Chapter Four: A
Glimmer of Hope
Harry winced as he landed unobtrusively on his frozen front
lawn, jarring his left foot. Gritting
his teeth against the sudden shock of pain, he carefully dismounted from his
Firebolt. The sprained ankle had been
sheer carelessness, he should have been ready for the throw. He sighed: distraction, preoccupation with
the problems of the past few weeks had got the better of him. His instructor had told him bluntly to get
out of the gym and return when his mind was back in gear: inattention at
Harry's level was positively dangerous.
He stowed his broomstick in the hall cupboard, strolling
into the kitchen in search of company. Finding no one about, he climbed the stairs to the West Wing and
wandered into the suite of rooms he shared with Ginny. After the turbulent events of last summer,
when they had decided to commit to each other, Harry had done some remodelling
of the first floor. Originally a long
corridor had opened on to two large bedrooms each with an ensuite
bathroom. Now a door at the top of the stairs
opened into a large living area, bedroom and ensuite off to the left, with the
other bathroom transformed into a study for Harry and the corresponding part of
the corridor made into a tiny soundproof room which only just housed a
keyboard, shelves of music, a computer and a full-length mirror – Ginny's
workroom. Harry strolled through to
discover that he was first home. Showering quickly to rid himself of the sweat and grime accumulated that
afternoon, he changed clothes, keeping one ear attuned to any sound in the
house. It was not long before he heard
the slam of the front door followed by quick, light footsteps pausing at the
hall table. Pulling a sweater over his
head, he wandered down the stairs to find Ginny going through the owl post,
still in her outdoor coat. She gave him
a brief brilliant smile before turning back to her perusal.
"Hi Harry, you're early. Marvellous news: I got two new contract offers through this
morning. One's with a really up and
coming set-up: it seems that Hold That Thought didn't do me any harm at
all! Are you okay?" Her pleased smile turned into a slight frown
at Harry's sudden gasp of pain. He had
taken the last few stairs too fast, landing heavily on the injured foot. He shrugged.
"Just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about." She
furrowed her forehead, taking in both the injury and the lack of any apparent
treatment.
"What have you been doing to injure yourself this time,
Harry? And what on earth did you think
you were playing at coming home on a broomstick with an ankle the size of a
balloon rather than going to the Infirmary?" Her tone was sharp. Harry looked
down at his ankle, ruefully observing that it had indeed swollen rather
badly. He gave her a puzzled look,
surprised at the asperity of her response.
"I landed awkwardly during my defence workout." He said
quietly, after a small pause. "I
decided to come straight home rather than go to the Infirmary because I rather
hoped you would heal it for me. Selfish
of me, perhaps, but I would prefer your attentions to those of one of the
nurses at the gym." Ginny's face
relaxed into chagrined relief.
"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!" She put her arms round his neck and briefly buried her face in his
shoulder. Pushing him away, she looked
anxiously up into his face.
"Of course I'll heal it for you. Do you want me to do it now?" She swiftly unsheathed her wand. Harry gently caught her wrist.
"Slow down." He said curiously. "What's all this about
anyway?"
"All what?" She
refused to meet his eyes, turning instead to hang up her coat and move towards
the kitchen.
"Tea?" she offered, glancing over her shoulder as she
pointed her wand at the kettle. Harry
wasn't fooled. He nodded his assent,
followed her through the door and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Ginny, ever since I got back from Mexico you've been like a
cat on hot bricks." He told her. "Now,
this is maybe not the best time to bring it up, but I'm feeling as though my
every move is being analysed for – well, I'm not sure what for, but you're
certainly quizzing me on every little thing I do. It's as though you suspect me of – I don't know – having a
mistress or something!" Ginny's eyes
widened in surprise, then her face creased into helpless laughter.
"A mistress?" she exclaimed, when she could draw breath.
"Well, Harry, in all my worries about you, founded or unfounded, a mistress was
one danger I never imagined." To his
surprise, Harry found he was rather offended.
"Why ever not?" he demanded. "Hey, I'm The Famous Harry Potter – what's to stop them falling
over each other in the rush? I have to
beat them off with a stick at the Ministry, you know!" He spread his arms, displaying himself. Ginny giggled.
"No offence, my love," she told him. "But it took you long enough to make a move
on me, and you've known me most of your life!"
"Ah, well, that was different." He subsided a little. "After all, we were talking about a life or
death situation in those days. And as I
recall it, young lady, it was you who made a move on me!"
"Only because you were being so slow about it!" she
retorted, giving a sly smile. "I guess
it must have been lack of practice."
"Hey!" Harry lunged at her in outrage, but she dodged behind
the kitchen table, laughing. She
pointed at their two mugs on the kitchen table as he advanced.
"Mind the tea – you'll spill it!" Harry ignored her protests, pinning her to the table and
mercilessly tickling her.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
was all she could manage through hysterical laughter and struggling.
"Can a person interrupt long enough to get himself a
well-earned, end-of-the-day hot drink, or are we returning to the habits of
late last summer?" Harry turned his
head to see Lee leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.
"Oh, uh, hi, Lee. Just resolving a few, uh, differences!" Harry's voice rose an octave on the last word as Ginny, taking
advantage of his momentary hesitation, turned on the offensive. Desperately trying to escape her, Harry
rolled over the end of the table, lost his footing and landed flat on his
back. Ginny quickly planted a stiletto
heel lightly on his solar plexus: Harry subsided.
"Pax?" she asked sweetly.
"You started it!" he protested in an indignant voice,
cutting off abruptly at a slight increase of pressure from Ginny's shoe.
"Pax?" she suggested once more. He nodded.
"Okay, pax." She
removed her shoe and picked up her mug of tea, grinning from ear to ear. Lee rolled his eyes.
"When you've quite finished." He strode over to test the
heat of the kettle. Harry was on his
feet now, tucking in his shirt and smoothing his ruffled hair.
"That reminds me," he said to Ginny. "How's your self-defence training coming
on?" A smile spread across her face as
she sipped her tea, nodding thoughtfully.
"Pretty good, I reckon." She told him. "I've got a session tomorrow – come along
and see."
"I think I already have first hand experience." He replied,
gingerly feeling his ribs. She ruffled
his hair.
"Wuss!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Where you going?" Ginny was climbing the stairs, taking her tea with her. She looked back over her shoulder.
