Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.
Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the beta work.
Chapter 6
Harry waved his hands toward his feet and watched as his shoes turned into something more. The skates seemed quite strange on his feet and when he stood, he wobbled for a moment. But he eventually made it to the ice, his mind filled with thoughts of just how he was about to embarrass himself.
But as soon as the blades cut into the ice the knowledge flowed through him. Something almost akin to memories flooded into his mind as he started to glide on the smooth surface as he felt the closest muggle sensation to riding a broom that he'd ever experienced. He enjoyed it for the moment it lasted.
It was all too overwhelming. His legs struggled to keep up with his brain, and then, they simply didn't. And then he was sliding across the ice on his back, a sharp pain ringing through his head.
When he finally stopped, he simply stared up at the sky, wondering just how much of a fool he managed to look. A moment later a pair of brown eyes appeared above him. They were shortly accompanied by a pretty young face and they seemed to inflate as they looked at him.
"If I'd have known it was that easy to kill you, I'd have invited you skating years ago," Emily said as she peered down at him.
"I'm not dead yet," Harry groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head.
"Good," Emily said. She paused for a moment but then offered her hand down to him and helped him back to his feet. She steadied him briefly with her hands on his hips before slipping away once more.
This time he started slowly as the almost-memories flashed into his mind again. When he moved it felt much more natural. He started to glide across the ice once more, taking a few moments to get used to his movements. Emily kept her distance from him. Even when he tried to move in her direction, she was too quick and too agile and slipped easily away from him.
He noticed some students approaching the ice with curious looks on their face. A few older girls were giggling and blushing as they looked out toward him. He pushed the thought of their gossip from his head.
"You never told me you could skate," Harry said. "I don't think I ever saw you do it in the diary."
"I almost took you in Chicago," Emily responded. Harry felt the memory of people skating at a makeshift rink in a park rush toward the forefront of his mind. They'd eaten in a pub nearby one afternoon early in their little vacation. He was too busy marveling at the new city to notice her longing glances at the ice.
"Why didn't you?" Harry asked.
"Father Wood," Emily said. Harry swallowed hard at the name.
"Is that the man you killed in the church?" Harry asked, remembering one of her first murders as the woman who would become Lord Voldemort.
"No," she responded. "Father Benjamin Wood died during the blitz."
"Oh," Harry said. He could sense truth in her words. But a smaller voice in the back of his mind scoffed at that explanation for his death.
"He'd take me once a month. Always the first weekend of the month," Emily said.
"I see," Harry responded. Emily twirled before him and then stopped on the ice facing him. Her expression was enough to tell him that she didn't think he could see at all.
"He wasn't that bad, really. He'd at least feed me. And take me to fancy restaurants. I was so scared of doing something wrong that I'd just sit there silently. But the food was much better than they did at the orphanage. And then we'd always go and do something. There were all sorts of activities. But when there was ice, we would skate," Emily explained.
"That sounds-" Harry started, but the words caught in his throat as he couldn't come up with a proper adjective to express what he was feeling. Part of him, the naive romantic part, was hoping for a happy ending.
"The first couple of times that was all it was, too. In a way I think that was worse. He gave me hope, you see. But he turned out to be the same as the others," Emily sighed dismissively. "After he died, I never put on skates again. I never wanted to."
"Except for now," Harry said.
"Except for now," Emily agreed.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because I wanted to," Emily shrugged. "Because when I made the ice I felt like gliding over it once more. Because I missed it. Because I used to enjoy it."
"Used to?" Harry asked, thinking that now, in that moment, she looked rather pleased to be on skates.
"When he turned out like the others I lost my interest in skating," Emily repeated, annoyance rising in her voice.
"And today?" Harry asked.
"The ice looked nice," Emily shrugged.
"And what does this have to do with not using magic?" Harry asked.
"I did use magic though," she said. She gestured to her feet as she spoke, and then opened her arms to the scene around her. Some students were examining the ice curiously and, for a moment, Harry thought they would try to venture onto it. But before he could focus too much on that she turned and skated away once more. He followed her as cautiously as he could manage.
"That's not what I meant," Harry said.
"Isn't it?" Emily asked.
"Oh. You're making an analogy," Harry answered.
"Am I?" Emily asked.
"That or I'm even denser than most people seem to think," Harry said. The only noise that followed was the sound of blades cutting through the ice. She stopped next to him with a slight flourish.
"For what it's worth. I don't think you're that dense," Emily said.
"You have to say that," Harry said.
"No, I don't," Emily retorted.
"Anyway, if you knew it all, I think you'd probably have a change of heart," Harry said.
"What don't I know?" Emily asked.
"I wrote a book," Harry said. "It's not published yet. But it's close. I have a copy of it."
"About?" Emily asked, her eyes narrowing as if she already knew the answer to the question.
"You," Harry said.
"That isn't your story to tell," Emily said.
"I think you forfeited that right when you died," Harry said.
"Why did you do it?" Emily asked.
"Because no one else would. And no one else knows as much as I did. And I mean, they won't even talk about it. They still won't even call you by your name. They're afraid of it years later. Except for Fudge's bragging. And that's wrong to me. That's just dooming to repeat it once more. And since all of your known followers save Avery were executed, no one else was ever going to get more information past baseless speculation. So, I wrote the biography of Lord Voldemort," Harry explained. He held up his hand and a few seconds later a large bound tome flew into his hand. He offered it to her.
"What did you tell them?" she asked as she took it from him, starting to page through it.
"Almost everything," Harry said. "I left out the specifics of your time at the orphanage. Although I did find records of, well, how much income you generated…But, I left it vague. And I didn't mention the Gaunts. And the Riddles only briefly. But other than that, I didn't really sugar coat anything. Although I left out the details of the final night at the ministry."
