The Black Lake Chapter 6, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews, it was highly motivating! As usual, with no beta there may be a few SPAG errors... And please just hop over any plot holes you may stumble across, this story is all in fun! Enjoy.

The Black Lake

Chapter 6

Harry was incredibly nervous.

Mouth dry, palms sweaty, he shuffled his feet restlessly before reaching a closed first forward and rapping his knuckles on the door in front of him.

He was standing in front of a small flat. The street was relatively well-kept, and the modest buildings were bustling with evening activity- wizards and witches coming home from work, greeted by spouses and little children. Despite the cheery chatter of neighbors, it was a rainy evening, and the clouds hung ominously low. Harry tried not to take the dull weather as a bad sign. Lifting his collar around his chilled neck, he shook the drops of rain from his dark hair and stared at the door in front of him. It had taken three tries of him approaching the door- three times turning around and nearly abandoning the idea, before shaking his nerves and approaching the door once again. He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his wet hair. His mind was rapidly vacillating between wondering if he was about to make an irreparable mistake, or if he was doing the right thing. Just as much, half of him hoped the door would open while the other half prayed that no one was home. Suddenly hearing movement inside, he stilled, his heart hammering away.

The door to the small flat opened, and a young woman appeared before him. She had lovely brown eyes and brown hair, which was currently being held in place at the back of her head by her wand. She wore what looked like ministry robes, slightly ruffled as if she had just finished a long day. She opened her mouth to speak but froze in place. Her wide eyes traveled over Harry's face and flitted upward to that fateful mark on his forehead, confirming what she suspected.

Panicking, Harry realized he must have the wrong flat.

"Oh- Oh, I'm so sorry," he said apologetically, "I was actually looking for-"

"Mione? Who is it?"

The young woman did not move as the deep voice behind her echoed ahead to where Harry stood. Looking past her, a young man approached the doorway. He was tall and lean, red-haired and freckled. Relieved he indeed had the right flat- Harry briefly studied the man. Just like the portraits in Hogwarts, he could see familiar features- Traces of the Weasleys-Traces of Ginny. He was sporting Auror training robes, but like the woman beside him he was also slightly disheveled. His face seemed somewhat prematurely lined, betraying a deep weariness. He looked curiously over Harry, but as his eyes studied him, his jaw slackened and he adopted the same open-mouthed gaze of shock as the woman next to him.

"Er," Harry coughed uncomfortably, "Hello."

The couple said nothing, still gaping at him.

Harry felt his face flame.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Ron Weasley."

The redhaired man weakly raised one of his hands, as if Harry were calling attendance.

"Oh," Harry nodded, "Good. For a moment I thought I might have the wrong flat..."

Harry cleared his throat. All the words he had planned ahead of time seemed to have fled his mind, and he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this had been a terrible idea. He backed up a step.

"Look, again, I'm so sorry to have bothered you-"

"You're Harry Potter."

The young woman seemed to have regained her voice but spoke with a bit of awe.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Shaking herself slightly to come out of her trance, the woman stepped forward and beckoned warmly to him.

"Please, Mr. Potter," she gestured inside, and gently moved a still gaping Ron out of the way, "Please come in for a moment- I've just put tea on."

Harry looked apprehensively from her to Ron, and then into the flat. It looked warm and inviting inside. The woman smiled kindly at him.

"That- that would be brilliant. Thank you."

The woman nodded, drawing him inside. She led him to a settee, offering to take his coat. Though the woman seemed like she could do with some sleep, she was pretty and spoke soft and kind. Ron walked slightly robotically and sat opposite of him in the living area, still looking like he was in shock. The woman brought tea before sitting next to Ron, giving him a slight elbow in the ribs.

"Ron," she hissed under her breath, "Don't be rude- say hello."

She smiled apologetically.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter-"

"Harry," he insisted, trying desperately to stifle the already rising awkwardness. "Just Harry, please."

"Oh, of course, Harry." She glanced sideways at Ron before nervously cupping her tea. "You'll have to excuse us, we aren't- I mean we never- we never expected- but of course we know all about you, I mean, you're you-and..."

Her eyes widened as she seemed to realize she was rambling, and she swallowed, holding a hand to her mouth and wincing slightly.

"I'm so sorry, I haven't even- you probably have no idea who I am. My name is Hermione- Hermione Granger."

Harry nodded politely, recognizing her name. He glanced to the man next to her. Ron still seemed in a daze, and Hermione tossed another elbow to his ribs. This time it seemed to shake him out of it. His eyes cleared and his mouth quit gaping.

"Oh, right. Right, um, Weasley. Ron Weasley."

The men shook hands.

There was another awkward silence as Harry attempted to collect his thoughts. The pair continued to look at him expectantly.

What had he been thinking?

"Well, I'm glad to have met you- both of you," Harry started, rubbing his jeans with his hands. "Again, I'm sorry to have intruded unannounced it's just..." He fidgeted nervously with his hands.

Something deep inside him was whispering- telling him to be honest with the couple in front of him.

And if he were honest with himself... that went against every instinct that Sirius had ingrained into him.

Trust no one, Harry.

And he hadn't.

He couldn't afford to be vulnerable. From the time of his young childhood, his life had been riddled with betrayals- friends and loved ones choosing greed and power over what was good and right. Even finding out belatedly from Dumbledore about the prophecy had felt like a betrayal. His and Sirius's acquaintances were all held at arm's length. Then the war was over, and the one person whom Harry had cared about more than anyone in the world was gone. But still, even then, he had been shocked when unexpected hands reached out to help lift him back up. McGonagall offering him a home, a purpose. Hagrid offering his friendship. And Íde...

Íde had unknowingly offered him things he had never dared pursue- feelings and sensations swirling into a great big something that he couldn't identify, but powerful enough that he was here. Here with her brother, who had lost his family, who thought her dead...

And if Harry cared about her at all, he would be honest.

