The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Part II - Chapter Twenty
Hermione gazed up at the tall stone face of the York Minster with awe and wondered whether Harry had finally taken leave of his senses. She could not imagine why he had chosen this place to go to just at this moment. She was sure from the set of his face and his pallor that he was quite wrung out. In truth, she could not imagine how it was that he had gone where he had and come back again alive.
The great leaded windows of the cathedral were dark at this hour. Too late for Evensong, she deduced, and she thought for sure that they would not be able to get in. However, the taxi driver, who spoke with an impenetrable Yorkshire accent, knew just where to go. He slid the limousine down a narrow driveway and spoke into a security box. Tall gates opened automatically to let them enter, and the car continued down the driveway to the side of the cathedral where a round building was attached to the greater Minster by an arched stone breezeway. Light spilled out of a partially open door, and Harry was out of the taxi in a flash, with the baby wrapped inside the cloak Dumbledore had conjured for him.
Hermione looked at Ginny questioningly, but the younger woman simply shrugged. "Should we stop him?" Hermione asked, but not very insistently. She was really quite curious to know what Harry was doing. Apparently, so was Dumbledore, as he and Mr. Weasley and Deputy Bentley arrived in another taxi just as they were stepping through the open door and into the light.
The room they entered was a great round room with extraordinary, delicate stone tracery on the domed ceiling
Inside the round Chapter House, a group of men and women were gathered around a large round table. They looked more like a board of directors of a Muggle company than men of the cloth, though, as the table was covered with print outs full of figures and two of the people had laptops open in front of them.
Only one of them wore a minister's collar though, and he stood up as they entered, taking of square reading glasses and examining them with a keen look. Hermione thought for sure that he was about to toss them out, but Harry rushed in first. "We want your help," he said quickly.
Instead of the minister, one of the women answered first. "The Minister is closed for the day," she said brusquely. "Tourists can come in for services in the morning and tours afterwards."
"I don't want a tour," Harry answered. "I want help. That's what you're here for, isn't it?"
"If you've been robbed or something," one of the men cut in, "the police station is just down the street."
"I want a minister," Harry replied.
The woman - who was very like some of those that came into Hermione's parents' office to have their teeth done, and always bringing with them pamphlets for their latest pet cause - said coldly, with a look that switched from Ginny to Hermione and back again to Harry, "Weddings have to be booked in advance, even if you are in the family way."
Something about the woman's tone must have broken through Harry's exhaustion, for he snapped more like himself as he brought the baby out from the shelter of his cloak, "It's not for me, it's for him."
The woman sniffed, as though Harry had confirmed her opinion only made it worse, and Hermione was reminded of her occasional nightmares in which she turned into just such a woman, only her pamphlets always turned invisible or blew up and someone rather like Ron was always saying, she's barmy, in the background.
The minister made a small gesture and the others fell silent. "I'm very sorry," he said quite kindly, "but the cathedral is closed for the evening. If you'll come back in the morning for services, I'm sure we can help you."
"He has to have a name," Harry answered. He held out the baby again and the minister's grey brows rose. So did Dumbledore's snowy white ones, though the elderly wizard said nothing. Hermione was quite sure that those wizards who wore robes did nothing to improve the impression the group had given them.
"The sanctuary is closed," the minister said again, but Harry was in that mood in which he took refusal from no one. He looked up at the domed ceiling with its delicate tracery and said rather dreamily, "I think this place will do quite nicely. You see up there, they've carved the very gates of heaven there, and I think we can add the only other thing missing."
From under his cloak, he drew his sword back out and stuck it upright into the old wooden table. Not a sound came in response except for the collective intake of breath at the sight of the magnificent thing, no longer appearing as a weapon at all.
"We just need some water now," Harry added quite matter-of-factly, as though plunging swords into tables were an everyday thing, even in the modern Muggle world. When he made to reach for a bottle of Perrier that had yet to be opened, the other lady, a much older one with fine white hair and sharp blue eyes, passed it right to him.
Still, the Minister hesitated, as though such unorthodox behavior was utterly suspect. The night was decided, however, when Carter stepped forward and greeted the minister like an old friend. "Augustus Carter!" the Minister said. "Who are these people? And what is going on?"
"These are my friends," Johnny said simply, "and all they want is for you to christen that baby, Canon." He walked over to Harry and said something quietly in his ear and then deftly reached out to take the baby from him. Surprisingly, the baby cooed softly instead of crying.
