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A Song of Lightning and Fire
Prologue
Chapter 4: A Tale and A Chase
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It had been a few days since Ginny had spoken to Bill about her Wand, and neither of them were anywhere close to finding the purpose of that Wand. Both Ginny and Bill could be seen roaming around the house with a Rune Dictionary in hand. Bill didn't even need to take a second look at the runes, while Ginny could now make them out on the wand itself, although she would appreciate the colour coded markings…
Still, it wasn't all bad; Ginny was almost certain now, that her Mum would listen to her request of getting a new Wand, one that was suited to her, especially since Bill had spoken to her. His suggestion of trying out the Special Purpose Wand had logged itself into her mind, though.
Was it even worth it? Ginny asked herself. She supposed it would be. Mum had always said that Prewett Relics were powerful Magical objects, and the idea of wielding a powerful Magical Object seemed quite nice… maybe if she had one of those, then she could, maybe, go on adventures around the world without any care, just like Harry Potter…
Yes, she knew that Harry Potter was far from real (because how could a boy that was nearly her own age defeat Dragons and rescue princesses?), and that the stories were all completely ridiculous, but… well, one could always hope… right?
In her free time, she could rescue princes, collect venom from Nundus, harvest the scales of bad, murderous Dragons after she'd saved villages from being decimated by said dragon and then use the clothes made with those scales to fight off Dark Wizards and be lauded as a hero…
…when she wasn't Curse Breaking.
As for now, she was just going to focus on finding out the Wand's true purpose.
This determination of hers had even led to her sneaking out one night and venturing deep into the forest to find something to try the Wand on. She had taken Bill with her, just for moral support, but in the end, it hadn't been all that useful, even when Bill tried to teach her some Spells.
He concluded that the Wand would only be activated in a very situational manner, or while using a very specific Spell.
Naturally, Ginny didn't really get much sleep that night, but she was still expected to be at the table in the morning. Bill had the advantage of being a grown man, probably one of the smelly ones with hair all over him, so he could tell mum that he wanted to sleep, and she would listen.
But Ginny didn't have that option.
That was why she found herself barely conscious enough at present to keep her eyes on the breakfast in front of her, whilst she fought valiantly to not fall asleep. Her mum and dad were blabbering about something to do at the Ministry that sounded boring to her, so she turned them out and decided to focus on eating her breakfast.
"What?" Her mum suddenly breathed, and Ginny's attention was drawn to her now.
"I know," Dad murmured, nodding. "It shocked me as well."
"What happened?" She heard Ron ask, causing her to whirl around to look at him. When had he come down?
Dad seemed to debate with himself over it before coming to a decision. "You'll hear about it in the papers today or tomorrow anyway," he said. "Gringotts was robbed."
Both Ron and Ginny's jaws dropped simultaneously. Gringotts… the world's safest bank… robbed? Ginny couldn't help but think that whoever had robbed the Goblins must have been one hell of an idiot because she'd taken one look at the scary creatures when she was 6 and hadn't been able to sleep in her own bed for a whole week!
"Well, I wouldn't call it a robbery, per se," Dad amended. "It was only broken into. I was just coming back from modifying Harry Potter's Aunt's memories when I heard about it…."
"Harry Potter is real!?" Ginny asked. Her jaw had dropped open.
"Of course he's real, Ginny," Mum said, looking at her like she'd gone mad. "I thought you'd know that. You did have that fondness for his stories, after all."
Ginny averted her eyes and tried not to let the heat rush to her cheeks. 'Fondness' was too kind a word to use. It was more like she had been obsessed with the story of Harry Potter. In the end, she'd grown out of it, mostly because of Fred and George, who would tease her mercilessly about it, but… she'd never even considered that he could be real…
No one really knew what he looked like, or who he was, but he had to be someone with a kind heart, Ginny had always believed. Someone she could be friends with. Maybe. And someone who she could go on adventures with. Hopefully.
Dad then told them about how the thief had used a Dragon to divert the Goblins' attention while he worked on robbing the Vault. It was Vault number 713 that had been broken into, but it had already been emptied. Harry Potter had been there, too, according to some Goblins.
