The Old Lot
The Man He Used to Be
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"Yes. We can help you," Mekhi said. "But only so much."
Ron glanced hopefully at Ginny. "Well, any bit of help will be a lot. We haven't got a clue where we're going." Hermione cleared her throat loudly, and Ron blushed. "What? We haven't..."
"Ron's right," Ginny said. "We don't know where we're headed. But with your help, we could get an idea." Ginny stared at Mekhi unblinkingly, and he nodded solemnly.
"Your friend suffers imprisonment."
"What, d'you mean Az-" Ron started to say.
"Shush!" Mekhi hissed. "You do not know who will be listening!" For a moment longer he stared at Ron, and then turned so fast to the door that Ginny expected his neck to crack. He snapped his fingers, and two hooded people went to the door and pulled it open swiftly. An old man with a long white beard stumbled and fell to their feet.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just came down to ask-"
"Go old man," Mekhi thundered. "Your presence is no longer wanted in this room."
"It's my inn!" the man protested. "I can do what I want!"
"You'll do your best to listen to me, Abe," said Mekhi, quietly this time. "You don't need to get yourself into trouble again."
Abe paled at Mekhi's words, his eyes wide, and suddenly he struggled against the hold of the hooded people. "Get off me, let me go! You heard him! Off!" He broke free and stalked, hunch-backed, up a flight of stairs and out of sight.
Mekhi smiled again. "Abe has been in trouble before, and he knows I know about it."
"That's blackmail!" said Hermione. "That's illegal! What kind of sick, demented person-"
"Hermione," Ginny warned. She stopped. Ginny gave her a meaningful look; Hermione closed her mouth and sat back in her chair, but still looked angry.
"So," Ginny said promptly. "How can you help?" Before Mekhi could answer, Ginny thought of another thing. "Actually, could you untie us? And give us back our wands? We promise we won't do anything." She shot Ron a quick glare.
Mekhi nodded. "Very well." He snapped his fingers and three of the cloaked figures separated from their fellows. Each began to untie Ginny, Ron, and Hermione with their wands, and soon they were all free of restraints. Mekhi withdrew their wands from his cloak and returned them to their owners.
"You are now ready to receive information?" Mekhi asked.
All three of them answered, "Yes," simultaneously.
He conjured a chair and sat in it, in between Ron and Hermione. "There is an island," said Mekhi in a very low voice, causing the three to lean in. "It is the place where fear once dwelled. We cannot impart to you the exact location of this place, for our people have secretly guarded this place from intruders for the last few centuries. It is not meant for exploration. No matter what exists inside it, it will always be a danger to the unknowing witch or wizard. Its waters are dangerous; the currents will grab you and the rocks will tear you to shreds. The air is filled with magical boundaries, preventing entrance and exit by flight. With these methods gone to you, you must find another way.
"Find those who will help you along the way. The Lady in Green knows part of the way. She will lead you to a wooded glen, wherein the fairy lives. From there you shall find your way."
Silence made the room full to bursting with thoughts unspoken. Finally, Ron said, "That's it? Who's this 'lady in green'? How are we supposed to-?"
"You must go now," Mekhi interrupted loudly. "We do not welcome you here any longer." With that he pulled up his hood, walked out the door, and his fellows followed him. The last one in line, however, tapped out a long pattern with his foot before closing the door behind him.
Hermione and Ginny stared blankly at the door.
"Lumos," said Hermione, and Ginny and Ron did the same.
"Did he say...?" Ginny started.
"Yeah, I think he did," said Hermione.
"What?" said Ron impatiently. "What did he say?"
The two women looked at each other for a long moment before answering together, "Luna Lovegood."
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She looked over at the arrogant. "He will be all right."
"I know."
"We all know," said the thoughtful. "But we don't know how."
"Yes, well, you were the only one who never read the end of a book first," said the sass.
"And so," retorted the contemplative, "I was the most likely of us all to actually enjoy reading a novel."
"We are all envious of you," said the athlete.
"Quite," said the conceited.
"I agree with -----," said the warm. "Reading front to back was always my preference."
"Do you miss it?" asked the tranquil, eagerly.
"Yeah, I do," replied the bright, reflectively. "But this, in some ways, is better than a book. Not that I enjoy watching him go through this, but it has so much more meaning, and the deep impact will affect his life for the better, I think."
"I doubt that," said the intellect. "I'd rather not compare this whole situation to reading a novel, really."
"Yeah, how can you say he'll be better off, having endured this? He saw me – Well, you know, when it happened, and that was bad enough for him. This is real torture."
"But wouldn't you learn something if that happened to you?"
"You've touched down on it, now, and you've forgotten. I did go through that. I was there, all that time, with all the things going round my head that made it spin. I don't think I learned anything from it."
"That surprises me," said the clever.
"Really? Explain."
"Well, I don't think you're taking into consideration all that happened to you. Did you not learn to dislike your surroundings? Or learn to keep with you that which kept you sane? Learning isn't all about enjoyment, or textbooks."
"I'd take the textbooks, thanks," said the blunt.
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"Honestly, I don't get why all of these people that are supposed to help us can only give us these bloody cryptic messages and make us figure it out... So, it's Luna? What's she got to do with this? Is she the 'Lady in Green?" said Ron.
"No," said Hermione, "but... Well, I didn't think the Lady in Green was real, but if she's got to help us... and Luna... I suppose it does make sense..."
"Really? Could you, you know, let the rest of us know?" said Ron heatedly.
Ginny smiled inwardly. She knew what Hermione was thinking about (for once) and Ron had mistaken her, Ginny, to belong to the group he labeled as "the rest of us."
"Luna believes things no one else thinks is real," said Ginny, "And we all took her for a little... loony, right?"
