When Magic is Useless

When Magic is Useless 8: Lies and Counterlies

Indus

Harry escorted the fluffy screech owl to the Owlery himself, stopping in the kitchen for a minute only to ask Dobby to ensure that Archimedes received the very best for breakfast that day. When he put the gray and white bird on a perch, he closed his eyes and breathed in the musky, yet familiar scent of the room, and shut his hand around the paper that had given him new hope, new life.

He pried his own fingers open- they seemed to have a mind of their own that day- and smoothed out the scrap of paper that had been scribbled on by a much-loved, but hastily messy hand.

"Is that from Lily?" a voice startled the seasoned Auror into jumping and spinning around, his heart thumping.

"Merlin, Penelope! You frightened me half to death. Yes, it is. How did you"- he stopped there, his gaze returning to the owl now contentedly crooning himself to sleep.

She smiled, and she had an infectious smile that demanded a response. The only thing easy to understand about Percy was his complete and long-lasting devotion to the woman who stood before Harry, wrapped in a robe that didn't detract from her beauty, despite the eight or nine (everyone had stopped keeping count) times she had conceived. "I was leaning out of the window and enjoying the fresh air when I saw Archimedes. Since he wasn't coming to my room I assumed Lily borrowed my son's owl to send a letter to you. It has arrived quite early this morning, and therefore it has to be important. Now, are you going to leave me dying of curiosity or will you tell me what she writes?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it. It didn't feel right, sharing this news with someone he cared for but didn't know, inside-out, the way he knew the two most impacted by what he had to say. Not for the first time, he thanked the powers that be for the relationship between Hermione and Ron. It would have been strange if they had all three married different people who could not, no matter how incredible they might be, play any role but that of an interloper in their friendship. Perhaps Marcia had known that, and after two decades not been able to bear never being let into the inner circle.

But it was too good a day to think of his estranged wife, so he just grabbed Penny's hand and pulled her along with him through the castle to Ron and Hermione's room. Ignoring their privacy, as only the best and oldest of friends can do, he burst in.

"I have a letter from Lily!" He yelled, and jumped on the bed where they were sleeping.

It was not a good way to be woken, and after Ron and Hermione had shaken off the confusion that comes with being jerked out of sleep, they were both inclined to peevish anger. It was Hermione who first computed what Harry was saying, and what it could mean, while almost at the same time Ron realized that he had never seen Harry jump on anyone's bed, or act as giddy and schoolboyish, even when he was a schoolboy.

Hermione made a grab for the paper in Harry's hand, but a thin, bony arm dusted with red stopped her. "Let him read it. Go on, mate."

Penny sat on Hermione's other side, her arm around the other woman's neck in silent support as they listened to Harry clear his throat and begin to read.

Dearest Dad,

I write this to you afraid of raising your hopes but unable to deny that we have found what we were searching for. It's not over- the script is difficult to decipher and what we have read suggests that this is a most complicated potion. But as Art points out, there is still time...

I should be heading back to the Academy soon, but I need you and Aunt Hermione to come here soon to see what can be done about these books. I can't regret what we did, knowing the outcome, but I feel anxious about what we may have unleashed. There is so much darkness in this room- and if we aren't careful, I'm afraid too much might see the light of day.

Love

Lily

PS Tell Jamie I said hi, and that I'll be rooting for him today.

"Today! The Quidditch game!" Ron exclaimed, much to everyone's amusement.

"Yes, Ron, that's the most important item in that letter," his wife commented dryly. "Well, Harry?"

"The game starts at nine and if played well by Gryffindor, we might be able to get out before lunch," Harry calculated. "But if you want to leave before lunch I don't mind missing..."

"Nonsense," Penny said briskly. "That room has stayed untouched for decades, and no one will sneak in while all those children are there. I'll owl Lily to tell her she can leave, but Art should stay and help Salazar and Ash. You watch your children play today, you deserve it, all of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have several owls to send and I must tell everyone." For all her businesslike demeanor, there was a smile that could not be suppressed spreading over her face, and she looked as if she were only a hairsbreadth away from jumping on the bed herself.

