Disclaimer: This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels. All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time. I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else.
Credit to 99Bali.com (NEXT Technology Marketing Group) for the "extract from Ginny's guidebook". Credit to UBOS for the term "Techno-Wizard".
Sorcerors' Endgame A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs"Chapter Seven: Bali
Ginny sat on a comfortable wooden bench gazing up at the cloudless blue sky and listening to the quiet, mesmerising music in wordless delight. She had never seen such a beautiful place, such a paradise. She glanced over to where Harry was negotiating with Reception for the services of a car and driver. She shook her head in wonderment. On their arrival the previous evening, long past sunset, she had passed through the Foyer without a second glance, anxious only to get to their room, unpack and sleep. Now she realised that what she had thought was a closed-in entrance hall was in actuality open to the skies! The sunlight poured in, glancing off the pillars of polished wood, revealing subtle colours in the grey, stone floors, playing over the endlessly moving surface of the small stream that meandered through the hotel site. Water was an important part of the religion of Bali, as were the other elements, she had noticed. Everywhere she and Harry had set foot in the hotel, they had seen offerings – flowers, food, incense, and a kind of origami made from palm leaves – left as tribute to the spirits of Earth, Fire and Water. Later, she learned that to the Balinese, the spirits of Air were bringers of ill-luck and, as such, were not venerated in the same manner.
She closed her eyes, drinking in the astonishing peace and tranquillity of the place, feeling the breeze over her face, the warmth of the sun on her cheeks. Nearby, a small group of musicians with bamboo xylophones was playing a rhythmic, repetitive music in an unfamiliar, although pleasant, tonality. From her musical studies, Ginny recognised the style as traditional to the island and smiled in contentment, letting the hypnotic sounds wash over her. Drifting, drifting, like a leaf on the surface of the water, sunlight glinting from the endless rippling, a face swimming into focus, a woman with long, almost white hair and silver eyes ...
"Hey, don't go to sleep on me!" She jerked back into alertness, only to see Harry's gentle smile as he took her hand to lead her to the taxi. They relaxed into the deep leather seats and Harry looked closely at her, frowning slightly.
"Are you okay? You can't be that tired after sleeping for ten hours straight, surely!" Ginny shook her head, slightly disorientated.
"No, it – it's nothing. Really." She smiled with a brightness she did not entirely feel. She rather regretted the fact that Harry had interrupted her little, well, meditation seemed to be the best word to describe it. She had no recollection of ever having seen a face such as that one. If only she had been able to get a clearer – Ginny clamped down hard on her thoughts. Come on! Even on a good day, Trelawney never managed to get even a sniff of precognition out of you. Second possibly to Hermione, you were her least receptive pupil! There's no way you're going to start having premonitions now, it's just your imagination – helped a good deal by the breathtaking beauty of this place, I expect.
She was so taken up with her own thoughts that she didn't notice Harry pause before getting in the car. His head jerked up, a strange expression on his face, as though he were straining to hear some elusive sound. Breaking out of her own reverie, she laid a questioning hand on his arm. He let it lie for a moment, then brought one of his own round to caress it gently. In answer to her gently enquiring look, he shook his head slightly and climbed into the back seat of the car. The breeze whipped around her flimsy dress as she followed him.
Ginny and Harry had eaten breakfast that morning at one of the seven on-site restaurants. After rising rather later than they intended, showering and dressing, they left the discreet apartment block which housed their suite. They wandered through well-marked pathways flanked by tropical vegetation on both sides, across bamboo walkways and stone bridges over the meandering stream, and finally to the restaurant of their choice. This was constructed in traditional style on a wooden platform in the centre of a small, shallow lake, reached by a small wooden bridge. Breakfast offered a vast choice of foods: tropical fruits, eggs cooked to order – simply or more exotically, English bacon (amazingly!), local cured meats and fish, cheeses, yoghurts, fruit drinks, any hot beverages – and even cornflakes. Afterwards, Ginny had been sorely tempted to sample the delights of the six different swimming pools – including one designed as a gently-flowing river, but Harry had vetoed her plans until later. Their late rising had left them with very little time before the appointment with their local contact, so Ginny had to content herself with admiring the facilities at a distance for the present.
Now she was studying the view from the window of the taxi with equal interest. Their hotel was in Nusa Dua – a small peninsular off the south coast of the island. The driver they hired was taking them in a northerly direction, beyond the environs of Denpasar, the nearest large town, and out into the open spaces. For reasons known only to himself, they were to meet their contact at the oldest Hindu Temple on Bali, Harry informed her, a holy place by the name of Besakih. Ginny frowned – the name "Guru" was still niggling her for some reason.
It took them the rest of the morning to get there.
The temple was extremely crowded. Harry studied a map, squinting at his surroundings, trying to establish his bearings while Ginny leaned on the bonnet of the car, reading what her muggle guidebook had to say about the temple:
Besakih. Known as the "mother Temple of Bali," the sanctuary of Besakih is the biggest and holiest of all Balinese temples. This complex consists of 22 separate structures and is perched high on the slopes of Mt. Agung. The temples were built between the 14th and 17th centuries. Prominently featured are the three seats in the lotas throne, in which shrines are dedicated to Brahma (right), Siwa (center) and Wisnu (left).