"30 minutes – no more, I promise." Her look was
pleading. "I've got an audition
tomorrow and I've had so little time to prepare."
"What about my ankle?" Ginny paused half way up the flight of stairs.
"Right now?" she queried. Harry gave her a wounded puppy look.
"Oh alright." Coming
back down the stairs, she made him sit on the sofa, pushing up the leg of his
trousers and easing the sock over the swollen flesh. She winced.
"You certainly did land heavily." She told him, unsheathing
her wand. "What on earth were you
doing?" Harry flinched as she moved his
foot back into position.
"Not paying enough attention, that's what!" Ginny touched the ankle, already beginning
to colour, and murmured "Contraho." Harry sighed in relief as the swelling disappeared and his ankle became
whole again.
"Idiot!" she said affectionately, ruffling his hair. "Can I go practise now?" Harry smiled and waved a negligent hand.
"Go on." He told her. "It's my turn to cook anyhow – and Lee
will give me a hand, won't you Lee?" Lee choked on a mouthful of coffee. Harry thumped his back unnecessarily hard and beamed at him brightly.
"Well, looks like it's just us then." More or less recovered, Lee gave him a
baleful glance and made towards the fridge.
"I guess I'd better give you a hand," he muttered, peering
into its depths. "Or we'll all
starve. How many are at the communal
trough tonight?"
~oo0oo~
Dinner turned out to be a fairly quiet meal. Ellen arrived home from the office,
exhausted, at a little before eight, but George was spending the evening at
Fred's flat to sort out the paperwork on the jokeshop business, and there were
no extras. Harry and Lee had produced a
quite tasty pork casserole with new potatoes and baked red cabbage. Ellen smilingly complimented them on their
domestic expertise. Lee laid down his
cutlery with a thoughtful air and looked at Harry and Ginny.
"Don't you two ever think about moving out? You know, getting a place together, like Ron
and Hermione?" Harry laughed.
"Don't forget who has ultimate responsibility for this
joint, Lee." He said. "I can't move out if I own the place, now
can I?"
"Well, I don't know about that." Lee replied, waggling a
finger didactically. "You could always
find a couple more young professionals to take your places and use this as a
nice little business."
"We'd have to remodel again." Put in Ginny thoughtfully.
"Unless, of course, you two took over the West Wing?" Harry was grinning, but Ellen and Lee
exchanged a shy glance. Ellen
blushed. Ginny decided to spare their
embarrassment.
"For the moment, we seem to have all we need here." She put
in unexpectedly. "The house is so
beautiful and the gardens so large. We'd be foolish to look for anywhere else."
"I think Lee is looking for assurance that we're not going
to evict him at a moment's notice, Ginny." Said Harry smiling and patting her hand. Lee coughed awkwardly and stood up to start clearing the
dishes. Ellen looked at him, rolled her
eyes and set about helping him. Presently the two of them went out to a concert leaving Ginny and Harry
alone once more.
Harry yawned: his nightly cocoa was making him sleepy. He gave his Queen instructions to move two
places. She stared at him, hands on her
hips.
"You call that a move?" she shouted shrilly then shrugged
her shoulders in a "what can I do, I only work here" manner. Ginny giggled and told her knight to move in
line with Harry's queen. He bowed in an
exaggerated manner and did so without comment. Harry then gave his own knight orders to take Ginny's bishop. The knight frowned, got off his horse and
glared at Harry.
"Look, I'm sorry, old chap, but it just won't do." he burst
out, stabbing the board with his sword. "I mean, dash it all, playing dirty against another chap is one thing,
but against this lovely young lady? It
just isn't cricket." Ginny collapsed in
fits of laughter. Harry sighed.
"I'm going to have to get my own set of pieces." He
complained. "I can't keep borrowing George's
– he's so much better than me that I get nothing but insults out of them!"
"I'm getting tired anyway." Ginny said, still smiling. There was a companionable silence.
"Ginny," Harry began.
"Mmm?" Her eyes met his over the top of her mug.
"I don't want to spoil what has been a very pleasant
evening, but do you think we might try to talk about why you're so worried
about me?" His eyes were gentle and
enquiring, sympathetic. Ginny looked
down at the floor, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. She seemed to be fighting some kind of
internal battle. Finally she gave a
deep sigh.
"Okay, Harry." she said in a low voice, smoothing her skirt
and sitting on her hands.
"When you went to Mexico," she began, "We parted on the
worst terms possible, and when you finally came home, both of us had narrowly
survived serious attacks not just on our relationship but on our lives. Can you wonder that I worry now? It's taken me a long time to get over what –
what Malfoy did to me, partly because of the nature of the enchantment, but
also because it made me painfully aware of how vulnerable we are." She held up her hand to forestall his
attempted interruption.
"Please hear me out, even if you don't want to." Harry subsided. Ginny swallowed and folded her hands in her lap.
"I just can't seem to relax properly any more," she began
again. "Particularly when we're apart
for any reason. I'm constantly checking
my feelings, my emotions, every minute of every day, terrified that there'll be
something, some kind of change that will mean I'm under another spell. Whenever you're out of my sight, I worry
that I won't see you again, that some part of the Dark Side will whisk you away
and you'll never come home." Harry
reached for her and swiftly gathered her into his arms, knowing that she was
close to tears.
"I know this was the kind of danger I took on willingly when
I committed to you," she continued, sounding slightly muffled. "But it's preying constantly on my
mind. It's difficult to function
normally when I get panicky. I try hard
to overcome it, but it's an uphill struggle all the time. And now we keep trying and failing to
activate the mind bond at will." She
raised her head and looked him directly in the eyes.
"It's the only defence we've got, Harry." she said
urgently. "Neither of us can stand up
against the Dark Side without the added power the Melding gives us. And I can't help feeling that it's all my
fault we can't do it …" she trailed off, burying her face in his shoulder once
more. Harry tilted her chin until her
eyes met his once more.
"This is really about Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" He said softly. Her eyes widened.
"What?" she whispered, a trace of fear ghosting over her
face. Harry stroked a wayward strand of
red hair from her face.
"What he told you. That the Dark Forces reckoned you too volatile to make a go of bonding
with me, yes?" Ginny seemed to relax
slightly but dropped her eyes.
"Well, I guess so." She snuggled into his shoulder
again. He caressed her back.
