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Posted July 19, 2012.
19. ONE STEP TOO FAR
January 5, 2001
"Check mate," Capa declared, triumphantly.
"Bloody hell, it's hopeless!" Ron finally exclaimed. They'd been playing chess all afternoon, and only twice had he even come close to defeating his opponent.
"I daresay, our little bro's finally met his match," George smirked. He and his twin were on the larger couch, messing about with what looked like an ordinary crumpet they'd pilfered from the kitchen.
"I concur, brother of mine. Perhaps he should play with his Wizarding set instead, might prove more helpful."
"Yeah but it cheats," said Capa, as they reset the board for another round.
"It does not!"
"Yes it does," said Jason. He and Mace were cramped—or cuddled, more like it, in one of the large armchairs in the opposite corner of the room. Kreacher had taken the tree down a few nights before, and so the room was relatively back to normal. "And guys... if you blow up the room doing whatever you're doing, you're cleaning it up."
"If you'd add us another room, we could do this in private... considering Kreacher's got the table in the dining room set up for dinner already," said George.
"Yeah, with Viktor claiming the spare room and all."
"I'll look into it. If we're continuously having visitors over... and with the list... really need to come up with a long-term solution. People need privacy, including us."
"That realtor who got us the property here... he was awesome," Mace remembered, "I know he did something to the people living here before us... am I right?"
"Wouldn't doubt it."
"So what if we, um... somehow bought up the other property around? Everyone have their own place, shit like that."
"Hmmm... Probably don't need to go to that extreme. But I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would appreciate a new place. Guess we'll need to talk to Sandra again." Jason thought for a moment. "Not today. Monday. She's been right helpful with everything, but really, everyone needs a break now and then."
A door slamming had everyone looking toward the dining room, and a few moments later, Viktor entered, looking weary and grumpy. He'd been off to see a mind-healer three times already, this making it four. Still, he was having trouble dealing with the chaos surrounding his parents' murders. He claimed the only vacant seat, and let out a sigh.
Jason reached over and put a hand on the guy's shoulder. "All right there?"
"Yes and no. It vos... I should have been there."
"Probably wouldn't have made any difference, mate. They likely would've killed you too. You... and me both for that matter... best thing we can do is live, survive. Doing so we defy those responsible... and we honour our parents. Tell me I'm wrong."
"No... I... it makes sense."
"Your parents wait for you on the other side now... just like my parents, Sirius... and Cedric are waiting for me. And I know... our parents are proud of what we are, what we've become. See, I talked to my parents recently—I won't get into how... but they told me something that I'll never forget." Jason pointed a finger at Viktor's heart. "Your mum and dad are always with you. They live inside of us... right there... so they're not really gone, see?"
Viktor seemed to think on this logic for a moment, and gave a weak smile. Somehow, he knew Jason's logic to be the truth. "Jason Black, you are vizer than your years."
"I try to be." Jason gave his friend a warm smile.
Further conversation was interrupted, as another owl demanded to be let into the house. This time, it fluttered over to Jason, and dropped a rolled up magazine into his lap. There was also a letter attached. Jason opened it first.
Mr. Black,
I felt it prudent you see this. The Order is investigating how this came to be, seeing as you have not been in the country since June. I would suggest getting in contact with your solicitor at once.
S. Snape
"What sort of nonsense..."
"Have a look."
Mace had unrolled the magazine. It was the current edition of Witch Weekly, and the cover featured a rather pregnant Ginerva Weasley. She was all aglow, displaying her growing belly rather prominently.
"Oh great. The bint's got herself pregnant somehow," Jason muttered.
"She did?" Both Fred and George got up to have a look.
"Pity the bloke," Ron grinned. His expression soured. "Considering what she did to Harry—Jason, I mean. Still can't believe we're related after all that."
"Shit. Listen to this."
Mace had opened the magazine to the article, featuring yet another photo of the youngest Weasley, showing her assets rather provocatively for the camera, blowing kisses and such. Just looking at her, Mace now felt like he needed a shower and a few strong cleaning charms.
"And I quote, 'I'm having Harry's baby', unquote."