"Yeah, she was-"
"Well, if the Lady in Green is real-"
"Then Luna would probably know about her," finished Hermione. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, just as usually happened when learning something entirely new and unexplainable.
"Where does she live?" asked Ginny.
"Dunno," said Hermione, "But we could ask teachers up at the school if they know."
"Yeah," said Ron, and he nodded, as though making a very important decision for the group. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said; she tugged on Ron's sleeve and guided him like an animal to the exit door leading upstairs. Ginny chuckled to herself and followed.
The bar area was completely devoid of inhabitants, as was the rest of the main floor. The muffled sounds of three pairs of feet on a dirty stone floor were loud to their ears, and exiting the building was quite a relief.
It was almost evening. The sun was setting, and the air around them decreased in temperature by at least one degree per minute. By the time they reached the castle, Ginny was shivering and anticipating the moment when she could enlarge her suitcase and put on a jumper.
Just as the three stepped into the entrance hall, loud chatter from the different staircases leading there told them the students were coming down for dinner. Ron gave Hermione a look, and they were about to quicken their steps in order to escape the mayhem when Ginny said, "Wait." They looked back at her, and she had flattened herself against a wall. Hermione caught on and did the same; Ron, confused, copied the two women anyway.
Ginny waited for the students to come in at all the angles. One, five, twenty, and then too many to count: friends laughing at one of their number's joke; girls whispering about who's seeing who and what happened in Transfiguration that day. A particular group of three students comprised of a listener, a complainer, and a moderator, brought a smile to Ginny's lips. The likeness was so great...
Finally - after no one had even bothered to spare them a glance - Hermione, Ron, and Ginny headed up to the headmistress's office. Professor McGonagall appeared to be just about to leave when they walked in.
"Oh, you three, do you need something?"
"Yes, professor," answered Hermione. "We wondered if you might have Luna Lovegood's address, we need to see her."
The headmistress hesitated, and then something clicked. "Yes, I have it, just one moment." She went back to her desk, sifted through a few papers, and returned with a small piece of parchment.
"That's where she last was," indicated the professor. "Though through the few letters we've shared it seems she moves around a bit."
Hermione nodded as she read the address. "She's in London," she supplied the others, "Muggle area; just a few blocks down from the Leaky Cauldron." She looked up at the professor, who appeared to be waiting for any further inquiries, and hugged her. McGonagall looked a little surprised but soon loosened up and hugged back. Ron and Ginny, following Hermione's example, hugged their old teacher in turn, and when it seemed nothing had been left unsaid, they departed for Hogsmeade Station under a darkening sky.
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A rag doll - that described the feeling perfectly. His limbs were limp, and he definitely did not feel real. Numbness; the absence of feeling, of sensation. He tried to move and could not; he tried to think and could barely do that. The only thing that went through his mind, over and over again, was the memory of that body against his; that sickening sensation in his stomach as she did as she pleased.
The numbness began to dissipate, but Harry found he was not in the least grateful for this. He was naked, and cold air attacked him from somewhere above and around him. His instinct told him to curl up and keep his limbs closer to his body, but his muscles still weren't working. The chill that ran through him was painful, and he was stuck in the illusion that he was buried deep beneath the snow, to never be found by anyone.
His breath cast a mist above his face, and clouded his already foggy vision. Slowly his strength returned, and he inched his arms against his chest, and his knees pulled up to cover them. Across the room, several feet away, there was a small mound: his clothes. Just the thought of trying to get them made him all the more exhausted. He felt nauseous and concentrated on not vomiting – at least until he had moved and was out of danger of drowning himself.
He'd saved the world from Lord Voldemort's rule. And now he was alone, in a prisoner's cell, crying because he was exposed and cold and all he wanted in the world was to put his clothes back on. It was the worst transition he could ever have thought he would make.
Hours. Hours it took to gain the strength to move, to sit up, and to crawl to his clothes that promised to protect him from this bitter cold. For hours tears froze on his face, wallowing in his self-pity, wondering what happened to the man he used to be.
The cold eased. It must've become daytime.
He was sitting up against a wall, clothed and done in. Insomnia kept him from sleep; the cut running down his abdomen hurt when he slouched, so he was forced to rest upright. Was it October? November? December? July? He didn't know and didn't care anymore. If he could die right now, that would just be okay. If he could know for sure that Ginny was all right, dying wouldn't hurt so badly. Nothing could hurt so badly.
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Okay, this is a VERY short chapter, but I couldn't see any way to continue without sort of leading into the next... part, I guess, and it wouldn't really fit.
Questions? Comments? Theories? You know I'd love to hear all of them and laugh... or raise my eyebrows, either way. This is, I guess, the chapter that leads to the end, which makes me sad, because I know it's exciting to reach the end of a story, but at the same time it's like, "Well, that one's done. Now what?" Yes, yes, the sequel, but this is so much fun with the original characters. It's all very depressing. Hell, I didn't even come up with the characters. I shouldn't be complaining when really it's up to JK to end the series and be depressed for a good while.
Anyway, that's enough ranting for today.
Love, Alex
(P.S.- Chatt, my computer won't let me review your story for some odd reason, so hopefully you catch this...
Obviously, I got too excited to type up chapter 2, and missed that part you so WONDERFULLY pointed out to me... Thanks! Yes, we all make certain typos that the computer doesn't pick up cos even after reading over it for mistakes, we're really reading it the way we hear it in our minds... And usually my brother reads over the Old Lot chapters, but I won't let him read this one cos I know he doesn't like anything remotely fluffy :-P So again, thank you, and yes, I love the first person point of view. It is very evident that you can get your ideas across better by writing it that way, and I think it helps keep your writing flow and make sense. Also, I'm a sucker for angst, as evident in the first chapter of Solitude, so I think you pulled that off really well. Good job!)