CHAPTER 18
Grimmauld Place
Harry and Ron Apparated into the alley on Grimmauld Place with quite a bit less grace than either would have hoped. They had been flying rather fast as they passed through the gate, and Disapparation had done little to cancel their momentum.
Harry felt his feet strike the ground, but before he could even think of trying to balance on them, they were violently yanked out from under him. The next parts of him to hit the pavement were his legs and hips, giving him just enough time to see just where this pattern was headed. Instinctively, he curled his arms over his face and braced himself for the worst. In the fractions of a second before he slammed into the ground, he could hear a panicked shout from Ron. Unlike Harry, he would have enough time to fully appreciate what a collision with concrete would feel like.
As Harry's ribs and shoulders struck the ground, excruciating pain shot through his body. In one instant, the silent darkness of his protected head was filled with blinding light and a deafening ringing sound. He felt suddenly weightless, then dizzy, and then another burst of pain shot up his body from his legs. It felt as if the world was spinning around him. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not, and he couldn't hear anything through the shrill screaming coming from the back of his head.
The world slowly stopped spinning, and settled on simply throbbing around him. He felt himself gasping for air, and realized that his eyes were already open. He couldn't see anything but a bluish haze. After blinking a couple more times, his weak consciousness suggested a cause: his glasses. He tried to sit up and look for them, but none of his limbs were cooperating. He was able to move his head slightly, so he looked around. There was a large fuzzy shape not very far from him. It wasn't moving.
The ringing in his ears slowly faded and was replaced with an incomprehensibly muffled tone. Whatever it was, it was getting louder. His hearing sharpened more, and he was able to make out words.
"Who are you?" a large blur was saying. It was black, with a light colored part on top of it, framed by a large browning blur. Hermione, his mind told him. Harry squinted his eyes, and realized that she had her wand out and pointed directly at him. He tried to answer her, but couldn't do much more than cough.
"Get up!" she commanded. Harry tried to but as soon as he put any weight on his arm, hot slivers of pain shot from his elbow to his shoulder. He collapsed on the ground again, gasping.
A second shape ran up behind Hermione. This one was topped with a longer crimson blur, obviously Ginny. "He's hurt!" she cried.
The two shapes bumped into each other. "He's one of them, Ginny!" she shouted. "Aren't you?" she added sharply. "You work for Grigore Tarus, don't you?"
"Not anymore," Harry replied through clenched teeth. His arm was beginning to throb, making it difficult to think of anything but his arm.
"Tell me your name," she demanded.
"His name is Harry Potter!" Ginny shouted angrily as she finally pushed past Hermione. A second later she was crouched at Harry's side and trying to slip his glasses back on his head.
"He's— but..." Hermione stammered. "I mean— How can you be sure?"
Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position and cautiously prodded his other arm. "The thing Ginny threw into the tower, the Eggsplosion, I gave it to her. I nicked the only two of them from her brothers' shop in February. Of course, I didn't know they were the only ones, but I couldn't really return them, could I?"
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because thieves don't usually feel bad and return stuff," Ron explained from somewhere behind Harry. He walked to where Harry could see him. He looked no worse off than Harry, but not all that much better either. "It would have been suspicious. Fred and George would have gotten curious."
"While we're talking about curiosity," said Harry, "we might want to think about going inside. Those two Muggles look a bit worried and the last thing we need is the Ministry snooping around here."
Harry couldn't quite figure out Hermione's expression. She looked almost frightened. Or was it ashamed. She turned to look at the Muggles down the street. A pair of men in suits and a woman holding a bag of trash. They were looking at each other as if they were trying to decide whether to ask the other two if they had seen the same thing.
"Who cares?" Ron commented. "Let the Ministry come. I'd rather deal with them than the others."
Hermione was shaking her head. "No. It'll be worse if they find him," she said weakly. "I'll— I'll go talk with the Muggles."
"You might want to put up another Discouragement Charm while you're out there," Harry croaked. "I'll be less twitchy without Muggles walking past the front door."
"We're staying here?" Ginny asked. "Won't they come here looking for us?"
"Why would they do that?" Harry responded as he inspected his wand for damage.
"It's not hidden anymore," Ginny replied immediately. "The whole Order knows it's here. Charlie knew it was here. The Death Eaters know about it, too. Who knows how many people know about it?"
"The Death Eaters know that the Order was here, but they abandoned it before Dumbledore died. The other members of the Order know about it, but no one would have guessed I still use it. They know you three come here. If I was around, you'd have spotted me, right?"
"But the Brotherhood—" Ginny started to argue.
"I never mentioned this place to them," Harry said. "Not even to Josef. They don't know about it. I tested that quite a few times. If Grigore has been waiting all this time to surprise me, then he's too daft for us to worry about." Harry paused a moment, looking a little more troubled. "Unless, of course, you told him," he added, looking at Ginny.
"Never," she answered, shaking her head.
"Then we should be safe here —for a while, at least," he said.
"You're certain?" Ginny asked worriedly.
"Yes, Ginny," he replied with a smile. "We're fine. Relax. This might be your last chance to do that for a while. Everything is alright, now. Except for my arm. I don't think I landed quite right. "
After a couple of failed attempts at helping Harry to his feet, Ginny gave up and let Ron haul him up. Once Harry was on his feet, Ron flashed a bright smile and clapped him on his uninjured arm. "I knew you'd be back," he said.
"I never left," Harry replied, trying to return the same smile. Unable to maintain it, his face fell back to a wince as he, Ginny and Ron walked toward Number Twelve. Hermione was busy talking to the Muggles, but it only seemed to be making them more agitated. Harry caught two flashes of light followed a few seconds later by the sound of her running back to join them.
"Oh, I see," Ron said in an annoyed voice. "When Harry shows up, you'll Obliviate Muggles without a second thought, but when I defend your honor, it's suddenly a horrible crime."
"Defend my honor?" Hermione replied. "Are you still sore about that? He asked me if I'd like some flowers!"
"He smiled at you and offered a bloody great pile of flowers!"
"That's what he does, Ronald!" Hermione replied sharply. "He sells flowers! And you gave him green scales and antlers!"
"Nosy git deserved it," mumbled Ron. Harry found himself laughing, and for a few seconds he forgot the pain in his arm.
Inside the large mansion, Ginny instinctively led them to the kitchen. She pointed her wand at a nearby loaf of bread, slicing it evenly and having it flop itself on a nearby platter.
