Chapter One: "In the Midst of Life"
Arthur Weasley vaguely mouthed the words of an apparently well-known
hymn, glancing around the congregation with a practised eye. To his left, Molly unconsciously smoothed a
wrinkle from her sleeve. He smiled
proudly: she looked suitably non-magical and really quite at ease in her sombre
muggle get up. Which was more than he
could say for himself, he thought, surreptitiously tugging at his black tie for
the umpteenth time that morning. Muggle
clothes really were the pits, particularly on official occasions.
All in all, it was a very good turnout, both wizards and
muggles. The magical folk had been
obliged to toe the party line generally for this solemn occasion as the church
was peppered with muggle press and the coverage would likely reach the national
muggle news. He sighed. It had scarcely been sudden and was not at
all unexpected, but Cornelius Fudge's death had ended an era for all of
them. Sir Cornelius actually – he had
been knighted in the last Honours List, but had been too ill to attend the
ceremony. Lady Fudge had been his
proxy. Arthur's eyes drifted towards
the widow in the front pew, correct in deep mourning, stiff-backed and
stony-faced. Her two sons stood closely
either side of her, and she was accompanied by a few relatives, some close
colleagues from the Ministry of Magic, and Tantalus Brown. Arthur clamped his jaw tightly and looked
away. Over his years at the Ministry,
he had learned discretion, how to govern by persuasion rather than fiat, how to
conceal one's true feelings, and how to sideline unwanted interference. Unfortunately, Tantalus Brown was the first
in a long career to irritate him so badly that all his carefully won diplomacy
promptly jumped ship and headed for the hills.
And Brown just happened to be his superior.
Arthur put those thoughts firmly aside and glanced about
him, catching a glimpse of long, eye-catchingly red hair. He smiled tenderly as he recognised his
daughter, Ginny, and her partner, Harry Potter. They made a very attractive couple, he mused, and their
respective talents in a wide range of areas made the partnership a very valuable
one to the wizarding world. They were
at present investigating the ramifications of their strange magical bond, a
potentially devastating mind-meld which seemed to spring directly from the
strength of their attachment. Its
manifestation had caused much consternation among the ranks of the
ungodly. His forehead creased in a
small frown as he recalled the events of the past few days.
~oo0oo~
Harry
placed his wand carefully on the table and for a brief moment, rested his
forehead in his hands. Ginny sat
motionless, gazing at the floor, biting her lip apprehensively. Arthur mentally braced himself for Harry's
explosion.
"It's
no good, we're just not going to be able to trigger it this way." Harry started to pace the floor
gesticulating wildly with his hands.
"Look, this mind-bond thing has
locked into place between Ginny and myself precisely three times, and on those
occasions without exception we, or someone else close to us, were in
considerable danger. Now, I don't pretend
to have either the abilities or the detailed knowledge that you gentleman
possess, but, for the wisdom of Merlin, it doesn't need a genius to put two and
two together and come up with four!" He
glared at the assortment of experts assembled from various parts of the globe,
ran an exasperated hand through his unruly hair and turned away with a sigh of
disgust. There was a short silence,
then Harry turned back to face his colleagues.
"We can't force it into place by
willpower alone." he continued more calmly, "We have to find another way."
The others present in the Ministry
Laboratory exchanged glances. One or
two shuffled their feet in embarrassment.
"It is difficult." a quiet voice
began. "No one here present has any concrete knowledge of magical mind-bonding
between wizards. In fact, were it not
for the shadows of these incidents in your minds, I could be forgiven for
doubting the existence of such a phenomenon.
In all my researches, I have never come across any reference to this
ability, nor have I encountered anyone with such knowledge." The softly-spoken Chinese Dr. Lim was
attempting to lower the temperature of the meeting.
"Except the Dark Side," added Dr.
Galen, the Ministry's own expert, "We have it from their agents that bonding
has been known to occur before between Dark Wizards. Indeed, the great Merlin himself was unwillingly bonded with the
Dark Witch, Morgan le Fey, but we can discover nothing further from our
archives, just the bare facts. It's
very frustrating."
