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If The Fates Allow
By AgiVega

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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: 114300; Chapter Total: 4313







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The dark secret of Mr Potter



“Every decision you make is a mistake.”
(Edward Dahlberg)


“H… Harry Potter?” breathed Leto Papafotiu, glaring at Harry’s now visible scar. “But… but I thought your name was Dudley!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re new to the Circle,” her boyfriend Jason replied. “The old gang knows Harry’s true identity and,” now he stepped closer to Harry in a menacing way, “we know that he betrayed us.”

“I haven’t,” Harry said. “If I had, I wouldn’t be here, but in a pile of ashes, don’t you think?”

“You can betray people in several ways, Potter,” Jason ‘Hightower’ Stephanides cracked his knuckles. “You left us and that’s nothing short of betrayal, not to mention that you betrayed my sister as well.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone nag me about their sisters?”

“Watch your tongue, Potter!” Jason grabbed Harry’s collar and jerked him to himself to look directly into his eyes. “It’s my sister and your wife we’re talking about! And you left her! You bloody well left her in her greatest grief when she had just lost her daughter!”

“Hah!” Harry pushed the heavily built wizard back with such force that Jason stumbled and almost fell. “You’re talking as though she was only Phaedra’s daughter, not mine! And just to inform you, I did not ask for this marriage! If your precious sister hadn’t trapped me by getting pregnant…”

“That̵ 7;s exactly it!” Jason bellowed. “You shouldn’t have even touched her, then she wouldn’t have got pregnant!”

“Look who’s talking, Mr-I’m-The-Father-of-Leto’s- Kid,” Harry remarked sarcastically.

“What’s this commotion?” a sleepy female voice came from the top of a nearby staircase.

“Potter’s back, Nausika,” grumbled Jason.

“Potter?” the woman’s voice sounded surprised. She stepped forward into the dim light of the torches. She was a tall, slim woman in her mid-thirties with a strict expression that always reminded Harry of a younger version of Professor McGonagall. However, while Harry had actually seen Minerva letting her hair down on certain occasions (e.g. “Peeves, it unscrews the other way,”) he had never seen Nausika Kondos letting her hair down. This could partially be put down to the fact that Nausika’s hair was too short to be let down, almost boyishly so. Her manner also rather reminded that of a man rather than that of a female, and, to cap it all: she was in charge of the Circle of Hermes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Harry, folding her arms. “Especially without your partner?”

“Not mention in Spiro’s form…” added Jason.

“Spiro’s form?” Nausika looked curious.

“Yeah. He’s been using Polyjuice,” nodded Harry’s brother-in-law.

“And why, if I may ask?” the Chief-of-Circle enquired.

“Why, why, would you have let me happily in if I had come here looking like myself? Not to mention that the front door wouldn’t have let me in, would it? I bet you erased me from the list of people allowed access to the headquarters,” Harry snapped.

“You are right there,” admitted Nausika. “But I’d like to know where the real Spiro is right now.”

“Why, can’t Spiro’s partner track him down?” Harry asked sardonically.

Nausika pretended not to have heard his last comment. “Where is he?”

“In good hands and he’ll be released as soon as I get back.”

If you get back. But don’t be sure you will. I’m going to make gyros of you, Potter,” Jason growled, gnashing his teeth and he would have lunged at Harry if Chief Nausika hadn’t thrown her arm out to stop him.

“We hear him out, then you can make gyros of him.” She turned to Harry. “So, Potter, do tell us please why you’ve come back.”

Harry’s mind reeled, trying to find a good enough excuse, but knew pretty well that nothing would be good enough. Surely he couldn’t tell them the real reason of his visit… So, he came up with the stupidest idea he could think of:

“For… for this photo,” he reached into his shirt and pulled out the wizard photo of the happy Potter family with Daffy in the middle. “I had no photos of my little lamb,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

For a second Nausika’s strict features seemed to soften – she had liked that child, though never really showed it, as the leader of the organisation she was supposed to remain indifferent and strong so as not to lose face. Now, however…

“Oh, Potter…” she reached out and pulled Harry into a gentle embrace. “I’m sorry about your daughter,” she drew back, “but not even her death justifies your betrayal of the Circle. Jason – he’s yours.”

