Beta Love: Glitterally
A/N: Glitter did go over this chapter, but I added a chunk of material that she hasn't yet seen. Any grammar mistakes, errors, etc are mine alone. If you see something egregious, then please PM me to let me know.
Disclaimer: As always, HP is not my property. I make no money from the writing and posting of this story.
Eighths' Tower
Late Afternoon, Friday
Hannah and Pansy handed out scarves to each of them, white cashmere with the George cross, while Hermione and Harry handled logistics.
"Everyone have their bags? I've got the tent."
"Uh, not to be picky or anything, but is that bag even legal?" Justin pointed hesitantly to Hermione's back pack into which Harry was packing quite a bit of gear. Enough gear, in fact, to be impossible to fit in a normal bag of that size.
Her lips twisted slightly. "It's a gray area; now, I've got the tent and everything we need for inside it. But you all might want to take extra blankets; it's going to be cold on the Isle of Wight at night."
Harry picked up the narrative. "We're Flooing to the Three Broomsticks, and from there we'll take a Portkey to the Isle of Wight. After the match, we can Apparate into Hogsmeade and return from there. Any questions?"
"I'm glad you decided to Portkey us to the match; it'd be a shame if Susan got lost and ended up on the Isle of Man instead."
Susan, rather being offended, laughed at Luna's comment. "It's been known to happen. I'd rather Portkey any day, myself."
"Everyone ready, then? Portkey leaves in half an hour. Let's go." One by one, they Flooed to the restaurant in Hogsmeade to catch their ride, an old pink umbrella, to the Quidditch match.
Friday Evening
Isle of Wight
"Malfoy, give me a hand with this."
"You've got to be joking, Potter. I don't do manual labor."
"Do you want to sleep outside, then?"
"Oh bugger off, give me the damn - what is that thing anyway?"
"It's a tent stake, genius. Now walk as far you you can in that direction and put it in the ground."
Another thirty minutes and some minor bickering later, the tent was ready to go. True to wizarding form, the tent was much larger on the inside and the beds were already set up.
"Why did I agree to spend the night in a tent?" Draco moaned softly into Luna's ear, his arms wrapped around her waist. "We could have stayed somewhere else and just Apparated here in the morning."
"Don't be silly; you agreed to do this because deep down you think it will be fun." Her eyes twinkled and she rose on her toes to nibble at his ear. "And besides, I wanted to do this. Think how grateful I'll be." She placed quick little kisses along his jaw, sending quick jolts down his spine.
"Oi, you two! Break it up! If no one else can make out with significant others, then you can't either, Malfoy."
"Bugger off, Longbottom; can't you see we're busy here?" Draco groaned and adjusted himself before turning around to face his tormenter.
"Yeah, I can, but we're waiting on you two to go eat, so be busy later." He turned around to leave the tent. "And be busy alone and quietly later." The last was thrown over his shoulder as the tent flap swooshed down.
The Quidditch Match
Team Area
Ron tried to calm his pounding heart. Finally, he was getting a chance to start. Granted, France wasn't exactly top tier this year, but a start was a start. And Harry and Hermione were finally able to make it to a game. He mounted his broom and kicked off as he heard the announcer begin introductions.
"And for England…at Keeper…Ronald Weasley!" The crowd clad in white and red roared in approval as he circled the pitch at top speed. He thought he saw the familiar glint of Harry's glasses beside a curly-haired brunette. Hermione. The brightest witch of her age. And Ron would tell anyone who'd listen she was also one of the strongest. He continued a final lap, more slowly this time, and threw a kiss in her direction. He saw her laugh and return the gesture as he flew by towards his end of the pitch. When it came down to it, they both knew they were best as friends, and he was honestly happy for her and Harry. But when he was being honest with himself, he knew he wanted a relationship too. All thoughts of dating flew out of his head as he settled in front of the rings.
