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SIYE Time:18:57 on 28th March 2024
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The Veil
By Mutt N Feathers

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Category: Post-OotP, Holidays
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Death
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 113
Summary: In the fall of 1996 Harry finds a book about the ancient holidays just before Samhain, or what has become Hallowe'en. Tradition says communication with the dead is possible. Harry enlists Ginny to help him find out if its true.
Hitcount: Story Total: 59011; Chapter Total: 1653
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Hi, yes it's two chapter in two days. Don't expect all week to be like this, but I needed to write this. Harry and Ginny in the next chapter. MNF




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Chapter 13:
Fifteen Days

Minerva appeared on the small footpath which seemed to lead nowhere, awaiting Albus’ arrival. She couldn’t believe the tale he’d told her last night. Of all the questionable actions he’d taken over the years, this had to be the worst. How was the poor girl going to deal with finding out the deception he’d created and worse, the loss she would bear. The witch was stunned when everything around her appeared to stop. Birds were suspended in mid-flight, leaves hung still where once they rode the wind in a frenetic autumnal dance. The arrival of the goddess in the form of the crone caused a momentary stupor before she dropped into a deep curtsey.

"Lady goddess, I am humbled to be in your presence. How may I serve you," Minerva asked, remembering lessons from when she was small? It was a lesson she thought entirely unnecessary, as what would the goddess want with her? Had the woman not been so gobsmacked, she would have laughed.

“Please stand, daughter, for you are righteous and vital to this mission,” the goddess explained. “I know where you are going, and what you have been tasked with. Please know that what has happened was not at the hand of a mortal wizard, even one as powerful as Albus Dumbledore. The spell which was cast is the work of my hand, and it is only by my hand that it can be released.”

“Please excuse my ignorance, but how did you…what mission do you speak of?” It was uncommon for Minerva to not know what to say, but she stumbled and tripped over her words.

“I intervened in this form when young Anwen was to leave France. We could not lose someone so powerful in this fight, so I diverted her here through a portkey. The magic that surrounds the cottage has kept her hidden for all these years. The time has come, however, for her to return to those who love her.”

“But, the ones she loved are gone,” Minerva said.

"If I can make time stop, do you think something as insignificant as mortal death impedes me?" the goddess asked incredulously.

“But I thought…I thought resurrection, a true reanimation of a person was impossible.” Minerva had turned quite white, and her tone was bewildered. “Alive? She will be happy to see him and Sirius, well, it will be some solace after all he’s suffered.”

“It isn’t just Mr. Black who has returned. Young Mr. Potter was quite insistent when he called upon them yesterday. His parents and grandparents are returned as well,” the goddess said calmly, then concerned the other woman might collapse from the shock.

“Julia?” was the only response, physical or verbal, to the announcement.

"Yes, your friend and mentor has returned to help complete this mission. The time is right, and there is an urgent need. Come, I wish to bring the pair home."

The two women walked a distance, and when it looked as if they would fall off a cliff, a small cottage appeared. It was an idyllic place, a stone wall with a wooden gate surrounded the garden still filled with fall blooming flowers. There was a swing hanging from a tree branch, and a small playhouse in the corner, and two brooms — one short, and one child-sized leaning on a bench near the door. The short one Minerva recognized as Anwen's — it was the same one she'd rode for years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; James and Sirius had customized it in such ways that no other had ever been like it. The other was one she’d not thought to exist anymore and wouldn’t have believed it had her day not already been filled with wonder.

They crossed over through the gate and walked to the door. The goddess knocked, and a gentle voice from the past floated out, alerting them that she was on her way to the door. A face Minerva swore she remembered correctly, but now she seemed so much younger greeted them.

Anwen Hodgson was a slight girl, a mere eighteen years old, with brown hair and green eyes that ranged from the color of moss to a shimmering gold in hue. She stood only a little over five feet, and still retained the lithe body of the dancer she had been in the Muggle world. Anwen was possessed with a broad smile and genuine heart that drew others to her.

“Oh, hello, I didn’t realize you knew each other,” she said stepping aside. “Please come in, Harry will be happy to see you. It’s just been the two of us these weeks. We love each other, but he'll be happy to have a different playmate for a few minutes. He was finishing his breakfast, so I hope he hasn't created a disaster in the kitchen while I'm gone. Would either of you like some tea or a scone? I made them fresh this morning. Please, have a seat, just not that sort of orange one, that's Harry's self-appointed chair, and I can't guarantee how clean it is." Minerva remembered how she would speak quickly, packing so much information into one breath you needed a moment or two to process it all. The goddess took the witch by the arm and guided her to a chair before she sat down herself.

“I would adore some tea, Minerva dear?” the goddess answered.

“Oh, tea, yes, one sugar —”

"And a dash of cream to make it parchment color. I remember how to make your tea, Professor. I've only been out of school for a year, hum, guess it's a year and a half." The young witch disappeared through a door into what must have been the kitchen. There was some low talking a few dishes rattled before a tiny voice was heard.

