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Walls Fall Down | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 8 Summary: Though they haven't spoken in years, Harry and Ginny will be forced to work together as Aurors. Will their common goal help them put aside their troubled past? Hitcount: Story Total: 5971 |
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Part One Harry muttered to himself under his breath. "Take one of the new trainees with you, Potter. It should be fairly routine, he said. It'll be a good opportunity for low-risk training, he said. Low-risk, my arse. Screw Shacklebolt." He peered around the edge of a gigantic oak tree. From behind a neighboring tree, the trainee in question frowned at him, her red eyebrows knitting together in consternation. She was dressed in the regulation Auror's robes, her wand holstered neatly and every hair in place. She was crouched in the position that was taught at the Academy as "Concealment and Surveillance Position B." She probably even had a surveillance journal tucked away somewhere, although there wasn't much room in those form-fitting robes -- they showed every curve, and Harry definitely didn't see any odd lumps there. She shifted smoothly into Concealment and Surveillance Position C, and Harry rolled his eyes in the dark. Had he ever taken the rules and regs so seriously? It was hard to believe. Harry tore his attention away from the witch at his side and focused on their target: a square stone fort set into what the Muggles referred to as "Hadrian's Wall." Apparently they thought the Romans had built it. This section wasn't visited by the Muggle tourists that plagued other parts of the wall -- it was situated on wizard property and was under a heavy cloaking spell, so that Muggles believed it had fallen into ruin long ago. The wall was built of thick, rough-hewn blocks of gray stone, and it looked five meters tall at this point. Nestled next to the wall was a small, square fort, surrounded by a bare patch of ground spotted with tufts of grass. Beyond the clearing, thick gnarled oak trees stood guard, their branches linking together overhead to form a thick canopy. Shacklebolt's orders were to simply stay out of sight and observe the fort for any sign of dark magic or other suspicious activity until moonset. That was it. Unfortunately, watching a stone wall was not a very exciting assignment. Harry sighed and cast a cushioning charm on the mat of rotting leaves at his feet, then lay down carefully on his stomach, his chin propped on his forearms so he could still see. If he was going to be stuck here all night, staring at a pile of rock with only a witch with a grudge for company, he might as well be comfortable. Ginny glared at Harry once more for good measure. Lying down on the job. Half of her wished he would take this surveillance more seriously, but the other half wished she'd thought of it first. Damn Harry Potter, anyway. Why'd she get stuck with him in the middle of the night next to a big pile of old rocks, anyhow? It was probably Tonks' fault, Ginny thought. That meddling old... meddler. The moon was rising over the edge of the forest. It was only halfway to the full, but it cast a clear, sweet light over the trees and the grass and the stones of the wall. Ginny glanced down and saw that Harry's hair looked blue-black in the pale light, and she felt something warm within her. Maybe this assignment wouldn't be all bad. She'd get to spend time with Harry again, for the first time in a long time. And she hadn't had to break down and ask, either. After all this time, that was probably one thing she couldn't do. But he really shouldn't be lying down on the job. Three hours later, she was sitting next to him, propped against a tree. "What are we looking for, again?" she asked, stifling a yawn with one hand. "Anything suspicious," Harry said dully. He looked back at the wall and the small fort that branched off of it like a leaf from a tree. "Well, how will we know it when we see it?" she asked. "What does that mean, 'suspicious'? Bloody Kingsley couldn't have been more specific?" Harry started to laugh and coughed into his hand to cover it up. The stars twinkled brightly in the night sky above them. Out here, away from the bright lights of the Muggle cities, they seemed to shine brighter than anywhere else. They were certainly much brighter than at Little Whinging, thought Harry, gazing upwards despite the crick in his neck. The moon looked strange, though. For some reason, it seemed to be getting dimmer-- "Ginny," he said, not taking his eyes off of the slowly-disappearing spot of light. "Is there something wrong with the moon?" She looked up quickly, and they sat there together on the ground with their faces turned upward. "Not meant to be an eclipse tonight, is there?" He stood up slowly, shading his eyes as though the sun were out, and she stood next to him. It was the first time in years that they'd been so close. He thought, possibly, the last time was during his sixth year, when they'd been happy. But he didn't have time to enjoy it now. As the darkness slid slowly across the moon, Harry heard a low rumbling in his ears and felt his knees wobble as though they were about to collapse. "What is that?" asked Ginny. He looked over at her and saw that she was leaning on the tree for support, though it too was shaking. The fabric of her robe was quivering. All around them, the earth was shaking, harder and harder. And along with the motion, the sound that Harry had first thought was only in his head grew louder and louder until it was a dull roar. Harry glanced around, looking for the source of the sound. It had to be a very powerful spell. Or possibly a big earthquake. But given that he was Harry Potter, after all, a powerful and possibly quite evil spell was the most likely. It was not hard to spot the source of the trouble: the wall. Ginny must've spotted it at the same time that he did, because it was only a moment later that she pointed to the fort and said in a low voice, "Harry-- the wall." It was typical, really. She should have seen it coming. No sooner had she realized what was happening, than Harry had taken off running toward the danger. The moon was completely obscured now, so it was quite dark among the trees, but she could see his dark robes outlined against the gray background of the wall. As the rumbling increased, cracks began to appear between the huge stones that made up the ancient wall and its fort. Through the chinks in the wall, a bright light was visible. As more and more light shone through, it was obvious that the rocks were being pushed outwards, as though something inside were growing too large for the small enclosure of the ancient