Harry's Future, Part 28
Harry sat in his office staring at the photograph of his family that Ginny had arranged for. Sensitive to his mood the figures in the picture looked back at him with expressions of concern. Abagail was nowhere to be seen. The fingers of Harry's right hand were tapping out a restless tattoo as his eyes drifted to the clock that was just reaching seven in the evening. Milligan was due with a report on what his investigators had found out so far on who was responsible for the destruction of the paintings that Abagail had created for the Minister to highlight his campaign for species equality. If anyone had been in the room with him they would have felt noticeably warmer than if they were in the hallway outside, or in any other part of the building. Harry was about to get up to go looking for his chief of investigations when the tall lanky wizard appeared in the doorway.
"Well?" Harry asked pointedly.
"We don't have him, but we do have his trail. When he left by the floo network there was a witch at the fireplace next to him who heard him say the name of a small shop in Knockturn Alley that we've had some issues with but never were able to close up. We interviewed the owner. He confirmed a wizard in a full length grey cloak that matched what the witch thought she saw entered the shop through the fireplace and then fled. After some digging along the alley we found a couple of witnesses that thought they recognized the guy. We have half a dozen investigators checking out where he might be hiding," Milligan finished.
"Who is he?" Harry asked quietly.
"He was identified as one Pontificus Lestrange," Milligan replied.
Harry bolted upright in his chair at the sound of the last name.
"Lestrange?"
"Apparently he's some cousin or other of Rudolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband. From what we can figure he's a pretty down and out pureblood that holds to the old ways. It seems to fit the bill," Milligan said.
"It certainly does. I tend to forget that there were plenty of family members of the Death Eaters still around after Riddle fell. Ok, get his name and description out to everyone and make sure they understand I want him in one piece," Harry said quietly. "How long he stays that way is another matter."
"Chief," Milligan chided gently.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I can still think it," Harry said angrily.
Milligan nodded and left. Harry let out a long breath and left the office. He hadn't noticed the beads of sweat that had formed on Milligan's forehead while he was standing in the office. He entered the lobby where the damaged canvasses were roped off. He could only shake his head as he Disapparated to his front porch. Kreacher opened the door and looked at his employer with large, sad, liquid eyes but said nothing. As Harry hung up his robes Ginny hurried down the corridor.
"Harry, for crying out loud, what happened? I got a message from Mum that said someone had ruined Abagail's paintings? How could that happen?"
"Apparently, a wizard came through the floo network with a container of some kind of liquid. He threw it on the paintings and then fled through a fireplace. The liquid dissolved all the paint and about half the canvass. Milligan's people have a line on him and they're after him. Some character named Pontificus Lestrange," Harry told his wife.
"Lestrange? Death Eaters?" she said horrified.
"I don't think so. Milligan said he was some cousin or something. He's apparently a pureblood but with no money or family connections. They're on his trail so I'm hoping we'll have him soon," Harry concluded, feeling tired after a long, emotional day.
"Abagail knows?" Ginny asked.
"Yes, I went up and told her shortly after it happened."
"Oh, Harry," she said as she wrapped him in a tight hug. "You always bear the burden. Do you think I should go up and see her?"
"That might not be a bad idea, but tomorrow after classes. When I left she was on her way to class after lunch. She's said she couldn't afford to let it distract her. But I think it was the other way around. She wanted something to take her mind off her troubles. I need to go up Saturday to start talking about my class for next year so I'll stop in and see her. I'm sure there will be plenty of people keeping an eye on her," he said.
Ginny nodded and then pulled away from her husband and taking his hand, led him into the kitchen. As miserable as he was feeling he realized he was very hungry. He hadn't had lunch and his anger burned up a lot of energy.
The following morning Harry was in his office for perhaps an hour when his deputy stuck his head in the door.
"I think we have our man, Chief. Do you want to see him?" Maxwell asked.
"Oh, yes, I do, very much," Harry said as he quickly stood up and made his way to the door.
Maxwell stepped back and let Harry lead the way to the detention area. It didn't take long since Harry was moving just shy of a run. As he approached the door he saw Milligan standing there, almost like he was blocking the way.
"Morning, Chief. We caught up with Lestrange early this morning. He was hiding out in a little shack on the moors in Yorkshire. We found some containers of various materials that he used for making that…whatever it was. We collected everything to be analyzed. We suspect some of it is on the banned list," Milligan said and looked like he was going to continue.
"Milligan, are you trying to keep me from seeing this character?" Harry asked.
"I just thought that I'd give you a chance to calm down. You had 'that' look on your face coming down the corridor."
"What do you mean, 'that' look?" Harry asked.
"The one that means you're ready to take someone's head off, starting at the feet," the lanky wizard said with a small smile.
Harry snorted at the other wizard's words but took the time to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he looked at his subordinate and with a flick of his head told him to move out of the way. Milligan stepped aside and then fell in behind next to Maxwell as Harry went further down the corridor and came to a stop in front of the door to the first holding cell. The guard on duty nodded and then unlocked the door and swung it in. The wizard that sat on the bunk bed across from the door looked up at Harry. It was obvious this was no Death Eater. He lacked the arrogance and menace. Instead he was haggard and disheveled. He was likely in his mid forties or so but they looked to have been tough years. His robes were faded and threadbare. Unlike his encounter with Lucius Malfoy he didn't see a wealthy pureblood pulled low. There was no rich embroidery on the old robe, it was just a plain garment that had seen better days but probably couldn't remember when. This was a pureblood wizard that never knew better days.
"Mr. Lestrange," Harry began. "I presume you've been informed of the charges against you."
"I know what you claim I've done. I know that what I did was simply to strike a blow for tradition. The proper tradition for magic folk," he replied.
