Chapter 47 Invitation

The next Friday the weather had brightened up and gotten more pleasant. The run was still quite cold, but that just kept anyone from overheating. At breakfast Harry and his friends were talking about how NEWTS would be administered when the owl delivery came.

Ginny pointed up, "Ron, cover! It's Errol!"

They both spread their arms and protected their breakfast plates from the ever-errant Errol. Harry was used to Errol making his awkward approaches and flopping in front of Ron or Ginny, so he watched calmly as Errol dove down to the table and then instead plopped hard into Harry's breakfast, splattering him with eggs, juice and porridge.

Harry groaned and sighed, as he wiped himself. "Ron, when are your parents ever going to get another bird and give this one a rest? Your father's appointment to Minister of Magic is to be made official in a little over two months: they could afford an owl, for goodness sake."

"Don't you prefer a thrifty Minister?" said Hermione. "From what I've read in the Daily Prophet, he's cut lots of expenses of the Ministry to provide the additional security services needed for the war."

"I reckon, but that won't stop me from giving them an owl as a congratulatory present when he gets appointed. Let's see: it's your mother's handwriting. I wonder which of you the letter's for," said Harry.

After Harry detached the letter from Errol's leg, Hermione scooped up the flaccid Errol and began cleaning the breakfast from his feathers. Harry wiped the egg yolk off the parchment before checking the addressee.

"What? That's odd, it's for me."

"Well, I like that!" said Ron, as Harry opened and scanned the letter. "You take up with Ginny and she forgets her own children!"

"Laugh all you want, Ron; I could do without this letter. She and your Dad are inviting Ginny and me to spend Spring Break with them at Grimmauld Place."

"Well, if you don't want to go," said Hermione, "just write them back and say so. I'm sure they'll be very understanding."

Harry glanced over at Ginny, who had her arms crossed and was scowling intensely.

"Yeah, I know, Ginny," he said, "that really is not one of the options. This is an invite in form only. There's not much chance of me being able to wriggle out of this."

"Oh, Harry, what's the problem?" said Ginny, her countenance brightening. "You like my parents just fine."

"Oh, it's not that, by any means. They're two of my favorite people. In fact, if we're ever all past this war, I'd kind of like to call them Mum and Dad. I've always wanted to be able to call somebody that, and mean it, and nobody feels more like that to me than they do. Do you think that would be okay?"

"More than okay, mate. They'd love it," said Ron. "They've said for a long time they consider you one of their own."

"I know. It's more soothing than murtlap. But don't say anything to them. I'll ask them when the time's right for me, alright?" replied Harry. "No, the problem isn't being with them in the abstract. It's the timing. So soon after Ginny and I have started dating – it's got to be their way of checking up on us and giving us a bit of a warning about controlling ourselves."

"Like those two should complain," laughed Ginny. "I've heard some stories from our older cousins about how they were when they were at Hogwarts."

"Maybe that's why they're worried," said Hermione.

Harry nodded. "Hm. But also I really wanted the library time."

"Maybe you don't really have to give that up though, Harry," said Hermione, "Hogwarts' library isn't the only one in the wizarding world. The Blacks had a very extensive Dark Arts library. I believe Mrs. Weasley kept the books, just in case there was a need for such research. We were only disposing of dangerous objects, not the books – they didn't have such dangerous enchantments on them they couldn't be kept or the enchantments disabled. And I think they had some volumes that even Hogwarts doesn't have."

"Well, a house with Dark Arts books known to Bellatrix may be just the place to look for what we need. What about it, Ginny, up for some library time in London?"

"Here, there, wherever – as long as we're working on it together," she said with a sweet smile while giving his arm a squeeze.

Behind her back, Neville pantomimed sticking a finger down his throat and gagging. Harry laughed and hit him with a lump of Stilton.

"Right then, that's settled. We're going."

Harry took out a quill and started jotting down an acceptance for Errol to take back.

"Hey, mate, put down that Hermione and I are coming, too," said Ron.

"Uh-uh. You're not invited and she makes clear that she wants you two to stay here and prepare for NEWTs. Besides, aren't you going to be leading part of the troops in the Spring Screw-up?"

"That's 'Skirmish', Harry" said Ron, as Harry shrugged, "but you're right. I wonder why she doesn't care about your NEWTs."

"She knows I'm using Voldemort's learning and just adding the recent developments. It's a good thing, too, or I wouldn't have a chance to research the spell."

"Harry," said Hermione thoughtfully, "doesn't Voldemort at least know who among his people is doing it?"

