A/N: Righto, next chapter here! You know – I still haven't gotten ANY flames yet, bloody interesting, that. The last chapter was probably flame-worthy in a mild way – with the 'elegant snarry-bashing' some thoughtful snarry fan named it. That said, I will not apologise for that chapter – that was literally the way it came from me. The snarry-bashing is more of a slightly comic side-issue (I loved writing the part where Ginny leaps up and calls him a prat, more for not telling her than anything else), than anything else, as it would be impossible in this fic anyway. Remember that I am a H/G shipper at heart – I'll almost always write that sort of relationship, as far as I can see. I can do different stuff, but I don't know if I can ever do anything slashy. I repeat my warning to you – that's not, and may never be, what I write. So yeah. Thanks to that reviewer, though – it's always difficult to read stuff you're not accustomed to, and even harder to acknowledge it's any good…now, back to the 'flame' issue. Can someone write me one? Just for the fun of it? Thanks! Other, more specific answers to reviews will be moved to my livejournal page

Well, then – all I can say of this chapter is that it deserves its title – it is a rather luckless afternoon, especially, as you will soon see, for Harry…Enjoy…


Chapter 9: A Luckless Afternoon

Harry found himself holding his breath, just in case.

They were in Diagon Alley, eating ice creams, they being he and Ginny.

Ginny! Harry felt himself repeating, stupidly. It was mind-boggling, how such a horrible morning had become a rather nice afternoon, really. It had started, Harry thought, thoughtfully pursuing a long, escaping tendril on his Fizzwhistle's Lemon and Pumpkin Blast Sundae, with Fred and George's arrival.

No, actually – with Lupin, and the odd, easy talk they'd had together, sitting so long on Harry's still-creaking bed that their legs had cramped, Harry just pouring out everything that had been inside him for the past term, straining the seams of his life like a shirt that was far too tight. He'd told him everything

Dumbledore's offer to join the Order – which he still hadn't told to anyone – apart from Snape, to annoy him (which it had, and splendidly) –

Just how angry he'd been, throughout the awful Christmas term, worrying over his silly arguments with Hermione and his useless luck with – he'd blushed but kept doggedly on – Ginny.

And, Harry thought, starting to nibble at the layer of the strange, crunchy, almost bitter substance that he'd gotten to in the sundae, the real root of it all – the changes, and where they led. Harry ploughed determinedly through to the next layer of fizzy, spine-tingling, yet mellow ice-cream. Remus had gone still when he'd retrieved the letter – one of his copies, he'd not been able to find the original in time – and looked like he would cry. He'd given Harry a fierce hug after finishing it, telling him all he needed to know.

Harry smiled to himself, setting down his spoon, covertly watching Ginny blaze through her Triple-Fudge Sundae, her red hair sticking to her cold glass, her fingers sticky with chocolate, blinking rapidly into space. He'd been deathly afraid of telling Remus that Snape was his father, for obvious reasons, and he'd dreamt uneasily, once or twice, of the sad, wrenching look of disappointment on the face of the last Marauder – and, occasionally, even worse, on Sirius' hollow features, as he repudiated his weary godson from whatever void or place he was.

Giving himself a little shake, Harry licked his lips, and absently Scourgified his fingers. The reality of what had happened in his room at Grimmauld Place just two hours ago was so different from what he'd dreamt that it was astonishing. It left him feeling heavily grateful – grateful that he did, after all, have someone who would always be on his side.

"Oh, sorry, Harry – almost done – " Ginny blurted out, spying his relaxed, waiting posture. Harry nodded, watching her slurp up her ice cream messily. There is someone else, he thought, who will always be on my side

Harry still couldn't quite get his mind round the fact that they were sitting here together, eating ice cream as though Harry hadn't been bloodying his fists on the wall in rage some three or so hours before. Even that had ended strangely well, with Ginny gently healing him – unlike, say, Hermione would have done – probably end up yelling at him for being irresponsible again…

Harry sighed, his heart sinking a little at the thought of telling his friends. Because he'd have to tell them eventually – or so Remus had made him really understand – to properly heal the breach once and for all. Harry frowned a little as Ginny shook her red mane, securing it into a magical hair grip, the action going unnoticed by the dark boy opposite her for once. Harry just didn't like the idea of telling Ron and Hermione and the others – they'd react predictably, of course, and he really couldn't deal with that now.

He'd still have to tell them, though.

Harry stood up a little abruptly, making sure to leave the requisite amount of money on the bar as they left Florean Fortescue's.

