Fireworks
By AnOrc
Harry Potter EWE [HP/DG]
Does the war end well for child soldiers ? PTSD
OTOH: Maybe, she just likes fireworks.
Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. It's J.K. Rowling's sandbox, and I'm just playing in it.
Rated M Contains depictions of PTSD, alcohol abuse. May contain lemony scenes.
-==00==-
Chapter One: Falling Pieces
The Burrow. Night. The war is over.
Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, holding Hermione's shoulders. Hermione's shoulders shook with sobs. She was making a small keening noise.
A tapping at the window drew Ron's eyes. It was a post owl.
Ron walked over, put the multiple funeral orders-of-service on the table and opened the window. The brown owl had a letter, sure enough.
Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes wass the address, written in neat turquoise ink.
Ron shook his head. "Smart owl" he said, and gave the owl a treat. It coughed gently and flew off.
Hermione was still sobbing gently. "Back in a tick love" said Ron to Hermione and carefully Ron tiptoed upstairs. Lots of people asleep, including his parents.
Hermione's sobbing slowed. She looked up, puffy faced, her hair a veritable owls nest. There was a cup of cocoa, which shakily picked up and sipped slowly.
-==00==-
Ron stepped into Fred and Georges room. It was a crowded space with two beds, two desks, and a potions table jammed into the corner. The walls above the lab space are blackened with soot.
One bed was pristine and unused. George was a bundle of sheets in the other bed.
"George, there's a letter for Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes" said Ron, and he stared at George.
George didn't even grunt.
"George, we should reopen the shop" said Ron, enthusiastically.
George was as still as Fred had been. No. Don't think that. No. No. No.
Ron waited for a while, hoping George will react, do anything... and then left, downcast.
-==00==-
A little earlier, near the Burrow, outside, by the oak tree that's a fair walk from the Burrow.
The quarter moon peeked through scudding clouds. The apple orchard in the distance waved gently like a friend coming back from holiday.
Harry was sitting against the oak tree in a hoodie and jeans. Ginny stood, hands on hips, in her Gryffindor jumper and grey trousers.
"Well!" she spat "how could you have done that!" she said, shakily, glaring at Harry.
Seconds pass.
Harry sighed,"Um." he said, staring at the ground.
"Fuck you Harry Potter" said Ginny, more angrily. "How COULD YOU GO OFF TO DIE" she screamed.
Harry's mouth opened. Closed. "Errr... "He said. "It's kind of complicated." He said, fidgeting with some acorns. The whole prophecy and horcuxes thing was a bit complicated to explain.
"You Inconsiderate ARSE" spat Ginny, building up a head of steam. Her arms were trembling, her hands whitened fists.
Harry looked up and his eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head fractionally. He'd just realised his girlfriend is Molly Weasleys daughter... The mum with the super powered Howlers.
"Voldemort had used some really evil magic to stay alive-ish" said Harry, as calmly as he could. She was so very cross, and Harry suspected being told the truth wasn't going to help his case much.
Ginny glared, as if daring Harry to continue.
"I can't say much about the magic- it's just too evil to talk about" said Harry, digging himself deeper.
"And why did you have to get Killed" said Ginny, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
"He split off bits of his soul, put them in things." said Harry, as he threw acorns into the distance. Really, a nice trip to potions with Snape would be preferable, he thought.
Ginny paled, clutched her mouth. She made slight heaves... as if about to vomit.
"Yeah, that Diary" said Harry, his eyes watering. He looked at the ground and grabbed some more acorns to fidget with. Snape was dead. If only he'd written another book on potions, Harry could have got to a NEWT standard, he mused.
Ginny fell to her knees and vomited. Her dinner , roast pork and potatoes and carrots lay messily on the grass.
Harry stood up and approached Ginny, unsure what to say next. The truth didn't seem to be helping much.
"We found all the things and destroyed them" said Harry, "it's why we had to go away." Which was true, and didn't expose what an utter cock-up the whole year had been.
