In Nomine Amoris

Chapter One: Unforgotten

White lilies fluttered in the breeze from their places on many tall trellises, which surrounded a low platform in a semi-circle. A man and a woman stood on the platform before a minister.

The beautiful woman had long sheer blonde, nearly white hair. It matched the hue of her flowing dress robes and shimmered in the faint sunlight. The man's face was heavily scarred and a bit frightening. His fiery red hair fell long and was tied at the nape of his neck. He wore a neat set of black dress robes and held hands with the woman. To the red-haired man's right stood six men with his same tones and features, and a black-haired young man whom many knew as the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry Potter watched the wedding half-heartedly. He had been trying to catch the eye of a girl with auburn locks on the other side of the altar, so he could smile at her encouragingly. Instead of acknowledging him, the girl stared determinedly at the bride and groom.

Harry sighed. Ginny Weasley would pay him no attention, although he was her date to her brother's wedding. Harry knew Ginny was upset with his decision to break things off with her, to leave her out of danger. She said she did not care. Harry did.

However, he certainly did not want to embark on his journey when feelings were sour between the two of them.

It had been a fortnight since Professor Dumbledore's funeral, and Ginny had been avoiding Harry the whole time. Preparation for Bill and Fleur's wedding took place in that short allotted time. Harry heard Mrs. Weasley utter many a colorful phrase as she fussed over every tiny detail of the wedding. She had all her sons and Harry help with the set up to the point of unnatural exhaustion. Throughout those two weeks, Ginny never talked to him, nor did she make eye contact with him. It was, needless to say, downright frustrating.

Harry snapped back to reality as the minister said, "By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife." He turned to Bill. "You may kiss the bride."

Bill cupped the newest Weasley's face in his hand and brought her lips to his. The wedding party applauded loudly, but none clapped as enthusiastically as Mrs. Weasley, who was crying shamelessly.

Harry smiled wryly at the scene, wishing that the seemingly normal wedding could be a model for the entire wizarding world. Only in the past few days he had spent at the Burrow, twelve successive dementor attacks had occurred throughout Britain. He looked to one edge of a trellis and saw an electric blue eye poking out from behind it, swiveling in the direction of Bill and Fleur's sprint up the aisle. Mad-Eye Moody had requested tight security at the Burrow for the event, as a good portion of the Ministry of Magic, including Minister Scrimgeour himself, were attending.

The guests began moving to the other side of the Burrow's large lawn, where a reception tent stood waiting for them. Harry rolled his left shoulder a couple times. He had strained it the day before, helping Charlie and Ron put up that very tent.

He and Ron waited as Hermione, who had not been in the wedding, joined them. The three then followed the crowd of guests to the reception slowly.

"Wasn't that a beautiful wedding?" Hermione said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Harry did not respond; he had not actually watched the wedding.

"Yeah, it was," replied Ron, giving her a dry handkerchief from his pocket.

It was only then that Harry remembered Ron and Hermione had opted to go to the wedding together, after a very crimson Ron had stuttered something that sounded like "Wagotdaweddiwime" to Hermione a few days previously.

"Er...I've forgotten, I wanted to go and congratulate Bill and Fleur," Harry thought up an excuse hurriedly.

"Okay. See you later, mate," Ron said distractedly. Hermione had, as on the day of the funeral, found solace in Ron's embrace.

Smiling slightly, Harry left his friends. Dumbledore would have wanted a little more love in this world. He remembered months back in Herbology class, when Hermione had hinted to Ron about going to the Christmas party with her. Harry cringed as he recalled the selfish thoughts he had at that time. Ron and Hermione deserved to be together--he shuddered subconsciously--while they still could.

Only then Harry realized he had not paid attention to where he was going. He was now standing near the stage of the reception, where Celestina Warbeck and her temporary band (whom all had been checked thoroughly by Moody) were setting up.

"My goodness, it's Harry Potter!" exclaimed a band member holding a bass guitar. He looked at Harry wildly.

"Is it, though?" Celestina said absentmindedly, turning to put a microphone on the stand in front of her.

"Yes!" the bass guitarist confirmed excitedly. Harry recognized him as one of the Weird Sisters.

"Tremlett, how could you be drunk this early in the morn--" the middle-aged witch broke off and gasped, having caught sight of Harry's scar.

