The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Part III - Chapter Twenty-Two
The library in Paris had the peculiar smell of old books, dust and lemon scented cleanser that seems to characterize large Muggle libraries all over the world. Harry was doubtful that they'd find Hayden's whereabouts by coming here, the place he'd been rumored to be seen. "Why would he be here anyway?" he muttered to Johnny.
"Looking for the Holy Grail, maybe," Johnny commented.
"I thought it was the sword he was looking for," Harry replied. He tried to appear casual, but the huge library intimidated him. Professorial looking Muggles were bent over dusty volumes with titles in French and other languages. He followed Johnny, who walked confidently up to the librarian at the information desk and spoke to her at length in French. In moments, the librarian was smiling at Johnny, touching her hair absently, and apparently providing him with all the information anyone could possibly want on the Holy Grail. She turned from Johnny after a moment and said far more coolly to Harry, "Et vous?"
Johnny replied for him since Harry knew no French, and the librarian led them upstairs to another room which held both books and parchments locked in glass cases. Johnny produced identification which showed he was a visiting scholar from Cambridge University. The librarian looked even more impressed and smiled as she unlocked a glass case and reverently pulled out several manuscripts, which were written in a spidery hand in old French and which contained quite beautiful illustrations in gold leaf and scarlet and blue ink. One illustration showed a sword, with a crimson dragon on its hilt and letters on the blade in Latin. Harry thought it looked quite fine, but he preferred his own sword, with its golden lion and ruby heart.
"Is that it?" he asked Johnny.
Johnny shrugged. "An illustration from the writer's imagination most likely." He handled the manuscript with great delicacy and almost reverence as he scanned the contents for any clue.
"Why are we looking at that one?" Harry asked. He squinted at the label on the glass case, which said something like "San Graal."
"It's one of the ones Hayden looked at," Johnny answered quietly.
"She told you that?" Harry asked.
"A touch of charm is all you need with women," Johnny answered with a grin. "You could do it too if you wanted to."
"I am not part veela," Harry said softly, "and I was never exactly popular with girls, you know."
"How would you have had time to find out," Johnny asked with amusement, "seeing you married Ginny at the great age of eighteen?"
"Lucky for me I did," Harry answered. "I don't see why you never say anything to Brittany, you know."
Johnny's face closed up, as it did when his cousin was mentioned. "She's my cousin," he said. "My mother and hers are sisters. It's too close a relationship. And besides, she likes fooling around with her men just like I like my women."
"I dunno," Harry, answered thoughtfully. "Hermione would say you're in denial. And anyway, I don't think the same rules apply to veela as they do to the rest of us."
Johnny ignored that as he generally did most references to his magical heritage and carefully unrolled another portion of the manuscript. "There's nothing new in here," he said after a moment. "I wonder why he went on to Germany, then."
The librarian had returned in time for the last comment and she answered in quite good English, "The author of this scroll was relying on a German source, that's why."
"You speak English!" Harry blurted out.
"Of course," the librarian replied. "I speak nine languages. It is part of my job."
"But German," Harry said. "Why would a German be writing about King Arthur?"
"You have to understand," the librarian said, "the people in the early middle ages were not so conscious of nationality as we are today. They traveled, they conquered land, they adopted new places easily, and everyone spoke Latin, the educated people. And in this case, the author was a monk. He may have been in England and then gone to stay in a German monastery. It's believed he had an English source for his material that has not survived." She paused and looked at Harry suspiciously. "I thought you were a scholar, too."
"I'm with him," Harry said hastily.
"This isn't his subject," Johnny said at the same moment, so that the librarian looked at them both questioningly. "Mr. Hayden isn't a scholar at all," he said charmingly.
"Monsieur Hayden is a donor of much money," the librarian said severely. "It is too bad the press like to accuse him of false things, just because he wants to bring back better times, and civility and chivalry."
Johnny stepped on Harry’s foot to keep him from saying anything disparaging about Hayden and said gravely, "Then he has done one good thing for the world, by helping our precious treasures to be found and preserved."
"One more big nothing," Harry said as they walked down the endless steps coming out of the library.
"My godson is right," Johnny, said, "you're as much a barbarian as your other son. It's something just to see those manuscripts and touch them."
"We have tons of them at Hogwarts just like that," Harry said. "And I've spent plenty of time searching through the lot of them for classes."
"Perhaps we should be searching there," Johnny replied.
Harry shrugged. "I don't remember there being anything about this there."
