Harry Potter and the Solstice Conspiracy

Chapter 2: The Trio's Ritual

Harry awoke to the rain steadily pelting the glass of his window. He did not stir for awhile, but as he lay there a feeling of heaviness settled around his heart. It grew as he remembered exactly what he had to do today. To be sure, though, Harry turned in his bed and looked at the daily calendar placed on his nightstand. He read the date, and his heart sank. August 15^th. He sighed, put on his glasses, and rolled out of bed. As he dressed, Harry wondered if Hermione and Ron had awoken yet, and if they too had realized that it was their day. Of course Hermione would, she was nothing if not on top of everything, but he couldn't say the same for Ron. A mental picture of Ron snoring filled his head, and Harry couldn't help but smile. An idea popped into his head, and his smile turned into a wicked grin.

"Kreacher," Harry said, and with a loud crack the old house elf appeared at his feet.

"Master called?" Kreacher asked with a bow so low that the silver locket around his neck scraped against the floor. Harry had been trying to get Kreacher to stop calling him Master, but the elf never took to any of their lessons.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Harry whispered, dropping down on one knee so he could speak directly into the elf's ear. "I want you to wake up Ron, but make sure you do it with a loud noise, or something sudden." Kreacher laughed like a bullfrog.

"Kreacher knows just the thing." With another bow, Kreacher disappeared from Harry's bedroom.

Harry stepped out of his room and onto the landing. Despite the many new lanterns, candles, and even a vain attempt by Hermione to use Muggle lamps, Grimmauld Place still retained a shade of its darkness. The house itself seemed to absorb the shadows, and as homely as Harry tried to make it, it still felt like it wasn't his house, not properly at any rate. Of course it was the most logical place to live after he had finished with school; it would've cost more than his fair share of Galleons to buy a new house, but more importantly it allowed him to live comfortably with Ron and Hermione. They had decided on this arrangement immediately after they had finished their seventh year, insisting that they not be too far apart. Harry still had a niggling doubt that Hermione and Ron would continue to live here long, considering their relationship had strengthened over the years, but whenever he brought his up with Ron and Hermione-always separately, they were most unified in talking Harry down- they told him not to worry. He also felt tempted to offer them the master bedroom, so they could live in one room, but something always held him back. Harry suspected that it was because Sirius used that bedroom, but he never explored the feeling too much. Even so long ago his godfather's death still gave him a certain pang of guilt.

But, Harry had to admit, Grimmauld Place looked a lot more comfortable than it ever had. The three of them changed the decorations wherever possible, though Sirius's parents had made sure that not all of the Slytherin markings could be completely removed. Most of the rooms were completely empty of dark creatures or items, though some would never completely be removed. Hermione managed to silence some of the talking portraits on the walls, but Kreacher often threw tantrums when they considered doing the same to some of the closer Black family members. Kreacher had become a very loyal house elf, but his patience with the remodeling got tested so much that Harry was amazed that Kreacher had not died of shock.

Harry headed downstairs and into the kitchen, and as he expected, Hermione was already there, preparing some tea.

"Good morning, Harry," she said.

"To you too, Hermione," he replied. "Weather outside is looking ugly."

"Yes, I noticed." She yawned slightly and took the tea off of the stove. "But today is too important to be dampened by a little rain." Harry nodded, and his stomach gave a bit of a growl.

"Think we have time for a little breakfast?"
"I suppose," she said, glancing at her watch. "I don't think Ron would leave the house without a full course meal." Harry grinned and took out his wand. With a casual flick several pans appeared and covered the stove top. A few more waves of the wand and the food had started to cook.

"You're getting a lot better at that," Hermione said, inspecting the food. "Better than the first time you tried to do it.

"At least we managed to get the eggs off of the ceiling," Harry said. He had been trying to make breakfast for everyone, a practice Hermione insisted on so that Kreacher didn't have to do all the work, and one of Harry's flicks went astray. The eggs had exploded onto the ceiling, but the bacon and sausage had disappeared completely. "How do you want your eggs?"
"Scrambled sounds-" Hermione started to say, but a loud shout interrupted her.

"ARRRGH! WHAT DID YOU JUST PUT ON ME?" Harry burst out laughing, and Hermione gave a little laugh as her eyebrows flew up.

"What was that?"

