Harry Potter and the Library of Templar
Chapter Five :
Ginny's Letter
Harry woke with a strangled scream, his sheets sweaty and tangled around his legs. He leaned over the side of his bed as vomit spilled from his mouth. He heard shuffling, and soon there was a candle glowing, and Ron was at his side, patting his back as he retched. There were hurried footsteps above them, then in the hallway. By the time the door opened, Harry was still heaving, though no bile rose.
"Harry?" Hermione was suddenly on his left, her hand gently rubbing his back, Ron's patting soothingly. His heaves turned to an odd, desperate pant, to a hard cough.
"Ron, Hermione, move." Harry tried to protest when he felt his friends' weight leave the bed but found he couldn't do anything but cough. Mr. Weasley must have been there as well as Mrs. Weasley, because it was his voice that muttered the cleaning spell to dispel Harry's vomit. "Harry, take a drink." Mrs. Weasley was pressing a cup to his lips. Harry was hardly able to swallow through his coughing. But as soon as the liquid slipped down his throat, Harry felt his throat relax and his coughs stop.
His mouth felt slimy and tasted disgusting. But Harry couldn't say anything as he shivered and twisted his hands in his sheets.
"Molly, I've gotten him some water," Lupin's voice came. Harry slowly turned, urging his convulsion to cease. Ron and Hermione stood just next to the bed, eyes anxious. Mr. Weasley was crouched on the floor in front of him and Mrs. Weasley was seated on his right. Bill stood at the door, his eyes slightly wide with shock, Ginny next to him, worrying her lip. Remus had made his way to the bed and handed Harry the water.
Grateful, Harry gulped it down quickly. "Thanks," he croaked. His body stopped shaking, and he reached with unsteady hands for his glasses. Ron pressed them into his hand and Harry gave him a grateful smile. "Sorry," he muttered to the room.
"What happened?" asked Bill.
"William Arthur Weasley, that is hardly appropriate to-" Harry cut Mrs. Weasley off.
"Voldemort." Lupin drew a shaky breath, eyes shutting in what appeared to be relief. For what, Harry could not imagine and frankly he did not care. "He's torturing muggles. Somewhere in… in…." But Harry could not remember. He fisted his hand in his hair. "I can't remember." He tried to regain control, to prevent himself from crying of desperation.
"Shhh," soothed Mrs. Weasley. "It's alright. It's going to be fine. You don't need to remember, it's too late." Harry nodded, though he didn't believe her words. If only he could remember. Voldemort was somewhere in the country. He couldn't be more than two hundred miles away.
"What time is it?" His voice was still scratchy.
"Three," Hermione said softly but promptly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Harry mumbled. Hermione glared at him and opened her mouth, but Ron laid a hand on her arm.
"Why don't we all go back to bed," Lupin suggested. "I'll bring you some hot chocolate to get rid the taste in your mouth as well as some of Severus's Dreamless Sleep."
"Don't. The potion doesn't work on me. They aren't nightmares." Well, some aren't, Harry thought to himself.
"Hot chocolate then." Lupin pulled Ginny and Bill out of the room with him, the Weasley parents following.
"Harry, you're not fine," Hermione spat, as soon as the door closed. "You haven't been fine since Voldemort's rebirth. And you've been even stranger since Sirius. It's not grief. You know something that you aren't telling us. And then you disappeared and now that you show up you're all ho-hum and act as if you want to make everything right! It's not normal! Ronald, don't you give me that look, you want to know just as much as I do!" Hermione turned her fiery glare back on Harry.
He stood and walked uneasily to the empty frame on the wall and waited.
"He wants to know if you're all right." Phinneaus Nigellius appeared suddenly in the frame, looking perpetually bored.
"Tell him all I saw were muggles being tortured," Harry said bitterly. The Slytherin glared at him before vanishing suddenly. "It's not safe to tell you here. I promise to tell you at school. Dumbledore is everywhere and I'm not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing where I was."
"So you do know!" Hermione cried.
"Know what?" Lupin stood at the door. Hermione jumped about a foot in the air.
"What the twins did to her copy of Hogwarts, A History." Harry was impressed with Ron's unfaltering lie.
"Mmmm." Lupin handed Harry a mug filled with a warm, brown liquid. It was clear he didn't buy Ron's story. "Did you know werewolves can smell feelings close to the full moon? We always can really, but it's especially heightened near the full moon and the ability enhances as a werewolf ages."
He said nothing more and just left, leaving three confused teenagers behind him.
"I should get to bed," Hermione said regretfully. "Goodnight, boys."
"'Night Hermione," they said in unison. As soon as she left, Harry took a great gulp from the mug to wash the bitter taste from his mouth. Then he handed it to Ron, who drank the rest without comment.
They settled into their beds and Ron doused the candle. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Sweet dreams." Harry snorted.
"Same to you." Harry heard Ron turn over. Soon a light snoring filled the air and Harry stared blankly at the ceiling. He stayed that way for another hour before giving up on sleep and walking quietly to his trunk.
