Without Wand or Wire

Ron, bored out of his mind in the jewelry store, found himself resting his eyes on a pair of glittering opal teardrop earrings in a display case. An image of Hermione wearing them, with her hair piled artfully atop her head save for a few teasing tendrils, came to mind. He shook the image from his head, and looked elsewhere.

This time his eyes fell on a pale gold ring, bearing a delicately-carved fire-opal rose, resting in a green-tinted leafy setting. Vines wrapped around the ring, and sparkling diamond chips that mimicked dew dotted the leaves. Again his imagination grabbed hold of him; this time he was on bended knee, slipping the ring onto her finger--

"Come to buy a pretty for your lady?" asked the shopkeeper (whom Ron rightfully assumed was the "Belle" the shop was named for, even if she was so ancient he couldn't tell if she had ever actually lived up to the name.) She gestured with her heavily-lashed eyes to Hermione -- who, thankfully, was clear across the room, gawking at a case with Petunia.

"No!" Ron squeaked, a little too loudly, drawing Harry's bemused attention.

"The stones know," the shopkeeper insisted, her voice low and mysterious. "They will only go where they belong. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. ..." she looked Ron over, eyes narrowing. "Such is how it was earlier this afternoon, when a man much like you walked in, and left with something precious like this." She gestured to the ring. "Well, not exactly like this one, but just as lovely, and for the same purpose."

"And what purpose would that be?" Harry asked innocently, though his sly smile said he already had an idea.

Belle smiled just as slyly. "What rings are always for. They symbolise unity and eternity."

"Eternally in debt, you mean," Ron snorted, eyeing the price, and wishing the woman would get off his back, before she dragged him too deeply into metaphorically uncomfortable waters and he lost his proverbial footing.

"The price is only high to deter those it was not meant for. When the right person comes at the right time, they find them suddenly very affordable, as your brother learned just this morning."

Quickly forgetting his discomfort, Ron snapped to attention. "Brother? Which one?"

Belle smiled. "Oh, that's not for me to tell, young Weasley. Yes, I know who you are," she told him as he started in surprise (and more than a little alarm.) "Many Weasleys have come through these doors, and walked out well on their way to eternal bliss. But don't worry," she added with amusement, "You may have found the one that this ring, 'The Unexpected Rose', belongs to already, but it will be a few years before you actually have need of it."

Ron studied Hermione out of the corner of his eye nervously, praying she hadn't heard any of the mad woman's ramblings. Is it madness when she speaks the truth? a voice at the back of his head nagged at him. Didn't you finally admit how you felt this morning? Why do you keep balking at the idea of getting together?

Because I'd rather be just her friend forever than tell her how I feel and lose her! he answered.

Bullocks! You'll never be happy just being her friend, Ronald Weasley!

Bloody hell, I'm actually having an argument with myself. ... Hermione's words to Harry in their second year, about how, even in the wizarding world, hearing voices wasn't a good sign, echoed in his mind. Bloody woman's making me bloody crackers. ...

"The Potters are no strangers to my establishment either," Belle continued.

Harry looked up sharply. "Did ... did my father ...?"

Belle nodded. She seemed about to speak, when Petunia called out, beckoning him over to the case she and Hermione were examining. Reluctantly, he obeyed, Ron following out of curiosity.

Petunia pointed to a small gold pendant, shaped like a phoenix with its wings spread sweeping upwards. Tiny chips of garnet, carnelian, and yellow and blue topaz, with a single chip of obsidian for the eye, were set in it, and in its claws it carried a pale green stone that seemed to glow.

"Your mother had a ring that looked a lot like this," Petunia told him. "I only saw it once, but you don't forget something like that. ..."

"Ah, yes, 'The Soul of the Phoenix'. James Potter did indeed give its sister, 'The Heart of the Phoenix', to his lady-love, as an engagement ring," Belle told them. "As peridot is traditionally given on the 16th anniversary, I have little doubt that the necklace would have gone to her last year, if ... well, you know."

[The Soul of the Phoenix, The Unexpected Rose, and some teardrop opal earrings.]

"I wonder what ever happened to the ring. ..." Harry said, gazing at the necklace.