"I told Kreacher to give Ron a wakeup call," Harry said in the middle of fits of laughter, and Hermione joined in. A loud crack echoed in the kitchen, and Kreacher appeared, clutching his sides.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Kreacher tried using some Tickling Charms to wake the Weasley, but he did not stir, so Kreacher covered him with Stinksap from Longbottom's Mimbulus Mimbletonia that he gave Master Harry for Christmas." Harry roared with fresh laughter. After a few moments they heard thundering footsteps coming down the stairs, and try as he did to arrange a straight face as Ron entered the kitchen, still in his maroon pajamas, covered head to toe in goo, Harry could not stop laughing.

"Good morning," Hermione said through her own laughter, and Ron wiped some Stinksap off of his face.

"Couldn't think of a better way to wake me up? Thought a shower of Stinksap would do the trick?" Ron said, staring at Harry, who flicked his wand so that a large platter appeared on the countertop.

"Oh I didn't think of the Stinksap," Harry said, catching his breath. "That was all Kreacher." Ron looked down at the elf, who was now hiccupping from laughter.

"Didn't know you had a sense of humor," Ron hissed. Hermione used her wand to clean off the Stinksap.

"You know, I've showed you the spell for this at least a hundred times, Ron," she said.

"But you do it so much better than I ever could," Ron said, making sure every inch of him was cleared of the goo. "And last time I tried I set my robes on fire."

"Sometimes I think that you do these things on purpose so I have to do them," Hermione said suspiciously, and Harry turned to the food to avoid making eye contact with either of them. He knew that Hermione was right on the money, but he did not want her to know, and he did not trust himself to not laugh if he made eye contact with Ron.

"Scrambled eggs all right for you Ron?" Harry asked, hoping his tone did not betray him.

"I suppose," he said, and after a few moments, Harry moved the breakfast to the dining room for them to eat. Ron ate with gusto while Harry and Hermione discussed his trip to Azkaban.

"How was Stan?"

"He's holding up, though I don't know how long it'll be before he goes mad," Harry said, spearing a sausage with his fork. "The new security measures are not exactly comforting."

"The Sentries?" Hermione asked, scowling. "Of course they wouldn't. Not exactly as bad as Dementors but they're nasty creatures. They've been asking our office to figure out a way to get more of them to guard the prison, but it's ridiculous. The magic involved to create them is Dark, I don't think Kingsley will allow them anymore."

"How're they made?" Ron asked after taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"It's complex magic, but it involves harnessing the essence of anger and violence and binding it to a specific place," Hermione said. "Most of them come from battlegrounds from long lost wars. They're very controllable, since they're bound to a specific location, but when they're provoked they often cause irrevocable harm, often death. Of course Kingsley didn't want them around, but the pressure on securing Azkaban was huge after the last breakout."

"I would've thought the new runes would be enough," Harry said. "I think they lock the place down in the presence of performed magic. I did a Lighting Charm and they showed up all along the walls and doorways."

"Yes, that's exactly how they work," Hermione said. "It took a lot of work for our department to create them but we ended up doing it."

"They put Unspeakables on the Azkaban project?" Harry asked.

"I'm glad they did, it's been dreadfully boring in the Department of Mysteries. Since the last time you've visited we've been fixing the Hall of Prophecies. Most of the prophecies were lost back in our fifth year, and a lot of the seers that made those prophecies are long dead now, so there's no way to recover the record. So we're supposed to be tracking down prophecies that we can and then putting them back on the shelves."

"Better that than working on restoring the Time-Turners," Ron said darkly. "It took a lot to get that blocked in the Wizengamot. Constance Ornarian, the hag in the Internal Review Board, she wants everything back to how it was before the war."

"Yes, well, we've got a lot more on our plates than Time-Turners," Hermione said. She glanced at her watch. "We'll have to get going soon if we want to visit everywhere before the service tonight."

"No time for seconds, then," Ron said glumly. He looked down sadly at his empty plate.

"You'll have the feast later," Harry said bracingly, thumping Ron on the shoulder.

"Better get your heavy cloaks, it's pouring outside," Hermione said. "I've put some repelling charms on them but the weather looks terrible. I hope they don't cancel the service at all."

"They'd better not," Harry responded as they left the dining room and walked upstairs. "I don't think that Kingsley would let them do that."

