I do not own Harry Potter, this wonderful world belongs to J.K. Rowling.
I also do not own, 'Samhain' by Inkubus Sukkubus, 'The Devil Went Down to Georgia' by Charlie Daniel's Band, or 'Bad Moon Rising" by Creedance Clearwater Revival.
I do, however, own the story and my original characters.
Chapter 32: Samhain
Hogsmeade bustled the day of Halloween. In addition to almost all of the sixth year students, Harry, Ron and Hermione included, most everyone in the castle seemed to give in to the urge to join at the village for some holiday cheer. Harry found himself buffeted from side to side several times as the busy students trotted back and forth between the sweet shop and the trick shop and any number of other beguiling destinations as it seemed that afternoon.
Ron scowled as he was bumped into by a third year gnawing on a sugar quill. "I don't think I've ever seen it so busy," He muttered, stepping sideways.
"Well, it's been so cold, I think everyone is glad for this excuse to get out of the castle," Hermione said mildly, adjusting the sleeve of her robe.
Harry and Ginny, walking behind them, exchanged a glance, then hurriedly looked away, their cheeks reddening with far more than the cold.
That morning, Harry, escorted by a furtive Sarven, had made his way back to the Gryffindor tower while the sun was just barely tinting the mist over the mountains a dusky rose. Sarven hadn't said anything further to Harry about his adventure last night, but perhaps, he assumed somewhat wryly, he had felt that the crick in his neck that Harry had gained sleeping in one of the hard chairs had been discouragement enough against repeating his actions.
Sarven had left him at the portal, under the scrutinizing eye of the Pink Lady, and had made his quick way back through the halls, his back stiff, almost seeming to feel that he would run into something unpleasant with every other step. Harry had watched him quizzically for a long time before turning and giving the password.
Creeping up to his bedchamber to perhaps take a nice long, hot shower and try to warm the kink out of his neck, Harry once again felt the edges of that peculiar happiness that had crept over him the day before, sidelined for a time by his experiences in the Shrieking Shack.
And again, Ginny crept into his thoughts, pushing out the thoughts of the homework he REALLY should have done the night before, and the DA meeting that was quickly approaching. Harry shook his head a trifle ruefully as he crept into the bathroom, avoiding disturbing his sleeping dorm-mates.
And now, now that they were together in Hogsmeade, the tide of people rushing around them, parted a bit by the prefects they followed, Harry found he couldn't quite look her in the eye. He didn't know what to do with his hands, and he felt quite gawky and awkward as they walked side by side.
"Harry?"
"Huh?" He asked, startled from his thoughts.
Ginny smiled at him, perhaps amused. "I asked if you wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks and get a Butterbeer to warm up."
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good." He agreed, hoping his grin didn't look too goofy.
They passed quite a few people they knew as they made their weaving way to the bar, and as a consequence of stopping to chat, it was some time later that they finally reached it, their noses rosy from the cold.
Harry was grateful for the slap of warm air that greeted him as he and his friends finally pushed their way into the crowded Three Broomsticks, which was even busier than normal. Harry could even hear the sound of music being played somewhere within, though with the press, he could not see where it was coming from.
Luckily, a group of seventh years were leaving just as they came in, and Ginny was quick to secure their table for their own use. They settled into their seats, the dull roar of conversation hovering over their heads and still the fainter sound of music echoing off the ceiling.
"Does she have a radio playing?" Harry wondered half to himself as Ron made his way to the bar to retrieve their drinks.
"Maybe." Hermione said loudly, in order to be heard.
Then Ron returned, setting their drinks down on the table with a loud thunk, his expression surprised. "You guys aren't going to believe this." He told them, "There's a band."
"What's so unbelievable about that?" Ginny demanded, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.
"We know them." Ron said with a wide grin. "Come see."
Leaving Hermione to guard their table, a task she took on reluctantly, though seeing the need for it, as before they had even left the table two groups of students tried to take their unoccupied chairs.
"Sorry, these are taken," They heard her say in her best prefect's voice as they wove through the crowd.
It parted towards the back corner, and the music seemed to grow louder as the talk lowered itself. They saw the reason for this momentarily, as one of the musicians was beginning to sing.
She was dark of hair and eye, her dress white, making a bright contrast. She stood in the corner of the bar, her foot tapping out a beat, as the two behind her began to play; two that Harry at first thought was another woman playing the guitar and a young man on the violin who wore a shirt that read 'Sky is Life' with an image that looked like the figure of a man surfing the clouds. The dark young woman fixed her gaze on the people gathered around and began to sing.