"Proper?"
"Yes, proper, Mr. Potter," he said, sneering Harry's name. "Wizards and witches standing atop the magical world and the lesser species keeping their place."
Harry chose not to respond, he simply kept his gaze on the wizard and his temper in check. A tiny part of his mind was suggesting that this poor excuse for a wizard deserved to be turned into a pile of ashes.
"Glare at me all you want, I'm not afraid of you," Lestrange said.
"Then you're a bigger fool then I thought you were, Mr. Lestrange, because right now you should be afraid. The artist who created the paintings you destroyed is a member of my family and rather popular around here," Harry said in a quiet voice that was speaking volumes to his subordinates.
Lestrange was starting to look a little uncertain as he looked around his cell.
"Don't get too upset, Mr. Lestrange. I'm not the law, luckily for you. I merely work to uphold it and as such you'll be held until you can be brought before the Wizengamot, which I imagine shouldn't take too long," Harry said as he turned to his two underlings. "Have Mr. Lestrange held here until we get a trial date. Then we'll know if we have to transfer him to Azkaban. And understand that nothing happens to him in the mean time. No accidental falls or anything like that, am I clear?"
"Yes, sir," both men replied firmly but looking like they'd prefer it otherwise.
Harry nodded and then turned around and left the cell. He was angry, but unlike such past episodes he didn't feel it escalating. He walked past his office and continued on till he reached Hermione's office. He knocked and heard a questioning voice.
"It's Harry."
He heard footsteps and then the door swung open.
"Harry. Come in and sit down," she said.
"Thanks."
"How are things going, Harry?" Hermione asked as she moved back to her chair.
"Only moderately awful now. We caught the wizard that destroyed the paintings, but that doesn't bring them back or fix Abagail's broken heart," Harry said.
"I don't mind telling you, Harry, those paintings made me cry. Once when I first saw them and then again when I heard about them being ruined. They were so amazing, the renderings were so lifelike and the message so clear. Who did it?" she asked.
"A fellow named Pontificus Lestrange."
"Lestrange?" Hermione asked as she sat forward in her chair.
"Yes, some cousin of sorts of Bellatrix's husband. He's no Death Eater but his opinions lean in those directions. Superiority of wizards and witches and the other races needing to be kept in their place. For the sake of tradition," Harry concluded.
Hermione eyes tightened and then she looked at Harry closely.
"How about you, Harry? How are you handling all this?"
"What? You mean my temper?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"Let's say that it's elevated but under control. A little voice in here," Harry said as he tapped his forehead, "wanted him turned into a pile of ash, but it wasn't a very loud voice."
Hermione just nodded, then asked,
"How did Abagail take it? My guess is that you went up to tell her."
"Yeah, I did, how did you know?" Harry asked.
"Please, Harry. I've known you long enough to know how you feel about family. No matter how bad the news you'd be the one to bear it so you'd be the one to help whoever it was of us that you had to tell," she said with a sad smile. "I worry about how much of it you can handle."
Harry just shrugged his infuriating shrug and said,
"She was upset, of course, and cried for a bit but it wasn't anything like the last time. She pulled herself together and insisted on going to her next class. I think she felt it would take her mind off of it. Ginny was going to go up this afternoon after class and I'll go up Saturday. I need to start work on my class for next year so I'll do both."
Hermione just nodded and added a sad little smile. Harry left a few minutes later and went back to his office. An hour or so later he received a message requesting him to come up to the Director's office. He began walking up, stopping to pop his head into to Tom's closet of an office to let his assistant know where he was going and then made his way to his boss' office. The secretary saw him and said,
"You can go right in, Mr. Potter. Oh, and please tell Miss Westwood how terribly sorry I am about what happened."
"Thank you, I will," Harry replied.
Harry rapped on the door and then swung it inward.
"Ah, Harry. Come in and take a seat. I understand an arrest has been made," Grimsson said.
"Yes, sir. They brought him in early this morning. One Pontificus Lestrange, a rather down and out old school pureblood. He as much as admitted he did it when they brought him in. We're waiting for a trial date to see if we just hold him here or ship him off to Azkaban."
The Director nodded at first and then said,
"First of all, good work to you and yours on the quick arrest. Secondly, I trust that steps are being taken to make sure he arrives at trial in good order. I know how fond people around here are of the girl."
"Yes, sir. I made a point of telling Maxwell and Milligan that I expected Lestrange not to suffer any unfortunate accidents."
"I would have thought as much but sometimes these things need to be said. I'll send a note to the Minister to let him know of the progress in the case. What about that liquid he used, any word on it yet?" the Director asked.
"Not specifically. But based on the containers that were found in his hideaway and their contents we're reasonably sure that some banned substances were included. Once we're finished checking them out we'll add any particulars to the charges. If all else fails I can always ask Professor Slughorn at Hogwarts to take a look," Harry said.
"And what about you, Potter? This hit about as close to home as one could imagine."
"I'm doing ok, sir. It's under control. I saw Abagail yesterday right after it happened and I'll be going up to see her on Saturday. That, if for no other, is reason to keep my cool."
"Very well, Potter. Good work and keep me informed," Grimsson said by way of dismissal.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied as he stood and left the office.
The rest of the day, and in fact the entire week, passed without further incident. The trial was scheduled for three weeks time and it was decided to send Lestrange off to Azkaban, as much for his own safety, as for the convenience of the Ministry. Milligan had alerted Harry to some pretty grim grumblings coming from the rest of the Aurors. Ron Weasley's grizzled old wizards' chess partner was heard suggesting that they should just whip up a batch of whatever it was Lestrange had used on the paintings and dip him head first into it. That at least had given Harry a brief laugh.
