Chapter 18: Comfort and Joy
"So, what was Wormtail's password?" Harry asked, lying on his bed the next day, the Map in front of him. "I'm going to need it, if you want Fred and George to have it."
:Here's some irony for you, Harry. "I solemnly swear that I am good for nothing.":
Harry snorted. "How did he get stuck with that?"
-We all wrote our own. He said it was a joke, but now I'm not so sure. But let's not bother talking about him. You have his password now, and you have mine, so shouldn't you have Prongs' too? Some of your other friends can have them – Ron, and the girls you talked about. If there aren't enough, you can always write new ones.-
"What would we do with the accounts?"
(The same thing we did. Write in them. Record your life, or at least parts of it. You'd be amazed what you forget over the years. Remus was very surprised by quite a lot of what I had to say. And with the kind of life you seem to lead, Harry, an account might be a good thing to have.)
"What, so someday someone can write a book about me or something?"
:Need more than one, the way you're going.:
Harry laughed. "Great. A series. Like Erica Gorelli."
(Who?)
Harry started to describe the phenomenon of the Erica Gorelli books. By the time he hit book number three, he was so wrapped up in his explanation that he didn't notice the door opening, or the footsteps coming closer to his bed, until –
"Who are you talking to?" Hermione demanded, yanking back the bedcurtain.
"The Marauders," Harry said, grinning. "Gentlemen, this is Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age or any other. Hermione, Mr. Moony, Mr. Padfoot, and Mr. Prongs."
"Harry, are you out of your mind? The Map isn't..." Hermione broke off, staring. "Oh. Oh, my."
:Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger. I'm Mr. Prongs.:
-Mr. Padfoot, Miss Granger. A pleasure.-
(Delighted, Miss Granger. I am Mr. Moony.)
"Call me Hermione," said the possessor of that name in a carefully polite tone, adding in a whisper, "Harry, is it really... I mean, are they really..."
"Remus says they are," Harry said, nodding. "Apparently, it's like Riddle's diary, but without the possession part."
"Oh, Harry, that's wonderful! I mean..." She lowered her voice again. "It'll be like having Sirius back, at least a little, won't it?"
"Well..." Harry shrugged. "Gentlemen, do you mind if I shut you down for a few minutes?"
(Go ahead, we don't mind.)
-Only if you give us details later.-
Harry frowned. "Details?"
:Padfoot, you are rude, crude, and should not be allowed out in company. Harry, he thinks you and Hermione want to kiss. I'll sit on him until you activate the Map again.:
"Thanks, Prongs, I appreciate that. Mischief managed." The Map went blank.
"Won't you get in trouble for using magic?" Hermione asked.
"They can't tell it's me," Harry said as he put the Map aside. "They can't tell, at the Ministry, who uses magic, only where and what it is. I got in trouble for something Dobby did, second year, because I was the only wizard in the area. But this is a wizarding house, with adults using magic legally all over the place. So I can get away with little stuff like activating the Map and... I wonder."
"What?"
"Hermione, would you like to find out what animal you'd be if you were an Animagus?"
Hermione's eyebrows went up. "How?"
Harry explained the spell Remus had taught him, and after a bit of persuasion, Hermione followed him to the bathroom, where she pointed her wand at the mirror and said, "Revelaro Animalis!"
To Harry's eyes, nothing happened. Hermione, though, stared, fascinated, into the mirror, following the movements of things visible only to her. At last her eyes fixed on a point. "Oh no," she said in a high-pitched voice. "Oh no – oh no – oh no!"
She took two hasty steps backwards and tripped on the bath mat. Harry caught her. "What is it?" he asked urgently, wondering if it were a slug or something else disgusting.
"I can't say." Hermione had her face in her hands. "I really can't say."
"I won't laugh," Harry said.
"Promise? No matter what?"
"Promise."
Hermione swallowed. "It's... it's a ferret. A white ferret."
There are days I really regret having to keep my promises.
"You were asking about Sirius," Harry said hastily, to keep himself in the proper frame of mind.