"Perhaps there is conflict between
the parties." Dr. Petrucci now entered the discussion. Arthur had never met anyone who looked less
like an academic. An olive-skinned,
smouldering Latin-lover type, Petrucci's languid good looks concealed a
first-class brain and a habit of speaking his mind. "Perhaps neither of you will submit to the other's will." There was a short, awkward silence. Arthur winced: it had not escaped his notice
that Petrucci's roving eye had lit once or twice upon his pretty daughter, and
Ginny's almost contemptuous disregard of his advances had not earned her any
Brownie points with the Italian wizard.
Ginny spoke for the first time.
"Draco Malfoy …" she swallowed,
then began again, "He told me the Dark Forces considered it unlikely that we
would succeed in a full bonding because of my volatile temperament." Harry whirled round in dismay and took hold
of her shoulders.
"Oh for goodness sake, Ginny,
you're not going to give credence to anything that vermin told you, are
you?" Ginny stared straight into his
eyes, not at all intimidated.
"Why not?" she challenged. "They
seem to know rather more about it on his side of the fence." Harry admitted this reluctantly, but still
protested.
"That may be true, but it seems to
me a very unfair description of you."
Ginny shrugged indifferently.
"I
don't consider it unfair at all." She replied. "I know I'm unpredictable – it's
a large part of my creativity and my magical strength. Of course I won't submit to you – why on
earth should I? I wasn't brought up to
be submissive, for Merlin's sake. I
have five brothers – that's not exactly encouragement to be meek and mild, now
is it?"
~oo0oo~
Arthur shook his head with a gentle smile, coming back
to earth as the hymn ended and the congregation sat down. He looked up at the highly-decorated
lectern, observing as he did so that the unseasonally bright flowers were
rather over the top. A faint smile
crossed his face as he recalled the profusion of snowdrops and crocuses back at
The Burrow. What would Cornelius
himself have made of all this pomp and circumstance, I wonder? mused Arthur as
Tantalus Brown approached the lectern to read the first lesson. What had Cornelius really been like
anyway? Had he been as accomplished a
Minister as they were today proclaiming?
Or had his success been largely due to the considerable support he had
received from Albus Dumbledore? Arthur
wouldn't be surprised if the latter were the case. Things at the Ministry had turned on their heads after Fudge and
Dumbledore fell out over You-Know-Who, and it had been some considerable time
before anything coherent had been achieved at a high level. Tantalus Brown began to read. Arthur really did not want to listen, he
preferred to keep his blood pressure at a manageable level. A faint, grim but satisfied smile settled
over his lips as he recalled his relief when Brown had reluctantly withdrawn
from the campaign to fill Cornelius's shoes.
The article that Rita Skeeter had submitted to Brown for pre-publication
comment, dealing with his treatment of Harry and Ginny over the Mexican affair,
had been some of her best work. Rather
a pity that Tantalus had caved in – it would have made marvellous copy. The downside was that Arthur's Department
owed Rita big, and they had no doubt that come payday it would cost everything
she could screw out of them. C'est la
vie: they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Arthur sighed soundlessly: even if they knew nothing bad about
him, the fact remained that the New Man was something of an unknown quantity.
A shuffling of feet alerted Arthur that Brown had left
the lectern. He strode back to his pew
staring straight ahead, without deigning to acknowledge the diffident young man
now taking his place at the huge Bible.
Harry Potter carefully turned the pages until he found his place,
refusing to be phased by Brown's discourtesy in not turning to the next
reading. Arthur smiled faintly at the
sight of his daughter's partner, still blinking behind his spectacles, still
trying to flatten the unruly mop of hair that insisted on falling over his
face. It was at times like these that
Arthur was most forcibly reminded of James.
