Disclaimer: Since I haven't become JK Rowling despite my every attempt to create Polyjuice potion, I don't own these characters or this world in which I write;)
Author's Notes: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm glad to see people are still enjoying! Yay, it makes me very, very happy! Hehehe. I graduate from college the day after tomorrow, so it'll be a few more days after that before you should expect another chapter. Just to warn ya:) Take care and enjoy!
****
An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Xander character: And that's why I don't like those Potter books. Maybe if I was ten years younger and less of a battle-scarred veteran of the supernatural wars...
Buffy character: But you saw the movie three times!" -excerpt from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Roleplaying Game rulebook
****
Little Harry's birthday dinner was nothing short of a feast. With Ginny, Hermione and Ryan's help (he couldn't use magic, but he chopped vegetables so fast that it really didn't matter), Molly prepared a massive feast for her grandson, including all of his favorite dishes. Harry took note of them for future reference. Roast breast of lamb with stuffing and mashed potatoes, thick, creamy tomato soup, and golden bread and butter pudding for dessert. A rich trifle was also prepared for the twins who apparently didn't care for the pudding.
The sun had set and dinner was almost on the table when Arthur, Percy, with his wife, Penelope, and Bill all Apparated into the Burrow from their jobs at the Ministry and Gringotts. Although they were all duly shocked to see Harry Potter again, he received nothing but warm handshakes and welcomes from each of them.
Over dinner, Harry was filled in on the ten years of Weasley history he had missed. Bill had been married and then divorced; he had two children, Bill Jr. at Hogwarts and another son named Robert, three years younger who was currently spending his half-year with his mother in the Cotswalds. Bill had moved five years earlier to the main Diagon Alley branch of Gringotts to be closer to his family.
Charlie, however, still worked with his beloved dragons in Romania. He had settled down with a younger witch who had gone to Durmstrang with Viktor Krum. They had a daughter named Galina several years younger than little Harry.
Percy had married his Hogwarts sweetheart, Penelope Clearwater, but they had yet to have any children as his career with the Department of International Magical Cooperation and her job with the Committee on Experimental Charms kept them both very busy. This was prime source material for the twins; the good-natured jibes about Percy getting on the ball went on well into the main course, and were only silenced by Ginny reminding the pair that neither of them had so much as a steady girlfriend. They countered with an air of indignation; they were both just very choosy.
Inevitably though, the conversation turned to the recent events in the wizarding world. As Molly pulled the pudding out of the oven and retrieved the trifle from the icebox, Arthur yanked his napkin out of the collar of his shirt and looked at his daughter-in-law. "I'm so sorry about the Governor's decree, Hermione." He lifted his shoulders. "There wasn't anything we could do about it."
"And we tried," Penelope spoke up. "It's just..."
"Malfoy's got too much power now." Bill carried a handful of dishes over to the sink. "He's a real little bastard, isn't he?"
Ginny rubbed her swollen stomach. "He always has been."
Hermione squeezed her father-in-law's hand when he reached for hers. "Thank you all." She winked at her son. "But we're going to be just fine. I get to finish out the year and if things don't change after that...well, I don't know, but I'm sure I can find some sort of work."
"You'd always be welcome at The Daily Prophet," Ginny said, passing bowls of trifle to the twins.
"Gringotts is looking for a witch or wizard to work public relations," Bill offered.
Fred spoke around a mouthful of cream and strawberries. "You could work for us, Sis. I mean, with us, of course." Hermione smiled gratefully.
Molly scowled as served her pudding. "If I had my way, all those bloody Governors would..." She stopped, keeping her tongue in check.
Harry cleared his throat. "Mr. Weasley..."
"Arthur, Harry."
"Were you there...when the Governors signed it?"
Ron's father waited until his wife had set down a large bowl of pudding in front of him to reply. "We'll talk later, Harry. Right now, I think we should just enjoy this wonderful dessert." He scooped up a large bite. "Happy birthday...smaller Harry." There was laughter at this; little Harry grinned and dug into his own portion of the pudding with gusto.
After dessert came presents; since they would be back at Hogwarts for little Harry's actual birthday, everyone was eager to give him his gifts now. Harry watched him open knitted sweaters, model figurines and trick candies. Penelope and Percy Disapparated back to their own cottage just outside of London, but not until after giving little Harry a lovely set of wizarding encyclopedias.
Fred and George joined their nephew on the floor after all his presents were unwrapped; they began to teach him how to play a new game they had invented. Harry wasn't sure what it was all about, only that occasionally there would be a lot of sparks and noise and Molly Weasley would jump two feet in the air, cursing the forty-eight hours she had spent in labor with the twins.
With Hermione occupied in the kitchen trying to convince Ryan that it was far easier to cast a spell than to wash the dishes by hand, Harry wandered out the back of the house and into the gardens. The air, though still cool, carried the fresh scent of barely blooming honeysuckle and lavender. He took a deep breath. Of all the things he loved about the Burrow, the smells were one of the biggest.
