From Across the Great Divide, Chapter 13
Rated: R
Summary: A post-Hogwarts H/G fic. Strange circumstances draw Harry and Ginny closer together. But are they in danger? Romance, adventure, Monty Python, and tartan boxer shorts abound.
Harry and Ginny Apparated into the alley behind Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes on Monday morning, but to Harry’s surprise Ginny did not go straight in to work. Instead she walked around the building and into Diagon Alley itself. Harry followed her as she headed in the general direction of the Leaky Cauldron. At this early hour most of the shops were still closed, and there were very few witches and wizards about.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as he fell into step beside Ginny.
"I need to go to the apothecary before work. I won’t have time later."
"It’s not open yet, is it?"
"Hermione’s expecting me. She’ll let us in."
Hermione had only recently begun working at the apothecary. Even before leaving Hogwarts, she’d made the decision to attend Muggle university and had begun preparing to take her A-levels over her summer holidays. Once she’d left school, she could devote herself full-time to her studies and had been able to apply to Oxford with top marks only a year after finishing at Hogwarts. She now held a degree in biochemistry, which she combined with her exceptional ability at Potions. She was thus capable of brewing the most complicated concoctions, and her skills were much in demand.
Ginny knocked on the apothecary shop window, and Hermione came to let them in. She looked as if she’d been at work for a while already. Her apron was as spotless as ever, but the smell of cooked cabbage pervaded the shop, and her face was flushed from standing over a bubbling cauldron. She led Ginny to the back of the shop and handed her a stoppered flask of greenish brown liquid.
"There you are. I can’t do anything about the taste, because adding anything else would weaken its effectiveness. You’ll just have to hold your nose…" Hermione pulled a face which spoke volumes for the mysterious potion’s flavour.
"At least I don’t need to take it every day. How much do I owe you?"
Hermione looked apologetic. "Five Galleons."
Ginny winced but counted out the coins and handed them over.
"That was expensive," Harry commented, as they headed back towards the joke shop. "What was that stuff?"
He saw Ginny blush out of the corner of his eye. "Well," she hesitated. "It’s just that potions are more effective for some things than charms…" Harry wasn’t sure what this had to do with anything. His puzzlement must have shown on his face, for Ginny continued. "It’s the reason there are so many of us in my family, you know. My parents were both rubbish at potions, to hear my mum tell it, and they never had enough money to be able to afford this." She indicated the bag into which she had put her flask of potion. "So they were forced to rely on charms, and the charms just aren’t as reliable…"
Now Harry had a good idea what she was hinting at. "But there’s no chance you could be…" He had a sudden vision of Ginny nursing a black-haired baby. The thought was disconcerting, frightening even, but there was something about it that tugged at his heart at the same time. Perhaps someday…
"Not likely. The way Hermione explained it, the charms become less reliable over time. Your body becomes immune to them, and then nature takes over. With the potion there’s no chance of that happening."
They had reached Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes once more. Entering through the back door, Harry found Ron already there waiting for him. He followed Ron into the twins’ office.
Taking a seat, Harry began without preamble. "So, is there anything new you can tell me?"
"Unfortunately, no, as I said yesterday. All avenues we’ve investigated have turned up nothing. I’ll tell you it’s no fun coming home from two weeks’ holiday and having to catch up on a huge file. But I’ve caught up now."
"So you couldn’t discover who’d put Ginny’s boss under the Imperius Curse?"
"No. Whoever is doing this seems to be watching us closely. They know we’re on the lookout for them, and they’re lying low. There’s been no new tampering with any of the Ministry’s Dark Detectors, and no new Dark activity reported. Nothing. It’s almost as if they’ve disappeared."
Harry considered. Whoever had been threatening Ginny also seemed to have backed off for the moment. He said as much to Ron. "I don’t like it. They’re still out there, whoever they are, but they’re well hidden. We can’t do anything but wait for them to make a move." He decided not to tell Ron about his plans to question Malfoy’s ghost. He was sure Ron would tell him not to involve himself, to let the Ministry handle things, just as George had. It seemed to be the party line, but Harry wanted answers, and he was certain he would not get any if the Ministry took over. He wasn’t even convinced that Ron was telling him the truth now about his department having no new leads, but he decided to let that slide for the moment. Harry would let Ron keep his secrets, since he had one of his own.
