The Long Road Home, chapter 12
Rated:R
Summary: Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
Harry trudged through the labyrinth that was the Ministry of Magic in Bode's wake. They were back in the area that Harry remembered from his first day at work over a month ago. It had crumbling walls, unbroken by any indication of a door. He could only hope that Rita Skeeter wasn't hovering in some side corridor waiting to jump out at him. He could just imagine the headlines she'd make of this development: the famous Harry Potter being taken in for questioning by the Department of Mysteries.
But what could the Department of Mysteries want with him, really? This couldn't have anything to do with Sirius, could it? His godfather had been exonerated, after all, so Harry couldn't be considered to be harbouring a fugitive. In any case, that was the sort of thing Aurors and his own department looked into. Harry remembered Mr Weasley telling him four years ago that he had no idea what the employees of Department of Mysteries got up to. Harry could hardly expect to know anything more about it after a mere six weeks.
Bode halted abruptly in front of a bare expanse of wall. Harry watched as the Unspeakable tapped a spot where two cracks in the plaster ran together and muttered what was an obvious password under his breath. It was voiced too quietly for Harry to catch. Immediately the wall began to give way before Bode, opening into an archway and reminding Harry of the entrance to Diagon Alley, to reveal what had to be Bode's office. Harry followed him in, and the wall snapped shut behind them, causing an odd, prickling sensation to run down Harry's spine. Something told him he wouldn't be leaving this room until Bode was ready to let him go.
Without a further word to Harry, the Unspeakable began to rummage through a mess of parchment on his desk. It looked as if bits of various files had been left there in a heap. Harry caught a glimpse of the word "Black" on one piece of parchment before it was swept aside. On another, he thought he spied the word "Dumbledore". Then a slivery glimmer caught his eye, and he turned to see a Pensieve sitting on a shelf to one side. It had the same sort of runes on it that Harry remembered seeing on Dumbledore's Pensieve, but he didn't know enough about them to tell if this basin had indeed belonged to his former headmaster.
Bode continued to dig through his papers, evidently looking for something or other in the mess. Harry wondered how he managed to get anything done in such chaos. The only sound in the room was that of rustling parchment, and Harry wondered if he shouldn't just sit down, even though he hadn't been offered a seat. In the end, he did, just as Bode produced a Quick Quotes Quill and a blank roll of parchment, but still Bode didn't say anything.
The silence stretched out, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he could stand it no longer. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what this is all about?" His voice sounded unnaturally loud.
Bode gave him penetrating look, as the quill scratched out what Harry had just said. It was the only sound in the room. Harry felt as if Bode was looking straight into Harry's mind and reading what was there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He suddenly had the impression that he knew what Ginny had felt like last year when Krum had looked into her soul. Was Bode a Soul Searcher as well? If so, then he'd probably just learned Harry's secret. But something didn't quite jibe. Soul Searchers were supposed to be rare. Could there be more than one of them alive at the same time? Or was Bode simply a good actor? Harry had no idea, but whatever was going on, it was creepy and unsettling.
"No," Bode replied at last. His voice was gruff. "I'll be asking the questions here."
"Haven't I got a right to know what's going on?" asked Harry, starting to feel irritated. If he had just been Searched, shouldn't he at least have had a chance to give his permission?
"You may, but you'll work that out soon enough. I'm not allowed to tell you, you see."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, knowing it was probably standing on end and not really caring. The whole situation was becoming more bizarre by the second.
"Now then," Bode began after a few more moments had passed in silence, "I need you to tell me what you did to Lord Voldemort."
Harry's jaw dropped. Was he about to be accused of murder? That would explain why he felt as if he were being treated like a criminal, anyway. "What I did to him?" Harry repeated lamely.
"Yes, you duelled with him, and by all appearances, he's gone. How did you do it?"
"I… I used a spell," replied Harry, now more confused than ever. "I don't think it has a name… We found it in Hogwarts library."
"We?"
Harry wondered if he was about to get Ron, Hermione and Ginny into trouble now. "My friends and I."
"Tell me about it."
"What do you want to know, specifically?"
"Everything. Where and how you found it. How it works…"
"I can tell you some of it. I don't know how it works. I don't know if it worked." And, Harry added in his thoughts, there are some things I don't want to tell you.
"Then tell me what you do know."
And so Harry once again launched into the explanation of how Hermione and Ginny had worked out what the runic text might mean, and then the girls along with him and Ron had searched until Hermione had found the entire text and translated it fully. Bode stopped him here.
"What was the title of the book?"
Harry stared at him for a moment. "I have no idea. I never looked. It would have been in some ancient language, anyway. Even if I had looked I wouldn't have any idea what it meant."
"Do you remember what the book looked like?"
Harry shrugged. "Old… I don't know. It was dark. I don't pay attention to these things." He wondered why this was even important, but he knew it wouldn't do him much good to ask.
"All right. Go on then. What about this spell. What was the incantation?"
"I have no idea what the original was. I used Latin. Hermione translated it for me."
"Yes, well that hardly matters. It's the intent behind the spell as much as anything that makes it work successfully. What I'm most interested in is the incantation, though."
Harry didn't want to tell him. It mentioned the sacrifice after all, and he knew Bode was going to be interested in that, as well. He shifted uncomfortably. "Exulo in tenebras ad perpetuitatem," he mumbled.
Bode looked at him hard once more, and again Harry had the impression the Unspeakable was looking right through him. "Impossible." It wasn't said in amazement; it was a statement of fact. "There has to be more to it than that. There isn't any possible way something that simple could have done it."
"Done what?"
"I'm asking the questions here. Tell me what else there was to the spell."
"No. Not until you tell me why it's so important for you to know."
Bode didn't reply, so Harry closed his mouth and stared back. They sat this way for several minutes without blinking, until Harry finally spoke up. "Right. This is stupid. I've got work to do in my own department. It's sort of important, too. Helping round up the remaining Death Eaters and all. Granted I'm not actually building cases against them or anything like that, but still, someone has to lend the solicitors a hand so they can get things done properly. I haven't got time for staring contests."
He got up, wondering if the wall would react to his mere presence and let him through. He hoped so; he was going to look like an idiot otherwise. His heart leapt as the wall opened as he walked up to it, but he soon saw that it hadn't been reacting to him. Someone else was coming into Bode's office. Harry had to step back to allow the newcomer to pass.
"Ah, I see you've already started," said the man. "How are things going?"
Bode grunted and gestured to the parchment, where the quill was still skating across the page as it recorded the proceedings. The newcomer read over the parchment before sighing and turning to Harry. "I must apologise for my partner's rudeness. He's really not a people person, you see." He paused and extended a hand towards Harry. "Kermit Croaker. It's a pleasure. Have a seat, have a seat."
"I was just leaving," Harry replied.
Croaker actually looked hurt. "Oh… well that would be a pity, wouldn't it?"
Bode muttered something inaudible from the desk. Harry leaned forward to see if the quill had recorded Bode's words, but the Unspeakable snatched it up before it could write them down. Croaker turned to address him. "Why don't you get us some tea, while I have a word with Mr Potter here?"
Bode looked affronted, but he slumped off through the door. Croaker took a seat at the desk, and after rummaging a few moments for a fresh quill, looked at Harry. "Now, would you mind telling me what the trouble is?"
"Trouble? Your partner drags me here without a word of explanation and just expects me to answer his questions, and you're asking me what the trouble is? I don't have to co-operate, you know. I have rights. In fact, I'm not saying anything further until I know what you want with me."
Croaker's affable face hardened the slightest amount. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Departmental policy and all."
"Then we've got a problem, haven't we?"
Croaker lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then he took the quill off the parchment once more. "All right. I'm bending the rules here, so you can't tell anyone. If I tell you what we're investigating, you'll have to agree to letting me perform a Memory Charm when we're finished here. Would you be willing to co-operate under those circumstances?"
"Perhaps. I just need to know one more thing. Who's going to find out about whatever I have to tell you once we're finished?"