As the door shut behind her, Ron grinned at Harry. "I must admit, I would rather go to the Quidditch game before we go to Malfoy Manor. It looks to be an exciting one, and my daughter is Quidditch captain, and your son is going to beat the hell out of the Slytherin team."

"Before WE go to Malfoy Manor?" Hermione's voice was sharp, but the eye she turned on her husband was considering. She had known she would not be able to keep Ron away from the action too long, and she was relieved to see that he was pushing her boundaries when he was well enough to do so.

"You're not going!" Harry said immediately. "If you think my daughter and the others have looked for a cure for so long only to have you keel over dead before they can prepare it"-

"So long? Lily's been there a night!" Ron shot back.

"But Laz and Ash haven't. Merlin, Ron, you can't be careless with your health at this juncture. And haven't we all suffered enough to not have to worry about you anymore, worry about losing you?" His rant came to an abrupt end when the boy who had vanquished one of the most powerful evil wizards the world had seen not once, but twice, before he was eighteen, realized he was near tears.

Ron and Hermione stared at each other, astounded. Where had this come from? And why had they not seen it coming? The bushy-haired woman who loved these two men so much, considered them both hers in a way that had nothing to do with sex but everything to do with love and friendship, rose gracefully to her feet and expressed her desire for breakfast.

They weren't listening. In a gesture that showed how much Ron had grown since becoming a parent and then losing a child, the red-haired wizard embraced his best friend and held him. Gently, into the hair that Muggle cosmetics and magic could not tame, he murmured his intention to stay around and dance at Rowena's wedding. "I'm not going anywhere, Harry."

Harry pulled back a little and wiped his moist eyes, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's been a difficult few days, to say it mildly."

Ron's mouth twisted. "And you've lost enough people in your life as it is. You don't ever have to apologize to me, you know that. It's been tough, especially for you, but it's nearly over. And then you'll go home and get that wife of yours back."

"You think?" Green eyes lit up with hope for a future that might possibly hold more than he thought he had a right to expect.

"I know."

*

Diagon Alley was playing host to three red-haired brothers sitting together in comfortable, sleepy silence, as it had been doing regularly for some months. Since most members of their large family were congregated in Scotland, the three surviving middle Weasley boys had taken to meeting for breakfast every morning. With Penelope and their children at Hogwarts under their mother and aunt's care, Percy had made it there early and was lingering over his coffee. Not for the first time, he wondered at how the tragedy that had befallen Ron brought him closer to the brothers who had made his adolescence so painful.

"What're you thinking of, Perce?" Fred asked, lazily twirling the stirrer in his butterbeer. It was never too early for butterbeer. He wasn't an alcoholic, and rarely drank more than a glass of firewhisky, but in the chilly spring morning he needed something that would warm him. And the buttery taste of the drink in front of him reminded him of parties in the common room, and a tall, strapping girl who was ready for anything.

"Just how odd this is," his older brother answered. "If anyone had told me that I would be having breakfast with you regularly a year ago I would have thought them mad."

"Hmm," George agreed. "But it's about time. I think the last time you had breakfast regularly with us was... the summer after you graduated, right?"

Percy flushed at the thought of the following years, and how he had acted until the murder of the Clearwater family, which Penelope only narrowly escaped because she was with him, had brought him to his senses. Even then he might not have reconciled with the rest of the Weasleys if his new wife hadn't threatened to leave him. She'd needed people for support and strength, and had been smart enough to know that however much he pretended not to, he needed them too.

"Thank Merlin for smart women who put up with us," George commented, obviously on the same wavelength as Percy, a mark of the relationship they were rapidly developing.

Fred didn't join in the laughter. He was five times a loser in that game, and though he couldn't regret the unions that had resulted in his three children, he knew that the fault had almost always been entirely his. No woman could compete with a ghost. Changing the subject before someone could notice his discomfort, he added, "And for wonderful children, Percy, your son is a prodigy. He's got some wonderful ideas for new products."

"Speaking of new products, this new room he owled us about yesterday might have some interesting things we could use..." George's eyes danced as Percy rolled his eyes and groaned. Some things never got old, and driving one's brother crazy was one of them.

