Chapter 7 – Of Light and Dark
Standard disclaimer – don't own any of JK Rowling's works, nor am I profiting from them.
Summary: Harry's exile was explained to Ginny by his healer, Dr. Hideki Saito. Drawing raw magic, the Fade, during his battle with the Death Eaters poisoned him much like his father, and Kreacher was able to use it to manage his most dire wounds. Ginny began to work through some of her feelings in regards to Harry.
A/N: I am hoping this chapter pushes the story to 10000 views. I had no idea, perhaps a slim hope, that the story would gain traction like it has. I appreciate all the compliments and constructive criticism. Please keep it up!
It was a colder winter day in Australia which found Ron and Hermione huddled together at a coffee shop contemplating their next move. Hermione, the smartest witch of her age, had modified her parents' memories to include a desire to stay in Sydney and enjoy the Opera. Tactically speaking, it was brilliant; they would stake out at a place and watch as theater goers would amble past during shows that Hermione's parents would enjoy, while the actively searched during the day time. It made evenings a bit easier because it involved them recapping what the day brought, and it allowed them time for reflection of both the mission and their budding relationship. It was perhaps a bit more passive than Ron would have liked, but it also afforded him time to really talk to her and be reminded of how attractive she was. Ron was blessed with less empathy and guilt, and more self-assurance than Harry, and so questioning why Hermione found him interesting was easier to accept. Well once he got past his jealousy; he knew it was a silly problem, Hermione had chosen him to be with despite their constant quarreling.
His epiphany when at Grimmauld Place was a double edged sword in that respect; he was maturing, being more considerate of others, Hermione in particular, but he also knew that Harry had inroads to her heart that were untouchable. Harry never abandoned her in a death defying quest, even when it was his death to be defied, I mean honestly. That time they shared while on the run still bothers me, some for my own cowardice, but also because they became so close, more so than even before.
Ron's misunderstood obsession with food came in handy many times when mired in his thoughts such as these. An extra bite of biscuit, an extra serving of bangers would often allow him to slip out of uncomfortable situations or gauge a response with the added time. It was a perfect stalling technique because no one expected him to be so devious. So it was no surprise when Hermione asked him how he felt the trip was going so far, Ron's mouth went into overdrive.
Two handful of chips and a hefty swig of soda later, Ron ventured, "It's been the best to be here with you, Hermione, I only wish we could have found your parents already, I know how hard it has been for you to do this with only me for support." He gave a tentative, self deprecating smile when her face went slack for just a moment, and she muttered blushingly about a teaspoon before replying, "Thank you Ron, I … I've really enjoyed it too" as she cautiously reached out to hold his hand.
His suave comment was stifled by the swift heating of his jeans. Merlin's beard, she just touched your hand, no need to get all hot and bothered. The heating quickly cooled and embarrassingly he reached in to his pocket and deliberately pulled out his DA galleon, explicitly showing Hermione what the devil was going on in his pants before reading it. No need to have her think I am that over the moon for her. He slid it across the table to Hermione as he leapt towards the counter and flipped quickly through all the wizarding newspapers. His fingers froze when he saw the front page of the Prophet. Throwing a Galleon at the store owner, he walked in a daze back to his girlfriend and carefully placed it in front of her before pulling his chair beside her, pulling her close. Hermione burrowed into his warmth for comfort as he read the short article aloud over her quiet tears. The Galleon warmed again and they left, newspaper in hand, to find the first floo available; they needed to call the Burrow; someone had heard from Harry.
George took the call late in the evening; he had been waiting for the last of the DA to floo call which meant Ron and Hermione, seeing as how they were travelling and half a world away. George was exhausted still, but he owed it to Ginny and Harry to take these calls himself. He was the one that got too excited and jeopardized Harry's health by having to move him so quickly after arriving. Ginny had understood his excitement and forgave him immediately admitting she would have done the same thing. But he knew deep down it hurt his sister tremendously to lose Harry so soon after she got there.