"Oh, all this remains strictly within the Department of Mysteries. The Minister for Magic will be told the final conclusions of the investigation, but not the details. We keep those to ourselves. And you don't have to worry. Every employee of the Department of Mysteries is subject to a more stringent confidentiality agreement than your own department."
"And what if I choose not to co-operate? What can you do about it?"
"Not a thing, not a thing. But let me just point out that there are advantages if you co-operate. You'll be helping put public unease to rest." Harry raised his eyebrows, and Croaker went on. "You must have worked out by now what we're investigating."
"It's got to do with Voldemort."
"We're trying to prove he's truly gone this time. You must have noticed the war has never been declared over officially. The Minister doesn't want to have a situation occur where the war is declared over, Voldemort deemed gone, and then have him turn up again. Can you imagine the hysteria? Can you imagine the lack of confidence the wizarding public would then have in its leaders? Goodness knows, Fudge was bad enough…"
Cornelius Fudge had gone to his grave denying that Voldemort had truly returned. He'd been assassinated two summers ago. The new Minister had proved to be a lot more decisive, in any case, and more willing to help out Dumbledore. However, Harry was fairly sure there hadn't been complete trust between the Hogwarts headmaster and the Ministry. The Ministry had taken its own precautions, such as warding off Diagon Alley against attack, while allowing Dumbledore more or less free rein with the Order.
"…So you see, the Minister wants to be absolutely certain that Voldemort is gone before declaring any sort of celebrations. But once we're able to do that, things can start going back to normal."
Normal. What was normal for the wizarding world? Harry wasn't sure he knew. "You're going to have to obliviate me as it is now, aren't you?" he asked.
Croaker had the grace to look abashed. "Well, yes."
Harry sighed. "All right, I'll co-operate. But you're going first. You're going to tell me all about this investigation, because, you see, I used a spell on Voldemort, and it looks as if he's gone. But even I'm not one hundred percent certain it worked."
And so Croaker explained. After the battle in Hogsmeade, there had been a widespread, but largely secret search for Voldemort, but no trace of him could be found anywhere. Department of Mysteries investigators had examined the spot where Voldemort had been last seen, but nothing had been made of hand that had been lying on the ground, nor of the blood. They had been considered simple by-products of the battle. Until the department had laid hands on Dumbledore's Pensieve, which the Ministry had taken into possession when it had gathered evidence for Sirius' case.
"And there we saw something very odd," said Croaker. "There we found an account of the night Voldemort re-embodied, an account given by an eye-witness to Dumbledore himself." Here Croaker looked straight at Harry, and Harry knew exactly what scene the Unspeakable was referring to. "We might never have seen it, except that your godfather was present, and your department had asked us specifically for Dumbledore's memories as they related to your godfather's case. And I know I don't have to tell you what was involved in that re-embodiment spell."
"Flesh, blood and bone," said Harry dully.
"Flesh, more specifically a hand, and not just any hand. One from Voldemort's servant, one with a missing finger. Looking back at the description of what was found on the spot where Voldemort was last seen, that hand was indeed missing the forefinger. The blood was also present, but the bone…"
"It would have been impossible to see," Harry broke in quietly. "The bone was taken from Voldemort's father's grave. It had decomposed into dust by then. If there had been any of it left on the spot, it wouldn't have been noticed. Or the wind would have blown it away."
Croaker nodded. "Well, then, another piece falls into place. I'll need you to repeat that on the record, though."
Harry waited while Croaker set up the quill to record what they were saying once more, and repeated his statement. Then the Unspeakable went on. "That, along with Mr Pettigrew's missing replacement hand and the Dark Marks disappearing from his followers' arms… Well, that in itself doesn't point to anything. Those disappeared the last time, only to reappear as Voldemort became strong once more. We didn't know about them at the time of his first defeat, however. The fact that they've disappeared again does point to his defeat though. But the evidence on the spot where Voldemort disappeared… Now that indicates that the re-embodiment spell itself was undone. So the only question left to answer is, how did that come about? And I think you're the only one who can tell us that."
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed. "This is the part that I want to go no further, but I reckon I have to tell you because it may be the last piece left in the puzzle. I didn't give the entire spell earlier. The first part of it was Me porricio."
"I sacrifice myself," Croaker translated almost to himself.
"Yes."
"But you didn't give up your life. Would this be an indication that the spell didn't work after all?"
"I don't know whether both parts of it worked, although now that I've heard all this, I'm inclined to think they did. The sacrifice portion worked, though. It was never my life. It was my magical powers. I have none now."
*
The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, causing Harry's mouth to water in spite of his exhaustion as he collapsed into his place at the table. It was the first evening in a month he wasn't having to settle for reheated leftovers at midnight, and he fully intended to enjoy it before heading off to bed.
He could hardly believe the interrogation--he couldn't think of it as anything more--by the Department of Mysteries had taken place so long ago, but it had given him a start only today to realise October was already half gone. So far nothing had come of that incident, which he remembered partially, in spite of the memory charm that Croaker had placed on him at the end of the meeting. He remembered that it had occurred, and he recalled his feelings at the time; he just couldn't recall specific details of what had been discussed, especially where the Ministry's involvement was concerned. There hadn't yet been an official announcement of the war's end, but on the other hand, no one new seemed to be aware of Harry's secret.
In the meantime, he'd been snowed under at work. In the past week he'd barely been at the Burrow long enough for a few hours' fitful sleep before the crack of dawn, when he had to leave for the office again.
He ran his thumb along the stack of letters sitting by his plate at the table, thinking guiltily that he'd been remiss in writing to Ginny again, but at least this time, it wasn't because he was unable to find the words to express himself. It was a simple question of not enough hours in the day. He recognised her handwriting on the first letter in the pile. He hadn't even had time to read it yet, let alone reply. He'd have taken it to work with him to read in a spare moment, but he wanted to take the time to read it over slowly, to savour each word, and he wanted to be in private when he did so. It was easier to pretend she was there with him that way.
Harry ate his supper in silence and as quickly he could without being impolite. Mrs Weasley was too busy fussing over her husband to notice. "Now Arthur, you be sure to tell them when you go back to the Ministry tomorrow that you won't be up to any more raids."
Mr Weasley was still walking with a noticeable limp, and Harry knew there had to be more to it than a simple broken leg, as long as the healing process was taking, but he didn't want to ask. There was a palpable veil of secrecy surrounding the incident, as far as Harry could tell. It was difficult for him to determine just what the nature of the secret was, however, since he was rarely at the Burrow for any length of time these days.
"You really ought to get someone younger into the office with you to handle that sort of thing," Mrs Weasley fretted.
"Come off it, Mum," Bill commented. "Dad's not as old as all that."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son," said Mr Weasley, while his wife glared at their eldest son.
"Although I suppose there's enough of us members of the Order with little enough to do, if ever you need back-up…" Bill was patently tired of waiting around to find out whether the Order needed his services anymore. He was itching to return to Egypt.
Sirius had already moved on. His only problem was his inability to find anyone in the wizarding world willing to hire him, in spite of the fact this his appearance was much less menacing now as a result of several weeks' worth of access to hot water and Mrs Weasley's hearty cooking. The Rita Skeeter article was partly to blame for that, but not entirely. Too many business people in the wizarding world had their finances caught up in the rebuilding effort and couldn't afford to hire extra help. Much of the rebuilding was being done with volunteer help, but shops still had to replace their stock. Harry was glad for Sirius' sake that they'd convinced him to keep the money the Ministry had offered him. If he was careful, he might be able to live quietly on that money for a while, combined with what he already had in his Gringott's vault.
Harry swallowed the last of his supper and stood, picking up his stack of letter. "If you don't mind, I think I'll head up to bed now," he said.
"Oh, won't you have any pudding, Harry?" asked Mrs Weasley.
"No thanks, really, everything was delicious, but I couldn't eat another bite. I'm just dead tired is all."
"They're working you much too hard, dear."
"Not a whole lot I can do about that, Mrs Weasley. Good night everyone!"