"Great," Emily frowned as she paged through the book. "When's it getting published?"
"When I tell them to," Harry said. "I still haven't decided if I want to tell the world everything. And if I want to end Fudge by telling the truth about the ministry. So, it's on hold for now. But I'm sure they'll want to get it out soon."
"Of course they will. If Harry Potter tells all about his mortal enemy it'll be a sure-fire best seller," Emily scoffed as she paged through the book. She stopped when she got halfway and the pages shifted to a glossier sheen.
"That's what they keep telling me," Harry said.
"Where did you get these?" she asked, staring down at the pages.
"Most of them were in your home. The Prices had the wedding photos. Burke had the one of you at the shop. School records had a few more," Harry shrugged. "Honestly they weren't that hard to find."
"I see," Emily said. "So, you spoke to Burke and the Price family."
"Burke yes. Martin's parents are dead. A cousin, I think, with some magical assistance, let me look through some of the old photos," Harry said.
"I don't really approve of this," Emily said as she stared down at the photographs he'd chosen for the book. Her eyes lingered on one of her in a wedding dress, preparing to toss the bouquet into a waiting crowd.
"I figured you wouldn't. But there are things the world needs to know," Harry said.
"I think they'd be better off if they simply erased me from their memories," Emily commented.
"Honestly, you were only part of what I think they need to understand," Harry said. Emily turned the page of the book, glancing down at a photograph of Martin Price in uniform as it appeared. She stared for a moment before closing the book.
"Japan," Emily said.
"Japan," Harry admitted.
"You went there," Emily said.
"I spent a great deal of time there," Harry admitted. Emily pressed her lips together but before she could comment a small voice spoke from the shore.
"Excuse me, miss?" it said. Harry turned to look, feeling annoyance rise up in him in that moment. A couple of younger students, perhaps third years, were loitering around the edge of the ice.
"Yes?" Emily asked, her tone surprisingly mellow as she turned to face them. She skated a few steps closer to the students as she did so.
"Could you teach me how to do that?" the student, a young Ravenclaw boy whose surname was, Harry thought, Burton, blurted out.
"What, skate?" Emily asked, a smile slowly drawing out her dimple.
"Yes," the boy said, flushing as Emily smiled at him.
"Not today," Emily said. "But maybe I'll host lessons next weekend."
"Oh, okay," the boy said, making no effort to hide his disappointment.
"Are you a new professor?" a Hufflepuff girl asked.
"No," Emily said. "Just a….an…acquaintance…of Harry."
"Are you his girlfriend?" the girl asked with a wide-eyed astonishment. Harry frowned at the question. He knew some of the older students fancied him. It wasn't really even that surprising. He wasn't that much older than him and he was wealthy, famous, and according to Witch Weekly, quite handsome. But he always found it worrying whenever he saw instances of it in person.
"He wishes he was that lucky," Emily teased. "He's not my type."
"I see," the Hufflepuff said, her tone indicating she didn't think Emily was being honest.
"But you should get back into the castle," Emily said as she skated along the edge of the lake, shooing the students toward the school as she did. "The elves get quite cross when students are late for meals."
"Fine," the students groaned as they continued to walk back to the castle. Emily skated back toward him, stopping sharply in front of him,
"Tell me about Japan," she ordered, picking up their previous conversation as if there has been no interruption. He looked down at her, fighting to keep a passive expression but he knew the frown must have been visible. It took him a few moments to come to a decision, but eventually he knew that she'd find out one way or another and it would simply be easier to tell her.
"Fine," he said. "But it's a long story. We should do it inside."
Harry and Avery had been in Japan far longer than any other country they'd visited, although that wasn't a particularly impressive benchmark. Harry was surprised that Avery wasn't growing more restless with the country, but he suspected his general intrigue in a shop girl outside of Nagasaki was keeping him interested.
They'd spent the majority of time in Osaka, but did travel around the country, mostly splitting time between Hiroshima and Nagasaki when not in Osaka. The Japanese ministry officials that they'd encountered were rather thrilled to have Harry Potter in the country. But he could tell they were wearing out their welcome rather quickly.
Harry liked that they were rather secretive and didn't do anything to reveal that he was in the country. And because of that, no one, aside from Hermione who'd visited a few weeks earlier to ask him if she should really take the promotion in the ministry, knew where he was. And he preferred it that way. He was too used to his whereabouts being revealed and having to flee from people looking to catch a glimpse of him. But so far that hadn't happened.
The magical communities they'd found weren't very prosperous. While magic was possible in Osaka, it seemed more difficult than elsewhere. Harry barely noticed. But it hit Avery harder. It took about six months for Avery to be able to cast any spell.
That seemed to be the common theme with foreign wizards. Six months or nothing at all.
But Avery couldn't cast around Hiroshima or Nagasaki. And in those areas it became much more difficult to determine if anyone even had magical talent. Harry found himself able to do most of his old magic. But it all seemed weaker.
He had a theory about that. Not one he was ready to share. And he was pretty sure that was what irritated the locals the most. They didn't seem to take kindly to Europeans showing up and poking and prodding at their history. Harry's continued interest in the nuclear sites caused some unrest.
It probably didn't help that he wasn't the only one interested in it, either.
He couldn't help it though. They were fascinating. There was something just oddly intoxicating at the oppressiveness of it all. He could remember Emily's reaction to it. The surprised look on her face as her power was sapped away. And the determined look as she fought against the oppression and regained it.
Harry visited one of the sites nearly daily. Once or twice he slept at them. At first Avery followed him around. But he grew bored with that and eventually just followed him to Nagasaki.
He probably would have figured that out sooner had he been paying attention. But he'd been preoccupied. He spent the months engrossed in Emily's memories and then exploring the place for real.
