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If The Fates Allow | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama Warnings: Sexual Situations, Extreme Language Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 596 Summary: Ginny has been forced to marry Draco Malfoy, but her heart still belongs to Harry. Will she ever be able to break free from this unwanted marriage? Will Harry help her? A story of passion, blackmail, Greek gods and a most surreal place for playing Quidditch! Join Harry and Ginny on their odyssey through despair and hope, faith and love, amidst Voldemort's machinations! Hitcount: Story Total: 114790; Chapter Total: 3750 |
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Author’s note: I’ve returned from Greece and had a wonderful time there. In case you’re interested in a detailed report on the journey, you can find it in message #3232 in my yahoogroup. There are also photos in the Files/Greece folder. I must admit that I don't know much about trials, so let's assume that the International Magical Court of Justice works as I described it here. Cursed is the ground because of you, Through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food (Genesis 3: 17-19) Harry didn’t dare believe his ears… he looked in the direction of the voice, and he had to admit that he didn’t believe his eyes, either… There she was, struggling to get the unconscious Pettigrew off herself… and she was alive. How? How could this be possible? She’d died! He’d killed her with his own hands… his own wand, to be exact, so… how on earth could she be alive??? Had he not been so shocked, he would have addressed Linda to ask her how this was possible, but for the time being Harry couldn’t think of anything else but hurrying to help his daughter out from under Wormtail and gather her into his arms. After a while, Amrita drew back a bit to look at her father and was appalled to see him cry. “Why are you crying, Daddy?” she asked, her reddish blonde eyebrows knitted in a very adult-like way. “I’m just… just… oh, Amrita!” Harry’s voice faltered and he pulled her even closer to himself, his whole body shaking with sobs. The little girl glanced over her father’s shoulder at Ginny, who was beaming down at them, tears coursing down her face, too. ‘What got into him?’ Amrita mouthed to Ginny. ‘Tell you later, just let him cry,’ Ginny mouthed back, wiping away her tears, but to no avail, for new tears kept replacing the old ones. She seemed to have trouble deciding whether to cry or laugh, so she just chose the most sensible option in this situation: she did both at the same time. *In case you’re wondering how this is all possible…* Linda’s voice spoke up suddenly in Harry’s mind and he shuddered, having forgotten about everything beside the fact that he was holding in his arms his daughter whom he’d believed dead, very much alive. Of course I’m wondering, do you know how…? he replied, never releasing Amrita who started to shift a bit nervously in his arms, giving Ginny ‘I love Daddy a lot, but when is he finally going to release me?’ looks. *The spell that I told you… the Helios spell… I only heard about it yesterday from an ancient wizard. Had I known about it any earlier, I would have shared it with you in the Underworld, but this way I had no time to explain what you were doing; I just had to make you do it… The point of this spell is that it makes the victims seem dead, without really killing them. The next time the sun rises; the victims awake from their seemingly dead state. Now that Father has totally lost his powers, they can no longer be restored to him, not even if he tried to use Amrita’s blood again… I just had to make sure she seemed dead until Father ran out of all his powers. And sorry for giving you such a heart-ache, Harry… I couldn’t do it any other way.* Harry squinted at his watch to see that it was indeed a quarter to four – the sun had just risen What would have happened if she’d got struck by the curse in broad daylight? The sun would have been up then, so… *I think she would have awoken next morning at sunrise,* Linda replied. “Daddyyyyy!” whimpered Amrita, not being able to bear his tight hug any longer. “Yes, princess?” He pulled back a bit, tears of happiness still blurring his vision. However, even through the curtain of tears he noticed how red his daughter’s complexion had turned. “Are you… are you all right?” “Yeah… but you’ve almost squeezed me to death.” She shrugged, not understanding the expression of utter relief spreading on his face. “Are you all right too, Daddy?” “Never better,” Harry replied, his eyes alight with happiness. “Oh, come to Mummy, little angel!” cooed Phaedra and scooped her daughter up from the couch Leto had placed her on. There were some marks of dried blood on the lavender cushion she’d been resting on, and Phaedra’s heart clenched at the thought of Voldemort taking blood from her child… “Everything’s fine now… the big bad wizard is defeated, and he’ll never again hurt my little angel!” “Actually, I think you should let her sleep,” a voice called from the half-open door, and she turned around to find herself face to face with Draco Malfoy. “Who are you to tell me what to do with her?” she said sarcastically. “I could as well have lost her, so I have every right to come and squeeze her a bit. You have no idea what it is like to lose a child, Malfoy. You have no idea how it hurts… how you long to hold your child in your arms again, yet you no longer have the chance…” She looked away and continued talking to the wall, “I never hugged my first daughter enough, I wasn’t the ideal mother… and by the time I realised it, she was dead. I no longer could hug her, no longer could show her my love. I decided it’d be different with my second one. She’d get all the hugs I didn’t give to Daphne…” She glanced back at him, her expression defiant. “So don’t try to teach me how to care for a child! If Dora wakes up and starts to cry, it’s fine. At least I hear her voice, while I’ll never hear Daphne’s again…” “Don’t take me wrong, Phaedra,” he replied in a rather calm voice, as though he’d forgotten about his usual habit of giving her snappy comebacks, “I didn’t want to teach you about anything… you’re right, I don’t know what it means to be a parent… and it’s possible I’ll never get to know… Ginny will never give me a child.” He made a grimace. “But she gave one to your husband.” “What?” Phaedra’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you say she was barren?” “She used to be, yeah… then… dunno. She just turned out to be carrying Potter’s kid. Actually