"Did he save the Goblins?" Ginny found herself asking. She immediately cringed as Ron smirked at her.
"Ooh, do tell, Mum," said Ron, batting his eyelashes in a way that made him look like an absolute idiot. "Did dear, brave Harry Potter save the Goblins from the big, dangerous Monst- "
Ginny stole a bacon sandwich, Ron's favourite breakfast dish, from his plate and quickly took a massive bite out of it. That caused Ron to shut right up as he glared at her, the tips of his ears going bright red. It was a sign that Ginny had pissed him off, so of course, she took another bite, this one much smaller, but it managed to do the trick.
"Ginny! I will- "
His words were cut off when a loud crack sounded outside the house. Ginny got out of her seat and made her way to the window to see who'd come.
It was Muriel.
She was on their lawn, walking towards the Burrow as though she bloody owned the place. Ginny had the insane urge to run out there and snatch the cane out of the old hag's grubby paws.
"Well, I'll see you later, Ginny," Ron said, smirking. "Serves you right."
Ginny swallowed her food, with some difficulty, and stuck her tongue out at Ron's retreating form as Mum opened the door and went outside to help Muriel. She heard Dad sigh and mutter something that sounded vaguely like a prayer, before heading outside as well.
"You didn't send a letter beforehand," said Dad as he and Mum helped Muriel in. Ginny knew that she didn't need the help, and just pretended that she did because she enjoyed the attention. "We would have prepared for your arrival."
"Nonsense, Arthur," said Muriel, waving her hand. "Do I need an invitation to come and visit my favourite niece?"
Muriel's eyes landed on her, and Ginny reflexively corrected the woman. "Great Great Niece."
Muriel scowled. "Yes, of course," she said. "Now, Arthur, Molly, give us two ladies a moment alone. Go along and do whatever."
It was a clear dismissal, and Mum and Dad just shook their heads and accepted it. Merlin, Ginny hoped one of Muriel's Abraxan horses would fly away so that she didn't have to bear this torture.
"Ginevra," said Muriel, nodding at her. Ginny had to stop herself from flinching. Really, if she ever had kids, she vowed to name them something… normal. "Come, sit."
Ginny moved from her spot near the window and sat down, once again, as far away from Muriel as she possibly could. "Where's the wand?" Muriel asked.
If there was one thing Ginny liked about hers and Muriel's interactions, it was the fact that she never wasted time with small talk. It made it so that she didn't have to spend a moment more than necessary with the woman.
"It's in my room," Ginny replied.
Muriel made a face that clearly showed her disapproval of that act. "You're a Prewett woman," she raged, banging her fist on the table. Ginny rolled her eyes at the speech that was about to come out of her mouth. "You should -"
"You should be more careful," began Ginny in a monotone voice. If she had a Galleon for every time she'd heard that speech, Ginny would have a brand new Nimbus 2000. "This is a disgrace to our name -"
"Enough!" She barked and Ginny almost smirked. "Have you made any progress with that Wand? Or do you still remain incapable of casting basic Magic?"
Ginny scoffed. "Do you even know what that Wand is used for?" She asked. "Because I'm pretty sure a Special Purpose Wand wouldn't work for anything other than what it's meant for."
Muriel clearly didn't know what the hell a Special Purpose Wand was, so it fell to Ginny to explain it to the woman. "Impossible," she immediately dismissed it. "It's a Prewett Relic, they are not bound by such… such… rules, they are beyond them. Even our jewellery is…"
Ginny turned her out at that point. She didn't want to hear about how the Prewett jewellery was better than the normal ones because of Runes and whatnot.
"Are you even listening?" Muriel asked, sounding resigned. She didn't wait for an answer from Ginny. "I have no clue what to do with you. I try and I try, but you just… won't listen."
Ginny felt quite proud of herself for that. She patted her back, but Muriel hadn't been looking at her just then. A silence fell upon them as Muriel stared into the fire, and Ginny tried to think of a way to get the woman out of the house. Maybe a Dungbomb…?
"Do you even know why your mother wants that Wand to work for you?" Muriel asked suddenly, drawing Ginny out of her thoughts.
Oh, so she was tempting her now… tempting her with the one piece of information Ginny needed to make sense of the entire Puzzle. Well, not the entire puzzle, but close enough.