"Good idea," Harry said as he slowly sat down at the table. "I don't think I've had a decent meal in days."
Hermione knelt down to get a closer look at Harry's arm. "Ron, if you'll help Ginny with some food, I'll try and see if there's anything I can do with this."
Ron and Ginny scoured the pantry, and found a large baked ham to go with their bread. They managed to find a small assortment of fruits and some old bottles of butterbeer, as well. It wasn't going to be a feast, but Harry didn't mind at all. In truth, his mind wasn't really on food at the time. His mind wasn't on much at all. It was busy trying to deal with the pain of Hermione poking and prodding his arm.
"It's broken," she finally announced. "Pretty badly, too. Do you know how you want to fix it?"
"A broken arm?" Ginny called out from the fireplace, where she was busy toasting bread. She narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Oh, I know just the thing for that." She stood up, dropped the toasted bread on a different platter and then proceeded to sweep everything off the table into a clattering heap on the floor.
"Lay him on the table," she ordered. "Then, we'll tie him there with escape-proof bindings and strip him down to his shorts."
Ginny heard a knife drop to the floor behind her. Ron had turned about and was giving her a bewildered look, while Hermione goggled at Ginny from her position on the floor.
"I said I was sorry about that," Harry grumbled.
"Sorry about what, Harry?" Hermione asked. Ginny turned and blinked innocently at Harry, waiting to see what he would say.
"I—er... It's not important right now, is it?" he replied. "I have a broken arm, and we've got a lot more pressing matters than swapping stories about the past."
Ginny looked like she was about to start doing just that, when Ron sat down next to her with a platter of the ham in front of him. "You saved Ginny and Hermione's lives, so I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that," he announced. "I do want some answers, though."
Harry nodded. "I assumed you would."
"Right, then. First, I just wanted to be clear: that was you talking to me after the match last week, wasn't it?"
Harry simply nodded.
"Polyjuice Potion?" Ron continued.
"It was the only way," Harry commented as he watched Hermione casting spells on his arm. "I had no idea how long the match would last, and Ginny was the only person who would have been let out onto the pitch."
"I'm sure it made perfect sense," Ron said in a strained tone, "and because you just saved my life, I'm going to try my best to avoid imagining just how you got into Ginny's clothes."
There was a flash of light, and Harry let out a pained shout. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" he said through clenched teeth. "Could you pay a little more attention to what you're doing?"
Hermione glared at him. "I'm not a Healer, Harry," she snapped. "If you're going to complain, you can go to St. Mungo's. Hold on. You can't do that," she added sarcastically. "You'd have to let the world know that you weren't dead and you couldn't even stand to tell your own friends."
Harry looked at Hermione, then over at Ron. He could see the question in their eyes. Ginny had been the same way. It was natural, after all, and if they were going to help him, they'd be better off knowing the whole story —or at least most of it. Harry reached for a butterbeer with his working arm and started talking.
"It all started the night after Voldemort was destroyed..."
Ginny sat and quietly listened to the story Harry told them. It was very similar to the one he'd already told her. In some cases, he shared some extra details that Ron or Hermione prompted him for. In other cases, he left out some details that seemed important to Ginny. He didn't mention watching Ginny on the platform at King's Cross, the fact that he'd been giving Brotherhood members special training, or anything about the Veil under the Castle. She began to keep track of the omissions, certain that there must be some reason why he didn't want to reveal them yet.
Of course, Hermione and Ron had no idea anything had been left out. For the most part, Hermione seemed unsurprised by the whole story. She had finished mending his arm and sat next to Ron, listening to Harry as though he were filling in the history of a story she'd heard long ago. Hermione only began asking questions once Harry started talking about how Tarus had manipulated the Ministry.
Ron on the other hand, appeared to be interested in almost everything. The idea of the Brotherhood was a new thing to him, and the thought of Harry being one of them was even more unbelievable. By time Harry had gotten to the story of the attack on the Ministry, Ron had adopted the focused attention of someone who was trying to memorize every last bit of information.
He took the true story of Charlie's death better than Ginny expected —better than she herself had. Ron immediately understood what had happened, and reassured Harry that he was not to blame.
"Charlie was doing the right thing," Ron said solemnly. "He was trying to keep us all safe, and so far, it's worked. I think he'd be pleased with that."
Once Harry began explaining the things that had happened since then, Ginny noticed that more things began being left out. Harry even went so far as to skip over Ginny's visit to the Veil. Instead, he simply said that Tarus announced himself to her, and asked her to join them. As he spoke, his eyes gave her a warning glare.
The message was clear. There was something Harry didn't want to tell them. As he began explaining the discussion with Dragomir and Andros, Ginny thought back, trying to find a pattern in the things Harry was most protective about. The only thing that seemed certain was the fact that he felt uncomfortable about the Veil. Tarus had been terribly interested in it as well. What had she seen that was so important? It had only confirmed that Voldemort was dead.
"Hold on," Ron said, interrupting Harry's explanation of that afternoon's attack. "You're saying that the Brotherhood was there to turn me into some sort of bargaining piece? What about the Aurors? Why were they looking for Ginny?"
"I think they were looking for her because Grigore convinced them to," Harry guessed.
Hermione seemed to know better, though. "They were looking for Ginny because Reynard ordered them to," she corrected him. "He's convinced that she's one of them, or at least that she will be one of them soon. He planned to capture her and either force her to become a spy for him, or use her to control Tarus."
"So, Reynard is on our side?" Ron asked.
"No," Hermione answered. "No, I think he's on his own side. He practically controls Scrimgeour already. I wouldn't trust him unless we had something he really wanted."
"What about the Death Eaters, then?"
"They were after the wand," Ginny announced.
Harry's head jerked toward Ginny. "You saw them, then?"
"Yeah, Harry," she said as she rubbed her throat. "I think I saw a couple of them."
"How do you know they want the wand?" he asked intently.
"Just a good amount of intuition," Ginny answered dryly. "I figured they might be after it when a pack of them chased me down, choked me against a tree and demanded to know where the wand was."
"The asked you?" Harry questioned. He looked over at Hermione, but she was staring down at an uneaten slice of toast. "Why do they think—"
"Oi! Hold on," Ron called out. "Am I the only one who doesn't have a bloody clue what wand you're talking about?"
"They're talking about Voldemort's wand," Hermione explained, without looking up from her toast. She leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. "The Death Eaters have been trying to get the wand for almost a year now —since last Halloween."