Harry’s brother-in-law stepped forward with a nasty, hungry grin on his face. “You’re going to pay now, Potter!”

“Too bad,” Harry sighed and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Don’t irritate me, Potter!” Jason gritted his teeth, fumbling for his wand inside his shirt (important note: Greek wizards don’t wear robes, because robes are too warm and don’t allow a healthy breeze around most of their body-parts. They prefer Muggle clothing that consists of black trousers, white shirt and often a black hat. Witches wear black skirt, white blouse and occasionally a shawl around their heads. After this little digression into the world of fashion, let’s see Jason getting really, really angry!)

“I’m really, really mad now, Potter!” he shouted, jerking his wand out of his shirt. “Fodere!”

Expelliarmus,” said Harry nonchalantly at the same second (he had managed to pull his wand out without his opponent noticing – while Jason had been looking for his wand in his shirt, Harry had merely slipped his hand into his back-pocket… Had Mad-Eye been here, he would surely have expressed his opinion about the dangers of keeping wands in your back-pocket. And Harry would have answered: “Come off it, Mad-Eye, I still have both buttocks in place!”)

“Hey!” bellowed Jason, seething with rage as his wand shot out of his hand and landed in Harry’s.

“Hey what?” Harry asked politely. “Want this back?” he fiddled with his brother-in-law’s wand.

“That’s unfair!”

“What’s unfair? You wanted to make gyros of me and I didn’t like the idea so took your ‘skewer’. Honestly, Jason, this is the eleventh time I’ve disarmed you like this, don’t you ever learn?”

“Oh, but I have learned!” growled the huge wizard, lunging at Harry with his bare fists (which was rather remarkable, given that his fists were three times bigger than those of a normal human.)

Tempus Glacietur!” said Harry a millisecond before Jason’s gorilla-like fists could have make contact with his nose. He looked around, grinning – Leto and Nausika had also frozen in time, but neither of them looked as great in statue-form as his brother-in-law with his body frozen in the middle of a jump, his hands stretched out in front of him and his mouth open with some silent battle cry.

Harry slipped his hand into Nausika’s shirt (no kinky thoughts anyone!) and pulled out her wand, then flicked his own wand at the Chief-of-Circle, who stirred.

“Nice spellwork, Potter,” she remarked. “You’re still the best in defence I know… pity that you left us.”

“Had to,” Harry shrugged.

“You didn’t have to,” she pointed out, trying to inch her right hand unnoticeably towards the cleavage of her shirt…

“No use,” Harry twirled her wand in his hand.

She arched an eyebrow. “Thought of everything again, haven’t you, Potter?”

“Yeah, almost,” he nodded. “With the exception of having to fight my dear brother-in-law.”

“Ah,” ; she smirked. “You two could never stand each other, could you?”

“Now you ask me: no. And you know what, Nausi? I never understood how you could have let him into the Circle. He’s a total bungler where spellwork is concerned.”

“Well, true that he hasn’t inherited the same amount of talent as Phaedra, but he’s good with his hands.”

Good with his hands?” Harry gave her a lopsided grin. “How do you know?”

The Chief-of-Circle rolled her eyes. “I hate such jokes, and you know it, Potter.”

“Yeah, Nausi, I know.”

“Nausika,” she corrected him. “You know I hate it when you call me Nausi, and you keep doing it.”

“Because taunting your superiors is fun,” he shrugged. Especially when you aren’t made to write things in your own blood as a punishment, he added in thought, his glance involuntarily shifting to his right hand. The words ‘I must not tell lies’ were no more decipherable on it, but some faint whitish outlines could still be seen on the tanned skin of the back of his hand. Strangely this was the first time in many years that he thought of Dolores Umbridge… he had no idea what had happened to her after she ran squealing out of Hogwarts, but he was pretty sure he’d never ever meet her again.

“You still haven’t answered me: why did you let him join?” he spoke up again. “And why have you let Spiro join? He’s the greatest bungler imaginable, a threat to his own life!”

“Phaedra pleaded with me to let her brother join, convincing me that he was as strong as a bull, and well… she was right,” Nausika shrugged. “As for Spiro… he’s my nephew.”

“Aha, family-ties, understandable,” Harry replied mockingly. He had had no idea that Nausika had any family-members left. “But in case you’re interested in my opinion…”

“...am not.”