Three red heads lifted as they heard an excited cry. "Uncle Fred! George! Uncle Percy!" Wild black hair that was standing on end whipped around a beautiful face made striking by green eyes brimming with joy.

"Lily? What is it?" Percy didn't know he was standing until he forced the girl who would be his daughter soon into his chair. "My dear, are you all right?"

But she was laughing, and the tears on her face caught the light and made her face shine in a way that tears of sadness or anger cannot mimic. "All right? I'm wonderful! We've found it!"

"Found what?" Fred barely noticed the glasses on their table, and the surrounding ones as well, explode. Such things often occurred around wizards who were suffering from great emotional stress, which was why the spell used most frequently in households according to Witch Weekly had been 'reparo' for three years running.

*

As Lily Potter caught her breath and shared her news with his younger brothers, Bill finished a report and signed it apathetically. This was the worst part of curse-breaking.

He needed a cup of coffee.

"Third one today, M. Weasley?" Arielle asked archly. Her English was almost as fluent as his, but she preferred to use French words everyone knew. She said it was to ensure that she never forgot her language, but Bill was certain that the real reason was that Arielle wanted to be distinctive. Not that she was the kind of woman anyone forgot, and anyway, was it possible to ever totally lose the only language you spoke through childhood and adolescence?

But he liked her, for the sake of the friendship they shared despite the brief fling they had had three years ago when someone had accidentally shut them in a cave. So, rather than taking out his bad mood on her, he answered calmly. "Fourth, and you'd better be prepared for me to drink several pitchers. I've been told by our super in Gringotts that I have to catch up on paperwork before I go on assignment again."

"And how far behind are you, chere?" she purred, exuding sex appeal that often made people wonder if there was Veela anywhere in her genetic make-up. There wasn't, but she'd been good friends with Fleur in school, and had somehow learned to channel that same seductiveness without magic. It was common knowledge that she had slept with all the single men in the office, regardless of age or sexual orientation, and most of the single women as well. That might have made it unpopular if she didn't have a strong code of honor that prevented her from sleeping with anyone in a relationship, and if she didn't have a heart the size of a basilisk.

He laughed, suddenly able to see the humor in his situation. "Three months, give or take a few weeks."

For a minute, she stared, somehow managing to look beautiful even with her mouth open. "A few weeks? Merlin Bill, how do you let that happen?"

"Easy, Arielle. I just 'forget' to complete a few reports and keep going on assignment to distract the paperwork division of the Aurors with my incredible curse-breaking adventures."

"Ah, the paperwork division of the Aurors! Now that is a branch of that illustrious organization I have not come in contact with," she bantered, but had to stop to regain her composure. "Oh Bill, that's a good one. Where did you come up with it from?"

"The paperwork division of the Aurors? That's Charlie, that was my brother Charlie." His eyes softened, and his voice grew quiet. He rarely spoke of the brother closest to him in age, and never at all about his time as a prisoner of the Death Eaters. Normally, the people he worked with, for most if not all of them had demons of their own, respected that. Curse-breaking was a dangerous job that required a great deal of traveling, and was generally not a career that wizards or witches stayed in much past their twenties, when they began to yearn to put down roots. But Arielle, who had lost a great deal to Voldemort herself, steeled herself to reach further.

"What was he like?" she asked, her voice hushed though they were the only ones in the little kitchen.

"He was wonderful, an incredible... I'm sorry, I can't talk about this now." Bill returned hastily to his office, not seeing the hurt expression on her face as she lost another chance to actually get to know him. Just as he had never realized that she was absolutely and totally in love with him, and had been for years.

He forced himself to put away thoughts of the past, and returned to the three-tiered in-tray. But on top of the pile was an envelope, addressed in the hand of his eldest sister-in-law. Knowing it had not been there when he left, he tore it open without even stopping to sit down.

Dearest Bill,

I have good news. We think we've found a cure to the curse that has caused this family so much pain.

