Hello hello lovelies!
Ginny's arrival causes quite the stir, and I had so much fun exploring all the rippling effects her presence has caused.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Friday, September 28th, 1979
Potter Manor
Harry runs a tired hand down the side of his face, jostling his glasses in the process as he exits Ginny's room for the first time in two days.
I need to change, Harry thinks with a laboured sigh as he crosses the corridor over to his room. The door is ajar. He gently pushes it open and the floorboards creak under his bare feet as he passes over the threshold.
A witch with frosty-blue hair is reclining on his bed, legs crossed over the other. Her hands are raised above her head, a thin paperback with yellowed pages grasped in her hands. She doesn't tear her eyes away from the text nor does she acknowledge his presence.
Harry strides over to her and sits sideways on the bed, one hand pressing into the mattress on the other side of her. "What are you reading?"
Emmeline lowers the book onto the front of her white jumper, it's far too big on her and it takes him a second to realise it's his jumper. She's also wearing a pair of his black sweatpants and thick, white, woollen socks. "Who is she, Harry?"
Harry blinks slowly. Emmeline's cheeks are flushed, her nose pink and her eyes are red-rimmed—the undersides are puffy like she's been crying. Harry reaches out to hold her face, but one of her hands shoots up and quickly grips his wrist before he can.
"Who is she?" Emmeline repeats the question.
Harry frowns. "I thought Hermione told everyone—"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Harry Potter. Who is she to you?"
Harry heaves out a sigh. "She's Ron's sister and one of my best mates... "
Emmeline's eyes narrow, and she squeezes his wrist once. A silent command to keep going.
"We dated for a brief period during my sixth year. Then the war got really bad and we ended things."
"And?"
"And we discussed getting back together a couple weeks before I left, but we hadn't come to a decision," Harry says with a deep frown.
Emmeline throws his hand back at him, makes an indignant huff and goes back to reading her book.
Harry drops his hand awkwardly into his lap. "Em. Can you put down the book for a minute and look at me?"
"Why should I?" She asks primly.
"We need to talk about this. I don't want you to misunderstand—"
Emmeline snapped the book down and her words are rapid and furious. "You've spent the past two days glued to your ex's bedside and you don't want me to misunderstand? I think you've made things pretty clear."
"Emmeline," Harry says sharply, irritation mounting inside him.
"Don't take that tone with me, Harry," Emmeline warns, sitting up abruptly and forcing him to shift backwards. She discards her book to the side, and she pokes a finger into his chest.
"Ginny and I were mainly talking about getting back together because it was what everyone else wanted for us. It wasn't because we were head-over-heels in love with each other."
"Did you ever love her?" Emmeline asks, her voice high-pitched yet tiny. She is staring directly into his eyes, the hazel trapping him. He can't avert his gaze even if he wants to.
"Yes," Harry says softly. He can't lie. Ginny Weasley was his first love, the first person who had ignited desire and passion and love in him.
Harry once thought he'd been in love with Cho, but he was wrong, he had been infatuated with her. They hadn't been right for each other no matter how you looked at it.
His relationship with Ginny ended because of extenuating circumstances. They were just figuring out whether they should give it another go before they'd been transported to this dimension; if they deserved to explore that option since everyone kept mentioning how good they were for one another. Harry hadn't bothered to linger on what could have been with him and Ginny, since he was convinced they would never see each other again.
Ginny was his first love, but as he looks inwardly he can't find anything but platonic inclinations towards the witch. She will always hold a special place in his heart, but above all else, she's one of his best mates, she's family.
Harry wonders if they would be having this row if they'd put an official label on their relationship. He regrets that they haven't defined it yet. Then perhaps Emmeline would feel more secure and not be questioning his devotion to her. He wonders what spiraling tunnels her mind has wandered down in the past two days.
(Harry has known that he loves her for a while but he hadn't plucked up the courage to confess his feelings to her.)
"But I'm not in love with her now, Emmy," Harry says. He wants to wrap Emmeline in his arms and kiss away the tears streaming down her cheeks, but something tells him that she will hex him if he tries.
"I need some space," Emmeline rasps. She holds her head in her hands, her fingers diving into her dyed hair. Harry's lips parted.
"I'm not in love with her, because I'm—"
"And if you dare tell me that you love me for the first time now, Harry Potter…I will hex you until you turn blue and you regret ever laying eyes on me," Emmeline hisses. She isn't looking at him. Harry nods soberly and quietly gets up. He heads for the door and pauses on the cusp of the room.