"I see, the bad moon rising, I see, trouble on the way, I see earthquakes and lightning, I see, bad times today! Don't go out tonight, well, it's bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the rise." She half turned and winked at the one playing the guitar, seated on a low stool, who grinned at her between choruses. The fiddler smiled at the two of them as he played.
"That's Colum!" Harry gasped, suddenly recognizing the young, pale haired werewolf as the one playing the guitar. With his long robes and long hair, as well as his exceptionally handsome face, Harry had mistaken him for a woman before realizing it was him.
"And Harvan on the Violin. And Dresca singing." Ginny agreed, "She's really good!"
"They all three are. Who would have thought?" Ron smirked at the two of them, enjoying the reaction to his discovery.
"But what on earth are they doing here?" Harry demanded.
Ron shrugged. "Gets me." They watched for a few minutes, as Dresca sang about the bad moon and its consequences. The gazes of the three lightened on them once or twice, but there seemed to be no recognition in their faces.
"C'mon, let's go tell Hermione." Ron said finally, "And that butterbeer seems like its getting to be a better and better idea."
Hermione was not quite as suitably surprised as the other three would have expected. She seemed to take it as a matter of course that the three Americans were playing in a bar in Hogsmeade.
"Well," She said, much too reasonably, "It's only logical that they would like to have as many reinforcements as possible here on a night like this, particularly since, well, we're all down here."
Ron grimaced, while Harry nodded tiredly. Because of him, she didn't say. Here to protect him. Well, he was bloody tired of being protected. He drained his tankard grimly and got up, intending to go to the bar and get another. But suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, and a full tankard was plunked down in front of him.
Harry twisted around to look over his shoulder, and saw Colum smiling down at him. "This round's on me, if, of course, you would be willing to share your table with a tired musician for a few."
"Certainly." Hermione said seriously. And Colum sent her a very charming smile as he pulled up a chair and sat down between her and Ron, then gestured at Ambrose, who was wiping a table nearby. The two showed no sign of recognizing each other as Colum gave his order and the older man walked off to fetch the drinks.
Harry watched him go, wondering how his job working here was going, he looked a little paler and a bit thinner, as though something were worrying him. And, thinking of pale and thin, Harry glanced about the room, wondering if he would see the green-charmed head of Umbers Godfrey somewhere within the crowd.
"He was here a bit earlier," Colum told him in a very low voice, leaning in over the table. "Umbers, I mean. He looks as though he's been living in a cave. Are there caves around here?"
Harry nodded, gulping, remembering, "Yes, quite a few."
"Could explain it then." He grimaced, tucking his long blonde hair behind his ears, cocking his head, listening to the music of his brother and Dresca, which faded in and out over the noises of the crowd. "They've given me a little time to talk to you, playing some things that sound good whether I'm there or not," He laughed, "But that could be said of most of the songs we play."
"I was very surprised to see you here." Harry said, aware of a slight censure in his voice, "Playing music."
"Hmm..." Colum took a gulp of his butterbeer. He sighed in obvious contentment, then gave Harry a sidelong look. "You mean, 'instead of fighting'?" His voice very quiet, barely carrying around the table. "We ARE fighting, in our own way."
"How..." Harry began to ask, but Ginny's hand found his under the table and squeezed, cutting off his words.
"Information." She murmured to him.
"People talk in bars, more as the night wears on," Colum was saying. "Drinks flow as well as words. They say what they would not, were they sober, and no one pays much attention to wandering mendicant musicians. Buy a garrulous fellow a few drinks and you would be surprised at what you can pick up." He nodded sagely. "We've already..." He cut himself off, "Yes, well, we've been touring the country, picking things up on our way."
He gestured at them to lean forward as he dipped his finger into a small puddle of butterbeer on the tabletop and sketched a quick map of sorts, tapping his fingertip on several locations around Briton and Ireland. "See, after tonight we will be heading to Kilmarnock, then over to Ireland where we'll be playing in a tavern called the 'Hat and Feathers', then Belfast, stopping at several smaller towns along the way and then back to England to play at a place called 'Mana's Goblet' in North Allerton." He chuckled, shaking his head. "That will be the last place we'll stop before Christmas hits."
"I see." Hermione looked at it closely, then reached out and smudged the remains of the crude map dry.
Colum nodded in approval than turned and called out to Ambrose again, who had been gathering empty tankards from the table next to theirs. The older man turned quickly. "One more round to enjoy, then I'll have to join my fellows." Colum smiled at Abrose, who gave him a surreptitious wink and turned, balancing the mugs as he walked back to the bar.
After Colum had drained his mug and gone to back it was not long until Harvan took his place, sitting with a quiet groan.
"Whew," He smiled slightly, "Good to get off my feet." He placed his violin case carefully next to his feet before accepting the mug placed before him.
