Harry Potter and the Last Goodbye
It was late at night and the rain hammered the grime covered windows at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. A light was on in the drawing room though no passerby would ever see it. Not unless they were a wizard, and even then not unless they knew the address and had been let in on the secret of Number Twelve's existence. This suited Harry Potter just fine.
Even after the events with Voldemort, now just over two years past, the attention Harry received from everyone made him uncomfortable. He'd never liked it, despite Draco Malfoy's constant assertions otherwise.
Harry, now a bit older and considerably wiser, sat alone in what had once been the home of his Godfather, Sirius Black. His best mate and first friend at Hogwarts, Ron Weasley, was off with his other best friend and loyal confidante, Hermione Granger. She'd gone to Australia to put things right with her parents and taken Ron with her.
The Weasley's had made it clear that Harry was welcome to stay with them even in Ron's absence, and knowing full well that Harry was dating their youngest daughter, Ginny. They didn't care. Harry was a bonus child to Mr. & Mrs. Weasley and that's all there was to it thank you very much.
And most nights Harry did stay with them. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings and Mrs. Weasley was easily the best cook Harry had ever known. But Number Twelve was his place and sometimes he just needed to be alone. They understood, but he knew Mrs. Weasley worried just the same. Still, they enjoyed having someplace to go while in London that was close to the Ministry.
Harry knew he needed to finish some work he'd been assigned for them, but he had another project that needed finishing first. It was this project that had him awake now, in the wee hours of the morning. The mud on his shoes and the hem of his traveling cloud drying in the heat of the fire Kreacher, Harry's house elf, had made. The pot of tea sat untouched on the table. Wisps of steam now barely visible from the spout of the teapot. It was mostly forgotten anyway.
On the table, sitting unobtrusively in the saucer left for his teacup, was an unremarkable stone. It was this stone that had been calling to Harry night after night since Voldemort fell. It had taken him a long time to find it. Nearly two years. Part of the reason was that he could only look for the stone when he wasn't busy with other things, which were rare occasions. The other reason why it had taken so long to find is that this was a quest Harry wanted to complete by himself. He needed to do this alone.
So Harry had begun looking for the Ressurection Stone. Hermione knew he was up to something, but had been kind enough to leave Harry to it. Ginny, too, had cottoned on quickly enough that Harry was doing something in his private time that he wasn't telling anyone about. She wasn't as apt to keep quiet about it, but with her acceptance into the Hollyhead Harpies Quidditch team, she didn't have much time to pursue the matter with him. So she confided in Hermione and her mother, much to Harry's ignorance. Mrs. Weasley, who also knew Harry was up to something, admonished the girls to leave him alone about it until they knew more about what it was. Clearly Harry wanted left alone sometimes and she felt he'd certainly earned that right.
So now Harry, after many long months of searching in his limited spare time had set out to find the resurrection stone from where he'd dropped it in the Forbidden Forest. After many months of fruitless effort, he'd finally realized he would need help. So, after some quick research, Harry learned a charm that would help him to locate the stone. Even then, it wasn't easy. But tonight he'd finally been successful. Now he could move on to the next phase in his project.
Several weeks later, Harry sat frustrated in his study. The Ressurection Stone was in a small box on the mantle. Ginny's training with the Harpies was going very well, so she'd not been home in a long time. He missed her. But it wasn't like he could do much about it. His training as an Auror was complete and he, Ron, and the other Aurors from the Ministry had been out chasing down one of the Death Eaters who'd gotten away after the Battle of Hogwarts.
His idea for the Ressurection Stone and what to do with it was nagging at the back of his mind, but he'd been so busy working that he was too tired to work on much when he got home. Until tonight.
Tonight, Harry had finally been able to get home early. The Death Eater was still at large, but the latest intelligence put him in France, which made him a problem of the French Ministry for now.
He'd thought the matter through, and had an idea. Best not to put the stone anywhere where someone could find it. It would lead to too many questions. But that didn't mean he couldn't use something else in the stone's place. A large quartz crystal, bewitched to a cobalt blue color would serve the purpose nicely. The Ressurection Stone would be hidden in the pedestal under the crystal. So now Harry had his next project cut out for him. He would find a large crystal to use, and build a pedestal base for both display purposes as well as to be able to hold the Stone itself, hidden from view. Then he could move on to the last phase of the project. Harry had, with Hermione's help though she didn't know it, developed a simple charm that would allow him and him alone to be able to open the small, hidden compartment in which the Stone would be kept.
