Unofficial Portkey Archive

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

AN: Thanks for all your messages about the last Chapter being corrupted. Corrected now. Here's the next Chapter a little early….

Chapter 5 - The Visitor

It took several hours before the Aurors had finished making their investigations and searching the grounds. Harry suspected that they might not have taken quite so long if the lunch provided by the house elves had been less of a feast. The table they set up stretched the full length of the rear terrace, from one side of the house to the other and heaved with delicious looking dishes that were replenished as soon as they were gone.

All the while Neville was becoming increasingly anxious about his grandmother, but Harry assured him that she would be looked after by Kreacher.

Finally, after they had temporarily boarded over the blown out windows, Harry took hold of Neville's arm and they Apparated to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

"I really must protest!"

"Master instructed."

"You have no right to keep me here! I insist upon being allowed to leave at once!"

"No, not until Master says."

Harry and Neville looked at each other in utter confusion. Harry recognised one of the voices coming from upstairs as Kreacher, but he had no idea who the other male voice belonged to.

They hurried up from the Basement to find Kreacher guarding the front door and preventing a middle aged man in a red travelling cloak from leaving.

"Kreacher, what's going on?" asked Harry. "Where is Mrs Longbottom?"

"Sir, are you this house elf's Master?" asked the man indignantly.

"Um, yes, I am."

"Then you are responsible for my kidnapping!"

"Sorry?"

"I was just leaving work when your house elf appeared before me, said his Master's instructions had to be complied with and that there was no alternative but for me to come with him. I refused, of course. He then grabbed me and brought me here. House elf side-along Apparition indeed!"

"Master instructed," repeated Kreacher.

"Kreacher, where is Mrs Longbottom?" asked Harry again.

"She is upstairs in the guest bedroom next to Miss Hermione's room."

"That's second floor, two doors along," called Harry as Neville launched himself up the stairs.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville shouted back.

"Now," said Harry. "Kreacher, can you please explain what is going on?"

Kreacher looked down at his feet and his ears drooped a little. It was the first time Kreacher had looked sorry for something.

"Master said Mrs Longbottom was not to leave the house."

"Yes," agreed Harry. "I did."

"Mrs Longbottom had an episode after Master left. Kreacher thought she should go to the Hospital, but Master instructed."

"How is she?" asked Harry with concern.

"She's fine," said the stranger. "It was just caused by having a little too much excitement. I've given her a mild sedative."

"You are a Healer?"

"Yes. I'm a consultant at St. Mungos."

"I see," said Harry. "Well, I really must thank you for helping us and apologise for inconveniencing you."

"I didn't mind so much when I realised I was needed," said the healer. "What I really objected to was being made to remain here all this time."

"Kreacher?"

"Kreacher was worried that Mrs Longbottom would need help again."

Harry nodded but the healer didn't look at all impressed.

"I have given you repeated assurances that she will be perfectly fine after a good night's rest."

Harry smiled and held out his hand.

"I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Harry Potter."

"Spunge. Barnaby Spunge," said the healer, shaking Harry's hand.

"Would you like some tea, Healer Spunge?"

"I would, but my wife will be growing worried by my absence. I should like to go unless you would like me to check upon Mrs Longbottom again?"

Harry looked up to see Neville descending the stairs, looking much happier than before.

"She's sleeping now. I had a couple of words with her and she seems to be fine."

"Neville, this is Healer Spunge."

They shook hands and then Harry said, "This house is protected, so in order to leave I'll need to actually take you outside. It would be best if you didn't know what part of the country we are in right now."

"I quite understand."

"Can I drop you off at St Mungos?"

"That would be acceptable."

*

It took Harry some time to check all of Kreacher's hiding places when he returned to Grimmauld Place. He eventually found him in what he later thought was the first place he should have looked.

Harry sat down next to the hunched up elf and waited in silence.

This was not the first time they had sat together high up in the attic, although it was a little dustier now that Aunt Petunia was no longer there to continue her regime of manic house cleaning.

