Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Sistat Inter Bitu pe Marvos
Chapter Two
The Sorrow of Partings
The Order of the Phoenix meeting had degenerated into something of a slanging match. People left, right, and centre were professing their disapproval at the latest attempts at proving the letter had been faked. Harry just stood silently by the door, watching the ensuing chaos; he was fairly sure he could've left the room and that his absence wouldn't have been noted even though he was the subject of the meeting. He was getting bored and hungry, and it was time to shut these people up.
Bang!
A sound akin to that of a nuclear warhead interrupted the argument. Several people had removed their wands and now stood looking for the source of the noise. 'Mad Eye' Moody sent a rather nasty curse in the general direction of the noise, which impacted the wall slightly to Harry's left and blew a hole the size of a human head through the concrete. Harry was extremely glad it hadn't hit him.
"If you've all finished," he said loudly. "I think you've misunderstood the subject of this meeting. I didn't come here to ask for permission to go, I came here to inform you that I will be leaving."
"Potter, how can you be sure Albus wrote this?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"I can't explain it. I just know," was all Harry could answer, which sounded stupid even to himself. Several of the Order members politely informed him they, too, thought that response sounded stupid. Curiously enough, Moody seemed inclined to agree with Harry.
"I've known Albus a great deal longer than most of the people in this room, and I agree with Harry. This letter has Dumbledore written all over it. Hell, even the i's are dotted with little smiley faces. How many of you can imagine Voldemort drawing smiley faces on his letter?." Moody chuckled at his own joke. "Minerva, come and have a look at this will you? You knew Albus even longer than I did. Does it look real to you?"
"Indeed it does," McGonagall confirmed after reading through the letter. She then took the list of names from the envelope and ran her eye down that too. "I know several of the people on this list also. I've met Stan MacFusty before, he's one of the elder members of the MacFusty clan of the Hebrides Islands and well known for his prowess at charms. He lost his arm in an accident with a rabid Herbridean Black several years back and is known as 'One Armed' MacFusty; silly name if you ask me. Marques Torres is also known to me: he used to be an Auror for the Brazilian ministry until he lost his wife. I understand that he's become something of a recluse. I must admit, however, that I've never heard of this Ieuru. Albus never mentioned him to me, though I suppose that could be explained by the Oath of Secrecy he says he'd taken. All in all I'd say that this was definitely written by Albus. There's no doubt about it in my mind at least."
"I know Torres, too," Moody said gruffly. "He worked with several of my colleagues during a case while I was still in the forces. Rather nasty business, involving an escaped South American convict who murdered a muggle during the last war with Voldemort. My colleagues spoke rather highly of his abilities. I don't know this Ieuru either, though. It's a strange sounding name, that it is. You should be careful of this one, Potter, make sure you know what your doing before you even attempt to talk to him."
"Alastor, you can't seriously be considering letting him go!" Molly Weasley's voice interrupted loudly. "He's not even finished school, how on earth do you expect him to be able to survive in foreign countries!"
Harry opened his mouth to respond but Moody beat him to it. "Potter is of age and can do whatever the hell he likes, Molly. We can't force him to stay here." Molly looked affronted and ready to continue the argument, but Moody gave her no chance. "Are you trying to say that Dumbledore didn't know what he was doing? Albus wouldn't have proposed this if it wasn't necessary."
"We don't even know that Albus did propose this!" Molly exploded. "For all we know Harry could be walking straight into a trap."
"For Merlin's sake, Molly!" Moody lost his temper. "Nobody in this room knew Albus longer than Minerva and she's already confirmed that this was letter was written by Albus'. Even I agree with her. Me! What more do you want?"
"I want proof, Alastor." Molly persisted. "And I won't let Harry go anywhere until I have it."
Harry had heard enough. "With all due respect, Mrs. Weasley, you couldn't stop me even if you tried. This whole argument is stupid and futile. I'm leaving tomorrow whether I have your permission or not."