He limited the conversation with his brother and Hermione to only the positive news, scarce as it was, they were tracking down her parents and he wouldn't risk them returning before they found Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Also he felt a submerged happy tenor to both their voices that he didn't want to crush with such an overwhelming update about the severity of Harry's wounds. George knew that the two of them left Britain to bring some good news to Hermione, but he would be a lousy older brother if he didn't also notice the looks little Ron had been giving to the bushy haired witch. He assured them that Harry was getting the best care possible and was able to see Ginny and make nice, throwing in a little joke at how thrilled Harry was when Ginny arrived. The relief was audible from them both, that Ginny had been able to really talk to him and that Harry seemed to be normal again made George uneasy about his lying, but he would address it later when they had more time. After the call, George couldn't even make it back to the Cauldron; the experiments would wait until tomorrow. He collapsed into his bed at the Burrow and was asleep immediately.
Molly checked in her children's rooms late at night, it was a habit that started soon after they returned from Hogwarts. She needed proof that they were still there, that someone hadn't taken them away. She was well aware that they were Order members like her and Arthur, but they were still just children. She lingered at George's room, watching her son twitch in his sleep; her motherly instincts knew something was different about him and it wasn't just that Fred was gone. He had an almost manic zeal about their joke shop and while she was grateful that he wasn't consumed by Fred's death, she wanted him to stopping running about and come to terms with it.
It also scared her that he was always mumbling in his sleep, making wand movements or absently tinkering with unseen inventions when dreaming, and when awake he was at the joke shop or depositing fresh ideas into the Pensieve. Arthur was no help in the matter because he thought George was coping in his own way. And much like her husband, they threw themselves into work. The Weasley matriarch also knew she was coping poorly, her initial response was to secure her family, but now with George at the shop, Ron and Hermione out in Australia, poor Harry had vanished, it left her with only Ginny there at the Burrow for her to dote and expend her grief on.
She smiled with some fondness as she opened the door to her daughter and Hermione's room seeing Ginny asleep. She hadn't seen Dean in over a week, and Molly assumed that they were over as a couple. The fact that her daughter was cradling the snitch that Harry gave her was one of many clues. When she spoke of him to his godson Teddy, her eyes lit up with pride and understandable sadness, but her love for him seemed renewed somehow, like she had found tangible proof of it and carried it with her always. She bore that love to Teddy, extolling the virtues of Remus and Nymphadora, and excusing Harry's absence by telling him he needed help to continue on from the war. Molly's motherly instincts were torn between her daughter's happiness now, and the reality that Harry was gone, and that absence would be devastating to Ginny over time. Wonderful memories and photos were great as support, but it couldn't sustain a relationship and Molly feared that her only daughter was chasing the impossible dream, one that she helped create.
Finished with her rounds, Molly padded her way back to her bed and silently slipped back under the covers. Arthur was waiting, and as he pulled her close sleepily consoled her and reminded her that everything would be alright in time.
Ginny sat with Luna at the edge of the Burrow's property by the small lake taking in the shallow British summer sun. They sat in comfortable silence as their toned legs lightly splashed around in the clear water; Ginny knew the question that Luna was dying to ask and was willing to wait her out. Finally, in true Luna fashion, "The Dabberblimps told me why you weren't here yesterday; they said you needed to see Harry Potter. Then our coins said Harry was heard from, did you send it?"
Ginny shook her head slightly in disbelief at her friend's creatures, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Luna's quiet laugh tinkled into the air, "Perhaps not, but I bet it would be a good story. And you still haven't answered my question."
Her crimson hair bobbed in agreement, and Luna's head cocked slightly to the side. "You sent the message, what did Harry say, did he use owl, floo call, that Muggle telephone?"
"I didn't send the script Luna. I didn't hear from him. I saw him." Luna's usually aloof façade crumbled instantly as she gasped and turned to fully face her best friend. "What did he say, was he still angry about …" Luna's interrogation stopped suddenly when Ginny's face flared as red as her hair. "You DIDN'T?" Luna's face was a mixture of surprise and shocked amusement, "Did he say anything, or was he too … occupied?" Her smirk was a mile wide and Ginny couldn't stand to burst her bubble, but she owed Luna the truth.
"He was hurt, worse than any time at school." Luna's smile died on her lips as the mirth fled quickly from the dreamy blonde. The girls both nodded grimly to each other, being that hurt was really saying something considering Harry. "He was delirious the whole time and didn't say anything meaningful before they had to leave Grimmauld Place." She left out the part about Alecto, knowing it was just too raw for the conversation at hand. They both hated the witch. Merlin, this is going to hurt. "And I kissed him." There I said it.