“Mim, Mim, Mim,” he said as he sprinted. The sound made Minerva come to tears. It had been fifteen years since anyone had uttered Mim in her presence. When little Harry reached her chair, he held his arms up to be lifted. With joy bursting through her, Minerva McGonagall, adoptive grandparent of Harry Potter, held the little boy again. When she tipped her head to kiss his brow, it smelled of baby soap and something that was only this little boy, the tears fell down her cheeks on splashed on his little ones.

“Mim sad?” Harry asked, making a very pouty face.

“No, Harry, Mim is happy. Very happy to see you.”

"Oh," he said, then launching into a story which was mostly garbled sounds, but Harry felt he was conveying something essential to her, and she listened intently.

Anwen returned with the tea and quickly made them all their cuppa.

“I’m surprised to see you, rather than Sirius, or even James and Lily. They must be missing this little man so much. I love him, but I’m ready for his mummy and daddy to take him back and have some alone time with my betrothed,” the young witch rambled.

“Anwen, child, there is much you need to know,” the goddess crone began. “While for you it just feels as if fifteen days have passed, to the world it has been years.”

Anwen looked between the two women and then burst out laughing. “My goodness, Professor, you’re as bad as the boys with the pranks. Seriously, what time slowed here and while the world passed a year, Harry and I only passed a day? That’s crazy. No one could ever pull such a magical stunt off, not even Dumbledore! I can’t wait to tell Sirius about this one. What a joke.”

“Anwen it’s true,” the crone said. “Look at us again.” Anwen was shocked when the crone was no longer old, but a woman who might be just ten years older than she. Her professor had changed too, for she looked closer in age to her grandmother Hodgson.”

“Who are you?” Anwen asked, stepping between the mother goddess and Minerva and Harry and raised her hands in an attack position. Anwen's ability to do wandless magic had been a tightly held secret fifteen years ago. Her ability to see magic had made her a dominant offensive and defensive fighter.

“Anwen, don’t,” Minerva said sharply. “I know you’re Muggle-born, but didn’t Julia ever explain our faith to you?”

“She did,” Anwen said hesitantly. The mother just waited.

"Anwen, this is the goddess as the mother. You should bow before her, and perhaps make an apology.” Anwen was shocked still before she remembered herself and fell into a very deep curtsey.

“Child, you may stand up,” the goddess said. “You have always amused me.

“I am so sorry I was in attack mode. With everything that has been happening, I can’t be too careful. Oh, I guess that’s years ago now. Sirius, of my goodness, what does he think happened to me? Does he think I left him?” Anwen dropped into a chair, considering what her lover might think happened.

The goddess and Minerva launched into the story, explaining to Anwen what had occurred and how the killing curse not only rebounded onto Voldemort but also created a copy of Harry. Albus, unsure how the blood magic worked, decided to hide one copy with his Muggle aunt and uncle and hide the other with Anwen. It was the goddesses work that slowed time.

For her part, Anwen took most of the story in stride. Raised on her father’s love of science fiction, simultaneous timelines created by magic didn’t seem too far-fetched. The hardest part for her was hearing about what her fiancé had endured.

“Thirteen years? Everyone just left him there? How could you?” Anwen railed against her former professor. “You believed that Sirius could turn on James? You honestly believed that those two would ever have a falling out? I know he and Remus were at each other, but that was just stress. Before examinations they behaved this way; James and Lily had to know it wasn’t anything. James is his brother in everything but blood. Sirius would have died before betraying him, which is why they made Peter the secret-keeper. Everyone would assume it was Sirius, thus making him a bloody target and keeping Peter and the people he loved safe. Sirius didn't tell Remus, not because he was angry at him, but because he couldn't bear losing him either. He always knew the Death Eaters hated him because, until the rest of them, Remus was committed to the light. I knew the truth, and believe me, Sirius and I had one horrible row over it. Dumbledore knew where I was, why the hell didn't someone come to ask me?"

Minerva took Anwen’s hand and spoke, “It was done for the greater —”

"If you say the bloody word ‘good,' I will never speak to you again. Sirius and I have sacrificed enough. You are going to take me to them right now. Let me grab my cloak and Harry's jacket and bag. After fifteen years I doubt anyone has a nappy about.” Minerva chose not to tell her that everything at Potter Manor was just as it had been left when James and Lily fled.

Anwen snatched Harry from Minerva's arms and moved to another part of the room to clothe him. A weathered leather rucksack, probably someone's from school, was near the door, and Anwen picked it up when they were both prepared for the cooler weather. With a wave of her hand, the tea service was gone, and the house snapped to readiness.

"Take us back to our family." With a swirl, the cottage was gone, and with another, the quartet was in the entryway of Potter Manor. A quartet met them there. The god stood among three friends. James and Lily rushed forward, taking baby Harry from her arms. Sirius stood, shocked, looking at the girl he thought was dead.

Freed from holding the child, Anwen rushed forward, launching herself into Sirius’ arms and kissing him.


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