When Harry got home, his wife was waiting for him. They had a large house, with several rooms. He didn't care how large it was, but Ginny said they needed it. And with all the people who dropped in, he could see why.
She was dressed elegantly, and looked more beautiful than ever. There was a difference between beauty and attractiveness, Harry noted.
The positive emotions underlying their marriage had long disappeared. Harry had wondered about this sometimes, though he had not fully understood it until today. They were together for the sake of the kids, for the sake of society. They had separate bedrooms, though they sometimes slept together. After all, they were both virile and attractive twenty-somethings. Both saw other people on the side by a once-spoken agreement, though they kept it discreet. Harry thought she made more use of the agreement than he did, but he wasn't one to judge. The glamour of being married to the Boy Who Lived had been good for Ginny, though she had soon realized that the Boy himself was far removed from his public image.
"Guess you want me to explain, huh?" she said without preamble.
Harry looked at her, trying to discern if this was another game.
"Where are the kids?" he asked.
"Sent them away for the evening," she replied.
"To your collaborator?"
"To mum's, yes."
"So she can dose them with something to make them start hating me?"
His voice was cold, slow. Ginny shivered, though part of her wished he would show this side of this more often. Power worked wonders as an aphrodisiac.
"When did you start dosing me and Hermione?"
Ginny blinked. Hermione? Harry knew about her? That added a new complication. Had he somehow made contact with the brunette creature? And Hermione definitely was a creature, whatever she was. Those bloody scratches and bruises on Harry after Hermione had shagged him couldn't have come from a human.
"Fifth year, you were in sixth," she began before Harry stopped her.
"Save it," he said. "You cannot be trusted. You'll have to take Veritaserum."
"Harry!" she cried, horrified.
"Quiet!" he hissed. He approached her, standing in front of her, unwittingly turning her on by the magic and male strength rolling from him. "Love Potions on a member of an Ancient Family. Do you know what the penalty for Line Theft is? What they'll do to you?"
Ginny took a few moments to get control of herself, to remind herself that while watching Harry showing his power was all well and good, it was, well, bad when the power was aimed at her.
She stood up. "Alright," she said softly, assenting to be interrogated under truth potions later, "but come with me first. There are some photographs you need to see."
He moved up to follow her, before stopping himself. The smell of her perfume was starting to mellow him, and he wasn't sure if she could trust her. He didn't know if Love Potions could be sprayed but he didn't want to find out.
"Fine. Get your photographs. Be here in an hour. And wash off that stupid perfume. Don't try anything, unless you want to be a Weasley tomorrow."
He Disapparated.
Ginny looked at the spot her husband had occupied. Her perfume merely had a calming effect. But this meant that the Potion-filled dart that she had set up in a room upstairs wouldn't have any chance of being used.
She swore, loudly and with great variety.
Molly Weasley looked fondly at the three Potters playing in the living room with a couple of their cousins. No trace of her internal agitation was present. She had been informed by her youngest children that her son-in-law had somehow figured out that his marriage had been based on magical coercion.
There was a pop, and said son-in-law appeared in her doorstep.
"Harry!" she cried. "How delightful to see you! Here, you must try these cookies. I've just baked them, and they are really good."
Her jovial demeanour was not contagious.
"Forgive me if I refuse," he bit out. "Please, explain -- Molly." That would hurt, he knew. He usually called her Mum'.
Molly looked at him, genuinely hurt. "It was for your own good, Harry," she replied in pleading tones. "You needed love in your life! Ginny loved you! The Dursleys starved you of it, you couldn't recognize it! All you needed was some encouragement! It worked with Arthur!"
"Do I look like Arthur to you?" he asked. "Your daughter never loved me. She loved the Boy Who Lived. It is our choices that make us what we are. And you took my choices away from me." He moved as if to say more, but stopped himself.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but it was for your own good. And you will realize that one day. We've provided all the love you've ever known, haven't we?"
Harry looked at her, slowly comprehending that she genuinely believed she held the moral upper hand. While he was still blinking in disbelief, there was the sound of an owl in the window.
"Oh, it's Groucho!" yapped Molly as she theatrically rushed to the window. Any distraction from their unwelcome confrontation would be good at that point. "I wonder what the twins have to say!"