"You play very well," Ginny told him as he helped himself to a handful of pretzels.
"Thank you." He replied, "I had a good teacher." His eyes were far away for a long moment. "Though I'm no where as good as he."
Harry recalled Colum's parting words, as he left with a wave, 'Ask him the story of his violin.' He had said.
"Your brother told us to ask you about your violin." He said.
Harvan suddenly looked embarrassed and quite engrossed in his half-empty mug of butterbeer. "He would." He muttered.
Then he looked up, seeing the interested faces leaning in towards him. He sighed and smiled again. "Well, it began twelve years ago, when my brother and I were also twelve. We were out playing one night when we were attacked by a werewolf. Colum was bitten as he was shoving me up into a tree and out of danger." He looked across the room, where, as the crowd was thinner now, they could see Dresca and Colum playing.
"My parents...they couldn't find it in themselves to 'deal with' a werewolf child, as they put it. So they approached Tala, who was an acquaintance of my father's through the ministry, and she agreed to take him in. They kept me." His face, though still distant, still held the traces of remembered anger and grief.
"So they took away my brother, who was only the way he was because he had sacrificed himself to save me. I was so furious. We are twins, as you know, and losing him was like losing my arm." His hand came up and fiddled with the pendant that hung on a leather thong around his neck. It looked to Harry like a wolf's fang.
Harry tried to imagine how Harvan had felt, being the one left. His parents basically throwing away his brother because he had become a werewolf, they sounded far too much like the Dursleys to Harry.
"So I left to find him." He continued.
"You left?" Hermione asked, clearly shocked. "But Stepenwolv is deep in the mountains!"
"Yes." Harvan chuckled at the look on her face. "I was young then, and didn't really comprehend the distances. I didn't even have a broom and certainly didn't know how to Apparate at that age. We lived in Colorado."
He nodded at Hermione's continued expression. "And I left in the autumn, so it isn't too surprising that I got caught up in the mountains with the first snows."
He seemed to be warming to the story, his dark blue eyes gleaming. "So there I was, lost in the mountains, freezing, hungry, and consumed with the thought of reaching my stolen brother. I might have died very quickly if it hadn't been for the music."
He was quite a story-teller, Harry thought as he tore his attention away momentarily, glancing around at the rapt faces of his friends.
"The snow was falling, I recall clearly, very thickly, and I could hardly see anything more than two feet past my nose, which was by then, quite blue. And I was also very weak. I made a shelter as best I could, under the hanging branches of a pine tree, and curled up there. I think if I had gone to sleep I would never have woken up. But then, I heard the sound of a violin, drifting through the darkness. I got to my feet, not really even knowing why, I followed the sound." He wet his throat, "This is such a long story really."
"Oh, please, continue!" Ginny protested. "It's splendid!"
He looked at her, his eyes warm, "I hadn't gone far, when I saw a fire, a brilliant blaze much like your hair, Ginny, in all that white. And standing beside it was an old wizard, older still than your Dumbledore, I'd say, perhaps approaching 200 years. And he was standing in his brown robes, barefoot in the snow, playing his violin. When next..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Harry interrupted as Harvan looked at him questioningly. "I must have heard you wrong. Did you say two HUNDRED years?" He disliked the way his voice rose squeakily on the last words, but it was quite beyond him to control it.
"Well, yes, I'd say he was about that." Harvan said, nodding, perhaps not understanding Harry's confusion. "Maybe even older, it's not terribly uncommon."
"How old is Dumbledore?" Harry demanded of Hermione, whom he was sure would know.
She looked flustered. "He's approximately one hundred and fifty years old."
Harry's mouth worked impotently. Why had no one ever told him? Perhaps they took it as a matter of course?!
"We have longer lives," Ginny told him quietly. "I guess no one ever thought to tell you."
"I didn't even realize." Hermione said, her eyes slightly startled, "I thought Dumbledore was a special case because, well, he'd worked on the Philosopher's Stone."
"The Charms Tester last year..." Harry mused.
"Madam Marchbanks." Hermione supplied.
"...said she had tested Dumbledore when he was a student." He finished.
"We'd better let Harvan finish his story." Ron told them, looking slightly embarrassed. Maybe it was because he had never thought to tell his friend about the life-spans of wizards. "He'll need to get back to the others."
"Yeah, thanks Ron." Harvan nodded. "But there's not really much else to tell about it. He took me in and thawed me out, and we wintered together. He was something of a hermit, preferring to be out in the wilderness with the animals and his music as his only company. We became close, though. He was like a grandfather to me. "
Anyways, he taught me how to play, and when I left him in the spring he gave me this violin." He nudged the case at his feet gently with one toe. "And for all I know, he's still up there." He shrugged. "So I made my way down into Stepenwolv, which wasn't very far away after all."