Which, at this point, is any frame that won't have me guffawing in Hermione's face...
"It's really more like making a new friend," he said slowly, thinking it out. "The Sirius I knew had gone through things that this Sirius – call him Padfoot – that Padfoot never has. Sirius saw my parents get married, he was my godfather, he was an adult to me. Padfoot is only a year or so older than I am. It's great to get to know him, but no, it's not like having Sirius back."
"Nothing ever will be, will it," Hermione said sadly.
Harry shook his head, feeling his eyes fill up. Here I go again...
But it was a short cry, and Hermione held him through it, and he felt better afterwards.
"And what I actually came upstairs to tell you is that lunch is almost ready," Hermione said guiltily as Harry splashed cold water on his face. "Will you be all right?"
Harry nodded. "Thanks, 'Mione."
"What else are friends for?" she asked with a smile as they went downstairs.
-----
Rather later that day, Harry finally got back to the Map.
-We've been waiting, you know.-
"Sorry, but first I got roped into doing the lunch dishes, then Ron wanted to ask when I thought he should hold Quidditch tryouts, and finally George showed up for my guitar lesson. So I've been a little busy."
:Lay off, Padfoot. It's not as if we were bored or anything.:
-I was.-
:No, you weren't.:
-Yes, I was.-
:No, you weren't, and quit arguing with me, it just takes up room. Harry, do you want my password now?:
"Sure."
:It's "I solemnly say that I am up to no good." My mother always told me it was bad manners to swear.:
"Thanks," Harry said. "Can you hold that on there for a second? I need to find a quill."
(Do you have your wand?)
"Why?"
(Because you can copy it straight from the Map to another piece of parchment. The spell is "Effingo" – the 'g' is soft like a 'j'. Put your wand on the writing on the Map and say the spell, then tap it twice on the blank parchment. It should transfer exactly as it is.)
Harry found a scrap of parchment. "Effingo," he said, touching his wand to the two sentences in Prongs' handwriting. They vanished.
He tapped his wand twice on the other parchment, and suddenly the words were there, glistening as if they'd just been written. "It worked!"
Looking at the password in his father's handwriting, Harry had an idea...
-----
"How exactly are you going to make it 'better'?" George asked suspiciously the next day, as he handed Harry the poster of the three Marauders.
"You'll see," Harry said, grinning. "Wait here."
He ran up the stairs and activated the Map. First Padfoot, then Prongs, signed their names with flourishes, and Harry transferred the signatures to the photograph. After replacing the glass and frame he'd taken off it, he carefully carried the poster back downstairs.
"Here you are."
"Wicked," George said in tones of awe, admiring the new signatures. "How'd you do that?"
"Want to come and see?" Harry asked.
"Sure."
When the Marauders' greetings began to appear on the Map, George took two quick steps back.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Are you out of your mind?" George growled. "After what happened to Ginny with that damn diary, you're going to talk to a bloody piece of parchment?"
"You gave me this 'bloody piece of parchment', if you don't recall," Harry snapped. "Besides, we know who made it, and who's in it, and we didn't know that with the diary. And Remus says it's safe, so would you please calm down?"
(As a matter of fact, I think that's good advice for both of you.)
-Yes. Ashcoat, Geminus, please, relax.-
:Are the rest of the Weasleys likely to react this way?:
"Probably," George said, shaking his head a little. "Mum's been a little worried about you, Harry. Says you're spending too much time in your room the last couple of days. If this is why, she's going to go through the roof. Probably try to destroy it."
"She can't do that! It's mine!"
"Never stopped her before," George said darkly. "Wait a second." He looked at the map again. "What's Geminus?"
-You. Or at least, that's what we always called you. Your brother was Duplus. It was how we told you apart. If you want real Marauder names, Harry can tell you how to get them...-
George used the scrying spell, but he refused to tell Harry what he saw. "I'll have to show Fred first," he said. "Then we'll talk it over and let you know. In the meantime, why don't we do what I actually came for?"