It wasn't difficult to occupy himself. Eventually he started to map his explorations. He found the epicenter at both sites. He determined where the suppression was strongest and where it waned. He fought against it until he felt like himself.
Sometimes it grew a crowd. And not always a purely magical crowd. But he kept it up anyway. Eventually some of the more interested locals would join him. They'd all claimed magic had been in their ancestry. And asked Harry to help them.
So, he tried to help them. There was little he could do. But five or six of them displayed some talent despite the awfulness of the situation. He conned Avery into working with him and Avery did, although he mostly focused his attention on one of the more promising older students around Nagasaki.
He tried every teaching method he could think of. He bought a score of wands in Osaka and tried giving them to the students to have something to focus their limited power into. It garnered some success. He tried to have them read everything he could find about magical theory to see if that would help. But as a whole it didn't.
No, eventually they ran into a brick wall with their studies. And he knew what the cause of it was. But he didn't know how to accurately combat it. He tried taking them away from the mapped zones to see if their powers manifested more readily. And that also had some success but not much.
It was like, he thought, the Americans had cursed them. That it was so ingrained into their very being that they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He wondered just how many generations it would last if left unchecked.
He could picture it, siphoning into them and draining them of their very being; an ever-present parasite waiting to feed on more and more. And it drove him mad that he couldn't think of a way around it. His thoughts soon became consumed with it. It couldn't work that way, he thought. There was no way that magic could be so inferior, and so destroyed, by something as asinine as a muggle bomb.
There had to be something he could do. And so he went back to reading up on his own theory. He found some interesting papers by a Doctor Singh, who'd worked in the region after the war, about the effects of radiation. But that was about it. There was very little written on the topic to help him.
He looked for anything that could have been similar. He found some helpful writing. But not much. He didn't really make any sort of a breakthrough until he met a girl.
Priya Patel showed up in Japan around a month before Hermione Granger took her vacation there. She'd tutored under the very same Doctor Singh whose research Harry was using as reference materials and wanted to explore the land herself for a few weeks before going back to England.
Harry noticed her a couple of times at the same sites he'd visit. She'd usually sit out of the way somewhere and doodle in a journal while occasionally attempting some sort of magic. It was never particularly successful.
She'd recognized him early on. They'd chat a little bit, but not much more than that. It was always nice to see a friendly face who spoke the same language. She actually spoke with him more when he went to Nagasaki with Hermione. Avery thought she and Hermione were quite catty with each other. But Harry hadn't noticed.
Eventually, though, they were drawn together by a shared fascination for the problem around them. And soon they found that they shared quite a bit more. At first it was just a general interest in the area and research. But it hadn't taken long to realize how much they complemented each other.
Priya would take meticulous notes and was able to recall just about any form of information that she'd read or studied. She'd keep an incredible record of everything they attempted. And their shared brainstorming sessions made more progress in a matter of weeks than in the months they'd spent alone.
They both marveled at how quickly they seemed to progress with each other. So much so that Priya decided she should extend her stay in Japan in order to continue their research. She'd claimed that solving a sixty-year-old magical mystery was far more important than doing menial tasks in the Accidental Magic ward of St. Mungo's.
And, she confessed, sharing a byline with Harry Potter on a research topic would do wonders to further her career once she decided to leave Japan.
Their work; however, was always slow. And it was always daunting. Nothing that they did seemed to have any sort of immediate effect on the surrounding areas. They could have perhaps worked faster but their original plan consisted of trying something in Nagasaki and notating the results. After that they would try the same thing in Hiroshima and see if the results differed.
Then, day three as it were, would be devoted to discussing the results and debating just what they should try to do next. The entire process was mentally and physically exhausting.
It was unlike any partnership Harry had entered into. They talked as equals and they worked as equals. Yes, they argued about method here and there as Priya tended to want to be cautious and scientific whereas Harry's general strategy was to wing it. But, they sorted it out quickly and compromised easily and continued with their work with no lingering consequences. But idle conversation caused things to change over the months of their dual research and other topics became prominent while working.
They'd share ideas and theories freely and rather than discrediting each other would try to make each little theory work.
Somewhere in there they discovered a shared passion for quality sushi, cartoons neither of them really understood, Tokyo, and dry humor. What had started as chance encounters at their research sites rather quickly turned into scheduled meetings and planning sessions and days spent almost entirely together.
Avery gave him space, finding the whole situation amusing but also enjoying that it gave him more time to his own devices. He would join them once or twice a week to help here and there. He mostly observed but when he made a suggestion it was often a rather good one.
The two of them were renting a rather large home in Osaka at the time and Harry would still see him most nights. Although his protector never really voiced it, Harry thought the older man was happy for him.
Soon, and Harry honestly wasn't sure who initiated it or if it had just happened, they spent even more time together. He remembered weekends early on where he actually missed working with her. But he thought it was presumptuous to go looking for her and intrude on her plans. He thought it was just a professional relationship.
They'd done the little things, like exchanging birthday gifts and holiday meals in the foreign land. And somewhere along the line had grown comfortable while close to each other. But that was all.
Soon they'd settled into a routine. They'd refresh themselves on the plan for the day over breakfast. Then they'd enact that plan in the field. Six to eight hours later they'd return to whichever town they'd felt like exploring. First, they'd debrief and plan out the next day. Second, they'd become tourists and let the thoughts of work slip from their minds. Then, after a night of fun and exploring, they'd go their separate ways.
And then, eventually, on weekends they'd meet up and do the full tourist thing. A museum and a lunch here, a historical sight and a dinner there, it was all very easy and entertaining.
