CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE IRON ANGEL'S SUMMONS
"Don't forget we're meeting up with Luna and Rolf for dinner tonight in Hogsmeade," Ginny reminded Harry as he adjusted his shirt and tie in the mirror.
March had rolled around and brought with it warmer days, but it was still cold enough where his robes were a necessity to fight the chill.
"I know. I've got everything to be covered in the office by four," Harry replied.
Ginny finished tying Lily's shoelace and turned to Harry.
"Alright, I'm going to drop Lily off to Mum's… I'll see you back here at four?" Ginny asked.
Harry nodded. Ginny leaned in for a kiss. Harry hugged Lily and kissed her on the forehead before mother and child headed to the fireplace, threw some Floo Powder into it and stepped inside the green flames.
"The Burrow," Ginny called out calmly. The fire roared and they were gone.
It had been a few months since they had spent time with Luna and Rolf as a couple. Luna and Ginny had planned the day first and told Harry and Rolf later.
As nice as it was to spend time with Luna and Rolf, Harry couldn't help but feel that right now, with all that was weighing on his mind, forcing himself to be excited for such an event was a burden.
For the first time since the Muggle riots had begun, Harry was one step ahead of Mara Greaves. Finally, he knew what her plan was. Curse him, which she had already done, and eventually lure him away from everyone to seal the curse. She wanted to steal from him his magic, in some twisted view of justice.
Harry had told no-one that he knew this. Not Ginny, not Kingsley, nor Ron or Hermione. He had decided almost immediately after emerging from Bethanie Bleet's memory that he would tell no-one and wait for the trap to fall into place. When asked about the memory, Harry divulged all the other information except for Mara's trap.
Meanwhile, he had been practising using as much of the wandless soul magic as he could manage. He had successfully cast each of the glyphs that Williamson had found in Castelobruxo, but he still felt like a novice. Boka was right; you couldn't explain how to use the magic. You just had to do it. Harry felt like he could tell when he was casting well and when he was casting badly, but the truth was, he had no idea what this magic was truly capable of and therefore had no idea whether he was using it to its fullest advantage.
Nevertheless, he spent many evenings and spare hours in the morning studying the glyphs and practising the magic. He now felt confident enough to cast protective shields, dispossess muggles and shoot projectiles created from magic without the need for a wand.
Once again, he would have to face evil alone to protect his family and friends. He was already cursed, but if he could help it, no-one else would be harmed.
He still hoped to be able to talk Mara down, to prevent her from making the same mistakes as her brother. Underneath the anger and the criminal activity, Harry saw a girl that was sad and in pain. He didn't want to force her into submission; having her willingly give up would not only be the best outcome for him, but for her as well.
And despite Harry knowing that Mara's version of events were flawed, he felt she still had some justification for being angry. When her brother had died, she clearly had not received the support she needed. Perhaps it was the responsibility of Hogwarts to ensure her mental health was sound, perhaps it was the responsibility of the Ministry covered by their duty of care. Whoever was to blame, someone—or perhaps, everyone—had failed her. She was just a child.
Now, she was drowning in misguided anger, grief and pain. Now, she had control of an ancient branch of magic and the fabled Grimoire of Dabria that was thought to be lost to time with revenge on her mind. She had become more dangerous than anyone knew it was possible to be, with magic that most of the world was ignorant to the existence of.
Thoughts of Mara and her spiral into the path her brother paved for her distracted Harry for most of the day. Unable to focus on anything active, he spent the day filing reports and signing off requests. Harry was informed by Hermione just after noon that she had set the trial date for the captured terrorist, who they still didn't have a name for.
The trial would take place on March 23, 2018, which was exactly three weeks from now. Harry had already sent a group of Aurors to Brazil to try and figure out his identity. It would be much harder to convict someone they couldn't identify and that would mean delaying the trial.
When Harry finally clocked out at four o'clock, he realised that by waiting for Mara's trap to fall into place, he had become overly paranoid of everything. How could she lure him away? What did she have planned for that, exactly? Could he expect an attack on the field? At home? Perhaps at a public place?
Harry thought about telling Ginny to cancel the plans, but that would involve explaining that he knew there was a trap being set up. He would not do it. He would not risk anyone else confronting Mara Greaves but himself. Not even his Aurors would get involved; Mara Greaves had made it obvious that this was personal. He would not risk one of his team being cursed (or worse) too.
When Harry and Ginny apparated to Hogsmeade an hour later, they had changed from their work clothes. Harry was now wearing his favourite, black-red robes with a fashionable dress shirt and trousers underneath. Ginny had donned an emerald robe, but it was the long, silver silk dress that got his attention.