Harry winced. He wasn't too keen to hear from them either, if their reaction at him accusing their mother of dosing him with Amortentia (or whatever variant thereof) was any judge.
If he had been watching the Marxist-named owl more carefully - or at all - he would have noticed the scarlet colour of the letter.
"MUM! HOW DARE YOU DOSE HARRY WITH A LOVE POTION! AND HERMIONE GRANGER TOO! HE HAS DONE SO MUCH FOR OUR FAMILY AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HIM? WE ARE ASHAMED TO BE CALLED YOUR CHILDREN! WE ARE CALLING A FAMILY MEETING FOR TOMORROW AT 7PM AT FRED'S HOUSE AND YOU WILL BE THERE! HOW COULD YOU, MOLLY IMPEDIMENTA PREWETT WEASLEY?"
There are some moments in life that are meant to be treasured. Harry had a few, like Dudley's arms flailing madly as he vainly tried to stop himself falling into the boa's zoo habitat, Hagrid telling him he was a wizard, his first sight of Hogwarts, Hermione's entrance in the Great Hall after being woken up from being Petrified, Draco doing his ferret impression, Remus' shocked expression when Tonks proposed to him ... and now Molly receiving a Howler from Fred and George.
Not to mention that the twins' support was a pleasant surprise.
With his mother-in-law still in shock, he walked out of the house into the backyard, hoping to get some time to think. His feet unconsciously took him to the back of the garden shed, and from then on, the sound of children led him on. His subconscious hopes that his day would get better - or at become less eventful - were rapidly doing their Saharan Ice Cube impression.
Childhood bullying is something no parent wants their kid to come into contact with. Harry was no exception, having been the victim of Dudley et al's unwelcome attentions in primary school and at home.
In front of him, a child lay crying on the ground, while two children laughed at him and held a ball out of his reach. The child's sister was crying too, trying to help her brother, but she was held back by another girl... a girl who was supposed to be recovering from her own ordeal at the power of others stronger than her.
Perhaps the only thing worse than discovering your child is being bullied is your child doing the bullying.
The seven year old on the ground was Kenneth Weasley. He was a stiff, small, bespectacled boy, as one would expect of the son of Percy Weasley. He wasn't the most popular of the young Weasley clan either. His sister, Katherine Weasley, was quickly released by Amy Potter, and rushed to his side.
Harry turned slowly to look at Amelie, Nicholas, and Nigel Potter. Amelie looked flustered, Nicholas looked embarassed, and Nigel defiant.
The temperature dropped.
Amelie began hugging her shoulders. Nicholas stepped back, suddenly realizing why his father (who was normally a quiet bloke who was fun to play with) was called The Man Who Conquered.
Even Nigel began to look a tad uneasy. He was even more ill at ease when his father stepped to him, lifted him up, and looked into his eyes. He felt himself recall the events that had just happened, his taunting of Kenneth and Katherine, taking their ball, knocking Kenneth's glasses off with a quick fist, laughing at them because 'No one would believe the children of Uncle Percy over those of Harry Potter', and ...
... and then he was frozen, Petrified in place. He had not seen his father say anything or take out his wand. If his bladder hadn't been petrified as well, he would have lost control of it.
Amy began to cry - silently, with tears streaming down her face and her Petrified mouth unable to say anything. Harry quickly released her, but and also released Nicholas' Petrification above the waist. Nigel, the ringleader, was left alone.
There was a pop, signalling Ginny's arrival. Like Harry, she had a charm that activated whenever their children were Hexed.
She was clearly surprised to see her husband there, and soon realized that he had been the one doing the Hexing. As Amy rushed sobbing into her arms, she gave Harry an interrogating look. His upheld palm silenced her.
He walked over to the two victimized Weasleys, who were looking rather bewildered by the turn of events.
"Kenneth? Katherine?" he asked as calmly as he could. "I am sorry that my kids bullied you. I'll make sure they don't do it again. Now, why don't you go back into the house and tell Grandma Molly that us Potters have gone home. And yes, you can tell anyone you want about this, alright? If my children have been bullying anyone else, I'd like to know."
The two wide-eyed kids nodded nervously and scampered off in the direction of the Burrow dwelling. They looked back a couple of times, and Harry soon realized that while they were scared of his son, they were terrified of him.
Harry Potter gritted his teeth.