this is why I came back to Greece.” “Because your wife gave birth to Harry’s child? I don’t get it.” “When she gave birth, everyone thought the child was stillborn… even Ginny,” he replied, fondly examining the tiny baby in the woman’s arms. “She thought the baby had been buried, but… he wasn’t. I only found out that he was alive yesterday, and by that time Ginny had left Britain and I felt… I felt I had to make it up to her and tell her that her son was alive.” “Make it up to her?” Phaedra raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, Blond Prince turned out to have a heart! Tell me, can you even feel pangs of remorse by any chance?” Sticking his hands into the pockets of his trousers, he shrugged. “Maybe. You know… I think I felt it when I left you… back in August.” “I hoped that you did,” she replied sharply. “Look, Phaedra, I know it was rather nasty of me, but-” “Spare me, okay? There’s nothing I hate more than a man apologising.” “It’s just that I…” “I said spare me!” she snapped. The baby in her arms woke up and let out an almighty wail. “Wow. She’s a screamer,” Draco remarked, “reminds me of her mummy…” “One more snide comment and you’ll regret you were even born,” she hissed through gritted teeth. He took a step backwards, “Just not my shin, okay?” For a second she looked at him in a confused way; then she burst into laughter. “Sorry, Malfoy! I just love kicking people in the shin… my brother Jason can attest to that, too.” Little Dora started to cry even louder, her tiny face screwed up and red with the effort of wailing. “I wasn’t kidding, she’s like you in every respect, not just her voice… she’s beautiful when she’s angry,” he smiled down at the bawling baby. Phaedra gave him a questioning look. “You think I’m beautiful when I’m angry, too?” “Yeah, but only when you’re not kicking my shins or calling me a Blond Prince.” She hid a grin, and then bit into her lower lip as the memory of Harry admitting to have killed his own daughter came to her mind. Here she was, feeling happy that her Dora was safe and sound, while Harry was surely mourning his daughter… “What happened?” He frowned, seeing that her face had turned serious, almost sad again. “I was just thinking,” she replied, sinking down onto the couch, gently rocking Dora to make her stop crying, “that the world is unfair.” “Unfair? Yeah, in most cases it is… but at least old Tom got what he deserved.” “But at what price did he get it?” She flashed him with a painful glance. “Harry’s daughter had to die for it, Draco. Harry’s lost his second child already.” Draco opened his mouth to say ‘good that he has the baby boy and this little one here, then’, but before he could utter those words, something else came to his mind. “Didn’t… didn’t Potter say that Voldemort had been wrong to think Dora was his child?” The young witch pursed her lips and stared at the half-ajar door. “Yeah… that’s what he said.” “And Voldemort was stupid enough to believe him? I thought he was good at Legilimency, at least Father told me so. He was supposed to notice all lies…” “He didn’t notice it, for it wasn’t a lie,” she replied. “Yeah, of course…” He grinned, then, as the meaning of her words dawned on him, the grin faded from his face to be replaced by astonishment. “Have you ever been told you don’t look good with your mouth open?” she said. It took him several seconds for her words to sink in. He gulped and closed his mouth, but his eyes were still widened and almost bulging, making him look like a male version of Loony Lovegood. After about a minute of just staring at her, then glancing at Dora, then looking back at Phaedra, then again back at Dora, he finally found his voice. “M… mine?” “Brilliant deduction, Blond Prince.” “Don’t call me that!” “But I don’t want to sleeeeep.” Amrita yawned as Harry led her back to the little bed she had climbed out of during the night. “Yes, you do.” Her father smiled. “But first I think you should get into fresh clothes.” The child bit into her lower lip. “I didn’t want to do it, Daddy, really… it just… happened… when I heard the Death Eater were here…” “Oh, that.” Harry nodded knowingly. Having played the caring father for Daphne for four years he had noticed the little ‘accident’ his daughter had had. “Don't worry about it, princess,” he said and started rummaging through Daphne’s night things that Phaedra hadn’t got rid of yet. Finally he fished out a loose nightdress, hoping that it would fit Amrita as well, even though she was almost three years older than Daffy had been when she died. “But… but… I’m soooo ashamed, Daddy.” “Don’t be.” He knelt down in front of Amrita and grinned up at her, “even I had such accidents at your age, believe me.” “Did you?” Her green eyes widened. “Yup, I was seven when Aunt Marge first brought her bulldog, Ripper along to my foster parents’ house, and I got so scared of the vicious dog that I wet myself. My cousin Dudley couldn’t stop laughing…” “And what happened then?” “My Aunt Petunia screamed at me to get out of her sight,” replied Harry with a reminiscing expression. “I’ll tell you more about them later, okay? Now get changed into this and sleep, angel. You need it.” With that he stood up and handed Amrita the nightdress. She took it, but didn’t put it on. “Daddy?” “Yes?̶ 1; “What happened to Grandpa?” “You don’t need to worry about him anymore… he’s defeated. He won’t hurt anyone anymore.” “You promise?” “I promise,” he said with an encouraging smile. “And Wormie? What will be of him?” The child’s face radiated anxiety. Nausika had collected Pettigrew’s still unconscious body after Amrita had miraculously awakened, and Harry suspected she had put him in the same room with his equally disabled Death Eater friends. “Well,” he said contemplatively, “Wormtail acted a real hero… he turned against Voldemort… I think it’ll be a mitigating circumstance.” “A miti… what?” “Listen here.” He sank to his knees again. “If I can help it, he won’t be severely punished. I might not be able to help him, but… I’ll try.” A hopeful little smile appeared on her face and she swung her hands around Harry’s neck and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Daddy.” “I love you too,” he replied, his heart filled with some sort of wondrous feeling that he had only felt when Daphne had told him the same magical words. He was about to exit the room when she called after him: “You didn’t want to kill me… did you?” He froze in the doorframe, and slowly turned around. “No, sweetie. I didn’t.” “Oh, I see.” She nodded knowingly. “You just wanted to scare Grandpa, didn’t you? I hope he got