"Ginny, Malfoy knows nothing." He soothed. "He's never had any inkling of a bonding in
his life – wouldn't know one if it hit him in the face. The problem is with both of us, not just
with you." He sighed and kissed the top
of her head.
"We're dealing with an unknown quantity here. No one knows what to do with us. Maybe Hermione's research will turn up
something – who knows? Until then we
just have to keep trying. It's not a
comfortable position to be in, I know, but we have no other option." He paused for a moment, then rubbed his
index finger over his lower lip thoughtfully.
"In some ways, perhaps it is just as well that we can't
activate the bond readily." Ginny sat
bolt upright and glared.
"What?" she exclaimed. "You actually want us to get fried by the Dark Side?" Harry was shaking his head.
"No, I was thinking about the Ministry and the politics
involved at present. You realise that
once we do succeed with this thing, we run a serious risk of being
exploited? It's a very real
possibility, especially considering the ambitions of one such as Tantalus
Brown. Wingford-Hill seems like a
reasonable chap, but we don't know enough about him."
"But Harry, it's the one way I
can be of some possible use to you, rather than making you vulnerable – it has
to work, it just has to!" Ginny's eyes were filling
with tears. Harry was astonished.
"Is that what this is all about?"
he exclaimed in wonder. "You think
you're a weak link, a millstone round my neck? Oh, Ginny, nothing could be further from the truth!" He caught her hands in his, his face was
alight with emotion.
"I couldn't find the strength to
go on if it weren't for you." He told
her earnestly. "Without you I'd have
given up and buried myself in LA for the rest of my life, analysing bits of
rock and stone, losing myself in the past. You've given me a future, Ginny, a reason to keep fighting to stay
alive. And you're in no way a weak
link! Your strength
of character is one very good reason why you have such immense magical talent,
and without that you and I wouldn't make anything like as effective a
partnership." Ginny stared back at him
unable to speak, her eyes brimming over with tears. Harry reached out a gentle hand to wipe them away.
"Oh, Ginny." He murmured, stroking her hair, cradling her
face in his hands. "You're the
loveliest girl I've ever known, the bravest and most courageous witch I've ever
met, and the partner I would most like to have by my side in any crisis." He bent his head to capture her lips in a
deep, lingering kiss. He sighed,
feeling her head settle against his shoulder, her hands gently caressing the
skin of his back.
"I've said it before, my love, but it bears repetition,
especially at a time like this." He
whispered close to her ear, his breath tingling over her skin. "I want to spend my whole life loving you –
every day, every hour, every moment." His lips sought the curve of her neck, eliciting a soft gasp of
pleasure.
"However long or short my time is likely to be," he continued
huskily. "I want to spend it by you …"
He nuzzled her ear deliciously. Her fingers briefly tangled in his hair.
" … with you …" His
hands slid slowly past the buttons of her blouse, caressing the soft skin
beneath.
" … and in you." The
last was a throaty murmur as he claimed her mouth once again. Several minutes passed in silence punctuated
only by the rustle of fabric and the occasional sigh. Breaking away to draw breath, Ginny stood up and silently held
out her hand. Her clothes were
dishevelled, her pupils so dilated as to be almost black, and her steady gaze
sent shivers down Harry's spine. He
stared at her, shaking his head, a wondering smile playing about his lips. She wanted him. She could have anyone she chose, anywhere – and she wanted him. A small flame of hope for the future ignited
in his heart. Heedless of his
disarrayed clothing, he grasped her hand and followed her up the staircase to
the West Wing, leaving the chess
pieces and cocoa mugs abandoned on the coffee table. Harry's Queen stared after their retreating figures, hands on her
hips.
"Oy!" she shouted
furiously. "You're not just going to leave us here in the middle of a game, are
you?" The knight walked across to her
square and patted her arm soothingly.
"Look on the bright side, old
thing." He told her. "At least the next
time we play, we're likely to have George in charge. That's got to be a change for the better, eh what?"
Much later when the last light in
the house had been extinguished, Harry's physical and emotional fulfilment
finally spilled him over into sleep. Illuminated only by a shaft of moonlight stabbing through a gap between
the drapes, his face was thrown into monochrome contrast. Ginny, propped up on her pillow by one
elbow, gazed down at him. At first
sight, Harry appeared to have changed little since boyhood: the same smooth,
regular features, aquiline nose, heavy-lidded eyes, smoky-black eyebrows and
lashes. But what moonlight could
conceal, it could also reveal. Were
those faint lines around that well-shaped mouth? And were there really shadows under his eyes, creases on his
forehead? Ginny sighed inaudibly. He bears
the burdens of us all, she thought, and I am his Achilles heel. I make him vulnerable, I expose him to danger, and yet I am also
his reason for living. Doesn't he
realise how close I came to betraying him? Betraying all of us? And can he
not see that because I did not turn traitor, I took on a life debt?
A faint scratching from the
window made Ginny turn her head quickly. Silently, she rose from the bed and crossed to the balcony, slipping the
catch and opening the door just enough for her to slide through. The freezing wind knifed through her thin
nightdress, but she closed the door behind her in case the cold air caused Harry
to wake. Pretty soon she was shivering.
"GinnyWheezy! GinnyWheezy! Is that you?" A hoarse
whisper broke the silence.
"Dobby?" She replied, and in response a diminutive
figure climbed silently over the balcony to stand before her. Ginny stared in astonishment.
"Dobby!" she exclaimed, trying to
keep her voice down. "You didn't have
to make a personal visit – a message would have been good enough." Dobby shook his head.
"Dobby thought it was best he
come to see GinnyWheezy himself." He replied still in a whisper. "Dobby knows messages can go to the wrong
people. Dobby is afraid of getting you
into trouble." Ginny smiled as best she
could over chattering teeth.
"That was kind of you, Dobby."
She replied. "I'm afraid I can't ask
you in because Harry's asleep." Dobby
shook his head.
"Dobby must be getting back to
Hogwarts. Dobby will say what he has
come to say." He drew himself upright
as though he was reciting a poem.
"Dobby says All Debts Are Now
Paid." He told her with emphasis. "Now
Dobby must be going." He climbed back
onto the balcony wall.
"Wait!" Ginny held up a hand. "You mean – he escaped?" Dobby
nodded.
"Dobby gave him the wand, Dobby
loosened his chains." Was the reply. "He asked Dobby who had sent him. Dobby did not tell."
