History Moves in Circles

History Movies in Circles

Chapter 1: Harmony’s Baby

Brian stood outside in the rain, ignoring the way it dribbled down the back of his neck and ruined the expensive shoes he wore on his feet to stare at the motorcycle standing just inside the garage. The once pristine bike now looked like it had been hauled out of a junkyard, the blue paint was chipped and peeling, one fender hanging on at an awkward angle, spires from the tires missing, tail lights shattered. Entering the garage, Brian ran a shaking hand over the tattered remains of the leather seat, wondering what had possibly happened to the bike, and if Harmony had been riding it when it happened.

He hoped she hadn’t.

Still in shock, Brian walked to the garage door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. He pushed it open as far as it would go, edging his way past the cardboard boxes stacked next to it. He looked in one to see what it contained but found it empty. Scraping the rainwater out of his eyes, he saw that the lights were on in the living room. "Harmony?" His voice carried throughout the quiet house. "Harmony?"

"I’m right here."

Brian whirled to see a strange woman standing behind him at the bottom of the stairs. "Harmony?"

"Yes." The shadowed figure stepped into the light, and Brian had to physically restrain himself from flinching away. If this was Harmony, it was a Harmony he’d never seen before, and one he never wanted to see again.

Her once lustrous hair now hung in limp strands, the sheen stripped out of them, dangling over her pasty white face. The only color about her was from the huge dark circles under her eyes, and the network of healing scars on her face and neck. But the eyes, once so full of glitter and life, were what shocked him; the flame beneath them had gone out. They were dark and still like pools of oil, filled with something he recognized as passive shock.

He rushed to envelop her in a hug, but held her gingerly. She was frail in his arms, like a porcelain sculpture that would break at the slightest pressure. "My God, Harmony, what happened to you?" She wasn’t ever leaving the country again without him being with her. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—lose her again.

She looked up at him, and he could see conflict in her eyes as if she were trying to decide what to tell him. "It was a car crash," she whispered softly, fastening onto the words as if they were her lifeline. "I was in a car crash."

"On your bike?"

She shook her head, stepping out of his embrace and turning to straiten the painting on the wall. "No; the bike had an unfortunate meeting with a drunk driver." She limped over to the couch and sat down. Brian followed her, waiting for her to speak again, but she stared off into open space.

"The car crash, Harmony?" He questioned, drawing her attention back to the subject. "How badly were you hurt?" And why hadn’t she told him?

"Not badly; just a concussion." She closed her eyes and refused to look straight at him. In fact, she hadn’t looked into his eyes at all, the way a lying witness did. She was hiding something from him. He’d have to find it with questions, but he wasn’t sure he could do that without hurting her.

"Why wasn’t I called?"

Harmony considered her answer for a long time, making him wonder exactly what she was thinking about. A thread of anger crept up into his chest, but he ignored it. His wife had never kept secrets from him before. This whole situation was surreal; he was certain he’d wake up soon to find things perfectly normal, that he was alone in his bed just dreaming of her return. This wasn’t the way he wanted her back, but it was better than her coming home in a coffin.

"It was only a concussion, and my parents were closest to me. They wouldn’t let me travel until I had recovered, and I didn’t want to worry you." She sighed, taking his hands in her own and squeezing them, looking straight into his eyes. She wasn’t lying to him now; she wasn’t a good enough actor to look him in the face and blatantly lie to him. "I’m sorry I was gone for an entire year and that I couldn’t tell you anything, but the agreement I made with Professor Dumbledore was confidential."

Dumbledore? What kind of name is Dumbledore? Brian removed his hands from her and crossed his arms across his chest, giving her the best intimidating look he could muster. "So you can’t tell me why you ran off for a year, except that you had to sort out some old man’s estate?" He stopped for effect. "That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense—I’m your husband; and a lawyer—I could have helped!"

"Yes, you are a lawyer, Brian, and have to keep details of your job from me; I don’t ask you about them, do I?" Harmony’s voice was calm, but he could see the hurt on her face. Maybe he had stung her enough to get the truth out of her. "Professor Dumbledore didn’t have the most…reputable…associates." Brian felt the anger rise again, and pushed it away. Reputable associates? She made them sound like escaped convicts. "It took me forever to hunt them down, and once I did, getting them to accept the…terms…took quite a bit of…persuasion…on my part."