When he had spoken to Ginny after she returned from her visit to Abagail, she told him that there hadn't been any change. She was sad but determined not to let it interfere with her studies. In fact, the two had spent more time talking about the new house than anything else. Harry wasn't sure he liked that since he felt it might indicate Abagail was trying to suppress what she was feeling and he knew that wasn't likely to work out too well.
So it was on Saturday morning he kissed Ginny good bye. She and her Mum were going to go and take a look at several of the properties that Gringotts had located while Harry was gone. As was his custom he Disapparated to a spot near the memorial park and then walked up toward the main entrance to the school. As he neared the bottom of the steps he was greeted by several students who were coming down and he asked if anyone had seen Abagail. None of them had but one suggested he try Hagrid's since she had been down there several times in the last few days during free time. Harry thanked them and headed for the hut.
As he neared he noticed something out of place. There was no barked greeting from Norbie so he assumed he and his Master were out on an errand but he figured he'd check anyway. As he drew near to the hut he saw the big dog sitting calmly by the bench in front of the stone hut and Abagail sitting there, idly caressing the large blocky head and she looked out into the forest. Harry could hear Hagrid moving about inside his home.
"Hello, little one," Harry said as he approached.
She looked up at him with those big, dark, and now sad, eyes and gave a wan little smile.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry stopped on the other side of Norbie and lent an extra hand to the task of rubbing his head.
"How are you feeling this morning, Abagail?"
She sighed as she looked back out towards the forest and said,
"I'm ok, I guess. Well, actually, I'm feeling pretty stupid, really."
"Stupid?" Harry asked as he came around to sit on the bench beside her, being careful to leave a bit of space between them before he continued.
"I can't imagine how you could possibly feel that way."
"Maybe not stupid, exactly, but certainly foolish. Like a foolish little girl who doesn't know anything about the world," she said, her quiet voice sounding very serious.
"How so?"
"I always thought that the world had two kinds of people, good ones and bad ones. We were the good ones. The dark witches and wizards were the bad ones. But that's not the way it works is it, Harry? It's not just the good and the bad. There are all kinds of people with a whole mix of good and bad. I should have realized that when I saw what Mr. Maxwell was thinking about you but I didn't. But after the last few weeks, seeing what people were writing about my painting in the Prophet, the nasty comments about what the Minister was trying to do and then having the painting ruined. I made a big mistake," she said sadly.
"What mistake was that?" Harry asked quietly.
"I started taking a look at the people around me here at school," she said, looking up at her guardian. "People smile and talk nice and are your friends but in here," she said, tapping the side of her head, "are those places where the dark thoughts are. It's amazing how many students here think that the Minister is wrong about treating all the magical species equally and it's not just Slytherins either. And there's the jealousies and vanity and laziness. You know I had one person ask me for some help with an assignment but what he was thinking was how to get me to do it all for him. I think you and the Weasleys spoiled me, Harry."
"What do you mean, little one?"
"You've always given to me without ever thinking about what I might give back. As much as I could have helped with your work, right from the start you always resisted because you were concerned about what it might do. You were right. At first it wasn't bad because I knew that those smugglers and such were really bad people so it didn't surprise me, but now, to see how regular people are, I wasn't ready for that. I don't know if I will ever be."
"Abagail, no one is perfect, not the Weasleys and certainly not me. With the exception of a very few, we all have thoughts that aren't very pretty. What matters is whether or not those thoughts become actions. I know you've had a pretty rude awakening," he said as he extended his hand to her, which she took in both of hers and held to it tightly. "But in time I think you'll be able to see that for most people their good side outweighs the bad. In the meantime I think you might want to, I don't know, shut off, I guess, your gift until you start feeling better."
He heard a soft, bitter laugh, possibly the least pleasant sound he had heard in a long time.
"It's no gift, Harry. The more I think about it the more I'm convinced it's a curse. And don't worry. I've got it locked down as best I can. I didn't even know you were around until you said hello to me. I don't think I'll be helping you with any investigations for a while, if ever."
"I know that will disappoint a bunch of people at the Ministry but I don't think I'll be one of them. I never really did like the idea much in the first place and I'll have plenty of opportunities to have you around so I'm ok with it. Does that mean you don't think you'll want to come work at the Ministry at all?" Harry asked.
"I don't know, Harry. For now I'm just going to concentrate on my studies and continue with my artwork. I think I'll do some work on animals and landscapes. I've been talking to Hagrid and he's going to let me start sketching some of the creatures that he has around. I think I'll start with Norbie here if I can get him to pose for me," she said with a lopsided little grin.
This gave Harry some hope for his ward. That she wanted to continue with her art was a good sign and her last comment and the little bit of humor that it contained was certainly positive. He also felt Abagail shift a bit and closed the distance between them so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He gave her hands a squeeze and he began to ask her about the discussion she had with Ginny about the house. This conversation went on for about a quarter of an hour when Hagrid stepped outside with a tray and three cups of tea.
"Mornin' to ya, Harry. How's about a cuppa for ya and the young Miss Abagail?"
"Thanks, Hagrid, that would be great," Harry replied.
"Thank you," said a much smaller voice.
"So, Harry, I hear that ya will be with us full time next year," Hagrid said.
"Yeah, that's right Hagrid. That's one of the reasons I'm here today. Professor McGonagall wants me to develop an elective class on the integration of various magical skills for defending against the dark arts. Sort of an expansion on Bill's practical approach to DADA. I'll also be teaching the DADA first years like I did before."
"Well, it'll be really summat ta have ya around the place all the time."
"Yes, it will," Abagail murmured.