"But did he get away?" She stared
at the little elf, real urgency in her eyes. He nodded.
"Yes." he replied. "Dobby knows he got away, but the Master … "
The elf stopped himself with a gesture of annoyance and tried again. "The-one-who-was-Master, Dobby means, was
very angry. He is looking,
searching." He shook his head
fearfully. "Dobby would not like to be
the one he was searching for – no he wouldn't!" Ginny let out a shaky breath. She swallowed hard and turned back to her diminutive visitor.
"Thank you very much for your
help, Dobby." She raised a hand in
farewell. "I'm very grateful to you –
you don't know how grateful." Dobby
bowed his head.
"Dobby is always to help
HarryPotter, or anyone who is his." Was the fading response as the House Elf
retreated silently into the darkness. Ginny stood until the sounds of his retreat had faded into silence. She bit her lip: she had known it would have
been pointless and possibly counterproductive to ask Dobby not to mention his
little escapade to Harry. The elf would
not have understood the need for secrecy, and even if he had, he would have
been shocked to think that Ginny would act on something so serious without
Harry's knowledge. Dobby could be very
old-fashioned at times. But even so,
she wished she could be sure that her interference would remain undetected.
Almost quaking with cold, Ginny
went quickly back into the bedroom, pausing only to put on her bathrobe. She crossed to her dressing table and opened
a draw, taking out a small casket. From
a china bowl she removed a tiny gold key and unlocked the little box. It was a jewellery casket containing Ginny's
small collection of valuable items: a gold locket containing photographs of her
family; a silver brooch once belonging to her grandmother, given to her by her
mother on her eighteenth birthday; a pretty watch, no longer working and never
particularly valuable but cherished because Fred had picked it up for her in
Hong Kong; and a heavy gold chain which was Harry's Christmas present last
year. There was also another item,
concealed in a small black box, which she carefully withdrew and studied
closely for a while. It was a rosebud,
still as fresh as the day she had received it, tiny and perfect. Except for the fact that it was totally
black. Sighing, she returned it to its
nest of satin, stroking it lightly.
"All debts are now paid." She
murmured quietly as she put it away, hoping against hope that she spoke the
truth.
~oo0oo~
Over the busy streets of London,
a young witch swerved her broomstick between the clouds, alternately peering at
the ground and consulting a small piece of parchment. The rising exhaust fumes caused her to cough and splutter,
hindering her efforts at mapreading.
"Really!" she exclaimed, wiping
her watering eyes on a handkerchief. "Why anyone should want to work in such a place is beyond belief. Even Glasgow is better – at least you can
get from A to B without suffocating in the process!" Taking another squint at her parchment and a quick glance at the
streets below, she angled her broomstick for descent. And let's
hope I get it right this time. She thought grimly. Memory
charms are all very well, but they really do take it out of you with constant
use.
Ginny was concentrating hard,
sweat trickling down her back and between her breasts. Her loose, khaki-coloured vest had damp
patches and her shorts were sticking to her bare legs. She ignored the discomfort, her arms and
legs moving in a smooth ballet over the wooden floor – ultimate balance, ultimate
control. Her lips were still, but Harry
knew she was silently repeating her mantra: Bu Tiu Bu Ding (not
letting go, not resisting).
Harry was watching his partner work during a break in his
own fitness routine. Dressed casually
in sweats, his hair practically on end, he pressed his nose against the glass
partition, enjoying the sight of her in action.
"Mr. Potter, sir." The voice of a security guard interrupted his reverie. Harry looked up.
"What is it, Jenkins?" The burly man looked a little shamefaced.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a lady wanting
to see you. I told her you were
unavailable, but I'm afraid she wouldn't take no for an answer …"
"Harry?" The burly security guard was peremptorily shoved
aside to reveal a young witch wearing thick flying clothes and clutching a
broomstick. Harry frowned, looking into
her face half hidden by her hat. Impatiently, she tugged it off: long blonde hair fell over her
shoulders. Harry's jaw dropped.
"Lavender? Good
grief, what are you doing here?" He
turned to the security guard.
"It's alright, Jenkins, the young lady is a friend of
mine. We were at Hogwarts
together. Thank you very much, you can
go back to Reception now." Jenkins was
not at all happy at the prospect of leaving a strange witch with one of his VIW
members, but he nodded unwillingly and set of back down the corridor, still
casting black looks over his shoulder.
Harry turned to the girl and helped her off with her thick
flying cloak.
"Well," he began, "This is a surprise! We haven't seen you since Ron and Hermione's
wedding." Lavender Brown slung her
cloak over her arm and pushed her damp hair out of her eyes with a sigh.
"I know, Harry." she replied with chagrin. "It's been a very long time indeed, and the
fact that Aurelius and I both live in Edinburgh is not really much of an excuse
for a couple of wizards, is it?" Harry
gestured towards the cafeteria.
"Come and have some coffee." He suggested. "You look as
though you could do with it." Lavender
shook her head.
"Maybe later, Harry." she replied. "I'm afraid this is not a social call, much as I would like it to
be."
"Oh?" Harry was interested. "Not something to discuss in a cafe then?" Lavender looked slightly awkward.
"My business is actually with Ginny, not with you." She
admitted. "I've come straight from
Wizarding Radio – Ernie MacMillan told me she'd be here with you." Harry nodded.
"That's right." Lavender looked around.
"Is she about?" she asked. "It's really rather urgent – at least, I think it is." With a half-smile, Harry nodded towards the
glass partition. Uncomprehendingly,
Lavender looked through into the room beyond.
"Flamel's Stone!" she muttered. "I had no idea Ginny was into Kung Fu – or whatever that is."
"Tai Chi, actually." Harry corrected her gently, rather enjoying Lavender's startled
reaction.
"She won't be very much longer." He continued. "She's nearing the end of it now and I guess
she'll need a break – and a drink." He
grinned at Lavender.
"Are you sure you don't want to tell me the gist of it? Ginny and I do work as a team you
know?" Lavender shook her head again.
"I'll wait for her to finish." She said firmly.
"Hey Harry!" They
both swung round as a wiry, fit-looking black guy with a wide oriental smile
and a bandanna around his head sauntered up the corridor, swinging a battered
sports bag bearing the legend "No cat gonna catch this Mouse!" in neon
green. Harry grinned and gave the man a
mock-salute. The newcomer cocked his
head in the direction of the glass partition.