He took a deep breath, and the truth began pouring out of him.

"For a long time," he began again, rubbing the back of his neck, "Since The Day, I suppose, I've been wondering what I'm supposed to be doing. All my life I've sort of had this concrete plan until... well, recently. The interviews and celebrations never felt right. The publicity felt horrific. And I know that my behavior has been quite selfish-" the couple blanched at the word, but he held up a silencing hand. "No, it's true. I'm not the only one who suffered. I'm not the only one who gave up everything. But I want to change that. That's why I felt like teaching could be my way of … giving back, I suppose. But that's not enough." He eyed the couple in front of him. "I know it's far too long overdue, but I felt like maybe I should visit with people- people who were in the war I mean, and... offer condolences. And my thanks, of course."

"Your thanks?" Ron asked.

"Well, yeah, you know, for all the help I got on The Day. You and your family never backed down, never retreated, even when it seemed to be over. I mean, without all of you, everyone who fought and helped, I wouldn't have been able to – well, you know-"

"I think you got it backwards, mate," Ron grinned incredulously, "It's all of us who should be thanking you, innit?"

"Ron," Hermione chided, "Let him speak."

Harry nodded, swallowing hard.

"Well, I mean, that was what I wanted... to say thank you, and … I'm sorry. For what you've lost."

Ron's face darkened, but not in anger. He stared at Harry for a moment, as if assessing whether he was being genuine. But then he gave him an understanding nod. "Thank you."

"And you as well," Hermione added. "I heard you lost your guardian that day."

Harry nodded solemnly, watching Ron closely. Though losing his guardian had nearly torn him apart, he couldn't imagine what it must have been like to lose his entire family.

"I saw the portraits of your family," Harry started carefully, "hanging in the Hall of Heroes."

"Heroes..." Ron smiled, his sad eyes glazing over a bit. "That they were. All of them."

Harry cleared his throat before proceeding.

"And, your sister..."

Ron stiffened slightly.

"What about her?" He asked quietly. Suspiciously.

"I'm sorry for what happened to her," Harry said honestly. "I was told she was specifically targeted. I didn't know Voldemort had been after her for years. I know that must have been awful- for her and your whole family." I know what it's like to spend a lifetime on the run. "It sounded like she was incredibly brave," Harry continued, "and when I hear the staff at school speak about her, I know she was a wonderful person." She is a wonderful person.

Ron's mouth thinned, and his eyes went a bit cold. Harry feared he had trodden onto dangerous ground. He had not only bombarded into this flat, but now he was bringing up the murder of his younger sister. Just as he opened his mouth to profusely apologize, Ron closed his eyes for a moment and gave a nod, a silent acceptance of the condolences. Next to him, Hermione's eyes were glazed with tears, but she was smiling.

Harry's chest tightened. The suffering these two must have gone through...must still be going through.

"Anyways," Harry continued, struggling to recover, "I just wanted to meet you- both of you- actually. I have heard of both of your names and all you did on The Day. I know that you both fought, and I can't tell you what it meant. I was so late getting there, and when I did I thought I was too late. But there were still those standing up to him- to the Death Eaters. And then I knew I wasn't too late. So... I guess, thank you."

"You said that already." Hermione smiled, and Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry grinned sheepishly, and suddenly the discomfort of the room dispersed.

"A life on the run didn't exactly help me have a way with words. Though I also blame my guardian, he often behaved like an overgrown man-child."

The couple chuckled at that.

"Well, I mean it," Harry reiterated. "Truly."

A few cups of tea later, Harry was bidding the couple goodbye. He nodded at their friendly smiles and began making his way down the street to the apparition point. He hadn't accomplished his original goal of wheedling information about Ginny out of Ron, it just hadn't seemed to be the right time. Other than that, something about his meeting with Ron and Hermione did feel inexplicably right, like some unknown wrinkle in the mess that was his life seemed to smooth out a bit.

His footsteps and heart were light as he made his way back to castle.

Deep under the Black Lake, Íde sat on a boulder collecting her thoughts.

The lonely place. Her special place. Herown place. It was far from the villages of the Merpeople, where their sounds of bustling life could not carry, and the gentle currents of the water silently rocked the water plants in a mesmerizing sway. It was the only place she could truly be alone, further than most Merpeople dared to swim. It was a place Íde came to be alone. Today it was a place to think- to try and muddle through the conflicting thoughts and feelings that threatened to overwhelm her.

Go. Go to the Merpeople.

The thoughts that were ticking away inside her head weren't particularly pleasant. They were thoughts that made her wring her hands nervously, made her bite her lip, made her heart and stomach clench. Something that had been locked away deep inside her was stirring to life. Thoughts that were altogether painful but necessary filled her with a sense of anticipation and dread.

When had she ever felt such things?

She ran a hand through her long hair, looking down towards where the Mermaid villages lay hidden over the cliffs. The village that was her home ever since- well, ever since she could remember.

A painful lump swelled in her throat.

Her people- her family- could they be hiding something? Something so precious from her?

Is that why she came to this rock, time and time again, because deep down she knew she didn't truly belong?

The boy with dark hair and green eyes had spoken words (truths?) so jarring and dissonant that they simply couldn't be real...

But then, he had kissed her.

His warm, tender flesh had met her chilled lips, and something had happened. A sensation she had never felt- but somehow knew - enveloped her at the touch of his lips.

Warmth.

The cold, dark water of the Black Lake, frigid even in the summer months, was all she had ever known- all she could remember. But his mouth- so sweet and soft, pierced through the chill, sent a power into her, leaving his body and seeping into hers, like he was breathing life into her. Something had awoken. He had kissed her, and it had been beautiful and terrifying. His lips on hers caused a spark, and the flame of a candle had suddenly lit in the blackness of night. And then she was alone again- alone with those words that he had spoken to her.