"Since the day I turned on Grigore," Harry added.
Hermione nodded. "Of course, we didn't know that at the time. We thought it held some other significance. The Brotherhood didn't make itself known until just after Christmas."
"—the day Grigore started making his plans to use Ginny," Harry interrupted again.
"On New Year's Eve, a single wizard walked into the Ministry demanding to talk with Reynard. They made him wait for two days before Reynard decided that anyone who would wait that long had to have something important to say. That wizard was the first Brotherhood wizard anyone had seen for years. Reynard talked to him for hours, and when they were done, he called in all of the Unspeakables. He closed off six of the Study Rooms: The Time Room, the Chamber of Magical Anomalies, the Hall of History, the Death Room, the Hall of Prophecies, and the Vault Room. You need his approval to get into any of them, now."
"Do you think the Brotherhood warned him of the Death Eaters?"
Hermione laughed. "We didn't need that warning. The Death Eaters had already tried to get the wand three times by then." She looked up, but didn't face Harry. "There were all sorts of rumors about what Reynard had learned that day. Who knows if we'll ever learn all of it. One of the first rumors was that the Unspeakables had been sent out to find Harry." Hermione wiped at her cheek and took a short breath. "It— It was just a silly rumor, though. No one really believed it.
"It didn't take long before we all heard more reliable stories about the Brotherhood. Some people had even been given access to the Hall of History to try and find any more information about them. We thought they were our allies back then. Some of us still do, and some of us are too confused to know what to think.
"The only part I got to hear directly was about the wand," she said in a clearer voice. "Reynard himself told me. He himself assigned me to work on Voldemort's wand. He thought it was a job I would be well motivated for. He came in one day, and told me that I had to follow new security rules when I worked with the wand. I was given access to the Vault Room, but only when I was working with Voldemort's wand.
"I asked him why things were changing and he agreed to tell me." Hermione paused to take a deep breath. "He told me that he'd been informed that the Death Eaters had learned of a new spell to resurrect Voldemort. The primary component of that spell was his wand."
"Did he say what the other components were?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded silently. She looked back down at her toast, and continued. "It also called for, er... blood of that which had housed the soul, I think he said."
"Blood?" Harry interrupted. "I thought it was just part of something which had contained his soul."
"That's what the Brotherhood told the Death Eaters, but it was a mistranslation. They don't want the Death Eaters to succeed any more than we do, but it's only a matter of time until they figure that out. The blood's a little tricker. No one ever found Voldemort's body, but maybe the Death Eaters have some of Nagini's blood, or even some of Quirrell's. It's possible that the ink of the old diary might work, if the Malfoys kept that. But the last component, it— it wasn't supposed to be possible. I didn't know why Reynard even cared..."
Harry could see another tear running down Hermione's face. "What is it, Hermione?"
Hermione finally turned to face Harry. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot. "The last component is... the blood of wizard who killed him —all of the blood."
Harry stared back with a sober expression. "That's what it always comes down to, isn't it?" He shrugged, and said, "It doesn't really matter. They'd have to kill me anyway. I'd never let them follow through with it."
"But, it couldn't work, could it?" Ron asked. "I mean, he's really dead, right? You can't bring someone back with magic."
Hermione gave Harry a strange look, then turned away to face Ron. "No, you can't. Voldemort is gone. Nothing could bring him back."
"But, if that's true, then why would they even waste their time trying?" said Ron. "If it doesn't work, then how could anyone come up with instructions for it? Is it some sort of joke?"
"That's possible," Hermione replied. "The Brotherhood might have invented it just to get the Death Eaters' help. It's also possible that it might work if Voldemort still had part of his soul in a horcrux. He couldn't have been the only wizard to use them, and it seems likely that someone else made this spell to return such a person from their death-like existence.
"But that doesn't matter, anymore. A lot of Death Eaters had a rough time when they failed to try to return Voldemort last time. I don't think they really care if it's impossible. If it doesn't then there won't be a Voldemort to punish them, but if it does work, they will be one of his loyal followers. Considering the spot they're in, there's really no other choice.
"The problem is that it seems the Brotherhood double-crossed the Death Eaters. We think they promised to help the Death Eaters get the wand if the Death Eaters helped set a trap for Harry. That was the whole purpose behind the attack that day. But everything went wrong. The Brotherhood betrayed the Death Eaters and tried to take the wand for themselves. The Death Eaters discovered what had happened, and betrayed the Brotherhood, turning the quiet ambush into a wizarding battle. Charlie betrayed them both, tipping me off about what was going to happen, and in the process, letting Harry know just when the attack was going to happen." Hermione looked over at Harry again. "You were waiting in my office all that time, weren't you?"
Harry nodded. "As long as you had that wand, you were in danger. If the Brotherhood came for it, I think they would have left you alone, but the Death Eaters..." His voice trailed off, letting everyone reach the obvious conclusion. "When you came back and started packing it up, I knew that they must be coming."
Ron dropped a piece of ham and stared at Harry. "You stole Voldemort's wand from Hermione?"
"I didn't steal it," Harry said, "I kept it safe. I never wanted it, but I couldn't let the Brotherhood or the Death Eaters have it either. It was better to have it simply disappear."
Hermione leaned forward. "That was a fine plan, Harry, but you should have given it back to the Ministry."
"Oh, right," Harry laughed bitterly, "I should have just left it with the guard at the gate, then? Or should I have given it to Reynard, and let him auction it off to whoever would give him the most power? Who could I trust? No matter who I give it to, it has to go to the Department of Mysteries. With all that you know now, you have to know that the wizard who runs the Vault Room, Marcus Lipton, is a member of the Brotherhood. His partner is Reginald Updike, one of the security wizards. If I returned it, they would have known." Harry took a moment to catch his breath.
"There is only one person in the Department of Mysteries who I could trust with such a thing, and that was the one person I was trying to keep it away from. If I gave you the wand, it would only provoke another attack. I trust you, Hermione, but I don't trust any of the rest of them."
Hermione frowned. "Maybe you're right, but— Well, it's no better now, is it? It doesn't take much to see what happened, Harry. The only reason we couldn't is because no one knew you were alive. The Death Eaters found someone in the Department who would talk to them. They know the Ministry doesn't have the wand, and the Ministry knows the Death Eaters don't have it. Two weeks ago, the Death Eaters demanded the wand from the Brotherhood. They denied having it, and they've just told the Ministry the same thing.