"Agreed," Ron said. "Meet back in the entrance hall in five minutes?"
"Sounds good," Harry said, and he entered his bedroom. As he put on his dark cloak, still a little damp from his trip to Azkaban, the lightness from his joke on Ron started to dwindle and die in the face of what they were about to undertake. They did this every year, a ritual of sorts, before they attended the memorial service with everyone else. At first people wanted to join them; Neville, Luna, Ginny, even George Weasley, but the three of them politely rebuffed them. They would spend the day with their friends and family at the service. Before that, however, they would journey together, alone.

Harry snatched a photo album off of one of his bureau tops, and he sat down on his bed, flipping through the pages. He saw page after page of his father, his mother, Lupin, Sirius, and he half smiled. In the years following Voldemort's fall, Harry had added a few pages to the album that Hagrid had given him, and it had become a sort of pictorial remembrance of all the people Harry had lost in both wars. Familiar faces beamed up at him, those of Tonks, Fred, Mad-Eye Moody (who didn't smile so much as grimace), and some of Harry's classmates at Hogwarts, people he had grown to admire the more he considered their bravery. In the days following Voldemort's fall many considered Harry the hero, the savior of the wizarding world, but for Harry these people in the pictures gave him the strength and courage to actually perform his task. He could never have done it alone, a lesson he had learned the hard way, over a long period of time. He put the photo album aside, and he thought of Ron and Hermione, his two best friends. No, he could never have done it alone. Especially not without them.

He felt another pang of guilt when he heard their footsteps coming down the stairs. Harry couldn't help but feel selfish when he considered their living with him, here in Grimmauld Place, when they must want to start their own lives together, maybe even get married. Neither mentioned a wedding, or any sort of future plans together, but Harry felt sure that was because they didn't want to worry him. He loved living with them, but the longer the arrangement went on, the more he worried that he was using them as a crutch to stave off living alone. After all they had been through he knew for sure that he needed them around. But whether or not they needed him the same way Harry could never tell. If they had a problem they suffered it in silence. A knock sounded on his door, and Hermione peaked in.

"Ready Harry?" she asked in a low voice. She saw the worry and sadness on his face, and gave a reassuring smile. He smiled back, grabbed a small, wrapped package off of his desk, and then put it in his pocket.

"I think so," he said finally, and he followed her and Ron down the stairs, and into the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. They could not Apparate out of the house, due to the stringent security charms and spells that Hermione and almost everyone else insisted on, and they walked out the door onto the front steps. Many believed Harry would be in danger from Death Eaters enraged after Voldemort's fall, but nothing ever came of it. Hermione insisted that they put as many spells and charms on the place as possible, and though Harry found it mildly annoying and inconvenient, he knew they had his best interests at heart. They had even found a way to perform a new Fidelius Charm on the premises, thanks to the hard work of Hermione and Professor Flitwick.

"Privet Drive first, right?" Ron asked, adjusting his cloak in the face of the cold wind that whipped against his face. Harry nodded, and all three turned into the rain, and disappeared.

They landed on the familiar spot of Privet Drive, and here the weather eased up a bit. A chilly breeze swept down the street, and the sky above grey and ominous. A flash of lightning in the distance kept them moving, and they all performed Disillusionment Charms on themselves so no Muggles could see. They approached number 4, Privet Drive, and here they remembered the panicky escape from the Death Eaters, and how they had lost Hedwig, and Mad-Eye Moody. Harry could see Aunt Petunia, her heavily colored hair hiding the gray hair she had grown, washing the kitchen with her familiar pursing lips. An odd temptation stole over him, as it always did, to knock and visit his aunt and uncle. He mastered the impulse at once, because he knew it would be a stupid thing to do, and they were already running late.

They paused near the flower bed underneath the kitchen window, and Hermione crouched, waved her wand, and muttered, "Specialis Revelio!."

The flowers jumped aside, and a small, marble statue of a snowy owl appeared, with the word "Hedwig" engraved on the bottom. No one considered it foolish to do this, even though Hedwig was a pet. Harry set a small owl treat at the bottom of the statue, and he stood. They lingered for a few moments, staring quietly down at the statue, and Harry stole another glimpse of his aunt in the kitchen. He never forgot the look that she had given him before he left Privet Drive for the last time, and he knew she wanted to say something to him, even if she could not find the courage to say it. Again he felt the urge to enter, but he felt an invisible hand clutch at his shoulder.

