Chapter 32: Very La Strange
The last time Harry had danced had been at his wedding. He had participated in the obligatory newlywed dance with Ginny. Ginny'd had no problem leading as they danced to A Broomstick Built for Two. After, Ginny danced with Arthur Weasley, and Harry sidestepped propositions from both Molly and McGonagall to stand in for his mother and sat out.
Harry was awful at dancing.
—And he always had an excuse not to dance. Ron detested the activity, so Harry always had someone to talk to. Ginny was perfectly happy to dance with Neville. Neville was an excellent dancer. Ginny, Hermione, and his wife Hannah fought over Neville at social events while Harry and Ron discussed Quidditch or work—anything not to dance.
Harry loathed dancing.
So he was confused when he felt the elated butterflies in his chest as Albus led him gracefully to the center of the floor. Harry felt as if he'd been rehearsing this dance for months and was about to perform it perfectly in front of an audience who'd never know just how much fun it was.
His mind interrupted. You don't know how to do this dance! You're dancing in front of a room full of people! You hate dancing! At least, he mused, no one's watching. He remembered the blur of indistinct people he'd seen on the dance floor. There must be some spell on it.
So, he didn't have to worry about a room full of people judging him. Only Albus. But he couldn't bring himself to be worried as Albus turned to face him.
There was no need to talk. Harry felt the music take him exactly where he needed to go. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the restaurant. Maybe it was just easy to mirror Albus's steps, but Harry found himself a very competent dancer.
And there was nothing awkward about dancing with Albus. He was surprised to find that he hardly had to pay attention to the steps at all. He followed Albus, and enjoyed the feeling of turning and exchanging dips, and even clapping.
Harry tried to fix the moment in his memory, but before he was satisfied that the memory would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his life, the music had ended. The band was silent, and Harry didn't notice until Albus moved to escort him off the floor again.
When they were seated once more, the floor began to fill up again, and the band started to play again.
"So what did you think?" asked Albus.
Harry hesitated. "Thanks for showing me."
"And did you enjoy it?" asked Albus, his eyes flashing.
Harry felt his face growing warm, and tried to respond with nonchalance. "Yes, I did."
He very suddenly decided he needed to regroup.
"Er, would you mind if I went to the loo?" he asked.
"Certainly not."
"Alright. I'll be back in two secs. –and if I'm not, come save me," he joked.
Harry rose from the table and headed off to find a bathroom. It only took a moment of craning his neck to find a subtle but clearly lit sign that said "Restrooms." He ducked through the mess of indistinct people and reached a little arch that led to the restrooms. On his left was a door do the Women's Room, and on the right was the Men's. The alcove with the restrooms was sheltered from the music and din of the guests. Harry paused a moment to savor the silence, but heard someone crying in the women's room. He wondered how anyone could possibly be upset in a place like Comede Noctem.
He went into the men's bathroom (which was just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the restaurant) did his business, and wandered over to stare at himself in the mirror.
He looked good.
The vest of his plaid suit was slimming, and the combination of the vest and his pale green shirt made his posture look strong and carefree. The green matched his eyes.
When he was in school, his features had been almost gauntly pale. His work as an auror, besides the occasional stake out, had him working mostly indoors. After spending several months living in a forest, he'd developed a healthy glow. During the two years before he applied for the Hogwarts job, he'd made a point of spending a lot of time outdoors. He flew his broom a lot, took trips to the wilderness to practice his powers, and even traveled when his venture capitalism permitted (which was a lot of the time). Instead of the haunted, paranoid, remnant of the Boy Who Lived in the future, he was a colorful, carefree man.
His past served to remind him how lucky he was, but he hadn't realized how much he'd changed until then, in his plaid suit, in Comede Noctem, in the mirror. This man laughed easily—danced, even. He hadn't even checked his Dragon soup for dark wizards. His shoulders weren't weighed down with the stress of measuring his every action lest it be published unfavorably in the Prophet. Harry Crockett didn't have boundary and commitment problems with a whole country of wizards- he just had Albus.