"Don't you see, Harry? They all know you've got it, now. No good can come from you hiding it. The Ministry is close to arresting Ginny just because they think she might know where it is. The Death Eaters will kill any of us to get it, and the Brotherhood is using it to force you out into the open. Just give it back to the Ministry," she pleaded. "The Brotherhood never wanted it in the first place. They just dangled it in front of the Death Eaters to get their help. They didn't plan on giving it to them the last time, why would they do it this time? The Death Eaters never broke into the Ministry without the Brotherhood's help, and even if they did, who cares? Voldemort is gone. They can't resurrect him. They can't even get the other components."
Harry sat for a moment, thinking. Everything she'd said sounded reasonable. It sounded intelligent, even clever. It was the sort of response Grigore would have thought of before he became corrupt and evil. It was the perfect plan, and yet, some tiny voice in the back of his mind was whispering a dire warning. There was some unforeseen danger.
"No," he said more strongly than he'd meant to. "If the Ministry gets the wand, something horrible is going to happen."
"What happened to you, mate?" Ron remarked. "You sound like that old bat, Trelawney. How do you know something bad's going to happen? Tea leaves? Crystal ball?"
"It's not Divination, Ron," Harry shot back. "It's... it's not the future. It's—" he paused to rub his head, "—it's right now." His eyes opened suddenly and Ginny found him staring directly at her. "The wand has to stay hidden. She's— We're all in danger if Grigore or the Death Eaters get a hold of it."
Hermione's gaze slipped from Harry to Ginny, then back. "Alright Harry," she agreed slowly. "We'll keep it hidden. Where is it now?"
Harry's eyes locked onto Hermione. "It's in the safest place I could think of."
She didn't mean to. The moment Harry finished talking, Ginny's eyes darted over to the locked cabinet Harry had refused to talk about. She knew it was a mistake, and she pulled her eyes away from it a second later. It was too late. Harry, Hermione and even Ron had noticed.
"She's wrong," Harry announced. "It's not there."
Hermione frowned and wrung her hands. "Harry," she began with a soft voice, "we can't help you protect it if you don't tell us where it is."
"And I can't protect you if you if I do tell you where it is," he retorted. "I know the kind of wizard Reynard is, Hermione. If he's looking for the wand, you won't be able to keep it from him. If Grigore finds out that any of you know where the wand is, he'll get it just as easily. Trust me, Hermione. For now, the wand is safe right where it is."
"I'd trust you more if I knew it were locked in a vault in the Department of Mysteries," she replied. "We could get Lipton and Updike sacked. What could be safer than that?"
"He'd know, Hermione. He got into the Ministry before," argued Harry. "No. It's safer where it is right now, and it'll stay there for a hundred years if it has to. Alright? I'm not going to argue about this any more."
Hermione sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Ron kept his eyes on his plate as he picked at the last bit of ham. The room became suddenly quiet. It was a crushing silence. Even the fire seemed to die down in obedience of his command.
Ginny couldn't stand it. "So, what do we do now?" she asked.
"Nothing," came the response from Harry. "I need to relax. I have an arm that needs to mend. We both need to eat. Ron and Hermione need to think about how they are going to explain their sudden disappearances tomorrow. Tonight, we all need to rest."
"And tomorrow?" prompted Ron.
"Tomorrow we're going to be busy," answered Harry. "I need to speak with the goblins. This place is safe enough for anything we need to do in London, but who knows where we're going to need to go next. I'll try to sneak into Knockturn Alley, as well. There is a pair of thieves I know there. Perhaps they can keep an eye out for the Brotherhood."
"I could do that," Ron chimed in. "I've got the day off. Or, at least I did have the day off. They won't be able to reschedule that match. The season's over. I can't imagine they've got anything for me to do."
"I've got other things for you," Harry replied. "I need you to go to Hogwarts. Find Lupin. Don't say anything specific. Just tell him..." Harry trailed off as if he were thinking. "Tell him to keep an eye on the Shrieking Shack. That should be enough."
"Is that all?"
"Er, no. There is one other thing," Harry admitted. "I need you to find Dobby and convince him to come here." Ron frowned in mild distaste, but nodded his agreement.
"What about us?" Ginny asked, hoping for some excuse to avoid the Ministry the next day.
"You and Hermione need to go to the Ministry and convince everyone there that everything is alright," he said to her dismay. "It'll be Sunday, but after what happened today, I don't think you'll have trouble finding someone to talk to. When you're both done, you should come back here. Ginny should—" Harry paused and perked up in his chair.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"
Harry now had a troubled look on his face. "Ginny... last week you told me you had a pub friend who said he and his friends would be willing to help us."
"Er, yeah," Ginny replied. "Albert. He said he'd help me if I was ever in trouble."
"Do you trust him?"
Ginny thought for a moment. There were several types of trust. "He's not dishonest," she said, sounding defensive from the start. "He's always been kind to me. He already knows about the Brotherhood, so we wouldn't have to explain that. He's helped me hide from them before. He knows about Tarus and he doesn't like him. And he hated Henri D'Anneau."
"I like him better already," Harry commented dryly, "but can we count on him?"
"Apparently he shows up at that pub every day like clockwork."
Ron nearly choked on his butterbeer. Harry merely frowned. "That's not really making me feel any more confident, Ginny."
"Listen," she said apologetically, "he does drink quite a bit, but he's got a good heart. He can be a little... erratic." Before Harry could complain, she quickly added, "—But he always knows what's going on and what he's doing." She could still see the doubt growing in Harry's eyes. "He wants to help, Harry," she told him. "It can't hurt to let him try."
"Maybe not us, but are you willing to let him risk his life and the lives of his friends?"
"He's not a coward," she replied sternly, "and he's not an idiot. He knows what he'd be getting into."
Harry let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine," he said heavily, "see if you can talk to him tomorrow evening. See how quickly he could gather his friends." Harry grabbed a piece of toast and a slice of ham.
"I need some time alone to think," he announced. "I'll be in the study." As he walked out, Ginny heard him muttering, "Dumbledore formed the Order, but all I can do is scrape together a few goblins, a house-elf, a werewolf, and the drunken brigade."