"Like hell she is!" Jason hissed, snatching the magazine to read for himself.
"He was a right gentleman last summer," says Ginerva, as she talks about their brief tryst at a Muggle motel outside of London, "I always knew Harry [Potter] was meant for me, you know. When he saved me in the Chamber of Secrets, he did it because he loved me! Now I'm having his baby!" Asked about when she was expecting the child, she answered, "The medi-witch says sometime at the end of April or the beginning of May. Harry and I still have to set up a wedding date, but I hope—"
SMASH. Every window in the room blew out spectacularly, a few of the shards being blown back in by the wind, forcing people to duck. The light fixture overhead sparked dangerously, as it too disintegrated, along with several lamps. The air felt alive with energy that crackled and sizzled ominously, and it all centred around a very angry Jason Black, nee Harry Potter. Mace received several painful shocks from his mate, but remained rooted to the seat, trying to get him calmed down. It was understandable, but this was dangerous.
"Jason... c'mon. You're gonna hurt someone." Jason turned to face his mate, his eyes blazing with emerald fury. "Calm down? Calm DOWN! THAT FUCKING LITTLE HARLOT. Calm down all right..." The temperature of the room plummeted, and not just factoring in the absence of glass in the windows.
"Jason..."
SMASH. The coffee table was rendered a pile of kindling. "I'll murder her in her sleep..." SMASH. The end table in the corner, with its broken lamp, was also rendered a pile of rubble.
"Stupefy." Jason slumped, the victim of Hermione's stunner. The hostile energy instantly dissipated. "I'll apologize to him later."
"No, it's all right. But... what the fuck was that?" Mace was shaking, disturbed by the raw display of magical power.
"Accidental magic... at least at the start. Last bit... not so much," said Hermione.
"But we can't blame him really," said George, "Our little sis has crossed the line by a mile."
Mace was confused. "But how? He was with me here."
"Ginny loved to meddle with potions, so it's likely that's how she did it," Ron guessed, "She could've collected hair anytime, right?"
"Someone mind getting Sandra here? Snape's note said we should get in touch with her sooner rather than later." Mace tossed the magazine on the coffee table and scowled. "He might actually try and kill her."
"We'll all make sure he doesn't. Just remind him, there are some things worse than death, right?" said Hermione. She then knelt in front of the floo.
"Kreacher." Mace called out. The elf popped in almost immediately, and was startled at the state of the room. "Master Jason is not well?"
"No. Calming draughts, a bunch of them."
"Right away, Master James." Kreacher popped away.
Viktor, meanwhile, at last found his tongue. "That vos... terrible magic."
"Not telling me anything new," Mace snorted, "Fuck, he shocked me about three times. Make yourselves useful, guys... get the room fixed."
"He's right." Ron pulled out his wand, and started repairing the glass in the windows.
Kreacher reappeared, depositing a load of potions on the coffee table, and bringing a pair of them to Mace.
"Thanks. Don't worry about fixing shit, we got this."
"Very well." Kreacher bowed low, and popped away. The fireplace roared to life almost immediately after, and Sandra stepped out of it. "Dear God, what's happened?"
"Have a look." Mace pointed a finger at the offensive magazine now resting on a corner of the coffee table, as other hands were reaching for calming draughts. Sandra pursed her lips, but picked up the magazine. "Page forty-seven."
"The Weasley daughter, is it not?" Sandra clarified, glancing again at the front cover.
"In name only," said Fred, with a scowl.
"And what has..." Sandra didn't have to ask, finding the passage evidently responsible for the destruction of the living room.
"Hermione had to stun him, he might have injured someone," said Ron.
"Professor Snape sent a letter along with the magazine." Mace handed over the short letter.
"This... this is line theft," said Viktor, gruffly, "In the old vays, it vold mean outcasting, imprisonment, perhaps death even, depending on the family."
"Dad needs to know," said George, going over to the fireplace.
"And we'll need to speak to DMLE. Theft and fraud... Witch Weekly will be issuing a retraction, I think... though they'll be fairly easy to deal with, not exactly their fault," said Sandra, the last bit mostly to herself. "Can you wake him up? Let's see what Jason wants to do."