"I haven't been at her bedside for two days because I am hopelessly in love with her. I swear on my magic. She is one of my best mates and we just got her back…I was scared that we were going to lose her again," Harry says.
Emmeline looks up, words filling her mouth and she is about to respond—feeling a touch of guilt that she'd given into her insecurities and driven a wall between them—but Harry is already gone.
Saturday, September 29th, 1979
Potter Manor
Remus
Ron hasn't left Ginny's room since they'd moved her into it. Alfred had patched her up the best he could, and he visited twice a day to check up on her. According to him, she should be awake by now, but alas, they'd had no such luck.
Harry left yesterday for a brief period, had a row with Emmeline, showered in Ron's room, changed into some of his best mate's clothes (they were a bit big on him) and hadn't made an appearance since.
Hermione gave the rest of the Manor updates on Ginny's condition when they were all gathered for meals, but she never joined them. Mipsy had been preparing separate meals for the three of them and apparating directly into Ginny's room with trays of food. Remus has spent less than an hour with his witch over the past three days.
Ginny's presence has thrown off the carefully crafted rhythm they'd just achieved before she arrived. There is a heavy layer of discomfort hanging over their heads whenever she is mentioned as Lucius's ominous words ring clearly in their minds.
Remus sighs and stares across the table at a despondent Emmeline Vance. She refuses to talk about her row with Harry, but even her hair has lost its lustre and it greatly saddens Remus. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Ginny is somehow at the root of it.
Sunday, September 30th, 1979
Potter Manor
Hermione Granger searches the entire Manor before she finds her mate. Remus is in the vast, extensive library perusing the single book they'd uncovered that discusses horcruxes. (She should have looked here sooner.)
The book is laid out on the table in front of him, there is an inkpot with his favourite quill—a dark grey Hippogriff feather with a silver tip—resting inside, and various pieces of parchment with his haphazard notes scrawled across them on his right-hand side. Remus is rubbing the pads of his ink-stained fingers together. Remus's brow is knitted together in ponderation.
Hermione clears her throat and Remus's head snaps up. "What are you doing?"
"I couldn't stand sitting around doing nothing, so I was trying to see if I could learn anything new about horcruxes." Remus heaves out a sigh. He half-stands, angles his chair towards her and sits down with a huff. He reclines back, resting his forearm across the arm of the chair, and he laps his ankles.
"Any luck?" Hermione asks as she approaches. She is wearing blue jeans, a pastel yellow and royal blue striped jumper and black socks. Her hair is damp and the scent of caramel and vanilla surrounds him—it grounds him, making him feel more at ease than he has in days.
"Not really," Remus grimaces, rubbing his temples in mild frustration. Hermione places her hands on the chair's arms. Remus glances up at her, brow rising in silent question. She leverages her weight onto the chair's arms as she swings her legs onto either side of him and straddles his lap.
Hermione's hands fall onto his chest and she plays with the rounded collar of his black, long-sleeved t-shirt. "Hi."
"Hi," Remus says, he moved his hands under the hem of her jumper and rests them on her hips. He needs skin-to-skin contact after being away from her for days.
The contact placates Moony, who has been restless in her absence. There's over a week until the next Full Moon, but Moony has been fully alert, relentlessly pacing back-and-forth in Remus's inner world, demanding they be reunited with their mate.
Hermione's hands slide upwards and around his neck before she lies flat against him, burying her face into the side of his neck and deeply inhaling his scent.
"Miss me?" Remus chuckles. Hermione nods.
"Immensely. Sorry I haven't been around the past few days…it's just—"
"You don't have to explain anything to me, love. She's your friend and she was gravely injured. Besides, you thought you were never going to see her again."
"She is one of the best people I've ever met," Hermione whispers.
"I saw glimpses of her in the memories you showed us, but why don't you tell me a bit about her?" Remus prompts. Some of her curls are tickling the side of his face. He closes his eyes and soaks in her softness, her scent, everything. It's the quiet moments where he simply gets to hold her that he cherishes the most.
"It's been so long since then…" Hermione says. It was when they first arrived in their dimension; it felt like an age has passed since then. Hermione clears her throat. "Where to begin? She's stubborn."
"Like someone else I know." A ghost of a smile touches his lips and Hermione nudges him playfully with her nose.