“…if you had really loved your nephew and niece, Nausi, you wouldn’t have let them here. The Circle’s too dangerous, only such people should be allowed in here who have nothing to lose…”

“Like you?” she asked with her arms akimbo.

He leant to the wall, gazing at his shoes. “I really had nothing to lose when I joined.”

“Really? I thought Phaedra was already pregnant by then.”

“She was, but I didn’t know it then, she told me after I got initiated. I had really nothing to lose before joining…” his voice wavered.

“I don’t exactly know what you’d gone through before you joined, Potter, but whatever it was, it gave you a determination to learn quicker than any of our new members… I expect it had something to do with You-Know-Who?”

He nodded. “And now he’s back again.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” she nodded, looking crestfallen. “Last time it was you who defeated him, right?”

“Only made him flee. I never defeated him.” Harry chewed his lower lip embarrassedly. “I should have, but I… I couldn’t.”

“Or you could have, but you felt you shouldn’t,” she said very quietly.

Harry looked up from his shoes to meet her eyes, his own emerald ones wide with surprise. “How’d you…?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know anything, Potter, just put two and two together. News were flying around, saying you had almost killed him, but he fled at the end and you disappeared… Then you appeared here, looking totally woebegone and said you’d gladly die fighting the dark side. It didn’t take much intelligence to find out that you had let You-Know-Who flee and left Great Britain because you felt ashamed of it. You were trying to compensate for it by fighting dark wizards all over the world. You would have willingly given your life to catch them, just to expiate for having let that particular one slip out of your hand. Tell me if my theory is very far-fetched, I can accept that I’m not right all the time.”

Harry’s mouth had been slightly open while listening to Nausika.

“Oh, and close your mouth, you’re none too handsome like that.”

Harry shuddered, as though waking from a trance - her words had awoken suppressed memories in him, taking him on a ride back into his past – a past by no means as immaculate as one would expect of the heroic Harry Potter.

“No,” he replied finally, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “It’s not that far-fetched.”

“I thought not,” she nodded knowingly.

“You know, Nausi, when Daphne was born, I was contemplating quitting the Circle, to keep her safe, but… my guilty conscience didn’t let me. As you said, I had to expiate… Perhaps… perhaps Daffy’s death was my punishment.”

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“An innocent little kid’s death is too big a punishment, no matter what you have done.”

“No,” he replied, gazing into the semi-darkness of the hall. “As the saying goes: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth… and in my case: a child for a child.”

Nausika Kondos was the type of woman who never got bewildered, and even if she did, she hid it properly. This time, however, an expression of complete confusion spread over her face. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Harry waved, though he knew it wasn’t nothing. Actually it was everything, the reason for it all…


June 1998

Harry was panting, pointing his wand at the cowering Voldemort, whose Death Eaters had partly fled when Albus Dumbledore had appeared, partly had been disabled by the Hogwarts headmaster, who now was the late Hogwarts headmaster, lying only a couple of metres from Harry, his eyes closed, his glorious white beard spread around him. He had been murdered by Voldemort.

Not far away from the deceased Dumbledore lay the dead Fudge, who had secretly followed Dumbledore, who had secretly followed Harry. Perhaps neither of them should have followed anyone, then they’d be still alive…

Harry had barely believed it when he saw the headmaster – the headmaster he had almost believed invincible and sort of immortal – fall onto the ground, lifeless. Dumbledore had warned him to close his mind, to learn Occlumency properly, but he hadn’t managed to – perhaps he hadn’t wanted it strongly enough, or the person of his Occlumency teacher had been still bothering him… he had progressed in Occlumency, even learnt Legilimency partly, but not even two and a half school years had been enough for him to master it properly… there had been a tiny little gap in his mind that he never managed to shut down, and Voldemort had used this to play with him, to lure him to himself again…

Now that he saw Dumbledore die, his mind started screaming how utterly stupid he had been; had he listened to the headmaster, Albus wouldn’t have died trying to save him from his own stupidity… but eventually it had been Voldemort’s fault, he had killed the poor old wizard… something had snapped in Harry and he had attacked the Death Eater-less Voldemort with such force and fury that he hadn’t even known he had in himself. Apparently even the Dark Lord had been taken by surprise, because he soon found himself on the ground, his wand ripped out of his hand and Harry’s wand pointing at his heart (if he had a heart at all).