veeeery scared!” “Yeah, he got very scared.” He winked at her and with a last smile left the room, closing the door behind him. He found Ginny standing just a couple of feet from the door – she had obviously been eavesdropping. “You know, it was really nice of you,” she said, taking his hand. “What?” “To say that you’d try and help Pettigrew. It’s very generous of you, after what he did to you… to your family…” “You know, Ginny,” he sighed, dropping himself on the couch, “Dumbledore once said that everyone deserved a second chance… even Peter does. Dumbledore also said that one day I’d be happy I’d saved Pettigrew’s life. Now I’m happy about it. Had I not saved him, who would have cared for Amrita? Who would have loved her? The only person who has given her any love up till now is Peter. Without him her life would have been even more of a hell… and he turned on Voldemort, because he’d thought Voldemort had killed Amrita. He loves her, and she loves him. He has practically been her father so far. He contributed to the death of my parents, that’s true, but he saved my daughter in every way one could be saved… for he saved her soul. Without his love Amrita could have easily become a bitter child like Tom Riddle once was, and from that it would have only taken a single step into evil…” She bent her head over his shoulder and whispered: “I can’t imagine Amy being evil, Harry… She’s your daughter. And her soul is so much… so much like yours.” “That’s possible, Gin, but she’s Slytherin’s heir too, thus susceptible to… turn evil. Wormtail’s love and caring brought the Potter out in her, not the Slytherin. And for this, I can only be grateful to him.” “Mmmm.” She nodded, winding her arms even tighter around his neck. “D’you expect there’ll be trials?” “Yeah. And not just some Wizengamot ones, but very likely their cases will be brought before the International Magical Court of Justice. They’re international criminals, after all… as for me…” “…as for you?” she muttered sleepily. “I’m going to denounce myself for the murder of Lucheni.” She immediately disentangled herself from his embrace and gaped at him, her eyes widened with shock. “You… don’t mean it?” “Yeah, I do,” he sighed. “Listen, you have to shoulder responsibility for your acts, and I killed the chap. I did it to defend my daughter, well… sort of, but… it’s still murder. And I don’t want to continue hiding, using others’ names… I want to play fair and start everything from the beginning. Start a new life, a life devoid of lies, blackmail, blood-thirst and the sins of the past…” His eyes met hers, and he saw the worry in them, so he reached out to take her tiny hands into his. “I want to start a new life with you and Amrita, Gin, but I won’t be able to… not like this. I want to do it with a clean record. Even if I have to spend some time in the Labyrinth for it.” “The… Labyrinth?” She gulped, remembering what Harry had once told her about the famous Greek prison where people usually went mad. “No, Harry, I won’t let you! They can’t shut you in there! You’d go mad!” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I promise you I won’t. Every day I’ll think of you and my daughter, and it’ll give me the heart to hold out. Of course only if you can wait for me… for months… perhaps even years. I’d understand if you couldn’t, but then please, take care of Amy, will you?” Ginny gave him a very nasty look. “How can you… how can you even suppose that I wouldn’t wait for you???” Her eyes were practically sending fire-bolts at him. “How can you be such a prat, Harry? I love you more than life itself! How can you-?” She couldn’t finish her tirade, for he suddenly pulled her to himself and closed her lips with a kiss. “Yo iiiot!” she said, as much as she could talk with his mouth firmly pressed to hers, but he surmised she wanted to say ‘you idiot’. And well, he had to admit to himself that he’d indeed been an idiot… she loved him. For a second it flashed through his mind that he didn’t even deserve her love. Some time later – Ginny didn’t know whether it had been five minutes or half an hour – there was a knock on the door. She got off the couch, careful not to wake Harry who’d fallen asleep in her arms. “Draco?” She knitted her eyebrows as she opened the door. “Um, yeah… May I come in?” “Er…” She looked over her shoulder at her peacefully sleeping lover. “No, let’s let Harry sleep. He’s exhausted. He’s been through a lot.” “As have we,” he pointed out. “We’ve all fought, remember?” “Yeah.” She nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind her. “But none of us have been exposed to such emotional pressure as he was.” “Oh… the child,” he said, not having met Nausika after the battle ended, thus not having heard about little Amrita’s miraculous awakening. “Look, I’m sorry about her, it must be horrible for him to have lost her, too…” “But he hasn’t lost her.” It was Draco’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?” “Amrita was only seemingly dead… it was to fool V…Voldemort. But when Harry put that charm on her, he truly believed he was killing her. Heavens, I wouldn’t want anyone, not even my greatest enemy to get into such a situation… having to choose between saving the world and saving your own child…” “Not even me?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “You aren’t my enemy, Draco.” She shook her head in a tired way. “Aren’t I?” He blinked, barely believing his ears. Ginny should hate him; after all he’d done to her… “No. You’re a bloody git, not an enemy,” she replied with a small smile. “At least… as long as you agree to a divorce. Because if you don’t, then I swear I’m going to make your life a living hell. Take that as a friendly promise.” Draco’s face tucked into a grimace. “Don’t worry, Ginny, I don’t intend to remain your husband. You’d never love me, and it’d ruin four lives, not just ours.” “You mean Harry, and…?” “Phaedra, of course.” He shrugged. “Ooooh, Phaedra.” She gave him an impish grin. “Tell me, Draco, have you seen her daughter already?” Young Malfoy’s face turned red for some reason. “Um, yeah. And well… she’s…” “Yours. I know.” “You know?” His eyes popped. “Who told you?” “Harry, obviously.” “Hah! Potter knows, you know… So everyone knew except for me, the father! I’ve missed it all, Ginny! The pregnancy, the birth, her first three weeks of life…!” “Calm down, and look at the good side of it. You didn’t know Phaedra was expecting your child, but from now on you’ll have a chance to act the proud daddy. I, however… I’d been expecting my son with love and hope… and fear, yes, but…” She swallowed hard and