He opened the new lock from Dean and Seamus, which was keyed to his breath. Digging around, he located his hidden dagger in the lining. He leaned against the trunk and stared at the blade, gently running his fingers over the sharp edges. He pricked the tip of his thumb and drew a sharp breath as a drop of red spilled forth. Shaking his head he tossed the blade in the air and caught it easily before putting it back.
He looked around the room as he got dressed in his Elvish clothes and stretched. His fingers brushed the fabric of his training pants as he clutched his bare foot, leg muscles extending. Ron grunted in his sleep and Harry closed his eyes.
His real life was rushing back to him.
Three and a half hours later, Harry sat at the kitchen table in jeans and sleeveless top. The heat in the house was sweltering. Hermione sat next to him in a pair of shorts that Harry considered very short and a too-large blue shirt that said Jonathan across the back. Ginny was by the stove, reading aloud her mother's note (to which Harry wasn't listening), dressed in cut-off jeans and a shirt that bared a centimeter of her midriff.
"Where's Mum?" Ron stood in the doorway with disheveled hair and bleary eyes. Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron's appearance.
"She's on an errand for the Order all day. We're on our own, since Remus and Bill are working."
"Lupin's working?" Harry asked, surprised. Ginny glared at him.
"Of course he is," she snapped. "At a muggle diner in London. Just because wizards won't accept him-"
"Harry didn't mean it like that," Ron said irritably. He plopped across from Harry. "Ginny's been in a twist since she found out Lupin didn't get this job at a wizarding library in Edinburgh."
"They have no right to do that! Remus didn't ask to be a werewolf!"
"She remind you of Hermione on spew?" Ron muttered. "Or is it just me?" Harry stifled his laugh. Hermione looked scandalized.
"Ron, werewolf rights are just as important a cause as house elf rights! Ginny's right to be so upset."
"Bugger, they're annoying," Ron declared. Ginny slugged him from behind as she set a plate of bacon and sausage on the table. She proceeded to bring over eggs, waffles, and grape juice.
"Mum left us breakfast, but we're on our own for lunch and dinner."
"Which means we'll leave you ladies the kitchen," Ron said, piling his plate with food. Harry winced as soon as Ron said it. Hermione's eyes flashed.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! That is the most chauvinistic thing I have ever heard! Just because Ginny and I are women does not mean we should be forced to cook for you and Harry! I'll have you know that my father does the most of the cooking in my house. Just because he's a man does not mean he isn't a better cook than my mother!"
Ron held his hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean to offend you! I just know that Ginny can cook and I can't. Don't get your knickers in a twist."
Hermione opened her mouth, ready with a fiery retort. "Knock it off, you two. Ginny and I will make lunch and dinner if it'll shut the two of you up." Ginny raised her eyebrow at Harry. "If you want to," he added hastily. She shrugged and ate some more of her eggs. Ron and Hermione glared at each other but didn't protest.
Harry shook his head as he bit into a crispy slice of bacon. Ron reached for the plate, pulling back and swearing as his long sleeve dipped in the bacon grease. He grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe it out and only succeeded in spreading it.
"Just go put on a different shirt," Ginny said lazily. She tipped her head back and threw a grape in the air, catching it in her mouth. "That ones almost too short for you." That was true, Harry noted. The sleeves bared two inches of arm.
"Just cut the sleeves off. It's too hot to wear a shirt like that anyways," Harry said.
"I'll go change." Ron was out of the room in the blink of an eye. Harry shook his head. Something was up with Ron. Harry turned to the girls. Hermione appeared just as baffled as him. Ginny hadn't seemed to notice and was still eating grapes. Harry noticed a letter on the table in front of her in a script he didn't recognize. Trying to be casual, he leaned over and grabbed the sausage from next to Ginny, glancing at the letter as he did so. But all it said was Miss Ginny Weasley. There were no spots where it looked that talons had grabbed it and Harry figured it must have been hand delivered.
"So, what're we going to do today?" Harry asked.
"Mrs. Weasley sent someone to the Burrow last night and they brought back green and cream paint from the shed. We've got brushes from Tonks so we're all set to start the library," Hermione said, eyes shining with excitement.
"Hermione, you realize this means we've also got to box up all the books in there, right? That'll take us nearly all day. Not to mention we need to tape up all the shelves so we don't get paint on them," Harry said.
"Actually, there's a spell you can perform on a rag that will wipe paint off of wherever you don't want it. It was originally invented for wizards who bought muggle homes where muggles had gotten paint on a fan or the carpet. Bill made us all one before he left. I'll go get them and meet you two in the library." Hermione hurried from the room.
"Should we tell her she forgot to eat?"
"Nah, she'll figure it out," Harry said. Ginny grinned at him. An awkward silence followed. As much as Harry had come to know her, he was uncomfortable around Ginny, still remembering her crush on him and even more so her odd ability to make him feel like shit when it came to Ron and Hermione and (unfortunately, he admitted) his ego.
Just as Harry was about to say something, what he had no idea, to end the uncomfortable silence, Ron entered and sat down, dressed in shorts and a long-sleeve white cotton shirt. "Pass the eggs, will you? Harry, did you hear that the Tornadoes got crushed in their last match? It was wicked."
