The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Part II - Chapter Thirteen
It was going to be one of those nights, Bones thought. In fact, come to think of it, it was going to be one of those weeks. He sat gloomily in his chair at the conference table, at which Major Halsey, Lieutenant Daniels and Lieutenant Worthington also sat. Unfortunately, Superintendent Masters, the Assistant Commissioner and the Prime Minister were also at the table. The first item on the agenda was the assignments of their new recruits upon the completion of their initial training intensive.
Masters wanted Bones reassigned to the Yard along with his special recruits to take up their jobs on the promised Special Task Force. The Major wanted all of his new recruits assigned to him, to be integrated into the MI-5 team and to provide badly needed manpower for surveillance and intelligence analysis on several fronts. Bones could not help wondering which meeting was likely to be worse - this one, or the one the following night with Dumbledore and Minister Weasley and the members of the Order. He could feel the beginnings of a headache pinching his temples and tightening his neck.
"Look," Superintendent Masters said, "the whole idea was to train these recruits and then have a permanent task force. We've been having serious difficulties with these gangs since last July. They keep shifting their loyalties and they've been killing off each other when they're not going on rampages in normally decent, quiet neighborhoods."
"I wasn't told about this special task force," Major Halsey objected. "We need every recruit we have and I wouldn't have taken them in the program if I knew they'd be assigned elsewhere immediately. We could have accepted other perfectly good applicants if we'd known."
"You'll still have fifteen perfectly good new bodies," Masters answered. He looked at the Prime Minister and said stiffly, "I see no reason to depart from the original plan, sir. We want the Special Task Force and you know our reasons."
"And just who are the recruits that you want from us?" Worthington asked.
Masters looked at Bones and his headache arrived for real as he answered, "The two Weasleys, Granger and Potter."
"You can have the other three," Halsey said quickly, "but I want Potter."
Daniels and Worthington looked as though they'd disagree, but neither was willing to contradict their superior at that table.
Masters stared at Bones and said, "He's the one we were promised."
Major Halsey was no fool. "What do you mean, you were promised? You know what he is then?"
The Prime Minister stirred, and thankfully, Edgar was not called on to give his opinion, which would have pleased none of them. "We know what he is, Major." He took a time buying sip of his coffee and said, "It was quite a coup landing him, you know. Their Minister was dead set against it. Not the previous one, Fudge, but the new one. He is honest, you see, unlike Fudge was. And it's much harder to manipulate and force honest man, even when you've got the power of the Crown in hand."
Daniels mouthed, their Minister, but refrained from speaking aloud. Edgar had a feeling that the Lieutenant was going to make the next morning quite difficult as well.
Worthington, however, did speak up. "I don't see what the big deal is, frankly. The boy is clever and talented all right, but he's not the best in the group. There're others who're much stronger in a number of defense areas. Unless you're impressed with his psychic abilities?"
"Potter's not psychic," Halsey corrected, "he's a wizard. And you've never seen him use his real talents Lieutenant." Halsey turned to the Prime Minister and said, "We want him. We've invested three months in his training and he's got a good deal more training to do. And it's not good for morale when a company's members are splintered off so quickly."
The Prime Minister said curiously, "How do you know about him, major?"
"My wife's a witch," the Major said without hesitation.
"Well, we all know your wife's eccentric, Halsey," Masters interrupted.
"She's not eccentric," Halsey, said firmly, "She is a genuine witch. I read their paper from time to time when she shows it to me. I ought to have recognized the boy the moment I saw him, but it never occurred to me they'd let someone like him work for us."
"That's all every well," Masters said, "but I don't see that it changes things. We're meant to have this Special Task Force and as I understand it, the need is still there."
The Prime Minister looked at Bones and threw him to the wolves. "Well, Bones, this is your baby. What's your opinion on the matter?"
Bones kept his face as calm as he was able considering that no matter what he said someone superior to him in the chain of command was bound to be offended.
"As I understood it, sir,” he replied, "we were supposed to be an independent department of our own, and the recruits were assigned to train with MI-5 because we have no training facilities as of yet."
Sure enough, both the Major and the Superintendent looked immediately hostile to the idea of a totally separate and independent branch treading on their territories. The Prime Minister said nothing to back him up and Edgar realized that the Prime Minister was hoping that he would come up with a solution that would achieve his objective – wizards fighting for his government - without causing interdepartmental rivalries.
"However," Bones continued delicately, "I see no reason why at this time Potter and the others should not continue their work out of MI-5." He put up a hand when Masters started to protest and added, "With the understanding, of course, that they will be available for assignment to the Yard or Special Branch or even MI-6, if necessary, as the occasion arises."
The Prime Minister, he could see, liked that very much, though clearly Major Halsey was not entirely thrilled. Well, the home forces and the international security forces were always jealous of each other's preserves. Edgar focused on Halsey, though, as he finished, knowing that the Major was as strong an ally as he would have in the mire of Muggle agencies. "It only makes sense, you see, if just look at the current situation. We know that Malfoy, a follower of Riddle's, the Lord of Death as they called him, met with Hayden who's with the Anglo Aryan Alliance. We know that the Alliance was behind the recent attack at the Metro Center. And we know that Hayden has stepped in the hole left by Riddle and begun recruiting the same gangs that Riddle was using. And we know that Hayden has international ties to related groups in Austria and Germany and possibly other countries on the continent."
