Out of the Books

Chapter 22 - Gryffin Maid

"Where is he?" Voldemort asked impatiently as he strolled lazily towards the darkly clad figure kneeling on the cold floor in front of him.

"In the dungeon, my Lord," replied the Deatheater to his feet, only a slight tremor in his voice betraying his apprehension in the proximity of the Dark Lord.

"Bring him to me, then." The high-pitched voice cut sharply through the air of the large and bare stone hall, which was uncomfortably cold even though there were summerly temperatures outside.

"Yes, my Lord." Dolohov scrambled hastily to his feet and with one more sloppy and nervous bow he left his master alone.

Feeling as if malevolent eyes were watching his every move as he walked through the empty corridors, Dolohov couldn't repress a shiver. Since Voldemort had chosen this manor house to be his base of operations, the old walls themselves, once radiating a cool and distant nobility, now seemed cruel and cold. It was almost as if they had absorbed the evil of their current resident.

Dolohov shook his head as he purposefully strode onwards to fulfil the order of his master. Considering the reaction of the Dark Lord when Dolohov had told him about the little smuggler, he seemed to have landed a hit. More or less on chance he had kidnapped the man, after he had stumbled across him meeting Dumbledore's pet werewolf. Now it seemed that the Dark Lord was very interested in what the two of them might have talked about - and if he indeed does find it interesting enough, I might rise even further than Rookwood in the Dark Lord's favour, Dolohov thought with an ugly smile.

With an unnaturally loud clatter he opened the barred door to a small and dirty cell and trained his wand on the miserable heap of rags, lying in one corner.

"Get up, scum!" he sneered as he saw the man raise his head with difficulty and a pained groan. "The Dark Lord doesn't like to wait," he added roughly, kicking the man impatiently, before he grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

Half dragging the prisoner, Dolohov hurried along the way he had come.

The two of them entered Voldemort's makeshift throne hall. The Dark Lord wasn't alone anymore, as Dolohov had left him, but Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband were standing at his left side now.

Dolohov shoved the prisoner hard in the back so that he fell limply at Voldemort's feet, before he himself knelt more gracefully in front of his master.

Voldemort ignored Dolohov but stared coldly and maliciously at the man, crumpled before him.

"Fletcher," he hissed softly. "How nice of you to join us. My dear friend here told me that you had a very interesting conversation with a certain werewolf."

Mundungus Fletcher stared at Him-who-must-not-be-named with barely concealed panic; his eyes unnaturally wide open as he shook his head vehemently.

"What did Lupin want?" Voldemort's voice sounded like frozen steel.

"He - I - ... no." Mundungus didn't even have time to curse himself for appearing so weak and fearful, before the Crucio curse hit him.

After endless seconds of bitter agony, Voldemort lifted the curse and left Mundungus panting and trembling uncontrollably at the floor.

"Now, what did he want?"

Knowing that he wouldn't survive Voldmort's hospitality anyway, Mundungus scratched all the courage, he had left, together and looked up defiantly. "That's none of your business." He was surprised how steady his voice sounded.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at the smuggler and locked eyes with him. Mundungus realized his mistake in the same moment, when memories of his meeting with Lupin were playing out before his mind's eye like a film.

He saw how the friendly, worn-out werewolf approached him, heard how he asked him questions about the treasures he had taken from Grimmauld Place...

With all his might he tried to break the eye contact with the dark wizard, tried to close his eyes, tried not to think of Lupin, even tried to sing loud and dirty songs - but to no avail. Helplessly he watched again how Lupin pulled a picture of a silver locket out of his pocket and showed it to him.

And then it was suddenly over.

An eerie quietness had settled over the hall. Taking a deep breath, Mundungus looked around to find the three Deatheater's glances shift uneasily from their master, to the exit, to each other. Voldemort himself stood stock-still. Even though the livid flicker in his red eyes seemed to be the only reaction to what he just saw in Fletcher's memories, a cold fury was radiating from the Dark Lord.