fort. Suddenly, Ginny realized what was about to happen. The brief flashes of light melded together into one big burst of bright white light, and Ginny was momentarily blinded by its intensity. "Harry, no!" she cried, stumbling forward a few steps. The rumbling crescendoed in a gigantic crash at just the same moment, and she flinched and covered her face, although she couldn't see anything. Her upraised arms were sprayed with dirt and pebbles, and she heard the muffled thumps of larger objects landing in the dirt around her. When she lowered her arms a moment later, all she could see in the darkened clearing were the vivid starbursts behind her eyes, remnants of the explosion. Slowly, her vision cleared and she took in the sight before her. Part Two "Weasley," Kingsley barked. "Erm, yes sir?" she asked. Usually, she liked Kingsley, who was often a fixture at her mum's Sunday dinners. But he could be downright scary at times. Especially times like this, when she hadn't done any of the reading for class and it probably showed. He grinned at her, his teeth white in his dark face. "Ready for your first field assignment? I've got a nice one -- basic recon on a report of suspicious activity in the area." Ginny nodded eagerly. "Absolutely, sir." "Great." He looked strangely amused at the prospect of the training mission, Ginny thought. "Be in my office at seven." She nodded again, and got to her feet, already in a hurry to call and cancel dinner with her brother. "And Weasley?" She looked back at Kingsley, who was still wearing that amused look. "Dress warm." The base of Ginny's spine itched as she sat in Advanced Transfiguration, barely listening to Professor McGonagall's lecture. Her fingers twitched, anxious as the rest of her to be doing real magic, not just changing snails into snakes. When class was over, she raced through the echoing corridors to the Great Hall. Food was piled in abundance in front of her, but the thought of eating only made her stomach churn. She poured a small glass of pumpkin juice and waited for the mail to arrive. When the plain brown owl landed in the middle of the table, hooting loudly, she already had her knut and a piece of bacon ready. There were no Hogsmeade weekends this year, but she would have no money left for them anyhow, so it was just as well. She unrolled the paper quickly, but she had to set it down on the table in order to read it; her hands were shaking too badly. The pages of the Daily Prophet were full of bad news - the Dark Mark seen over Liverpool, a mysterious bridge collapse in Dublin possibly linked to Dark magic. Plus there were ads for protective amulets and tokens, and a long article on services that offered to place anti-apparition wards on private homes. Things were bad all over, but Ginny breathed a sigh of relief nonetheless -- seven Muggles and two wizards had been reported dead in the past week, but none of them was Harry. Thank the gods none of them was Harry. He was still in the office at five minutes to seven, finishing up some paperwork on a crate of illegal doxy's wings they'd seized the night before, when Kingsley walked up to his desk. He placed his big hands on the edge of the desk and leaned over, seeming to block out much of Harry's overhead light. "Shacklebolt," Harry greeted him as he set down his quill. "Potter," Kingsley replied, all business. "I have an assignment for you tonight." He didn't ask if Harry was available -- it was simply understood. "What and where?" Harry asked, pushing back his chair to look at Kingsley head-on. "It's a pretty simple recon job on a suspicious activity report," Shacklebolt said, crossing his arms and leaning back against Harry's desk. He looked like a dark-skinned version of the man on Aunt Petunia's cleaning bottle, Harry thought, and had to stifle a laugh. "It's near Little Hangleton, though, so I'd like to send you." A meaningful look passed between them, and Harry nodded silently. "I don't want you going alone, either -- I'm sending a trainee along for the ride." "A trainee for backup?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Why not an Auror, I think Johnson's--" He never got to finish his sentence. "Weasley will do fine, Potter," he said sternly, all camaraderie gone from his expression. Harry knew it was pointless to protest, but he tried anyway. "Weasley? That might not be the best--" "Ah, here she is now." Ginny had just walked into Auror headquarters, her red hair shining, her robes pressed, and her face glowing with eagerness. She looked beautiful, Harry thought. Amazing. He ran his tongue over his lips and felt a sharp stab of regret in his gut. Ginny took three steps toward Kingsley and then something changed. She looked at Harry and then quickly away. Her steps faltered, her face fell into a frown, and she lowered her chin obstinately. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Kingsley went over the details of their assignment quickly, but Harry found himself paying little attention. There was a freckle on Ginny's neck, near where her pulse fluttered against the skin. Harry could remember kissing that freckle, remembered the salty-sweet taste of it. Other than the initial glance, Ginny did not look at Harry during the entire meeting. She kept her eyes trained firmly on Kingsley. It was almost as though Harry didn't exist. Which, Harry thought bitterly, was probably what she'd prefer. Th e music played and the people all around them moved across the makeshift dance floor, set up in the Burrow's backyard. Bill and Fleur held court at a table on the edge of the lawn, and the hum of conversation permeated everything, but Harry felt almost as if they were the only two people there. Ginny's body was warm through her golden dress robes, and seemed to fit perfectly against his own. Slowly and subtly so that he barely noticed what was happening, Ginny steered him away from the center of the dance floor out through the groups of dancing friends and relations to the fringes of the party. He looked at her questioningly, but she just smiled and took his hand, leading him farther and farther away from the festivities until the music was only a faint tinkling sound drifting through the trees. Ginny smiled at him again, and her eyes seemed to twinkle with mischief. She lifted one hand and slowly pulled the strap of her dress robe off of her shoulder, exposing the pale, freckled skin beneath. Harry sucked in air through his teeth. He'd imagined this sort of thing before, but he hadn't expected it to actually happen to him. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to change her mind, he reached out and touched Ginny's skin where it was uncovered. She felt soft and smooth and warm, and she didn't pull away, not even a little. Emboldened, he leaned in and kissed her shoulder, and then up to her neck. He was enveloped by her fresh, flowery scent, and it seemed as though time had halted completely. Ginny wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his, and he felt somehow both excited and calmed at once. A warm, comfortable feeling came over him slowly, and he realized that he wanted to somehow express it to her. He thought girls were meant to like that sort of thing, anyway. Feelings and all that. He pulled away and looked down into her soft brown eyes, the black centers enlarged to give her a sleepy look. "Ginny--" he began. She made a sound low in her throat and launched herself at him, quickly and decisively capturing his lips with her own. Any thought in Harry's head was driven away by the feel of her kiss, and he forgot that he'd intended to say anything. Part Three There were rocks everywhere - big, rough-hewn stones the size of cauldrons were scattered around the clearing, surrounded by the smaller pebbles she'd felt raining down after the explosion. And in the middle of the rubble was Harry, lying facedown on the ground and not moving. "Harry!" she screamed. Forgetting all rules of protocol and stealth, ignoring the pieces of the wall blocking her path, and totally disregarding the possibility of more explosions, she ran toward where he lay, her heart beating frantically in her chest. "Oh no," she said, barely even aware she was speaking aloud. "Don't be dead, please don't be dead, oh no, oh please..." Harry moaned softly as she approached, and his eyelids fluttered. Ginny dropped to her knees next to him, still chanting under her breath, "don't be dead, please..." even though she could already tell that he was definitely alive. His dark hair clung to his forehead in thin, sweaty clumps. Carefully, she smoothed the wet strands back, combing gently through his hair with her fingernails and smoothing her palms across his forehead and over his stark white scar. Harry's eyelids fluttered again and Ginny held her breath until they opened. He blinked up at her confusedly. "Harry?" she asked, her heart still racing. "Are you all right?" "Ginny?" he asked, his face clearing of confusion. For a moment, she saw a warmth and an emotion in his eyes that seemed to perfectly match what she was feeling, and a current ran between them. His gaze shifted to her mouth for a split second, then back up to her eyes, and she felt the skin of his hand grow warm beneath her own. She bit her lip. A soft creak carried through the clearing, and before she had time to think, Harry's eyes widened and the muscles in his jaw tightened. Rolling over suddenly, he turned his back to her and looked at what was left of the wall. They both watched as one of the ancient trees near the wall, nearly as big around as Hagrid, split in half and its branches toppled to the ground. Ginny was relieved, but Harry leaped to his feet with astonishing agility for someone who'd been knocked flat only minutes before. "Let's go," he said. Standing above her, his robes whipping around his ankles and his face barely visible in the darkness, he was suddenly transformed into Harry the hero, when only moments before he'd been someone else, the Harry she'd once kissed in the common room. She had to repeat his words to herself to decipher meaning in them. Her heart was still beating fast, but whether it was from the panic of near-injury or from whatever it was that had just passed between them, she couldn't say. "C'mon," Harry said, extending a hand to her. She took it without knowing why, and he pulled her up to a standing position. He dropped her hand quickly and turned, walking quickly away from her towards the site of the explosion Oh, right. The explosion. Belatedly, she remembered what had brought them there in the first place. She hurried after Harry, dodging the rocks on the ground as she went. It wouldn't say much for her skill as an Auror if she broke her ankle on her very first field mission. A t Hogwarts, the giant squid was jolted awake from a satisfying nap far beneath the surface of the lake. Bedrock rumbled and shifted, sending silt up to cloud the pure, clear water. Charges of magical energy shot past, catching the end of one tentacle and sending searing pain through the soft tissue. Hundreds of miles south, the goalposts at the Chudley Memorial Quidditch Stadium rattled in their bearings. As the tall iron poles shook against the physical and magical restraints holding them upright, the metal began to hum and a high-pitched whine filled the air. The groundskeeper, sleeping peacefully in his bed in the middle of Chudley Village, heard nothing, but a pixy clan swarmed out of the clubhouse and watched with concern as the hoops swayed, then tumbled to the ground. At Stonehenge, the magical instability rocked the ancient powers holding the pillars in place and dislodged a very cranky boggart from a hollow beneath one of the stones. Thinking himself attacked, he sprang forth and took the shape of a Muggle in a hockey mask, frightening a trysting couple nearly to death. In the Department of Mysteries, deep in the heart of the Ministry of Magic, a dial spun wildly and an alarm began to sound. On either side of the great break in the wall, the stone barrier stood five meters tall, towering over their heads. Huge blocks of granite formed the bottom rows, although the rocks got smaller and smaller towards the top. On first glance, the wall looked as though it were solid rock, but now that it had been broken open, Harry could see that it was actually made up of two outer layers and an inner section filled with dirt and rubble, most of which was now spilling out onto the ground. The place where the sturdy fort had stood for thousands of years was completely empty now, except for a large black mark on the ground and the lingering smell of smoke in the air. Harry knew several spells that would leave a residue like this behind, and none were the kind used for friendly, happy things. Between the mark on the ground, the burst of blinding light, and the way the moon had disappeared entirely, all the evidence pointed to an extremely destructive spell. Ginny came to stand at his side, and he looked over at her. Her hair was windblown and her robes were rumpled, and she'd lost the smooth, sleek look she'd had earlier. Her pink lips stood out against the paleness of her face, and her eyes were wide as she looked over the damage. He couldn't shake the vision of her crouching over him, or the sound of her voice murmuring his name over and over again. The way she'd said it, with such urgency and tenderness, was something he'd never expected to hear again. "You think this is what Kingsley had in mind when he said 'anything