"How do you know that?" Halsey asked sharply.
"I have my sources," Edgar answered.
"But there weren't any wizards in on the attack at the Center," Masters interjected.
For a moment, Bones had the strangest feeling of unreality. Here he was discussing dark wizards with all these Muggles, an event he could never have imagined growing up as he had in a pure blood family.
"No," Bones admitted.
"Why not, if they're working together?" Halsey asked.
Edgar was certain he was going to be in trouble with Dumbledore and Minister Weasley, but there was really no alternative. "It's possible that they are planning something else. And we also think that there's something of power struggle going on among Riddle's followers now that he's gone. That's distracting them. I'd guess there's a bit of jealousy, too, between them and Hayden. They have similar aims, but their focus is not altogether the same."
"Who's the "we" you're talking about," Daniels asked. The bright blue eyes beneath the formidable eyebrows were looking very unhappy, and no wonder. After all, Bones thought, no one wants his entire notion of the world shook up and turned upside down.
"We wizards," Bones said with resignation. "The Minister of Magic, in particular."
Halsey, Daniels and Worthington all stared at him. Masters, on the other hand, was looking grimly satisfied. For once, he had known more of the pieces on the board than his counterparts in intelligence.
Halsey stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You've been working for the Yard for a number of years already, haven't you? How come this isn't known and how come the Ministry permitted it?"
Edgar considered them all and felt it was time to lay all his cards on the table.
"The Ministry had nothing to do with it," he answered. "Riddle ... Voldemort, you see, murdered my entire family when I was sixteen, and he only missed me out because I was outside at the time. I ran away because I knew he'd kill me too, and I pretended to be one of you for years. But when Voldemort began killing people outside the wizard community two years ago, I guessed it was him and I knew it was necessary to inform the Superintendent then."
"The point is, gentlemen," the Prime Minster said, "it is essential that we all work together now. All of our departments must work together and we must work together with our wizards to ensure the people’s safety. And we will keep their existence secret for the time being, for our mutual sakes. You are privy to this because it is needful for you to know. And I expect your cooperation on all fronts."
The Prime Minister turned to Bones and said, "I appreciate your work Bones. You've done a hell of a job under enormous pressures. And I'll take your recommendation for now. Potter and the others will continue under yours and Halsey's direction for now, but available to Masters or other agencies at need. And when the time is ripe, you'll be the independent satellite security agency we initially envisioned."
"Independent," Bones responded firmly, because it was now up to him to stand in for the Minister of Magic, "and not a satellite. Wizards have always owed their allegiance to and served the Crown directly. And that cannot change."
***
Hermione could not help noticing the huge difference in Harry's attitude and demeanor. He had eaten hungrily at lunch, made silly jokes that weren't all that funny, but seemed funnier because he laughed in the middle of them, and he seemed to glow with health and happiness. He had to be up to something, she concluded, although what was a puzzle. He had gracefully turned the subject when she asked him about his absence the previous morning and insisted that he had climbed a tree during the morning surveillance exercise.
"Are you sure you didn't go invisible," she asked him in a whisper, "or use a disillusionment spell?"
He rolled his eyes and said, "Of course not, Hermione. It's not my fault none of you thought to look up in the trees."
Then he had slipped away before any of the rest of them had finished with the excuse that he wanted some fresh air. Fortunately, Ginny had the sense to grab the remaining half of her sandwich and had tucked her hand in his and said, "I'll join you."
Ron shook his head at the fatuous looks on their faces and said, "They've got it bad, haven't they? It's a good thing Mum can't see them or she'd move the wedding up to tomorrow." Then he had given her the exact same kind of look and she had been so torn between amusement and delight that she had replied, "Tomorrow would be all right with me."
But for once, Ron was the practical one. "We have to have a proper wizard wedding," he asserted. "I'll have to write to Dumbledore about using the Great Hall. That was one of your more brilliant ideas, you know."
They were grinning at each other in nearly as fatuous a fashion as Harry and Ginny when Inspector Bones showed up and waved a paper at them. "What do you know about this?" he asked in a very low, but frosty voice. Hermione supposed that if he used that on his suspects, they would confess all in a moment.
"What?" Ron asked. He held out a hand and Bones handed him the paper, that morning's Daily Prophet.
They both gawked at the pictures and headlines on the front page. "How'd you get this anyway?" Ron asked. "You can't have owls flying about delivering things here."
"It's my regular home delivery," Bones explained. "I had a meeting there last night and went home to sleep. The owl showed up with it this morning."
Hermione stared at the front page and shook her head. "We don't know anything about this," she answered. But all the same, she wondered whether it might be the answer to their puzzle.
The headline read, "BOY WHO LIVES CURES YORKSHIRE VAMPIRE," and below that was another headline, "INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE: THE MIRACLE THAT CHANGED ME BACK."