Over a thousand years old, steps ascend through split gates to the main courtyard where the Trinity shrines are wrapped in cloth and decorated with flower offerings. Around the three main temples dedicated to the Trinity: Shiva, Brahma and Wisnu, are 18 separate sanctuaries belonging to different regencies and caste groups.
To the Balinese, a visit to the temples sanctuaries is a special pilgrimage. Each has its own anniversary celebration or "Odalan". The sight of the temple against the background of the mountain is impressive and during festivals, colored banners add a touch of gaiety.
She looked about her in dismay. The guidebook also told her that there were 60 different temples in this complex - over 200 separate buildings. Flamel's Stone! How were they going to find their way through this lot? She sincerely hoped Harry knew what he was doing.
As it happened, he did. Harry had been given detailed instructions by Julie Wu as to the meeting place and, by the judicious use of a Locating Charm on his muggle map, he managed to get them there with a minimum of hassle.
"This is it?" queried Ginny as they entered an obviously little-used part of the complex. The pathways were overgrown here in noticeable contrast to the barren, well-trodden ways of the main area, and the temple was so tiny and simple as to be more of a monument than a place of worship. A wisp of smoke hung lazily in the air and Ginny breathed in the intoxicating smell of incense. Following hard on Harry's heels, she almost cannoned into him as he rounded a corner and stopped suddenly, rocking back on his heels in reaction. To maintain her balance, Ginny stepped out from behind him and then came to a similar abrupt halt. A few yards ahead of them a figure knelt in silent contemplation before a small shrine.
The man was old, that much was obvious by his stooping gait and the whiteness of his long beard and hair. He paid them no attention but as they watched, he bowed several times and carefully lit a stick of incense, placing it in a holder where several others were already smouldering. He bowed his head once again in prayer.
Just as Ginny's feet were starting to protest her immobility, the old man spoke to her, quietly and without turning from the shrine.
"You are as beautiful as your reputation would have you be," He said. "And you hope to find the answers to your questions on our island." Finally he raised his lined face to Ginny and smiled.
"Welcome, my daughter." He got to his feet, brushed the dust from his robes and moved forward to take her hands in his. Unable to speak, she opened and shut her mouth like a goldfish, then flushed deeply as she realised how ridiculous she must look.
"This is Miss Ginny Weasley," Harry approached them carefully. "And I am Harry Potter. We came here on instructions from our contact in Singapore, Julie Wu." The old man was nodding.
"All this I know." He replied amiably. He turned to Harry.
"So you are the one who brings chaos wherever he goes, eh?" Totally wrong-footed, Harry stared in surprise. Ginny's face darkened.
"Now that's not fair!" she protested. "Nor is it accurate. The Dark Side have been trying to kill Harry since he was a child." The old man nodded, his bland smile never faltering.
"I did not name him responsible for the harm done, child, merely as the catalyst." He replied without rancour. He lapsed into a composed silence, evidently waiting for something. Harry shuffled his feet.
"So," he began. "Your name is Guru, yes?" The old man nodded slowly without looking up.
"It's a strange name." blurted Ginny uneasily. The old man turned towards her.
"I mean," she floundered. "We know you're a Holy Man, a priest – so why say it twice?" He bowed his head, partially closing his eyes.
"You may call me Guru." Was all the reply he gave. There was a short silence then the old man sighed and sank unexpectedly to the ground to sit cross-legged. Harry quickly did likewise followed with slight reluctance by Ginny.
"You seek the answer to the riddle of Syrinx." Guru told them without preamble. "I have heard of your prophecy."
"Is it genuine?" Harry leaned forward with interest. Guru shook his head.
"Time will tell." He replied easily. "Why do you wish to unravel this prophecy? Why do you seek the Syrinx?" Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. This information was highly classified. Arthur would put them through the wringer if they so much as hinted at the reasons behind their quest – and Harry dreaded to contemplate Tantalus Brown's reaction. Oddly, it was the abrupt recollection of Brown that decided Harry: he was damned if he would kowtow to an overweight bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur. He took a deep breath.
"Ginny and I inadvertently stumbled upon a freak talent." He began carefully. "We discovered that in moments of extreme need or danger, we can – well – bond. Our minds become joined, fused, and our – powers combine. We can feel, hear each other's inmost thoughts, touch each other's very essence." The old man made no sign of having heard.
"It's a very powerful ability." Ginny began in a quavering voice. "During the few times it has been activated, we have been able to protect ourselves and our friends and allies from forces immeasurably greater than we can boast individually."