"Seamus was quite pleased as well," Ginny said.
"How would you know?" Ron asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
"You know that Dean and Seamus are best friends," Ginny said condescendingly. Ron narrowed his eyes.
"Still seeing that git?"
"Ron, you know as well as I do that Dean is a nice guy. What is your problem?" Ginny, Harry noted, looked ready for a fight.
"He's not so nice as you think!" Ron yelled. Ginny laughed in frustration.
"You never had one bad thing to say about him until you found out I was interested in him!"
"I didn't know he was a going to put the moves on you!" Harry waited to see Ginny's reaction with what he knew was a bit of sick amusement.
"Dean did not put the moves on me! I owled him. And we aren't even dating. We're friends, for Merlin's sake! I'm sorry if you can't grasp that with your miniscule intellect!" Ginny's voice rang in the air, leaving a tense silence in their wake. Ron and Ginny were glaring at each other.
Suddenly a muffled noise drifted into the kitchen. The two turned from each other to look out the door. "What the bloody hell is that?"
"Dunno," Harry said, pushing back form the table. "I'll go see, I'm done eating."
"Me too," Ginny said acidly. She cast one last glare at Ron before storming out of the room. Harry quickly placed his dishes in the sink and followed her out.
"It's coming form the basement." Harry jumped and turned to see Ginny partway up the steps. "I'm going to get Hermione. Don't go down there by yourself and make sure to grab your wand."
"I'm not an idiot, Ginny. I have my wand. There are a good number of people who want me dead," Harry snapped. He refrained, however, from mentioning the dagger concealed beneath his clothing and the small knife in his pocket.
Ginny said nothing, just turned and walked up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later with Hermione. Ron joined them as well as they slowly opened the door to the basement. Immediately they could identify the voice of Mrs. Black. Harry began muttering under his breath as he stormed down the stairs, pocketing his wand. A fury greater than he had ever felt was pulsing through him.
"Shut your mouth, you fucking hag," Harry seethed. He was sick of her wailing. Her son was dead and she didn't even bother to pretend to be sorry. "You're pretty damn lucky we can't burn you, you miserable excuse for a witch! You've been screaming every time someone so much as talks, ever since we came here. You don't have any family left and you spend your time yelling about things you can't do a bloody thing about! You're a fucking portrait for Merlin's sake! How in hell do you expect to do anything about what goes on in this excuse for a house? WHAT THE HELL CAN YOU DO? YOU CAN'T CAHNGE ANYTHING!"
Harry felt the rage drain from him as the witch fell silent. He dropped to his knees, hands shaking as he stared at Sirius's mother. Guilt flooded him as he watched her. He had killed Sirius. He had avoided it for so long. There had been the prophecy and then the Dursleys. And suddenly he was training to be an Elvin warrior. He had managed to find something to distract himself with ever since the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Now, there was nothing. He felt as though he were going to throw up his barely digested breakfast.
The irony hit him a moment later and he began to laugh in hysterics. It had taken one confrontation with a painting of Sirius's mum, who had hated her son for everything he was, to make him think about the one thing he was so desperately avoiding.
Harry had no idea how long he sat there, laughing in the basement of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in front of Mrs. Black's portrait, surrounded by boxes full of dark artifacts. When he finally stopped, he realized that he was back. The Boy Who Lived had just returned, and Haru the Human was gone for good. No more playing pretend.
He stood grimly and wrapped a tarp around Mrs. Black, stepping on her for good measure. He walked past his bewildered and worried friends without a word.
It wasn't until they were sitting down for lunch that Harry realized his scar had been twitching the entire time.
Harry groaned as Hermione presented him with another stack of books. Ron snickered from his spot on the floor as he worked on cleaning copying down the titles of the tomes Hermione and Ginny removed from the shelves. Harry made a face at him before carrying the heavy books into the hallway to set beside the others. The entire corridor was lined with them, stacks reaching up to thirty books.
When he reentered the library, he found Ron and Ginny yelling at each other again. "You could help carry books Ron!"
"So could you!"
"Enough!" They bother turned to Harry at his outburst. Ron looked slightly remorse at the sight of his friend's agitation and anger. Ginny, however, Harry thought looked quite angry herself.
"Stay out of this Harry! Ron's being a prat. He needs to apologize bout Dean!" Ginny snapped, glaring heatedly at Harry.
"Dean isn't a stack of books, Ginny," Harry ground out. "The two of you are bloody annoying. If you're going to fight about Dean, fight about Dean! There's no need to bicker about this work. I'm pretty damn sick of your ridiculous fight."
"You have been fighting about the most preposterous things," Hermione muttered. Harry let out a derisive laugh.
"Hermione, you and Ron have rows about Ron's hair, for Merlin's sake. You can't say anything about this," Harry chided. Hermione huffed at him and stood.
"And you aren't one to chastise for anger, now are you?"
