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The Time of Destiny | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 503 Summary: Sequel to "The Refiner's Fire." Harry Potter returns to Privet Drive for the last time, prior to his Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Much to the Dursley's surprise, Remus is going to stay with him due to a head injury Harry received on the train. The Dursleys are not happy with this situation, as you can well-imagine. This fic covers both the summer before Harry's seventh year, and his entire last year at school. Canon-based with some OC. Ships, for those who care: H/G, R/H, R/T Hitcount: Story Total: 509008; Chapter Total: 16557 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author notes: The “Detention for Life” mentioned below is based on UK laws that I found in doing research on the Internet. The parameters mentioned are what the UK law states, as found under “Detention for Life” on the following page: http://www.hmprisonservice.gov. uk/adviceandsupport/prison_life/lifesent encedprisoners/ Since I’m not being paid for these fics, I didn’t do exhaustive research on the penalties involved, but I thought this site seemed thorough enough to use it as a reference for a fanfic. Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my fabulous beta team, Blakeavich (See, Blake? I fixed it!), Starfox, Iris and Asad. You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPR efinersFire New chapters are regularly posted each Tuesday (EST) on the Yahoo! Group. Ron knocked on the door to Professor Flitwick’s classroom, then opened it and stepped inside. “I’m sorry to disrupt your class, Professor,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes hard and cold, “but I need Liam Titmarsh.” His anger had increased exponentially as he’d rushed from the hospital wing to this classroom. “What for?” Flitwick asked, noticing the tension in the young man’s eyes. “Professor Dumbledore wants to see him,” Ron replied, doing his best to control his temper. “Bring your bag, Titmarsh. You won’t be coming back to class.” Liam Titmarsh sat trembling in his seat. “No. I don’t want to.” “I’m Head Boy, or have you forgotten?” Ron snapped in his most authoritative voice. “Get up. Now.” “Go with Mr. Weasley, Mr. Titmarsh,” Flitwick urged the boy uneasily. Liam finally got up and trudged slowly out of the door, closely followed by Ron and Professor Flitwick. The professor turned back to his stunned class. They were gaping at Ron. Few people had ever seen him throw his weight around as Head Boy, much less in such an incandescent rage. “Keep practicing, class,” Flitwick said. “I’ll be right back.” He closed the door behind him and said, “Mr. Weasley, wait a moment.” He put an Imperturbable Charm on the door so his students couldn’t overhear their conversation. Extendable Ears were in use all over the castle these days, so Imperturbing doors had become a common practice. “Yes, Professor?” Ron said as politely as he could manage given the extent of his anger. “What’s this all about?” “Have you heard about what happened to Harry?” Ron said, his eyes flashing with suppressed rage. “Yes, Professor Dumbledore told me he was injured by the lake,” Flitwick said sadly. “I thought it was supposed to be a secret,” he added, glancing at the young boy next to Ron. “This git,” Ron spat, shoving the smaller boy roughly, “stood by and watched while three others beat Harry nearly to death, then put spells on him and Banished him to the middle of the lake, where he would have drowned if the merpeople hadn’t saved him. This little prat was the one who set him up so they could attack him. And then he stood by and watched, not doing a thing to get help or stop them or anything!” Flitwick was aghast. “Did you do this, Mr. Titmarsh?” “They can’t prove anything!” Liam said defiantly, then started to run. Ron reached out a long arm and grabbed a handful of the boy’s robes, nearly lifting him off his feet as he stopped him. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Ron said, menace in his voice. “Harry identified you.” The smaller boy gasped. “You didn’t expect him to survive, did you, much less be able to tell us who you were,” he growled. He shoved the boy ahead of him, but kept a tight hold on his robes. “Move. Professor Dumbledore wants a word with you.” He looked back at Flitwick. “If you’ll excuse us, Professor?” “Yes, go on, Mr. Weasley,” Flitwick replied. He eyed the struggling younger boy uneasily. If Liam gave Ron much trouble, the redhead might do something reckless, given how angry he was already. He couldn’t blame Ron for his feelings. Flitwick was quite fond of Harry as well. He sighed, and decided to do what he could to keep Ron out of trouble. “Would you like me to put a Restraint Charm on him so he’s easier for you to deal with?” A cold smile crossed Ron’s face. “Thanks, but it will be my pleasure to do that if it’s necessary.” “Be careful with him, Mr. Weasley,” Flitwick warned. “Don’t do anything rash. Mr. Potter wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.” “I’ll be careful, sir,” Ron said grimly, then turned to the trembling boy in front of him. “Move!” he ordered, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the boy, before letting go of his robes. “And don’t do anything stupid. I know loads of hexes I’ve been itching to try out and you look like an excellent guinea pig to me.” As they walked down the hall, they passed Professor McGonagall. She noticed the unusually grim look on Ron’s usually cheerful features, and his wand held steadily on the younger boy. “Mr. Weasley, what’s going on?” “This git is the one who stood by and watched Harry being beaten and tossed in the lake,” Ron said tersely. “Indeed?” she said, glaring at the younger boy. “Mr. Titmarsh, is this true?” “I didn’t do anything!” Liam cried defiantly. “Liar!” Ron snarled. McGonagall could see Ron was teetering on the edge of rage. “Where are you taking him?” “Professor Dumbledore told me to bring him to the hospital wing so Harry can identify him.” “Well, then, let’s go,” she said, turning and walking along with Ron. “How did you know who it was?” “Harry named him.” “He’s talking again?” she said in delight. “Not exactly,” Ron replied, “but he identified Liam plainly enough.” “I see,” McGonagall said quietly, although she didn’t really see at all. When they reached a cross-corridor, Liam tried to take off. Ron pointed his wand at the boy’s retreating back and snapped, “Incarcerous.” The boy was swiftly wrapped up in ropes and fell to the floor with a thud. “How do you like it?” Ron sneered as he loomed over his captive. “It isn’t much fun, is it? How do you think Harry felt when he was spelled so he couldn’t move? Git!” He stopped speaking, breathing heavily as he fought to control his temper, his wand trembling in his clenched fist. After a moment, he went on. “I could have Stunned you, but I want you to be aware of what’s going on. Wingardium Leviosa,” he said, and the boy’s body began to float in front of Ron, who allowed him to bump into corners and suits of armour on occasion. Liam was crying and pleading with Ron, which annoyed him. “Silencio!” Ron snapped. “Tell it to Professor Dumbledore. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your whinging.” Just then, he remembered he had a professor with him. He turned and looked at her, his face reddening. “Sorry, Professor. I should have let you handle it.” “Not at all. You did an excellent job, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall said with a small smile. “I believe you’ll make a fine Auror. You controlled both the suspect and your temper. Well done.” She’d kept a careful eye on Ron but had seen no reason to interfere in what he was doing. She was sorely tempted to hex the boy herself. Ron blushed even more. “Erm. . .thanks, Professor,” he said, then started moving the levitating boy down the hall. When they entered the hospital wing, Ron removed the Levitation Charm and Liam’s body hit the floor with a thud again. “Oops,” Ron said with obvious insincerity. “Stay there and be quiet.” Liam lay on the floor, trussed up like a Christmas goose, his eyes huge and frightened. They widened further when he saw Dumbledore come in looking absolutely furious. Dumbledore glared angrily at the boy on the floor and stalked past him, moving to Harry’s bedside. “How is he?” he asked Ginny as he approached. “He’s awake,” she said nervously. She’d rarely seen Dumbledore in such a rage. It was truly frightening. Waves of power similar to those that Harry’s anger created were coming off him. She listened for tinkling glass or rattling windows, which were sometimes the result of Harry’s temper, but didn’t hear any. She breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Dumbledore’s years of practice made him better at keeping his temper at a safe level than Harry was. Dumbledore sat on the side of Harry’s bed and took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “I need to take a page from your book, lad,” he said with a crooked smile. “My anger nearly got the best of me just now.” He put his hands on Harry’s cheeks, trying to get him to focus. “Look at me, Harry. Can you hear me?” One blink. “Liam is here. I want you to look at him and let me know if he’s the right boy or not.” Harry blinked again. “Thank you, dear boy.” Dumbledore smiled fondly at Harry. Keeping his eyes on Harry’s, he raised his voice a bit and said, “Bring him here, Mr. Weasley.” Ron got the boy to his feet and removed his bonds. “Behave or I’ll truss you tighter next time,” he growled as he shoved the reluctant boy toward Harry’s bed. “Is this him, Harry?” “I’m going to turn your head so you can see him, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Try to focus straight ahead, all right?” One blink. Dumbledore turned Harry’s face toward Liam. Harry’s eyes settled on the boy’s face and a look of sadness and anger came into his eyes. He blinked once, very deliberately. “Thank you, lad,” Dumbledore said, patting Harry’s cheek gently as he released his face. Harry gasped a bit as his head rolled back into his pillow. “Are you all right?” Dumbledore asked in concern. Harry blinked once, then his eyes began their incessant wandering again. “Well, he told us what we need to know,” Dumbledore said, getting to his feet. “This is the right boy.” “I didn’t do anything!” Liam cried, struggling against Ron’s large hand, which held a fistful of his robes again. “That’s exactly what you did wrong, young man,” Dumbledore said sternly. “You didn’t do anything, which means you will be charged as an Accessory to Attempted Murder. The Aurors are on the way here for you now.” The boy blanched. “I know who the other boys were. We found their bloody robes, which conveniently had their name tags sewn inside them. I’ll deal with those boys shortly. But I want to hear the story from you first. Tell me what happened, who was involved, and who put them up to it, and things may go easier for you.” “I didn’t . . .” “If you lie to me, I will know it,” Dumbledore interrupted, his blue eyes flashing with fury. “If you don’t tell me the whole truth, I will know it. And if you don’t cooperate, we’ll use Veritaserum. I will not tolerate people standing by while another person is hurt. You were part of a plot to kill another student. The consequences will be dire for you and your friends. Start talking, and you may get a lesser sentence.” “Sentence?” the boy croaked. “If found guilty, you will be sentenced to detention for life in Azkaban Prison, which is the automatic sentence for those between the ages of 10 and 18 who commit such crimes. Do you really want to face that? Tell me what you know.” Once the boy finally started talking, the story spilled out quickly. “I’d like to know why you boys thought you needed to attack Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said when the boy’s recitation ended. “He killed our dads,” Liam said, his eyes aching with loss. “Where? When?” “At the Battle of Little Hangleton.” Dumbledore frowned. “Do you know where their bodies were found?” “In the west end of the cemetery.” “Harry was never in the west end,” Ron said, puzzled. “Harry didn’t kill your father, or the other boys’ fathers either, Mr. Titmarsh,” Dumbledore said sadly. “They were killed by other people who were helping us fight. You blamed the wrong person.” “Draco Malfoy said–” the boy began, before realizing his mistake. “Malfoy? What did he say?” Ron snarled. Ginny and Hermione both gasped. Hermione wrapped her arm around Ginny’s shoulders comfortingly. Malfoy had done so much harm to Hermione the previous spring, to Ginny the previous summer, and now he’d engineered this attack on Harry! Both girls trembled with barely-suppressed rage. “Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore warned, “please calm down.” He turned back to the young boy. “What did Mr. Malfoy say? Where and when did you see him?” “We met him regularly on Hogsmeade weekends,” Liam replied. “He taught us the spells and told us what to do. He told us Potter killed our dads.” “He lied,” Dumbledore said simply. “Harry simply wasn’t in that area, never once during the battle, even before we arrived there. Where is Mr. Malfoy now?” “I don’t know. Nigel was the one who stayed in touch with him,” Liam said. “I see. We’ll ask Mr. Gedgrave about Mr. Malfoy when we bring him in,” Dumbledore said, looking at McGonagall for a long moment. He turned back to the trembling boy before him. “Thank you for your help. Do you have anything else to say?” The boy shook his head. “If you think of something, please let me know.” Dumbledore studied Ron’s face for a moment, then turned to Professor McGonagall. “Would you and Mr. Weasley go and get the other boys from their classes and bring them here? I will take Mr. Titmarsh to the dungeons.” “Yes, of course,” McGonagall said, and she and Ron left to get two Hufflepuff boys and one Slytherin. Dumbledore turned to look at Harry before he left. “Harry? Are you all right?” he asked in sudden concern. Harry was pale, his eyes huge and uneasy. “Lad? What’s wrong?” He sat down on the bed again, taking Harry’s face in his hands and waiting for Harry’s eyes to lock on his. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that.” Dumbledore thought for a long moment. He’d intended to give Harry a choice about listening to the other boys being interrogated, but Harry just didn’t seem to be strong enough, and he couldn’t identify them anyway. The evidence would convict those boys, not any testimony Harry could give. His decision made, he patted the boy gently on the cheek. “You get some rest. I’ll check on you again shortly.” “Mr. Weasley, can I trust you to control your temper?” McGonagall said, studying the rigid face of the tall young man beside her as they hurried down the hall. “Yes, Professor. I didn’t rip Liam’s head off, but I certainly wanted to,” he growled. “I know you did, and I don’t blame you. I feel that way myself, actually,” she said tersely, which made Ron look at her quickly and give her a small surprised smile. “Yes, even professors have their moments, Mr. Weasley,” she added tartly. “If you can continue to control yourself as you’ve already done so admirably, then in the interest of time, we can split up. You get the Slytherin boy, and I’ll get the two from Hufflepuff. Your boy should be in Professor Snape’s class now.” “Yes, Professor,” Ron said grimly, then hurried off toward the dungeons. The giant squid was sunning itself near the shore when Professor McGonagall began her trek around the lake to retrieve the Hufflepuff boys suspected of attacking Harry from Hagrid’s class. The squid followed her, a tentacle waving above the water entreatingly ever so often. “Hufflepuffs,” McGonagall muttered darkly as she marched along the lake’s edge. “Hufflepuffs! I ask you, what is the world coming to when Hufflepuffs will attack someone this way? If Harry had died. . . .” She shuddered at the thought. “I never thought I’d see the day when Hufflepuffs would beat someone nearly to death and then try to drown him!” She muttered other imprecations against the boys as she hurried on her way. “Oh, what is it?” she snapped, turning to the squid when its mute pleas finally registered in her mind. “What do you want?” The squid waved its tentacles above the water in some kind of pattern, but McGonagall didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any treats for you just now.” She started to hurry on, but the squid’s odd movements continued. “Are you trying to tell me something?” The gestures continued. McGonagall could see the squid’s movements formed some kind of pattern that it was repeating over and over, but she couldn’t understand it. “I’m very sorry, but I don’t know what you’re saying,” she said finally. “You’ll need to tell Hagrid. I have an errand to do. I’ll tell him you want something when I see him,” she said, turning back to the path and walking quickly along it. Hagrid had his class assembled on the lakeshore, telling them about ways to keep water pure so the beings in the lake would stay healthy, and how to purify it if it became contaminated. He looked up when he saw McGonagall coming. “Good morning, Professor!” he called warmly. “And to what do we owe this honour?” “I need Owen and Mycroft Chisswick,” she said tersely, her glasses flashing furiously. “Oh, and the squid was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t understand it,” she added as an afterthought. “Get your things, boys,” she said when she saw the twin boys in the group. “You won’t be returning to class.” “Why?” Mycroft said uneasily. “Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with you,” she snapped. “Let’s go.” The boys joined her reluctantly, dragging their feet as they crossed the clearing. The squid was waving its tentacles more urgently, and was very close to shore now. “What’s wrong, Sebastian?” Hagrid said, his face furrowed in concern. “Sebastian?” a student said with a snort of laughter. “Well, everythin’ needs a name,” Hagrid explained casually. “What is it, Sebastian?” The squid pushed itself right up on the sandy ledge, just barely keeping its body in the water. It reached out with its tentacles and captured the Chisswick boys as they neared McGonagall, lifting them with a rather triumphant flourish and swiftly carrying them out to the centre of the lake where it began dunking them repeatedly. “Sebastian!” Hagrid roared. “Bring those boys back right now!” The squid ignored Hagrid’s calls, continuing to dunk the boys. The merpeople rose up out of the water around the squid, talking to it in their screeching language. It responded by waving its tentacles in the same pattern it had used with McGonagall and Hagrid. The merpeople pulled at the boys’ hair, limbs and robes, trying to tug the boys out of the squid’s grasp, but it wouldn’t let go of them. The merpeople then resorted to beating the boys with their hideous grey fists whenever they could reach them, their green hair flying, screeching in their horrible language all the while. Hagrid turned to Professor McGonagall, who was staring at the scene in mute shock. “What’s going on? Why is Sebastian punishing those boys? And what are the merpeople up to?” Professor McGonagall just mouthed wordlessly for a moment, then swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “Those boys are the ones who tried to kill Harry,” she said quietly when she could find her voice again. “They are?” Hagrid said with a gasp. His face turned red with fury. “I’ll break every bone in their ruddy bodies,” he snarled. “There, there, Hagrid,” McGonagall said soothingly. “We don’t need you to get in trouble. However, I don’t mind letting Sebastian deal with them for a bit,” she said, her face grim. “He does seem to be protecting them, at least a little, from the merpeople. Nice name, Sebastian,” she added with a small smile at Hagrid. “Oh, well,” he began, blushing at the compliment. Then he looked across the lake again. A memory of his Ministry hearing over Buckbeak’s supposedly unprovoked attack on Draco Malfoy flashed through his mind. Hagrid wouldn’t allow any more of his creatures to be sentenced to death by the Ministry. “Sebastian! That’s enough! Stop it! Bring ‘em back now, or the Ministry might send someone ter deal with ya! I don’t want that, Sebastian! Come on, be a good lad! Bring ’em back!” He sighed in disgust, turning to his class. “Pratt, Montrose, go behind me hut and bring out the dinghy,” Hagrid said tersely. “Hurry!” The two boys raced off to find the boat. “Can you do anything, Professor?” Hagrid said anxiously. “I don’t want Sebastian to be condemned to death for misbehaving.” “I’ll try,” McGonagall replied. She’d been wondering what kind of spell it would take to get the boys away from the squid safely. She tried using a Summoning Charm on the boys, which drew them toward shore a bit, but the squid wasn’t going to let them go, pulling against the spell strongly and swimming further away from shore. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” McGonagall sighed disgustedly. “Accio, squid!” She glanced up at Hagrid as the squid’s body raced toward shore. “Will a Stinging Hex injure it, Hagrid?” “I don’t think so,” he said uncertainly. “We do need to get those boys away from it.” “If it was going to do them permanent harm, it would have already eaten them as it did the Death Eaters when they attacked last term,” McGonagall said tartly. “It’s only punishing the boys.” “You know, I think you’re right,” Hagrid said, his face clearing. “I don’ mind tellin’ ya, it had me worried there,” he added in a low voice so his students wouldn’t hear him. It would have been hard for anyone to hear him anyway, what with the boys in the squid’s tentacles screaming their lungs out, the girls in the class squealing, and the merpeople still screeching curses in their ghastly, loud voices. McGongall stopped her Summoning Charm so the squid’s body stayed in deep enough water for its safety, then did a Stinging Hex on the tentacles holding the boys. The boys shrieked as the stings also reached them, but were immediately silenced when they fell into the lake. Hagrid splashed out into the water and patted the squid gently. “Well done, Sebastian,” he murmured, then hauled the boys sputtering and kicking out of the water and carried them to dry land, one under each of his massive arms. “D’you want me ter carry this rubbish up to the castle for ya?” he offered, shaking both boys roughly as he spoke. “No, but thank you, Hagrid. I can deal with them. Go ahead and finish your class. And do give Sebastian some treats for me. I’ll remember to give him some toast after dinner, as well,” she said with a small smile. Hagrid chuckled. “I’ll do that,” he promised, then dropped both boys very deliberately on the ground from his full height. They lay there groaning. “Get up and start moving before I really hex you,” McGonagall said darkly. The two boys struggled to their feet and began trudging up the path, their heads bowed and their shoulders slumped. “Oh, and boys?” she said sweetly. They turned back to look at her. “Please, please try to escape or do something else rash. I’d just love to add to what the squid did.” They glanced at each other briefly, then faced forward and walked on obediently enough. Ron reached Snape’s classroom and knocked on the door. “Professor?” he said as he entered the room. “I’m sorry to disrupt your class, but Professor Dumbledore needs to see Nigel Gedgrave.” “Gedgrave,” Snape said, barely glancing at the boy, “go with Weasley.” “No!” the boy retorted, gazing at Ron’s stern face uneasily. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” “Don’t even start with me,” Ron growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I’ve already been through the same scene with your little accomplice. He isn’t at all happy. I’ll be happy to truss you up the same way I did him, if you cheek me at all.” “Mr. Weasley!” Snape said, shocked out of his normal reserve. “What is the meaning of this?” “Come outside and I’ll tell you, Professor,” Ron said, glaring around at the class full of wide-eyed Fourth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins. “Gedgrave, MOVE! And bring your bag. You’re not returning to class.” “Let’s go, Gedgrave,” Snape said quietly. “I’ll find out what’s going on and we’ll deal with it.” Gedgrave looked at his Head of House hopefully. Snape should be on his side — he was a Death Eater, after all. But there was no way anyone would know what he’d done — was there? He was certain he’d kept his identity secret when they’d killed Potter. His hood hadn’t slipped, and they’d been careful not to call each other by their names. How could anyone know? There had been no mention of Potter’s absence since the attack. Most people thought he was just staying with Dumbledore again. Gedgrave had wondered why Potter’s death hadn’t been mentioned, but had taken the lack of news as a sign that his body hadn’t been found. As he slowly packed up his bag, his brain was churning, going over every detail of the attack. Maybe the squid really did eat him! That would be the best thing, Nigel thought. Potter’s body should be invisible — I put that spell on him myself! But I could still see Potter’s body as it flew across the lake, so maybe the Invisibility Spell didn’t work properly. . .but still, there hasn’t been any news about a body being found. Surely everything’s OK? Yeah, it has to be. He breathed a bit more easily now. Having reassured himself that he couldn’t be blamed for Potter’s death, Nigel assumed Dumbledore wanted him for some other reason and Weasley was just in a bad mood. Maybe he’d had a fight with that bushy-haired girlfriend of his. Nearly smiling at the thought of the huge redheaded Head Boy being henpecked by that mouthy little know-it-all Mudblood Granger, Nigel picked up his bag and followed Ron out of the