"And what makes you consider yourselves worthy to have control over something so powerful, eh?" The sharp tone was unexpected. The old man sat stiffly, glaring at them from under bushy eyebrows. Harry experienced a profound sense of recognition – it was as though Dumbledore were sitting opposite them. Any moment, Harry expected Guru to pass round the sherbet lemons. Then the old man bowed his head and the moment was gone.
"You want to know whether we are genuine in our desire for melding?" Harry asked quietly. Guru made no sign. Harry took that as a yes. He shifted position slightly.
"Look," he began earnestly. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but the first time it happened, we held back Voldemort. The most powerful wizard to emerge in the last century, Albus Dumbledore excepted, and we – we – managed to prevent him from escaping from his exile, from breaking through into this reality." Guru did not react. Harry paused for effect then plunged straight back into his narrative.
"Voldemort may be here no longer, but he left any number of his minions to carry out his evil plans. Who knows, one or other of them may be able to raise the Dark Lord once more. Pettigrew did it virtually on his own. Merlin knows what fate would lie in store for us if someone else were to succeed!"
Guru seemed totally unimpressed by Harry's rhetoric. He rose to his feet and dusted off his robes, regarding them impassively.
"We will meet again." He told them calmly. "I will send word. You will be contacted very soon." Harry stared at him aghast.
"But – but you haven't even told us anything about the Syrinx!" he protested. Guru merely smiled placidly, bowed and began to walk away. He had only gone a few paces when he turned and looked back intently at Ginny.
"You want to know my name?" he asked, eyes bright with intelligence. "You find out. Yes." He chuckled, turning to walk away again. "You find out."
"Your name?" Harry frowned in exasperation. "How can we …" But he was too late: Guru had disappeared. Harry ran to the spot he had last occupied, fumbled out his wand and stretched his magical awareness to its limit. He shook his head.
"I can't even pick up enough residue to tell if he Apparated or not, never mind where to!" He grumbled, reluctantly re-sheathing his wand. Ginny patted his arm absently, her mind elsewhere.
"His name?" she murmured, frowning in concentration as though trying to recall some long-forgotten information. "Names. Naming. How are people named here?" But Harry wasn't listening, he was stalking back to the temple entrance in deep chagrin.
"Waste of an afternoon!" his angry words floated back to her over his shoulder. "Would have been better spending it in the swimming pool – and we haven't even had lunch!" Suddenly, he halted abruptly, his head thrown backwards in a listening pose, just as he had done earlier at the hotel.
"The wind!" He muttered, frowning. "They said at the hotel there's hardly ever any breeze at all at this time of year. It's getting stronger."
Ginny hurried after him, so deep in thought she hadn't noticed his preoccupation.
~oo0oo~
Oliver took a deep breath and checked his watch for the thirtieth time before reaching for the big brass bell hanging by the front door. It was twenty-five minutes past twelve – she would certainly be up and dressed by now, and the doorman assured him that she hadn't been out of her apartment all day. He pulled the bell cord, only slightly surprised when the clear tones rang out inside the flat rather than in his ear. Resonantia charm, I suppose, he said to himself, shifting from foot to foot nervously.
Suddenly Oliver's attention was arrested by the large, ornamental door-knocker, gracefully shaped in a gold material to look like a small lyre or harp. As he watched, it changed colour and shape, transforming smoothly into the face of a very beautiful dark-haired girl. She blinked, looking surprised.
"Oh, it's you." She said flatly. Not an auspicious start, thought Oliver, but he persevered gamely.
"Yes, it's me." he replied firmly, and waited. The lovely face frowned.
"What do you want? Do you have a message from Harry Potter?" Oliver smiled.
"Yes I do, in a manner of speaking." The face nodded.
"Okay, you better come in then." The knocker abruptly morphed back to its original shape, and the latch clicked. Gingerly, Oliver pushed at the door with a blunt index finger. It swung slowly open, and he stepped over the threshold.
Julie Wu's apartment was small but well-designed, with a tiny kitchen, miniscule bathroom and what she told him was a fair-sized double bedroom, although he didn't actually see it – all leading off an irregular-shaped living area, having its own patio doors and balcony. The walls were painted Vanilla throughout, and the furniture, although colourful with a Persian flavour to the designs, had been chosen for comfort rather than fashion.
"I have little time for interior décor." She told him, reading his thoughts accurately. "To be honest, this place is really just a crash pad."
A pity, Oliver thought as he looked around. It was an attractive property, far superior in every way to his own apartment, yet it seemed almost unoccupied, unlived-in, as though Julie merely slept there, if that.
"So," she said, sinking into the squashy sofa. "What's on Harry Potter's mind?" Oliver smiled, trying not to betray his nerves.
"Well, nothing as such." He confessed, keeping a wary eye on her. "It's just that before he and Ginny left for Denpasar, he told me to – well, you know, look after you. So here I am." Lame, Oliver, he thought, wincing inwardly as he scanned her for signs of an incipient explosion. She looked very tired, he thought. Pale, with dark shadows under her eyes. He wondered if she had been looking forward to a quiet day doing the laundry. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea after all.