Not wanting Harry to sink into his funk again, Hermione piped up, "Peridot? So that's green stone in its claws?" Belle nodded. Hermione ruminated more, and, for once, no one minded. "I've heard of that before! It's the gem form of olivine, a volcanic stone, and is known to Hawaiians as 'Pele's Tears'. Also often called the 'Evening Emerald', it's the birthstone for August. A favorite of Cleopatra the Seventh, it's supposed to bring wealth and power to the wielder, as well as peace and well-being. In the wizarding world, it's used as an aid in healing, both as a charm and in potions."

Belle nodded again, clearly impressed. "It's also associated with phoenixes because they both are born of fire," the older woman told them. "It's said that the peridot can actually harness the powers of that most majestic of birds -- as well as tame a fiery heart."

"I'll take it," Harry told them quietly. Before Ron, Hermione, or Petunia could protest, he added firmly, "I'm sure someone, like Hagrid or Dumbledore, knows where Mum's ring is, and this should be with it."

There was no adequate response to this. Each of his companions hoped this meant he intended to give the set to his own wife someday; if he was planning that, then he was holding on to hope that he would see happier days, a time without Voldemort, and none of them was willing to take that away from him. They waited silently as Belle wrapped the necklace carefully, and Harry paid her.

* * *

Pansy and Draco fell to their knees as they arrived at their fifth destination. Several of their companions did the same; the rest, though they stayed on their feet, still stumbled a bit. Traveling by Portkey so often in a comparatively little space of time was a bit dizzying. Draco got to his feet first and helped Pansy up, while she muttered "Puhleeeease let this be the last stop!"

"Oh, it is, my dear, in more ways than one for some of us," said a silky voice that was impossibly familiar. "I told you he would come, my Lord!" There was no mistaking the note of pride -- even if it had seldom been heard.

Draco slowly turned his head towards the sound, eyes wide in equal measures of shock, fear, and even, though it shamed him, hope. Sure enough, he espied all-too-familiar strands of white-blond hair peaking out from the hood of one member of their reception.

"F-Father?" Draco whispered.

* * *

"Oh good, I'm glad you're here, boys!" Mrs. Weasley greeted the twins when they arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, "I want you to stay here with me and Ginny and be ready to do whatever Dumbledore might need you to."

The twins shared a scowl. "We didn't join the Order just so we could babysit!" George complained.

"If you want to stay in the Order, you'll do what you're told!" Molly shot back.

"I don't need a babysitter!" Ginny protested. "And it's not like they could keep me here, if I wanted to leave!"

"Ginerva ..." Molly began, in a voice that suggested she and her daughter had already been arguing about the subject.

"It's not fair! You're not making Ron come home from Diagon Alley!--"

"Ron's in Diagon Alley? Ho, that was a stroke of luck to have missed him!" Fred remarked to George, rubbing his stomach as he remembered the punch their younger brother had landed that morning.

"--He never tells you where he's going, but you don't care!" Ginny continued, "You let him gallivant all over London! I just want to go join up with him and Harry and Hermione--"

"And I told you no!" Molly snapped. "That should be enough for you, I'm your mother! And if I had my druthers, Ron, Harry, and Hermione would all be here right now too, so you're better off taking the fact that they're not up with Dumbledore, not me!"

"So if you're so worried about them, why don't you send me and Fred and George to be with them?? There's safety in numbers!" Ginny retorted.

"And have you three in danger too? I don't think so! Haven't you been listening? I don't want any of you out there, I want you all here, but since Albus won't let me bring the others here, I'll take what I can get!"

"Is this what Dumbledore wants, too?" George asked, exasperated. "Does he want you pulling family rank on us when our friends and brothers are out there, about to face You-Know-Who? If you're going to be here, you don't need us to watch Ginny! I agree that she should stay here, but you should let us do something useful, like go back to Diagon Alley to keep an eye on Harry, Ron, and Hermione!"

"Hey! Why should you get to go and not me?!" Ginny looked nearly as frightening as her mother when she was angry.

"We're adults, and you're not," Fred said simply.

"And you got yourself hurt last time, didn't you?" George added. "We don't need that kind of distraction!"