Please come home. I know you said that you could do nothing in Scotland that you couldn't do while chained to a desk in London, and that you might in fact be of more use in an office that deals with curse-breaking in the search for a way to undo the Crimson Skull, but now the only work that remains to be done is to get Ron to hang on until the preparations are finished. Perhaps you can even be of use to Ash and Laz- your Latin skills are better than theirs and from what I understand the book is difficult to read and faded. You have a great deal of experience in working with old texts.

And if this plea for help is not enough to bring you back into the bosom of your family, I will use what contacts I have at my disposal to get you reassigned here. The room that housed the book with the cure is full of dark and cursed objects- we need a good curse-breaker here.

I know it's difficult to be here, but how I envy you for having a home you wish to avoid being a part of. Many of us were not so lucky.

Penelope

Penny had always been talented at twisting the screws just so, to make a grown man feel as foolish and peevish as a child. But she had alluded to the night soon after her marriage that Bill himself had come to tell her Death Eaters had murdered her parents and younger brother, and that was not something he could ignore. He visited his own parents enough that they couldn't cry neglect, but he rarely let them, or anyone else, close. He created two worlds. With the first, consisting mainly of his family and everyone else he knew in the past, he was a distant, somber and dutiful man. The second, his present, knew him as a dedicated and occasionally humorous man that none of them could call more than an acquaintance or coworker. Some people, like Arielle, had managed to creep in a little closer, but even they would never be able to refer to him as a good friend.

But when he had received the owl informing him of Ron's attack, he had known that was over. Just as one brother's death had pushed him away, the threat of another's would pull him closer.

*

Ginny hummed a little as she brushed her daughter's hair. It was not easy as the six year-old could not stop chattering about the game long enough to sit still, but the red-haired, youthful mother was not impatient.

Draco strolled in, and paused to take in the scene, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. His wife, whom he loved as he had not thought it possible to love, with his youngest child, while his son and elder daughter played with a miniature Quidditch set. They were, he realized a second later, reenacting the game that had just finished and arguing strategies.

Walking to Ginny, he stooped to smack Dora's little, upturned pixie face before a more leisurely exploration of his wife's laughing mouth. "Well, considering the humiliating loss suffered by Gryffindor a few hours ago, your good mood is a little surprising."

She made to hit him with the hairbrush, and retorted with mock indignation, "It was not humiliating. Rowena insisted on a clean game, but your House has never heard of such a thing! That Bludger was most certainly tampered with!"

"I remember Potter using that same excuse back in our second year, and blaming our team for it too. And in the end, I believe it was the work of a house-elf."

"Yes, well, this time it wasn't aimed at a particular person but rather at a team, and it was obviously being controlled on the ground. Bludgers can't dodge clubs that well when moving naturally. And even with a rogue Bludger trying to kill our seeker, didn't Gryffindor destroy Slytherin that day?"

"Oh dear, not this again," Ales groaned. She was just a few minutes older than her brother, but at times such as this felt and sounded closer to thirty than eleven. "Up Hufflepuff!"

Her younger siblings repeated the call with glee, enjoying their mother and father's winces. The children of Quidditch players who had once been great rivals, they had found their own way of surviving the intense tension that surrounded matches in their home.

But it wasn't the sort of day when anything could bring Ginny Weasley, for so she would always be known, down. The brother closest to her in age and heart had a good chance, and no news could have been better. How different this time was from those days almost a decade ago, when things had ended so tragically. But she wouldn't think of her nephew, the first love of her life, then.

*

A week later

"Okay, I think I have the ingredients deciphered and translated, but at this stage it'll take a month to do the same for the method," Salazar grumbled, irritably pushing away the parchments of paper in front of him. "And judging from some of these, it'll take even longer to prepare. But the thing about Crimson Death is that it is slow-acting, so time isn't a problem."

"We should have enough time, but just barely," Ash stated, looking at his partner somberly. "Didn't you know? We might be able to cure him all the way until the end of the curse, but we can't reverse the damage if it goes too far. I doubt we have more than three or four months before some of his health problems become irreversible!"

Laz raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware of that. But that isn't our only problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you read the fourth item? The blood from a first-born child... Yours."

MORE SOON.