Julie stared at him in disbelief, opened her mouth to let him have it then surprised both of them with a helpless giggle. She put a hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with laughter.
"Oh, Oliver!" she exclaimed, shaking her head wonderingly. "You are just totally hopeless!" She leaned back into the sofa cushions, laughing harder than ever. Oliver suppressed the impulse to take offence and stomp out – he didn't know when he next be invited in, if ever. Instead he grinned vacantly and took the opportunity to sit down next to her on the sofa while she regained some measure of control.
"Okay, okay." He mumbled, half-laughing, half-abashed. "It was a pathetic excuse, but seriously, Julie, I'd really like to take you out. Not just on a business level – something friendlier than that. I don't really know how you rate these things, but I came to see you today to ask you out to lunch."
"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows, her eyes still full of laughter.
"I've booked a table for one o'clock at Luciano's," He continued doggedly. She raised her eyebrows even higher and the laughter died away.
"And I wondered if you'd like to come with me to the Stadium afterwards – watch the Swifts practise, you know. Our new Chaser's coming along quite well, at last! It's taken weeks, but he's finally managing to cope with the change of pace. The Keeper's injured though." he winced. "A groin strain. I'm not sure how much he can take today." He smiled winningly at her, aware that he had just delivered the final carrot: most wizarding folk in Singapore would give their eye-teeth to watch their national team practise.
Julie was no exception it seemed.
She made Oliver a cup of coffee – strong Java blend, black as there was no milk – and took hers into the bedroom to change. A mere fifteen minutes later, she breezed back into the living room. Reflexively, Oliver leaped to his feet.
"Hel-lo!" He said admiringly before he could stop himself. Skin-tight grey jeans cut low on the hips, cropped teeshirt in a different shade of grey, short enough to show her navel, grey socks and trainers, set off by a cotton shirt open with rolled sleeves in a glorious neon pink. A matching pink scrunchie held her luxurious hair in a high ponytail that swung engagingly when she tossed her head. It swung as she breezed into the kitchen to search for her wand, but a small curve at the corners of her mouth betrayed some degree of pleasure at Oliver's accolade.
~oo0oo~
There was someone at the door, Hermione realised, but she felt so warm and cosy here on the sofa, she really didn't want to get up. And it was such an effort to manoeuvre her unbalanced body into a vertical position. It was so much easier just to ignore it and hope it would go away. At least whoever it was had the decency not to use the doorbell.
"Hey, sleepyhead." A soft kiss brushed her forehead and her eyes flickered open to focus on a smiling face framed with red hair. She sighed in contentment and raised a lazy hand to caress his cheek.
"What time is it?" She asked, expecting a reply of six o'clock, or some other time in the early evening. His smile widened into a grin.
"Nine pm, give or take five minutes or so." He replied. Her eyes shot wide open.
"It can't be!" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in consternation. "I only sat down for a few moments. I swear it was five-thirty the last time I looked!"
"I expect it was." Ron had already entered the kitchen and was aiming his wand at the kettle. "Didn't the medics warn you about the fatigue?"
"Of course they did!" she replied crossly, her annoyance largely due to the difficulty she was having in getting to her feet. "They just left out the part about losing whole evenings." She stood up, holding onto the sofa to maintain her balance.
"Steady!" said Ron warningly, moving quickly to grab hold of her elbow. "An alteration in centre of gravity plus potential low blood pressure – please don't do anything hasty, 'Mione!" She gave him an old-fashioned look as he went to retrieve their tea.
"Since when did you pay any attention to ante-natal classes?"
"Since you claimed to be too tired to go to the library, that's when!" he retorted from the kitchen. "When Dr. Hermione Granger cries off research, I start to worry." He came through with two steaming mugs. Hermione sipped at hers gratefully.
"So," she began, looking up at him. "If it really is nine o'clock, then you're incredibly late. Something up at the Ministry?" Ron made a wry face, which had nothing to do with the taste of the tea, and sat down next to his wife on the sofa.
"You could say that." he began, his face assuming a characteristic sardonic grimace. He sighed.
"The Muggles have a saying for times like this." He began. "They say it never rains but it pours. Nonsense, of course – there's plenty of rain that isn't torrential, particularly in England – but after today, I know what they mean." He glanced sideways towards Hermione who was listening attentively.
"I'm not sure I should be telling you this," he said, glancing uneasily at her gravid belly. "I don't want to give you any sudden shocks …" Hermione glared.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed. "Come on, Ron – get it off your chest."
"Okay." He sighed, taking another gulp of tea. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, propping his chin in his hands.
"We had a particularly nasty murder on my patch today." He told her soberly.
"A murder!" she exclaimed. He glanced over to meet her horrified eyes, nodding slowly.
"Not someone I have ever heard of," he reassured her quickly. "But it was – unpleasant." Hermione sat up with effort and took Ron's unresisting hand in hers.
"Tell me." she commanded quietly.
"My department was alerted because the victim positively reeked of magic, although – " Ron paused, scratching his ear. "He was a muggle." Hermione's eyes widened.
