Reign O'er Me

Chapter 15 - Girl’s Eyes

She's there, eyes aglow, very front row, don't throw sticks at her,
Please don't look her way,see her way, don't care anyway.

It's you who led her on, I see,
Just leave her down in her misery,
She don't want help from you and me,
Can't tell a note from a symphony.

- Girl’s Eyes, The Who

Harry woke slowly the next morning. By the light filtering in through windows, he could see that it was approaching mid-morning. Noticing a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and saw Ginny propped up on one elbow, watching him. “Hi.” He yawned. “What time is it?”

“Hi, yourself, sleepyhead. It’s a little before nine.”

“Were you watching me?”

She nodded. “I like watching you sleep. You look so….”

He raised his eyebrows as she sought the right word. “Sleepy?”

“No, silly. When you’re asleep, you look, well, so relaxed, so calm, it’s like you didn’t have any worries at all. I like seeing you that way.”

“It wasn’t like that until you came along, Gin. Sleeping usually meant nightmares as often as not.”

“It was kind of like that for me, too, sometimes.” She shifted and laid beside him, slipping easily into his arms. Their lips met, but before the kiss became too deep, Harry reluctantly pulled back.

“We’re supposed to have a lesson at ten,” he reminded her. “If we don’t stop now, we’re not going to make it.”

Ginny looked at him from beneath her lashes. “I’d rather just stay here with you.”

“Yeah, me too, but we need to…”

“Just this once?”

Responsibilities or not, he could not bring himself to deny her that, not this morning. He drew her again into his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost an hour later, Harry noticed the clock. “You know, if we hurry, we can still make it down and not be too late.”

Ginny giggled. “Okay, okay, okay, I should have known you’d insist on being the responsible Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Slayer of Slytherin’s Basilisk, Defender of the Wizarding World, not to mention Teen Witch Weekly's most eligible young bachelor and the guy who’ll beat out Guilderoy Lockhart for the Most Charming Smile Award this year. But we’re coming back here as soon as we’re done for the day. I’m not finished with you yet, Potter.”

“I think your magazine’s a bit dated, and I hope I’m not even in the running. And I hope you’re never finished.” Harry stood, and tugged her to her feet, and took note of the tangled bedclothes. “I told you nothing Tom Riddle did was real.”

She giggled again. “I found that out last night, silly. C'mon, let’s get a shower.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they emerged from their room, they were surprised to find Perenelle waiting for them. It looked like she had spent the night in the sitting room; she wore the same robes, and they looked as if they had been slept in. Harry carefully pulled the door closed behind him.

“Good morning,” she said. She inspected them intently for a few moments, noting their expressions and that hands were no longer clasped together, but that each lightly gripped the index and middle finger of the other. “There is little need to ask if things are better between the two of you; the differences this morning are obvious. Come, now, and join me for a moment.”

They sat with her on the couch; Perenelle again joined her hand to theirs, but this time she held their hands only for a few moments. “Your bond has strengthened more in the past twelve hours than it did in all the time since it first formed. Indeed, once Remus and Minerva have finished with you for the day, we will explore this further; you may be close to being able to hold to each other by choice, instead of necessity.”

She looked at Ginny for a moment, before asking with just a hint of a smile, “Do you still wish me to sever the bond?”

“No!” they both said together. Ginny visibly shuddered.

“I thought as much,” she said, smiling. “Things almost always look better in the light of day, Ginny. It was truly no more than a bad dream, a nightmare that has now ended. The memories may linger, child, but you have confronted them, and that is the most important - and difficult -step.” They saw her reading the text on Ginny’s shirt and then laugh quietly. “She has certainly chosen fitting attire for today, Harry.”

Harry hadn’t even noticed what the lettering on Ginny’s shirt had said. He looked for the first time and read the text on the shirt:

THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE*

*plus shipping and handling

(Shipping me is cheap; I’m small and light, but
handling’s expensive; I’m very high maintenance.)

He laughed along with Perenelle. Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket and flicked it at the shirt; the word “expensive” faded and was replaced by “a bitch.” “That was the original,” she said. “But there’s limits to what I can get away with around Mum. If she saw it like this, it’d vanish in the wash. So until we’re back at school….” She flicked her wand again, and “expensive” reappeared.

“Dobby undertook to set up breakfast for the two of you.” Perenelle pointed to the dining room. “Molly had sent him up earlier to see if you were awake yet, and I suggested that it would be good if you had something quick waiting here. He was also good enough to bring some bacon for your owl. I hope you don’t mind, but I did take the liberty of borrowing her last night to take a message to Nicholas.” She stood and led the two them to the dining room.

“No, that was fine; she’s not had any work for a while,” Harry said. “But you didn’t need to spend the night on the couch. There are a lot of empty rooms here.”

“I wanted to be nearby, Harry, just in case, and I wanted to make sure the two of you were undisturbed. As it turns out, it was fortunate I did. Ron and Hermione did come looking for you. The three of us had a nice chat in your sitting room.”

Harry and Ginny both blushed at that; Perenelle smiled understandingly at them. “When I warded the door, I took that possibility into consideration as well.”

She rushed them through a quick breakfast and then encouraged them to go on ahead of her down the stairs, saying she would see them that afternoon.

Harry and Ginny padded down the stairs together; as they reached the second floor, Harry saw Dobby and called him over and whispered something to the little elf. Ginny looked at him speculatively for a moment and said, “You know, they’d have hung them from the windows a few hundred years ago.”

“Is that what you’d rather do?” he teased.

“No, silly.” She hesitated. “But I’m… glad, I guess….”

“I am too, though it wouldn’t have changed anything between us. Ginny, what happened last night belongs just to the two of us.” Harry had become serious. “And no one else needs to know what happened in your first year, unless you want to tell them. But I don’t want to discuss either subject in some Order meeting or answer twenty questions because someone happens to wander in upstairs.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way.” Ginny hesitated. “I might have talked about some of it with Hermione, but I won’t….”