Mace produced his wand. "Rennervate."
Jason's eyes fluttered open, and his face contorted into an angry mask again.
"Here. Drink or we stun you again." Mace pushed a calming potion into his hand, and Jason consumed it at once. He gave it time to take effect, before daring to open his mouth.
"Sandra. Good you're here." He still looked like he was ready to commit murder.
"We'll have her for theft and fraud for starters," said Sandra. Jason gave a nod. "The child..."
"If it's yours, what do you want to do?"
"I dunno. I mean..."
"First thing let's find out how the fuck she pulled it off in the first place," Mace scowled, "The end of August, we were quite busy doing each other in the pond. So unless Jason's able to be in two places at once..."
"Too much information, Mace."
"Irrelevant. But I think we're on the same page here. Whatever it takes to make sure she can't pull anymore surprises."
"Yes, agreed," said Sandra, "I'll speak to DMLE, see what we can come up with."
"You guys have something like a restraining order?" Capa questioned.
"That vold be part of the outcasting ritual. It has varying degrees."
"Outcasting ritual. Old magic," said Sandra, with a nod, "It wouldn't be up to Jason, though."
"This is true. It vold fall to Mr. Veasley as head of the family."
"Dad's still at work," said George, stepping back from the floo, "Mum will bring him through after dinner."
Jason blew out a breath, and gave a chilly smile. "Well. That tears it. I'm done. I'm truly done. Ginerva Molly Weasley has just handed the British Wizarding world over to Tom Riddle, with this latest little stunt. Hope it was worth it."
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January 10, 2001
Simcoe Crossing, Toronto ON
Ginny was absolutely glowing both inside and out, as she stepped out of the fireplace at the Blazing Goblet, and took a moment to spell the ashes off her robes. The owl had arrived the previous afternoon, with Harry—or Jason, as he was calling himself these days, warmly inviting her to Toronto to have lunch and a chat, wishing to discuss their future and that of the child. There had been no mention of wedding plans or the like, but that was fine. There would be ample opportunity for that, after all, she had thought to herself.
The pub itself somewhat resembled that of the Leaky Cauldron back in London, although substantially cleaner. There were a few patrons around, but only a few of them looked up at her entrance. It was rather strange, seeing how most were dressed... if not for the witch idly stirring her soup with her wand, Ginny might mistake the place for a Muggle pub. Not a robe to be seen! She suddenly felt overdressed and out of place.
That feeling fled rather quickly, as she set eyes on the reason for her visit. Harry... her Harry, sat in a corner booth, idly sipping on a Muggle beer. He looked a bit different than how she remembered him over four years ago. His hair was longer, not so wild, but rather flat and stringy, if a bit fuzzy. He looked up as she approached, and there were those same emerald green eyes... same old Harry.
"Ginny..." said Harry, standing. His voice was a little deeper than she remembered, and he'd lost his accent completely. He was dressed in a pair of Muggle cargo pants, and... was that one of mum's jumpers? A Muggle jacket was hung on a coat hook beside the booth.
"Harry! You... you look well." They embraced, and although Harry put his worth into it, to Ginny, it still felt restrained. They broke apart, and he took her hand briefly. "Sit down and we'll order some lunch." He gestured to the opposite bench. A server was already hovering close by, and as they sat down, a pair of menus was placed in front of them.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, but take your time," she said, before walking off to see to another table.
"Order what you like, my treat."
Ginny only smiled. That was the Harry she remembered. Generous, kind, and caring. In no time she would be a princess, swimming in the Potter and Black money. No more working in that god-awful apothecary, getting only a few galleons for the long hours. She would have nice things, a nice house, and a famous husband. She focused on the task at hand, namely picking something for lunch.
"The fish and chips is quite nice here," Harry suggested, "The fourth panel."
"Oh. Well... Actually... how is their chicken Alfredo?"
"Um, I haven't had it. But most of the stuff here's good. The chicken Caesar, that's what I'm having."
"You two ready to order?" The server had returned, and she collected Harry's empty beer bottle.
