Chapter Five: It's Coming
Harry awoke knowing that he had to speak to Dumbledore. Despite his misgivings, despite the fact that he was resentful of Dumbledore keeping things from him for so many years, despite the niggling doubt he had, he knew he couldn't keep this to himself any longer.
He rose, and quickly dressed. Silently leaving the dorm, he headed down the stairs.
"And where are you going?" a sleepy voice made him pause as he headed toward the portrait hole. Turning, he saw Ginny curled up in the corner of the couch.
"What are you doing up?" he changed direction, coming to sit beside her.
"I woke up... Harry... I had a rather odd dream."
Harry looked at her, concerned.
"I was watching you," her brown eyes studied his face.
"Me?"
"You were in the field, between Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest. You were talking to a woman."
"Ginny?" Harry looked at her, horrified.
"Then, you were gone, and..."
"And?"
"And she spoke to me."
"What did she say?" Harry's asked, dread in his voice. Ginny couldn't be mixed up in this, whatever it was. She couldn't. He couldn't bear to have her in any danger.
"She told me to stay with you, that I was there for a reason... and that you couldn't do it without me."
Harry looked at her, silently, for a moment, then stood.
"Go get dressed, Ginny," he said firmly.
"Harry?" she rose from the couch, her eyes searching his face.
"Ginny, go. You need to get dressed. We need to go..."
"Go where?"
"We need to talk to Dumbledore," he admitted softly. "We can't do this alone."
Ginny swallowed, then nodded, and turned, rushing up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Harry sat heavily on the couch, running his hands through his hair. What was he going to do now?
She was talking to Ginny, he thought. It's no longer just a dream.
"It's coming, Professor," Harry said after they had explained the situation to the aging Headmaster. Harry had been rather surprised to find the old man up and already in his office, as it wasn't even five thirty in the morning yet. He had been even more surprised that he'd not had to give a password to the gargoyle to get in. The statue had moved aside the moment they'd stepped within ten feet of it.
"Yes, Harry... it is," the Headmaster rubbed a hand over tired eyes. "I think we both see that now."
"I wish I knew what she meant."
"Who?"
"My mother," Harry said.
"Harry..." Dumbledore looked concerned, and about to say something more. Harry didn't wait.
"She keeps telling me that I found it... that I found it in the summer, but I just am not recognizing it for what it is."
"Well, then I would suggest that you turn it around," the old wizard said.
"What?"
"Instead of trying to figure out what 'it' is, think of the things you found this summer... and go back from there."
"Go back..." Harry mused before turning shocked eyes onto Ginny. Her own lit with understanding.
"Professor... we have to go."
"Go where?"
"Back... back to Potter Manor," Harry said, taking Ginny's hand and standing. "The answer is there. It's there... the painting of my parents... she said to look to my parents... that they had the answer for me."
"Harry..."
"We need to go... right now!"
Dumbledore nodded. "We can use the floo... Miss Weasley..."
"I'm coming with you," Ginny stuck her chin out obstinately. "Don't even think of suggesting otherwise."
There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he nodded. "Of course you are. Why would I ever have thought differently?"
They flooed to Potter Manor together, Harry holding Ginny in his arms through the particularly long trip through the Floo network, with Dumbledore following behind. The moment they stepped out of the hearth in the public lounge of Potter Manor, Harry knew exactly where he was going, and dragged Ginny along behind him. The door to the den stood open, and he strode through it, coming to stop in front of the wedding portrait of his parents.
"It's here, Ginny... it's here somewhere..."
Stepping forward, he studied the painting. His mother's eyes shone with happiness that even the oils of the artist couldn't dim. They seemed almost alive. His father smiled happily, the glasses he wore seemed to reflect the light. Harry studied every detail of their faces, looking for some sort of communication.
When nothing came, he moved down their bodies. His father wore a black muggle suit, with formal dress robes open over them. His mother wore beautiful dress robes of some sort of cream colored lace. Their left hands were clasped together, displaying their brand new wedding rings.
After many minutes of silent study, Harry sighed.
"I don't know... how can they tell me anything? It's a painting!"
"She said to look to your parents..." Ginny said... "Look to your parents..."
"I know, Gin. But they're not telling me anything! She said that 'she' guards the secret..."
"She?" Ginny turned on him. "She who?"
"My mother... I guess," he shrugged.
Looking back at the painting, Harry looked in his mother's eyes. What secret did she guard?
"Harry!" Ginny's voice was faint. "Look!"
"Look at what?" Harry turned to her, to see her pointing.
"Look, in the background... look!"
Harry had never paid much attention to the background of the painting before. He'd never thought to wonder where the backdrop might have been taken from, or where they had posed for this picture. He looked now. It would appear that they were standing in this very room, the desk to their left, to the left of Harry's mother, was the desk that stood now in front of the windows.
