Evidence
This is not a continuation of the last chapter, I'm sorry to say, but rather another plunny.
x.x
The summer storm was easing off and the thunderous pounding of rain on rooftops had dwindled to a light pitter-patter. The roads were slick, gleaming like snail-slime in the shadow of the dreary grey clouds. The trees that lined the road were a bright and verdant green, their leaves cluttering the pavements and drains.
Three figures hurried along under large, grey raincoats. They huddled together: a group united by an urgent purpose. The creamy building they walked along side towered above them, its drainpipes singing with the sounds water flowing.
"I don't see," Ginny muttered, when they finally reached the stone veranda that offered them shelter from the rain, "why we couldn't just put water-repelling charms on our clothes. There aren't any muggles about in this weather anyway."
Hermione shot a small frown at her friend. It was easy for her, being muggle-raised, to forget how strange it was to do simple things like wearing raincoats. They had apparently all but disappeared from wizarding culture.
"We've passed five muggles already on the way here, and there's no knowing what they'll think. At the very least, the Ministry will have a problem with it," Hermione told her companions as she collected up their raincoats and stuffed them in her bag. "Now come on!"
Hermioine ushered them into the library, her steps bouncing slightly in her excitement. Even Ron was smiling, looking around hopefully.
"You really think the muggles'll know something?"
"It's a possibility, and it's one we can't let slip by," Ginny said before her friend could respond.
"We haven't checked, and we're not going to leave any stone unturned," Hermione answered. She caught something out of the corner of her eye and sighed.
"Harry!" she called as the lights flickered dangerously. A few people looked up and stared at them with frowning faces. She lowered her voice and hissed, "Don't poke the light switches!"
"Right. Sorry," Harry muttered, backing away from the light switch and into the machine that checks for stolen books, which began to beep indignantly.
"Sorry!" he cried, and rushed back to the group, his insubstantial body passing through a trolley of books. Ginny let out a low chuckle, and soon they were all roaring with laughter.
"Harry," Ginny croaked, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Just 'cause you're a ghost doesn't mean that you can't affect things," she meant it as an admonishment, it was true, but the statement lifted the spirits of the group. Harry grinned.
"Everyone's staring at you guys. I'd think you were crazy to, hearing you speak to an invisible person like that."
It took a moment for Ginny and Ron to process what was said, before they shook their heads in amusement.
It was incredible, Harry reflected. He'd thought, when he parted ways with Dumbledore, that he would be going back to his own body. Dumbledore was wrong though, and now he wasn't quite sure if he was truly alive or dead. It was quite a shock to sit up after he'd assured Nassisa that Draco was alive, only to find his body hadn't come with him.
He wasn't like other ghosts. To wizards, he appeared solid and coloured. He was only a year dead and he could already influence the living world so long as there was a speck of magic in the air. He could even, in magically saturated areas, perform weak spells. His friends no longer mourned his almost-but-not-quite passing and they'd come to accept him as the odd, semi-present presence he was in their lives.
The four of them chose a table on its own, surrounded by aisles of books. Harry sat at the desk while the others went to find books. The cushioning charm on the chair provided enough magical presence for him to turn the pages of the books they dumped next to him.
They chose a range, everything from Extreme Hauntings to Stigmata and Modern Science. Ginny had given the last book a very weird glance, but Hermione and shrugged and said that they never knew, and that no-one could doubt that Harry had spontaneously generated the two odd, tear-like wounds that rand down his back from his shoulder blades after his death, even while the rest of his scars had disappeared.
For half an hour, only the sounds of page-flipping could be heard. Then, gradually, they ceased. Ron looked up from his book to find his sister, friend and girlfriend staring at him.
"What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Ginny smirked, looking back down at her book.
Ron gave a disbelieving sound halfway between a scoff and laugh. "I'm allowed to be studious sometimes, aren't I?"
Hermione stared hard at his book.
"I suppose. But that's talking about some angel and demon rubbish, not ghosts," she answered.
"No," Ron protested. "It's not rubbish at all. Look!"
Ron leaned over the table, shoving it under their noses and pointing to a grainy, black and white photo that appeared to be someone's back, with two wide stripes of discoloured skin on either side of the spine. The caption read Fallen Angel.
"That's ridiculous," Hermione muttered after a long pause, voicing the thought they shared. "That's utterly ridiculous."
Ron nodded and retracted the book. "The book thinks that they were, y'know, angels. They're the yellow-haired guys with wings that muggles hang on Christmas trees, right?"
Hermione affirmed that, yes – sort of – they were the same. Ron seemed chuffed with his knowledge and went back to his book.
Harry gave an enormous sigh an hour later, catching the attention of everyone present.
"Look," he said. "You guys have been trying to figure out a way to get me back for over a year. We've as good as vanished the resurrection stone, I mean, we can't find it, so we might as well make do with what we've got. That book of Ron's… It sounds really silly. But maybe there's something in it?"
Harry stared at them all earnestly, with his odd, silvery green eyes.
"Maybe," Hermione conceded.
The book, as it turned out, told them nothing. There was only a bit of unfounded speculation as to what the scars, which had supposedly appeared spontaneously, were.
The research, as usual, was left to Hermione. She managed to identify the image as one credited to photographer Sam Neil, who was still living over in America.
The whole thing was ridiculous, they knew that, but at the same time it had been so long since they'd done anything, well, ridiculous. For the first time since the final battle, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry were going on an adventure.
x.x
"Here's number eighteen!" Ginny called from where she was bent in front of a letter box, trying to discern the faded numbers. "They sure don't care much for upkeep, do they?"
It was true. The entire street would look like something out of ghost town if it weren't for that subtle presence of life the place rang with. Ron led the way as they dawdled up the path and knocked on the door.
"Mr. Neil?" Hemione asked as an old but able-bodied man answered the door. He stared at them, saying nothing. Hermione swallowed awkwardly.
"My name's Hermione, and these are Ron and Ginny. We wanted to ask you about a photo of yours that appears in this book," she flashed the cover at him, "It's um captioned "Fallen Angel".
The man gave a long sigh of recognition. "I know the one," he told them. "Well, don't be shy, come on in kids."
The trio and Harry followed behind him, into a small but neat kitchen area. It was mint green and the laminate was peeling, but it seemed well-used. Mr. Neil walked over to a steaming mug on the benchtop, and plucked the teabag from it.
"Well, wha'd'ya want to know, and why'd'ya want to know it?"
"It's an odd thing," Ginny replied. "See, our friend, recently deceased, he had that same scar appear on his back."
The old man gave a slow nod. "You're all Brits. Pretty far from home, ain't ya? This kid's name's Potter, by any chance?"
Startled, they nodded.
"Ah," he man growled. "He was a funny sort, that guy Potter. Came over from England, stayed a few years, and was off again. He was older 'n me by a fair whack. I was giving the school newletter a story, and he had one. Said it was hereditary, that scar. A gift from History."
He stared into his cup.
"The whole thing about the angels was all me though. It got top marks. People loved the article. You're the second lot to ask me about him this week. Others claimed to be supernatural investigators, though." He shook his head. "I sure know how to attract 'em crazies."
x.x
The plot that went along with this was rather complicated, but I've forgotten it unfortunately. Harry's turned into some vaguely angel-oid supernatural critter and is potentially under threat from Dean and Sam. I haven't got /any/ idea where I was going with this :/ I'm rather intrigued myself.
Anyway, if anyone cares, I will be taking Origin of Our Kind down and reposting the re-written first chapter here. I may or may not take it up again.