Suspecting that something terrible was about to happen, Mundungus attempted to stand up and found to his surprise that he was ignored. Just when he had managed to reach a vertical position and made the first cautious step backwards, the torches on the wall suddenly flickered and went out and Mundungus felt a wave of cold rolling over him.

"Dolohov, keep an eye on the werewolf," were the last words he heard before his world exploded in icy darkness.

Leaving his three Deatheaters and the lifeless column of ice behind, Voldemort rushed out of his throne hall, heading for a cave which he hadn't set foot in for almost two decades.

***

Harry took a deep breath of relief when he stepped out of Gringotts into the bright sunshine of Diagon Alley. And judging from the look of his four companions, he wasn't the only one to be glad about leaving the tense, vigilant and distrustful atmosphere of the wizarding bank behind him.

The five witches and wizards had expected to encounter security measures. That's why they had come here so early in the morning. Actually, it had even taken much less time than they had expected, due to the few customers at this time of day. But it had made Harry, Ron and Hermione, who hadn't been at Gringotts for more than a year, sad to see, how the goblin-led bank had turned from a fascinating, secretive, respectable world of dark tunnels, shining gold, and neck-breaking rides into a sterile and intimidating high-security area.

With some more time to spend before they had to meet the rest of the Potter family and Sirius in Godric's Hollow, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus and Tonks strolled through Diagon Alley. There weren't too many shoppers around yet. The wizard street in the middle of London looked less dreary and hushed then one year ago, as normalcy had more or less returned. But it seemed to have lost the cheerfulness and busy activity it had, when Hagrid had first showed Harry the shopping district for wizards and witches.

As the others talked about this and that, Harry was caught deeply in his thoughts and after a while he found himself looking intently at almost every shop window, looking out for a fitting birthday present for Ginny. Tomorrow she would turn sixteen, but Harry realized that so far, he had pushed the thought about what he should give her as a present, into the back of his mind. What do you buy for the girl you love, who loves you as well, if you are not together with her - and won't be until a certain dark lord is defeated.

"Harry? Harry!" Harry looked up to see that the other four were standing a few steps in front of him and had turned around, apparently waiting for him to move on.

"Harry, we think it's time to apparate to Godric's Hollow," said Tonks and looked at her watch.

Harry nodded and closed the distance between them, slightly embarrassed to be caught daydreaming.

"Okay, you all have studied the map and know were to go?" asked Tonks in the professional tone of an Auror. The three teenagers nodded.

"Good. We'll apparate in the garden behind the ruins of your parents house, Harry," she instructed and Harry felt his stomach jolt, when she mentioned the destroyed house. "Let's go." She vanished with a soft pop.

Harry sighed. Now he still didn't have a present for Ginny. He breathed in deeply and followed the others. Harry had known how to apparate for quite some time now, but only had gotten his license a bit more than a week ago. On his birthday, when Mr. Weasley had picked him up to leave the Dursleys forever, he had taken him directly to the Ministry of Magic for his apparation test, before they had moved on to the Burrow.

The uncomfortable feeling of being pressed through a narrow tube, which always came with apparating, passed and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus and Tonks landed in a colourful knee-high ocean of grasses and summer flowers, which apparently belonged to a garden, that hadn't been looked after for a long time.

The sun was shining brightly through lush cherry and apple trees, creating a green-golden light and the air was rich with a heavy, sweet smell.

Hidden in the middle of this paradise for birds, insects and wild plants were the ruins of a house; and nature was doing its best to claim the old walls for itself. The roof was caved in and a blackberry bush was fighting its way out of the rubble. A young birch was growing out of what had once been the living room.

Harry couldn't turn his eyes away from this playground for nature. He felt deeply touched by the mixture of destruction and creation, the thought that he and his parents had lived here one and a half decades ago, pounding behind his forehead. At the same time he felt a strange kind of detachment as he caught himself thinking 'I wouldn't want to know what I would feel if I didn't have the knowledge of my parents being alive'

Noticing the faraway look on Harry's face, Hermione touched his shoulder concernedly.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Yeah," he breathed as he slowly walked towards the broken down house.

