rest, but also required his wits about him,
"I simply want the truth to be known."
Albus stared at him imperiously,
"The truth is that one of the most dreaded pirates in the New World kidnapped you and almost killed you once he had his ransom. They are a scourge that must be destroyed. All those devils care for is money."
He glanced around the room,
"Of course, I would have paid any sum to see you returned."
As the surgeon and Ginny nodded in agreement, Luna piped up with,
"I thought Neville said it was mostly counterfeit anyway."
Albus gritted his teeth,
"Regardless, Captain Voldemort shall hang. That is all that matters."
Belatedly, he added,
"And that Harry is safe."
Sighing, he seemed to soften, coming closer to the bed to rest his hand on Harry's arm,
"We were greatly concerned for your welfare."
Despite everything, Harry still wanted to believe that Albus cared, cringing at the childish longing welling up. A bewigged man appeared in the doorway,
"I'm sorry to interrupt. Governor, we have a problem."
"What is it?"
Walter snapped,
"Can't you see I'm tending to my son, who was nearly murdered by pirates?"
"More wood is needed to board up windows on the main street as the storm approaches."
"Then get more bloody wood! Why should I be concerned with such trivial matters?"
"There aren't enough men left to cut it. As it transpires, several transports left yesterday for Jamaica in advance of the storm. More citizens fleeing."
Clearly all was not well in the least on Godric's Hollow. Harry wanted to ask for the details, but didn't wish to anger Albus any further at the moment.
"We'll need to board up our windows as well, won't we?"
Luna asked.
With a tight smile, Albus said,
"Everything is in hand. Don't worry, my dear. Rest up, Harry. When the storm has passed, the pirate will arrive and his trial will begin. Your ordeal will soon be at an official end."
Albus strode out before Harry could argue, and the surgeon banished the ladies to examine Harry's wound thoroughly, poking and prodding, humming to himself from time to time.
Finally, he said,
"It's healing well, now that the infection has passed. You'll be up and about soon enough."
He glanced at the darkening sky through the closest window,
"Rest up, and by the time the sun returns, you'll be out of bed."
If his sluggish mind understood it all correctly, the storm's passing would herald Voldemort's arrival. Harry nodded,
"Yes. I'll certainly be on my feet by then."