And on that desk, in the portrait, sat a box. A black onyx box. His mother's writing set, which he had felt the need to give to Ginny from the moment he'd seen it.
She guards the secret.
They made it back to the school moments later and Ginny ran for the box which she had left in her trunk in her room. She was back in moments, the heavy square of onyx clutched to her chest as she entered the room. She placed it gently in front of Dumbledore.
"Now, let us see, shall we?"
After opening the box and studying each of the ink bottles and quills, they were no further ahead. Harry sat back, studying an engraved gold bottle with a crystal stopper.
"What does this engraving mean?" He asked, handing the bottle to Dumbledore.
"It is cyrillic..." Dumbledore squinted through his glasses at the bottle. "It says, 'In you I have found all things, but most precious of all, I have found love'."
Harry looked at the Headmaster, his brow furrowed.
"What does that mean?"
"This was a wedding gift to your mother from your father, Harry," Dumbledore set the bottle down. "It is customary for such things to have romantic enscriptions."
"Oh," Harry flushed, glancing at Ginny. She stared back at him.
"This was your father's wedding gift to your mother?" she asked.
"Remus never mentioned that, actually," Harry admitted.
"You have to take it back, Harry, I can't accept it!"
"You already have, Gin, and I can't imagine taking it back now. I wouldn't... not for any reason. It's yours. I want you to have it."
"But..."
"I believe..." Dumbledore said. "This will take more time to solve. Miss Weasley, perhaps you should..."
Ginny took the box, and looked down at it. "Yes, Professor."
"Harry?"
"Professor?"
"You will tell me if...?"
Harry looked at Ginny, then to the box, and finally, back to the Professor. "Of course."
"Good. Perhaps now you should return the box to where Miss Weasley had it, and attend the Great Hall for breakfast. The other students will be up shortly, I'm sure."
Harry spent the day wondering what, if anything, the enscription on the bottle meant. On the surface, of course, he knew what it meant. It meant that his Dad had loved his Mum. But what could it mean if that was the message that...
Or perhaps there had been something else in the painting that they had missed. Harry needed to go back to Potter Manor.
Ginny spent the day stewing. She couldn't believe that Harry could still want her to keep the writing set. It had been his father's wedding gift to his mother, and she had no business keeping it.
The inscription on that bottle... Ginny had known when she saw Harry blushing that he'd not had any idea of what it had said. And he'd given it to her. He must be so incredibly uncomfortable...
Walking back, alone, from the library to the Gryffindor Tower, she knew what she had to do. The box didn't belong to her, no matter how much she wanted it to. It never could.
That evening, after dinner, Harry found himself sitting with Ron and Hermione in the Common Room at a round table, studying. Ginny had disappeared half an hour before, quietly saying that she had something to do in her room. Harry, knee deep in a paper for Transfiguration, had nodded and continued to write.
It took him a moment to realize that she had returned and was standing beside him. "Harry, I need to speak to you."
"What's wrong, Gin?" he looked up at her, concerned.
She glanced at Ron and Hermione, then around the room, and then back to him. She seemed nervous.
"Alone?"
Harry felt a chill down his spine. Surely she wasn't...
Maybe she was. Maybe this was all too much for her. She'd been quiet since that morning with Dumbledore. She'd probably thought about it and realized that being his girlfriend was more trouble than it could possibly be worth.
Ginny Weasley was about to break up with him.
Harry swallowed and stood, then led her to the stairwell to the boys dorm and up. Dean was laying on his bed, and eyed them oddly when they entered.
"Umm... Dean... would you mind..." Harry gestured towards the door.
"Harry, you do realize that McGonagall will toss your backside out of the school if she finds out that...?"
"We're not doing anything, Dean," Ginny didn't look at the other boy, one she'd dated for so short a time. "I just need to speak to Harry... alone."
Dean looked at both of them, then removed himself from the room, closing the door behind him.
"Gin?"
"Harry?"
"I'm sorry..." he started, unable to look at her.
"Sorry?" she looked at him. "For what?"
"For not... for not being enough... I..."
"Harry? What on earth are you talking about?"
"I..." Harry looked at her, confused. "I thought..."
Ginny stared hard at him for a moment, then her eyes widened with understanding. "You thought... you thought I was... that I wanted to break it off, didn't you?"
"Well..."
"Do you?" she asked faintly, her cheeks paling.
"No!" he looked at her, his eyes panicked. "But you..."
"Harry, I didn't come up here to end it," she said softly. "I asked to speak to you because I need to give this back to you."
From under her robes she pulled the onyx writing set.
"Ginny..."
"I can't accept it, Harry, as much as I want to. It's special... it's something you should..." she swallowed. "It was a wedding gift, and I know it holds more meaning than you intended it to have, and it shouldn't be given away lightly..."
"Ginny," Harry put his hands on her shoulders. "Look at me."