After his lesson, Harry found Remus in the study. "I need some help," he said. "It's about the Map. The Weasleys probably won't be too happy about it, considering the diary and all..."
"True enough. Talking with the Map is no more dangerous than talking with a portrait, but it may be hard to convince them of that. Let me talk to Arthur and Molly about it."
-----
Whatever Remus said to the Weasleys, Harry was grateful for it. They asked him the next morning if he would activate the Map for them, then put it through a series of tests (with the Marauders making comments throughout) before pronouncing it safe to use. They even allowed, and supervised, Ron's and Ginny's scrying for Animagus forms.
"Though this does not mean I will countenance you four becoming Animagi yourselves," Mrs. Weasley said sternly.
Ron yelped and jumped backwards only a few seconds after he had cast the spell. "A big hawk!" he said in an awed voice. "It was a big hawk with red feathers on its wings!"
Ginny hit her forehead gently against the mirror when her turn was over. "Orange tabby cat," she said in a tone of mingled disgust and amusement. "Just like Madam Fleming turned me into."
"You made a cute cat," Harry said, trying to cheer her up.
Ginny punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow."
Ron chose Redwing for his Marauder name, and Ginny settled on Flamepaws. Hermione, who refused to tell anyone else her Animagus form, nonetheless named herself Aldima. The twins were likewise reticent, but when Harry got the Map back from them and activated it, it read,
Messrs. and Madames Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, Vulpes, Reynard, Ashcoat, Redwing, Aldima, and Flamepaws present
The Marauders' Map
Personal Edition
Welcome, Mr. Ashcoat.
"Vulpes and Reynard?" Hermione asked, looking over Harry's shoulder. "Really, could you be any more obvious?"
"How about letting the rest of us in on it?" Ron said.
"If you do, we'll tell yours," Fred threatened.
"You don't know mine," Hermione said smugly. "No one does."
"We discovered an interesting modification to the spell that lets us see other people's forms," George said even more smugly. "So we know why you don't want anyone else to know."
Hermione quickly drew a finger across her mouth. "My lips are sealed," she said solemnly.
"As are ours," Fred promised as he and George made the same gesture.
"Do you know it?" Ron asked Harry quietly.
Harry crossed his fingers under the table and shook his head.
"Now we need passwords," Fred said. "George and I can share an account, I think, we share everything else..."
"I know the perfect account for you," Harry said quickly. "Here's the password."
Grinning, he scribbled Wormtail's password onto a scrap of parchment and passed it down to George, who pocketed it for later.
Note to self: be around when George opens that.
Ron took Padfoot's old password, and Harry took Prongs'. Hermione and Ginny would create their own later, since the original four (Remus kept his own, of course) were all taken.
"It usually takes about two weeks' worth of entries before a personality accumulates enough to be able to interact with you," Remus told them. "Until then, just speak to the Map clearly, and be sure to tell it what to do. There's nothing worse than losing your entire entry just because you forgot to tell it to save. After your personality activates, it will do that for you."
The old Marauders would be free agents of sorts – they could chat with anyone who was using the Map, but they were magically bound to go away if someone told them to, and not to reveal any secrets to anyone else.
-Nuts,- was Padfoot's comment. -How am I supposed to annoy anyone if I have to go away every time they tell me to?-
(I'm sure you'll still manage just fine.)
-----
The next day was Sirius' memorial service.
Harry was up early, pacing, trying to help but mostly getting in the way, anything to avoid the memories that were crowding in on him. Finally, when he didn't think he could stand it any longer, he went to the music room.
People will be expecting me to cry, but I have a feeling unless I let some of it out now, I might not be able to stop...
He locked the door, sat down on the sofa, and sighed heavily. "I still miss him," he said to the piano. "Every day. I get up and almost expect to hear his voice calling me down to breakfast, or see him waiting for me by the stairs. I wonder what he'd think of something, and then I remember that I'll never know. And maybe it's not my fault he's dead, but it sure feels like it..."
His vision blurred. That did it.