The Daily Prophet can reliably report that the Boy Who Lived is indeed back. Yesterday morning, he entered the recently abandoned church in whose crypt the vampire slept. The vampire has haunted the area for some three hundred years, traveling from village to village in search of new victims. In recent weeks, the vampire had moved into the tiny hamlet of Shipping Snee, which boasts a population of 50 wizards and 50 Muggles who have lived in harmony for many years. When the vampire began attacking both Muggles and wizards, one their leading citizens, Cornelius Harold Forster appealed to the Ministry of Magic for help. Imagine the town's surprise, and apparently the Ministry's as well, when the Boy Who Lived appeared and took care of the problem.
Instead of driving out the vampire of killing him, the Boy Who Lived affected an unheard of miracle cure. Yorkshire has been freed of a long time menace and the vampire has been restored after three hundred years of living hell to a normal human life. (Read more details in our exclusive interview with the vampire)
"Oh, come on," Ron said. "This has got to be a load of dragon dung. They've been having these reports come out every other week since Voldemort was defeated. Half of them happened when Harry was still in a coma or so weak he could hardly stay awake for half the day, much less go jaunting off to all sorts of odd corners to do miracles." He snorted and turned to the interview with the vampire.
Up until then, Hermione had been inclined to laugh right along with Ron. However, the details of the former vampire's story gave her pause.
Will Sneed is a former vampire, correspondent Rita Skeeter reports.
Hermione looked at Ron at the mention of Rita and said, "Guess that tells you how reliable this story is."
"I dunno," Ron said with a frown. "She doesn't always report total lies. She sticks mostly to the truth if the truth is fantastic enough." He looked back and continued reading.
"I was taking a nice kip in an old coffin the crypt when the introduction of a very bright light woke me," the vampire reported. "I was dead scared that someone had let in the sun, but then I realized it was only the light from a wizard's wand. I sat up and made a nice scary sound. It always worked to scare my victims so much that they just froze and I'd be able to get the blood to feed me. And I can tell you; I was that hungry on account of the people in Shipping Snee were on to me and no one would come into my crypt or walk the streets after sundown. In the light, I saw two men and a woman. But the only one I had eyes for was the Boy Who Lived. I recognized him immediately on account of the scar on his forehead. It's a fine line exactly in the shape of lightning bolt. And then there were his eyes. Scariest thing I've ever seen. Brilliant green they are and they glowed like and there was no fear in them at all. He points his wand at me and says in this deep-echoed voice, "You'll have to leave here, you know." And I say, I'm tired of roaming and I want to come home. See, Shipping Snee is my hometown. I was born here three hundred years ago and I got bit myself when I was only fifteen. Then I explained to him how I got bit by this female vampire only I didn't realize what she was, see, and I was totally enthralled and it was over before I could run. And the other wizards, they told him to just kill me or drive me out and stop dithering, but see, he seemed to understand. I told him how I didn't really want to be a vampire but I was cursed and couldn't help myself. And really I couldn't. That's how awful it is to be a vampire. I was really hungry, too, so hungry that I made a rush at him, even though I knew who he was, and he flung me back into the wall with a word. Then, you know, it came over me how awful it was being dead and not dead and I cried and told him I didn't mean to attack him when I knew what a great hero he was and he had to excuse me on account of I was just so very hungry and when a vampire gets hungry for blood, he just can't help himself and that's how it is. And he felt sorry for me that I am what he said. So he says, "You can't bite me or anyone else here, but I'll make a deal with you. I'll give you some blood to keep you going and we'll set you up somewhere that they can donate some blood to you so you don't actually have to bite anyone." And I said yes cause I was that desperate and the curse would make you say anything and do anything. The other wizard, he didn't want the Boy to do it, but the Boy, he goes up to the main floor where I had come in during an evening service the Wednesday last, cause I wanted fresh blood, and he takes a cup from the table and rinses it in the font where they have the holy water you know. And the Witch who was with him, she says, "You can't use that, Harry," that's what she calls him, by his name, see, and she says, "You can't just wash a cup in the holy water like that," and he says, "Why not? It might do him some good," and it's like he knew. Then he takes his wand and cuts himself and lets the blood drain into the cup and he sets the cup out for me. Offers it to me and he says, "Go on and drink it. It'll keep you for a little while, won't it?" And I grabbed it and drank it; of course, cause a vampire will take any blood he can get. And then, well, I can't describe it, what happened, I drank it and right away I could feel it, it was like lightning rushing through me and like a strong wind was blowing me clean from inside and I could feel this thunder inside me and I realized, it's my heartbeat. I've got a heartbeat!"
This reporter can tell you, readers, there has never been so affecting a marvelous a tale as that of the vampire. He broke down and wept then and said he'd been freed from an eternal prison. But when he went to thank the Boy Who Lived, the Boy disappeared in an instant and made no sound, so we know that he didn't disapperated, but has some greater magic that has let him conquer death itself.
Hermione looked at Ron and barely managed to keep from blurting out, the cut on his hand! Then common sense reasserted itself and she said, "It's Rita Skeeter writing it, Inspector. They must have made the whole thing up. And she's met Harry so she would be able to describe his scar and his eyes accurately."
"You're sure it wasn't him?" the Inspector asked quietly.
"He was here yesterday morning," Ron said stoutly. "Ask Daniels. He showed up for our morning exercise right on the dot."
Bones, however, did not look altogether persuaded. He folded up the paper very small and stuck it in his inner jacket pocket and went away looking very thoughtful.
Hermione looked at Ron and said, "It couldn't have been him, could it?"