"Oh, yes, because you have Voldemort flitting about in your head and you saw Cedric die!" Silence hung in the air at Harry's words. Hermione's impassioned glare changed to worry in a split second. Harry sighed and sat down heavily on the floor. He still didn't talk about Cedric. He had nightmares, but he had nightmares about everything. He took a calming breath. His temper had been on a short leash since last night. It felt like last year all over again. Only there's no Sirius. Harry felt a tell-tale prickling behind his eyes and swallowed in frustration. "Sorry. I'm trying. But it's not easy."
"Harry, you just lost the man closest to being a parent for you," Hermione said gently. Harry glared at her.
"Trust me, Hermione, I know that. I realize that Sirius is-" But Harry didn't finish, couldn't finish. He just looked at his trainers and tried very hard to become invisible.
"Ron, I like Dean, get used to it," Ginny sharp tone cut the heavy silence in the room. Harry was decidedly tired of awkward silences.
"Now isn't the ti-"
"You are avoiding the issue! You just don't like the fact that I'm dating anyone. Did you ever consider seeing the glass half-full, you twit. Be glad it's Dean and not Malfoy. Understood?" Ron gaped at Ginny.
"MALFOY! That smarmy git! I'll wring his neck. Putting moves on my sister," Ron muttered darkly to himself. He turned to Harry, continuing in his rant.
"Ron, grab that stack and Harry there's one by Ginny for you," Hermione ordered, cleanly breaking off his tirade. "And Ron, apologize to Ginny for being a prick about Dean."
"I am not being a prick! Dean is a hormonally charged animal and not be trusted with my little sister's virtue!"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you!"
"What's that mean?"
"Like Lavender didn't talk on and on about how she caught Seamus with some dirty mags that Dean brought!"
"When did I turn into Seamus?" asked Ron, quite seriously confused. Hermione huffed and turned around to ignore him. Ron continued to gape at her for a good ten minutes.
Harry rolled his eyes once again as the afternoon slipped back into its previous pace. They spent the next two hours cleaning out the library until there were books all the way down to the kitchen and all the way up to the attic. Harry had been demoted to un-shelving books when an old leather-bound beast of one had bitten his leg, which was now wrapped in gauze with Ginny's remarkable proficiency. "Brothers. Had to clean them up all the time when they didn't want Mum knowing they were trying to shag girls in the bristles during the summer or playing revolution with Grandad's old weapons collection." At which Ron had quickly exited the room and Hermione had broken out into giggles while Harry sat with a straight face for fear of messing Ginny up.
"Should we do an early dinner?" asked Ginny. They were sitting in the hall among the piles of books, each listlessly flipping through one as they took a break. Harry grabbed Ron's wrist and looked at the watch (Harry still needed to buy a new one) to see it was just barely four.
"Sounds good," Harry said, hopping up, eager to get away from the books. "You two find something productive to do while Ginny and I cook." Harry proceeded to drag the youngest Weasley down the stairs to the kitchen where they spent a comfortably silent half hour preparing honey breaded chicken, mashed potatoes, and pudding.
"How you're so horrid at potions is really astounding," Ginny said as she dipped her finger into their chocolate pudding.
"You're so kind," said Harry. "Get your fingers out of there. That's absolutely disgusting." As soon as Ginny removed her hand, Harry stuck his own finger in for a taste. He received a rather harsh punch on the shoulder for that.
"I just meant that you seem to be a good cook," Ginny informed him. Harry blinked. What on earth did cooking and potions have to do with each other? He shook his head, grabbing the pudding bowl and setting it in the fridge.
"But what's that got to do with Snape and his dungeons?"
"Really, Harry. Potions is just like cooking! You are as thick as Ron sometimes," Ginny muttered, walking briskly from the room to fetch, Harry assumed, Ron and Hermione and leaving him to ponder her statement. He realized now, of course, that she was right. But he'd cooked for his entire life. It was simple and mundane and he did it at the Dursleys. Potions had always seemed different, because he did it at Hogwarts. His pondering was stopped short when the others entered the room and they sat down to eat.
After they ate (a meal Ron found to be okay, if not up to Mrs. Weasley's standards) they began painting. Ginny left for a few moments to come back with what she explained to Harry as a music box and a gift from her uncle. Harry was fascinated with the illusion of the Weird Sisters that appeared playing on top of it when Ginny selected one of their songs. The four spent the rest of the day in the hot library, painting wall after wall and watching Ginny bop around to her music. It was well past dinnertime when they heard someone downstairs. Ginny closed the sleek wooden box and they all paraded downstairs, some with paint dripped on various pieces of clothing or spots of bare skin.
"Hello," Hermione called.
"Howdy." They jumped and spun around to find a pretty young witch standing behind them. She was wearing loose, pale lemon robes and her hair was a rich chocolate. "Sorry, did'n mean to give you a frigh'."
"Who are you?" Harry didn't mean to be paranoid, he swore he didn't, but his hand was ready to flick his dagger into his hand. He realized belatedly that he should have been ready to grab his wand, as he was facing a fully grown wizard with a wand in hand a good distance away and not an elf that relied on physical means of fighting. It also occurred to him that they were in Headquarters and only the Order members knew where that was. But then, he saw Ron already had his wand out and Hermione's was clenched in her robes.
