10 Years Later
Jennifer Vaisell was having the time of her life.
"Come on, give up already!" her companion teased. Dark haired, brown eyed Jake Lirretson stood across from her, grinning mischievously.
"Or what?" Jen countered. "Die trying?"
They were standing on an overturned tree trunk, which served as a sort of bridge over the lazy river beneath them.
Jake not-so-menacingly feinted a few moves with his Bo-stick. They were each trying to make the other fall into the river first. It had been at least fifteen minutes, and they both were still dry.
Suddenly, Jennifer gasped, eyes wide with horror. "Oh, dear God!" she cried.
"What?" Jake turned to see what had panicked Jen. "I don't see any..."
He turned just in time to see Jen's smirk before he suddenly toppled off the log.
Darn, she frowned. I think I broke a nail.
Jake rose through the water, gasping for breath. "That...(gasp).... wasn't...(more gasps)...fair!"
"Well, what can I say?" Jen shrugged. "You're a great teacher."
Jake sputtered some more before relenting. "All right. Truce?" he held out a hand.
Jen's smile grew wider as he pulled her headfirst into the river with him.
"Consider it an early birthday present."
~*~
"Come on, Harry. Catch that Snitch and win the game already!" George yelled as he zoomed past, whacking a bludger out of the way.
Harry gritted his teeth and pulled up ahead of the game below. His eyes roamed across the field, ruthlessly searching for - what was that? It wasn't - no - yes, it was! -the Snitch.
A few moments later, Harry caught the Snitch and finally ended the game, much to Charlie's chagrin.
"Great game, mate," Ron gasped, clapping him on the back. "Although I'm sure you'll understand if I don't play again for a few days."
"Boys! It's past supper time! The food is cold! How many times - "
"We're coming, mum! Sheesh," Bill muttered, stalking up to the Burrow with his broom.
Harry, George, Bill, and Percy had played on the same team. One Seeker (Harry, of course), one Beater (nobody could hit 'em like George), One Chaser (Bill, who else could it be?), and one Keeper (Percy had no where else to go). Charlie, Fred, Angelina, and Ron were on the other team.
Harry's team had won, of course. That put them at a three-three tie with Charlie's team.
For now, anyway,
The boys tore into the meal mere seconds after Arthur said grace. Even Angelina, who'd been playing Quidditch as long as they had, stared at the horrid display her husband's family put on.
Well, okay, except for Percy. He was, as usual, eating with only the daintiest of manners.
After they'd eaten, they all settled down in the living room to talk.
"You know, just because you beat us today doesn't mean anything," Ron said casually.
His brothers rose to the bait, starting an all out Weasley War. These were legendary among family, and the females knew better than to intervene.
Molly and Angelina settled into a pair of comfy chairs by the fireplace, pretending for the moment that Fred wasn't wrestling Bill, and that George wasn't currently hassling Percy, and that Arthur hadn't heartily joined in the fray.
Molly sighed as she spied a picture on the mantle. "You know, tomorrow will be her twenty-fourth birthday."
All movement suddenly ceased throughout the room.
"Mum, you've got to stop thinking like that," Bill said softly.
"Don't you patronize me, Bill Weasley. I know she's still alive!"
"It's been ten years," Percy said. "We've been through this before."
"Almost ten years! And she is still alive. A mother knows these things!" Molly insisted.
"Whoever took her wouldn't have kept her this long. She's gone, Molly," Arthur said to his wife as she began to sink into the depression that came on days like these.
Suddenly, Hermione stepped through the flames in the fireplace, dusting herself off. "Hello, everyone! Penny and I had the most marvelous day shopping -"
She was interrupted by a loud wail behind her.
"Oh, great, Ethan's awake," Penelope Clearwater, Percy's wife, muttered. She handed her young son to Percy, who immediately calmed the crying baby.
"That's better," she said after she'd removed most of the soot.
"Wow. I could cut the tension in this room with a knife. What's up?" Penny noted their expressions.
"Tomorrow's Ginny's birthday," Harry explained.
Hermione, who had seated herself next to Ron, suddenly burst. "It's been ten years!"
"That doesn't mean we're going to just forget her!" Ron snapped.
"No, but it's a big insult to her memory the way you lot are carrying one! She wouldn't want you to constantly be morose at the slightest mention of her name! You all need to move on!" Hermione's voice had gradually softened.
She was speaking to them all, but looking at Mrs. Weasley. "You need to let her go."
"Excuse me?" Professor McGonagall's head suddenly appeared in the flames. "Is Mr. Potter there? I need to have a word with him in my office."
"Be right there," Harry promised, grateful to have an excuse to get out of the room. He apparated to Hogsmeade, catching a horseless carriage to the school while he was there.