"I dunno," Ron answered. "He was here."
"Yes," she said, "But it sounds just like him, doesn't it? And he has got a cut on his hand. And we don't know where he was before roll call. And he was supposedly sitting in a tree in the forest for an hour and three-quarters before he showed up again."
"Yeah, but..." Ron said, "if it was him, who were the other wizard and witch? It wasn't either of Ginny, or us so who? And anyway," he added, "Did you know a vampire could be cured like that, by having someone give a gift of blood willingly?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'll have to look it up. I don't recall reading anything like that when we did our vampire essays for Professor Lupin."
***
Bones could not avoid a confrontation with the other officers forever. He had gone into his small classroom to set up for his case investigation class but before he could finish, Daniels and Worthington slipped into the room and closed the door behind them.
"We want an explanation," Daniels said calmly. His manner was not exactly threatening, but Bones sensed that it could become so in a flash.
"What do you want to know?" Bones asked quietly. He hoped that a calm manner would remind them that he was still their colleague, still on their side.
"The truth," Worthington answered. "The major, you see, is nuts about his wife. If she told him she could turn him into a frog he'd believe it. We want to know if you are really psychic, too. And just what can you do? Do you read minds? See the future like the kid did?"
Bones sighed. "I'm not psychic," he answered. "I don't read minds and I have no talent for divination - that's seeing the future - at all. What you saw Potter do was truly extraordinary, even for a wizard."
"So what do you do, have black masses?" Worthington asked. His tone had gone more hostile, no doubt because cultists were sometimes among the worst criminals to deal with.
"That stuff, Satanism," Bones replied, "That's a load of nonsense. There's no real magic in it, and I can assure you, I'm a perfectly normal Christian just like you are. I just happen to be a wizard." He studied their disbelieving faces and said, "It's true. I was born that way. My parents were wizards. My whole family was wizards. It's a talent, you know, like being able to sing or paint. You're born with it, but it has to be nurtured."
"So if you ran away when you were sixteen," Daniels asked, "when did you have time to study it?" then he paused and said, "Gawd, just listen to me. Sounds like we're discussing you're lessons with the Royal Academy."
Bones smiled, a small smile. "It is rather like that."
He hoped that would be enough, but after all, he was dealing with trained investigative officers. "So," Daniels said, "Do something for us. Snap your fingers or whatever you do."
"I don't snap my fingers," Bones said coolly, "and I don't do tricks for an audience."
"So we just have to take your word for it then?" Worthington asked. "And we're supposed to rely on you to do magic if the occasion arises? And how are we supposed to know how to integrate it into our work?"
"You aren't," Bones replied shortly. "That’s my job."
They didn't like that at all and he could see their point. The question was, how much could he do without getting into trouble with the Ministry. Well, he thought, all bets were off now, at least here, and it was the Ministry's fault for consenting to the Prime Minster's blackmail. Fudge, he thought savagely, was to blame.
He shrugged then and said pacifically, since he had to work with these men and they were or had been on the road to becoming his friends, "Here, this is what I use."
He drew out his wand, which he had bought almost immediately upon re-entering the wizard world and considered it fondly. It was an Ollivander's and a really fine one.
"What the devil?" Daniels exclaimed. "Is that what I think it is?"
"It's my wand," Edgar answered. He hoped his tone was exactly the same as if he were talking about his watch or his gun.
Worthington's eyes narrowed. "It's like those wooden sticks the Lord of Death used." He looked up and something like fear came into his eyes and resentment, too, because he was a brave man and didn't like being faced with something he couldn't understand or fight. "Can you do that? Make that laser thing that kills?"
Edgar shook his head. He looked out the window to compose himself as the reference to the Killing Curse brought back the memories he tried to suppress.
"No," he said after a moment. "It's not a laser thing," he added. "What he did, Riddle, is called the Killing Curse. Very few wizards have the capability of doing that and even fewer will, because using it gets you life imprisonment." He added reluctantly, "It's how Voldemort murdered my family, you see."
Something of their suspicion dissipated, perhaps due to pity. "But you can use it?" Daniels asked.
Bones sighed and thought, oh, what the hell. He lifted his wand and distributed the stack of papers from the single pile on his desk one to each recruit's desk. Then he walked over to the blackboard and tapped it, and the instructions for the day appeared upon the board. A neat little trick that, which he had learned when Professor McGonagall would ask him to put up her instructions fifth year. With a smiled, because McGonagall was one of his favorites, he transfigured a piece of chalk into a goblet of water.
The two men watched with open mouths and Daniels said hoarsely, "I don't think I like this at all."
"I'm perfectly harmless," Edgar said calmly. "Except to the sons of you know what we try to catch. And you know what, I'd be scared of you, to; if you were my enemy, as I've seen you in the gym and on the range. It's all matter of perspective, you see."
~~~
Perspective was what Bones sorely needed when he attended that evening's meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. The first subject of the meeting, however, left him feeling enraged and stunned and awestruck all at once. In short, he was not amused; though in retrospect, later, he found himself laughing from time to time without warning.
Because of the number of members attending, they were meeting that night at Grimmauld Place, one of Edgar's least favorite of their hidey-holes. Waving the morning's article about "Harry's" vampire rescue, Molly Weasley immediately launched into a tirade about the Daily Prophet.
