HARROWED
remembrance . misercordiam . net
Tue. 30 July (cont.)
It had been so easy. It was petty, but oh so satisfying. Vex slapped the silvered bowl of water dispelling the scrying spell. The joy of watching Harry Potter see his friend killed in bloody horror was partial payment to all that he had taken. He would never be forgiven, but to see the best of his friends murder that little blood-traitor... that was worth the galleons paid. And now that Vex knew he was sweet on the littlest of the Weasley brood... that would be useful.
It had been so easy.
It had only taken a couple favours and the gullible Ms. Abbott had been steered to exactly the right people. Dolion Fraus was genius. A sadist... obviously. But you had to respect the art of it.
And it wasn't over.
Mr. Potter would receive a note delivered in the quiet of night by a general service owl letting him know that his pain was no accident. It was no misguided tragedy. And maybe, maybe... he would learn his place. Potter was an unfortunate thorn. He and the Granger bitch had ruined everything. All of Vex's carefully laid plans, the long hours and the careful ingratiation. It was all gone in a few minutes. But, still, power was easiest to accumulate in the shadows. And though done strutting an hour upon the stage, there were plenty of strings to pull from behind the curtain.
~ diffindo ~
"Harry, I'm so sorry."
Susan looked at the scene of horror that had unfolded upon the quite grove of trees. This was too much. There's no way.
His eyes turned back to meet hers. They widened in frantic hope.
"Susan! Susan, are you... are you free of her?"
She was never going to be able to explain this.
"Yes, Harry. Lestrange, she..."
But her words failed her. What could she say to this?
He pointed frantically back at the stone altar where Ginny Weasley appeared to be impaled and quite cadaverously pale. This was sick. Only a sick person would do something like this.
"We have to help her, Susan. We can carry her. With your help we can... we can..."
He looked around at his surroundings realizing—Susan was sure—that he had no idea where he was. That was intentional. He was meant to be disoriented.
"Harry. It shouldn't have gone this far."
He climbed up at the head of the altar and propped Ginny's bloody torso on his knees and looped his arms in the crooks of hers.
"Help me! Get her legs."
"Harry, it's okay. It'll be fine. I'm going to fix this."
He looked at her with strange and confused eyes. He pulled and jerked at Ginny and as her form stretched a bulge of blood burst from the incision where the sword emerged from her. Susan felt deeply sick inside. She turned away from the view, but kept talking.
"Stop, Harry. You don't need to worry about... about that thing."
"What?!"
He was in a state of panic—of fight or flight. There was no way she could explain this in a way he was ready to understand. Not while all this gore remained. She turned and spoke instead to the trees.
"Come on! It's enough already! It's too much."
She glanced back at Harry knowing what she said next would make everything worse—at least in the short term. She again turned to shout into the empty air.
"This isn't what we paid you for!"
The trees remained silent. Neither bird nor insect could be heard. The quiet was unnatural.
"Dolion!"
Oh, for fuck's sake. Susan shouted his preferred name with all the sarcasm and contempt it deserved.
"Maestro Fraus!"
Harry got out from under Ginny and slowly walked towards her. His eyes were a wall of suspicion. Did he think her part of a travesty or was his mind catching up from the flood of emotions he'd been subjected to? Was she the enemy? Perhaps polyjuiced or imperiused? He wouldn't have any reason to know.
"Maestro Fraus! You may consider you duties officially discharged. You're done!"
Finally the trees spoke in a mellifluous calm.
"My dear. You have destroyed the denouement. My work is very delicate and cannot be subjected to infringements such as this entirely inappropriate interruption."
Susan stared with eyes of astounded hatred as the trickster —'professional goblin illusionist'—stepped into view from out of thin air. But she took a breath and tempered her rage. Instead she pleaded.
"Please. Stop this. And let everyone go."
Susan watched Harry look around the clearing as all his friends stood up—including Hermione—whose lip bled gently from where he had struck. They were all standing with an eerie stillness, and she realized just how deeply bad an idea this had been. This was a complete disaster.
"My dear, we aren't done yet. You expect me to cancel as grand a performance as this."
"Fuck! Shut it down! I can't look at this any more."
Dolion Fraus slumped his shoulders and sighed.
"Fine."
He began walking around muttering to himself about how humans never appreciated the true arts but appeared—finally—to be complying.
Susan took one more beat and then turned back to Harry. Now the bad part.
"It's fake, Harry. This was all a trick. A tradition that... got out of control."
Upon reflection, Susan decided it rather looked completely under control—the control of a fucking psychopath. She saw Harry look back at Ginny's body on the altar.
"Then..."
"She's alive. This is just... magic."
As if on cue, Ginny's form began to gently luminesce and translucify.
"And them?"
She followed Harry's gaze to his other friends.
"Harder to explain... but they are all fine, too."
He stared at her for a full ten seconds—she counted.
~ diffindo ~
"I don't believe you. I want to, but it's easier to believe that I've lost my bloody mind then to think that you all..."
He looked down and turned back to the altar. Susan was still trying to trick him—delay him. The chains that had held her had gone as lifeless as her body. He snapped them easily. He grasped the sword and yanked it from Ginny. Her blood gurgled forth from the wound. He moved lift her into a fireman's carry.
"I have to get help. Stay out of my way or I'll..."
He glanced at Hermione whose cheek was also starting to bruise. He would do just about anything to get to help right now.
"... Just step back."
"Harry, please wait. I'm sorry, but... that's not Ginny."
He walked past her and turned back one last time. Lies. It was all lies. It was all lies or—if she was telling the truth—then it was still all lies. With Ginny over his shoulder, he could just see the back of his hand side-along. The words burned his heart much as they had his hand.
This was becoming a bit of theme for him.
"I hope you are all bastards and that Ginny is alive..."
He fumed as a look of eager relief appeared on Susan's face. She was looking past him.
~ diffindo ~
Shit. Shit-shit-shit. Ginny ran flat out. She was fast, but distances stretched along the forest floor. It wasn't supposed to be like this. What must he be thinking?