Johnny gave him a look that said, you probably never looked, but merely observed, "I guess we'll have to go to Germany after all."
"Another two days away from home," Harry complained.
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Johnny asked. "You're too young to be so stuck to your home."
"I've had plenty of adventures," Harry answered, "and I don't mind a few more. I just don’t like being away from my family so long."
Harry could not help chafing at how slow travel by Muggle means can be. However, while he was with Johnny, who had no magical training, and on duty for the Service, his use of magic had to be strictly limited to confrontations with actual dark wizards or life and death situations. When they finally made it to Berlin, though, his annoyance was buried in other worries. As they entered the city, they were stopped by a police blockade and had to show I.D. and state their purpose for traveling to Germany. It appeared that a mob had gone on a rampage, attacking a neighborhood of Turks and Moroccans and everywhere they turned, streets were blocked off by fleeing men and here and there fires burned and the sound of glass shattering made one jump as windows blew out from the heat. Johnny pulled the car off onto a side street not far from where their hotel was supposed to be and suggested that they walk the rest of the way.
Harry had a queer feeling as they entered the square in front of the hotel. The street about it was jammed full of people and a man stood on the edge of a huge fountain haranguing the mob. There were so many people that all four streets leading into the square were blocked off and the police vehicles could not enter. Sirens wailed, a klaxon-like sound that raised the hair on the back of his neck; or perhaps that was the feel of something dark and full of power that blanketed the square with menace: an icy wind of ill-will that froze the soul and darkened the mind. Without thought, he drew his wand and Johnny caught his arm in warning.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I dunno," Harry replied. "There's something very wrong here. Can't you feel it?"
Johnny stood quite still and shook his head as though he would deny it. Instead, though, he lifted his head and rose up slightly on his toes to stare over the crowd at the man on the fountain. The streetlights turned his fair hair golden white and for a moment Harry was reminded of the veela poised to gather their magic on the night of the dance. "You're right," Johnny said abruptly. "And it's coming from him," he added pointing at the lecturing man.
"What's he saying?" Harry asked. He tried to recall if he knew a translation spell, but Johnny simply translated. "That sounds just like Hayden's rot," Harry said.
"Sounds like," Johnny said. "I think it is him - in disguise maybe, and he's using some kind of charm to control the crowd. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"
Harry shook his head. It was one thing, he thought, to use the Imperious curse on a single person at a time. This felt like something else. His skin crawled and he again lifted his wand, only this time Johnny did not stop him.
"Let's see if we can get closer," Johnny said. He began to push through the crowd using his considerable height to his advantage and Harry slid along in his wake. They managed to get within two rows of the fountain. From that perspective, though, Harry could not see that the man standing there looked anything like Hayden. Something about him, his posture or the cadence of his voice, was very like what Harry recalled of the actor.
"I don't see how we're going to pull this off without blowing our cover," Johnny said in Harry's ear.
"We're not," Harry answered. "We'll need to distract the crowd, to get them out of his spell."
"And how are we supposed to do that without you letting everyone in the world know that you're a wizard?" Johnny asked.
"I'm not," Harry said. "You are."
"Oh?" Johnny responded. "And exactly how, when I'm not a trained wizard? In fact, I'm not a wizard at all: Just one quarter veela with only a dab of talent."
"Sing," Harry said.
"What?"
"Sing," Harry repeated. "Anything. You can, can't you?"
"Of course, I can sing," Johnny, replied. Harry could see that his friend was literally gritting his teeth and it occurred to him that Johnny had never been to the forest or participated in the dance.
"Then do it," Harry said, "as loudly as you can and with as much charm as you can throw into it. I don't care what it is. Sing Greensleeves or anything you think these people will recognize. Try to get them to sing with you and to take their attention away from him up there."
Johnny started to protest and then shrugged. He began to sing, not particularly loudly at first. The song was in German, but the melody seemed oddly familiar somehow. A couple of people nearby began to hum in tune with Johnny and then a few more and a few more. Harry had to shake himself to keep from singing too.
As the voices swelled louder and louder, so too did the man on the fountain. His voice projected, more harshly, and the crowd swayed back and forth, now turning toward the man on the fountain and now taking up the song again. After a minute or two, however, the voices singing drowned out the actor’s voice and the people around the square began to rock from side to side and some clapped their arms about each other’s shoulders as they swayed to the music.