"Thought I might find you out here."
Harry turned to smile at Ron's father in the dim light. "And so you have."
Arthur shook his head; his hair was thinner now after ten years, with a sprinkle of white through the red. Salt and paprika, Harry thought. "Seeing you here again...it's almost like having Ron back." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "I half expected to come out and find the two of you talking."
"I see him every time I round a corner in there." Harry gestured back to the house.
"Come and sit down, Harry." Arthur gestured to a lawn table and chairs. When they were both seated, he took out his wand. "Lumio." A ball of light formed over their heads. Moments passed. "To answer your earlier question, Harry, yes, I was there when the Governors came to their...bloody decision." His last few words were harsh. "Not being one myself...my opinion counted for very little." He paused to scratch his chin. "I gave up my Governor's seat when Ron died. Lost the heart for it, I suppose you could say. Figured I'd spend more time at home. I can't express to you how much I regret that now. To think that I could have stopped this..."
Harry held his tongue. He didn't need to tell Ron's father how glad he was that he hadn't been in a position to receive any of Malfoy's manipulations.
"I still believe that Dumbledore will find a way to overturn this," Arthur nodded. "He's not about to let Lucius Malfoy's son tell him how to run his school."
"What I don't understand is why everyone's so willing to go along with Malfoy." Harry leaned forward. "For one thing, he's my age. For another, his father was a well-known Deatheater. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Beyond that...so many witches and wizards are Muggle-born. This blatant anti-Muggle sentiment can't sit too well with them."
Arthur pulled a pipe out of his robes, but rather than fill and light it, he simply held it, using it to make gestures as he spoke. Like a Muggle would. "Harry, when you defeated You-Know-Who, you put an end to nearly twenty years of terror. See....I still can't even bring myself to say his name." He heaved a sigh. "Even after your parents' death, he was still a lingering presence. Then, when he returned, we were all united against him."
Harry nodded. "I remember."
"He was the deadliest force to ever rear its head in our world. You gave us freedom from that." He chewed on the well-worn tip of the pipe for a moment. "Inadvertently, you also created a false sense of security. Harry, no one believes anything as bad as You-Know....Vo...Vold...*Voldemort* could ever rise up again. They don't believe they would ever let it happen. And they don't realize that it already has. Right under their noses."
"Malfoy's taking full advantage of that then." Harry shook his head in utter disgust and mounting anger. "And he's done something to my godfather to make him..." He stopped short.
Ron's father pulled the pipe out of the corner of his mouth. "I was wondering when we'd get around to him. You know then...about him signing the..."
"Yes," Harry quickly said. "And I don't believe for a minute that it's really him. Malfoy's done something to him and when I find out what it is...." His fist balled up. "Malfoy's kind has wrecked my family enough."
"Just..." Arthur hesitated.
"Just what? Sir."
He frowned and stuck the pipe back between his lips. "Be careful, Harry. As often as things aren't what they seem to be, they are."
"You don't really think that he's capable of..."
Arthur shook his head. "Perhaps I should have phrased that better." He thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "I've lost my train of thought. Happens more and more these days. Ever since..." Ron's father trailed off.
Harry looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when he...when it happened."
"It's not your fault, Harry." The older man sniffed. "You were the best friend my boy ever had. And I appreciate that more than you'll ever know." He looked up at the sky; the stars were clearly visible. "There's nothing harder in this world than losing a child, Harry. The years we had with Ron...well, we were blessed. I wouldn't give them up for all the money in the world. Having the little Harry now..." Arthur cleared his throat, smiling proudly. "I'm sure you've noticed how much he takes after Ron."
"I've noticed," Harry replied quietly.
"What are you two talking about so intently out here?" He looked up to see Ginny approaching them, a shawl wrapped around her slender shoulders. Her hands rested on her expanded waistline. "Can I assume it's not the weather?"
Harry pulled out a seat for Ron's sister and helped her sit. "Have I told you how great you look, Ginny?"
"Sure, you say that now when my ankles are swollen and I look rather like a blimp," she laughed. "I don't remember getting tossed any such compliments when I was a tiny little sixteen year old." The look on his face only made her laugh harder. "Oh, don't fret, Harry. I was only joking."
He had to smile. "Ginny...I swear."
Arthur reached over to ruffle his only daughter's red locks. "You can guess what we're talking about, love. You're the smart one out of the lot." Pride sparkled in his eyes. "Daily Prophet's best reporter, she is," he informed Harry.
"I don't know about that, Dad, but the reporter part is true enough." She gave Harry a sympathetic smile. "It's a bad bit, what's going on. Frustrating as all get out to only be able to report it and not directly affect it. Sometimes it's all I can do to make my articles objective. Maybe I should switch to the editorial department; then I could say what's on my mind, instead of just reporting..."