"You kissed him? I thought you said he was delirious?" Luna's disbelief cratered her brow in a huge crease until she saw Ginny's flush and felt the heat radiating from her body. "You slag!" Luna yelled, playfully smacking Ginny's leg. "Kissing a comatose man, even if he is as fanciable as Harry Potter, well, wow."
"Well, he seemed to enjoy it. A lot." Ginny said defensively crossing her arms, and with no small amount of pride, but as soon as she said it, she knew she was in trouble. The grin that was painted on her friend's face was impossibly wide and promised discomfort. Oh shit, me and my big mouth. Ginny could have punched herself in the face with how careless she was and what she admitted to.
"Enjoyed it you say? A lot you say?" Luna's voice sweetly drawled. Oh this is going to be fun. She measured her hands out some distance apart and if they were ganging up on someone else, Ginny would have gladly led the teasing, but this ... this was going to be mortifying. "A baby centaur?" Ginny felt the heat bursting from her cheeks as she shook her head no.
"A thestral?" Luna asked surprisingly, widening her hands a bit more. Ginny shook her head again, the heat on her face causing beads of sweat to magically appear, slowly rolling down the nape of her neck and wetting her hair. She bowed her head in submission, hoping that Luna would drop her humiliating interrogation. But the Ravenclaw would not be deterred, this was information that would be legendary at Hogwarts next year when they were seventh years.
"A hippogriff?" Luna asked in only a half mocking whisper. Ginny's slight cough and quick nod was the only cue the blonde witch needed. She looked down at her hands quite some distance apart and managed an awed, "I see…" before exploding into nervous laughter which Ginny followed, if only to expel the fierce burning from her face and neck.
"And you? How much did you enjoy it?" Luna wouldn't relent until she had all the details. Ginny's sheepish silly grin told Luna everything. "You slag!"
"I know, I know, but …" Ginny's face screwed up into one of remembering with great concentration which Luna deciphered quickly wasn't amorous in nature, "his Healer said our reaction was due to his magic changing, something about the Fade and ancient magics. That's partially why I wanted to talk to you, to see if your dad had heard of anything like this before? Your father is … good with these kinds of different questions. And, yes, partially because I wanted to talk about Harry" she admitted quietly with a smile. Luna felt thrilled for her best friend, even if seeing Harry was fleeting. But a small shadow clouded her happiness.
"How did Dean take it?" Luna would not begrudge her best friend the love of her life and the question was definitely sobering, but she had become fond of Dean and didn't want to see him get hurt.
"Poorly, but it's because I used him. I wanted someone to be there for me, to be comforted. I think he is okay with it on some level because I think he needed me to feel loved and supported too." Ginny replied with brutal honesty. She toed the water nervously, she knew Luna and Dean were friends and hated to be the kind of person to use another just to make her feel better.
Luna just patted her knee and lay down on the bank. She let out a soft whisper, "I know, Ginny. It's ok, we all were just trying to find a way to get by. To cope."
It was one thing Ginny regretted greatly now with hindsight, but it was merely survival instinct at the time. One day she hoped they could forgive each other, but this was the second time that Ginny had chosen Harry over Dean and his forgiveness would be much longer in coming.
As it was, Ginny didn't know if Harry would survive or ever be able to come back, but to come to terms with her feelings and act on them felt right even if it did kind of make her a slag.
Kreacher had just finished cleaning out the dining area after the impromptu meeting of Master Harry's friends to discuss his birthday presents. Despite the elf's best efforts at vague explanation, his friends insisted on purchasing gifts for his Master to personally deliver it to him, or to his vault if he couldn't get away from his therapies. Ginny and George looked at each other sharing a bittersweet smile, there would be no birthday miracle, no surprise meeting. Harry would barely be recovering from his grievous wounds a month from now, but neither had the heart to damper the enthusiasm that was so scarce these days.
