"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointestmy head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."
- Psalms 23
Dead
oO0Oo
Ginny Potter was cooking dinner for her husband. Well, more correctly, Ginny Potter was trying to fix the hole in the wall before her husband returned home from work and saw it. If there was one thing that had always bothered Ginny, it was her inability to cook for her family. Oh sure, Ginny spent galleons and galleons on magical cook books, Quik-Cook Charms, and Cauldron Crafts, but it seemed like the harder she tried, the harder she'd have to scrub the counters afterwards.
Seeing as tonight was a special night, namely the anniversary of their engagement, Ginny had thought to surprise her husband with a home cooked meal he hadn't made himself. But to her everlasting horror, the duck she had been attempting to stuff was obviously still alive. If she didn't know any better she would swear it had been jinxed! But in her zeal to debilitate the squawking bird, she had blasted the duck to smithereens, and in the process she had also blasted a hole through her kitchen wall.
Feathers littered the floor, along with various bits of duck, and the veggies had been hit by a stray curse, so they weren't going to be edible either. All in all, the kitchen looked like a war zone, and her husband was due home any minute.
Ginny ran to the living room, feathers swirling in her wake, to look at the family grandfather clock. Her eyes were instantly drawn to her husband's picture.
Oh Merlin! It said Travelling! With a frustrated scream Ginny raced back to the kitchen. She threw her arm out in a swooping gesture, banishing the disastrous dinner and its resulting mess. She still didn't know what to do about the hole in the wall.
"What to do. . . What to do . . ." she mumbled, rubbing her hands on her apron, her eyes searching the kitchen as if it held the answers.
Her eyes lit upon the old picture of a fruit bowl that had been in the kitchen for years.
"Perfect! I think it'll work!"
With a wave of her wand, the picture was hung above the hole, effectively hiding the offending gap. And it was just in time too. Ginny pulled off her apron, balled it, and threw it absently into the opened door of the kitchen pantry. So much for dinner tonight.
"Ginny! I'm home!" called the voice of her husband.
She met him at the door. He had just finished hanging up his outer cloak when he was accosted by an armful of Ginny Potter.
"Oomph! Well! It would sure be nice to be greeted this way every night Mrs. Potter!" Harry chuckled.
"Well I would greet you this way every night if every night was as special as this one Mr. Potter," said Ginny, leaning up to kiss her husband.
"Oh? And what's so special about tonight Mrs. Potter?" asked Harry.
Harry knew the exact moment he screwed up. It was when he had opened his mouth. Ginny froze in his arms, and if he hadn't had known that he had just made a monumental mistake, he would have sworn she had been hit with a body bind curse.
Ginny pushed herself out of her husband's arms and glared at him.
"What do you mean, 'What's so special about tonight'?" she said in a low tone. Harry knew that voice.
"Oh, Ginny, you know I'm just joshing you! How could you think that I would forget about tonight?" asked Harry, his own voice the epitome of sincerity.
Ginny didn't look half convinced, but Harry could tell that he had gotten somewhere. There was that little spark of doubt in her eyes. Now all he had to do was fan the flames. Besides, there were only three times a year when Ginny would get like this. It was either her birthday, their wedding anniversary, or their engagement anniversary. And since her birthday wasn't until sometime in the spring, and their wedding anniversary was in the summer, then fall marked the engagement anniversary. And that was how Harry Potter kept up with all the important dates. It was easier to remember seasons as opposed to dates after all.
Harry took her in his arms and held her gently against his chest. Resting his head on hers, he softly swayed them to a musical tune heard only by the couple.
"My silly little Ginny. Do you honestly think I'd forget about tonight?" he whispered.
He heard her sigh in content. He smirked against her fiery hair. He was good.
"How could you honestly expect me to forget about today? I should be offended," he chuckled.
She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry! But I was just so sure that you had for – "
Harry quieted his wife with a finger. "I could never forget the day I graduated the Auror program! It was one of the happiest days of my life Gin!"
The change was instantaneous. Gone was the doe eyed woman swooning within his arms. Ginny pushed herself out of Harry's arms hard, causing Harry to stumble back a bit. Harry wasn't surprised when she looked like she wanted to slap him either. But then she saw the grin on his face.
"Harry James Potter! How dare you! That was not funny! Stop laughing you bastard!" she yelled.
Ginny tried to land a smack on the back of his head, but Harry ducked.
"Whoa! Ginny! Calm down! I told you I was joshing! I just didn't tell you about what! Happy anniversary! You hear me! I said it! I didn't forget!" exclaimed Harry, throwing his hands up in surrender.
She folded her arms across her chest and huffed.
"Oh come on Gin! How old are we?" jeered Harry, laughing at her stance.
Ginny blushed. "We're not that old Harry James Potter!"
"You're right my love!"
And with that Harry started to tickle Ginny's sides, where she was the most ticklish. She yelped and tried to dodge, but Harry was having none of that. With a challenging yell the race was on. Ginny shot into the living room, closely followed by Harry. She made it to one end of the couch, Harry on the other. She'd step, and he'd mimic. It seemed as if they were at a stand still. No one was going to make a move until the other did.
"W – Well! You sure are . . . huffing like an old man!" said Ginny between gasping breathes.
"I could . . . s-say the . . . same for you!" Harry gasped back.
Just then, the fireplace chimed, signaling an incoming firecall.
Harry glanced at Ginny.
"Truce?"
She nodded. "I guess I'll just kick your ass later."
"Ha. Yeah right," Harry shot back.
"Mrs. Potter? Are you home? Ginny? Harry?"