Harry interrupted her. "Anyone can write in an editorial, yes?"
"Of course." Ginny blinked. "Why? Are you planning to..."
"If people are going to be blind, the least I can do is try to open their eyes."
Arthur grimaced. "Just...tread carefully, Harry. You never know what...."
"Arthur!!" Molly's voice drifted out from the house.
"Duty calls." He stood up, kissed his daughter's forehead and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, boy."
"Thank you for having me, sir," Harry called back before the man disappeared into his house. "What do you say, Ginny? Think I could scare Malfoy into faltering if I reminded the whole of Britain just what kind of people he comes from?"
She studied him for a minute. "I think you're the best person to do it, Harry. And if you need my help...I'm on board."
"Well, I'll need to make sure it actually makes it into the paper. And..." He pulled at his ear. "I'm not the world's greatest writer. I'll need loads of grammar help."
"You could always ask for Hermione's help with that," she replied. "The two of you seem...close." Harry started to speak, but it was her turn to cut him off. "She took Ron's death terribly hard, Harry. If you're the reason she can laugh now, you have all of my blessings." Ginny held out her hand. "Help me up?" He took her arm and offered leverage until she was back on her feet. "I don't know how my mother did this six times."
Harry smiled. "She's just a bloody amazing woman."
"She is," Ginny nodded. On impulse, she planted a kiss on Harry's cheek. "I'm glad you're here, Harry. Ron would be, too."
They re-entered the house a minute later. Hermione and Ryan were just finishing the dishes, or rather, her spell had worked and he was applauding it. She looked at Harry and smiled shyly. Harry followed her gaze as it moved to the opposite side of the house.
He might have been on the edge of eleven years old and he might have been a young wizard about to enter his training, but little Harry was also still a child. Worn out from the day of travel, family, food and excitement, he had let himself fall asleep curled up next to his grandmother. Arthur sat on the other side of little Harry's body, still chewing on the end of his pipe. His arm was draped over the back of the sofa and his hand rested on Molly's plump shoulder.
"Picture perfect," Harry said to himself. He looked back at the kitchen; Ryan had pulled out a flask of Irish whiskey. The twins and Bill were at their brother-in-law's side within seconds, but both Ginny and Hermione refused.
"Harry?" Ginny's husband held up a glass with an inch of amber liquid inside. "You indulging, mate?"
He accepted the drink and took a deep sip. It helped wash down the ever-present lump in his throat.
****
There was rectangular outline on the ceiling over the bed in which Harry slept that night. It took him a few minutes, mostly because he couldn't see it very well, but then he realized what it was from. One of Ron's posters had hung over his bed for probably years, and once removed, left a chunk of whiter space behind.
It had to be well after three in the morning, hours since he had shrugged off a third round of drinks with Ron's brothers and headed up the five flights of stairs to what had been his best friend's childhood bedroom.
It was nothing short of odd sleeping in Ron's old room, mostly because it was so silent. There was no soft snoring, no scratching from Pig's cage, nothing, save for the sound of the sheets as he tossed and turned, seraching for sleep.
"Shouldn't have had that last shot," he grumbled to himself.
"Probably not."
Harry sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that he had neglected to button up his night shirt. Without his glasses, he squinted in the darkness. "Who's there?"
A moment later, the scent of roses answered his question for him. Hermione approached the bed. "I couldn't sleep. Your son snores just as much as you."
"I do not snore," Harry corrected her. "It was always Ron."
"I know." In her long, but thin cotton nightgown, Hermione shivered. "Your fire's died out." She pointed to the glowing embers in the little hearth across the room.
Harry lifted up the quilts. "Get in."
"I shouldn't." She worked at her lower lip with her teeth. "The whole family..."
"I'll keep my hands to myself, I promise."
With only another second of hesitation, Hermione slid into bed next to Harry. "Don't let me fall asleep," she warned him. "I'd rather not have a repeat performance of Christmas night, only with Molly this time."
Harry folded his arms around her, pulling her cheek down to his shoulder. "Just relax." He stroked her hair. "And don't worry."
"I want to," she whispered. His entire body was so warm and strong. "But there's so much to worry about, Harry."
"I wish I could make it all better for you."
Hermione closed her eyes. "How can we tell them, Harry? They see Ron when they look at our son. I can't...take that away from them."
"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "Maybe it's not all that important that we ever do."
"Are you saying..." She frowned. "...that you could be happy now, if Harry were always thought of as Ron's son?"
Harry shook his head. "Not happy, Hermione. But I'll always know the truth. I can always look at him and say that I helped create someone so incredible. And it really doesn't matter if anyone else ever knows or not."
Her tears wet his lightly tanned skin. "How can you even say that you're not moving forward, Harry Potter?"
"Because..." He looked back up at the ceiling. "If I were really moving forward, I'd have a better plan than just a scathing editorial in the Daily Prophet.
