If the Fates Allow

Chapter 12

The Row of Gods

"I'm not against the police, I'm just afraid of them."

(Alfred Hitchcock)

"You idiots! You pathetic, snivelling pieces of flobberworm excrement!" cursed the Dark Lord. His Death Eaters retreated several steps, fearing to get the Cruciatus from their master, whom they had never seen this angry before. Voldemort was practically seething, it was a wonder that no fumes were coming out of his ears... His usually pasty complexion coloured to bright pink with rage.

"How could you... how could you have lost the parchment???" he spat at the four Death Eaters he had sent to Atlantis.

"My lord..." one of the junior Death Eaters spoke up, his voice wavering.

"What?" Voldemort barked.

"My lord, the parchment got stolen from us."

"Stolen? STOLEN???" Voldemort's voice rose in pitch.

"Y...yes, my lord," stammered another Death Eater who had been given a Bat-Bogey Hex by Ginny. His face was still red and sore from all the batwings that had been flapping on it for several hours before Bellatrix managed to rid him of them. "There was... there was this mad stranger who attacked us... We had barely exploded the ceiling above the chandelier when he was already there, hexing the crap out of us... I'm sorry, my lord, I don't know what sort of demon that was, but I have never seen a man fight like this. He even stopped the water when Wayne broke that huge window..."

"...it was amazing, my lord," agreed the Death Eater called Wayne. "I have never seen somebody freeze anything like that - the water didn't even really freeze, just... just stopped and started to hang in mid-air..."

"Idiots," growled Voldemort, throwing himself into his throne-like armchair. "The bloke used the Time Freezing charm."

"Time Freezing?" many of the Death Eaters raised their eyebrows.

Voldemort rolled his eyes (as much as one can roll snake-like eyes). "You call yourselves my servants and you don't even know what the Time Freezing charm is..." he turned to Bellatrix. "Tell me Bella, that at least you know what it is."

The woman shifted nervously. "I'm deeply ashamed, my lord, but I don't know. Never heard of it."

Voldemort waved in a resigned way. "I just hoped that at least some of you might have picked up a Dark Arts book at some time or other. Apparently I was wrong. But I can't put up with having such pathetic, blundering fools for servants. And I already know what I will do with you..." his eyes narrowed and a derisive smirked spread on his face.

The four Death Eaters who had screwed up in Atlantis, were now trembling from head to toe, expecting the Dark Lord to say Crucio!. However, the words that left their master's mouth appalled all of them:

"Set books."

"Excuse us, my lord?"

"I said set books, Rodolphus, are you this slow on the uptake?" snapped Voldemort. "I'm going to dictate you a list of Dark Arts books that each of you has to read... yes, even you Goyle, and if you have difficulties with reading, ask Macnair to read them out for you."

Macnair, who wasn't exactly famous for his intellect and hadn't taken a book into his hand since graduating from Hogwarts, wore a very frightened expression.

"What sort of set books have you in mind, my lord?" enquired Bellatrix.

"For example..." Voldemort seemed to cast his mind around, searching for titles, "...Extreme Evilness for Everyone by Ethan Emeric, Horrible Hexes and Catastrophic Curses by Phineas Nigellus, and my favourite book: Wicked Warlock's World by William Whittby. You have a month to read them, and I'll check what you have memorised from them."

The Death Eaters exchanged sour looks (Goyle's mouth was hanging open as he was trying to understand what Voldemort had told them).

The Dark Lord turned back to those four who had been in Atlantis:

"I presume you cannot tell me who robbed you of the parchment?"

"No, my lord," they answered in faltering voices.

"But you will find out for me, won't you?" Voldemort said in a fatherly tone, which was quite remarkable, coming from him.

"Er..." the Death Eaters looked at each other helplessly. "H... how are we supposed to find out, my lord?"

"Fools!" Voldemort jumped up from his seat, his complexion reddening even more. "That bastard who has the parchment now, must have been a guest at the hotel, mustn't he?" The Death Eaters nodded. "Then he must have registered at the Reception, don't you think?" The Death Eaters nodded again. "Then...?"

"Aha!" the bloke who had been snogged senseless by the Aphrodite Flower yelled as the realisation struck him. "He gave his name to the Receptionist! We only have to go back and persuade the Receptionist to tell us his name!"

"Brilliant," Voldemort sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Wormtail, bring Amrita!"

