Author's Notes: I've re-written this about five times, and I think I'm
finally satisfied. Maybe. Ah well, I probably won't be able to post
another chapter tomorrow, so I may as well post this to keep you all going,
and to stop anyone trying to kill me.
Disclaimer: See part one.
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Half a day or so later, and it was with great surprise that Harry awoke and realised that he'd fallen asleep. Nathalie was no longer lying on the bed with him; he sat up with sudden anxiety, and his eyes fell on Nathalie, gravely sitting on the bed next to him and talking to Professor Dumbledore, who sat on a chair.
"And how did you enjoy that, my dear?" Dumbledore was asking congenially. Nathalie shrugged, chewing on one of her black plaits.
"It was alright," she replied. "It was too hot, and we didn't get to see anything interesting. Papa just wanted to talk to the silly dead people there - and none of them would talk to me, they thought I was -"
"Nathalie," Harry cut in warningly. Both Nathalie and Dumbledore looked over at him; Nathalie joyfully slid from the bed and almost leapt into his arms.
"Papa, Papa, we're at Hogwarts!" she exclaimed. Harry couldn't help it; he laughed at her, and with her, and she, not quite understanding his mirth, giggled. Harry met Dumbledore's eyes over her head, and sombred.
"Yes, cherie, we're at Hogwarts," he agreed with her. "But you're better now, so we have to leave."
"No need for that, Harry," Dumbledore spoke up. "I have not informed the Aurors of your presence here - nor am I going to."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "However I assume it is only a matter of time before Snape does," he reminded the old wizard, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "And besides, it isn't safe for us to be here."
"Hogwarts is one of the safest places in all Europe," Dumbledore reminded him. "And Severus will do nothing of the sort." Harry snorted in disbelief. "He will not, Harry, trust me on this point."
"Papa, who's Sev- Sev- Severus?" Nathalie wanted to know, stumbling over the name. She wrinkled her nose. "That sounds like Salazar."
"He's a teacher here," Harry answered absently. Then he frowned. "And since when have you talked to Salazar?" She blushed, and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Oh, he's the one keeping you up at nights, is he? I'll have to talk to him about that."
"Salazar Slytherin?" Dumbledore inquired carefully. "One of the Founders?" Harry bit his lip, and nodded. "Of course - that would be why your daughter had such a violent reaction to such a simple curse. She is a Necromancer also."
"There was never any question that she wouldn't be, considering how -" Harry cut himself off. Dumbledore gazed at him shrewdly for a moment, then looked down at Nathalie, who was lying contentedly in Harry's arms.
"Perhaps Nathalie would like to have a look around the castle," he suggested innocently. "I'm sure someone could show her around."
"No," Harry said firmly. "Too dangerous - someone might report her."
"Not everyone knows what she looks like," Dumbledore reminded him. "If she doesn't wear the symbol of Necromancy," he indicated the black cloaks, which lay on the end of the bed, "she will be safe enough - and I doubt that she could be taken out of the castle against her will."
"True enough," Harry agreed, with a small smile. "Alright - who, though?"
"I rather thought our new Transfigurations professor," Dumbledore remarked, a twinkle in his eyes. "I believe she's waiting outside. Nathalie, could you go and open the door for me?"
Nathalie, with a slight frown of puzzlement, slid from her place on Harry's bed, went to open the door of the hospital wing.
Professor Hermione Granger almost fell through it, and descended on Harry like a flock of birds.
"Harry Potter, if you ever run off like that again I'll kill you!" she shrieked, and hugged him so tightly that he could barely breathe. Nathalie stared at them, stupefied.
"Hermione - 'Mione -" Harry managed. "Breathe - can't-" She let go of him quickly with a hasty apology. "Ugh. Thanks."
"Hermione, my dear," Dumbledore began smilingly, "I'm sure you will have plenty of time to talk to Harry later." He ignored Harry's sudden guilty look. "But I need to talk to him at present, and young Nathalie would like to see the castle. Would you mind showing her about?"
Hermione turned, and paled when she set eyes on Nathalie, meeting the young girl's silvery-grey eyes with shock.
"Harry," she breathed. "Does he - does she?"
"No, and no," Harry told her quickly. "And no, you're not to say anything, Hermione." She looked at him hard for a moment, then slowly nodded, and moved towards Nathalie and the door.
'Come on, Nathalie," she said, overly-cheerful. "I'll show you all the places where your father used to get in trouble..." Her voice faded as they disappeared from sight down the corridor. Harry looked almost incredulously at Dumbledore.
"How long has Hermione been teaching?" he inquired.