"She finished yet?" Harry shook his head.
"Couple of minutes." The black man nodded, pursing his lips.
"She asked me for a session later this morning." He
explained, his eyes gleaming. "After I
get through with you." Harry raised an
eyebrow.
"Oh yeah?" he countered. "Sure you'll have the strength?" The other grinned broadly, not at all phased, and suddenly threw his bag
directly at Harry's stomach. Harry
caught it, but could not suppress a sudden expulsion of breath. The other cackled with laughter, pointing a
long index finger.
"I take fifteen minutes warm-up," he cautioned. "Then your ass is mine, man!"
"You and whose army?" demanded Harry, lobbing the bag back
with equal force. The black man caught
it easily.
"Me, myself and my two hands, partner," he replied. "And don't you forget it!" Flipping Harry an irreverent salute, he sauntered off to the changing rooms. Harry glanced through the glass partition to check on Ginny's progress. As he did so, he became aware of Lavender tugging at his arm, looking highly disturbed about something.
"Harry," she began furtively. "I know this is a respectable wizarding gym, I had it checked out
before I came, but I'm terribly afraid I can't be wrong – that man is a – a muggle!" Harry nodded.
"That's right." He replied. Lavender's jaw dropped.
"But Harry," she began, absolutely aghast. "What on earth do you think you're doing
patronising a place which employs muggles? I mean, do you know anything about him? Is he, well, safe?" Harry
suppressed a smile.
"Oh, yes, he's perfectly safe, Lavender," he began
mildly. "If you're on the right side of
him, that it. Otherwise …" he trailed
off expressively. Her eyes became as
round as dinner plates and she started to glance apprehensively around her.
"Are there – any more?" she whispered. Harry fought off the desire to laugh.
"More muggle employees? Well, no actually. He's the
first and only one." Harry took pity on
her.
"Look, Lavender," he began. "His name is Mouse. He's not actually employed by the gym. He works for the Ministry as a consultant in unarmed combat, and I was largely instrumental in getting him the contract. He's one of the good guys – trust me!" What Harry didn't tell Lavender was that his own friendship with Mouse dated from the time the latter single-handedly rescued him from a gang of thugs who attacked him in the Los Angeles subway. It had taken a while, but Harry eventually persuaded Mouse to exchange the life of a vigilante for the apparent respectability of a Ministry employee. Money, status, the opportunity for travel – none of these had amounted to a hill of beans in Mouse's world. However, once he realised that Harry could fly broomsticks, he had been on the next plane:
"I always knew the stories my Grandaddy told me was true! This beats everything!"
Lavender's face was still grave and disapproving, but fortunately she had no time to give voice to her objections as at that moment, Ginny emerged from the gym room, wiping sweat off her face with the hem of her vest. She stopped short on seeing Lavender.
"What a lovely surprise!" she exclaimed, running towards her. "I'll wait till I've showered to give you a proper greeting." She smiled, then turned to Harry, kissing him damply on the cheek. "Mouse is ready for you."
"Hey," teased Harry mournfully. "You wait to shower before kissing Lavender, but not me? Ouch!" She punched him playfully in the shoulder.
"Watch the bodywork!" He growled, running a hand over his arm. She grinned playfully.
"Always did, Harry." she replied gaily. "Always did!"
Ginny led Lavender into the cafeteria and ordered drinks.
"I've another session due after Mouse is done with Harry." she told her. "So you'll excuse me if I don't shower now. I'll just get my sweats so I won't stiffen up."
Lavender sat at the table, slowly sipping the fragrant Java brew until Ginny was ready for her to begin.
"Now," the pretty redhead sat at attention, having downed half a litre of mineral water. I'm all ears. What is it, Lavender? Are you and Aurelius thinking of getting married and want some advice? 'Cause if you are, I'd say Hermione or Percy's wife, Penny would be better at that than me." Lavender shook her head firmly, but Ginny noticed a faint trace of pink in her cheeks.
"Nothing like that, Ginny." She began. "I'm actually acting as an emissary from another party."
"Oh?" Ginny's tone was wary, but her eyes said "Tell me more". Lavender continued.
"I'm here on behalf of Professor Telawney." She began, and then at Ginny's blank look, "You know, the Divination Professor at Hogwarts."
"Oh, yes." said Ginny quickly. "Of course I remember, it's just that I can't imagine for one moment why she'd want to contact me." Lavender paused.
"Now Ginny," she began. "I know that most of your family, and Hermione too, were never particularly sympathetic towards the scrying arts when you were at Hogwarts, and please don't think that I'm trying to pull you into anything dodgy, it's just that – well – Professor Trelawney never leaves Hogwarts you know, otherwise I'm sure she'd have come in person, and she was really very urgent about my going to see you myself, not sending a message or anything, and despite all you might say about her, I really believe this is important …"
"Lavender." Ginny put a hand on her former colleague's arm, breaking off her words. "What does she want?"
"She wants you to come to Hogwarts." Lavender responded with a rush. "She urgently needs to speak with you – honestly I've never seen her so determined. Please say you'll come?" Ginny frowned, pursing her lips thoughtfully.
"But what does she want to talk to me about?" Lavender shrugged.
"She didn't say exactly."
"Not exactly? Lavender, if she didn't say exactly, what did she say?" Lavender sighed.
"Oh, dear." She muttered, then looked up. "Ginny, please give me your word you'll come with me back to Hogwarts."
"Then you'll tell me?"
"After you give your word." Ginny considered, then shrugged. How difficult could it be? They could Apparate or Port to Hogsmeade Station, then take a horseless carriage to the school. She would only be away for a few hours at most.
"Alright Lavender, I promise."
"Okay." Lavender took a deep breath. "I think – I'm not sure, mind, but I think – she's had a Seeing." It was such an anticlimax after Lavender's tremendous build-up that Ginny nodded, waiting expectantly for the rest.
"That – that's it." said Lavender, uncertainly. Ginny stared.
"That's all?" she replied incredulously. "Just that? Prof. T.'s had another funny turn, so we've all got to go stand on our heads? Oh damn and blast it, Lavender! If I'd known that was all it was, I'd never have promised to go with you. Now I've got to waste the afternoon getting to Hogwarts, attend a tea party I'd really rather miss with a muddle-headed old trout whose teaching didn't even make sense the first time round, and likely have her on my back about my destiny for ever after into the bargain!"