"But... but... my lord," stammered Pettigrew. "She isn't supposed to be needed till next week..."

"I know!" the Dark Lord barked. "But all this shouting has drained me... I need her right now!"

"Y... yes, my lord," replied Pettigrew and walked out of the room, wringing his hands. How was he to explain to the child why her 'services' were needed a week earlier than she had expected? The little one will surely be scared to death and won't stop sobbing... Wormtail heaved a deep sigh and entered the kid's room to find her sitting on a moth-eaten rug, drawing something.

"What is this, Amrita?" he sank down next to her, looking at her drawing.

"My family," she answered. "You like it?"

Peter took the crumpled sheet of paper into his hands to examine a six-year-old's doodle that depicted a little figure with curly red-gold locks in the middle, on her right stood a taller man with dark hair and glasses, and on her left stood a small, very ugly figure whom he couldn't identify. Her grandfather was very noticeably missing from the picture.

"It's very nice, dear," Peter said.

"Is this what Daddy looks like?" Amrita asked, pointing at her 'father'.

"Yes, about," Peter smiled.

He had told the child about her parents when she had asked about them, but he had made her swear she'd never mention it to Grandpa Voldemort. Surely the Dark Lord wouldn't be too happy if he got to know that his servant was describing his archenemy to his granddaughter as some sort of a hero who kept thwarting Voldemort's attempts to rule over the world, making Amrita clasp her hands in delight and say 'Daddy must be great, I'm so happy he doesn't like Grandpa either!'

Amrita had promised Wormtail to keep her mouth shut, and added that she didn't feel like talking to her grandpa about anything, so she surely wouldn't talk to him about her father. Thus Wormtail had kept telling the child stories about her mum and dad in secret. Amrita had always listened to his tales about Brave Hero Harry wide-eyed, and kept asking: 'if Dad's such a brave man, who's saved the world from Grandpa so many times, then why doesn't he save me?'

To such questions Peter didn't know what to answer, so whenever Amrita happened to ask such things, he changed the conversation with jokes he remembered from his childhood - James and Sirius had told him and Remus enough jokes to last a lifetime.

As long as Amrita was this young and easy to influence, Peter could direct their discussions if they got awkward for him, but he didn't dare imagine how things would turn when the child grew older, cleverer and more defiant... perhaps she would not leave him alone until he properly answered her questions?

Well, time will tell, he thought as he stared at the drawing.

"Who's this man on your left, my dear?" he asked, pointing at the ugly figure.

"That's you, Wormie," Amrita replied, beaming. "Look, he's balding just like you."

Wormtail felt his mouth tuck into a wide grin. The little one definitely had no talent for drawing, but she had drawn him into the picture of her 'family'. He had to blink back a tear. This child loved him, as much as a child who had grown up among Death Eaters could love someone. None of the other Death Eaters had ever cared for her, it had been Peter who had looked after her from the day she was born. He had changed her nappies, fed her from a baby's bottle, sung her lullabies in his totally out-of-tune voice... And he never understood why he didn't find this job humiliating. Any other Death Eater would have abandoned Voldemort if the Dark Lord had burdened them with the role of a babysitter, but not Peter.

He had been there when Linda had given birth and died even before she could take her daughter into her arms; he had heard the pitiful cry of the newborn who had become an orphan with a dead mother and a father whom she'd never get to know... Peter had taken pity on the baby.

Sometimes he wondered what sort of life she would have had with Harry Potter... He was sure that it would have been better for her than living with Grandpa Voldemort... even the foulest, least-caring father would have treated her better than the Dark Lord, and Harry Potter surely wouldn't have been a bad father, would he?

As a Death Eater, Wormtail was supposed to hate his master's greatest enemy, yet he didn't feel like hating him. Harry Potter had never harmed him, on the contrary - if it hadn't been for Harry, Peter would have died at the hand of Remus and Sirius long ago.

He wondered what Harry Potter would say if he got to know what sort of evil things Voldemort was doing to his daughter...

His heart sank as he remembered why he had come here in the first place.

"Amrita, dear... your grandfather wishes to see you."

He felt as though someone had stabbed him in the chest with a dagger as he watched the expression of utter terror spread on the child's lovely face, her huge green eyes widening with fear, her mouth opening with a silent scream. At that moment Wormtail thought how much he hated Voldemort...