She could see the clearing. She saw Susan giving the "maestro" a full face of it. She saw Harry stepping back up to the altar. She hadn't wanted to be near for this. She'd known the basic plan. It had gratified her greatly at the time to be selected as the one Harry would most hate to lose, but...
It was really, really wrong. Why hadn't anyone said something?
She hit the edge of the clearing and briefly stopped. He had picked up her dead body. Her own dead and bloodied body. Ginny felt a cluster of shivers run down her spine at the distinct wrongness of seeing herself gored and exsanguinated.
Disgusted as she was she pressed on. Harry stepped past Susan and looked back to her. Ginny approached quickly. He needed to see her. It wouldn't bring back the trust that had been lost, but it would stem the bleeding.
And there was so much blood.
She was about three feet away when he turned abruptly, unaware of her presence. He didn't expect to see her there. Ginny shook herself. Of course he didn't; he was already carrying her.
He cocked his head to one side as if puzzled at the incongruous juxtaposition of two Ginny's.
Completely oblivious to the damage he had done. The slight figured Dolion Fraus sauntered by and sighed as he waved a finite incantatem over Harry. And finally... mercifully... the destroyed form of Ginny's doppelgänger disintegrated into the dust of the forest. The blood evaporated like water—leaving no trace. And then Fraus was gone almost dancing around his stage.
Harry looked slowly down at his empty arms. He shuddered and shook. And Ginny didn't know if was from the sudden cessation of physical exertion or if it was an emotional break. Probably both, though. She didn't fault him this weakness. It was beyond all expectation.
She took small steps towards Harry—like a caretaker approaching a wounded animal. Susan nodded encouragingly. As she closed the gap between them, she took Harry's hand in hers and placed it against her cheek. She drank in the warmth of his hand knowing that he too could feel the life in her skin.
Unbidden he brought his other hand up the her left cheek and gently stroked the skin down to her chin. His eyes followed his hand and he gently lifted her face up so she had to look in his eyes.
She didn't move. She didn't trust his gentle touch.
He leaned only slightly down and touched his lips to hers. His right hand slipped from hers down and around her waist and he pulled her too him. She felt his chest press against her.
Ginny didn't know what to feel. Mostly... she felt shame. This wasn't love and it wasn't the beginning of anything. It was almost certainly the end of any relationship they could have had. It served instead as mere proof of life. It was Harry's way of convincing himself—once and for all—that she wasn't dead.
She knew him well enough to know the angry barrage that would now follow.
She felt it coming as he loosened his grip on her midsection and finally broke their embrace of lips.
He looked at her.
And she waited.
And then he broke. At first it was an ephemeral sob—a ragged gasp of breath—and then he settled into a steady weeping. He didn't say a word.
And Ginny then knew it was worse.
~ diffindo ~
Fleur Delacour was still dusting herself off when she got back to the copse where Bill had dropped her and Harry off. She remembered her own harrowings as a youth, and he deserved to have that ritual of childhood. Fleur still felt a debt of sorts to Harry. It wasn't a debt, per se, but a gratitude. He had treated her like a human being when no one else had. The teachers, the press, the boys... even her gaggle of giggling filles. They all followed her around like some kind of paragon of... what?
Harry had been kind to her in that way.
As she got back to the car, she was relieved to see that Bill was up and waiting for her in the drivers seat.
"'Ello, dearest. I see you are no worse for wear."
Bill smiled brightly at her, but then rubbed his eyes.
"Did it need to be so bright?"
"You are lucky I did not actually scramble those synapses of yours."
Bill stood up and met her halfway to the car. He pulled her into an embrace.
"Don't worry. You scramble my brain plenty without any magic at all."
Fleur felt warm and safe and tingly in his arms.
"You're quite the stunning actress, did you know?"
"Oh... don't stop now. Flattery will get you... anything... you... want."
Bill's eyes briefly got greedy in that way that told Fleur just how much he desired her and then his gaze became distant.
"I'm sorry... I have to go into to work."
"But you promised!"
"They called while you were leading Harry to his fate."
Fleur made a grasp at controlling her anger. She didn't quite get there, so she ended up with simmering resentment. He always chose his work.
"Fine."
"Oh, don't be that way. I'll see you tonight."
"Will I? You go off to your important job and I'm supposed to just accept that you're throwing yourself into danger everyday."
Fleur saw his eyes harden. He was readying for a fight. That was fine with her. If he was fighting with her, then he wasn't ignoring her.
"I must work. I don't do it because I want to. I do it because it pays well and I'm good at it. I'm good at it so I'm not really in much danger. Unless you think me incompetent. Now get in the car, I'll drop you off at home before I leave."
She was not going to let him give her commands when he was being so rude.
"Just go! I'll make my own way."
And Fleur disapparated.
~ diffindo ~
Neville knew the minute that he agreed to be bound—temporarily of course—to Dolion Fraus that it had been a tragically bad idea. He had been for weeks prior pursued by persistent anxiety and so he hadn't trusted his instincts.
And Hannah had been so eager.
The moment he released his will to that man, he felt a primal panic build within him. He couldn't be out of control again. He was afraid. Neville found that he was always full of fear now. Not like the timid undeserved nervousness that had exemplified his personality for years prior. No, this was a different experience altogether. His one balm and anchor was Hannah. She was cautious and kind and gentle and desired. He couldn't bring himself to say no to her.
With this running through his head, Neville glanced tentatively at the others gathered around the Weasley kitchen table. They were meeting here to give Harry some badly needed space. Susan had taken him back to the Bones residence to rest and recover. She'd been right—the only one to out-right refuse Hannah and not take part in Fraus's play.
Despite feeling like days had passed, it was scantly into the afternoon and the sun was just starting to creep in through the west-facing windows. The room was hot and stifled. There was no breeze today.
No one had spoken except for short greetings and hospitality requests. And since Hermione had just arrived from upstairs, there were no more pleasantries to fill the miserable space. Neville felt little courage, but he knew how to start this gathering.