Ginny sat back and wiped her mouth, she panted, and looked up and shot Harry another stare.
"It's just one of the things," Harry paused, "was, well, me." 'shit, that didn't go well' he thought.
Ginny stared open-mouthed at Harry, her eyes filling with tears.
Harry kept talking "When he tried to kill me and died the first time, a bit of him stuck into my scar". He said, finally. He paused, and blinked. This was going worse than he'd expected.
Ginny's head stated to shake as her neck tightened up. She vomited again.
"Then there was this prophecy, and only one of us could live, and die by the others hand, and well, he had to kill me." said Harry, dropping the acorns, his hands opening and closing on nothingness.
"You were part of him!… " said Ginny, getting up from her hands and knees and glaring at Harry.
"I got better" said Harry, weakly, stepping backwards.
There was a long pause.
"HOW" said Ginny, forcefully, her arms crossed tight again around her chest as if holding her herself together with her arms.
"I had the Resurrection stone" said Harry, rather blandly. I'll start simple and work up to the hard bits, thought Harry.
Ginny blinked. "The what?" she said.
"Oh you know, the Deathly Hallows." said Harry, brightly.
"That's a kids story." ground out Ginny.
"Ah", said Harry, and pulled a silver cloak out of his hoodie pocket. "Invisibility cloak... that my father left to me." he paused. "It's the true cloak." He said, putting over his arm.
"Elder wand" he said, and pulled a long white wand out of the hoodie pocket. When he waved it nonchalantly, every leaf on the ground in the orchard spun away.
He pulled a chain out of his collar and retrieved a small bag, from the bag he took a small dark stone. "Resurrection stone" He said, holding the stone in his left hand.
"Hmh!" snorted Ginny dismissively.
Harry's face took on a tight expression, and he turned the stone in his hand three times forwards with his right forefinger.
The night got darker, just as if the moon had gone behind a cloud, and dark shadows rose from the ground... slowly forming into ghostly likenesses of people.
"Tonks, Remus, Fred" said Harry "Ginny here needs a message"
A ghostly Tonks smiled sweetly at Ginny "Wotcher Ginny!" she said with a chuckle.
A ghostly Remus shrugged. "Deathly Hallows", he paused "Never did cover that in class" he said with a laugh.
A ghostly Fred looked at his baby sister, tears in his eyes. "Sorry I died Gin" he swallowed.
Ginny looked from one shade to the next, her eyes getting wider and wider. With a squeak she pointed at Fred.
"Waaaa" she said, eyes wide, incoherently.
Fred nodded.
Ginny turned to Harry. Harry was looking thoughtful. With care, he turned the stone backwards three times. The shades vanished and the moonlight shone brighter.
Harry tucked the stone back into the bag, put the bag back down his collar and put the wand and cloak back in the pocket.
Ginny's head shook softly, her eyes unnaturally wide.
Harry didn't look much better; like he'd seen the dead. Again. It was getting to be a habit.
He looked at Ginny for a while, then sighed. He pulled out the Elder wand again, pointed at it Ginny and softly said "Obliviate". There was a pink flash on Ginny's face.
"We talked and talked for hours, till finally we agreed that we've just changed too much and we're split up for good," Harry paused, the wand inscribing small widdershins circles.
He paused again, a blue flash on Ginny's face. "Your remember little of Riddles dairy", he continues, the wand spiralling slowly, "You never saw the Deathly Hallows' he concluded.
"Harry's not evil" he said softly, and flicked the wand upwards.
Ginny knelt, her eyes rolling slightly.
"Winky" called Harry.
With a pop, a house elf appeared wearing a smart blue dress.
"Yes Master Harry" said Winky.
"Pop Ginny here back into her bedroom and put her to bed", he sighed "She's had a few surprises and needs a good sleep."
Winky cocked her head, nodded, walked over to Ginny, took her hand and disappeared with another, louder POP.
Harry sat for a long time under the tree, holding the elder wand upright, his hand resting on his knee.