Kreacher stirred at last and raised his head.

"Master should punish Kreacher."

"Kreacher, it was my fault. I ordered you to make sure Mrs Longbottom didn't leave the house. You did the right thing in trying to get help for her. Bringing a Healer to her was a great idea."

"Master thought Kreacher was wrong to keep him here."

"Why did you?"

"Kreacher was afraid he would betray us. If he poisoned Mrs Longbottom, Kreacher would have been blamed so Master needed to see for himself that Kreacher wasn't to blame."

"I didn't think of that," admitted Harry. "I promise you, though, I would not have believed you were responsible if something did happen.

"I am pleased you grabbed someone going off duty, though. If we had kept him from seeing his patients for all those hours we might have got into trouble."

"Kreacher only found out afterwards that the Healer had finished work. Kreacher just grabbed the first Healer he saw."

Harry snorted.

"Well, don't worry about it. By the time we parted he was quite okay with it. I don't thinks he's used to these kinds of things happening to him, actually."

Harry reached into his robes and drew out a small card.

"Here," said Harry, handing the card to Kreacher. "Healer Spunge gave us his card with his home address on it. He says we are welcome to call on him in the event of another emergency. He would be pressing charges rather than making that offer if he was that upset with us."

Kreacher nodded and Harry smiled down at the house elf.

When he had finally said goodbye to Healer Spunge it was actually just outside his home. Spunge had insisted Harry come and meet his wife and he had the distinct impression that the healer was feeling more than a little exited about making a small contribution towards the fight against Voldemort and his followers.

Harry didn't mind really. He knew he was the face wizarding people recognised as representing the resistance. Although the Ministry was constantly advertising its efforts in the press, the recent spate of arrests of so many senior figures had left the general wizarding public with little confidence in their abilities.

The Aurors, who were perhaps alone in responsible for the Ministry's few successes under the disguised leadership of Miss Alice, was keeping a very low profile just recently.

This left The Chosen One alone for people to pin their hopes on.

"Come on," suggested Harry. "Let's go and keep Neville and the others company."

"Others?"

"Yes, Hermione and Ron arrived back a little earlier."

*

"Where's Neville?" asked Harry as he and Kreacher entered the living room.

"He's in the kitchen talking to Ginny. She found out about the attack from the Evening Prophet and Professor McGonagall let her call from her office fireplace."

"How did they know Neville was here?"

"Where else would you bring them?" asked Hermione.

"Good point," agreed Harry sitting down next to her.

Ron threw his copy of the Evening Prophet down and said, "There's hardly any detail in this thing. So, Harry, what really happened?"

"What does the Prophet say?"

"Oh, just that the Aurors arrived in time to rescue Mrs Longbottom, Neville and their old gardener from several unknown attackers. We assumed the old gardener was supposed to be you, actually."

"No," Harry said with a laugh. "The gardener's name is Jenkins and the fight was over before the Aurors arrived."

"Neville only said you disabled four of them who attacked in the greenhouse and then brought his Gran here."

"Yes, by the time I got back there were more of them and the fight had moved to the house. There wasn't much to do, actually. Between Neville and Jenkins I think they could have taken care of things on their own."

"Hardly, Harry," said Neville as he came into the room. "I was pinned down behind that desk and poor Jenkins hardly ever hits what he aims at. It was a good job he was able to sit down as soon as he did too."

"Is Jenkins the old gardener you told me about before, Neville?" asked Harry.

Neville laughed and shook his head no. He had told Harry of the household's attempts to improve his defensive wand skills by attacking him at every opportunity. Neville had asked Harry to continue his defence lesions in a futile attempt to make them stop.

"No, Harry. That was Jenkins Senior. He would have joined in, I'm sure, but his Bath chair needs to be wheeled within firing range these days."

Harry snorted.

*

"Hermione, you are not exactly being very rational about this, are you?"

"Even so, Harry. I'm just not comfortable."