classroom, Snape right on their heels. “What’s going on, Weasley?” Snape demanded when he’d closed his classroom door and put an Imperturbable Charm on it. “Thanks for that,” Ron said, nodding toward the charmed door. “I don’t want any trouble between Gryffindors and Slytherins over this. Very few people know what happened so far, and that may be for the best in the long run.” “So what happened?” Snape prompted him irritably. “This git and two others tried to beat Harry to death, then Banished him to the middle of the lake to drown him,” Ron snarled. “What?” Snape said, truly shocked. “Is Potter. . .dead?” His face had paled considerably, which was remarkable given his normal pallor. “No, he’s not dead, no thanks to this gormless git and his friends. He’s recovering,” Ron snarled, watching Gedgrave’s face closely. When he saw the boy’s eyes widen in surprise, he snarled, “You thought he was dead, didn’t you, you sod!” Ron grabbed the boy’s shoulder and shook him fiercely. “Lucky for you he isn’t, because then nothing would stop me from killing you where you stand.” “Mr. Weasley!” Snape warned sharply. “If Harry had died, I wouldn’t be the only one after their skins,” Ron growled. “I’m telling the truth, sir. You can check with Professor Dumbledore. Harry’s in the hospital wing. Evidence has been found that proves Gedgrave and two others attacked Harry.” “They can’t prove anything!” Gedgrave snarled. Snape studied Gedgrave’s face in silence, then took a step back, allowing Ron to do his job. “Oh, yes, they can,” Ron said smoothly. “Come on, let’s go. There are Aurors waiting to take you away.” “What?” the boy gasped. “You’re in for a lifetime in Azkaban, you wanker,” Ron sneered. “That’s too little punishment, in my opinion. Let’s go.” He shoved the boy ahead of him. “I have my wand on you. Any funny business and it will be my great pleasure to hex you.” Dumbledore met Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt at the door to the hospital wing. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said. “I’ve kept Harry’s condition a secret for many reasons, not the least of which was that we hoped his attackers would slip up somehow so we could catch them. Fortunately, Harry was able to identify one of them, and that boy identified the others. Dobby also found evidence that proves their guilt.” “What kind of evidence?” Tonks asked seriously. Remus had told her about Harry’s condition right away, but she hadn’t been allowed to visit him. Since Dumbledore was keeping the attack on Harry a secret, it might have attracted attention if Lupin’s pretty young wife was seen spending a lot of time in the hospital wing. It had taken every ounce of strength she had not to rush there and help look after him. Knowing Ginny would be doing an admirable job of caring for Harry, Tonks had spent the time doing what she did best, examining the evidence and the site of the attack and trying to find out who was involved, with little luck so far. Since she’d married Remus, Harry had become a little brother or a son to her, she wasn’t sure which, not that it mattered. He was family, and she was fiercely protective of her loved ones. “The house-elves found blood-spattered robes and shoes,” Dumbledore replied tersely. “The robes have the boys’ names inside them, the same names their accomplice gave us.” “Before we go further,” Kingsley said in his slow, deep voice, “let us see the robes. There’s a charm we can do on them to see who wore them last.” “Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “They’re in my office for safekeeping.” “We’re right here at the hospital wing,” Tonks protested. “Can we go and see Harry for a minute?” “Let’s look at the evidence first,” Dumbledore said. “I’d like to get these matters resolved quickly so we can get those boys away from Hogwarts with as little fuss as possible. The longer it takes to remove them, the more chance we’ll have for problems from their friends.” Tonks and Kingsley nodded and followed Dumbledore down the many corridors to his office. Once in Dumbledore’s office, Kingsley used his wand to levitate one robe from the pile so it could be thoroughly examined. At the sight of the massive amount of blood on them, Tonks paled, then turned green. “Are you all right?” Dumbledore said in concern. “I’ve seen things like this before, but . . .that’s H-harry’s blood,” she said, tears springing to her eyes, “and there’s s-so much of it.” “If this is too difficult for you, we can call someone else,” Dumbledore said kindly. “And Harry is much better now. You can see him in a little while, since his condition won’t be a secret much longer.” “Thanks. I’ll be fine. I need to do this for Harry,” she said, forcing down the bile that kept rising in her throat. Kingsley was rotating the robes slowly, studying the blood spatter patterns on the front, the larger blood stains at the bottom of the robes, and the fact that there was no blood on the back of the robes at all. “It appears that whoever wore these robes attacked someone, rather than being attacked himself,” he murmured. A small crystal box in his hand was recording his findings, which would be used in court when this case came to trial. “From the spatter patterns, the victim was lying down or was close to the ground during the entire attack. He was never in a standing position.” He cast a charm on the robes and a ghostly image of a boy filled them. “Do you recognize him, Albus?” “Yes, that’s Nigel Gedgrave,” he said, his face grim. “I’ve already sent someone to fetch him.” “This charm reveals the last person to wear the robes, so he was one of those who attacked Harry,” Kingsley concluded. “We’ll need to check the blood against a sample of Harry’s to present as evidence.” “Madam Pomfrey may be able to help you out there,” Dumbledore said. “She has many bandages that are soaked with his blood. She may have disposed of them by now, but it would be wise to ask her. I’d prefer it if you could manage without taking blood from him. He’s been through enough.” “We’ll do our best to get what we need without bothering him,” Kingsley replied. He set those robes aside and lifted the next set. He went through the same process with the other robes and concluded that the Chisswick twins were, in fact, Harry’s other attackers, just as their robe labels indicated. “We’re done here,” Kingsley said as he and Tonks put Shrinking Charms on the robes and put them in small bags which they labelled and put in their pockets. “Let’s go see Harry.” “Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks said brightly as she entered the hospital wing and saw he was awake. “How are you doing?” His eyes roved around aimlessly. Tonks looked at Ginny in confusion. “He can’t speak yet,” Ginny said quietly. “He’s under an Enchanted Sleep spell that wasn’t cast correctly. He’s fighting his way out of it little by little.” She leaned over Harry and gave him a cheeky grin. “But you’re doing brilliantly, sweetheart!” She looked up at Tonks. “Come sit on the side of the bed and put your hands on his face, then lean over him. That usually helps him focus his eyes on you. He can answer yes or no questions with eye blinks, one blink for yes, two for no, once you have his attention.” Tonks sat carefully on the edge of Harry’s bed. She put her hands gently on his face and bent over him. “Wotcher, Harry,” she said softly. “It’s Tonks. Can you hear me?” His eyes came to rest on her face, crinkling at the corners a bit as he recognized her. “He’s smiling at you,” Ginny said quietly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come before. Dumbledore thought too many people would notice and ask questions if I came to the hospital wing. He’s been keeping all this a secret, y’see. I’ll be able to come more often now that we’ve caught the boys who did this to you. The evidence is strong, Harry. They’re going to spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban,” she assured him. “Are you feeling better?” Harry blinked once, then crinkled his eyes at her again. His body felt so heavy, it was difficult for him to move at all. Not being able to talk was driving him mad, and he was tired all the time. He closed his eyes wearily for a long moment, then sighed and glanced back at Tonks, whose suddenly unguarded face revealed the depth of her emotion. As soon as she saw him looking at her, she put on her happy face again. “I don’t want to tire you. Kingsley and I just wanted to stop in and say hello before we question those boys.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kingsley, who moved closer to Harry. Tonks moved aside so Harry could see him. “Hello, Harry,” the man said kindly. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. They tell me you’ll be up and around in no time.” Harry crinkled his eyes at the man. “You get well quickly, lad. We’ll take care of those boys. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Kingsley said, smiling and then backing away so Tonks could talk to Harry again. “All right, we need to take those boys into custody,” Tonks said. “I’ll come back and see you again soon, all right?” Harry did his best to smile at her a bit, then blinked slowly one time. “He says ‘thanks,’” Ginny said, looking from him to Tonks. “How do you know?” Tonks said in confusion. “Because he didn’t argue with me. If I interpret his blinks wrong, he lets me know,” Ginny said with a smile at her boyfriend. “How are you holding up so well?” Tonks said seriously, gazing at the exhausted-looking girl. “How can you be so cheerful?” “He’s so much better than he was, Tonks, you have no idea,” Ginny said, equally serious. “I can see progress every time he wakes up now. He’ll be back to his old form in no time.” “Well, his old form was pretty hot, so it will be good to have that back!” Tonks teased, giving Harry a cheeky grin. She was rewarded with a blush and smiling eyes from Harry. “That’s better,” she said, bending over him and kissing his cheek. “You get well! I’ll come back and see you later.” She pulled Ginny into a hug. “You hang in there, sweetie. If you need anything, let me know, all right?” “Thanks,” Ginny said sincerely. “We’ll be fine.” “I know you will,” Tonks said fondly. “Harry, behave yourself!” she said as she followed Kingsley out of the hospital wing, turning at the last minute to give Harry and Ginny a breezy wave. When she closed the hospital wing door behind her, she leaned against the wall, her face in her hands. Kingsley was immediately concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Tonks struggled with her emotions for a long moment before muttering, “I never knew love could hurt so much.” She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to get back into her professional frame of mind. “I’m fine now. Let’s go.” An unusually grim-faced Tonks walked with Kingsley to the dungeons, where they would confine and transport the prisoners. She hoped they’d act up. She’d really like to damage them just a little bit on the way to Azkaban. Ginny tried to study as she sat by Harry’s bedside, but exhaustion overtook her. Afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows woke her a few hours later. She stretched and yawned, then ran her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. “Hi,” a soft voice whispered. Ginny’s head whipped around. “Harry!” She sat on the side of the bed and cupped his face in her hand, rubbing his cheek lightly with her thumb. “Oh, baby, it’s so good to hear your voice again! And you’re back! You’re really back now, aren’t you?” “I’ve . . . been . . . right here,” he breathed, a teasing glint in his eye. “How long have you been awake?” “Ever since you . . . first kissed me . . ., I think,” he replied, his voice gaining strength as he used it. “But it was . . . hard. I couldn’t . . . get out.” His face looked confused and his eyes roved aimlessly around the room again. “Oh no, you don’t, Potter,” she said, holding his face with both hands and looking seriously into his eyes. “Don’t you go wandering off again!” “Tired,” he sighed, and closed his eyes. “Harry, WAKE UP!” Ginny cried. “Wake up! Come on, sweetheart, you can do it!” “’K,” he muttered, opening his eyes again and trying to focus on her. “How do you feel?” “Hurts,” he moaned. “Thirsty.” “OK, I’ll get Madam Pomfrey and we’ll fix you up straightaway,” Ginny promised. “Stay awake!” “’K,” he whispered, and his eyes drifted shut again. “MADAM POMFREY!” Ginny shouted. “HE’S AWAKE!” Madam Pomfrey came at a run. “Are you certain? How is he? Has he said anything?” “He says he hurts,” Ginny replied. “C’mon, baby, open those beautiful eyes again.” Harry’s head rocked back and forth as he fought his way to wakefulness. He opened his eyes, better able to focus now because Ginny had put his glasses on his face. “Thanks,” he said with a weary smile. “Miss Weasley said you’re in pain, Mr. Potter,” the nurse said kindly. “Where does it hurt?” “Everywhere.” “That’s to be expected. You’re still healing, but