Persuasion? What exactly had she been doing to persuade these men? Brian felt the heat rise in his cheeks, and fought it back viciously. He had every right to be furious with her abandonment, but he wanted to hear the end of the tale she was spinning before he starting seriously questioning her. He couldn’t, however, keep a sarcastic comment to himself. "Now you’re going to tell me you really ran away with the milkman, aren’t you?"

Harmony’s eyes widened, enraged. He’d really pushed a button this time. HHHHhHHH"Yes, Brian," she snarled angrily, "I ran away with the milkman. I only used him for sex, but now I’m having his baby." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and she narrowed her eyes to stare at him. He stared back, unaffected. "If you’re not going to listen to what I have to say I don’t know why I even bothered to come back." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned her back to him, incensed.

Brian grit his teeth and clenched his fists to keep from saying something he would regret. He loved his wife, and he would welcome her back with open arms once she told him what she had been doing for the last year. Not just that she’d been tracing down some disreputable characters to give them some sort of inheritance from an old man. There were people who did that sort of thing for a living; she could have hired them and stayed here. But now she was furious with him. He supposed that last comment had been rather harsh, but he couldn’t take it back now.

The only sound in the room was the rain pattering a gentle tempo against the glass window. He could see the steady rise and fall of his wife’s chest as she continued to look away, her young face chiseled like a statue; beautiful, immobile, and as unforgiving as marble.

Just as he opened his mouth to apologize Harmony whirled back to face him. "You’re not going to believe me, but I might as well tell you anyway." She caught his gaze and refused to look away. "What I’m going to say never leaves this room. In fact, it would be better for you to forget I ever said anything." He could handle that; he knew more dirty little secrets than he ever thought he would when he became a lawyer. It was amazing what people would tell a lawyer when they thought they were safe. Now maybe he’d get a straight answer out of his wife.

She looked down at the ground, and then at him, catching his eyes again. "Professor Dumbledore was part of a secret society when I attended his school. He was a crazy old man who needed young backs and minds to do his grunt work for him."

A secret society? What the hell was she going on about? Next she would be telling him her number was 009 and she worked for British Intelligence with James Bond.

When she saw the disbelief in his eyes, she offered him a patronizing smile. "I told you it was wild; but I’m not done yet."

Crossing her hands placidly over one knee, she stared at him. "I was the top student in my class; if I couldn’t learn about it or research it, nobody could. And I was bored with the curriculum; I could do most of what they wanted me to do very easily once I’d read about it. When Professor Dumbledore asked me to do some research in my spare time, I saw it as a learning opportunity. He taught me how read several ancient languages in his quest for some ancient artifacts and gave me free access to the restricted section of the library, something I’d always wanted."

Brian could believe that; his partners had dubbed his wife the librarian killer after she’d argued for hours over her access to some very old books. After Harmony had emerged from the room with copies of the information she wanted, the librarian had quit. The librarians at Harvard would literally run and hide when she entered the floor; she knew more about the library than they did. It also explained why she knew how to read Greek and Latin, and could make out Egyptian hieroglyphics.

He looked back to his wife, who was waiting for him to acknowledge her and nodded. She continued. "I helped him until I graduated. When he became ill he asked me to take care of his affairs when he died. He didn’t want his research to be destroyed if it was fought over, and I wanted a good reference for a scholarship application."

Brian lowered his eyebrows, wondering exactly when she had concocted such a fabulous story. But somehow, it was starting to make a little sense. Not a lot, but he could see some parallels with the Harmony he knew. "You are aware that you sound like a female version of Indiana Jones, aren’t you?"

She rolled her eyes and cracked a wane smile. "Yes, as crazy as it may sound. Professor Dumbledore actually looking for the Holy Grail for a time, among other things."

Brian snorted; she’d kept her sense of humor. "So you’re a member of some secret society?" He wasn’t close to believing her wild story in its completion, but something in his mind told him that parts of it were possible; her parents had hinted at Harmony’s involvement in something much larger than her community at school, although he had never asked about it. Perhaps he would have to call Alice and Rob to confirm his wife’s story; they would understand his growing concern that their daughter had become temporarily disoriented. He couldn’t ask for better in-laws.