"Hermione, even if Mrs Longbottom wasn't sedated, I hardly think she could care less that the bedroom next door, which she has no idea you sleep in sometimes, might be vacant tonight."

"That is hardly the point, Harry."

"No?"

"It's just a little embarrassing."

"I embarrass you now?"

"Well, not all the time, obviously. You are right this moment, though."

Harry sighed and said, "Whatever makes you happy, Hermione."

"I'm not exactly happy about this, you know? And you can stop laughing at me too!"

Harry tried, but her indignant expression just made it much harder for him to stop laughing.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, smiling and taking both her hands.

She drew herself close and whispered, "I'm so glad you weren't hurt."

"I know," he said gently, kissing her forehead.

"Why ever would they attack Mrs Longbottom? I mean, I know she has never hidden her support for Dumbledore and you, but she's hardly a threat, is she?"

"I don't know why," he admitted, "but I've an idea that Neville does. We'll have to work on him in the morning."

"Mm," muttered Hermione sleepily.

"Changed your mind, yet?"

Hermione gave half a laugh and said, "No, not yet."

"Did you find out anything more about that Gryffindor cloak?"

"No, I didn't even get the change to go to the library today. I spent the entire time helping the Saporlux Flight get their robes sorted out."

"The Saporlux Flight?"

"Yes, that's the name of Ginny's new Quidditch team. They wanted them to be fashionable as well as functional."

"Weird name, though. Er, why to Quidditch robes have to be fashionable?"

"They don't, except that as an all female team, they-"

"All female?" Harry interrupted.

"What's wrong with that? You've played against all male teams, haven't you?"

"Are they any good?"

"How should I know? Actually, I doubt if Ginny would have picked them unless they could play reasonably well."

"True. I wonder if the ball gowns will slow them down that much in the air?"

Hermione burst out laughing.

"Harry!"

*

Much later, Harry lay wide awake on top of his bed. He had got up several times to pace around the room in the darkness. Now he lay still, feeling his joints and muscles ache with tiredness, wishing rather than expecting sleep to overcome him.

Hermione had let him detain her for a little longer than she intended, but he knew he would never prevail once her mind had been made up.

He thought back over the day, wondering even harder about the Gryffindor ring and how he might possibly come to wear it.

Harry suddenly grabbed his wand and almost yelled, "Lumos!"

Breathing heavily, he scanned the far side of the room. At the same time he groped for his glasses. Then he realised they were still on his face from the last time he had paced around the room.

Satisfied that he had imagined the movement in the shadows, he whispered, "Nox!"

Returning his wand to its usual place under his pillow, Harry muttered to himself, "Get a grip, will you? You're getting as paranoid as Moody."

"Moody," breathed a low voice out of nowhere.

Harry started and promptly fell right off the bed. Desperately trying to right himself to retrieve his wand, Harry shouted, "Who's there?"

"Calm down," said the voice. "You won't see me in bright light, so I shouldn't bother with that wand. It fell down beside you, by the way."

"What?" said Harry, feeling around until he found his wand. "Oh, er, thanks."

"You are welcome."

"Are you a ghost?"

"I've no idea. Perhaps. I've been unwell for some time, but I didn't think I would die this soon. Still, one never knows, does one? I didn't think I would return as a ghost, you know? I'm not that afraid to die. The journey onwards should be a new great adventure, after all."

"Dumbledore?"

The voice chuckled and said, "No, although you flatter me. I can think of no-one else I'd rather be mistaken for."

"Did you know him?"

"Yes, I had that honour. It was many years ago, though. Many years."

"Why are you here?"

"A mutual friend sent me. He thought I could give you some useful advice."

The voice seemed to move away and Harry peered over the bed he was still sitting beside. Over by the window, a ghost like figure was looking down into the square outside.

Harry got up and sat down on the bed.

"I can sort of see you now," he said.

"Good," said the ghost.

"Um, what advice do you have for me?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"To tell the truth, I'm not entirely sure I can advise you. You see, you may be the wrong person entirely."