"WHY CAN'T SOMETHING BE DONE ABOUT THIS?" she shouted. "THE MINISTER OF MAGIC SHOULD BE ABLE TO STOP THESE RIDICULOUS STORIES! AND DON'T LOOK SO WOUNDED ARTHUR! THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN! EVERYONE THINKING HARRY IS GOING ABOUT HEALING VAMPIRES!"
The Minister’s embarrassed and long suffering complaint of, "Molly, please!" was heard simultaneously with Tonks', "It's not ridiculous. Bloody marvelous, it was, really," and almost as simultaneously with Snape's dry, sarcastic, "I knew we should have obliviated the idiot," though whether he was referring to the former vampire or to Harry was not entirely clear.
Bones, finding himself possessed or a rare anger himself, interrupted, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IT'S NOT RIDICULOUS? ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT HARRY POTTER WAS IN YORKSHIRE YESTERDAY MORNING HEALING A BLOODY VAMPIRE WHEN HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN TRAINING EXERCISES?"
Everyone stared at him and he had to drag in a breath to compose himself while he wondered just what a mess he might have made of things. After all, he wasn't sure just who of those attending were supposed to know that Harry was alive or where he was.
Surprisingly, Snape chuckled, snickered rather, but there it was, a genuine honest to gawd sound of amusement. "It seems Potter has no more respect for Muggles' rules than he does for wizards'," he said. "You have got an awful job, haven't you, Bones, playing nursemaid to The Boy Who Lived!"
Bones managed to control his anger, in part because Arthur Weasley’s astounded him has silenced his wife's next tirade by the simple expedient of putting a hand over her mouth. The others, who had begun to chatter altogether about Harry being alive, Harry healing a vampire, Harry working for the Muggles, all gawped at the Minster and fell silent when he spoke. "Perhaps, Professor Snape," the Minister said calmly, "you would be so kind as to tell us what you know about this."
A small smile played about the Professor's thin lips, but it was wiped off when Tonks cut in and began to describe the episode with relish.
"It was perfectly brilliant," Tonks said, "and even Snapey here didn't expect anything like what Harry did."
"But what was Harry doing there?" Bones asked.
"Well, he was visiting Professor Dumbledore, of course, and he happened to be there just when Snapey and I were about to go deal with this vampire. So he volunteered to go along and you know the rest." Tonks beamed at them delightedly. Her hair was a bubble-gum pink but oddly seemed to be done in the same untidy mess as Harry's. Her black eyes were her own, though.
"We do not know the rest," Minerva McGonagall snapped. "How is it possible that Harry is alive in the first place? How is it possible that some of you know this," she paused there and her nostrils got the very pinched look that signaled someone was in very grave trouble, "and others of us don't?" McGonagall turned to Dumbledore and said, "Albus, why?"
Dumbledore sighed and looked unaccountably almost ashamed. "I am sorry Minerva and those of you who did not know, but it seemed best that as few as persons know as possible. Professor Snape knew because he very kindly produced the potions that helped Harry regain his health after his fight with Voldemort."
A loud sniff with the effect of a small tornado came from the end of the table, which was taken up entirely by Hagrid. "It's true? Harry's alive?" Hagrid asked. "How?"
That was the ultimate question, Bones thought. Even if he knew, however, Dumbledore did not answer. "I don't know," the elderly wizard replied. "The Curse appeared to have stopped his heart as you all saw. It started back up again; only he was so weak that we were sure he would die. He was certainly on the brink of death for some weeks after and it seemed best to let everyone think he was dead until we knew for sure he would recover. And until we knew he would be able to defend himself from the Death Eaters’ revenge."
Everyone sobered immediately as they all knew how difficult catching the remaining Death Eaters' had proven.
"But it's true that Harry healed this vampire?" Lupin asked quietly. Oddly, he addressed Snape rather than Tonks. "The idiot boy felt sorry for the vampire," Snape answered. "Instead of attacking it promptly, he listened to its sad story and gave it the opportunity to attack."
"Well, he took care of that easy enough," Tonks interrupted. "Stunners don't usually work so well on vampires - just bounce off, you know. Harry's knocked the thing half-way through the wall of the crypt."
"He's always had plenty of power," Snape said. "The problem is what he decides to do with it." Some of the order members rustled uneasily. Clearly even those who knew Harry were just a little worried about what the man who had killed the worst dark wizard in history might do.
Having got everyone's undivided attention, Snape continued, "The problem with Potter is always what he will decide to do next," he repeated critically. "In this case, he thought he could make a deal with the vampire; A drink of blood in exchange for the vampire's departure. As if the vampire would have kept his side of the bargain."
"Well, it worked out, didn't it?" Tonks said.
"In the way that things work out with Potter," Snape answered, "never the way anyone expects, including himself. So yes, the vampire drank a cup of blood, which Potter so obligingly gave, and the vampire were... healed. I'm quite sure that Potter did not know this would happen."
Dumbledore cut in and said, "I believe you are too harsh, Severus. You underestimate the power of compassion, which is indeed a gift Harry has in full measure."
"An excess of compassion can kill those who are least expecting it," Snape answered, "as it permits the enemy a means of manipulating those who are so noble; as the former owner of this House can testify."