"Please, Ginny!" Lavender looked stricken. "I'm sorry you're taking it this way."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll still come – if that's what's bothering you." Ginny put her glass down on the table with unnecessary force. "I made a promise, I'll keep it. Please just excuse me while I rearrange my life to suit you, okay?" Lavender didn't respond, just stared at Ginny with pleading eyes. The redhead slammed her chair into the table and stalked out towards the showers without another word.
~oo0oo~
"How do I manage to get myself into these situations?" Ginny asked herself as she and Lavender stood outside Hogsmeade Station in the falling snow, waiting for a carriage to take them to Hogwarts. Her breath made smoke in the freezing air and she stamped her booted feet, trying to keep warm. As far as she could make out, they were the only living creatures for miles around.
"Lavender, you might have seen fit to tell me there's a Severe Weather Warning out for this area!" Her friend shrugged.
"I thought you realised that Hogwarts is in Scotland." She retorted. "The further north you go, the colder the weather tends to be – surely that's obvious!" Ginny didn't bother to respond.
"Look! Here it is." The carriage swept smoothly into the station approach and stopped at their feet. The door opened silently and the girls clambered in, relieved to be out of the wind and snow. The journey was short: there was scarcely time for their hands and faces to thaw out before the vehicle slowed to a halt and the door opened once again, bringing a swirl of snowflakes in its wake. Shivering, they clambered out and half-ran, half-slid over the cobbles towards the main door of the castle. Fortunately someone was waiting for them.
"Come in quickly and shut the door on this dreadful cold. Goodness! You can imagine I gave Sybil Trelawney a piece of my mind when I found out what she'd done. Dragging you all this way, and in such weather too! And for what, I have to ask? How many of her ramblings have turned out to be of any use to man or beast?" Ginny wiped snow out of her eyes and looked up.
"Professor Sprout!" she exclaimed.
"The very same." The grey-haired, dumpy little witch smiled genially at her former pupils. "It's nice to see you again so soon, my dears. Perhaps we'll get a chance to talk this time – funerals are so difficult, don't you think?" Ginny smiled back and removed her wet cloak. She shivered. Noticing this, the Professor hustled the two girls away from the front door and up the main staircase.
"Professor McGonagall would have come to greet you herself, but she's tied up at present," She told them over her shoulder. "And I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to warm yourselves by the Staffroom fire for a while, as I've got Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Seventh Years joining me in the greenhouses in ten minutes' time. Don't worry, I'll send one of the Prefects to take you up to Sibyl – when she's ready to receive you, of course!" Professor Sprout rolled her eyes and opened the Staffroom door, ushering them in. Lavender, wide-eyed and apprehensive, entered the room rather diffidently, but Ginny had spied the roaring fire at one end and made for it eagerly. The two girls spread out their cloaks to dry and eased their soggy footwear.
"Do you know," said Lavender, looking around thoughtfully, "Apart from Professor Lupin's lesson with the boggart in our third year, I don't think I've ever set foot in this room before." Ginny shook her head and leant closer to the fire, trying to rub some warmth into her hands.
"Nor me." She replied. "This was something of a hallowed place when we were students, wasn't it? No one would have dared to come in without permission."
"Exactly as it should be." Interjected a nasal voice from the back of the room. The two girls swung round in surprise. Ginny stood up.
"Oh!" she said, her eyes slowly adjusting to the shadows. A black-clad figure with lank hair and a hooked nose was sitting at a table apparently marking scrolls.
"Professor Snape." She said finally. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you. Professor Sprout said we could wait here until Professor Trelawney is ready to receive us." Snape made a wordless sound of disgust: whether it was directed towards the two girls or to the absent Professor herself, Ginny could not tell. At a loss as to what to say next, she cast around in her store of polite pleasantries.
"You may be aware that several of us are now living together in London, Professor." She began. He didn't answer but continued to glare balefully at her.
"Ron and Hermione Weasley send their regards." She continued, weakly. "So does Harry." Snape snorted and threw down his quill.
"If you insist on wasting my time wittering, Miss Weasley," he snarled, "Kindly refrain from insulting my intelligence with obvious lies." Lavender drew in a startled breath. Ginny's face froze.
"I beg your pardon, Professor Snape," she said in low tones, "But would you mind explaining that last remark."
"Certainly, Miss Weasley." He responded in careful mimicry. "Many things are possible in this world, including the faint prospect that the voluble Dr. Granger would send her good wishes to me. However, I would venture a guess that hell would have to freeze over several times before your youngest brother would allow my name to pass his lips without a curse. As for the Famous Harry Potter, pah!" He made a disgusted noise and turned back to his marking.
"Does that answer your question, Miss Weasley?" he demanded without looking up.
"Not really, Professor Snape." He looked up in surprise. Ginny swallowed bile. Something rather unexpected had happened to her while he had been speaking. All the bitterness and resentment that she had harboured against this man over her years at Hogwarts, for herself and for those she loved, suddenly rose up anew in a flood of anger. She thought she had forgotten and forgiven, she thought these things didn't matter any more, she had risen above them – only to discover that this was very far from the truth.
"Frankly, Professor," she began calmly, "If you had behaved with the slightest scrap of decency to any of your pupils, particularly Harry, while they were here in your care, you might not have turned out to be the bitter, friendless individual you obviously are." Lavender gasped. Snape's surprise quickly turned to contempt.
"I see the past few years have deprived you of even the small amount of intelligence you had as a student." He told her with venom. "It goes with the territory, Miss Weasley: choosing redemption over a lifetime of evil doesn't automatically make one into a "nice person"." The last two words were bitten off as though they tasted nasty. Ginny paused staring, then her shoulders drooped.
"I'm sorry for you." She said gently, sincerely. "I guess you can't just forget about a Dark Mark – even when its creator is dead." Snape uttered an oath that sent Lavender's hands to her mouth in shock. He rose from his chair and advanced on the girls, his face twisted with a mixture of anger and a famished hunger.
"If you believe that," he rasped, staring into Ginny's eyes with hatred, "Then you're a greater fool than your lover!"
"Alright!" she returned with spirit. "Not dead – no longer here, then. Is that more appropriate?" Snape scoffed at her, but without any real malice. He paced the room, then turned back to them.
