Chapter Eleven
Harry wasn't alone in the kitchen. He was surprised by the sight of Hermione and George sitting across from each other, holding hands over the table and talking earnestly. Apparently, his arrival went unheralded, because they continued talking without even a glance in his direction.
"…ten years," George was saying.
"It has. I think we should do something today," Hermione replied, biting her lip and looking at the table.
"Something special," George agreed. Harry cleared his throat and their hands separated guiltily and they stared at him with shock written on their faces.
"H-Harry! How…when…have you been there long?" Hermione stammered.
"A few seconds. I had a weird morning that I wouldn't mind a second opinion on, if you could spare me a minute or two," Harry smirked at her discomfort. George was staring at his own hands in his lap and was uncharacteristically silent.
"Oh, yeah. Sure. I'm going to make some tea, but I'll meet you out on the porch in a few minutes, ok?"
Harry smiled knowingly and made a quick exit. He retreated to the porch and took in the beautiful autumn morning. The sun was shining brightly and the dew on the grass was slowly being burned away by its rays. The blades of tall grass around the house swayed lightly in the wind and Harry strained to feel the breeze. Sometimes, if he concentrated enough, his hair would ruffle in the wind and his face would tingle with sensation. He was never sure what he was concentrating on, but it worked. The last vestige of Hermione's spell.
This was the eighth safe house that the mismatched family had lived in. All were enchanted to be inaccessible by anyone but those who already knew where it was, but the landscape could be identified by the occupants. Harry guessed that this one wasn't actually too far from Hogwarts by broom ride. Not that a broom could fly on to or off of the surrounding grounds. The house was surrounded by a large field, which was ringed by a huge stand of old pines, which was encircled by ancient, snowcapped mountains. Of all the houses they had lived in, this one felt the most like home. James and Tom liked it the best too. There was plenty of room for loud games and for flying toy broomsticks and running around outside.
Draco had decided not to send Tom to Hogwarts. He said it was too risky, that Voldemort never forgot a betrayal. He and Melaney took turns teaching their son according to Hogwarts curriculum and they said that would have to do until Voldemort was stopped.
Voldemort was in no way weakening. It seemed that Hogwarts was the only safe place in the world anymore. Even the established safe houses were eventually infiltrated and had to be moved. Voldemort and his followers had taken over half the governments on the continent, and it was assumed that it was only a matter of time before they ruled Britain too. No one knew how Diggory and his administration had held on to power so long. Maybe they were already losing control and just didn't know it yet. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort expanded his borders to include the entire world.
Not that the Order and the Ministry weren't fighting back. They most certainly were. But every day, the Dark forces grew and the good guys couldn't keep up. For every Death Eater that was killed, at least three Aurors or members of the Order died. They were fighting a losing battle, but they kept fighting.
There wasn't a day that went by that Harry didn't wish he had killed Voldemort in his seventh year. He had relived that day a thousand times. It had been just the two of them, Harry and Voldemort. Dumbledore's voice had played in Harry's head, telling him that he had something that Voldemort didn't.
Mercy. Voldemort couldn't understand mercy. And that was what had contained him for three years after his battle with Harry. Harry constantly wondered if he could've done anything differently. Could he have killed Voldemort? Would it have worked? Was it the simple act of not killing him that had brought the Dark Lord to his knees? Harry didn't have the answers to those questions. He was afraid to ask anyone else for help.
Hermione opened the front door quietly and sat next to Harry, gripping a cup of tea tightly.
"Where's George?" Harry asked in a tight voice. He hadn't had a chance to think about the scene he had witnessed in the kitchen.
"He went upstairs to see if Ginny is up. We want to talk to the two of you," Hermione replied quietly.
"What is there to talk about?"
"Oh Harry, George and I…" she began.
"For how long?" Harry interrupted.
"Only a month or so. Harry, I wanted to tell you."
"Why didn't you?" He felt sullen and irritated. He didn't like secrets. They were dangerous.
"I was afraid, and so was George. It just seemed like…like we were betraying Ron somehow." Her voice was thick and emotional, but Harry wasn't moved.
"Then why did you…?" Harry couldn't finish the sentence.
"I don't think we really are betraying him. It just feels like that sometimes, you know? We were afraid you and Ginny would think so too."