you’ll be fine very soon. I’ll give you the non-drowsy pain potion. You’ve slept long enough to be going on with,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” She hurried back toward her supply room. “It’s so good to have you back, baby!” Ginny said, her face lit with joy. “I kept . . . yelling for you,” he said quietly. “I was . . . so close to the surface . . . but I couldn’t quite make it. Every time, I’d be a little closer. It was scary.” He moved his arms and legs experimentally. “I’m not paralyzed, am I?” “No, baby, you’re not,” Ginny assured him. “I thought for a long time that was what was wrong with me. What happened?” “What do you remember?” “Erm. . .Plimpies. I remember releasing Plimpies. . .” His voice trailed off and he frowned as he tried to remember. “Are they all right? I didn’t finish.” “They’re fine. Ron released the rest of them.” “You’re awake!” Professor Dumbledore said, striding toward Harry’s bed. “Madam Pomfrey sent me a message that you were finally released from that spell. How are you feeling, Harry?” “I’m fine,” he lied, doing his best to smile at his headmaster. “You’re not fine. I know that much. Are you in pain?” “He won’t be for long,” Madam Pomfrey said. “My password’s scar on your bum, Mr. Potter. Stick out your tongue. Three drops should take care of you nicely.” She gave him his potion then passed her wand over his body, checking his condition. “I think you’ll do for a while. Are you hungry?” “Yes,” he said with an eager smile. “Thirsty too.” “What would you like to eat and drink?” “Dobby’s pumpkin soup. . .and butterbeer,” he said with a beatific smile. “That sounds delicious,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “Miss Weasley anticipated what you would want, so Dobby has your soup waiting for you in the kitchens. I’ll send for him. And I’m sure we can find some butterbeer in the castle somewhere.” Harry’s eyes were tired, but he was smiling happily. “Thanks.” “In the meantime, I have water and pumpkin juice here in the hospital wing. I’ll bring some out for you,” Madam Pomfrey said, then left to fetch the drinks. Dumbledore looked at the phoenix perched over the young man’s bed. “May I borrow Merlin for a moment? He can bring you some butterbeer.” Harry nodded. Dumbledore wrote a short note and handed it to the phoenix, who disappeared in a flash of light. Harry soon had a bottle of butterbeer on his bedside table, from which Ginny helped him sip from time to time. Dobby arrived with the pumpkin soup and Harry ate every bite, if slowly, and said he wanted more, but he fell asleep before the second bowl arrived. Every time he woke up, he was more alert and stayed awake for a longer time. When he awoke from his next long nap, he stretched and was delighted to be able to move his arms and legs fairly normally after such a long time of thinking he was paralyzed. “Ginny!” he said excitedly. “Everything works!” “I know that’s a relief for you,” she said with a smile. “Come here,” he said quietly, holding his arms open wide. Ginny climbed on the bed and relaxed into his embrace, sighing happily as his arms came around her in a tight hug. “I’ve missed this,” she murmured. “Mmm, me too,” he said, resting his cheek on her hair. He soon fell asleep again, Ginny still in his arms. She dozed off as well. Late that evening, when Harry had grown strong enough to carry on a lengthy conversation, Dumbledore talked to him about the attack. “What do you remember, lad?” “I was putting Plimpies in the water and that boy — Liam — came up and asked if he could be in D.A. next year. I was telling him I’d give his name to Ginny when a Plimpy slipped out of my hands and fell on the ground. While I was reaching for it, something hit my head. Three boys in plain black robes did a bad Stunning Spell on me, beat me up, then did some other spells and Banished me into the lake.” “What do you mean by a bad Stunning Spell?” “I couldn’t move, but I could hear, see and feel everything,” Harry replied with a shiver. “I tried to grow gills, I tried to do spells, but I couldn’t do anything but fall deeper in the water, and then everything went black. How did I get out of the lake?” “The merpeople brought you to the surface and called until your friends could pull you to shore. Miss Granger did that Muggle revival technique you used on Miss Weasley in France to get you breathing again. I’ll tell you the rest when you’re stronger,” Dumbledore said. Seeing Harry’s frightened look, he hastened to reassure him. “It’s nothing to worry about, just the details of the spells you were under and how we removed them, that’s all. You might call it ‘technical stuff.’” “Oh,” Harry said, looking relieved. “You’re going to be fine, Harry, and very soon now,” Dumbledore assured him. “Professor, Harry heard and felt everything that happened after I kissed him the first time,” Ginny told her headmaster. “Is that normal with such charms?” “As you know, the sleeping spell was badly cast. I doubt such things are normal with the charm when it’s properly cast.” Ron and Hermione came in, racing to Harry’s bedside when they saw him grinning at them. “You’re awake! You’re really awake!” Hermione said, giving him a huge hug. “Welcome back, mate,” Ron said with a fond smile. “I’ll leave you to visit with your friends,” Dumbledore said, rising to go. “Take care of yourself, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Bye, Professor. Thanks for catching those blokes so quickly,” Harry said sincerely. “Rest well. Good evening, all,” Dumbledore said, and left. Hermione had pulled back from her hug, but Harry held on to her hand. “What is it, Harry?” “I owe you something,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of his normal mischief. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything,” she began. “Don’t be difficult,” Harry said, tugging on her hand until she sat on the bed. “I owe you my life. Thank you, Hermione,” he said sincerely. “Oh, erm, well, um,” she said, not certain how to respond to the deep emotion in his eyes. “And I owe you something else, as well,” Harry said with an impish gleam in his eye. He looked up at Ginny and Ron. “You two turn around or something, all right?” “Why?” Ron said, confused. “Just cooperate with your poor hospitalized friend, OK?” he whinged dramatically. Ron and Ginny turned around, but glanced over their shoulders. “Now you,” he said to Hermione, “said you missed something.” She blushed madly. “You heard that?” “Yes. I’m going to take care of it, too,” he said with a soft chuckle, then pulled her to him and gave her a lovely warm kiss. “Thank you for trying. I enjoyed it even if I couldn’t participate.” “Did it help?” she asked earnestly. “It helped pass the time, quite pleasantly, too, but no, it didn’t pull me out of the spell,” he answered truthfully. “I guess that just proves it had to be your true love’s kiss that would wake you,” she said with a smile. “I do love you, Hermione,” Harry said, pulling her to him again. “If I could choose a sister, it would be you.” He kissed her on the cheek, then released her. Hermione giggled, still blushing. She glanced up and saw Ron and Ginny both watching over their shoulders. “You two don’t follow directions very well, you know,” she said tartly. “We’re Weasleys,” Ron said easily. “It’s in the blood or something.” He pulled Hermione to him and murmured, “Do I need to remind you who owns those lips?” She laughed and nodded, getting a serious kiss from her boyfriend in response. Ginny was busy giving Harry a similar reminder. Ron and Hermione settled into the chair Ginny had used for her vigil while Ginny cuddled with Harry on the bed. “You know,” Hermione began, studying Ginny and Harry seriously for a moment, “this removes all doubt.” “Huh?” Harry said intelligently. “She really is your true love,” Hermione said with a smile. “I never doubted that,” Harry said, tightening his arms around Ginny. She nestled her head against his shoulder and promptly fell asleep. “I guess we’re not exciting enough company for her,” he murmured with a smile. “She’s been exhausting herself trying to take care of you,” Hermione said. “I know. I was aware of everything that happened. I could feel, hear, smell — even see, when my eyes could focus. But I just couldn’t get out, not for the longest time,” Harry said with a slight shudder. His movement made Ginny murmur in her sleep for a moment. He tenderly smoothed her hair out of her face and behind her shoulder, then rested his cheek on top of her head. “What’s going to happen to those boys?” he asked quietly. “Life in Azkaban,” Ron replied. “It’s not enough,” Hermione said stoutly. “You’re right,” Harry murmured, “but at least they’ll be locked up where they can’t do any more harm.” “Until they break out of jail,” Ron said darkly. “Yeah,” Harry agreed, his face grim. Harry was delighted to be at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the next morning. His friends all greeted him gladly. Harry noticed some of the younger Gryffindors looking at Ron warily. “What’s up with them?” Harry asked “They were in Potions when I took the Slytherin boy away,” Ron replied tersely. “He didn’t go quietly, and I wasn’t very quiet about it either.” Luna Lovegood wandered by their table. “Hello, Ronald,” she said airily. “Hello, Harry,” she said with more warmth. “How are you? I haven’t seen you around for a while.” “I’ve been busy,” Harry said vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t pry. “What have you been up to lately? “I’m going to write an article on the giant squid,” she said, her eyes brightening. “It’s been acting rather oddly lately.” “Really?” Harry said, glancing at his friends. Hermione, Ron and Ginny didn’t seem to know what she was talking about either. “Oh, yes. Did you hear what happened in Hagrid’s class?” Harry and his friends all shook their heads. Luna brightened, glad to be the bearer of interesting news. “The squid grabbed two boys Professor McGonagall went there to get and it dunked them in the lake! And the merpeople were attacking them, too!” “Why?” Harry asked, confused. “Dunno! It was the Fourth Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class. The boys were Hufflepuffs. McGonagall took them away and nobody’s seen them since. Maybe they died,” Luna said, her oversized eyes huge as she relished the possibilities. “No, they didn’t die,” Hermione said tartly, finally understanding what Luna was talking about. “How do you know?” Luna said, actually looking at Hermione for once. “We would have heard if they’d died, wouldn’t we?” Hermione said reasonably, hoping that would get Luna enough off-track to drop the subject. Luna looked disappointed. “I suppose.” She sat quietly a moment, lost in thought. “Still. . .the squid was behaving oddly. It could make a good article.” Without waiting for a response, she wandered back to the Ravenclaw table. “How did she ever get sorted into Ravenclaw?” Ron wondered, shaking his head. “Who knows?” Hermione said, exasperated. “What a ridiculous story, though. The squid dunking those boys. I mean, really!” “It’s true,” Colin Creevey said, leaning across the table to talk quietly. “I heard it from the Hufflepuff Keeper. He got it from his little brother, who was in the class.” Hermione frowned. “I find that very hard to believe, Colin. Maybe the Keeper misunderstood what his brother said or something.” Colin shrugged. “Dunno. I’m just saying that’s what I was told.” They were nearly through with breakfast when Dumbledore stood up and tapped on his goblet to get their attention. “I have a few things I need to share with you all in order to relieve some confusion,” he said, glancing over the gathered students. “I suppose it will be easiest to tell things in order. Please remain quiet until I’ve finished. Thank you. Now then. A few days ago, four boys put a dastardly plan into action.” Harry blanched and turned to look at his friends. “What’s he doing?” he whispered urgently. “Dunno,” Ron said, looking as troubled as Harry. “Just listen and see what he says,” Hermione urged. Ginny took Harry’s hand and held it tightly. She could see he was upset about what Dumbledore was saying. “. . . and they erroneously believed their fathers were killed in battle by Harry Potter,” Dumbledore was saying. Harry slumped lower in his seat, wishing he could disappear. “Of course, once we questioned these boys and learned where their fathers died, we were able to tell them that Mr. Potter was nowhere near that area at any time during the battle. He didn’t kill their fathers. Even if he had, those men were enemies who attacked with no provocation, which means their deaths were their own fault. They were the aggressors and lost. But these boys weren’t interested in finding out the facts. They listened to lies told to them by Draco Malfoy and some other boys who have become Death Eaters.” Dumbledore’s voice crackled with fury. “They attacked Harry Potter and did their best to kill him. As you can see, they