“No, that’s ok, if you want to; Hermione can keep a confidence; just do it because it’s what you want, not because everyone thinks we should live under a microscope all the time.”

They continued down the stairs to the basement; the kitchen was empty, but Harry thought the most likely place for Lupin to be was the room where they had practiced last time, so they tried there next. Harry’s guess was correct; Lupin was watching as Ron and Hermione dueled. Harry noticed that the old furniture that had been stacked along the wall had been removed; mats had been laid out on the floor, and a number of pillows were stacked along one wall. In a corner, a number of strange looking machines were in various stages of assembly.

They went to stand beside Remus and watched as Ron and Hermione casts spells at each other. Hermione was showing Ron no quarter, but he seemed reluctant to target her. Harry thought there was a better chance she’d guess wrong and walk into his spell than Ron actually hitting her. He watched as their exchange continued; a short time later, Hermione was holding both wands. “You weren’t really trying, Ron,” she said. “I know you don’t want to hurt me; it’d be touching if things weren’t so serious. But you have to go after me as hard as you can, or I’ll never be able learn to defend myself. If you slack off on me again… well, let’s just say Ginny’s no longer the only one who can do a certain curse…”

Remus chuckled and said to Harry and Ginny. “I don’t know why Dumbledore wanted me here; between your skills and Hermione’s determination, I’m just in the way.”

“Well, they had a little disagreement yesterday; I asked them if they wanted to go one-on-one; Hermione was ready to go,” Harry said.

“But Ron changed the subject as quick as he could,” Ginny added.

Lupin raised his voice. “Ok, now that Harry and Ginny have graced us with their company, why don’t you show me what you lot were doing yesterday.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perenelle had given them a minute to go down the stairs and had just entered the bedroom as Dobby arrived. The little house-elf had seemed upset on finding her there; Perenelle quickly understood Harry had asked him to make up the room; she reassured Dobby that her intent had been the same and left him to his task. She then left the fourth floor and descended the stairs to the kitchen.

Molly Weasley was sitting at the table with a cup of tea. She looked up, mildly surprised as Perenelle entered. “I hadn’t realized you’d arrived. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’ll get it; keep your seat, child. But I didn’t just arrive, I spent the night.”

“Oh.” Molly remembered she had disappeared last night with Harry and Ginny. “Is everything all right with the kids?”

“Very much so. The issue that had impeded their bonding has been resolved, I think”

“I… see.” Something was troubling Molly.

“What is it, Molly?”

Molly hesitated; she’d not intended to say anything, but something made her feel she could trust this venerable old witch. “A few minutes ago, I was just coming out of my room as the kids were coming down the stairs. Harry called Dobby over and sent him running up the stairs, then Ginny told him that in the old days, they would have hung them out the windows…. I can only think of one thing she could have possibly meant. Then Harry told her that what had happened last night was just between them and then said something about her first year and not wanting to answer questions.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I gave them the potion myself, a few days ago… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, other than it took this long… It’s just they are both so young; both of them were cheated out of their childhood. Was that what had prevented their bonding? Not…?”

“No, Molly, that was not it at all. You heard Harry speak of Ginny’s first year? The problem occurred back then. Ginny experienced things that were so horrible under Tom Riddle’s spell that her conscious mind rejected them completely. She had no recollection of these things, but the bonding could not progress while those shadows lingered, unresolved.”

“What… happened?” Molly asked worriedly.

Perenelle told her some of the things she had seen in Ginny’s memories as Molly sat horrified. She told Molly how Ginny had at first been eager to resolve whatever was blocking their progress and then how utterly devastated she had been upon remembering, sinking so deep into despair that she even asked that the bond be severed. Perenelle then described how Harry had supported Ginny, how he had tried to reassure her what he had seen didn’t matter, how he had answered Ginny with her own words, repeating things she had said to him their first night together. Molly was in tears at this point.

“Harry had experienced all of what she had suffered and held Ginny faultless, Molly. The only blame Harry placed was on himself, for not having perceived her hurt earlier and because his problems had drawn attention away from Ginny’s needs. But Ginny’s hurt was so great that she could not at first believe Harry’s feelings for her were undiminished, enough though she had shared all he had felt. And she could not forgive herself. The two of them had to come to terms with this together; I bade them to retire, and I stood watch, though in truth, I was not needed, other than to prevent their friends from seeking them out.”

Molly nodded as Perenelle continued, “When they left me, Ginny’s spirit was crushed and her confidence had been destroyed. When they emerged this morning, she was strong and sure. In claiming each other in this fashion, they have largely dissolved any lingering hold Voldemort had over Ginny. Do not judge them harshly, Molly.”

“Judge? Judge them?” Molly shook her head. “I… I wouldn’t dare. I’d… I’d have lost Ginny three years ago if it hadn’t been for Harry. There’s no truth greater than ‘I’ve not lost a daughter, I’ve gained a son,’ with those two. I’ve underestimated them both; when I look at Harry, I still see that lost little boy in Kings Cross station when he was dumped there, all alone, to find his way to Hogwarts; I see Ginny that first summer Harry stayed at the Burrow, blushing and hiding whenever he looked her way… But they’ve left that far behind, haven’t they?”

“Yes, far behind indeed.”

“Was it… really true what you told Ginny about the sword?”

“That Harry pulled it directly from Godric’s hands? Oh, yes, yes, indeed, Molly. That blade was interred with Godric Gryffindor; I saw it with my own eyes. Godric’s resting place was well hidden and powerfully warded. It remains unknown today, except to a few who were there, such as Nicholas and I. No other blade would have so easily slain Slytherin’s serpent, even in the hands of a mighty warrior. There were enchantments against the King of Serpents that were cast as the sword was forged. That blade was not casually or accidentally summoned from its resting place. And Fawkes did not act by chance. Harry required and seized the only means that gave him a fighting chance of saving your daughter.”