Ginny, Ron and Hermione stayed in the kitchen for some time. Ron and Hermione tried to get more explanations from Ginny, and she obliged them with some of the more minor questions. She didn't mention the Veil or anything about Harry that he hadn't told them himself. Something told her that he was still hiding something from all of them, but she decided to simply trust his judgment for now. Perhaps she could ask him later that night.
Sometime after the sun set, Harry walked back into the kitchen looking tired and a little confused. No one asked him any questions, and he didn't begin talking. Instead, he sat down and ate some of the food they had prepared. When he was finished, he pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair.
"I forgot to thank you for something," Ron said.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? What would that be?"
"I got my wish," Ron replied with a smile. "We didn't lose our last match."
Harry returned the smile. "No, you didn't. Of course, it wasn't anything to be proud of either. Now, if you could play every match like you did against Dunham, you would have had a shot at the national team."
"How do you know about the Dunham match?" Ron asked incredulously.
"I've watched all of your matches," Harry revealed. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "For that match, I was Dunham's reserve Beater. Their real Beater was unconscious in some inn in Ireland. He thinks he was there." Ginny saw a familiar light in Harry's eyes that made her smile for the first time in days.
"It was almost a disaster," Harry added. "If the match would have lasted any longer, one of Dunham's Beaters was going to fall off his broom and I would have been forced to play."
"You were disguised as one of the players?" Ron laughed. "That's brilliant! And they never noticed?"
"Of course not," Harry said with a shake of his head. "But then, neither did you when you played the Tornados. I was your backup that match. Don't you remember? You told me I'd done a horrible job with my guards." Harry let out a short burst of laughs. "I had one of them on backwards, of all things. They're not at all like the ones I wore as a Seeker."
Ron burst out laughing, eventually earning some laughter from Ginny and Hermione as well. Ginny thought back to that match. That was the first time she'd met Henri D'Anneau. That had been the start of all of this. She looked up at Harry's face, and remembered seeing it at the match. The smile faded from his face as if he knew what she was thinking.
She was wrong. It hadn't started then. It had started long before; she simply hadn't been paying attention. It had started a year ago, when Harry had slipped off to simply watch her as she waited to get onto the Hogwarts Express. It had started because he wouldn't let her go. Somehow, that was a comforting thought.
"I think I need to try and get some sleep," Harry announced. "I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed." He stood up and began walking to the stairs.
Ginny mirrored him, saying, "I should get some rest, as well."
"Where are you going?" Ron called out to her.
Almost at the same time, Harry and Ginny stopped and turned. "I said I'm going to bed, Ron," Ginny answered.
"With him?" Ron blurted out. Hermione glared at him and hissed something under her breath.
"Yes, Ron," Ginny replied stiffly. "Harry and I are both going to sleep."
"We'll be going then," Hermione announced. "If you need to get a message to me, send Ron. Whoever is watching me will be used to seeing him."
"Actually, I'd feel a lot better if you two stayed here, tonight," Harry suggested. "There are plenty of rooms and Kreacher knows to keep away from us. I— If you're here I won't have to worry about you."
Instead of leaving, Ron and Hermione followed Harry and Ginny up the stairs to the first floor of bedrooms. Ginny completely ignored Ron's protests as she followed Harry into the same bedroom she'd been sleeping in for the last week. After closing the door, she had hoped to be able to speak with Harry, but he was already slipping into bed. She decided to let him sleep. There would be plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow.
Ginny awoke the next morning to a dim, dreary room. The curtains were open, but that only served to expose the room to the gloomy skies. Harry was sitting in the chair across the room, staring at the floor.
"Did you sleep alright?" Ginny asked.
Harry's head jerked up. "Not as much as I had hoped," he answered.
"Are you alright?"
"I— I don't know," he said. "I think so. I think I could use a good month or two of rest."
"I think we all could."
Harry stood up and paced about impatiently for a few seconds. "I'll feel better once we can gather the Order again. Grigore is going to start a war, and right now, we're terribly outnumbered."
Ginny slid out of bed and padded toward him. "It'll be alright, Harry," she reassured him. "There's still plenty of time." She looked at a nearby clock and decided that she didn't have much more time before she needed to leave for the Ministry. Hermione was probably already awake and ready.
"I'm going to go get ready," she told him.
"I'll be here," he said vacantly.
Ginny gathered some clothes and walked off to get ready for the day. After a relaxing shower and a few minutes of brushing her hair she felt quite a bit better than she had for some time. She even smiled as she walked back to the bedroom. She, Ron, Hermione and Harry were reunited. Nothing felt impossible when they were together.
As she came to the corridor leading to the bedroom, she found Kreacher standing in the middle of the hallway, levitating a large, dusty painting of some severe-looking old warlock.
Ginny stopped only feet from the elf. "Kreacher, what are you doing?"
He stopped what he was doing, and scowled at her. "Kreacher is decorating," he sneered.
"Did Harry tell you to put that up?"
"If Master does not want it up, let him tell Kreacher himself," he replied, "—not through some filthy blood-traitor."
"Fine," Ginny huffed as she walked past Kreacher. As she got closer to the bedroom, she realized that Kreacher had put up a dozen paintings already. Almost all of them were portraits of Sirius's ancestors and not the kind of things that Harry would have allowed.
Harry had been pacing about the room, trying to figure out just what he needed to do next. Grigore must have some other plan. When Harry had first met him, he never did anything without at least one backup plan.
Ginny burst through the door, looking a little annoyed. "Harry, did you know that Kreacher has been putting up all the old Black family portraits?"
Harry didn't respond, and instead strode out the door and into the corridor. Just as she'd said, he found Kreacher affixing a painting of one of Sirius's great-grandfathers to the wall between two broken mirrors. Surrounding it were other painting, many of which were much older, though all of them held the images of dour looking witches and wizards.
"Kreacher, take these paintings down," Harry commanded gently.
Kreacher rolled his eyes. "Must Kreacher? Does it truly matter to the Master?"
"It does," Harry said firmly. "Take them down, Kreacher."
Kreacher looked from Ginny then back to Harry. "Kreacher will take them down after the Master has some breakfast. Perhaps his empty stomach has given him his sour mood."
"Kreacher—"
"Oi! Harry!" Ron called up the stairs. "You'll want to take a look at this!"
Harry sighed and glared at Kreacher. "Take them down now, Kreacher," he ordered, then turned and walked down the stairs to see what Ron was talking about.
When Harry walked into the kitchen he found Ron and Hermione dressed and seated at the kitchen table. They had made a large breakfast, including a steaming pot of tea which looked rather inviting. At the moment, however, they were both leaning over a piece of folded parchment. "What is that?" he asked.