looked directly into his eyes in an almost accusing way. “I wanted that child so badly. And he died. So don’t wallow in self-pity for having missed the pregnancy and the birth, you still have a chance to make up for everything. Be grateful for the mercy of life. Be grateful for your luck, Draco.” With that she turned to go back into the Potter apartment, however, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait.” “What?” She sighed. “Listen, Draco, if you’ve come here for my forgiveness, you have it. If you want absolution, then ask God for it and leave me alone. I’m tired.” “I promise I’m not going to take up your time any longer… I’ve robbed six years of your life already… I only need one more minute.” “Fine.” She folded her arms with a challenging look. “Fire away.” “Weren’t… ; weren’t you wondering why I’ve come to Greece with your twin brothers?” “Now that you mention it… why?” she said, barely even listening. He couldn’t tell her anything anymore that would interest her… “I’ve come to tell you that your baby’s alive.” “Oh, yeah, of coooourse.” She rolled her eyes. “Find better excuses, Draco.” “It’s no excuse, Ginny. It’s the truth.” She squinted at him in a bemused way, half annoyed that he was mocking her in her grief over her lost son, half curious to know what had made him come up with such a ridiculous idea. “Listen, Ginny, I might have been a bit of a bastard before…” “Just a bit of a bastard?” She raised an eyebrow at him in a would-be playful way. “What I meant is that despite having been such a… git, I wouldn’t joke about something like this. Your son’s alive. The elves told me so.” “The elves?” She gave him an incredulous look. “Yes. They wanted to bury him, but when they took him out of the manor, he just… turned out to be alive. Started crying. Apparently they wanted to tell you, but then I caught up with you in the tunnel and they couldn’t.” Her eyes were examining his features, trying to decide whether he was really telling the truth. She didn’t realise that her nails were digging into the flesh of her arms so deeply that it almost hurt. At that time she didn’t feel physical pain, she’d also forgotten about her exhaustion, all she felt was the turmoil in her heart. “Why… why didn’t they tell me earlier?” she whispered finally. “I take it because of their evil Master.” Draco grimaced. “They were afraid that if they told you, you’d be so exhilarated that you wouldn’t be able to hide it from me, and then I’d… murder the kid.” He uttered the word ‘murder’ so carefully, so quietly that it startled even himself. Just a few months ago he hadn’t felt bad about threatening her with killing the child, but now… now everything was different. He’d changed. Not much, but it was a change nevertheless. He still didn’t regard himself as a good man and he had a feeling that he never would, but the fact in itself that he had feelings other than hatred, jealousy and anger was some sort of a development. “Um, Ginny… I never wanted to kill your kid.“ He bit into his lower lip, not daring to meet her eyes. “I just thought I did, because I was so mad at you and Potter, but… I don't think I would have harmed him, not even if he hadn’t been taken from you, not even if he’d looked like Potter… Now I surely sound like an idiot, but…” “…but? 221; She gave him a challenging look, though she barely could restrain herself from crying out loud, both with happiness and relief, and… anger. Anger that she’d been lied to for a whole month; that she’d been robbed of the presence of her child! “You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?” “Why, have you ever made things easy for me?” she countered. He took a deep breath and straightened his back, as though preparing himself for something thoroughly unpleasant and difficult. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. About everything. And… and if you can only be happy with… Potter, then so be it. I won’t stand in your way.” Instead of replying, she just nodded mutely. “Where… where’s my son now?” “Dobby’s taking care of him, so I heard.” A bright smile appeared on Ginny’s worn face. “I wish I could go there right now and collect him!” “Why can’t you?” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Harry won’t go back to England, at least not right now. The Death Eaters… I expect there’ll be trials, and he wants to be there. And I want to be with him. The baby’s in good hands. Harry has greater need of me now.” With that she turned around and headed back to the door of the Potter apartment. She stopped at the doorframe and looked back at him. “I’m not mad at you, Draco… just so that you know. And thanks for coming.” He gave her a feeble smile and watched as she disappeared into the room. For some reason he felt as light as a feather… lighter than he had ever felt before. Everything was going to be all right, after all – wasn’t it? His wife had forgiven him, he wasn’t going to go prison for the blackmail, no one would ever find out that he’d cut Arthur’s hair, Big Bad Voldemort was ancient history, and Phaedra had given him a daughter. Well, not that Phaedra would ever have told him had he not come to Athens, but… perhaps, just perhaps fate wanted him to come here and learn about her. Fate wanted it, he smirked, savouring the sound of it, or should I say The Fates? As he heard the door click, Harry opened his eyes and saw Ginny walk towards the couch he was resting on. Her steps seemed shaky, as was her whole body – she was trembling. “Gin?” As she sank onto the couch, a sob broke out of her and she buried her face into her palms. “Gin, what’s the matter?” He pulled her to himself. “Shhhh… everything’s all right. Ginny, why are you crying? Has someone hurt you? I’ll kill the bloody bastard…” With a hiccough she pulled her hands off her face and he was surprised to see that she was smiling – crying, but smiling. The emotions she had managed to contain throughout her discussion with her husband now flooded out of her – she wanted to yell with happiness, cry with happiness, but most of all, she wanted to share her eternal joy with Harry. “What happened?” “You won’t believe it…” she whispered, “actually I don’t believe it either, not until I can see him with my own eyes, hold him in my arms…” “What are you talking about?” “Our son, Harry!” She sniffed and wiped her teary cheeks, beaming with happiness. “Our… son?” He frowned. “Gin, I think you should rest a bit. All the excitement went to your nerves. Go, lie down, and when you wake up, you’ll feel all right.” She grasped his hands, shaking her head madly, her hair flying around it. “I’m not mad, Harry! Our baby’s alive! Draco’s just told me!” “Draco?