Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

Chapter Nineteen: Willow Vale

The next morning, Harry was awake at the crack of dawn, as was Ron who'd been unable to sleep as well. They were the first in the great hall for breakfast, and Harry excused himself early to go up to meet with Dumbledore and Sophie. Dumbledore informed him that they would be traveling via Floo Powder, as it was the fastest method and not to mention, the only way of getting into Privet Drive.

Harry cringed: he hated Floo Powder with a passion. Dumbledore explained how to travel with the powder to a very apprehensive looking Sophie. He stepped her into the fireplace and she recited "Three Privet Drive" as loudly as she could and with a great burst of green smoke, she vanished. Dumbeldore followed which left Harry. He was soon once again whizzing past an endless lane of fireplace grates.

He came tumbling out of the fireplace at three Privet Drive and he hopped to his feet, coughing, shaking the soot from off his clothes. Dumbledore and Sophie were already in the Banbury's living room, and he was ever so relieved that he hadn't ended up in Knockturn Alley again!

"SOPHIE!"

Roger had fallen to his knees and Sophie plunged herself into her fathers' embrace, sobbing into his shirt. Roger was stroking Sophie's hair, telling her over and over again how much he loved her. Harry watched, absolutely crushed at the sight of Roger on his knees.

"Oh my darling girl! I've been worried sick--"

"I'm here, Dad. I'm here."

Roger finally stood up and acknowledged the other two guests in his home. "Harry," he said, grabbing his hand. "It's good to see you, my boy."

"And you as well, Sir."

"Mr. Banbury?" said Professor Dumbledore softly.

"Yes-- hello." He extended his hand.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore-- headmaster at Hogwarts."

"Oh, yes, I've heard much about you. Won't you please sit down?"

They did so-- Sophie's hand firmly clasped to her fathers. Dumbledore removed his spectacles and gave Roger his utmost attention. His voice was silk as he spoke, and Roger sat tall,, as if he already knew what was coming.

"Mr. Banbury, we have identified the person who abducted your wide and daughter two days ago."

Roger put his hand to his heart. "Thank God. Who was he?"

"It was actually your wife's sister-- Delphine Lestrange."

"Delphine," Roger whispered. "But-- how? I thought she was locked away in your wizard prison."

"Indeed, she was until this past Chrismas. I am to assume that you are familiar with whom the Dark Lord is?"

Roger nodded. "He-- he hasn't returned . . ."

"I'm afraid so. And your sister-in-law and her husband were freed from prison at his hand. It was then that Delphine came to visit Imelda-- only what she did next was unthinkable. She hid Imelda-- kept her a captive here, in her own home-- and assumed her place."

"You mean that all this time Imelda has really been --"

"Delphine. Yes."

Roger ran his hands through his hair. "How could I have not known!"

"You mustn't blame yourself, Mr. Banbury. You were at the mercy of some very powerful dark magic. No man would have been any wiser in your shoes-not even a wizard." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "She had devised a horrific plan, Delphine did. She'd wanted to deliver your wife, Harry here and two professors from my school into the hands of the Dark Lord."

"Harry is the reason that I'm here right now, Dad," said Sophie. "He saved all our lives."

Mr. Banbury smiled at Harry and then took a shaky breath. "All your lives?"

The room fell terribly quiet. Dumbledore's words were soft and gentle. "I am sorry, Mr. Banbury. I wish I could have arrived sooner, but Delphine had already taken your wife."

Harry's gaze was stuck on the floor, unable to look at Mr. Banbury. The sound was horrible enough-- he could hear Mr. Banbury's muffled whimpers, the desperate attempt to keep inside what must, inevitably, come out. And when he finally did find the courage to look at him, he found Roger and Sophie embracing each other, rocking back and forth gently, tears streaming down their faces. Much like the silent tears that were finding their way down Harry's own face.