"Maybe. There's this—this fire in Ginny. She's also one of the strongest witches I've met, especially for her age. Plus, she has a wicked sense of humour."
"She sounds delightful," Remus says.
"She is. Even more so if she would wake up," Hermione says, her voice breaking at the end. Remus's hands glide up her bare back and wrap around her, hugging her tightly to him.
"She will, my love."
Tuesday, October 2nd, 1979
Potter Manor
Ginny's head is fuzzy, and her eyes are crusted together. She lets out a soft groan and forcefully pries her eyes open. Everything is so starkly bright and white. It takes several moments for her eyes to adjust and for things to come into focus.
She attempts to wiggle her fingers, but realises a calloused hand is gripping hers. Ginny tucks her chin to her chest with a bit of effort and is greeted by Harry, Ron and Hermione.
"Am I dead?" Ginny asks, her throat scratchy and dry; her tongue is heavy. Ginny smacks her lips together. Ron rises from his seat and with elation splayed across his features he gets closer to her.
Ron presses his forehead to hers. "No, you're not dead, Gin," Ron replies. He tenderly strokes her hair, and her cheeks are damp. He is crying, his tears dripping onto her face.
What a melt, Ginny thinks fondly.
"Are you real?" Ginny asks. She must be dead. They are. At least, that's what everyone keeps telling her. They had actively looked for the Golden Trio for months, but eventually everyone lost hope; they gave up.
Everyone's so tired, so used to death and despair. They started to ignore her whenever she points out that there was too much inexplicable magical residue in Grimmauld Place for them to simply be dead. Hermione, Ron and Harry are alive, she would insist, but they didn't want to hear it. They are trying to heal their war-torn hearts; trying to stitch themselves back together.
"Yes," Harry says. Ginny's eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles at him. Emotion overtakes her, and before she can stop herself, a steady stream of tears is leaking out of her.
"You're not dead."
"No, we aren't," Hermione says. She is sitting at the foot of the bed and she leans forward to squeeze Ginny's covered foot.
"Then could you be a dear, and grab me some water?" Ginny croaks. Ron laughs lightly, but he nods and her smile grows.
Ginny doesn't know where she is, or what's going on, but for now, she can't find it in herself to care. Ron, Harry and Hermione aren't dead, and that's all that matters.
Ginny is sitting up and talking within the hour. Her muscled arms makes the fabric of Lily's jumper pull tightly across the circumference of her biceps, but otherwise the girls are the exact same size. One of Ginnys first requests was for thicker clothes—not just a flimsy nightgown—so she can eventually actually leave the warmth of her bed.
(Hermione had teased her and said most of Ginny's wardrobe is rife with 'flimsy', tight-fitting clothes. Ginny told her to eat a bag of cocks. Harry sputtered on his pumpkin juice and Ron laughed uproariously.)
Ginny's arm is healed, but a puckered, silvery-pink scar remains.
The temperature has dropped significantly over the past few days, and they'd all begun to use heating Charms whenever they ventured outdoors.
Harry and Hermione are sitting on the bed with Ginny, trying to explain what's going on without overwhelming her with all the details. Ron decided to let them be in charge of that, they always had more tact than he did.
Ron is sitting in the window seat a few feet away from Ginny's bed. His back against the wall, one leg hanging down, the other halfway drawn to his chest. His fingers are laced together and resting on his lower abdomen.
Ron catches a blur of movement in his peripherals. He rolls his head to the side and curiously peers out the window.
Regulus Black. The man has paired a black duffle coat—with white fastenings—with a pale blue, cashmere jumper, and black and white pinstripe trousers. Ron notes affectionately that his socks match his jumper.
Regulus is rocking back and forth in his black, dragonhide shoes, hands up to his mouth, blowing into them. It's so cold that you can see his breath. Regulus is staring directly at him in that quiet, intense way that makes Ron's stomach flip-flop.
Ron's vision blurs and he reminisces on the interaction they had yesterday.
Ron runs his hands through his cropped hair and releases a hefty sigh as he exits Ginny's room. He hasn't left her side since they found her. Hermione had to drag him to the ensuite to get showered off and changed on the first day; to wash Ginny's blood off him.
I need to go for a walk or something before I lose it, Ron thinks. Ginny isn't waking up, nor has she made any indication that she is going to anytime soon.
It would be just my luck if she wakes up when I'm gone, Ron snorts. Part of him hopes that's true, that she'll be up and talking by the time he gets back.