He studied his face. There were fewer lines over his brow—and, of course, his scar was missing.
He'd always liked his scar, despite its origin. He often lamented having to hide it. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, the scar was back, fixed in the middle of his forehead. He smiled, and noticed a pair of dimples that had formed in his cheeks. Those were new.
The door opened, and he looked down, pretending he was washing his hands. A shadow appeared behind him.
"So you haven't been kidnapped? I was beginning to worry."
Harry spun around and found himself face to face with Albus.
"Er, sorry," said Harry. Albus peered down at him through his half-moon glasses for a moment before reaching up and touching Harry's forehead. It took Harry a moment to realize that he was tracing his scar.
"For something created by a horrible curse, your scar is beautiful." Harry raised an eyebrow under Albus's touch. He wouldn't exactly have described his scar as beautiful. "Why do you hide it?"
"It was the only thing I liked about my appearance when I was a kid," said Harry, "but everyone in the future knows me by my scar. I've had it since I was a year old. I was famous for it. I can't risk…you know."
Albus pulled his hand away, nodding. "Shall we?"
Harry nodded and hid his scar with a wave of his hand. They pushed their way through the door and back out into the antechamber facing the women's bathroom. There was still someone crying. Harry saw Albus frown. Harry noticed that the crying had gotten louder and more intense.
"She was crying when I came in," said Harry. Albus's frown deepened. "Hold on," said Harry. He closed his eyes, and reached out with one of his auras into the woman's restroom. There was only one person in there. Whoever it was was scared, upset, lost, and alone. The strength of the emotions was disturbing.
"I think she's in trouble, Albus. She could be hurt. I'm going in. Guard the door?"
"May I ask why?"
"Women's restroom."
Harry hadn't had a problem going into women's restrooms since his second year, but he didn't want anyone to walk in on him in there. Albus nodded and Harry pushed the door open slowly and peeked in. The sound of anguish attacked his ears. He immediately located—
There was a little girl huddled against the wall opposite the sinks. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she rocked back and forth whimpering. Big fat tears dripped down her face and left wet stains on the knees of her purple dress. Her ringlets of black hair obscured her face, and the purple bow in her hair was dislodged, only holding on by a few strands. There were pearls scattered on the tile as though they'd burst from a strand.
Harry stood there for a moment, not really sure what to do. Panic rose within him. He'd been expecting blood and injury, not an upset little girl.
"H-hello?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could muster.
The little girl looked up and her startled eyes met Harry's. Harry blanched when he saw the heavy eyelids and…how had he not recognized the trademark black curls of Bellatrix Lastrange?
Then his father instincts kicked in.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "I'm here to help you."
Her blotchy face turned pinker. "I'm a big girl, I don't need help." It sounded rehearsed. It broke Harry's heart that this little girl thought she needed to be strong in front of Harry. He frowned.
"Well, in that case, will you help me?"
"Why are you in the girls' bathroom? You're a boy."
"I came in here because I needed your help. Now, I was wondering if you knew where I could find Mr. and Mrs. Black? Cygnus and Druella?" asked Harry.
He got her attention with that.
"That's my mum and dad," she said. "I don't know why you want to find them, though." She looked back at the floor and sniffed.
Harry pulled out the green handkerchief that had materialized in his vest pocket (wincing when he noticed that it was monogrammed HP) and handed it to her.
"Are they here?" he asked. She shook her head and blew her nose. "Did they leave?" She nodded, kneading the handkerchief. "What happened with the pearls?" Harry asked, sensing that they had been important.
"M-Mummy had a lot to drink. We went to the b-bathroom and she caught the necklace…on something. It broke, and she said it was all m-my f-fault," she stammered.
"Why didn't she fix it?"