Molly took a minute to absorb that. “I was happy when they finally got together, even with all the complications. Harry, that night… he was such a mess of contradictions and conflicting emotions, embarrassed and unsure of himself but unrepentant. And Ginny, daring me to say something as she settled him with his head in her lap... I had always hoped, for Ginny’s sake, they would eventually find each other, but I wasn’t… wasn’t quite prepared for this. It’s almost if they went from fifteen to thirty in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t much warning leading up to all of this; no dates, no courtship, it just seemed to happen all at once.”

“I do not claim to understand it.” Perenelle said. “All of my experience tells me that the two should have never been able to bond, yet, there are temporal elements involved that are beyond my experience and as far as I can discover, beyond any experience. We know that cause does not always come before the effect, and indeed, in this case, the causality is beyond our current understanding. But I do not doubt that it is real.”

“Nor do I; it was driven home to me Monday night… That’s when I realized just how very, very for real this all was, that it wasn’t going to be over when they no longer had to hold hands. This has been rather hard on my Arthur; he and Ginny have always been very close to each other, and all of this was tearing him apart, even when it was someone like Harry. Arthur thinks the world of Harry; before this started, we’d even joke about what it would be like if they became interested in each other one day. Anyway, it took a couple days before he could bring himself to even talk with them, and when he did, I made sure I was there and started doing what Ginny and I have done for years to cajole him into something.”

Molly paused, wiping an eye. “When Arthur started to dig in his heels a little, Ginny didn’t need me at all; she didn’t give an inch. Told him we’d had no business taking Harry in or being part of the Order if that was how he felt and that none of this, including their sleeping arrangements, was going to change. Then after she’d beaten down every argument my poor Arthur had, she leveled him by asking for his blessing and telling him she loved him and begged him not to make her choose between them. And I think she really meant it.”

“Ginny is fiercely protective of Harry and what they share; though in all honesty, Molly, the acorn did not fall far from the oak.”

“No, I guess maybe it didn’t. But is it so wrong for me to want her, for both of them, not to have to grow up so fast?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus watched them drill for most of their remaining time; he made suggestions to Ron and Hermione on how they could improve their tactics; they did better with several draws but were unable to defeat Harry and Ginny.

“Okay, kids, it’s about time for lunch. That was a pretty good workout, though we’ll be able to do more once Harry and Ginny can separate for a bit. Next time I’d like to work on the Patronus charm, and see who besides Harry and Hermione can master it.”

“Ron was quite close in the DA,” Hermione said. “Though it never solidified enough that we could tell its form.”

“We’ll see tomorrow, then,” Lupin said as he started towards the kitchen.

Molly had a platter of sandwiches and pumpkin juice waiting; she and Perenelle were already seated. They had just tucked into lunch when someone suddenly appeared in the kitchen. Lupin chuckled almost at once, but it took the others a moment to realize it was Sirius. His dress was strange, even by Muggle standards; he was wearing jeans, boots, and a studded leather jacket; he was holding the handlebars of a dust and cobweb motorcycle; one hand also held the Portkey they had used to go between Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts. Even though the tires were flat and rotten, and the headlight smashed, Sirius was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

“So you found it,” Lupin said.

“Her.” Sirius gave Remus an annoyed look. “You know better than that, Moony. And just look at how Hagrid took care of my baby. Under all sorts harness and ropes, covered with dirt, hasn’t been touched for fifteen years.” He surveyed the motorcycle, shaking his head sadly. “Well, at least he put her where she was out of the weather. There isn’t a lot of rust. That’s something, I guess.”

Harry, thinking back to Sirius’ CD, asked, “Is this a scooter?”

Sirius looked at him sharply and then shook his head. “No, Harry. I don’t suppose there’s any way you could have known, but this isn’t any sort of scooter; that’s a completely different and abominable thing. Don’t even joke about things like that, if you had known what you were saying that would have been a nasty insult. This is a motorcycle or maybe a bike; specifically, it’s a Triumph Bonneville T140. Or at least it was once, and it will be again shortly.”

“What did you do with the Dursley boy? I thought he was with you.” Molly asked.

“Oh, we had a long talk, sorted a few things.” Sirius replied. “I think we finally reached a certain level of understanding.” Sirius looked at Ron pointedly, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Ron, trying to scare poor Dudley with Hermione’s transfiguration skills.”

Ron looked surprised, at least until Sirius continued. “Hermione is much too nice and responsible. If that sort of thing’s needed, well, Padfoot showed him just what was possible earlier today. You guys do the carrots; leave the sticks to me.”

“And as for where he is,” Sirius added. “Tonks picked him up; she was taking him to St. Mungo's again. Pity we can’t leave him there. Did you know that dodgy little prat was booted out of his divvy posh school? I asked him when the dormitories opened so I could arrange to ship him off as early as possible, and he hemmed and hawed before he finally admitted he’d been given the boot.”

“He’d been in trouble for fighting before,” Harry said.

“I don’t know all the details,” Sirius replied. “I didn’t really care, but I got the impression his exam scores were rather lacking. We’ll deal with it at some point, I guess. Maybe find a good military school somewhere in Canada or the States. Moony, Jon will be here at one; can you join us for a bit?”

“Sure. My whole afternoon is open,” Lupin replied.

“Sirius, won’t you have a sandwich?” Molly offered.

“Let me get her out of the kitchen, and I will.” Sirius wheeled the motorcycle out of the room with some difficulty. He returned not too long thereafter and joined them at the table. He spent more time waxing rhapsodic about his beloved motorcycle; he did manage to work through a sandwich before Dobby announced that Jon Howe had arrived and was waiting in the drawing room. Sirius and Remus excused themselves and followed Dobby out of the kitchen.

Minerva McGonagall arrived, carpetbag in one hand, cane in the other as Sirius and Remus were leaving; the teens heard Sirius briefly explaining he couldn’t join their lesson today. McGonagall then entered the kitchen and exchanged greetings with Perenelle and Molly before turning to the four students. Molly left the kitchen a short time later; Perenelle remained seated at the table, watching quietly. “I suppose we might meet here for today; however, Harry, I would appreciate it if you and Sirius would select a suitable room and ask Dobby to set it up as a classroom. There is simply too much traffic for this to be a good place to work.”