By the time he had filled her in on that, Hermione's eyelids were drooping beyond the point of return. Harry sat up; with half of her body still draped over his chest, she was forced up with him. "Want me to walk down with you?"
"I'll be all right." Reluctantly, Hermione pushed the covers off her legs. "I'm not going too far."
"Good." Harry was about to let her get up, but then thought better of it and pulled her back down. Rolling his body on top of hers ever so gently, he kissed her goodnight. "I can tell the whole world that she's mine, can't I?" he asked, touching her stomach.
Hermione smiled weakly. "Soon." He let her up and she walked to the door. "See you at breakfast." Harry had just settled back into the pillows, which now smelled like Hermione, when her head peeked back into the room. "And who says it's going to be a girl, anyway?"
He tucked his hands behind his head, confidently. "Just a guess."
****
"Do you think you've got it then?" Harry looked around the crowd of seventh year students gathered around a huge table in the library. It was mostly girls, although there were a few boys who seemed to be there to study and not giggle; each House was represented numerous times. "It's not an easy thing to deflect the Imperius Curse, but you've each made tremendous progress this year. You're quite ready, I think, for your N.E.W.T.S."
One girl, a slender, attractive Ravenclaw, raised her hand. "Professor, you've taught us how to overthrow two of the three Forbidden Curses..." She hesitated. "But you haven't even discussed the third."
"The Killing Curse," Harry began, very conscious of every single pair of eyes that bored into him. "There's really not a way to..."
"You've done it, Professor," a Gryffindor boy called out. "Twice. Once when you were a baby!"
Without thinking, Harry reached up to rub his forehead. "Yes, but I can't exactly..."
He was cut off again by a Slytherin girl. "If you can't show us, Professor Potter, can you at least tell us how you think you did it?"
"It's getting late and..." Harry looked around at the students. Each of them were paying close attention; some even had their quills posed over parchment, prepared to write down his every word. Wasn't this the job of an instructor? To teach, by example, even? "All right," he gave in. "I'll tell you what I can remember."
"The first time Voldemort..." There were a few flinches at the name; these students were old enough to really remember life under the threat of the Dark Lord. "...tried to kill me, I can't say what saved me. I believe a lot of it had to do with my mother." He took a breath. "The second time..." Harry stopped, remembering.
**His scar was pure agony, had been for days; he could taste blood in his mouth as it dripped down his cheek and onto his lips.**
"He called to me and I went," Harry continued. "I should have been alone, but they..."
**'Do you honestly think we're just going to leave you to face this by yourself, Harry Potter?!' 'Yeah, Harry. We've been in this together since we were kids. Someone's gotta watch your back, mate.'**
"My friends followed me to the field. They..." His voice was dull. "Voldemort..."
**'Brought your friends for me to play with, Harry? They've been thorns in my side for long enough.'**
Harry's chin dropped to his chest. The memories, the ones he actually retained, were too much. This was why he hadn't let himself think about that day for so long. He couldn't speak, couldn't clear the images away.
"Professor Potter?" one student finally said, ever so softly.
His head snapped up. "Love is the key to the Killing Curse," he blurted out. Several students drew back as he jumped out of his seat and gathered up his books and papers. "I'll see you all in class."
He ignored the buzz of voices behind him as he hurried out the doors. It wasn't until he had put a good distance between himself and the library that he found he could breathe again. He relaxed his hands, although the papers he clutched were now hopelessly wrinkled. It didn't really matter; they were just notes and one copy of his editorial letter for The Daily Prophet. The original had already been sent to Ginny care of Hedwig; he expected to see it in the paper within the next day or so.
Three weeks had passed since they had returned from their weekend at the Burrow. Harry smiled at the stone floor as he continued walking towards the professors' wing. Things had changed so much, and it wasn't just because of the baby. His relationship with little Harry was creeping back to life. Most of Harry's evenings were now spent with Hermione and his son, eating dinner together, playing games...little Harry had even asked for his father's help in studying his spelling lessons.
An air of formality still existed between them, but he had at least gotten the boy to call him "Harry" and not "Professor Potter," a big step as far as he was concerned.
But for Harry, his nights were most drastically changed, because now he spent many of them with Hermione. It wasn't common knowledge at all, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore and possibly Professor McGonagall knew. Of course, there wasn't much that went on at Hogwarts of which Dumbledore was not aware. He got the feeling that they both approved. It made it all that much easier to keep up the pretense of mere friendship with Hermione around the castle.
In fact, he was late for dinner with them even now. He tripled his speed until he was almost jogging through the endless corridors. Harry rounded a corner and in his haste, slammed into something solid. He fell, landing on his back, his books spreading across the hallway. Adjusting his glasses, Harry looked up to see what he had run into. His eyes grew wide.
"Hello, Harry," the tall figure said, offering him a hand. "Not exactly your most graceful moment, but I won't tell anyone." The man smiled warmly. "It is good to see you again."
