A/N: Been a while simply because I'm involved in a real life writing contest....and because I was on self-imposed hiatus from Potter-world in anticipation for the final book. Rest assured I'll get more out in the weeks ahead (maybe even days, if the writing bug hits.)
I also want to say this much….Albus Dumbledore does not know everything. That's the only hint I'll provide you to tantalize your clue-seeking methods.
Chapter 21: The Weasley's Courage
The five witches and wizards sat around the Weasley family table, a steaming cup of tea in front of each of them, silence filling the ambience of the room. Everyone looked down at their drinks, unsure of what to say next. Harry and Hermione had spent the last few hours since Arthur's return from the Ministry telling the tale of their training, leaving out the parts about Harry being Heir of the Founders for the moment. Several minutes passed as Harry had just finished his tale, and he resituated himself in his seat.
"Bloody hell mate," Ron said quietly, glancing up at him and Hermione, "It's about time you figured out you two were made for each other." There was a solemn chuckle at that, and Harry placed his hand over Hermiones. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small wince cross Ginny's face, though it passed as quickly as it came.
"I'm happy for you," Arthur said smiling, "If anyone deserves to be happy it's you two." He looked down at the table again before glancing back up, "You mentioned something about an inheritance Harry. What exactly did you mean if you don't mind me asking?"
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, "Remember the letter from Gringott's I mentioned before? Well when I went to the bank, they told me that I had been left lordship over the House of Black. Because of that, I was declared emancipated and could inherit the houses my parents will had left me." He paused a moment before holding up his hand. "Potter, Black, Seldon, Draven, Warrens," he shouted at a subdued volume, and in a flash all five family rings appeared on his fingers. The Weasleys looked at the rings with some degree of awe enfixed upon all their faces. "There's more," Harry continued, pulling away his hand, "4 of those families are descended from the Founders of Hogwarts. By passing a test of theirs, I was named the Heir of the Founders."
Silence once again descended over the Weasley kitchen. "Bloody Hell," came the whispered response from Ginny, who gazed back and forth between Harry and Hermione.
"I understand this is a lot to take in," Harry said resolutely, "And it's probably not the most appropriate time to be telling you. But I felt that you all should know. Only Professor Lupin knows anything else about what I've told you, and I can't be certain exactly how much Dumbledore knows or doesn't know."
"It's alright Harry," Arthur said taking a sip of his tea, "And I thank you for trusting us with this information." A few moments passed before Arthur wiped the dejected look from his face.
"I think dad has something he wants to tell us too," Ron finally said somberly, turning towards his father. Ginny's face hardened somewhat as well, while Hermione just looked on puzzled. Harry half-cocked an eyebrow in response.
"Is this what you needed to tell me Ron," he asked, to which Ron nodded his head. The group turned back towards Arthur, but Harry shrugged them off. "Look, whatever you guys did for Dumbledore is forgiven, by me anyway. It's obvious that we've all been pawns of his for years, and there's nothing we can do to change the past." He paused a moment before Hermione continued for him.
"And I don't think that now's the time to be discussing such things anyway," she added, to which Ron gave an apologetic nod.
"I'm going to go call the others," Arthur said somberly, standing away from the table. "Fred & George will be here straight away, and Bill is back from Egypt so he shouldnt be too far behind. Charlie will take a day or so to get here from Romania. I-I don't know about Percy, no one has seen or heard from him in three weeks." He paused before turning towards Harry & Hermione, "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. You can use Percy's old room, it'd be big enough for the both of you." The fact that he was allowing them to share a room together was not lost on any of them.
"Thank you Mr. Weasley," Hermione politely said, standing up as she did so. Ron quickly followed suit, heading to his own room without much more than a word. Before long everyone assembled had gone away for the night. Harry lingered on the longest, and he gave one last look at Arthur.
"I...I'm sorry this happened sir. Maybe if I...." Arthur waved his hand in dismissal almost immediately.
"Harry, if you and Hermione hadn't shown up when you did, then we'd all be dead. Don't blame yourself for anything that happened here today Harry." Arthur stopped a moment to think things over, turning towards the lit fireplace.
"Sir...." Harry cautiously asked, approaching him from behind.
"It was something Caliban mentioned, he called Molly his cousin. He seemed to know everything about our family, as if he were schooled in the old lines." He smiled to the flames and turned towards Harry, "It's probably nothing. Just trying to find meaning....that's all. Get some sleep Harry, you've had a long day." Harry turned and walked up the stairs, looking down at Arthur Weasley for a long time as he took every single step. As he drew further and further away, tears began to trail down Arthur Weasley's face, and before long he was silently sobbing into the firelight. Harry knew enough to leave the man alone with his grief.
/ - / - / - /
Albus Dumbledore was upset.
No, strike that, he was angry.
Angry probably wasn't even a strong enough word at this point. Pissed off would more than likely be the appropriate term.
Yes, pissed off would do nicely.
He paced back in forth in the parlor at Grimmauld Place, going over in his mind everything that had just happened. The good news…Harry was back. There wasn't any danger of Voldemort getting his hands on him anytime soon. Dumbledore would feel loads better if Harry was under his thumb and safely within the confines of Grimmauld Place, but at the moment that was beyond him.