didn’t succeed,” he said, looking toward the Gryffindor table. The Gryffindors cheered suddenly, startling everyone, then quieted when they saw the stern look on their headmaster’s face. “I don’t blame the Gryffindors for cheering Mr. Potter’s return to their midst, but I do have more to say, so please, hold all comments, cheers and so on until I’ve finished. Thank you.” He took a sip from his goblet and continued. “Evidence was found pointing to these boys and the Head Boy and the Deputy Headmistress went to fetch them for the Aurors who came to investigate this crime. Apparently, either the merpeople or the squid understood, somehow, what was going on, because when the boys stepped up to Professor McGonagall to be brought in for questioning, the squid captured them and took them into the lake, where it proceeded to submerge them repeatedly. No real harm came to the boys from the squid’s behaviour. All of the boys involved have been taken into Ministry custody. Three of the boys are being charged with attempted murder, which carries a mandatory life sentence in Azkaban.” He paused as hundreds of students gasped as one. “Yes, it’s a harsh punishment, but it’s what our laws require for those who commit such a crime. Their accomplice will receive a lighter sentence, since he didn’t actually injure Mr. Potter himself and assisted us willingly in our investigation of the crime. However, since he stood by and did nothing while Harry was being attacked, he will spend the majority of his life in Azkaban as well. Remember that if you think you want to take the law into your own hands. Those who stand by and watch are as guilty as those who commit the crime. Such behaviour will not be tolerated. “As for the squid, whose name is Sebastian, by the way,” he said with a slight smile, “he is not dangerous to you as long as you treat him kindly. The merpeople are rather fond of Mr. Potter since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and I suppose the squid has been influenced by their opinion of him. The squid was doing what it could to help out Mr. Potter, or so the merpeople told me when I spoke to them about this incident. There will be no reprisals against the squid or the merpeople for what they did. They have been spoken to and now have a clearer understanding of how we deal with problems. Do feel free to give the squid bits of toast from time to time as you have in the past. He is one of the protections we have here at Hogwarts, as he showed us during the Battle of Hogwarts. Treat him with respect, and he will do the same toward you. “As for Mr. Potter — it would be kindest if you didn’t ask him a lot of questions. Let him get back to his routine. He has a lot of homework to catch up on.” Dumbledore stared at the Slytherin table. “There will be no reprisals against anyone — not your fellow wizards, the squid or the merpeople — for what happened here. Is that clear? Such actions will not be tolerated.” He stared at the Slytherin table a moment longer, then gave the Hufflepuff table an equally intimidating glare. Finally, he said, “Thank you for your attention. You’re dismissed. Have a good day.” Harry was still slumped in his seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye. He sighed heavily, wishing Dumbledore hadn’t made everything public. He looked up, startled, when he felt people patting his back as they left to go to class. Numerous Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were making their way to his seat, just touching him briefly before going on. The only words exchanged were quiet: “Welcome back,” “Good to see you,” “Sorry that happened,” and such things. Harry managed to smile at most of the well-wishers and was inordinately glad when the procession stopped and he could leave the Great Hall himself. “Harry?” Dumbledore said, coming up behind him and his friends. “May I have a word?” Ron, Hermione and Ginny took a few steps away and waited for Harry. Harry dropped his head and took a deep breath, calming himself before facing his headmaster. “Yes?” “I’m sorry, but the rumours were horrible and getting worse, and there have already been attempts to hurt the squid. I couldn’t let that go on. The squid — Sebastian,” he said with a small smile, “was trying to help you. Apparently it likes you, or so the merpeople told me.” “I feed it toast, and swim with it sometimes when I have my gills,” Harry said shrugging. “It likes to be rubbed between its eyes.” “I didn’t know that,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “No wonder it likes you. I doubt anyone’s ever rubbed it between its eyes before.” “How did the squid know who those boys were, or what they’d done?” Harry asked curiously. “Professor McGonagall was speaking aloud on her way to Hagrid’s class,” Dumbledore explained, “and the squid heard her. When it began following her, the merpeople followed as well. Some of them know a bit of English, and they told the squid what she was talking about. And the rest, you know.” He put a warm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I am sorry about all of this. If I could have found a way to deal with it without involving you . . . . “ “I understand,” Harry said with a sigh. “Do you want me to work with you today, or go to class?” “Whichever pleases you, lad. You have a great deal to catch up on in both areas.” Harry glanced at his friends, and at the hallway outside which was teeming with students hurrying to class. “I think I’d rather work with you than face classes full of curious people today,” he said finally. “Then come up to my office when you’re ready to work,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll be waiting for you.” “Yes, sir,” Harry said, then rejoined his friends. A few days later, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were in the spell-proof room in Gryffindor’s Chamber of Knowledge, checking Ron, Hermione and Ginny’s progress on the Sphere Shield Charm. “Let’s see, then,” Harry said encouragingly. He’d started teaching them this charm months ago, but it was a very difficult one to master. The basic spell was tricky enough, but Harry had changed the spell a great deal, making the sphere more dense, more impervious to spells and a more powerful barrier in general — and also much more challenging for anyone but him to cast. Hermione had learned the basic spell relatively quickly, but Ginny and Ron found it much more difficult to do. With the changes Harry had made in it now, even Hermione was having trouble. “This is the best I can do, mate,” Ron said in frustration as a shimmering sheer sphere hovered between his wand and his outstretched hand, its walls undulating and fragile. Ron’s sphere was the palest possible shade of gold. Harry guessed that the shade of the spheres varied with the strength of the spell that cast it. Harry’s was a translucent but rich, deep gold, Hermione’s a few shades darker than Ron’s, and Ginny’s somewhere in between Hermione’s and Ron’s in colour, when she was able to cast it correctly at all. “Keep trying. Concentrate, Ron. Soft focus. Feel your magic–” “Flowing like water, yeah, I know,” Ron said with a sigh. “Understanding the concepts and making the bloody thing work are two entirely different things, you know.” “Take it easy, Ron,” Hermione said as she held her sphere in front of her. “You’ll get it eventually.” Her sphere was much more stable, but still shimmered with fragility. “It’s pretty. I wish it was stronger,” Ginny said, experimenting with moving her sphere around a bit. “OK, you lot, dissolve those and cast your spheres around yourselves,” Harry directed. “Then try to condense them until what you see outside them looks a bit foggy. Don’t hold that for long, because you’ll be losing air inside the sphere once it’s condensed.” Three spheres disappeared and three more emerged in fits and starts, each one enveloping the person who cast it. “Ron, that’s good!” Harry said encouragingly. “The colour is much stronger, and the walls are more stable. Dissolve it and cast it again so you’ll remember what you did.” “I don’t know what I did differently,” Ron whinged when he emerged from his sphere. “I just did this,” he said, creating a new sphere around himself. “And that’s right!” Harry laughed. “That’s really good! Try working with it now, condense it a bit, then dissolve it.” He turned to Hermione, whose sphere wasn’t as stable as it had been. “You and Ron have the same problem, only in reverse,” he teased. “Yours is stronger when you project it outward, his is stronger when he projects it around himself. Dissolve it and do another outward one, then try to do exactly the same thing when you create the one around yourself.” Hermione complied with his directions just as Harry looked back at Ron, who was staggering, still inside his sphere. “RON! Dissolve it right now!” Harry warned. Ron gasped as he emerged from his sphere. “I . . .I think. . .I got it that time, Harry,” he said with a grin, then sat down hard, fighting to get his breath back. “Yes, you did! Now do it again, and try not to stay in there so long this time!” Harry moved over to where Ginny was working. “Dissolve yours and let’s start again.” He heard her sigh in annoyance as the sphere disappeared. “Don’t let it frustrate you. This is very difficult magic. You’ll get it,” he assured her as she struggled to make her sphere work properly. “Let me show you something.” He got behind her and took her hands in his. “Try this,” he suggested, moving her left hand one way and her wand hand the other, and tilting them at a slightly different angle than she’d been doing. “I think your position is off a bit. Stay there,” he said as he let go of her hands and backed away. “Now try it.” Her sphere appeared around her, this time much more stable and resilient. “I did it!” she cried in delight. “That’s the first time it hasn’t shimmered at all!” “Good for you!” Harry said encouragingly. “Now dissolve it, move around a bit, and try it again.” His friends kept working on their spheres for a long time, finally collapsing to the thickly cushioned floor in exhaustion. “That’s hard work!” Ron moaned. “But they’re so much better than they were!” Hermione enthused. “I wonder if we can cast them around ourselves when we’re on brooms?” “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Harry warned. “They take too much concentration. You wouldn’t be able to fly, supervise the battle, and maintain the shield all at the same time. And as Ron demonstrated so clearly, the air inside them doesn’t last long.” He smirked at his best mate, getting a good-humoured but disgusted look in return. “Oh, too bad. It seemed like such a good idea,” she sighed. “You’ve spent all this time teaching it to us, and now we find we can’t use it in battle? What can we use them for?” “You can use it in battle, just not as a shield while you’re flying,” Harry said, sprawling on the floor beside them. “I have a plan for how to defeat Voldemort. I think I can manage it by myself, but if I need help — that’s where you come in.” “What do you mean?” Ron said, suddenly pale. “You want us to fight Voldemort? You always said that was your job!” He’d finally gotten over his phobia about saying Voldemort’s name, which pleased Harry greatly. “Not to fight him, no. To contain him,” Harry explained. “Here’s the thing. I can contain Peeves with the simpler form of this sphere. Lucius Malfoy killed himself inside one of my spheres, because his spells kept bouncing around and he couldn’t dodge them. I don’t expect Voldemort to be that stupid, and his spells are much more powerful than Malfoy’s were. I have to believe he’s intelligent enough to realize, after the first spell bounces in there, that he can’t shoot spells while encased in my sphere.” “If he won’t die from a spell hitting him, how are you going to kill him?