Will You Ever Return to Me?

Chapter 8.

June 2002, Salem, Massachusetts.

Harry looked in the mirror. "Ugh. You didn't tell me this would make me look like Malfoy."

A head of long, smooth blonde hair with a pointed face and bright blue eyes stared back at him. He waved his wand. The hair became as messy as it usually was, but remained blonde. Harry tried the spell again, and immediately got his vision obscured by enormous eyebrows. At least now they were black, like the rest of the hair. Harry tried it again, focusing on his real appearance. The eyebrows shrank, a scar appeared on his forehead,, and he got a few inches shorter. He was almost ready to step away, but then he noticed brown eyes behind the glasses. He focused on that, but he remembered how people always told him that he had his mother's eyes. The memory came at precisely the wrong moment. He saw Professor Clarance restrain the urge to laugh--which he understood perfectly once he looked back into the mirror. The eyes were green, but he also had a mane of curly auburn hair to go along with them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Professor Clarence said, and, taking out her wand, restored him to his natural appearance.

"Maybe the reverses of these appearance-altering charms should be taught before the charms themselves," he suggested. "If I tried to use one of these appearances as a disguise, it'd get noticed faster than without it, scar, and all." He realized that part of the reason he was having difficulties was that the magic itself reminded him of Tonks... bright, cheerful Nymphadora Tonks, who didn't live to see the end of the war. Harry sighed. Dwelling on the past would do nothing, and neither would telling Professor Clarence about it.

The Salem Headmistress got a bottle of a bluish liquid out of the cabinet and handed it to him. "This is a restoration potion. You need to practice, and this'll let you do that without worrying that you'll have to go out looking like you've been sewn together from different people. Don't worry, you're doing very well for someone who never studied Transfiguration in depth. Even Hund--"

"Please, Professor. I find such comparisons uncomfortable."

Clarence nodded. "Is Megan making progress?"
Harry stared at her. "You know?"
"Of course. It's the only reason she'd stay around her after graduation--she really wants to be an Auror."

"I'm trying to teach her what they taught me while I was in Auror training--is there anything that's done differently in America that I should know?"

"Not really. Working in big cities, disguising as Muggles is the only thing I can think of that would be emphasized."

"Well, Megan should have no problem with that--she's a Muggle-born. I don't see a way to teach her fighting against multiple enemies, thought. That's very important."

"Well, she should actually learn something while in training... As far as I know, they don't test that during the admissions process. They do test how you react under pressure."

"Megan is good at that. Much better than I was."

"Uh-huh," Clarence said. "Did you tell her why they dropped you?"

"No. Why?"

"So what are you going to do if she confronts you with what she's read in the papers?"

Harry paused. Megan showed no inclination to dig into his history, but of course, it was entirely possible that someone--even Ginny--would tell her something to spur her curiosity. If she demanded an explanation...

"The truth," Harry said. "It's the only thing that makes sense, anyway."

Clarence laughed. "You do have a unique way of putting things, Mr. Potter. I wonder if that has something to do with Ginevra's behavior lately."

"Huh?" Harry asked. "What's wrong with Ginny?"
"Nothing 'wrong', but she has been rather quiet for over a month."

"I didn't know that. We haven't talked all that time."

"Mr. Potter, I have--"

"I'm not avoiding her, Professor. She may be avoiding me--I wouldn't know. If she is, what can I do about it? I have no control over what she does, I know that very well."

"Well, I might need to talk to Ginevra--"

"Professor , what are you trying to do here? Set us up together?" He laughed at the idea.

Clarence laughed with him. "No, but Ginevra is a powerful witch... and you are a very powerful wizard. And right now, the situation between you two is a ticking time bomb. If it goes off, I fear for the safety of my school and my students."

Harry found the idea ridiculous. "I'd never fight Ginny."

"There are other ways things can get out of hand," Clarence replied. "Believe me, Mr. Potter, I know what I'm talking about."

Harry had no argument. "I'll think about it, Professor. But I have to go." He looked at his watch. "Megan's probably waiting already. Goodnight, Professor." He left the classroom.