Hagrid settled himself down on his front steps and gulped some of his tea. He exchanged a look over the top of Abagail's head that indicated he too was concerned with the little witch and Harry understood that his old friend would be keeping an eye on her. That was worth a great deal to him.
After finishing his tea Harry said he needed to be heading up to the castle for his first meeting and he would look for Abagail before he left for home later in the day. Before he had a chance to stand Abagail wrapped her arms around him from the side and said,
"Thank you for being her for me, Harry. As always."
"You're welcome, little one," he replied as he squeezed back.
As Harry walked back up to the castle he thought about what Abagail had said about her ability being a curse and not wanting to help with any investigations. He wondered just how life changing this whole mess was going to turn out for her. He didn't have much chance to dwell on it as he spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in discussion first with Bill, then Professors Flitwick and McGonagall about how best to approach this new endeavor. It surprised him in a way to realize that Professor McGonagall had not given up her task of teaching Transfiguration after being Head these past years.
"I know I probably should have, Harry, but quite frankly I couldn't stand the idea of not teaching. Fortunately, with the school and things in general being so much more stable it hasn't been that difficult to handle both tasks. Professor Sprout has been very effective as my deputy but she has become more heavily involved with the medicinal herbology work. Neville is a great help there of course but I may need to take another look at the whole situation for next year," she said and then gave Harry a sly look. "You know, you'd make a fine Transfiguration teacher, Harry. I wouldn't have thought it when you first started but after what you showed in your last year and since, you'd do a marvelous job."
Harry smiled back at the Headmistress, who never seemed to miss a chance to try and entice him to a full time position on the faculty.
"Thank you, Professor. I think I'll concentrate on next year's work for now," he said.
The Head just smiled in return. They were nearing the end of their consultations when a young wizard in training was admitted with a note from Hagrid that said Abagail was still down at his hut and would be until dinner. When Harry and the Headmistress had concluded their discussions Harry made his way down to say his goodbyes. As he approached he saw that at some point Abagail had gotten her sketch pad and was working on some renderings of Norbie. As was usually the case, she was so absorbed in her work that she failed to see Harry come up beside her. He was still amazed at how lifelike her drawings were. What was even more amazing was how still Norbie was sitting in front of her.
"Summat ta see, ain't it, Harry?"
Harry turned at Hagrid's 'whispered' voice, which was still easily heard.
"Yes it is. I'm not sure which is more interesting. The drawings or the way Norbie is sitting. I haven't seen him move a muscle."
"Aye, it's a puzzler. Them two jest seem ta click," Hagrid responded.
Their conversation, as quiet as it was, managed to attract Abagail's attention. She looked up at Harry and smiled.
"Hi, Harry. Getting ready to go home?"
"Yes, but I wanted to see you again before I left. I'll be making frequent trips up, probably weekly as I work on this course, but if you need anything, even just to talk, you send a message and me or Ginny will be up to see you? Ok."
"Ok, Harry," she said with a small smile. "I know that I can always count on you two, if no one else."
She set aside her sketch pad and stood up, Harry going down to one knee and they hugged. It lasted for a while, neither one seeming to want to let go, but eventually Abagail let go and stepped back.
"You shouldn't ever wonder why we like to hug you, Harry. You do it better than just about anyone."
He smiled and laughed a bit and then stood up and with a handshake for Hagrid he turned and began walking to the gates. As he walked, he thought it was interesting that the diminutive witch should find such friends as a giant dog and a half giant near wizard. He was home in less than ten minutes. As Kreacher bowed him through the door Ginny came down the corridor to meet him.
"How's our girl?"
"She's not doing badly. Let's go sit down and I'll tell you all about it. Kreacher, do we have time before dinner?"
"Indeed, Master Harry. Kreacher will have dinner ready in an hour's time."
"Great, thank you," Harry replied as he led Ginny to his study.
Harry took his spot in his cushioned chair and Ginny perched expectantly on the desk chair.
"I guess the best way to describe her mood is melancholy. From what she told me this incident has caused her to examine how she had been looking at the world and what she sees has really disappointed her," Harry started.
He went on to relate what Abagail had said about her earlier view of good and bad and how her 'looking' at those around her altered that view. He talked about her not wanting to use her abilities, her curse, anymore if she could help it and how she just wanted to study and work at her art.
"She's had her illusions shattered," Ginny said with some dismay. "She's never had an easy time of it but it wasn't people who let her down, until now. But as long as she has you, Harry, I think she'll get through it."
"You mean us, don't you," Harry said as he held out his hand in invitation to Ginny to slip onto his lap.
"No, I mean you, my dear fellow," she replied as she accepted the invitation. "Yes, she has me and Mum and all the rest but first, foremost and always, she has you."
They sat like that for a few more moments, Ginny hugging Harry's head to her until she loosened her grip and leaned back a bit.
"On a happier note, I think we've found a spot for our home. It's an absolutely gorgeous tract of land not all that far from the Burrow, but far enough, if you know what I mean," she said with a sly little grin. "It has some open pasture, some woods, a little pond, not much in the way of immediate neighbors. I'd like you to come see it with me tomorrow."
"Bright and early?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Well, maybe not so early. It's been a long, troubling week for you. I think you deserve a special evening," Ginny said in that way Harry had come to love.
His answering kiss took most of the time until dinner was ready.
Bright but not all that early the next morning Ginny took Harry to take a look at the property she had told him about the day before. Their first stop was the Burrow. They popped into the backyard, broomsticks in hand, and went to the kitchen door. Ginny opened it and shouted inside.
"MUM, DAD, anyone home?"
Harry could only shake his head and marvel at how some things never change.