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows knit together in concentration. “You’ll put your spheres over mine and hold them there, helping me hold the sphere in place. Then I’ll put a spell inside the sphere with my wand that will take care of Voldemort.” “A Killing Curse?” Ron said, his eyebrows raised as he considered Harry’s plan. “No, something else. I’m still working on it, but I need your help to hold the sphere while I do this other thing.” “What’s the other thing?” Ginny asked suspiciously. “You’re not telling us something.” “I’m not telling because I haven’t finished working it out yet,” he said. “I know what I want the spell to do. I’ve been researching spells to find one that comes closest to what I need. I’m in the process of modifying several spells I’ve found to see which one will be the best to use for what I need it to do.” “And what, exactly, is that?” Hermione said. “I know you have a plan, Harry. What is it?” Harry sighed. “It sounds crazy,” he said hesitantly, “but it makes sense to me.” “Have you talked it over with Dumbledore?” Ginny said. “Yes. He thinks I’m on to something. He helped me look for the right kind of spells. I’ve found one in particular that I think will do the trick, but I need to experiment with it a bit first to see if I’m right.” “Harry,” Hermione said patiently. “You haven’t answered my question. What’s your plan? What’s this spell supposed to do?” Harry leaned forward and replied, “It’s a refining spell. I can’t just kill him. I have to destroy him. If I kill him, part of him can escape and start again, as he’s done before. But if I refine the evil out of him, he’ll be destroyed. D’you see?” he said hopefully. His friends stared open-mouthed at him. “Refine . . . huh?” Hermione said in confusion after a long silence. “It’s an idea I had, and Merlin and I have discussed it at length. I’ve found a spell that will refine gold,” Harry said quickly. “I need to get some gold ore and see how it works. Once I understand the process, I can change it to . . .well, it’s complicated, I can’t really explain it well yet. I’m still sorting it out,” he said finally. “Does it make any sense to you at all?” After staring at him in silence for several long moments, Ron and Ginny shook their heads. Hermione was frowning in concentration again. Finally, she said, “I think I get the basic idea. But I don’t know how you’ll go from refining gold to refining evil,” she said carefully. “It has to do with my having gone through the Refiner’s Fire,” Harry said. “There are things I can do now that would blow your minds if you saw them, things Dumbledore and Merlin have taught me, and things I’ve developed myself based on what I’ve learned from them. It also has to do with this wand,” he said, lifting the beautiful wand Mr. Ollivander had made for him the previous summer. “It works differently than my other wand in ways I can’t explain. I think this idea will work. So does Merlin. Dumbledore is still sceptical, but he doesn’t have any better ideas. All I need you three to do is to come when I call for you — if I call for you — and put your spheres over mine, then hold them there, no matter what happens. Can you do that?” “We’ll do our best,” Ginny said instantly. “Yeah, mate. If you want us to hold these spheres, we’ll hold them,” Ron said stoutly. “We should practice putting them over yours, then, Harry,” Hermione said. “Not yet. Yours aren’t stable enough. You need to keep working on them.” They all looked disappointed. “You’ve come a long way, all of you. This spell is well beyond N.E.W.T. standard. Don’t get discouraged. I had a lot of trouble with it at first, and then it just sort of ‘popped’ into place in my head and has worked well ever since. I think it will do the same for you.” “But we don’t have your special wand nor your Refiner’s Fire power,” Hermione said seriously. “And what is it about that wand that’s different? You’ve never said much about it.” Harry looked at his wand, trying to sort out how to explain the differences between it and his old wand. “Erm. . .with my old wand, no matter how powerful the spell I cast, the wand feels the same. It does its job and doesn’t act up or . . .” “Your wand acts up?” Hermione said in shock. “What do you mean?” He sighed. “If I’m doing normal school-type spells, class work practice or D.A. stuff, and hold the new wand too tightly, it sort of . . .,” he cast around for the right word, “bucks, and I have trouble controlling the spell. It wants to send too much power into the spell, sometimes sending huge surges of power when they aren’t necessary. If I don’t control it in time, someone could get hurt. That’s not a problem now, but when I first started working with it, it scared me. I was afraid I’d hurt someone by accident. Anyway, I’ve learned to hold it very lightly for those spells. For a powerful spell, the kind where you have to really push your magic and say the incantation strongly, I can grip it more tightly and it behaves well now. For the kind of spell where you give it all the power you’ve got and actually yell the incantation, this wand, erm. . .” He stopped, apparently at a loss for words. “What?” Ron prompted. All of them were leaning toward him, fascinated. He’d never talked about the new wand this way before, and they’d never heard of a wand that behaved differently for different spells. “You know the phoenixes and griffins carved around the handle?” he said, holding the handle out so they could see it well. They all nodded. “When I do the biggest spells, they. . .um. . .I can feel them, um . . . it’s as if their feet are pattering around inside my hand,” he said, shaking his head. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I can feel all these tapping things inside my hand when I grip it really hard to do the big spells.” “Why would they tap your hand?” Ginny said, completely puzzled. “Dumbledore said Mr. Ollivander added them to give the wand more power, because phoenixes and griffins are talismans that are important to me,” he said, holding his hand open and gazing at the beautifully carved animals spiralling up the handle. “How could they add power?” Hermione said, shaking her head. “They’re just carvings in wood. That doesn’t make sense to me.” Harry snorted. “I don’t get it, either. But that’s the way it works.” “Have you ever asked Ollivander about that tapping thing? Or Dumbledore? Maybe it’s malfunctioning,” Hermione said worriedly. “When I asked Ollivander about it, he just smiled. Dumbledore finds it fascinating and has never heard of that tapping feeling, but he did say the carvings would add power to the wand. Merlin agrees with him.” “Wicked!” Ron said with a grin. “Yeah,” Harry agreed. “That’s part of the reason it took me so long to get used to working with this wand. The carvings, erm, ‘activated’ at inconvenient times when I was first learning to use it. I wound up dropping it when that happened, and messed up a lot of spells. Some of those explosions you’ve heard at the far end of the grounds were me making mistakes like that. Of course, some of those explosions were deliberate, too,” he added with a cheeky grin. “I’ve got a good feel for it now, though.” “So your own magic, which we have no prayer of matching, and your wand, same problem. . . .” Hermione said, obviously trying to sort something out. She stopped, apparently flummoxed. She tilted her head and studied Harry with an odd expression on her face. “What?” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. “I’m a freak. I know it.” “You’re not a freak,” she said slowly. “I just don’t see how we’re supposed to be able to help you. If you can’t manage the spell with all of your powers and your special wand, how are we supposed to manage, when we’re just normal wizards?” Ron looked at her seriously for a moment, then turned to Harry. “She’s got a point, mate.” Ginny was livid. “Are you quitting?” she snarled at her brother and best friend. “No! No, it’s just that,” Ron swallowed hard, “we’re no match for Harry. He’s so powerful, and he’s the only one who can defeat Voldemort, and yet he thinks he needs our help to do it! So how can our puny little spheres be any help? I mean, I’m willing to help, but I’m confused.” “Me, too,” Hermione said, gazing at Harry hopefully. “I want to help. I’ll do anything you ask me to do, Harry, you know that. I believe in you. But I just don’t understand how our spheres, which are puny, as Ron said, are going to help.” “Your spheres will get better with practice,” Harry said, hoping he was right. “This isn’t your only plan, is it, mate?” Ron said warily. “No, but it’s the best one I’ve got. I do have other things I’m working on, but if I can get enough clear space to use this spell, I believe it has the best chance of really defeating Voldemort. D’you see? If I just kill him, he can come back, as he’s done before. He has to be destroyed. That’s why I think refining the evil out of him is the best plan, and this is the only way I can see to do it. He needs to be confined so I’m safe from his spells while I do this refining spell on him. That’s what the spheres are for.” He looked around at his friends. They looked worried and confused, but they were loyal and would do what he asked. Was it fair for him to ask them to help with this plan? They could be seriously hurt, even killed, if they helped him. No, it didn’t seem fair to involve them at all, but he couldn’t see how to do the spell without their help. “I don’t want you hurt. I won’t ask for your help unless I absolutely need it,” he assured them. “I know it’s my job to destroy him, not yours. If I can think of any other way to do that, I won’t do this spell at all. This is the best thing I’ve come up with so far, but I’m still looking for other possibilities. You don’t have to do it. I do appreciate your trying to learn this spell, though.” He started to get to his feet. “Wait,” Hermione said. “I didn’t say I was quitting.” “Nor did I,” Ron agreed. “Sit down, Harry. We all need to rest a bit before we try this again anyway,” Hermione encouraged him. She glanced at Ginny, who was sitting with her arms crossed, her expression stormy. At least she wasn’t yelling at anyone. Things were confusing enough as it was. When Harry sat back down, Hermione decided a change of subject might lighten things up, so she said, “You told us this wand has your own hair as its core. It’s a long wand — how many hairs did it take to fill it?” “Just one,” he said with a shrug. “How does one of your hairs,” she said, nodding at his hair, which still curled down to his shoulders, “fill a wand like that?” He laughed. “I grew it out for Mr. Ollivander. He thought it was cool that I could do that.” “How long did you grow it?” Hermione asked. He looked at Ginny, whose hair was past her waist. “About half as long as Gin’s. Somewhere past my shoulder blades.” “What did it look like?” Hermione said. “I mean, is it wavy or straight or what when it’s that long? I know we saw your hair longer when you were disguised as James Evans, but that wasn’t your own hair.” “Yes, it was!” Harry protested. “It was just a different colour! Well, and longer, too. Ron said I looked like a really tall girl with wavy hair when I grew it out for Ollivander.” Ron snorted with laughter at the memory. “Actually, what I said was that Harry better not let the twins see him like that or they’d think he was an Amazon and would want to date him.” Everyone laughed. “Let’s see, then,” Hermione prompted. “How long can you grow it, anyway?” “Dunno. I’ve never tried to find out,” Harry said with a shrug. “Try now,” Hermione said eagerly. “I want to see.” Harry looked at her oddly, a crooked grin on his face. “Why?” “Because I do, that’s all,” she said with a sassy toss of her curls. Harry shrugged again. “OK. Blimey, the things I do to keep you happy,” he said as his hair began growing at a rapid rate. In a short time, it was well down past his belt and starting to puddle on the floor. “It’s gorgeous! Wavy and so thick and glossy. Wow, I wish my hair was like that instead of bushy,” Hermione sighed. “Is that as long as you can get it?” “It’s touching the floor now, isn’t it? What more do you want?” Harry said, chuckling. Meanwhile, Ginny was busy running her hands through his long mane. “I love it!” “Ginny, I love you dearly, but I will not wear my hair this long to keep you happy,” Harry said with a longsuffering look. “Dumbledore does. His hair’s about that long,” Hermione said reasonably. “That’s because he never cuts it,” Harry said, beginning to shorten his hair again. “Wait! I want a lock of it for a keepsake!” Ginny said, reaching for her wand. “No!” Harry said, flinching away from her suddenly. “What?” she said, startled and a bit hurt. “You can’t have a lock of my hair, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” “Why not?” “For the same reason Professor Dumbledore and I don’t let people have feathers from our phoenixes,” Harry explained, shortening his hair even more rapidly. “It’s a magical substance and needs to be protected. I know you wouldn’t do anything wrong with it, but if someone stole it from you, they’d have a very powerful magical tool to work with. That’s why Dumbledore doesn’t cut his hair or beard. He can’t control the length of it the way I can so he protects it by letting it grow so there are never clippings lying around anywhere for someone to take.” “Harry, that’s ridiculous,” Hermione said dismissively. “You shed hair in the shower, in your comb, on your pillow when you sleep. Everyone does.” Harry just looked at her. “I don’t.” “What do you mean, you don’t?” “I haven’t shed hair the way you say since the Refiner’s Fire, and I shed very little hair before that,” he said seriously. “Well, your aunt cut your hair when you were little,” Hermione said, trying to make some kind of point. “You told us that.” “Yes, and when my hair was all grown back the next morning, the clippings were missing from the bin,” he said, still quite serious. “You’re kidding. Where did they go?” she said, looking sceptical. Harry merely pointed at his hair. “You’re saying the clippings went back