"That brings us to the reason I asked you to come in this morning," said Ron, as he fumbled for something in his pocket. He pulled out a small, square object that Harry instantly recognised.
"That looks like a pager," he said, wondering what Ron was doing with Muggle gadgets in his pocket.
"It is a pager of sorts. You know, we always used to think Dad was a bit mental about Muggle artefacts, but it turns out they can come in handy, once they’ve been fiddled with. He brought one of these home last year and took it apart to see how it worked. When he showed me his latest toy, I wondered if the department couldn’t make use of it. You see, instead of someone using this to get in touch with you, this works in the opposite way. You can use it to get in touch with Fred, George, or me. So if ever you need help, just press that." Ron indicated a red button on the pager. "It will send a signal to all of us at once, and we can follow the signal to Apparate to wherever you happen to be."
"That’s useful," said Harry, as he took the pager and examined it. "How do you get the signal?"
"I have one of my own that receives the signal. We all have them in the department now. This is the first time we’re handing them out to private citizens, though. First time we’ve needed to. Needless to say, this is secret information. Not something to broadcast about."
"Right, I get the idea, Q." Harry had to laugh at the blank stare Ron gave him. "Remind me to make you watch some James Bond movies sometime."
"Erm, yeah, sure. Getting back to business, I’ll be giving one to Ginny too."
"Ron, why didn’t Fred or George give us these pager things back when all this started?"
Ron hesitated almost imperceptibly before replying. "They’re sort of my invention. Under my control. They had to wait till I authorised it." Harry knew that Ron wasn’t telling him the whole story, and his disbelief must have been evident, for Ron continued. "They have had the two of you under surveillance, you know. If any situation had come up that required intervention, you would have had assistance almost as quickly as with the pagers."
The room suddenly seemed very warm to Harry, and he fiddled with his collar. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering just how close the twins’ surveillance was, but he decided he didn’t want to bring up this subject even with Ron. Instead, he pursued another thread of the conversation. "So then why do we need them now?"
"As a precaution," answered Ron with enough finality in his tone that Harry knew all argument would be useless. "I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more at this time."
There it was, then. Ron had lapsed fully into official department-speak. Harry knew he’d be getting nothing further out of him. Not that it mattered much. Harry was now determined to locate Malfoy and find out what he knew. Harry thought of the cave outside Hogsmeade where he’d met with Sirius during his fourth year. That would be a convenient, secluded spot. With this in mind, he took his leave of Ron and went into the front of the joke shop to say goodbye to Ginny before heading back to Hogsmeade.
He found her hunched down in front of some shelves to the side of the shop, her back turned towards him. She had a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other, which she was using to point at the items on the shelf as she counted them. Harry reached out a hand and touched her shoulder.
Ginny started. "Mwhssi?" Then she turned and saw Harry standing behind her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were there."
"I just wanted to tell you I’m off home now."
She stood up and faced him. "What did Ron want?"
"He had something for me. He’ll tell you soon enough. I’ll let you get back to work now." A rapid glance around the shop told him there were no customers in sight. It was still early. His hand cupped her cheek, as he leaned down and kissed her. "See you tonight, love."
Her brown eyes flashed at him, and he felt an electric sort of tingle pass through him. It made him wish that he could take her back home with him now. He wanted to lean in for another kiss, but a customer came in then, and he reluctantly let Ginny go. The depth of his need for her was, even now, a revelation to him. He had never felt this way about anybody else, had never known such emotions even existed, and he was still stunned by it.
He went out into Diagon Alley and Disapparated. He reappeared at Ginny’s cottage and went inside just long enough to collect the parchment which held the information he had copied from the books at Hogwarts library. Then he began to walk along the lane that led out into the country. He clambered over the stile, remembering the time he, along with Ron and Hermione, had met a black dog at this very spot. It seemed so long ago now, even though he knew less than ten years had passed since that day. As he continued along the boulder-strewn path that led up the side of the mountain, he thought of his godfather, and how he had died in a confrontation with Death Eaters during Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts. Sirius had never been able to catch Wormtail, but his name had been cleared posthumously. It had been too little too late, as far as Harry was concerned.
When he reached the fissure in the rock that was the entrance to the cave, Harry was sweating from the steep climb in the hot sun. He eased himself though the crack-it was a much tighter squeeze than he’d remembered-into the welcome coolness inside. He paused and wiped his forehead on his sleeve, before lighting his wand and consulting his notes to familiarise himself with the spells he might need. When he felt he was ready, he put away the parchment, raised his wand and cried, "Hic spiritus Draco Malfoy!"