She had been so sure- so damn sure- that he was wrong, that he couldn't possibly know what he was saying.

But now, the flame was inside her- warming her. She could feel it- a great big something inside her trying to get out. It was like a smaller version of herself, her real self- had lain dormant. The truth was trying to claw itself out, and it it did, if the truth was finally released... what would it be?

No matter the outcome, she feared her heart- so newly warmed- would shatter.

For so long she had been frozen, encased in numbing cold and despair, and suddenly it was receding. Sensations and feelings were arising within her that were so new and exciting- but somehow, familiar? The cold and numbness were melting away, and warmth that she had never felt before was seeping into her skin. Except that this new warmth felt familiar, felt like the embrace of a loved one, felt like... home?

Such pleasant feelings.

Head in her hands, she sighed in frustration. Whatever truths she felt stirring deep inside her were still out of reach. The more she tried to release it, the more it eluded her. Almost absentmindedly, she lifted a hand to her mouth, tracing a finger languidly across her bottom lip.

There was still a touch of warmth lingering- from him...

You've got to find the truth for yourself.

Stifling the pandemonium in her brain, she forced herself to focus on the one thought that was not unpleasant at all to dwell on. She continued tracing her lip, her eyelashes fluttering closed. She felt his hands as they had traced her back, how they had traveled up her arms, how they had cupped her face. She thought of his mouth as he had come so close to her, and she could feel his breath tickling her face. His dark hair, so adorably messy, his green eyes so mesmerizing to stare into, looking at her like she was some precious and beautiful thing. This human- this man, and all these strange and wonderful things he knew about... He was so close to her. For a moment, too close. Never had she let anyone kiss her, never had she let anyone come close. But he was right there, and then- warm lips moving over her own, and pieces of her were thrumming that she hadn't realized existed. Blood was flowing with each pounding heartbeat. Heat was pooling in a heart- in a body- that had become so cold. Lungs that had learned to live beneath the waters now drew shuddering breaths. Skin was tingling where he touched her, and a great, wanting need was building within her. His hands had been on her waist, and she was wishing desperately he were here now so she could feel his hands on her, so she could feel his heart pounding underneath her palm, so she could look into his beautiful eyes and listen to all the strange, mysterious things he knew. His stories, his laughter... She wanted to spend the rest of her life in that grotto with him, letting the cold continue to thaw until every inch of her was filled with warmth from her head to her tail-

The thought jolted her out of her heated reverie. She was surrounded by the chilled silence.

She looked around the watery depths, still very much alone. Íde rubbed her eyes, embarrassed for her straying thoughts.

It's time to find the truth.

It was no time to fantasize about a dark-haired boy with eyes green as the lake kelp. She needed answers. With one last sigh of determination, Íde lifted herself off of the rock, and reaching her arms out, began swimming towards the village. As she neared the edge of the cliffs, her glistening tail gently propelling her, she only hesitated a moment before continuing down into the deepest part of the lake. The Queen would see her. Good or bad, the Queen would have the answers.

Don't be afraid.

It was time for the truth.

Harry was scribbling furiously on the parchment in front of him.

Having completed his curriculum, he was now scratching his quill next to a list of names. His visit to Ron Weasley had been enlightening, though not at all in the way he had planned. A sort of inspiration had permeated through him that he hadn't felt in a long while, and he was determined to follow through. He asked the Ministry for a list of those who had fought in the final battle. The list in front of him weighed heavily on his mind, even more so when he began scratching out the names of those deceased. But the names that remained were what he had been searching for. He wanted to meet them- all of them if he could- and talk to them privately just as he had Ron Weasley. He wanted to thank them personally for what they had done and see if there was anything he could do to help.

He sat back in his chair, having written several addresses next to the names on the list.

The public celebrations had never felt right. The Daily Prophet interviews had never felt right. But this, this felt not only right, but it felt important.

Admittedly, he had had ulterior motives in seeing Ron Weasley. He had initially been hoping to get more information about Ginny from him. But the man he had seen, the man who had suffered so much, lost his family... Harry just knew it wasn't right. He scratched the scruff on his chin, stretching his sore back and neck. Regardless of his failed 'mission,' he felt it was the start of something brilliant. And as for Ron's sister, he hoped she would come through and talk with the Merpeople.

It had only been two days, but God, he missed her.

Harry rubbed his eyes, debating on whether to turn in early. Not that he minded... the last few nights had involved him falling to sleep while drifting through fantasies of a certain redheaded girl. He sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting closed. In last night's fantasy, he had been by the lake with Íde.

They were in the grotto, and she was perched on the edge of the rock with her back to him. Moving behind her, he swept her long hair over her shoulder. His hands moved slowly up and down the bare skin of her back, feeling the softness. She arched her back at his touch. He then moved to her shoulders, rubbing and massaging. Her head fell back and she let out a soft moan. He dropped a kiss on her head, and she turned to face him. Her dark brown eyes had such a blazing look, and the air around them sizzled.

Harry placed his palms on his thighs, squeezing them slightly at the memory.

He remembered looking down at her. She was naked from the waist up. He could just make out the tantalizing outlines of her breasts, but they were covered just enough by her glorious red hair that fell to her waist. Her blazing look intensified, peering into his eyes. "I know now," she had whispered to him, nearing her mouth to his, "I know the truth now." Her hand had come up to his bare chest, placing her palm over his heart. It was scorching- she seemed to be branding him with her touch.

Harry's breathing became heavy, remembering her touch, remembering skin on skin, her curves peaking out from her hair. He ran his hands up and down his thighs, desire flooding him.