"And they're off!" The Snitch was up and away. Ron immediately dismissed the thought of the fleet golden ball. It was the Seeker's problem, not his. His problem was the Quaffle headed his way. The Chaser threw the ball, and he easily caught it and tossed it to an open Chaser.
"And Weasley saves a goal for England! Now back to the Warner who passes to Heatherington. He shoots - he scores! Heatherington sends one right past La Salle for a score. England up ten to nothing here in the early going. We've got the Quaffle in motion, coming back down the pitch. Watch out for that Bludger! Devereux takes a nasty hit, but keeps the Quaffle."
Ron's vision narrowed to only the Quaffle and the Bludger, and the rest of the game passed in a blur. By the time the match ended an hour and a half later with England's seeker triumphantly holding the Snitch aloft, Ron had only allowed ten goals for a final score of 410 to 100.
Ron was still flush from victory even two hours later when he headed to meet his friends at their tent. Hermione spotted him first and ran towards him, flinging herself into his arms.
"You were brilliant, Ron!"
Harry arrived on her heels and waited impatiently for him to put Hermione back on the ground. "Alright, mate. Put my girlfriend down." As they were shaking hands and slapping backs, he continued, "but she's right, you were bloody brilliant out there."
"Thanks! It just worked, you know." They quickly got lost in the camaraderie of their years-long friendship as they made their way back to the tent and the rest of Hogwarts crew.
Ginny elbowed them out of the way. "You really did a great job out there." She hugged him and then stepped back. "But you could have saved that eighth one, you know."
"Let him be, Red." Blaise appeared at her side. "He saved some tough ones. Nice match, Weasley."
Ron sized up the man who was dating his younger sister. "Thanks, Zabini. Good of you to come."
"Wouldn't have missed it. When this lot started talking about coming over, well, here we all are. All of Hogwarts Houses have representatives cheering you on."
They arrived at the tent flap and stepped inside. Ron took in the surroundings with a glance. "Nice setup. Feels like home." He shot Hermione a sideways glance - "Did you pack this in a beaded handbag?"
"No, Ronald. Of course not," she sniffed.
"Yeah, she used a backpack this time." Harry snickered beside him.
Ron rocked slightly when Hannah, who was headed to say hello, tripped over a stray bag on the floor and landed in his arms. She gasped and inhaled the scent of Quidditch leathers, broom polish, grass, and an elusive note of ginger. "Oh," she said faintly.
"Hannah, isn't it? Are you alright? Good?"
She smiled quickly. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Great match today! Are you going to stay around, have dinner with us?"
Wednesday Afternoon
Grimmauld Place
"Are you ready?" Sirius asked Harry. At the nod, he took Harry's arm and apparated them to a pair of worn front gates with a "Keep Out, No Trespassing" sign hung haphazardly on the bars. "Just as I remember it. Now, let's see if we can get through the wards."
Sirius took a step forward and the gate opened easily, but as soon as he was clear, it closed behind him. He turned around and motioned Harry forward. "I'm fairly certain you'll be able to come through. Just step ahead, the gate will open if you can."
Harry hesitated - what if the Hall didn't recognize him? But after a moment, he took a step forward. The gate started to swing open, stalled as if thinking about something - just long enough to make Harry panic, and then swung wide, welcoming him home. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Thank Godric." He stepped through onto the cobblestone lane leading toward a bend, the view obscured by a copse of trees. As he and Sirius drew closer he realized quickly that he was looking at a massive stand of, if the leaves were any indication, very old hollies that had been allowed to grow wild for a long time. He stepped into the trees, stopped, and turned slowly, taking in the wildness of it.
"Harry." Sirius drew his attention. "Shall we?" He pointed back to the lane.
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Taking one last look around, Harry headed back to the lane and the house at the end. As soon as they turned the bend, a shimmer cleared, and a large home materialized. It was red brick with once-white quoins on the corners, discolored by time and weather. The worn facade covered a home that was obviously empty, but, it seemed to Harry, to be waiting for its owner to return.