Ron made a gesture as though he would stop him, but Harry said calmly, "You'll be his uncle, Ron." He looked about and seized a round crystal bowl from the center of the table and removed the flowers from it. Then he pushed the bowl over toward the Canon along with the bottle of Perrier. The Canon shrugged and glanced at the upside down sword standing upright in the table. Then his eyes lit up suddenly and he reached poured the water from the bottle into the bowl and said something quietly under his breath.
The Canon looked at Johnny and waited and Johnny looked at Harry. Harry started to say something, but Johnny picked up a piece of paper and a pen and handed them to Harry. Harry leaned over and scribbled something on the paper and passed it on. Johnny took the paper and handed it over to the Canon, who glanced at it and nodded. "Hold him just so," the Canon demonstrated and gave the baby back to Johnny once more. Then the Canon sprinkled water from the crystal bowl on the baby's head and blessed him and said the baby's name, "Sirius Albus Neville Potter."
"That's a good name," Ron said. "That's a really good name." Hermione could not but agree and she found it necessary to stare extra hard at the domed ceiling so as not to weep in front of all the strangers. Dumbledore, too, was obviously moved, and he looked at Harry as proudly as though the baby were his own grandchild.
The baby sneezed and Johnny quickly handed him over to Ron who handed him back to Harry saying, "Are all babies smelly?"
"I dunno," Harry said doubtfully. Ginny clucked and said, "He just wants changing."
After that, everyone congratulated everyone else and even the tweedy pamphlet lady was heard to sniff. The Canon slipped out and returned with a bottle of wine and passed out a small dram to each person in celebration. The Canon looked at the sword in the table and shook his head, as if he had seen a great marvel. Regretfully, he said, "You are going to take that away, aren't you?"
Harry nodded and lifted the sword from table as easily as tough he were drawing it from its own sheath and when it was out, not a mark was left on the table where it had stood.
Harry looked around and it seemed that it had only just struck him how his appearance must have affected the people there for he blushed and said, "I'm really sorry if I disturbed anything important."
The Canon must have decided that if Harry was a friend of Johnny's, then he must be all right. "It's just the business meeting," he replied. "Running this building is a constant nightmare. We're always trying to find more money for repairs and last week we had vandals in the sanctuary. I don't know what the world is coming to."
"I expect you'll find a way to fix it," Harry said prosaically. He said quietly, "Thanks," and then wrapped his cloak back around little Sirius and slipped back out.
By the time they arrived back in London, it was close to midnight and Hermione was bone weary. They all watched Harry closely as he appeared more than tired once more. Although he had not been injured physically at all, it seemed that something about the magic he had done or the place he had stepped into had taken every bit of his energy and then some.
Hermione found the thought of those golden steps and the vast, blue nothingness, which she had glimpsed only momentarily to be quite terrifying. The others, she knew, felt the same. She also could not help but worry about what future terrors the newly adopted Sirius might bring. She knew, instinctively, she knew that the baby must be innocent now; but what of later? It was likely, no almost certain, that this one was Voldemort's own son, and that the other had been Draco's. There could be no other reason why Lucius Malfoy would have killed Bellatrix. Hermione also found it passing strange that Bellatrix, that most evil of all women, had formed some kind of attachment to the babe now sleeping upstairs: so much so, that she had switched this one for the other at the most crucial moment when her master might have been re-born once more.
She sighed and wondered, too, why Harry had been in such a hurry to have the baby christened. She supposed that was just his nature. When he saw a thing must be done, he would go and do it. Ron had said as much earlier. And all they could do was stay close enough to be sure he did not burn himself by soaring too high.
In the morning, Ginny came down for breakfast, but not Harry.
"Is he all right?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"I think so," Ginny replied. "I think he's just exhausted. He hardly slept night before last, and then he -- well, you know." She shrugged and poured a cup of coffee from the carafe which Hermione had prepared, and swallowed its contents without pleasure. (Normally, she preferred tea, with a touch of milk and a lot of sugar.)
"And the baby?" Hermione asked.
Ginny's face softened and her brown eyes twinkled with amusement. "Come and see," she said.
Hermione followed Ginny back upstairs and wondered just what the younger woman might have done. There were times, she thought, that Ginny resembled her older twin brothers in more than just family looks. Ginny placed her finger on her lips, whispered, "Don't wake them," and soundlessly opened the door to the largest bedroom.