Íde had leaned forward, placing a heated kiss on his lips. Harry began kissing her back, one hand tangling in her silky hair. He had placed his other hand on her tail to steady himself, but looked down and saw her tail was gone. She now had legs. Beautiful, glorious legs... They smiled at each other, and he had kissed her again, running his hand up her calf, laying her down beneath him. They were alone in the warm grotto- no curses or mysteries or questions- just him and this beautiful girl in his arms, and it didn't matter right now if she was Ginny or Íde because they were both her, and she was here with him. The heat between them was frantic and desperate as he moved over her. His lips moved hungrily across hers, only stopping for gasps of air. Her small hands moved into his hair, tugging and pulling. She was here, she was his, and nothing else mattered. His lips trailed her jaw, slowing to a more languid pace. She breathed out his name. He moved to her neck, and he felt her shudder in pleasure beneath him. Her hands held him tightly, pulling him closer, wanting him as much as he wanted her. He pulled back a bit to catch his breath and look into her face. She was flushed and breathless, eyes languid. One of his fingers began to trace her lips- so hot to the touch- and he moved his hand to her collar bone, tracing the delicate skin, slowly moving down. Her chest rose and fell in her arousal, red hair still covering the parts of her he was now aching to see. The words he so wanted to hear began falling from her lips. "Look at me," she whispered invitingly, her hands stroking the back of his neck, "Touch me." He looked at her, unsure, but her hands grasped his face. "Please," she murmured, "I want you to." Groaning, he kissed her again. His hand moved, tracing the space in the middle of her chest with his finger. Touching her hair, he slowly moved it to the side and off one perfect breast. His hand reached out to finally feel the soft flesh beneath his palm-

A loud knocking suddenly rattled the office door, and Harry was abruptly brought back to reality by nearly toppling out of his chair. Brain still somewhat slow from his hormone-filled fantasy, Harry blinked stupidly at the door, as if unable to remember what one was supposed to do in this situation. The knocking commenced again, and the jarring noise seemed to help Harry's brain synapses begin firing again. Flushing, he stood and righted his trousers and belt, thanking Merlin that whoever was behind that door had not walked in on this mortifying scene.

Clothes righted, Harry took a deep breath, before opening the door, praying that he didn't look as flushed and sweaty as he felt. But the worry immediately turned to surprise when he saw the man who was standing in the doorway.

"Ron?"

Ron Weasley stood slightly uneasily before him, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if he had looked much the same when he had shown up on Ron's doorstep. He was dressed in his Auror robes, but his shirt was untucked and his hair slightly disheveled. He looked like a man who had had yet another long day, and like a man who was holding something back. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable, hands moving to his pockets. But he said nothing.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, unsure of what else to say.

Ron fidgeted, finally meeting Harry's eye.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, everything's fine. It's just..."

Harry watched him expectantly, and Ron sighed, running a stressed hand over his face, a clear debate going on in his mind. He finally dropped the hand and shrugged.

"Fancy a pint?"

Íde swam through the cool waters.

Slowly she made her way through the underwater village of the Merpeople. So lost was she in her own thoughts, she paid no mind to anyone she passed. Most Merpeople were friendly to her, though she often earned herself disproving looks when she left the village, as no one was permitted to do so except her, but... wait a minute, why was she allowed to do so?

Her head pounded. More and more questions...

She stopped quickly when she saw a shadow emerge in front of her, blocking her path. She knew immediately who it was before she looked up at him. It was the Shaman's son. Of all the Merpeople, he had been the only one who treated Íde with open contempt. Usually avoiding her presence, he and his father would stare at Íde from shadows, suspicion in their gazes. The Queen had always told her to pay them no mind, and she steered clear of them whenever possible. The Shaman never spoke to her, only whispering conspiratorially to his son. She did not know what she had done to gain their dislike, nor had she ever cared enough to try and find out. Harry's words echoed in her head, and she felt she might already know.

You're different from them.

She was, wasn't she? Somehow, she never realized- never cared- but she was. Perhaps that was why the Merman in front of her showed her such disdain, and perhaps it had been made worse by the favor the Queen had showed her. He towered over her, grey muscled arms folded across his tattooed chest. His yellow teeth were slightly bared, eyes narrowed down at her. His frame was adorned with large ropes of shells and pebbles around his neck and waist, symbolic of his status. He carried no spear, but Íde knew he was not one to be challenged. Though the magic of the Merpeople was limited, the Shaman and his son- along with the Queen- possessed it.

For the first time, Íde felt unnerved by his presence. She steeled herself, masking her face into cool indifference.

"Djet." She greeted with a slight nod.

"Íde."

His yellow eyes looked over her form, lip curling in disgust. "I smell the surface waters on you." He spoke in Mermish, his voice gravelly. "Foolish girl, surfacing is forbidden. To defy the Queen is punishable by death."

Íde folded her arms across her chest.

"It has not been forbidden to me."

"An unfortunate oversight, don't you think?" He spat. "One young Mermaid given free reign of the lake, to come and go- free of the rules and restrictions of the Merpeople. Her labor is not required for fishing and harvesting. She does not celebrate in the villages. Her existence is hollow and meaningless like an empty shell. Her Queen shows her favor, and she shows nothing but disrespect in return."

Íde swallowed, mind buzzing. She certainly meant no disrespect to the Queen. This had all seemed perfectly reasonable before. But it wasn't... not at all. She refused to let Djet see the discomfort he was causing her.

He smirked; his eyes reflecting the malice in his tone. He reached down to the fabric he wore across his waist, the fabric that was adorned with all manner of rocks and shells. He retracted a rock from the cloth, dark like onyx, shaped and sharpened until it resembled a dagger. The light glinted off its surface as he held it in his hand, turning it over in his palm. He looked back up to Íde, as if daring her step back. "Nevertheless," he murmured darkly, "all Merpeople- including our beloved Queen- are only too aware of what can happen at the surface. Oversight or not, girl- you have done great damage."

"I have done nothing wrong." She retorted hotly.

"Indeed. And why, may I ask, do you venture from your beloved surface waters, away from that ridiculous rock you spend hours wasting away on, and appear at the Queen's domain?"