"I'm Cadenza McDowell, jus' here for an Order meetin', is all. No need to attack, Mister Weasley. I come in peace." McDowell raised her hands in surrender. Ron didn't put his wand away.
"I've never seen you here before," Ron said, eyes narrowed. "And we've been here for a very long time."
"Tonight's my firs' meetin'. Moody'll be here in a sec, you can ask him for yourself," McDowell said. She slipped her wand back into her robes and inspected the group before her. "You mus' be the kids Hestia's always on about."
"Hestia Jones?" asked Hermione. Her arm relaxed slightly, but she didn't take her hand out of her pocket or away from her wand.
"Yep, her cousin married my cousin a few years back, when I was over in the states. I moved there right after graduation. Easier to get Dragon Permits around the Georgia and Alabama areas than it is anywhere in the UK. Unfortunately a bit of their southern twang latched on to me. I'm back for a few weeks for the Order, to give y'all a hand back in Alabama. International relations and all that." The teenagers still regarded her with a critical eye. McDowell fidgeted under their scrutiny and Harry was satisfied to see her glance around in discomfort.
"McDowell!" The harsh bark of Mad-Eye Moody caused the entire group to jump. McDowell herself looked petrified and her hand was twitching somewhat unnaturally, in Harry's opinion.
"Mad-Eye! You nearly killed me! Don't go around doin' things like that!" The aged Auror seemed unconcerned.
"You're supposed to be here for a meeting, not to socialize with a group of teenage kids!" McDowell rolled her eyes.
"Pull the wand out of your ass, Moody," she snapped. "And I am fully expecting an apology from you. Pleasure meetin' you kids." McDowell stormed off, Moody following, his magical eye rolling back on them. Harry unconsciously gripped the wand in his pocket a little tighter. He didn't like Moody's magical eye on him. Not one bit. Harry shuddered and followed the rest back up to the library.
"She's… unique," Hermione stated after ten minutes of silent painting.
Ron snorted. "Unique is one way to put it."
"Ron!"
"What? You were all thinking it! From what Charlie's told me, only show dragon breeders live in the states. It's a big thing over there."
"Did you guys see the way her hand went ballistic when Moody crept up?" Ginny asked, clearly trying to stop an argument from ruining their conversation.
"Yeah," Harry said distractedly. "It's the same thing that happened to Nix's leg-" Harry broke off, realizing about ten seconds too late what he had said.
"Nick?" Hermione looked way too interested. "Who's he?"
Harry tried his best to hide his nerves, blinking as though he'd just realized a hilarious oversight. "Nick Spinner. I went to school with him, before Hogwarts." He just hoped Hermione didn't see his hand shaking or notice the sweat on his neck. She must not have, as she just nodded, looking curious.
"What was wrong with his leg?" she prompted. Harry calmed immensely as she seemed to accept his answer. Now was not the time, they were still under Dumbledore's watch, he could tell.
"Muggle disease," Harry said. "I don't remember what it was, some really big name. We can see if McDowell's muggle-born. Maybe she has something like that?" Hermione immediately got her look that promised Harry and Ron would be spending hours in the library with her. "We should wait till we get back to school to do the research, Hermione. We won't find any muggle books in here and we can't just run down to the library with Voldemort trying to kill me and Dumbledore trying to coddle me."
"You're right." Hermione didn't even try to mask the disappointment in her voice.
It was hours later, when Ron, Hermione, and Harry finally decided to go to bed, sick of waiting for the Order meeting to end so they could pry into the subject of McDowell. Ginny had left half an hour before. Harry had just been about to use the lavatory and get into his pajamas, fifteen minutes later, when he realized that he'd left his wand in the library. Telling Ron he'd be back in a minute and he shouldn't bother waiting up (Ron looked half-dead), Harry dashed back to the library. His wand sat on a stack of books just outside the door. Sighing in relief, Harry picked it up and turned to leave. He paused, hearing familiar voices below.
"Do you think they're up?" That was Mrs. Weasley. Harry knew he should go, but he didn't really care at the moment.
"Of course not Molly. They've given up on trying to get Order information out of us," Mr. Weasley assured his wife. "They have no other reason to be up."
"Do you think we should tell them?" What? Tell them what? Harry didn't like this.
"They'll just think it's their fault. Albus told us not to worry, that he'd be able to fix it soon. Remus feels bad enough. The last thing we need is those kids blaming themselves as well. We had no idea. They're off to school soon anyhow, no need to stir things up." No, Harry did not like this one bit. "Honey, you go to bed and I'll go do a quick patrol of the halls, make sure their lights are off. Okay?" Mrs. Weasley agreed and Harry set off, quite glad for his new stealth skills.
"Harry!" He jumped, spinning to glare at Ginny, whose head was poked out of her door.
"Gin? What-" She tugged him into her room and shut the door. Groaning, Harry put out the lights immediately.