"Ginny dear, how lovely to see you. Is Harry with you?" Mrs. Weasley called back.
"Yes, Mum, I wanted him to see that property we looked at yesterday," Ginny replied as they made their way into the kitchen, meeting Mrs. Weasley coming from the living room.
"Harry, how are you doing? How is poor little Abagail getting on?" Mrs. Weasley asked, genuinely concerned.
"I'd say melancholy is the best way to describe it. She not anywhere near where she was when she thought she was going to be alone. But she's upset about the painting and what she's found out about the nature of people," Harry said and then went on to explain what Abagail had told Harry.
"It's a terrible thing for a parent to see a child's illusions destroyed. Reality comes to us all in time but children deserve to hold on to them as long as they can," Mrs. Weasley said.
"Fortunately she hasn't given up on her art. As long as she has that I think she'll be fine. She has taken to spending a lot of time at Hagrid's hut. She's started sketching Hagrid's dog. I'm hoping that will help ease the pain," Harry said.
"Well, you let that girl know she's welcome here any time if she feels the need," Mr. Weasley said.
Molly Weasley's feelings about Abagail were a bit confused. She couldn't figure out if she considered her another child or a grandchild. Not that it mattered how she treated the girl but it did confuse her orderly view of her family. She gave a small smile and then said,
"I hope that after you finish looking at the land you'll stop back for lunch. I don't see you nearly enough now that you're both living in London. Gets a bit lonely around the old place."
"We'll do that, Mum," Ginny said. "Come on, Harry, let's go."
As the two walked back out into the backyard Harry said,
"You're sure we won't be seen by any muggles, Gin?"
"It shouldn't be a problem, Harry. I didn't see any houses between here and there yesterday and there are plenty of trees so if we stay low it shouldn't be an issue. Just follow me."
Harry shrugged and mounted his Firebolt and he pushed off to follow his wife as she flew out across the field and beyond. It was a twisty, circuitous route but Harry found it to be great fun to match moves with his nimble wife. He had to admit that she really was a fantastic flyer. After a flight of about twenty minutes Harry followed Ginny down to land in a meadow. To one side was a small but heavily treed wood. To the other side he could see what looked like a meandering stream that ended in a small pond. Beyond that were some low hills.
"What do you think, Harry?" Ginny asked.
"It's beautiful, Ginny. It would be quiet and secluded. How big is it overall?"
"Around seven acres, I think, maybe a bit more. There is a road on the backside of those trees if we felt we needed to have access but other than that it's pretty much what you see. I really like it," she said.
"Me too, I'm sold. We'll contact Gringotts tomorrow and start the negotiations. We can talk about house building when we get back to the Burrow," Harry said.
"I'm so thrilled, Harry. Our own home. I know the house in London is ours but it seems like we just sort of borrowed it, you know? This will be what we want, what we designed. I hope I can still get Abagail to help with that," Ginny said as she threw her arms around Harry and pulled him tight against her.
"I'd think so, sweetheart. I think she wants to keep her artwork going and this would be a good way to do it."
"I'll work on keeping her busy then. Let's head for home, my love," she said and then pulled his head down for a short but intense kiss.
They lifted off and took a short turn around the property. It looked even better from above. Harry could see the advantages of the open yet secluded pasture for flying practice, and woods and streams were also good for growing children to explore. He was liking it more and more. They landed in the backyard of the Burrow and laid their brooms against the house before entering.
"We're back, Mum," Ginny yelled in.
"Hello, my dears, that didn't take long at all. It will be a while before lunch is ready. Harry, dear, why don't you go out and get your father to come in. We can sit in the parlor and you can tell us what you have planned."
"Ok, Mum," Harry said as he turned around and went back outside.
He strolled out of the yard and took the path to the workshop where Mr. Weasley spent so much of his time. As he entered through the open garage door he had to smile. The pile of parts had been cleaned, refurbished and reassembled into a reasonable facsimile of a not so new 1955 Ford Popular. It was, however, far and away in better shape than it had been that day they saw it rattle down the road towards the Burrow trailing a cloud of pale blue smoke.
"Hello, Dad," Harry said as he walked past the car.
"Harry, good to see you. I knew you were about, Ginny's voice does carry," Mr. Weasley said with a grin. "Does she yell like that at home?"
"No, there's usually no one to yell at, plus I think she's afraid she'll wake up Mrs. Black's portrait," Harry said and they both laughed. "Mum wants you to come in so we can talk about plans for the new house."
"Ah, excellent, let me just clean up a bit and we'll go right back."
In a short time the four were sitting in the spacious living room.
"So, son, what did you think of the property?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"I love it. I'm going to Gringotts tomorrow to ask them to begin the negotiations. I'd like to have them serve as intermediaries. It might help keep the cost down," Harry said with a grin.
"Do you think your fortune is public knowledge, dear?" Molly Weasley asked.
"I doubt it, Mum, but I just have a feeling that if the name 'Harry Potter' is mentioned early on it will push the price up," he replied.
"You could be right, Harry," his dad began. "What do you have plan for the house then? Will you start building right away?"
"I don't know. Ginny and I need to discuss that. I'll be up at Hogwarts next year and we might rent something up that way and I don't know how long the design process will take but regardless I want to make sure we get the property, even if it takes a couple of years to sort out the house. We have time."
"I'm glad you feel that way, Harry," Ginny said. "I want the house perfect so we'll make sure the design is right before we start. Plus I think it will give Abagail something to work on."
They all nodded and continued discussing aspects of the house and property and what Harry and Ginny hoped to accomplish. Lunch followed and as always it was excellent. As they were finishing up Ginny looked at her husband and said,
"So, what do you want to do this afternoon, sweetheart?"