The words echoed in the cave and died away, as he waited. He waited so long that he was sure the spell hadn’t worked. It was only the first time he’d attempted it, after all, and he still found the incantation funny. It might have affected his concentration. He remembered the trouble he’d had learning the Summoning Charm in his fourth year. He was about to raise his wand and try again, when the temperature seemed to drop another five degrees. It was no longer comfortably cool in the cave, it was downright chilly. There was an icy blast of air, and then…
"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy had turned up at last, and he sounded perturbed.
Harry decided to dispense with the niceties. "Took you long enough."
"I’ve got all the time in the world, Potter. I’m never in a hurry for much of anything these days."
"I need you to tell me some things. Last week you hinted to me that you could tell me something useful. I’d like to hear it now."
Malfoy’s ghostly form glowed faintly in sharp contrast with the darkness in the cave. Harry saw him smile smugly and cross his arms over his chest. "Last week you were in too much of a hurry to bother. Why’s it so important you hear what I’ve got to say now?"
"Maybe I didn’t believe you could tell me anything important at the time. I’ve changed my mind now. Let’s hear it."
"What if I don’t want to talk now? What are you going to do about it?"
"For starters, I can keep summoning you back until you decide to talk…" Malfoy couldn’t possibly have gone any paler than he already was, but Harry could see his eyes widen. It seemed obvious that the summoning hadn’t been a pleasant experience for him. "And I’ve discovered a spell or two that can keep you here," Harry continued. "I’ve got all day."
Malfoy laughed coldly. "You may have all day, but I’ve got eternity."
Harry shrugged nonchalantly, belying his growing irritation, and drew his wand. "Subigo te respondere." Malfoy visibly stiffened, and his face registered surprise. Harry smiled grimly. "Didn’t expect that, did you?"
Draco was now compelled to answer. "No," he said shortly.
"Now, tell me what you were going to tell me last week."
"I don’t remember what I was going to tell you." Malfoy may have been magically compelled to answer, but he wasn’t obliged to tell the truth.
"Then allow me to refresh your memory. We were discussing your father, I believe. What can you tell me about him?"
"Lots of things that would curl your toes, but most of it has nothing to do with you," Malfoy sneered.
Harry was rather surprised to hear that any of this might have something to do with him. "Then stick to the part that does have to do with me."
Malfoy smirked. "I’d keep on my toes, if I were you," he said cryptically. "Practice my duelling, even."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" It was becoming a struggle for Harry not to show his annoyance. He had a feeling that this was the sort of reaction Malfoy was trying to provoke, and Harry didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Very little had changed between them in that respect.
"Just what I said."
Harry wished he’d discovered a spell that would make Malfoy answer plainly. It was a shame that Veritaserum could not be used on ghosts, he reflected. Not that he knew where he could procure any. Doubtless Hermione knew how to make it, but he couldn’t have asked her for any without the information getting back to Ron. The use of Veritaserum was still highly regulated by the Ministry of Magic.
Harry sighed. "Look, would you just tell me what your father’s been up to, and what that has to do with me?"
"Oh, he has plans for you, Potter, and for your girlfriend."
"What sort of plans, and what do they have to do with Ginny?"
"I can’t tell you exactly," Malfoy drawled, clearly relishing that fact.
"You can’t or you won’t?"
"Can’t. I don’t know details." There was something in his tone that made Harry inclined to believe him.
"Then would you tell me what you do know? From our last conversation, I gather you don’t exactly bear any sort of good will towards your father. Why not tell me what you know? If you can have him sent to Azkaban, wouldn’t it be worth helping me out?"
Malfoy considered this option for such a long time that Harry began to feel impatient. Draco seemed to be torn between wanting to take revenge on his father in any way he could, and his natural inclination to hinder anything Harry wanted. "I don’t know as much as you’d like," he answered at last. "I can tell you this. Lucius," he spat the name, "has spent a most of his time in the years since the Dark Lord’s defeat studying the Dark Arts. At the end of the war, he went into hiding in Russia, but before he left England, he was able to retrieve a great many personal papers left behind by the Dark Lord himself. He spent a great deal of time reading through them, and then he went to Durmstrang on several occasions and made use of their library. I know, because I was haunting him the entire time." He sounded pleased with himself. Harry was reminded of something Moaning Myrtle had once told him. She’d described how she’d haunted a former classmate of hers until that classmate complained to the Ministry, which then forced Myrtle to remain at Hogwarts. Lucius hadn’t had that sort of recourse, since he’d been a fugitive from the Ministry, himself.