But, at the same time, there in lie the source of his frustration.
To be honest things could not have gone worse for their meeting. Harry had shown no modicum of the respect he once held for the headmaster. Albus had no doubt that Harry was aware of everything that he had done in the name of protecting him, and apparently this knowledge was what was driving his rebellion.
Coupled with this fact was the idea that Harry could be the Heir of the Founders as well. Albus wasn't ready to go so far as to make that leap of logic, but if his research and his guesses were right, Harry certainly had the right pedigree to lay a claim to those four houses, long bereft of lordship.
The problem that Albus had with that definition was, of course, that the prophecy said that the Heir would be lord of five houses bereft of lordship, not four. For the life of him, the headmaster could not figure out what the fifth house would be. He also reminded himself that that particular part of the dreaded prophecy spoke of the other Heir…not necessarily the Heir of the Founders.
Sighing, he sat back down in a chair, mentally reminding himself that it was a good thing Bellatrix Lestrange had no recollection of this house. When she had inherited the Black Line….it would have been easy for her to capture them all.
A fleeting thought passed through Albus' mind, but nothing ever came of it, much to his later chagrin.
He refocused his mind on the task at hand: namely rebuilding fences with young Mr. Potter. He would have to convince Harry….and most likely Hermione as well…that they needed him to fight Voldemort. Albus did have no doubt that Harry would not reneg on THAT prophecy. He would attempt to find and kill Voldemort, if for no other reason than to get revenge for his parents and Sirius, Dumbledore had seen to that much.
So the trick was that he would have to find a way to convince them that he had knowledge they required for Voldemort's ultimate and final demise….
….final demise….
Dumbledore smiled as a new plan began to form in his head. He turned it to the side when he heard the door open and the person of Severus Snape came walking into the room, robes billowing behind him in a dramatic fashion. "Severus," Dumbledore said with a smile, putting aside his thought concerning Potter & Granger for the moment, "What is the latest information of Voldemort? I know of an attack on the Burrow but little else about the attack."
"From what I could discern, headmaster," Snape began to say, pacing back and forth in the room in front of a stationary Dumbledore, "Is that the attack was conducted by three Death Eaters: Bellatrix, Caliban and young Draco Malfoy." He paused at that name, but continued onward just the same, "Draco was punished for his apparent failure to kill one of the Weasley's, but then was sent on his way before the Dark Lord dismissed us all." He paused again, uncertain of how to continue.
"What is it Severus?"
"I think the Dark Lord is ill….seriously ill. He was visably shaken after holding the cruicatus curse for a prolonged period of time on Malfoy, and when he dismissed us all, Caliban stayed behind. Furthermore, I received instructions to brew a very rare, and very difficult potion with somewhat exotic ingredients."
"Such as?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowed in feigned curiosity.
"Skin of a gargoyle, tongue from a Chinese Fireball, Baslisk Eye, things of that nature. It is unlike anything I have ever made before, but I found what it is for. The potion is a variant of unicorn blood, ultimately, but without any of the side effects. Unfortunately the more you take it, the less effective it becomes, until it is no longer effective at all."
"Why would Voldemort make such a potion?"
"You and I both know the answer to that question Headmaster," Snape said, turning with ever a hint of a smile on his face, "Simply put, Voldemort is dying. I don't know how, I don't know why, but if the potion proves ineffective, he will not be long for this earth."
"Severus," Dumbledore immediately stated, his eyes narrowing deep in thought. "You will not sabotage this potion. You are far too entrenched in the enemy camp to risk that now."
"But….Albus….this is a chance to end this war…"
"The war will not end with Voldemort. And there are other forces at work that are far beyond your comprehension Severus." Snape looked to protest more, but Dumbledore held up his hand. "Need I remind you of what you owe me?" Severus stopped and shook his head, "I didn't think so. Now make that potion as best you can. As often as needbe. There is some information that I hope Voldemort to let out before his eventual demise. Rest assured, he will be dealt with soon enough."
/ - / - / - /
Harry awoke startled, his face covered in sweat, his mind a wash with the last images of a fading nightmare. A fading nightmare that, thankfully, was fast becoming a forgotten one.
Hermione had died, in his nightmare. She had died in his arms at the hands of Caliban de Montesquieu. Quietly but frantically he turned his gaze to the side, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he did so. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw Hermione's peaceful sleeping form next to his, apparently undisturbed by his movements. Letting out another deep breath, he got out of bed as quietly as he could and walked out into the hallway. He quietly padded his way down the stairs and out the backdoor, stopping a few steps outside, and looking up at the evening sky. He didn't have much recollection of his dream anymore, but the odd feeling of premonition had once again crept into his mind, one he quickly quashed down.
The safe and comfortable life he had tried to make had been shaken to the core by the afternoon's events. And, much to his infinite guilt, it wasn't the death of Mrs. Weasley that was the source of the disturbance: it was who hadn't been killed. The more he dwelt on those few seconds, the more he shuddered with how much could have gone wrong. Hermione was central to his world now. If anything had happened to her.