This was no small matter to him. Better to have the stone secure than to have it possibly fall into the wrong hands and cause a whole new set of complications for the Ministry and the Wizarding World as a whole. They were still too busy recovering from all the damage done by Voldemort and his lot when they were in charge to chance that, Harry thought.
He carefully made a short list: the crystal, a pedestal, and the stone. After much thought, he supposed he should put some sort of small plaque on the pedestal and incorporate a charm for a wizard to use to be able to activate everything. Another bit of work to do, and something he hadn't thought of previously. Still, to be able to finish his project in the manner which he wanted it done, it would be a necessary thing to do.
First, he went about locating an appropriate pedestal. After some thinking, he decided to find an appropriate piece of wood, then transfigure it to meet his needs. Instead of having to wait until working hours to find something from a muggle proprietor, he'd get his wood from the forest. Once he was done transfiguring it, no one would be the wiser where it came from anyway. He even knew which forest, having been there once before a few years ago. Seeing no reason to wait, Harry gathered up his traveling cloak, his dad's old invisibility cloak, and his wand before stepping out his door and setting off.
The sharp crack of a wizard apparating rebounded off the trees in the Forest of Dean. Harry could hear the echo fading even as he drew his wand and cast a light from the end. The breeze ruffled his untidy hair even as he searched about, making sure he was alone.
The calls of disturbed birds gradually began to slow. An odd fox yipped, but there was no trace of any people. The water in the pond reflected his light back at him, even as he remembered his time in there when the Horcrux tried to drown him. The memory made Harry shudder, and he checked his surroundings again. An owl hooted off in the distance, and the leaves gave a gentle rustle as the breeze wound through them. Now it was time to find something suitable for his needs.
The nice part of wandering through the forest after dark is that there's no one around to question you about what you're doing there. He smiled at the thought of the Dursley's and their reaction if they were to learn of his wandering about like this. It would probably be on a par with the reaction they had back before fifth year, when he was listening to the muggle news while lying in the garden under the window. They hadn't been too happy about that.
Strange, Harry mused, I haven't given much thought towards the Dursley's in a long time. I wonder how they're getting along. Harry hadn't forgotten the words of his aunt the day his mother's sister and her family had to go into hiding. Nor had he forgotten the brief exchange with his cousin that same day. There was no love lost between them, but he felt he owed them at least the courtesy of checking on them. Maybe later, he decided.
It was two hours, three barked shins, and one tripping over a branch hidden under a carpet of leaves later when Harry came across a stump he felt might suit his purposes. It was from a Rowan tree, and it looked like the top had somehow been broken off, as it lie a few feet away, leaves and berries long since dried out.
He walked around the stump, looking at it from every angle. It was the right size, definitely. It wasn't lost on him that the Rowan tree also had magical properties, something Harry felt sure Professor Sprout and Hermione would have been proud of him for remembering. A flick of his wrist and the light emitting from Harry's wand was joined by a jet of air. Harry used this to blow the debris away from the stump so as to better examine it more closely.
A half hour later and he was satisfied. This stump would work perfectly. It was the right size, shape, and even species for what he wanted to do. It also had, Harry noticed a shape in the tree bark that looked kind of like a lily. More so if he squinted at it through half-closed eyes, but it was that feature more than any other that told him he had found what he was looking for.
After a few moments work with his wand, he'd cleared away all the debris around the stump and a significant portion of the soil burying the roots. He then set about the task of freeing the stump from the ground, levitating it, and then, clenching his eyes shut in hopes that he wasn't about to kill himself, he apparated away, holding on to the Rowan stump for all he was worth.
Harry felt a sudden pain in his forehead when he returned home to Grimmauld Place. Rubbing the spot and seeing stars, he realized he'd tripped upon his arrival and smacked his head on the stump. Right where his old lightning bolt scare was. Standing up, he hoisted the stump to carry it inside and realized it felt lighter. Looking down he realized why. Part of the roots had been splinched away. It was as sheer a mark as if he'd cut it with one of Uncle Vernon's old saws. Taking a deep breath at the near miss, Harry moved the stump inside the house and set it down in the drawing room. It was late now and he was tired. It was time for bed.