Morning sun streamed through the stained glass windows making Hermione feel as though she were right back in church, a peculiar thing considering this had previously been the home of dark wizards. She saw right away what had amused Ginny. Harry was sprawled on his stomach with his head turned to one side, fast asleep, and nested in the hollow next to him, was little Sirius. One tiny hand was wrapped around one of Harry's long, thin fingers, and with his tuft of black hair, no one in the world would have known that this was not Harry's own child.
"He looks quite human like that," Hermione said aloud.
"You are silly," Ginny said as she closed the door. "I don't know," she said musingly after a moment, as they descended the stairs again, "sometimes I wonder if you're actually afraid of him - Harry, I mean."
Hermione stopped dead at the thought, but she wasn't the one who answered. "It's not him, she afraid of," Ron answered, "because she knows he's the gentlest person alive. It's what he can do, what he has actually done, that is scary to think about, because he does things nobody can do, not even Dumbledore. He does things that can't be explained," Ron added, and continued affectionately, "and Hermione just can't abide not knowing or understanding something. She hates a mystery, which is why she has to unravel It."
"There are things in magic that just are a mystery," Ginny answered, "and things in life that we can never understand. We just have to get on with what's necessary anyway, and make sure we get a good laugh in as often as possible."
Resolutely, she marched back into the kitchen, took out her wand, and put up a shepherd's pie in the count of three. Then she tapped the ancient chalkboard that they had salvaged from what had probably been the nursery (which had been infested with doxies and spiders) and tapped out a message for Harry. "Pie is in the oven and a bottle for the baby is in the cupboard. Don't come into work today on pain of hexing! Love, Ginny"
Bentley was looking for Harry the instant they walked in the door at work, and he was less than happy that Harry was not there. "I want him here now," Bentley barked, and they understood why almost immediately. In the middle of the office, a man was enclosed in a shimmering shield of light and every computer in the office was blinking.
"Who's he?" Ron ventured.
"Mr. Essex," Bentley snarled, "is Hayden's right hand man in the Alliance. Potter left him like that last night when we went to - you know - and there he still is and where is he?"
Ron raised his eyebrows and looked at Hermione and Ginny. "I'll do it," Hermione answered. She took out her wand; an action, which thoroughly alarmed Bentley, but which also, alarmed the imprisoned man. "Looks like a variant of an anti-disapparition jinx combined with a shield spell," Hermione mused admiringly. "I really have to get him to show me how he does that."
"How many of you are there here?" Essex asked.
Hermione looked at him coolly and considered whether to answer. She paused and also considered whether to call in Mr. Weasley or Dumbledore for this.
"Well?" Essex asked, "Aren’t you going to let me out? He said I wouldn't be prosecuted if I cooperated."
"Harry?" Ron asked.
"The Boy," Essex answered.
Hermione exchanged glances with the other two and both drew their wands to cover Essex while she said the words, "Finite Incan Tatum." The shimmering shield seemed to resist its ending, then oddly, as though it had recognized her in some way, it grew brighter and then disappeared altogether. Essex sprang up, but stopped again as Ron and Ginny and Hermione all leveled their wands at him.
"Let's just see what he's gotten through security," Ginny suggested. "Accio weapons," she said calmly, and out of his belt snapped a long willow wand. From the heel of his shoes, a slender knife emerged, and from under the cuff of his pants, there came a small vial of milky liquid.
"Not very nice," Ron commented. "Not very nice at all. Cursed knives and bottles of poison will get you some time in Azkaban, not to mention using magic for terror."
Essex blanched and said angrily, "He said I'd be let off if I cooperated. I told him where to go. I told him what the Death Eaters were up to."
"Just what is Azkaban?" Bentley asked.
"Wizard prison," Ron answered.
"That's a --" Bentley stopped in the middle and then an expression of satisfaction lightened his features. He turned to Essex and said, "Mr. Potter's word is good as gold here in Her Majesty's Service. For your pains in cooperating last night, you will not be prosecuted for your part in the Metro Center terror attempts. However," he coughed as he paused a moment, "what Minister Weasley of the Ministry of magic chooses to do with a rogue wizard is in his judgment." He looked at Ron and Hermione and added, "What he does in his bailiwick is his business, just as what we do here is ours."
"Then how is it," Essex asked bitterly, "you have the most powerful wizard in the world working for you Muggles? It's unheard of, it's...."
Bentley did not answer that and Hermione thought that it might be terribly unfortunate that he had just been given that bit of information. She cut in and said very sharply, "Harry Potter works against dark wizards wherever they are. And he doesn't care about boundaries or whether he helps Muggles or wizards if it stops them. Remember that the next time you think you're going to set up a new dark lord or bomb a mall or go after the innocent. Keep that thought in mind, because it might be the only one you get to keep once you're in Azkaban."