"I dono," she muttered. "She ran out angry after…after…" she crossed her arms, covering her shoulders with her hands.
"Did she hurt you?" asked Harry. Under the hands covering her shoulders, Harry could see finger shaped bruises and finger-nail shaped scratches.
"Hmm," said Harry. "Can I bring my friend in here? He's really nice, and I think he might be able to help fix your mother's pearls."
She gulped and nodded. Harry turned to leave, but Bellatrix hiccupped. "Please don't leave," she whispered.
Harry turned back around and said, "Alright. I won't leave you. Wanna see a cool trick?"
She sniffed. "Yeah."
"Ok," said Harry. "Can you count to twenty?"
"I can count to two-hundred," said Bellatrix.
"That's fantastic," said Harry. "Ok, to get my friend to come in here, I need you to count to twenty. On 'twenty,' he'll come in."
"Is he a boy too?"
"Yes."
"And he can come into the girls' bathroom?"
"Yes."
"Ok. Onetwothreefourfive…"
Harry quickly reached out to Albus with his aura and poked him with as many "come hither" vibes as he could. He needed to come up with a way to silently verbally communicate.
"Fifdeen sixdeen sevendeen eighdeenninedeentwendy!"
Albus burst through the door in a panic, having gotten the message that he was needed. He spotted Harry and the little smiling girl and relaxed.
"This is my friend. You may call him—"
"Mr. D," said Albus.
"And I'm Mr. C," said Harry.
"You have funny names," said Bellatrix.
"Well, they're short for things," said Harry.
"Well, then, I'm Ms. B," said Bellatrix. "Only now I'm curious. Hmm, Mr. Dog and Mr. Cat? Mr. Dish and Mr. Cup? Mr. Door and Mr…"
"Curfew?" asked Albus.
"What's that?"
"It's the time you're supposed to be home," explained Harry.
"I don't have one of those. I'm not supposed to go out by myself."
"Well, then, we should get you home," said Albus.
"Are you going to fix Mummy's pearls?"
"Al—Mr. D, I told her you're very good at fixing things. Could you fix her mother's pearls?"
"Why, of course, Mr. C."
"And while he's doing that, I have a surprise for you," said Harry. "I need you to stand up. Can you do that?"
She stood up.
"Ok, good. Now, on the count of three, I need you to close your eyes and spin in a circle."
"Ok."
Harry scanned her body, finding the bruises and scratches on her arms.
"Ready?" asked Harry.
"Yep." She closed her eyes.
"One, two, three!" She spun in a circle, her purple skirt belling out slightly. As she spun, Harry healed all of her cuts and bruises.
He poked her arm.
"Hey!" She opened her eyes and looked where he'd poked her. "Wow! How did you do that?" she asked when she saw her cuts were gone.
"Magic," said Harry. "What's that on your wrist?"
She looked down to find a silver bracelet that hadn't been there before. "A bracelet! Wow!"
"If you ever get hurt like that again, put the bracelet on and the cuts and bruises will go away, ok?"
"Thank you," she said.
Albus stepped up next to Harry with a little box. He opened it. "Here are your mother's pearls." He closed the lid. "The string won't break again," he said.
"And now it's time to get you home," said Harry. "Would I be correct in saying you're staying at number 12 Grimmauld Place in London?"
"Yes. How did you know that?" she asked.
"Magic," said Harry. Albus looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Alright, well. I'll pay the bill and we can be on our way."
"Ah, Mr. C? I think you'll find that Mr. F has already paid the bill. I myself have never been able to take it from him. He's very sneaky about it."
"What? But it must have been Galleons and…"
"Money means very little to Mr. F."
Harry grumbled.
"Who's Mr. F? Mr. Faucet, Mr. Famous, Mr. Ferret…Is there a Mr. E too? C, D…F? I know the alphabet, you see."
She pushed her way out of the bathroom, significantly cheered up.
"Who is she?" asked Albus.