"It's the Prophet," Ron replied. "There's a story about what happened yesterday. Take a look, Harry. It says we're dead." Harry frowned and walked toward the table.
"I was dead once," Ginny commented from somewhere behind him. "It wasn't so bad."
Ron looked up long enough to smile, but Hermione was less amused. "It's not funny, Ginny," she scolded her. "Twenty-eight people died yesterday—"
"—Make that Twenty-seven," Ron corrected. "I think I'll pull through. You and Ginny are looking pretty strong, too, so maybe only twenty-five." Hermione frowned at him, but he was undeterred. "I guess this is what it feels like to be Harry."
"It gets old faster than you'd think," Harry remarked.
"Are you two done?" Hermione asked in a patronizing voice. "If you'd be reading instead of cracking jokes you'd see that this is more serious than we'd thought."
Harry leaned over the parchment and began reading. A second later, he felt a small arm reach around his waist and a saw curtain of red hair swaying next to him. He began reading but found most of it to be rather boring. It was the sort of article he'd gotten all too used to reading. He'd seen plenty of them during his time with the Brotherhood in Romania. He'd played a part in some of them. And now he began to wonder how many of the others were the work of his former colleagues. As he skimmed this article, his eyes stopped on something interesting.
This attack appears to be the work of a sect of Transylvanian wizards who have been conducting attacks against the Romanian Minister Grigore Tarus, who was in attendance at the match. Ministry officials believe that Tarus was the target of the attack, though he escaped without injury.
Luckily, a number of Aurors were also in attendance, under the direct command of Auguste Reynard. Reynard told the Daily Prophet that he was searching for another Ministry employee, Ginny Weasley, daughter of Arthur Weasley. He refused to comment on just why they had been searching, but survivors of the attack reported that Aurors had claimed Miss Weasley was dangerous and not to be confronted.
Unnamed sources at the Department of International Magical Cooperation told our reporters that in the two short months that Miss Weasley has visited Romania numerous times, and has been seen speaking with strange wizards on a number of occasions. She was spotted fleeing yesterday's attack with an unknown accomplice.
The most recent attacks bear a striking resemblance to a string of attacks which occurred in Giza during the World Cup Site Selection Conference at the end of August. In both cases, the target of the attack was Grigore Tarus. Both attacks are linked to Mr. Tarus's appreciation of Quidditch. Miss Weasley was seen fleeing the scenes of both attacks.
Aurors reported seeing her near the gate seconds before the area was ripped apart in a huge explosion. After hours of searching, the Ministry is reporting her name among the dead. No decision has been made about pursuing an investigation into her involvement with yesterday's events.
Harry could see Ginny's mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. The article continued on for a while, including some quotations from Scrimgeour about some increased security measures for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup Tournament. Ginny had already stopped reading. She flopped down in a nearby chair.
"They made it sound like it was all my fault," Ginny said darkly. She looked up at Harry with narrowed eyes. "It was Tarus, wasn't it?" she asked. "He did this. He's trying to keep me from talking to anyone."
"He's trying to keep all of us from talking to anyone," Harry corrected. "No one would believe that Ron or Hermione had any part in it. So he made sure everyone thinks they're dead. If they show up anywhere, he'll hear about it. And if he can kill them before then, then no one will ever ask any questions."
Harry paused for a moment. Kreacher had appeared suddenly, carrying a dusty old grandfather clock Harry had never seen before. As he shuffled across the kitchen, he stopped to look at the four of them, then let out a series of grunts which Harry assumed to be the sound of him laughing.
"Where did you get that, Kreacher?" he called out.
"Ah, the cellar!" Kreacher replied excitedly. "The secret cellar. Under the second sub-basement."
"Well, put it back!" Harry shouted, then thought better of it. "On second thought, toss it out with the rubbish, along with whatever else you've squirreled away down there!"
"Master is very wise," Kreacher called out from the stairs. "Kreacher does as master commands! Just as soon as he finishes with nice portraits!"
Harry shook his head. "He's mental. He must have heard the news that we were all dead. Let him be happy. It's easier to hide when no one is looking for you. Thanks to this—" Harry said as he picked up the copy of the Prophet, "—we only have to disguise ourselves. No one searches for the dead." As the parchment hit the table, it folded over, revealing the name of the intended recipient: Harry Potter.
"Ron," he said in a controlled voice, "where did you get that copy of the Prophet?"
Ron returned a confused look. "An owl. It got delivered just a few minutes ago." Harry backed away from the table and drew out his wand.
Hermione was standing up, now. She must have sensed the change in Harry's behavior. "What is it, Harry?"
"No one knows that I come here," Harry replied. "I don't have the Prophet delivered here. Normal owls can't even find me. And only Hedwig and Pig can find anyone in here. The house is charmed to hide us."
"You sure about that?" Ron asked. "This one didn't seem to have any problems."
"What you saw probably wasn't an owl at all," Harry replied. "It was probably an Animagus. It didn't come into the house, did it?" he asked. "It just sat on the ledge and made you take the Prophet." Ron nodded silently.
"What's going on?" Ginny asked.
"We're changing our plans," Harry announced. "We need to go. We need to leave right now."
"I thought you said we'd be safe here?" Ron replied.
"We should have been," Harry replied tensely. He was trying to keep his anger under control. "Somehow Grigore found out about this place. Someone must have told someone about it."
"The Order knows, but no one else," Ginny said. "Well, Charlie would have known, but if he told anyone in the Brotherhood, they've never acted on it. I've been coming here to hide for months."
"I haven't told a soul, Harry," Ron added. "No one even talks to me about you or Ginny."
"I haven't told anyone either," Hermione reassured him. "At the very worst, Reynard may know that Ginny comes here, but he'd never help the Brotherhood."
"That's spiffing," Harry growled, "but it doesn't explain how a Daily Prophet with my name on it showed up on that window."
"You think someone knows you're here?" Hermione asked.
Harry snatched the publication from the table and brandished it at her. "I think that's pretty convincing evidence, Hermione. There aren't many people who know I'm not dead, and the only ones who like me are standing in this room."
"What do you think it means?"
"I think it means the Brotherhood is coming to improve the accuracy of that article, and there's no time to debate it. Grab a cloak and follow me. We have to go, now."