Íde's fists clenched at her sides. Djet was just trying to scare her, intimidate her. And it had never worked before, until today. Until now. Why though? She shook away the thought.

"I'm here because I need to speak with the Queen."

Djet abruptly stopped the movement of his dagger, one eyebrow raising, yellow eyes suddenly looking inquisitive.

"And what is it you wish to speak to our Queen about?"

"That's hardly any of your business-"

"Oh, but you know very well that it is, Íde. No one sees the Queen without speaking to me first."

"Well, we've spoken," Íde snapped impatiently, "so can we move this along now? I have questions that need answering and you are wasting my time."

Djet seemed highly amused by her heated response. He leaned forward towards her, eyes narrowed- searching, studying, calculating.

"You've a fire in you today," he whispered, more to himself than to her, "and after all this time, you seek answers..." He trailed off, one hand rising to rub his jaw in thought. "Perhaps the veil is lifting."

"What veil? What are you on about-"

"Come, Íde," he interrupted, "We must go now."

Djet's entire demeaner changed before her eyes. Suddenly he seemed urgent, almost excited. He grabbed her by the elbow, swimming brusquely towards the Queen's residence. In seconds they were outside the pearl encrusted opening to the modest palace made of rock. Djet held up a hand to keep Íde in place at the opening.

"You will wait here. I must speak with my father. Then you will see the Queen."

Íde nodded, wringing her hands, suddenly nervous. Djet swam past her and into the palace. She waited impatiently, fluttering her tail back and forth in an effort to stay calm. She toyed with her necklace, her fingers rubbing the pearl. After a few moments, her hand moved from the necklace, settling on her chest. Her heart was fluttering madly within it. That was new... except no, no it wasn't. She had felt a similar fluttering- a pounding- within her when Harry had been so close to her, when his hands had moved across her skin, and when he had leaned in and placed his lips on hers-

" Íde."

She jumped when Djet's voice called to her, whirling around and seeing him beckoning to her.

"Come. The Queen will see you now."

Íde nodded, and Djet moved out of the way, allowing her to swim into the palace.

Íde could count on one hand the number of times she had entered the rock palace. Each visit seemed a blur, but never could she remember feeling so restless and fidgety. She swam into the main chamber, and lowered herself in respect to the rock floor, before glancing up.

"My Queen."

The Queen sat in a large throne carved from rock. Dressed in her crown of shells and driftwood in her green hair, wearing a woven sash bejeweled with the most precious gems that could be found in the Black Lake, she sat stoically. Her yellow eyes were watching Íde carefully. Next to her throne stood the Shaman. Like his son, he stared at Íde with nearly blatant dislike, a scowl fixed on his aged, wrinkled face. Unlike his son, however, he held a wooden staff in his hand, littered with carvings and runes, and dangling with a string of kelp that held the skull of a grindylow.

Íde looked back to the Queen, ignoring the glares of the Shaman. Queen Merneith had always been kind to her, she had nothing to fear.

"Rise, little one."

The Queen made a small gesture with her hand, and Íde rose. Queen Merneith stared at her a moment, the same searching look that Djet had given her. Then she spoke, her voice smooth and regal.

"I was told you wished to speak to me."

"Well, yes..." Íde struggled to keep her hands from fidgeting. The Queen did not blink but waited patiently for Íde to continue.

"My Queen, I have some... Well, some things have happened and I wished to... Well, that is, I've heard some things-"

"Spit it out, girl!" The Shaman snapped impatiently.

"I'm bloody trying to!" She snarled viciously at him, then a hand flew to her mouth in shock. Horrified by her immature outburst, she once again lowered herself before the Queen.

"Forgive me, my Queen," she blurted out, head bowed, "I don't know what came over me."

A shadow moved in front of her, and she lifted her gaze. The Queen was right in front of her, expression expectant.

"Go on, Íde."

Íde rose again, looking up at the tall Queen. Her mouth seemed unable to find the words she was looking for, but the royal mermaid seemed to take pity on her.

"Do you have some questions for me?" She asked kindly.

"Yes," Íde nodded, "I do."

"And what is it you have questions about?"

Íde shrugged her shoulders, her hands gesturing weakly in front of her, feeling helpless.

"Everything."

The Queen's eyes immediately found the Shaman's, and something unspoken passed between them. He gave her a silent nod. The Queen turned back to Íde, and her hand reached up to gently touch her face.

"Let us swim, little one. The veil is lifting. This day has been long awaited, and there is much to say."

Íde could only nod. Questions. So many questions... Queen Merneith took her hand, and together, they swam out of the palace.

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"I'm telling you, Potter, I couldn't sit for a week. I reckon my arse has never been the same since."

Harry barked out a laugh, hands clasping his Firewhisky. Across from him, Ron Weasley had downed his quickly, relaxed and less jittery than when they had arrived. He slapped his glass down on the table.

"Robards kept eyeing me all funny, telling me to sit down. And KeppIer- the bastard- he brings out this donut pillow covered in doilies, tells me I best sit on it instead of the hard chair due to my 'delicate condition' right in front of all the recruits! And I'm mortified, see, and Keppler blabs about how he had managed to hex me during training. The git told me to take a break, so I leant over to tie my shoe, next thing I know my arse is on fire!"

Harry chuckled into his drink. If anything, Ron Weasley was an animated storyteller.

"It was awful," Ron continued, shaking his head and then motioning the bartender for a refill, "and instead of helping me, Keppler is laughing his bloody head off. So then- back at the meeting- Robards is rollin' his eyes and shaking his head while everyone's laughing. But then he looks at me and I'm thinking he must feel sorry for me or something because he starts talking and guess what he tells me?"

Harry only raised his eyebrows, waiting amusedly for the answer.

"He says, 'Weasley, any decent Auror knows to make sure he doesn't have a wand pointed at his arse before he bends over.'"

Harry choked on his drink a bit, before laughing out loud. Ron had a hand in his hair, making it stand on end, looking half-amused and half-embarrassed at the memory.