"A wizard used magic to kill a muggle? Oh, Ron, that's awful!" He nodded gravely.
"Whoever committed the crime took a great deal of care." He told her. "Memory charms were used on the wife and the manservant – unbreakable ones. There's a chance the wife will have permanent brain damage, but the medics are working with her now. The manservant was lucid enough, but even with Lee's special equipment, it was clear that his memory had been wiped. Even my mindscanning abilities came up empty." Ron was not boasting. His talents at interrogation, particularly with muggles, were legendary among the cognoscenti for getting swift results with the minimum of distress or damage. Hermione frowned.
"You didn't tell me Lee was working with you." She accused. Ron looked surprised.
"So I didn't." he responded and hastened to explain. "Lee's been working on an electronic system that can interface with magic. It's first rate – it has a number of very positive implications for the way we carry out our business in the future." He chuckled lightly.
"The powers that be have even coined a name for Lee's unusual expertise: they call him a Techno-Wizard. At least now he knows he's not alone in his strange talent."
Ron paused again and Hermione patted his hand.
"The victim?" she prompted gently. Ron nodded.
"Oh, yes." he grimaced. "I'm afraid there wasn't much left of him to identify." Hermione winced, but Ron was preoccupied in his own thoughts.
"It's a peculiar thing." He continued. "Although I said the victim was no one known to us, there was a connection. It's being investigated now – Lee's running some stuff through the Ministry system. Apparently the victim had strong links with the Malfoy family. Lucius, despite his legendary disdain for muggles, seems to have become rather more pragmatic in his old age. He's created quite a little empire in the muggle business world. It provides him with a certain amount of protection and, of course, a great deal of muscle should he need it. However, he still avoids dealing directly with muggles, and there's where our victim came in. He was a lawyer, a very rich one indeed, and he made most of his money from fronting Lucius's muggle operations. He lived in Belgravia, in one of the most luxurious houses I've ever set foot in … Hermione, are you okay?" Hermione's face had turned chalk white. She swallowed on a dry throat but did not speak. Ron gripped her hand anxiously.
"Are you alright?" He repeated. "Shall I call a medic?" Hermione shook her head, then abruptly got up from the sofa and began to rummage among the back copies of the Daily Prophet. After a moment or two, she located what she was looking for and thrust the paper towards Ron, pointing urgently to a paragraph she had ringed in green ink.
"Wizarding Agent found Dead." He read out loud, then scanned the rest of the paragraph. He looked up enquiringly. She tapped the paper impatiently, sitting down next to him.
"Don't you see?" she demanded insistently. "Octavia Tenaxis, now this lawyer chappie – don't you think there could be a connection?" Ron thought about that, then turned to take his wife's hand.
"'Mione, darling," he began. "Firstly, this lawyer guy – Cavendish, was his name. Now, he was deeply involved with Lucius Malfoy, knew all the nasty little secrets, all the skeletons in every closet at Malfoy Manor, I should imagine. And the chances are that he paid the price of that knowledge. But Tenaxis, the wizarding agent? We never had anything concrete on her – and besides, her association was with Draco, not Lucius. Look, I know you worry about that situation – the thing with Ginny was never really properly resolved, and she still can't bear to talk about it – but the fact remains that there's unlikely to be a connection between the two deaths. And besides, for all we know Tenaxis's death was suicide – the Inquest was adjourned for further evidence. I guess the final verdict will be death by misadventure." Hermione scanned the paragraph in the Daily Prophet one more time, then folded it, letting it rest in her lap.
"When you put it that way, it does sound rather farfetched." She conceded reluctantly. Inwardly, she was wondering whether her pregnancy was really making her illogical and fanciful. She gritted her teeth, then unexpectedly yawned.
"Ooh!" She said in surprise. "You'd think I'd be wide awake after sleeping all that time." Ron put his hand on her arm.
"Time for bed." He said, his eyes twinkling. She smiled.
"That's what you said to me last year, and look where it got me!" she said with mock-acerbity, but nevertheless allowed herself to be drawn into his arms.
"I'm too big and awkward for any sort of gymnastics now." She commented, rather muffled against his chest. Ron put a finger under her chin and grinned roguishly.
"Where there's a will, there's a way." He quoted, leaning forward to kiss her gently but thoroughly.
"You'll always be beautiful to me." he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. Hermione smiled contentedly and snuggled further into his embrace. Feeling how relaxed she had become, Ron decided not to tell her about the breakout from Azkaban, the other crisis which had dominated his day.
~oo0oo~
Ginny sipped her drink and gazed dreamily into the perfect pink and gold sunset. Harry ran his eyes over a week-old copy of The Daily Prophet for anything interesting, until their joint attention was caught by a small procession moving slowly through the hotel to the sound of traditional music and chanting. This was the daily sunset ceremony, held each evening by the local people to purify the small Hindu temple in the grounds of the hotel. There they would conduct a short rite of thanksgiving to the spirits of the elements, leaving incense sticks to burn for a while as tribute.