Harry nodded.

“Now, the headmaster has asked that I examine the four of you, to discern if any of you might have the potential to become an Animagus. It is a difficult process to master, but one that requires more hard work and discipline than raw power, though some innate ability is required as well.” She looked at each of them in turn. “It is often called a rare talent; in truth, it is rare for an individual to have the necessary patience and perseverance to see the process through. And, in truth, many who have given thought to attempting the process turn back when they learn what creature they would become.”

“What determines what one becomes?” Hermione asked.

“The largest part seems to be the spirit of the wizard,” McGonagall replied. “Most often it is plainly obvious to those who know the Animagus that the animal form mirrors their true self. It is a shame that Pettigrew’s form was not more of a warning….” She seemed to get lost in her thoughts for a moment; Ron whispered something to Harry.

“All cats have claws, Mr. Weasley, usually rather sharp claws, regardless of their size. You would do well to remember that.” McGonagall looked at Ron pointedly.

“Now, the traditional method of training typically begins with instruction in self-transfiguration, changing of minor attributes such as hair and nails before attempting to discern a form; however, we will forgo that step. All of you have done acceptable work in my classes, though all of you, yes, Ms. Granger, you too, have substantial room for improvement. In truth, the purpose of these usual initial lessons is not as much about acquiring the skills needed, as they are about weeding out those unwilling to expend the effort.

“We will make use of a transfiguration spell to reveal what Animagus form you might eventually achieve. The incantation is ‘Ecce Animagus.’ This spell is cast onto a lump of soft clay; with practice and concentration, the clay will take the shape of a potential Animagus form; if it remains merely a lump of clay… the implications are obvious, I would think.”

McGonagall pulled a small lump of clay from her bag and placed it on the table before her. “Ecce Animagus.” The clay before her seemed to almost liquefy as it formed into a catlike shape. “I will be quite surprised if even one of you manages to make the clay deform a bit today; it may take a week or longer before you achieve anything meaningful, if you manage at all.”

McGonagall gave each of them a small ball of clay from her bag and instructed them to begin; she then settled beside Perenelle, and the two of them talked quietly as the students attempted the spell.

They worked until McGonagall called a halt a few minutes before three; none of them had managed to change the clay in any way. McGonagall told them to practice that evening, and they would work further tomorrow; she then left to return to Hogwarts.

They looked to Perenelle, waiting to begin the next lesson. She had noticed both Ron and Harry yawn as their last lesson ended and suggested, “It would be more comfortable if we were to move to the fourth floor sitting room, as well as give us an excuse to move about a bit first. Would that be acceptable?”

There were no objections as the four teens rose, all of them stretching a bit. Perenelle lead them to the fourth floor; the teens took the two couches while Perenelle settled into one of the overstuffed chairs. They spent most of the next two hours talking about apparition, how it differed and was similar to other forms of magical travel, and why it was restricted to adults and required a license in Britain. Perenelle explained that the magic itself should be doable by any student who had completed their fourth or fifth year. However, because of the need for both precision and focus - any mistake could be quite dangerous - it was first restricted to adults in the late 1600’s, and additional requirements for a license were added in the 1870’s.

Perenelle told them she had made arrangements with Bill to pick up four copies of a book for them to work from in Diagon Alley. “I will expect all of you to have read the book thoroughly before we meet on Monday, especially the portions of dealing with navigation and safety. This is something that will need to become second nature to all of you; in an emergency, you should be able to Apparate almost automatically, without having to think about it. Also, this is a form of magic almost all wizards manage to perform without a wand; it is quite desirable that you all master this aspect quickly. Should you need to use it in an emergency, you cannot count on your wand being readily at hand.”

Perenelle cautioned them against attempting any of what they read before she worked with them on Monday and told them she expected that all of the necessary Ministry paperwork should be complete by then as well, though its lack wouldn’t interfere with their training inside of Grimmauld Place. She answered several questions, mostly from Hermione then said, “Now, we will meet again tomorrow afternoon to work further on Apparition, but now, I need to work with Harry and Ginny for a few moments.”

Ron glanced at Hermione, “Guess that’s our hint.” He sounded a bit disappointed as he and Hermione started to rise.

“If Harry and Ginny do not object,” Perenelle said, “you may stay if you observe quietly.”

Ginny looked a little apprehensive, but nodded to Harry, who said, “It’s okay.” Ron and Hermione settled back into their couch.

Perenelle had observed that throughout the day, Ginny and Harry had for the most part maintained their touch with their index and middle fingers lightly gripped together; they had crossed ankles while working the transfiguration spell, and had briefly maintained touch in other ways while moving or shifting positions. Perenelle pointed this out to them and then chuckled as their expressions indicated they had done so subconsciously. “Indeed, Nicholas and I both found this touch best facilitated our contact, as have others. One day, perhaps, I will explain my theory as to why this is so; I do not know that it has ever been studied. For those who have need of it, it suffices; for others, it means little.” Hermione looked intrigued.

“Harry, Ginny, may I?” she asked. Both nodded, and Perenelle placed one had atop their joined hands and closed her eyes for a moment. Ron and Hermione watched, fascinated; he gently pressured her toes with his trainer as she almost asked a question.

“Your bond continues to strengthen at an accelerated pace, children. It has grown stronger since this morning.” Perenelle looked hesitant for a moment, then decided. “Let us attempt a small step. Each of you, give me your other hand.” She took each of their free hands in one of hers. “Now, reach out to each other; clear your minds, and concentrate on joining with the other.”

Harry and Ginny had closed their eyes; a short time later, they nodded in tandem. “Now, children, I want you to concentrate on maintaining the connection between you; now, in just a moment, I will want you to slowly separate your hands. If you feel the connection falter or weaken, even slightly, join hands again.” Perenelle watched as they again nodded together then instructed, “Very well, begin.”

They tentatively drew their hands about six inches apart; they sat that way for about half a minute before suddenly clasping their hands together again.