Ron doesn't want to be around the others right now, doesn't want to endure their questions or take on their sympathies. So, he opts to brace the outdoors. His jumper is a bit too thin, but a hefty heating charm does the trick. He treks across the yard, hands in his trouser pockets and heads for the Orchards.
He is wandering around aimlessly, taking in the vibrant colours of Fall, with a crisp breeze that rips several leaves from their branches. They spiral downward until they reach the ground.
Ron idly kicks a few leaves around before halting beside one of the large trees. He tilts his head skyward and looks through the thinning trees at the grey-blue sky. A branch breaks behind him.
Ron stiffens, a hand instinctively wrapping around his wand in his pocket, and he slowly turns around. Logically, he knows he is safe at Potter Manor, but old habits die hard. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he sees Regulus.
"Reggie?"
(Only Sirius and Ron are 'allowed' to use the nickname and Ron tries not to linger on the significance of that. Well, they are the only ones that don't earn muttered curses and a dark glare whenever they use it.)
"You left her room," Regulus says reticently. Ron has to strain his ears to hear him. Regulus is next to a tree of his own, and he's placed a hand against its trunk. His fingers tap out an uneven rhythm as he meets Ron's gaze.
"Did you follow me out here?" Ron asks, his breath catches in his throat and his chest tightens. It may seem obvious, but when dealing with Regulus, one should never make blanket assumptions.
Regulus shrugs, a non-answer, but he moves closer to Ron. It's then that Ron notices how short Regulus's hair is. He'd been growing it out, and he'd been able to tie it back into a short ponytail. He's chopped it off and there is only a couple inches of hair left on his head; it's neatly combed back.
"I liked the ponytail, but I like this better."
Regulus's face flushes at the comment, but again, he stays silent. Ron huffs out a sigh.
He should commend Regulus for actively seeking him out, but simultaneously he wants to shake the man until he actually says something. Perhaps it's the heightened emotional state that he's been in for days, or the frustration at his lack of proper communication with Regulus, but Ron finds his irritation growing by the second. He tries not to let it show on his face.
Regulus doesn't seem to notice. "Is she awake yet? Is that why you left?" Regulus asks, making the movement to tuck hair behind his ears, but his fingers catch on air.
"No," Ron says sombrely. Regulus nods uncomfortably and a turgid silence is pulled taut between them. Ron drinks in a steadying breath, swallows his pride and his fear of rejection.
"What are we doing, Regulus?"
Regulus stiffens, his face pinched. "I don't think I know what you mean."
"I think you do," Ron says ardently. "I like you, Regulus. I don't know if you like me too, or if you're even interested in men, but this weird dance we're doing has been going on long enough."
Regulus scoffs. "You lions never mince words, do you? Always blunt and straight to the point." The pink on his cheeks deepens from a dusty pink to a splotchy scarlet.
Later, Ron would blame his lack of sleep and frustration on his subsequent actions. Ron fixes Regulus with an icy stare, and frost bites at his words when he speaks. "I doubt we would make any headway otherwise. In any case, I won't repeat myself. I'm not going to chase after you like a lovesick puppy. I want you, in every way conceivable. My magic practically sings whenever I'm close to you, Reggie."
Regulus inadvertently takes a tiny step backwards, but it speaks volumes and hurt punctures Ron's heart.
Ron lets out a harsh laugh. "But that doesn't mean I am going to wait around forever."
Another set of words are on the tip of Ron's tongue but he won't permit himself to say them, won't allow himself to become that vulnerable, won't bear his soul to a man that currently won't meet his gaze.
"Weasley," Regulus chokes out, a pained grimace on his features.
"When you figure out what you want, let me know," Ron says softly. With ice shredding his heart he turns around and walks away.
Hesitantly, Regulus raises a hand in greeting, and Ron blinks harshly as he is brought back to the present.
Ron is surprised by the gesture considering their conversation the prior day. He doesn't have the energy to dissect what Regulus means by it, so he simply inclines his head at the man. If Ron didn't know better, he would swear that Regulus looks disappointed.
Any attempts at easing Ginny into things are shattered the moment that James saunters into the room. There's a pleasant smile on his face as he announces that it's lunch time. He'd done so every day thus far, but he hadn't been successful in getting them to leave Ginny's side.
Ron is shaking his head and James frowns at the motion. In a comically slow fashion he turns to look at Ginny and his eyes blow wide in delighted surprise. "Blimey! Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!"