I couldn’t follow him to Durmstrang, though," Malfoy continued. "They have some sort of safe-guards in place that even ghosts can’t penetrate. He was also careful about what he said or leaving papers lying around, if he knew I was there. He must have learned a thing or two about taking precautions against ghosts while at Durmstrang, because I never was able to get a good look at what, exactly, he was trying to learn how to do."
"You must have an idea."
Malfoy shrugged. "The Dark Lord spent a great deal of energy trying to become immortal. I assume Lucius is trying to do the same." The animosity in Malfoy’s voice when he said his father’s name gave Harry a strange prickly feeling along his spine. He wasn’t surprised, however, at the depth of Malfoy’s obvious disdain. Lucius had, after all, killed his own son.
"And what does all this have to do with me?"
"The old bastard isn’t in Russia anymore. He’s in England. And I’ve heard your name come up."
"My name?" Harry said, more to himself, than to Malfoy. "But Ginny’s the one who’s been receiving all the threats."
"She’s been mentioned as well."
"But why?"
"I haven’t heard anything specific. Lucius has been too careful."
"So how did you know where to find me?"
"You summoned me, remember?" He was beginning to be intentionally obtuse once more.
"Last week, I mean. When I ran into you at Hogwarts."
"That was coincidence, more or less. I came up to Hogwarts on my own, but I saw you outside the castle on your way in. You had a book under your arm, so I assumed you were going to the library. I decided to waylay you. It was fun. You were distracted and almost walked through me. I managed to piss you off, too." He sounded quite pleased with himself.
"So if you weren’t expecting to find me, what were you doing up there?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I was in the neighbourhood," he answered in a bored drawl.
Something clicked in Harry’s mind. If Malfoy had been in the area that day, and he’d been haunting his father all this time, then it might mean that Lucius, himself, was in the vicinity. "Where’s your father staying these days?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Malfoy smiled bitterly. "It’s not at Malfoy Manor, I can tell you that much. I can’t tell you exactly where, either. It’s difficult for me to judge distances in my present form. Travel isn’t the same for a ghost as it is for the living."
Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this remark. He wanted to think that since it had taken a while for Malfoy to appear once he’d been summoned, he must have travelled a fairly great distance. But Harry felt he couldn’t be certain of this. Perhaps Malfoy had resisted the summons for as long as he could, just to annoy Harry. There was no way of knowing, and Harry didn’t like the feeling.
As Harry hesitated, considering, Malfoy began to float about restlessly. He seemed to be growing increasingly bored. "Listen," he said at last. "If the interrogation is over, I’d like to be off now."
Harry still had about a hundred questions he’d like to ask, but he was becoming more and more certain Malfoy wouldn’t be able to answer. "You can go in a minute, Malfoy. But just remember, I can always summon you back." He saw Malfoy flinch at this. Presumably, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience to be summoned. "If you want to avoid that in the future, I’m staying in Hogsmeade. A little cottage on the outskirts, lots of flower beds. You can look me up there if you turn up anything."
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Looks to me as if you don’t like to be summoned, for one thing. For another, you get revenge on your father if he gets sent away. It’s up to you though." Harry shrugged, as if the matter was much less important than it was.
Malfoy didn’t answer one way or the other. He simply floated through the wall of the cave, leaving Harry alone in the dark once more. He remained there a while longer, trying to make sense of it all. Lucius Malfoy was still delving deeply into the Dark Arts and was, it seemed to him, behind the threats Ginny had received. And he, Harry, was somehow involved, in spite of never having been the recipient of a threat, himself. But why? What did the one have to do with the other? If he, himself, was implicated, it had to go beyond the fact that Ginny may have found out about some minor dark activity when she still worked at the Ministry.
Unless… Unless Ginny had somehow uncovered some plot that was directed against him the entire time. Could that be it? If this were the case, then his staying at her house was possibly putting her in danger, rather than protecting her. If he were the ultimate target, then he needed to stay as far away from her as he could.