"Oh really, who am I kidding" he said to himself bitterly, raised the wand, opened his mouth, put the tip into his mouth…
-==00==-
Night-time under the oak tree at the Burrow, far from the house.
Harry sat for a long time under the tree, holding the elder wand upright, his hand resting on his knee.
"Oh really who am I kidding" he said to himself bitterly, raised the wand, opened his mouth, put the tip into his mouth...
"Obliviate" he cast.
He went limp and rolled to his side.
Some time later he sat up and shook his head. Noticing the wand just fallen out of his hand he picked it up.
"Huh?" he said, then held the wand at right angles to his face. "Prior Incantanten" he cast and watched the colours flow off the wand.
"Oh," he said to himself and put the wand away, after another half hour he shook his head.
"Why didn't I think of that earlier" he said much more cheerfully, and got up.
He walked back to the Burrow and let himself inside.
He tensed seeing Hermione sobbing at the Kitchen table, an empty mug of on its side in front of her.
He tiptoed across the room, and climbed the stairs almost a quietly as Ron had.
-==00==-
Ron's room. It's still orange. The Chudley cannons posters are a bit ripped. The truckle bed is rolled out from under the bed and a tangle of sheets is on it.
Ron sat on the bed, hunched, holding the letter, turning it around and around.
Harry walked into the room and shuts the door softly. "Ron, mate..." he began, sitting on the truckle bed, his knees around his armpits, then sniffed "Ron… we should open the window" he said.
"Harry, we've got a Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes letter" said Ron looking at Harry, holding out the letter. "George won't open it."
Harry took the letter, rolling his shoulders as if making a swimming motion to stretch. Harry read the address, nodded, the opened the letter with his thumb.
Ron started "Harry it's, " he said, shocked.
"I am their... I mean George's silent partner" said Harry and pulled out the letter. It's expensive parchment, with an embossed letterhead. 'Why can't I talk without making things worse' Harry thought. He read the letter.
'From the desk of the house of Greengrass
Dear Sirs,
Our house has a requirement to celebrate the end of the war with some fireworks.
We recall that Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes have a line of most excellent fireworks displays.
The fireworks to be exhibited at Diagon Alley on the next suitable night.
Appropriate permits have been secured from the ministry. See attached parchments i-i.
All care to be taken that the fireworks while grand are invisible to muggles outside the Alley.
Perhaps a ten minute display depicting the vanquishing of he-who-shall-not-be-named by the chosen one.
It is required that the display be coordinated with the Daily Prophet.
It is Expected that the display will make the front page on the next morning's edition.
The Greengrass'
Then below this a hastily sketched word 'Greengrass'
A smudged wax seal below the hastily written word; it was evidently a signature.
Harry crinkled his brows. "Why'd they sign 'The Greengrass'" asked Harry, handing the letter to Ron.
Ron read the letter, his jaw moving around thoughtfully.
"Um, okay Harry that's a traditional pure blood thing" explained Ron, "It means that letter is sent from the head of the house, kind-of like a letter from the headmaster instead of Dumbledore," said Ron, blushing and collapsing on himself groaning. 'Not Dumbledore too.' thought Ron, embarrassed.
Harry's eyes watered. He sighed. "Lets talk about this in the morning eh Ron ?" said Harry and rolled himself into a sheet, and tried to sleep.
Ron put the letter on the night-stand and sat for a bit then he suddenly sat up "Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed and dashed downstairs. Harry found it hard to fall asleep.
-==00==-
The pond at the Burrow. Mid morning, a partly overcast British day.
Harry and Ron were sitting looking over the green murky water. Ron lay on the grass, staring at the sky, and Harry was hunched over his knees, arms wrapped round his knees, head resting on his knees, staring sightlessley into the distance. Reeds were waving gently in the wind over at the pond.
"Harry, how come you're so much, well calmer about everything." asked Ron as he lay on the grassy slope.