Harry slid through the final two rows and waited for the perfect moment. No one was looking at the man on the fountain anymore. The man was looking for a way out and trying to identify from whence the distraction had come. When he turned his back toward Harry, Harry pointed his wand at the man under the cover of the darkness and whispered, "Stupefy." The men fell awkwardly and it was only the follow-up spell that kept him from landing flat on the tarmac below. Harry slung an arm around the man and pretended to sway with the other singers. A further whispered spell made the man float along upright beside him and as he pushed through the crowd toward the open doors of the hotel, Harry said apologetically, "I’m afraid my friend's drunk," but no one paid him any mind.
Some of the singers began to disperse. Their voices lowered and others began to hum instead of sing in full. Many walked off whistling cheerfully, as though such an assembly were quite a normal event. Fortunately, Johnny joined him at the reception area just in time and took over the arrangements for their suite. The concierge was still looking askance at the man from the fountain, which drooped beneath Harry’s support. Harry said, "Drunk, poor sod. His wife just left him." Johnny said something further in German and the concierge sighed and waved them on toward the lifts.
"Is it he?" Johnny asked. He looked a bit askance at Harry as well and added, "What did you do to him?"
"Just stunned him," Harry answered. He examined the man closely and thought that he was the right height for Hayden. The eyes weren't the right color, though, or the hair. He reached out and yanked at the brown hair and it came off revealing blond going gray beneath.
"It is Hayden," he said. "Now how do we get him back?"
It wasn't until some weeks later that Harry realized they had never visited the monastery of the mysterious monk. He supposed that it didn't really matter, though, as Hayden was safely behind bars and would stay there for a long time if Bentley had any say in the matter.
~~* * *~~
Diagon Alley is the best place in the world for wizarding supplies and the best place of all is Flourish and Blotts, which has the biggest stock of wizarding books you can imagine. I stood impatiently while my robes were fitted and suffered through the stop for my potion supplies with the thought in mind that there could be nothing better than being required to buy books. Mum got the stack of books I needed for my classes while the twins and I slipped away to look greedily at the stacks and stacks of histories and spell books available for anyone with the galleons in hand. I lost James in the quidditch section, but Lily trailed after me to the history section, where I was delighted to find a whole shelf about Merlin and his royal protégé. There was volume one of the Lives of the Great Wizards, a History of British Magic, When Magic Ruled the Land, and best of all, a small dusty volume called Magic Swords and Talismans, which had a whole section just on Arthur's sword.
"You can't possibly want all those books," Mum said, interrupting my fascinated reading of the bit that described how Arthur's sword burned with a fiery bright fire when he drew it.
"Yeah, I can," I said greedily. "I bet they don't cost half what James' new broom will cost."
"He's not getting a new broom when he's not even nine yet," Mum answered.
James had other ideas though. "But my birthday's coming, Mum. I'm big enough to have a broom of my own. It's the only thing I want and we’re here today." He looked as pleadingly as any puppy eyeing a roast on the table and Mum tried to look stern, but failed miserably.
In the end, I got my stack of books and James got his broom. Lily asked for nothing, but somehow she got a broom, too, and a lilac silk covered diary that had "for girls only" wafting at all comers with the faint perfume of its pages.
We finished up the day's shopping with a meal at The Leaky Cauldron. Mum took a private parlor and closed the door to the curious glances of passersby. "It's a good thing your Dad can afford all this," she said as she stacked all of our packages on a big pile.
"It's not that much," James said to her. "Just a couple of brooms and a few school supplies. I bet it doesn't cost more than the Muggle stuff you have to get for me and Lily for school."
Unusually, Mum did not wince at the mention of Muggle school. Rather, she frowned at James and said, "You don't know how lucky you are. Some people have to struggle for all of this."
"So," James said. "Its lucky Dad has a good job then." He stopped and frowned right back, so that for a moment he resembled Mum, not Dad. "You don't have to work at a boring old desk job like Dad to make a good salary at the Ministry, do you?"
Mum flushed bright red and gave James a look as though she would say something quite angrily to him. For once, he seemed to realize how tactless he had been and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."
"You just don't realize," she said, but it was more to herself than to us. She did not elaborate, however, and merely busied herself with pouring out her tea and pressing more meat on Lily, who is by far the skinniest of the three of us.
It was way past our normal bedtime when we arrived home, but we were not sent to our beds as usual. The moment we arrived, Nana and Aunt Hermione came rushing over. Nana was looking pale and terrified and Aunt Hermione was unnaturally calm.
"What is it?" Mum asked.
"Ron," Aunt Hermione said tersely, "the hand on Molly's clock is on mortal danger."