"Oh. Is there any way to tell? Perhaps you should start by telling me your name?"

"It really doesn't matter. I mean, I'm here now. You are the only one I can tell and you are the only one who can listen. You are not obliged to hear me, of course. When I was your age I hardly ever listened to well intentioned advisers."

"How old are you?"

"I will be seventy years old in July."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He had guessed the man was between fifty and sixty. He looked a little portly, but he was tall enough for it not to notice. His close cropped hair made him look younger too, Harry realised.

The figure turned and Harry lost him again in the shadows.

"Um, what advice do you want to give?"

"Moody," he said again. "I haven't thought of him in years."

"You knew Mad-Eye?"

"Of course I knew him," the figure said shortly. "To be honest, though, I wondered if I didn't get along better with Crouch Junior's Moody."

"Hang on, you knew Barty Crouch when he was pretending to be Alastor Moody?"

"Am I so difficult to recognise?"

Harry frowned as the figure reappeared by the closest window.

"Ah, well. Perhaps I am," he said sadly, vanishing again. "I hardly know myself, any more."

Harry looked around the room, wondering where he would appear next.

"I feel much weaker than I expected. I suppose I've no right to feel anything else; after all," he added with a chuckle, "I'm not really here, am I?"

"If you say so," said Harry. "Look, are you going to get to the point any time soon?"

"I'd forgotten the impatience of youth. Sit down on that bed and listen to my voice. This is going to come as something as a shock."

Harry got up off the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, wand in hand.

"I'm going to appear shortly, but bright light will still make me invisible."

"Okay," said Harry.

"I say, something of a shock, but you know? I do owe you. My life expectancy was halved by Voldemort, or so the Healers thought. It really wasn't fair that you should be responsible for practically finishing me off."

"What?"

"I'm not angry. How could I be? I will confess to being more than a bit put out, though. Still, all that was years ago, from my perspective. I see you are wearing my ring."

"Your ring? No, this was Dumbledore's."

"And now you will think of it as yours, until your dying day."

"No. No, this can't be possible. You can't be!"

"Calm yourself," said the figure as he materialised at the end of the bed, sitting facing Harry in much the same pose as himself.

"You can't be me."

"Can't I? Ask me anything. Something you have never told a living soul."

"What did I scratch into the back of the bottom stair riser in my cupboard?"

"I didn't actually scratch anything. I was too nervous that I'd get caught by Uncle Vernon, but what I wanted to scratch was Dudley smashed the window-"

"Not me," finished Harry.

They were silent for a few moments.

"I suppose I should apologise for landing on you like that. I really had no idea what I was doing there," said Harry.

"Actually, that may have been my fault. You see, or perhaps you won't since I never have, you were probably summoned to balance the books."

"Um, what?"

"It makes no sense to me, but since I'm here in your time, it was necessary for you to spend a while in my time."

"No," said Harry. "Hermione said it was impossible for anyone to travel into the future, because it hasn't happened yet."

"Yes, that's true except you didn't travel into the future. You just passed over into my time."

"Your time?"

"Yes, we are not the same person. We have always lived in quite separate time lines. Yours happened to start a little earlier than mine. The fact that the time streams are different is why you appeared before I did."

"I really don't understand."

"Perhaps we are not so different, then. Anyway, how all this happened isn't important. I've had my time. You may not believe me, but I always tried to act for the best. I have regrets; who doesn't? I listened to advisers who had their own agendas when I should not."

"Why did you keep power when so many people were against you?"

"Well, I was by the end quite insulated from the views of most people. I only heard things through advisers. At the end, only Neville was man enough to tell me the truth; not that I ever gave him the appreciation he deserved.

"It is true that I stayed in office for far longer than I intended to. My chief problem was that the only people ready and willing to take over from me were wholly unsuitable."

"Like Christopher, you mean."

"Indeed. He did manage to poison me in the end, you know?"