As he headed up the stairs towards Ron's room, he found he was suddenly wide awake. He had a whole pile of letters from Ginny to get through, and he was going to reply tonight. He reached the top storey, threw himself onto the bed and tore open the first envelope.
Dear Harry,
Thanks for sending me your invisibility cloak and your map of the school. You said it helps to keep yourself occupied, so that's what I've been doing. It's a special project, and I can't go into details right now, but as soon as I'm done, I'm sure you'll hear all about it. I can tell you that I've been learning all sorts of new things and corresponding with just about everyone.
As you can probably tell, it's taken me a while to reply to your last letter. I'm sorry about that, but there was just a bit more in the package you sent me than I was expecting.
Harry knew she was referring to the dress robes from Madam Malkin's shop. Before things had got too mad at the office, he'd had a chance to nip out on his lunch hour and pick up the robes he'd had laid aside for Ginny, as well as order a new set of dress robes for himself. He'd waited to send Ginny her robes, as he hadn't been certain what her reaction would be. However when she'd owled him to inquire about the invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map, he'd thought it the ideal occasion to send along the dress robes as well.
You know you really shouldn't have spent all that money on me. I could have made do with Transfiguring or borrowing something. But I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful, either. I'll thank you properly the next time I see you. Unfortunately, that isn't likely to be before the ball itself. I wish things could be otherwise. I miss you so much. You're right about keeping busy. It does help. Just not enough. Not like seeing you would. I love you,
Ginny
Harry went back to the top and read Ginny's letter over again, stopping at the point where she apologised for taking so long to reply. He looked at the date. It was a week old. Panicking, he looked through the rest of the envelopes, noting with relief that none of them was red. He knew it was silly, because a real Howler would have exploded long before now. Still, it would be best if he got through these and wrote a reply before morning, or else he just might find a red envelope at the breakfast table.
He moved on to the next letter.
Dear Harry,
How are things going at the Ministry? I imagine they're busy these days. Auror training is still going well. We've been doing strategic planning exercises and I'm top of my class at that. Would love to see Hermione's face when I tell her. Less than a month to go and I'll be finished. Can hardly wait. I had a bit of an odd letter from Ginny the other day. She was going on about some project she's been working on and asking if I had any Filibuster Fireworks or Dungbombs left over from Hogwarts. I think she's gone mental. Do you think I was wrong to send her what I had? Write back and let me know.
Ron
Scratching his head, Harry moved on to the next letter in the stack. Scanning down, he recognised Remus' signature at the bottom.
Dear Harry,
I hope everything is going well for you. I was really surprised the other day when I got a letter from your girlfriend and I was wondering if you knew anything about it. She seems to have a bit of an oddball for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. I don't know what Professor McGonagall was thinking. Why would anyone be teaching about the effects of explosions on building structures?
The letter went on, but Harry laid it aside for now. Something funny was going on here. Ginny was definitely up to something, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Not that he had any idea what she was doing… The next letter from his godfather proved to be even more puzzling.
Dear Harry,
I hope all is well with you and with the Weasleys. I know you'll pass along my thanks to Molly and Arthur for opening their home to me last month. I also hope if there's ever anything you need to talk about, man to man, you wouldn't hesitate to discuss it with me. Your girlfriend wrote to me today and was asking about enhancement charms, you see. I can only hope I'm jumping to the wrong conclusions here, but I have to ask you. She didn't have you personally in mind when she asked me that, did she?
Harry was very glad he'd chosen to read his post in private. He felt as if his face was on fire. What on earth was Ginny getting up to that she had to ask Sirius about enhancement charm, of all things? He wasn't even sure he wanted to read any more. He laid Sirius' letter aside, deciding he might be better off knowing the worst. The next letter was from Hermione, and it was longer than the others. He almost dreaded finding out what she had to say.
Dear Harry,
I hope work is going well for you. I just can't imagine all the fun you're having doing research. You've got to be learning the most interesting things. Harry, I don't want to worry you needlessly, but I'm starting to be a bit concerned about Ginny. She's got some sort of project she's been working on, and she's become obsessed with it. She's been neglecting her studies to work on it, and she's even taken to lying to me, if you can believe that. You see, she told me it was homework for her Muggle Studies class, but I've checked with her teacher, who assured me she has not been teaching them about Muggle demolition techniques or incendiary devices. Do you know anything about this?
Meanwhile work here is going well. The library is in better shape than it's ever been in with the reorganising I've been doing. Staff meetings have become tiresome. Professor Snape keeps insisting someone was taking Potions ingredients from his private stores again. He went as far as to say that if you were still at school, he'd be willing to bet his last Galleon that you were sneaking about under your invisibility cloak and taking them. He was looking straight at me when he said it, as well. It was very embarrassing.
Oh, and back to Ginny. What was in that package you sent her last week? She didn't want to show me any of what you'd sent her, but I caught a glimpse of something golden, and she finally caved in and showed me the dress robes you bought for her. I have to say, I don't think I've seen anything more beautiful, but don't you think they're a bit revealing? I hope for your sake that Ginny's mum never sees them. She'd never let you within ten miles of each other.
Love from,
Hermione
Harry set the letters aside, and ran his hands over his face, while he tried to work out what was going on. Whatever it was, Harry suspected that it was going to make any prank the twins ever pulled look downright innocent. He was going to have to write to Ginny and ask, he realised. But that solution was problematic in and of itself now, since he hadn't written to her in over a week. He knew she wasn't going to be too pleased with him for that reason. He was going to have to be careful to make sure she didn't turn her wrath loose on him. In fact, he would have suspected that was what this whole "project" was about, except for the fact that she'd mentioned it in her first letter of a week ago.
He rummaged though his trunk until he'd produced some parchment, ink and a quill, but he hadn't got very far into his letter when there was a knock at the door. It proved to be Mr Weasley, and Harry felt sorry that he'd had to hobble up five flights of stairs to the top of the house on his bad leg.
"Sorry to disturb you, Harry," he commented, "but I couldn't help noticing you had a letter from Ginny there. She wouldn't have mentioned getting the box-in-the-jack she asked for, did she?"
"Sorry?" said Harry, confused. "Did you mean a jack-in-the-box?"
"Yes, that must be it. At any rate, she asked me to send her the one I had out in my shed. Did she mention getting it?"
"Erm, no, I don't think she did. But then this letter was sent a week ago. I haven't had anything more recent than that."
"All right then. If you're writing back, would you mind asking her for me if she got it all right?"
"Of course."
Mr Weasley said good night, and Harry went back to apologising profusely for not replying sooner, but now he had another thing to puzzle over. It was late indeed before Harry finished his letter and sent Hedwig off towards Hogwarts with it.
It was still dark out when Harry rose and got dressed for work the following morning. He blinked sleepily as he entered the light of the kitchen. Mrs Weasley had already started breakfast, judging by the large pot of porridge bubbling on the stove. She had to be cooking an extra-large breakfast to sustain her husband on his first day back at the Ministry.
Harry poured hot water into the tea pot and set the leaves in it to steep. While he was waiting, he idly picked up the copy of the morning's Daily Prophet, which was lying on the table. Upon seeing the headline, his eyes widened and he had to sit down.
Suspected Death Eater Attack in Hogsmeade the headline screamed. The town of Hogsmeade suffered quite a rude awakening late last night as Zonko's joke shop suffered a mysterious explosion. Although no suspects were seen, sources from the Ministry of Magic fear the attack was the work of the children of Death Eaters since the source of the explosion was apparently Dungbombs and Filibuster Fireworks. The Department of Mysteries is said to be working on the significance of the Muggle device which was found on the scene. It is feared that the Box of Jack, pictured below, could have been used to enchant the victims, as it produces an eerie, trance-inducing noise…
Harry stopped reading, and looked at the picture that accompanied the article. It showed the remains of a leering clown's head bobbing on the end of a twisted spring. Wisps of smoke were coming off the entire thing.
Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably, as the pieces fell into place at last. Ginny had mentioned in earlier letters that the twins had been taking great glee in sending her little reminders that they'd caught her and Harry under compromising circumstances the night before she'd left for school. He also remembered the delight they'd taken in humiliating both him and Ginny that same evening. This had to be a form of revenge. There was no other explanation for it. It wouldn't be the first time Ginny had resorted to such means, either. She'd done something similar, albeit on a smaller scale, on his seventeenth birthday, and with much less provocation.
His musings were interrupted by Mrs Weasley's arrival in the kitchen. "Oh, good morning, Harry dear," she greeted distractedly as she went to stir the porridge. "It's just terrible, isn't it? Just when everyone believes it might all be over…"
Harry had been about to hide the newspaper, but Mrs Weasley had obviously already seen it. He might have comforted her with the knowledge that no Death Eaters had been behind the Zonko's attack, but he didn't think she'd be very pleased to learn her own daughter was the true culprit. Plus she might ask Harry some tricky questions about why Ginny would want revenge on her brothers in the first place.
Mrs Weasley placed a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Oh, and this came for you while I was out gathering the eggs." She handed him a burnt-looking envelope, which had a rather suspicious smell about it. "It looks to be from the twins," she added. She would have been certain to recognise her own sons' writing, after all.
Harry was fairly sure he didn't want to open this letter at the breakfast table, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Plus Mrs Weasley was looking at him expectantly, her lower lip quivering slightly and betraying her worry about her boys. He reluctantly slit the envelope, releasing a noxious cloud of purplish smoke into the kitchen. It took a few moments for him to recover from his coughing fit and his eyes to stop watering before he could read what the twins had to say.
Dear Mum, the letter began, giving Harry quite a start. He looked at the envelope once more and saw that it had been indeed addressed to him. Not only that, he could see slight variations in the handwriting on alternate sentences at the beginning of the letter, as if the twins had taken turns in composing it.
Dear Mum,
We've been thinking… We've had something on our minds for a while, and we really think you ought to know about it. We caught Harry and Ginny in… Well we really can't say where we found them, now can we, George? But they were… We shouldn't say what they were doing, either, Fred. But you would think that by the age of seventeen, Ginny would know how to do up her buttons properly…
Here the letter cut off abruptly, only to continue in an entirely different vein. There was a curious-looking blackened space between the two sections of the letter.
Harry, mate, only joking. You know we don't care what you and Ginny, our wonderful, clever sister, get up to. Could you please tell her we were only joking, and that we only wanted to have a little fun? For some reason she can't seem to take a joke, although you would think after all these years she would have learned how to by now. Anyway, you ought to watch out for her. She can be somewhat dangerous when she gets mad, so take it from us and be careful not to piss her off.
Mrs Weasley was watching Harry closely, and he knew she was waiting for word that her sons were all right. Harry wasn't quite sure how to begin to explain that this was all an elaborate joke, but he knew he had to say something to set her mind at ease.
Harry was about to launch into an explanation, when the back door suddenly burst open. Both Harry and Mrs Weasley turned in alarm to see Pauline standing there, red-faced and her blonde hair in wild disarray. At the same time, Mr Weasley limped into the kitchen dressed in an old pair of robes, but evidently ready to go in to the Ministry. Harry thought he looked rather tired, and the day was only beginning.
"Pauline!" Mrs Weasley gasped, taking in the girl’s wild-eyed expression. "What on earth…"
"I am going to murder your sons, Mrs Weasley," she announced in a very loud, agitated voice. "Then," she added, pointing to Harry, "I’m going to go after your girlfriend."
"What's happened?" asked Mrs Weasley anxiously. "Is everything all right?" Harry's immediate thought was that this was both a very stupid and very brave thing for Mrs Weasley to ask, especially when Pauline had just announced she was about to start slaughtering Weasleys left and right.
"ALL RIGHT? Your daughter and your sons are responsible for the complete annihilation of MY shop, and you ask if everything’s all right?" Pauline roared, making the tea cups and saucers rattle on the shelves. "Do you know… know…" And Pauline suddenly burst into tears and continued on in an extremely high pitched voice, in which no one except maybe a dog could understand. Harry was reminded of Moaning Myrtle.
"There, there dear," said Mrs Weasley, putting an arm around the girl and guiding her to a chair, while motioning for Mr Weasley to pour out a cup of tea.
"All my hard work….all of it, all because those stupid bast-" A hiccup cut her off. "All because they played some stupid joke on Ginny, who went mad and… and.."
"What did Ginny do?" asked Mrs Weasley.
"She blew up Zonkos! My Zonko’s! It’s gone! Completely destroyed! All because those wretched brats… Why can’t they just be like a normal family and just not speak to each other for years?"
"Are you saying that the whole thing in the newspaper… About Zonko’s and a possible Death Eater attack…" began Mrs Weasley.
"Death Eaters? No, it was those miserable, immature, absolutely idiotic…"
"They did this?" Mrs Weasley took the Daily Prophet from Harry and handed it to Pauline.
"Death Eaters!" Pauline muttered, glancing over the article. "Typical! After all the money I poured into taking out adverts in every major wizarding newspaper, we end up on the front page after being blown up! I’m going to kill them!" Pauline threw the paper down on the table.
"Ginny? And the twins? But how… And why?" Mrs Weasley seemed to be in quite a state herself.
Pauline, noticing her reaction, suddenly paled. "Oh, Mrs Weasley! I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean…. Well, yes I did, but I’m so sorry… You are such a wonderful person, you both are," she added, nodding to Mr Weasley. "But how people as nice as you both are, managed to have…have…those monsters….oh, I’m sorry!"
"Listen," said Mr Weasley, "how do we even know Ginny was involved?"
"Oh, I know all right," said Pauline. "She's the one who gave me this!" She picked up the newspaper and thrust it under Mr Weasley's nose. Harry saw him take a good look at the picture and go pale. Fortunately for everyone, Pauline was in too much of a state to take notice. "Ginny gave that… that jack-in-the-box to me yesterday and warned me to take cover if the twins did anything with it. I'm sure that whatever the twins did to her, they fully deserved to have revenge taken. It just shouldn't have been taken on my shop! This does not excuse Ginny in the least!"
"No, of course it doesn't," agreed Mrs Weasley.
Pauline nodded once firmly, and shakily poured herself a cup of tea, completely ignoring the cup that Mr Weasley had already served her, sweetening it liberally with sugar. "Damn straight!"
"Under normal circumstances I'd say we ought to be very proud of her, actually," commented Mr Weasley. "Rigging up a device like that so it wouldn't do any structural damage shows quite an advanced knowledge of potions and charms…" He trailed off, quailing under his wife's glare.
"But why did she have to take it out on MY SHOP!" Pauline shot back. "All that hard work…" It looked as if tears were threatening once more. "I'm sorry, it's just that I have no place to stay. The smell… It's horrible…"
"Well, you're going to stay here, of course," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "There's no point in your suffering. The boys can clean up the place. It's only right after all. A little hard work never did anybody any harm. And tomorrow morning we can both go up there and give them a piece of our minds. Then we'll drop in on Ginny at school."
Pauline brought her emotions under control again. "Yes, tomorrow is another day, isn't it? But I'm not going to stop there," she went on, her voice deadly calm now. "Ginny had to have help with this. She couldn't have done anything this elaborate on her own. And when I find out who else had a hand in this, I will make them pay."
Harry and Mr Weasley exchanged an uncomfortable look, and the older man seemed to slump down in his seat slightly.
Looking at his watch, Harry realised he should have been at the office by now. He gulped down the last of his porridge, but before he activated his Portkey, he ran up to Ron's room and hid all the letters he'd received over the last week. There was no sense in taking any chances that Pauline would find them. For once it seemed like a relief to escape to the office.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all the girls at Towerstock, since they had to put up with Marian and me giggling till about four in the morning while we came up with the letters. Additional thanks go to Firebolt909 for making sure I had her in character. Thanks to everyone who continues to support me though reviews.