"Uh-uh! In fact he's avoiding face time with them deliberately. He doesn't want to accidentally allow his use of legilemency to let me see into their thoughts to see how to beat it. And he learned the lesson from Kreacher's treachery two years ago, that it may be the most seemingly-innocuous facts that let the other side know a vulnerability, so he's taking no chances on being around any of them. Anyone who visits him stays behind a curtain so I can't find out anything. It's pretty much like with you people wearing the shades. He's thrilled with what's going on, but he has no idea who's doing it, or how, or anything else about it. He figures somebody among the Death Eaters got the bright idea, and he's not going to mess it up by letting me see them through him."

"That's funny," said Neville. "Both you and he are kind of isolated from your supporters by the fact that you can look through each other's minds. I'll bet that freaks him out to not be in control."

"Yeah, it's hard on him, even more than me. I could do without control, if I could just beat this spell - that and look you all in the eyes. It's like being in a prison and only talking to people through those thick glass barriers. Oh, well."

Spring Break was the first week of April. The four weeks preceding it passed remarkably well for Harry. Not that things were any better around Hogwarts – quite the contrary. He often felt like the character in old muggle movies who walks through a construction site or other busy area while all sorts of disasters and near disasters are happening, but they don't quite touch him. And he also still felt Voldemort prodding and pushing within his mind; but responding to that had become habitual.

Training went very well in March. Harry had redoubled energy and enthusiasm now that he had someone special in his life. Every DA session brought new breakthroughs in spellcasting and defensive techniques. Harry pushed hard, but everyone understood it was so they would be prepared for the looming battle. Harry's happiness, even amid the gathering clouds, carried through to all those around him. By the end of the month, nearly all the fifth years and higher had tested their patronuses and almost half the third and fourth years had as well. If only they could work together, they would be an awesome defensive force, but Harry accepted that until he and Ginny could come up with a solution, the students were going to be squabbling. At least he would see to it that individually they were as prepared as the time available would allow.

Nonetheless, Harry was far less perturbed by all that was going on because Ginny was helping him both with solving the problem and with keeping a healthy perspective. When Harry would start to lose patience with people who got involved in fights, she would remind him that they just weren't in control.

"You wouldn't get angry with a baby for its messes and tantrums, would you? It's just doing what it has to – it's not being bad."

This would bring Harry around, along with an affectionate squeeze or stroking his back.

This argument was impressed on Harry particularly in the last week of March when Melony and Dobby's baby was born. Hermione and Madam Pomfrey assisted the goblin healer who came to help with the delivery. When Harry first saw it a couple of hours later, it took his breath away. It had to be the ugliest thing he had ever seen: scrawny, pea-soup-green, with spongy-looking nodules all over, it had huge bulging eyeballs that retracted into the skull on the rare occasions it blinked (and this would cause its throat to swell like a tree toad's), and its skin was both raspy and slimy like a sick cat's tongue. But Dobby and Melony were thrilled, so Harry assumed this was the way it was supposed to be.

Even at this age, Dobby and Melony's goblet was squalling like a dozen car alarms going off at once, and its parents were so proud that it was working on strong lungs and a good scratchy goblin voice. Harry and Ginny couldn't talk over the screaming, so when they were ready to leave they motioned for Dobby to come out into the hall with them.

"Dobby, I'm so happy for you and Melony," said Harry.

"Yes, but I missed whether it was a boy or a girl," said Ginny.

"We hasn't decided yet, Miss Weasley," said Dobby.

"What?" asked Harry. "You decide it?"

"Well, we can let it just develop and the temperature of the castle will determine it, or if we wants to choose, we can keep the baby warmer for a girl or cooler for a boy."

"Oh," said Harry, having a bit of trouble comprehending that. "Well, the baby seems so healthy."

"HEALTHY?" yelled Dobby at Harry. "Healthy? That's a word humans use when they can't say anything nice. Oh, I've heard it, alright. A young lady is three hundred pounds with a face like a troll, and people say 'oh, she looks so healthy!' It's something to say instead of the truth! Well, who needs you, Harry Potter? If you hates goblets you shouldn't have come around! Good day!"

Then Dobby walked back into their quarters and slammed the door. Harry stared with his mouth open.

Ginny squeezed his hand. "It's the curse, Harry, not him. You know he would never say those things on his own. Remember what he was like other times, like when he roomed with you two summers ago."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out, then hugged Ginny.

"It's worse than the fact that he was short-tempered. Up until now, the curse hasn't made people treat me that way, and usually not even act that way around me. I had hoped that if nothing else worked, I could take direct command of the students and the curse would be suppressed while we defended ourselves. That was one of the big hazards that Voldemort feared as well. But the curse is apparently growing stronger, and we can't even count on my presence to suppress it. We're vulnerable, Ginny, very, very vulnerable. We've got to find a way to put an end to this spell, Ginny. It's up to us."

"I know, sweety. We will."