"So, did he assume the office as he intended?"

"Oh, no. He died, um, unexpectedly."

"Why did you take the Longbottom family ring?"

"It is not for me to say why I wore it; but I promise you that I did not take that ring by force. The ring was returned to the family," he added, holding up his ring-less hands.

"How did you kill Voldemort?"

"I don't like to talk about that; and neither will you. I won't tell you because your Voldemort is probably far worse than mine ever was. Besides, in your timeline, perhaps you are destined to die at his hands?"

Harry nodded and asked, "So what did you want to tell me?"

"You already know. You've known from the moment you woke up back here."

"That I mustn't become you?"

"You are free to make choices; as was I. I didn't have the advantage of seeing my possible future, though."

"I keep thinking about that. I can't help worrying then it was I crossed the line."

"That isn't what you should be worrying about. Believe me, I didn't need to be encouraged to step; I positively took a running jump at it. You are not me, remember. I know you are made of stronger stuff than I."

"You're just saying that."

"Am I? I can assure you that I would not have just nodded and accepted my refusal to tell how Voldemort was defeated."

Harry sighed deeply.

"What House were you in at Hogwarts?"

"We were in Gryffindor. You're going to tell me to remember the Gryffindor traits?"

"No. You were in Gryffindor."

Harry's head shot up.

"You were in Slytherin?"

"Spot on! I did rather well, too!"

"How did you get on with Malfoy?"

"He vanished at the end of Second Year. Don't worry, they never found the body."

"So who let the Death Eaters into the school the night that Dumbledore was murdered?"

"Malfoy? That spineless wimp couldn't have done that!"

"He did."

"Merlin! Well, it was someone altogether less surprising in my time."

"Who?"

"I shouldn't say. For all I know he could be your best friend!"

Harry gulped loudly, but then frowned.

"Hang on," he said slowly. "If you were in Slytherin, why were you on Dumbledore's side?"

"Remember, Dumbledore wasn't at all anti-Slytherin. He knew that all the Houses had good and bad apples amongst them."

"True," agreed Harry. "Was Snape still head of Slytherin?"

"Yes," the elder Harry said coldly. "I'm afraid we didn't get on at all. I killed him the night Dumbledore was murdered."

"I wish I had been able to," said Harry bitterly. "He seems to have vanished along with Malfoy."

"Well, I can't claim to have won that particular duel by superior skills. Snape always criticised me for not hiding my emotions. I'm sure he was using Legilimency to predict my moves."

"Um, so how did you beat him?"

"I shot him in the back while he was running away. I decided he didn't deserve anything better."

"I couldn't do anything like that."

"No?"

"No."

"So, your Snape deserved better?"

"No, he didn't," Harry admitted softly.

They both sat in silence for a long moment before Harry continued.

"I suppose that is what has bothered me the most all these months. You were more than capable of killing. I'm not sure I am."

"Don't worry about that. You will do what you need to should the need arise, same as I. Please don't think I took to killing lightly. The first time it happened I was a complete wreck after."

"How old were you?"

"I don't remember. It was in my Fourth Year, I think. Yes, it had to be because Moody worked me over. I wanted to throw in the towel, but he insisted I had to continue with the competition."

"The Tri-Wizard Cup. So, how did it happen?"

"Does it really matter?"

Harry shrugged and said, "I suppose not. So, you got together with Hermione?"

"Yes, just before the final battle, although we didn't know it would be the final one, obviously. She tended me during my recovery and it just kind of happened. I've still no idea what she saw in me, to be honest. I was always too shy to speak to her before."

Harry smiled warmly at the ghost who appeared to become a little more solid as he remembered happier times.

"The brief years that followed were the happiest of my life. Then I was persuaded back into the wizarding world, and that is when it started to go wrong. Ironically, it was Hermione who finally persuaded me to run for office."

"It must have been difficult when she lead the fight against you."

"Oh, well it was hardly unexpected. I was just thankful that we were reconciled before the end. We buried her at Hogwarts."