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF SIRIUS!" Lupin shouted. The usually cool Professor was flushed with fury, but Snape looked at him with cool derision. "It was the Dark Lord's ability to play on Potter's emotions, his compassion, that led Sirius to his death," Snape said unemotionally. "Let us hope that he grows up someday and begins to behave with more circumspection."
A draft blew through the kitchen as the back door opened and a voice said coolly, "There's circumspection and then there's cowardice, but neither of them are as good as kindness, Professor Snape."
Harry entered, followed by the two Weasleys and Granger. Like everyone else, Bones was so busy staring in amazement at Harry, even though he had seen him only hours before, that it took him a full minute to become annoyed again at him for leaving the Compound again.
Bones was about to demand how the four of them had gotten leave to be away from the Compound, but his words were smothered by the shrieks from Mrs. Weasley, who promptly enveloped them all in a great hug, the enormous bellow of delight from Hagrid, who joined her and practically squashed all five of them and the general babble of greetings.
It was Snape who managed to ask, "What are you doing here?" and who received the perfectly serene answer, "I asked them to come," from Professor Dumbledore.
Dumbledore waved his wand and four more chairs took shape around the already crowded table. "I thought it best, you see, after this morning's article, and Harry persuaded me it was time to end this charade that he is dead, at least among the members of the Order," Dumbledore explained.
"What article?" Harry immediately asked.
Dumbledore raised his snowy brows and the younger Weasleys exchanged unhappy glances with Granger. "This article," Snape said, pointing a long, bony finger at the Daily Prophet, which Mrs. Weasley had dropped in her agitation.
Harry glanced at it quickly and said, "How did that Skeeter cow get a hold of this so fast? Not to mention she's got the usual nonsense embellishing it."
"Well, Harry," Tonks said, "you can't go about making appearances and healing vampires without expecting this sort of press."
"That's what I mean," Harry said, "What the devil is all this nonsense about me healing the vampire? I just got rid of him by giving him a bit of lunch."
Snape rolled his eyes and said, "I forgot you left before Mr. Sneed announced to the entire village his astonishing recovery."
"You're joking," Harry said.
"I? Joke?" Snape said. "Never."
Instant laughter accompanied this statement, both because of the dry tone in which it was uttered and because of Harry's ferocious glare. Before anyone could continue, however, Dumbledore took over.
"This is not the most pressing matter," Dumbledore said calmly, "as curious as it may be. What we need to discuss is how we are going to stop the remaining Death Eaters from continuing to coalesce around a new leader and how to capture every last one of them as soon as possible."
"That's simple enough," Harry said. "All I have to do is show up somewhere public and stay there long enough and they'll come out to get me. The rest of you can stand by and stun them as they appear."
"Oh, that'll work," Ron, said. "Give them the perfect opportunity to kill you after all. I think all this Muggle stuff has addled your brains, Harry. Not to mention, you've ignored everything we learned about, erm, working together, and sharing the risks."
"I have not," Harry said. "I'm not against working together. I'm just saying I'm the perfect bait. They'll want their revenge. Let them think they have a shot at it and they'll be so busy focusing on me that they'll never consider anyone else might be important, like Professor Dumbledore, for instance."
"I appreciate your offer," Dumbledore replied, "but I see no reason for anyone here to offer himself or herself as a target. I think, Harry, that you must see how important it is for you not to do that very thing. What we want is a plan for identifying their present base and a plan of attack when it is located."
"We haven't been very successful so far," Professor McGonagall said. "Every time we have sent someone to their last known hiding place, they have left in advance or managed to escape." This was accompanied by one of her beadiest looks, which caused many of the younger members there to wince uncomfortably. It also reminded them that the Professor herself had not been included in any of their forays so far, a point of irritation to the Transfiguration teacher.
Mad Eye Moody had been staring at Harry, his magical eye whizzing dizzyingly, and he muttered, "He looks solid, mostly solid. Very odd, indeed." Then he said in a fierce growl, "What's say you and me go after them next time Minerva. Can't leave a dirty job like this to these young uns."
"Quite," she answered.
From the corner, Mundungus Fletcher mumbled, "I think yer all a bit hasty here. See, I think all Harry has to do is show 'is face for real and all the Death Eaters'll run for it. None o' them'll be wantin' to face the one what killed You Know Who. They'll be too afraid to face 'im."
Harry's face stilled at that. "That's why you set up all those fake appearances," Harry said slowly to Dumbledore. "You wanted the rest of the wizards to stop thinking of me as Voldemort's killer and to start thinking of me in a positive way, didn't you? Because everyone, or a lot of people will be certain I used dark magic if I managed to survive, won't they?"
Dumbledore seemed to flinch ever so slightly, but his blue eyes were calm as he answered, "Perhaps some will think that. But most will be grateful, I assure you. As we all are."
Harry shivered slightly and said bleakly, "I don't want gratitude for being a killer, thank you."
That silenced everyone except Hagrid, who said, "Tha's a right load o' nonsense, Harry. I never saw a braver thing than what you did, an' everyone who was there thinks the same." He looked fiercely about the room and seemed to imply he would beat anyone there who so much as hinted anything different. No one seemed willing to contradict him either.