Not that they had ever been close – Arthur and Molly had, after all,
been several years senior to James, Sirius and Remus at Hogwarts – but he
remembered James well, Lily too. And
now their son was involved with his daughter, together with all that followed
from such an alliance. Ginny had scarcely
had time to breathe since hooking up with Harry. Their relationship had been fraught with danger from its very
beginning. No wonder Ginny was
reluctant to marry him – either or both of them could die tomorrow. Arthur shook his head again. That was why the exploitation of their
mind-bond was so important. They had no
choice but to see it through, if only for their own survival. The Dark Side were unlikely to slacken their
vigilance now. Arthur's mind wandered
again.
~oo0oo~
"He's
answered my message – he's agreed to help us!"
Hermione's almost incandescent excitement led Arthur to overlook her
bursting into his office without even knocking. He looked up from his everlasting paperwork as a piece of
well-worn parchment was waved frantically in his face. Arthur steadied it and squinted at the
crabbed, scribbly writing. The message
was from Dr. Ratcliffe in Florence, the learned gentleman Harry had consulted
over his discovery of the Holy Grail last year. Seeing how desperate Harry and Ginny were becoming over their
continuing inability to trigger their mind bond at will, Hermione had consulted
the professor unofficially to see if he could shed some light on the
problem. His response was to invite
Harry and Ginny to the World Wizarding Library to explore some potential leads
that could aid their endeavours. He
insisted that Hermione should accompany them of course, but knowing the old
man's partiality for his wife, Ron refused to let her go without him. Arthur came along for the ride, and also
because he was curious to meet this eminent expert who had shed such a deal of
light on the Holy Grail affair.
If
he had known what he was letting himself in for, Arthur would probably have
stayed quietly at home. Immediately on
catching sight of Hermione, the good Professor enveloped her in a bear hug,
kissing her soundly on each cheek.
Arthur glanced fleetingly at his youngest son, observing a muscle
twitching in his rigid face, and coughed discreetly into his handkerchief to
hide his amusement. Ron refrained from
kicking Ratcliffe in the shins as he received his rather more formal greeting,
but only just. Almost immediately, the
Professor and Hermione went into animated discussion, swiftly making lists and
consulting the Catalogue. His
suggestion that they should research some muggle documentation, namely that of
the ancient Indonesian peoples, particularly Javanese Hindu writings was
greeted with puzzlement by the others.
"But
why?" demanded Ron, his antagonism making him blunt. Oblivious, the Professor turned an animated face towards him.
"A
very good question, Mr. Weasley." He replied, absently stroking his beard. "The
fact is that throughout history, a number of famous wizards were prominent
Hindu priests, that particular great religion always being more tolerant than
any other of so-called "magical" phenomena.
Consequently, Hinduism has had far more interface with the magical
community than Christianity, Islam, Judaism or any of the Eastern faiths." Hermione was nodding earnestly.
"Yes,
Professor. I've also read that the
older, pre-Christian religions of Europe have revealed a surprising wealth of
knowledge and artefacts known to be magical in origin."
"That
is absolutely true, Dr. Granger." replied the Professor. "But we have so few European sources – the
early Muggle Christians took it upon themselves to destroy anything they
considered Pagan. I suggest we begin
where the pickings are good and hope that we strike gold soon!"
Hermione
submitted her enormous reading list to the Catalogue and within a few minutes
the first instalment of texts was delivered.
Arthur's jaw dropped.
"What
a task!" he muttered. Hermione turned
her head.
"Oh
that's only about a quarter of it." She told him, frowning in concentration as
she divided the books rapidly into six categories. "Even though I jumped the
queue by using the Professor's name, these are only the references they had
within easy reach. It should take them
the rest of the day to track down all the texts I've requested, and probably
most of tonight to assemble them. We
should be able to discard half to three-quarters of this consignment – or at
least send the relevant pages for copying – before we leave this evening."
By
six o'clock, Arthur was going cross-eyed.