"These people are pretty spiritual – for muggles." remarked a calm voice close to Harry's left ear. "I'm really impressed by the way they live their religion, and carry out their everyday lives around it. Did you know that there is a family temple in practically every back garden around here?" Harry glanced round to see Sirius, grinning hugely, one of his long arms already wrapped around Ginny's shoulders. Harry gave his Godfather a bear hug that was returned with interest.
"Good to see you, Sirius." He said smiling. The taller man sat down at their table.
"Sorry I couldn't get to you yesterday." He told them. "Had a little business to settle in Denpasar, and this morning I learned you'd already left for your meeting. I didn't waste my time, though. I've gone over this entire place with every hex detection charm I can think of, and it's clean as a whistle. However, just to be on the safe side, I've set up alarms on your suite and mine, and a few anti-surveillance charms at other strategic points. I have to say that whoever booked this place certainly didn't choose it for its defensibility. It's as full of holes as a sieve. Pretty lush as muggle hotels go, though – and I have an absolutely gorgeous room: luxury like you never saw!" Harry grinned.
"Something of a chick magnet, hey Sirius?" he teased. "Pity we're not properly on holiday." Sirius chuckled genially, but a shadow seemed to fall over his face.
"Sadly, I'm well past all that." he told them, with mock-chagrin. Ginny frowned.
"Oh surely not!" she protested. "You're scarcely even middle-aged yet, and any number of my friends who've met you, or even just seen you, would give anything to take you out for a trial run – no strings attached!"
"Ginny!" Harry admonished, amazed at her boldness. Ginny blushed, but Sirius laughed out loud, very amused and somewhat flattered. He took another pull at his drink and sobered a little.
"Well, perhaps not in body then," he told her, the edges of amusement still lingering around his mouth, "But in spirit? I've had a hard life, and it's not going to get any easier, that's for sure." Ginny raised her eyebrows and exchanged a tacit glance with Harry. The three friends went on to enjoy a jovial dinner together, but on their retiring back to the terrace for coffee, Ginny pleaded excessive fatigue and returned to their room alone.
Harry sat in companionable silence with his Godfather, drinking excellent Java-blend coffee and looking out over the water at the horizon where the first stars were beginning to twinkle. When Sirius roused sufficiently from his fit of introspection to order two large brandies from a passing waiter, Harry bit back his surprise and simply waited. When their drinks arrived, Sirius took a healthy slug of his and sighed wearily. Harry sipped decorously at his own brandy, although, sensing that this was going to be a long night, he had taken the precaution of unobtrusively charming most of the alcohol out of it.
Sirius held up his glass, twirling it gently and watching the way the good brandy clung to the sides.
"We haven't seen much of each other recently." He said at last. Harry grunted agreement.
"In fact," continued the older man. "We've not been together on a purely social basis since the end of last summer." He looked up, a sardonic gleam in his eye.
"As I recall," he commented, half-humorously. "We were both having woman troubles."
"Too right." muttered Harry, sinking a little more of his drink. Sirius laughed.
"Looks like you've sorted yours, eh?" Harry shrugged, unwilling to go into details. Sirius nodded shrewdly.
"Like that, is it? Well, I won't pry." He was silent for a while. Harry waited. The sounds of the Gamelan floated gently across the water. Sirius twirled his glass, watching the way the alcohol clung to its sides before it slipped slowly back to the bottom.
"You asked me then about Katia Valentin," he said quietly, not looking at his Godson. "I said I'd tell you sometime over a few beers." Harry nodded.
"That's right." He replied, raising his eyebrows. "Are you ready to tell me now?" Sirius nodded slowly, still contemplating his drink. Then he sighed and placed it on the wicker table. He looked directly at Harry.
"I met her family about two years after I got out of Azkaban." He began. "I hung around in England for a while, virtually starving, unable to regain my strength. Finally, I decided to go to ground somewhere no one would consider looking for me. I ended up in Uinal." Sirius gave a disgusted sigh.
"At that time, Uinal really had to be described as the back end of beyond. Primitive just wasn't in it – it was virtually Stone Age. But at least no one asked questions, no one queried my existence, and most people left me alone.
"The Valentins were an important family in those parts. Old and established, they held a lot of sway over the rest of the magical community, and I considered it the first stroke of luck I'd had in a number of years when they elected to adopt me. I was ill, weak and worn down by years of privation and torture. I told them my story and I guess they had me pegged as a rebel – quite rightly, as it turned out at the time." Sirius signalled for another instalment of drinks from a hovering waiter.
"It's not a time in my life that I'm in any way proud of, Harry, but please try to understand why things happened as they did." He took a draft of his replenished drink and sighed gustily.
"I'd been wrongly imprisoned in one of the worst places imaginable for twelve long years. All my youth had been used up there, my friends believed I had betrayed them, and two of the dearest people in the world had died because of me. If there was a God, he certainly wasn't on my side. That was how I viewed it."