"But Harry, listen-"
"No, Mrs. Weasley. I know you're only trying to protect me, but my mind is made up." Harry watched as Arthur gently soothed a teary eyed Molly back into her chair. Harry felt slightly horrible at the way he had spoken to her, but it had needed saying, or the argument could easily have lasted all evening and possibly into the early hours of the morning. Molly Weasley is not the kind of woman who backs down from a fight easily. Ron looked as though he didn't know whether to be angry or awed at Harry talking to his mother in such a way.
"Potter, where do you plan on going first?" questioned Moody.
"I plan on taking Albus's advice," Harry answered. "He thought that learning to defend myself should be my highest priority and I'm inclined to agree with him."
"See, Molly, he's got a good head on him." Moody complemented him. "You'll not have to worry about him."
"What do you plan on doing after that?"
"Well, Dumbledore thought I should visit Ieuru after that, and I was planning on taking his advice." Harry noted Moody's frown at the mention of Ieuru. "Ieuru and Torres are the two that Dumbledore seemed to want me to see the most, and said straight off that they're the first two people I should go to. I was thinking I'd only go to them. That way I won't be away for too long, and perhaps I'll be ready to do something in this war."
Moody looked back down at the letter in front of him for several minutes before lifting his head and looking directly into Harry's eyes. "You better look after yourself, Potter. There's a hell of a lot riding on this."
"I plan on coming back, Moody," Harry said, determinedly. He looked right back into Moody's eyes as he said it. "I plan on coming back and taking the war to Voldemort."
"I have no doubt about that, kid. No doubt at all. You'll do just fine," Moody said, somewhat proudly. Harry couldn't help but feel happy at the praise.
Harry took a seat at the table while Moody commanded the Order to start preparing things for his trip. He was aware of several people staring at him with thoughtful looks. Harry suspected they were thinking him an idiot for falling for such an obvious trick. Harry knew, though, that this was not a trap, he knew that this letter was real. Mrs. Weasley looked as though she wanted more than anything to shout at Harry and demand that he change his mind about going, but Ron kept her occupied and for that, Harry thanked him.
"Potter, do you have a passport?" The sound of Kingsley's voice snapped him back to attention.
"No, I've never needed one," he answered. "Do wizards use them too?"
"Of course we do, otherwise it would be pretty easy for dark wizards to get about wouldn't it?" Kingsley didn't wait for an answer before he threw a fistful of powder into the fire and left in the resulting green flames.
The members who had been listening to Kingsley question Harry resumed their conversations and Harry drifted into a stupor. He knew he should feel happy that the Order had been so easily persuaded that he should leave for awhile, but the time apart from his friends had come a lot closer.
"Harry, can I have a word please?"
Harry turned to see who had asked him the question. It was Remus Lupin.
"Yeah, sure." By the look on Remus's face it looked like he wanted to talk in private. "Shall we go to the drawing room?"
Remus nodded and they left.
The drawing room was eerily quiet after the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. Despite his wish to talk with Harry, Remus looked as though he didn't plan on speaking any time soon. He stood before the Black family tree looking more worn than Harry had ever seen him. Remus's hair had more stands of silver slowly taking over his natural light brown. His dull eyes never moved from the burn mark of the tapestry where Sirius's name had been. Harry wondered if a full moon was close.
"Sirius always felt bad about turning his back on his family, you know," Lupin eventually said. "He felt like he should have stuck with them through thick and thin."
"But they were evil!" Harry exclaimed.
Lupin slowly nodded his head. "Perhaps, but Sirius had been raised with the notion that family was to always come first. Despite their dark choices, the Blacks were a close knit family. Sirius was treated well by them in his early years."
"But if he'd grown up with his family ideals he would never have been friends with you or my dad," Harry pointed out.
"True, very true. It's for that reason that I'm glad he didn't embrace his family's dark beliefs. It was his friendship with your father that led his mother to treat him differently: there was a great deal of animosity between the two families."
"Why?" Harry questioned.
"I believe it had something to do with dealings long in the past," Lupin answered. "I'm afraid that's as much as I know. Sirius and James were not too forthcoming with the story, if they knew it at all."