They arrived at The Three Broomsticks at quarter to five. Luna and Rolf had already arrived and ordered some drinks. When Harry and Ginny greeted them and joined the table, Rolf motioned for Madam Rosmerta to come and take their food orders.
Luna has tied her usually long-flowing blond hair back into a bun, which Harry found odd. He wasn't sure he had ever seen Luna's hair tied back. Rolf on the other hand, had let his hair grow out since the last time Harry had seen him. His hair was now shaggy, with a bear as thick as it had always been. His yellow horn-rimmed glasses remained a fixture on his face.
Madam Rosmerta took their orders and headed off to give their order to the kitchen. The small talk moved along quickly and pleasantly, but Harry couldn't stay focused; his mind was elsewhere and there was a nausea festering in his gut.
He forced himself to pay attention when he heard Rolf say:
"So, we actually have some news."
"Oh?" Harry asked, so that they didn't think him distracted.
Luna grinned at Ginny and spoke in a hushed tone.
"It's not public yet but… we're expecting," Luna blushed.
Ginny's eyes lit up. She made a noise that Harry could only describe as a whisper-squeal.
"That's so great!" Ginny gushed in an undertone.
Harry was happy for Luna and Rolf; he pushed his distractions to the back of his mind.
"Congratulations," he said to them both, then raised his glass, "To many more sleepless nights and enchanting knuts out of noses."
The four of them laughed as they clinked glasses and toasted.
Luna told them that she was five months along. Ginny and Luna discussed the insane possibility of another set of twins. Harry and Rolf exchanged horrified looks.
When Harry and Ginny returned home around nine o'clock, Harry's head was pounding.
Probably one firewhisky too many, he thought to himself though he knew that it wasn't the alcohol.
He had been feeling the pressure all day; a knot in his stomach, passing headaches. He wondered if one day soon he would be pulling grey hairs from his head.
Ginny was in a very good mood. She leaned on him flirtatiously as she removed her heels and tip-toed up to Harry barefoot, kissing him on the lips.
"We've got the house to ourselves," Ginny pointed out, with a knowing smirk on her face.
Harry flushed. She was so beautiful. She never diminished, not even for a moment.
He wanted to reciprocate her intimacy but his head was pounding harder and harder.
He frowned; Ginny backed up.
"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked.
"Just a bit stuffy," Harry sighed, opening his tie and tossing it aside. He rested his arm against the wall; the nausea lurched in his stomach.
"Harry?" Ginny asked again. He looked at her. She blurred.
"I'll be alright… just a minute…" he said, but it came out in gasps.
Harry felt heavy; his stomach was raging, head thumping.
Harry lost which way was up. He felt himself falling.
"Harry!"
Harry was swimming in a void of consciousness. He saw nothing but blackness. A whispering voice itched his ear canal.
I own your soul, Harry Potter. Come to me at Godric's Hollow and receive your judgement from the Iron Angel. Or I will come to you, and destroy anyone who gets in my way.
Mara Greaves' voice had never terrified him before; but this time it was visceral and sinister. This wasn't the sad Mara from Bethanie's memory. This was Mara, consumed by Dabria's magic.
I own your soul, Potter.
The voice echoed before fading into indistinguishable whispers again. The blackness dissipated.
The fog cleared.
Harry looked up at Ginny, sweat matting his hair. He was lying on the floor. He sat up.
"Harry, are you alright?"
Ginny watched him with trepidation. She looked terrified.. Harry took a deep breath and held her hand.
"M'fine, Gin." Harry pulled himself up. He still felt dizzy. The room spun as he took a few breaths.
"Sit down, Harry."
"Can't," Harry mumbled, "Something I gotta do. Letter I forgot to send. Auror business."
Harry moved towards the door. Ginny moved ahead of him and blocked his way.
"Cut the crap, Harry. I know you're lying to me. What's going on?"
Harry couldn't explain now. He needed to go. Alone. Before anyone had any ideas of joining him. He wouldn't let that happen.
"Ginny, I told you. There's an important document I forgot to send off," Harry lied, "I'll be back in twenty minutes."
Harry grabbed his coat.
"I know you're lying to me, Harry," Ginny stated flatly, "You just collapsed. Don't patronise me."
The tone made Harry wince. He hated lying to her. He hated that she so blatantly knew he was lying to her. But what else could he do? He made for the front door, even though every fibre of his being told him to turn around and explain to Ginny what was going on.
"Wait -"
"I won't be long. I love you," Harry forced out, and then opened the front door, stepping outside. The cold and wet air hit him.
"Harry, I -" Harry heard Ginny call from inside the house, but Harry didn't hear the end of the sentence. He twisted into the air without looking back and vanished.