Harry and Ginny gave up their positions by the couch and both knelt before their large fire place.
"Hi Minerva. What brings you calling tonight?" Harry asked the head of Minerva McGonagall.
"Oh, it's not James again is it? What has he done now?" asked Ginny.
McGonagall shook her head. "No, I'm afraid it's nothing like that. Do you mind if I come on through?"
"No, that's fine," said Harry. He didn't have a good feeling about this.
"I'll be through in a moment," McGonagall responded.
Ginny and Harry shared a look before standing and making room for their once professor's arrival.
With a swoosh and a flash of green, McGonagall was in their living room.
"Have a seat Minerva. Would you care for some tea?" asked Ginny, gesturing for the elderly woman to sit.
"No thank you. I don't believe the news I have is fit for tea," said McGonagall.
This had Harry and Ginny's attention. They both took a seat on the couch, and Ginny's hand found its way into Harry's. Whatever news the professor had to impart, by the look of her grim expression, it wasn't good news.
"Is it one of the children?" asked Ginny.
Harry felt a cold chill grip him. One of his children? Surely to Merlin it wasn't anything serious. Maybe a broom accident or a duel gone wrong. No, not one of his children, please no.
"Yes, I am afraid so."
McGonagall hesitated. "There's been an accident."
Harry closed his eyes briefly. McGonagall wouldn't be dragging it out if it wasn't something serious. Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if the gasp was anything to attest to.
"Who?" asked Harry harshly.
McGonagall, to her credit, did not blanch.
"Albus."
"Oh God, What's happened to him? Is he alright?" exclaimed Ginny, leaning towards McGonagall.
"He was at Quidditch practice. Something went wrong, we don't know what yet. All the rest of the team knows is that there was a blinding flash of light, and then Albus was gone, disappeared from the air. All that we could find was a burnt piece of his uniform, not even his broom. We have the professors searching the Forbidden Forest, but so far they haven't found anything. However, they are still searching. I thought it was best to come here and inform you both immediately."
Ginny was already in tears before McGonagall could finish. Harry, for his part, was numb.
"I'll have the Aurors on it immediately," said Harry, detangling his wife from his side and lurching towards the fireplace.
He paused and then looked to McGonagall for permission. After all, she was the Headmistress of Hogwarts.
"Yes, by all means, please," she gestured towards the floo pot.
Reaching inside, Harry grabbed a handful and threw it into the fire.
Sticking his head into the emerald flames, he called, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Cryder's Office."
Harry felt nauseous. Fire calling was a bit like travelling by floo except your head was the only thing that was spinning. Add that to the worry for his son, and Harry thought he was going to be physically ill.
Soon enough, the spinning stopped, and he was shouting into the office of his second in command.
"Cryder! Cryder get your ass in here now!"
A man maybe a few or more years older than Harry stuck his balding head into the office.
"Boss! I thought you were at home with the Missus this evening!" he exclaimed, confusion cleary written on his face.
"I was. But we've got a problem, Cryder. My son is missing from Hogwarts. Whether foul play's afoot or not, I'm not sure, but I want you to head up a team of the best Aurors we got and go to Hogwarts now! Do I make myself clear, Cryder? I want you and your team to find my son! I'll meet you at the school as soon as I settle my wife. McGonagall should be able to point you in the right direction."
"Aye, sir! I'll have our best there in five."
Harry nodded and pulled his head out from the flames.
"Cryder's got a team headed to Hogwarts. Minerva, do you mind meeting Cryder and briefing him on the situation?"
"Certainly Harry. I'll go right now. I'll expect you shortly?" she asked, rising from her chair.
Harry nodded. McGonagall threw the green powder into the fireplace, stepped through, and called out Hogwarts.
Harry turned to Ginny. She was as white as a sheet.
"You don't think someone kidnapped him, do you Harry?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know Gin. I just don't know," replied Harry, his fingers nervously brushing through his hair.
Ginny suddenly froze, her eyes wide with a knowledge and understanding that Harry was not privy to. She slowly turned her head, looking into the corner of the room. Harry followed her gaze, but wasn't sure what she was looking at, until he saw the grandfather clock.
"I - I don't think I can l-look," she stammered.
"No, you stay here. I'll go."
Walking to the grandfather clock felt like walking to the executioner's block. His feet were heavy, his palms were sweaty, and Harry really really did not want to look. He wasn't brave enough to face this.
But somehow, he must have been, because before he knew it, Harry was facing the grandfather clock that had been given to them as a wedding present from the Weasleys. With such familiarity Harry traced the pictures and the names of his family. There were many pictures on this clock face, including Ron and Hermione and their children. One by one, Harry traced his fingers down the faces of his beloved family, until he came to his son's picture.
He saw the picture. He saw the words, but they did not register. They refused to register. He stood, as still as a rock, his finger poised over the face of his child, and for the very breath in him he could not say a word. He could not even think. His whole world had come to a stand still.
"Harry?" asked Ginny tentatively.
"Harry, what does it say?" she asked once more. Her voice had taken on an eerie calm.
"Harry, answer me," she demanded.
But Harry did not hear her. He could only hear the pounding of the blood in his ears and the faint, almost child like voice in the back of his mind that screamed no, no, no. Not Albus. Please, not Albus. Never Albus. Never his child.
"GODDAMNIT HARRY! ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME!" she screamed, tears and sobs gushing forth.
But Harry could not hear her. He could only hear someone screaming in his head, no, no, no. He could not move, he didn't even try to move, his finger poised over the word 'dead.'
oO0Oo