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, Love, but Malfoy isn’t exactly the type of person to be trusted. What if he was just… joking?” “No, he wasn’t. I know it, I feel it!” she said passionately. “He came to Athens to tell me that my baby’s alive!” Harry made an incredulous expression. “Malfoy, coming after you to… to do you a favour? Are you sure he didn’t come here to catch you?” She shook her head. “Then my brothers would have stopped him. But Fred and George came too, to help Draco find me. Don’t you understand, Harry? Our little one is alive!” She threw herself onto his shoulder, her arms wound around his neck so tightly that he thought he’d suffocate. Could this be true? – he wondered. It was so unMalfoy-like to want to help someone… but then again, even stupid git Draco could change, couldn’t he? He grinned into her thick, red hair. Despite all the hardships still awaiting him, he felt happy. Happy, and at peace with the world. Perhaps things would turn out all right in the end… There was always hope. When he’d felt desperate, when he’d thought there wasn’t a way out of the dark tunnel, a little ray of hope always shone down at him, filtering through the clouds of fears and shadows of self-accusations. There always had to be a storm to make one really appreciate the sunshine… And the sky was getting less cloudy by the second – Harry could almost see the sun. One day it’ll be all over, and the sun will shine brilliantly. He just had to be patient. The Hague, a week later “Defendant, the examination of your case before the International Magical Court of Justice has been concluded.” Harry, the defendant, sent Ginny, Hermione, all the Weasleys and the Circle of Hermes members an encouraging smile. Fred and George gave him the thumbs-up and Mrs Weasley sent him a half-smile that suggested she was about to burst into tears any second. As for Ginny – she didn’t smile, but her eyes told him more than a smile would have: her eyes were full of love, support and pride – yes, pride at Harry’s courage to confess his crime and to seek a new life devoid of the stains of the past, a life with no more shames. The judge cleared his throat: “The charges brought against you are the following: murdering Anacleto Lucheni, offering resistance to the Greek Magical Law Enforcement, misusing other individuals’ names, attempted murder of the underage Amrita Rätsel, and finally, deciding without proper authority to make He Who Must Not Be Named immortal, thereby endangering the wizarding population all over the world.” It doesn’t sound too good, does it? thought Harry bitterly. *Chin up, Big Boy* replied Linda. I wasn’t even addressing you this time, not fair to eavesdrop on my thoughts. *Sorry, Harry, I just thought you might need someone to give you heart here.* Thanks, Lindy, but I doubt that even you could give me heart. I already see it in my mind’s eye… the Labyrinth…or Azkaban… *You’re too much of a pessimist!* “For the murder of Anacleto Lucheni, you would deserve to get four years in prison,” the judge carried on. Harry squinted at his loved ones to see them all gone ashen, “for the attempted murder of Amrita Rätsel you would deserve to get two years, for the unauthorised decision another two years. For the name misuse, six months, and for putting up resistance to the Magical Law Enforcement, another six months. That is, in total, it would make nine years spent in prison.” There was a sob across the room, and Harry didn’t even need to look in its direction to know that it was coming from Molly Weasley. He couldn’t – didn’t want to - look in the direction of the audience, for he thought his heart would break at the sight of Ginny’s face. See, Linda, I had no reason to be optimistic, he sighed inwardly. For a second it flashed through his mind that maybe he shouldn’t have confessed to the Magical Law Enforcement, but then he again thought that living his whole life in hiding and shame would have been worse. Worse than spending nine years locked in some prison? Weeeeell… One thing was sure: he’d taken that step and there was no way to back out now. He had to face the consequences of his actions. His heart clenched at the thought of not seeing his children grow up – he’d be released from prison at the age of 33, after all, and by that time Amrita would be 16 and his son (whom he hadn’t even seen yet) 9 years old… But he had made enough wrong decisions. For once he wanted to make the right one. Come what may. He took a deep breath and looked up, straightening his back, steeling himself for the final verdict. “However,” the judge carried on, “in the light of the evidence given by Nausika Kondos and Jason Stephanides, the murder of Anacleto Lucheni happened in self defence. Also, according to at least a dozen people who were present, your attempted murder of Amrita Rätsel was done to bring about the Dark Lord’s downfall and save the whole wizarding world. You also denounced yourself, which is a mitigating circumstance. I now ask the jury to deliver their verdict, in each of the mentioned charges. Murder of Anacleto Lucheni?” “Not guilty!” replied the foreman of the jury. Harry thought he’d heard it wrong. “Attempted murder of Amrita Rätsel?” “Not guilty!” Harry’s heart gave a jolt. “Unauthorised decision?” “Not guilty!” Harry’s constricted stomach seemed to unclench itself slightly. “Offering resistance to the Magical Law Enforcement?” “Guilty!̶ 1; “Illegal use of names?” “Guilty!” &# 8220;That would make one year spent in prison.” The judge nodded. “Any objections?” “Yes, your Honor!” replied the jury-spokesman. “The defendant offered resistance to the Law Enforcement in connection with a charge that he has been cleared of. So we suggest reducing his punishment to a warning or a fine. As for the name misuse, Mr Papafotiu does not wish to bring a charge against Mr Potter, nor does Mr Dursley, we have an official statement from him that he does not accuse Mr Potter of anything.” Of course, bet the Weasleys persuaded Dudley with the threat of some jinxes if he didn’t sign the statement that he didn’t accuse me, Harry thought, hiding a grin. The judge cleared his throat again. “In the light of all the evidence and the jury’s decision, I hereby fine Harry James Potter the sum of 500 Galleons for offering resistance to the Magical Law Enforcement. The proceedings are closed.” Harry felt that a great weight was off his mind. As the audience rose to their feet, and most of them surged towards him, he felt his knees go weak. He had managed to hold out