Harry ripped three cloaks from their hangers and tossed them toward the table. He slipped one over his shoulders and bundled the remaining two together. As Ron, Hermione and Ginny slipped their cloaks on, Harry grabbed whatever he could from his cabinet and stuffed it into his pockets. When he was done, he strode out of the kitchen, hearing the others right behind him.
He walked quickly toward the front door, hoping that nothing waited for him on the other side. When he reached it, he stopped and waited for everyone to catch up to him. "Alright, we'll all have to Disapparate from the alley across the street. Ginny and I should be able to go directly to Gringott's at Diagon Alley. Hermione, you need to go to the Ministry and try to find some way to convince them that you and Ginny aren't dead or criminals. Ron, I need you to go to Hogwarts. Tell Lupin to start tracking down the other Order members. Don't tell him about me. Just have him gather the Order someplace —anywhere but here. Meet me at Gringott's Bank when you're done. The goblins will be expecting you, and they'll know to bring you to me."
As Harry turned to open the door, there was a soft crack which made all four of them jump. In a fraction of a second, they all had leaped backward and trained their wand on the small shape blocking their path to the door.
"Harry Potter!" Dobby cried out. "Harry Potter mustnot go outside!" he pleaded.
"Dobby!" Harry shouted in anger and relief. "What are you doing here? How did you know—"
"Mister Lupin sent Dobby to look for Harry's new Wheezy. He said Dobby could find her here, but Dobby finds much more than that!"
"I missed you, too, Dobby, and there's something I need you to do, but I don't have the time right now." Harry reached for the doorknob. Before he could turn it, Dobby had leaped up, wrapped himself around Harry's arm and started peeling his fingers back.
"Harry Potter must not! There are horrible wizards outside."
Harry let go of the door, and shook Dobby off his arm. "We can't stay here, Dobby," he shouted. "Grigore is a powerful wizard. He'll rip this place apart in an hour. We need to escape." Harry reached for the doorknob again.
"No!" cried Dobby. "Wait! Dobby will get help! Kind Lupin will help!"
"No, Dobby. I forbid you to tell anyone about me!" he said sternly. "Now, we have to go." Ignoring the doorknob, Harry pointed his wand at the door, and it flew open, revealing the dreary weather outside. Dobby let out a pained squeak and jumped behind Harry.
Standing in the center of the street was an old wizard in a long grey robe. On either side of him was a half circle of twenty or more wizards dressed in similar robes with hoods pulled up over their heads. Their wands were drawn, but pointed at the ground. Strewn about the street was a number of wet bodies. Harry hoped they were only stunned. The Brotherhood must have been waiting for some time.
"Harry, some of the— the bodies," whispered Hermione. "They're Obliviators."
"Good morning, Harry!" the old wizard in the center called out. "I had hoped that you would come out soon. I'm afraid we were starting to gather quite an audience."
"Did you kill them, Grigore?" Harry shouted back.
"Harry, I'm offended," he replied. "I receive no pleasure from killing."
"Maybe not, but it doesn't stop you from doing it. What would it matter? You're here to kill them," Harry shouted, pointing back at Ron, Hermione and Ginny. "Is killing twenty so much worse than killing three?"
"A wise question," Grigore replied, "but not the wisest. Tell me, Harry, is killing twenty thousand so much worse than killing three? Can we not at least agree that the annihilation of an entire culture is a greater act of evil than taking three innocent lives?"
"That's not the point, Grigore," Harry returned. "After all the people you've killed, do you think that killing three more is going to convince anyone that you're right? Do you think that killing them will keep the others from seeing the truth?"
"I'm not here to kill your friends, Harry," Grigore replied. "I am here to save them. If you are so certain that I am mistaken, come back to Romania with me and show me that I am wrong. I will see that your friends are safe."
"No. I know what your idea of discussion is, and I've seen how safe you keep the wizards you protect."
Grigore took a step forward and clasped his hands. "There's no more time for this, Harry. Your friends are in danger. You can't protect them, and you can't gather your allies fast enough to help you. Only we can protect them. Give me the wand and I can promise you that they will not be harmed."
"The wand? Why do you want it now?"
"I have never wanted it. You know that. But the Death Eaters do. We are not your enemy; they are. It won't be long before they find this place. When they come, they will not waste time talking. They will destroy the house and everything in it. They'll do anything to get the wand, but they won't negotiate with you. If you give the wand to me, I can bargain with them. I can see that they never get it, and never attack your friends."
"If you really wanted to help them, you could destroy them all."
"Yes, we could," Grigore agreed, "but that would only perpetuate the problem I am trying to fix. It would only unbalance the world even more."
"I won't go with you," Harry said stubbornly.
"And what about Ginny?" Grigore called out. "They are hunting her now, as well. Will you force her to join you in your never-ending escape? For a year you protected her from that, and now you'd throw that all away, and put yourself and the wand so close to her that—"
Grigore paused suddenly. Harry was caught off guard, and glanced around, looking for some cause. Grigore stood completely still for a few seconds, then slowly started walking back away from Harry.
"Ginny has been using this house as her own for months now," Grigore remarked. "Even at your most foolish you would never have put a thing so dangerous as Voldemort's wand so close to her. Just as you have not put it close to her now."
Harry felt short of breath. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he knew it wasn't going to be good. "Get ready," he whispered, trying not to move his mouth.
"You don't have the wand here," Grigore announced. "You're risking her life. If you die, they will hunt her as long as she lives. Please, Harry, I beg you. Come with us. I do not mean to kill you."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we will force you to come with us."
Harry began walking forward, and saw the other Brotherhood wizards tensing their arms and tightening their grips on their wands. "You know that I could stop you, Grigore," Harry said in a threatening tone. "That's what you're afraid of, isn't it?"
"It is not fear for my own safety, but for the safety of wizards everywhere," Grigore replied. "Yes, Harry, I do believe you could stop us. Will you do it? Will you prove to everyone that I was correct about you?"
"I won't play your games," Harry said as he began walking faster. "I'm going to leave, and I'm taking Ginny, Hermione and Ron with me. If you try to stop me, I will have to defend myself."
Ignoring every nerve in his body, Harry walked forward, hoping that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would follow him. He kept trying to convince himself that Grigore was too afraid of him to risk a real confrontation again.
As he neared Grigore, the other wizards began to close in around them. Harry knew that he had put himself in the worst possible position, but there didn't seem to be any other choice. At the same time, Grigore had no choice but to try and stop him, and because of that, Harry still had some hope.