* * * * *

"Stupid, stupid Police!" cursed Phaedra as she and Draco left the Auror Headquarters in Athens. The wizarding Police couldn't provide them with any information about Harry, whom Phaedra carefully referred to as 'the chap who killed that Sicilian', not knowing which name/pseudonym of Harry's the Aurors knew. It wouldn't have been wise of her to ask about Harry Potter when the Aurors knew him as Colin Creevey or Dudley Dursley... it was the best not to mention names at all.

However, it turned out that the Aurors knew her husband as Dudley Dursley and 'Dudley' had managed to escape from them. Deep down Phaedra felt some sort of pride that her husband had managed to flee from the Greek Magical Law Enforcement, but it also annoyed her that they had no idea where 'Dudley' was to be found. Something told Phaedra that Harry was no longer in Athens, but she had absolutely no clue where he could be, then.

"Yeah, I share your opinion," Draco murmured. "I hate Aurors. My father was killed by one of them."

"Oh, sorry," she said.

"...not that my father was such a wonderful man," he continued. "I didn't like him either."

"Well, you don't exactly strike me as someone who can like anyone," she remarked.

"I love my wife," Draco replied under his breath.

Phaedra shot him a slightly incredulous look, but he ignored it.

"Anyway, what took you all night to talk with the Chief Auror?"

"Oh, you know, bureaucracy... they're damn slow," she shrugged. "Why, was ickle Draco bored?"

"No, some Auror came to play chess with me," he drawled. "I beat him, he was a pathetic player. I was just annoyed that we wasted three precious hours giving your dratted husband a chance to start... or continue frolicking with my wife."

"Listen here, Malfoy," Phaedra said in an 'I'm-talking-to-a-five-year-old' voice, "if they haven't done it a dozen times already, then I'm a flobberworm."

He gave her an appraising stare. "You don't look too much like a worm, you know."

"Really? Then what do I look like?"

"...Xena?"

"Who?" she frowned.

"Never mind," he waved. "The point is that the longer we let Potter and Ginny be together, the more cuckold we become."

"Yeah, that's true," she mused, "but I doubt that they will want to stay together forever, so cheating on us or not, our loved ones will be ours in the end..."

"What makes you so sure?" asked Draco, jumping aside from the path of a mad magician on a mad moped.

"Simple," Phaedra shrugged. "What Harry wants more than anything is a child - especially now that our daughter is dead. I can give him as many children as he wants. Your wife can't. So, he'll leave your Ginny sooner or later, and you'll get her back."

"I'm not sure I want a wife who's had sex with Potter," he grunted.

"Then you might as well give up the search, Blond Prince, because there's no doubt that he's already had sex with her," she replied coldly.

"I'm not Blond Prince, and stop talking to me like I was a five-year-old!" he snapped.

"Then behave like an adult and I'll treat you like one. Accept the cruel reality, Malfoy, that your wife and my hubby are together somewhere, probably shagging each other senseless."

Draco's pallor turned to ruby red and his hands clenched into fists, but he controlled himself and held back the obvious curses that had wanted to burst out of him.

"Okay," he nodded. "Can we have a glimpse at your er... cell phone?"

She had to suppress a giggle. "Tracker, Malfoy, Tracker. I just said that Muggles were supposed to think it was a cell phone."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he sighed, hating to be always corrected by this woman. She was too bossy for a female, he thought. Then again, he had always loved Xena very much...

Phaedra pulled her Tracker out of her pocket and switched it on to show Harry - or at least Harry's position of a day earlier.

"Hm... weird."

"What's weird?" the young wizard enquired.

"He seems to have been in Delphi yesterday."

"Delphi? The place with the oracle?"

"Uh-huh, that's it. But as far as I know, that oracle hasn't been operating for 1500 years now..."

Draco shrugged. "One way to find out, eh?"

* * * * *

"Have you placed that Bug Charm on the blond bloke?" asked the Chief Auror.

"Yes, sir, he was so deeply immersed in trying to beat me in chess that he didn't notice it," replied his subordinate.

"Great," the Chief rubbed his hands together.

"But boss, are you sure they're going to lead us to Dudley Dursley?"

"Well, they seem to be closer to finding him than we are, don't you think?" smirked the Chief contentedly. "Wait, just wait, Dursley, you'll find yourself in the Labyrinth before you can say Quidditch!"