"So we fucked up bad, didn't we?"
Hermione looked back at him with silent, red eyes. She had taken her unique role in Harry's harrowing hard. Ginny had spent several minutes trying to calm her early before coming down the stairs and just shaking her head.
"Yeah."
Her response met quiet agreement from all gathered. Except Hannah. More than anyone else, Hannah felt horridly. She hadn't said a word or met anyone in the eye—even Neville. And he had tried to connect with her. She had refused and, honestly, he was relived. He resented her dragging him into this. It was unwise and he could not understand how had she let this psycho take control of them.
Ginny was the least forgiving.
"How could you let this happen?"
She must feel some guilt herself, but Neville couldn't see it. He couldn't detect anything other than accusation. She glared at Hannah. Hannah glared at the table. The table stared back unmoved. She felt bad enough about this.
"Look, we all screwed this up. We all knew the plan, and everyone agreed."
He stole Ginny's glare and gently dared her to respond.
She scoffed.
"Are you serious? We agreed to have a harrowing. Not torture. There's a big gap between what we agreed to and what was done."
Hermione looked back up to Ginny and then back to Neville. Hannah did not lift her eyes.
"—what he made us do. Did you even interview this man?"
Neville wasn't sure of the answer, but he wasn't going to let Ginny displace her guilt on Hannah.
"Did any of you? Before you turned your will over to him, did any of you? That's our fault. That's my fault. We can go around and place blame all day, but it's not going to fix anything."
Ginny's eyes narrowed.
"Then what exactly do you propose we do?"
Neville stopped and thought about it. He thought about it hard. Harry was a very good friend to Neville and he didn't want to lose that.
"I don't—"
But Hannah interrupted him.
"We do nothing."
She instantly had everyone's attention.
"We can't do anything to help right now. An apology would be far too little. We can't undo it. So we're going to sit with it and see what he wants to do. I can't speak for any of you, but if he asks... I'll tell him—the truth—whatever he wants to know. But if he doesn't want that or if he gets his answers and is done with it... then that's that."
Her eyes never left the table, but they had more iron to them now. Hannah had decided to bear her guilt and Neville felt proud. His respect for her began to grow again.
Looking again around the circle of friends, Neville saw the sentiment mostly echoed. Ginny still looked angry, but she stayed silent. Only Hermione was left irresolute. Tears streaked her eyes. She also didn't speak, but she didn't need to. She feared losing Harry. After all that had happened with Ron stuck in the hospital and Ginny clearly angry with her, Hermione couldn't be cut adrift.
"He'll forgive you, Hermione."
She just shook her head and excused herself from the table and retreated back up the back stairs.
~ diffindo ~
Susan quietly closed the door to Harry's room. He'd been distraught since they'd left the scene. He'd quieted, but he hadn't said a word until she turned to leave him at his bedroom door.
'Don't go.'
He'd said that with such panic in his voice that the pain Susan felt for him flooded over her pleasure at him asking her to stay. She'd followed him into his bedroom and pulled down the covers for him. He'd kicked off his shoes and laid down still in his clothes. He rolled onto his side with his back facing Susan and the door. She sat down on the end of the bed and tried to be present while Harry slowly retreated into sleep.
She felt so guilty and so angry. She'd known this was a bad idea. She'd seen that night with Cedric and felt the pain in her own chest when he died. And she had known from the first moment that Hannah had described the plan that it was a terrible idea.
But she hadn't stopped it.
She hadn't warned Harry.
She hadn't done the right thing.
She'd rationalized it away. She told herself that it was jealousy... that Ginny was being given the damsels billing and she was just smarting that it hadn't been her. She'd told herself that Hannah could be trusted and that Hermione was smart and would keep things in line.
Merlin's beard, Bill and Fleur had agreed to help.
But none of that absolved her.
There was little to do now but wait. Susan padded down the hallway back to the kitchen and dining area and began to clean up from the mess they had left behind. It was small penance.
What the fuck had Hannah done? And why?
Susan resolved to find out, because something didn't add up.
~ diffindo ~
Destiny smiled upon her. The sense of anticipation coursed through her veins. The goblin had been true to his word—well... true to his coin. Bellatrix considered reclaiming from his dead body the golden material of seduction that had led the little beast to his doom. She paused for just a minute before turning her back. The job had been well enough done, there was no reason to take from him his pay. And great mounds of cash and treasure awaited her within her family vault.
The Gringotts dragon had impressed her. A fitting vanguard, but easily overcome by a simple sound and pitiful vibration of the surrounding air. She had been declawed and defanged. The magnificence of her power and terror had been castrated. Bella considered putting the wretch out of its misery, but she had not enough time for such a mercy. It would only be scant minutes to the first sounding of alarm and only seconds until the novitiates of death came to entertain her.
The true Lord was now separated from her by a mere wall of metal. One that she, among few, could open. His pillar of eternity had been given into her care and now she would fulfil her most holy and precious duty. And soon his resurrected hands would hold her... grasp her... touch her. Bellatrix Lestrange breathed in the excitement in her thoughts. She felt alive and she would give that life for her Lord and desire if he would just ask it of her.
Bellatrix raised her left-hand ring finger to her mouth and grasped the tip of her finger pad between her teeth. She bit down hard. She gently placed the bleeding finger against that door. It was a promise of reunion.
The door clanged and the metal mechanisms began to quietly hum and clink. The door slow folded open leaving nothing between her the glory of her Lord. She saw the cup—Helga's cup—still sitting where it had been left all those years ago. It seemed so plain. It seemed so unassuming.
She proceeded into the vault. She approached the cup and reached to pick it up.
She stopped herself.
Idiot. The protection spell.
It was the anticipation of ecstasy that had clouded her judgement and memory. She called up the counter signs that the Dark Lord had given her for the consummation of this duty. The sigils were quickly drawn upon the air and Bella await the rush of magic the signalled the release of such a strong ward.
The rush never came.