on your head?” “I suppose. We never did find them, and I didn’t do anything with them,” he replied. “And Dudley never put the rubbish out in his life, so it’s not as if he did it. It was my job to put out the rubbish. Uncle Vernon wouldn’t have done it either, nor would Aunt Petunia. So where else could those clippings have gone?” He just shrugged, knowing there was no real answer to his question. “You gave me a phoenix feather, Harry,” Ginny said, puzzled. “That was from my chest, sweetheart. It wasn’t a tail feather,” he explained. “It’s not as magical as a tail feather.” “So it’s safe for me to keep it?” “Yes. Dumbledore uses some of Fawkes’s breast feathers as quills.” “I won’t make it into a quill,” Ginny said. “It’s a keepsake.” “There are plenty more where that came from if you do want to use one as a quill,” he said, smiling at her fondly. “If it came from your chest, Harry,” Hermione said, a puzzled look on her face, “what part of you . . . I mean, where did it come from?” “A chest hair, Hermione,” he explained patiently, grinning at her blush. “And yes, it hurt to pull it out, but it was important to me to do it.” She tilted her head and stared at him, then finally nodded in understanding. “You just took probably three or more feet off the length of your hair, mate,” Ron said suddenly. “Where did it go?” Harry snorted. “Dumbledore thinks my skull must have big spools inside where the hair is stored, since I can grow it or shorten it at will.” His friends laughed. “Seriously, though, it’s magic. I can’t explain where it goes anymore than I can explain how I can grow it or shorten it whenever I want to.” “You shortened it too much, sweetie,” Ginny said softly, frowning slightly. “Are you tired of wearing it longer?” “No, baby, not at all,” he said with a warm smile, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. He put his other hand on the back of his neck. “Oh, okay,” he muttered, and his hair suddenly grew out to the length he’d had it before, curling just down to his shoulders like Ron’s. “Better?” She beamed at him in reply. “So what do you want to do now?” Harry said, looking at his friends. “Get back to practicing our spheres,” Ron said, helping Hermione to her feet. “If we’re going to help you, we need to get better control of this spell.” Harry grinned, relieved, and they all got back to work. The next Hogsmeade weekend, Harry and Ginny entered the jewellery shop. “Hello, Mr. Joyero!” Harry said brightly. “How are you today?” “I’m spiffing, just spiffing, Mr. Potter! Hello, Miss Weasley! How are you both?” The jeweller cast a practiced eye at Ginny’s left hand. She still wore her promise ring. Harry hadn’t proposed yet. Mr. Joyero smiled, glad he’d looked before saying anything that would give away Harry’s secret. “We’re fine. I was wondering if you could help me with a school project?” Harry said with a smile. “If there’s something I can do to help out, I’d be happy to do so,” Mr. Joyero said sincerely. “I need some raw gold ore for some experiments,” Harry said seriously. “Where can I get some?” “Raw gold? Not refined?” “Exactly! Do I need to order it from London, or where?” Harry asked. “Let me get out my catalogues,” Joyero said. “Back in a sec.” Ginny wandered through the shop admiring various things while they were waiting. “Why aren’t any of your frames in here? I thought you made some for the shop.” “I managed to get three made before we had to come back to school, but they’ve all sold,” Harry said. “I haven’t had time to make any more.” She smiled at him and nodded, then went back to browsing. He watched her mobile features as various things caught her eye. “You’re a magpie, aren’t you?” he said suddenly. “What?” she said, startled. “You just love jewellery, don’t you? Sparkly stuff? Like a magpie,” he said with a fond smile. “Or a niffler.” “It’s just fun to look,” she said with a smile. “I have plenty of jewellery, Harry.” “I was teasing you,” he said with a grin, tugging gently on a lock of her hair. “He has beautiful things in here, doesn’t he?” “Yes,” she said with a smile. “I think it would be such fun to be able to make things like these.” “Maybe you should be a jeweller instead of a healer,” Harry suggested. Ginny smiled at him. “It would certainly save a lot of money to be able to make this kind of thing myself!” she said, touching her pendants. “Here we go, Mr. Potter,” Joyero said as he came back to the counter. “I have a supplier in London who carries raw gold ore. How much do you need?” he asked as he showed Harry the price list. “That’s not as expensive as I thought it would be,” Harry mused. He and Joyero discussed details for a while, and came to an agreement. “So you’ll send it to me at school? When will they arrive?” “I should be able to get this to you in a few days. Will that be soon enough?” “Yes, that will be great,” Harry replied. He glanced at Ginny, who was leaning over a showcase studying something closely. He and Joyero smiled at each other and joined her. “What have you found?” Harry asked her. Ginny straightened up, looking startled. “Oh, nothing!” she said, flustered. Harry looked at the wedding rings she’d been examining. “Bit soon for that, isn’t it?” he cautioned. “Oh. . . I. . .I was just looking. They’re pretty, aren’t they?” she said, blushing madly. “Yes, they are,” Harry said with a grin. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before you get me in trouble!” “I. . .but. . .trouble?” Ginny protested, feeling a bit ill-used. “I’ve never asked . . .” “I know. Everything I’ve given you has been my own idea. You’ve never asked for a thing, you sweet girl. But it isn’t time for that kind of thing yet,” he said with a tender smile as he steered her out of the door. Her engagement ring was tucked safely in his trunk, but he still wasn’t ready to give it to her. “Bye, Mr. Joyero!” A few days later, with gold ore and other supplies in his bag, Harry led Dumbledore across the grounds to the distant field where the two of them did their experiments that might prove to be volatile. Merlin soared overhead, enjoying the beautiful weather. When they reached the practice field, Harry pulled a small cauldron out of his bag and set it on a low wire stand, then placed a small bit of gold ore inside the cauldron. “Ready?” he asked Dumbledore. “When you are, lad,” Dumbledore said, standing well back. This was Harry’s experiment and the headmaster was just there to observe — and to help, if Harry got in trouble. “Here goes nothing,” Harry said with a glance at Merlin, who was perched on his shoulder and watching with interest. “You sure you want to stay there?” The phoenix crooned serenely. Harry took a deep breath and blew it out, then carefully, delicately waved his wand and muttered an incantation. The gold in the cauldron vaporized and the cauldron went flying. “Damn. Too strong,” he muttered, then set the cauldron up again, dropped in another piece of gold ore and tried again. Merlin crooned in his ear, giving him instructions that Harry did his best to follow, and finally, after much trial and error, he had a pool of melted gold in his cauldron, with a skim of impurities floating on the top. “We did it! We did it! Look, professor!” He and Dumbledore leaned over the cauldron and admired the beautiful pure gold that was left when Harry skimmed off the impurities. “That’s an excellent start, Harry!” Dumbledore enthused. “Now do it again!” “Slave driver,” Harry chuckled. He kept working until he could refine the gold on the first try, every time. Then he worked on refining the gold and removing the dross with another spell spoken immediately after the refining one. That task took a lot more trial and error to perfect. “I’m not consistent with it yet,” Harry grumbled. “You haven’t been working on it long, lad. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I’ve been planning it, thinking about it, working it out for months now!” Harry protested. “I just didn’t have the gold to work with.” “Nor did you have the spell perfected,” Dumbledore reminded him. “You’ve made tremendous strides today, Harry.” “It’s not enough, not nearly enough,” Harry muttered distractedly as he set things up for another try. Dumbledore stood back and watched the boy concentrate. Harry had come up with this idea himself, then asked Dumbledore and Merlin for help with it. What he had planned was unlike anything Dumbledore had heard of, and quite different from the refining spells Merlin had known in his day. If it worked, it would be miraculous. If it worked, Harry would be free. Dumbledore prayed that the boy’s idea would be successful. Harry worked with great determination for hours. “That’s the last of the gold ore,” he said finally. “And what have you learned from this experiment?” Dumbledore asked with a smile. “That I should have ordered more gold!” Harry said with a smile. “No, really, it’s going quite well now. I have a good feel for it. The last few times, the spells just flowed. They felt right. And they did what I wanted. I think this is going to work. Now I just have to convert the spell,” he muttered, speaking more to himself than his mentor as his mind wrestled with the problem. He scratched his head absently, lost in thought. “I’m sure it will work. I just have to. . . .” Harry sat down, pulled out parchment and quill and began making complex notes and diagrams decipherable only to himself. Dumbledore watched with interest. Harry was becoming quite adept at creating spells, sometimes from scratch, sometimes modifying existing spells. Watching the young man’s mind work was endlessly fascinating to the old wizard. Merlin flew over to Dumbledore’s shoulder. He and the headmaster sat soaking up the sunshine, watching the light dance in Harry’s glossy hair as he bent over the parchment struggling with his plans. “Ah, Merlin, there’s nothing like watching a young mind grow, is there?” Dumbledore said in satisfaction. “He’s good, isn’t he?” The bird sang one liquid note of agreement and they settled down to watch proudly as their protégé developed spells no one had ever imagined before. A mid-spring cold snap came and went, and with the next warm weather, Harry was ready to do something he’d been planning for a while. He and his friends walked around the lake to the spot where Harry had been attacked. When they got there, Harry stripped down to the swim suit he had on under his robes and walked into the water. “Isn’t it a bit cold still for this?” Hermione said, trailing her fingers in the water. “This water is freezing!” “The lake’s always cold,” Harry said with a shrug as he walked farther away from shore. “Once I do my gill transformation, it will feel warm to me.” “I’m coming with you!” Ginny cried. She’d been acting nervous all afternoon, but wouldn’t tell anyone why. Now she pulled off her robes and stood in a t-shirt and shorts, looking uneasily at the gillyweed she’d pulled from her pocket. It looked like a bunch of ugly grey worms, but she had to eat it if she wanted to grow gills and fins and be able to swim with Harry. Harry smiled. “You don’t have to do that.” “All of you have been in this lake, but I haven’t!” she said with determination. “You’re all leaving after this year. This may be my only chance to see the merpeople and Plimpies and grindylows and the squid in their natural environment — and to swim like a fish with you, Harry. Please don’t leave me behind!” “You have to eat that stuff, you know,” he said, his eyes teasing as he glanced at the nasty mass of gillyweed. “I know. I’ll do it even if you don’t wait for me! But please do,” she said, stepping into the lake. “Those clothes will slow you down,” he said. “At least let me transform them into a swim suit. OK?” She nodded. He thought a moment, then waved his wand slightly and her t-shirt and shorts became a pretty gold bikini. Ginny’s mouth dropped in shock. Ron gasped and Hermione was startled into laughter. “Harry? Where did you get this idea?” Ginny asked, looking at the skimpy suit that was baring a lot more of her white skin than she’d expected. “I don’t know much about girls’ swim suits,” he said with a shrug. “I made you one like Casey’s — but yours is a different colour. Is it OK?” Ginny shivered. “Yeah. It’s pretty. It’s just — there’s so little of it, and it’s not that warm here!” “Come into the water and eat your gillyweed. You’ll be fine as soon as it takes effect,” he told her. Ron and Hermione sat down on the shore to wait for Harry’s instructions for the things he’d brought with him. Ginny stepped farther away from the shore, reaching out for Harry’s extended hand. She looked up at him, nervous but excited. Taking a deep breath, she held the gillyweed up to her face, but her nose wrinkled at the smell. “You don’t have to do this,” Harry reminded her with a smile. “I won’t be long.” “I really want to!” she insisted, holding the nasty mess up to her mouth again. “Then shove it all in at once, don’t try to nibble it,” Harry suggested. She did