Somewhere in there they started sharing more than just interests and research. It started simple. Metaphorical shared meals turned into literal shared meals. Starting with a shared dessert after a meal, utensils mingling in half-melted ice cream as they spent more time looking at each other than eating. And then shared appetizers and entrees working their way in until it was full meals.
They'd even do asinine things they had no reason to, like sharing a cab at the end of the night for no other reason than to spend a few more moments in each other's company. Or a scarf in the colder months for the chance of a lingering scent. Or using the other's wand when it was closer for convenience, as if hoping some bit of its owner would infuse them.
At some point, the little things manifested into everything. They shared a grip while walking down streets, shoulders when they needed a rest, a toothbrush when it was pertinent, a kiss, a caress.
And oddly, it felt completely normal as soon as it happened. Like it was the most perfect thing they could have possibly done. They didn't care that their research seemed to be grinding to a halt, despite the efforts they were still putting into it.
It was one such night when an idea struck Harry as he lay in bed, admiring Priya's flushed form in his lap, his hands on Priya's hips as she offered him a sip from a shared bottle of water.
"Thanks," he said, tracing his nails in small circles over her skin.
"You're welcome," she smirked down at him in response, finishing the bottle of water. She stayed perched on him for a moment, before lifting herself and falling down next to him. Harry shifted so they were spooning, his arm loosely around her.
They enjoyed the silence as they lay entangled in each other. A cool breeze blew through an open window and caressed their bodies. After a few moments Priya reached down for the blankets.
"I got it," Harry said as she wiggled against him to try to pull the blanket up. He didn't even need to move to convince the coverings to wrap, almost lovingly, around the two of them.
"I'll never get used to that," Priya sighed.
"You could do it too," Harry said.
"No," she chuckled. "I can't. Wandless, non-verbal precision summoning? No chance."
"It's just practice," Harry said.
"You can keep thinking that. But it is most certainly not. You've got this… I don't even know how to describe it," Priya sighed.
"Amazing body and wonderful sense of humor?" Harry countered, interrupting her.
"Eh, six out of ten to both," Priya said.
"Well someone isn't getting breakfast tomorrow morning," Harry said. "I'll have to do something heinous, like make you eat a waffle."
"Seven out of ten?" Priya amended, shyly.
"Still no," Harry said.
"Meanie," Priya said.
"Yes I am," Harry said.
"Anyway," Priya sighed, doing her best to not be distracted by thoughts of eggs and toast. "You're different. Surely you've noticed. Other people have limits. There's so much magic in them and there's a wall. It doesn't matter, usually, but with you, I mean I watch you when we work. And it's just always present."
"I guess," Harry sighed, his mind wandering while she spoke. Something that she said stuck out but he couldn't quite place it.
"It's such a stark contrast with what we're doing. We've talked about the utter emptiness of it all. How desolate the areas we're working on feel. You're the exact opposite. People can tell that, you know," Priya yawned as she finished speaking.
"I know," Harry said. He shifted and leaned over her to kiss her once before resting back down with her. They both knew they were too tired to continue that conversation. But something important was in her words, Harry knew, even if he couldn't place it.
He lay awake long after the only sound in the room was her soft, steady breathing as her words bounced around his head. But he wasn't alert enough to focus fully on it. And eventually he joined her in sleep.
He woke before her the next morning. He nearly always woke before her. Typically his stirring would wake her and she'd slip off to shower and read herself for the day. She had to shower first or she'd be cross with him.
Together would work in a pinch, but she had to be the first one in regardless of the situation. Something about showering second just irked her, and Harry had learned early on to just roll with it.
He slipped from the bed and peered at Priya as she cocooned herself into the blankets, mumbling something that might have been three different languages at once. Harry smiled at her sleeping form before finding some shorts and a cotton shirt with a logo of a Vancouver sports team on it. He didn't remember exactly why he'd bought the shirt, but he liked the logo.
After he dressed he slipped from the bedroom and moved toward the kitchen. He debated seeing if Avery was home, but decided against it as he could sense the remnants of a silencing charm on the bedroom door.
The kitchen was very modern. One of the few changes Harry had made to their Japanese residence. He didn't quite go full European with it. But he came pretty close. Avery had teased him that it was a pointless endeavor because they very rarely made food. But he hadn't done it because of an interest in cooking. He'd done it mostly to see if he could.
But as his relationship with Priya grew more and more intimate it started to get more use. They'd take turns cooking on nights where they'd spent too long working.
He rummaged through the cabinets mostly to see just what they still had on hand. Avery kept the house surprisingly well stocked. Of course, that was likely just because of his general interest in a certain grocer.
When his mental inventory and evening meal planning was complete, he moved to the refrigerator and took out some orange juice. He poured two glasses of it, setting them at adjacent places at the dining bar.
After that he started on the tea. He waited until it was brewing in the pot before he moved on to the food. He pulled out a handful of eggs, some sausage and some bread and went about preparing breakfast.
Priya was easy. Two scrambled eggs, toast closer to carbon than bread, and sausage done the same way. The only thing that really changed about her preferred breakfast was whichever jam she was interested in that day. And, on occasion, she'd prefer the eggs over-medium.
Normally Harry would just make a big batch of all three and roll with it but today he fried a couple of the eggs and decided to make himself a sandwich. He debated dicing up one of the thin breakfast sausages and throwing it on the egg but decided against it.
Priya, freshly showered, stepped into the kitchen right as he was plating the food. She was dressed to work in blue jeans, boots, a plain green t-shirt and a beige jacket thrown around her shoulders. She was waving her wand around her head as she moved, her hair braiding itself back as she did. She sat at the table and turned her wand on the teapot, summoning it over to the table and pouring two cups and resting them next to the orange juice.
"Morning babe," Harry said as he turned serve the food.