* * * * *

"I'm knackered," groaned Ginny as she joined Harry on a cliff ledge after several hours of climbing.

"Because you aren't used to difficult exercises. You should have gone in for sports instead of sitting around all day at Malfoy Manor," commented Harry in a slightly sarcastic voice. "I bet good ol' Draco would have installed a gym for you if you had asked."

"I doubt it," she grimaced, wiping her sweaty and dirty hands on her dress. "Draco hasn't given me anything but pain and grief... except perhaps an urge to kick him hard in the groin and make sure that the name Malfoy would at last die out."

Harry shot her a half-unbelieving, half-amused stare.

"Rather that than raising a brat of Draco's whose mother is say... Pansy Parkinson," she added, still gasping for breath. "I'm not raising my husband's illegitimate children, no way!"

"Doesn't that also concern me?" Harry asked heavily.

"What do you mean?" she wiped her beading forehead, annoyed to see that he wasn't sweaty in the slightest.

"I meant... if everything goes right, we'll get married, Gin. And I have an illegitimate child. I don't think there's much of a chance for me to ever get hold of her, Voldemort's keeping her out of my reach, but should some miracle happen and... and should I get her, then would you...?"

She bit her lower lip, gazing at the sea. From this vantage point the scenery was perfect, even though the island of Delos was pretty boring with all its rocks and its serious lack of flora. Seagulls were chasing each other merrily in the early afternoon sunshine, occasionally diving into the waves for lunch.

"I... I don't know, Harry," she shook her head. "This is a rather difficult question, and the answer is even more difficult. I honestly don't know. I don't even know your daughter... what's her name again?"

That was when it struck Harry that he hadn't thought of the child's name yet at all. Before his latest dream about Voldemort, he hadn't the slightest idea what his daughter was called, but in the dream... it was mentioned in the dream... Wormtail had mentioned it...

"Amrita," he replied. "Her name's Amrita."

"A Hindi name, isn't it?" Ginny furrowed her brows, perfectly understand what it meant. It was still new and surprising for her to understand all human languages. Had she heard the child's name just four days earlier, it wouldn't have told her anything, she would have said it was a pretty name, without understanding its meaning.

"Yeah, it is," Harry nodded. "Weird name, isn't it?"

"Why would You-Know-Who name her Amrita?" she wondered. "What reason did he have to call a child that? Did he name her that just because he liked the name or was there a particular reason?"

"I don't think Voldemort would have named her Amrita just because he liked the name," Harry replied seriously. "I doubt he likes anything, and he's just not the type to think up pretty names... No, Ginny, I'm sure there's something behind this... But I don't know what. Well," a grin replaced his concerned expression, "one thing is sure: if I ever get to see her, I'm going to call her Amy, NOT Rita."

"Wonder why," Ginny chuckled, then suddenly remembered what he had asked before she asked the child's name. "Er, Harry... I don't know the answer to your question. Not yet, anyway. I'm sure she's a lovely little girl, since she's yours, but..."

He reached out and placed his index finger on her lips. "It's okay, Ginny. It was a stupid question to ask, sorry. I don't want to foist a kid upon you, it would be selfish of me."

"I don't think it's selfish, it's understandable that you love her and want to secure her a happy life with a proper family..."

"But it's not likely that my daughter will ever have a happy life," he sighed. "Not with Voldemort having her in his clutches."

To divert his thoughts from these sad things, she put an arm around his neck and pecked his cheek.

"C'mon, Big Boy, let's find that Row of Gods, shall we?"

"Of course," he nodded with a small smile and they continued their way through a cleft in the rock.

* * * * *

"Please, please, don't kill us, I'll do anything if you let us live!" squeaked Pythia, gazing at the wand pointed at her heart. "I could perhaps... predict you something totally free of charge!"

"I don't need your bloody predictions," growled Draco, who was holding the wand pointed at the oracle. "I only want to know whether a redheaded woman and a black haired bloke have been here recently."

Pythia gulped and squinted at her trainee, Helen.

"Don't tell them, Pythia!" breathed Helen, who also had a wand - Phaedra's - pointed at her. "We mustn't disclose classified information like this! You taught me this sacred rule, Pythia!"

"What is better: a treacherous oracle or a dead one?" asked Phaedra in a conversational tone.