The harmless arguing eventually turned towards Neville as the "Boy who shared a birthday". It was a funny moniker that reminded everyone of both Harry and Neville's bravery in the war. Neville Longbottom had been tempered by the same circumstances as Harry's, perhaps with not as hot a fire, but he had experienced more loss and suffering than the others. Ever since Harry's disappearance, he had been subdued for the most part because he was emotionally drained. Neville had been coordinating the American healers' visits to his parents and after a few weeks the treatments were finally paying dividends.
His parents, Frank and Alice, had moments of lucidity and two days ago, his mother had looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Neville?" as if waking from a bad dream. It was personal agony, but moments like that spurred the Longbottom scion on with a fervor that belied his quiet personality. Those times made Neville feel more indebted to Harry Potter than ever. Despite the fact that he was the Chosen One, it was his compassion and thoughtfulness that made him remarkable. So when the conversation turned to Harry's birthday gift, that same fervor returned. "I think we should probably wait until we hear from Hermione and Ron to go in on something big, but it has to be great. I owe him that much."
Emboldened by the last few days being at Grimmauld Place, Ginny spoke up on Harry's behalf, "He wouldn't want anyone to feel like they 'owed' him anything." She gave Neville a sweet smile, "His gifts were just that, gifts, given because he had the means to help. Besides with the Black and Potter names, there isn't anything we can get him that he can't afford himself. Try and give him something personal to you, nothing fancy, with Harry it really is the thought that counts." Ginny gave Kreacher a sideways glance as he touched Regulus' locket in acknowledgement. The elf had shown the witch the picture of her asleep with the wedding photo cradled in her arms, and offered it to her as Harry's birthday gift. She looked so content and genuinely happy in the frame that she gave Kreacher a bruising hug and whispered, "Thank you Kreacher, he'll love it".
"Not all of us have that kind of sway with Harry" Luna said in an overly sweet voice snapping Ginny out of her memory; causing Ginny to blush pink in her cheeks. She is never going to forget that. "I do agree with Ginny about something small and meaningful from each of us. Though I still think we should go to the Alley for a large gift from all of us. They are having a grand reopening of some of the shops in a few weeks, there will be lots of people and lots of Aurors there for protection."
"Anonymity and safety, that sounds like a pretty good idea" Neville agreed. Ever since the end of the War, Neville had become a bit of a celebrity for his role at Hogwarts and much like Harry, he shied away from the attention. "Besides it will give Ron and Hermione a few more weeks to find her parents and maybe they can join us at the Leaky to start." He held up the DA Galleon, "I'll let you guys know exactly when."
The Burning Lady was a dark pub located in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Anonymity was the only rule and no one asked questions of the transactions that took place, nor of any of the drinks imbibed. Almost anything was available for a price, but secrecy was always the top seller. That, and that alone brought the two men together to a corner booth in the smoky tavern. A light shimmering in the air spoke of privacy wards and a notice-me-not charm and after a quick show of forearms, the two settled in to a low conversation.
"It appears that Mr. Potter isn't as damaged as we were led to believe." The burlier man ventured, pointing at the old edition of the Daily Prophet he placed on the table.
"Yes, Amycus will be most … irate, but no matter. This proves that my contacts within the Ministry were successful. We have the trace and when he moves again, we will have him. Our agents are already searching for him. I bet with that confrontation with Alecto, now he is as damaged as we were led to believe."
"But the damn cloak…" The man blurted impatiently, throwing up his hands.
"Dolohov, be still". Rookwood held up a palm then beckoned him closer and whispered, "The trace is tied to the wand. When he uses it, we'll know, cloak be damned. And we'll have something to draw him out in a few weeks, if not then it will put even more pressure on the new Ministry. Either we locate Potter or the Ministry deals with the aftermath. But remember, we are too few to risk battles we can't win. No undue risk. This is just about applying pressure, we are on a knife's edge here, Antonin, fifteen minutes in the Alley, no more. I want only minimal risk; our friends in the DMLE gave us twenty minutes, at most. Do not get carried away and do not screw this up." Rookwood enunciated each word and Dolohov flinched a little at the rebuke, nodding quickly.
"Oh, and make sure we keep an eye on Matheson, I think he is losing faith in some of his Unspeakables. He must not know of how compromised they are. Remember the Codex is our only real leverage and even that won't stay his anger for long." Dolohov shuddered and grunted in agreement, placed ten galleons on the table and the two Death Eaters quietly eased back into the night.