"If Ron were alive…"
"If Ron were alive, I would be with him. No question. I've never felt about anyone the way I felt about Ron, the way I still feel about him. But I don't think Ron would want me to be alone, and I've mourned him long enough." Harry thought about this for a moment. He didn't think he would ever stop mourning that freckled git that he'd known for all of his life that counted for anything.
"Are you with George because he's Ron's brother?" Harry asked bluntly.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed tearfully. "He's not Ron, and I know that. I'm not with him because he reminds me of Ron. He's different. He's quiet and sensitive, and smart…we never even got even a hint of how smart he is when we were all at school together. There are times when he smiles and I swear it's Ron looking at me, but that passes. He's…I'm with him because he's George. He's his own person and it's that person that I love." She blushed, obviously not intending to say as much as she had.
"Alright then." Harry was satisfied, and not really angry anymore. Hermione and George were adults, both in their thirties, they had every right to do what they wanted. It was still a little disquieting to think of her with anyone but Ron, but he supposed he would get over that.
"So what happened this morning?" Hermione asked, seemingly eager to change the subject.
Harry told her of waking early, the feeling of urgency, finding himself in the Death Chamber. She digested this with ease and pondered for a moment.
"So you don't know how you got there?" Harry shook his head and described again how the kitchen had melted away and been replaced with the high walls and rows of benches in the Department of Mysteries.
"And how do you know you were supposed to go through?"
"I told you. It wasn't even as obvious as a voice in my head. I just…knew. I'm not sure how. It was like the veil itself was speaking to me, telling me to come through, that it would all be over and I could take back the mistake I made ten years ago. But there were no words, just the feeling."
"So that's what Nick meant by changing your mind before it was too late," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I think you should go talk to Nick today."
Harry considered this. He wasn't sure he wanted to go have a ghost-to-ghost chat with Nearly-Headless Nick. But he saw the wisdom in it. He nodded wordlessly.
"I think Dumbledore might stop over today to check on that new couple and their baby on the third floor…what are their names again?"
"The Aranias. Logan and Eva, the baby is Jocelyn. Have they come out of the room yet?" Harry worried about the people brought into their care. They all had the same look about them; lost, hopeless, hurting. The Arania family was not the first to hole up in a bedroom for their entire stay.
"I saw Eva in the kitchen yesterday. She looked like she wanted to run when I came in. I wish there was more we could do for them." Hermione sighed and got up from her chair. "I'm going to go see if George has roused Ginny. I'll let you know if Dumbledore arrives." Harry nodded and watched her go back into the house.
Dumbledore did indeed arrive at the safe house that afternoon. Harry followed the sounds of Jamie giggling and found Dumbledore picking himself up off the living room floor with exaggerated dignity.
"Uncle Dumble! Did you bring me anything?" Jamie laughed, using his favorite nickname for the professor. Jamie had always been fascinated by Dumbledore, asking him a hundred questions every time he visited. Dumbledore always brought the little boy some sort of sweets.
"Not today, young Mr. Potter. I'm afraid that I touched that Portkey by accident and came here without so much as a lemon drop in the bottom of my pocket. Can you ever forgive me?" Sorrow dripped from his every feature, but his eyes were still twinkling with a hint of suppressed laughter.
"You're silly, Uncle Dumble. Everyone knows you don't touch stuff that could be a Portkey. You never know where you might end up!" He echoed his mother's advice to the letter. "You should know that! You're old!"
"Jamie!" Romy exclaimed in surprised laughter, standing up to greet Dumbledore.
"It's quite alright, Romilly. The boy speaks the truth. I am quite old, aren't I?" He leaned down to ruffle Jamie's hair. "You know, now that I think of it I might just have a little something for a growing boy." He screwed his face up in concentration and rummaged through voluminous pockets before producing a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Jamie accepted it with glee, picking through the bag and putting a few beans into his pocket. He could pick out the really distasteful flavors by now.
"James, what do you say?" Romy said in a warning tone.
"Thank you, Uncle Dumble!" he said through a mouthful of jellybeans. Harry came farther into the room and patted his son on the head.