With the cessation of the magic shield the computers in the room abruptly came back on line. A dozen screens blinked and then returned to their home pages. One, however, was open to the news, which showed a shocking scene: the smoke blackened ruins of what had formerly been a mosque. Bodies were strewn about and here and there people wandered looking for their loved ones, disregarding the pleas of local constables to stay out of the still burning danger zone.
Everyone stopped and stared and Bentley snapped out an order, which Hermione did not process. Someone turned on a radio and the news came blaring out.
"A bomb exploded in a mosque in London during early morning prayers. As many as thirty men are believed dead and a dozen more were wounded. Authorities have not released any details, but a rumor has surfaced on the Internet that the incident was the work of the newly militant Anglo Aryan Alliance. The message from the Alliance claiming responsibility stated that the group would purge the country of all but pureblooded Aryan descendants of the Anglo Saxons. The message was signed with a new symbol, three blood red A's inside a shield with a sword and goblet crossed behind it. Special Branch have said that they had no advance warning of this attack, but that an Alliance incident was thwarted only last night. Some authorities are speculating that last night's incident was only a cover for the planned attack this morning."
Bentley found his voice again and cursed. "This changes everything," he said to Essex.
"But I didn't know about that!" Essex protested. "I don't know who planned that."
"Hayden, perhaps?" Bentley asked swiftly.
Essex shook his head and said, "I don't know. I don't see how. He's not even in the country."
"And the symbol?" Bentley asked. "Do you recognize that?"
Essex shook his head again, but Hermione thought he might have and was afraid to admit it. It seemed likely, she thought, that the Alliance was not operating as a single unit and that the Death Eaters last night were operating separately as well. She wondered how on earth they were going to stop this monster when it kept on sprouting new tentacles every time they had cut one off.
"With your permission, sir," she said determinedly, "I think we should go look at the site and see if there's any evidence that anything other than ordinary explosives was used there."
Bentley looked as though he had seen some glimpse of a terror uncharted. After a pause, he nodded and said, "I want Potter in here now."
"Not today," Ginny cut in firmly.
"He's on duty," Bentley said.
From between the two officers who had newly restrained him, Essex cut in with satisfaction, "Has he been hurt then? He's not invulnerable after all, is the Boy?"
Ginny turned a furious glare upon him and her face flushed red. "I wouldn't recommend you try and take him on, Mr. Essex. Come to think of it, I wouldn't recommend you try to take me on either, just now. I can think of a good few hexes that'd keep you miserable for a very long time to come."
She had her wand out and Hermione was quite sure they would have some serious trouble if the redhead lost her temper just then, Not that she didn't feel the same herself.
"He can enjoy his stay in prison," Hermione said icily, "while we look for evidence that he was behind that. And let him think about what the penalty is for mass murder."
Essex started to yell and struggle, which, fortunately, distracted Bentley from his demand to see Harry right there and then. Not that he wouldn't have come if asked Hermione knew. But she also was certain that he needed the rest and hoped that he would not decide he was to blame for failing to prevent the morning's catastrophe, a hope that proved forlorn.
~~~
"He must have known," Harry said angrily. "I was too intent on the business with Voldemort and I didn’t question him thoroughly enough." He had tossed his dinner into the fire in a temper upon finding out about the bombing and only the presence of little Sirius in a basket next to the table kept him from bellowing quite loudly.
"You're not all-knowing," Hermione said impatiently.
"I know I'm not," Harry answered. "But I was in too much of a hurry. And none of you were there to stop me." He glared at them all, his annoyance that they had kept things from him finally coming out.
"If you had come any later, mate," Ron responded, "Voldemort would have come back. He would have possessed that baby and you'd be dealing with him again." He did not say what they all knew, that if Harry had come later or not at all, Voldemort would not have had a chance to possess Harry either. Harry flushed with shame and said, "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Hayden must be behind this," he added more moderately. "It has his signature all over it. The attack on those people just because they're not native English, and the symbol with the sword and chalice - it's almost the same as the design for the pub he owns. We'll have to keep track of that."
"I expect Bentley is tracking him right now," Hermione replied. She was relieved and surprised at how quickly Harry had seen sense for once. Heartened, she added, "And don't think you're going to go galloping off to Europe looking for Hayden right now either."
Harry's green eyes narrowed and she knew he had been coming around to thinking just that. "You've got responsibilities, here," Ginny reminded him, gesturing at the sleeping baby, "and a wedding to attend. I think Hayden can wait a few weeks while we put our own house in order. Especially as he isn't after you personally."