"I think so. The chicken Alfredo for my friend, and I'll take the chicken Caesar. Could I also get another Canadian?"
"And would your lady friend like something to drink?"
"A butterbeer, thank you," Ginny decided.
"All right. About fifteen minutes, your order should be ready. I'll be back in a 'sec with your drinks."
"Great." The server was off again, this time toward the back of the pub to submit the order to the cooking staff. Fifteen minutes? Ginny thought to herself, 'They must have house elves then.'
"You've been to see a healer?"
"What—oh, yes, of course!" Ginny was startled by the question, but... of course he'd want to know. "I've been every few weeks since I learned I was pregnant."
"Good. And you're actually well? Eating well, shit like that?"
Ginny frowned at the vulgar language, but nodded. "I want the baby to be healthy, Harry. Of course I'm looking after myself. But... how do you feel about all of this? I was so worried you would just..."
"Abandon the baby?" Harry finished. "No. I think that would sully my mother's memory—and my father's, come to think of it... a Potter abandoning something he created. So really. You need to take care of yourself."
"Of course I will!" Ginny was put out he would even suggest she would neglect herself.
"I was a bit shocked to see that article though, Gin. Wish you'd just sent me a letter, rather than advertize our business to the world. I mean, you know I don't like the publicity."
"But... Harry, I was so happy to find out, and... I wanted to be sure before I told anyone else... and what better way than to tell the world? I know you don't like publicity, but you're famous, Harry. I wanted the world to know you were mine and no one else's."
"Ah. I see." Ginny missed the slip of the mask, as Harry smiled again. "I guess I can forgive you then. When is the baby due?"
"Late April or early May. Plenty of time for us to plan a wedding. The beginning of spring would—"
"Ginny. We've got lots of time. I don't want to get into that sort of discussion today, okay?"
"All right, Harry," said Ginny, deflated. She brightened, and asked, "What about Mr... um... the wizard you're... seeing?"
"Again. We'll talk about it, just not today." Again, Ginny missed the slight slip in the mask, but Harry schooled his features. "Lots of time."
The conversation drifted back to safer topics, and lunch finally arrived. Harry was right: the chicken Alfredo was delicious, as was the Caesar. Harry offered a bit of it, saying there was more than enough for him. It was almost like old times again. She smiled inwardly to herself. Sure, Harry didn't want to talk about a wedding that day, but it would come. His sense of duty would ensure it. Amazing what a few potions could do...
"Right." Harry removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "I think we're just about finished."
"Harry?" He looked up, and something looked a little strange. His eyes were losing their colour. In place of emerald green, were steel-grey. And hair... it was shortening rapidly, changing... changing from the almost-black, to a light brown shade, short-cropped...
"No. NO!" Ginny shrieked. In place of Harry Potter, sat James Mace. He had a nasty smile on his face.
"Ginerva Molly Weasley. You, my dear, are in DEEP shit," he purred.
"Hello, Ginny." She wheeled, to find Harry standing beside the booth. "Did Mace put on a good show for you?"
"But... but..." A stone had fallen into the bottom of her stomach, as the terrible realization hit home.
"But what?" Mace asked, as Harry slammed a magazine down on the table, making her jump, "Funny what a little potion can do." A server had stepped up, and swiftly collected the empty plates.
"We'll settle in a moment," said Harry.
"Let us handle that, Jason," said another patron, standing. A few others stood as well, including one who... Another stone fell into the bottom of her stomach. Harry's solicitor. Ginny now felt like she'd been put on someone's dinner menu.
"Jason. Let's finish this elsewhere. We've got a nice holding cell waiting for her." Ginny whirled around to find a crimson-robed Auror by the back door. Quickly weighing her options, she ran with the best option in her opinion, and passed out.
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They arrived via port key to the Ministry of Magic, and then took the elevator down to the DMLE offices, and more specifically, the holding cells and the interview rooms. Only once there did they revive the girl. She let out a gasp, realizing her surroundings had drastically changed. Far worse, both her parents were there, and both of them looked beyond angry.