suspicious'?" she asked, after a brief silence. Harry chuckled. "I think it counts," he said. He drew a glass vial from inside his robes and took a step forward, towards the residue on the ground. Quickly, though, he remembered his position. He was the Senior Auror here. It was a strange thought, but no less true because of its unfamiliarity. Stepping back beside Ginny, he handed her the vial. "Better scrape up some of that for the lab," he said. She nodded and moved forward quickly, as eager to do her job as she had been at the start of the evening. "And don't get any on you," he added quickly. "Could be nasty stuff." Ginny tapped her left hand and then her right with her wand, and a whitish film appeared over them. She looked over her shoulder at Harry and grinned, then raised her hand to show him. "Rubber gloves," she said, snapping one wrist for effect. "Hermione taught me that." Harry laughed softly as she scraped up some of the black stuff with her wand and scooped it into the vial, then corked the top securely. When she was finished, she stood and held up the little container to show him, then walked closer and placed it in Harry's hand. Her fingers lingered against his palm for a moment, as they had when he was on the ground, and her touch was at once excitingly new and also familiar. She was standing very close to him, and he had to swallow before he could breathe properly again. Then, once he was able, he pulled away from her, slipping the glass vial full of charred earth back into his robes. "Ready to go?" he asked unsteadily. She licked her lips. "Yeah. Let's go," she said. Her eyelashes fluttered and then lifted, and she looked up at him with her big brown eyes. There was a part of him that wanted desperately to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until neither one of them could breathe, until they had to hold each other up just to stand, until she was moaning his name. That was just one part of him, though. Mostly, he knew that Ginny had made it perfectly clear that she wasn't interested. Harry took a deep breath and apparated away. "Goo d work, you two," Kingsley said, conjuring up a steaming teapot and three rather chipped mugs. "The lab has your sample now, and while we're waiting you can fill me in on what happened." Harry opened his mouth to say something, and realized he didn't know. Ginny had been there, glaring, and then she'd been bending over him looking concerned, and then he'd thought about kissing her and they may possibly have had a moment, but he wasn't really sure of what happened from the surveillance angle. "...we took up position under cover of the trees about twelve meters from the site of the fort, and maintained surveillance for about three hours..." Ginny was saying. Harry slumped backwards in his chair, relieved that at least someone had been paying attention. She had just finished describing the explosion when a tall thin wizard burst into the office, apparently ignoring Harry, Ginny, and the possibility of a meeting in progress. "Shacklebolt, that sample--" he said excitedly. "This is the team that brought the sample in, Dippet," Shacklebolt explained patiently. He introduced them quickly, pointing to each in turn. "Potter, Weasley, Dippet." "Yes, hello," Dippet said brusquely, not looking twice at Harry when he heard his name. "What can you tell me about the spell? Shacklebolt said something about an explosion?" Ginny repeated everything she'd just explained to Kingsley about the destruction of the fort and the magical residue they'd seen afterwards, and Dippet listened carefully, nodding as she talked. A small black quill, suspended in midair as if from an invisible hand, scribbled furiously across his pad the entire time, but Dippet didn't glance at it once. "When did all this happen?" he asked quickly, once she'd finished talking. "About an hour ago," Ginny answered. "We brought you the sample right after we got back." Dippet nodded and turned to Shacklebolt. "Sir, if I'm right and this is connected to Johnson's information and the reports we've been getting--" he paused for the first time since his frantic entry into the small office. Finally he spoke again. "I believe one of the Touchstones may have been destroyed." "The Touchstones are the foundation of all of Magical Britain, Harry," said Hermione, her brown hair bobbing as she spoke. "Honestly, I can't believe you've never heard of them before. Haven't you ever read--" "You know I haven't, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "Can you just--" he waved one hand around, indicating the entire huge Diagon library -- "point me in the right direction or something?" "They're right here," Hermione said with a smug smile, patting the tall stack of books on her desk. "Dippet was in here earlier, and he left these behind. You can save me the trouble of reshelving them." "Some trouble," Harry said with a grin. He'd seen Hermione reshelve books, and all she did was sit behind the desk waving her wand like an orchestra director, sending books hurtling through the air to land on their shelves. He looked critically at the stack of books on Hermione's desk. Each book was thick, bound with old, cracked leather and decorated with dust. The pile rose above his head. He gave a great sigh and prepared to pick up the pile from the bottom, when Hermione stopped him. "Why don't you just take these three?" she asked. "You can check them out, read them at your office..." Harry looked with despair at the three thick books. Somehow, the three books looked even worse than the huge pile had. He really didn't have the time to read all of that. "What I really need to know is--" he looked nervously around the library to see if anyone was listening. "What would happen if one of the Touchstones was destroyed?" Hermione's eyes widened, and she pressed one hand to her mouth. "That would be very, very bad, Harry," she said softly. "The Touchstones focus the magical energy of the land, and without them..." She pulled a book from the middle of the pile and began flipping pages quickly. "Without them..." Harry prompted, thinking he'd lost her to the books for the rest of the afternoon, at least. Hermione grasped the book in front of her with two hands and spun it around to face Harry. On the page was a black and white etching of a landscape. It was not one like any Harry had ever seen -- the earth shook, volcanoes erupted, and lightning seemed to shoot out of the ground. "If the Touchstones were destroyed, Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, "all the magic they've been controlling for two thousand years would be released." She tapped the drawing with her finger. "And it would not be a pretty picture." Part Four "Have you given any thought to what you'll do when this is all over?" Remus asked, his voice quiet even though they were the only two in the decrepit old building, once a stable on the Lestrange estate. Harry looked at him blankly. "Over?" he asked, and his voice cracked on the word. "After Voldemort is defeated," said Remus, gently but firmly. "What do you think you'll do then?" Harry frowned. He scuffed his foot against the floor and stirred up a small cloud of dust, barely visible in the low light. "Uhm," he said, struggling to find words. "I did want to be an Auror, once." He took a deep breath, remembering the world again. "But I don't have my NEWTs, so..." Remus smiled warmly. "Harry, trust me on this -- you defeat Voldemort, and the Auror Academy will beg you to sign up, NEWTs or no NEWTs." Harry looked up at him, his own face creasing into the unfamiliar shape of a smile as well. "You think?" "I know." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said, then hesitated. "Thanks -- Moony." Something inside Remus changed then, and his features seemed to light up. His smile widened into a real grin, something Harry hadn't seen on the worn, worried faces around him for months. He leaned back against the wall, enjoying the unmistakable expression of happiness on Remus' face. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased and the weight on his mind lessened just a little. "And Ginny?" Remus' question cut the comfortable silence. Harry turned toward him warily, feeling his muscles begin to tighten again. "What about her?" he asked defensively, although Remus' question was obvious. Remus didn't seem bothered, though. "Where do things stand between you and Ginny?" he asked. "They don't," Harry said curtly. "I told her I had things to do on my own, and I ended it." "I see," said Remus slowly. His voice sounded different, and when Harry looked closely, he saw a little bit of amusement on Remus' face. "And what did Ginny have to say about that?" "It's over," Harry repeated, bristling. "She's probably off with some other bloke right now, having a wonderful time." He thought bitterly of Dean Thomas, and of the sight of Ginny kissing him in the stairwell. "Actually, she seemed to be primarily concerned with you," Remus said mildly. Harry considered that for a moment. "You've seen her? When? What did-- How is-- Where--" He stopped, frustrated with himself, although he didn't quite know why. "Yes, I saw her," Remus answered. "I see her rather often, in fact." He went on to describe his conversations with Ginny, how she seemed to be doing, what she had mentioned and asked about. He gave a level of detail far greater than anything Harry would have asked for. As he talked, Harry simply leaned back against the dirty wall and listened, letting the feeling of contentment slowly return. Sm oke drifted through the air, broken in places by flashes of bright green light. People were screaming all around him, and the sounds of shouted spells and breaking glass, falling trees and running feet all blurred together into the cacophony of battle. Harry breathed hard, trying to stay focused. He had a job to do. Out of the fog, Harry saw a black-cloaked figure step from the edges of the Forbidden Forest. He raised his wand reflexively and moved forward, but Ron's hand on his arm stopped him. "I got this one, mate," he said. "You keep going. Find him." He didn't have to say anything more: Harry already knew who he needed to find. Raising his wand, Ron stepped forward and engaged the Death Eater. Taking a deep breath, Harry moved on, his eyes searching out thin places in the smoke. "This is pointless," he finally said. "I can't see anything in this mess." "C'mon, up here," Hermione pointed up the slope that led to the greenhouses. "We'll be able to see above the smoke from there." They moved as quickly as they could, casting shielding charms on themselves to protect from stray curses. Halfway up the hill to the greenhouses, there was a large rock outcropping. As they passed it, Harry glanced back at Hermione. Past the side of her brown curls, through the thinning smoke, he saw the unmistakable gleam of sunlight on Ginny's bright red hair. He paused, captivated. As he watched, Ginny ducked and weaved, dodging curses. He glanced across at her opponent and realized it was Fenrir Greyback. "Ginny--" he gasped. He took one step toward her, and in another moment would've began to run, but this time it was Hermione's turn to stop him. "No, Harry!" she cried. "There-- Voldemort-- the castle!" He spun around and looked where she was pointing. On the grassy hill where the Whomping Willow stood, Voldemort was turning toward the castle and raising his wand, his intention clear. "The battle's just a distraction," breathed Hermione. "While we're all busy, he'll--" It took no time for Harry to make up his mind, and as he turned to Hermione he could see that she already understood his plan. "Help Ginny," he said. "Stop Voldemort," she gasped, and they turned and ran in opposite directions. Moonlight was streaming in through the tall leaded windows of the hospital wing when Harry awoke. He listened carefully, and for the first time in two days, did not hear the low chatter of concerned conversation. Slowly, carefully, he levered himself up to a sitting position and placed his feet on the icy floor. With the pain in his ribs and the clumsy bandage on his hip, Harry shuffled across the floor like an old man, but in time he reached the end of the room where Ginny lay. Her face did not look peaceful, as a sleeper's should. Instead, her forehead was creased in a frown and her lips were twisted in pain. A huge poultice was taped over one eye, and the bitter smell of medicinal potions hovered over the bed. As he watched, Ginny's small body was wracked with a spasm. Her legs quivered, sending ripples across the smooth white sheet. She groaned in pain, and her freckled hand clutched convulsively at nothing. Harry's own fists clenched, too, as he watched her struggle against the pain. Lying in bed for two days, he'd had plenty of time to think. He clearly remembered racing across the lawn, drawing his wand and firing the curse at Voldemort just in time to interrupt the spell that would've destroyed Hogwarts itself. There had not been an instant to spare, and he knew it. If he had hesitated for even a second, hundreds of students taking shelter inside the castle would be dead now, and Voldemort would still be alive. Still, watching Ginny toss and turn beneath the blankets, Harry couldn't help but wonder. If he'd run the other way, if he could've gone to help Ginny instead of attacking Voldemort, what would be different? If he hadn't had to play the hero, she wouldn't be injured. But he had, of course. He went charging off to do the stupid, noble thing, and she was the one who got hurt. She moved again, shifting beneath the sheets and biting her lip. She murmured in a low voice, not really forming words but only indistinct sounds. Harry's fists tightened. Her mouth opened and softly, one word escaped. "Harry." His spine stiffened. There was only one reason she was hurt, one reason she was in this hospital bed at all. If he really wanted to keep Ginny safe, not just for now, but for good-- all he had to do was remove that one thing from her life. Part Five Ginny sat in class and tried to listen. In the front of the room, Auror Haberdash was speaking. His lips moved, and sounds came out, but Ginny was having difficulty turning those sounds into anything meaningful in her own mind. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight forty-five, only about five hours after she'd finally gotten home last night. Even then, when she should've been ready to fall asleep standing up, she'd been wide awake, thoughts chasing each other in circles like a crup in a cauldron. Even now, she couldn't help thinking about Harry. He'd been the love of her life, once. Until last night, she had been certain that he was the scum of the earth. Now, she wasn't so sure. She wasn't even sure what had happened. Had they actually almost kissed? It seemed nearly impossible to her. The parchment in front of her was almost completely bare. Except for the date in the upper corner and a rather large inkblot near the left side of the page, there was nothing. She sighed and dipped her quill into the inkwell. She might as well at least pretend to pay attention. Suddenly, a familiar brusque voice interrupted her thoughts. "Weasley!" It was Kingsley, standing at the door of the classroom and looking impatient. She stood and took a few steps toward him, but he shook his head quickly. "Get your things," he said. "You're needed in a meeting." Ginny did as she was told, as her classmates murmured amongst themselves at her luck. As soon as she hurried into the hall, the door shut behind her and Kingsley set off, his long legs setting a fast pace. "Where's Potter?" he asked. "Not here," Ginny said immediately. Then, in response to Kingsley's look, she amended, "I don't know -- last I saw him was in your office last night." "There've been some important discoveries," Kingsley said, "and I'm going to need you two back in action tonight." They'd reached the lifts, and Kingsley looked around at the witches and wizards confined in the small space with them before going on in a fractionally quieter voice. "I'm going to send you back to the same location tonight," he said. "We need to repair the damage that was done." "All right, sir," Ginny agreed, glancing at the other passengers. This was no time to ask questions, that much was clear. But what could she and Harry possibly repair? Did Kingsley want them to rebuild the fort? Repair the fallen trees? Certainly the Ministry had better qualified people than two junior Aurors -- or one junior Auror and one trainee -- to handle that. When they reached Kingsley's small office, Dippet was already there, vibrating with energy. Next to him sat an older man with graying hair and skin the color of milky coffee. Ginny peered at him -- he looked familiar, but she couldn't figure out why. "Dippet, Johnson," Kingsley barked. "What have you got for me?" Johnson. That was right. Ginny tried to picture him with a red and gold jumper on, waving a Gryffindor Quidditch flag, and she knew exactly where she'd seen him before. "Have a seat, Weasley, and let's get down to business." Startled, Ginny jumped a little and then tried to hold back a blush as she sat. She hadn't even realized that she was still standing while everyone else was seated. Johnson consulted the pad in front of him and began to speak. Ginny pulled a pad of paper out of her bag along with a self-inking quill. "We traced the apparition signatures in the area, Chief," Johnson said. "It's a pretty deserted area, so we didn't expect to find much. We got Potter and Weasley, of course, the old guy that owns the place, and someone that cuts the grass for him." "That it?" "Also we got two others--" Johnson leaned over his notes. "Avery and Crabbe." "Death Eaters," Ginny muttered under her breath. Johnson looked up at her sharply. "Are you sure?" he asked. "That's not something we take lightly around here, you know." Ginny bristled, sitting bolt-upright in her uncomfortable chair and glaring at the older man. Before she could retort, though, Kingsley jumped in. "She knows, Johnson," he said, a little wearily. "Both Crabbe and Avery were implicated during the trials, but nothing has ever been proven." Johnson nodded, not looking too pleased. Dippet took advantage of the momentary pause in conversation. "Chief, I've been looking into the Touchstones and I must tell you again, this is really an emergency situation here. This has got to be addressed right away." "I know," Kingsley responded firmly. "I'm putting Weasley and Potter on it tonight." Ginny turned to look at him in surprise. "But--" As if she wasn't even in the room, Kingsley kept talking. "Johnson, I'm going to need you and Tonks to track down Crabbe and Avery and bring them in. Can you get on that?" Johnson nodded earnestly, and Ginny gritted her teeth. "Sir, we can--" "Excellent, then," Kingsley said. "You're dismissed." He looked down at the paperwork on his desk as Johnson pushed back his chair and left the office. Ginny and Dippet both stayed put. "Dippet, I'm going to want to see that research later," Kingsley said without looking up. "Can you have it ready for me in an hour?" "Sure, yes," Dippet said, bobbing his head in agreement. "Sir, I--" Ginny started to say again, as Dippet left the office. Kingsley looked from his papers at her. "I know you'd rather track down the criminals, but any of my people can do that," he said softly. "Surely you can see that you and Harry have... unique experience that can be better used elsewhere." "Unique experience?" Ginny echoed. "I'm not... I don't really..." "Look, Johnson is a solid Auror. He's been catching dark wizards for years," Kingsley said. "But this business with the Touchstones is not any run-of-the-mill necromancy or Muggle cursing. This is a matter of national security, and I need you and Potter for that. All right?" "Um, all right," Ginny said, nodding slowly. She knew she would be helping people when she was fully qualified as an Auror, but she'd never thought of herself as important to national security. Harry she usually thought of only as her ex-boyfriend, not as a hero. He still was one, she reminded herself. To a lot of people, Harry Potter was much more than a hero: he was the savior of a nation. Th ey apparated to the wall just after moonrise that night, armed with a book, herbs, and exactly thirteen griffin eyeballs. Harry was carrying a small cauldron. Silently, they made their way toward the bare spot where the fort used to be. As they walked, Ginny snuck glances at him from the corner of her eye. He had changed, she realized. His face was thinner, the bones more prominent. His jaw was shadowed with dark stubble, and his hair was shorter than it had been at school. He seemed different in other ways, too-- calmer, more composed. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. He set down the cauldron with a soft grunt. She smiled in his general direction, but he was looking at the broken wall and didn't see it. Working in tandem, silently, they began setting up their mobile laboratory -- collecting firewood, lighting the fire, and boiling water. Harry walked into the darkened forest north of the wall and came back levitating an enormous boulder before him. When he set it down, in the center of the blackened mark left from the destruction of the previous Touchstone, the ground shook a little from the weight. Harry stepped back and surveyed the stone. "What do you think?" he asked. "Can we fix this?" The moonlight reflected off of his glasses, and his hair where it always stuck up in the back. His Auror robes fluttered at his ankles, and his face looked utterly focused. She watched him for a minute before answering his question. "Yeah," she said. "I think we can." Part Six When she woke, in a haze of pain and the dreamy disorientation that comes from sleeping for days, she searched the faces around her, but she didn't see him. "Ginny?" Mum asked, with a little hiccup in her voice. "Can you hear us, Pumpkin?" Her dad's voice was eager and concerned. "You know Molly, she might not be able to hear us with all those potions Poppy's--" "Did we lose?" Ginny's throat was dry from disuse, and it hurt to talk, but she needed to know. "Oh Ginny, you're awake!" Mum cried, throwing herself on the bed and trying to hug Ginny through the covers. Over her shoulder, Ginny looked for her dad and met his eyes. He shook his head slowly. "No, Ginny. We didn't lose," he said, a smile growing on his face. "We won." Then Ginny smiled too, and put her arms around her mother, and hugged her back. She couldn't help the tears that leaked down the sides of her face, though. If we won, she thought, then where is Harry? He left the hospital, still depending on a cane to help him walk, and went straight to Auror Headquarters to enlist. "Here to sign up, Potter?" growled Mad-Eye Moody from behind the battered old desk. "Yes," Harry said simply, and conversation in the bustling bullpen came to an abrupt halt. He could almost feel the thirty pairs of eyes turn to him. "Outstanding," said Moody, not missing a beat. He rooted around in the desk drawers for a quill and the proper form. "Harry, don't you want to take a little break?" asked Tonks, appearing at his side. Her face was plain and her hair a drab brown; her left arm hung in a sling across her chest. Harry looked pointedly at the bandaged arm, then back to her face. "Yeah, all right," she muttered, getting his point without any discussion. Moody had the form on his desk and was filling in the blanks himself, muttering softly as he wrote, when Harry turned back to him. "Name? Harry James Potter. Address? Don't need that. Qualifications? Bunch of rubbish anyway. Anyone with half a brain…" Beside Harry, Tonks was struck with a coughing fit that sounded more than a little like laughter. "Occupation? Who's writing these questions, anyhow?" He flipped the parchment over and continued his commentary. "NEWT scores? Not bloody important, that's what I say. Ah, yes. Sponsor." He signed his name with a flourish and turned the parchment around to face Harry. "Sign here, Potter." He pointed with one gnarled finger to a line above the word Applicant. Harry signed his name as he was told, glancing at the rest of the form as he did so. It was completely blank except for his name and the two signatures. "Tonks, might as well make yourself useful instead of just standing there gawking," Moody growled, pointing to another line, above the words Active-Duty Auror. She stepped forward and added a third signature to the parchment. "Congratulations, Potter," Moody said. "Class starts Monday at eight. Don't be late." "All-- all right, sir," Harry stammered. Everyone told her he was alive, but she didn't really believe it until she saw him in Diagon Alley, months later. He'd put away the cane by that time, but was still walking with a limp. When he saw her, his eyes got wide and he glanced around the street, as if looking for someplace to flee. There were a hundred things Ginny thought of doing. She wanted to scream and cry and make a scene, she wanted to hex him, she wanted to ask if he was dating Pansy Parkinson like the Prophet claimed. Instead, she grabbed his elbow and pulled him over to an empty alley where no one would hear them. "Where the hell have you been?" she asked in an undertone. "Erm, Auror training, mostly," Harry answered, having the decency to look a little bit embarrassed. "How-- how have you been?" "Oh, I'm just peachy, Harry, and thank you for asking," Ginny answered sarcastically, getting angrier and angrier. She'd been lying awake nights worrying about him, and he asked how are you? He bit his lip, then looked down at the pavement and back up at her in a way that made her knees weak. Instead of softening her heart, though, her body's betrayal only made her angrier. "It's good to see you again--" he started to say, in a painfully sincere voice. "No." Ginny jabbed one finger into his chest, as if to emphasize the word. "You do not get to stand there and say it's good to see me, after ignoring me for months in the hospital. I thought you were dead, Harry. But you weren't-- you were well enough to start Auror training, for Merlin's sake, but you couldn't bother to come tell me it was over." She spit the words at him, letting her own hurt and bitterness carry her along. "That was quite brave of you -- very noble. But you know what? I'm tired of waiting around for a sliver of your nobility to come my way." She was on a roll now, and she hardly knew what she was saying until she heard her own voice reflected back off the alley walls. "I'm finished with you and your misguided heroics. Don't ever speak to me again, ever." His stunned face was the last thing she saw before she pulled out her wand and apparated away. When she arrived at the Burrow a moment later, her fury had already begun to fade. It was only a few seconds before her knees gave out and she collapsed on the sofa, tears rolling thick and fast down her cheeks. Part Seven "What