He redirected his attention to his wife. "It wasn’t exactly secret," she said somewhat stiffly, "just so old the public never hears about it. And no, I wasn’t a member of that society; I just consulted and translated old texts for Professor Dumbledore. The money I made working for him helped me pay for school here."

"Which you withdrew from." Brian needled. Her continuing school had been a big deal when they’d gotten married, even though Brian could support both of them on his salary. In fact, it had been a matter of argument, one that had almost ended their engagement.

Harmony looked at the floor quickly before fastening her eyes on his face. "Yes. If I hadn’t withdrawn, I would have failed because of missed quizzes and tests. I can go back part time when the semester starts again; it’s been arranged."

Part time? She’d been a full-time student before her absence; had something happened to make her not like school? Perhaps this secret society had recruited her again. "So you went and straightened out this crazy treasure hunter’s estate and nearly killed yourself in a car crash?"

Harmony flinched and slid away as if he had hit her. His question had touched a nerve, judging from the way her face crumpled and her body tensed. "I didn’t kill myself," she said in a quiet voice. "I killed two of my best friends."

"What?" This was an entire change in personality. Ten minutes ago she had been furious with him; and now she was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t something that he was unfamiliar with, but Harmony was the most stable woman he knew.

"I killed my friends," her voice wavered. She clenched her eyes shut, as if she was trying to shut out a memory. "I was driving, one was in the seat next to me and the other was asleep in the back. She’d just had a baby; and I was taking them home so they could shower and sleep."

Harmony was silent for a moment, biting down on her lower lip. "The other car just came out of nowhere; I couldn’t see it in the rain." She stared out the window for a long time, and he could see the tears streaking down her face. "When I could, it was too late; I couldn’t get out of the way. I tried; but I swerved the wrong way; we collided on the passenger side."

Brian reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in support. Even if he was puzzled, confused, and more than a bit angry, he couldn’t stand the sight of a woman in tears; especially if that woman was his wife. "I hit my head on the steering wheel when we crashed and blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and my Mum & Dad were there." Her shoulders shook now, in her efforts to keep from sobbing. "They told me that I…I was the only one…who s-survived."

With her head ducked submissively and her knees folded against her chest, she looked like nothing more than a little girl crying to be comforted. Harmony never cried. Almost automatically, Brian grabbed his wife and pulled her close to him, forgetting her injuries. She crawled into his lap, tucked her head under his chin and sobbed. Most of what she said between the wrenching sobs was unintelligible, but Brian heard something that sounded like ‘family,’ followed by ‘fault.’ As his wife’s body shook in his arms he rocked her back and forth, silently forgiving her for her tales. With that sort of grief and guilt it was no wonder she’d taken refuge in another world; she’d probably dreamed up her story to help her deal with it. When she was ready, she would tell him the truth; he was sure of it.

Eventually she quieted and lay limp against his chest, her strength spent. He lifted her chin, wiping the trail of tears on her smooth skin away with his thumb. "Harmony, things like this happen, and nothing can prevent it." He stroked her hair, trying to let her know he was there for her. "I know it hurts," but nothing we can do will change what happened. Your friends are in a better place now—it was their time to go." It was a bit cliché, but it was what his mother had told him when each of his grandparents had died. The empty words had helped him; maybe they would help his wife.

"No." Harmony shook her head violently. "No it wasn’t. They’d just had a baby; they had their entire lives in front of them—she needed them. After all they went through, they deserved to be happy; to have a normal life. I should have been the one who died!" Her voice raised to an almost hysterical pitch and stood abruptly, knocking a delicate porcelain flower off the mantelpiece. It shattered on the hearthstone, and Brian morosely collected the few pieces that had landed on the carpet by his feet.

Harmony, ashen-faced, stooped to sweep the shards into the little shovel kept by the fireplace. Brian had just dropped his pieces in the little shovel when a sound he hadn’t expected to hear in his home for at least another few years carried down the hallway.

A baby was squalling at the top of its lungs somewhere upstairs.

