Chapter Seven: The Rapids

The spring tide, ebbing fast, took the boat with it. Wind had risen, making the water choppy. The rapids widened, travelling toward the sea. Low-lying riverbanks with overhanging trees and cottages got farther and farther apart, and silence descended over the passengers.

Ginny rested on the wooden deck against the hull, holding a rope for Ron. It attached to the triangular sail at the prow and pulled with the wind. Her fingers were numb, but she did not let go. Ron got very bossy when he was in charge of a boat. Ginny shivered in the water's chill.

Slave was still curled beside her. When shoved into the boat, he gave up struggling to simply fall asleep. Ginny used a foot to shift him. He was easy to mistake for a dead body, since sleeping was all he did.

"This boat's going well," said Ron, taking his eyes off steering. "I wouldn't fancy being Minister of Magic myself - too many books and not enough time for sailing - but I reckon it's a respectable job. Are you feeling better, Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva sighed and gazed at a distant riverbank.

"The boat is doing nicely, Ron," said Arthur. "You're a good sailor."

"Thanks, Dad," said Ron, pulling the tiller against the wind's force, its sails sending them through waves. "I'm glad we had Special Time that one night where you taught me how to sail, instead of taking Fred fishing."

"I remember that fight," said Arthur.

"Is this the island where Shell Cottage is?" Ron pointed to the riverbank on his left. A stretch of low-lying land, dusted with snow, stood out in moonlight.

Arthur stared across the water. "Perhaps you should sail toward it a bit, Ron," he waved his hand in its direction. Ron changed course, when a beam of light cut through the darkness behind them: a searchlight.

Minerva gestured at Ron. "Get a move on, Ron. What have you slowed down for?"

"The wind's dropped," muttered Ron.

"Well, we can't just sit here," Minerva followed the searchlight with her eyes as it neared, sweeping across the water again.

"Might you rustle up some wind with your wand, Minerva?" asked Arthur.

"Of course," Minerva blushed, and flicked her wand at the sails so they picked up speed.

A double chimneyed cottage with a roof of tiled shells came into view, growing bigger and nearer, though still miles away.

Minerva leaned against the mast to steady herself, took a deep breath and threw her arms wide, her cloak flying out like a pair of green wings. "Murken wake!" she shouted.

Clouds gathered in the moonlit sky, obscuring it and bringing a chill. Misty tendrils rose from the black water, growing into thick fog. Marsh mist rolled over the water to join them. In the eye of the fog, their boat waited for the mist to finish tumbling and swirling. Soon they were surrounded by it.

"Shhhh," shushed Arthur. "If we don't make any noise, whoever has that searchlight won't know we're here."

Slave inhaled.

Ginny clapped her hand tightly around his mouth. He waved his arms and bit her so she almost wobbled into the river. Grabbing the boat's edge to stop her fall, she laughed at his attempt. Ron came over and hit him.

Three flashes of green light, curses, flew over the boat.

"Oops, it's because that idiot made me laugh," said Ginny.

"Ha," said Slave, before realizing he too might be killed.

"For goodness' sake, get this boat moving, Ron," snapped Minerva.

"Someone's got to paddle it, then," ordered Ron. "It would help if I could see where we're going."

Minerva cleared a tunnel through the fog.

Finally, they bumped against a tuft of sedge grass. Minerva breathed a sigh of relief and the fog dispensed.

Arthur shoved Slave out of the boat. "Go and lie down," he ordered. Then he offered Minerva his hand. She gathered up her robes and climbed onto the bank, where she used a spell to clean mud off her shoes.

Ginny jumped upon Slave and held him facedown. "You nearly got us all killed. We saved your stupid life and you tried to kill us, you git!"

Slave stayed silent.

"Let him go, Ginny," said Arthur. "He doesn't understand what's going on."

Ginny released Slave by throwing him back onto the sand. "Okay, but he's a pig."

Slave sat up slowly, rubbing his arm as everyone glared at him. He scooted across the sand on his bottom to huddle as far away from Ginny as possible under a tree.

Their boat now lay in the sand, sails hanging loose and dusted with snow.

"Oh yeah; we've got to hide the boat!" yelled Ron, running along the bank, followed by Ginny. But Slave waded in ahead of them and pushed the boat clear of the sand so it floated away.

"What are you doing?" Ron grabbed a rope and pulled the boat along the shore, until it rounded a corner, no longer able to be seen from the river. The tide was falling, so it floated low, hidden by the banks.

Ginny took her pet rock from her drawstring bag. It sat petrified in her hand as she stroked it. It blinked, confused, so she fed it a berry by placing one on top of it and watching it melt away.

"We need to keep moving," said Arthur. "Molly and the boys should be fine; but this is very bad. You-Know-Who has come back to Hogwarts."

"Don't forget, I've got Dumbledore's ring," said Minerva. "I will return to Hogwarts and take care of him myself, once I ensure your safety."

"That had better be the right cottage," said Arthur, and ran ahead, into the trees.

"Why does he need to kill me, anyway?" asked Ginny.

"It seems, princess, you have somehow been stopping him from coming back to Hogwarts just by being close by," explained Minverva. "Your mother did, too."

Ginny shivered.

Arthur came out from the trees where he'd disappeared.

"The road's flooded. There's an entirely new lake blocking the path to Shell Cottage. We can take canoes."

"Can I have a fast one, Dad?" asked Ron, as Arthur stared at the sailboat, trying to think of a suitable spell.

"I don't know about 'fast,' Ron. I shall just be happy if it floats. Now, let me think. I suppose one canoe each would be good. Here goes. Contort Undecimam! Oh, bother."

Five very small sailboats bobbed in front of them.

"Dad," complained Ron, "You're not doing it right."

"Wait a minute, Ron. I'm thinking. That's it - Canoe Contantem!"

"Dad!"

One enormous canoe sat wedged in the banks.

"Now, let's be logical about this," muttered Arthur.

"Why don't you just ask for five canoes, Dad?" suggested Ron.

"Good idea, Ron. You have some education yet. Canoe Quam Plures!"

The spell's light fizzled out before it got going, and Arthur ended up with just two canoes and a forlorn pile of sailboat colored timbers and rope.

"Only two, Dad?" asked Ron.

"They'll have to do," said Arthur. "You can't change matter more than three times without it getting fragile. I'm pleased to see any canoes at all."

Soon Ginny, Ron and Slave sat in one, and Arthur and Minerva in the other. They paddled along as the tide took them through the marshes, snow sprinkling them. Ginny, Ron and Slave led the way, Arthur and Minerva following.

The marshland's damp smelling air complimented sounds of scrabbling animals scuttling out of canoes' paths. Soon the first canoe reached a narrow channel and stopped.

"Do we go down here, Dad?" Ginny called.

"I don't remember this bit at all," he began, when Ginny shrieked. A slimy, mud-brown hand with webbed fingers and black claws reached from the water and grabbed the end of her canoe.