"You know, why don't we pop out to Shell Cottage and see Fleur and the baby. I'm probably going to get yelled at but I owe them a visit."
"Ohh, that's a great idea, Harry. And I don't think she's going to yell at you, much," Ginny said with a grin.
After lunch was done and the table cleared, Harry and Ginny said good bye to their parents and with brooms in hand Disapparated to the cottage. They walked up to the door and knocked. After a few moments the door swung open and Fluer was standing there looking beautiful but a bit harried as was usual for a new mother. She let out a squeal and threw her arms around Harry's neck and held on to him tightly. Harry responded with a tight hug of his own with some back rubs thrown in for good measure. After a moment one long slender arm reached out and pulled Ginny in for a group hug.
Finally Fleur's grip slacked off and she pulled her head back. She squinted at Harry and he braced himself for what he thought was to come.
"Eet ees wonderful to see you, 'arry. You 'ave been away much too long. Geeny, she visits me much more than you do. Please, come eenside."
"I know I should have come sooner, Fleur. I'm sorry," Harry said, relieved that her rebuke had been so mild. "How are you doing? Bill said the baby was sleeping through the night so that was helping."
"Oui, leettle Victorie ees being an angel lately. Eet 'as been very 'elpful and we take naps together een the afternoon. Come see 'er."
She led Harry and Ginny to the bedroom where the crib was tucked up against Bill and Fleur's bed. She was fast asleep, her pursed lips making little sucking movements. Harry could feel Ginny's hand tighten in his. He suspected the subject of children was going to be discussed again fairly soon.
"She's a beauty, Fleur. More so every time I see her," Ginny said.
"Yup," Harry added, "just like her mother."
He felt Fleur lean into him and then taking his hand led them back out into the little living room. Before she let Harry sit down she held him at arm's length and looked him over from head to toe. Then she locked eyes with him for a moment longer and then stepped back.
"Please, seet down, 'arry, Geeny."
Once they were comfortably seated, Harry and Ginny side by side on the couch and Fleur close on Harry's other side in a cushioned chair Fleur said,
"You are lookeeng well, 'arry. I theenk you need to eat more, though."
Ginny laughed. She looked at her sister-in-law and said,
"Fleur, he eats more now than he ever did. We never have leftovers no matter what Kreacher makes. He burns up energy at an amazing rate these days."
"The dragon, 'arry?" Fleur asked.
"Most likely," was all Harry said in reply.
Fleur merely nodded then said,
"And what of that detestable creature that ruined thee painteengs, 'arry? 'ave you captured 'im?"
"Yes, Fleur. We caught him the day after. He's a member of the Lestrange family. A pureblood fallen on hard times who wants the old ways back. His trial is in a couple of weeks."
"Weell Abagail 'ave to be there?"
"She may. They might want to ask questions about how much time and effort went into the paintings. For destruction of property the value matters so they may need to try and establish that. They may also want some sort of impact statement, how the crime has affected her."
"Bill 'as told me that she is working very 'ard, but she ees not the same."
"He's right. I think the work is to keep her mind off it but she's very melancholy. I hope it's not a permanent change."
Fleur's expression at this statement was an invitation for further explanation. Harry described the discussion he had with Abagail and how her view of the world had been changed. Fleur's eyes tightened and her jaw clenched. When Harry finished she mumbled something in a stream of French that Harry knew was neither polite nor pleasant.
"I weell arrange for Mum to come watch the baby and I weell pay a visit to Abagail," Fleur said.
"I think she'd like that. If you go in the late afternoon after classes you'll probably find her at Hagrid's hut. She's taken to spending a lot of time there, drawing the animals. I get the feeling she prefers them to people right now."
"I can't blame her, Harry," Ginny replied.
"Eet ees deeficult to come to understand that your reality ees not the true one. I know thees for a fact," Fleur offered quietly.
Harry nodded, remember what Bill had told him about how Fleur had had to shake off the preconceptions of her upbringing and face the harsher realities that Harry knew all too well. Perhaps realizing the visit had taken a somber tone, Fleur changed the subject to the Quidditch camp which led to Harry's sabbatical and then the house and property. About half way through the conversation Victoire woke up and demanded attention. Fleur and Ginny went into attend to her but the house was small enough that the conversation could continue.
Everyone got their turn to hold and play with Victoire. Harry crossed his leg and placed the infant in the hollow created so they could look at each other. The little girl's expression seemed almost serious as she gazed back at her uncle who returned the look with one just as serious. A coldish, reptilian voice in the back of his mind suggested that this small one was someone special and was deserving of his protection. Harry could only nod to himself. The exchange did not go unnoticed but Ginny and Fleur merely looked at one another. By the time the sun was setting Harry and Ginny were taking their leave of Fleur with promises to return soon.
In moments they were back on the porch and Kreacher was bowing them into the house. The wonderful smells of dinner met them as they walked down the corridor and to the kitchen. A thought popped into Harry's head.
"Kreacher, I have something to ask you."
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"Ginny and I are planning on building a new house, you know that, right?"
"Yes, Master Harry. Kreacher watched as Mistress Ginny and Miss Abagail made many drawings and talked much," the house elf replied.
"How will that affect you, moving to a new house?"
"Kreacher remembers once telling Master Harry that for a house elf it is important to live and work in the house where those he works for live. It is not the house that matters. It will be unfamiliar for a time but that time will pass and it will be home," he said.
Harry just nodded and then turned to his wife and said,
"You know, Gin, I think you're wasting your time on that journal about my life. You should be writing down what Kreacher says. You could call it 'Wisdom of a House Elf'," he said with a smile.