"I mean, they warned me over and over all about how painful the training was to become an Auror, they just didn't tell me the pain would be psychological."

The two laughed, sharing more drinks as Ron regaled him with more stories of his training, including several changes and grueling updates that had been added since Harry's defeat of Voldemort. ("They added six new textbooks, so thanks a lot!")

Harry had been more than a little surprised at Ron's arrival, and though his demeaner had been nothing but amicable, he could help his rising unease of what prompted the visit. The laughter and playful atmosphere began to die down. The air became fairly silent as both men stared down at their drinks, each mulling over their own thoughts.

After several moments, Ron passed a hand across his face, before blowing out a long breath.

"Blimey, this is a bit harder than I thought it would be."

Harry's insides froze.

"I just figured," Ron continued, throwing a hand up in the air, "I mean, with my family gone, and with you knowing you-know-who and all of that, that you might be the best to talk to about all that." Suddenly he was smirking. "Hermione says I don't talk enough. Bout the war, I mean. Can you believe that? She was there with me, so what's there to talk about?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Er-"

"I mean," Ron began again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "she does enough talking for the both of us, doesn't she? Don't get me wrong- love the girl more than life itself- but merlin she can be annoying. Always been a bit mental if I'm honest. Sometimes it's nice to have some bloody silence." He took another swig of his drink, then looked at Harry with a 'women are mental' shake of his head, but the corner of his mouth was quirked up in a half smile.

"Bought a ring for her," he said, a large grin suddenly taking over his face, but suddenly he looked panicked, "oh but no! That's a secret! Don't tell her, okay?"

"Oh! No, of course not."

Ron sighed in relief, face calming again.

"Thanks, mate. Well, like I've said, if anyone could understand, it'd be you I suppose. I've always had my brothers before... But it's not exactly something you want to talk about, is it? Who wants to talk about watching Death Eaters kill their family?"

Harry felt his chest tighten. No, no it's not something he wanted at all. But as he saw the pained expression in Ron's face, there was a small sense of comfort that he wasn't alone in his grief.

Ron took another long swig, and Harry copied him, feeling the familiar pang of the loss of Sirius swirling within him. The pain had ebbed and flowed over the last year, at times nearly forgotten, only to come surging back stronger than ever. But the last few weeks... it wasn't that his pain was completely forgotten, not at all. It was more that something dead inside him was feeling new life. Each new friendship, each new opportunity- and most of all, each meeting with Íde- that life was beginning to sprout and grow. It suddenly didn't sound so unbelievable that in time, the empty void could be filled-

"You mentioned my sister."

Harry blinked. Ron wasn't looking at him but traced the rim of his glass with one finger, sadness enveloping him.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Harry murmured, "I shouldn't have..."

He trailed off, unsure which part he should be apologizing for. For bringing up painful memories? For mentioning her specifically? For his obsession with her?

Ron didn't seem to hear him, continuing to trace his glass.

"What happened to my family- my brothers, my mum and dad... It was- horrible. But, that wasn't even the worst of it," Ron continued, his words beginning to slur a bit, "all that business with Ginny. Always looking over our shoulders, years of knowing he was after her, and all because of that stupid diary. Lots of close calls. She always managed to stay standing." Ron grinned. "I used to tell her she was like a Kneazle, always landing on her feet. The stress nearly killed mum and dad, but Ginny, bloody hell, she took it all in stride."

"What was she like?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself, wanting nothing more than to hear more about Ginny whilst feeling warm and relaxed from the Firewhisky.

"Funnier than hell," Ron chuckled, "she was always doing pranks with the twins. And a total jock. She could play some wicked Quidditch. A chaser, in fact. Mum hated it, always said she needed to do more lady-like things. Ginny wouldn't have it- she wanted adventure. Said she couldn't waste her life on the sidelines being safe and watching out for Death Eaters. It wasn't right for her anyway, she was too social. Too popular for her own good."

The warm pub was beginning to make Harry feel like a puddle of goop. His head leaned onto his hand, the other hand clasping his drink, a ridiculous dreamy expression across his face. His smile suddenly turned to a grimace.

"I bet she probably had a dozen boyfriends, beautiful girl like her."

Ron's drink paused a bit on its way to his lips, and he eyed Harry warily.

"I suppose..." He shook himself and took another drink. "Just a few, really. Lots of admirers, though. Right plonkers, the lot of them. None of them lasted. Sure, they were all interested in a date and a snog at first. But, then, oh ho! Not many of them wanted to hang around once they realized she was at the top of you-know-who's list."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"S'not even like she needed much protecting, she was tough. Broke Zabini's nose when he tried to give her a grope during a Quidditch game."

Harry chuckled awkwardly, stuck between wanting to feel proud of her but also wanting to find out who the hell this 'Zabini' bloke was and tear his eyes out.

"Yeah, she could hold her own damn well. The Order even gave her extra defensive lessons when we found out you-know-who was back."

"She sounds 'mazing." Harry sighed. His own words were starting to sound a bit slurred. Ron belched and then turned toward Harry excitedly.

"Oi! D'you know what?" He asked, pointing a finger at Harry and stabbing him in the shoulder. "Almost forgot 'bout this...when she was little, she- Ginny- merlin's nuts, she had the biggest crush on Harry Potter! I mean on you!"

Harry started a bit, heart soaring. "Really?"

Ron started laughing. "Yeah, mate, she did. I used to tease her so bad about it. Talked about you all the time, it was so fucking annoying! I mean, no offense."

Harry's insides quivered a bit, and he couldn't help the drunken goofy smile that stretched onto his face. Him! She had fancied him.

"But then Tom came along," Ron blurted out, suddenly solemn, "and she was never quite the same. Grew up awfully fast after that."

Harry's thoughts seemed to struggle to connect. Tom? Tom who? Was Tom her boyfriend? No, he's talking about Tom Riddle you idiot.