"We should move on," Hermione whispered, and they turned on the spot.

They emerged this time in the woods of the old Quidditch World Cup. The rain pelted the leaves above them, but the trees gave them a bit of cover from the rain. They removed the Disillusionment Charms, safe from the view of prying eyes, and they walked through the forest. The muddy ground squelched beneath them, and the wind grew colder as they went on, but they did not complain, did not fuss. This they would do without protest, because it meant so much to them, and there were those that could not be with them, even if they had wanted company. At last they came across an old, gnarled tree with a small cross gouged at the base, and they had arrived. They stood there for who knows how long, and Ron moved forward with his wand. Flashes of red illuminated the forest as he gouged marks into the tree, and after a few moments work, he stepped back to admire it. Harry saw Ron's marks, and couldn't help but smile. Under the cross Ron had written: "Constant Vigilance."

"You know it wasn't the real Moody that said that," Hermione said with a smirk, and she took Ron's hand.

"I know, but it's the one phrase that I know Moody would have approved of," Ron said with a shrug.

"That and keeping your wand from blasting off your buttocks," Harry reminded them, and they laughed a bit. After they had paid their respects, they turned and Disapparated.

They emerged in another forest, this time in the small graveyard of Godric's Hollow. They once again Disillusioned themselves, though Harry privately thought that this wasn't necessary, as the graveyard and its surroundings were completely empty. But he did not protest, and they walked through the graveyard until they arrived at the graves of James and Lily Potter. Harry felt Hermione squeeze his hand, and Ron put a hand on his shoulder as he crouched down, putting a hand to both of the stones. They were wet from the rain, and he swept away a bit of the grime that had gotten kicked up in the wake of the storm. Harry flicked his wand and some flowers appeared, and he set them down in the middle of the two stones.

"You've never left me since that day in the forest," Harry whispered, and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "Not a day goes by that I can't feel you with me. I hope I've made you proud."

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke, but Harry could feel Hermione's grip on his hand tighten. Harry used the back of his hand to wipe the tears away from his eyes. He stood, not looking at Ron and Hermione, because he knew he was close to breaking down, and he wanted to keep it together. The grief of his parents' loss, still strong after so many years, amplified by the few moments they had together on that dreadful night in the Forbidden Forest, cut into his heart like a knife. They did not hurry from this spot in their travels, though Harry could feel time tugging him away from the graves, and onwards. This spot was always the hardest for Harry, but he knew there was more they had to see, and none of it got any easier.

"You ready, mate?" Ron asked gently, and Harry nodded. He wanted to do more, to clean the graves, to say something more profound, but he knew nothing would ever be enough. The three of them removed the Disillusionment Charms on them. He felt Ron and Hermione turn on the spot, and he did the same.

The smell of the sea air filled his nostrils, and the rain poured down heavily here at Shell Cottage. Giant waves crashed against the shore, and thunder boomed overhead constantly now. The wind whirled around them, slapping cold air and water in their faces. Hermione waved her wand, trying to cushion them against the elements, but even her spell could not completely remove the cold edge of the weather. Comfort, however, never tempted them to quit, or leave, because this spot they visited every year, and nothing would avert them from their mission.

They approached the cottage, but they did not enter. They would see Bill, Fleur, their niece, later in the day. For now the three of them only had the intention of visiting the large, white stone with flowers growing around it. Harry's eyes found the words he himself had gouged into it, and he smiled: Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.

The stone itself lay soaked in the rain, and Harry spotted a small, now grimy, maroon sock in the mud next to the stone. Its mate had disappeared, probably picked up by the wind a long time ago. Harry pointed his wand at the sock and it disappeared into nothingness. He took out the small package he had taken from his bedroom, and opened it up. Inside a pair of mis-matched socks lay, looking as new as the day they were made. One of them shined pure gold, and the other a sock striped red and green. They could not look more mismatched, but that made the two perfect.

"Should waterproof them," Hermione said in a low voice. She tapped them with her wand and whispered, "Impervius!" The socks seemed untouched by the rain. Harry laid them on top of the stone, so that they outlined the epitaph. Lightning cracked on the horizon, and Harry could practically see Dobby, his huge, tennis ball eyes, and his long fingers. Harry had relied on Dobby so much over the course of his magical education, and he felt a sort of hollow ache that he never really appreciated the small elf when he was alive. He considered Dobby a friend, a true ally, and he missed him dearly.