"Where is he then?" Mum asked and immediately, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, she added, "I'll call Harry."
"I don't know where he is," Hermione said. "He went off to work this morning and hasn't been back since." She stopped a moment to collect herself and said, "Can you reach him? Do you know where he is?"
"He's in France or Germany," Mum answered. "I'm not sure." She strode into the kitchen and pulled a small mirror out of the drawer. She looked into the mirror and said, "Harry!"
Nothing happened. "Where is he?" she said. "Didn't he take his with him?"
Now Mum looked anxious, and Nana said sharply, "Harry's all right wherever he is. But perhaps he can't reply just now. We must take care of this ourselves."
"Exactly how?" Aunt Hermione cut in. "We don't know where Ron is. So how can we do anything?"
"Have you contacted the Ministry?" Mum asked.
"Yes!" Aunt Hermione said. "They don't know either."
"What's he been working on?" Mum asked.
Aunt Hermione hesitated and then answered in a rush, "He's been trying to locate the last of the Death Eaters, the ones that were never caught."
Mum and Nana both looked more worried than ever and we three could only stand and gawp at them. "They're going to be all right, aren't they?" Lily asked.
Mum didn't answer. She jumped and pulled the mirror back out. "Harry! Where were you?" she asked quite severely, as though he had been playing truant and not been in the middle of work wherever he was.
"What's happened?" Dad's voice echoed eerily though the mirror and I noticed that he hadn't said where he was or what he was doing.
"Ron," Mum said. "Mum's clock..."
"He's not ..." Dad cut off what he had been about to ask and said quickly, "I'm coming right away. Where is he?"
"Where's everybody?" another voice asked. Not Dad's, Uncle Ron's.
Nana and Aunt Hermione rushed at him and there was a bit of confusion as Nana tried to force him to sit down and let her examine him. Mum had let the mirror dangle a moment and I looked in fascination at what appeared to be Dad's upside down reflection in the mirror. He looked upset. The rest of the mirror was all misty and I couldn't tell where he might be. I turned my head sideways and knelt down and said, "It's all right; he's back."
Dad might have said thanks, but his reflection disappeared and after a second, I saw only my own. I stared, though, when he came striding into the room a few seconds later just as Uncle Ron was saying "Get off, Mum, I'm fine." Nana made a sound like an angry tiger and everyone ducked except Dad, who said, in a joking manner that belied the flush of relief on his face, "Ronald Weasley, I presume."
Uncle Ron bounded back up and caught Dad's arm as he said excitedly, "I got Lucius, finally."
Dad stared and said, "That's brilliant! You aren't hurt or anything?"
"His clock hand was on mortal danger," Nana snapped, "and he won't let us check to see if there's any damage."
"I'm not hurt at all," Uncle Ron said. "It was a bit close though," he conceded. "Nearly hit me with Arvada Kedavra, but I ducked just in time."
"Wow," James said. "How did you get him?"
"Anti-disapparition jinx," Uncle Ron answered. He looked highly pleased with himself. "Good thing we learnt that one. It really does come in handy." He shivered suddenly and said more soberly, "He's nastier than ever, too. I'm glad you weren't there Harry. I think he'd stop at nothing to get at you."
Dad looked quite blank for a second and then simply shrugged. He made everyone sit down at the big table and within seconds, a pot of steaming tea and biscuits sat ready for everyone. "Tell us, then," he said and he sat down and listened to Uncle Ron’s story with the same absorption Lily did when I made up stories for her.
"Well," Uncle Ron said. He took a gulp of tea and we all hung there waiting for him to go on. "Well," he started again, "I've been getting snippets of news for the last few weeks from Mundungus Fletcher. He's been going into Knockturn Alley for me for a while as its one of the few places where you can still say the word Death Eater without nearly being arrested. Anyway, I was sure the whispers of Lucius being back in town were just a load of rot since everything we knew pointed to him still being in Europe somewhere."
I flashed a look at Dad and just for a moment I wondered whether Dad's job didn't have something to do with chasing dark wizards after all. Then I recollected that my godfather had mentioned the parchments they got through and pushed away the tiny wish that Dad really might do something more interesting than boring paperwork. Dad merely nodded, however, and Uncle Ron went on.
"Yesterday, 'Dung sent me a message to meet him in Hogsmeade." Ron looked at James, who had his mouth open to ask a question, and said, "That was so no one would realize Dung was passing me info." He took another gulp of his tea and I wasn't sure whether he was enjoying telling his story and keeping us all in suspense or whether he actually was still shook by his narrow escape. Perhaps both.