Ron barks out a laugh and faces James. "Sleeping Beauty?"
"Gin is more like Maleficent in her dragon form," Harry says with a teasing smile. Ron frowns when Hermione nods in affirmation.
Must be a Muggle reference, Ron thinks.
James winces. "Sorry, force-of-habit. It's one of Padfoot's nicknames for her."
"One of…?" Hermione asks, rolling her eyes. She squeezes Ginny's leg in comfort, but halts when she spots the contorting expressions on Ginny's face.
Heady disbelief, mirth and terror are battling on his sister's face. Her lips are twitching upwards whilst her brow is pulling together. Ron wonders if they've broken her.
"Merlin's sweaty bollocks. I might not be dead, but I know I must be fucking mental…" Ginny's head turns to Harry with such haste that Ron swears he hears her neck crack. "Is that…?"
"James Galieus Potter, at your service," James grins. He bows deeply at the waist, one hand behind his back, the other resting on his chest. When he straightens out, Ginny is openly gaping at him. He winks at her.
Ginny falls back against her pillows with a thump, and turns to her friends. "Please, tell me you see him too."
James is off-put by the insinuation that he is a figment of Ginny's imagination, and he pouts sullenly. "Of course they can see me."
"We haven't gotten around to the inter-dimensional time travel part," Ron says sheepishly, scratching behind his ear.
"Shouldn't you have started with that?" James asks, hands on his hips.
"Your input is greatly appreciated," Hermione drawls. She gets up from the bed and strolls over to James. She places her hands on his biceps. "May you please ask Mipsy or Kreacher to heat up some of the chicken soup from yesterday with a buttered roll or two for Ginny?"
"I take it you lot are eating here as well?" James asks.
"That would be lovely," Hermione agrees. Then, as an afterthought she adds, "and tell Mipsy not to worry about cleaning up. I'll bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen later."
"Good luck convincing her of that, but I'll relay the message anyway," James says. He leans down to bump his forehead against Hermione's.
"Go and see Moony later, he's been sulking for days," James instructs her.
"I saw him yesterday," Hermione says defensively.
James smirks. "I know. He reeked of your scent all day and he was smiling like he belongs in the loony bin."
"You boys are insufferable," Hermione groans, lightly shoving James. Ron hones in on their bond and senses that Hermione is tickled pink at James's statement.
Chuckling, James pats her head before retreating. When he reaches the door, he swivels around and stares at Ginny, a crooked grin in place. "Welcome to Potter Manor, Little Red." And then he's gone.
Ginny lets a moan escape her as Hermione helps lower her into the piping hot water. Hermione drew her a bath with lavender and mint oils like Ginny requested, and she'd gotten the temperature just right. Not scalding, but close enough.
Hermione sits on the cool, tiled floor beside the white, clawfoot tub. Ginny marvels at the intricate details on the copper feet. She is soaking in every detail around her, the world seems made anew and she is a newborn fawn trying to take it all in.
"How is everyone?" Hermione eventually asks, but she's staring at a point on the nearby wall, her eyes glazed over. As if she is afraid to look Ginny in the eye, or perhaps she's afraid of the answer.
"Mum's heartbroken. She lost Fred, but her youngest son disappears as well? Plus you and Harry—she considers you a part of our family. She hasn't been doing well, and Dad spends most of his time trying to comfort her and make her smile again," Ginny says dully. She is trying not to imagine what her disappearance is going to do to her Mother.
"I don't have any idea how we would even get back…" Hermione says morosely. Her unspoken words linger between them.
Hermione doesn't wish to know, she wants to stay here. This is her new home. Ginny is beginning to see how tempting that idea is; a chance to start over. Ensure that what happened in their dimension never happens here.
Ginny clears her throat, and submerges everything but her face in the water. "I don't know what Mum and Dad will do now that they've lost three children," Ginny confesses. The water makes her words warble and echo against her eardrums.
Hermione dips her fingers in the water and swirls her fingers around thoughtfully. She stares at her hand. Ginny rises so that her head, shoulders and knees poke up out of the water. She draws her legs to her chest, and rests her chin on her knees. "We could try and find a way to send you back."
A pang echoes through Ginny's heart. She doesn't know if she wants to go back, or if she wants to stay. If anything, she wishes there was a way to contact her parents and tell them that they are okay. But then guilt cripples her, how would they feel to know she had a way to come home and that she refused to do so.