He leaned closer, conspiratorially, "I've become convinced that that was his doing. I hadn't really gotten all that far before we came across each other."
He leaned back again. "I was reunited with my brother, and my parents, well, they discovered that if they were going to send my brother away, they would be sending both. And since they didn't want him..." His jaw rippled, "We've been at Stepenwolv ever since, and haven't even seen them. All they did during our school years was pay our tuition. After we graduated, we were on our own."
They sat looking at him, silenced, perhaps the others were thinking of the twins' parents, wondering how they could be so cruel to them. Perhaps they were thinking of their own parents and what they would do if any of their children became infected with lycanthropy.
"Well," Harvan said finally. "I'd better get back. Dresca can sing all night if we let her, and I'm fresh again." He stood, and with a nod to each of them, went back to join his fellows.
"That guy telling you to leave his girlfriend alone?" Sneered an all too familiar voice from behind Ginny's seat. They looked to see Draco Malfoy standing there, his cronies hovering close behind, snickering.
"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, her voice admirably neutral.
"The blonde girl, she sure seemed friendly with you, Ron." Draco continued as though he hadn't heard her. "Sorry Her-mi-o-nee. Guess you should've kept you hair the way it was, or you may not have your boyfriend flirting with attractive blondes."
"Blonde girl?" Ron asked, baffled.
Hermione half-rose, her face florid with fury. Then she stopped. "Wait, what blonde?"
"The one with the band, of course." He said loftily.
Harry and Ginny, who had been tensed, ready for action in case this turned physical, looked at each other, then they both began to laugh.
"Oh, my, oh my..." Ginny gasped.
"You mean Colum, Malfoy?" Harry snorted. "I guess I should have known...though I wouldn't think he was your type."
"I don't think he swings that way, Harry." Ginny laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. "Colum, I mean."
Draco's face contorted, and, for once, he couldn't seem to think of anything to say that would save face on his end. "I...don't..." He turned his back on the helplessly laughing four, the set of his shoulders furious. "Let's go." He snapped at Crabbe and Goyle, who, confused, obviously hadn't been able to follow the line of the conversation.
"Wait! Don't you want us to talk to him for you?" Ginny called after him. Harry, beside her, tensed, preparing himself in case Malfoy decided to do something stupid. But the blond boy kept walking, ignoring her.
"I...don't think we should tell Colum about this..." Hermione finally said, repressing her giggles.
"No, I don't think that would be a good idea." Harry agreed seriously. He found his opinions of the young man had changed drastically with the telling of his brother's tale. That he was what he was because of saving another made him something of a hero in Harry's view.
They turned to quiet conversation, though that ended a moment later when a riff of fiddle music sounded loudly in the air of the bar and all conversation tapered off before it. Now they could see the three quite clearly, and Dresca, a base guitar slung over her shoulder, was speaking in a singsong chant to a rhythm that Colum was beating on a set of drums.
"The devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal, he was in a bind, cause he was way behind, and he was willing to make a deal, when he came across this young man sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot, and the devil jumped up on a hickory stump, and said 'Boy, let me tell you what. I guess you wouldn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too, and if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you."
She took a deep breath, "Now you play a pretty good fiddle boy, but give the devil his due, I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, cause I think I'm better'n you.' The boy said, 'My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret, cause I'm the best that's ever been."
Then Colum took up his guitar and sang along with her on the chorus, Harvan coming forward with his fiddle and playing the lively, foot tapping music.
Harry and his friends found themselves clapping along, their own feet tapping the catchy beat in a staccato on the wooden floor, dimly aware that most of the others in the room were doing so as well.
When Harvan played his the parts of the Devil and Johnny, his face intent, they were enraptured, and at the end, when Johnny told won the golden fiddle and put the devil in his place, everyone stood and cheered, clapping and whistling, calling Harvan forward for a bow, then cheering even louder.
Harvan took his accolades in good grace, before dropping behind almost gratefully as they moved into a different song.
Hermione then glanced out the window. "It's getting late, we'd better get up to the castle for the feast."
Everyone else nodded, and they stood.
As they walked towards the door, Dresca sang, "And the fires will burn and the Wheel of Life will turn when the dead come back home on Samhain..."
Harry half-turned back, caught by the words, but then Ginny tugged at him, slipping her hand into his, and he turned back, following her out into the cold autumn night.
'The wheel of life will turn...when the dead come back home...'
I would like to take a moment to thank all my readers and reviewers for their support and faith that I will, eventually, finish this work of fiction. I won't name you all, but you know who you are. I, personally, can't wait for the upcoming chapters, and don't worry, all will come together in the end.