"But you stayed around." Harry protested weakly. "You were there for me while I was still at Hogwarts." Sirius nodded bleakly.
"While you were still at school, yes." he agreed. "I tried to make sure you were safe, tried to help you when things looked difficult. And I cheered along with the rest of them when you helped defeat You-Know-Who. I really thought life might just change for the better." Sirius was silent for a while, brooding into his fast disappearing drink. Harry shifted uncomfortably. Sirius looked up and smiled wryly.
"Sorry," he said. "Getting lost in the past again, I guess. Yes, the Valentins. They were an interesting bunch. I knew they sailed close to the edge, of course I did, but they had been good to me, saved my life more or less – and then there was Katia."
"What do you mean 'close to the edge'?" Harry asked suspiciously. Sirius levelled a deceptively bland expression on his Godson.
"I mean their brand of magic was, shall we say, a mixture, a hybrid." He replied quietly. "It was basically what we know and understand as our own magic, but there were elements of something – less healthy." Harry frowned.
"You mean they were Dark Wizards?" Sirius sighed and shrugged.
"Yes, Harry." he replied resignedly. "There really is no other way of putting it. They were Dark Wizards, yet they saved my life and gave me a future at a time when I was starving, on the run and being shunned by everyone I knew." Harry was struck dumb with disbelief. Sirius took this as permission to continue.
"I wasn't totally sure of their allegiance then, and I'm really not sure now, but the truth is that I chose to ignore the warnings my own magical antennae were issuing. And, as you know yourself only too well – if you ignore something, pretty soon it'll just go away. Well, that's what happened. And then I started to notice the eldest daughter of the family." He smiled faintly in remembrance, shaking his head.
"She was beautiful, Harry. Long, dark hair, perfect skin, unfathomably deep, almost black eyes. And she was just twenty years old. She was an expert in local magical customs, widely travelled and seemed to know everyone who was anyone in the area. It was largely through her training that the Ministry decided it had to have me on the payroll rather than risk that I would look for other, ah, employers." Harry looked up.
"So they rumbled the situation? Told you about the Valentins?" Sirius shook his head.
"Not for a while, Harry." his face was grim. "Not until Katia and I had been partners for several years, travelled the world together, and finally become lovers. Then they told me." Harry winced but remained silent.
"By that time, I'd begun some – preliminary training." Sirius choked out the words as though they burned him. "In the Dark Arts. I was lucky, I guess. I'd picked up a few things that Katia knew which made me uncomfortable. I never said anything, but she must have realised because she modified her behaviour to suit me each time it happened. When the Ministry Undercover guy approached me, I had only just scratched the surface. I'd done nothing immoral, I'd broken no laws, but it was just a matter of time, and he knew it. It was then I learned about Cho, Harry." The younger man nodded.
"Her death was kept relatively quiet – at least in the wizard press. I guess you wouldn't have heard unless someone told you." Sirius shook his head.
"No, I already knew she had been killed. I mean that's when I learned that she had been murdered."
Harry's jaw dropped.
"You mean – the Ministry guy knew her death wasn't an accident? Even then?" Sirius nodded.
"Even then. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure they weren't actively involved in any way – unless you count keeping quiet. But learning about that made me think. It made me wonder where I was going, what I was doing. You were in LA by this time, pursuing a life buried in academia. I despised you for that, Harry. I reckoned you were giving up, giving in, lying down on the job. Once I heard about Cho, I realised exactly what you were doing – and why." He scratched his head meditatively.
"I took a good, long look at the life I was living, at the one I was about to drift into, and I decided that I wasn't going any further. Whatever the wizarding world had done to me, I had no right to ally myself to its greatest enemy by way of revenge. It was then that I fully realised what following Katia's path entailed – collaborating with the darkest wizard history has ever known. Joining with the evil power that killed my friends, your parents, Harry, and wasted my youth in Azkaban. I told Katia we were through. She was furious, I'd never seen her so angry. She cast a fire charm at me that singed the hair from one side of my head." Harry stared in sudden comprehension.
"So that's why you cut it!" Sirius nodded sombrely.
"No choice really." He shrugged. "It was then I realised, to my everlasting astonishment, that she wasn't just in the relationship to turn me to the Dark Side. She wanted me for myself. As her life-partner. That is why she was so angry at losing me. She rated my abilities higher than I did. She wanted us to subsume You-Know-Who himself and take control of the world with his power. I told her she was raving. She tried to kill me."
"And?" Sirius stared at his empty glass for a long time.
"I used a special stunning spell that sneaked past all her carefully constructed wards and defences." He said. "It knocked her cold. I took her unconscious body back to her father and struck a deal with him. Although he didn't show it, he was pretty much impressed that I'd managed to best his daughter. I'm very sure I couldn't do it again. Hell, I'm surprised I did it at all! He still has a lot of respect for me, and he knows that I owe him. He's not totally with the Dark Side, but neither is he totally against them. He's playing a very dangerous game, but he says it's the only way he and his kind can survive."
