A/N – Okay, R rating alert... again!

CQ


Chapter Nineteen: What She Left Behind

Mayhem reigned in the lounge after breakfast. Harry sat down in a large overstuffed armchair and Ginny pushed and prodded and curled up until she was comfortable. Unfortunately, her comfort was dictated by how much of her was sprawled across his lap, and, perhaps even more unfortunately, Harry was rather enjoying the feel of her against him.

In all, he could care less about Christmas and the gifts that Fred, George and Tonks were now distributing with much fervor. He wanted all these people gone. He wanted to drag Ginny upstairs and spend the day discovering every freckle on her body... and it's relation to it's neighbors.

Which was making him both glad and rather disgruntled at Ginny's continued squirming presence in his lap.

"Are you... uncomfortable?" she breathed in his ear, nearly sending him over the edge.

He snorted.

"Harry?" Her wide brown eyes looked down into his, concerned. He immediately let go of his frustrated mood.

"I'm fine, Gin... just..." he shifted her on his lap, and suddenly she colored.

"Oh," she whispered.

"Yeah. Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? I'm not sorry. I'm.."

"I know," her eyes glinted with good humor. "Maybe we can go for a... walk... later?"

"It's freezing out there, Gin..." he whispered.

"But you forget..." Ginny leaned in, her lips a hairsbreadth from his ear. "... about the guest house."

Harry's eyebrows rose speculatively, and he nearly got a box in his eye when Fred tossed him a package thinking that Harry had seen it. Ginny caught it deftly, and giggled.

At that moment, the doorbell went, and Hermione jumped up, squealing with excitement. Her parents were due before noon, and this would have to be them.

Sure enough, when Hermione returned, her rather overwhelmed parents trailed behind her, and Harry, uncomfortable but under control, stood to greet them. Behind them, another figure came into the room.

"Professor Snape... Happy Christmas," Harry nodded.

"Potter. Thank you. Happy... Christmas... to you, as well," he seemed to struggle with the words, but nodded pleasantly enough.

"Drink?"

"I..." Snape looked at him, and nodded shortly, glancing down as Ginny approached and handed him a cup of eggnog.

"Mum sent this over, Professor. She said it's made the way you like it."

"Thank you."

"Happy Christmas, Professor," Ginny leaned up and kissed the older man quickly on his cheek, then flashed a grin at Harry and darted off across the room.

Harry turned back to see the rather startled expression fading from Snape's face.

"I can't get used to it, either," Harry grinned.

Snape's surprised eyes turned back on Harry before Remus approached, holding out his hand to shake.

"Happy Christmas, Severus."

Harry took his leave, still grinning. Snape had been off balance twice in as many minutes, and if his luck held, he was going to get some much-needed time alone with Ginny later. Could the day get much better?


Unfortunately, plans seldom come to fruition for Harry. Despite repeatedly making excuses, they never seemed to get far without an escort, or together, as someone was always finding something for each of them to do the moment they began to edge for the doors.

Harry was beginning to suspect a conspiracy of Weasleys against he and Ginny being alone and unchaperoned at all.

And he wasn't too happy about it.

"Harry?" Ginny's soft voice came from behind where he was setting up a longer table for Molly. She wasn't pleased with the length of the formal dining room table, which probably could have seated fifty or so comfortably, and had asked him to lengthen it by three feet.

Three bloody feet.

"What is it, Gin?"

"Mum wants me to tell you..."

"What?" he turned, seeing her sparkling eyes dancing with good humor.

"That she made your favorite carrots."

"Really?" Harry smiled ruefully. "How... thoughtful."

Ginny giggled and launched herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. It was lucky she was so slight, or Harry would have toppled over backwards.

Which wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing, he thought.

"Oi, Potter... hands off the sister unit in the dining room," Fred said as he and George came in carrying plates. "Mum wants you two to set the table."

Harry sighed. Being alone with Ginny right now was not, apparently, to be.


After the huge dinner that Molly had prepared, they sat in the lounge. Ron and Percy were playing a game of wizards chess, and Harry sat a few feet away in one of the large overstuffed leather chairs watching, a glass of pumpkin juice in his hand. Dumbledore sat beside him in a straight-backed chair.

"Harry," he began.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I do not want to taint the celebrations, but we must speak."

"Of course..." Harry glanced around. "Here, or in the den?"

"The den would be preferable, I believe."

Harry stood and led the way, leaving his glass on a side table as he went, then admonishing himself. He was getting far too used to Dobby and Winky cleaning up after him. Hermione would be upset with him.