Only Snape said in long-suffering tones, "Gryffindors. All those heroics do seem to stunt their thinking abilities." He glanced at McGonagall, who had bristled and looked as though she would spit, and said, "Present Company excepted, Professor McGonagall."
The insult seemed to snap Harry out of his gloom for he replied sharply, and nearly as dryly as Snape, "I think we all know that bravery and intelligence, and even bravery and, erm, subtlety are not mutually exclusive, Professor Snape." His green eyes remained focused on the Professor's cold black ones and it was the Professor who blinked first and appeared quite at a loss for words.
"It's much more difficult and takes far more bravery," Harry said quietly, "to go among the very enemy knowing that the enemy probably knows what you're up to, and do it anyway knowing the risk, and let others think you're a coward or one of them."
This time, Snape's mouth hung open a bit, but he recovered quickly and said, "I hope you don't think this is going to make me like you or think you are anything but an insufferable brat."
"Who said anything about liking?" Harry answered. "I'm quite sure I wouldn't know what to do if you were ever nice to me, Professor."
What might pass for a tiny smile twitched at the Snape's mouth? "I think we can agree to cooperative hostility," Snape replied. "Though I must say I am relieved that you appear to be sufficiently recovered so as to go knocking your own brains about doing whatever stupid heroics you decide to come up with next. It is far better than having to keep Miss Nymphadora Tonks out of trouble whilst she masquerades as you. Her disguise abilities are adequate, but her wand work is even sloppier than yours."
Tonks shrieked nearly as loudly as Mrs. Weasley and drew her wand on Snape, "I've told you never to call me by my first name."
Snape pushed her wand aside with a single finger and said, "Of course. So long as you refrain from mangling mine."
Harry took advantage of the general chatter to ask Mr. and Mrs. Weasley very quietly, "Might I talk to you for a moment?"
They slipped out into the lounge, but once there, Harry found himself tongue-tied. He could feel himself turning red and wished that just once he could be smooth and confident and sound grown-up when it mattered. Mrs. Weasley seemed to understand this, for she asked very kindly, "What is it, Harry, dear?"
"I...well. The thing is," Harry, stammered, "I just wanted to be sure that you, erm, are okay with me and Ginny getting married. I mean, I know it's a bit sudden and all."
He stopped there because Mrs. Weasley turned pink and started to weep, and hid her face in Mr. Weasley's shoulder and Mr. Weasley coughed and couldn't seem to say anything either. Harry was quite horrified. "You do mind, don't you?" he said. "Is it because I'm, you know, a half-blood or just because..."
"No! No, no," Mrs. Weasley answered and Mr. Weasley said, "Not at all, dear boy. Of course not."
"But then what is it? Why?" Harry asked. He felt, dreadfully, that his chance of happiness was going to slip away more easily than a drift of smoke dissipating on the wind.
"It's just we're so happy," Mr. Weasley said and Mrs. Weasley threw her arms around him babbling, "He's such a lamb, and I'm so stupid weeping and making him think we didn't want him."
Then he realized it was okay and his insides settled back down. Mr. Weasley wrung his hand and all the new lines of care that had worn their way into his face smoothed out. "Couldn't be happier," he said and he sniffed as though he had a nasty cold.
"There we were," Mrs. Weasley said tearily, "thinking you were going to die and our baby would never be happy again." She stopped and wiped her eyes and then looked at him fiercely. "You do love her, don't you?"
Harry flushed again and nodded and coughed because his own throat had closed up tight and he couldn't say anything. Finally, he managed to squeeze out, "Yeah, I do," and he added in a rush, "I asked Professor Dumbledore if we could have the wedding at Hogwarts and he said it was okay, and do you mind?"
Mrs. Weasley threw her arms around him again and hugged him tight and Mr. Weasley hugged him, too. A great feeling of relief swept through him and he felt as though a block of ice that had hidden itself inside him and that he'd not even noticed was there had melted and gone. A wave of affection for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley washed through him and he felt affection for everything, even for the house they were in, which he had always disliked before.
The soft, light from the candles in the chandelier seemed to brighten and he felt, as he sometimes did, that other world shimmer before him and he saw, real and beautiful, his Mum smiling at him. He smiled back and reached out a hand and wished he could embrace her too, but he hadn't the heart to push away Mrs. Weasley. His Mum smiled at him and came to him and he felt the touch of her kiss upon his cheek, soft as a summer wind blowing by, and so mild it was hardly felt, but lovely all the same.
"It's all right then," he said, though he did not know whether he was addressing the Weasleys or his Mum or all of them.
***
Tonks had begun quizzing Ron and Hermione about their jobs and they had answered awkwardly, torn perhaps between wanting to tell all and not being able to. Bones was amused though, when Tonks enthused over their fatigues and boots, causing Snape to roll his eyes and mutter nastily about bubble-headed witches with unfortunate fixations on Muggle garments. He noticed that Dumbledore had quietly moved toward the lounge and decided to follow. He supposed that the elderly wizard wanted to see where Harry had got.
Curious, Bones followed Dumbledore and then almost wished that he hadn't. In the lounge, Mrs. Weasley was hugging Harry and Mr. Weasley was hugging Mrs. Weasley and Harry.