“What are you waiting for, Harry?” sneered Voldemort. “Kill me! Or are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid of wiping out a piece of scum like you, Voldemort!” Harry spat.

“You say my name without shuddering… brave boy. Bellatrix told me you weren’t afraid to say it.”

“Oh, your precious Bellatrix! She was one of those pathetic Death Eaters who managed to flee!” Harry growled, his eyes gleaming. “She left you here… she saved her own skin and left you here alone…”

“Oh… it seems you’re still mad at her because of your godfather?” Voldemort cackled, though he wasn’t in a situation that would give him any reason to laugh. When Harry didn’t reply just scowled down at him, his lips trembling, malicious joy spread on the Dark Lord’s snake-like face. “Don’t think she left to save her skin… it had been my order for her to leave in case something turned out the way it shouldn’t. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, Harry, but one of my Death Eaters hasn’t even turned up here – an old friend of yours, Wormtail.”

“That rat isn’t my friend,” Harry hissed through gritted teeth.

“Anyway,” Voldemort carried on as though he hadn’t heard the boy’s comment, “Bellatrix has gone to join Wormail.”

“Oh, wow, they’ll form a formidable army,” mocked Harry.

“Perhaps they will,” the Dark Lord said enigmatically. “Bellatrix has always been my best Death Eater, and Wormtail, pathetic he may be, can also perform the Killing Curse like he did with those thirteen Muggles and the Diggory boy…”

“Why are you saying this to me now?” Harry frowned, thoroughly unnerved by Voldemort’s small-talk. The Dark Lord was surely trying to mislead him, trap him…

“Why?” Voldemort grinned devilishly. “Because I’d like to remind you that both of them are cruel enough to kill anyone… even your daughter.”

Harry thought he’d die on the spot. “M…my daughter?” he stuttered, the wand madly shaking in his hand.

“Yes, your daughter,” nodded Voldemort with the air of somebody who knows he had won the battle.

“But… but…”

“Who do you think has been sending you pictures of that infant from the day she was born? Me. Who do you think has her in their possession? Me. And what do you think would happen to her if I didn’t survive today? She wouldn’t survive either.”

Harry’s knees buckled. This couldn’t be true! Voldemort must be bluffing! But then… how else would he know about the existence of his child?

“Oh yes, Wormtail and Bella will kill that innocent little being if I don’t return to them safe and sound,” the Dark Lord pulled his white, spider-like index finger across his throat, imitating a decapitation.

“So… you sent that woman to me in Cho’s form…” the boy whispered.

“I did.”

“Who’s that? Don’t… don’t tell me it was… Bellatrix!?!”

“Oh no,” Voldemort shook his head. “Pregnancy would have hindered Bella too much in fighting for our dark cause, also, I’m not sure she would have been able to play the damsel in distress in a believable way. I needed someone with a touch of… innocence. My daughter was perfect for the task.”

This time Harry almost dropped his wand and stumbled several steps backwards. “Your… your… what?”

“Daughter. My daughter,” Voldemort hoisted himself off the ground and knelt up, using the opportunity as Harry’s wandtip was no longer pointed at his chest. He seemed too weak to stand up, and Harry had learnt in his Apparition-training that one had to be in good health and have enough strength to Apparate. Clearly Voldemort here wasn’t strong enough to do so. Probably if he had his wand back, he would be able to escape, but Harry wasn’t going to give it back to him, was he?

“You… you made me touch your daughter?” Harry whispered, clearly unable to find his normal voice. “You made me fuck your damn daughter???”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, language, Harry,” Voldemort folded his arms. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”

Seeing the young wizard’s confusion, he carried on: “Yes, Harry, my poor daughter Linda died in childbirth… but I will always keep her memory in my aching heart…” he let out a cold cackle. “Well… not that I have a heart…”

“Why?” Harry furrowed his brows, slightly lifting his wand so that it was pointing at the Dark Lord again. “Why did you do it? And why your daughter?”

“Well, you know, this is a long story, Harry…”

“I’m in no hurry,” responded the boy, his face chalk-white, his eyes haunted, but determination radiating from him.

