Chapter Thirteen: The Chattel

The glowing form of the woman turned to look at Dumbledore, a slight smile wreathed her face as she recognized the old wizard.

"Professor Dumbledore... yes... I knew you would come. Thank you..." her eyes strayed to Harry, and back again. "For everything."

Dumbledore nodded. Harry stood, feeling lost for a moment, until Ginny's hand found his. Looking up, confused, he really took in what he was seeing.

This woman was no ghost... at least, not like Nearly Headless Nick and the others... she was... solid. Corporeal.

"You're my aunt?"

"I was... once," she smiled at him.

"But..."

"I have found another way, Harry... one that doesn't always coincide with your world... a different path."

"But... you're alive?"

"Yes... in a way," she agreed, looking at him speculatively for a moment. "Perhaps not in a way you would understand... but yes, I am alive."

"You've lived in the forest? All this time?"

"No. No... I went far from here..." her eyes strayed back to the light behind them, then turned back to Harry. "There are more planes of existence than life and death, Harry."

"The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason, Harry... there is older magic here than that which you or I practice," Dumbledore said softly.

"Old magic?" Harry turned startled eyes on the headmaster. "A power he knows not?"

"He is quick, Dumbledore," Daisy spoke, almost proudly.

"Yes... yes he is, Daisy."

"He will be able to do this thing that must be done."

"I never doubted it," Dumbledore spoke.

"But he has," she looked at Harry. "You have doubted yourself so many times. No longer, Harry... you are the one that must do this. You have the power... you just need to find it."

"Here? In the forest?" he asked.

"Wherever you are," she smiled cryptically. "But you are the one who must do this thing. If you turn your back... then it will go undone, and all things will change."

"I know that."

"And this one..." her calm green eyes turned on Ginny. "You choose well, Harry."

Harry was silent, holding Ginny's hand tightly.

"She has many of Lily's qualities," Daisy's head angled to the side, as though considering something. "Yes... many of her qualities."

"Aunt Daisy..." Harry began. "How do I get..."

"Is there not another answer, Harry?" Daisy said, her eyes telling him that she knew what he had been about to ask.

"I need her blood," he stated. "And I know she won't give it to me. How do I get it?"

"You do not need her blood, Harry."

"But..."

"I, too, have the blood of your mother in my veins," she said, holding a hand towards Dumbledore. Silently, he handed her the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Can you...?"

"Oh, I assure you, I do bleed, Harry," there was a rather wry smile on her face. "But I cannot leave these woods. This is my only... portal, and I would not be able to go back if I left it. I will need a chattel."

"A... what?" Harry asked, looking at her.

"A chattel... one to carry my blood. To become... family... to you."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"I'll do it," Ginny stepped forward.

"No, you cannot." Daisy smiled at the girl.

"But..."

"You are destined to be more than a kinswoman to my nephew. You cannot live your destiny while carrying the blood of his mother's family."

Ginny looked closely at her, her eyes widening, and she stepped back, looking up at Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry..."

"I'm not," his grip on her hand tightened.

Ron cleared his throat and looked closely at the sword the glowing woman held. Nervously he looked at the woman standing before them, but before he could say or do anything, Daisy turned, a beatific smile on her face, her eyes gentle as she looked at the young man.

"You are worthy, Ron Weasley," she smiled. "But the blood must be able to be carried by the one I choose."

"I can..." Ron looked ready to argue.

"No, young Gryffindor... no one questions your loyalty, or your bravery... but as a man, you cannot carry the blood of a woman. You would die within days, and even for this, we cannot risk you. Your destiny has yet to be played out, you must not die now... not for this."

"Well," Hermione stepped forward. "I guess it'll have to be me, then."

Daisy studied her for a moment, looking closely between Harry and Ron, then back to Hermione. "Yes. Yes, that will do."

"What...? I mean..." Hermione stammered, looking nervously at the sword.

"You must carry my blood from here in your veins."

Hermione nodded sharply. "How?"

"Step forward, and give me your hand."

"Hermione... you don't have to..." Harry began.

"Yes, she does, Harry. There is no other way," Daisy looked at him. "She will carry your family blood. You agree to being bound to her in this way?"

"Of course, but..."

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione glanced at him, then back to Daisy. "I'll be fine."

Hermione stepped forward and held out her hand.

With a swift movement, Daisy took her hand in her own and quickly, with her right hand, thrust the sword through them both. There was a bright flare of light from sword, and Hermione cried out in shock and pain. Ron jumped forward, only to be stilled by Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder.

"She is fine."

"But..."

"You each have your role to play, and this is hers. Do not take it from her."

Ron stepped back, Dumbledore's hand still on his shoulder. Harry held Ginny, who had turned her face into his shoulder.

Moments later, it was over. Daisy withdrew the sword, but did not release Hermione's hand.

"You now carry my blood... and I yours. Your blood will be used to wake my sister's image. I greet you as family, Hermione Granger."

The glowing figure of Daisy Evans reached out and embraced Hermione, who did the same before stepping away.

"Harry..." Daisy turned to him. "You have a long life ahead of you... with only this one challenge standing in your way. Will you allow the Dark One to take such riches from you?"

"No. No longer." he replied.

"Quite right. You are indeed Lily's son."

"Will I... can you come back?"

"One never knows what Fate holds in store for us, Harry."

"I..."

"Go. You must get this done. Speak to Lily... and have faith in yourself, and your friends. They will not fail you."

"Can I...?"

"What, Harry?"

"Are you happy?" he asked, almost desperately, not wanting the moment to end.

"Happiness is a fleeting thing. I am... fulfilled."

"But..."

"I have done what I was meant to do, Harry. No more can be asked of anyone than that, and nothing can give the same satisfaction."

"Aunt Petunia..."

Daisy's eyes clouded for a moment, and she closed them, almost in pain. When she opened them, Harry could see they were bright with tears, but she nodded, as though accepting something. "She has chosen yet another path. She will be fine, Harry. Petunia... will be fine."

"Can I tell her about you?"

"It would do no good."

"But..."

"I am as dead to her, Harry. Our paths... I can do nothing for her."

Harry nodded, and blinked back tears.

"Stop trying, Harry. You have done your best to fix her world... you can do no more to make that situation right. That time is over. You must accept this and move on."

Nodding again, he tightened his arm around Ginny and kissed the top of her head, feeling the tears of emotion welling in his eyes.

Daisy smiled. "You will prosper... both of you. Now go. You must finish this."

They turned as one, and left the Forest, Dumbledore leading the way, the sword of Godric Gryffindor held before him reverently. Harry knew that his aunt was standing watching them go, but he couldn't turn around. His arm was tight around Ginny, and as they walked, he saw Ron's go around Hermione.

A moment later, Hermione's hand slipped into Harry's. The four of them were bound, and it was older magic than that which he knew that had done that.


Okay, so my hand is still proving difficult, but I need to answer one thing here – one of my reviewers asked about Petunia and "hadn't she had her memory wiped?". The answer is, no, she didn't. When Dumbledore and the others returned her to Little Whinging in Shades of Grey, they wiped the memories of Dudley and Vernon of any memory of Harry, beyond the fact of his birth, and subsequent death in the "accident" that had killed he and his parents – Petunia requested to be left with her memories, and Dumbledore respected that request.

Another reviewer commented on my not having any typos despite my problem with my left hand – trust me, they've been there... but most of the story is written, already typed out, and all I'm typing is the edits (as I post) and the comments. I'm actually getting pretty good at this one-handed thing. I don't know how long it will last for... I can use my hand if I'm careful, but typing seems to be something that is beyond it right now.

I hope you enjoy this one.

CQ