"Do you remember when he fixed that bludger on you?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry smiled and nodded.

"Broke my arm, that one," Harry said fondly. "Good intentions, misguided approach to the problem."

"Oh I don't know," Ron said with a smirk. "The flimsy arm you got from Lockhart sure did look really funny."

"Felt funny too, except the Skelegro," Harry responded. He looked over at Hermione, who had a weak sort of smile on her face.

"I hope he was happy," Hermione said.

"He was free, it was what he always wanted," Harry responded. "Of course he was happy." She took some solace from this, and though the rain lashed against them they stood there, looking down at the small memorial. Harry did not know how long they stood there, but after a long while, Hermione sighed, and then looked at the others.

"Last one," she said. Harry nodded. They turned on the spot, and disappeared into the wind.

They emerged in the Forest of Dean, next to a small pool of water now rippling from the constant patter of rain drops. Harry looked cautiously at Ron, who had grown a bit pale since arriving here, and Harry looked away. Ron always got faint when they came here, a spot that Ron always insisted on coming to, though he knew it would be hard every time he came. They found the remains of a sycamore tree; every year they commented that it would fall soon because of its age, and they had been right. Only half the tree remained, but the flat stone at the base of the tree had not moved. Harry noticed that it was blackened, and he knew it was not from fire, or lightning, or dirt. It was because-

"It was right here," Ron said, crouching down, his fingers tracing the scorched rock. "I destroyed the locket right here." He said this every time, almost reminding himself that this was his redemption, his way of making old wrongs right.

"It put up a hell of a fight," Harry said.

"I can still hear it sometimes, the things it said," Ron said quietly, and Hermione gave a little gasp. She made to say something, but Ron shook his head. "Not like it's still there or anything. It's like it left a scar, or a mark, or an echo, I don't know. But sometimes I can feel it."

"It was bollocks, all of it," Harry said, and Ron nodded.

"I know that, mate. But at least coming here, it's easier to remember that we were stronger than it, than him. Than Voldemort." Harry's eyes flew open in surprise. Even six years later Ron never said the name, but here, in the face of Voldemort's greatest attack on Harry's best friend, Ron remembered his own triumph, and from that he drew strength. Hermione's eyes swam with tears, and she gave Ron a hug. Ron looked at Harry, who gave him a beaming smile.

"Knew you'd be able to one day," he said, and Ron gave him an awkward smile back.

"I'm so proud of you, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said, her voice muffled in the cloth of Ron's robes. Harry felt another pang of guilt when he looked at them, and he turned away.

"Fear of a name and all that," Ron said with a grin. "Besides, Harry and you have been saying it for ages. It's about time I caught up." He said it without a trace of shame or indignation, and Harry clapped him on the shoulder.

"I've always wondered why we come here," Hermione said, breaking off from Ron. "It always seemed like torture for you."

"Because," Ron said simply, "this is the place where we all came together, and never split again." His eyes turned to Harry, and for a second he thought that Ron knew exactly what Harry had been thinking earlier in Grimmauld Place, and told him to think better of it.

"Well put," Hermione said. She looked at Harry. "This never gets easier, every year."

"I know. And we still have the memorial service later today at Hogwarts."

"I hope the weather relaxes though," Ron said. "My face still hurts from visiting Dobby."

"Think a lot of people will show up if it doesn't stop raining?" Hermione asked.

"I think so," Harry said. "It's such an important day, I don't think that the rain could keep a lot of people away. And besides, if worse comes to worse we can always shift some of the service inside in the Great Hall."

"I'm sure Filch will love that," Ron said with a wicked grin. "I can't wait to tramp mud through the halls."

"Some things never change," Hermione said, half amused and half stern. She checked her watch. "We still have some time before the service, we can grab some lunch at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. And we can maybe visit Aberforth if he wants visitors."

"Aberforth never wants visitors," Harry said with a smile. "So we should go regardless."

"To Hogsmeade then?" Ron asked, and the other two nodded. Harry watched Hermione and Ron turn, and in the small moment before he joined them, he felt both as united with them as he always had, and profoundly isolated.