Harmony dropped the little shovel, scattering the shards all over again, and jogged down the hallway towards the staircase. Brian followed, mind racing. There was a baby in his house. Why was there a baby in the house? There was no possibility Harmony would have hidden a pregnancy from him; someone would have told him. Her Mum would have told him; he was under the impression she was unhappy with her daughter for her secrecy. There was no way Alice would let her daughter keep a baby from him. Somewhere, in the very back corner of his mind, he toyed with the idea that Harmony might have cheated on him, but then discarded it. She’d vowed to be faithful to him at their wedding, and if there was one thing he knew about Harmony, it was that she never went back on a promise.

"What’s going on Harmony?"

Harmony continued jogging up the steps, giving Brian a good look at the heeled granny boots she wore. He’d never seen anyone wear such boots in his life—nor had he seen her wear anything like the nightgown she had on, long, dress-like robes of cream-colored linen, with lace at the neckline and sleeves. Where had she found clothes like that? She looked like she belonged in a Victorian painting, not in a modern Boston house.

"Harmony?"

She ignored him while let herself into the guest room, where the crying stopped a few moments later. Brian stood outside of the door for a few more moments before following her in.

Where he found what he thought he would.

Harmony sat in a worn rocking chair, holding a squirming little bundle in her arms. All Brian could see was a pair of bootied feet kicking energetically. His wife was cooing to the infant softly, but looked up when he came in.

"Harmony, what’s going on? Who is this?"

"This is Faith. Virginia Faith, actually." Harmony smiled down at her, then turned back to him. "She’s my goddaughter."

Brian lowered his eyebrows, looking over at her. By now he was so numb nothing would surprise him. "Your goddaughter? I didn’t know you had a goddaughter."

"Well, she’s a new development," Harmony amended with a weak grin. "And she doesn’t have parents anymore," she stroked a tiny hand, looking incredible somber, "thanks to my driving skills."

Brian sighed; this child had belonged to the two who had died in the car crash. Harmony had been the child’s godmother, and had inherited legal responsibility for the child when her parents had died in the car crash. But Harmony had been taking them home from the hospital…why had the child survived?

When he asked, Harmony shook her head sadly. "She wasn’t in the car; she was still at the hospital. They weren’t ready to release her yet."

"So she’s yours now?" Brian lifted a hand to rub his forehead. This day had just been too much to handle. What he really wanted to do was go outside and scream, but it couldn’t get much worse, could it? He’d already heard about car wrecks, secret societies, and the Holy Grail, why not just add a baby to the mix?

He dropped into the recliner in the corner, staring at his wife and the baby. Why was this happening to him? He must have offended someone very important up there to get his life turned upside down this way.

Harmony watched him while she rocked the baby. "You aren’t mad?" Sitting there, in the rocking chair with the baby, she looked very vulnerable, but very strong. Brian knew from the set of her jaw and the way she squared her shoulders that he would lose this battle, should he choose to fight.

Brian ran a hand through his dark blonde hair, startled to find that it was still damp; he still had his jacket on, and was dripping rainwater all over the floor. Pulling his arms from the sleeves, he hung it in the hallway, considering the situation while he was out of his wife’s sight.

She’d brought a baby home. Now that was something he’d never think she would do. Hermione wasn’t exactly a "baby" type woman; it was a subject they had danced around for months. Brian wanted children, but Harmony had been reluctant. He had understood her reasons, because an education was important, but he wasn’t getting any younger and he wanted to be able to shoot hoops with his sons when they were in high school.

But Harmony had brought a baby home. He slumped against the wall and sank to the floor. There were circumstances, but couldn’t she have told him sooner? At least some warning about the tiny girl would have assured he would have some of the basic things they needed ready for her. Judging from the boxes downstairs, she had already taken care of that problem.

He couldn’t kick the child out of his house; she wasn’t even American, so he couldn’t relinquish control of her to the state. He groaned, realizing the legal troubles that little girl would cause, and she wasn’t even his. She was Harmony’s; or rather, she was Harmony’s ward.

Why had she done this to him? What had he ever done to her to deserve this?