So she deflects the conversation to a safer topic. "Ron mentioned that Mum is pregnant with another set of twins?"
Ginny slumps against the side of the tub and she reaches out to grip Hermione's fingers.
"We found out the other day. There were bets on whether she is having another boy or a girl, but now there have been re-negotiations with the new information. Sirius has hedged his bets on a boy and a girl," Hermione chuckles.
"Sirius is alive," Ginny says. There was a time where she wished with all her might that he would be, just to alleviate some of Harry's sadness. At one point the boy thought he was cursed, that everyone he loved, died. It was one of the reasons why they broke up right before Bill and Fleur's wedding ceremony.
"He is. But he hasn't gone through losing his best mate and the horrors of Azkaban…" Hermione says.
Ginny nods, "and how have you all been? Harry? Ron? Yourself?"
And so Hermione fills her in on some of the finer details.
Hermione and Remus aren't just dating, they are mates and they have sealed their mate bond. It means Hermione won't ever leave this dimension, even if she is given the opportunity to.
Ron and Regulus Black are dancing around each other. Ginny smiles at that. She knows her brother can sometimes be obtuse when it comes to others' romantic inclinations towards him, but she has faith he'll get there eventually.
Hermione pauses before she tells Ginny about Harry and Emmeline Vance. Ginny supposes Hermione is trying to spare her feelings, but the news doesn't break her heart or upset her in the slightest.
The fact that she takes the news so well doesn't surprise her. Unlike most of the others, she was convinced the Golden Trio were still alive, but she wasn't harbouring ideas of a grandiose reunion with Harry when she saw him again. That they would run into each other's arms, fall madly in love, and have a litany of children.
Hermione speaks about what they've gone through, who they've lost, the horcruxes they've destroyed, amongst a myriad of other details. She speaks until Ginny's bath water has gone cold and her teeth begin to chatter.
Afterwards, Ginny finds herself alone in her room—she'd asked to be on her own for a few hours so she could sort through all the information they'd offloaded onto her—bundled in a warm, black, knitted blanket sitting in her window seat gazing down at the grounds. Night has fallen, but the moon's light is growing stronger as the Full Moon approaches; it's only a few days away.
Ginny's window is ajar and the night air kisses her cheeks, pinching them with its cold fingers. Ginny frowns as a large, black mass bounds away from the house and heads towards the Orchards. She recognises that form. Sirius, Ginny thinks.
The massive Grim stops at the edge of the Orchards and his head turns in her direction. She can't see him clearly with the distance in between them, but she swears he dips his head in deference before he disappears amongst the trees.
Wednesday, October 3rd, 1979
Potter Manor
We really have to change it so he cannot pass through the wards, Dorea thinks as she and Hermione march through Potter Manor and head for the front door. The pair of them had been practising some simple elemental magic in Dorea's study when she became aware of someone crossing the Manor's wards.
Dorea throws open the front door, her eyes narrow into slits as she appraises Albus Dumbledore. Lilac coloured robes, half-moon spectacles, curved, midnight-black shoes, and an infuriatingly smug smile. She wants to wipe it off his face, but she remains where she is.
Hermione lets out a warning snarl. Dorea hides her joy behind her hand, pretending to scratch her nose.
"Lovely weather we're having," Dumbledore greets, gesturing towards the dark grey skies that roar and rumble with thunder. Rain is pelting the ground heavily.
"Enough with the small talk. What do you want?" Dorea asks, twirling her wand between her fingers. A promise to deal with him swiftly should he misbehave.
"I have information that you may want, but I wish to trade for it."
"Bollocks," Hermione bares her teeth at the man. Quiet pride slips through Dorea's veins as she places a hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"I know where the ring you seek is."
"No, you don't," Hermione blurts. Dorea's brow furrows. He must be talking about the Gaunt family ring, she muses.
"I do. I believe it once belonged to a certain wizarding family. The Gaunts," Dumbledore smiles wistfully, waving his hand around in a dreamy fashion. Dorea takes note of the hard, sharp gaze in his eyes. Hermione pales and Dumbledore's smile grows, all the confirmation he needs.
"What do you want?"
"There have been rumours of a sizable burst of magic that occurred in Wiltshire several days ago. I thought you might know more about it."
Dorea snorts. "We might. Anything else?"
"I wish to speak to Regulus Black."