"But she was leading Dumbledore's Army against you."

"No, my dear Hermione died years ago," said the ghost sadly, fading again. "It was the effects of a spell she'd been hit with a long time before. She was fine until she was hit again with the same hex again. Unfortunately, the treatment wasn't effective the second time."

"Christopher Longbottom said Lady Potter was leading the attack."

"Well you can't trust Gryffindors, can you?" replied the old Slytherin with a grin. "Actually, that would be my second wife. I remarried, much to my children's disapproval."

"Oh. How many children did you have?"

"Three by Hermione and two adopted. They were all Gryffindors, by the way. That's why my battle flags all fly the Gryffindor lion."

They smiled identical smiles that faded in unison.

"So, what am I to do?"

"Firstly, you are going to get help. Before Dumbledore was killed, he instructed Ollivander to instruct me in the Dark Arts. I say instruct, but he really intended to temper some of my enthusiasm."

"I know what you mean," admitted Harry. "The Kemmynadow book is very addictive and difficult to control."

The ghost raised his eyebrows.

"Dumbledore didn't bequeath the Kemmynadow book to me. He considered me to be a borderline Dark Wizard at best."

"I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't correct."

"No, he was right. He did enough to put me back in the right direction. I've never surrendered to the Dark, nor have I ever abandoned the weak or frightened. The Civil War was never about that."

Harry heard the anger in the ghost's voice and nodded.

"My Dumbledore asked Ollivander to do something as well. The problem is we're not entirely clear what exactly that request was. Ollivander kept trying to provoke me for a long time but now he's just vanished."

"No contact at all?"

"Well, almost no contact. He did get a message to Ron but he didn't turn up at the meeting place."

"Ron's alive?"

"You were still friends with Ron? Even though you were in Slytherin?"

"Oh, yes. We met on our very first train journey, and we remained great friends even after the sorting."

"That's good to know."

"I never did know Ollivander's true loyalties. He certainly wasn't shy about keeping company with the darkest Wizards. Even Voldemort."

"Same here."

The senior Harry closed his eyes and faded slightly for a moment.

"I think my time is almost over. I can feel myself being pulled back."

"Where was that Village? The one I, er, visited."

"Why do you want to know that?"

"I, um. To tell the truth, I've no idea. I just wondered if it existed here, in my time."

"Well, the buildings originally came from an abandoned shipbuilding village. It was such a shame to waste them, so they were relocated to Norfolk."

"Norfolk? Thanks. Where was the village originally?"

"Cumbria. The village was called Torvais after the founder. He was a shipwright and his family originally came over as part of the Norman Conquest. Did you see the two bay windows opposite each other?"

"I do vaguely remember, yes."

"One of them was originally the foreman's lookout from where they could oversee the workings below. Hermione had her office in there so I transfigured another directly opposite on the other side of the street. She insisted we work apart or we'd never get anything done at all. Poor Hedwig did nothing but fly back and forth delivering love notes."

Harry snorted just as there was a soft rap on the bedroom door.

"Harry?"

"Hermione is here?"

"Um, yes she is."

"Are you okay, Harry?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said raising his voice.

"Ask her in, will you," asked the ghost faintly. "I'd like to see her just once more."

"Um, Hermione?" asked Harry.

Before he could finish the door was wide open and light streamed into the room from the corridor outside. The ghost faded from view.

Hermione stepped forward, wand in hand, looking urgently around the door.

"Harry?"

"It's okay, Hermione."

"I heard you talking. I was worried you had an uninvited guest."

"I did, actually," said Harry with a smile.

There was a soft rasping sound and Harry felt a warm breeze flow past him. Hermione's hair was gently wafted for a moment.

"I'm ready now," said a faint invisible voice.

"Good luck," said Harry under his breath.

"Who are you talking to, Harry?" demanded Hermione, sounding more than a little concerned now.

"I think he's gone now. Close the door and come over here. I'll try to tell you all about it."