“Excellent,” Perenelle said. “You have successfully taken the first small step. I do not want you to try this on your own quite yet, but if you progress as rapidly the next few days as you have today, you will be able to do your transfiguration work without the need of the sort of footwork you employed today.”

“So we should just keep doing what we’re doing?” Ginny asked, with just a bit of a gleam in her eye as she glanced sideways at Harry.

“I presume that would not be too great a burden, Ginny,” she said with mock seriousness.

“It’s no burden.”

“Then who am I to argue with what has worked thus far? Hermione, I believe you had a question.”

“Yes, Professor. What… what does it feel like? The connection?”

Perenelle sat for a moment before answering. “It is a difficult question, Hermione. How difficult would it be to explain color to one who was born without sight? It is closeness, a sharing; it fulfills an aching need that you never even knew you had until you experience it the first time. It is always touching and touched; even when parted, and never truly parted.” She thought for a moment and then added, “You might do well to ask Harry and Ginny; as it is new to them, they might give you a better description.” She stood, still pondering Hermione’s question. “I will think about this further, Hermione, and discuss it with Nicholas. But for now, I must return to Nicholas and Hogwarts, and I shall see the four of you tomorrow afternoon. Begin reading the books, and rest well.”

They said their farewells as she left the room; they heard her start down the stairs.

After they no longer heard her steps, Ron asked, “Just what are you doing now?”

“Well, you know by now we have to hold onto each other all the time,” Harry answered. “That hasn’t changed; it’s like that twenty-four hours a day.”

“I could think of worse problems to have,” Ron replied.

“It does get a little old, Ron, believe it or not,” Ginny said. “The fun wears a bit after awhile. It’d be nice to be able to tie a shoe or put on a robe without the choreography.”

“It sounds like you’re a lot closer to that happening,” Hermione observed. She tried to think of a way to give them an opening to talk about what Perenelle had told them without letting on how much she and Ron had been told. “Did you do something to speed up the bonding? At the meeting, Perenelle said it had slowed, but now it sounds like you’re ahead of schedule.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. “Ginny, it’s up to you.”

“No… not yet. Maybe later, or maybe when it's just Hermione and me. Ron would freak out or push for more than I’m ready to talk about right now. Or say something to Mum.” Ginny then said aloud, “We had to work out a couple things between us, and Mrs. Flamel helped with that. And she said we needed to slow down a bit and spend a bit of quality time together.”

Hermione had picked up on the brief pause before her answer; her look told Ginny and Harry she knew they were holding out on her, but she understood when Ginny quickly glanced at Ron. She nodded and said, “I suppose that makes sense. She pretty much told us the same thing.”

“Whatever works,” Harry said, grinning. “Are the two of you publicly admitting to being together yet?”

Hermione looked at Ron; he was going to answer this one. “Yeah, I guess we are. We weren’t fooling anyone but ourselves anyway. If Hermione will have me, that is.” Hermione’s smile left little doubt as to her answer.

“Does that mean the two of you are going to stop grumping at each other so much,” Ginny asked, but any answer was lost as their attention was drawn to a knock and the sound of Sirius clearing his throat.

“Hi. I hate to interrupt, but if lessons are over, I need to talk to Harry for a bit,” Sirius said, entering the room. Jon Howe, the lawyer that had represented Sirius’ estate at the reading of the will at Gringotts followed him in. Howe took a seat, and Sirius remained standing, looking expectantly at Ron and Hermione, who took the hint and said they would see them downstairs later. Sirius followed them to the door and then closed it and sat on the couch were Ron and Hermione had been.

“Harry, I’ve spent most of the afternoon with Jon here and have been trying to sort out just what we’re going to need to do. You’d have made things simpler for Jon if you’d just left me there to rot. Anyway, there’s some stuff Jon wanted to talk to you about so he’s satisfied where both of us are about some stuff.”

“Sirius, do we really want to start with the young lady…?” Howe asked.

“Sorry, guess I should have explained, she and Harry are a package deal right now. They have to hold hands for another week or so, a little unexpected magical problem. Or maybe not, I guess, depending on whom you ask. If I could have done that when I was their age… Anyway, Ginny’s cool, you can say anything in front of her you could to me and Harry.”

Howe nodded and said. “Very well, then. Mr. Potter, I’m afraid things could become rather complicated. Sirius was declared dead, all the paperwork and certificates were in order related to that; and indeed, even now, no one challenges the fact that he did indeed pass through the arch, which used to be a means of execution. In any case, he was considered dead; his will was read; his goods were distributed… and then he shows up, apparently alive.”

“Apparently, Jon?” Sirius said, enjoying himself. “Are you not convinced it’s me yet?”

“I’m speaking legally, Sirius. Of course I know it’s you. No one else could have so casually put so many hours of my best work to waste. However, if a piece of paper with an official stamp on it says you’re dead, you’re dead until proven otherwise. Now, Mr. Potter, you need to understand that I represent Sirius Black, not you, and you really should have your own legal advice before making any decisions. But Sirius has insisted that I talk to you….”

“What’s the issue, Mr. Howe?” Harry asked. “Why would I need a lawyer? Why couldn’t you represent my interests along with Sirius?”

“What if you have different interests, Mr. Potter?” Howe answered. “Let me be frank. There’s a lot of money involved here, and….”

“Wait a minute? This is about money?” Harry asked. “Look, I don’t care about the money; I never wanted it in the first place. As far as I’m concerned, it all still belongs to Sirius, and if he wants it, he can have every last Knut in my vault and the Potter vault too. The only thing that’s important to me is that Sirius is here. I don’t need a different lawyer; I’ll sign anything or do anything Sirius asks me to. Sirius and I have exactly the same interests.”

“I told you, Jon.” Sirius said, with a touch of smugness and pride. “And Harry, I told Jon I’d be just as happy to leave everything like it was, and most likely we can do that for my stuff, but the trust may be a little more complicated. But there are some things that need to be done, so I need you to tell Jon here that it’s ok to spend a few Galleons. Actually, more than a few Galleons.”