When he reached the porch it became harder to move through the young bushes and trees, which partly hid the uneven ground. Carefully checking the firmness underneath his feet, he climbed into the former living room and held on to the trunk of the birch for better balance.

Ron and Hermione followed him in some distance. When Harry noticed their insecurity, he smiled softly.

"It's okay. It would have been hard to come here, if they had..." he broke off and turned away from his friends. Then he shook his head and started taking a closer look at his surroundings.

Two walls of the room were still standing, although the ceiling was missing completely. Among the rubble and plants lay some wooden splinters and boards, which had once been furniture.

Harry could make out a round tabletop with one leg still sticking out from the underside. A thick piece of fabric, which with some fantasy was still recognizable as a carpet, was trapped between two heavy stone plates.

"This place seems so unreal," said Hermione softly. "It's so peaceful and beautiful, that it is impossible to imagine the terrible things that happened here."

Harry nodded. He suddenly had the unrestrained urge to run and see his parents. Determinately he climbed back to Remus and Tonks, who had waited in the garden. "Let's go meet up with the others," he said with a hoarse voice.

From the street the ruins of the house and garden were barely visible, due to a wildly growing hedge. If the whole area wasn't hidden by a muggle repelling charm, it surely was an eyesore of the small and clean town of Godric's Hollow.

As Remus, Tonks and the three teenagers walked along the street, they noticed how unusually many families with small children were cheerfully strolling along the sidewalks. Small children were holding balloons on strings and some had funny make-up on their faces, turning them into cats or clowns. The distant rumble of very loud music and a far-away sound of someone speaking through a microphone reached their ears.

"There seems to be some kind of celebration downtown," said Hermione.

"Maybe we can go there later, after we have picked up the rest, and take a look?" suggested Ron hopefully.

"Yeah," said Harry sarcastically. "I want a clown's face." He was still in a strange mood after visiting the house were he had spent the first one and a half years of his life.

"Harry!" said Hermione reproachfully, while Ron looked slightly hurt at his best friend.

Harry blushed guiltily. "Sorry, Ron. I bet Leo and Amy would like to go to the festival, too. Actually I don't think it's such a bad idea. What do you think, Remus?"

Remus exchanged an amused glance with Tonks. "Why not? We can ask the others in a minute. Mr. Hyalin's shop is right there."

Tonks and the three teenagers waited outside the rather shabby looking wooden shed, which housed "Hyalin's Finest Staffs and Wands", while Remus went inside to bring his friends the money, they needed to pay for the five wands.

It didn't take long, before Remus, Sirius and Harry's family emerged from the crooked building. After having seen the destroyed house in the morning, Harry hadn't even realized how relieved and happy he was now, to see his parents and brother and sister walking towards him.

Cheerfully walking forward to meet them, Harry stopped abruptly when he saw the sorrowful faces of the four adults and the shocked and disappointed expression on Leo's and Amy's faces. Catching his mother's eye, Harry suspected immediately that his fear had come true. His brother and sister were indeed squibs.

The warm and sunny August day, with dozens of happy families on the street, celebrating some kind of village festival stood in a surreal contrast to the subdued and embarrassed silence which had settled among the group of witches and wizards, standing at a street corner in Godric's Hollow.

"Maybe we've jumped into the wrong book," said Amy morosely. "I don't remember reading anything about spending a week cooped up in gloomy hovel - and then finally getting out, only to learn that in this world everyone can do magic, but us. Just great!" Her voice was full of cynicism.

"Maybe it's best if we go back to Grimmauld Place," suggested James quietly.

His words were greeted with some half-hearted nods and shoulder-shrugs. Listlessly the group started walking back to the former Potter residence, from where they could apparate home without being seen.

Suddenly, when they were still a block away from their destination the volume of the ever-present music around them increased and seemed to come closer from behind them.

The people around them were crowded at the edge of the sidewalk and stared at the empty street in unconcealed excitement and curiosity.

"What's going on?" Ron's question was drowned in the cheering of the crowd, as a group of flag-bearing girls came dancing around the corner.