Harry, however, was looking at something, or really nothing, for there was nothing there to look at but a swath of green curtains hanging down. Yet the expression on his face was like the expression he had worn the day he had Seen the attack on the Ministry - focused upon some sight only he could see - except that this time his face was lit with joy and the boy reached out a hand as though he could touch whatever was there.
Then Mrs. Weasley released him and she mumbled something about making tea and Mr. Weasley coughed and muttered, "a touch of Old Ogden's in it would go down just fine," and the two of them returned to the kitchen leaving Harry standing there looking bemused and still smiling faintly at the sight only he could see.
"What do you see?" Bones ventured.
Next to him, Dumbledore shook his head, as though he had made some terrible error, but Harry turned to them still smiling faintly and tipped his head just a bit and replied quite matter-of-factly, "Just my Mum."
Bones could feel his mouth drop open and he closed it quickly as he said as calmly and as reasonably as possible, "Your Mum is dead, Harry."
Harry shrugged and said, "I know. It's as if she know that I see her," he answered. And when Bones frowned, he added as though it explained everything, "The part that never dies, you see." Then he sighed a bit and said regretfully, "No, I suppose you don't. See, that is."
He would have gone, but Dumbledore stayed him. The elderly wizard had an odd, arrested look on his face. "Would you mind very much telling me what happened, what you recall happened, when Voldemort died?"
Bones would have expected that Harry would freeze up as he usually did when the subject was brought up. However, Harry answered serenely, "Nothing. I don't recall Voldemort dying at all."
"You don't recall anything at all?" Dumbledore repeated.
Harry shrugged. "I don't remember anything about Voldemort dying," he said again. He moved to go again, but once more Dumbledore stayed him.
"Do you recall what happened to you?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry stilled then and Bones was sure he would not answer. Dumbledore did not take his eyes off of Harry's and it was almost as if the elderly wizard were silently communicating with the young man. Still, Harry did not speak and Dumbledore ventured, "Will you tell me what you can, please? It may be important."
Harry looked away as though seeking support from his invisible parent. He looked back and frowned slightly. "I don't know," he said at last. "It's difficult, you see, because I'm not good with words. There aren't any, really, to describe it."
They waited, and Bones stayed silent and very still himself, not wanting to distract Harry. He felt that Harry would not have answered this question for anyone but Dumbledore and hesitated to remind them of his presence.
Harry's gaze seemed to focus inward as though he were now seeing a landscape that existed only inside him. "I remember," he said, "Voldemort doing the Curse and the green light coming at me. Only, you see, that could be mixed up with the first time he did it, seeing the green light, I mean."
Bones was astonished that Harry could recall anything of the first time as Harry had been only a year old. This did not seem to surprise Dumbledore, for he only said, "And then?"
Harry shrugged again and said, "When the spell hit me, it was like a good thump in the chest, that's all, and then I was ... I dunno, like flying ... somewhere else. I don't know how long it was because there wasn't any time. And there was this gate, a golden gate, but it was made of, I dunno, light and fire all at once. And it opened, and I went through and there was another, and I could see there were more, and there was light, all around." He paused and said almost defiantly, "It sounds like I had a good thump on the head, I know, but I'm not mad and I'm not explaining it right, not even half-way."
"I don't think you're mad," Dumbledore said calmly. "I think you are one of the sanest persons I know. Some people would say you're a good less odd than I am," he added with a faint twinkle of humor.
"I dunno," Harry said thoughtfully. "I'd say the people who think you are odd are either lacking in humor or not very bright." He rushed on then, as though wanting to get the rest over with. "Anyway, my Mum and Dad were there, behind the gate and that one swung open for me, too, and I started to go in. I was almost in, but one of them, my Mum maybe, said it wasn't time yet. She leaned forward and kissed me." He stopped again and lifted a hand to his cheek, "Right there, she kissed me, and then I fell and that seemed to go on forever, too, and it was like falling through a great whirlwind and I could see in the whirlwind like the circles that spread out when you toss a stone in a pool, bits of things. They were bits of my life that had happened. I could see at the same time something that happened when I was ten and something from last year, and there were things happening that weren't me at all or might have been me years from now. But they were happening all at once."
Harry stopped then but neither Bones nor Dumbledore spoke. Bones knew he could not have. Harry looked from one to the other as though seeking reassurance that he had not said too much, that he had not, in fact, confirmed that he was mad, and then shrugged once more. "That's it," he said. "Then everything went dark and there was nothing else and I woke up in your office, Professor."
Harry looked at Dumbledore and asked, "Did that tell you what you wanted to know?"
Dumbledore breathed in and his white beard shimmered in the candlelight. His blue eyes were curious and kind and astonished as he asked, "Do you understand what happened to you?"
Once more, Harry tipped his head just a fraction to the side, like a bird or a cat following some puff of fluff on the wind. "It's a mystery," he answered. "That's what Sirius told me, you know, when I spoke to him through the Veil." He smiled faintly and said, "He was right. It's a mystery." He turned to leave and this time Dumbledore did not stop him. He turned back, though, on his own and his green eyes were like the brilliant jeweled eyes of a cat or a bird as he added, "It's magic." Then he turned and went to join the others in the kitchen, and a moment later, they could hear his laugh, mellow and merry joining in with the rest.