Much luv, kyokki
Please, please review.
I also do not own, 'Samhain' by Inkubus Sukkubus, 'The Devil Went Down to Georgia' by Charlie Daniel's Band, or 'Bad Moon Rising" by Creedance Clearwater Revival.
I do, however, own the story and my original characters.
Chapter 32: Samhain
Hogsmeade bustled the day of Halloween. In addition to almost all of the sixth year students, Harry, Ron and Hermione included, most everyone in the castle seemed to give in to the urge to join at the village for some holiday cheer. Harry found himself buffeted from side to side several times as the busy students trotted back and forth between the sweet shop and the trick shop and any number of other beguiling destinations as it seemed that afternoon.
Ron scowled as he was bumped into by a third year gnawing on a sugar quill. "I don't think I've ever seen it so busy," He muttered, stepping sideways.
"Well, it's been so cold, I think everyone is glad for this excuse to get out of the castle," Hermione said mildly, adjusting the sleeve of her robe.
Harry and Ginny, walking behind them, exchanged a glance, then hurriedly looked away, their cheeks reddening with far more than the cold.
That morning, Harry, escorted by a furtive Sarven, had made his way back to the Gryffindor tower while the sun was just barely tinting the mist over the mountains a dusky rose. Sarven hadn't said anything further to Harry about his adventure last night, but perhaps, he assumed somewhat wryly, he had felt that the crick in his neck that Harry had gained sleeping in one of the hard chairs had been discouragement enough against repeating his actions.
Sarven had left him at the portal, under the scrutinizing eye of the Pink Lady, and had made his quick way back through the halls, his back stiff, almost seeming to feel that he would run into something unpleasant with every other step. Harry had watched him quizzically for a long time before turning and giving the password.
Creeping up to his bedchamber to perhaps take a nice long, hot shower and try to warm the kink out of his neck, Harry once again felt the edges of that peculiar happiness that had crept over him the day before, sidelined for a time by his experiences in the Shrieking Shack.
And again, Ginny crept into his thoughts, pushing out the thoughts of the homework he REALLY should have done the night before, and the DA meeting that was quickly approaching. Harry shook his head a trifle ruefully as he crept into the bathroom, avoiding disturbing his sleeping dorm-mates.
And now, now that they were together in Hogsmeade, the tide of people rushing around them, parted a bit by the prefects they followed, Harry found he couldn't quite look her in the eye. He didn't know what to do with his hands, and he felt quite gawky and awkward as they walked side by side.
"Harry?"
"Huh?" He asked, startled from his thoughts.
Ginny smiled at him, perhaps amused. "I asked if you wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks and get a Butterbeer to warm up."
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good." He agreed, hoping his grin didn't look too goofy.
They passed quite a few people they knew as they made their weaving way to the bar, and as a consequence of stopping to chat, it was some time later that they finally reached it, their noses rosy from the cold.
Harry was grateful for the slap of warm air that greeted him as he and his friends finally pushed their way into the crowded Three Broomsticks, which was even busier than normal. Harry could even hear the sound of music being played somewhere within, though with the press, he could not see where it was coming from.
Luckily, a group of seventh years were leaving just as they came in, and Ginny was quick to secure their table for their own use. They settled into their seats, the dull roar of conversation hovering over their heads and still the fainter sound of music echoing off the ceiling.
"Does she have a radio playing?" Harry wondered half to himself as Ron made his way to the bar to retrieve their drinks.
"Maybe." Hermione said loudly, in order to be heard.
Then Ron returned, setting their drinks down on the table with a loud thunk, his expression surprised. "You guys aren't going to believe this." He told them, "There's a band."
"What's so unbelievable about that?" Ginny demanded, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.
"We know them." Ron said with a wide grin. "Come see."
Leaving Hermione to guard their table, a task she took on reluctantly, though seeing the need for it, as before they had even left the table two groups of students tried to take their unoccupied chairs.
"Sorry, these are taken," They heard her say in her best prefect's voice as they wove through the crowd.
It parted towards the back corner, and the music seemed to grow louder as the talk lowered itself. They saw the reason for this momentarily, as one of the musicians was beginning to sing.
She was dark of hair and eye, her dress white, making a bright contrast. She stood in the corner of the bar, her foot tapping out a beat, as the two behind her began to play; two that Harry at first thought was another woman playing the guitar and a young man on the violin who wore a shirt that read 'Sky is Life' with an image that looked like the figure of a man surfing the clouds. The dark young woman fixed her gaze on the people gathered around and began to sing.
"I see, the bad moon rising, I see, trouble on the way, I see earthquakes and lightning, I see, bad times today! Don't go out tonight, well, it's bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the rise." She half turned and winked at the one playing the guitar, seated on a low stool, who grinned at her between choruses. The fiddler smiled at the two of them as he played.