She hated that it was working.
"Tell me," she said.
To her surprise, Muriel actually nodded.
"It all starts with her brothers," Muriel began. "Fabian and Gideon. Oh, the scandals they brought upon the family…" she trailed off, looking out the window.
For some reason, Ginny had been expecting a heartfelt story with tears and boogers and heart wrenching sobs. She really should have known better; it was Muriel, after all.
"Still, all the Prewetts loved them," Muriel huffed, and Ginny knew instantly that Muriel had never been fond of them. "They joined the Order of The Phoenix eventually -"
"The what?" Ginny asked, furrowing her brow.
"Dumbledore's rag tag group of vigilantes," Muriel replied. "Now, don't interrupt."
Ginny didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but she didn't get the time to ponder on it, for Muriel began speaking again. "Now, even I can admit to the fact that they were skilled at Magic, nothing like yourself." Ginny cursed the old hag in her mind. "One day, they fought against You Know Who himself."
Ginny gasped. "Indeed," Muriel continued. "They fought tooth and nail over the prediction of a seer… one that spoke of an old Prophecy coming to fruition."
"Which Prophecy?" Ginny asked, leaning forward. Was this it? A Prophecy? Would the events in it cause the Wand to activate?
"I haven't a clue," Muriel shrugged. Ginny had the insane urge to hurl the useless woman out of the house. The one thing that Ginny actually wanted from her and… "But Fabian and Gideon died trying to prevent You Know Who from getting his hands on that very Prophecy, so it must have been important."
"Oh," Ginny said. She didn't know how to feel about this now… "Wait but what does this have to do with me?"
"It is widely believed that the First girl in Seven generations plays a part in that Prophecy, alongsi- " Muriel began.
"Enough!" Ginny heard her mum's voice.
Slowly, Ginny turned around, expecting to be given the scolding of the century. Mum looked about ready to go and fight a war all by herself, and Ginny was extremely glad that her anger did not appear to be directed at her.
"Ginny," said Mum in a clipped tone. "Go to your room."
This was one of those times where Ginny dared not to argue with mum. Getting up off her chair, she snuck a glance at Muriel, who appeared entirely unbothered by Mum's anger.
Ginny trudged up the stairs slowly, careful not to make any sudden noises. She suddenly wished that the twins were here so that she could find out what Mum and Muriel were speaking about downstairs; they would almost certainly know a way to break through the silencing Charm that Mum had put up.
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The Magical World was the best thing on the entire planet, Harry decided. The only reason for this thought was that the beds here were so soft! It was like sleeping on a pool of jelly, really soft, and bouncy jelly.
Harry's sleep had initially been plagued with images of him being chased by a Dragon while some lunatic cackled in the background, but eventually, while running, Harry had stumbled upon Number Four Privet Drive, where a half-human, half-pig Dudley had snorted at the Dragon as it arrived behind Harry. He didn't know what happened next, because there had been a loud, sharp knock at his door that had woken him up.
He'd quickly gotten up, relieved that he was still in the Leaky Cauldron room and that last night hadn't been a dream, and quickly opened the door to find Tom the Innkeeper outside, holding a tray of different things, food items, all covered with a round cover like the ones in high end restaurants.
And it had been for Harry. It said so on the note.
"We hope you like the gift, Mr. Potter," Tom had said, bowing out of the room.
"Gift?" Harry had asked.
"Our way of saying Thank you."
For what? Harry had wanted to ask, but Tom had made himself scarce after that, so Harry assumed it had something to do with Voldemort. Oh well, at least he got a free breakfast out of the whole thing.
It hadn't taken long for him to brush his teeth, and immediately gobble down the breakfast. It was just a sandwich and a few rashers, but it was still more food than Harry had ever eaten in his life, and yet, once he started, he found that he could not stop.
But now what?
He had escaped from the Dursleys, yes. He was no longer bound by them, also yes. But what did someone in his situation do now? He could go to Gringotts to retrieve the trunk in the vault, he realised. He could also get some money converted… get himself new clothes… oh, and he also needed to find out about his particular type of Magic. That was a good enough list for now, he supposed.