Kreacher approached Ginny rather nervously as she was heading to the floo at Grimmauld Place. It had been a week since Master Harry's short stay and Mistress Ginny had come almost every day since to help finish Teddy's room or bring suitable toys for his toy chest. Her presence was a calming balm for Kreacher, who missed his Master and the sense of purpose he gained from him every day. Master Harry was nothing if not always in need of medical assistance or special projects, but even work at the Cauldron wasn't ultimately satisfying with him gone. Watching the witch, he made a quick decision for the betterment of his Master. As merely the elf for the House of Black, he wasn't sure if he was overstepping his authority, but would deal with the consequences if the old binding magic disagreed. The black cast iron skillet seemed to be daring him from the kitchen, to which Kreacher silently snarled at it.
"Mistress Ginny" he said in a faltering voice, "Should Kreacher ready Master's bed for your stay or will are you going back to the Burrow?" When no compulsion struck him, he gave a tentative smile and exhaled softly. Ginny turned from the green fires slowly with a look of shock and embarrassment.
"In the Lord's room? Without Harry being here?" she seemed genuinely confused by the implications of the offer, but Kreacher had gambled that the faint touch of his magic still within her and her obvious feelings towards Master Harry were enough for both the wards and his familial oath. It had been quite some time since his master had departed and his magical signature was gone, apart from the fading glimmer within Mistress Ginny. He merely nodded and tried to not look disappointed when she refused. "Kreacher, I told my family I would go home tonight, but … I will take you up on that offer soon enough." I know I can still feel Harry in there. Oh, but what will Mom say? She gave him a soft smile and looked up the stairs to his room. She blinked hard, and turned resolutely to the floo, spoke, "the Burrow" almost regretfully.
After she had left, Kreacher settled down in his room on his reading chair. Harry had decided that he would no longer be sleeping in the cupboard almost immediately upon inheriting him, muttering darkly about cupboards, the Dursleys, and proper sleeping quarters. The elf was reading about his family history as servants of the Black family, trying to glean any information of how he was changing so rapidly. He never would have asked Mistress Ginny to stay before, even though he knew it would make his Master happy; it was not the place of a normal house elf.
Of course, subtle changes in personality were expected when transferred to a new master, but there was almost nothing written about house elves or their personalities during the arcane times. There was almost nothing about the arcane time, period, in house elf or wizarding lore.
The house elf sighed and stretched his tired legs. The mystery of his rejuvenation, personality changes, and increasingly powerful magic would wait for another day but even as he turned in for the night, Kreacher could not calm his mind. There was a restlessness that had been steadily growing, over the last few moons, in his mind. It swirled like the silent calm before a storm or the whispering shore before high tide. Kreacher tried relaxing and sipping his tea, when a sharp jolt of pain forced the cup from his hands and spilled it onto the duvet. The pain was blinding; radiating from his head, and then he heard the sickening crunch of bones shifting and tissue moving. As quickly as it came, the pain slowly began to recede, and with gasping breaths Kreacher felt about his face and immediately ran to the bathroom mirror in terror.
He was in shock at the house elf looking back at him. His head had lost the ghastly caricature common to house elves, and now faced an image of a somewhat human face, with only slightly larger than normal pointed ears and correctly set but golden eyes. I look like a fairy. But fairy folk are … Kreacher ran his hands over his new visage, confused at how human he looked. He lost the emaciated appearance and while not muscular by any means, looked reasonably healthy. Gone were the spindly limbs, hallmarks of house elves, even his nose had shrunk to accommodate his new face. The only thing that could have changed him this much would have been something that happened with his Master, something drastic.
He stormed back into his room, and immediately summoned a book of Faerie folk hoping for a different explanation. As he sat down and feverishly flipped through the book, a brilliant light flashed in his eyes drove him down onto the bed causing him to instinctively close them against the pain and a vision came unbidden to him. Delicate trees ringed with white flowers, stalks of century old bamboo, and a giant fiery volcano shrouded in clouds in the distance, the bright sun reflecting off a small pond...
His eyes snapped open and a relieved smile graced his new features. Drastic, indeed. Master Harry was awake.