This crying felt somehow different from what he had done before. The sobs in his earlier bouts had felt like they were trying to tear him apart, but had subsided rather quickly. These trudged out of him wearily, in repetitive throbbing pulses that felt as if they'd never stop.
All right, so maybe this wasn't such a good idea...
He heard a sound behind him and turned, still shaking with sobs, to see what it was.
Ginny, dressed in a lovely robe of deep blue, stood up from her seat in the corner. In one hand, she held her clarinet, the clarinet he had given her for her birthday.
How did I miss her? God, I don't want her to see me like this, she'll hate me...
Eyes locked on Harry's, she raised the clarinet to her lips and began to play.
God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay...
Harry recalled Sirius singing to Buckbeak that past Christmas. The memory, instead of paining him, seemed to bring him calm. Slowly, he got his breathing under control.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy.
Ginny lowered her instrument and smiled at him. Without a word, she slipped out.
-----
True to Sirius' wishes, there were no speeches at his memorial. Instead, everyone took turns telling stories, or leading songs – Kingsley Shacklebolt taught them a couple that made Mrs. Weasley stare a bit, but she let it pass in honor of the day – or simply saying a few words.
Hermione admitted that part of her decision to learn the drums was from knowing that Sirius had enjoyed drumming. Professor McGonagall contributed a few tales from her own point of view, mostly disapproving, though she sounded as if she had secretly admired the Marauders for being so daring. Harry knew the most stories on Sirius and his father, courtesy of the Map, though of course he couldn't top Remus.
But the most memorable part of the service, everyone agreed, was something Ron and Ginny had gotten together on their own, and managed to keep secret from Harry. It hadn't been hard, he had to admit, with him spending so much time in his room with the Map.
Ron went to the piano, with Hermione to turn pages for him, while Ginny stood beside him with her clarinet. Ron began a series of slow chords with his left hand, playing a simple melody with his right. When the melody was complete, he paused, and Ginny began to play. Now she was the melody, Ron simply accompaniment.
Harry thought he had never heard anything so beautiful.
His favorite moment was when the melody, which had been in the lower range of the clarinet and moving only in small intervals, suddenly leapt up nearly an octave. He found himself memorizing Ginny's face as she played, the look of intense concentration and single-mindedness.
I wonder if that's what I look like when I play? Or sing?
"Handel's Largo," Professor Dumbledore said over the applause. "Lovely. Well done, both of you."
Ron and Ginny, both blushing, took a bow.
-----
Over the next two weeks, Harry found himself crying less and less often. Often, when he would feel teary, the sound of Ginny's clarinet would rise in his mind, and he would feel the same peace he had felt when she first played for him.
This, among other things, he duly recorded in his Map account, when he had a chance. One Map among so many people was occasionally hard to manage.
Some of the "other things" had to do with his dreams, and how much he enjoyed them, when they didn't feature Dolores Umbridge or Voldemort...
-----
Ah, ah, beautiful is the Mother,
Ah, ah, beautiful is the Child!
"Very good," Big Guy said, lowering his arms. "Tenors, watch the cut-off on the ah's, you were a little early..."
Harry looked out the window. The Stute Center, the school gym, was across the street, framed by trees. Most of them were still green, but here and there a spray of leaves was yellow, or red, or the shocking orange Erica said meant a sugar maple. He was looking forward to the full color of fall – some of the photographs he'd seen were little short of astounding.
I am really enjoying it here. Rain two days out of three or not.
"All right, everyone, from 'Skies are glowing...' "
Harry sat up straight and prepared to sing.
-----
Later, Harry was bored. At various places around the girls' quad, Erica was working with Ginny on a tricky passage in a play she was doing a presentation on, Fran was helping Hermione with an English paper, and Rose was listening to Ron play on her keyboard. Lanie, Anna, and Edith were out at the gym, leaving only one person for him to talk with...
"What're you working on, Lizzie?"
"Birthday chart," she said, waving him over. "I'm going to need yours at some point, all of you, you don't happen to know them, do you?"
"Actually, yeah," Harry said, looking the chart over. "Mine's July 31, Hermione is September 19..."