through the battle with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he had managed to overcome his fears and do the ‘right’ thing when it came to sacrificing Amrita, he had held out through the last week when he’d been questioned by various members of the Magical Law Enforcement, he had managed to stand upright in his trial – yet now that it was all over, he felt like he was collapsing with fatigue, both corporeal and mental. However, before his legs could totally collapse under him, the Weasley twins arrived and gathered him into an over-enthusiastic embrace, like they had done in Harry’s third Hogwarts year after winning the Quidditch Cup. “Fred, George, you’re stifling him!” said Mrs Weasley sharply, but her face was in complete contrast to her determined voice: it was wet with tears. Harry was sort of grateful for the twins for holding him, and let everyone shake his hand and pat him on the back; he even allowed each of the sirens to give him smacking kisses on the cheek, for he felt too tired to even say ‘stop that, girls, please, I don’t feel like singing What shall we do with a drunken sailor now…’ However, when he came face to face with Draco Malfoy, he screwed up all his strength and stood upright. He felt less hostile towards his onetime archenemy, yet he still couldn’t let Malfoy see him weak, could he? “I just wanted you to know, Potter, that I’m glad you got off.” “Thanks, Malfoy.” Draco nodded and turned away to leave, when Harry called after him: “And thanks for giving evidence in my favour.” Draco shrugged. “I didn’t do it for you, Potter. I did it for Ginny.” With that young Malfoy walked out of the courtroom, and Harry got sucked into the circle of cheerful people again, not noticing that Phaedra had followed the blond wizard. “Draco wait!” The young man stopped and doubled back to see Phaedra hurrying to catch up with him. “Yes?” “I just wanted to… thank you. Nobody would have expected you to defend Harry as a witness, so… it was really… noble of you to help him.” “As I’ve said before, I did this for Ginny, not for Potter,” he replied. “Ginny loves him and needs him… and their kid needs a father, too. See, Phaedra, I’m getting all sentimental… kick me in the shin, will you? Perhaps that will make me come to my senses.” “You know,” she said with a grin, “it’s always endearing when a man tries to look tough but fails miserably.” “Do you think I’ve failed?” He folded his arms, looking miffed. “Yes, you have, Blond Prince.” Seeing Draco’s mouth twitch, she added: “But never mind, it doesn’t ruin your reputation of being a git. It just makes you look more of a three dimensional person, and even gits can use a bit of colour.” “So, you’re saying, Xena, that up till now I’ve been flat and boring?” “I didn’t say that, did I?” She gave him a grin and walked past him. “Hey!” “What?&# 8221; She looked over the shoulder. “Where are you going?” “Xena’s heading home to feed her little warrior princess. Care to join, Blond Prince?” “Um, are you breastfeeding her?” He raised an eyebrow. “How else would I feed a one-month-old baby?” A delighted smirk spread on his face. “Of course I’m coming, I wouldn’t want to miss it, would I?” Two days later, in the same courtroom “Peter Pettigrew! You have been found guilty by the jury on the charge of the murder of thirteen Muggles, the murder of Cedric Diggory, betraying the Potters to the Dark Lord, manufacturing false evidence against Sirius Black, kidnapping Bertha Jorkins, assisting Bartemius Crouch Jr. in attacking Alastor Moody and keeping Bartemius Crouch Sr. prisoner in his own house, also in assisting the Dark Lord in carrying out his plans and keeping the underage Amrita Rätsel a prisoner.” Peter cringed at the judge’s words and by the end of the speech he seemed to have shrunk to half his size. He - who had always had the habit of glancing around nervously, trying to catch people’s eyes in the attempt to get them to help him – was now standing there at the dock, his eyes downcast. He wasn’t hoping for anything anymore. A life sentence was the only thing he could imagine getting. He just hoped that he’d have a chance to kill himself in prison, so that he wouldn’t have to suffer long. He remembered having read The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas; it’d been one of his favourite books in his youth. In that book the prisoner, Edmond Dantés, had tried to starve himself to death, always dropping the food out the window and pretending to have eaten it. Perhaps, if Azkaban – or whatever prison Peter was sent to – had windows, then he’d be able to starve himself to death… And then maybe he’d be reunited with little Amrita in the netherworld… When he had come round after the battle, he had found himself among the other tied-up Death Eaters. He could no longer see Amrita, although he would have loved to give her one last hug before her body was buried. So now he had absolutely no idea that the child was alive. His knees felt considerably weak and his whole body wanted to sag as he waited for the judge’s verdict. A life sentence, for sure… “However,” the judge carried on, making Pettigrew look up as though struck by a lightning – the word ‘however’ had been the word he’d least expected – “according to Mr Potter, you took good care of Amrita Rätsel, helping her to hold on, even in the Dark Lord’s clutches. Also, according to Mr Potter, Mrs Malfoy and Miss Kondos, you turned against the Dark Lord before any of his current Death Eaters did. The assistance you provided for the Light Side by turning on your master must be also taken into consideration…” Peter thought he’d heard it wrong. He hadn’t assisted the Light Side, had he? He had merely sent a curse at Voldemort in his mad-with-fury-and-pain state over Amrita’s death. It hadn’t been assisting the Light Side, had it? “…thus, in the light of the mitigating circumstances, the International Magical Court of Justice sentences you to five years in prison.” A murmur ran down the hall – clearly the audience had expected a longer sentence. Peter couldn’t help but look up and glance at Harry, who – however strange it may sound – gave him a faint smile. Next day, the same courtroom “Tom Riddle!” the judge’s voice boomed through the hall, reverberating off its walls, making the audience cringe. None of them remembered the judge ever addressing someone this loudly and threateningly. Tom Riddle – no longer Voldemort, just plain old Tom – was standing in the dock, as upright as he could hold himself, though it required a great effort from him to even straighten his back. It was striking how he’d