"It's a quite a pile, isn't it?" Sirius looked around, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Why didn't my parents live here? Why did they go to Godric's Hollow?"
"Dumbledore suggested being away from the old homestead - plenty of people knew about it because the Potters lived here for generations - and the thought was that a cottage might be easier to defend." The ghost of a smile that had been tugging at his lips disappeared. "But no one has been here for years; I'd guess memories have faded by now. You'd be safe to live here now."
"Can we?" Harry gestured towards the front door.
"Of course."
"Where are we, anyway? Do you know much about the property?"
"We're in Wiltshire."
"Wiltshire. Near the Malfoys?" Harry paused as he stood before the door.
"Yes. Not far at all, actually. But more to the south than they are." Sirius waited for him to open the door. "Well, go on then, open it."
Harry took a deep breath and grasped the door knob firmly and turned it. The door opened with a slight squeak in the hinges. The two stepped into a broad foyer which ended in what appeared to be some sort of conservatory at the back of the house with a staircase that wrapped around the back wall, leading to the first floor. Several rooms flanked the hallway. Upon closer inspection, Harry realized they were all pocket doors that slid open. The first room on the right was obviously a parlor, decorated in a formal style. It looked a bit like a room where one would have received visitors a hundred years ago. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, and holland covers protected large pieces of furniture.
Sirius opened the next set of doors. "This room will be Hermione's favorite," he pronounced.
Harry appeared at his side. "You're right - it will be." Obviously a library, bookshelves lined the walls. There was a bay window on the back wall with a dusty cushion - a window seat in which to curl up and read. There was a reading area at one end and a desk area at the other, furniture still covered with ghostly covers.
"Oi there! Who're you?" Harry jumped at the sound of a voice to his right. He spun around to see a portrait on the wall. The young man had wire-rimmed glasses and a shirt with a high collar that appeared to be starched to points on the side of his face.
"I'm Harry. Who're you?"
"Oh, I see that now." The unknown wizard tugged at the collar. "Blasted shirt. Can't even turn my head properly. Don't know why my mum insisted I wear it for this portrait. So, you're James's boy. You look like him, except the eyes. That Lily, she was a beauty. Shame you didn't take after her more. Now, who's that with you?" Sirius stepped around into the portrait's line of sight. The man's eyes widened. "As I live and breathe, Sirius Black, it is you. You look like hell, m'boy! What happened to you?"
"Azkaban, James. Azkaban is hell on the looks."
"Humph. What the blazes were you doing there?"
"They thought I'd murdered James and Lily."
"That's ridiculous! You were like brothers! You'd no more kill James than the man in the moon." The James in the portrait adjusted his glasses and tugged at his collar again.
Harry's brow furrowed. "How did you know? That they'd been murdered, my parents?"
"They've got portraits, don't they? Of course I knew. We all knew. Just like we knew when you died for a bit a while back. But no sooner had word spread that the last Potter had passed than you were alive again. Resurrection Stone?"
At Harry's nod, James whooped. "Excellent! I won the pool."
"Sorry?"
"The pool! The betting pool! I bet on the Resurrection Stone, Jimmy bet on some Muggle means to bring you back, Rosalina thought we were both crazy. She thought it had something to do with Flamel's invention. You wouldn't have believed all the theories. Wait until I tell them. Why are you still in here? Go look at the rest of the house. We've been bored forever. It'll be nice to have you and your wife around."
"Uh, I'm not - uh - married." He glanced at Sirius. "Yet," he hastily added.
"What are you waiting on? Next Christmas? You're getting a bit long in the tooth! Better hurry up or no respectable girl will have you."
"Wait - where are my parents? I'd like to see them, maybe, you know, if I could."
"Of course, they're around here somewhere. I'll see if I can find them. But go on - they'll catch up with you."