McGonagall was the new Headmistress; Dumbledore had passed on not long after Voldemort's final defeat. He died a peaceful death, and for that Harry was grateful. He'd never forget Dumbledore's last words:
Never give up, Harry. Someday, you'll find what's meant to be.
That had been two years after Ginny's disappearance. He hadn't given up completely on that one, either. After all the false trails they had previously experienced, the Weasleys had given up all hope. Harry, however, had some contacts who kept their eyes and ears open. There had been a few clues here and there, but nothing that led directly to the whereabouts of Ginny or her abductor. Harry still remembered that last night. He knew that she had known something. She'd tried to tell him and Ron about it, he was almost positive. But they had been in too much of a hurry to stop and listen.
Startled, Harry looked up to find himself in his old Transfiguration professor's office. He'd been so absorbed in his thoughts, that he hadn't realize where he was going.
"Harry, I've been looking through Dumbledore's notes and a journal that he left behind," McGonagall began. "He had been looking for a certain artifact, which until now, I had believed to be legend."
"What was it?" Harry leaned forward, curiosity peaked.
"It probably is just that - a legend," the Professor ignored him. "But if the Headmaster is - was - right, then it could be of great benefit. On the other hand, if someone else finds it first..."
"You want me to search for it?"
"Well, I know that you've tired of Auror work and Quidditch, although goodness knows why," McGonagall smiled briefly. "It'd give you something to do, and besides, I can't imagine anyone I trust more with this mission."
"I'd like to say that I'd be honored, but I don't know what I'm searching for yet," Harry replied.
McGonagall hesitated. "You can't tell any one of this, Mr. Potter," she warned.
"If I'm going to be searching for something, then what about Ron and Hermione? Around this time of year, the best thing to do for him is to give him a project or something to work on. I think it would be an excellent opportunity."
Minerva sighed. "Very well, Mr. Potter. I should have remembered that anything I tell one is told to all three of you. Just be sure you inform them in a secure location."
"Thanks. Now, to get back to this mysterious artifact...."
"It's the Holy Grail."
Harry blinked. "Professor Dumbledore was searching for the Holy Grail?"
"Yes," McGonagall sighed. "I know, it sounds farfetched, but I have a file on his notes, and a muggle contact number here. The name to the number is Dr. Alan Reeves. I traced an address, here -" she showed Harry the information. "In Halifax, Nova Scotia. It's a part of Canada, which is -"
"I know where Canada is," Harry cut her off. "When do I begin?"
"As soon as you're ready, Mr. Potter. Copies of the Headmaster's notes and the pages of his journal in regard to the Grail are in this folder. Don't let anyone else see it," The Professor warned.
"No problem."
~*~
Something landed with a loud smack onto Jennifer's desk.
Needs to be filed, Dr. Alan Reeves (aka ) said quickly.
Jen blinked. 'Cause heaven knows you have more important things to do.
I do, Reeve defended.
Jen only raised an eyebrow.
Okay, okay, it's because I don't know my way through the system yet.
You were supposed to do that last weekend!
Reeve said guiltily.
Jen sighed. Fine, but A, I want a lunch break immediately afterwards, and B, don't plan anything for this weekend. You're going in.
Jen grabbed her bag, jacket, and the folder on her way to the basement, where Dr. Reeves' files were stored. The historian's files were filled to the brim with cases since he'd received his masters degree in history.
It had started out as a bunch of folders in a bunch of boxes. For years, Reeve refused to hire an assistant to help him organize the stuff. It was only when an important file was needed for a public lecture disappeared that he'd finally broken down.
A friend had recommended Jennifer Vaisell to him soon afterwards. Reeve wasn't too sure of her capabilities at first. She hadn't received her GED until she was twenty, and at the time he met her, she was still taking night classes at the local community college.
It took Reeve one luncheon to convince him that she was mature enough to take on his bookkeeping.
Jen knew basic computer programs like Microsoft Works, and could create large spreadsheets, databases, and word processing documents with the blink of an eye. Reeve, on the other hand, was a typical historian - too far stuck in the past to consider modern technology. Jen also took care of contracts for sponsoring expeditions, and kept track of Reeve's spending. Once, she'd even gone on an expedition. Her office skills had saved them a lot of time more than once throughout the trip.
Reeve sighed and plunked down in Jen's seat. He'd give the girl a raise on her next paycheck. For real this time.
Reeve looked up as the office door opened. A young man in his early twenties walked in. He had bright green eyes behind a pair of glasses, hair that stuck up in every which way, and was at least a head over Reeve's height.
Do you have an appointment? Reeve picked up Jennifer's lodge book and quickly thumbed through it. Nope, nobody was coming in today. Now, tomorrow, on the other hand, there was that meeting with the board of directors or something or other at that one institute...