"Anyway," he went on, "Dung told me he had seen him, or heard him actually, cause he was hooded and it was in that nasty old pub where all the dark wizards go. I figured I'd check it out myself this time and I went into Knockturn Alley this afternoon and pretended to be searching for some rare potions ingredients that you can't buy in the regular shops."
"Really good, Ronald," Aunt Hermione said. "As if everyone wouldn't know you’re a Weasley at first sight." She sighed like a teacher whose pupil just never quite gets into the first rank, but Uncle Ron rolled his eyes at her and said, "Well I went in disguise, didn't I? I'm not that stupid Hermione."
"What disguise?" James asked eagerly. "Did you pretend to be a vampire or a werewolf?"
"Nah," Uncle Ron said. He ruffled James' vivid red hair, which was just the same color as his, and said casually, "I used Polyjuice potion. Made myself look like Dung and pretended I wanted to sell some stolen silver which I hadn't yet actually got. It worked like a charm at first."
I had to admit, I was seriously impressed and thought Uncle Ron was really brilliant. In fact, all of my uncles are. Fred and George have this great joke shop and Uncle Bill is a treasure hunter. Charley works with dragons and Percy… Well, okay, Uncle Percy doesn't ever quite qualify. He just loves himself too much.
"I stopped into the pub," Uncle Ron continued, "and I took a table in the corner. It's really dark in there and I figured no one would notice me. I had a couple of drinks..." he cast a nervous look at Aunt Hermione and Nana which made me think it had been more than one or two, but went on quickly before either of them could say how stupid that was. "And I was starting to think Dung's info was bad. Then I heard him." He took another gulp of tea and I saw that his hand shook just a little. It came to me then that an Aurors job might be truly dangerous; not all adventures and fun.
"I recognized his voice right off," Uncle Ron said. "You know how it is, sort of drawly and nasty. Makes you feel like big spiders are crawling up your spine." Lily shuddered at that as spiders are not her idea of friendly pets. James' eyes were wide with admiration and Dad made a small sound of recognition.
"Problem was," Ron, said, "the potion had started to wear off and he recognized me. He had his wand on me before I realized it and I had to disapperated just as he attacked. Lucky I didn't splinch myself too as the pub is sort of narrow and, you know, dark. The spell hit the table instead of me and blew it up and everyone started to run and there was this unholy confusion." He drew in a breath and finished abruptly, "The long and short of it is, I apparated behind the bar and I managed to stun him. Then I wrapped him the anti-disapparition jinx to keep him there and called in for help from the Ministry. And here I am."
"Let's just hope they put him in Azkaban and throw away the key," Nana said fiercely. "I'll be glad to volunteer for guard duty myself, if necessary."
Uncle Ron glanced at Mum and Dad and they all grinned at each other. "Better him than me," Uncle Ron said, and Nana said, "Don't be cheeky." Aunt Hermione kissed him on the cheek and said, "That was incredibly clever," at which Uncle Ron flushed right to his ears and looked hugely pleased. He wiggled a bit with discomfort though when she said, "You should have taken me with you."
"You're not an Auror anymore," he answered. "But you can have the fun of prosecuting him now you're with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And likely to be the youngest Minister ever."
When I look back on that day, now that I'm old, I think that was the first time the shadow of danger ever made its way into my consciousness as a thing of reality and not imagination. Until then, all of my understanding of such things came from books and fantasy, all of which ended with the hero winning. Until just then, I never truly realized that sometimes the hero dies and the villain may escape.
***
"I'm glad you came back," Ginny said. Her nightclothes into which she was changing muffled her voice, but Harry could hear the strength of her feeling anyway.
"So am I," he answered. He felt not at all guilty about leaving Johnny to take care of Hayden's imprisonment in London. He had made sure the actor had no weapons on him, magical or otherwise and was quite confident that short of outside assistance, Hayden would not be able to escape nor do anyone guarding him harm. Hayden had vowed all sorts of vengeance on Harry whilst alternately accusing him of being a fraud. Harry had not bothered to respond. He had learned over the years that words meant for unreceptive ears were sometimes best left unsaid.
She turned around and hugged him and her last words that night fell on his own unreceptive ears as other desires distracted him. "I wish he were dead," she said. "He's one of the few people who knows."
"It'll be all right," he murmured and sought to bring forgetfulness, if only for a while, for them both.