The room remained cold to magic. Had she gotten the signs wrong? No, everyday he had made her to remember those motions. They were correct.
It was a test. He demanded a show of her faith and she was well equal to the task. Without hesitation she picked up the cup. She was now in possession of his essence. She paused ready for the beginnings of a million cups that would destroy her if she was wrong, but of course this never came. He was merciful and generous to those who followed him truly.
She felt the cup in her hand.
The empty, cold cup.
It contained nothing of the vibration of power and importance that had signified it in the past.
This pillar of eternity was dead.
It was just an empty, cold cup.
The truest follower of Lord Voldemort fell to her knees and horror rushed through her. Two of the pillars had been destroyed. Maybe more. She had no way to know because he had only shown her the one. She had known instinctively that Nagini had been a second. But they were both gone... devoid of his glorious essence.
Bellatrix Lestrange felt a great wave swell up within her. It crested and crashed overflowing her small body—her wretched soul. The despair and fear burst forth in the form of wild, unchartered magic. It shook the walls and ceiling of the great vault. Coins and gems fell from neat stacks where they had rested for decades. The eldest sister of Black screamed a gale of furious betrayal. They had taken him. They were killing him. She would not allow it. She capped her rage and stemmed the flow of magic. She would find him. She would find another pillar. And she would destroy everything in her path.
In the quieting winds of the vault, an alarm could faintly be heard.
~ diffindo ~
Ginny headed up the front staircase for the first landing where her bedroom door lay partially ajar. After Hermione had fled with her tears, Neville had suggested that he take Hannah home. She had assented with little more then a shrug and a half nod, but it had been enough. He'd seen the progenitor of their little travesty to the hearth and through the green flames. Though Ginny thought she heard Hannah ask to go to Longbottom Manor instead. Hermione had gossiped a little bit about the budding relationship between Neville and Hannah—not that Ginny cared. Ginny did feel for Neville though.
But mainly because Hannah was a prat.
She'd been part of the Hufflepuff effort to make Harry miserable during the Tri-wizard too. She was impulsive and thoughtless. She didn't think about others nearly enough. Just whatever gave her a good laugh.
The bedroom door silently yielded to her pressure and Ginny saw her friend on her feet spinning—mentally and literally. She sighed. Hermione was far more sensitive to personal failure than she'd ever expected. The smallest flaw in judgement or character weighed on her more heavily than it ever should.
Ginny wondered which had come first. Had Hermione excelled and then had the weight of expectation heaped upon her? And had she developed the corresponding personality? Or had it worked the other way? Had she started with a fear of failure and self-tortured her way to perpetual success?
It amounted to much the same, Ginny figured, but she couldn't ever live like that. And she wasn't sure if Hermione could either.
The frantic messy tressed roommate caught Ginny in her view. She calmed her pacing with visible effort, but couldn't hide her anxious dread.
"Not that I agree with him on anything else, but Neville's right about at least one thing..."
Hermione gave her a tired look.
"What?"
"He'll forgive you. I know he will."
"I hope so. I keep thinking that I'm such a horrible person, that I'm worthless, but he doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't know that we were being controlled. Or that I objected. Or that you refused to be present... you were right about that. Jesus, Gin! What did I just do?"
"You said it yourself. It wasn't you, it was that guy."
"Yes, but... I agreed to it. I let him do that. It hurt him so badly."
Ginny saw Hermione lick at her lip where it was still gently swollen.
"Are you okay...? You're lip?"
"Of course, it's fine. He was right to do that."
"No, he bloody wasn't! Striking an unarmed friend! You're a girl, Hermione."
Ginny saw a small amount of mirth slip into Hermione's painful lips.
"I do know that I'm a girl. Do you actually think that women should have different rules? I don't think anyone should be hitting anyone."
"Except Harry apparently should be able to punch you."
"It was a unique situation, but seriously... you think boys can't hit girls."
"Well... girls like you."
"Wait! What is that supposed to mean? What are the girls that Harry should be hitting."
"I'm just saying that some of us are more physical beings than mindful ones."
"So... you?! You think Harry should hit you because your a tomboy."
Tomboy. Ginny honestly hadn't ever thought of her that way, exactly. Sure though.
"Yeah."
"So to sum up. You think Harry should hit you when he's angry, but not me. And I think he was right to hit me—in this case—but not you. That's kind of messed up isn't it."
Hermione finally smiled and Ginny felt a little bit of the knot begin to untie. She may not have Harry any more, but it looked like Hermione was still open to her friendship.
"Yeah, the whole thing's fucked."
She'd said it with humour, but that was the end of Hermione's smile.
Ginny turned and looked out her bedroom window. Her departing gaze threw up a barrier between them. She couldn't always carry Hermione's guilt for her. Especially since she could—if she'd just choose to—set it down and walk away from it.
"So... how was your second kiss? Or third? Do you count that second one?"
Hermione was try to change the subject. Get the attention off of her.
"It was... painful. You know it wasn't an expression of his affection. He just needed to know I was really there, and not... dead."
Out the window, she saw her mother making her way back to the house from the garage. The wind had finally come up and blew the overgrown grasses in wild patterns. The sun was now well down from its noontime apex and was warm. Ginny breathed the fresh air that spoke to her of home.
"He'll forgive you, too."
Ginny shook her head.
"I know he will. But that's not all I wanted."
~ diffindo ~
Susan closed her eyes for a count of three before opening them again. The witch was still standing there on her porch just outside the front door. Why didn't she call on the floo?
"Parkinson? What are you doing here?"
"Lord Potter and I had an engagement for this morning and he never showed up. I must speak to him and ensure that he is okay."
Lord Potter? Susan shivered. The honorific unsettled her. For some reason it brought back a verse from an old children's tale. 'Lords and Ladies dancing top the marble floor, blind to fate so nigh their door.' Nevertheless, Susan took Pansy's lead on tone.
"Ms. Parkinson. Today is not ideal for callers. The Lord has... oh fuck this. Harry's in no condition to meet with you. He's had a tough morning."