Actually, no, the man cut through Reeve's thoughts. But I have an offer that you can't refuse.
~*~
All right, here's the deal, Harry began as Ron plopped onto his sofa.
And promptly jumped back up as the sofa proceeded to swallow him whole.
Bloody hell! Your sofa is trying to eat me!
Harry chuckled. Sorry about that. I was going to play that one on Fred and George last week, but they had to cancel at the last moment. I completely forgot about that one, he chuckled again and pulled out his wand. Finite Incantatem.
Ron eyed the sofa as he stepped cautiously towards the sofa. After testing it with his hand a bit, he reluctantly sat down, sighing in relief as the sofa didn't try to digest him.
Hermione, who had perched on a cozy rug near the hearth, made an impatient noise, signaling Harry to go on.
I met with Dr. Reeves over the weekend. A friend of his just happens to own the half of the island we're headed to. The doctor has a team of four already - himself, his assistant, his friend, and his friend's son. We make up the rest of the team.
When do we head out? Hermione inquired.
We meet Dr. Reeves and his assistant on Sunday. We'll ride on a boat to the island that day. We're lodging at the friend's home, until we find our proof, Harry replied.
Of the Grail's existence? Ron asked.
Or nonexistence, Hermione added.
Look, before you two start a row, let me finish, Harry broke in. We're not going as ourselves.
the other two chimed.
We're not using our own names. I'm losing the glasses, changing the eye color, and hiding the scar under a Glamour spell. You two just have to change your names.
But you'll have to recast a Clear Eyes spell every two hours, Hermione interjected.
Professor McGonagall doesn't want to take any chances on someone finding out about our search. As I said, I'm the only one who has to change his appearance. You two just have to put a Plain Sight spell on yourselves. We don't want to anyone to remember your faces, or even look twice at you in the first place, Harry replied.
Ron grinned and rubbed his hands in anticipation. Okay, I'll be
Stud A. Muffin. Hermione can be Miss Ima Payne. And you'll be -
I'll be no such thing! Hermione retorted. We'll pick out respectable names.
I'm going to be James Stagson. It's up to you two to make up your own names. You've got until Sunday to do it. That's just six days, Harry reminded them.
~*~
Hermione turned her hand in the light, admiring her newly acquired ring. She thought about what the wedding would be like.
The dress, the church, the ceremony...the groom.
Hermione grinned as she tried to imagine Ron in his dress robes. The image didn't come easily, as it was widely known that Ron hated dress robes.
Speak of the devil...
Ron apparated into her apartment. His back was turned to her as he appeared, so Hermione walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
And what are we doing here, at this hour? Hermione asked softly.
Ron hastily tried to think up a good excuse. Uh, to help you do research for your latest case?
Hermione laughed. Ronald Weasley, when have you ever voluntarily done research?
Well, there was the time Buckbeak was tried, he pointed out.
It doesn't matter anyway, Hermione sighed. The trial ended last week. Nothing new has come up since.
Hermione was a prosecutor with the Wizarding Law Offices in London. She occasionally did defense also, when she believed someone was truly innocent. One of Hermione's greatest character traits was her ability to argue with anyone about anything and win, no matter the topic. It was only natural that she become a lawyer.
Did you win? Ron asked.
Yes, but, Hermione bit her lip. The bloke got off with only three years in prison. Not Azkaban, but a normal wizarding prison. I just know he's going to escape.
Ron steered her to the sofa. What if he doesn't?
What if he does?
Ron rolled his eyes. That was a week ago, Mione. Ancient History.
If looks could kill, he'd be in a pine box with a bunch of flowers on his chest.
Ouch.
Finally deciding that subtle wasn't such a good idea after all, Ron went for broke.
And anyway, those prisons need better mmff... Hermione's sentence disappeared in Ron's kiss. She immediately forgot what she was saying and deepened it, much to Ron's delight.
Suddenly, he broke off. So, what were you saying? he said easily, as if nothing had happened.
was all Hermione could manage. She still had that slightly glazed, what's-going-on expression on her face.
Ron just grinned and leaned in again.
Hermione suddenly moved away as a thought occurred to her. Have you chosen your new name yet?
Uh, actually, Ron hesitated before plunging ahead. I thought we could, you know, have the same last names. Since we're, ah, engaged and all.
You mean like a married couple? Hermione asked.
Ron said nervously.
Hermione pondered this for a few moments. If we share the same last names, we'll end up sharing a room. And you know that I want to wait until the wedding night before we do so.
Ron sighed. All right, I know better than to argue with you on this one. But keep the ring on, okay? I don't care what you say, we're still engaged through this.
i know. I wasn't planning on to remove it at anytime, she reassured him. Now, where were we?
~*~