Ron suddenly looked murderous, and Harry was struggling to keep up with his rapidly changing topics.

"It's all bloody Lucius Malfoy's fault. I swear on my mother's grave, if he hadn't already been dead, I would have tore out his stupid hair and cut his arms and legs off."

Harry gave a look of disgust at the thought.

"Er, who?"

Malfoy... he had definitely heard that name somewhere.

Ron looked at him incredulously.

"Merlin's beard, tell me you know who the Malfoys are, eh? Were you raised under a rock?"

"Er, I mean, once we had to live in a cave for like, six months-"

Ron slammed his glass on the wooden counter with a clang,

"Lucius Malfoy-" he sputtered, "is only the foulest, evilest, palest, ugliest waste of a human existence there ever was! There never was a worse human alive. Except for maybe his son." His drink paused halfway to his mouth. "Well, and you-know-who, course."

"Wha happened?" Harry slurred.

Ron stared at him broodily.

"Hates my family. Decides he's going to do us dirty. He gave Ginny a diary- but not just any ol' diary, it was possessed by a memory of you-know-who. And she wrote in it, and he latched onto her."

Any warm fuzzy gooey feelings plummeted out Harry's feet. The very blood in his veins chilled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He held his breath.

"It possessed her," Ron murmured darkly, "Controlled her. Made her do things, things she would never do. We didn't even notice it was happening until it was almost too late. Tom Riddle took her to a secret Chamber, but Dumbledore found her. She was nearly dead by the time he did. Said somethin about how Tom was tryin to resurrect himself or something-"

There it was. His Ginny- given a Horcrux- and had become irrevocably tied to Lord Voldemort.

And Dumbledore let her- let an innocent little girl- help destroy it.

Harry felt a surge of anger at the headmaster. Had he known then, exactly what she was destroying?

Had he known, then, that in letting Ginny destroy the Horcrux, he had effectively sealed her fate? To be hunted down by the darkest wizard ever known?

That he had ruined her life?

No, faults though he undoubtedly had, he knew in his heart that the old wizard would never have allowed such a fate to fall on Ginny knowingly.

"She didn't want to be looked after," Ron stretched his neck with a grin, "But mum and dad made me promise. Gin told me I was nothin' but a glorified babysitter. Gave me gray hair tryin' to keep track of her."

Harry chuckled. Fiesty girl.

"I mean, she would laugh and joke an all that, but deep down, I know she knew she was in trouble. I think she just didn't want it to rule her life, just wanted to keep living y'know?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

He did know. He did indeed.

Ron's face darkened.

"Still. The worst- you think dying is bad- but not knowing, that was worse. When she gave herself up- gave herself up to bloody you-know-who- and for so long I didn't know."

Harry's green eyes widened in anticipation.

"What happened?"

Please tell me, please tell me, I need every detail.

Ron rubbed his eyes, and for a moment Harry was terrified that he wouldn't continue. But he blew out another breath and the words tumbled out.

"He took her, aw fuck..." Ron rubbed his eyes again, and Harry could see him trying to reign in his emotions.

"She was trying to save us. Trying to give us time, get him away from the castle. Damn proud of her for that, but... still. Stupid girl. I reckon the sorting hat had it right after all. Anyways, she's gone for hours. All I can think is what must be happening to her. Then all the sudden it's over, and it's where's Ginny, where's Ginny? And when we didn't find her body right away, I thought, she's made it, she's okay, she escaped somehow and now she's hiding. Shes just waiting for someone to let her know its safe to come out. But then- then we came to the lakeshore..." He began twisting his glass around in one hand, eyes glazed over with the painful memory. "Her- her clothes were on the rocks. It- it looked like he'd... well, anyway. Her wand was broken. And- and the blood... I had nightmares for weeks about what he must have done to her. I thought, alright, she's hurt- hurt bad, but she's not dead, because there's no body. I just needed to find her and tell her that it was going to be okay, that whatever you-know-who had done to her, it would be okay. But... days passed and we still hadn't found her. We searched every inch of the grounds. We used spells and locators, we even interviewed a few Death Eaters, seeing if someone had escaped and had blabbed about taking her. But there was nothing- nothing at all. No threats, no ransom, no sign of her. Eventually, I had to realize that she was just gone- that no matter how infuriating and painful not knowing what happened was, it didn't change the fact that she was gone. And that part- the not knowing- that was the worst of all. Why? Why isn't there a body? Why couldn't we find her? A year- a fucking year later- and I still don't know what happened to my sister."

Harry's throat felt like it was closing, and he swallowed thickly. Ron had placed his head in his hands, covering his face. A few tears leaked beneath Ron's hands, and Harry looked away.

A frantic battle began in his mind. It was quickly won, whether from influence of the drink or the emotional man sitting with him, he made up his mind. He leaned forward on his elbows, placing his hands calmly on the table.

"Listen, Ron," he started, steeling himself. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

Ron sat up, coughing and wiping his face on his robes.

"Right. Sorry."

"No, it's fine, it's just..." Harry took a deep breath. Do it. Do it. "Something odd has been happening at Hogwarts. Something down at the Black Lake."

Ron blinked at him. "Yeah?"

"Well, yes. See, I went down there, and... I saw a Mermaid."

"Oi, really? That's quite rare, I think. Went there for seven years and I never saw one."

"It is, yes, but this Mermaid was... different. I've met with her several times. As I got to know her better, I noticed there are some odd things about her. She doesn't eat or sleep, really. I noticed she looks different as well. She doesn't have the skin or hair of a Mermaid. Aside from the tail, she almost looks human. She's young, maybe a year or two younger than us. She has long red hair, and dark brown eyes."

Ron's expression was suddenly guarded, something strange flickering in his eyes.