"Hello Professor," Harry greeted Dumbledore. The old professor shook Harry's hand and excused himself to go speak with the Aranias. Harry tossed a ball around with Jamie until Dumbledore reappeared.
"Professor, do you think I could come back to Hogwarts with you? I need to have a talk with Sir Nicholas," Harry asked before Dumbledore could become too engaged with Jamie again.
"Oh? Is it something I should know about?" Dumbledore looked casually interested, but as always, he had the look of someone who knows what you're going to say before you say it.
"Jamie, Tom should be done with his schoolwork by now. Why don't you go see if he wants to play outside?" Romy shooed the boy out of the room. She and Harry had decided it would be best for him not to know about what had transpired that morning, at least until he was older.
Harry told Dumbledore the whole story. The headmaster thought for a moment and then spoke slowly.
"That's very interesting. I'm sure I've heard a similar story from others over the years. And that would quite explain why Moaning Myrtle disappeared several years ago. We had no idea, you see, and the other ghosts were less than helpful on the subject. They kept implying that she had found another place to haunt, though we all knew that was impossible." Dumbledore smiled and nudged the battered pair of earmuffs on the floor with the toe of his boot. "It should be about time for the Portkey to take us back, if you're ready, Harry." Harry nodded, waved to Romy, and picked up the earmuffs. Dumbledore took hold too and in a brief moment they were back at Hogwarts.
Harry found Nick with little trouble. It was a good thing that the Marauders Map showed ghosts as well as live people, and that Dumbledore had kept it for him, otherwise he would've spent hours searching the castle and never guessed that Nick would be in the owlery.
"Hello Harry," Nick said glumly as Harry entered the high-ceilinged chamber. Nick's ruffled collar rose and fell as the older ghost sighed repeatedly. "I suspected I might be seeing you today. Happy Halloween."
"What's so happy about it?" Harry caught Nick's mood with ease and joined him by the windows.
"My thoughts exactly." Nick sighed once more and turned his back to the window.
"Why didn't you tell me, Nick?" Harry asked without prelude.
"I wish I could have. You might have been a bit more prepared than I was the first time. But with all that quick travel and the whole surprise factor, it's hardly a wonder that most people react with a hearty 'No thanks'. They haven't prepared themselves for it."
"Aren't you allowed to talk about it?"
"It's not a matter of not being allowed. It's more that I actually can't. They have it very tightly contained, you see, and they have no intention of letting the secret get out before a body can find it out for themselves."
"They? Who are 'they'?" Harry was puzzled.
"I'm not quite sure. Higher beings? God? Whoever it is that controls the afterlife and all its mysteries? I couldn't say. It certainly isn't those ruffians at the Department of Mysteries. They just happen to have the ownership papers to the gateway." Nick let out a bitter laugh.
"Will I get another chance?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Y – oh dear, there it is again. Can't say a word. Terribly sorry. Let's see if I can say this: if you do get another chance, don't waste it. Each one might be your last. Oh yes, it seems that cryptic warnings are permitted." Nick smiled cheerfully and Harry almost laughed. He raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, you can't tell me. I get it. Thanks anyway, Nick. Have a happy death day." He patted the other ghost on the back and left the owlery for the headmaster's office. He found Dumbledore sitting quietly at his desk, staring out the windows at the sunset.
"That seems to be a popular pursuit at the moment," Harry commented as he floated through the wall.
"There's a lot more out there than trees and grass, you know," Dumbledore answered at once. "There's a future on that horizon. I envy the sun, Harry. It sees what's coming before the rest of us. It sees where we will be in an hour, two hours, a day. Oh, to be that fortunate…" The headmaster trailed off wistfully. Harry wondered what had caused his switch from the lighthearted Uncle Dumble to the professor of gloom and doom. Dumbledore stared out the window for a moment longer then turned his back to it and all the wisdom it provided.
"No matter, Harry. The future I want to discuss with you is well within our control. I wanted to talk to you about Jamie." Dumbledore switched to a businesslike mode instantly.
"What about Jamie?" Harry sat down and faced his old teacher.
"I want to know if he will be attending Hogwarts when he's the proper age," Dumbledore said simply. Harry fell silent. He hadn't thought about that at all in the past few months. The subject had come up when Tom had received his Hogwarts letter, but the matter had been buried at the back of Harry's mind since then.