“I don’t want Sirius thinking he has to come to me to spend his money,” Harry said. “Can’t I just give it back?”

“Given the trust, that could complicate things and tie up the assets for months or longer.” Howe looked thoughtful. “If you are both absolutely certain that you completely trust each other….” Howe looked at each of them before continuing. “Very well, so stipulated. Mr. Potter, the simplest solutions are often the best. If you and Mr. Black should go to Gringotts, and while there, you would grant him access to the vaults, that way you would both be able to withdraw assets and go about your business. Since there seems to be little debating the point that it would belong to one or the other of you, with that arrangement in place, perhaps we can keep the bulk of Mr. Black’s estate disentangled from whatever issues are raised by the Black Family Trust.”

“That’s fine by me,” Harry said.

“Thanks, Harry,” Sirius said. “Now, understand I’m intending to spend quite a bit of dosh over the next month or so. For one thing, I want to have the house in Hogsmeade - the Shrieking Shack - done over, and have it done quickly so that it’s ready before school starts, because that’s where I’m intending to stay during the school term. Maybe the two of you, too, unless you’d miss dormitory life too much.”

“Hardly,” Ginny muttered.

Sirius grinned and winked at Ginny but continued on, “Then, in just over a month, I intend to throw a birthday bash to try and make up for what I wasn’t able to do for the last fifteen years. I only got to attend your first birthday party, Harry. We’re going to make up for all the ones I missed.”

“You didn’t miss any, Sirius. That was the last one,” Harry said, seemingly unconcerned.

“Then we really do have catching up to do,” Sirius said. “And I have some loose ends that need to be tied up. I want to turn Jon here loose to go after the Ministry and chase a couple other things for me. But most important of all, what I really need is a new headlight and two new tires. And some chrome polish.”

“I don’t need the details unless you want to tell me, Sirius.” Harry grinned and added, “And if you drain your vault, I meant what I said about you could have everything in mine. You told me to live a little in your letter; follow your own advice. But chrome polish? For the motorcycle?”

“Your cousin should know all about how to clean stuff Muggle-style, right?” Sirius grinned.

“Hardly.”

“Well, he can learn to do something new and useful while you lollygag about for a change.” Sirius turned to Howe. “Anything else you need, Jon?”

“Do you really want me to try and contact Chris Stamp and try to…?”

Sirius cut Howe off, glaring. “Yes, did you think I was kidding? And think, Jon, about why I want that.”

“Oh. Sorry. Ok, I’ve got what I need. Just tell me one more time you really meant what you said earlier about finding….”

Sirius cut the solicitor off again, sharply. “Yes, I meant exactly what I said. Cost is no object.”

“Music to my ears,” Howe said. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.” He and Sirius stood. “Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, good day to you both. Sirius, I can find my way out unless you’re heading down too.”

“Okay, thanks, Jon. Thanks for making a house call; I’ll drop by your place next time.” Sirius walked with him to the closed door of the room and opened it; there they shook hands, and Sirius returned to his seat. “How’d your day go, guys?”

“Rather good, actually,” Ginny replied. “We actually got to let go of each other for a few seconds.”

“Do you two know just how screwed up that sounds?” Sirius laughed. “I remember when James was thrilled when Lily actually would hold his hand for a moment or two. Guess it must be getting pretty old hat by now.”

Ginny nodded. “A little. But it’s been worth it.”

They continued talking until Ron came noisily up the stairs, telling them to come down; the evening meal was almost ready. Sirius stood, and Harry started to rise, but Ginny tugged him back. “I’m really knackered, Harry. After last night with Mrs. Flamel, all I really want to do is lay down. Could we have Dobby bring up some sandwiches instead?”

“Sure,” he said. “Sirius, would you make our apologies to Molly and ask Dobby to just leave something in our dining room?”

Sirius gave both of them a speculative glance but said, “Ok, guys, sandwiches from Dobby it is, but you’ll excuse me if I go and take advantage of Molly’s brand of kitchen magic. I’m still playing catch-up, you know. See you in the morning.”

Ginny yawned and stretched, cat-like, as Ron and Sirius left to go downstairs. She stood and tugged Harry to his feet, walked to the suite door and locked it, and then led him back to their room, again locking the door and this time casting two spells. “I told you this morning, Potter….”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Ron and Sirius entered the kitchen and approached the table, Sirius saw Dumbledore’s head in the fireplace. When Sirius came into view, Dumbledore said, “Ah, there you are Sirius. I’ve set up things as you’ve requested. Everything shall be in readiness for your expedition to Diagon Alley on Saturday, starting around ten-thirty A.M. It was necessary, of course, for Arthur Weasley to make the leadership of the Auror core aware of your return and your plans, and there will be many Aurors in Diagon Alley while you are there, though not quite one every ten feet, I’m afraid.”

“Great. How about the reporter? Shouldn’t that be first?” Sirius asked.

“I had thought so as well, but Rita Skeeter was unavailable until Monday, and hearing of your plan, she was eager that you proceed exactly as you wished with your Diagon Alley trip; she seemed to feel that rumors flying wildly would allow her to gain greatest advantage in placing her story. It goes without saying, however, that you do not wish to share anything with anyone about the details of your return. Rita will meet with you at ten A.M. Monday morning at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Sirius grinned. “That’s perfect. Albus, I owe you one. I’ll be on the lookout for thick wool socks and anything else that will help you maintain your tradition of progressive fashion statements. Are you still fond of bunny slippers?”

Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t heard Sirius, “Remus, I’ve also made arrangements for the two of you to be able to meet with Peter Pettigrew on Monday at one P.M. at the Ministry.”

Lupin said, “Albus, that’s right on the full moon. I know that’s the middle of the day, but still….”

“I know, Remus, but unfortunately, that was the first and perhaps only arrangements we could make; indeed, I can only hope the current government will hold together until then. Chances are good if we can manage to adjourn the Wizengamot for the weekend.”

“I’ll do my best, Albus,” Lupin promised.