He was only vaguely aware that Harmony had come out to sit across from him in the hallway. She touched his arm lightly and he looked up to see her arranged neatly on the floor, booted feet peeking from under the hem of her skirts. "I’m sorry Brian," her voice was full of understanding. "I know it’s a lot to take in at once," she empathized fervently, "you don’t know how I wish things had worked out differently."

He leaned his head back against the wall, too stunned to feel too much. "But how?"

Harmony rubbed his knuckles. "My life has never been exactly normal, love. There are times I wish I’d never met that old wizard and his friends, that I could be a normal person for once." She was quiet for a long moment. Her mental capabilities had always bothered her; he knew she had been rejected as a child. "But I wouldn’t be who I was today without knowing and working with them."

Brian looked down at her. "Would you do it again?"

She cocked her head, considering her answer. It didn’t take her long to decide. "Yes. They were my friends; they accepted me for who I was, no matter what. The very least I can do is take care of Faith for them. She doesn’t deserve to grow up the way Harry did."

"Faith is going to need someone to be her Dad, you know."

"Am I the only applicant for the position?" Brian answered wearily.

Harmony smiled, the first true smile he’d seen on her yet. He knew she knew he had capitulated; she was just smart like that. She kissed his hand. "You’re the only one I would even consider interviewing for it." Rising to her feet, she waited while he rose a little less gracefully to his. "Let’s go meet your client."

Folding her smaller hand around his, she pulled him into the guest room, where the little girl lay in little bassinet on the bed. Brian peeked down at her, amazed once again about how tiny she was. None of his nieces had been that small. When he commented on it, Harmony elaborated. "Faith was born two months early. She’ll catch up to others in her age group eventually." She reached down and lifted the little girl out, handing her to Brian.

He supported the little body carefully. She was so small her feet stopped before they’d reached the middle of his arm. And she was two months old? She probably hadn’t been much bigger than the length of his hand when she was born. He had to admit she was beautiful though; the five perfect fingers she was using to grip his finger with were just as well-shaped as any of his. And her face could have belonged to a baby angel. The little mouth widened in a weary yawn, and she opened a pair of big blue eyes to watch him as she laid in his arms.

Complete and utter trust. She wasn’t afraid of him the tiniest bit. The little girl he held in his arms had her entire life in front of her, a life where she would learn to love and be loved, to think and make decisions on her own. She might be a basketball player; she might love horses. Brian grimaced; eventually she would learn to love boys, too. And Brian would be there to pick her up when she fell, hold her when her heart was broken, and watch as she got married to the man of her dreams. He would protect the innocent little creature in his arms as she grew to be a beautiful and independent woman.

He looked up at Harmony, who was sitting on the bed watching them, tears welling behind her dark eyes, and flashed her a blinding grin, which she returned. Turning back to the little girl, he kissed her forehead, inhaling the curious scent that only babies had. "I accept the position, Miss Faith."

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, as the lights in the Anderson house slowly darkened one by one, a man sitting in the tree outside sighed in relief. It was about time; he couldn’t remember how long he’d been in that tree. He began to stretch limbs stiff from sitting so long on the slippery branch.

Things had gone well then. The Muggle had accepted the story he and Hermione had concocted on their way to Boston.

At least something had gone right in the past few months. After the Boy Who Lived had disappeared, the magical world had panicked. Their savior was presumed dead, and evil was still at large.

It was still out there, the thin man knew, but there had been no reports of seeing Voldemort since Potter had disappeared. It appeared that the man had once more done the impossible and saved the world again. Bloody perfect Potter. He was a martyr now.

Dropping to the ground, the wizard straightened his borrowed invisibility cloak and cast one last protective spell at the house before he disapparated. There was still a war going on out there; he didn’t want to be traced to that house, and especially not to its newest occupant.

Upstairs, in the darkened guest room, a tiny infant slept completely oblivious to the presence of the man outside or the battles fought elsewhere across the world. She knew only that she was warm and content, not that the entire weight of the world she was born into might one day rest upon her shoulders.

Like her father and brother before her, Virginia bore the mark of a survivor; she had been born with it. For there, on the back of her neck, she would forever bear the long thin line identical to a legendary lightning-bolt scar.