"What the bloody h-"
"Shut it!" Harry hissed. Not able to see Ginny's face, Harry was pretty certain she was glaring at him, but had decided to listen to him. Sucking in a breath, Harry listened carefully as he heard Mr. Weasley's footsteps approach and slow at the door. He released it when the steps faded away.
"Who was that?" asked Ginny. Harry felt her grip his arm and pull him across the dark room, pushing him onto something soft. He heard her settle next to him on what he assumed was her bed.
"Your dad. What're you doing?" Ginny was rustling around for something in the table beside her bed. There was no answer, but the next second a soft glow surrounded the bed, just barely illuminating past where the two sat. Harry glanced around, squinting. Hermione's form was clear in the next bed. "Aren't we going to wake her?" Ginny waved him off.
"Hermione sleeps like a brick for the first two hours," she said. "Look, I need to talk to you about something."
"What?" Harry didn't like where this was going. And he had been having a good afternoon.
"I got a letter today. I saw you trying to peek at breakfast. And later when I was thinking about it, I knew you'd be the person to talk to."
"What is it?" The dread in Harry's stomach was increasing.
"McGonagall asked me to be quidditch captain," Ginny said very quickly, eyes frightened and face tense. Harry blinked.
"That's all? You had me worried. Geez, Ginny. That's great!"
"Harry! Do you know how wrong this is? I've hardly been on the team one year! You've been on it forever and Katie's the seventh year!"
"So? I wouldn't want to be captain. Most seekers are rubbish as captain. We aren't involved in the central game enough. Besides, I suck at strategies. Have you ever seen Ron and I play chess?" Harry wanted to laugh but he knew Ginny wouldn't appreciate very much. She seemed genuinely upset. "And Katie always said she couldn't be captain."
"McGonagall offered it to her," Ginny said softly, looking at a particularly warn spot on her comforter. Harry noted vaguely that it was green and purple. "She recommended me."
"See, Katie thinks you can do it, and I think you can do it," Harry said, as though it were all settled. True, he was a bit put out that he hadn't been asked. He certainly would have refused, but still. It was the principle of the matter. Then again, McGonagall probably knew he'd turn it down and he had been missing nearly all summer. Harry easily squashed his jealousy with his reasoning.
"But Ron…." And suddenly Harry understood. Ginny didn't care about him or Katie. She knew they'd get over it. And she didn't doubt her own ability. It was her brother. Ron would be furious his sister got named captain, especially over him. Because technically she wasn't on the team since Harry's ban had been lifted, and she'd played in less matches than anyone else (save the replacement beaters). Harry knew Ron was going to be a jerk about this, he just knew it. And Ginny did too. Harry wasn't sure what to say.
"Ron… he'll get over it, eventually," Harry offered weakly. Ginny smiled thinly at him.
"Maybe by the time I graduate," Ginny said waveringly. She shut her eeys tightly and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. Harry just hoped she wouldn't cry. He hated it when girls cried. "I could just tell McGonagall to give it to him. He's always wanted to be captain."
"If McGonagall and Katie thought he should be captain than he would be," Harry said.
"Ron's a good strategist," Ginny insisted.
"Ginny, you realize you're being extremely irritating, don't you?" Harry muttered, rubbing his face in irritation. "I know Ron the same as you, and we both know he's going to be mad. But you're his sister; he'll have to patch it up with you sometime."
Ginny snorted. "Not bloody likely. He's never going to forgive Percy."
Harry chose not to comment, only picked at the duvet. There was a sharp rap on the door, causing Harry to jump, eyes wide. Ginny looked panicked as well. On instinct, Harry rolled off and landed soundlessly on the floor, easily sliding under Ginny's bed, just as Mr. Weasley's voice drifted through the door. "Ginny?"
"Come in," she called. Harry saw her feet drop down in front of his head and he tried to shrink in on himself as much as possible. The door opened and another set of feet came in to view.
"Were you talking to someone?" he asked, perplexed. Harry wished he could see Ginny's face. Ron was a horrible liar. Harry hoped Ginny took after the twins.
"There's no one in here but Hermione, Daddy." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ginny sounded so sweet. It was rather revolting coming from the hot-tempered, outspoken girl.
"Goodnight, Gin-Gin." Mr. Weasley's feet moved next to Ginny's. Harry assumed he was giving her a kiss on the cheek, like Aunt Petunia used to give Dudley.
"Night, Dad." Harry held his breath until the door closed after Mr. Weasley. He was waiting a few moments to be sure, as Ginny climbed back onto her bed. He jerked up and smacked his head painfully on the bed when Ginny suddenly flipped her head over the side to see him. He uttered a few choice words that made Ginny grin.
"You should accept the position. Now I'm gong to bed before somebody comes in and sees me." Harry slithered out form under the bed and pointedly ignored the snickering girl on the bed as he left. When Harry entered his room, Ron was asleep. Harry followed suit and was soon lying in bed. Sleep came easily and that night, he dreamt of Hermione and Susan playing as beaters on the Gryffindor team, with a big ball of flame ordering them around.