"Ooh, coming up, I'll have to get on that," Lizzie said, making a note.
"Ginny's August 11, and Ron is March 1," Harry finished.
"OK. For you and Ginny, we'll have to do halves..."
"Halves?"
"Half-birthdays. You're summer babies, we won't be here on your real birthdays, so we celebrate on your half-birthday, six months away from the real thing. Yours is January 31, Ginny's is February 11. What kind of cake do you like?"
-----
"You know, I thought of something," Harry said to Hermione as they sat in the front room with Ron and Ginny. "How are we going to continue lessons at school? Fred and George have the shop to tend, and it's not like we're paying..."
"Ah, they can always come by Floo," Ginny said. "Once or twice a week, maybe. You can practice a lot in between times. Room of Requirement would be good for practicing – maybe it would segment itself into practice rooms for each of us..."
"I wonder if we could get music there?" Hermione said. "I know we can't take it out of the Room, but if we could get it and copy it, wouldn't the copies stay?"
"D'you think it'll have a piano, if I need one?" Ron asked. "I mean, you lot can carry your instruments around – even you, Hermione, with a good shrinking charm you can get a drum set in a box – but shrinking pianos doesn't work so well, it sends them out of tune or something, so I'm going to need one somewhere in the castle..."
When Ron wasn't around, Harry asked Remus a few questions.
-----
On the morning of September 1, Harry woke up early. He dressed quietly and pulled the package he'd prepared out of his trunk, which was otherwise packed and ready.
Then he jumped on the bottom of Ron's bed.
"Happy half-birthday!" he said cheerily as Ron blinked owlishly at him.
"What?"
"Happy half-birthday. I almost always forget your real birthday, we're busy with homework and stuff, so here, this is in case I forget again this year." He handed Ron the wrapped package.
"Harry, you didn't have to..."
"No, but I wanted to," Harry interrupted. "Go on, open it."
Ron ripped the paper off the box and opened it. Inside was an oddly shaped, white piece of wood.
"What is it?"
"Hold it out in front of you, by the fat end, and tap it three times with your wand," Harry said, grinning.
Ron did so, and gasped as an upright piano sprang into existence between the beds, with him holding the slightly raised, middle C key. "Harry... you really didn't have to... but thanks, it's great!"
"Guaranteed not to detune in transit," Harry said. "Three more taps sends it back to storage form."
Ron gave the C key the required three taps, and it fell to the floor with a clatter. Grinning widely, he picked it up and put it back in its box, and the box in his trunk. "I'm taking good care of this."
"Boys, are you up?" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs. "Girls? Come on, you'll miss the train!"
"So, another year," Harry said, starting to lug his trunk toward the door. "Wonder what it's got in store for us?"
"Only one thing for sure," Ron said, digging socks out of his trunk.
"What's that?"
"Homework."
True enough. Homework in abundance. And classes with Snape again – probably Occlumency too, Remus did say I had to – and an as-of-yet unknown DADA professor.
But I'm going back to Hogwarts. Going home.
I'd put up with a lot more for that.
He pulled his trunk down the stairs, humming to himself, and then laughing when he realized what he was humming.
Nice one, Harry. Christmas carols in September.
But the refrain stayed with him, setting his mood for the morning.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy...
-----
(A/N: Sorry for late update, everyone, was home for weekend! Warning, it may happen again, so be prepared!
pad's gurl584: You're welcome!
Unita Vis Fortior: Thanks for reviews! Hope you keep reading!
emikae: Uh-huh. OK.
MackenzieW: A little Erica in this chappie, more to come... genius?! ::blush::
Lady Cinnibar: You're not a dunce! I think I answered 1 and 3 in the chappie, and as for 2... I don't know, so I'm just letting it slide.
MAndrews: Maybe this shows what a newbie I am, but I had to look up "glomp". It provided me and Lizzie with a good ten minutes of entertainment. Thanks so much!
sabs: Thanks for the idea!
Thank you to everyone! Remember, the longer the reviews, the sooner the update!)