"You, too," Harry said, the surprise still lingering, making his voice stutter. "Professor Lupin."
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm glad to see people are still enjoying! Yay, it makes me very, very happy! Hehehe. I graduate from college the day after tomorrow, so it'll be a few more days after that before you should expect another chapter. Just to warn ya:) Take care and enjoy!
****
An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Xander character: And that's why I don't like those Potter books. Maybe if I was ten years younger and less of a battle-scarred veteran of the supernatural wars...
Buffy character: But you saw the movie three times!" -excerpt from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Roleplaying Game rulebook
****
Little Harry's birthday dinner was nothing short of a feast. With Ginny, Hermione and Ryan's help (he couldn't use magic, but he chopped vegetables so fast that it really didn't matter), Molly prepared a massive feast for her grandson, including all of his favorite dishes. Harry took note of them for future reference. Roast breast of lamb with stuffing and mashed potatoes, thick, creamy tomato soup, and golden bread and butter pudding for dessert. A rich trifle was also prepared for the twins who apparently didn't care for the pudding.
The sun had set and dinner was almost on the table when Arthur, Percy, with his wife, Penelope, and Bill all Apparated into the Burrow from their jobs at the Ministry and Gringotts. Although they were all duly shocked to see Harry Potter again, he received nothing but warm handshakes and welcomes from each of them.
Over dinner, Harry was filled in on the ten years of Weasley history he had missed. Bill had been married and then divorced; he had two children, Bill Jr. at Hogwarts and another son named Robert, three years younger who was currently spending his half-year with his mother in the Cotswalds. Bill had moved five years earlier to the main Diagon Alley branch of Gringotts to be closer to his family.
Charlie, however, still worked with his beloved dragons in Romania. He had settled down with a younger witch who had gone to Durmstrang with Viktor Krum. They had a daughter named Galina several years younger than little Harry.
Percy had married his Hogwarts sweetheart, Penelope Clearwater, but they had yet to have any children as his career with the Department of International Magical Cooperation and her job with the Committee on Experimental Charms kept them both very busy. This was prime source material for the twins; the good-natured jibes about Percy getting on the ball went on well into the main course, and were only silenced by Ginny reminding the pair that neither of them had so much as a steady girlfriend. They countered with an air of indignation; they were both just very choosy.
Inevitably though, the conversation turned to the recent events in the wizarding world. As Molly pulled the pudding out of the oven and retrieved the trifle from the icebox, Arthur yanked his napkin out of the collar of his shirt and looked at his daughter-in-law. "I'm so sorry about the Governor's decree, Hermione." He lifted his shoulders. "There wasn't anything we could do about it."
"And we tried," Penelope spoke up. "It's just..."
"Malfoy's got too much power now." Bill carried a handful of dishes over to the sink. "He's a real little bastard, isn't he?"
Ginny rubbed her swollen stomach. "He always has been."
Hermione squeezed her father-in-law's hand when he reached for hers. "Thank you all." She winked at her son. "But we're going to be just fine. I get to finish out the year and if things don't change after that...well, I don't know, but I'm sure I can find some sort of work."
"You'd always be welcome at The Daily Prophet," Ginny said, passing bowls of trifle to the twins.
"Gringotts is looking for a witch or wizard to work public relations," Bill offered.
Fred spoke around a mouthful of cream and strawberries. "You could work for us, Sis. I mean, with us, of course." Hermione smiled gratefully.
Molly scowled as served her pudding. "If I had my way, all those bloody Governors would..." She stopped, keeping her tongue in check.
Harry cleared his throat. "Mr. Weasley..."
"Arthur, Harry."
"Were you there...when the Governors signed it?"
Ron's father waited until his wife had set down a large bowl of pudding in front of him to reply. "We'll talk later, Harry. Right now, I think we should just enjoy this wonderful dessert." He scooped up a large bite. "Happy birthday...smaller Harry." There was laughter at this; little Harry grinned and dug into his own portion of the pudding with gusto.
After dessert came presents; since they would be back at Hogwarts for little Harry's actual birthday, everyone was eager to give him his gifts now. Harry watched him open knitted sweaters, model figurines and trick candies. Penelope and Percy Disapparated back to their own cottage just outside of London, but not until after giving little Harry a lovely set of wizarding encyclopedias.
Fred and George joined their nephew on the floor after all his presents were unwrapped; they began to teach him how to play a new game they had invented. Harry wasn't sure what it was all about, only that occasionally there would be a lot of sparks and noise and Molly Weasley would jump two feet in the air, cursing the forty-eight hours she had spent in labor with the twins.
With Hermione occupied in the kitchen trying to convince Ryan that it was far easier to cast a spell than to wash the dishes by hand, Harry wandered out the back of the house and into the gardens. The air, though still cool, carried the fresh scent of barely blooming honeysuckle and lavender. He took a deep breath. Of all the things he loved about the Burrow, the smells were one of the biggest.