"Bellatrix Lastr—Black," said Harry. "She's staying with relatives at 12 Grimmauld Place."
"How do you know?"
"Voldemort's staying there, too."
"Why do you call him that?"
"It's a little more distinctive than 'Tom,' though I'll slip that one in occasionally 'cause he hates it so much."
"I doubt I'll ever be able to call him anything but Tom," said Albus.
"To his face, you never will," said Harry, pushing his way out of the bathroom behind Bellatrix. "And you'll be one of the only ones to call him 'Voldemort.'"
"What will others call him?"
"Well, his followers call him 'the Dark Lord' and such. The older people I knew called him 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' and younger people just called him 'You-Know-Who.'"
"Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself," said Albus.
"That's what you always said," Harry smiled.
"Did I? I don't recall," Albus joked.
"When did you come up with that mantra anyway?"
"It was an uncommon truth out of an otherwise evil man I once knew."
Harry understood and dropped the subject.
They followed Bellatrix's bobbing curls through the carefree dancers and diners out into the courtyard. They went through the courtyard, soaking up its magic, and stepped through the gate. Their clothes didn't change, and the magic of the restaurant clung to them as they moved away from the glowing archway.
"Have you ever side-along apparated before, Bellatrix?"
"How did you know my name?"
"You told me earlier, remember?" lied Harry.
"I don't tell my name to strangers. I said my name was Ms. B."
"You're right. You caught me. I know your name because I know your parents," said Harry, backpedaling.
"Ok."
"So, have you ever side-along apparated?"
"No. I'm not allowed."
"Why not?"
"Mummy says so."
"Well, it's the fastest way to get you home. Would it be alright with you if we apparated you home?"
"No. You'll tell mummy."
"I won't tell her if you don't tell her," said Harry.
"Ok," she said, cheering up. "How do I do it?"
"Just hold on tightly to my arm. Don't let go." He reached down and let Bellatrix grab his forearm. He sturdily but not painfully grabbed her arm just above the elbow. Albus put his hand on Harry's upper arm.
"Ready? Take a deep breath. This is going to feel a little weird. Why don't you count to three, and then we'll go."
Bellatrix nodded solemnly and began counting slowly. "One. Two. Three."
The three of them disappeared. Harry tried to get them there as quickly as possible to spare Bellatrix from an excess of the feeling of being stuck through a tube. In doing this, their journey was instantaneous. There was hardly any sensation at all.
No sooner had they reappeared than Bellatrix was bubbling over with enthusiasm. "That was so cool! I can't wait until I learn how to apparate. Can we do it again?"
"I believe it is time to get you home," said Albus. He let go of Harry's bicep as he peered around the urban nightscape.
"It's this house over here!" said Bellatrix, pulling Harry by the hand.
They went through the iron gate and approached the door. Bellatrix paused.
"What's the matter?" asked Harry.
"I'm going to be in trouble," she said glumly.
"You have your mother's necklace," said Albus. "Don't forget to give it back."
"I'm not sure I want to go…"
Just then the door burst open, and the three people standing on the stair flinched backward. A wide man stood in the doorway, this bowtie loose and untied around his neck. The cummerbund from his tux missing.
"What the ruddy hell are you doing at the door at two in the morning?" Harry could smell alcohol heavily on his breath. The large man caught sight of the little girl. "Bellatrix!" He turned to Harry and Albus. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAUGHTER!" He turned back to Bellatrix. "GET INSIDE. I'll deal with you later. What were you thinking, running off like that. Idiot child." He grabbed her arm and flung her around his massive body and into the house. Harry heard a feeble squeak. A woman began to shout somewhere in the house, but Harry's view was blocked.
The hulking man rounded on Harry and Albus. "I'll deal with you NOW!"
Harry felt Albus's aura fumbling around and latched on. The message was clear.
Run.
They ran, stumbling down the stairs, through the gate, and out onto the street, curses ricocheting after them.