I'll tell her first, he thought impulsively, sneaking a glance at Ginny's lively face as they chatted amiably about the new broom model that was proudly on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies, despite the war. She'll understand…

The thought was only reinforced when his eyes met hers, and saw…something, within them. Harry kept on speaking, a little haltingly, not daring to speculate on what he'd just seen. It had been bad enough having the imprint of her soft, airy hug in his room still at the back of his mind, while shopping here, in the heavily guarded Alley, not one foot away from her.

Harry had been bewildered – understandably so, as he had to have frightened and disgusted her earlier in his room – when she'd agreed to walk with him, instead of with a sullen, nonspeaking Ron, when they'd reached The Leaky Cauldron by Floo (meeting, rather vexingly, with Professor Veron, who had winked far too cheerily at him), but had not paid the feeling more attention than it was due.

Walking with Ginny Weasley, Harry thought wryly to himself, had become something not to be questioned, or taken for granted – ever.

So it was, that when Ginny asked him what he was smiling so much about, he simply told her, a bit impishly, that it was a secret.

After all, he could hardly tell her his heart was thumping happily just because she was walking beside him, could he?

No.

He certainly could not.

Which was why, instead, he found himself babbling out something else entirely.

"Ginny? Er – I haven't told anyone – definitely not Ron, or Hermione or…well, you…but…" he paused, wondering what he would say now, "erm…DumbledoreaskedmetojointheOrderandIsaidyes."

She stopped for a moment, staring at him. Harry felt panic and fear weave into him. He kept talking, if only to fill the silence –

"He asked me after the Feast – tested my – er – Occlumency…" he trailed off at the look of puzzlement and, even more alarming, anger on Ginny's face. "Ginny, are you…?" He trailed off again as she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Merlin, Harry – just – bloody hell!" she threw her hands in the air, glaring at him all the while. "Lets go to Flourish and Blotts – you can put up a silencing ward or something – you do know one, don't you?" She peered at him sceptically, at which he reddened.

"Er – sorry – didn't think of that – " he mumbled, as they made their way to a not too packed Flourish and Blotts. "Right…Deprimo clamor," he said, softly, once they were nestled between two rather desolate shelves of used books. Harry raised a thick ward easily around them both, inwardly cursing his stupidity for not thinking of doing so in the first place and missing Ginny's impressed look when the loud chatter of voices around them lowered to a very muted murmuring. He turned back to her, still heating with embarrassment, and her scowl returned as she laid into him.

"As I said, bloody hell! Harry, it's just so infuriating the way you keep all these secrets, even from the people who can help you with them the most – "

"That's not true," Harry pointed out. "I did tell Dumbledore, and…the other person…and they were all the help I needed to sort it out – "

"Oh, really?" Ginny glared at him again. "So you didn't need to talk to Remus then, did you? Terribly sorry, I am – next time I won't bother telling him you were so angry about something that you wouldn't tell me that you were trying to redecorate your room with your bloody fists!"

"Ginny, I didn't mean that – I meant – I just – " Harry frowned in frustration. "Look, I was dealing with it all right – Remus did help, but I was dealing with it – "

"By not telling anyone anything? That's how you were dealing with it?" Ginny almost yelled at him. "You keep claiming I'm your friend, and trying to include me in everything – don't think I haven't noticed, Harry – and yet, I still don't know at least half of what's ever currently going on!" She paused for breath, brown eyes flashing. "I feel like an idiot – no, you make me feel like an idiot, standing there and sharing those stupid little knowing looks with Ron and Hermione, while I'm left twiddling my thumbs and wondering what on earth I don't know now – "

"So let me tell you," Harry interrupted, eyes pleading. She paused again, mostly for breath, still glaring at him, and Harry took the opening eagerly. "I won't be able to tell you everything – most of it is someone else's secret, of course – but I'll tell you what I can," he finished, eyeing her. She eyed him back for a minute, considering his offer. Acting on a hunch, he added something. "You'll know more than Ron and Hermione will, for a bit – didn't tell them the – er – Order bit, either…"

He was rather surprised, then, when Ginny teared up. Acting without thought, Harry sort of stretched out his hand to her, wondering if he'd been stupid, adding on that last bit –

"Who are you?" Ginny demanded softly, raising her hand to her eyes as if to ward off her tears. Harry stood still, withdrawing his hand, not knowing exactly what to – "You know, Harry – who you are – who's in there, who's been in there all this time, pretending to be Harry Potter…" She smiled a bit, through her tears, startling Harry even more. "…suppose it's my fault, that I don't really know you – watching doesn't replace actually talking to you, I know…"

Harry reddened – more than he was used to, now – understanding what she meant. Her crush on him, he understood, had blinded her to who he was, just as his crush on Cho had done the same…or, at least, it had prevented him from trying to see who she was. He replied slowly, weighing his words almost as he would do when with Snape.