It was a painful afternoon. Roger received an Urgent Owl from Imelda's parents to let him know they would be coming by that very afternoon. Harry was sure it would be to discuss funeral arrangements. After Roger phoned his own mother and father with the news, and Mr. and Mrs. Banbury senior arrived towards the late afternoon directly from Bexhill, absolutely distraught with the news. Imelda's parents-- Rosalinda and Ambrose Arlington-- burst through the fireplace just after four o' clock, and the family sat together in the living room.

The conversation was quiet and somber and peppered with occasional outbursts from Roger's mother and Rosalinda Arlington. Sophie looked emotionally drained and Harry decided perhaps it might be a good idea to step out for some fresh air. They disappeared into the backyard, Sophie still trembling somewhat.

"Harry?" Harry spun around to find Dudley Dursley peering over the fence. Harry had completely forgotten about Dudley. It had seemed like years since he'd seen him and there was a split second that Harry even forgot Dudley wasn't exactly the same person he'd grown up with.

"Dudley--"

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at school!" He looked at Harry, then at Sophie, then at Harry again. "What-- something's happened, hasn't it. Sophie. . . what's wrong?"

"Come 'round the fence," said Harry.

Dudley did so, marching up to them, concern written all over his incredibly thinner face.

"It's Mrs. Banbury," said Harry. "She's. . . she's died."

Dudley's mouth fell. He blinked stupidly for a moment and then, hesitantly, reached out for Sophie. Sophie hugged him and Dudley closed his eyes.

"No, Sophie, it can't be. . ." he opened his eyes again and looked to Harry for help. "How? What's happened?"

Harry hadn't wanted to, but he went ahead and unfurled the tragic story about Imelda and her evil twin sister. Dudley was still in a state of complete shock. "And. . . she just kidnapped you and your mother?"

Sophie nodded and, to Harry's surprise, gave them the story. "We'd all known something was wrong. Actually, Dudley, it was your insistence that something wasn't right with her and that she probably needed help that really got me worried. I came home early from school on Tuesday and. . . I just had a bad feeling. I caught her in my room-- reading my letters and I knew it wasn't my Mum. Right then and there. She laughed-- a laugh I'd never heard before. She said 'you want your mother? I'll show you to her. I think you two should spend as much time together as possible-- this being the last day of your lives.' And then the next thing I knew, I was tied up in that cave-- and then you were there Harry. . ." her tears were coming back.

Dudley's fists were clenched. "Thank God that Professor of yours killed that Delphine--" he was so enraged he could hardly speak. "Evil," he said, "pure evil. . ." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "And thank

God you were there, Harry. You saved her life--"

"Nonsense. . . "

"Oh quit being noble," Sophie snapped weakly. "You were brilliant. You blew everyone's minds away-- Dudley, he did some things that not even most grown wizards can't do. Professor Dumbledore, that's the headmaster at our school, he told me so and he's one of the greatest Wizards of our age."

Harry thought he saw admiration in Dudley's eyes, but he didn't want to think about it any more. "That's not important," he said dismissively, "what's important is that we're still here, Sophie."

"And no one is more thankful that me," said Dudley earnestly. "Dunno what I'd do without you two."

Harry blinked at his grinning cousin.

"It's been hell with you away, Harry. Mum and Dad and I can hardly stand the sight of each other these days. And then you sent me that postcard from Mystic Pier--"

"Oh yes, I got one of those too," said Sophie with a grin.

"-Bloody fantastic! The pictures bloody move! Oh, I was so jealous of you. I tried looking it up on the Internet but I couldn't find any information on it--"

"No, of course you wouldn't find anything about it in something like the Internet."

"-- I was gonna suggest to Mum and Dad that we go there for summer holiday."

"They'd love that, I'm sure."

"Sophie," said Dudley, serious once again, "You're going to need help around the house--"

"Oh, Grandmum and Granddad are going to be staying for the next few days to help Dad and I about the house. They'll be here until after the funeral."

"Well-- what about your garden, eh? Harry and I will help with all that, won't we?"

Harry nodded. "Yes-- of course."

"You'll be going back to Hogwarts tonight with Dumbledore. Remember? You have to take the OWLs on Monday."