"Ron, can you keep a secret" asked Harry, looking Ron in the face. 'Ron's eyes are blue… I never noticed' thought Harry.
"Harry, I'm your best mate" said Ron softly. "I come to save you any time."
"Huh" said Harry "frozen ponds."
"Exactly" said Ron, pointing to Harry.
"I Obliviated myself of the nightmares." said Harry, swallowing and looking shifty.
"Bloody HELL!" said Ron, "You could've wiped your mind like Lockheart".
"But I didn't" said Harry softly. In hindsight, maybe it hadn't been his best idea.
Ron sat up and looked silently across the pond at the rushes and reeds on the far side.
"Harry, could you , you know, help Herms" said Ron, and started to cry.
Harry turned to Ron, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm not that good at it Ron, and If she ever found out."
Ron nodded, "Yeah she'd start with a pertificius totalis."
Harry looked away guiltily.
There was a long awkward silence.
"What's with you and Ginny" asked Ron suddenly.
"We're over for good." said Harry, turning to Ron and holding out his palms.
Ron sighed, "It's not like you're not good enough for her or anything" said Ron,
'But I'm not' thought Harry. 'She vomited just talking to me.'
"Just that, well, Ginny's my baby sister and all, but, um," Ron stalled.
"She's a bit of a puker" said Harry bluntly. Why were girls either crying, angry or vomiting?
Ron shrugged. "She's got to keep her weight down for quidditch." Harry blinked. Ron really did have the emotional range of a teaspoon.
Harry sighed "And he's got a bad temper, and your Mum duelled Bellatrix LeStrange to death, cos she was protecting Ginny." 'And what would she do if I'd… got caught shagging her. Not much chance of that now.'
Ron blinked, blinked again and nodded. "When you say it like that Mum does sound a bit scary" he admitted.
"Pot, Kettle, Black" said Harry, then suddenly burst out laughing. His laughter sounded strained.
Ron shrugged and frowned. "What's so funny." asked Ron.
"I'm the head of Potter and Black" said Harry, giggling like a loon.
"Sorry mate, but the Potters aren't historically funny and the Blacks are well, really bad news so what's so funny?" asked Ron.
"It's a muggle saying" said Harry, getting a grip. "The pot calling the kettle black".
Ron sighed contentedly, then his eyes narrowed and his face was transformed into a malicious grin. "Sure thing, Kettle!"
"What" said Harry confused, his giggles stopping.
"I'm gonna call you Kettle from now on " said Ron, starting to laugh.
Much later... they were both still staring over the pond
"Ron" said Harry softly.
"Yeah" said Ron.
"I'm going to need to talk to the goblins." said Harry, with a sigh.
"Why?" asked Ron, curiously.
"They have all my money" said Harry bluntly. Harry still had his old moneybag, but… it'd been a bit empty at the end of sixth year, and it'd had four knuts in it for... all this year.
-==00==-
Breakfast was being eaten at the Burrow. Harry and Ron were eating, Mr Weasley was drinking his tea, Mrs Weasley was sitting, waiting.
The morning Prophet arrived on a brown post owl. Mr Weasley took it, and opened it up.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt has been made interim minister" said Mr Weasley, and grinned.
"You know what this means" he said to Ron and Harry. "My departmental budget isn't going to get cut."
Harry and Ron looked at each other blankly. After a pause; Mr Weasley laughed. "It was a joke" he said.
With that, he got up, put on his robe and hat, grabbed his satchel and Flooed off to the Ministry.
Mrs Weasley looked at Harry and sighed. "Harry" she said.
"Er yes" said Harry.
"Well, it's just that since you've um, broken things off with Ginerva" she continued.
"Yeah" said Harry, going a bit pink.
"Maybe you should go to Grimmauld place, you know" she said apologetically.
Harry nodded. If there was one thing Harry knew, it was what not being wanted around felt like.
-==00==-
Harry was standing next to the fireplace with his old backpack. Ron was standing around, fidgeting with knick-knacks.