When they broke for lunch, he had been congratulating himself at having
reduced his huge pile of books by approximately 75%. Over lunch in the Library Refectory, he was looking forward to
sloping off home early for once and surprising Molly. His spirits fell sharply, however, on his return to the reading
room to find the next consignment of texts had been delivered while they were
eating. The piles practically reached
the ceiling! Arthur rested his forehead
on the table and despaired.
It
took two days to sort through the information.
Two solid days of backache, cramp, sore necks, gritty eyes and aching
brains, but the relevant material now resided at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione, with immense aplomb, had run
roughshod over anyone who tried to stand in her way and had commandeered an
office, some furniture and the services of a secretary. She then proceeded to work her way through
the references slowly and methodically, magnanimously waving aside Tantalus
Brown's protests about non-Ministry personnel and shutting the door firmly on
his attempts to interfere.
~oo0oo~
Arthur's musings were interrupted again as the
congregation stood for another hymn.
Opening the small black book, he looked carefully around the church for
his daughter-in-law. Ah, there she was,
sandwiched nicely between Ron and George.
He must remember to ask her if anything new had come up over the past
couple of days. Was that Fred standing
next to George? Yes, it was. Good.
Bill had put in an appearance (suitably dressed, much to Molly's relief)
and was standing on the other side of his mother. Sadly, Charlie was involved in the hatching of a brood of
Hungarian Hornbacks which had reached a critical stage. The Hogwarts contingent had seated
themselves towards the back – no doubt somewhat concerned about the all too blatant
intrusion of the muggle press.
The hymn ended, the congregation sat down and the new
Minister for Magic, Jeremy Wingford-Hill, slowly ascended the lectern to begin
the Address. Arthur immediately started
to pay close attention, not solely because the man was his ultimate superior,
but because he was very curious as to how he would acquit himself in such a
sensitive situation. Wingford-Hill took
his time arranging his few pages of notes against the large Bible, then he
looked out over the top of the lectern, surveying the congregation thoughtfully
for a moment before beginning to speak.
The proverbial pin could be heard echoing throughout the large
building. Arthur smiled: he liked a man
with a sense of theatre.
~oo0oo~
"Pressing the flesh" it was called. Or at least Arthur remembered it being
described so by his then immediate superior when he joined the Ministry so many
years before. Armed with a solitary
glass of a vaguely alcoholic beverage that he pretended to sip every now and
then, Arthur cruised the crowd attacking the funeral baked meats, feeling
slightly nauseous. Trying to formulate
a plan of attack, he was distracted by a low voice in his ear:
"Bloody awful crush.
We'd get better service down the Cat & Broomstick. And a better meal too, although that
wouldn't be hard!"
"Good to see you, Fred." replied Arthur without
bothering to turn round. "Rather a good
turnout, I thought. At least most of
our side stuck to the rules. And you're
being a little unfair about the food: from the little I can see, it appears to
be very good."
"I'm not protesting the quality, or even the quantity,
just the proximity. Or lack of
it." Fred pursed his lips and took an
unenthusiastic sip from his glass, surveying the room. His eyes narrowed and fixed beadily on
someone over the other side of the room.
"Sorry, Dad," he said, patting his father's arm
without breaking his gaze, "I'll catch up with you later. I've got to go see a man about a
hippogriff." He took off purposefully
into the crowd and Arthur later spotted him deep in earnest conversation with
Caesare Brooks.
"Damn and blast!" another voice exploded in Arthur's
ear. "I've been trying to snatch a word with Fred all day. Couldn't you have held on to him for five
minutes?" Arthur smiled sympathetically.
"George, your mother and I have been trying to hold on
to either or both of you since the day you were born," he replied, amused,
"With a singular lack of success, I might add." George grabbed a passing waiter by the sleeve and directed him to
fill their glasses.
"Never know when you'll find another one in this
crush." He commented, eyeing the diminishing buffet with chagrin. Arthur gave his son a considering look.
"You say you haven't been able to pin Fred down all day."
He said thoughtfully. "That's unusual, surely.