“I’m sure you’re not, but I am. Aurors might be appearing any time now. That would be quite convenient for you, young Potter, wouldn’t it?”

“Why do you think that any of them would appear here?”

“Because I bet they’ve been ordered to take care of the Minister…” Voldemort squinted at the dead Fudge with a nasty grin. “So… I haven’t got all day, Harry, and I’m going to give you a short answer: I did it to blackmail you. So simple.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, trying to decipher the Dark Lord’s expression, to see behind that white snake-mask he had for a face, to glimpse into his twisted mind through his eyes, but those red eyes were impenetrable. Even if Voldemort had been lying, Harry couldn’t see it on his features.

“Blackmail?” he echoed the Dark Lord.

“Yes, blackmail. You’ve seen what a beautiful little angel your daughter is… surely you don’t want her to die?” Voldemort asked in a sugar-sweet voice – a voice Harry had never heard from him.

Harry’s mind was in turmoil. Wormtail and Bellatrix wouldn’t kill the kid, would they? But… if Voldemort died or got captured, they’d surely vent their anger on the little one…

A picture flashed into Harry’s mind: the day at the end of August when he had got the first photo of the newborn. She had been so tiny, such an ugly little thing, but somehow so… cute. He had been thunderstruck when he had looked at the photo and realised that he must be the father, but some unknown warmth had flooded into his heart as he watched the tiny bundle squirm.

One month later he had received a new photo, on which the child was already much prettier than on the first, her skin was smooth and rosy instead of being reddish and wrinkly like it had been when she’d been born. Month after month new photos arrived, all without signature, and Harry had great difficulty keeping all of them secret from Ron, Hermione and Ginny. With each picture his little daughter got more and more beautiful… she had reddish-blonde, curly hair and huge, emerald-green eyes…

He had received the latest photograph merely one week ago. The baby in it had been sitting on a bed, holding a vampire doll, giggling. It looked as though someone behind the camera had been making funny faces to entertain her – surely not Grandpa Voldemort…

Harry shuddered at the thought of Voldemort being a grandfather, and especially being grandfather to his daughter.

Would Voldemort have his own grandchild murdered? Without the shadow of a doubt, he would.
“Kill me, Harry…” laughed the Dark Lord. “Kill me, and you’ll be your own daughter’s murderer!”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

Could he do this? Could he cause an innocent infant’s death? Could he live with the thought that his own flesh and blood had had to die because of him???

On the other hand… he had the opportunity to rid the world of Voldemort.

And either must die at the hand of the other…

…he was the one destined to kill this evil, twisted devil who had been terrorising the world for decades…

…For neither can live while the other survives…

Either he had to die or Voldemort had to die, there was no other way, unless Sybill’s prophecy had been incorrect – but Dumbledore had believed that Trelawney had given a real prediction in the Hog’s Head…

Harry was the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, yet he didn’t use this power.

He could have… he should have… yet he didn’t.

Suddenly there was a crack indicating that someone had just Apparated nearby – Harry couldn’t see it, because the heap of stunned and disabled Death Eaters blocked the person from his view. He was sure, however, that someone on the Light Side must have arrived…

This was the last opportunity to do away with Voldemort, before the Aurors intervened… but, inexplicably to him, he tossed the wand back into Voldemort’s hand, who – knowing he had been cornered and was too weak to kill Harry – flicked it with a diabolical smirk and vanished. An Auror emerged from behind the heap of Death Eaters, spotted Harry, and all Harry could do to avoid being questioned was to Apparate away…


August 2003

Harry seemed to have forgotten that Nausika was there, he was so lost in his thoughts that he shuddered when she cleared her throat.

“You okay, Potter?” the Chief-of-Circle asked in a worried voice.