"Oh, Mr. Potter,"--she shook his hand vigorously--"please excuse me. I didn't believe Donoghan when he said--see, he sometimes has these hallucinations, and I've learned to tune him out when he starts talking about famous people... It's an honor to finally meet the Boy-Who-Lived! You must have a trying time with the press; so do I. The stories they come up with! They're still under the impression I'm having an affair with him"--she pointed back to Tremlett, who was tuning his instrument--"but I most certainly am not. Anyway, Mr. Potter, you're a man of many talents; I insist you join us onstage!" She said all of this very quickly.

"Er..." Harry had never met such a celebrity hanger-on. The ironic thing was that she was a celebrity herself. "Sorry, but I don't sing, Miss Warbeck."

"Nonsense!" Celestina cried. She took him by the arm and dragged him up to the stage, so that he was standing in front of his own microphone. He tapped it and heard the noise resound from the speakers. Music started up in the background. Harry decided to stick with his word to Ron and Hermione.

"Bill and Fleur?" he said, squinting to see the audience. The couple waved at him jovially from the largest table. "Congratulations." Then Harry ran as fast as he possibly could from the stage. He looked back and saw that Celestina had thankfully continued singing rather than chased after him.

"Ouch!"

Harry ran into something solid.

"Sorry, Neville," he apologized.

"'S all right," Neville replied grimly, rubbing his right arm. On his left arm was Luna Lovegood, who, as always, looked as though she had arrived there accidentally.

"Hello, Harry," she said nodding her head in his direction so that her radish earrings, which matched the print of her dress robes, danced about. "Good thing you ran away from Celestina Warbeck. She's a key part of Rufus Scrimgeour's plot against the war effort."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked confusedly, although he had an inkling of her answer.

"Father put an article in the latest Quibbler about it, and he got the story from a very reliable source. Minister Scrimgeour has ordered abduction of all water demons on the British Isles and he plans to foil our attempts at stopping You-Know-Who by using their dark powers," she explained in a serious voice.

"Okay..." Harry humored Luna, as was best to do in this situation.

"I'm going to thank Ginny for inviting us," Luna told Neville. "Nice seeing you, Harry. Remember to watch out for heliopaths; they're out there."

"So, Neville," Harry said curiously, when Luna was out of earshot, "are you and Luna--?"

"No," Neville answered shortly. "We only came as friends. Honestly, Luna frightens me sometimes."

"I understand," Harry agreed heartily.

"Are you going back to Hogwarts, Harry?" This abrupt turn in the conversation threw Harry off a bit.

"No...but why do you ask?"

"I don't know many people who are. Luna and Ginny have to, for O.W.L.s, but I can't see much point in going back myself. Gran wants me to. I feel some things are more important, like helping in the war."

Harry nodded solemnly. "There are more important things," he said after a moment's meditation, "and we need to focus on them."

Neville returned Harry's nod and departed. Harry wished he did not have to leave Neville in the dark, but he knew that the fewer people found out the prophecy, the better.

He had no idea where to go next, and therefore scanned the crowd. Bill and Fleur sat at the middle of their table, where all the Weasleys and Delacours were seated. At one end was Fleur's younger sister, Gabrielle, and at the other end was Ginny. The empty seat next to Ginny, he figured, was probably meant for him. But he did not feel the need to join the others just yet.

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled it. If only...if only this were real...Voldemort's not here; the Dark Mark is absent; everyone is laughing and dancing and eating and having a good time. He suddenly felt envious. Everyone except for me.

But that was the way it was supposed to be. The burden was on Harry's shoulders, and no one else's. He would find the Horcruxes; he would destroy Voldemort, so that others after him might lead normal lives.

A single tear fell down his cheek. It's my responsibility.

It's not, Harry, a familiar voice in the wind assured him.

Professor Dumbledore?

I will not have left you until you are no longer loyal to me.

I always will be, Professor, Harry answered truthfully. But you said it's not my responsibility?

If you'll recall, I once told you that you have a choice. It is only your responsibility if you make it so.

And I do.

Very well.

Thank you, sir.

I'm always here for you, Harry. Do not forget it.

I won't.

"Harry?" said another voice, this time from behind him. The owner put a hand on his shoulder.

Harry turned to face Remus Lupin. On Lupin's arm was Nymphadora Tonks, who was currently sporting fuchsia locks.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks greeted him. "Why aren't you with the Weasleys?"

Harry sighed. "I didn't feel like it," he said ashamedly, looking down upon his feet.

"Sometimes one needs to be alone," said Lupin, "but now is the time for celebration. It may be one of our last opportunities. Enjoy it while you can," he advised Harry.

Harry took his former professor's words to heart and marched over to his seat, feeling a bit more confident from his conversation with the wind.