"A... all right," sighed the old Diviner. "I... I'll tell you. Just point that thing elsewhere, will you?"

"No," Draco replied. "Out with it, have they been here?"

"Y... yes. They were here yesterday."

"See, the Tracker's never been wrong before," Phaedra told Draco proudly.

"And, what sort of prophecy did they ask for?" Draco continued the interrogation.

"Don't tell them!" Helen beseeched her boss.

"Right. You tell us, then," Phaedra pressed the tip of her wand to the trainee's throat. Helen broke out in cold sweat.

"I won't," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, don't play the heroine, Helen... I promise... I'll still give you your Oracle Certificate... if you spill the beans to this lady and gentleman," wheezed Pythia.

"Will you?" the trainee seemed to hesitate. "Oh, all right, then. The black haired chap and his red haired girlfriend wanted to know how one could be freed from The Fates Charm."

"What?" Draco gasped. How could Ginny have told Potter about the charm? Draco had threatened her with the prospect of her tongue getting ripped out and her hand shrivelling if she told/wrote someone about The Fates Charm. Certainly it had been a mere bluff of Draco's - he wouldn't want his beautiful wife to get maimed - but it seemed to him that she had believed the threat... so why would she risk becoming mute or crippled?

Did her freedom mean so much more to her than her health? Draco was amazed by the courage his wife must have had to tell Potter her true story... but then again, why was he surprised? She had been a Gryffindor, after all, thus 'acting the hero' must have been natural for her...

"You heard it, she wanted to get free," grunted Helen.

"And what did you tell her, how can she get free?" Malfoy asked, feeling extremely worried. What if Ginny had managed to break the effect of Lucius' charm on her father? Then she'd no longer stay with him, and he wouldn't have another ace in his hand to play...

He shuddered and prodded Pythia in the chest with his wand. "Speak up, old wench!"

"I will not be spoken to like that!" snapped the oracle.

"Oh yeah? Would you rather get a nice Avada Kedavra?" snarled Draco.

"Noooo," Pythia waved nervously. "I'm sure we can discuss this like civilised people, sir. No need for threats really..."

"Then talk," growled the blond wizard. "What did you tell them?"

"I... I told them to go to Delos and find the Row of Gods, because they'll find the Fates themselves there, too."

"Aha! Delos, then," smirked Phaedra smugly. "We've got them."

"Why, what's on Delos?" asked Draco.

"Nothing. A dreary place, rocky and dry. Boring," she replied, "thus an ideal place for the Fates to hide."

"Do you... do you really believe in the Fates?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Our world is full of surprises, Malfoy, full of inexplicable things, so I don't have a reason not to believe in them."

Draco nodded with a slightly doubtful expression. What if the oracle was misleading them? "Can we trust them?" he pointed at Pythia and Helen.

"Of course we can," Phaedra said. "As far as I remember from my studies on ancient Greece, the oracle is bound by a magical contract to always tell the truth. Had she lied to us, she would be dead."

"Oh, good," grinned Draco. "Thanks for the information, then, ladies."

* * * * *

"Beautiful," breathed Ginny as she and Harry walked up the path hidden among the cliffs, leading up to an opening of some sort of a cave. It wouldn't have been anything special, had two elaborately carved statues not stood on either side of its entrance, one of them glowing in a golden, the other one in a silvery-blue hue that gave them a mystical, ethereal quality.

"Yeah, quite pretty," agreed Harry, sizing up the two statues. "Wonder who they are? I mean, which gods?"

"That's obvious, isn't it? Apollo and Artemis, the gods who were born on this island from Leto, lover of Zeus."

"Leto?" Harry snorted. "I happen to know a Leto, but it's highly unlikely that Zeus would ever fall for her..."

"Do you think Muggles can also find this place?" she murmured, looking at Apollo's handsome face. The whole statue was golden yellow, wearing a wreath of golden laurels and a lute in his hand. His sister Artemis had bluish 'skin', wore a diadem with a silvery moon set into it like a diamond, and held a bow in her hands.

"I don't think so," Harry shook his head. "It must be like Hogwarts: invisible to non-magical folks."

"And what... what do you think we'll find here, Harry? I mean, besides the Fates?"

"One way to find out," he shrugged. "Ready, milady?"

"I s'pose," she nodded, somewhat hesitantly.

He gave her an encouraging smile, grasped her hand and together they entered the cave.