"When Potter defeated Voldemort, I felt part of my power drain away." He explained. "Since then it has waxed and waned without any real reasoning behind it, but it was at its strongest during early summer last year. And I am not the only one to feel these trends – you would be surprised how far the ripples have spread." He looked her piercingly in the eyes. "Tell Potter that as far as Voldemort is concerned, we are all better off if the status quo remains unchanged. It would be Armageddon if he were to return, but his final destruction could be equally catastrophic." Ginny stared hard into his eyes, but could discern no trace of falsehood. She nodded gravely.
Abruptly the tableau was broken by a knock on the Staffroom door. Lavender darted forward to open it revealing a Prefect who announced that she was to take the two girls to Professor Trelawney's tower. Snape sloped back to glower over his marking, failing even to raise his head at their muted farewells.
Out in the corridor, Lavender gave trembling voice to what she had heard from Snape in the Staffroom, ignoring Ginny's increasingly urgent attempts to silence her, at least within earshot of their guide. Finally, unable to bear the near-hysterical blethering, she unsheathed her wand and pointed it furtively at Lavender.
"Obliviate!" she whispered. A thin stream of golden light wrapped itself around Lavender's head. She staggered slightly and put out a hand to Ginny's arm.
"Are you okay?" Ginny looked into her face. Lavender was wearing the relaxed but slightly perplexed look of someone whose memory had been successfully altered. Three or four yards ahead of them, the Prefect stopped and turned back enquiringly.
"Yes, I think so." Lavender replied. "Just felt a little dizzy, that's all." She turned to look at Ginny.
"I'm sorry," she said with a puzzled frown. "I'm afraid I've forgotten what I was saying." Ginny patted her arm, smiling.
"Don't worry about it." She said soothingly. "We're almost there anyhow." The two girls prepared to ascend the silver ladder to Professor Trelawney's domain.
~oo0oo~
Ron was making tea. This was not a task he enjoyed, nor was he particularly good at it, but Hermione was resting on the sofa in conversation with Harry, and Ron was playing the devoted husband. George had also dropped round to borrow a reference book from Hermione – something about a new joke/trick on the market, Ron hadn't bothered to listen in detail. As he directed the tea things, he glanced around the kitchen. Yes, it was light, airy and full of all the modern conveniences, but this was after all a flat: the kitchen was anything but large. How did four blokes manage to exist in this small space? He wondered. Perhaps none of them had ever cooked. Well, that might be true of Lee and myself, he decided, but both George and particularly Oliver were always cooking something. He shook his head. I can't see us coping with a baby in this small room – you need floor space for the child to crawl around, somewhere to put the highchair when they're not using it, I just can't see how we're going to manage here.
A strange trilling as of birdsong suddenly filled the flat.
"I'll get it." shouted George, and went to answer the door. Ron grinned and shrugged: his Nightingale Doorbell was no worse than the Lion Doorknocker at Harry's house, and it was much more suitable for a flat, he told himself. A burst of excited chatter drew him out of the kitchen to find his sister standing in the middle of the living room waving a piece of parchment in their faces.
"… and she said it was automatic writing – she didn't remember doing it!" Hermione was sitting up with a sceptical expression on her face.
"Professor Trelawney had a genuine prophetic moment?" she started to laugh. "Come on, Ginny, pull the other one. Most of what she teaches is muggle superstition. The crystal ball and the cards can be a focus, I'll grant you, but in order to get real bona fide results, you have to have real bona fide talent, and our dear Sibyl, I'm afraid …" she trailed off, waving her hands expressively.
"That's exactly what I said to Lavender," Ginny shot back quickly. "But this time was quite different from any other encounter I've had with her in the past. She seemed – genuinely worried, almost scared by the whole thing."
Ginny cast her mind back to the dim light, the roaring fire and the soporific fumes of incense and perfume.
~oo0oo~
Professor Trelawney had been
present in the room when they entered through the trapdoor, but instead of
reclining languidly in one of the armchairs, she was standing by the fireplace,
pacing backwards and forwards, displaying more agitation than Ginny had
believed her capable of.
As soon as she caught sight of
the girls, she embraced Lavender warmly.
"Thank you, my dear." She said
in a trembling voice. "Thank you so much for bringing her here. Now, I'm sorry to ask you this, but what I
have to say to Ginny could be very important, and the fewer people who know
about it, the better. Could I possibly
ask you to go back to the Staffroom and wait for her there?" Lavender, looking rather crestfallen,
remembered Snape's presence in the staffroom and shook her head firmly, giving
a small shudder. She turned to Ginny.
"Not there." She told her
firmly. Ginny nodded.
"No," Lavender continued,
"I'll collect our cloaks and go wait by the fire in the entrance hall."
"Thanks, Lavender." Ginny was sorry to see her friend leave: she
had been looking forward to Lavender's support during what promised to be a
difficult interview.
Strangely, fear seemed to have
stiffened Professor Trelawney's spine. She became more businesslike and straightforward than Ginny had ever
seen her.
"Ginny." She began. "I won't
waste your time or mine. This is too
important an issue for me to do anything other than take immediate
action." She paused and paced the room
a couple of times.
"Where to begin, that is the
difficulty." She muttered, then drew
herself upright and turned back to Ginny, clearly having made up her mind.
"For some months now, I have been troubled by visions." She began. "They have never been lucid enough for me to read clearly, but their
import was always quite evident: danger. Danger for whom, how and when I was never able to grasp – until
now." She turned to her table and
picked up a small piece of parchment.
"A few days ago I went into a
trance." She began, with a frown. "It
was most unexpected and highly inconvenient as I was teaching a class of third
years at the time. Fortunately," here
her face softened slightly. "Fortunately, one of their number is both interested and talented enough
to know not to disturb me, but to simply wait and record anything I might do or
say for future analysis." She paused,
lacing and interlacing her fingers in agitation.
"As it happened, there was no
need for any interference." She held
out the piece of parchment to Ginny. There, in a spidery hand which seemed somehow familiar, was written six
short lines of text, no more. Ginny
read them quickly then looked up uncomprehendingly. A flicker of impatience passed over Professor Trelawney's face.
"It's a prophecy, dear." She
replied. "Surely even one such as you
who has only – shall we say limited abilities can see that." At a loss for words, Ginny re-examined the
parchment and frowned.
"Professor Trelawney, this
isn't your handwriting." The older
woman shook her head.