Did he want Jamie to go? On the one hand, Harry didn't want Jamie to grow up the way he had. Jamie was bound to be greeted with whispers and stares and constantly asked if his father is Harry Potter. On the other hand, Harry was sure he and Romy couldn't provide the kind of education that the Hogwarts staff could. But what of the danger? Harry knew that Hogwarts was the only safe place left in Europe, but there were too many ways for a person to be lured out of the castle. He didn't want to put Jamie in danger by sending him away from his family. But he would never make any lasting friends living at the safe house his whole life. He had Tom, but one friend sometimes wasn't enough. When Jamie and Tom fought, neither of them had another friend to go to. And what about Tom? It would be cruel to deprive him of his best friend for such long periods of time. Harry's head was spinning with pros and cons before he finally shook his head to clear it and looked up.
"I'll let you know before the letters get sent out," he told Dumbledore.
Dumbledore nodded. "Take your time. I simply wanted to introduce the dilemma for your consideration while you still had plenty of time to think about it."
A knock sounded on the door. Dumbledore waved his hand at it, opening it to reveal several freckled faces and quite a lot of bright red hair. Bill, Charlie, and Percy stood outside the door.
Harry greeted them enthusiastically, even Percy, who seemed reserved and a little nervous in the presence of his older brothers.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked them when all the handshaking and small talk had ended.
"We're going to the safe house for the night," Bill explained. "Ginny owled us this morning and asked if we might want to get together, since…y'know, it's been ten years and all that."
"Oh," Harry said in a small voice. He had almost forgotten what he had overheard Hermione and George talking about that morning. "We'd better get going then, hadn't we? Ginny will have dinner ready by now." Three red heads nodded and Dumbledore handed Harry the same dirty earmuffs and gestured for everyone to take hold.
"Are you coming, Professor?" Charlie asked before touching the Portkey.
"I'm afraid I can't. I must make an appearance at the Halloween feast tonight." He gave a long-suffering sigh accompanied by a wink and then the Portkey whisked them back to the house.
Sixteen chairs crowded the big table in the safe house's dining room. Five Weasleys, three Potters, three Malfoys, three Aranias, Hermione, and the incurable Connor. He had shown up out of the blue shortly after Harry and Dumbledore had left, and was now playing with baby Jocelyn and (as always) making eyes at Ginny. And as always, Harry felt the urge to kick him right between his big, handsome blue eyes. He hoped that would be interpreted as a brotherly, protective reaction, and not jealous-ex-boyfriend behavior.
They gathered at the table as Ginny brought out covered dishes and a bottle of wine. Harry supervised Jamie washing his hands and then joined the group, noticing with more than a little embarrassment that they had left him the seat at the head of the table. He was bracketed by Hermione on his left and Romy on his right. Harry sat down and looked around at the assembled group. They were all looking at him expectantly. He had no idea what to do.
After a long, awkward silence, Harry picked up the empty glass next to his plate and stood.
"It's so great to see everyone here. Old friends," he nodded to the Weasleys, "new acquaintances," he raised his glass to Logan, Eva, and Connor, "and, if you had asked me ten years ago, the last people I'd expect to be willingly sharing a table with," he finished with a grin to the Malfoy family. He cleared his throat and continued.
"I guess we all know why we're here. It's been ten years since the worst night that most of us can remember. We all lost something that night. Mothers, fathers, brothers, loved ones, the life that we had always known. So, I guess we're here to remember what we've had to do without for ten years. The people we love are gone, but we will never forget them. We are burned, but not broken. Our world is torn, but we are still fighting. As long as even one of us remains, those that we lost will never truly be gone." His throat closed up, so he raised his glass. "To the people we will never forget."
Bill and Charlie stood. "To Mum and Dad," Bill said.
"To Ron," Hermione chimed in, getting to her feet.
"To Fred," George added in a thick voice.
"Neville." Ginny stood next to her brothers.
"To Lily and James Potter," Romy put in, raising her glass and trying to get Jamie to raise his too.
"To Lord Voldemort!" All eyes turned to Malfoy, where he stood looking sheepish. "Right, not the time for a joke, I'll just have some wine then…"