aged in the past ten days: now he indeed looked an old man. He was over seventy, after all. For a wizard seventy years is nothing, but for a Muggle… Tom’s eyes no longer were red, they had become grey again – tired, watery grey, almost translucently so. His once smooth, snake-like face had several wrinkles now, especially around his eyes and nose. Although his nose was still flat and seemed to consist only of a pair of nostrils, his face on the whole had a more human quality to it than Harry – or anyone – had ever remembered him having. If someone who had not known him to be the Dark Lord saw him now, they’d think he was just a poor, old, sickly bloke. He indeed looked sick and very exhausted. It is said that we grow old by moments, not years, and this seemed to be particularly true for Tom Riddle. “You have been found guilty on the following charges: casting the Killing Curse on over two hundred persons, your own father and grandparents included, casting the Cruciatus and the Imperius on innumerable people, setting a Basilisk on an underage witch, forming an army of dark wizards that is responsible for over fifty attacks on both Muggle and wizarding communities, instigating the kidnap of Alastor Moody, keeping Bartemius Crouch Sr. prisoner in his own house, instigating the sabotage of the Triwizard Tournament of 1994-95, trying to purge Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of the Muggleborn students and using an innocent child for this purpose, corruption of your underage daughter by forcing her into a sexual relationship against her will, forcing her to use Polyjuice Potion illegally…” And the list went on and on, until every single person in the audience felt that their heads were buzzing with all the information of the former Dark Lord’s actions. Some of them even started to get drowsy and sat there with drooping eyelids. “…therefore,” the judge’s voice rose in pitch, indicating that he’d managed to reach the end of his endless list, “the Magical Court of Justice gives you a life sentence… a life sentence, that will, in your case, last forever.” Tom looked up, his tired grey eyes narrowed, trying to look hate-filled and menacing, but they didn’t manage to convey his emotions properly: to the audience it seemed that he looked frightened, but definitely not frightening. The onetime Dark Lord, whose eyes could always make people cringe, now couldn’t even look intimidating. “However, we are going to be merciful to you, Tom Riddle,” the judge carried on. Everyone in the hall looked at him, horrified. How could someone be merciful to a person this evil, to a person who’d annihilated hundreds of innocent people? A look of interest appeared in Tom’s eyes, though it was barely noticeable. He felt he no longer could be surprised by anything. What was the judge hinting at? Mercy? What sort of mercy? Did he mean that Tom would get a nice cell with a telly, not to be bored in his eternal life? “Mercy?” someone asked from the audience in a shocked voice. “Mercy.” The judge nodded. “And thanks to Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, you are not going to be shut into a cell for the rest of your eternal life. Yours will be a sentence for life… but you’ll have to spend it in a different sort of prison. No dark walls, no Dementors… Muggles. Like yourself.” A new murmur ran down the hall, for everyone started whispering excitedly and confusedly. “What does it exactly mean?” asked Tom – this was the first time he’d spoken for a long time. “You are going to be banished from the wizarding world. We shall cast an irrevocable alarm charm on you that will flare if you try to enter our world again, so we advise you not to try to come back. You will have to spend all your life as a Muggle, among Muggles. You will have to toil away to get food and a place to sleep; you will have to put up with the Muggles who will be unfortunate to be your neighbours… You will have to humiliate yourself before the Muggles who will pay you for whatever job you choose… or to put it correctly: whatever job you are allowed to do… because I doubt if you will find much of a job at your age. I expect you know nothing of the life of a Muggle… well; you’ll have to learn it. You will have to learn to live without magic, live your eternal life as a Muggle, surrounded by Muggles. You will learn to respect them and live together with them in peace. Oh yes, Tom Riddle… you will have to humble yourself in front of them, many times… this is your punishment, and be thankful for it. Take him away!” The onetime Dark Lord had barely managed to comprehend the judge’s words when two wizards grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit. He let them pull him, for his mind was in such turmoil that he wouldn’t have been able to put up resistance, even if he’d tried. As they passed by a row of seats, his eyes met a pair of green ones, and he suddenly felt wide awake, awoken from his half-shocked, half-dreamy state. “Potter!” he hissed at the young man. “I’ll get you for this, Potter!” “Give my regards to the Muggles, Tom!” Harry called after him, and, despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help but grin. He had given Tom the coup de grace twice in a row in a short period of time: first by making him immortal when he’d lost his magic powers, then by suggesting to the judge and the jury this peculiar kind of punishment. No doubt, Tom would have been happier to spend the rest of his eternal life in a dark cell than to descend to the world of the Muggles. *All’s well that ends well, huh?* Linda’s voice spoke up in Harry’s mind. Yeah, I suppose so, he replied. And you helped in it, Lindy. *Nah, I didn’t help much, only recited a Gilderoy Lockhart suntan lotion slogan! I wish I could have recited his famous toothpaste slogan as well!* How do you know these slogans at all? *From the newspapers we get in the Underworld* she replied. *Persy allows us to read them when she’s finished with them, and once there was a long article on Lockhart returning from the closed ward. Since his new book Amazing Amnesiac got so popular, he got offers from producers of various healthcare products, and The Quibbler had a long article on Lockhart’s advertising suntan lotions and toothpastes.* Hmm, I see, Harry replied, as Ginny took him by the arm and led him out of the courtroom. She had obviously no idea that Harry was conversing with Tom Riddle’s daughter. Well, I think… *…it’s over now,* Linda finished his sentence. *It’s over, so it’s time for me to say good-bye.