Ginny grew so livid at this that for a moment she couldn't even speak. But then suddenly she gave them a sly smile that made them unconsciously back up a step. "You're awfully brave, you two. As I recall, the last time Ron saw you he wanted to beat the living daylights out of you."

Fred swallowed hard. "I'm ... sure he's forgotten all about that by now. ..."

Molly sighed. "Look, boys, why don't you just wait here with us for Dumbledore to call. If he wants you to go to back Diagon Alley, fine. If he wants Ginny to go there too, then fine, I won't argue. But he might have more use for you boys somewhere else. And ..." her eyes were starting to glitter, "... and I really could use the company while I wait for your father and brothers to come back. Please."

Feeling a sudden stab of guilt, the three nodded and sat down at the table to wait, nursing butterbeers and worrying in a fashion not so far removed as they had done another night the winter just past, when they sat waiting to hear whether their father had lived or died.

* * *

The robed figure pulled back the hood, revealing more of his pale mane, then removed the mask. Just as Draco had thought -- hoped? feared? -- it was Lucius Malfoy behind the skeletal countenance.

His real face wasn't much better.

[Lucius Malfoy ... alive??]

How was it that his father had become such a wasted figure, as if he had spent years in Azkaban, rather than just a few weeks? His cheeks were hollow, his skin and eyes yellowed, and there were lines on his once-perfect face that aged him two decades if they did a day!

Draco pulled back his hood and took off his own mask, but his eyesight didn't seem to improve.

"Draco! My son has joined our ranks at last!" Lucius smiled, and held his arms open for an embrace as he walked forward, in a gesture of affection and familiarity Draco had seldom known from the man.

The younger Malfoy's warring emotions had him in agony. He was here to help Dumbledore and Pansy, he'd chosen to help them! He didn't want to become a killer anymore, now that he'd looked death in the eye! His mother was dead because of Voldemort and, in a way, so was his father! Maybe his father hadn't been murdered, but the existence he had now didn't seem a very far step above death; Voldemort had undoubtedly tortured Lucius over his failure. Draco still didn't want to become a mini-Lucius, didn't want to share his father's fate.

And yet, in his heart, Draco was a little boy again, desperate for his father's love and approval -- and now he had a second chance! He felt his father's arms around him, and it was all he could do to keep from releasing the tears he hadn't cried when he'd learned his sire was dead, in relief at having him back. No! I hate him! I know what a monster he was! A puppet to the Dark Lord! I don't want to be like that! I'm my own man! But he'd worshipped the man until not so long ago, and he was so alone and afraid, so lost now that his world had been shaken beyond recognition. ...

In the end he couldn't keep his arms from wrapping around and holding tight to the last remnant of that old world. "How is this possible? We were told you and the others were killed in Azkaban. ..."

"The Dark Lord saw fit to save us from there. He sent Goyle in with a few Dementors and enough polyjuice potion to switch the rest of us with some Muggles under the Imperius Curse. We switched places with the Muggles, then killed them and escaped. But ... where's Narcissa?" Lucius asked, and there was no doubt in Draco's mind that his father had loved his mother.

She's dead, because she'd thought she'd lost you! Your own master told us as much! Draco wanted to scream in reply. But all he could manage was a hoarse, "She's gone, Father."

Lucius stiffened, and pulled away, eyeing his son with disbelief and not a little suspicion. "Wha ..." he gave a nervous bark of a laugh, "What do you mean, gone?"

It sickened Draco that he could feel such a fierce desire to sob his heart out on his father's shoulder. He'd never done such a thing before his father's supposed death; why should he want to start now? And why should he weep over a woman who'd thought it was too much work to care for him herself, but left it to creatures she thought of as less than nothing to raise him?

That last thought helped to bolster his courage. "She threw herself from your bedroom window." Perhaps there was even a hint of malice in those words.

Though Draco hadn't thought it at all possible for Lucius to look any more like a corpse, he somehow managed it. "M-my Lord? ..." he asked the shadowy trees behind him.

"Mourn her not. She wasn't ... dedicated, Malfoy," a pair of glowing red cat's eyes answered from the dark bracken. One of the shadows moved forward, carrying those terrible orbs within it. "She was weak, and she tried to prevent your son from taking his rightful place with us. You do want to be with us, don't you boy?"