Lupin turned again to the tapestry and observed it for several minutes before taking a seat in one of the plush armchairs. "Take a seat, Harry," he directed. Harry did as he was asked. "It's because of family that I wanted to talk to you, Harry," Lupin continued solemnly. "I have to fulfil a promise I made to Sirius before he passed."
Harry's heart still twanged at the mention of his godfather's name. "A promise?" He questioned.
"Yes, Harry, a promise. Sirius asked me to make sure you were given something left behind for you on your seventeenth birthday. He had long since given up hope on living through this war: Azkaban drained him of a lot more than his memories. He told me that before you mother and father went into hiding James had asked him to mind something that was to be given to you on your seventeenth birthday. The package was sealed and Sirius told me that he had never opened it, so I'm unsure of what it contains." Has he was speaking he took from his pocket a small package of brown paper and handed it to Harry.
Harry handled it tentatively, not knowing whether he wanted to open the package. It was the thought that it was something of his parents inside it that eventually made him open it. He pulled the strings that held the package together with shaky hands, and slowly the paper fell open.
He held in his hand a beautiful ring crafted from the purest gold. An engraving in Latin lined the outer edges of the otherwise plain ring. Harry was unsure of the meaning and looked at Lupin for an explanation. "I believe, Harry, that it translates to Pride in Honour. It was the Potter family's motto: what you hold there, Harry, is the Potter family ring."
Harry looked back at the ring. He had doubted that he would ever be able to hold the Potter family ring; he had believed that it had been destroyed when his father had fallen at the hands of Lord Voldemort. He felt a renewed sense of loss and hoped once more that his parents could be with him today. He held the ring tightly, unwilling to let it leave his grasp ever again. Then, with the slowness of care, he placed the ring on the middle finger of his left hand. The ring grew warm for the barest of seconds before it once again cooled.
"Are you ok, Harry?" Lupin asked tenderly.
"I'm fine. I just wish my parents were here," Harry replied in a tight voice.
"As do I," was Lupin's simple reply. "I believe I've done what I was required to do. I can leave you on your own for a while if you wish."
"No, I'm fine. Stay if you want to."
Lupin, who had started to rise from his chair, sat back down once again. "Are you looking forward to seeing other countries?"
"I think I'd much rather stay here to be honest," Harry said truthfully, "but I'll do whatever I must to bring about Voldemort's end."
"You'll be fine, Harry. As Mad Eye said, 'you have a good head on you.'" Lupin once again started to rise from his chair. "I'm afraid I really must go, Harry, I have business to attend to. I don't think I'll be here tomorrow, so I think I should say goodbye now."
Harry also stood. He walked over to Lupin and enveloped him in a manly hug. "Thanks, Remus, for everything."
"You
welcome."
"Goodbye," Lupin said as he made his way to the
door. "I hope everything goes well for you."
"Goodbye, Remus," Harry muttered as he watched the retreating back of his fathers last remaining friend.
With the meeting ended, the members of the Order started to vacate the room. Harry noticed the Professor McGonagall sitting alone at the end of the table. Far from wearing her usually mask of sternness, the Transfiguration expert looked tired and weary. She had been close to Albus, no doubt she had not been sleeping well. She didn't even notice that she was being stared at by her ex-student; she just gazed bleary-eyed into the flickering flames of the fire, recalling times long past. Neither did she note his presence even when he stood close to her chair and coughed lightly to gain her attention.
"Professor?" he said softly so as not to startle her. He had never seen the professor look so distant before, never seen her look so old. She turned her head lethargically in his direction.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I didn't see you there," She replied in a weary voice, lacking the sternness Harry had become accustomed to, and difference weighed heavily on him. This aged-looking woman, who before the death of Dumbledore had looked to be suffering no ill symptoms of age, had been his head of house for six years and helped him with many of his problems. That she looked in desperate need of help and that he knew he could do very little to help her was difficult for Harry. "Can I help you with something?"
Harry locked eyes with his old Head of House, something most students would find hard to do. "Are you ok, Professor?" he asked tenderly, not wanting to seem like he was prying.
"I'm fine, Mr. Potter," she assured him, before noting his look of disbelief. She turned her gaze back to the fire once more and sighed softly. "I'm - I'm tired, Mr. Potter. I've had a long week."