"Indeed not, my dear." She
replied with some satisfaction. "And to
answer the question you were no doubt going to ask me, I'm afraid I have no
idea whose hand it might be."
"It seems familiar …" Ginny
trailed off, trying to dig back in her memories. She looked up again.
"Professor, may I take this
with me? I'd like Harry and Ron to see
it." The Professor smiled.
"Please do, my dear." She
replied. "Take it and be done! My part is finished. Now I can go back to my pleasant anonymity,
my dreaming tower, in the knowledge that I have done my duty." Ginny didn't think she could stand much more
of this. She tucked the piece of
parchment in her handbag, nodding to her old Professor.
"Thank you very much." She
said, turning to go. "I think perhaps I had better start making tracks back to
London now." Professor Trelawney looked
stricken.
"Can you not stay a little
longer? Some tea, perhaps?" Ginny winced inwardly at the gleam in the
Professor's eye. She wants to read
my destiny, she thought with rising panic.
"I would love to, Professor,"
she returned quickly, "But your information is far too important to be kept
waiting. I'd like to get home in time
to show this to Ron and Harry – maybe Hermione too, if she's available." A shadow passed over Professor Trelawney's
face.
"Ah yes." she said
querulously. "The redoubtable Dr.
Granger."
"Mrs. Weasley now." returned
Ginny, hoping to forestall any reminiscences. "Thank you so much Professor. Don't worry – I'll see myself out."
And with that she let herself down the silver ladder, along the corridors and back to the entrance hall without getting lost once.
~oo0oo~
Ginny produced the scrap of parchment and silently handed it to Ron, who was nearest. He moved it quickly to where Hermione could see it, and George and Harry promptly crowded round to get a glimpse of the words:
Has the Bond been sealed?
No, there is resistance.
Can it be overcome?
Yes, but only the power of the Old magic can achieve
it.
How can this be found?
With the aid of the Syrinx.
There was a profound silence.
"Well, that looks like a load of old codswallop to me!" Hermione had never been one to mince her words where Professor Trelawney was concerned. Ron was nodding.
"I think her record of workable prophecies is likely to remain at two, don't you agree, Harry?" Harry was shaking his head.
"I can't make any sense of it." He admitted. "The Syrinx? With a capital 'S'? And what sort of bond are we talking about here? Legal? Financial?" Hermione smiled sympathetically at Ginny.
"I can understand your irritation," She told her. "And I hope you made Lavender buy you lunch for dragging you all the way to Hogwarts for such drivel!" Ginny shrugged.
"I got something at the station." She replied indifferently, then turned to George who was studying the piece of parchment intently with a very strange expression.
"I don't want to put ideas in your heads," he began, "But does anyone recognise the handwriting?" He handed the parchment back and they all pored over it a second time. Harry frowned.
"If I didn't know better," he began thoughtfully, "I'd say it was Albus Dumbledore's. It's been a number of years since I've seen anything he wrote, but he had a very distinctive hand." He looked up and met George's eye. George nodded.
"I thought so too." He said quietly. "Now if you'll give me that parchment, I'll see if I can't get a comparison made at the Ministry. If I talk nicely to Dad's secretary, she'll get it through on priority."
"Wait a moment." Hermione heaved herself off the sofa and made for her study. A few minutes later she returned with a large box file.
"If I'm not mistaken," she muttered as she began sifting through a mass of rather old-looking papers, "I do have a sample of his handwriting. It's a reference he gave me when I applied to join my chambers – ah, here it is!" She pulled a rather yellow, faded scroll with a Hogwarts seal from a protective tube and handed it to George. He unrolled it, studying it closely and comparing it with Professor Trelawney's sample. After a few moments he sighed heavily and handed the two items to Ron.
"I don't pretend to be an expert," he said. "But I've had a little training and I can spot an obvious forgery. Those loops and tails are identical, and the way he forms a capital 'O' is quite unusual. What do you think, Ron? Your training's a little more recent than mine." Ron was shaking his head.
"Either Professor Trelawney is the best forger I've ever come across," he said. "Or this is The Real McCoy." He looked at George. His brother took the parchment and asked Ron if he could borrow Pigwidgeon for a while. Ron went to fetch his by now rather elderly owl while Hermione found a waterproof pouch for the document. She was copying the words out neatly into a notebook when a flurry of wings sent everyone in the room ducking and protecting their heads. Pig might be older, wiser and larger than in his Hogwarts days, but he was still as hyperactive as ever.
"Another prophecy." Ginny remarked to Harry while George penned a brief note to Arthur. "You know, the last one sparked off this mind-bonding thing we've got. Or rather haven't got at present." Harry nodded, his eyes full of sympathy.
"And you'd like to entertain the hope that this one will make it work? Oh, Ginny!" She shrugged, smiling.
"A girl can dream." Harry's arm tightened round her shoulders.
"Syrinx translates out as panpipes." Hermione announced,
staring fixedly at her notebook. "Pan
was a woodland god who liked nothing better than to chase down and seduce
females. One day Syrinx, the daughter of the river god Ladon, if I remember
correctly, walked along the riverbank near Pan's territory. When Pan saw her,
he set out in hot pursuit and chased her for quite some time. When he finally got close enough to reach
out for her, she screamed out to her father to protect her. Ladon, rather
unhelpfully, changed her into a clump of reeds. Pan waited for a long time for Syrinx to change back, but she
never did, so he picked the reeds and, for reasons best known to himself, fastened them together in
a horizontal line with stopped ends. When he blew across the upper end, he
found he had made a musical instrument. And that, my friends, is how the
Syrinx, or panpipes, were invented." She looked up at Harry.
"So,"
she said thoughtfully, "Do you think this Syrinx might be some kind of –
magical musical artefact?" Harry shook
his head slowly.
"If it is, it's a new one on me." he admitted, "However, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist – there are many magical objects out there with no provenance whatsoever just waiting for people like me to uncover their existence and go hunting. This could easily be one of them." Hermione frowned.
"I think this might be a job for Professor Ratcliffe." She announced. "George, If the handwriting does turn out to be Albus Dumbledore's, have the parchment owled to him at the World Wizard Library: I'd like him to have a look at it before we meet up again next Tuesday." Ron smiled at Harry.
"Same old Hermione." He murmured. "Whatever the problem, hit the library."
"I heard that Ron!" she retorted, sweeping out into the kitchen with the tea tray.
~oo0oo~