"Morning," she responded as she added a copious amount of salt and pepper to her eggs. They ate in relative silence. Harry finishing his sandwich nearly before Priya had finished preparing her eggs and toast.
He sat with her for a few minutes as she ate before excusing himself to shower. By the time he'd returned, dressed and ready for work, she'd already cleaned up all the remnants of their breakfast. She was peering through her notes as she sat at the table.
Harry stepped up behind her and leaned over to kiss her on the top of her head. He rested his lips on her head as he peered over at her notes.
"Cherry blossoms?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's new," Priya said. "Do you like it?"
"It's nice," Harry said, kissing her head once more.
"I thought so too," she said.
"Nagasaki again today?" Harry asked.
"Mmhmm," Priya intoned. "Although I was thinking maybe a lazier morning of wandering may do us some good rather than just heading straight to the blast zone. Help us clear our heads."
"Sounds good. I've got something bouncing around up there that could use clearing out," Harry said, his mind instantly bouncing to the night before. Her words rattling around inside his head seeming to be nothing more than inconsistent babble. But there was something there. Something that he was missing. He just couldn't quite get a handle on it.
"If it's that thing I wore for your birthday it's staying in your head," Priya said.
"Well that was lovely, but it's not what I had in mind," Harry said.
"Oh, do I even want to know?" Priya sighed, tilting her head back against him.
"It is work related," Harry said.
"Oh sure, take the fun right out of it," Priya said.
"I wouldn't complain if you wanted to go change," Harry said.
"Of course you wouldn't," Priya said. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes and enjoying the memories. "What's bouncing around your head that's work related?"
"I'll tell you on your hike," Harry said, standing up and looking around the kitchen. "Want me to make a picnic up and shall we just put in a half day after lunch?"
"Sure. You made breakfast though," Priya said, standing. She turned to him and kissed him, lovingly on the lips, letting it linger for a few moments. "Let me make up the picnic."
"Okay," Harry said. He slipped into her chair and watched as she went about putting together lunch. She summoned one of her large bags and deposited the food into it once it was ready.
"Is Alex coming with us?" she asked.
"I don't think so," Harry shrugged. "I haven't seen him yet this morning."
"Well then just food for the two of us," she said. "That should be enough food then."
"Probably. Shall we?" Harry asked. He took out his wand and waved it at a candlestick on the table, before standing and grabbing it.
"Okay," Priya said, shrugging the bag over her shoulder and stepping toward him. Once outside she took hold of the candlestick as the portkey dragged them to a small shrine outside of Nagasaki.
The members of the shrine had, or at least claimed to have, magical blood, albeit very little magical ability. Although, one of the younger maidens, a girl of ten or so named Hana, could cast some spells. The rest of them had all been nullified by the radiation. After some discussion, and some bartering of the occasional tutoring of the girl, they'd been allowed a small area around the back of the shrine to use for portkey arrivals.
Once they arrived, they started walking toward, and eventually up, Mount Inasa. Harry lagged behind Priya as they walked. Mostly because he liked the view.
But eventually she wanted to talk while they walked, so he took her hand and walked at her side, only letting go of her at points on the trail where they couldn't be side by side. They talked idly as they walked, both seeming to know that work talk could wait until they were actually working.
So instead their conversations came to their different experiences at Hogwarts. Harry was particularly interested in the two years she was at the institution when she wasn't. And the variously pathetic Defense teachers she had before he even got to experience them.
That led to, eventually, talk of what they should do for the next lesson at the shrine. It was becoming rather hard to come up with anything specific as what their student could do seemed almost random and limited.
Sometimes they'd plan an entire lesson and the girl wouldn't be able to do any of it. And they could tell it was rather disheartening for her. Other times she'd do something, almost accidentally, and they'd have to scramble to find a way to make a lesson that matched.
It was getting easier though. She seemed to be best at charms. And they were well into a second-year level there. The problem became mostly that there would be some rather easy charms that Hana simply couldn't do. And then more complicated ones that she could. There seemed to be no consistency with what magic she could perform
They set up a blanket near the top of the hill and gazed down at the bustling city as they ate and reminisced. They took their time with the food. Harry leaned back against a tree as he ate. Eventually Priya wound up leaning against his chest.
"So, what couldn't you get out of your head?" she asked as they both seemed to understand it was time to work.
"I think we're going about this wrong," Harry said. "And that's why we're not having much success."
"But we are having some success," Priya countered.
"Very minimal and not that is having any lasting effect on the areas," Harry said.
"Well yes, but it's still some success," Priya said.
"You sent all our notes to Dr. Singh. And even he didn't think it looked promising," Harry said.
"That isn't what he said," Priya responded. "He said it was probably too much work for two magicless wizards. But if you recall he thought we were probably on the right path. And just needed to recruit…a few thousand…more witches and wizards."
"I know," Harry said. "Bring an army of the most powerful people we can find and it might have some different. It's not a very promising idea. The Japanese ministry is already moderately annoyed at my presence. They just are too polite to say so to my face."
"So, what are you saying?" Priya asked. She lifted herself from him and turned to face him. "That you want to give up? Fourteen months of this and you want to just bail on it and leave?"
"That's not what I said-" Harry started.
"Because I've worked way too hard at this to leave without something that I can put my name on. I've passed on too many opportunities to be part of this to just give up," Priya said.
"Priya," Harry said, tersely, as he could sense she was about to go on a completely unnecessary rant.
"Sorry," she said, taking a deep breath.
"I don't want to give up. I just think we're going about this wrong," Harry said.
"What brought this on?" Priya asked.
"Remember last night when we were cuddling and you said it was like there was just so much magic in people and I was different because I never seemed to have a limit?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Priya said.