"Why should that matter?" Harry responded. "It's our job now, isn't it?"
"Only if Bentley assigns you to it," Ron argued.
"But not your Dad, the Minister," Harry said softly, echoing Essex's comment unconsciously.
"Because of the Prime Minister," Ron answered steadily. "You know that."
"I suppose," Harry said quietly. "But really, you know, it's because of Voldemort, isn't it? Everything that's ever happened to me is because of Voldemort."
"Not everything," Ginny said quietly. "You made your own choices, too. Every time you fought him, you did because you chose to, instead of running away, or giving in. And now you've made another choice, a good one, but it makes you responsible now for someone else, someone helpless, and you can't go just running off any time something happens without giving some thought to what you're doing."
Harry stared at her and then nodded after a moment. "Well, you'll have to tell me, then, all of you, but you especially, when I'm not thinking, and I'll rely on you," he went on, "to trust me and not to keep things from me."
"We've always trusted you, Harry," Hermione said gently, "It's you that haven't always trusted us. Mostly because you thought we'd stop you from risking yourself to protect us. I guess we've all been so busy protecting each other that we forgot to work together, didn't we?"
~~***~~
Christmas at Hogwarts was always memorable, but this would be the one Harry would never forget. He had stayed behind to take care of one last errand and had made the journey there on his own. At noon, the Great Hall was decorated with a dozen enormous trees each covered with snow and hung with glowing crystal balls. At the top of each was a silver star and live fairies sat among the boughs, their laughter a sweet chorus of joy. The head table had been removed and in its place a canopy stood, dressed in roses and moonflowers and long trailing strands of ivy and holly.
"You're late," Ron whispered, when Harry stepped beside him, but Harry hardly heard, as he was too busy looking at the canopy where his bride waited.
Ron poked him, and he remembered that he was supposed to walk up the aisle. He made it somehow, feeling far more terrified than he had when he had faced the basilisk or a dragon, because finally, he would have the one thing he wanted more than anything else.
He followed Dumbledore's directions, taking his bride's hand and walking with her, hand in hand, seven times, and he said the words, when prompted, and kissed Ginny lightly at the end.
He knew there had been singing and music, but until the conclusion of the ceremony, it seemed as though he walked in a dream and he heard no sound. And as the ceremony was complete, it seemed as though the blue sky of the enchanted ceiling was that same immense blue of eternity, and he saw, as he had once before in the Mirror of Erased, his Mum and Dad, and numbers of his family all waving at him and smiling in celebration.
Abruptly, the sound returned and he laughed when Ron whooped loudly and swung Hermione around in a big circle and he felt as though he had come home at last.
***
Early in the morning on Boxing Day, Hermione took in the breakfast tray and poured herself a cup of tea. Ron was still sleeping; his bright red head buried face down in the pillow. She shook her head and sipped at her tea, and dug a sickle from her purse when the owl swooped in the window and dropped off the Daily Prophet and a copy of the Times. The Prophet had nothing of interest in it. Heated discussions were taking place at the International Conference on Magical Trade about whether the ban on flying carpets might be lifted. The last confrontation between Harry and the Death Eaters had never made the papers, not the wizard ones, or the Muggle ones. Apparently, the wizard ministry and the Muggle ministry had been in complete agreement for once. No one needed to know since the disaster had been averted.
A small paragraph had told of the tragic accident that took the lives of newly married Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, but no mention was made of their child or where he might be.
She was just opening up the Times when Ron rolled over and opened one eye. "I don't know why you want to take the muggle papers," he said. "And besides," he added, "I can think of better things to do than read just now."
It was much later when she picked up the Times again and gave a small shriek.
"What?" Ron asked. He had drawn his wand at the sound of her cry and looked simultaneously shamefaced and grumpy when she simply pointed to the small headline in the paper.
"Christmas Miracle at York Minster," she read.
Early on Christmas morning, the Canon opened up the main sanctuary at the cathedral in York to prepare for Christmas services. To his great surprise, an astounding event had occurred. The great window of stained glass, which had been slated for repairs and restoration, were entirely repaired before any work had started. The project was expected to take up to two years, and no one can say how the work could have been completed in the space of one night whilst the cathedral was closed.
"That explains it," Ron said.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Why Harry was almost late yesterday," Ron answered. He smiled and said, "nothing like a bit of magic to make your wedding day lucky!"
"Wedding days are magic no matter what," Hermione answered.