Hermione was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, moping.
"Oh well I'm off to Grimmauld place" said Harry. "You guys are welcome to visit any time" He said casually, belied by his expression of total loss.
He threw a pinch of Foo powder in the fireplace and left in a green flash.
The backpack sat accusingly forgotten next to the fireplace.
-==00==-
Night time, Inside a stone barn, lit by flickering candles on candlesticks around the room.
There were wooden stalls built around the sides of the barn.
The stone floor in the centre of the barn had been cleared off and a chalk circle had been drawn. Around the circles more lines and curves, runic passages were marked.
Outside the circle, in tatty workaday robes stood a trim, blond, middle-aged witch with dark eyes. She was holding her wand out.
"Now remember dear, when the circle changes colour, start the second chant. Not before."
Inside the circle, a young blond woman, was sitting in the centre of the pattern, stark naked. She's covered in runic inscriptions in some kind of dark brown ink. She's clearly cold, she's holding an athame (sacrifical knife) in her right hand. Her left arm seems to be the focus of many of the inscriptions; they trail away from an ugly blotchy scar, like a tattoo that's somehow lost all its ink on the inside of her left forearm. She's hunched, shivering. She could be described unkindly as a bit podgy.
"Yes Mother, I remember. Does it have to be lambs?" asked the daughter, looking over at the stalls, where bleating can be heard.
"Would you rather we used one or two of your favourite horses?" asked the mother stiffly.
The daughter sighed.
"Ready Dear?" asked the mother, in a calming tone.
"Yes Mother" said the younger woman, and she swallowed.
"Remember dear, this is for your own good. You can't come out to society with one of those scars." said the older Witch. "What would people think, and you could lose a little weight"
The older woman turned and waved her wand, "levicorpus" she cast. A young lamb floated up from one of the stalls, bleating. The lamb, all white woolly socks and bleating, floated over and arrived inside the circle. It hovered above the young woman, bleating and confused.
With a look of disgust, the young woman reaches above herself and gingerly cut the lamb's throat. The blood drips down onto her. She shuddered.
When the flow of blood slows, the older witch floated another lamb over and dropped the first lamb in the corner of the barn.
The grisly sacrifice continued until a multitude of dead lambs lay in the corner and the young woman was bathed in blood. The area of the circle fills with blood as the ritual continues.
The blood filled the circle, bounded strangely by the chalk lines.
The ritual continued. Grisly death after death.
With a final, jagged cut of the bloody athame the last lamb was sacrificed by the blood-covered woman. She rested briefly, panting, looking ill, cold and covered in blood.
The young woman sat in the pool of blood, covered in blood herself. She took the athame, raises it into the air and began to chant.
After a while, the white chalk markings suddenly turned to brownish-bloody stains.
"Now" said the older woman.
The younger woman intones some more words. The pool of blood began to shrink.
The young woman cried out in pain, and the runes marked on her body flare into magical blue light. The light spirals around her, running along the inscriptions to the scar, which crackles with blue, and slowly; accompanied by screams of terrible pain, the scarring goes away; leaving her forearm smooth and pale. The magical light tightens, pulling into her skin all over, like ropes of blue-white light. There might have been the smell of burning. She screamed again, a loud, terrible scream, of someone in agony, and the light spread across her body, and she started to shake. Her body melted, a bit like candlewax and shrank; her arms, leg and belly thinning. The magical light stops flaring over her body and the girl collapses in a heap, unconscious.
After waiting for several long minutes, the older woman approached the circle and kicked a break into the chalk circle. There was a loud crack and the room shimmered briefly.
The older woman now rushes to the younger, there is a definite family resemblance, and picked the unconscious woman's head up off the floor "Oh darling" she cried. She lovingly cleaned the unconscious young woman and summoned a robe where it had been folded over the stall wall with a quick "Accio robe". And there was no evidence dear her poor, dear Daphne had ever had that horrible tattoo. Being a size six probably wouldn't hurt either.
-==0==-