"Thought I might find you out here."
Harry turned to smile at Ron's father in the dim light. "And so you have."
Arthur shook his head; his hair was thinner now after ten years, with a sprinkle of white through the red. Salt and paprika, Harry thought. "Seeing you here again...it's almost like having Ron back." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "I half expected to come out and find the two of you talking."
"I see him every time I round a corner in there." Harry gestured back to the house.
"Come and sit down, Harry." Arthur gestured to a lawn table and chairs. When they were both seated, he took out his wand. "Lumio." A ball of light formed over their heads. Moments passed. "To answer your earlier question, Harry, yes, I was there when the Governors came to their...bloody decision." His last few words were harsh. "Not being one myself...my opinion counted for very little." He paused to scratch his chin. "I gave up my Governor's seat when Ron died. Lost the heart for it, I suppose you could say. Figured I'd spend more time at home. I can't express to you how much I regret that now. To think that I could have stopped this..."
Harry held his tongue. He didn't need to tell Ron's father how glad he was that he hadn't been in a position to receive any of Malfoy's manipulations.
"I still believe that Dumbledore will find a way to overturn this," Arthur nodded. "He's not about to let Lucius Malfoy's son tell him how to run his school."
"What I don't understand is why everyone's so willing to go along with Malfoy." Harry leaned forward. "For one thing, he's my age. For another, his father was a well-known Deatheater. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Beyond that...so many witches and wizards are Muggle-born. This blatant anti-Muggle sentiment can't sit too well with them."
Arthur pulled a pipe out of his robes, but rather than fill and light it, he simply held it, using it to make gestures as he spoke. Like a Muggle would. "Harry, when you defeated You-Know-Who, you put an end to nearly twenty years of terror. See....I still can't even bring myself to say his name." He heaved a sigh. "Even after your parents' death, he was still a lingering presence. Then, when he returned, we were all united against him."
Harry nodded. "I remember."
"He was the deadliest force to ever rear its head in our world. You gave us freedom from that." He chewed on the well-worn tip of the pipe for a moment. "Inadvertently, you also created a false sense of security. Harry, no one believes anything as bad as You-Know....Vo...Vold...*Voldemort* could ever rise up again. They don't believe they would ever let it happen. And they don't realize that it already has. Right under their noses."
"Malfoy's taking full advantage of that then." Harry shook his head in utter disgust and mounting anger. "And he's done something to my godfather to make him..." He stopped short.
Ron's father pulled the pipe out of the corner of his mouth. "I was wondering when we'd get around to him. You know then...about him signing the..."
"Yes," Harry quickly said. "And I don't believe for a minute that it's really him. Malfoy's done something to him and when I find out what it is...." His fist balled up. "Malfoy's kind has wrecked my family enough."
"Just..." Arthur hesitated.
"Just what? Sir."
He frowned and stuck the pipe back between his lips. "Be careful, Harry. As often as things aren't what they seem to be, they are."
"You don't really think that he's capable of..."
Arthur shook his head. "Perhaps I should have phrased that better." He thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "I've lost my train of thought. Happens more and more these days. Ever since..." Ron's father trailed off.
Harry looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when he...when it happened."
"It's not your fault, Harry." The older man sniffed. "You were the best friend my boy ever had. And I appreciate that more than you'll ever know." He looked up at the sky; the stars were clearly visible. "There's nothing harder in this world than losing a child, Harry. The years we had with Ron...well, we were blessed. I wouldn't give them up for all the money in the world. Having the little Harry now..." Arthur cleared his throat, smiling proudly. "I'm sure you've noticed how much he takes after Ron."
"I've noticed," Harry replied quietly.
"What are you two talking about so intently out here?" He looked up to see Ginny approaching them, a shawl wrapped around her slender shoulders. Her hands rested on her expanded waistline. "Can I assume it's not the weather?"
Harry pulled out a seat for Ron's sister and helped her sit. "Have I told you how great you look, Ginny?"
"Sure, you say that now when my ankles are swollen and I look rather like a blimp," she laughed. "I don't remember getting tossed any such compliments when I was a tiny little sixteen year old." The look on his face only made her laugh harder. "Oh, don't fret, Harry. I was only joking."
He had to smile. "Ginny...I swear."
Arthur reached over to ruffle his only daughter's red locks. "You can guess what we're talking about, love. You're the smart one out of the lot." Pride sparkled in his eyes. "Daily Prophet's best reporter, she is," he informed Harry.
"I don't know about that, Dad, but the reporter part is true enough." She gave Harry a sympathetic smile. "It's a bad bit, what's going on. Frustrating as all get out to only be able to report it and not directly affect it. Sometimes it's all I can do to make my articles objective. Maybe I should switch to the editorial department; then I could say what's on my mind, instead of just reporting..."
Harry interrupted her. "Anyone can write in an editorial, yes?"
"Of course." Ginny blinked. "Why? Are you planning to..."