* * * * *

Iolaus, the Receptionist of the Hotel Atlantis was choking. The reason for his choking was none other than Macnair's fist tightly wound around his throat. Another five cloaked and hooded figures stood around him, all of them pointing their wands at him menacingly.

Where was the Hero Who Saved Them All when he needed him again?

Oh, yeah, he had left, Iolaus thought, and these unsympathetic fellows here were questioning him about the Hero.

"Give us the name and you'll live," growled the rude bloke who was trying to throttle him.

Iolaus swallowed hard - as much as he could do so with not much space left in his compressed gullet to swallow. "A... all right, then... just release my throat... will you?" When Macnair grunted at him, he hastily added: "Just because... I can't reach the registry book... if you don't release me... Not to mention that you might accidentally kill me."

"Accidentally? It wouldn't be an accident," snarled the bulky Death Eater.

"Release him, Walden," said a cold female voice from under one of the hoods.

The rude fellow let go of the throat of Iolaus, who now had enough space to bend down (gasping for breath) and pull the registry book out of a drawer.

"Let's see..." he started leafing through the book, finally reaching the recordings of one day earlier. "Yeah, here it is."

"And? What's that bastard called?" demanded one of the hooded figures.

"Papafotiu," replied the Receptionist. "He signed in with the name Spiridon Papafotiu."

* * * * *

As Harry and Ginny stepped into the cave, it no more looked like a cave at all, it rather looked like some long but perfectly constructed tunnel whose walls were a friendly pale-yellow. The wall on the left was adorned with a pretty golden pattern. No torch was needed inside, they didn't even need to say Lumos, for the tunnel was adequately illuminated by ever-criss-crossing little flashes of lightning on the low ceiling.

"Bet this is some sort of Tunnel of Zeus, eh?" Harry murmured as he and the young witch made their way through the tunnel. Ginny was examining the golden pictures on the wall: there were six of them, each showing different figures.

On the first one she saw a man dressed in armour, accompanied by a rather horrible-looking creature that she had once seen in the book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but didn't remember its name. Behind the armoured figure stood a huge person with one eye only. It looked a lot like Grawp, with the exception that Grawp had two eyes.

On the second picture Ginny saw a tall, slender woman in a helmet. Next to it, on the next wall-painting there was a naked (or apparently naked) man whose lower body was hidden by waves, holding a trident. On the fourth picture there weren't any figures, just some sort of a pond with a tiny waterfall running into it. The fifth fresco depicted a sullen figure in a boat, rowing on a river, a huge three-headed dog in the background.

"Looks like Fluffy," Harry remarked. "And that giant reminds me of Grawpy. Hagrid should've come, he'd like these pictures."

"But why do these pictures give me the impression that they aren't just here for decoration?" mused Ginny.

"Dunno," shrugged the young wizard, examining the last picture that showed three women weaving, measuring and cutting threads. "Look, these must be the Fates."

"If those are the Fates, then the other frescos also must depict real persons, don't you think?"

"As far as the Greek Gods are real," said Harry with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "But if they are, then I bet the first bloke is Ares, the helmeted chick must be Pallas Athena, the naked chap's Poseidon, the fourth pic is... I don't know what it is, but the fifth is Charon."

"Charon?" Ginny paled. "You mean the servant of Hades who takes the dead over the River Styx?"

"Uh-huh."

"Spooky," she whispered. "But what do these murals mean?"

"Well, the pictures follow each other in a row. Perhaps that's why this place's called the Row of Gods," Harry suggested.

"Aha," she nodded, though she didn't really understand it, not yet, anyway.

Soon the tunnel ended in a massive silvery door. As Harry reached out to open the door, a hazy, slightly see-through image of a woman appeared in front of them. She wore sweeping, lilac robes and a wreath made of peacock feathers. She looked extremely haughty, as though she was some sort of a queen...

Ginny had already opened her mouth to greet her when the woman spoke up:

Enter strangers, but beware,

'Tis not just a truth or dare,

Here you have to prove your mettle,

That you're ready for a battle,

You'll have to show you're clever,

So enter now or never,

If you think you have the guts,

Welcome to the Row of Gods

"Thanks," said Harry, but the woman didn't reply - her figure got hazier by the second, then totally vanished.

"Well, this must've been Hera," Ginny stated.

