Chapter 2: Monitum

Author's note" "Monitum" is Latin for "warning"

Maybe he had just hallucinated it. He had, admittedly, had more than a few glasses of champagne tonight, certainly more than he had planned on having (though with Seamus continually shoving glasses into his hand all evening long, he had thought it would be rather rude to refuse), and as a wizard who wasn�t used to the drink in the first place, he reckoned he was probably a lot more susceptible to its effects than the ordinary bloke.

Or maybe he just plain read it wrong. The ink had been smeared, after all, faded to a faint rusty color that barely even showed up anymore on the envelope, and in fact seemed to blend into the worn, yellowed parchment. The paper felt like cloth in his hand: like fine, delicate cloth that could disintegrate at any moment if he handled it any more than he already had. And so he held the letter gingerly, staring at it in utter disbelief, forgetting where he was, what he had been doing, and everyone and everything that surrounded him at that moment.

Because he still couldn�t believe he had just received a letter from a dead man.

�Ron, what is it?�

Hermione�s voice wavered slightly; it never did that unless she was worried about something, truly worried. She was probably the most composed, level-headed person he knew, outside of Harry. She must have sensed, though, that whatever it was that had his attention was something serious.

When he raised his head, he saw the goblin heading straight for the doors, having finished his duty here tonight.

�Stay here,� Ron said, following the goblin with his eyes. He knew he had to go after the odd little creature; he had to catch him before he left.

He needed answers.

George and Susie�s display of dancing prowess had now ended, but their audience lingered around the dance floor, where Emily was now getting ready to throw her bouquet. It seemed everyone�s attention was so fixed on the bride that no one had noticed that a goblin had not only managed to get into the reception hall just a few moments ago, but was now making its way out of the hall again as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened.

Hermione grabbed hold of his arm before he could move. �Wait a minute, where are you going?� she said. �You can�t just tell me to stay here and leave it at that-�

�Shh...�

�Don�t shh me!�

�Hermione, please...�

She let go of his arm, but Ron didn�t leave. He looked back at the goblin, surprised to see he had stopped at the door, as if utterly fascinated by the sight of a bouquet toss. Ron had to admit, as far as Muggle rituals went, this was still one he found quite odd.

�I can�t explain right now, love,� he said, knowing this would probably be his last chance to intercept the goblin. �Just trust me, all right?�

�Of course I trust you, but what is going on? What is that letter?�

�Hermione, not now, please-�

�Ron, you didn�t see your face just now,� she said. �You looked as if you�d just seen a ghost.�

He stared at her. �I may have.�

�What??�

Now she looked even more terrified--not that Ron could blame her. Her husband must have sounded like a raving lunatic at the moment; he could understand that she would be more than a little concerned.

�Look, I�ll explain in a minute, I promise... but I have to stop that goblin leaving, all right?�

�Ron-�

But he slipped away quietly before she could stop him again. The guests were all busy forming a circle around the lucky ones who had caught the bouquet and garter, and Ron knew if he didn�t act now, he�d miss his chance for good. Apparently the goblin had tired of the strange Muggle customs, and was well on its way out of the door, when Ron caught up to him.

�Goblin!� he called out, careful not to disturb the guests, though they were too engrossed in everything to pay attention anyway.

The creature stopped, then turned around, and upon seeing Ron, said in his droll manner, �Mr. Ronald Weasley.�

�I need to ask you something,� Ron said.

�I�m just a goblin,� he said. �I do not think I can answer any of your questions. I was just told to deliver to a Mr. Ronald Weas-�

�Yes, yes, you�ve told me,� Ron said, cutting him off. There were only so many times a person could tolerate hearing his name said over and over before the sound became the most irritating one on the planet. �I know all of that already.�

�Then I am free to go?�

�No! No, not yet... please, just... can you please just stay for a minute?�

Ron swore that if only the goblin could, he would have sighed. It was fairly simple to try a goblin�s patience in the first place, and Ron was certain he had long passed that point by now.

�I must go back,� the goblin said, then took out his pocket watch. �I am due at any moment now. They will be expecting me. I was only to deliver the letter to Mr. Ronald Weasley, and then return-�

�You�re from Gringotts, aren�t you?�

�Yes.�

�Then this,� Ron said, holding up the letter, �had been at Gringotts?�

�That is correct. It was kept in a confidential vault, along with explicit instructions to deliver it to a Mr. Ronald Weasley on 23 July, 2025-�

�Wait a minute... did you say a confidential vault?�

�Yes.�

�And whose vault was this?�

The goblin sneered at Ron, as if wondering why he would even bother with such a question when the answer seemed obvious. �That is classified information,� he said. �Now, is there anything else?�

�Only one more thing. How long had this letter been in the vault?�

�Thirty years.�

Ron felt the blood drain from his face. �Thirty... years...�

�Yes, now really, I must be going.�

�Yes,� Ron managed to choke out, �thank you, I... thank you...�

The goblin turned on his heel and walked off, then pulled out a large, bronze key from his pocket, tapped it, and vanished.

Ron looked back down at the letter in his hand, staring at the return address once more. He knew he could no longer blame this on champagne, nor on having read the words too fast or the wrong way. He knew the truth. This was real. This was from Snape.