Never a day goes by without you two cooking up something together, even
now you've supposedly both grown up."
George shook his head.
"I'm trying to focus his attention on the business."
He complained. "We've got some
important policy decisions to make as to our future direction. Most of the time I run the whole bang shoot,
but there's the odd occasion, like now, when I needs Fred's input – and
incidentally his signature on some documentation." Arthur smiled. It was
scarcely perceptible to outsiders, and if challenged he would have denied it
vehemently, but there were definite signs that George was beginning to show a
little more adult responsibility.
Arthur was of the private opinion that it was well past time he grew up
a little, but part of him couldn't help mourn the passing of the
happy-go-lucky, irresponsible twin boys whose pranks he had outwardly condemned
but inwardly enjoyed as much as they had.
George suddenly spotted Oliver Wood among the crowd
and, hastily excusing himself from his father, fought his way to the other side
of the room. Arthur caught sight of
Oliver looking handsome and well-groomed, surprisingly well at ease in his
muggle suit. With him were Lee Jordan
and Ellen MacBeth, both long time friends of Fred and George. Arthur wondered if wedding bells were
tentatively ringing in that direction and promised himself to make time to talk
to the youngsters today.
"Arthur! How
pleasant to see you. Wish it could have
been under more cheerful circumstances though.
Still, it wasn't exactly unexpected."
Arthur turned to shake hands with Professor McGonnagall, a broad genuine
smile creasing his face.
"Minerva! Good
to see you too. How are things at
Hogwarts these days?" The years had
changed Minerva McGonnagall very little.
She was still stiff-backed and severe, radiating an aura of calm
competence from behind her square spectacles.
If Arthur could discern a few more wrinkles and perhaps a little more
grey in her hair since she had taken over from Professor Dumbledore as Head
Teacher, he would never be so ungallant as to mention it. She was accompanied by Professor Flitwick,
the tiny Charms teacher, who was so small as to be almost lost in the crowd.
"We're getting along much the same as usual."
Professor McGonnagall replied to his question. "We're working very hard on the
new student exchange programme, you know.
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have both been very supportive, and the scheme
has been extremely successful. It's in
it's third year now, and this year we've had some students from the American
schools, LAWA and NYWA – Los Angeles and New York, you know. I think Harry Potter may have had some
influence there." Professor McGonnagall
smiled in satisfaction.
"We've also had an approach from Caravadoccia, the
Italian school, but sadly the Russians and the Japanese regard the whole thing
with grave suspicion. Professor
Sinistra," she gestured to nearby group which included the Arithmancy teacher,
Professor Vector, Professor Kettleburn and Madame Hooch, now retired, "Has put
in a great deal of effort to forge links between the various schools." Arthur nodded briskly.
"This is all excellent news." He replied with
approval. "These links must be forged
while the children are young enough to be flexible. You need have no worries about the continuation of your grant for
this work, Minerva, I will make sure of that personally." She inclined her head in thanks.
"I have been a little concerned," she began, "That
there are some in the Ministry who have their doubts as to the validity of our
work in this area." She let her eyes
slide over to a stiff little group standing somewhat apart from the crowd where
Lady Fudge, flanked by her two sons, was being lectured by Tantalus Brown. Arthur followed her gaze and nodded
slightly.
"Have no fear Minerva." He said quietly without
turning back. "The Ministry will
support your work." But his eyes were
flinty. As they watched, Jeremy
Wingford-Hill approached Lady Fudge to spend a few minutes chatting to
her. It seemed to Arthur that she
latched on to him with the same relief a drowning man feels at the sight of a
lifebelt. He smiled: for someone who
had only known Cornelius personally for a year or so, Wingford-Hill's eulogy
had been considerably better than anyone had expected. At least the man had done his homework.
A few moments later found Arthur taking very real
pleasure in approaching a group comprising his daughter, his youngest son and
their respective partners. Ron and Hermione
were both radiating rather too much happiness for such a solemn occasion, but
Arthur felt his spirits lifting just looking at them. Ron acted as though he and Hermione were joined at the hip,
refusing to be parted from her for a moment and gazing sappily into her eyes
whenever he thought he wasn't observed.