Megan was indeed waiting for him at the bar, reading a newspaper. "You're late. It's the first time. What's wrong?"
"Just a little prolonged lesson with Professor Clarence," he said.

"About what?"

"Human transfiguration. Changing my appearance for disguise. I don't like putting makeup on my scar, but until I learn this..." He shrugged.

"That's a useful skill for an Auror to have..." Megan said.

"Yeah, but you'd be better off asking Professor Clarence or Professor Lyman directly. As I said, I haven't yet figured it out myself."

The waiter brought Harry his order, and he picked up the knife and fork. Megan buried herself in the newspaper. Harry was engrossed in his own thoughts, mostly about what Professor Clarence said about Ginny. She denied trying to set them up, but the argument she gave him felt ridiculous. What danger could he and Ginny pose to SWI?

Harry saw something out of the corner of his eye and blinked. On the back of Megan's newspaper was a moving photograph of an all-too-familiar sight--the Dark Mark hovering over the ruins of a house.

"Let me see that," he said, taking the newspaper from Megan. She protested, but Harry quickly showed her the picture. "The Dark Mark hasn't been seen since the end of the war."

The story was in the "News from Abroad" section of the paper. "According to the British Ministry of Magic, the murder of Augusta Longbottom--"

Harry choked as he read the story. He quickly scanned the rest. There was no mention of Neville or Luna being hurt, but that did little to ease his mind. "I'm going there," he said.

Megan looked at him. "Can I come?"

"No," he answered.

"Why not? It can be valuable field experience--"

"It's too dangerous. There's at least one Death Eater on the loose--"

"If he's on the loose, what's to stop him from showing up here?"

"First, if it's who I think it is, it's a she," Harry said. "Second, there's no reason for them to show up here. There is in England."

"What would that be? You? Well, you're here now. If they have a spy in this bar, they'll know. What are you going to do? Live as a hermit in the desert and avoid contact with everyone?"

"I've considered that," Harry said.

"You obviously decided against it. So, what's different if I come now or not? I could help you."

"NO. It's dan--"

"Why are you allowed to put yourself into danger and not me?"

"Because--"

"Because what?"

"It's my job."

"How? You're not an Auror, and--"

"And neither are you!"
"Yet. It's my future job. What makes it yours?"

"I'm Harry Potter, that's what."

"You know," Megan said as she leaned back in her chair, "there are reasons for doing things, and then there are excuses. You've just begun offering excuses."

"Megan--"

"Forget it! You keep telling me how important teamwork is, but why should I believe you? You obviously don't believe it yourself."

"I believe it," Harry said.

"You told me two people working together are always stronger than one--"

"You don't remember the whole thing, do you? I said that is true provided both know what they're doing."

"So I don't know what I'm doing, is that it?" Megan yelled at him. "All those complements were just flattery and protection of my feelings--"

"No, I meant them," Harry said quickly.

"Then why--"

"You aren't ready--"

"Who's to judge that? You? Were you ready to face Voldemort?"
Harry blurted out something incomprehensible.

"What?" Megan demanded.

"No," Harry said. "No, I wasn't."

"So what's the difference--"

"Is there any way to stop you from coming?"
"If you Disapparate right now, I won't be able to follow," she said.

"That would be rude," Harry replied.

Megan laughed. "So it's your manners that will let me come along?"

"I didn't say that. If you want me to take you, at least admit this has nothing to do with field experience. You're just curious."

Megan stared back in frustration. "That, and something else. I care about you. I don't want to sit here wondering if you're all right."

"I just--"

"Are you taking me or not, Potter?"

Harry resigned himself. "Yes," he said. "Get some Muggle clothes."

"What for? Won't we--"

"It'll take forever to get a transcontinental Portkey, and it'll look suspicious so soon after what happened. No, we're going to use Muggle transportation."

"So we Apparate to an airport and take a flight to London?"

Harry nodded.

"Where?" Megan asked. "Boston?" That was the closest major airport to them. But Harry shook his head. "New York," he said. When Megan looked at him cryptically, he smiled, and explained. "We're taking the Concorde."