Next Chapter
Summary: A post-Hogwarts H/G fic. Strange circumstances draw Harry and Ginny closer together. But are they in danger? Romance, adventure, Monty Python, and tartan boxer shorts abound.
Harry and Ginny Apparated into the alley behind Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes on Monday morning, but to Harry’s surprise Ginny did not go straight in to work. Instead she walked around the building and into Diagon Alley itself. Harry followed her as she headed in the general direction of the Leaky Cauldron. At this early hour most of the shops were still closed, and there were very few witches and wizards about.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as he fell into step beside Ginny.
"I need to go to the apothecary before work. I won’t have time later."
"It’s not open yet, is it?"
"Hermione’s expecting me. She’ll let us in."
Hermione had only recently begun working at the apothecary. Even before leaving Hogwarts, she’d made the decision to attend Muggle university and had begun preparing to take her A-levels over her summer holidays. Once she’d left school, she could devote herself full-time to her studies and had been able to apply to Oxford with top marks only a year after finishing at Hogwarts. She now held a degree in biochemistry, which she combined with her exceptional ability at Potions. She was thus capable of brewing the most complicated concoctions, and her skills were much in demand.
Ginny knocked on the apothecary shop window, and Hermione came to let them in. She looked as if she’d been at work for a while already. Her apron was as spotless as ever, but the smell of cooked cabbage pervaded the shop, and her face was flushed from standing over a bubbling cauldron. She led Ginny to the back of the shop and handed her a stoppered flask of greenish brown liquid.
"There you are. I can’t do anything about the taste, because adding anything else would weaken its effectiveness. You’ll just have to hold your nose…" Hermione pulled a face which spoke volumes for the mysterious potion’s flavour.
"At least I don’t need to take it every day. How much do I owe you?"
Hermione looked apologetic. "Five Galleons."
Ginny winced but counted out the coins and handed them over.
"That was expensive," Harry commented, as they headed back towards the joke shop. "What was that stuff?"
He saw Ginny blush out of the corner of his eye. "Well," she hesitated. "It’s just that potions are more effective for some things than charms…" Harry wasn’t sure what this had to do with anything. His puzzlement must have shown on his face, for Ginny continued. "It’s the reason there are so many of us in my family, you know. My parents were both rubbish at potions, to hear my mum tell it, and they never had enough money to be able to afford this." She indicated the bag into which she had put her flask of potion. "So they were forced to rely on charms, and the charms just aren’t as reliable…"
Now Harry had a good idea what she was hinting at. "But there’s no chance you could be…" He had a sudden vision of Ginny nursing a black-haired baby. The thought was disconcerting, frightening even, but there was something about it that tugged at his heart at the same time. Perhaps someday…
"Not likely. The way Hermione explained it, the charms become less reliable over time. Your body becomes immune to them, and then nature takes over. With the potion there’s no chance of that happening."
They had reached Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes once more. Entering through the back door, Harry found Ron already there waiting for him. He followed Ron into the twins’ office.
Taking a seat, Harry began without preamble. "So, is there anything new you can tell me?"
"Unfortunately, no, as I said yesterday. All avenues we’ve investigated have turned up nothing. I’ll tell you it’s no fun coming home from two weeks’ holiday and having to catch up on a huge file. But I’ve caught up now."
"So you couldn’t discover who’d put Ginny’s boss under the Imperius Curse?"
"No. Whoever is doing this seems to be watching us closely. They know we’re on the lookout for them, and they’re lying low. There’s been no new tampering with any of the Ministry’s Dark Detectors, and no new Dark activity reported. Nothing. It’s almost as if they’ve disappeared."
Harry considered. Whoever had been threatening Ginny also seemed to have backed off for the moment. He said as much to Ron. "I don’t like it. They’re still out there, whoever they are, but they’re well hidden. We can’t do anything but wait for them to make a move." He decided not to tell Ron about his plans to question Malfoy’s ghost. He was sure Ron would tell him not to involve himself, to let the Ministry handle things, just as George had. It seemed to be the party line, but Harry wanted answers, and he was certain he would not get any if the Ministry took over. He wasn’t even convinced that Ron was telling him the truth now about his department having no new leads, but he decided to let that slide for the moment. Harry would let Ron keep his secrets, since he had one of his own.