"That's Colum!" Harry gasped, suddenly recognizing the young, pale haired werewolf as the one playing the guitar. With his long robes and long hair, as well as his exceptionally handsome face, Harry had mistaken him for a woman before realizing it was him.
"And Harvan on the Violin. And Dresca singing." Ginny agreed, "She's really good!"
"They all three are. Who would have thought?" Ron smirked at the two of them, enjoying the reaction to his discovery.
"But what on earth are they doing here?" Harry demanded.
Ron shrugged. "Gets me." They watched for a few minutes, as Dresca sang about the bad moon and its consequences. The gazes of the three lightened on them once or twice, but there seemed to be no recognition in their faces.
"C'mon, let's go tell Hermione." Ron said finally, "And that butterbeer seems like its getting to be a better and better idea."
Hermione was not quite as suitably surprised as the other three would have expected. She seemed to take it as a matter of course that the three Americans were playing in a bar in Hogsmeade.
"Well," She said, much too reasonably, "It's only logical that they would like to have as many reinforcements as possible here on a night like this, particularly since, well, we're all down here."
Ron grimaced, while Harry nodded tiredly. Because of him, she didn't say. Here to protect him. Well, he was bloody tired of being protected. He drained his tankard grimly and got up, intending to go to the bar and get another. But suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, and a full tankard was plunked down in front of him.
Harry twisted around to look over his shoulder, and saw Colum smiling down at him. "This round's on me, if, of course, you would be willing to share your table with a tired musician for a few."
"Certainly." Hermione said seriously. And Colum sent her a very charming smile as he pulled up a chair and sat down between her and Ron, then gestured at Ambrose, who was wiping a table nearby. The two showed no sign of recognizing each other as Colum gave his order and the older man walked off to fetch the drinks.
Harry watched him go, wondering how his job working here was going, he looked a little paler and a bit thinner, as though something were worrying him. And, thinking of pale and thin, Harry glanced about the room, wondering if he would see the green-charmed head of Umbers Godfrey somewhere within the crowd.
"He was here a bit earlier," Colum told him in a very low voice, leaning in over the table. "Umbers, I mean. He looks as though he's been living in a cave. Are there caves around here?"
Harry nodded, gulping, remembering, "Yes, quite a few."
"Could explain it then." He grimaced, tucking his long blonde hair behind his ears, cocking his head, listening to the music of his brother and Dresca, which faded in and out over the noises of the crowd. "They've given me a little time to talk to you, playing some things that sound good whether I'm there or not," He laughed, "But that could be said of most of the songs we play."
"I was very surprised to see you here." Harry said, aware of a slight censure in his voice, "Playing music."
"Hmm..." Colum took a gulp of his butterbeer. He sighed in obvious contentment, then gave Harry a sidelong look. "You mean, 'instead of fighting'?" His voice very quiet, barely carrying around the table. "We ARE fighting, in our own way."
"How..." Harry began to ask, but Ginny's hand found his under the table and squeezed, cutting off his words.
"Information." She murmured to him.
"People talk in bars, more as the night wears on," Colum was saying. "Drinks flow as well as words. They say what they would not, were they sober, and no one pays much attention to wandering mendicant musicians. Buy a garrulous fellow a few drinks and you would be surprised at what you can pick up." He nodded sagely. "We've already..." He cut himself off, "Yes, well, we've been touring the country, picking things up on our way."
He gestured at them to lean forward as he dipped his finger into a small puddle of butterbeer on the tabletop and sketched a quick map of sorts, tapping his fingertip on several locations around Briton and Ireland. "See, after tonight we will be heading to Kilmarnock, then over to Ireland where we'll be playing in a tavern called the 'Hat and Feathers', then Belfast, stopping at several smaller towns along the way and then back to England to play at a place called 'Mana's Goblet' in North Allerton." He chuckled, shaking his head. "That will be the last place we'll stop before Christmas hits."
"I see." Hermione looked at it closely, then reached out and smudged the remains of the crude map dry.
Colum nodded in approval than turned and called out to Ambrose again, who had been gathering empty tankards from the table next to theirs. The older man turned quickly. "One more round to enjoy, then I'll have to join my fellows." Colum smiled at Abrose, who gave him a surreptitious wink and turned, balancing the mugs as he walked back to the bar.
After Colum had drained his mug and gone to back it was not long until Harvan took his place, sitting with a quiet groan.
"Whew," He smiled slightly, "Good to get off my feet." He placed his violin case carefully next to his feet before accepting the mug placed before him.
"You play very well," Ginny told him as he helped himself to a handful of pretzels.