Ginny looked up, the box still held in her shaking hands between them.
"I want you to keep the box. Yes, it has more meaning than I originally thought it had, but that doesn't mean that... it doesn't mean that it's not still... yours."
"But.."
"Ginny, it's yours. I want you to have it. I still want you to have it, knowing everything I know about it."
Ginny felt the tears come to her eyes, and her hands shook even more, and somehow, without meaning to, she lost her grip on the heavy stone and it dropped heavily to the floor.
"Oh!" she cried, as the box tipped on it's side and spilled the contents out. Two of the engraved ink bottles rolled out and across the floor.
"Oh, Harry! I'm sorry!" she said, horrified.
"It's okay, Gin..." he knelt, retrieving the bottles. "Really, nothing was harmed."
"Is it okay?" she knelt beside him. "It didn't... it didn't break, did it?"
"More than okay, actually. Look," Harry nodded at the box, drawing her attention to the fact that, landing on it's side as it had had caused something curious to happen. The bottom of the box had shifted, looking oddly on an angle to the rest of the box.
"It's a false bottom!" Ginny said.
Harry tried to pull the bottom out, but it was still wedged. Glancing around the room, his eye fell on a long, sharp letter opener that Neville kept on his bedside table for opening letters from home. He quickly strode across the room and grabbed it, hurrying back to where Ginny knelt on the floor, righting ink bottles before they leaked.
Without hesitating, Harry crouched down and picked up the heavy box, wedging the letter opener in between the side of the box and the now loose bottom panel. With a flick, the bottom came out, revealing a shallow depression, and a folded piece of parchment hidden there.
"What is it?" Ginny whispered.
"I think it's the secret you've been guarding," Harry replied, picking up the parchment and unfolding it.
"Harry?" Ron looked up at his friend, who was standing beside the table and glancing nervously around. Ginny stood behind him, looking just as jittery and clutching Harry's arm.
"I... can we...?" Harry said in an undertone. "I need to talk to you both."
"Of course, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes darting between Harry and Ginny. Something was definitely going on. "What is it?"
"We need to go... I need you to come with me."
"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked softly, glancing around the common room. There were three or four students sitting in front of the fire, a couple in the corner playing Exploding Snap, and all the study tables were occupied by fifth, sixth and seventh year students.
"Not here. I need... we need privacy."
"Harry?"
"Not here, Ron. The Room of Requirement," Harry said in an undertone. "We can't talk here."
The four made their way as inconspicuously as possible out the portrait hole and through the corridors to the Room of Requirement. Harry paced in the hall, and the doorway appeared, and they let themselves in to a small lounge complete with comfortable chairs and a fire.
"Nice," Ron said. "Cosy."
"Private," Harry muttered, closing the door behind them.
"Harry, what is going on?" Hermione faced him.
"Ginny and I..." Harry swallowed. "Ginny and I..."
"Harry?" Ron's eyes narrowed. "You better hope that you're not finishing that sentence with anything that I wouldn't be able to tell my mother."
Harry looked at Ron for a moment, confused, then flushed. "No, Ron. Ginny and I found something... we..."
"We shared a dream," Ginny said bluntly. "And we spoke to Dumbledore... and we went back to Potter Manor this morning..."
"You what?" Hermione turned on her.
"We..." Ginny swallowed.
"I think you should start from the beginning," Hermione sat down on the couch, pulling Ron to sit beside her. "Start with this dream you shared, and don't leave anything out."
Twenty minutes later, Hermione and Ron had the full story.
"You mean..." Hermione looked at the parchment in Harry's hand.
"We found it hidden in the box... under a false bottom."
"But..."
"It's a spell, Hermione... can you tell what it does?"
"I'll try, Harry..." Hermione took the bit of parchment from him. It was obviously old, and the edges had yellowed. She opened it almost reverently. "Oh, my..."
"Mione?" Ron looked at her. "What is it?"
"It's very old magic..." she said softly, as though to not disturb something either very old, or very dangerous. "I don't know... I'm going to have to do some research."
"Of course," Ron muttered.
"I don't want to make a mistake, Ron..." Hermione looked up at himwith almost pleading eyes. "Please try and understand."
Ron looked at her, then glanced away. "I do, Mione. Of course I do."
"How long until...?"
"I don't know, Harry... but... I'll try to hurry. In the meantime, you should..."
"No," Harry said, knowing full well what she was about to say.
"Harry..."
"He's not taking this away from me, Mione. I'll go to him with it when we've figured out what it means."
Hermione looked at him, his green eyes blazing with determination.
"I'd best hurry then," she said softly.
I'm so happy you're all enjoying this – and I apologise for the lack of review responses – I am having some trouble with one of my hands and typing is a bit of a pain right now. I DO appreciate every review – and reviewer... please don't think I don't... but I will hold off on my review responses until I can type with both hands again!
CQ