"Whew, then I understand why Zeus cheated on her with every second female," he commented, only to get a disapproving stare from her. "I mean, come on, who'd like a woman with peacock feathers sticking out of her head?"

She shook her head, suppressing a chuckle. "What do you have against peacock feathers? I really like them, once saw Gilderoy Lockhart sign something with his... you have to give it to him, the peacock feather suited him..."

"Do you want to make me jealous?" he playfully arched an eyebrow at her.

"Noooo, how can you even imagine such things of me?" she cocked her head in a coquettish way.

"Ginny, don't do this to me..." he breathed.

"Why?" she batted her eyelashes exactly like she had seen from Megara the conductor.

"Because then we'll never get into the next room."

"Why not?" she licked her lips, making Harry pant heavily.

"Because... because I'll push you to the wall and make you mine right here."

Working hard to hide her amusement, she pointed her wand at him, and squirted him with a jet of ice-cold water.

"Feeling better?" she asked innocently.

"Much," he grunted, shaking his head to get rid of the droplets stuck among his black locks. "And I'd return the favour, if we didn't have more pressing things on our hands."

"Just ten seconds ago you seemed to be willing to forget about those pressing things on our hands..." she pointed out.

"You love teasing me, don't you?" he rolled his eyes.

"Just as much as you love teasing me," she countered.

"How utterly disgusting," said a voice from behind them.

They turned around to see Hera, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her eyebrows knitted and her lips tucked into a pout.

"What?"

"For Zeus' sake, stop billing and cooing and get down to business," Hera growled. "I'm sick of seeing dallying couples, yuck."

Harry was about to give her a snappy comeback, but Ginny was quicker: "What if we want to bill and coo, eh? It's none of your business, sister. Just because you aren't getting any, why shouldn't we get some?"

Harry stared at her, his mouth slightly open with surprise. This was his Ginny! This was the same Ginny whom he had fallen for in his sixth year, the same Ginny who wouldn't leave him alone until he poured out his heart to her - the determined, self-confident girl who had captured his attention like no other girl before... Suddenly he felt he got his 'old' Ginny back, making him want to pick her up and swirl her in the air until she squealed 'put me down this instant!', but Hera's icy cold glance made him think better of it. Later. He'd have time later to make love to Ginny against a wall or to tease her until she gave him a Bat-Bogey-Hex... first she needed to be free from that evil curse.

"She didn't mean what she said, she's just a bit hyper due to those five cups of coffee she drank on the Hippobus, forgive her, O Queen of Gods, please," he bowed slightly, needing all his self-control not to start laughing at his own ridiculous words.

"All right then," Hera straightened her back proudly. "I forgive this insolent child, only because you asked politely. But try and refrain from frolicking around here, will you? You can do it if you get deeper into the Row of Gods, but I seriously doubt that you will get very deep into it..." she gave Harry a supercilious smile.

"Why wouldn't we?" Ginny asked.

"Because the dead can't get into anywhere... save the netherworld," Hera added sweetly and disappeared from sight again.

"Charming lady, isn't she?" Harry grimaced.

"Absolutely," Ginny wrinkled her freckled nose.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not too frightened by her threats."

"Neither am I. I was in Gryffindor too, remember?"

"How could I ever forget that?" he smiled dreamily. "You in your tight-fitting red-gold Quidditch robes... you were darn sexy, did you know?"

"Michael told me so," she shrugged.

"Ah, Michael... Married Cho, didn't he?"

"So I heard. They even have a son called Cedric."

"Good that I didn't get together with her, then. Imagine her naming our son Cedric..." he said, reaching for the handle on the silvery door to open it.

"Really, if you ever had a son... what would you name him?" Ginny asked quietly.

His hand had already grasped the handle, but very slowly he turned around. His expression radiated some gentleness, some sort of longing, and a bit of sadness. "I think... I'd name him Sirius."

"Oh," she nodded knowingly. "Well then, let's go inside."

He pushed down the handle and entered, closely followed by Ginny. The first thing that struck them was that the room they got into was pitch-black, and that the door closed behind them with a loud snap. Harry thought of trying to open it again, just to make sure they'd able to leave if needed, but he immediately changed his mind as the room suddenly got illuminated by some mysterious, invisible magic, and they caught a glimpse of an enormous creature with the head of a lion, body of a ram and tail of dragon lunging at them.