He turned to his family. Fortunately, his soon-to-be-ex-wife seemed to be on his side, if the glare she was casting at Nigel Potter was any judge.
As Hermione knocked on the door of the Egyptian curse breaker that was also on her team, she recalled the first time she had heard of Alisha El Masri. They had met a couple of times since, and had a lot in common, including a begrudging respect (a.k.a. respectful loathing) of their Felician Elders.
"Have you heard of the Golden Paw movement, Mistress Granger?" asked the member of the High European Felician Council that she had internally dubbed Throaty.
Hermione nodded. But no-one spoke up again, making her realize that they wanted her to say something. It had taken years for her to wear down the urge of displaying her knowledge; being surrounded by knowledgeable researchers instead of two academically lazy boys certainly helped.
"They are a group of Felicians who believe that we are superior to humans and should not be hiding from them. They allied with Grindelwald seventy years ago, a move that greatly backfired on them within our community. They now believe in somewhat forceful reintegration of Felicians within Wizarding society, with us near the top of the food chain. They are still very much a minority group, but their message has a certain appeal for the younger generation."
She halted, and then raised her eyebrows to silently ask if that was adequate.
"Quite so," said Throaty, "well summarized. Textbook-like, really. You did miss one point, though. You were a dues-paying member of the Golden Paw about twelve years ago, is that not?"
Hermione stiffened. "I was young and angry," she said stoically. When their faces remained unexpressive, she added, "The Irish Council had forbidden me from trying to make further contact with my best friend, with the father of my cubs. My other human friends had betrayed me or thought I had betrayed them. I had a right to be angry!"
"Calm down, Transfigurations Mistress Granger," said an ancient lioness that hadn't spoken so far. Thinking of her former teacher, Hermione dubbed her Mini. "We all made errors when we were young. You just happen to be closer to those years than we are."
"She withheld information!" said Throaty, raising her voice. "And she is still doing so!"
"Indeed she did," said Munsch. "Perhaps," he pondered, scratching his chin, "she could tell us why"
"I was testing you," offered Hermione rashly, the qualities that had thrown her into Gryffindor coming to a fore at an inopportune moment. "For all I know, you are going to ask me to jump into a vat of acid or sell my cubs into slavery. I wanted to see how much you knew."
"On a matter of semi-public record?" questioned Mini. "Surely you know that we keep close tabs on such matters. No, I think you were so ashamed of your membership that you did not wish to admit to it."
"Or you're still a closet member," muttered Throaty. "And she has not admitted to everything!"
Hermione winced, figuring that they knew about her past relationship with Martin Riordan, one of the current leaders of the movement. She had ended it when she realized just how militant he was.
"We have dwelt upon this long enough," intoned Munsch. The other two members of the Council, who had remained silent so far, nodded.
Throaty agreed, with obvious reluctance, and looked condescendingly at Hermione. "Our sources indicate that Golden Paw members are searching for Nefertiti's Chalice."
Hermione blinked. Her knowledge of Egyptian relics was rusty. The Chalice rang a bell, but it was a very small bell and she had no clue where it was within the inner reaches of her mind. She did recall that Nefertiti was a very powerful Egyptian Witch, possibly the most powerful. She was an expert in both Dark and Light Magic, and Egyptologists were still investigating her work.
"I see you are in need of some education," gloated Throaty. Behind her, there was a thud as an old lion placed a large collection of tomes and probably-classified files on top of his table. "Suffice it to say for now that her Chalice is really a Cauldron. She infused it with a small part of her soul, so that it is by far the most Magical Cauldron in existence, so I often call it Nefertiti's Cauldron. You can use it to brew nearly anything you can think of."
"It's a Horcrux?" blurted Hermione.
Throaty motioned to the old lion with the books. Hermione dubbed him Librarian, though it did not appear he would be saying Oook! any time soon.
"It is not a Horcrux," answered Librarian, "though Nefertiti certainly knew how to create one. It is suspected that Cleopatra was her reincarnation in that sense, but --- I digress. It is a complex soul spell that has not been found in any of her known journals." He then looked at Throaty for permission to explain further. She replied with a curt nod. "Now, there are several possible Potions that can be brewed with it. In particular, Potions to turn Felicians into Wizards and vice versa."