The Slytherin dropped the unneeded formality.
"Look, there's a lot to do to prepare Harry for taking office. You must have some idea of how complicated this is. If today isn't going to work I need him to tell me that."
"Fine. You may enter. Blood sucker's need permission right?"
Pansy gave Susan the 'how droll' look. But did step into the home. Susan led her down the bedroom hall.
"He's down here."
Her feet stopped next to Harry's bedroom door. She hadn't checked in on him since she'd left him to start cleaning up. She knocked gently.
"Harry, you have a visitor. It's Miss. Parkinson."
Only silence came in reply. She reached down to slightly open the door, but it instead swung inward unbidden. Harry indicated that Pansy should enter. He looked tired, like he'd just woken. When Susan started to follow, he put up his hand and shook his head before gently closing the door again.
It was hard not to feel rejected.
~ diffindo ~
"Harry! You cannot just blow me off. When we make arrangements, you will have to follow them. In this case, you've only inconvenienced me, but there will be consequences if you behave that way with chamber colleagues. We missed an appointment with Madam Malkin and we need to start the process of opening administrative Gringotts accounts."
He looked distant and uncaring.
"I'm sorry, Pansy. It wasn't my fault. At least... I don't think it was."
Great. Her employer was acting depressed when she needed him sharp and engaged. She calmed her emotions. Given how his nose was running and a couple of tissues had been discarded near the bed, Potter wasn't just skiving off.
She sighed.
"Alright, tell me what happened."
"Have you heard of a Harrowing?"
She nodded. Of course she had. The Harrowing was a time-honoured tradition and Pansy was nothing if not traditional. A theory began to take shape in her mind.
"I take it things got out of hand."
This time Harry nodded.
"Harry, they can get somewhat extreme during the teen years. Am I right in assuming that you didn't know what was happening? Have you experienced a harrowing before?"
"No. Wizards really do this all the time?"
His face shone of puzzled defeat.
"Yes."
"Is it always so terrifying?"
"When it's done right... yes. But sometimes it's done badly, and it can be rather funny instead."
"Has anyone ever died?"
Once Pansy had been put in a full body bind and left in freshly dug grave. They'd told her the grave keeper would be by later to bury her. He never came, but that had thoroughly freaked her out. She hadn't talked to Daphne for months after that.
"Not that I've heard of, but facing death is a common theme. It's supposed to put a crucible to your goals—make you pursue them all that much harder."
Harry dropped back into thought. Pansy would gladly have left him to his rumination, but she needed him functional.
"What happened?"
"They killed Ginny."
Pansy snorted with amusement. She then harshly chastised herself for the inappropriate reaction. She may often have wished ill to the smallest of the weaselby clan, but it did no good in her quest to fix her despondent employer.
"I'm— I'm sorry, Harry. I don't mean to laugh. I take it she is not actually dead."
"No, but there was this ritual and so much blood and... why did they do that to me?"
Like a child. He was always like a child.
"I'm sure it was intended in a good hearted manner."
"No... no way. That gremlin... Fraus... he controlled people, I think. They each cut a string holding this sword. Ginny... she was under it."
Pansy's heart went a little cold at the sound of Fraus's name. He was a master puppeteer, but no one in their right mind would hire him for a harrowing.
"Fraus... are you sure that was his name? Do you know who hired him?"
"Susan said that it was a group thing, but I'm pretty sure it was Hannah."
Pansy nodded. That fit. Hannah had never had a harrowing, she was sure. Pansy was often called upon to 'assist' in harrowings at Hogwarts and Ms. Abbott's name had never come up. It takes a certain kind of person to craft and perform a proper harrowing. If she remembered correctly, the Abbott family had religious injunctions against ceremonies like the harrowing.
"I doubt she knew what she getting into."
He said nothing despite Pansy's continued and waning patience.
"Look, I understand that this came as a surprise, but we have to get things in motion... tomorrow."
Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"There is more 'celebration' tomorrow... apparently."
"Based on what happened, you should just skip it. It would serve them right."
"I can't... it's not just for me. It Neville's celebration, too."
Pansy suppressed her disgust. The Longbottom spawn was a weakling, and weakness was highly unappealing. There was plenty of time in the schedule for Potter's various obligations, but he couldn't keep putting them off. He needed to clear his priorities.
"Fine. Thursday, then. No excuses!"
She got up to leave. He did not follow her rise or acknowledge her declaration of departure.
"It looks like you need to recover. So rest and don't go crazy tomorrow."
She open the bedroom door.
"Wait? Pansy?"
"Yes."
"I'd like you to come to the party tomorrow."
She could not imagine a reason for such a stupid idea.
"Why?"
"I... don't know where I stand with anybody right now, but I think... I think I know where I stand with you."
"Is that an order from my Lord?"
"Your... Lord? Does it need to be?"
"I suppose not."
But nobody was going to want her there.
"Fine. Until tomorrow, then."
Then Pansy rose and quietly exited the room not bothering to close the door behind her. As she headed for the front door of the Bones home, she wondered about why Harry would want her at a gathering of mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Maybe he wanted to make all of them miserable. It sounded as though they deserved it.
That made the most sense. He would use her as a tool to give his former friends the cold shoulder and make them feel bad about what they had done. It was an odd form of triangulation, but Pansy was a master at twisting the subtle knife.
And she knew it.
~ diffindo ~
"Where is it?"
Bill frantically asked his goblin watcher. Every non-human was escorted—watched—while in Gringotts. Grelpanth had been relatively easy to work with though. Her easy way with humans had made her somewhat an outcast among her goblin brother and sisters, but also made her far better to work with. She was examining her scrying bowl quickly searching for the answer to Bill's question.
"The intruder alarm originates in the deep ancestral vaults."
"Really?! How could something get down there."
She turned to him.
"It can't. Not without help."
They had a traitor among the ranks of the goblins then. It wasn't terribly rare.
Grelpanth seem to read his mind.
"Every goblin has his price."
"Grel, we need to get down there, now!"
She thought about it for a few seconds.