“Yeah, s’pose so,” he nodded with a wistful smile, although he wasn’t okay – nothing was okay.
He had let Voldemort escape… he had given that evil being another chance to live and to kill, to wreak havoc… Hundreds of children injured, fifteen dead – it had been Voldemort’s fault, but Harry felt as though it had been his fault, as if he had caused the death, the destruction, the pain, the tears… it was all his fault, because he had been weak for a moment, because he had let the angelic image of a baby influence him… he had known what would be the sensible option, but he had still let his emotions guide him instead of his sense… he knew he should have killed Voldemort, even if that would have meant the death of his own child, but he had been selfish… if he had listened to his sense instead of his heart, then those fifteen innocent children wouldn’t have died at Disneyland yesterday… the life of one child wasn’t worth the life of fifteen others, nor was it worth all the lives that Voldemort would extinguish in the future…

Harry was sure that Daphne’s death had been his punishment for placing his firstborn above others – his second-born had to die to make him repent of his sin… his crime, for it had been a crime against humanity not to do away with Voldemort when he had the chance.

Crime and punishment…

Harry felt that the punishment he has so far received for his crime wasn’t nearly in accordance with the crime he had committed. He felt he should have been punished much more severely, he definitely deserved it… Or had he been punished more severely? Had Ginny’s marriage to Malfoy been part of his punishment? He had suffered enough because of that, he had suffered for five whole years… but not even that could have been a strong enough punishment for letting Voldemort free… Harry simply didn’t know what could be a strong enough punishment, but he felt he deserved anything he got. He deserved to die for his selfishness! All those innocent children… his heart clenched. All of them had to die to let his own daughter live… it simply wasn’t fair.

Involuntarily he thought of a part of the Bible he had heard in the church of Little Whinging on one of the rare occasions the Dursleys decided to attend a service: King Herod had had hundreds of infants killed to make sure that ‘the future King of the Jews’ would be among them and wouldn’t endanger his rule. The child Harry had always wondered how God could have let so many innocent kids die just to save his own? He had felt it had been selfish of God… and now, he realised he had done the same thing, while his daughter wasn’t even important in any way… she was just Harry Potter’s child, nothing special, the world wouldn’t have lost much if she had died, no one would have missed her… yet Harry had played judge of life and death, he had usurped a role he wasn’t entitled to have… He had had no right to decide about the life and death of others… but there, facing the evilly laughing Voldemort, he hadn’t contemplated things, he'd just acted on instinct, and his instinct had told him to save his child… At that moment he hadn’t been thinking of the victims who’d have to die because of this decision.

Over those five years when Voldemort had been lying low, Harry had often caught himself thinking of the ‘what if’ possibilities, and whenever he thought of killing the Dark Lord, the picture of a teary-faced little girl with green eyes and red-gold locks came into his mind - the little one looked accusingly at him, and sobbed: ‘you’ve killed me, Daddy!’ This picture had haunted him in his dreams as well, but now it got blurred and pushed into the background by the imaginary faces of fifteen unknown-to-Harry kids, all of them wailing: ‘you’ve killed us, Harry Potter!’

If Nausika hadn’t been there, Harry would surely have run headlong into a stone-wall to crush his head on it in a Dobby-like fashion, just to get these disturbing images out of it… but in her presence he held himself back, lest she should think he was going mad!

Perhaps he was going mad… but what could he do?

Hell, of course he knew what he should do: find Voldemort and kill him. Even if his innocent little daughter would die if he did.

Innocent? he thought. With Voldemort raising her, she was probably already as far from innocent as Harry was from ever finding peace in his life. What sort of child could she become under Voldemort’s authority? For a fleeting moment Harry felt nausea wash over him and thought that the little girl must be just as evil and twisted as her grandfather, and such a child didn’t deserve to live… did she?

“No, Nausika, you’re right…” Harry whispered. “I’m not okay. Should I wake Jason to beat me into pulp?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wake him when you’re already out of here.”

“What?” he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want him to make gyros of me?”

“I only told him to beat you up not to lose face in front of him. Anyway, I knew you’d beat the crap out of him before he even touched you,” she grinned. “You’re good, Potter.”

“Yeah, at fighting I’m good,” he replied sadly. In every other respect, I’m as bad as one can get and I deserve all the misery I get in life.

“Well, time to go, Potter. Try and stay away from Jason in the future. And give me my wand back.”

“Here, Nausi,” he handed her the wand.

“Nausika.”


< b>Author’s note: thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter.
It seems to me that most of you think this is going to be a depressing fic. But you’re wrong. Of course there are depressing parts (like this one), but there will be downright hilarious parts as well, for overall I’m much better at writing humour than drama :)
Please, review!!!


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