Ginny smiled and Kreacher gave him a funny look and then went ahead of them into the kitchen where he started to serve dinner. As they sat down Ginny looked across at Harry.
"You know," she began, "Fleur really misses seeing you, Harry."
"I know. Bill was talking to me about that not too long ago. I guess she still worries about me," he said then shrugged.
"Harry, I know you don't mean it that way, but don't shrug off someone's feelings about you. You are now part of a large and growing family. We all love you as I know you do us. Part of that is concern for your well being. Considering the scares you've given us these past years it's very understandable. You need to make the effort to let your family know how you're doing. You know, I think I'll take a second look at our ideas for the house. I think we'll need to make sure we have room for visitors. I think I want to encourage that."
Harry smiled and nodded a bit. He knew he was no expert in these matters and he would defer to Ginny's judgment. He ate the rest of his substantial meal in thoughtful silence.
In the time that passed until the trial of Pontificus Lestrange, Harry's investigators amassed the evidence they would use against him. Samples of materials had been analyzed. Those few who knew him were interviewed. His movements were traced. It appeared that he had contact with some who felt as he did but that the actual crime was a solitary one and not the result of some greater conspiracy. Harry was certain that it had been applauded in some circles.
The day of the trial arrived and as Harry had supposed Abagail had been called as a witness. She used the Floo network to come directly to the Ministry and Harry met her in the Atrium. The canvasses had been taken down and were now in the chambers of the Wizengamot. Abagail didn't even look at where they had been. She took hold of Harry's hand then let it go. They then walked to the elevators and took one to the level were the courts were held. As they walked past the portraits of former heads of the tribunal he noticed that Professor Dumbledore was absent. The witch that Harry had conversed with on several occasions acknowledged the pair with a solemn nod that Harry returned.
When they entered the chamber a bailiff spoke to them briefly and directed them to a section near the front reserved for witnesses. Harry could see a fair number of people were present including Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, as well as several off duty Aurors and Patrollers. A few minutes later the members of the Wizengamot began to file into their places. The Chief Warlock appeared last. He was a rather ordinary looking wizard of average size and maybe fifty years old, that Harry had not seen before. He took his seat and then gaveled for attention.
"Please bring the defendant in," he said in a surprisingly deep voice.
Two bailiffs escorted the tired looking wizard into the room and directed him to the defendants dock. He stood there, looking quietly defiant.
"Pontificus Lestrange, you stand accused of the following offences. First, that you knowingly and willingly trespassed on Ministry property with the intent to commit a crime. Second, that you knowingly and willingly caused the destruction of Ministry property, to wit, the newly acquired paintings of the magical races. Third, that in order to commit this act you knowingly and willingly obtained materials enumerated on the list of prohibited substances. How do you plead?"
"Guilty," was all Lestrange said.
The Chief Warlock merely nodded and turned slightly to the recording secretary to his left.
"Be it so entered into the record that the defendant has pled guilty to all charges. Before sentence is passed it would be prudent to briefly explore the impact of this crime. We would therefore request that Minister Shacklebolt please come forward."
Harry turned and saw that the Minister had been standing in the back of the chamber. He must have slipped in after he and Abagail had entered. The Minister strode purposefully down the aisle and took his place in the witness dock. He faced the Chief Warlock.
"Minister Shacklebolt. Would you please explain to the court your purpose in commissioning the paintings in question?"
"Certainly. I am certain that most, if not all of us, are familiar with the fountain that used to occupy space in the Atrium. As you know it was destroyed in a battle between Voldemort, Professor Dumbledore and a few others some years ago. In my opinion it was the only thing Voldemort ever did that was worthwhile. I considered it a symbol of his way of thinking and I felt we needed to get past that. For some time now I had it in mind to replace it with something that was more emblematic of what I hoped would be our future, now that we were rid of Tom Riddle and his confederates. It came to my attention that there was a young and very gifted artist attending Hogwarts who also was a member of the family of a senior Ministry official. Under ordinary circumstances we would have most likely solicited proposals from interested parties and awarded the commission to the one judged best. I took it upon myself to circumvent that process because I felt this youngster would bring a perspective to the project that was unsullied by preconception and bias. It was also my intent to keep the project under wraps so that the revelation of the work would be impactful. While I judged there would be those who would object to the message I underestimated the vehemence of this particular response. Otherwise I would have made sure it was protected."
"Thank you, Minister. Do any members of the Wizengamot have any questions?" the Chief Warlock asked.
None responded. He then looked down at the wizard who was acting as the counsel for the defense.
"Mr. Counsel, as your client has already pled guilty do you have any questions for the Minister?"
"Just one," he said as he rose. "Mr. Minister, you stated that your reason for commissioning this work of art in the unorthodox manner that you did, was for it to be a symbol or emblem of what you envisioned for the future of our community. Is that correct?"
"It is," rumbled the Minister.
"What exactly is that vision of the future?" the defense counsel asked.
"That the lines between purebloods and those with significant muggle heritage be recognized as the foolish and arbitrary things that they are. Likewise, that the concept that witches and wizards are somehow superior to the other magical races also be set aside. I think we have seen the folly of that notion."
"You would cast aside these notions, despite centuries of tradition?"
"Counselor, those centuries of tradition have only managed to produce the likes of Voldemort and Grindelwald, not to mention many others down through the ages. I think they are old ideas better left behind," the Minister rumbled, eyeing the counsel.
The defense counsel was about to say something more but the Chief Warlock cut him off.
"Enough. The defendant has admitted his guilt. If you seek to mitigate the consequences by suggesting he was merely acting in defense of tradition, your arguments are falling on deaf ears. Mr. Minister, you are excused. Thank you for your testimony."