Chapter 13
Summary: Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
Harry trudged through the labyrinth that was the Ministry of Magic in Bode's wake. They were back in the area that Harry remembered from his first day at work over a month ago. It had crumbling walls, unbroken by any indication of a door. He could only hope that Rita Skeeter wasn't hovering in some side corridor waiting to jump out at him. He could just imagine the headlines she'd make of this development: the famous Harry Potter being taken in for questioning by the Department of Mysteries.
But what could the Department of Mysteries want with him, really? This couldn't have anything to do with Sirius, could it? His godfather had been exonerated, after all, so Harry couldn't be considered to be harbouring a fugitive. In any case, that was the sort of thing Aurors and his own department looked into. Harry remembered Mr Weasley telling him four years ago that he had no idea what the employees of Department of Mysteries got up to. Harry could hardly expect to know anything more about it after a mere six weeks.
Bode halted abruptly in front of a bare expanse of wall. Harry watched as the Unspeakable tapped a spot where two cracks in the plaster ran together and muttered what was an obvious password under his breath. It was voiced too quietly for Harry to catch. Immediately the wall began to give way before Bode, opening into an archway and reminding Harry of the entrance to Diagon Alley, to reveal what had to be Bode's office. Harry followed him in, and the wall snapped shut behind them, causing an odd, prickling sensation to run down Harry's spine. Something told him he wouldn't be leaving this room until Bode was ready to let him go.
Without a further word to Harry, the Unspeakable began to rummage through a mess of parchment on his desk. It looked as if bits of various files had been left there in a heap. Harry caught a glimpse of the word "Black" on one piece of parchment before it was swept aside. On another, he thought he spied the word "Dumbledore". Then a slivery glimmer caught his eye, and he turned to see a Pensieve sitting on a shelf to one side. It had the same sort of runes on it that Harry remembered seeing on Dumbledore's Pensieve, but he didn't know enough about them to tell if this basin had indeed belonged to his former headmaster.
Bode continued to dig through his papers, evidently looking for something or other in the mess. Harry wondered how he managed to get anything done in such chaos. The only sound in the room was that of rustling parchment, and Harry wondered if he shouldn't just sit down, even though he hadn't been offered a seat. In the end, he did, just as Bode produced a Quick Quotes Quill and a blank roll of parchment, but still Bode didn't say anything.
The silence stretched out, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he could stand it no longer. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what this is all about?" His voice sounded unnaturally loud.
Bode gave him penetrating look, as the quill scratched out what Harry had just said. It was the only sound in the room. Harry felt as if Bode was looking straight into Harry's mind and reading what was there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He suddenly had the impression that he knew what Ginny had felt like last year when Krum had looked into her soul. Was Bode a Soul Searcher as well? If so, then he'd probably just learned Harry's secret. But something didn't quite jibe. Soul Searchers were supposed to be rare. Could there be more than one of them alive at the same time? Or was Bode simply a good actor? Harry had no idea, but whatever was going on, it was creepy and unsettling.
"No," Bode replied at last. His voice was gruff. "I'll be asking the questions here."
"Haven't I got a right to know what's going on?" asked Harry, starting to feel irritated. If he had just been Searched, shouldn't he at least have had a chance to give his permission?
"You may, but you'll work that out soon enough. I'm not allowed to tell you, you see."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, knowing it was probably standing on end and not really caring. The whole situation was becoming more bizarre by the second.
"Now then," Bode began after a few more moments had passed in silence, "I need you to tell me what you did to Lord Voldemort."
Harry's jaw dropped. Was he about to be accused of murder? That would explain why he felt as if he were being treated like a criminal, anyway. "What I did to him?" Harry repeated lamely.
"Yes, you duelled with him, and by all appearances, he's gone. How did you do it?"
"I… I used a spell," replied Harry, now more confused than ever. "I don't think it has a name… We found it in Hogwarts library."
"We?"
Harry wondered if he was about to get Ron, Hermione and Ginny into trouble now. "My friends and I."
"Tell me about it."
"What do you want to know, specifically?"
"Everything. Where and how you found it. How it works…"
"I can tell you some of it. I don't know how it works. I don't know if it worked." And, Harry added in his thoughts, there are some things I don't want to tell you.
"Then tell me what you do know."
And so Harry once again launched into the explanation of how Hermione and Ginny had worked out what the runic text might mean, and then the girls along with him and Ron had searched until Hermione had found the entire text and translated it fully. Bode stopped him here.
"What was the title of the book?"
Harry stared at him for a moment. "I have no idea. I never looked. It would have been in some ancient language, anyway. Even if I had looked I wouldn't have any idea what it meant."
"Do you remember what the book looked like?"
Harry shrugged. "Old… I don't know. It was dark. I don't pay attention to these things." He wondered why this was even important, but he knew it wouldn't do him much good to ask.
"All right. Go on then. What about this spell. What was the incantation?"
"I have no idea what the original was. I used Latin. Hermione translated it for me."
"Yes, well that hardly matters. It's the intent behind the spell as much as anything that makes it work successfully. What I'm most interested in is the incantation, though."
Harry didn't want to tell him. It mentioned the sacrifice after all, and he knew Bode was going to be interested in that, as well. He shifted uncomfortably. "Exulo in tenebras ad perpetuitatem," he mumbled.
Bode looked at him hard once more, and again Harry had the impression the Unspeakable was looking right through him. "Impossible." It wasn't said in amazement; it was a statement of fact. "There has to be more to it than that. There isn't any possible way something that simple could have done it."
"Done what?"
"I'm asking the questions here. Tell me what else there was to the spell."
"No. Not until you tell me why it's so important for you to know."
Bode didn't reply, so Harry closed his mouth and stared back. They sat this way for several minutes without blinking, until Harry finally spoke up. "Right. This is stupid. I've got work to do in my own department. It's sort of important, too. Helping round up the remaining Death Eaters and all. Granted I'm not actually building cases against them or anything like that, but still, someone has to lend the solicitors a hand so they can get things done properly. I haven't got time for staring contests."
He got up, wondering if the wall would react to his mere presence and let him through. He hoped so; he was going to look like an idiot otherwise. His heart leapt as the wall opened as he walked up to it, but he soon saw that it hadn't been reacting to him. Someone else was coming into Bode's office. Harry had to step back to allow the newcomer to pass.
"Ah, I see you've already started," said the man. "How are things going?"
Bode grunted and gestured to the parchment, where the quill was still skating across the page as it recorded the proceedings. The newcomer read over the parchment before sighing and turning to Harry. "I must apologise for my partner's rudeness. He's really not a people person, you see." He paused and extended a hand towards Harry. "Kermit Croaker. It's a pleasure. Have a seat, have a seat."
"I was just leaving," Harry replied.
Croaker actually looked hurt. "Oh… well that would be a pity, wouldn't it?"
Bode muttered something inaudible from the desk. Harry leaned forward to see if the quill had recorded Bode's words, but the Unspeakable snatched it up before it could write them down. Croaker turned to address him. "Why don't you get us some tea, while I have a word with Mr Potter here?"
Bode looked affronted, but he slumped off through the door. Croaker took a seat at the desk, and after rummaging a few moments for a fresh quill, looked at Harry. "Now, would you mind telling me what the trouble is?"
"Trouble? Your partner drags me here without a word of explanation and just expects me to answer his questions, and you're asking me what the trouble is? I don't have to co-operate, you know. I have rights. In fact, I'm not saying anything further until I know what you want with me."
Croaker's affable face hardened the slightest amount. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Departmental policy and all."
"Then we've got a problem, haven't we?"
Croaker lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then he took the quill off the parchment once more. "All right. I'm bending the rules here, so you can't tell anyone. If I tell you what we're investigating, you'll have to agree to letting me perform a Memory Charm when we're finished here. Would you be willing to co-operate under those circumstances?"
"Perhaps. I just need to know one more thing. Who's going to find out about whatever I have to tell you once we're finished?"