Harry cringed. He had completely forgotten about his OWLs exams. With everything that had happened, they had most definitely slipped his mind. He tried to cover over the fact that this absoltuely mortified him and said, hopefully, "Oh, I'm sure he'll excuse me a few extra days. I . . . I don't want to leave just yet, Sophie. I want to make sure that everything is okay."

Sophie beamed. "You're much too good to me." And then with a smile at Dudley, she added, "The both of you."

Dumbledore conceded to allow Harry to stay for Imelda's funeral, and arranged that since himself, Cornelius Fudge and a few others from the Ministry would be attending as well, Harry could just continue home to Hogwarts with him after the funeral. By the end of the evening the arrangements had been made: Imelda's body was to be brought back and to be buried at the Wizarding cemetery in Essex called Willow Vale on Saturday.

Before he left, Dumbledore took Harry aside, quietly.

"Listen Harry: I think it best to tell you ahead of time, to prepare you for what you will probably see on Saturday: The Willow Vale Cemetery-- that is where your parents are."

Harry's heart stopped. "My parents. . ."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. That is where they rest."

Harry was speechless.

He squeezed Harry's shoulder supportively and then, disappeared in the fireplace after the Arlington's.

Petunia Dursley spent a better part of that evening in distress. When Harry showed up on the front porch with Dudley's arm around his shoulders, she nearly burst from anger. And then when Dudley informed her of Imelda Banbury's death, she nearly keeled over from shock.

"Her sister killed her?" Petunia put her hand to her chest, trying to regulate her breathing. "Unheard of! How tragic! Oh, young Sophie must be devastated!

She and Vernon drilled Dudley for details on when and where the funeral would be.

"Roger says that it will be held on Saturday at the Willow Vale Cemetery in Essex at three o'clock."

"Why in Essex?"

"Well, according to Imelda's parents, that's where most of their family, the Arlington's, are buried."

Vernon snorted, "Willow Vale Cemetery? I've not heard of that before."

Dudley looked to Harry for help. Harry raised his brow as if to say 'You tell them, I'm not crazy!'

Dudley cleared his throat. "Well Dad, you haven't heard of that cemetery for a very good reason. See. . . it's a . . . special sort of place. Only, er, certain people know of its existence."

Harry nodded. "Yeah-- most people walk right by without realizing its a cemetery."

Petunia shot him an icy glare. "And how would you know, you presumptuous little ingrate!"

Harry stiffened. "Because my parents are buried there."

Petunia and Vernon went white.

"What are you saying," said Uncle Vernon slowly.

"He's saying that Imelda Banbury-- the woman you loved so much, Mum-- wasn't as normal as you thought." Dudley couldn't help the smile plastered on his face. "She was a witch," he said brightly.

Petunia's face darkened. "How dare you lie that way to your very own mother! Harry's influence on you has been--"

"He's telling the truth," said Harry quickly-- interrupting his Aunt for the first time in his life. "And not just any witch, but one of the most well-respected ones in our world."

"Sophie's one as well," Dudley added happily, visibly loving his parents reactions. "How does that strike your fancy, eh mummy dear? It turns out that your role model is nothing more than a witch. And so is the girl that you've been after me to start dating, Dad!"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were absolutely silent.

"Ahhh, well Harry? What do you say you and I go up for a bit of telly, eh?" The two stood up from the table. "Of course, you're still invited to the funeral. Roger and his family aren't wizards, so you won't be uncomfortable."

Dudley put his arm around his cousin once more and the two walked upstairs towards Dudley's room.

The sky was a menacing gray on Saturday morning, the sun briefly able to peek through long enough to give the two cousins their wake up call. Harry and Dudley who'd spent the night in sleeping bags on the floor of Dudley's room, hadn't expected Vernon and Petunia to want to go to the funeral, so they dressed and walked downstairs to go across the street for a ride with Roger and the Banburys. Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table in curlers and Vernon was immersed in the morning Daily Mail -- they didn't so much as look at the boys as they left.