As the sidewalk was now so full with spectators that the large group of wizards and witches would have to struggle to get through without loosing each other, they stopped to watch the procession, much to Ron's delight.

"Look at that car! Dad would love it!" The redhead resembled a four-year old in a sweetshop, as he pointed at the colourfully decorated festival wagons.

"It's the Gryffin Maid Festival," explained Lily. "It's always on the second weekend of August. I had totally forgotten that it is today."

"Gryffin Maid? I thought Godric's Hollow is a muggle village?" shouted Hermione over the loud music and cheering.

"Yes, mainly muggles live here, but the village was founded Godric Gryffindor. The Gryffin Maid festival is based on a legend out of this time. I don't remember how it went, but we can see if we get a programme somewhere. It should be written in there." Lily had to lean close to Hermione's ear to make herself understood in all the noise.

Hermione nodded and looked up to see a beautiful carriage being drawn by four white horses, which each had a horn tied to their fore heads, so that they resembled unicorns. The wagon was escorted by six young men, carrying crossbows and on the wagon stood a teenage girl, with fake bright red hair, smiling and waving at the crowds, and making a curtsey every now and then.

"So, that's the Gryffin Maid then?" Hermione asked loudly and Lily nodded.

The wagon of the Gryffin Maid had been the last one of the parade and slowly the crowd began to disperse.

Remus and Sirius were already leading the way towards the ruined house, with the others following them. Hermione looked around, were she could quickly get a programme, as she didn't want to let the others wait.

"Excuse me," she approached a young woman next to her. "Could you tell me, where I can get a brochure about today?"

The young woman seemed to be in a hurry herself, as she turned her head searchingly and distractedly put a leaflet into Hermione's hand. "Here, you can have mine. I'll get another one." The next moment she was gone.

Hermione grinned and jogged a few steps to catch up with Harry and Ron, who seemed to be looking for her already.

Not five minutes later all ten of them had landed in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place again. The parade had somewhat lessened the disappointment of earlier today, but now every one seemed to be content to let themselves fall into a comfortable armchair or on the sofa and loose themselves in their own thoughts.

Of course their return hadn't stayed unnoticed and after only a few minutes of lazy silence, the door to the sitting room opened and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny walked in. Taking in the scene before her eyes, a broad smile grew on Mrs. Weasley's lips.

"Now, don't tell me that half a day of shopping exhausted you like this."

"I guess it takes some practice to move through the town with such a large horde," joked Lily.

Harry tuned out their friendly banter. When he had seen Ginny, a hot jolt had unsettled his stomach. How was he going to get a present for her now? Maybe it wasn't too late to order something by owl. But what? Maybe something from this village festival? The Gryffin Maid on the last parade wagon had reminded him of Ginny.

With a furtive look at the redhead girl, he turned to Hermione, who was reading in the programme of the Gryffin Maid Festival. He stood up and sat next to her. With a smile Hermione held the leaflet between them, so that both of them could read.

Gryffin Maid

The Gryffin Maid Festival has a long and proud tradition of more than nine hundred years in Godric's Hollow. Every August the inhabitants of the small village honour the founder of the village, Godric Gryffindor. Legend tells that upon his death, Godric Gryffindor promised his closest followers that a maid of his blood would protect the people when dark days were falling over the country again. Born in the time of harvest, the Gryffin Maid would be heralded by six Sons of Fire.

"Heralded by six Sons of Fire?" Hermione frowned at the leaflet.

Harry looked at her. He had the feeling that he knew what this meant, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He looked around the room and his gaze fell on Ron, who was talking animatedly to Leo. Harry's brother seemed conflicted whether to keep his bad mood or whether to let himself be infected by Ron's enthusiasm about the parade.

Smiling, he watched his brother and his best friend. Maybe it would be easier for Leo and Amy to accept that they were Squibs, with all of their help.

Suddenly Ron threw his head back in laughter and the light caught in his hair, making it look as though it was on fire for half a second. Harry's eyes grew round in surprise. "The six Sons of Fire," he whispered. "Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill. Now, tell me if I'm wrong, but couldn't that mean that Ginny is the Gryffin Maid?"