"Thank you." He replied, "I had a good teacher." His eyes were far away for a long moment. "Though I'm no where as good as he."
Harry recalled Colum's parting words, as he left with a wave, 'Ask him the story of his violin.' He had said.
"Your brother told us to ask you about your violin." He said.
Harvan suddenly looked embarrassed and quite engrossed in his half-empty mug of butterbeer. "He would." He muttered.
Then he looked up, seeing the interested faces leaning in towards him. He sighed and smiled again. "Well, it began twelve years ago, when my brother and I were also twelve. We were out playing one night when we were attacked by a werewolf. Colum was bitten as he was shoving me up into a tree and out of danger." He looked across the room, where, as the crowd was thinner now, they could see Dresca and Colum playing.
"My parents...they couldn't find it in themselves to 'deal with' a werewolf child, as they put it. So they approached Tala, who was an acquaintance of my father's through the ministry, and she agreed to take him in. They kept me." His face, though still distant, still held the traces of remembered anger and grief.
"So they took away my brother, who was only the way he was because he had sacrificed himself to save me. I was so furious. We are twins, as you know, and losing him was like losing my arm." His hand came up and fiddled with the pendant that hung on a leather thong around his neck. It looked to Harry like a wolf's fang.
Harry tried to imagine how Harvan had felt, being the one left. His parents basically throwing away his brother because he had become a werewolf, they sounded far too much like the Dursleys to Harry.
"So I left to find him." He continued.
"You left?" Hermione asked, clearly shocked. "But Stepenwolv is deep in the mountains!"
"Yes." Harvan chuckled at the look on her face. "I was young then, and didn't really comprehend the distances. I didn't even have a broom and certainly didn't know how to Apparate at that age. We lived in Colorado."
He nodded at Hermione's continued expression. "And I left in the autumn, so it isn't too surprising that I got caught up in the mountains with the first snows."
He seemed to be warming to the story, his dark blue eyes gleaming. "So there I was, lost in the mountains, freezing, hungry, and consumed with the thought of reaching my stolen brother. I might have died very quickly if it hadn't been for the music."
He was quite a story-teller, Harry thought as he tore his attention away momentarily, glancing around at the rapt faces of his friends.
"The snow was falling, I recall clearly, very thickly, and I could hardly see anything more than two feet past my nose, which was by then, quite blue. And I was also very weak. I made a shelter as best I could, under the hanging branches of a pine tree, and curled up there. I think if I had gone to sleep I would never have woken up. But then, I heard the sound of a violin, drifting through the darkness. I got to my feet, not really even knowing why, I followed the sound." He wet his throat, "This is such a long story really."
"Oh, please, continue!" Ginny protested. "It's splendid!"
He looked at her, his eyes warm, "I hadn't gone far, when I saw a fire, a brilliant blaze much like your hair, Ginny, in all that white. And standing beside it was an old wizard, older still than your Dumbledore, I'd say, perhaps approaching 200 years. And he was standing in his brown robes, barefoot in the snow, playing his violin. When next..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Harry interrupted as Harvan looked at him questioningly. "I must have heard you wrong. Did you say two HUNDRED years?" He disliked the way his voice rose squeakily on the last words, but it was quite beyond him to control it.
"Well, yes, I'd say he was about that." Harvan said, nodding, perhaps not understanding Harry's confusion. "Maybe even older, it's not terribly uncommon."
"How old is Dumbledore?" Harry demanded of Hermione, whom he was sure would know.
She looked flustered. "He's approximately one hundred and fifty years old."
Harry's mouth worked impotently. Why had no one ever told him? Perhaps they took it as a matter of course?!
"We have longer lives," Ginny told him quietly. "I guess no one ever thought to tell you."
"I didn't even realize." Hermione said, her eyes slightly startled, "I thought Dumbledore was a special case because, well, he'd worked on the Philosopher's Stone."
"The Charms Tester last year..." Harry mused.
"Madam Marchbanks." Hermione supplied.
"...said she had tested Dumbledore when he was a student." He finished.
"We'd better let Harvan finish his story." Ron told them, looking slightly embarrassed. Maybe it was because he had never thought to tell his friend about the life-spans of wizards. "He'll need to get back to the others."
"Yeah, thanks Ron." Harvan nodded. "But there's not really much else to tell about it. He took me in and thawed me out, and we wintered together. He was something of a hermit, preferring to be out in the wilderness with the animals and his music as his only company. We became close, though. He was like a grandfather to me. "
Anyways, he taught me how to play, and when I left him in the spring he gave me this violin." He nudged the case at his feet gently with one toe. "And for all I know, he's still up there." He shrugged. "So I made my way down into Stepenwolv, which wasn't very far away after all."