"It's all right, Ginny – it's not exactly your fault, anyway," he began, steeling himself to make the reply he truly wanted, and needed to, despite his feelings, "It's not your fault that you…liked me so much. I know how that can stop you from seeing – well – things…" he trailed off slightly, not really wanting to continue, or catch her eye, "…and I think it's equally my fault as well, since I probably don't…well, know you, as much as I probably should, by now."

"Harry, you don't have to – " Ginny began, sounding small. Harry cut her off immediately, suddenly knowing what he had to say, to really reassure her, and that he really would mean it.

"Don't, Ginny – I'm not doing this out of duty, or anything – I want you to understand, you know, that it's not your fault." He dredged up courage enough to look her in the eye, and saw that her tears were gone. "That's all, really – I just need you to understand that, for now." She nodded slowly, momentarily dropping her gaze from his.

Suddenly, fleetingly, Harry's Order Medallion burned. He wondered for a moment, but kept on talking to Ginny, who absorbed his experiences with Occlumency of the previous year like a sponge. He cringed slightly to himself, remembering that would be another secret he needed to keep, as Lupin hadn't minced words when he'd given it to him, while the house was in uproar with the twins' antics and news.

"What – " Harry said, eyes widening as Lupin, looking rapidly around, handed him the slightly heavy, intricate necklace, which seemed to be made of something that was not quite silver, or any metal he knew. He weighed it in his palm, rapidly examining the crude sketch of the phoenix on one side, and noting the other – which was blank, with only a carving of the circle that circled the empty space. The Order medallion – the phoenix spoke for itself, and Remus wouldn't have given him anything else in such secrecy – was a largish circle of about five centimetres, and hung on a slight cord of the same metal, so intricate he could barely feel or discern the chains that formed the strong cord.

"Dumbledore's condition, Harry, if you accompanied us to Diagon Alley," Lupin said, nodding to him as he began to struggle with the clasp. "Just slip it over your head – it'll be large enough – " he nodded again when Harry did so. "You'll need it, even though you're not a member yet," he smiled as Harry's green eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, he told me – it'll save you in an attack, with two other people of your choice, and bring you back here, where you can Floo to our newer headquarters."

"There are – " Harry began again, excitedly.

"Not until the initiation," Lupin amended, smiling again. "Grimmauld Place is still safe, but we started to need something bigger, and altering this house, as you can imagine, would be nigh on impossible." Harry nodded slowly, eagerly. "Your initiation will be a day after Christmas or so, with everyone else. But, for now, you'll wear the medallion, so you can escape an attack in the Alley, if there is one."

"Were there rumours of one…?" Harry asked anxiously. Lupin shook his head slowly, sadly.

"Not as such…but Voldemort has grown more direct, of late…it would not surprise us if there was, you see." Lupin nodded again as Harry tucked the medallion out of sight – something he may not have thought of so quickly, before the changes and the letter, and the constant need to hide, before that – and told him the words needed to activate the medallion. "Keep it out of sight – no one but the Order members guarding you today'll know you're wearing one…"

Harry smiled a little to himself, taking down the silencing wards around them, moving from Flourish and Blotts with Ginny by his side, feeling a tad less fragmented than he had, over the last few weeks. He smiled at her, when she gave him a soft one, sealing the secrets he'd just poured out to her with the action.

I can tell her of the prophecy, soon, when I tell Ron and Hermione, Harry thought to himself, watching the way her red ponytail swished as her head shot round and her hand raised to greet someone in her year. She'll understand

And that was the last coherent thought he could remember thinking for a long while, as the harsh cracks of Apparation seemed to fill Diagon Alley around them, overlaid with the creeping chill of Dementors.

And then his wand was out, and he really didn't have any time to think –


No, I cry to myself, even as figures clothed in black start to approach us. It was going so well

"Ginny," Harry's voice startles me from my mounting despair, "don't worry – the Order are here – " he gives me a direct look that feels like a rush of sunlight, in the impending darkness around us. " – just use anything you can think of – don't hold back, remember, they won't…" the direct look seems to pierce me again, briefly, before he whispers a small, transparent shield into existence around us, not seeming to see or hear the panicked yells that have begun to surround us. "…be careful, will you?"