"If people are going to be blind, the least I can do is try to open their eyes."
Arthur grimaced. "Just...tread carefully, Harry. You never know what...."
"Arthur!!" Molly's voice drifted out from the house.
"Duty calls." He stood up, kissed his daughter's forehead and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, boy."
"Thank you for having me, sir," Harry called back before the man disappeared into his house. "What do you say, Ginny? Think I could scare Malfoy into faltering if I reminded the whole of Britain just what kind of people he comes from?"
She studied him for a minute. "I think you're the best person to do it, Harry. And if you need my help...I'm on board."
"Well, I'll need to make sure it actually makes it into the paper. And..." He pulled at his ear. "I'm not the world's greatest writer. I'll need loads of grammar help."
"You could always ask for Hermione's help with that," she replied. "The two of you seem...close." Harry started to speak, but it was her turn to cut him off. "She took Ron's death terribly hard, Harry. If you're the reason she can laugh now, you have all of my blessings." Ginny held out her hand. "Help me up?" He took her arm and offered leverage until she was back on her feet. "I don't know how my mother did this six times."
Harry smiled. "She's just a bloody amazing woman."
"She is," Ginny nodded. On impulse, she planted a kiss on Harry's cheek. "I'm glad you're here, Harry. Ron would be, too."
They re-entered the house a minute later. Hermione and Ryan were just finishing the dishes, or rather, her spell had worked and he was applauding it. She looked at Harry and smiled shyly. Harry followed her gaze as it moved to the opposite side of the house.
He might have been on the edge of eleven years old and he might have been a young wizard about to enter his training, but little Harry was also still a child. Worn out from the day of travel, family, food and excitement, he had let himself fall asleep curled up next to his grandmother. Arthur sat on the other side of little Harry's body, still chewing on the end of his pipe. His arm was draped over the back of the sofa and his hand rested on Molly's plump shoulder.
"Picture perfect," Harry said to himself. He looked back at the kitchen; Ryan had pulled out a flask of Irish whiskey. The twins and Bill were at their brother-in-law's side within seconds, but both Ginny and Hermione refused.
"Harry?" Ginny's husband held up a glass with an inch of amber liquid inside. "You indulging, mate?"
He accepted the drink and took a deep sip. It helped wash down the ever-present lump in his throat.
****
There was rectangular outline on the ceiling over the bed in which Harry slept that night. It took him a few minutes, mostly because he couldn't see it very well, but then he realized what it was from. One of Ron's posters had hung over his bed for probably years, and once removed, left a chunk of whiter space behind.
It had to be well after three in the morning, hours since he had shrugged off a third round of drinks with Ron's brothers and headed up the five flights of stairs to what had been his best friend's childhood bedroom.
It was nothing short of odd sleeping in Ron's old room, mostly because it was so silent. There was no soft snoring, no scratching from Pig's cage, nothing, save for the sound of the sheets as he tossed and turned, seraching for sleep.
"Shouldn't have had that last shot," he grumbled to himself.
"Probably not."
Harry sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that he had neglected to button up his night shirt. Without his glasses, he squinted in the darkness. "Who's there?"
A moment later, the scent of roses answered his question for him. Hermione approached the bed. "I couldn't sleep. Your son snores just as much as you."
"I do not snore," Harry corrected her. "It was always Ron."
"I know." In her long, but thin cotton nightgown, Hermione shivered. "Your fire's died out." She pointed to the glowing embers in the little hearth across the room.
Harry lifted up the quilts. "Get in."
"I shouldn't." She worked at her lower lip with her teeth. "The whole family..."
"I'll keep my hands to myself, I promise."
With only another second of hesitation, Hermione slid into bed next to Harry. "Don't let me fall asleep," she warned him. "I'd rather not have a repeat performance of Christmas night, only with Molly this time."
Harry folded his arms around her, pulling her cheek down to his shoulder. "Just relax." He stroked her hair. "And don't worry."
"I want to," she whispered. His entire body was so warm and strong. "But there's so much to worry about, Harry."
"I wish I could make it all better for you."
Hermione closed her eyes. "How can we tell them, Harry? They see Ron when they look at our son. I can't...take that away from them."
"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "Maybe it's not all that important that we ever do."
"Are you saying..." She frowned. "...that you could be happy now, if Harry were always thought of as Ron's son?"
Harry shook his head. "Not happy, Hermione. But I'll always know the truth. I can always look at him and say that I helped create someone so incredible. And it really doesn't matter if anyone else ever knows or not."
Her tears wet his lightly tanned skin. "How can you even say that you're not moving forward, Harry Potter?"
"Because..." He looked back up at the ceiling. "If I were really moving forward, I'd have a better plan than just a scathing editorial in the Daily Prophet.
By the time he had filled her in on that, Hermione's eyelids were drooping beyond the point of return. Harry sat up; with half of her body still draped over his chest, she was forced up with him. "Want me to walk down with you?"