"What?" shouted Hermione, in full Researcher Mode. "That's impossible! And how would you know? Did she document it?"
The Librarian nodded. "She did. It's in one of her newer notebooks, written in High Felician." He held his hand up to quell her protests. "We are well aware that this is a few thousand years before High Felician was supposed to have existed. The best theory at the moment is that Nefertiti created High Felician. And possibly, Felicians."
It was an intriguing theory, Hermione knew. Given the high regard with which cats were held in Egypt, she could easily see a brilliant experimental witch like Nefertiti investigating the possibility of infusing humans with feline qualities.
"How old is the journal?" she asked suddenly.
Librarian was clearly impressed with the question. "Yes, I should have know you would ask that. The answer is that we're not sure. At least several centuries, say a thousand years, old. There are several preservation spells on it that we cannot fully analyze."
Throaty took control of the floor again. "Perhaps we should tell you what your mission is, Mistress Granger."
Hermione blinked.
"You will lead a group of three other individuals to find Nefertiti's Chalice. We will give you our best research on the question of where it is, and you will find it and destroy it."
"Destroy it?" asked Hermione. "You lot don't want it?"
"That is not your concern," said Throaty. "Suffice it to say that we have had much animated discussion on that topic, and the final conclusion was that such power was too much for any one to wield. Including ourselves. All power corrupts, and we are not exceptions to that rule."
Hermione bit back the words And what makes you think you can trust me?' Instead she asked, "Who are my team members?" She did not bother mentioning that she would accept the task. Her Researcher self would kick herself for the rest of her life if she refused.
"Potions Master Petr Ivanovic from Serbia, Curse Breaker Alisha El Masri from Egypt, and Harry Potter."
"WHAT?" cried Hermione. "POTTER? WHY?" She sent a particularly scathing glare at Munsch, who shrugged. He HAD warned her.
"Nefertiti was a Parselmouth," countered Throaty. "And it is highly possible that you will need a source of Magical Power to draw upon on some occasions.
Hermione considered this. They were both valid points --- too valid. On the other hand, Harry would never work with her, so she didn't have to worry about anything, right?
"We are well aware of the disagreement you had with Mr Potter and his adopted family a dozen years ago," said Mini, taking over the floor. "We have investigated it ourselves, in fact."
Mini went on to describe the series of potions that Hermione and (mostly) Harry had been subjected to many years ago. Hermione listened in disbelief.
"How did you find this out?" she spluttered eventually. "And when?" she added more suspiciously.
"That is none of your concern," responded Mini, though a box appeared in front of Hermione. "You'll find all the proof you need in that box. Take it home. Show it to anyone you please."
Hermione looked at the box, making no attempt to touch it. But her resistance was wearing down, even if eventual agreement on her part was more likely to be the result of exhaustion and Hobson's Choice than anything else.
"You'll have a tough time getting him to listen to me though," she sighed.
"Don't worry about that, Mistress Granger," said Throaty with a wide smirk. "Now tell us, how good are you at Transfiguring large scary-looking animals?"
A/N: Thanks to all who've reviewed the last chapter (Anya, hpfananita, hpnut1, minerdude, michelline, Ookii Mamoru, Carvell, Analais, killing u with umbrellas, jkarr, Tap Dancing Widow, k la sk8, Sakura Lisel, and - er - yay) I really do appreciate it! Especially the longer reviews that tell me what I've done wrong (or right), or cut-and-paste their favourite lines, etc. The next chapter will be posted when the review count gets to 72.
Also, I do hate Ginny, but it's too easy to portray her as someone who does everything wrong or Harry or Hermione as people who do everything right.
Hermione could be more forgiving of Harry, for example, since she knows he was not quite himself. But she moved on with life without ever getting over Harry's betrayal of her. She thought for ten years that he had betrayed her; two weeks of knowing that there was more to it doesn't change that overnight.
Having said that, I'm doing my best to avoid the cliched fic where people are all hung up on each other after a decade. That doesn't happen in real life - at least not for as long as ten years. People move on.
Finally, Nigel and his minions really are Harry's kids. Remember that their grandfather James was a bully in his younger days as well. And Ginny isn't supportive of their bullying either. They may be on the verge of divorce, but Harry and Ginny have been married for a decade and do agree on certain parental matters.