* Her voice sounded sad in his head, but suddenly it changed to cheerful: *I’ve got to tell your parents, Sirius and Dumbledore the good news: Father’s degraded into a common Muggle! They’ll love it!* Er… yeah, they surely will. Well… Listen, Linda, I… *Don’t speak Harry… words aren’t necessary now. Not anymore… Take care of yourself, and… take care of our daughter, will you? Love her for me, too. God knows, she needs more love than an average child… after all she had to go through in Father’s hands… Harry…* Yeah? *Should you one day talk to her about me, tell her I love her more than anyone.* I will, Linda. *Thanks. Farewell, Harry.* With that, she was gone, and Harry knew: it was for good. He felt some nasty feeling settle into his chest; trying to compress it… he already missed her. Despite the fact that they had had slept together twice, she had never been more to him than a friend – but she’d been a very special friend at that. Not the Hermione-style female-friend-who-was-just-a-friend̷ 0; she’d been different. Perhaps because she was dead? Harry couldn’t really put a finger on it, couldn’t really explain the quality of his friendship with Linda, but he was sure he’d never forget her. Tears were running down Ginny’s cheeks, but this time not out of pain, but out of happiness. She was back in England with Harry, and they were both standing in a small house in Hogsmeade – a house that had a beautiful Harry Potter clock on the wall and a dozen copies of My Hero, Harry, lying everywhere: on shelves, on the table, in a glass case, on the bedside table… even on the worktop in the kitchen. A little bundle squirmed in Ginny’s arms: tiny hands reached out of the bundle towards her, and now – unlike in her dreams – she saw the face that belonged to the tiny bundle. And what a face it was! She thought she’d never seen anything this adorable before… pudgy, rosy cheeks, huge, green eyes, and a frame of thick, messy black hair… “May I hold him a bit?” Harry whispered next to her, and Ginny thought that she heard his voice waver. “But just a bit, then give him back to me!” she said with a grin, tears still splashing down her cheeks. “Awww…” sighed Harry as he got a hold of his son. It seemed it was a lifetime ago that he’d last held a baby. It was an inexplicable feeling, something so warm, so exhilarating… The newborn Daphne had looked very similar to this little boy… but this one wasn’t Daphne, Harry reminded himself. For once, this one came from the love of his life and he’d never loved Phaedra. And this one had almost died, while Daffy had indeed died. Harry swore that no power on Earth would take this child away from him and Ginny and that he’d grow up in a loving family. Both his daughters had suffered in their lives, but he wouldn’t let this boy suffer. Ever. He felt a tug at his shirt, and looked down at Amrita, who was eyeing him and the baby with eyes widened with interest. “Can I see him? Can I?” Harry lowered the baby a bit so that the little girl could also look at him properly, and he had to hold back a chuckle when Amrita let out an almighty “Wow!” Clearly she had never seen a baby, perhaps hadn’t even known that babies existed at all. “Is he my brother?” Harry nodded. “What’s his name?” “Really, what’s his name?” Harry looked at Ginny, who shrugged, and looked at Dobby. “He has no name yet,” replied Dobby, who had been examining the happy family-reunion from a corner. His wrinkly face was tear-soaked over the joy of seeing Harry again – Dobby, as everyone else, had thought him dead, after all. “Dobby has always called him Baby.” “He’s sort of cute… but why is he so small?” Amrita asked. “Because all babies are this small. You were once this small, too, but you don’t remember,” replied Harry. Amrita furrowed her brows. “I don’t believe that I was this small. No one can be this small.” “Then just wait till I show you some baby-photos of yourself.” Her father smiled down at her. He had kept all the teaser photos Voldemort had sent him. “You’ll see you were once this small… but you were totally bald.” Amrita’s face fell and her hands automatically went to her curly locks. “You mean I had no hair? I won’t be bald again, will I?” “No, sweetie, you surely won’t.” Harry reached out with his baby-free hand and caressed her mass of red-gold hair. “Whew, that’s a relief,” said Amrita and again peered into the bundle that was her little brother. “He looks so serious!” “Sirius?” Harry squinted at Ginny. “Sirius.” She nodded, wiping her last tear away, beaming at him, remembering their conversation before they entered the Row of Gods. “Really, if you ever had a son… what would you name him?” “I think… I’d name him Sirius.” “That’s perfect, Harry. I’m sure Sirius would be very proud to know.” “Perhaps he will know.” He grinned. “How?” Ginny looked confused. “You know, I don’t think I can hide my return to England from the press… and knowing Rita Skeeter, she’ll want to know all the details… which we won’t tell her, obviously. However, we can’t hide the fact that we have a child, Gin, and if it gets printed, then Sirius and my family will know it. They get all the newspapers through the Styx-post.” “Through the what?” “Tell you later.” The young father smiled. He didn’t feel like talking much now, he just wanted to enjoy being with his family – his own family: his soon-to-be wife, his daughter and his son. Despite all the difficulties he’d gone through, all the pains he’d suffered from, he had to admit that life wasn’t completely unfair. He had lost a child, but gained two instead. “Give him baaaack,” Ginny pleaded, and Harry gently placed little Sirius into her arms, slipping one of his arms around her waist, resting the other one on Amrita’s shoulder. “I love you all,” he whispered. “Very, very much.” Author’s note: only a short epilogue is left :( Please, review! Thanks to: Ima Qidditch Fan, AngieGS, Delani, Erin, NashiraLesath, Marissa, Meganne, $p!d3Y, Cata, jumpin, ally, Gillian, Irish_Lass08 Miss Ray: nope, English really isn’t my first language. I’m Hungarian and only studied English in the school and by reading lots of books in English and loads of fanfics online ;) hermiioneweasley: I’m glad you think I’ve improved a lot :D eli_moon: I’m honoured to be the first ever person you submitted a review to. Reviewing is a nice habit, keep it up ;) After all, the poor fanfic writers don’t have any other payment but the reviews. You can find more of my fics on fanfiction.net under the username AgiVega or in my yahoogroup (see link in my profile:) Ethel:I don't know what chapters you missed. Why do you think you missed any? |
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