"Oh, all this remains strictly within the Department of Mysteries. The Minister for Magic will be told the final conclusions of the investigation, but not the details. We keep those to ourselves. And you don't have to worry. Every employee of the Department of Mysteries is subject to a more stringent confidentiality agreement than your own department."
"And what if I choose not to co-operate? What can you do about it?"
"Not a thing, not a thing. But let me just point out that there are advantages if you co-operate. You'll be helping put public unease to rest." Harry raised his eyebrows, and Croaker went on. "You must have worked out by now what we're investigating."
"It's got to do with Voldemort."
"We're trying to prove he's truly gone this time. You must have noticed the war has never been declared over officially. The Minister doesn't want to have a situation occur where the war is declared over, Voldemort deemed gone, and then have him turn up again. Can you imagine the hysteria? Can you imagine the lack of confidence the wizarding public would then have in its leaders? Goodness knows, Fudge was bad enough…"
Cornelius Fudge had gone to his grave denying that Voldemort had truly returned. He'd been assassinated two summers ago. The new Minister had proved to be a lot more decisive, in any case, and more willing to help out Dumbledore. However, Harry was fairly sure there hadn't been complete trust between the Hogwarts headmaster and the Ministry. The Ministry had taken its own precautions, such as warding off Diagon Alley against attack, while allowing Dumbledore more or less free rein with the Order.
"…So you see, the Minister wants to be absolutely certain that Voldemort is gone before declaring any sort of celebrations. But once we're able to do that, things can start going back to normal."
Normal. What was normal for the wizarding world? Harry wasn't sure he knew. "You're going to have to obliviate me as it is now, aren't you?" he asked.
Croaker had the grace to look abashed. "Well, yes."
Harry sighed. "All right, I'll co-operate. But you're going first. You're going to tell me all about this investigation, because, you see, I used a spell on Voldemort, and it looks as if he's gone. But even I'm not one hundred percent certain it worked."
And so Croaker explained. After the battle in Hogsmeade, there had been a widespread, but largely secret search for Voldemort, but no trace of him could be found anywhere. Department of Mysteries investigators had examined the spot where Voldemort had been last seen, but nothing had been made of hand that had been lying on the ground, nor of the blood. They had been considered simple by-products of the battle. Until the department had laid hands on Dumbledore's Pensieve, which the Ministry had taken into possession when it had gathered evidence for Sirius' case.
"And there we saw something very odd," said Croaker. "There we found an account of the night Voldemort re-embodied, an account given by an eye-witness to Dumbledore himself." Here Croaker looked straight at Harry, and Harry knew exactly what scene the Unspeakable was referring to. "We might never have seen it, except that your godfather was present, and your department had asked us specifically for Dumbledore's memories as they related to your godfather's case. And I know I don't have to tell you what was involved in that re-embodiment spell."
"Flesh, blood and bone," said Harry dully.
"Flesh, more specifically a hand, and not just any hand. One from Voldemort's servant, one with a missing finger. Looking back at the description of what was found on the spot where Voldemort was last seen, that hand was indeed missing the forefinger. The blood was also present, but the bone…"
"It would have been impossible to see," Harry broke in quietly. "The bone was taken from Voldemort's father's grave. It had decomposed into dust by then. If there had been any of it left on the spot, it wouldn't have been noticed. Or the wind would have blown it away."
Croaker nodded. "Well, then, another piece falls into place. I'll need you to repeat that on the record, though."
Harry waited while Croaker set up the quill to record what they were saying once more, and repeated his statement. Then the Unspeakable went on. "That, along with Mr Pettigrew's missing replacement hand and the Dark Marks disappearing from his followers' arms… Well, that in itself doesn't point to anything. Those disappeared the last time, only to reappear as Voldemort became strong once more. We didn't know about them at the time of his first defeat, however. The fact that they've disappeared again does point to his defeat though. But the evidence on the spot where Voldemort disappeared… Now that indicates that the re-embodiment spell itself was undone. So the only question left to answer is, how did that come about? And I think you're the only one who can tell us that."
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed. "This is the part that I want to go no further, but I reckon I have to tell you because it may be the last piece left in the puzzle. I didn't give the entire spell earlier. The first part of it was Me porricio."
"I sacrifice myself," Croaker translated almost to himself.
"Yes."
"But you didn't give up your life. Would this be an indication that the spell didn't work after all?"
"I don't know whether both parts of it worked, although now that I've heard all this, I'm inclined to think they did. The sacrifice portion worked, though. It was never my life. It was my magical powers. I have none now."
*
The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, causing Harry's mouth to water in spite of his exhaustion as he collapsed into his place at the table. It was the first evening in a month he wasn't having to settle for reheated leftovers at midnight, and he fully intended to enjoy it before heading off to bed.
He could hardly believe the interrogation--he couldn't think of it as anything more--by the Department of Mysteries had taken place so long ago, but it had given him a start only today to realise October was already half gone. So far nothing had come of that incident, which he remembered partially, in spite of the memory charm that Croaker had placed on him at the end of the meeting. He remembered that it had occurred, and he recalled his feelings at the time; he just couldn't recall specific details of what had been discussed, especially where the Ministry's involvement was concerned. There hadn't yet been an official announcement of the war's end, but on the other hand, no one new seemed to be aware of Harry's secret.
In the meantime, he'd been snowed under at work. In the past week he'd barely been at the Burrow long enough for a few hours' fitful sleep before the crack of dawn, when he had to leave for the office again.
He ran his thumb along the stack of letters sitting by his plate at the table, thinking guiltily that he'd been remiss in writing to Ginny again, but at least this time, it wasn't because he was unable to find the words to express himself. It was a simple question of not enough hours in the day. He recognised her handwriting on the first letter in the pile. He hadn't even had time to read it yet, let alone reply. He'd have taken it to work with him to read in a spare moment, but he wanted to take the time to read it over slowly, to savour each word, and he wanted to be in private when he did so. It was easier to pretend she was there with him that way.
Harry ate his supper in silence and as quickly he could without being impolite. Mrs Weasley was too busy fussing over her husband to notice. "Now Arthur, you be sure to tell them when you go back to the Ministry tomorrow that you won't be up to any more raids."
Mr Weasley was still walking with a noticeable limp, and Harry knew there had to be more to it than a simple broken leg, as long as the healing process was taking, but he didn't want to ask. There was a palpable veil of secrecy surrounding the incident, as far as Harry could tell. It was difficult for him to determine just what the nature of the secret was, however, since he was rarely at the Burrow for any length of time these days.
"You really ought to get someone younger into the office with you to handle that sort of thing," Mrs Weasley fretted.
"Come off it, Mum," Bill commented. "Dad's not as old as all that."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son," said Mr Weasley, while his wife glared at their eldest son.
"Although I suppose there's enough of us members of the Order with little enough to do, if ever you need back-up…" Bill was patently tired of waiting around to find out whether the Order needed his services anymore. He was itching to return to Egypt.
Sirius had already moved on. His only problem was his inability to find anyone in the wizarding world willing to hire him, in spite of the fact this his appearance was much less menacing now as a result of several weeks' worth of access to hot water and Mrs Weasley's hearty cooking. The Rita Skeeter article was partly to blame for that, but not entirely. Too many business people in the wizarding world had their finances caught up in the rebuilding effort and couldn't afford to hire extra help. Much of the rebuilding was being done with volunteer help, but shops still had to replace their stock. Harry was glad for Sirius' sake that they'd convinced him to keep the money the Ministry had offered him. If he was careful, he might be able to live quietly on that money for a while, combined with what he already had in his Gringott's vault.
Harry swallowed the last of his supper and stood, picking up his stack of letter. "If you don't mind, I think I'll head up to bed now," he said.
"Oh, won't you have any pudding, Harry?" asked Mrs Weasley.
"No thanks, really, everything was delicious, but I couldn't eat another bite. I'm just dead tired is all."
"They're working you much too hard, dear."
"Not a whole lot I can do about that, Mrs Weasley. Good night everyone!"