He closed the door to the den after them and went to sit across from Dumbledore in front of the fire.

"We need to speak about the next few months, Harry."

Harry nodded.

"You know what is expected of you..."

"Yes, Professor, I do."

"You also know that it draws near."

"I can feel it," Harry said softly. "It's like a bubble... getting larger and taking up more and more space..."

"Yes... a good analogy," Dumbledore smiled. "I feel it, too, Harry. As do others."

"Others?"

"What you are describing is, at it's basis, a form of Divination. The muggles call it intuition... but it is much more than that. Developed, it has the ability to allow you to See..."

"See?" Harry tried to not sound as doubting as he felt. Trelawney had all but destroyed any faith he had in Divination of any kind.

"Divination is an art, Harry, not necessarily a skill. It cannot truly be learned, only guided. Some, a very few, are born with the ability, but everyone in our world needs to learn about it to appreciate the fact of it."

"Then perhaps having someone other than Professor Trelawney teaching it would be a good idea," Harry bit out. "The woman is a bloody quack."

"Perhaps, Harry... but you know the reason why my faith in her..."

"I know. Trust me, I know."

"I have considered the wisdom of my decision on that many times, Harry. However, I still believe that Professor Trelawney has a purpose..."

"To turn everyone off of believing in Divination?" Harry speculated.

"No, Harry... too keep them from putting too much faith in what the Fates may dictate. No matter what Fate has in store for us, we always have choices."

"Do we?" Harry suddenly became angry. "Good. Then I choose to not be the one fated to fight Voldemort. I choose to live my life, be with Ginny..."

"That is your choice to make, but note that I did not say that our choices were without consequences."

Harry stared at the headmaster, silent.

"Should you choose that route, which is your right, Voldemort will win. Our world will fall to him, and then the muggle world, as well. Many will die, including many we call friends, because they will still choose to fight. Your choosing not to fight will not make it go away, Harry. It will merely change the choices you are presented with in the future."

Harry thought about this, really considering what the consequences would be.

Bill would still fight. So would Charlie, and Ron would stand by his brothers... the twins, as well.

And Ginny. Ginny would not stop fighting, even if he, himself, chose another path. Ginny would still be in danger. His choice was whether he wanted to stand on the sidelines, or stand between her and that danger – between his friends and that danger. Perhaps he would fall... perhaps she would, as well. But at least he would have tried to protect her, and them. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't do that.

Looking up, he met the knowing eyes of the old wizard.

"What do I have to do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "We must prepare you, Harry. I have seen that we are not moving fast enough. You must learn to fight... harder than you have ever fought before."

Harry nodded. "Teach me."


Harry was was just drifting off to sleep when he was startled awake by a soft noise in the corner of his room. He knew that no one had entered, because he'd set a locking and privacy charm before getting into bed. He reached for his wand.

"Lumos," he said softly, looking around.

Nothing.

Then, a flicker in the corner. He knew what that was...

"Ginny, what are you doing?" he hissed.

"Spoilsport," she giggled. "I rather thought of crawling in and fulfilling a fantasy or two..."

"Ginny!"

"What, don't you fancy being made love to by a woman you can't see?" she said, dropping the invisibility cloak.

Harry swallowed.

"What's wrong?" she said, approaching the bed.

"You're..."

"I didn't see the sense in wasting time," she said softly, lifting the duvet and sliding her naked body into the warmth next to him.

"I love you, Gin," he said softly, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her.

"Prove it," she grinned.


The day before they were to return to Hogwarts, Harry was on a mission. Most of the guests had left, leaving only the four students and Mr & Mrs Weasley at Potter Manor.

He knew where what he sought was. He'd asked the portrait of his mother. He had been unable to get the conversation he'd had with Aunt Petunia out of his head, and now, he was going to find it.

Somewhere in the attics of Potter Manor, there was a box filled with the things his mother had stored away before they went into hiding. Things that had been his from birth, things that he had been given for his first birthday, a birthday he couldn't remember.

As he entered the attics, he realized that Dobby appeared to have been working his magic up here, as well. There wasn't a cobweb or fleck of dust to be seen, just neatly stacked boxes and trunks.

Harry sighed. There were a lot of them, and none of them appeared to be labeled.

He had searched through several already when he heard a noise behind him and turned, instinctively lifting his wand at the ready.

"Apologies, young master," the croaking voice of an ancient house elf came to him through the dimness. He stepped forward and Harry could see that he was very, very old.

"I'm sorry," Harry pocketed his wand. "You startled me."

"I am sorry... it is no longer easy to move silently."

"Who are you?"