And, suddenly, just as suddenly as he throws out that last, odd morsel, the harsh red light of the Cruciatus curse hits our shield, dissolving it with a shriek, and the fight has begun.

Harry is marvellous – he moves much faster than he did, at the Department of Mysteries –

"Stupefy!"

– my voice, our voices are cold, with anger and determination, even as a group of Death Eaters, seemingly detatched from the chaos their fellows are causing, burning shops and people and animals, surround us slowly, circling, incanting –

"Diffindo!" Harry cries, beside me in a flash, green eyes glowing cold with power as the spell – Merlin – severs the attacker behind me in tw –

"Stupefy!" I shriek, over and over again, breaking my casting with binding curses and every harmful hex I can think of, but it's no use, the hateful bastards are drawing closer –

– a curse slams into me, from behind, freezing my movements even as I try to spin round and Stun the fool that –

A soundless cry tears my throat, as I see a flash of portly, well-meaning Romulus Veron, colourfully dressed, and I fall, fear consuming me, wondering even as darkness rushes in on me, what Veron will –

Ginny, please, wake up…

…someone hit her with a Stasis curse…not Death Eater, they don't use those…

…Harry…couldn't save…

…Ginny, please

…Ginny…

…Wake UP!

I bolt awake, still screaming in fear. Veron was there, with the Death Eaters – what about Harry now, where is he –

"Ginny!" a hoarse cry comes from above me, as soft, strong arms enfold me, even as other hands and magical bonds hold me down. The voice is so familiar, so soothing even in its alarm, that I stop screaming –

"Mum!" I struggle against whatever spell hit me, trying to rise. "Harry…"

The arms hold me tight, too tight, and I suddenly know what is wrong – why she's silent –

"He's – he's gone – "

My heart plummets, hard, at those words. I hang my head. If onlys drench me, suffocating me, and I can feel myself slipping back into the darkness as I absorb the news.

Harry is gone. And I failed, like everyone else, to stop him.


I'm not sure, yet, how it all went so wrong.

I don't dare to look at Remus now, even as my face sags with sadness. His grief and despair is like an open wound, awful to behold, more than the various, rapidly healing bruises and cuts that adorn his face and arms, as he stands there. Hopeless. I want to embrace him, make him let go of that iron control, let him sob in my arms, like I know he wants to.

I wonder heavily what right I have to feel sad. Remus lost much more today – this year, even. His last real friends – both gone –

Stop it, I wildly tell myself. Harry can't be dead – not yet.

I ignore the foreboding that fills me, and get round to wondering where the hell Dumbledore is. We need him here –

"Albus is at Diagon Alley now, working with the Ministry to help save what he can. He told me to gather you lot somewhere safe, and get you up to speed, before you rejoin the effort…"

I close my eyes briefly, berating myself for assuming foolish things – of course the Headmaster knows what he's doing – must be distracted with all that went on, and still helping the Ministry's Recovery Squad, fickle lot of fools they are…

I hang my head with shame, even as Mad-Eye continues to speak, in that hoarse, raspy voice I now know he always assumes after an attack.

After a loss.

I shift on my feet, acutely feeling my shame and despair. The attack hadn't been entirely unexpected, which was even worse. It was with horror that we fought, horror and hope, mingled uncomfortably as we saw flashes of Harry, standing his ground, fighting like any one of us.

Dropping, like any one of us.

I suppose it's stupid of us, expecting so much from him. Even me, having seen glimpses of his raving in Grimmauld Place, having witnessed his pale, gaunt face in that desolate, too-clean kitchen at Privet Drive…I shake my head at myself. I believed in him, somehow, foolishly – that he'd escape the trap that had rapidly closed about him and frantic little Ginny.

That he wouldn't drop to the earth like a stone, like anyone else, writhing with the Cruciatus curse, stilling as something else hit him. I remember the horror that filled me then, as I watched the Death Eaters seize him easily, suddenly disappearing from the midst of the frenzy they'd helped to create.

Listen, Tonks, damn you – I tell myself, realising that Remus is speaking.

He's describing something Dumbledore told him to do, I think. Then, in broken, anguished tones, Remus falters out that he gave him a medallion, and where is it –

The burnished, bloody pendant is cast before us by some unknown hand, onto the table we array ourselves round. Everyone goes silent, even as the weary voice of George Weasley tells us, haltingly, that his brother Ron found it, and that the poor boy saw it cut from his neck before they took him away.