He nodded to himself and walked out of his room, making sure to lock his room. He was half expecting Vernon or Petunia to just come up and grab him to whisk him back to Privet Drive, but they didn't. Obviously.
He took a deep breath to calm down the herd of metaphorical buffaloes that were now running around in his stomach, and descended the stairs, heading straight for the brick archway.
The somewhat familiar sight of the alley in the morning light made him smile a bit, and he made his way towards the central courtyard. He saw a small crowd of people coming out of the alley that led to Gringotts, muttering about something or the other.
Curious, he made his way towards the oncoming crowd, who, he realised, were whispering about uncooperative goblins and people's money being hoarded by those thieves. He remembered Dumbledore saying that Goblins weren't exactly trusted by the general populace, and he found himself growing a little indignant on their behalf. Griphook had been a good… guide? Yes, guide, yesterday, despite him having left Harry alone at the Platform.
The memory of the Dragon attacking him made him remember that Gringotts was indefinitely closed for now, so he decided to head over to Flourish and Blotts instead, making sure not to focus much on the mutterings of the people.
He reached the bookstore five minutes later, and quickly made his way to the back of the shop to start searching for books on Magic. Several books caught his eye; Animagi Explained, Monsters of The Dark and The Depths, Magical History, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century were among the few.
"May I help you?" Harry heard someone ask. Turning around, he saw that it was the manager of the shop. "You seem unable to find what you're looking for."
"I…" Harry trailed off, clearing his throat. "I need a book about Magic."
"Most books here are about Magic," the manager said, and Harry realised how stupid that must have sounded.
"Er… I'm looking for a book about performing Magic without a Wand," Harry decided to say.
"Wandless Magic?" The manager looked bewildered. Harry made a mental note about that name. "But… surely that is far too advanced for you?"
Harry just shrugged, not wanting to go into too much detail. "It's a gift."
The manager raised an eyebrow. "We don't really have books for that," he said, running a hand through his hair. Harry felt a stab of disappointment in his chest. "Nor do I think anyone has written any in… a long time."
"Is there any other place I can find a book like that?" Harry asked.
The manager looked like he was about to say something, but he shook his head. Harry sighed, grimacing. He'd been hoping to find some answers soon, and Harry wasn't sure if the manager was telling the whole truth. If he was, then… well, he supposed he would figure out Wandless Magic by himself. Somehow.
"How old are you?" The manager asked suddenly.
"I'm 10," Harry replied absently.
"Thought so," the manager nodded to himself. "You should be starting Hogwarts this year; the Library there is quite vast. There are books on several subjects there, and most of the books are rather rare, and old. Perhaps you can find one on Wandless Magic there?"
Well, that wasn't too bad, all things considered. Now, he would just have to wait for more than two whole months for a chance at getting a book about Wandless Magic. Completely reasonable (not).
Still, Harry could do no more than just nod at the manager. "I am sorry we couldn't help you," the manager said. "However, we do have another book about the nature of Magic that may just keep your interest."
That did rouse Harry's interest, and he asked the man to show him the book. It was called Magic for Dummies, and there was even a small section on Wandless Magic, although the manager did mention that it was only a basic definition and gist of the art, not something detailed.
Still, Harry decided to buy it, along with that Monsters of The Dark and The Depths book, after which he left the shop. "E- excuse me!" He heard a man call when he was some distance away from the shop.
Turning back around, Harry saw a man wearing purple robes and a turban, rush over to him, a briefcase in hand. There was an inscription near the top of the briefcase that read 'Professor Q. Quirrell.' He was extremely sweaty, and he smelled like garlic, of all things.
"I- I overheard y- y- your c- conversation back t- there," the man stammered, not meeting his eyes. "I am P-Professor Q- Quirrell. I will be, y- your D- Defence Against the D- Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts."
"Oh?" Harry could guess what Defence Against the Dark Arts meant, and the man in front of him did not seem capable of teaching it. Harry didn't say that to his face though.
"Y- yes," said Quirrell, looking at the floor now. "I h- heard that y- you were looking for a b -book on W- Wandless Magic?"
Harry's eyes widened. "Do you have one?" he asked. "Professor?" He added belatedly.