"Well that's it," Harry said, frowning as he struggled to articulate just what he was thinking. Knowing that wouldn't be enough to convince Priya of anything.
"I'm going to need more than that to not be cross with you," Priya said.
"Well, what we've been trying to do. Our specific goal, what we write on the first page of every notebook, is to bring magic back to these areas of Japan, right?" Harry frowned.
"Yes," Priya said.
"And that's literally what we've been doing. We're trying to infuse the area with magic, to let the magic eventually overpower the suppression. So that it could grow and eventually triumph. And it sort of works in some areas for an hour or a day or so. But always it loses. The magic is never enough to win. And we can't figure out a way around that. We've been stuck on that for six months," Harry said.
"Yes, but that's more progress than they made in half a century," Priya said.
"I know," Harry responded. "But what I'm saying, I guess. What if there's another way to approach it? We assume the magic we put into the land disappears. We assume the magic is gone. What if it isn't?"
"What do you mean?" Priya asked.
"What if the magic is still there. Just suppressed, like it's still in us, just suppressed," Harry said.
"If it was still there we should be able to draw it out far more than we can," Priya responded.
"Maybe, but we have no idea how difficult it could be simply to get through whatever exactly it is that's keeping it down. And really, we can't know that one way or another. Because there's no precedent to draw on. Just theories," Harry said.
"Which you now think are wrong?" Priya asked.
"I don't know," Harry said. "But. Well. What if we're doing it wrong. We keep thinking of the superiority of magic. We keep thinking enough magic will eventually turn things back to normal. But what if it's not a matter of enough magic? What if we focus on drawing out the taint instead?"
"But we can't do that. People have tried to do that before and failed. Even the muggles can't find a way to get rid of that. They've got areas totally cordoned off because of it," Priya frowned.
"We've assumed that for a year. But we've never tried to," Harry said.
"And you think we can simply succeed where great minds have failed for forty years? Where better witches and wizards than us have decided it's impossible?" Priya asked.
Harry snorted. Priya frowned, his arrogance always came through at the strangest times, before continuing.
"So instead of continuing our attempts to infuse magic into the land. Attempts that are showing some signs of success but require near constant intentions to maintain that success, you want to try something completely different? Something that may very well undo most of our last year of work. And something that we have no idea if it is even possible?" Priya asked.
"Yes," Harry said. Priya close her eyes, her mouth curving into a frown. She took one long deep breath and then opened her eyes. She stared into his for a few moments before biting her lip an taking another deep breath.
"Well, how do we start?" she asked.
"I have no idea," Harry admitted. "I've only really just had the idea."
"I see," Priya said.
"I know it's not really a great way to go about anything," Harry started.
"No. It's not," Priya sighed. "But it's…interesting."
"That's never a good word," Harry said.
"No," Priya snorted. "It is most certainly not a good word."
"I understand if you don't want to," Harry started again.
"No," Priya interrupted once more. "It's not that. It's got some merit. And I think we might be able to preserve what we've done so far, at least at one of the sites. Both if you can convince Avery to help at least in Nagasaki."
"I can do that," Harry said.
"Then, if we plan it well enough, the only real thing we can lose is time. But if we don't really have any idea of what to do it will make progressing at all difficult," Priya said.
"I have some idea of what to do. At least how to start," Harry said.
"How?" Priya frowned. "Especially if the idea just came to you."
"Remember when we were both drunk and lamenting how a Japanese Christmas just wasn't quite an English Christmas?" Harry asked.
"And I got drunk enough to actually ask about what happened between you and you-know-who," Priya said, biting her bottom lip. She could still remember the look on his face as they cuddled under soft, fuzzy blankets before a fire. It was as if the entire house had dropped twenty degrees as soon as she said it.
He gone completely silent once she'd spoken. She was sure he'd stopped breathing. And for a very long and very painful moment she was sure that was it. That the one simple question, the one she knew she shouldn't ask, but the one that had always bothered her, always lingered in the back of her mind, and always raised some doubt, would be their undoing. And in a moment of utter weakness, her mind clouded by food, pleasure, whisky and wine, she'd asked it without a second thought.
And then he'd gone and done the worst thing he could possibly do. He told her the whole sordid affair.
"And I was drunk enough to answer," Harry admitted.
At first it was like he didn't want to. Like it was utterly wrong to admit to it. But as he spoke it was like removing bandages from an old wound. And the words just flooded from him.
He started talking about the Triwzard tournament and he ended with the final confrontation at the Ministry of Magic. He told her the story of Emily Price. And he told her how she'd used him. How she'd manipulated him. And how she'd messed with his head, for better or for worse.
That stuck with her for months. They were his words. For better, which he said with a sort of half amused smile. Or for worse, where the smile shifted to a confused frown. Almost as if it was something he'd been told but didn't quite believe. Still, they seemed almost like a vow of something he didn't understand.
Somehow, through it all, she thought she understood his need for absolution and his interest in Japan. But she'd never quite figured out if he knew just whose absolution he was working for.
In the end, it had been an emotionally exhausting night. He'd just kept talking and talking through it all and she'd learned what the ministry had tried so very hard to hide from everyone for so long.
She'd slipped from his bed the following morning. Remembering clearly that at the time she hadn't quite transitioned to thinking of it as their bed as of yet. She'd gone straight back to the room she was still renting in Tokyo, leaving him alone in the large, empty house in Osaka.
She hadn't really wanted to. She remembered wanting to wake him and kiss him goodbye. But she'd hesitated. And then left without a word. It wasn't like he hadn't known she was leaving in the morning. She'd actually almost invited him back to England for the holidays. She hadn't because somehow she knew he wasn't ready to return. And she just wasn't sure how to introduce the white boy she was sleeping with to her family. She didn't think they'd care. But sometimes they were more traditional than she'd expected.