"Y'know. I thought on a few occasions you would've guessed it wasn't really Jason you were talking to," said Mace, with a nasty smirk. "When Jason told me you weren't all that bright, I didn't completely believe him. Guess I know when to admit I'm wrong."
"I'm not dumb, you useless... m-mudblood!" Ginny hissed.
"Oh. Resorting to racist chatter now, are we? I'll add the charge of uttering a racist slur to your charges, Miss Weasley." The crimson-robed Auror was also present.
Mace only smiled again, and it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not Muggleborn. I'm probably something worse where you come from. But whatever. I know that whatever you did is beyond illegal."
"Exactly," Jason picked up. "What we want to know, is how you did it. I saw you last month at Dumbledore's trial, and I was wondering then, who was the poor bastard you'd suckered into doing the deed. So tell us. How did you come to carry my bloodline?"
Ginny was shaking, her lip quivering, as she really didn't wish to. That useless Muggleborn, clinging to him... he tricked me! She stormed in her head.
"Answer the question, Ginerva Molly Weasley," Mr. Weasley commanded. And now Ginny had no choice, bound by family magic.
"It was several potions," she answered, collapsing into a seat. Her entire demeanour collapsed, and tears leaked out of her eyes. Jason knew it was crushing her emotionally, but at this point he really didn't care.
"Details, Ginny. All of it!" Mrs. Weasley was furious. "I thought we taught you better than this!"
"I... took a fertility potion. Then I invited Seamus over for lunch, and laced his drink with Amortentia, and Polyjuice potion. I put a Confundus charm on him so he asked no questions, and we... we had sex. He spent the night and... he never knew."
"Poor Seamus. I'll be sure to tell him the news—I'm sure he'll appreciate being used in such a manner," said Jason, sarcastically. He thought for a moment, then said, "Auror Morgan... maybe we need to question her under Veritaserum. There's a few things I'd like to know."
"Mr. Weasley?"
"I consent."
The interview was certainly an eye-opener, to say the least. While under Veritaserum, Jason confirmed that it was in fact Ginny who turned several people against him during his trial four years prior, instead of Dumbledore. Equally, the full extent of her plans was unravelled, the main purpose being to gain access to Jason's vaults. Further, she had already prepared several lethal potions, all of them intended for Mace and Capa, since they were seen to be in the way.
"All right, I think we're done here," said Auror Morgan, glancing at a second Auror by the door. "Ginerva Weasley. You're under arrest, charges of line theft, fraud, possession of a class B controlled substance, possession of a class A non-tradable substance, sexual assault by proxy, and two counts of conspiracy to commit murder."
"But..." The young witch looked destroyed, about ready to collapse in tears.
"But what, Ginerva?" Jason hissed, "You want leniency? Forgiveness? You betrayed me! Four years ago you betrayed me in spectacular fashion! Turned friends against me! Embellished and distorted the truth! And now you want forgiveness? No. The day that will happen, is the day HELL will freeze over."
"And we're not exactly done," said Mr. Weasley, gravely. "Ginerva Molly Weasley. I cast you out, betrayer, bringer of dishonour to mine and ours. I cast you out, in damnatio memoraie(1). You are dead to us, Ginerva Molly." As the Weasley patriarch spoke those words, a black tendril of magic erupted from their youngest child, to connect with him.
"Dad... please..." Ginny whimpered, but her father only glared at her coldly. "You violated the trust of a boy who saved your very life. You then tried to steal from him and take from him someone who means far more than you ever will. You have demonstrated a callous disregard for those around you... going against everything your mother and I have taught you. I can not and will not forgive you. In damnatio memoraie."
Mrs. Weasley also raised her wand, although her eyes welled with tears. It certainly hurt to have to do it, but she knew it was morally right. Her daughter had done something truly unforgivable. "In damnatio memoraie," she intoned.
"Mum... please. Please don't..." Ginny whimpered again.
"S-so mote it be," Mr. Weasley spoke. The black tendril between Ginny and her father seemed to fray and snap, and she collapsed in a heap, unconscious.
"We'll still need to proceed with a trial, but she won't see the outside of a jail cell, given the amount of evidence here."
"And the baby she, um, conjured or whatever the fuck she did?" said Mace, nastily.