"I was going to have a butterbeer before going to bed, would you like one?" he asked.
A small smile graced her lips. "I'm sure I can keep my eyes open long enough to drink a butterbeer, Mr. Potter. I must say I haven't indulged in such things for a while."
He returned moments later with the drinks. He handed McGonagall one of the bottles before pulling up a chair and seating himself next to her. This earned him a raised eyebrow. "Are you feeling well, Mr Potter?" she asked with a smile.
"Me? I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"
"It's not everyday a student of mine sits down for drinks with me," she observed. "I believe it's the subject of some students' nightmares, however."
It was Harry's turn to sigh. "I've never been a normal student, Professor. I'll never be a student again."
"I must admit, I'll miss you next year. The trouble you bring the halls, however, I can safely say I won't." Harry smiled at the comment. Fond memories resurfaced in his mind.
"So, Hogwarts will be opening again?" he asked.
Another sigh escaped McGonagall's lips. "It's looking increasingly likely. I've been stuck in meetings with the Ministry all week hoping to strike some sort of an arrangement. I think we're finally getting close to a deal."
"I can't believe the Ministry was even considering shutting the school down." Harry shook his head. He couldn't imagine the wizarding world without Hogwarts. The school was a tradition of sorts, a place that every fledgling wizard or witch should have the opportunity to learn at, and it had been his home for the last six years.
"They're worried about security, and I must admit that I am too. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to the students. I'm not sure I could live with myself if a student died under my care." She absentmindedly spun the bottle in her hands as she spoke. "I would have let the school close if I hadn't known - hadn't known that Albus would have preferred it to be opened again." McGonagall looked close to tears. Harry didn't know what to say, and so remained silent. After a minute she shook her head slightly as though to clear it of the sorrow and spoke once more. "I think I've managed to convince the Ministry to spare a few more aurors for the protection of Hogwarts, however. I have another meeting with the Minister tomorrow, hopefully this one will be the last and I can start to focus on filling the empty vacancies."
"Still not managed to fill the Defence Against the Dark Arts spot?" Harry asked. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Hogwarts to find a teacher for the spot. Rumour had been flying around the wizarding world that the position was cursed, a rumour Dumbledore had confirmed to be true.
"I've already filled that position fortunately," she replied, sounding happy at the prospect. "At least that won't be keeping me in meetings for weeks. Some of the trouble Albus went through trying to get that position filled was ludicrous"
Harry was shocked by the news. Who would want to enter a job that was cursed? He voiced the question.
McGonagall looked downcast again. "It isn't common knowledge that the position is cursed; as far as I was aware Albus never told anyone but me; obviously I was wrong. He must have trusted you a great deal to tell you that." Harry smiled momentarily, the knowledge that Dumbledore had trusted him felt good. "That you think the curse could still be active tells me that he may not have told you everything, however," she continued. "Albus did a great deal of research on the curse, and he found that it could not be tied to a dormant object, but instead must be tied to a person who spends a great deal of time in the place they wish to be affected. Albus believed that Tom Riddle cast the curse on him while they were meeting. With his death, the curse failed, at least if he was right. One can only hope."
"So, who's the new teacher?"
"I trust you know of Zacharias Smith of Hufflepuff?" At Harry's nod she continued. "I've had the pleasure of knowing his mother for a quite a while. She was top of her year in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was the first person I sought for the job, and wasn't too hard to persuade."
They sat in silence for a while, each dwelling on their own thoughts. A sudden thought hit Harry. "You mentioned that there were still vacancies to fill. I thought Defence Against the Dark Arts was the only position in need of a teacher."
McGonagall sighed again, something she seemed to be doing an awful lot of on this night. "Unfortunately not. I'll be taking over the position of Headmistress so a Transfiguration teacher must be found to take over my old subject; I'm afraid I'll just be too busy to do both. With the war getting closer some of the teachers decided that they'd like to spend more time with their families. Professor Vector and Madam Hooch have decided to call it a day. Filius had been considering retiring; thankfully he decided to spare me the extra trouble of finding his replacement and will be staying on for a while."