“Finally, Sirius, Arthur was able to retrieve this from the archives for you.” Dumbledore held out a box; Sirius walked toward the fireplace, and reached into the fire and took the box.

Stepping back from the flames, Sirius opened the box and said with delight, “Tell Arthur I will thank him again personally when I see him, but thank him for me, and thank you, Albus. Sirius pulled out a wand and gave it an experimental swish; colorful sparks flew from the tip. “And my keys, my wallet, all the stuff that was in my pockets.”

“I thought you might find it comforting to have your own wand back, rather than continue using the one you have now. I recall you were once quite fond of it,” Dumbledore said.

“And having my keys back as well. I’m going to need them pretty soon. Again, thank you Albus.”

“Very well, then, I will see you Saturday morning. Good evening, everyone.” Dumbledore vanished from the flames.

Sirius sat down beside Remus. “Well, what do you know, after all these years? It feels pretty good, you know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been another long and almost endless day. The job, in theory anyway, was difficult enough in the best of times. At least before there had been ample work to occupy his mind, but now, the daily routine had become little more than a deathwatch, wondering when the final blow would fall and from where it would come. Most of his day was now spent pondering that question, exchanging the latest and ever-changing rumors with the other members of the staff, occasionally broken by bits of panicked activity, which was often abandoned midstream before the assigned tasks were complete. He climbed the stairs to the small flat, unlocked and opened the door, and entered quietly, closing the door softly behind him.

“Hi,” she said, rising to greet him with an embrace.

“You shouldn’t have waited up,” he chided. “Not now, not when you’re three…”

She silenced him with a kiss. “Will he last much longer?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’d have lasted this long without Dumbledore playing different factions off against each other in the Wizengamot. I just wish it would end. Maybe then….”

“I know how hard all this has been on you.”

“It won’t be much longer. Somehow I’ll hold on.” They both stood silently for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts. “I have to hold on a little longer, Penny. I have to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was approaching midnight. Tonks, Sirius and Remus were in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, chatting quietly. Bill had not yet arrived, and Sirius had promised Molly an hour before that they would stay nearby until her oldest son arrived for the night. Tonks was describing a rumor that had started spreading through the Aurors earlier that day; some of her co-workers were finding it a bit difficult to believe that they were now being asked to help protect the wizard they had spent months pursuing when Kingsley Shacklebolt’s head appeared in the fire.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Shacklebolt said, “but, Tonks, you’re needed back here. There’s been some sort of Dementor attack in Hogsmeade; several people have been found that appear to have been kissed… and without warning; no one else seems to have been aware that anything was going on.”

“Okay, Kingsley. I’ll check in shortly.” Shacklebolt’s head disappeared from the fireplace, and Tonks stood. “Well, no rest for the weary, eh? I’ll see you gents later, I guess.” She walked out of the kitchen toward the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore sat in the latter’s office in the Hogwarts castle following another long and frustrating day at the Ministry. Both were weary in body and spirit; the gamesmanship playing out in the Ministry and Wizengamot were taking their toll. “We are still a few votes short of being able to form a coalition,” Dumbledore said. “If we do not manage to put something together by the early part of next week, I fear we may not be able to keep the alliances we have attempted to forge, as the more opportunistic seek a role with the victors, whoever it might be. And the opposition is beginning to unite against us as well.”

“I spent part of the day reviewing the hereditary rolls; there may be a few others by virtue of birth that could claim their rightful seats in the Wizengamot. The heir of both the Blacks and Potters are so entitled.”

“That would be at best two votes, Nicholas. But who claim the seat on behalf of the Blacks? Sirius? Or Harry? And do we dare risk creating a sideshow with them in the middle? Or do we need to do so, in order to buy time? And would either of their involvements help, or would we loose more by drawing them into this process?”

“We have reached the point where single votes are critical. And both Harry and Sirius bring more than their votes. How will their presence play out?”

“It’s hard to be sure. It may be that much will depend on what Ms. Skeeter writes; and there are many other variables beyond our direct control. And I am concerned about Sirius taking a role in this affair; I think I would rather his return to public life be in Witch Weekly than in the chamber of the Wizengamot.”

“You may not have any choice, Brian, or complete control. Sometimes you must let go and trust. And what about Harry? It could be he would be held the valid heir until Sirius' status is clarified. That should be something easy enough to complicate if Harry could accomplish more.”

“That has its own set of difficulties, particularly as long as he and Ginny cannot separate. I would hesitate to expose the two of them to the Wizengamot in that fashion, even at the cost of losing control of the Ministry. And I do not recall that one person being heir to two votes has ever been dealt with before.”

“Do not underestimate either of them, my boy. If it came to that, I believe they would be equal to the task, though Harry would need some preparation. To his credit, he does not suffer fools gladly, and the hereditary ranks are full of them. But it might not be necessary to expose the nature of their relationship; Perenelle tells me they managed to separate briefly today.”

“What has happened, Nicholas? A day ago, their bonding was not progressing as swiftly as expected, and now you tell me after six days, they have managed to separate when we expected two weeks?”

“Last night, Perenelle stayed after our meeting and worked with them. She discovered that Ginny had not fully healed from her confrontation with Riddle’s echo; she had walled off the memories instead. As long as that condition persisted, Harry and Ginny could not fully join. Perenelle was able to help Ginny tear down the wall and help both of them face what had happened. Perenelle shared some of it with me, Brian. It was… unspeakable.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “I never knew. Ginny would not willingly discuss what happened, and both Molly and Arthur wished to move beyond it as quickly as possible, thinking that best for Ginny. I did not push them.”

“At the time, perhaps it was best. Who can say; even hindsight is less than perfect.”

“And Harry? How did he deal with this new blow?”

“With compassion and courage that mock his years, Brian. He had no reproach for Ginny, only regret that his problems may have eclipsed hers and drawn attention away from her needs. After Perenelle had helped them confront Ginny’s memories, she encouraged the two of them to retire for the evening. Harry carried a broken and defeated Ginny to their room, but this morning, she emerged whole, confident, and with their bond greatly strengthened. Harry was equal to the task. In any event, it could be by early next week, we may have more options if we need Harry to take on some public role.”