"That's … odd. Wait, actually, no it isn't, I heard Mermaids in the warmer waters can be quite good-looking-"

"Exactly, Ron," Harry interrupted emphatically, "warmer waters. A bit difficult to use that argument seeing as we're in Scotland, yeah? Hagrid tells me that he has seen the Mermaids in the lake and none of them are remotely pleasant looking. This one, however, she is... more than pleasant looking. Why is that? I think its because she doesn't actually belong there."

"I, erm, well, I guess-"

"So, I confront her about these details, and she gets all huffy and upset. Thinks I'm a lunatic. But, yet, she has no explanation for them. Then come to find out, she is suffering from a touch of memory loss."

"Right..." Ron's eyes gave a surreptitious flicker to the door, like he was considering calling it a night and making a run for it.

"And how unbelievably interesting, to find out that this memory loss has happened fairly recently. In fact, the oldest memories she can recall are from one year ago." Harry leaned in further towards Ron. "Almost exactly one year ago. Does that sound like a coincidence to you?"

Ron's eyes widened, his mouth beginning to gape, but Harry plowed on.

"When I first met her, she thought I was someone else- someone evil- a boy who had hurt her. She said we looked alike. Funny, right? And what if I told you, that at the Battle of Hogwarts, on The Day, who do you think was standing right there on the shores of the lake?"

Ron gulped, but didn't answer.

"Tom Riddle was standing on the shores of the Black Lake," Harry whispered harshly. "He was standing there, wand drawn, his feet in the water, in his black-haired sixteen-year-old form. The shore of a lake where right now is a Mermaid that I am convinced is actually human."

For a moment, Ron paled, looking like Harry had just hit him over the head. He stood abruptly from the table.

"This is mad- you're mad- this is absolutely bollocks-"

He grabbed his coat, making to leave.

"It's her, Ron."

Ron froze, one arm already in the wrong sleeve of his coat.

Harry's green eyes bored into him.

"It's her," he repeated quietly. "She's alive. Ginny is alive."

Ron looked like he might be sick. His mouth opened and closed several times. A painful look of hope- of longing- came over his face. He shook his head and swore under his breath, and the look disappeared, leaving the hardened grief once again.

"No- no, I'm not doing this, it's just more false hope," he muttered bitterly, "Fucking mental..."

He finished putting his coat on haphazardly. Finally managing to do so, he glared at Harry, looking like he wouldn't mind taking a swing at him. Instead, he clenched his fists, pointing an accusing finger.

"Y'know, I was starting to think you were alright," he spat angrily at him, "Started to think we could even be mates. After your visit, I thought, he knows something, he knows something about Ginny. I could tell. I could tell you wanted to say it before. I'm thinking, maybe he knows what curse was used on her, or maybe he knows where her body might have ended up. Something." He dropped his hands, shaking his head bitterly. "But this? This completely mental conspiracy theory that sounds like it came straight from the Quibbler? You sitting there- trying to tell me this load of shite? You don't know, you have no idea..."

Harry said nothing. He had felt loss, but Ron was right, he didn't know. He never had a proper family to lose in the first place...

"I can't listen to this." Ron rubbed his face with his hand. "I won't listen to this. I spent ages holding out hope, but it's done- it's nothing! It always ends up being nothing. My sister is dead. She's dead and she's never coming back. Just like the rest of them."

Before Harry could say anything (and what on earth could he say?) Ron stormed out of the pub and into the night.

Harry watched him go, staring helplessly at the door he had slammed. Letting out a long, painful exhale, he let his head fall into his hands.

What had he done?

Íde looked down upon the Mermaid village from the cliffs.

Beside her was Queen Mereneith. She had led them here, and the pair had spent several minutes looking at the Merpeople in silence. Íde kept glancing sideways at the Queen, wondering what answers she might receive from her. Wondering what pieces would finally click into place, what shadows in her mind would finally be dispersed-

"Tell me what you know of the curse on my people, Íde."

Íde jumped a bit at the sound of the Queen's voice. So deep and regal. She glanced at her majesty, whose gaze did not move away from her people.

"It was a curse placed many years ago," Íde started, "It was placed when a Mermaid surfaced, and our people have lived in sorrow since. It will eventually lead to our destruction."

Íde's voice faltered, and the Queen looked at her searchingly.

"Is that all, Íde?"

Ide tried to think, but there was nothing else.

"I-I don't..."

Confusion and a touch of panic swirled within her. She knew so little, so little of her own people. How could this be? Something painful tightened in her chest. She had never felt so lost in her life, and it was terrifying.

"I don't understand," Íde choked out, hands grasping the sides of her head. "Why don't I know anything? Why do I know so little about my own life?"

The Queen stared at her calmly.

"The veil is lifting."

"What does that even mean?!" Íde shrieked in frustration, forgetting her temper. "What is the veil? What is happening to me? Why won't you just tell me?"

Panic was threatening to burst out of her chest, and her vision began to darken as she felt overcome with fear. Sobs flew from her mouth, and tears leaked out of her eyes, lost and unseen in the lake water. Her trembling hands were stilled by the Queen's grasping her own. Her shaking calmed and her vision cleared as the Mermaid looked down on her kindly.

"I will tell you what I can, Íde." She tucked a strand of red hair away from Íde's face. "But there is one thing you must know before anything else."

Íde swallowed, bracing herself. The Queen looked hesitant, but finally spoke.

"You were right about the curse. If left unbroken, it will surely lead to our destruction." The Queen licked her lips and gave Íde's hands a gentle squeeze.

"But you, little one..." she whispered, and Íde felt herself go completely still.

"You are the only one who can break it."

TBC

A/N: A reminder- in this AU, curses are not stopped with the caster's death. Also, you are probably wondering why Harry isn't using various other options to prove his theory, such as a camera or pensieve. This will be addressed thoroughly in the next chapter, as each option has its limitations. It won't be long until the word is out.

Name pronunciation:

Íde : ee-duh

Djet: jet