Harry barely noticed his friends enter the kitchen the next morning as he sat mashing his porridge. His dreams had quickly turned to Sirius the night before, which resulted in his waking up with a scream just barely held in. He knew that there were circles under his eyes and he knew that they were worried about him. But quite frankly he couldn't manage to care. For just a few days, he had been able to pretend it hadn't happened. And now, the second time around, it hurt just as much that Sirius was dead. Harry wished he could have just gone on like Sirius was alive. That he would have found a letter from his godfather among those Mrs. Weasley and Ron had collected for him all summer. But he hadn't.
It took a moment for him to realize that Hermione was talking to him. "What?"
"I asked if you were packed," Hermione said, her voice a little brisk. Harry just nodded, going back to his porridge mashing. He heard Hermione sigh but didn't think it worth the effort to glare at her. They spent the meal in silence, Hermione obviously bursting to say something to him. As soon as Harry had forced down half of the bowl, he rinsed it out and scurried up to the library where he began painting the final wall, over by the small alcove for reading. He ignored Ron and Hermione when they came in to help.
Thirty minutes later, Hermione ordered Ron to fetch Ginny and Harry to begin carrying in the books. Ginny and Ron appeared with a large roll of parchment that Hermione spread out. The other day, she had drawn up a very large model of the library and as the books were carried out, she'd written them down under a category. When they'd begun painting, Hermione had carefully made a system and placed each book in a specific spot. Now, Hermione directed them as to where each book went. Once they'd set them all into their proper sections, Hermione gave them each a few shelves and they alphabetized each section by author's last name. By four o'clock the entire library was reassembled.
"Not too bad," Ginny said, turning around and surveying their work. "I'm going to write Dean." Ron muttered something under his breath that Harry was sure Ginny didn't want to hear. She gave him a dark look before leaving.
"Ron, you really need to get over this Dean thing," Hermione informed the redhead. "If it wasn't Dean it'd be someone else. Like Malfoy."
"That is not funny!" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Go pack Ron," she said shrewdly, following Ginny out. Ron turned to Harry, fuming.
"Women! The bloody lot of them should just go live in a cave!" Harry sighed as Ron stormed from the room. A moment later he heard their door slam and he winced, sinking into one of the chairs. He wasn't sure how long he was there before Lupin sat next to him, but he knew it was less than twenty minutes.
"How can I help you?" Harry cracked an eye open. Lupin looked horrible. He had before, of course, but with the full moon only a few days away Harry really saw the difference. Lupin was thinner than before, but that always happened. Hi robes usually hid it, but dressed in slacks as he was, it was quite apparent.
"We need to talk." Harry noticed that Lupin was looking at the floorboards and not at him.
"What about?" Harry knew exactly where this was going. Sirius. He didn't want to talk about it. But it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore made someone counsel him. The Boy-Who-Lived couldn't have this weighing him down. How could the world move aside and make room?
"Siri-"
"I don't want to talk about him," Harry snapped. Lupin looked up and raised his eyebrows.
"I wasn't going to ask you to," he replied, his voice rather sharp. "I know quite well how you feel right now." Harry wanted to scream and yell and tell Lupin he couldn't possibly imagine it. The only problem was, he knew Lupin could.
"Oh." Harry knew he should be ashamed, since Lupin apparently wasn't going to play help-poor-baby-Potter. But he wasn't.
"It's about his will." Harry jerked.
"He was an escaped convict," Harry said. "They're letting his will go through?" Lupin blinked.
"Wizarding wills are magic based. The will the Ministry held in official records was broken when they put Sirius in Azkaban for life at the same time they froze his assets. When Mrs. Black died a few months later, she left no will. The money went to Sirius's immobile account and everything else transferred to his name because he was the closest blood relative. A few years earlier his uncle had left him nearly everything. Sirius was quite wealthy.
"The official records are a formality. A wizard's will is bound by magic. The government can't override it. When Sirius was alone, before the Triwizard Tournament, he drew up a will. Then he signed it and added his magical seal. Dumbledore and I signed it later that year when we saw him, as every will needs for it to work. Dumbledore kept in his vault at Gringotts. After… after the wizard is proclaimed dead by one of the others on the will, it takes two weeks of the wizard's magical signature to lie dormant to activate. That's one reason wills are based on magic, so there's less chance to bullocks it up. Gringotts is alerted via magic and they transfer everything without question. The Ministry doesn't even know.
"I declared Sirius – declared Sirius dead," Remus choked out, "a week before the end of your term. You vanished before it activated."
"So?"
"Sirius left you one third of the collective Black fortune and half of his estates." Harry stared.
"I don't want it."
"I understand your hesitation, Harry, really I do-"
"I already have enough money. I don't want Sirus's!"
"Harry, listen to me. If you forfeit your percentage of the will, it will go to Sirius's closest blood relative. Do you know who that is?"
"Tonks?"
"Tonks is Andromeda's daughter, who was Sirius's cousin."
"His cousin…. Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry choked, fury welling up. Lupin looked startled. He quickly assured him.
"No, she can't receive it because she voluntarily activated her will while alive. Everything went to her youngest sister." Sister. Sirius's other cousin-
"Malfoy!" Lupin nodded grimly.