"And Katia?" Sirius sighed.
"She swore she would never forget the humiliation I meted out on her. I was the first man she ever slept with, you know. Privately, I believe she curses herself for having let her defences down with me. You saw what happened the last time we met." Harry nodded speechlessly. Sirius gazed unseeingly out into the night.
"If I ever loved anyone at all, it was her." He said in a half-whisper charged with emotion. "Every moment with her was exciting, a challenge. She was feral and untameable, like a wild horse that had never been broken. Her powers were formidable. Oh, I should have realised that she was on the road to an alliance with the Dark Side. In retrospect it was obvious, but I just didn't want to see it. I loved her that much, you see." He smiled sadly.
"I spent twelve years fighting off despair in Azkaban. I can't tell you what it was like in there. Suffice it to say that Katia wasn't my first sexual partner by a long shot, but she was the first person since my schooldays who – cared." He paused, staring down at the table.
"If we meet again, one of us isn't going to survive the experience." His voice was bleak. There was silence between the two men for a long time while Harry digested this new and surprising information. Sirius gestured to the waiter once again. As his drink was refreshed, Harry took an unwary gulp and coughed hoarsely. As he struggled for control, Sirius smiled enigmatically, withdrew his wand and performed the de-alcoholising charm for him. Harry smiled apologetically, then frowned and began to shake his head involuntarily.
"Sirius, there's something here that doesn't make sense. Something that doesn't match up with the man I know and love." The older man shrugged and gave a wry smile.
"Things change, so do people." He replied lightly. "Perhaps I'm not the man you met when you were still at school. Perhaps I never was." A humourless chuckle escaped Harry.
"I'm sorry, Sirius, but however hard I try, I just can't believe that you would turn to the Dark Side for the love of a bad woman. Somehow, it just doesn't ring true."
"Don't forget resentment against the establishment for wrongful imprisonment, near-starvation, and total betrayal by everyone except three underage pupils at Hogwarts and a werewolf."
"And Dumbledore."
"Ah, yes. Dumbledore." An odd little frown chased its way across Sirius's face. Harry continued, his puzzlement growing.
"But the whole thing – your false arrest, your suffering in Azkaban, the deaths of my parents and countless others – they were all down to one evil, megalomaniac wizard, viz Voldemort." He protested. "You knew that! So why on earth would you ever consider turning?" Sirius was silent, gazing at the table.
"There's something else, isn't there?" Harry demanded. "Sirius, look at me! Damn it, Sirius, if it's anything to do with Voldemort, don't I have a right to know?" The other man winced then took a deep breath, draining his glass in one go.
"What happened, Sirius?" said Harry more quietly. The other man finally looked up.
"What happened?" he repeated. "What happened was that I stumbled upon something that made my blood turn cold. You don't want to hear this, Harry, it'll turn your world upside town." Harry shook his head impatiently.
"I don't care, I have to know – everything!"
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." Pausing for breath, Sirius turned burning eyes on his Godson, speaking in low, intense tones that carried to the centre of Harry's being.
"I found irrefutable evidence that Albus Dumbledore, far from being the saviour everyone thinks he is, betrayed us to the Dark Side. That's what really turned me. Okay? Are you satisfied now?" There was a terrible silence. Harry was shaking his head in horror.
"No, Sirius." He said. "No, no, no. He died fighting Voldemort. I was there, I know! Don't try to tell me that of all people, Dumbledore went against everything he believed in, everything he spent his life fighting for, I won't believe it, I can't!" Harry stared at his empty glass in near panic, his hands white-knuckled on the tabletop.
"Easy, easy." murmured Sirius, glancing round and smiling reassuringly at the heads turned in response to Harry's outburst. He gestured once more to the barman then leaned in towards his Godson, his eyes and face grim.
"Just listen to me, Harry, and make your own judgment." He said in a calmer voice. "I discovered that Dumbledore had the opportunity to kill You-Know-Who, to destroy him utterly, to rid the universe of his existence. Instead, he chose to banish him. To let the world believe in his destruction, but to preserve his existence on another plane, in another place. Considering all that I had suffered, everything that had been done to me, is it surprising that I lost faith in the face of such treachery? In my place, what would you have done?" Sirius sat back as their drinks were delivered. Harry raised horror-struck eyes. He was still shaking his head.
"Sirius," he managed eventually. "You've got to be wrong, you just have to be." But Sirius was shaking his head.
"Everything you went through," the older man continued. "All the suffering and the death, the heartbreak and the torture. Friends and strangers, adults and children, whole families made the ultimate sacrifice to keep you safe, to preserve you until the time came for you to destroy their oppressor. And when the opportunity finally presented itself, Dumbledore – your chief protector and preserver – betrayed you. He ensured that ultimately you would fail to rid the world of its worst enemy. He gave his life to save that power-crazy maniac from destruction." Sirius dropped his head into his hands.
"And I can't forgive him." his voice was muffled.
~oo0oo~