"The only way down is by rail. The ancestral vaults are the most secure we have."
"Then let's get going."
"And the evening shift was almost over. Of all the inconsiderate..."
As Grel lead the way out of their joint office, Bill began to perform his exercises. He took deep breaths to clear his mind and stretch his awareness. The first rule of being a curse breaker was to never be surprised. He began reviewing the general categories of curses and their countermeasures. He put himself entirely in the moment and focused on readying himself for what was coming.
His concentration was plagued by one intrusive thought.
Fleur was going to be furious.
~ diffindo ~
"So I take it you drew the short straw?"
Harry looked at a visibly nervous Neville. He'd known that this would be coming. Someone would need to explain it properly. Susan had tried, but he hadn't been ready to listen. Susan invited Harry and Neville to sit at the kitchen table and then left for her bedroom. The hanging overhead light felt like an interrogation lamp in the dimming sun.
"No one drew lots, Harry. Several people volunteered. We eventually agreed that I would do it."
"Okay."
Harry felt surly and defensive. He'd slowly brought himself to a realization that the whole thing had been a farce. It hurt. Not because of the psychological trauma. In a pathetic way, he had been well prepared for that. It was the inescapable conclusion that his friends knew nothing about who he was. That was what hurt most.
"Hannah says that I should let you decide what you want to know."
"Okay."
An awkward silence of accusation grew for a few seconds.
"Do you have any—"
"I have two. The things that Hermione said. I can imagine how you might have decided to do this harrowing thing. I can imagine how you might have decided to pull Ginny into this. But how could Hermione say those things? When she saw what it was doing to me, how could she act like that?"
"It wasn't Hermione exactly."
"Was she a fake like Ginny?"
"No, Harry. We hired a puppeteer of sorts. He specializes in controlling people like marionettes. It's always voluntary—so he says—but he can control and act through a number of people simultaneously."
"And you agreed to this."
Neville took a couple seconds to answer. His eyes showed pain at the thought.
"Yes. Everyone agreed, except Susan. And Ginny, but she couldn't have been involved anyway because of the whole... sword thing."
"So Hermione was being controlled. Isn't the Imperius spell unforgivable?"
"It wasn't imperius. It's different when the parties are both willing."
"But she wasn't saying those things?"
"No, that was Fraus."
"Who exactly is this guy, Neville?"
"I don't know for sure. We're going to get some more details, because no one expected exactly what happened."
"Okay."
Neville warily watched Harry waiting for the next follow up. When none came, Neville looked down to the kitchen table.
"Did you have another question?"
"Yes. Is Hermione okay?"
Harry saw Neville look up surprised.
"She's fine, I guess. She's more torn up than most about it."
"I mean after I hit her. Is she okay?"
"Oh! Yes, she's fine."
"Good."
He'd been troubled over his decision—if it could be called that—to hit Hermione. It might have been appropriate at the time—he wasn't sure. But the image of her teeth bloody from the cut to her lip filled Harry with a feeling somewhere between shame and dread.
"We're going to figure out how this happened, Harry. No one is okay with it. Is there anything else you'd like to know."
Harry felt incongruously bashful.
"About the stuff you have planned for tomorrow..."
"We're cancelling it. You don't need to worry about that. Everyone agreed that—"
"NO!"
Harry stood up slamming his palms on the table. He caught himself halfway up. Why was he so invested in this? He sat back down.
"Don't... cancel it. Susan said it's a party at a pool. Is that right? It sounds like the kind of thing that might move things forward from here. Everyone is going to need to be distracted. And it was just as much for you as it was for me, right?"
"Yes, Harry, but..."
"No, don't cancel it."
"Okay. Are you...? Are you coming?"
The implied question was whether he was going to attend and make the event unbearably tense.
"Yes... plus one if it matters."
"No problem, I guess."
"Um. I need to double check with Ginny to be sure that she hasn't actually cancelled anything."
"Go ahead. I'll have more questions later, but... but just make sure everyone knows I'll want to talk to them."
As Neville left for the floo, Harry reflected on his own thinking. Why was he doing this? He didn't want to be around inconsiderate and thoughtless people... did he? He'd always been alone. Sometimes people would stand with him, but ultimately—when the chips were down—he was the only one he could trust. No one stayed forever.
~ diffindo ~
"Who is that?"
Grelpanth's whispered question surprised Bill. He did not like being surprised.
"Grel, that is Bellatrix Lestrange. Do you not recognize her? She's a devout follower of the Dark Lord. She was in Azkaban for years."
"Not everyone gets their news from your Daily Prophet. Do you know who Glorhand is...? I didn't think so."
Bellatrix was stepping back out of her family's vault. She seemed wild and crazed, which was normal if her dossier was accurate. She was looking around perhaps for a way to escape. She didn't seem to be taking anything with her, though the items could be concealed.
"Grel, We can't let her escape."
"Isn't this her family vault?"
"We got an intruder alarm so she's an intruder."
"Fine. Get her into one of the circles, then."
Bill took another moment to take in the scene. These vault foyers were filled with traps and countermeasures. It should be easy to manoeuvre her into one them. The main concern was the dragon. It was asleep. They weren't supposed to sleep. How had Lestrange managed that? Bill took a mental note to write to Charlie and ask what would put a trained dragon to sleep. He also took note of the dragons poor condition. Goblins were not known for their compassion, but it was unacceptable.
"Hurry up, William Weasley! Or she's going to initiate whatever escape plan she has."
Bill gave a quick nod to Grelpanth and stood up and out of his cover.
"Gringotts Enforcement Authority. Stand down, drop your wand, and surrender. Escape is not possible."
"You ask for submission?! Not after what you have done to my Lord."
Bellatrix brandished her wand.
Bill flooded his skin with magic to reinforce his aura—his natural shield. She was crazy, but powerful.
"If you surrender, you will not be harmed."
"The damage has been done. How dare you desecrate his shrine?"
"Madam Lestrange, this is your last warning. Put down your wand or I will use overwhelming force."