They rode in Rogers' car-- the hour journey to Essex being spent in almost complete silence. Sophie sat in the back seat between Harry and Dudley, each one holding onto her hand. Roger pulled his car into a forgotten alley way and they parked, everyone filing out and, climbing a set of decaying stone steps, pushed open an unhinged gate surrounded by ancient brush. Once they stepped inside, they found themselves standing amidst a sprawling lawn, countless enormous willows sheltering them from the outside muggle world.

At the far end, atop the hill was a small white structure with "Willow Vale Mortuary" plastered on its walls. In between that building and where they stood at the entrance gate, were endless seas of headstones. The older sites were obvious because they mostly had bulky, stone monuments marking them-- much the way muggles did. And then there was a sight Harry hadn't been prepared for-- none of them had. The newer gravesites were most apparent since a light-silver spirit of the dead themselves hovered overhead, perfectly still, eyes closed.

It was one of the creepiest things Harry had ever seen, and Dudley, Sophie and Roger looked similarly apprehensive.

"Ah, it's quite all right," came Dumbledore's familiar voice from behind them. "I take it none of you have seen a wizarding gravesite before."

"They're all. . . ghosts?" Dudley squeaked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No-they will not open their eyes let alone talk to you. A few centuries ago it became the custom to, at the burial of a wizard, perform a very powerful spell that allows a perfect representation of the person to stand guard of the gravesite."

"So-then they're like headstones?"

"Basically. Come," said Dumbledore, "this way."

They walked past rows and rows of the translucent people, all eyes closed and lifeless, perfectly preserved as they had been in their primes. A large crowd of people had assembled beneath one particularly large tree. There were a handful of people that had to be muggles: Roger's parents the Banburys of course, and a sprinkling of others who were probably relatives as well or very close friends. The rest were wizards and there were a few faces that were familiar to him: Cornelius Fudge was there, as was Arthur Weasley, and what Harry presumed to be more members from the ministry.

Dudley was sticking close to Harry's side and Harry squeezed his cousin's shoulder supportively. "I'm sure they all look odd to you, Dudley, but they're all wonderful people-- you know Ron Weasley? There's his Dad right there--"

"You don't have to hold my hand, Harry. I'm fine-- n-not n-nervous in the slightest."

A tall man, drowning in robes of sackcloth black appeared before them and the crowd fell hushed. He pulled back his hood to reveal a pale, gaunt face. He was quiet and then finally spoke-his voice just as soft as satin itself. "Imelda Arlington-Banbury, mother, wife, friend and leader. Unjustly taken from all of us this Wednesday past at the hands of her own sister. A sister controlled by the dark forces that our dear Imelda spent her life crusading against . . ."

Roger's arm was around Sophie protectively and there were a few outbreaks of sobbing from the Banbury's-Mrs. Arlington looked positively ill. Harry himself felt weak as he listened to the mans' weighty words, feeling as though he were actually talking about his own mother.

". . . but death conquers naught but the flesh. To those of us who loved her, Imelda Arlington-Banbury will always be with us. For love is a thing infinitely stronger than death."

The man raised his arms high above his head, looked up into the sky and shouted out an incantation that Harry had never heard before. He was awestruck as a shaft of white light shot up from the ground just in front of where the man stood. Harry had to squint from the intensity of the light, as did the rest of the company, and then it gradually changed from white, to blue then to silver. When it all finally stopped, a translucent Imelda Banbury rose before them. She looked so young and beautiful-her eyes closed as though she were simply taking a peaceful sleep.

He heard a gasp and turned to see Dudley's eyes wide in wonderment-it was precisely the way Harry felt.

They made their way back down the rows of countless sites, Dudley was whispering to as they walked. "That was the most beautiful thing that I've ever heard-- what that man was saying, I mean. Beautiful. . ."

"Yeah. . . it was calming, wasn't it?"