Sirius led the way around the ground floor, showing Harry the billiards room, the conservatory, the kitchen, a large dining room that could also be used as a ballroom, a small sitting room opposite the parlor, and a wardrobe-sized half-bath. In almost every room a different portrait introduced itself. Several Jameses came forward as well as a Janice and the aforementioned Rosalina who was visibly disappointed that the Resurrection Stone brought Harry back. Harry looked for his parents in every frame.
"There's a James in every generation," Sirius told Harry as they made their way up the stairs to the first floor.
"So I gathered."
"This is the bedroom level."
"How many are there?"
"Uhh - Seven? I think. We can check."
As it happened, there were only six bedrooms, and one room looked like a lady's dressing room. Harry didn't spend much time looking through there, but explored the master bedroom and en suite bath. There was one other suite and the reminder shared a bath for every two bedrooms. A smaller set of stairs led to the attics, which housed a nursery, storage, and what appeared to be an elf's bedroom.
"Did the Potters have an elf when you stayed here?"
"No, they didn't. I think they had a housekeeper and a groundskeeper who came in every day, but no elf. The Potters were wealthy, but they never really got into all the trappings of wealth, if you know what I mean. And James' parents were elderly by the time I knew them. I think they did all the upkeep until they were too fragile, then they hired help since James was away at school."
Harry nodded as he considered the small room with the modest bed and window to the outside world. Hermione would approve of his grandparents.
He was disappointed he hadn't seen his parents yet, but his thoughts were interrupted when a silver badger appeared before them. "Sirius, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm sick. Can you get home?" Deirdre Kathleen's voice echoed from her ghostly Patronus.
"Harry, I've got to go." Sirius sounded a bit panicked. "You can make your way back, right?"
"Of course, of course - go. I'll be fine." Harry pushed him towards the door. He saw a familiar pair of faces in a portrait near the door. "I just want to check things out one more time." He watched as Sirius dashed, mell-pell, out the door. "Mum, Dad, you're here."
"Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you."
Wednesday Afternoon
Azkaban Prison
"Minister, I demand that I be released at once. I have been the victim of assault, and there is no reason for me to be incarcerated here like some common criminal! I want to be released on my own recognizance, and a trial by jury. Mark my words, I will be found not guilty and the Ministry will be forced to issue a public apology for this travesty." Zoe Trollop barely controlled her hysteria.
"That's quite a list of demands, Ms. Trallop. But I'm afraid I can only help with one of those. You will indeed have a jury trial, and it will begin quite soon. Your court-appointed barrister will be here to discuss with you your plea this afternoon. Your trial will start on Monday."
"But that's not enough time to prepare."
"Of course, it is. And the Wizengamot wants to handle this before Christmas."
"The Wizengamot? But surely they won't hear a case regarding something so petty as an unfounded accusation of extortion."
"Ah, yes, well, normally, you'd be correct. However, Ms. Trallop, you made a mistake. You attempted to blackmail Hermione Granger, now known as Hermione Black. And you were threatening Harry Potter as well. Also when you want to expose something so dangerous as Horcrux usage, well, that's enough to get you more an just a year or two in Azkaban. In fact, I'd tell you to get comfortable in your cell because I'd be surprised if you were going to be able to leave it in the next two decades."
"But you can't. McGonagall is head of the Wizengamot. She's biased! It won't be a fair trial!"
"Ah, you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that this is America. We in the British Ministry don't have to offer anyone a trial, much less a fair one. But we are giving you a trial, so count yourself lucky. Sirius Black didn't even get one of those at all for evidence much weaker than we have on you."
"No, it's not right! I'm a citizen! You can't do this to me!"
"Ah, but we can. As I said, your attorney will be here this afternoon. I suggest you make good use of your time."
A/N: Absolutely unbelievably, this story has been nominated in the Multi-fandom Fan Fic Awards for "All Time Favorite Harry Potter Fanfic." Thank you so much to all my readers for reading, reviewing, and - holy cow - nominating this story. You all are truly the best readers out there. Much love!