Shacklebolt nodded in acknowledgement and then made his way back to a place near the rear of the chamber. Harry surmised that perhaps the Minister didn't want his presence to be seen as an attempt to sway the court.
"Next we shall hear from the artist who created the work that was destroyed. Let Miss Abagail Westwood come forward and be heard."
Abagail stood up and looked at Harry and gave him a brief, if grim, smile. As she approached the dock a bailiff move forward and placed a small platform for her to stand on so she would be more visible. She stepped onto it and gave the wizard a small smile. Then she turned to face the assembled judges.
"Miss Westwood, you were commissioned by the Minister to create the art work in question, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir," came her barely audible reply.
"You have no need to be afraid, young lady, you are not on trial here today," the Chief Warlock said.
"If I may, sir. That is Miss Westwood's normal speaking voice," Harry called out. "I think I can help."
He got up and walked up to Abagail and with his wand lightly touched her throat and said 'sonorous'.
He gave her an encouraging smile and returned to his seat.
"Thank you, Chief Potter. Now, young lady, can you tell us how you received this commission?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice still soft and airy but clearly audible now. "The Minister asked if I would come to his office to discuss a project. I was here to visit some people I had come to know."
"I see. And the project was the paintings for the Atrium?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did the Minister come to know of your talent, young lady? Did Chief Potter inform him in some way?"
It became clear to Harry that the Chief Warlock was using the proceedings to answer some questions about how this commission had been awarded.
"No, sir. I did the paintings on the walls of Angelina's Ice Cream Haven in Diagon Alley several years ago. He said that he had seen them and asked the owner who had done them."
At the mention of the images in the ice cream shop a number of the Wizengamot panel nodded and a low murmur began among those in the chamber. The Chief Warlock gaveled for silence and then continued.
"Is that all?"
"No, sir. Apparently he had also seen a portrait I had done in pen and ink of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley. He said he thought that both works indicated I had talent and he wanted me to create a mural for the Atrium to replace the fountain."
"How long did it take you to complete the commission?"
"Nearly all of the summer, sir."
"How often did you work on it? Everyday, once a week?"
"Every day, perhaps ten to twelve hours a day," she replied.
"I see. Counsel for the defense, do you have any questions."
Harry tensed.
"Yes, sir. Miss Westwood, were you paid for your services?"
"Certainly."
"Would you tell us how much?" the counsel asked.
"Two hundred Galleons."
"So you did profit from the commission?"
"For a time." she replied.
"For a time, Miss Westwood?" the Chief Warlock interrupted.
"I've asked my legal guardian to return the money, minus the expenses for materials."
"You're giving back the money you earned, Miss Westwood? Why?" the judge asked incredulously.
"I don't feel right keeping it if the paintings aren't there anymore," she replied.
"I see. Anything else, Mr. Counsel?" the Chief Warlock asked.
"No, sir. That's all."
"Miss Westwood, it is customary in these cases to ask the victim of a crime to offer a statement about the impact the actions of the defendant has had. While technically this is a crime against the property of the Ministry, we feel that you, as the creator of that property should have an opportunity to make a statement. Would you care to do so now?" the Chief Warlock asked.
"Yes, sir. I guess in a way I should thank him for opening my eyes. I was living with a false illusion of the world and the people in it. The fact that all my hard work was destroyed was very upsetting but I'll have the opportunity to create more. But how I see the world has been changed forever and it's not nearly so nice a place as it once was. I guess that's all I have to say," she finished.
"Thank you, Miss Westwood. You are excused."
Abagail offered a sad little smile and then stepped of the platform and walked back over to Harry where she sat down next to him. He removed the 'sonorous' charm and then placed his arm around her shoulders. They watched as the judges conferred and whispered amongst themselves for a few moments and then the Chief Warlock turned to address the defendant.
"Pontificus Lestrange. You have pled guilty to the charges brought against you. We have heard from the Minister and his reasons for commissioning the artwork you destroyed. We have heard from the artist who created it and the impact your crimes have had. Do you have any last statement to offer on your own behalf?"
"I offer no apologies to this court or this Ministry, for you have betrayed the very nature of wizardom and the natural order. My only regret is that you chose to involve this child and it is she that bears the scars that rightfully belong to you," he said and then turned to Abagail. "I am sorry, Miss, that you were brought into this."
Abagail looked back at the man and her eyes dulled for a moment and then she shook her head and said quietly,
"Your apologies mean nothing to me because they have no meaning for you. You offer them only as a way to excuse what you did. You are a stupid and small minded man, Mr. Lestrange. Your life hasn't turned out the way you feel it should and you look to blame everyone but yourself," she finished and then turned away.
Lestrange looked as if he had been physically struck. He was pale and shaken. The Chief Warlock looked closely at Abagail and then turned back to the defendant.
"Pontificus Lestrange, for your crimes you are hereby sentenced to one year in Azkaban prison and you are fined treble damages of six hundred galleons. Bailiff, take the defendant into custody. This hearing is closed."
Lestrange was led off by the bailiffs and the gallery waited until the Wizengamot panel left the chamber. Harry and Abagail stood up and began to leave and were joined by Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, both of whom gave Abagail hugs and offered words of encouragement and admiration for how well she conducted herself. As they neared the back of the chamber they were met by the Minister.
"You did very well today, Miss Westwood. I'm sorry that things turned out the way they have. I would offer you the chance to redo your work, but Harry has told me of your wishes and I'll respect them. We'll find another way," the Minister said.
"I'm sorry, sir, but my heart just wouldn't be in it and your ideas deserve more than that. I don't know when I'd be willing to take on such a commission again, if ever," she said quietly.
"So much the poorer are we then," the Minister rumbled almost to himself.