She knew she needed time to process what she'd been told. It all seemed so strange. His description, his imagery, of You-Know-Who was nothing like she could have ever imagined. She realized quickly that the truths he told her, if they were that, were something that she may very well be one of only three people to fully understand.
The worst part of it was that it all made sense. It wasn't like there hadn't been countless rumors and articles about Alexander Avery. Deep down she'd known them. And she supposed it had struck her as odd that Harry would be hanging around the older man. Learning that it was one of You-Know-Who's final orders was for the man to protect Harry was revealing and sat wrong with her.
Because she knew they weren't evil. So much of her youth had been dominated by family members talking of the first war. And she'd witnessed some of the second. The Death Eaters were the boogeymen. The evil coalition that would murder you in your home. Everyone was terrified of them.
Well, everyone except for her grandmother. No matter what happened during the war, Farha Patel had waved off any threat against her and insisted she was never in any danger, no matter how many 'Mudblood' lives she saved in the hospital. Or how many times she helped anyone the Death Eaters disagreed with.
The rest of her rather large family always spoke of her with a hushed reverence because of it. And she was the reason Priya pursued medicine. She had nothing but respect for her grandmother's stern fortitude.
She'd gone back to England alone. And spent three days with her entire family. Three days shoved into her old bedroom with a cousin and a niece ten years her juniors. Three days of being chided about how her cousins were all already pregnant, married or engaged. Three days being told that she should put her education to better use. Three days being scolded because she thought she could turn oddball research in Japan into something that resembled a career. Three days of whispers that she was probably just being indecent with some boy rather than doing anything productive.
It was a trying vacation, even with how much she loved her family. And, toward the end of the second day, a soft voice rang through her head. A depressed young man reflecting on the memory that England had no longer felt like a home he could travel to. It was a statement that she never thought she'd really agree with. But the longer she stayed, the more she did.
Only her grandmother seemed able enough to tell something was wrong. She'd come back from Parvati's surprise baby shower on her second night back in London. It had been exhausting to keep a smile on her face and act like she cared. But she'd managed.
She'd stopped outside of the door to her bedroom when she'd heard the voices. The younger girls inside were busy giggling and gossiping about the cutest boys in school. Priya turned and walked back outside.
She found a muggle off-licence and wandered through it, having no idea what exactly drew her to the place except for the thought at the baby shower that it would have been a lot easier with a bottle or three of wine.
But the mass of wine that took up what seemed to be half of the store was too vast for her to contemplate. A young clerk approached her and asked if she needed any help as they were closing soon. Eventually that led her to some whisky and then back into London.
She thought she'd been quiet when she snuck back into the kitchen a few hours later. But she must have not been as stealthy as she thought, because before she'd finished pouring a splash of the amber liquor into a glass.
"Are you going to share any of that?" Farha Patel asked.
"I….thought I was the only one awake," Priya responded.
"I'm old," Farha said. "I wake easily."
"Sorry," Priya frowned. She shifted a little to hide the alcohol behind her, wondering if it would be worse to be caught with a hamburger or the alcohol.
"So, are you going to share any of that?" Farha asked again, nodding to the bottle Priya was failing to hide.
"Uhm…okay," Priya said, cautiously and she took down another glass and poured some of the whisky into it before handing it to Farha.
"Who's the boy?" Farha asked as she took it and drank it down with a far more experienced air than Priya would have expected.
"What? No one…I," Priya started. Farha took the bottle and refilled both their glasses.
"Who's the boy?" Farha asked again. Priya knew there was no way around it.
"Harry Potter," Priya admitted. Farha nearly snorted out her drink. She paused and stared at Priya, her eyes widening. Before she spoke she poured then each more alcohol.
"Tell me about him," Farha ordered. And Priya obeyed. She told her grandmother about her lover. She spoke of how they'd met, what they were doing, what they hoped to accomplish, and how she'd left him there alone for the remainder of the holiday.
She talked of, but mostly around, the revelations Harry had shared with her just days before. And her confusion and worry that she'd made a grave mistake. And that she wasn't sure what she wanted to do. Farha didn't comment at all as she spoke. Instead she just poured more of the whisky until they'd had the whole bottle by the time the clock read three twenty six in the morning.
"Looks like you're smitten," Farha said. "I think you know exactly what you'll do. I've not heard much of him directly but some of my colleagues speak quite highly of him."
"He's-" Priya started. But then the alarm bells went off in her alcohol-addled brain. The response was wrong. Her grandmother hadn't reacted right, not like she was hearing some of the information presented the first time. She knew more than she let on. Priya thought she was a pretty smart cookie. And then it all clicked.
"You knew You-Know-Who," Priya accused, fear rising in her as she spoke. Could her Grandmother have been a Death Eater? Could the bravado during the war have come from something completely else. But Farha shook her head to deny the claim.
"I never met You-Know-Who," Farha admitted.
"But-" Priya started.
"I think it's time for bed, Priya," Farha said, ruffling her hair and taking her glass from her. She turned to the sink and rinsed both glasses and vanished the bottle. Priya frowned knew that her grandmother was probably right. She paused at the door though and turned back to her.
"What about Emily Price?" she asked. "Did you ever meet her?"
"Yes," Farha admitted, not turning to face her granddaughter. There was a melancholy in her tone. Enough of it that Priya knew she would not get any more answers that night.
So she went to bed. And she spent the next day wondering why no matter what she did, no matter what she thought about, and no matter what happened, her thoughts all went back to Harry Potter and how miserable she felt having left him all alone. And how she knew he secretly hated being alone. Even in their relative short time together she could tell he functioned much better with people around and retreated to himself when alone. And she'd left him alone. She'd abandoned him. Without as much as a good bye.