"Some time now," Dumbledore replied airily. "Now, I believe you were about to tell me why there was no doubt that Nathalie would be a Necromancer - am I right in thinking that not all children of Necromancers are Necromancers themselves?"
"Yes, that's right," Harry agreed slowly. "But...but if a male Necromancer..." He sighed, and tried again. "All Necromancers have the ability to conceive," he explained. "Our children are Necromancers only if we ourselves have carried the child." He met Dumbledore's eyes with a little morbid curiosity.
"So you carried Nathalie," Dumbledore guessed. Harry nodded. "But that could only happen if the other person, the other conceiver, was a man, since if it was a woman she would have carried the child and Nathalie would not be a Necromancer."
"Well, she might have been," Harry allowed. "It is sort of an hereditary trait, but there was no doubt about it, since I carried her."
"And the father?" Dumbledore inquired delicately. Harry's face closed up. This was obviously a subject on which he would say nothing. After a moment, Dumbledore wisely changed the subject. "I was wondering if perhaps you might care to set the record straight about Necromancers, once and for all."
Harry frowned slightly. Once and for all..."It wouldn't be once and for all," he said aloud. "No-one else will believe anything about the Necromancers except that we raise the dead to kill the living."
"At least set the records straight for those of the Order who are here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore suggested. "I should imagine that having one less group chasing you could only be advantageous."
Harry hesitated one last time, then nodded. "Alright. I'll explain what we are to the Order, but." He took a deep breath. "But I can't explain everything," he admitted. "Some things.some things *can't* be explained, because you can never experience them." There was a note of shame in his voice, and he knew he wouldn't have been able to say what exactly it was directed at. "I...there are times, Professor, when I almost believe that everyone is right about us. That we are evil, and we aren't to be trusted."
Dumbledore looked at him seriously. "I can't speak about the rest of the Necromancers, Harry, but I can say this: I trust you implicitly, regardless of what the Necromancers are, regardless of what you do or have done."
Harry closed his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured. *His trust means more to me than a lot of things,* he realised. *I wonder if it's real.*
The hospital door opened, and a man stepped through. The bottom fell from Harry's stomach.
*Oh,* he thought dizzily. *I should have remembered that he's part of the Order.*
Green eyes met silvery-grey, and for a long moment they were suspended in time.
Then Harry's eyes clouded over, and he gave a shriek, and his body collapsed onto the bed as his mind was taken into the lands of the spirits by the Others.
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To be continued.
Disclaimer: See part one.
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Half a day or so later, and it was with great surprise that Harry awoke and realised that he'd fallen asleep. Nathalie was no longer lying on the bed with him; he sat up with sudden anxiety, and his eyes fell on Nathalie, gravely sitting on the bed next to him and talking to Professor Dumbledore, who sat on a chair.
"And how did you enjoy that, my dear?" Dumbledore was asking congenially. Nathalie shrugged, chewing on one of her black plaits.
"It was alright," she replied. "It was too hot, and we didn't get to see anything interesting. Papa just wanted to talk to the silly dead people there - and none of them would talk to me, they thought I was -"
"Nathalie," Harry cut in warningly. Both Nathalie and Dumbledore looked over at him; Nathalie joyfully slid from the bed and almost leapt into his arms.
"Papa, Papa, we're at Hogwarts!" she exclaimed. Harry couldn't help it; he laughed at her, and with her, and she, not quite understanding his mirth, giggled. Harry met Dumbledore's eyes over her head, and sombred.
"Yes, cherie, we're at Hogwarts," he agreed with her. "But you're better now, so we have to leave."
"No need for that, Harry," Dumbledore spoke up. "I have not informed the Aurors of your presence here - nor am I going to."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "However I assume it is only a matter of time before Snape does," he reminded the old wizard, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "And besides, it isn't safe for us to be here."
"Hogwarts is one of the safest places in all Europe," Dumbledore reminded him. "And Severus will do nothing of the sort." Harry snorted in disbelief. "He will not, Harry, trust me on this point."
"Papa, who's Sev- Sev- Severus?" Nathalie wanted to know, stumbling over the name. She wrinkled her nose. "That sounds like Salazar."
"He's a teacher here," Harry answered absently. Then he frowned. "And since when have you talked to Salazar?" She blushed, and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Oh, he's the one keeping you up at nights, is he? I'll have to talk to him about that."
"Salazar Slytherin?" Dumbledore inquired carefully. "One of the Founders?" Harry bit his lip, and nodded. "Of course - that would be why your daughter had such a violent reaction to such a simple curse. She is a Necromancer also."