At the use of her name, Bellatrix stopped and really focused on Bill for the first time. Her eyes were sad and spiteful. Bill knew immediately that this death eater had not found what she wanted in the vault—in her family vault. It was personal. Bill took a calculated risk.
"Do you miss him?"
Bella shot a piercing bolt back at him. He parried it deftly, but the brief drop in the intensity of her gaze told him he was right enough. Gringotts policy was to pursue quickest resolution with the best outcome for the firm. And that resolution stood just behind Bellatrix three feet behind her right shoulder on the floor. Bill knew that under the polished stone floor in that location was a charmed circle. All he had to do was back her into it and Grel could do the rest.
But Bill was a fool, he knew it, but the Weasleys has an intractable strain of compassion in them. The circle behind his target was a 'pyre blaze' a very effective and unmistakably fatal trap. He could feel Grel cringe and curse to herself when he took a step to his left. It was slightly further away, but a much less fatal circle was just a few feet to Bellatrix's left. He sent a simple hex at her. She parried also stepping to her left.
"We don't have to do it this way. If something was taken from your vault, then you are entitled to seek redress."
"You ignorant insect. You know nothing."
She sent a repulsing hex his way. He dodged—again to the left. In this way, Bill circled her into position a half step at a time. Just a few steps back, now, was his new destination for the sister of Black. Bill gathered energy for a strong bludgeon. He was ostentatious about it. There were three ways to handle blunt force magic. Dodge, deflect, and absorb. All became easier with distance.
"You cannot overpower me. I carry the blessing of our Lord."
Despite her assertion, Bella circled her wand in a pre-emptive Protego and stepped back.
One step.
Two steps.
She stopped. So close.
Bill held the bludgeon. He might be able to knock her back enough to force that last step, but Lestrange was ready for that. He shifted his aim and let go of the spell. He saw Bellatrix's aura spike as she flooded it, but the spell hit neither the Protego wall nor her aura.
The floor just under Bella's feet exploded outward into bits of antique marble. Bella rocked back on her heels trying to maintain purchase on the bit of floor that remained to her, but instinctively took a step back on to solid ground. She began to stumble. If she fell now, she might escape the circle.
Grelpanth needed no instruction. She yelled from behind cover.
"Tempus Rit!"
And the descending form of Bellatrix Lestrange slowed to an unnaturally slow downward drift. Her face was an unmoving rictus of anger and confusion. Bill stepped slow and carefully up to her.
"Quiesco."
Grelpanth approached at a run.
"What are you playing at, William Weasley? You took a pretty big risk with that little manoeuvre."
"We need to question her."
"Why? Like you said... she's an intruder."
"A wanted death eater sneaks into Gringotts ancestral vaults and breaks into her own family vault. Furthermore, she clearly didn't find what she was looking for. Something's wrong with that picture."
"The ministry froze her accounts. She probably just wanted money."
"She doesn't have any galleons on her now, does she? And you know as well as I do the degree to which Gringotts respects the ministry's authority over accounts. There are routes Miss Lestrange here could have taken."
Regardless of what was eventually found, Bill knew that it would be several hours of paperwork and interviews before he would be released and free to return home. There would be no hiding this from Fleur.
Maybe that was for the best.
~ diffindo ~
Susan had given up on reading the novel after the fifth read of the same page. She still had no idea what was on that page. The thread of the story had left her. So she just sat and stared at the page. She pondered what caused the letters to slowly blur from her vision until she blinked and then they'd return. This day felt like it had started an eternity ago, but her clock ticked away the minutes after midnight at a steady beat.
A gentle knock woke Susan from her fugue of thoughts.
"Yes."
Her door opened and Harry stood in the doorway. She calmed her anxious heart.
"Hi, Harry. How are you?"
"I'm okay... how are you?"
"I'm fine, Harry, thank you. Are you having trouble sleeping?"
"I slept quite a bit earlier today... and I've been thinking about something. Can we talk?"
Susan closed her book not bothering to move her bookmark. She hadn't gotten anything out of it in several minutes.
"Yes, please."
Harry came into her room and closed her door, leaning back on it deep in thought.
"I'm not sure what I'm feeling any more."
"Would you like to sit down?"
Harry looked to his normal spot on the floor and then shook his head.
"Okay, then. What are you feeling?"
He pushed off the door and started pacing in the small space.
"I'm so angry. I can't believe that no one understood me enough to not do this. It's tearing me up."
"I think we can all understand why you would feel that way."
"So why did you do it! ... but that's not even it. The anger makes sense."
"The problem is that when Neville said you were going to cancel everything tomorrow. I panicked. I felt like, if I let you cancel it, then I would never see any of you again and I would be alone. I'm so angry with everyone, but all I want is to be near them. That doesn't make any sense. I shouldn't want anything to do with any of you!"
His comment stung her deep, but it was fair. And Susan recognized this feeling. She'd had several knock-down drag-out fights with Auntie Em over her years. They had accelerated during her adolescence. But after each of these battles, there had come a moment when Susan had wanted to talk to Em again. Susan knew she needed reassurance of the underlying bond between them. That it was still there.
"What is this feeling, Susan?"
"I think that's what it feels like to have family, Harry."
~ diffindo ~
"WHERE WERE YOU!"
Fleur had lost all semblance of control. Her whole body shook with rage. Bill was on the defence, but he didn't look guilty about it. Not nearly guilty enough. Their small bedroom was ill equipped to contain her fury.
"When you were late, I called the Gringotts central line. They told me that they weren't allowed to divulge any information about 'the incident'. What incident, William?! I was sitting here all night thinking you had PERISHED!"
"Tulip, I'm fine—"
"Don't call me that! If you're so fine, then WHY didn't you call or leave a message?! WHY did you worry me?! You just don't want me to be a part of your life—"
"That not true! Please, let me explain—"
"WHY! Why am always listening to you? I came here from my home to be with you, but you're just stringing me along... why..."