Draco only nodded, as Pansy drew close to him. Voldemort had stepped close enough to the fire his minions had built that they could see his awful, snake-like visage now.

He noticed her movement. "Ahhh, I see young Parkinson has joined us as well. Ready to receive your Dark Mark, my dear?"

Two of the other robed figures that had greeted them when they arrived stepped forward, and Draco knew they were her parents. Draco wondered if they looked terrified under their masks. He thought he knew how they must be feeling -- he wanted nothing more at that moment than to whisk his love far, far away from there. He regretted taking off his own mask, but thought putting it back on at just that moment might look like he was hiding something. He knew he must do nothing to draw Voldemort's attention to his eyes, or all might be lost. Instead, he had to make his own face as a mask for his heart -- something he luckily had had no small amount of practice with.

Pansy knelt before Voldemort, holding out her left arm. "I am ready, my Lord," she told him, her voice proud and strong. To her credit, she did not cry out when Voldemort grabbed her, searing his mark into her flesh with magic fire; were her features contorted in pain under her mask? It was all Draco could do to keep from pulling her from the monster's grasp, and he knew by the set of the Parkinsons' shoulders that they were fighting the same battle. Draco concentrated on keeping his expression a mix of arrogance and boredom, reminding himself fiercely that one misstep would earn them both an early death. Whatever pain Pansy was feeling now, at least she was still alive.

* * *

Not long after leaving Belle's Beauteous Baubles, Harry felt another flash of pain in his scar. He was getting fairly good at handling the pain when it came upon him, so that no one knew what was going on beneath his cool demeanor, but this time it was threatening to betray his secret. He was getting dizzy, his breathing shallow.

Thankfully a young catpurse chose just that moment to run through the high-traffic alley, shoving Harry into the cart of a vendor. The edge of the cart caught him in the back, and the pain was enough to chase the agony of his scar away again. He apologised to the vendor, who expressed concern, and insisted to Petunia, Ron, and Hermione that he'd live, laughing it off. That seemed to satisfy them all, as they went on their way.

Shortly after, they came upon Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Ron proudly led Petunia into his brothers' establishment, and Hermione only somewhat reluctantly followed. She didn't care much for the twins' wares, but she hoped it would cheer Harry up.

To Ron's dismay, the twins weren't there; it was probably one of only a few times in his life when he was actually upset not to see them. Lee explained that they were "off Ordering", and, as they made all their own stock, Ron understood that to mean they were actually working for the Order of the Phoenix. Now he was even more proud of them, but all the more disappointed because he couldn't brag about that to Petunia. He was also a bit worried; they might be prats, but he still loved them, and didn't want them to be hurt or worse on a mission.

Lee also told him, surreptitiously, that he knew the twins had planned to sell their younger brother a car package of Skiving Snackboxes for Ginny's birthday at a considerable discount. Ron quickly agreed, deciding it would be best to have a back-up in case they didn't get to a music store after all. Besides, if they did get to a music store, he could always use the Snackboxes himself. Which was why he decided to hide the purchase from Hermione, who most certainly wouldn't approve of either Weasley using them.

Their stomachs were really starting to growl by then, so they decided to head back over to The Leaky Cauldron. As they walked past Flourish and Blotts, Harry caught snippet of the latest Weird Sisters song pouring out of their open door. Ron apparently had heard it already, because he was singing along to it as he absentmindedly glanced at the storefronts.

Harry glanced at Ron out of the corner of his eye, surprised. He'd never noticed what a good singing voice Ron had! Probably because they had no required music classes at Hogwarts, so there'd never really been an opportunity to find out. When they stopped momentarily to let an old woman with a cart pass, Harry caught Hermione gawking at Ron a little more openly. The tall redhead didn't notice their stares, nor did he even seem to realise he was singing at all, even though they could no longer heard the music. Hermione gave Harry a questioning glance, and he knew she was silently asking if he knew their friend had such a talent. He shrugged in reply, with a bemused smile. Neither was quite willing to ask Ron directly. Ron stopped anyway, once they reached the Cauldron.