Hermione seemed equally star-struck, and if Ron's fussing around her
like a mother hen caused the occasional little frown of irritation, she refused
to dwell on it.
"Doesn't she look well?" Ron said to his father as
Hermione turned to exchange greetings with a colleague. Arthur nodded.
"Indeed she does.
Motherhood becomes her." He raised his glass and clinked it against
Ron's. "I remember your mother when she
was carrying Charlie – looked as pretty as a picture." Which was a good deal more than he could say
for his own daughter, Arthur thought.
Not that he had any reason to think Ginny was pregnant, of course. His smile faded as he noted her
uncharacteristic silence, the shadows under her eyes, the tension in her body
language. Harry seemed little different
from usual, but Arthur noticed that he wouldn't stray far from her side,
although he didn't touch her in any way, not even to hold her hand. He glanced around: people were starting to
drift away now the buffet had been cleared.
"Have you spoken to Oliver yet?" Ron was talking to
him. Arthur shook his head.
"Haven't reached him yet."
"So you won't have heard about his stint in Singapore
then. Get this: the team has a new chaser
who needs to be broken in. Seeing as
it's the low season for Quidditch at the moment, matches are sparse anyway so
Oliver's keeping the whole team in Singapore for two months' training. Imagine that! Two solid months in one of the most exciting cities in the
world!" Arthur smiled.
"Perhaps you and Hermione could visit him for a
holiday?" Ron shook his head.
"Nah, no Apparating or Porting for her until she's six
months gone – too much of a shock to the system. And by that time, she says she won't want to be too far from
home. I guess we could use muggle
transport, but it's a long way to go, especially with morning sickness. I guess we'll wait till there's three of
us!" Arthur grimaced.
"She's still being sick?"
"As a dog.
It's supposed to stop after three months. Just goes to show you can't believe anything these Witch Doctors
tell you!" Arthur smiled, drained his
glass and looked around for Molly. He
found her talking kindly to a nervous young wizard from Arthur's department who
seemed very ill at ease in muggle clothes.
Arthur nodded at him kindly before gently taking hold of Molly's elbow.
"I don't know about you, dear," he murmured into her
ear, "But my feet are killing me, and I need a proper drink!" She smiled obediently and made her excuses
to the young man before the couple embarked upon the obligatory round of
farewells. Tantalus Brown seemed rather
put out at being interrupted in full flow, but the widow received their
condolences and thanks warmly. Arthur
and Molly made their way slowly towards the exit. Molly sighed with suppressed exasperation.
"Honestly, I really don't think I could have stood
another minute." She confided, rummaging in her handbag for their Portkey. "Ah, here it is. What with Hermione still with morning sickness, Ginny looking so
tense and Fred so very unhappy at the moment, this funeral has given me enough
family worries for several weeks. And
Arthur dear, you really must do something about that dreadful man, Tantalus Brown.
He spilled my drink, positively stamped on both my feet, then had the
nerve to glare at me as though it was my fault! And poor Lady Fudge! How
she managed to stay civil to him is beyond my imagination."
"Yes indeed, dear." agreed Arthur, wrapping her gently
in her coat. Yes indeed. But there's more to it than simply promotion
beyond his level of incompetence, I'm quite sure about that. He's like a Hydra – wherever you go at the
Ministry, whatever avenue you explore, you'll find one of his heads at the end
of it. It just doesn't tally with the
bluster, the sidelining, the petty one-upmanship. We've all been feeling the squeeze lately, but it can't be
coincidence that my allies are gradually disappearing – seconded, being shunted
to other posts, taking early retirement.
I'm calling in more favours than I'm creating just simply to stay
afloat. The muggles call this a War of
Attrition, I believe. Their so-called
"Cold War" was one such – it went on for decades. Somehow I don't think I'm going to last that long.