"There was never any question that she wouldn't be, considering how -" Harry cut himself off. Dumbledore gazed at him shrewdly for a moment, then looked down at Nathalie, who was lying contentedly in Harry's arms.
"Perhaps Nathalie would like to have a look around the castle," he suggested innocently. "I'm sure someone could show her around."
"No," Harry said firmly. "Too dangerous - someone might report her."
"Not everyone knows what she looks like," Dumbledore reminded him. "If she doesn't wear the symbol of Necromancy," he indicated the black cloaks, which lay on the end of the bed, "she will be safe enough - and I doubt that she could be taken out of the castle against her will."
"True enough," Harry agreed, with a small smile. "Alright - who, though?"
"I rather thought our new Transfigurations professor," Dumbledore remarked, a twinkle in his eyes. "I believe she's waiting outside. Nathalie, could you go and open the door for me?"
Nathalie, with a slight frown of puzzlement, slid from her place on Harry's bed, went to open the door of the hospital wing.
Professor Hermione Granger almost fell through it, and descended on Harry like a flock of birds.
"Harry Potter, if you ever run off like that again I'll kill you!" she shrieked, and hugged him so tightly that he could barely breathe. Nathalie stared at them, stupefied.
"Hermione - 'Mione -" Harry managed. "Breathe - can't-" She let go of him quickly with a hasty apology. "Ugh. Thanks."
"Hermione, my dear," Dumbledore began smilingly, "I'm sure you will have plenty of time to talk to Harry later." He ignored Harry's sudden guilty look. "But I need to talk to him at present, and young Nathalie would like to see the castle. Would you mind showing her about?"
Hermione turned, and paled when she set eyes on Nathalie, meeting the young girl's silvery-grey eyes with shock.
"Harry," she breathed. "Does he - does she?"
"No, and no," Harry told her quickly. "And no, you're not to say anything, Hermione." She looked at him hard for a moment, then slowly nodded, and moved towards Nathalie and the door.
'Come on, Nathalie," she said, overly-cheerful. "I'll show you all the places where your father used to get in trouble..." Her voice faded as they disappeared from sight down the corridor. Harry looked almost incredulously at Dumbledore.
"How long has Hermione been teaching?" he inquired.
"Some time now," Dumbledore replied airily. "Now, I believe you were about to tell me why there was no doubt that Nathalie would be a Necromancer - am I right in thinking that not all children of Necromancers are Necromancers themselves?"
"Yes, that's right," Harry agreed slowly. "But...but if a male Necromancer..." He sighed, and tried again. "All Necromancers have the ability to conceive," he explained. "Our children are Necromancers only if we ourselves have carried the child." He met Dumbledore's eyes with a little morbid curiosity.
"So you carried Nathalie," Dumbledore guessed. Harry nodded. "But that could only happen if the other person, the other conceiver, was a man, since if it was a woman she would have carried the child and Nathalie would not be a Necromancer."
"Well, she might have been," Harry allowed. "It is sort of an hereditary trait, but there was no doubt about it, since I carried her."
"And the father?" Dumbledore inquired delicately. Harry's face closed up. This was obviously a subject on which he would say nothing. After a moment, Dumbledore wisely changed the subject. "I was wondering if perhaps you might care to set the record straight about Necromancers, once and for all."
Harry frowned slightly. Once and for all..."It wouldn't be once and for all," he said aloud. "No-one else will believe anything about the Necromancers except that we raise the dead to kill the living."
"At least set the records straight for those of the Order who are here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore suggested. "I should imagine that having one less group chasing you could only be advantageous."
Harry hesitated one last time, then nodded. "Alright. I'll explain what we are to the Order, but." He took a deep breath. "But I can't explain everything," he admitted. "Some things.some things *can't* be explained, because you can never experience them." There was a note of shame in his voice, and he knew he wouldn't have been able to say what exactly it was directed at. "I...there are times, Professor, when I almost believe that everyone is right about us. That we are evil, and we aren't to be trusted."
Dumbledore looked at him seriously. "I can't speak about the rest of the Necromancers, Harry, but I can say this: I trust you implicitly, regardless of what the Necromancers are, regardless of what you do or have done."
Harry closed his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured. *His trust means more to me than a lot of things,* he realised. *I wonder if it's real.*
The hospital door opened, and a man stepped through. The bottom fell from Harry's stomach.
*Oh,* he thought dizzily. *I should have remembered that he's part of the Order.*
Green eyes met silvery-grey, and for a long moment they were suspended in time.
Then Harry's eyes clouded over, and he gave a shriek, and his body collapsed onto the bed as his mind was taken into the lands of the spirits by the Others.
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To be continued.