As he headed up the stairs towards Ron's room, he found he was suddenly wide awake. He had a whole pile of letters from Ginny to get through, and he was going to reply tonight. He reached the top storey, threw himself onto the bed and tore open the first envelope.
Dear Harry,
Thanks for sending me your invisibility cloak and your map of the school. You said it helps to keep yourself occupied, so that's what I've been doing. It's a special project, and I can't go into details right now, but as soon as I'm done, I'm sure you'll hear all about it. I can tell you that I've been learning all sorts of new things and corresponding with just about everyone.
As you can probably tell, it's taken me a while to reply to your last letter. I'm sorry about that, but there was just a bit more in the package you sent me than I was expecting.
Harry knew she was referring to the dress robes from Madam Malkin's shop. Before things had got too mad at the office, he'd had a chance to nip out on his lunch hour and pick up the robes he'd had laid aside for Ginny, as well as order a new set of dress robes for himself. He'd waited to send Ginny her robes, as he hadn't been certain what her reaction would be. However when she'd owled him to inquire about the invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map, he'd thought it the ideal occasion to send along the dress robes as well.
You know you really shouldn't have spent all that money on me. I could have made do with Transfiguring or borrowing something. But I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful, either. I'll thank you properly the next time I see you. Unfortunately, that isn't likely to be before the ball itself. I wish things could be otherwise. I miss you so much. You're right about keeping busy. It does help. Just not enough. Not like seeing you would. I love you,
Ginny
Harry went back to the top and read Ginny's letter over again, stopping at the point where she apologised for taking so long to reply. He looked at the date. It was a week old. Panicking, he looked through the rest of the envelopes, noting with relief that none of them was red. He knew it was silly, because a real Howler would have exploded long before now. Still, it would be best if he got through these and wrote a reply before morning, or else he just might find a red envelope at the breakfast table.
He moved on to the next letter.
Dear Harry,
How are things going at the Ministry? I imagine they're busy these days. Auror training is still going well. We've been doing strategic planning exercises and I'm top of my class at that. Would love to see Hermione's face when I tell her. Less than a month to go and I'll be finished. Can hardly wait. I had a bit of an odd letter from Ginny the other day. She was going on about some project she's been working on and asking if I had any Filibuster Fireworks or Dungbombs left over from Hogwarts. I think she's gone mental. Do you think I was wrong to send her what I had? Write back and let me know.
Ron
Scratching his head, Harry moved on to the next letter in the stack. Scanning down, he recognised Remus' signature at the bottom.
Dear Harry,
I hope everything is going well for you. I was really surprised the other day when I got a letter from your girlfriend and I was wondering if you knew anything about it. She seems to have a bit of an oddball for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. I don't know what Professor McGonagall was thinking. Why would anyone be teaching about the effects of explosions on building structures?
The letter went on, but Harry laid it aside for now. Something funny was going on here. Ginny was definitely up to something, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Not that he had any idea what she was doing… The next letter from his godfather proved to be even more puzzling.
Dear Harry,
I hope all is well with you and with the Weasleys. I know you'll pass along my thanks to Molly and Arthur for opening their home to me last month. I also hope if there's ever anything you need to talk about, man to man, you wouldn't hesitate to discuss it with me. Your girlfriend wrote to me today and was asking about enhancement charms, you see. I can only hope I'm jumping to the wrong conclusions here, but I have to ask you. She didn't have you personally in mind when she asked me that, did she?
Harry was very glad he'd chosen to read his post in private. He felt as if his face was on fire. What on earth was Ginny getting up to that she had to ask Sirius about enhancement charm, of all things? He wasn't even sure he wanted to read any more. He laid Sirius' letter aside, deciding he might be better off knowing the worst. The next letter was from Hermione, and it was longer than the others. He almost dreaded finding out what she had to say.
Dear Harry,
I hope work is going well for you. I just can't imagine all the fun you're having doing research. You've got to be learning the most interesting things. Harry, I don't want to worry you needlessly, but I'm starting to be a bit concerned about Ginny. She's got some sort of project she's been working on, and she's become obsessed with it. She's been neglecting her studies to work on it, and she's even taken to lying to me, if you can believe that. You see, she told me it was homework for her Muggle Studies class, but I've checked with her teacher, who assured me she has not been teaching them about Muggle demolition techniques or incendiary devices. Do you know anything about this?
Meanwhile work here is going well. The library is in better shape than it's ever been in with the reorganising I've been doing. Staff meetings have become tiresome. Professor Snape keeps insisting someone was taking Potions ingredients from his private stores again. He went as far as to say that if you were still at school, he'd be willing to bet his last Galleon that you were sneaking about under your invisibility cloak and taking them. He was looking straight at me when he said it, as well. It was very embarrassing.
Oh, and back to Ginny. What was in that package you sent her last week? She didn't want to show me any of what you'd sent her, but I caught a glimpse of something golden, and she finally caved in and showed me the dress robes you bought for her. I have to say, I don't think I've seen anything more beautiful, but don't you think they're a bit revealing? I hope for your sake that Ginny's mum never sees them. She'd never let you within ten miles of each other.
Love from,
Hermione
Harry set the letters aside, and ran his hands over his face, while he tried to work out what was going on. Whatever it was, Harry suspected that it was going to make any prank the twins ever pulled look downright innocent. He was going to have to write to Ginny and ask, he realised. But that solution was problematic in and of itself now, since he hadn't written to her in over a week. He knew she wasn't going to be too pleased with him for that reason. He was going to have to be careful to make sure she didn't turn her wrath loose on him. In fact, he would have suspected that was what this whole "project" was about, except for the fact that she'd mentioned it in her first letter of a week ago.
He rummaged though his trunk until he'd produced some parchment, ink and a quill, but he hadn't got very far into his letter when there was a knock at the door. It proved to be Mr Weasley, and Harry felt sorry that he'd had to hobble up five flights of stairs to the top of the house on his bad leg.
"Sorry to disturb you, Harry," he commented, "but I couldn't help noticing you had a letter from Ginny there. She wouldn't have mentioned getting the box-in-the-jack she asked for, did she?"
"Sorry?" said Harry, confused. "Did you mean a jack-in-the-box?"
"Yes, that must be it. At any rate, she asked me to send her the one I had out in my shed. Did she mention getting it?"
"Erm, no, I don't think she did. But then this letter was sent a week ago. I haven't had anything more recent than that."
"All right then. If you're writing back, would you mind asking her for me if she got it all right?"
"Of course."
Mr Weasley said good night, and Harry went back to apologising profusely for not replying sooner, but now he had another thing to puzzle over. It was late indeed before Harry finished his letter and sent Hedwig off towards Hogwarts with it.
It was still dark out when Harry rose and got dressed for work the following morning. He blinked sleepily as he entered the light of the kitchen. Mrs Weasley had already started breakfast, judging by the large pot of porridge bubbling on the stove. She had to be cooking an extra-large breakfast to sustain her husband on his first day back at the Ministry.
Harry poured hot water into the tea pot and set the leaves in it to steep. While he was waiting, he idly picked up the copy of the morning's Daily Prophet, which was lying on the table. Upon seeing the headline, his eyes widened and he had to sit down.
Suspected Death Eater Attack in Hogsmeade the headline screamed. The town of Hogsmeade suffered quite a rude awakening late last night as Zonko's joke shop suffered a mysterious explosion. Although no suspects were seen, sources from the Ministry of Magic fear the attack was the work of the children of Death Eaters since the source of the explosion was apparently Dungbombs and Filibuster Fireworks. The Department of Mysteries is said to be working on the significance of the Muggle device which was found on the scene. It is feared that the Box of Jack, pictured below, could have been used to enchant the victims, as it produces an eerie, trance-inducing noise…
Harry stopped reading, and looked at the picture that accompanied the article. It showed the remains of a leering clown's head bobbing on the end of a twisted spring. Wisps of smoke were coming off the entire thing.
Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably, as the pieces fell into place at last. Ginny had mentioned in earlier letters that the twins had been taking great glee in sending her little reminders that they'd caught her and Harry under compromising circumstances the night before she'd left for school. He also remembered the delight they'd taken in humiliating both him and Ginny that same evening. This had to be a form of revenge. There was no other explanation for it. It wouldn't be the first time Ginny had resorted to such means, either. She'd done something similar, albeit on a smaller scale, on his seventeenth birthday, and with much less provocation.
His musings were interrupted by Mrs Weasley's arrival in the kitchen. "Oh, good morning, Harry dear," she greeted distractedly as she went to stir the porridge. "It's just terrible, isn't it? Just when everyone believes it might all be over…"
Harry had been about to hide the newspaper, but Mrs Weasley had obviously already seen it. He might have comforted her with the knowledge that no Death Eaters had been behind the Zonko's attack, but he didn't think she'd be very pleased to learn her own daughter was the true culprit. Plus she might ask Harry some tricky questions about why Ginny would want revenge on her brothers in the first place.
Mrs Weasley placed a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Oh, and this came for you while I was out gathering the eggs." She handed him a burnt-looking envelope, which had a rather suspicious smell about it. "It looks to be from the twins," she added. She would have been certain to recognise her own sons' writing, after all.
Harry was fairly sure he didn't want to open this letter at the breakfast table, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Plus Mrs Weasley was looking at him expectantly, her lower lip quivering slightly and betraying her worry about her boys. He reluctantly slit the envelope, releasing a noxious cloud of purplish smoke into the kitchen. It took a few moments for him to recover from his coughing fit and his eyes to stop watering before he could read what the twins had to say.
Dear Mum, the letter began, giving Harry quite a start. He looked at the envelope once more and saw that it had been indeed addressed to him. Not only that, he could see slight variations in the handwriting on alternate sentences at the beginning of the letter, as if the twins had taken turns in composing it.
Dear Mum,
We've been thinking… We've had something on our minds for a while, and we really think you ought to know about it. We caught Harry and Ginny in… Well we really can't say where we found them, now can we, George? But they were… We shouldn't say what they were doing, either, Fred. But you would think that by the age of seventeen, Ginny would know how to do up her buttons properly…
Here the letter cut off abruptly, only to continue in an entirely different vein. There was a curious-looking blackened space between the two sections of the letter.
Harry, mate, only joking. You know we don't care what you and Ginny, our wonderful, clever sister, get up to. Could you please tell her we were only joking, and that we only wanted to have a little fun? For some reason she can't seem to take a joke, although you would think after all these years she would have learned how to by now. Anyway, you ought to watch out for her. She can be somewhat dangerous when she gets mad, so take it from us and be careful not to piss her off.
Mrs Weasley was watching Harry closely, and he knew she was waiting for word that her sons were all right. Harry wasn't quite sure how to begin to explain that this was all an elaborate joke, but he knew he had to say something to set her mind at ease.
Harry was about to launch into an explanation, when the back door suddenly burst open. Both Harry and Mrs Weasley turned in alarm to see Pauline standing there, red-faced and her blonde hair in wild disarray. At the same time, Mr Weasley limped into the kitchen dressed in an old pair of robes, but evidently ready to go in to the Ministry. Harry thought he looked rather tired, and the day was only beginning.
"Pauline!" Mrs Weasley gasped, taking in the girl’s wild-eyed expression. "What on earth…"
"I am going to murder your sons, Mrs Weasley," she announced in a very loud, agitated voice. "Then," she added, pointing to Harry, "I’m going to go after your girlfriend."
"What's happened?" asked Mrs Weasley anxiously. "Is everything all right?" Harry's immediate thought was that this was both a very stupid and very brave thing for Mrs Weasley to ask, especially when Pauline had just announced she was about to start slaughtering Weasleys left and right.
"ALL RIGHT? Your daughter and your sons are responsible for the complete annihilation of MY shop, and you ask if everything’s all right?" Pauline roared, making the tea cups and saucers rattle on the shelves. "Do you know… know…" And Pauline suddenly burst into tears and continued on in an extremely high pitched voice, in which no one except maybe a dog could understand. Harry was reminded of Moaning Myrtle.
"There, there dear," said Mrs Weasley, putting an arm around the girl and guiding her to a chair, while motioning for Mr Weasley to pour out a cup of tea.
"All my hard work….all of it, all because those stupid bast-" A hiccup cut her off. "All because they played some stupid joke on Ginny, who went mad and… and.."
"What did Ginny do?" asked Mrs Weasley.
"She blew up Zonkos! My Zonko’s! It’s gone! Completely destroyed! All because those wretched brats… Why can’t they just be like a normal family and just not speak to each other for years?"
"Are you saying that the whole thing in the newspaper… About Zonko’s and a possible Death Eater attack…" began Mrs Weasley.
"Death Eaters? No, it was those miserable, immature, absolutely idiotic…"
"They did this?" Mrs Weasley took the Daily Prophet from Harry and handed it to Pauline.
"Death Eaters!" Pauline muttered, glancing over the article. "Typical! After all the money I poured into taking out adverts in every major wizarding newspaper, we end up on the front page after being blown up! I’m going to kill them!" Pauline threw the paper down on the table.
"Ginny? And the twins? But how… And why?" Mrs Weasley seemed to be in quite a state herself.
Pauline, noticing her reaction, suddenly paled. "Oh, Mrs Weasley! I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean…. Well, yes I did, but I’m so sorry… You are such a wonderful person, you both are," she added, nodding to Mr Weasley. "But how people as nice as you both are, managed to have…have…those monsters….oh, I’m sorry!"
"Listen," said Mr Weasley, "how do we even know Ginny was involved?"
"Oh, I know all right," said Pauline. "She's the one who gave me this!" She picked up the newspaper and thrust it under Mr Weasley's nose. Harry saw him take a good look at the picture and go pale. Fortunately for everyone, Pauline was in too much of a state to take notice. "Ginny gave that… that jack-in-the-box to me yesterday and warned me to take cover if the twins did anything with it. I'm sure that whatever the twins did to her, they fully deserved to have revenge taken. It just shouldn't have been taken on my shop! This does not excuse Ginny in the least!"
"No, of course it doesn't," agreed Mrs Weasley.
Pauline nodded once firmly, and shakily poured herself a cup of tea, completely ignoring the cup that Mr Weasley had already served her, sweetening it liberally with sugar. "Damn straight!"
"Under normal circumstances I'd say we ought to be very proud of her, actually," commented Mr Weasley. "Rigging up a device like that so it wouldn't do any structural damage shows quite an advanced knowledge of potions and charms…" He trailed off, quailing under his wife's glare.
"But why did she have to take it out on MY SHOP!" Pauline shot back. "All that hard work…" It looked as if tears were threatening once more. "I'm sorry, it's just that I have no place to stay. The smell… It's horrible…"
"Well, you're going to stay here, of course," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "There's no point in your suffering. The boys can clean up the place. It's only right after all. A little hard work never did anybody any harm. And tomorrow morning we can both go up there and give them a piece of our minds. Then we'll drop in on Ginny at school."
Pauline brought her emotions under control again. "Yes, tomorrow is another day, isn't it? But I'm not going to stop there," she went on, her voice deadly calm now. "Ginny had to have help with this. She couldn't have done anything this elaborate on her own. And when I find out who else had a hand in this, I will make them pay."
Harry and Mr Weasley exchanged an uncomfortable look, and the older man seemed to slump down in his seat slightly.
Looking at his watch, Harry realised he should have been at the office by now. He gulped down the last of his porridge, but before he activated his Portkey, he ran up to Ron's room and hid all the letters he'd received over the last week. There was no sense in taking any chances that Pauline would find them. For once it seemed like a relief to escape to the office.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all the girls at Towerstock, since they had to put up with Marian and me giggling till about four in the morning while we came up with the letters. Additional thanks go to Firebolt909 for making sure I had her in character. Thanks to everyone who continues to support me though reviews.
Chapter 13