"I am Hobb, young master. And you, you are Harry Potter."

"Yes, I am," Harry said, realizing that this must be one of the elderly house elves that had lived here for years that Dumbledore had mentioned.

"Apologies, young master. Hobb did not mean to disturb you. You are looking for something?"

"Yes... a box," Harry said. "My mother left it here before they left..."

"Miss Lily, yes. Hobb knows. Come."

Harry stood, leaving the box of old photographs he had been looking through open behind him and following the limping elf.

"Is this way, Harry Potter sir."

"How long have you been here, Hobb?"

Hobb turned surprised eyes on Harry.

"Hobb has lived here all his life, and his mother before him. Hobb is now one hundred and twelve years."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise, he'd had no idea house elves were so long-lived.

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Hobb did. Master James all his life, and Miss Lily from sixteen years."

"And you were here the night...?"

"The night James and Lily Potter left Potter Manor? Yes, Hobb was here. Hobb was here the night Harry Potter was born, as well."

Harry swallowed. Hobb had been there the night he was born? This house elf knew his entire history. He'd been there for it.

"Here is the right box, Harry Potter sir. Miss Lily told Hobb to keep it safe, and that is what I have done. Hobb has been a good house elf."

Harry dropped to his knees next to the box, and smiled.

"Thank you, Hobb."

The old elf nodded and limped away.

Harry touched the box and smiled again. He fancied that he could almost feel them there. Perhaps they were. He glanced around, but could not see any paintings. He swallowed and opened the box.

On the top was a letter. He lifted it out and opened it.

Harry,

If you are opening this, we are probably gone. If we aren't, blame my atrocious housekeeping skills.

We are going into hiding. We must. The Dark Lord has targeted you, Harry, and Dumbledore says we must protect you, no matter what. Even if he hadn't, we would still do this. I cannot believe that he would target a baby, but there are many things that I have not been able to believe about him that have proven true. Your father says that we cannot be sure of who he has influenced and, despite the charms and protections, we are too easily found here.

However, your grandfather is ill and refuses to join us. He says that he wishes to stay and die near your grandmother. He will be buried next to her. I cannot blame him, as I would rather die next to your father than live without him.

You have a bright future, Harry, with one major hurdle. I pray you find your way without us, should you need to. Trust Dumbledore. His ways are not always clear, but his heart is true. Trust Sirius. He loves you as though you were his own. Of Remus and Peter I do not know what to tell you. Others have their suspicions, and mine are my own. In my heart, I know that Remus could never hurt you, but others have their suspicions, and I cannot dissuade them. Peter has always been a friend, but again, I do not know what to tell you, for my beliefs are not shared by anyone else. Trust your instincts, Harry. Things are not always as they appear on the surface.

I pray for a long and happy life for you. I pray that the woman you choose to share this life with is strong, and true, and worthy. Potter men marry once, Harry. Do not assume that you will have forever with her. Take advantage of every moment you have, for you do not know how many moments you will be allowed. I have had far too few with your father... far fewer than I had hoped for. Perhaps I am being overly dramatic, but I do not believe that we have much longer together. I pray that I am wrong.

And remember that your father and I loved you. There are secrets in this house, Harry, secrets that you will discover in time. We will always be here with you

Love, Mum

Harry did not realize that he was no longer alone. The tears he'd let fall had dripped from his cheeks onto the parchment, and as he finished reading, a hand came out and wiped the remaining dampness away.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice was soft.

"How did you know where I was?"

"Your mother's portrait told me."

"She left this," Harry handed her the letter. "She knew."

"She knew? Knew what?"

"That they would die, and I would live. And about the others... she suspected Peter. She knew Sirius wouldn't..."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny wrapped him in her arms. "I'm so sorry."

There were many things in the box. Some small toys, a miniature broom, some clothing. Each thing was neatly labelled as to who had given it to him and when.

There was a stuffed wolf, and Harry smiled when he read that it had been a gift from "Uncle Remus". It, like him, seemed rather tatty and worn. The note said that Harry had slept with it for the first year of his life.

There were several books, the most precious of which was a copy of "Quidditch Teams of Hogwarts", inscribed on the flyleaf with Sirius' messy scrawl with a brief message about how he would teach him how to play when Harry was old enough. Harry turned to the year 1977 and found a picture showing a young James and Sirius, dressed in their Gryffindor Quidditch robes, grinning at the camera.

And in the very bottom he found a small leather box. Opening it, he swallowed back tears.

"What is it?" Ginny asked from where she knelt next to him.

"Their wedding rings," Harry said. "She left their wedding rings behind."