"Oh, it's a real, living baby, Mr. Mace. We'll see she takes care of herself. More importantly, since it was Mr. Black whose blood and likeness was used to create it, it's his call on what to do with it once it's born," answered the other Auror.
"I need some time... I mean, WE need some time to think about it," answered Jason.
"If worse comes to worse, we would happily take care of it. Our spawn caused this problem, after all," said Mrs. Weasley, casting a weary glance at her still unconscious former daughter.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. But we'll talk about it before we make any sort of formal decision."
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January 15, 2001
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK
The hall was relatively deserted, save for a lone figure seated at the far end of the enormous table, and an enormous snake who lay coiled up in front of the crackling fire, warming herself with the heat which radiated from it. The lone figure was pulled from his thoughts, as a barn owl swooped in, to drop a letter on the table in front of him.
The handwriting was somewhat familiar, and, as he sorted back through his memories, he quickly realized who it was.
"Look Nagini, our young nemesis has owled us a letter," Voldemort hissed to his familiar. The snake looked up from where she was laying, only partially paying attention, as her master slit the envelope open with a nail, and pulled out the letter from inside.
Dear Tom,
I ask you to please read this through before you toss it into the fireplace, because I'm not begging for mercy or any of the sort. Actually, I quit. I resign. I'm packing it in. Do whatever you feel is right with the people of magical Britain, for they are not worth saving. Perhaps your rule is exactly what they need at this point, seeing as they want a martyr rather than a leader. Perhaps you could show them the error of their ways. Know this. I won't lift a finger to stop you.
What, might you ask, has brought me to this decision? You and I have had a similar upbringing. I'm sure you have followed the trial of the (meddling old coot was scratched out here) former headmaster. You and I both suffered because of his meddling and scheming. I told him straight up during that process... I trusted you more than I trusted him, at least you've been rather straight forward as to your intentions.
The headmaster made you as much as he made me. I'm not going to cry a 'woe is me story', that's not the purpose of this missive. But I will tell you, I can relate, and I'll leave it at that. Other than, he won't be able to do it to another human being, considering he doesn't have a scrap of magic left in him. It's what happens when one violates a magically binding contract, right?
The bottom line, is I'm dealing myself out of the war. I enclose something which belongs to you as a token of good will. I know what it is, and have a good idea how to destroy it, but I do not, seeing as I no longer see you as an enemy. We simply have different opinions on matters, and I will leave it at that.
I should also tell you, keep an eye on the Daily Prophet the next few days, just in case you're unsure of my sincerity here.
With respect,
(Jason had signed his name here)
Jason J. Black, nee Harry James Potter
As the Dark Lord finished reading, a golden locket fell out of the bottom of it: one of his special items. The boy knew his secret? How? But... he had to reread the letter again. By returning the Horcrux to him, the boy was clearly being honest and genuine. The boy had gone over to Canada, according to the paper, carving out a new life for himself away from England... away from him.
What of his snotty friends though? What would all of them think? Surely, he would come to their rescue the moment they were threatened... wasn't that the way he worked? At least it did with Black. Perhaps, a return missive might be in order. If Potter—or Black as he was calling himself now truly meant what he said, things would be much easier for him.
He summoned parchment and writing tools, and began to compose a response. To think, two enemies sending cordial missives between them. Who would have thought? Then again, one didn't expect the great Albus Dumbledore to be felled by a nineteen year old wizard, either—without raising a wand to him! No, some part of Tom Riddle had gained a peg of respect for his nemesis. Now if only he could convince him to join the right side of the fight...
AUTHOR NOTES: Line theft. I know, it's been done a thousand times over... but c'mon, it's right useful in this instance. a) Harry/Jason and Mace get an heir, and b) they get rid of one more individual who has betrayed Harry/Jason in a spectacular manner, now twice over. Additionally, gotta love Polyjuice potion. It's got so many uses, and seriously, it was used four times in canon, all of which having serious results/effects. Only fitting they use it against her here.
This story has one more chapter left, officially, before I do an epilogue.
(1) In damnatio memoraie - "Condemnation of memory"