"If we don't accept what Sirius gave us, it will be given to Narcissa Black Malfoy," Remus said. Harry balked. "Sirius wanted us to have it. He made sure we wouldn't refuse. He could have named Tonks his closest relative. But he named you his heir." Harry let out a sad laugh.
"Do I own Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked, the thought occurring as he spoke it.
"No," said Lupin. "Sirius left that to the Order of the Phoenix."
"What else did he leave?"
"A few miscellaneous things to old friends. One third of his fortune and a fourth of his estates to the Order," Lupin shrugged.
"And you?" Remus smiled wryly.
"I refused, as long as we were friends, to take money from him. He left me the final third of his money and the last forth of his estates." Harry nodded, still mulling over the new information. "He did leave me one other thing." Harry looked up, interested. Lupin was looking at the ground again.
"What?" Harry prompted.
"He – eh, he declared me your godfather."
Time seemed to freeze a Harry went numb. Lupin glanced furtively at him. Harry just sat there. Sirius wasn't his godfather anymore.
"I don't want to take Sirius's place," Lupin amended quickly, wringing his hands. "Merlin, I could never do that. We're too different to even try. But, I figured it wouldn't be so bad for you, to have a godfather."
Harry knew he should say something. But what? Lupin looked as if he was about to be chopped into a thousand pieces. "It's not that. I just…." Harry took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to say what he was feeling. "If things had been different, I would have grown up knowing you and Sirius my whole life. You'd probably be like my surrogate godfather anyways. I'm pretty sure that's what my parents wanted. They may have had other kids, you know, and you'd've been my brother's godfather or whatever."
Lupin looked confused, but hopeful. "Does that mean it's okay?"
"If what is?"
"If I'm your second godfather."
Harry nodded, looking at his trainers. "Yeah. But, well, what does that mean?"
"Nothing really. I tried to adopt you, a long time ago, when you were three." Harry jerked up. Lupin smiled bitterly at him. "But they passed a law to prevent werewolves from adopting."
"That's horrible." Lupin nodded his agreement.
"So I can't adopt you. It doesn't legally mean anything because of that. To me, though, it means a lot. And you can come to me, about whatever, whenever you need to. I won't tell Albus anything." Harry smiled ruefully. "I don't know why you're mad at him, Harry; no one does but the two of you. Frankly, unless it's something you want to talk about, it's not going to matter to me."
Remus didn't say anything after that and Harry found himself liking what Lupin's words implied: that Harry was more important to him than Dumbledore and his Order.
"There is-" Lupin cut himself off.
"What?"
"I could try and get the Dursleys to give up their legal responsibility of you. You'd be forced to follow out your parents' wishes, which would in turn make you my ward."
"Dumbledore wouldn't like that," Harry stated bitterly. Lupin shrugged in reply. "Besides, I'm the only protection the Dursleys have. If- if they get attacked, because of me… I just- I wouldn't be okay with turning my back on them."
"You're a bigger man than most, Harry. I know a good number of people who'd not share that sentiment, after what the Dursleys have done to you."
"It's not like they beat me regularly," Harry mumbled. Lupin smiled at him, ruffling his hair gently, with a look Harry couldn't' quite identify. Usually, Harry would have been annoyed. But he wasn't. Harry looked Lupin up and down. Maybe having him as a godfather was a good thing. It wasn't like Lup-Remus (Remus) would replace Sirius. No one could.
"I think I might like having a werewolf for a godfather," Harry said, not caring if he sounded childish. Lupin raised his brows. "You can scare all the other kids at school." Remus's hoarse laugh filled the air, making Harry himself smile. It was nice, Harry thought, to see the worn wizard like this.
"I heard you had excellent O.W.L. scores. You got into Severus's class?" Harry and Remus spent the next two hours sitting together in the freshly repainted library, talking about anything they could think of. Harry wasn't sure how long they would have sat there, if Mrs. Weasley hadn't come in and told them they'd better get to the kitchen for supper. Harry smiled at Remus as they left the kitchen an hour later, glad that the man was there for him, even if Sirius wasn't. Especially because Sirius wasn't.
That night, his drams were still plagued by Sirius, Lestrange, and the veil.
A/N : I intend upon continueing this post-HBP. I don't think it's fair to call it AU since it follows canon through OotP. That's why I came up with my Canon Levels. Canon 5 is canon through OotP. Canon 3 is canon through PoA, and so on and so forth. Because really, those stories are canon, just not full canon. They deserve to be seen as part-canon. So yeah. And I'm not changing the story to accomodate HBP. That would be really stupid. I aso have the entire schooling system figured out for my story. It will most definitely be different from HBP in that respect, so be prepared. I spent a lot of time on this story already, I'm going to keep it the same. I will probably incorrporate some HBP stuff into it. Such as the Half-Blood Prince himself. Oh, and this si like a peron's life. Harry will have more than one girlfriend. There are only two definite end pairings I've decided on. One concerns Ron and the other concerns Tonks. Harry's final pairing isn't official yet. I'm still debating between three people.