Quirrell nodded, still not looking at him. "Yes," he said. He held a hand up, probably to stop Harry from asking anything, which he wasn't about to do anyway. "I c- cannot give it t- to you, but I c- can tell y- you where I got it f- from."
Now, it was Harry who avoided looking at Quirrell. Was he being generous? Or were Harry's eyes and ears deceiving him? Sure, he was a Hogwarts Professor, but… for some reason, Harry had a bad feeling about him; one that he could not place.
"It is in Knockturn Alley," Quirrell spoke, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "In a shop called The Sting"
He didn't know what Knockturn Alley was, and just hearing the name 'The Sting' set off a million alarm bells in his head, screaming at him to not go there. Ever.
"I'll… check it out," Harry replied, having no real intention of doing so. At that moment, Quirell glanced at Harry just as Harry looked at him. His scar felt heavy now, and so did the rest of his head; but the sensation soon stopped as Quirrell looked at his feet.
But Harry couldn't look away from Quirrell, for he remembered feeling that sensation before. Just yesterday, in fact, down in the tunnels of Gringotts… when the Dark robed Wizard had landed on the platform Harry had been waiting on…
"It was good to meet you, Mr. Potter," said Quirrell, nodding and unknowingly drawing Harry out of his thoughts. "I hope to see you in my classes soon."
With that Quirrell left, and Harry let out a breath of relief. It was not long lasting, however, for he had more pressing concerns now…
What could he do? Call Dumbledore, perhaps? Could it be that one of his own Professors had played a part in the robbery? But, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry realised that he had no way of contacting Dumbledore. He couldn't call Minister Fudge either, despite knowing something that could probably solve the robbery case immediately…
He began running towards the Leaky Cauldron. If Quirrell was the thief, then he wouldn't do anything there, not with all the other people around.
But five minutes later, he knew that he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because he was nowhere near the Leaky Cauldron. There were people near him, gossiping about something or the other. The sounds were loud and hard to distinguish from one another…
On a whim, Harry ran towards the right, ignoring the startled sounds that most people made at his little stunt. He couldn't care less about them at the moment. He skidded to a stop, nearly bowling over an old woman, who clutched a hand to her chest and drew in a startled breath.
Ignoring her, Harry turned around, barely catching a glimpse of something purple disappearing into an alleyway between two shops. "Where's the Leaky Cauldron?" He asked the old woman.
"What?"
"The Leaky Cauldron," he snapped, trying not to let the fear he was feeling bleed into his voice. "Where is it?"
"T- that way." the woman pointed towards an alley to her right; the same direction Quirrell had gone in. Balls.
Harry ran that way anyway. He knew that it was his only bid at safety, if he could reach the place without being intercepted by Quirrell. He suddenly remembered that Tom was friendly with Dumbledore and that he could probably contact the Headmaster. Bolstered by this thought, Harry ran faster.
He reached the Leaky Cauldron soon, this time without getting lost on the way. He entered the pub and looked around at the patrons, trying to spot a turban, or a purple robe. Spotting neither, he ran to the bar, where Tom was cleaning a glass with a cloth rag. "I need to speak with Dumbledore," Harry said without any preamble.
"Are you okay?" Tom looked worried.
Did he bloody look okay? He was sweating, panting, and Harry had no doubts that his messy hair made him look like a crazed lunatic. Still, he nodded. "I'm fine. I just need to talk to Dumbledore. It's urgent. Please."
Something about Harry's demeanour must have made Tom aware of the seriousness of the situation, for he nodded and told Harry to wait in the same room that he had met Minister Fudge in while Tom himself fetched Dumbledore.
Harry obeyed without hesitation and ran up the stairs, throwing himself on a nearby sofa to catch his breath. He had done it, he thought with a smile as he closed his eyes. He just had to wait for Dumbledore, and everything would be fine. Dumbledore would know how to contact the Minister, and then…
… the hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up, and just as he was about to open his eyes, a heavy fog settled in his mind… a fog that felt soothing… relaxing… safe…
"Obliviate."
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A/N: Thanks for reading this far! If you're enjoying this story, I would love to hear what y'all think! I'll see you next time, Byee!!