He leaned closer, conspiratorially, "I've become convinced that that was his doing. I hadn't really gotten all that far before we came across each other."
He leaned back again. "I was reunited with my brother, and my parents, well, they discovered that if they were going to send my brother away, they would be sending both. And since they didn't want him..." His jaw rippled, "We've been at Stepenwolv ever since, and haven't even seen them. All they did during our school years was pay our tuition. After we graduated, we were on our own."
They sat looking at him, silenced, perhaps the others were thinking of the twins' parents, wondering how they could be so cruel to them. Perhaps they were thinking of their own parents and what they would do if any of their children became infected with lycanthropy.
"Well," Harvan said finally. "I'd better get back. Dresca can sing all night if we let her, and I'm fresh again." He stood, and with a nod to each of them, went back to join his fellows.
"That guy telling you to leave his girlfriend alone?" Sneered an all too familiar voice from behind Ginny's seat. They looked to see Draco Malfoy standing there, his cronies hovering close behind, snickering.
"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, her voice admirably neutral.
"The blonde girl, she sure seemed friendly with you, Ron." Draco continued as though he hadn't heard her. "Sorry Her-mi-o-nee. Guess you should've kept you hair the way it was, or you may not have your boyfriend flirting with attractive blondes."
"Blonde girl?" Ron asked, baffled.
Hermione half-rose, her face florid with fury. Then she stopped. "Wait, what blonde?"
"The one with the band, of course." He said loftily.
Harry and Ginny, who had been tensed, ready for action in case this turned physical, looked at each other, then they both began to laugh.
"Oh, my, oh my..." Ginny gasped.
"You mean Colum, Malfoy?" Harry snorted. "I guess I should have known...though I wouldn't think he was your type."
"I don't think he swings that way, Harry." Ginny laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. "Colum, I mean."
Draco's face contorted, and, for once, he couldn't seem to think of anything to say that would save face on his end. "I...don't..." He turned his back on the helplessly laughing four, the set of his shoulders furious. "Let's go." He snapped at Crabbe and Goyle, who, confused, obviously hadn't been able to follow the line of the conversation.
"Wait! Don't you want us to talk to him for you?" Ginny called after him. Harry, beside her, tensed, preparing himself in case Malfoy decided to do something stupid. But the blond boy kept walking, ignoring her.
"I...don't think we should tell Colum about this..." Hermione finally said, repressing her giggles.
"No, I don't think that would be a good idea." Harry agreed seriously. He found his opinions of the young man had changed drastically with the telling of his brother's tale. That he was what he was because of saving another made him something of a hero in Harry's view.
They turned to quiet conversation, though that ended a moment later when a riff of fiddle music sounded loudly in the air of the bar and all conversation tapered off before it. Now they could see the three quite clearly, and Dresca, a base guitar slung over her shoulder, was speaking in a singsong chant to a rhythm that Colum was beating on a set of drums.
"The devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal, he was in a bind, cause he was way behind, and he was willing to make a deal, when he came across this young man sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot, and the devil jumped up on a hickory stump, and said 'Boy, let me tell you what. I guess you wouldn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too, and if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you."
She took a deep breath, "Now you play a pretty good fiddle boy, but give the devil his due, I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, cause I think I'm better'n you.' The boy said, 'My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret, cause I'm the best that's ever been."
Then Colum took up his guitar and sang along with her on the chorus, Harvan coming forward with his fiddle and playing the lively, foot tapping music.
Harry and his friends found themselves clapping along, their own feet tapping the catchy beat in a staccato on the wooden floor, dimly aware that most of the others in the room were doing so as well.
When Harvan played his the parts of the Devil and Johnny, his face intent, they were enraptured, and at the end, when Johnny told won the golden fiddle and put the devil in his place, everyone stood and cheered, clapping and whistling, calling Harvan forward for a bow, then cheering even louder.
Harvan took his accolades in good grace, before dropping behind almost gratefully as they moved into a different song.
Hermione then glanced out the window. "It's getting late, we'd better get up to the castle for the feast."
Everyone else nodded, and they stood.
As they walked towards the door, Dresca sang, "And the fires will burn and the Wheel of Life will turn when the dead come back home on Samhain..."
Harry half-turned back, caught by the words, but then Ginny tugged at him, slipping her hand into his, and he turned back, following her out into the cold autumn night.
'The wheel of life will turn...when the dead come back home...'
I would like to take a moment to thank all my readers and reviewers for their support and faith that I will, eventually, finish this work of fiction. I won't name you all, but you know who you are. I, personally, can't wait for the upcoming chapters, and don't worry, all will come together in the end.
Much luv, kyokki
Please, please review.