as he instructed, her eyes bugging out and her face twisting in disgust at the horrible texture and flavour. She gulped hard as soon as she could, swallowing the nasty stuff, then looked expectantly at Harry. “Now what?” “Now you wait. It won’t take long,” he assured her. “When you feel as if you have a pillow over your face and you can’t breathe, that’s when you go in the water and start breathing there. I’ll set my watch. You’ll have an hour, so we’ll need to be back here before that. How well do you swim?” “Not all that well,” she admitted. “Me either, unless I have gills,” he said with a cheeky grin. “So we definitely need to–” He stopped, seeing the alarm on her face. “In the water — now!” He waved at Ron and Hermione as he did his own gill transformation and ducked under water with Ginny. Ginny was trying to hold her breath, afraid to try breathing in the water despite her gills. Her frightened eyes found Harry’s amused ones. He opened his mouth and began moving it like a fish, pointing to the gills on his neck, which were opening and closing as he breathed in the water. He put her hand on her gills and showed her that they weren’t moving, then he touched her chin and used gestures to urge her to open her mouth and try breathing. Finally, Ginny couldn’t stand it any longer and opened her mouth, taking a huge breath in the water. Her face split in a grin and she laughed, making bubbles rise to the surface. She looked at her hands and Harry’s, both of which had become webbed, and at her feet, which were now long and flipper-like, like Harry’s. Suddenly realizing how free she could be in the water as long as she had gills, Ginny kicked off with her flippers and zoomed through the water, Harry at her side. They swam for a while, Harry showing her the sights — grindylows in the grasses along the bottom, Plimpies doing their funny little walk as they browsed for food, various fish coming up to inspect them. They were having a marvellous time. They stopped at one point to sit on the bottom and help some Plimpies that were floating around helplessly after merpeople had tied their rubbery legs together. As the Plimpies stalked away on their long legs, Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, then kicked off from the bottom and swam further out into the lake. A few minutes later, Harry saw something shiny on the bottom. He signalled Ginny to stay where she was so the nearby grindylows wouldn’t be able to grab her long hair while he went to see what it was. Harry swam down and discovered it was only a piece of quartz catching the light from the sun shining brightly on the water. He picked it up and looked up, ready to swim back to Ginny when he was caught by the sight of her. She was swimming slowly above him, not moving forward much at all, her pale gold bikini blending with her skin in the shadow cast by her body so she looked nude. Her hair was a fiery cloud around her milk-white body with the dappled sunlight glinting through it, giving it a metallic glow and casting red-gold reflections on her body. Harry thought his heart would burst with love for her. He pocketed the piece of quartz and swam up to her rapidly, pulling her to him and kissing her. His momentum when he reached her made them spin in place, her long hair wrapping around them like a silken scarf. Their kisses became serious and they began to sink gradually toward the sandy bottom, wrapped in each other’s loving embrace. As he kissed her, Harry gently unfastened the bikini top, his heart lurching a bit as he remembered repairing the clip on Casey’s bikini. It seemed like a lifetime ago. His finned hands looked weird as they glided over her beautiful breasts, but she didn’t seem to mind how they felt. The water buoyed them up, keeping them floating as they made love tenderly, slowly, revelling in the strange new experience. Their hair whirled around them as they moved in the dappled light and shadow many feet below the lake’s surface, in a beautiful, slow, sensual dance of love. Ginny couldn’t imagine anything sweeter. Harry’s eyes were brilliantly green in this strange underwater light, his hair a glistening black aurora around his handsome face. She revelled in the love they shared, wishing this magical time together could go on forever. They held each other close for a time, then Harry reluctantly lifted the suits he’d held carefully in one hand and waved them, indicating it was time they dressed and went back to their task — finding the squid and merpeople. Harry looked at his watch, knowing Ginny didn’t have much more time before she would have to go back to shore. He clapped his hands as hard as he could, three times, a difficult feat to accomplish under water. He grinned at Ginny, who looked perplexed, then looked around them, scanning the water carefully. Finally, he saw it. A massive shape came silently toward them, making Ginny tremble and cling to Harry. She’d never seen the entire squid. Sixty feet long and massive in every way, the squid could easily have crushed them, but it approached gently, lightly touching Harry’s shoulder with the end of a tentacle. He patted the squid and rubbed it between its eyes, showing Ginny how to pet it where it most appreciated the attention. Ginny was soon laughing and rubbing the squid on top of its head, between its eyes and other places it offered her as it turned over and over in the water. After a while, Harry tapped the squid and moved his hand in a sharp gesture in front of its eyes, then grabbed Ginny’s hands and pulled her arms around the top of its mantle behind its fins. Harry grabbed on in the same place, pinning Ginny’s arms under his securely. He turned and nodded at the squid and it shot a jet of water out of its funnel, zooming through the water rapidly. Harry laughed, enjoying the speed of the ride, and glanced at Ginny, who was equally happy. Glancing at his watch again, Harry patted the squid on its mantle and it immediately stopped. He let go of the animal, pushing away from it a bit and gesturing to Ginny to follow him as he headed for the surface. When their heads broke the surface, Harry heard a relieved, “There they are!” from Ron, who he knew had worried about his sister. Ginny leaned her head back in the water, letting the water pull the hair out of her face. She looked uneasily at Harry, then touched her gills. She shook her head and submerged again. It was too soon, she couldn’t breathe oxygen yet. Harry submerged with her, then pulled her to him and started them spinning again. “What the bloody hell are they doing?” Ron said, worried when they submerged again. “Maybe her gills are still there,” Hermione said, watching with equal concern. She climbed up on a big rock nearby so she could see farther across the water, then laughed. “They’re kissing!” she told Ron. “Huh? How can you tell?” he said, getting to his feet and climbing up to stand beside her on the rock. “You can see her hair and his on the surface of the water. It’s spinning round and round, see? They’re having a good time in there!” Hermione laughed. “Oh, well, as long as they’re having fun,” Ron said with a bit of disgust. He and Hermione had sat there for an hour waiting for Harry and Ginny to surface and now they were snogging, leaving them to worry! He sighed, then grinned. If swimming with gills was that much fun, he just might have to try to talk Hermione into trying it with him. Ginny’s head broke the surface again, and this time, her shoulders followed suit. Harry didn’t reappear, but Ginny, who was laughing, was moving rapidly toward shore somehow, without swimming. Ron tilted his head and frowned, trying to work out what was happening. When she reached the shallows, Ginny stopped and stood up, and Harry stood beside her. “How did you do that?” Ron asked curiously. “What?” Ginny replied. Harry still had gills. He bent and kissed her, waved at his friends, and swam back out to the deeper water. “How did you get here without swimming?” “I was riding Harry’s back,” she giggled. “It was amazing! He swims ever so well! And he’s fast! I don’t swim well at all, and once my gills were gone, I couldn’t stay in the water.” She hurried to the pile of towels they’d brought along and wrapped herself up. “I’m freezing now! But oh, we had such a wonderful time! I want to go again!” “Here, let’s get you warmed up,” Hermione said practically, casting a Warming Charm on Ginny and starting a fire with her bluebell flames. “Thanks! Oh, that’s better!” Ginny said, rubbing herself dry and wrapping her hair in a towel. She pulled on her clothes and huddled by the fire, waiting for Harry to finish his task and join them. “Oy, Ron!” Harry said suddenly. He was standing in the shallows himself now, and had removed the gill transformation. “Chuck me the big bag, all right?” “Here you go!” Ron said, tossing a filled sack to his friend. Harry opened the sack and pulled out bits of toast and scones, giving them to the squid, which he’d ridden closer to shore while he still had his gills. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did, mate,” he told the squid. “I wish I could have seen you dunking those boys! Thanks.” He fed the squid for a while longer, then turned when he heard merpeople’s voices. “There you are!” he cried happily. He Banished the empty food sack back to shore and called, “Ron! Now the small sack!” “OK,” Ron replied, tossing him a bag small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “Thanks, mate!” Harry called, then moved toward the merpeople. He began speaking to them in their squealing, eerie language. After a few minutes, he opened the bag and pulled out small, shiny things and handed one to each of the merpeople in the group, smiling as he did so. After more conversation with them, he and the merpeople waved to each other and parted. Harry made his way back to shore, a grin on his face. “What was all that about?” Hermione said. “You never did tell us what you were going to do out here today.” Harry picked up a towel and began drying himself off as he spoke. “I wanted to thank the merpeople for saving my life, and the squid for what he did to those boys,” he replied. “Today was the first day in a while that it’s been warm enough to do it.” ”You gave the squid treats. What did you give the merpeople?” Hermione said, laughing at him when he emerged from towelling his hair dry. Despite its length, his hair was sticking up all over the place. Noticing her look, Harry raked his fingers through his hair, doing what he could to calm it down. “Remember the gold ore I used to work on my refining charm?” he said, glancing around at them just before pulling a shirt over his head. “I made the gold into disks about the size of a sickle, and put a small hole near one edge. I got Dean to draw me a mermaid and I copied the design on the disks, then I carved my initials on the backs. I gave those to the merpeople to use for jewellery or decorations or whatever they wanted,” he said with a shrug. “That’s a lovely present, Harry!” Hermione said with a smile. “But wasn’t the gold awfully expensive?” “They saved my life, Hermione,” Harry reminded her seriously. “This was the only way I could think of to thank them. They were pleased with the disks. If they’re happy, I’m happy,” he added, tugging his jeans on over his trunks, on which he’d used a Drying Charm moments before. He glanced at Ginny. “Did you have fun?” he asked, a teasing light in his eyes. “Oh, yes! When can we go again?” she said eagerly. “And can you teach me that transformation so I won’t have to leave after just an hour?” “It’s a difficult one, but since you’ve used gillyweed now, it may be easier for you. I just tried to reproduce the effect of gillyweed,” he explained. “Start with your hands or your feet. Don’t try to do the gills unless you’re near a bathtub full of water and have a friend nearby who can change you back if you get stuck!” “Voice of experience talking?” she teased. “Uh. . .yeah,” he said, blushing. “When I first tried the transformation, I was alone and got stuck, with no bathtub of water nearby. I nearly drowned in the air before I managed to change back. I won’t be so careless again! Ready?” he added, helping Ginny to her feet. She nodded, and the two of them helped Ron and Hermione gather up the things they’d brought with them — blankets, towels, snacks, the two sacks that had contained Harry’s presents for the squid and merpeople. Hermione scooped her bluebell flames into a jar and sealed it, then put it in her pocket. As the four friends walked back to the castle, each couple walking hand-in-hand, Ginny entertained them by telling them about all the wonderful things she saw while in the lake with Harry. She and Harry exchanged teasing, furtive glances from time to time. There were some lovely, delightful things that happened in the lake that would only be shared between the two of them, memories that would last a lifetime. |
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