“Perhaps tomorrow, if we can manage to adjourn, we should further explore this and also consider what we should tell Sirius and Harry. My main concern at this point is that we retain control long enough for Sirius and Remus to meet with Pettigrew on Monday.”

“Do you really think he has anything meaningful to offer?”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “I am not sure. He has without doubt been privy to much Voldemort has done. When Harry encountered Pettigrew and saved him from Sirius, I felt then he still had some role to play, and that has not changed, but I cannot be sure. But I see little risk at least in listening to what he has to say. After that, we must judge carefully.”

“Can Remus hold Sirius in check?”

“I think so. And Sirius can be pragmatic when he’s convinced there’s something of value to be gained. His bark has always been worse than his bite.”

“It grows late; let’s consider this further tomorrow evening, and plan to visit with Sirius and Harry following their trip to Diagon Alley. Sirius should be in high spirits then and hopefully open to what we might propose.”

“Until tomorrow, then. Give my regards - and my thanks - to Perenelle.”

“I will. I have not seen her so engaged in many years. Normally she is content to support me behind the scenes, but she has taken a great interest in Harry and his friends. She has already determined that she will find a way to instruct all four of them next year in some context; you may expect her to seek you out on this topic as soon as you are able to consider the affairs of the school again.”

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. “Were that my only concern.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She turned quickly; thinking she had heard footsteps behind her, but no one was there, or at least no one was visible. She quickened her step, moving carefully along the broken sidewalk. It was hot, very hot, even though it was now well after dark, the temperature was still in the nineties. Her dirty, torn shirt was soaked with sweat, and her jeans were little more than soiled rags; she wore sneakers that were actually in fair condition, but mismatched. She sported a worn backpack that held another shirt, a ragged blanket, a too-small sweater, a poncho fashioned from a plastic bag and duct tape, and a few other meager possessions.

What’s this? Trouble ahead… a blue-flashing light. Crap, the blasted cops were everywhere tonight. She changed direction at the next corner, increasing her pace further, a slight limp becoming more pronounced. At some point, she’d have to find some place to sleep for a few hours, and she needed to get off her leg before her ankle swelled up again. It wouldn’t be safe to attempt return to her usual haunts for at least a week, until the current invasion of police and do-gooders died down. Getting picked up by the police wasn’t fun; if you got lucky, you might get hot meals, a hot shower, some clean clothes and a day or two locked up and then packed off with some well meaning do-gooder before you cut and run and moved on again. She had found out the hard way that it wasn’t smart to get caught twice in the same town; one place they’d kept her locked up for over a month the second time before sending her on to some foster jerk, and that one had been a bitch to get away from, too.

And if you were unlucky… well, the cops could be as bad as the worst of the creeps, some of them, anyway. But usually it was the people they stuck you with… the ones who were in it for the money were the best. At least they viewed you as something valuable, a source of income. As long as you didn’t rock the boat and didn’t complain, they were not too bad other than the food sucked and there was never enough of it. Then there were the creeps and the kooks, and as she grew older, the creeps seemed to be more and more common… and a problem.

She heard the sound of a car approaching; it was moving slowly, which wasn’t a good sign. She glanced back carefully, trying to be covert; odds are it wasn’t the police; no rollers on top of the car. No, no way it was a cop, not in a car that old. But she could hear music; rap music. Good chance that it was kids, a little older than her since at least one could drive, and no doubt looking for trouble. A group of them could be worse than either cops or do-gooders, but one or two she could usually handle. From the corner of her eye, she could see the car slow further and start to pace her.

She turned toward a building that opened onto the sidewalk, using the glass windows of the store as a mirror. As she’d feared, it was teenagers, and several of them. Damn, this could be bad, there were at least five. But it could be worse, too; this bunch looked like rich kids from the ‘burbs; they usually weren’t as bold as the homeboys. She stood still, looking at them reflected in the glass, growing angry. It wasn’t fair; everywhere she turned, it was this, or the cops, or some creep trying to get her in his car, or some do-gooder trying to force unwanted help and even less wanted attention. And just when she’d found a place she could hang out with others like her, where no one asked questions or where she was from, some jerk reporter comes along and stirs up both the cops and do-gooders… All she wanted was to be left the hell alone.

Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been over a day since she had eaten. Well, that would have to wait for now. Maybe she could score something once the greasy spoons started serving breakfast. It would soon be Friday morning, and Fridays were usually good days; people usually seemed to be in a better mood late in the week. A couple of weeks ago on Friday, some suit had even handed her a ten instead of the usual handful of change.

The door on the car cracked open; she turned around then, ready to run if she had to, but hoping she could stare them down or talk her way out of it. But it wasn’t necessary. There was a crack, and the back window of the car shattered in a maze of cracks. There was a cacophony of shouting, what was that, close the door NOW, did somebody shoot at us, get the hell out of here… then the car sped off.

Her shoulders sagged; she needed to find a place, soon, maybe just a concealed doorway to hole up in for a few hours. She turned back to the window, looking at her own reflection. I look like crap warmed over, she thought, and I’ve got to try and eat more regularly. The way my ribs look now draws too much attention. Maybe it’d be better to get picked up by the cops, get some new clothes, maybe try to put up with a do-gooder for a few days for some clean sheets and a square meal or two, if they weren’t religious nuts or creeps this time around. Maybe this time she could control her temper and nothing strange would happen. For a while anyway… Or maybe it’d be better to just dive off a bridge somewhere like Angie had done. There wasn’t much point to living like this, but for some reason, she couldn’t just give up.

She was tempted to turn back, to see if the cops were still there, maybe if one of them looked decent - sometimes the older ones actually were, the ones who had kids of their own - and letting the system do its thing. But what the other runaways had told her about the system in this place… maybe not. She looked at her reflection again, debating as her haunted green eyes stared back at her. No, not yet, she decided. She could hold out another day. She started walking again, still without a destination.