"That brings us to the reason I asked you to come in this morning," said Ron, as he fumbled for something in his pocket. He pulled out a small, square object that Harry instantly recognised.
"That looks like a pager," he said, wondering what Ron was doing with Muggle gadgets in his pocket.
"It is a pager of sorts. You know, we always used to think Dad was a bit mental about Muggle artefacts, but it turns out they can come in handy, once they’ve been fiddled with. He brought one of these home last year and took it apart to see how it worked. When he showed me his latest toy, I wondered if the department couldn’t make use of it. You see, instead of someone using this to get in touch with you, this works in the opposite way. You can use it to get in touch with Fred, George, or me. So if ever you need help, just press that." Ron indicated a red button on the pager. "It will send a signal to all of us at once, and we can follow the signal to Apparate to wherever you happen to be."
"That’s useful," said Harry, as he took the pager and examined it. "How do you get the signal?"
"I have one of my own that receives the signal. We all have them in the department now. This is the first time we’re handing them out to private citizens, though. First time we’ve needed to. Needless to say, this is secret information. Not something to broadcast about."
"Right, I get the idea, Q." Harry had to laugh at the blank stare Ron gave him. "Remind me to make you watch some James Bond movies sometime."
"Erm, yeah, sure. Getting back to business, I’ll be giving one to Ginny too."
"Ron, why didn’t Fred or George give us these pager things back when all this started?"
Ron hesitated almost imperceptibly before replying. "They’re sort of my invention. Under my control. They had to wait till I authorised it." Harry knew that Ron wasn’t telling him the whole story, and his disbelief must have been evident, for Ron continued. "They have had the two of you under surveillance, you know. If any situation had come up that required intervention, you would have had assistance almost as quickly as with the pagers."
The room suddenly seemed very warm to Harry, and he fiddled with his collar. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering just how close the twins’ surveillance was, but he decided he didn’t want to bring up this subject even with Ron. Instead, he pursued another thread of the conversation. "So then why do we need them now?"
"As a precaution," answered Ron with enough finality in his tone that Harry knew all argument would be useless. "I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more at this time."
There it was, then. Ron had lapsed fully into official department-speak. Harry knew he’d be getting nothing further out of him. Not that it mattered much. Harry was now determined to locate Malfoy and find out what he knew. Harry thought of the cave outside Hogsmeade where he’d met with Sirius during his fourth year. That would be a convenient, secluded spot. With this in mind, he took his leave of Ron and went into the front of the joke shop to say goodbye to Ginny before heading back to Hogsmeade.
He found her hunched down in front of some shelves to the side of the shop, her back turned towards him. She had a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other, which she was using to point at the items on the shelf as she counted them. Harry reached out a hand and touched her shoulder.
Ginny started. "Mwhssi?" Then she turned and saw Harry standing behind her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were there."
"I just wanted to tell you I’m off home now."
She stood up and faced him. "What did Ron want?"
"He had something for me. He’ll tell you soon enough. I’ll let you get back to work now." A rapid glance around the shop told him there were no customers in sight. It was still early. His hand cupped her cheek, as he leaned down and kissed her. "See you tonight, love."
Her brown eyes flashed at him, and he felt an electric sort of tingle pass through him. It made him wish that he could take her back home with him now. He wanted to lean in for another kiss, but a customer came in then, and he reluctantly let Ginny go. The depth of his need for her was, even now, a revelation to him. He had never felt this way about anybody else, had never known such emotions even existed, and he was still stunned by it.
He went out into Diagon Alley and Disapparated. He reappeared at Ginny’s cottage and went inside just long enough to collect the parchment which held the information he had copied from the books at Hogwarts library. Then he began to walk along the lane that led out into the country. He clambered over the stile, remembering the time he, along with Ron and Hermione, had met a black dog at this very spot. It seemed so long ago now, even though he knew less than ten years had passed since that day. As he continued along the boulder-strewn path that led up the side of the mountain, he thought of his godfather, and how he had died in a confrontation with Death Eaters during Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts. Sirius had never been able to catch Wormtail, but his name had been cleared posthumously. It had been too little too late, as far as Harry was concerned.
When he reached the fissure in the rock that was the entrance to the cave, Harry was sweating from the steep climb in the hot sun. He eased himself though the crack-it was a much tighter squeeze than he’d remembered-into the welcome coolness inside. He paused and wiped his forehead on his sleeve, before lighting his wand and consulting his notes to familiarise himself with the spells he might need. When he felt he was ready, he put away the parchment, raised his wand and cried, "Hic spiritus Draco Malfoy!"