When he was less than ten feet from Grigore Tarus, something finally happened. A pair of wizards jumped out from Harry's left side, and tried to grab Ginny and push her to the ground. She sidestepped the first, and Ron hit the second with some curse that dropped him to the ground. When Harry turned back to face Grigore, he found a wand pointed directly at his face.
"Do not make me do this, Harry," Grigore said in a shaky voice. "It does not have to end this—"
With a faint pop, Dobby materialized between Grigore and Harry. "You will not hurt Harry Potter!" he cried. He splayed his fingers and pushed his arms out. An instant later, Grigore was flying backward onto the street. With another fluid movement of his arms, a pair of invisible waves struck the other wizards, tossing them backward as well.
As the Brotherhood wizards struggled to find their wands and reorient themselves, Harry saw his chance for escape. "Thanks, Dobby!" he shouted as he ran forward and jumped over a groaning Grigore Tarus. He heard a triumphant squeal from the house elf as Hermione, Ron and Ginny followed him toward the alley.
A curse zipped past Harry's shoulder, scorching the bricks of the nearby building. He instinctively turned, and aimed his wand in the direction of the attack. There was no need. With a squeak and a wave of his hand, Dobby flipped the wizard into the air and dropped him to the ground. A second later, the street echoed with the surprised shout of another airborne wizard. Dobby's laughs were mixed with a pair of pained cries as two more wizards hit the street.
One of the wizards called out a warning. They knew Harry had reached the alleyway. Above the shouting and scuffling of boots on pavement, a new voice rang out.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry heard the dreaded sound of a gale rushing toward him. He ducked and spun around. He heard Ginny scream, and dove toward her, grabbing her and pulling her to the ground. Together, they slammed into the damp pavement, sending familiar jolts of pain through Harry's body as the world around him flashed a sickly green.
When the light faded, Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was alive, and he could feel Ginny's heart pounding in her chest. He rolled over and cast a quick Shield Charm, knowing it couldn't stop the Killing Curse, but not knowing anything else to do.
Hermione and Ron were still alive, too. They were flattened against the far wall of the alley. He didn't feel like trying their luck again. "Go!" he shouted. "You know where to find me!"
"Harry, stop!" shouted Grigore. Harry turned to face the old wizard, and found Dobby lying on the street with his face locked in a surprised expression -- Author: as he stared into the overcast sky. Grigore was standing only feet away, with his wand pointed directly at Harry.
"Go," Harry growled to his friends. "Leave while you can." Harry heard a pair of cracks as Ron and Hermione Disapparated. Ginny, however, remained on the street. "Ginny... Find Hedwig. You know where to go." Ginny didn't respond. She was staring at Dobby and crying silently. Harry stood up and nudged her with his foot. "Go on, Ginny. I'll be along shortly."
"I'll go with you," she replied firmly.
"Do not be foolish, Ginevra," Grigore warned her. "Do as he says. I have no desire to hurt you, but I will kill you if that is what it takes to accomplish my task."
"No," Harry said firmly. "No more. I'm tired of running from you Grigore. I'm tired of you threatening the lives of my friends and innocent wizards." He could feel a venomous rage building in his stomach, and he thought he could almost feel his wand crackling with energy.
A smile broke across Grigore's face. "Yes, Harry. Can't you feel it?" he asked in a silky voice. "The power welling up inside you? All your desires for vengeance and justice churning in your blood and giving you only the overwhelming craving for destruction? Is that what you're feeling now?"
"No," Harry answered defiantly. He watched as the rest of the Brotherhood wizards walked forward to reform a semicircle around him. He glared at them, but kept his wand on Grigore. "All I ever wanted was to live a normal life. Voldemort stole that from me. Now you're doing the same thing. If I have to kill you to end this, I swear I will."
"Then do it!" Grigore shouted. "Show me your righteous power! Demonstrate the potency of your wrath! Scourge me from this world! Prove me wrong by rending the ground and letting it swallow me whole. And when you are done, you will discover the truth. Another will take my place. And then another. And another, until your rage is great enough to swallow the whole world. And then it will."
"You're wrong!" Harry shouted. His vision was beginning to blur, though he couldn't tell if it was tears or the heat of his anger radiating from his skill. Harry gripped his wand tightly, and through a jaw clenched tightly with the effort of restraining his emotions, he commanded the wizards around him: "Stay— away— from me..."
From the pavement, Ginny watched Harry and Tarus. The rest of the Brotherhood wizards were slowly inching toward him like wolves waiting for a moment of weakness to press their attack. As they talked, Harry's breathing became more and more labored, and his face colored with controlled fury. His eyes narrowed and became bloodshot, making the green color of his eyes appear almost as if it were glowing.
She didn't know what to do. Harry told her to leave, but she was frightened about what would happen if she did, so she remained on the pavement, afraid to make any move that might distract Harry or provoke the Brotherhood wizards.
However, it didn't take long before she knew that the confrontation was not going to end well. Harry couldn't fight them all off, could he? As Harry raised his wand, she felt herself shaking with fear. Harry's mouth began moving, but his voice was dry and raspy. Ginny looked to Tarus, afraid he might have already cast some curse, but she found that Tarus wasn't looking at Harry at all. He was staring at the ground.
Ginny felt another shudder and realized that she had not been shaking at all. It was the pavement underneath her. Something horrible was about to happen. They needed to leave —immediately. In one fluid movement, she dove toward Harry, grabbed his leg, and concentrated on the lavish lobby where she had met Grimbok.
She felt the world around her disappear and be replaced by the choking cold of nothingness. A second later, she felt warm marble against her stomach. Harry stumbled, and pulled his leg free from her grasp. He took a few steps forward, then collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the marble floor, waking Ginny from the shock of her new surroundings. She twisted onto her back, and quickly pushed herself away from the approaching footsteps and up into a sitting position.
"Ah! Welcome again, Miss Weasley," Grimbok greeted her with a grotesque smile. "And good day to you, Mister Potter. Will you be making another deposit?"
Authors's Notes
Yes, I know. I killed Dobby. It had to be done. I swear.
The story is going to be getting a little darker now. We're only six chapters from the end now. Or rather: We're only six chapters from the sequel.
I've got a beta again, so chapter's should be coming along a little faster. Sorry for the delay. I've already sent Chapter 19 out for beta, so you should see that shortly.