do we have to do first?" asked Ginny. The spell to create a Touchstone and tie it to the power of the land was by far the most complex one she'd ever heard of, read about, or learned in school. What made the spell especially difficult was that it required only two spellcasters - a witch and a wizard, both born in Britain. Any more people helping, and the magic would be ruined. They were on their own. "First--" Harry consulted the book that lay open on the ground, and read aloud. "Establish a sacred space, defined by the land itself, and bordered by the casters' paths." She took a deep breath and blew it out. "We can do that," she said. "I guess." "I just wish we knew that it would work," sighed Harry, bending down to scoop up a handful of dirt. "True, but how are we going to know? We can't exactly ask the people who did this the last time." Ginny picked up a handful of her own. She nodded to her, and he came to stand back-to-back with her. Slowly, they walked in opposite directions around the large stone, tracing out a large circle that would be the boundary of the spell. As she walked, Ginny sprinkled the soil in her hands, doubling the protective magics. When each of them had completed three rotations of the circle and their handfuls of earth were gone, they stopped and stepped carefully inside the border. Water was boiling inside the cauldron, and Ginny knelt beside it, adding the first group of herbs and stirring steadily with a thin glass rod. After a minute, Harry dipped a measuring cup into the solution, filling it to the brim. Walking the perimeter again, he sprinkled the mixture on the ground just inside the circle of earth, then carefully allowed thirteen drops to fall onto the huge rock at the circle's center. Slowly and painstakingly, they repeated the process twelve more times, adding one new ingredient each time. Ginny watched him as he orbited around her, his brow furrowed in concentration and his hair mussed. His Auror robes had been removed and tossed outside the circle, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to expose his muscular forearms. By the time he was done, Ginny was beginning to feel a little dizzy, but whether it was the circling or simply Harry's closeness after so long, she couldn't say. He walked toward her, then bent and picked up the huge book from where it lay on the ground. She rose from the ground and stood next to him. "Ready?" he asked. She met his eyes, nearly black in the low light, and nodded. Stooping, she gathered a handful of earth and leaned close to him, reading from the page in front of him. The wind had begun to rise, and Harry held the book with two hands, but the corners of the pages still fluttered. She could feel his warmth where his arm came in contact with hers, and she leaned in a little closer than was strictly necessary for reading. "Britannia, we beseech thee," they read in unison, clumsily at first, their voices stumbling over the spell. "Entrust your spirit, and the passion of the land, we beseech thee." Ginny dropped her handful of earth into the bubbling liquid in the cauldron, and the wind blew faster. Around them, trees shook and leaves rustled, but they didn't hear anything, enclosed as they were within the magical boundary they'd created. "Let the flesh of your native creatures bind you, Britannia, we beg you." Ginny opened the jar at her feet and poured the griffin eyes slowly into the mixture. The griffin had always been a symbol of Britain, which made it powerful but also risky. If they'd made any mistakes in the potion, it could reject the ingredient and the whole thing could explode. Ginny held her breath as the first eyeball hit the bubbling liquid with a soft plop, but nothing happened. It simply disappeared beneath the surface, then floated up again and bobbed there. Soon, it seemed that the potion was watching them with thirteen red and gold eyes. From the pocket of her robe, Ginny pulled out a narrow knife in a leather sheath. Harry's voice shook a little as they read the next line together. "Accept the blood of your people, Britannia, and bind your power to this place." Ginny drew the sharp edge of the knife across her palm and watched the blood well up and then drip into the cauldron. The wind was a gale now, whipping her hair around her head. Holding the book with one arm, Harry held out his free hand to her. She wrapped her fingers around his hand, feeling the skin warm and smooth against her own. His palm was crossed by deeply grooved lines, and she wondered what they meant. They were for the heart, and life, and love, she knew that, but she didn't know which was which. But then, how much could a hand really say about a person? "Do it," Harry said softly. She used the knife to cut Harry's palm as she had done to her own. She released his wrist and he extended his arm over the cauldron. As the first drop of blood gathered and fell toward the potion, they spoke the last line of the spell. "Witch and wizard, beast and land, we beseech thee, Britannia. Here and now, bind your power to this place and this stone." Their voices sounded tiny against the backdrop of the howling winds. Ginny levitated the cauldron until it hovered above the boulder. When it was in place, she rotated her wand, the cauldron turned to the side, and its contents spilled out in a steady stream onto the stone. The boulder soaked up the liquid of the potion as though it were a sponge instead of rock. Not a drop fell to the ground. Around them, the storm that had been blowing furiously suddenly slowed and died, and the moon came out from its hiding place. What had seemed a natural war zone only moments before was now a peaceful clearing, silent and serene. It would have been a moment of awe and wonder for the couple at the center of it all, if they had been paying enough attention. Harry dropped the ancient spellbook to the ground, and took Ginny's hand in his own. The cut across the center throbbed as he touched it gently with his fingertips. "Let me help you with that," he said quietly, his voice strangely deep. He swept his fingertips across the cut once more, and she felt the pain disappear. When she looked at her palm, there was nothing but a fine white line there. "Thank you," Ginny said, feeling a lump in her throat. She bit her lip and looked up at him. Somehow he'd gotten much closer than the last time she looked. "If I could've done things differently..." he said, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. Quickly, she stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his. It had been years, but they both remembered how to do this. When he kissed her back, it was as though they had never been apart. |
| Reviews 8 |
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