The words echoed in the cave and died away, as he waited. He waited so long that he was sure the spell hadn’t worked. It was only the first time he’d attempted it, after all, and he still found the incantation funny. It might have affected his concentration. He remembered the trouble he’d had learning the Summoning Charm in his fourth year. He was about to raise his wand and try again, when the temperature seemed to drop another five degrees. It was no longer comfortably cool in the cave, it was downright chilly. There was an icy blast of air, and then…
"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy had turned up at last, and he sounded perturbed.
Harry decided to dispense with the niceties. "Took you long enough."
"I’ve got all the time in the world, Potter. I’m never in a hurry for much of anything these days."
"I need you to tell me some things. Last week you hinted to me that you could tell me something useful. I’d like to hear it now."
Malfoy’s ghostly form glowed faintly in sharp contrast with the darkness in the cave. Harry saw him smile smugly and cross his arms over his chest. "Last week you were in too much of a hurry to bother. Why’s it so important you hear what I’ve got to say now?"
"Maybe I didn’t believe you could tell me anything important at the time. I’ve changed my mind now. Let’s hear it."
"What if I don’t want to talk now? What are you going to do about it?"
"For starters, I can keep summoning you back until you decide to talk…" Malfoy couldn’t possibly have gone any paler than he already was, but Harry could see his eyes widen. It seemed obvious that the summoning hadn’t been a pleasant experience for him. "And I’ve discovered a spell or two that can keep you here," Harry continued. "I’ve got all day."
Malfoy laughed coldly. "You may have all day, but I’ve got eternity."
Harry shrugged nonchalantly, belying his growing irritation, and drew his wand. "Subigo te respondere." Malfoy visibly stiffened, and his face registered surprise. Harry smiled grimly. "Didn’t expect that, did you?"
Draco was now compelled to answer. "No," he said shortly.
"Now, tell me what you were going to tell me last week."
"I don’t remember what I was going to tell you." Malfoy may have been magically compelled to answer, but he wasn’t obliged to tell the truth.
"Then allow me to refresh your memory. We were discussing your father, I believe. What can you tell me about him?"
"Lots of things that would curl your toes, but most of it has nothing to do with you," Malfoy sneered.
Harry was rather surprised to hear that any of this might have something to do with him. "Then stick to the part that does have to do with me."
Malfoy smirked. "I’d keep on my toes, if I were you," he said cryptically. "Practice my duelling, even."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" It was becoming a struggle for Harry not to show his annoyance. He had a feeling that this was the sort of reaction Malfoy was trying to provoke, and Harry didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Very little had changed between them in that respect.
"Just what I said."
Harry wished he’d discovered a spell that would make Malfoy answer plainly. It was a shame that Veritaserum could not be used on ghosts, he reflected. Not that he knew where he could procure any. Doubtless Hermione knew how to make it, but he couldn’t have asked her for any without the information getting back to Ron. The use of Veritaserum was still highly regulated by the Ministry of Magic.
Harry sighed. "Look, would you just tell me what your father’s been up to, and what that has to do with me?"
"Oh, he has plans for you, Potter, and for your girlfriend."
"What sort of plans, and what do they have to do with Ginny?"
"I can’t tell you exactly," Malfoy drawled, clearly relishing that fact.
"You can’t or you won’t?"
"Can’t. I don’t know details." There was something in his tone that made Harry inclined to believe him.
"Then would you tell me what you do know? From our last conversation, I gather you don’t exactly bear any sort of good will towards your father. Why not tell me what you know? If you can have him sent to Azkaban, wouldn’t it be worth helping me out?"
Malfoy considered this option for such a long time that Harry began to feel impatient. Draco seemed to be torn between wanting to take revenge on his father in any way he could, and his natural inclination to hinder anything Harry wanted. "I don’t know as much as you’d like," he answered at last. "I can tell you this. Lucius," he spat the name, "has spent a most of his time in the years since the Dark Lord’s defeat studying the Dark Arts. At the end of the war, he went into hiding in Russia, but before he left England, he was able to retrieve a great many personal papers left behind by the Dark Lord himself. He spent a great deal of time reading through them, and then he went to Durmstrang on several occasions and made use of their library. I know, because I was haunting him the entire time." He sounded pleased with himself. Harry was reminded of something Moaning Myrtle had once told him. She’d described how she’d haunted a former classmate of hers until that classmate complained to the Ministry, which then forced Myrtle to remain at Hogwarts. Lucius hadn’t had that sort of recourse, since he’d been a fugitive from the Ministry, himself.