Carefully, he slid his finger under the seal to break it. The wax had hardened over the years, had become brittle, breaking into pieces as soon as he flicked at it. The letter inside had been written on two sheets of paper that were each of a different size, as if Snape had used whatever paper happened to be at his disposal at that moment, and with held breath, Ron began to read.

28 August, 1995

Weasley,

By the time you receive this, I shall be long dead and
forgotten. I�ve accepted my fate, now you must accept
yours. History as you have known it will have ceased
to exist, unless you do something to stop it.

I do not understand this fully myself, but I have learnt
that I was to have died at your side sometime in the future,
and that the wizarding world was finally freed of the Dark
Lord as a result. By you receiving this letter, you will
know that something had prevented this from happening.

There is a plotter in your midst. I do not know who he is,
but he has unraveled the fabric of time, and revealed my
betrayal to the Dark One. Upon my death, there will be
nothing to stop him going after Harry Potter, and
if he succeeds, everything as you know it will be changed
forever.

I have sent an owl to bring this letter to Gringotts; it will
be safe there until it is delivered to you on 23 July, 2025.
Wherever you are, the goblins will be able to find you.

Do what you must. The Order of the Phoenix must carry
on in you.

Severus Snape

�Ron?�

It was Hermione. She waited a while for him to answer, and when he didn�t, placed her hand on his arm. But he was numb. He was numb all over.

�Ron, who is that letter from?�

He stared at her blankly, handing her the envelope. Her eyes scanned it, then she gasped when she saw the signature.

�It can�t... it can�t be real, can it?�

�Something�s gone wrong, Hermione,� he said. �Something�s gone terribly wrong.�

She said nothing more and just nodded, then reached for his hand.

�You think they�ll owl us once they get there?�

Harry chuckled as he sat down at the kitchen table. Every muscle in his body was sore, or just... tired. He felt completely sapped of energy, and all he wanted to do was lie down in bed, only it would require going up the stairs or concentrating hard to apparate, neither of which appealed to him at the moment. He just wanted to sit there and be perfectly still.

�Harry, did you hear me?�

�Mmm, yes, I did.� He leaned back into the chair and shut his eyes for a moment.

�Well? You think they�ll write us then? To let us know they arrived, or that they�re having fun?�

Harry opened one eye, then the other, then raised his eyebrow at his wife. �Gin, they�ll be on their honeymoon,� he said. �Somehow I think they�ll have other things on their mind that won�t involve us, don�t you?�

�You had to go and remind me, didn�t you?� she said. She narrowed her eyes at him, then eventually broke out in a smile herself.

He laughed at her; he knew she�d know he was only teasing, but she pretended to be cross with him anyway, until he reached out a hand. She didn�t take it at first, then eventually she did, and he pulled her onto his lap.

�It doesn�t seem quite real yet,� she sighed.

�That she�s married? No, I�d say it hasn�t quite sunk in all the way yet, has it?�

�Not in the least,� she said. �Or that she�s all grown-up and moved on without us.� Suddenly she gasped. �Oh God, Harry, it might not be too long before we�re grandparents! Can you imagine?�

No, he couldn�t, nor did he even want to. He was still having a difficult time grasping the concept of his daughter being married in the first place, so he was not exactly all that anxious to think about the other things that naturally came with marriage. After all, in his eyes, Emily would always be that six-year old whom he taught to fly on her toy broomstick.

But, he reminded himself, it had only been a few hours since the wedding. Perhaps eventually he would get used to the idea of his daughter now being Mrs. Finnigan. Way down the road, of course.

�But you�ve still got me!!�

Luke darted into the kitchen, barreling into Harry and Ginny, leaving them one messy, laughing pile on the floor.

�Oy, c�mere you little wrecking ball,� Harry said, trying to catch his breath as he came back up to sitting. That sure knocked the wind out of him. �Haven�t you spent all of your energy at your sister�s wedding today?�

�I�m not tired.�

�Oh really?� Ginny said. She brushed away the rust-colored fringe from his forehead. �You hadn�t taken a nap all afternoon.�

�Mum!!� he said, horrified. �Nine year olds do not take naps anymore!�

Harry almost laughed--his son had a good point--but he decided it wise to hold it in when Ginny looked in his direction.

�All right, but it is after ten o�clock, and that is past your bedtime. Do me a favor and go brush your teeth, all right?�

Luke sighed. �Okay...�

�And not with the toothpaste Uncle Fred and Uncle George gave you for Christmas, mind!! The real one!!� Ginny called out as his footsteps pounded up the staircase.

She looked back at Harry, who was leaning back in the chair once more.

�Hey,� she said, nudging his shoulder slightly. �You all right?�

�Never better.�

�I�m serious.�

He shrugged. �Bit tired is all.� He smirked. �Guess I�m getting old.�

�Harry!! Since when is forty-five old??�

�Forty-four, thank you. I�ve still eight days, remember? Though we are practically grandparents...�

She groaned. Loudly. Harry knew that was his cue to stop teasing, but he had to admit, it was far too fun for him to quit just yet. He loved making her laugh. He tugged at her gently when she tried to get away from him, and she finally gave in and sat back down on his lap.

�You�re evil.�

�I know.�

�You�ve spent far too much time with Ron all these years, you do know that, don�t you?�

�Gin,� he murmured.

�Hmm?�

�I don�t want to talk about Ron right now.�

She smiled slyly. He knew she had understood perfectly what he meant, and together, they apparated to the bedroom.