"I'm glad to hear that, Professor," Harry said, and he meant it. Professor Flitwick had been a great teacher: the tiny, excitable man was certainly well versed in charms.
They settled into a comfortable silence. Harry sat, gazing into the flames of the fire, and remembered his time at Hogwarts. He would very much have liked to return to the school for his seventh year and to take his N.E.W.Ts, but he had bigger fish to fry. Eventually, he looked down at his watch, and was shocked to find it was almost the witching hour. "I should go, Professor." she turned to him and nodded.
"I wish you luck, Potter." And she looked as though she meant it.
"Thank you," Harry replied graciously. "Look after yourself, Professor."
With the decisions made and the sun set, Harry made his way to bed. He would need to start early the next day and wanted to get something close to a full nights sleep. Harry could scarcely believe that it was still his birthday, at least for the next ten minutes.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The warmth of his bed was welcoming. He found himself quickly drifting into a slumber. He was grateful that he had been placed in a room on his own, doubting that if he'd had to share a room with Ron he would be getting to sleep any time soon. He needed sleep: it had been a very long and tiring day. He'd had to break a promise to his friends, break up a skirmish between the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and all the while he had been wondering whether he had made the right decision.
And his day was not over yet.
Just as the last strands of sleep were about to envelope him in darkness he saw from the corner of his eye the door to his room slowly start to inch open. He reacted quickly, removing his wand from under his pillow he aimed his wand at the person entering. The words to the spell died on his lips. Ginny stood in the door frame. Her eyes where red rimmed and she looked worn and tired. She had been crying.
"Is it true?" she asked in a small voice that trembled.
Harry, who's mind was still clouded by the sleep he had almost achieved, could not think of what it was she might mean. "Is what true?"
Ginny walked a little further into the room and stood in a pool of light cast down by the sole lamp. "Is it true you're leaving?"
She looked so hurt, so alone and weak, and yet Harry could not bring himself to lie to her. "Yeah. I'm leaving in the morning."
At his words her shoulders stated to shake. "How long will you be gone?" Her voice was even smaller than the first time she had spoken. Despite the low volume in which the words were spoken Harry could hear the emotion in them.
Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure," he said. "A long time."
"But you will be back won't you?"
Harry's hand tightened on his wand. "Yes, Ginny, I'll be back. I'll be back to make Voldemort's life a living hell."
Ginny, who shuddered at the use of the Dark Lord's name, suddenly looked at Harry with a gaze filled with hopefulness. "And when you get back, will there be a chance... for us?"
The look she was giving him was so full of hope it made him feel terrible. He wanted to lie to her, wanted to make her happy. He couldn't lie to her, though, couldn't let her live her life waiting for a man that would never be ready for her. He knew they stood no chance, he just knew. He looked once more into her hope-filled eyes and sighed. "I don't think so, Ginny. We've had our time. I don't think there's any going back."
He watched as Ginny shoulders shook more vigorously. He watched as her tears trickled stripes of wetness down her face with excruciating slowness. He listened as a low sob escaped her lips, the sound like a hook being forced between his ribs and ripping his still-beating heart from his chest. He watched as she brought her hand to her mouth to still the sound of the heartbroken sobs that would undoubtedly follow the first. He watched as the girl he had loved turned on her heel and left. He watched and more than anything wanted to follow her, to hold her in his arms and whisper reassurances in her ear. Yet he could not bring himself to move. His limbs felt heavy and the weight of the guilt of knowing it had been he who had been the one to cause those sobs kept him still.
He tried to persuade himself that there was some tiny semblance of hope that they could be together once he returned. He failed. He was leaving the next morning and didn't know when he 'd be back. He knew the years they'd be apart would change them. and the love they shared would grow weaker over time, the hurt and pain he had caused her would slowly ebb away.
He lay motionless in his bed long into the night, all hopes of sleep gone. He listened to the passing cars, and the gentle murmur of the few remaining Order members chatting in the kitchen.All the while, he repeated in his mind that Ginny would get over him and move on. Their time had passed.
A/N: For information concerning the website I share with Le Rob (where chapters tend to appear first) please visit my bio page.