"Not a bit like our muggle funerals-Mum would've been disappointed that there weren't people throwing themselves onto a casket or beating themselves in grief-"

Harry stopped in his tracks. From the corner of his eye, he'd spotted something that had sent a chill through his spine. He whipped around and ran, nearly tripping over his feet, and reached them. Two motionless spirits that differed from the rest in that they held each other's hands. The man, handsome with unruly black hair. The mother, an absolute beauty. They were his parents.

James and Lily Potter lingered in front of Harry. Not caring that it was pointless, he reached forward with his fingers and, of course, they drifted right through their forms. If only they could speak . . . if only . . . if only they were real . . .

"Harry?" It was Dudley rushing up behind him, "Harry, what are you doing-- oh."

Harry felt Dudley approach his side but couldn't tear his gaze away to look at him.

"This is them-- your mum and dad?"

Harry nodded.

"I . . . never knew what they looked like, my Aunt and Uncle. This is them . . ." he was quiet for a moment and then, "beautiful. Your mum and dad-- they were beautiful."

Harry subconsciously fiddled with his mothers small gold band he kept on his pinky finger-- noticing that the spirit before him was wearing one as well.

Harry didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but finally, Dudley tugged at his shirtsleeve. "C'mon, mate. Let's go, eh?"

Harry snapped out of his trances and, reluctantly, followed Dudley's steps. Back at the gate, the Banburys and the Arlington's were waiting-along with Dumbledore.

"Ready, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded and turned to his cousin.

"When you comin' home," asked Dudley.

"The 15th."

"I'll be there waiting." Harry hugged his cousin and this time, he really meant it.

"Sophie," Harry started but she cut him off with a flashing smile.

"I'll be waiting too, Harry."

She hugged him again and then Harry turned to follow Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge.

They arrived back at Hogwarts late Sunday morning when half the school had adjourned to their final Hogsmead excursion of the year. That meant that he had the entire Gryffindor common room to himself and Ron who had decided to stay behind and await his return.

They were on their way back from lunch, Harry in the middle of telling Ron more about the funeral service, when he spotted a figure walking down the corridor a good twenty feet ahead of them. But that slicked back blond hair and assertive gait could only have been one person.

"Oy! Malfoy!" Harry jogged ahead and Draco slowed his pace, turning around to face Harry as he approached. Draco wasn't smiling-but then again he wasn't scowling either.

"All right there, Draco? Haven't seen you since-"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Harry nodded. "Right. Good. It's just that after everything that happened, I wanted to make sure-"

"Potter, stop. Just-don't, all right?" Draco was staring at Harry-no anger in his voice or menace in his stare. His voice was quieter than it usually was and he spoke very candidly.

"I know that you've come to try and give me a heart to heat, right? You spend two days with me and you think that you know me and now you're on a crusade to save me, right? You don't know me, Potter. Or my family. It's . . . best that we forget the past week. Nothing has changed: I'm still a Malfoy and you're still a Potter and that's the end of it."

Harry tensed up. "You're wrong. You showed us who you really were that night-you made the right decision."

"Oh? Betraying my father is the right decision? I don't think so! No, I don't have a choice in this-"

"Of course you do! You make the decision on who you want to be! Now, if you want to be what your father is, then that's one thing. But if there's any doubt, any doubt at all, that maybe your destiny is different than his, then you'd better bloody well make that decision."

"You don't understand what my father is capable. Right now, he's probably making arrangements to have Snape sacked-"

"What? Why?"

"Because I bloody almost chose Snape over my father that night, that's why! And Snape is actually lucky that's all my father is doing-you don't know him, Potter. He doesn't care when it comes to things like revenge. Trust me, you want as little to do with me as possible."

Draco, who's voice had been more pleading than threatening, turned to walk away. Harry didn't follow, but called out after him.

"Malfoy!"

Draco slowed and turned, waiting silently for Harry to continue.

Harry took a breath. "You can't pretend to be someone you're not."

"This is who I am!"

Harry walked up to Draco, not two inches away from his face, and stared him down. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said quietly, and then turned to Ron. "Come on, Ron, let's get back to the common room."

They left Draco standing alone, unable to speak.