No…not Harry…

Almost every heart seems to sing with that thought – I can feel the despair seeping through everyone, seeping through me. Dumbledore always made us understand, in his subtle way, that Harry was not to be lost.

And, now, he is.

Just that, lost. Tears sting my eyes as more shame and despair flow over me in waves – I failed, we all failed –

Mad-Eye keeps on speaking, detailing casualties, detailing what was destroyed, not bothering to state the obvious, the spectre of our failiure. The small, impromptu meeting goes painfully on, cut by the sniffs of some of the Order members, some of them coming, unashamedly, from me, when the doors to the drawing room of Grimmauld Place burst open, to reveal Ginny.

God – she looks –

I can hardly keep myself from the muggle exclamation at times like these. They flow from me like they do from my father at times like these, especially at that stretched, white face, features hardened with some kind of furious despair even as her drawn frame hobbles her into the room –

"Veron!" she seems to choke out. "Where's Veron?" Mad-Eye starts, blinking at her, his other eye swivelling, slightly confused, round the room.

"He's not here, Weasley – casualty, that one, I believe – "

"Ha," Ginny spat out, her mother, distraught, finally appearing behind her. "That bastard – "

"Ginny!" I can hear Molly Weasley say sternly, her tone shaking with frustration, and the same despair that seems to be rooted in everyone today – "…shouldn't be here – get back to your room – not strong enough – " I can hear her mutter loudly as Ginny's mouth works soundlessly, something rendering her inarticulate with fury.

"She's right, Ginny," Arthur's tired tone comes from near the door, "that curse took its toll – you won't be able to – " Ginny emits a strangled sort of scream.

"That curse," she heaves, fists thrashing against her mother's strong arms, "came from Romulus Veron!" Murmurings of fear and unbelief fill the room, even as Ginny wrenches free from her mother again, ignoring the arms that seek her out again. "I saw him! I swear, I SAW HIM DO IT!" Molly's strength tells, forcing Ginny back toward the entrance. "Where is he! He'll have him – he'll have Harry – I want – " Her cries, half screams in their intensity, fade from the room, even as it erupts into a fury of muttered imprecations and curses.

I mutter some myself, gripping my wand in a bloody hand, daring to look at Remus.

He actually frightens me for the first time – completely still, muscles writhing, eyes glowing with a feral, wanton anger, humbling in its ferocity. He suddenly moves past me, making me tremble from the contact, his skin is burning hot –

"Scry his medallion!" he orders, stalking over to Moody.

"I don't understand – " comes the mutter of Hestia Jones, from behind me. Remus turns on her, his brown eyes lit with ferocity.

"We'll know – if he's dead, it'll tell us that, and, more importantly, if he's not, it'll tell us his location." Mad-Eye nods slowly as he continues. "If his medallion is somewhere else, we'll know he was captured, somehow, along with Harry." His eyes shine fiercely, his fists contorting by his sides – "And if his medallion is somewhere in Diagon Alley, he's a traitor – he wouldn't have dared risk anything by taking it with him…" The room murmurs and nods loudly its agreement.

I only have eyes for Remus – there'll be blood on those hands if he ever meets that fat shopkeeper of a man again, if that medallion's in –

"Look!" The order from someone near Moody is almost unneeded, as people press forward to see the scrying mirror, carried by leaders in the Order. I cannot reach it –

"Diagon Alley!" The whispers, filled with rage and despair, reach me before I can reach the tight group around the mirror.

My hand clenches spasmodically round my wand.

There'll be blood on my hands, if I see that fat bastard again. Harry's suffered ten times more than any normal teenager…and now this.

Literally in Voldemort's hands.

My head bows. And who are we to get him back?


A/N:

Well, well, well…sorry if this chapter is a bit abrupt, the way its done. The last two parts are from different perspectives for a reason you'll understand, in Part the Second.

Right, the next chapter is called Chapter 10: The Hippogriffs Are Sad, or something similar. It'll probably be from Severus' POV from halfway through, when he arrives at the Order meeting to hear what's become of his son. No more details than that, though. If I can, as I've said countless times, I'll try and update the story with the chapter after that as well. If that doesn't prove possible, then know that I passed out after my strenuous beginning modern dance class, which is tomorrow, and promises to try my aching muscles .

Thanks to everyone who reviews and posts on my group. Feel free to rant there if you like, about how misguided I am in spiriting Harry off or whatnot. I'll be there to answer your flam – sorry, remarks – in a suitably ridiculous manner. Cheerio!