I couldn’t follow him to Durmstrang, though," Malfoy continued. "They have some sort of safe-guards in place that even ghosts can’t penetrate. He was also careful about what he said or leaving papers lying around, if he knew I was there. He must have learned a thing or two about taking precautions against ghosts while at Durmstrang, because I never was able to get a good look at what, exactly, he was trying to learn how to do."
"You must have an idea."
Malfoy shrugged. "The Dark Lord spent a great deal of energy trying to become immortal. I assume Lucius is trying to do the same." The animosity in Malfoy’s voice when he said his father’s name gave Harry a strange prickly feeling along his spine. He wasn’t surprised, however, at the depth of Malfoy’s obvious disdain. Lucius had, after all, killed his own son.
"And what does all this have to do with me?"
"The old bastard isn’t in Russia anymore. He’s in England. And I’ve heard your name come up."
"My name?" Harry said, more to himself, than to Malfoy. "But Ginny’s the one who’s been receiving all the threats."
"She’s been mentioned as well."
"But why?"
"I haven’t heard anything specific. Lucius has been too careful."
"So how did you know where to find me?"
"You summoned me, remember?" He was beginning to be intentionally obtuse once more.
"Last week, I mean. When I ran into you at Hogwarts."
"That was coincidence, more or less. I came up to Hogwarts on my own, but I saw you outside the castle on your way in. You had a book under your arm, so I assumed you were going to the library. I decided to waylay you. It was fun. You were distracted and almost walked through me. I managed to piss you off, too." He sounded quite pleased with himself.
"So if you weren’t expecting to find me, what were you doing up there?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I was in the neighbourhood," he answered in a bored drawl.
Something clicked in Harry’s mind. If Malfoy had been in the area that day, and he’d been haunting his father all this time, then it might mean that Lucius, himself, was in the vicinity. "Where’s your father staying these days?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Malfoy smiled bitterly. "It’s not at Malfoy Manor, I can tell you that much. I can’t tell you exactly where, either. It’s difficult for me to judge distances in my present form. Travel isn’t the same for a ghost as it is for the living."
Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this remark. He wanted to think that since it had taken a while for Malfoy to appear once he’d been summoned, he must have travelled a fairly great distance. But Harry felt he couldn’t be certain of this. Perhaps Malfoy had resisted the summons for as long as he could, just to annoy Harry. There was no way of knowing, and Harry didn’t like the feeling.
As Harry hesitated, considering, Malfoy began to float about restlessly. He seemed to be growing increasingly bored. "Listen," he said at last. "If the interrogation is over, I’d like to be off now."
Harry still had about a hundred questions he’d like to ask, but he was becoming more and more certain Malfoy wouldn’t be able to answer. "You can go in a minute, Malfoy. But just remember, I can always summon you back." He saw Malfoy flinch at this. Presumably, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience to be summoned. "If you want to avoid that in the future, I’m staying in Hogsmeade. A little cottage on the outskirts, lots of flower beds. You can look me up there if you turn up anything."
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Looks to me as if you don’t like to be summoned, for one thing. For another, you get revenge on your father if he gets sent away. It’s up to you though." Harry shrugged, as if the matter was much less important than it was.
Malfoy didn’t answer one way or the other. He simply floated through the wall of the cave, leaving Harry alone in the dark once more. He remained there a while longer, trying to make sense of it all. Lucius Malfoy was still delving deeply into the Dark Arts and was, it seemed to him, behind the threats Ginny had received. And he, Harry, was somehow involved, in spite of never having been the recipient of a threat, himself. But why? What did the one have to do with the other? If he, himself, was implicated, it had to go beyond the fact that Ginny may have found out about some minor dark activity when she still worked at the Ministry.
Unless… Unless Ginny had somehow uncovered some plot that was directed against him the entire time. Could that be it? If this were the case, then his staying at her house was possibly putting her in danger, rather than protecting her. If he were the ultimate target, then he needed to stay as far away from her as he could.
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