She knew he'd never forgive her. How could he? Other boyfriends had kicked her to the curb for far less than running away from them. If she'd been afraid of talking to him, afraid of answers to a question she'd asked, then she didn't deserve him. She thought, for a moment, that maybe it was simply time to stay in London and take the hospital job. But, by the end of the day, she'd taken the portkey back to Tokyo.
It had been too much to try to find him at Hiroshima or Nagasaki. She couldn't bring herself to go to their research sites without him. It was three more days of fidgeting and frowning and wondering just what she could possibly say before she finally found herself, without really even knowing how she got there, standing outside his Osaka home.
She'd frozen outside the door as she'd heard his voice coming. Moments later he and Avery appeared, coming up the hill outside the home. Avery had smirked and slipped away from Harry, walking by her without another word. Harry had simply paused and looked at her. His expression was completely unreadable as the sun fell behind him.
He'd said nothing and she'd felt the blush rise in her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead she just stood there, feeling utterly helpless and confused and like she shouldn't be there.
And then he smiled and opened his arms.
She didn't remember moving. But she remembered being in his arms. She would always remember being in his arms.
She'd heard people talk about those little moments where suddenly, they knew. Where amazingly it all made sense. Where they understood what the rest of their life would be and for her that moment came when Harry's arms encircled her form.
That was when she knew she would never do better than Harry Potter.
He held her for a few minutes. And then he kissed her head softly and spoke. The words barely registering in her brain.
"Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked. Such an innocent, simple question. But that was all it took to tell her that she'd fretted over nothing and that everything would be alright. And that Harry Potter was most definitely hers.
"I do," she said, wishing for the first time in her life that the words had another context.
But then she was back in the present. He was staring at her from his tree, his brow furrowed.
"You okay there, babe?" he asked.
"What? Oh yeah, sorry, lost in my own head," Priya babbled.
"Frightening," Harry teased. Priya rolled her eyes.
"Less so than your head," she countered.
"Probably true," Harry responded with a smirk.
"So how do you want to start this?" Priya asked.
"Well, we agree that it seems the weakest around the shrine, right?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Priya nodded. "Well, at least in the radius. If you're not counting the fringes," Priya agreed.
"Let's take a walk back to the shrine and go from there," Harry said. He stood from his tree, helping Priya to her feet as he did. He cleaned up the picnic remnants and she stored them in her bag.
They walked together, holding hands the whole way, back down to the small Shinto shrine. They didn't talk on the walk down. Their best pupil, Hana, greeted them each with a hug and asked if there would be lessons that day. She was quite dejected when told no. Priya appeased her by letting her stay to watch, but only if she was quiet.
Harry sat in the grass behind the temple. He twirled his wand around his fingers as he looked around for a moment. Priya spent the time taking out a pen and pad and then sat a few feet away from him.
Harry closed his eyes and ran his wand over the grass, letting it slide back and forth between the blades. Priya could tell he was looking for something. But just what that something was he couldn't quite pinpoint. It continued for about ten minutes. Priya focused herself too, trying to sense any change in the environment around them.
"What's he doing?" Hana asked after growing bored with watching the adults do nothing.
"That isn't keeping quiet," Priya admonished. The girl crossed her arms in annoyance.
"But he's being boring," she whined.
"He needs to concentrate," Priya whispered.
"But," Hana started. But then Harry's eyes shot open and he stabbed his wand into the ground. Priya felt his magic flare out in distress. It was a skill they taught all healers. Magic, in many cases, would try to overcorrect in case of a magical injury. But it wouldn't always understand what it was doing. And healers sometimes had to be able to counter the victim as well as the curse.
"Harry," Priya gasped, lunging toward him. But he held up his free hand, palm up to her.
"I think," he spoke through grit teeth. She saw the muscles in his right arm starting to tense as they seemed to fight to push the wand further into the ground. "I think, I have something."
"You need help," she said, drawing her own wand.
"No. Observe. Take notes," Harry said, the words difficult to say. Priya put her pen to paper on instinct and the words flowed from her. She wrote about him to start with, how he was staring to perspire, how his eyes fought back tears, how his shoulders tensed, how his arm shook as it held onto his wand, and how his magic felt like it was clashing with the vast nothingness around them.
Then, she wrote about the chill that came. The grass around them started to frost as Harry continued. And, eventually, she felt the suppression grow. She felt it rise so that it surrounded everything, stronger than she'd felt it anywhere but the blast zone. She wrote about how it seemed to be all consuming and everywhere and was just constantly worsening.
And then she wrote about the warmth that flooded through her, the burst of power that surrounded her. The pen moved so quickly she did not have the time to think about what that meant.
Finally, she wrote of how Harry forced his right arm away from the dirt and into the air. It was shaking violently, like he couldn't possibly hold on any longer. He grunted with exertion as he slashed it up into the air. And with this wand came a tendril of greenish purple smoke. It floated around the tip as he held it there, his eyes wide.
"Help!" Hana yelped, a painful surprise in her voice. Both Harry and Priya's eyes shot to her only to discover that she was glowing, a soft pale light seeming to illuminate her skin. She touched one glowing arm with one glowing hand, her eyes wide and confused.
And then it was over.
In his surprise Harry dropped the wand, and with it the tendril of smoke. It slithered back into the earth and everything went back to how it had been moments before. Harry fell forward, resting on his left arm as he shook out the right.
"Are you okay?" Priya asked.
"I think so," Hana frowned, examining herself. "What was that?"
Harry and Priya didn't answer her. Instead their thoughts rushed back to the present. They both looked to the ground where his wand had been impaled just moments earlier. And then back at each other as they realized in near perfect unison what had just happened.