He clenched his fist in resolve. That wouldn't happen, he wouldn't let it. Caliban would be captured and dealt with. Bellatrix would pay for everything she had done. Whomever that other guy had been would suffer the same fate, he told himself. No one would be allowed to hurt Hermione….or even threaten her.
"Harry?"
He turned towards the worried voice and saw the beautiful sight of a living Hermione set against the pale moonlight. Quickly his concern returned and he headed towards her, cupping her hands in his. "I'm sorry…did I wake you?"
"No…you didn't….I just woke because of a feeling and….when I noticed you weren't there I got worried." Harry nodded and offered what he could of a smile.
"I just needed some fresh air," he said, hoping that she wouldn't linger on the subject for much longer.
"Harry….is something wrong? You're trembling." She held up his hands and grabbed them tightly, using one of her hands to feel Harry's forehead. "You're in a cold sweat! Harry's what's wrong." Harry sighed and turned away, glancing up at the moonlight.
"I had a nightmare….where you died in my arms," he confessed, trying to hold back the worry that was readily apparent in his wavering voice. Hermione for her part was silent for a moment, absorbing the tale of his dream. Quickly however she moved forward, embracing him from behind.
"That's not going to happen," she said resolutely. Harry glanced back, fear ever present.
"How do we know that Hermione? If that curse had been just a few inches over then you would have been hit. I just….after everyone I've lost and everything I've gained with you….I just don't know what I'd do without you." He paused, trying to collect himself, a few tears escaping his eyes. Hermione held his head up, staring right at him, never faltering in her speech.
"It's not going to happen because I won't let it happen. You won't let it happen. I've just found you Harry James Potter, there's no way I'm going to lose you now that I've found you." She offered a slight smirk at this, and Harry chuckled in amusement. Wiping his eyes, they stared at each other for a moment longer, before trailing off into a long, passionate kiss. When they broke apart, Hermione spoke up, "Shall we get back to bed?"
"Yes….yes I think we should."
/ - / - / - /
The sun shone down on the Weasley family plot that was located far off in the corner of their property. Several people stood gathered around a recently buried plot with a fresh granite headstone placed in the center, a somber look on all their faces. Everyone of the Weasley children hung their heads in grief, never letting the slightest bit of mirth cross their faces. Off in the distance, Harry and Hermione stood, their heads equally held low, and behind them Remus and Tonks stood, maintaining a respectful distance.
"Molly Weasley was…first and foremost….a loving person," Arthur began, breaking the silence. "She was a caring mother, a good friend, and the most faithful and trustworthy companion that anyone could want in this life or any other. She was, at her heart, what we all strive to be….someone who would sacrifice anything for the good of those they loved. And in everything she did, she had the thoughts of everyone of her children near and dear to both her mind, her heart, and her very soul." He paused, the emotion of the moment overtaking him, as Ginny began to breakdown in tears, Bill hugging her as she did so.
"G-Goodbye Molly," Arthur concluded, holding up her wand over the gravestone, before snapping it with an earthshattering crack. "May we see each other again in the next great adventure." Arthur dropped the two halves of her wand over the dirt, and watched as the magical core turned to dust and was scattered in the slight summer breeze. Harry and Hermione came closer now, hugging the various Weasley's as they shared in their grief.
Several hours passed before most of the group had set aside for the funeral reception, a somber celebration of the life of Molly Weasley. The guest list at the reception was larger than the one at the private ceremony in the Weasley graveyard, but it was still a relatively small gathering. Of course, Albus Dumbledore was nowhere to be found.
Harry and Hermione had set aside a table where Ron, Arthur, Remus & Tonks had joined them. After being assured that Tonks was trustworthy and not a spy of Dumbledore's, Harry began to explain everything he and Hermione had done during the training.
"I want you to teach me everything you can," Ron said flatly, "I'm not going to let my family be hurt like this again."
"You're not going to go get yourself killed Ronald," Arthur said with a bit of sternnes in his voice.
"I won't," Ron replied, never looking at his father, simply keeping his gaze fixed on the table. Hermione placed her hand over his and Harry nodded in affirmation. Remus cleared his throat, drawing the attention to himself.
"Harry, I think there's a problem that we have to address here. That problem is how exactly you're going to go about claiming the seats you have on the Wizengamot. Everything I have seen says that in order for long bereft houses to receive new lords or ladies, you must have your claim seconded by one of the old pureblood families on the council." Almost immediately Harry began to turn to Arthur, who quickly shook his head.
"The Weasley's lost their seat some twenty years ago because of our financial situation. Dumbledore helped us retain our pureblood status, but not our political power." Harry frowned at Dumbledore's name, but looked across the crowd, his eyes coming to an older woman in a rather funny-shaped hat. A grin came across his face.
"I think we might have a solution to that problem, Mooney old boy."
A/N: Yes, the woman mentioned at the end is Augusta Longbottom, so Neville will get some airtime here shortly.
How much Ron is trained won't be addressed as much in this chapter, as he won't be the only one receiving training or helping Harry & Hermione hunt down Voldemort. Remember we're still in the early first three weeks of the summer holidays from Hogwarts, so the summer months will still have some time to go.