She was breaking down now. Fleur felt her rage collapse into sorrow. He didn't really want her. He didn't want to be with her. She felt pathetic and she felt angry about feeling pathetic. But for some reason that anger only brought more tears.
"Fleur, please. Let me just explain why I didn't call you."
She pierced him with angry desperate eyes.
"I don't care. Will... I don't care. I just wanted you to be a part of my life, but you won't share anything back. You have your work—your precious job—and I don't get to have any part of that."
Her dearest love looked down in consideration. He was making a decision. Fleur feared what that decision might be. She was proud and powerful. She could have any man—or woman—she wanted. But her power wasn't the question. He was precious to her and she didn't want to see him go.
"I got special dispensation. To explain what happened tonight. I couldn't contact you before because Gringotts is on a media and communications blackout. Tomorrow morning there will be an announcement. But I'm allowed to tell you the details now."
Fleur was starting to feel silly and mocked. Their relationship was on the line and he was talking about work again! Still he'd piqued her curiosity. She made a dismissive gesture indicating that he should just get on with it.
"At about twenty-one hundred, the ancestral vaults were attacked. Broken into. I was part of the rapid response team. I engaged the intruder directly and successfully subdued her. No one was injured. Because of the sensitive nature of the target vault and assailant, Gringotts has gone into an information blackout until mid-morning tomorrow. I was not allowed to leave until I had been interviewed several times and my silence until tomorrow had been sealed under Fidelus."
She immediately began processing the implications of such a break-in. The pain in her heart was for the moment forgotten and Fleur champion witch applied her situational awareness to Bill's report.
"It's not going to be good for Gringotts once they report it. Which vault?"
"Lestrange."
That was interesting. There weren't many who would even know what was in that vault.
"Who was the assailant?"
Bill took a deep breath.
"My partner—who approved my telling you all this—said that I should keep that in closest confidence. It's actually her neck on the line if this information gets out."
Fleur just stared him down. If she wasn't in his closest confidence, then he was going to have to say so. He finally rolled his eyes in surrender.
"It was Madam Bellatrix Lestrange."
Lestrange was at large from Azkaban.
"But why break into her own vault?"
"Exactly. And until we have some idea why, Gringotts is going to keep this as much under the lid as possible. Full secrecy."
"Under Fidelus?"
"Yes... among other things."
"And that's why you didn't contact me and the operators couldn't tell me anything."
"Yes."
Fleur stopped to let that sink in. It felt fair enough. But she wasn't sure she could live with Bill always keeping her in the dark. Even if it was appropriate.
"William, I need you to let me in more. I need to know more about what you do."
Bill actually smiled at this which brought some flutters to her heart.
"After our last argument I had a thought."
Finally feeling that her fear had been driven out, she risked a small tease.
"Oh my poor dear... you thought that was an argument. What was your thought?"
"Come work at Gringotts. There are several jobs that would be perfect for you. You'd easily qualify in the curse breaking department. And then, you would have all the inside knowledge you wanted."
Fleur felt the smile fade from her face.
"You know very well, dear, that Gringotts does not hire foreigners. It won't matter how long I reside here in Britain, I will always be an outsider at Gringotts. They don't even trust French Goblins."
Bill was breathing deeply. He looked scared.
"Are you okay, dearest?"
"I'm fine. This isn't how I wanted to do this. But, there's a way..."
Fleur let Bill collect his thoughts for what felt like an eternity.
"You said you wanted me to be a part of your life. I feel exactly the same way. And I want you to be a part of my life—including Gringotts. You've become more important to me than anything else I've ever known. I want to come home every day and see you greeting me. I want to forge our path together. I want to help you learn more about yourself and I want you teach me about who I am. This is far too humble a request—I intended to do much more—but... Fleur Delacour... will you marry me."
Her feelings tumbled beautifully inside her soul. She was torn and unmoored and frozen and terrified. But it was suffused with radiant joy. He'd certainly taken long enough, but she didn't care... she didn't care. And this was a terrible time... surely he wouldn't do this just to get her job. No... he wanted her. He wanted her wholly and without compromise.
Fleur had mastered the art of turning away proposals. She'd had many. But she found herself oddly without any roadmap to accepting one. How long an engagement would they have? She'd always wanted a spring wedding, but maybe that was too long. So lost was she in her thoughts, she'd almost missed the diamond ring sitting gently in the palm of his hand. It was beautiful. It was simple and that was best. It would match most of her other jewellery. She would need to send photos of it to her friends. She would want to get him a ring too. What colour would go best with his eyes?
William Weasley's eyes were full of anticipation and anxiety. Oh! She hadn't answered him. He'd been kneeling there—when had he knelt down—waiting for her answer. She needed to answer quickly before he regretted his decision and before he got the wrong idea.
"Yes!"
And then having nothing else planned to say, Fleur collapsed down and kissed him deeply. She drank in the taste and scent of her betrothed. His arms gently pulled her to him and she felt his body press into hers. It was a moment that she wanted to remember—a moment she wanted him to remember too. She pushed off from him breaking their embrace.
"And who is this lady partner of yours? Do I have competition?"
He smiled mischievously at her.
"I don't know. What are you planning to do about it?"
Fleur stood up and helped Bill up after her.
She lit her fire—that incandescent Veela energy that made her irresistible. She didn't have to. Bill was already upon her. Again they embraced and this time his hand began to wander. Up her back and down her sides. He slipped around behind her and cupped her breasts sending shivers down her spine. Her body called for more. Then his hands slipped lower, and he doused her arousal with gasoline. She was tired of waiting. She turned to undress him taking time with each button of his shirt and then his trousers. She began to kneel down in front of him, but he pulled her back up to him.
"No, you first."
And then he was undressing her. Her skin felt of fire as he undid each clasp and button. The layers fell away and soon she and he were left with nothing but each other. He lay her down on their bed. He lowered himself carefully next to her. His hands found her places of pleasure. And then his lips. She saw her fire reflected in his eyes looking up from her abdomen and she made a final vow before letting herself be swept away.
'He will remember this night.'