"I'll be all right." Reluctantly, Hermione pushed the covers off her legs. "I'm not going too far."
"Good." Harry was about to let her get up, but then thought better of it and pulled her back down. Rolling his body on top of hers ever so gently, he kissed her goodnight. "I can tell the whole world that she's mine, can't I?" he asked, touching her stomach.
Hermione smiled weakly. "Soon." He let her up and she walked to the door. "See you at breakfast." Harry had just settled back into the pillows, which now smelled like Hermione, when her head peeked back into the room. "And who says it's going to be a girl, anyway?"
He tucked his hands behind his head, confidently. "Just a guess."
****
"Do you think you've got it then?" Harry looked around the crowd of seventh year students gathered around a huge table in the library. It was mostly girls, although there were a few boys who seemed to be there to study and not giggle; each House was represented numerous times. "It's not an easy thing to deflect the Imperius Curse, but you've each made tremendous progress this year. You're quite ready, I think, for your N.E.W.T.S."
One girl, a slender, attractive Ravenclaw, raised her hand. "Professor, you've taught us how to overthrow two of the three Forbidden Curses..." She hesitated. "But you haven't even discussed the third."
"The Killing Curse," Harry began, very conscious of every single pair of eyes that bored into him. "There's really not a way to..."
"You've done it, Professor," a Gryffindor boy called out. "Twice. Once when you were a baby!"
Without thinking, Harry reached up to rub his forehead. "Yes, but I can't exactly..."
He was cut off again by a Slytherin girl. "If you can't show us, Professor Potter, can you at least tell us how you think you did it?"
"It's getting late and..." Harry looked around at the students. Each of them were paying close attention; some even had their quills posed over parchment, prepared to write down his every word. Wasn't this the job of an instructor? To teach, by example, even? "All right," he gave in. "I'll tell you what I can remember."
"The first time Voldemort..." There were a few flinches at the name; these students were old enough to really remember life under the threat of the Dark Lord. "...tried to kill me, I can't say what saved me. I believe a lot of it had to do with my mother." He took a breath. "The second time..." Harry stopped, remembering.
**His scar was pure agony, had been for days; he could taste blood in his mouth as it dripped down his cheek and onto his lips.**
"He called to me and I went," Harry continued. "I should have been alone, but they..."
**'Do you honestly think we're just going to leave you to face this by yourself, Harry Potter?!' 'Yeah, Harry. We've been in this together since we were kids. Someone's gotta watch your back, mate.'**
"My friends followed me to the field. They..." His voice was dull. "Voldemort..."
**'Brought your friends for me to play with, Harry? They've been thorns in my side for long enough.'**
Harry's chin dropped to his chest. The memories, the ones he actually retained, were too much. This was why he hadn't let himself think about that day for so long. He couldn't speak, couldn't clear the images away.
"Professor Potter?" one student finally said, ever so softly.
His head snapped up. "Love is the key to the Killing Curse," he blurted out. Several students drew back as he jumped out of his seat and gathered up his books and papers. "I'll see you all in class."
He ignored the buzz of voices behind him as he hurried out the doors. It wasn't until he had put a good distance between himself and the library that he found he could breathe again. He relaxed his hands, although the papers he clutched were now hopelessly wrinkled. It didn't really matter; they were just notes and one copy of his editorial letter for The Daily Prophet. The original had already been sent to Ginny care of Hedwig; he expected to see it in the paper within the next day or so.
Three weeks had passed since they had returned from their weekend at the Burrow. Harry smiled at the stone floor as he continued walking towards the professors' wing. Things had changed so much, and it wasn't just because of the baby. His relationship with little Harry was creeping back to life. Most of Harry's evenings were now spent with Hermione and his son, eating dinner together, playing games...little Harry had even asked for his father's help in studying his spelling lessons.
An air of formality still existed between them, but he had at least gotten the boy to call him "Harry" and not "Professor Potter," a big step as far as he was concerned.
But for Harry, his nights were most drastically changed, because now he spent many of them with Hermione. It wasn't common knowledge at all, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore and possibly Professor McGonagall knew. Of course, there wasn't much that went on at Hogwarts of which Dumbledore was not aware. He got the feeling that they both approved. It made it all that much easier to keep up the pretense of mere friendship with Hermione around the castle.
In fact, he was late for dinner with them even now. He tripled his speed until he was almost jogging through the endless corridors. Harry rounded a corner and in his haste, slammed into something solid. He fell, landing on his back, his books spreading across the hallway. Adjusting his glasses, Harry looked up to see what he had run into. His eyes grew wide.
"Hello, Harry," the tall figure said, offering him a hand. "Not exactly your most graceful moment, but I won't tell anyone." The man smiled warmly. "It is good to see you again."
"You, too," Harry said, the surprise still lingering, making his voice stutter. "Professor Lupin."
****
To Be Continued