Author's Note
Sorry for being so late in updating everyone; crazy - but good! - life has kept me maniacally busy the last few weeks! I hope it's some compensation that this is a much longer chapter than usual and also includes the Tenth Interlude.
Janie xoxo
SORCERERS' NOOK
By JanieB
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
In which Harry and Hermione enjoy their Sunday; meanwhile, over in Kenmare, Ron and Seamus are a bit put out by some unexpected work while Colin fills in for Ron. Ron and Luna have some time together while Seamus catches up on his sleep. Then everyone's Sunday is ruined by some awful news ahead of Harry and Hermione getting back to the Book of Records on Monday morning, finally joined by Dean…
After enjoying a lovely, lazy Sunday brunch cooked by Harry, Hermione suggested they take a walk up to the village. As they strolled leisurely along in the warm July sunshine, their arms around each other, they talked - as new lovers everywhere always delight in doing - about themselves. Harry was greedy for every little thing Hermione could tell him about how she slowly came to realise her feelings for him, and how she'd become increasingly attracted to him. He particularly enjoyed her recount of the thoughts she'd had the night she was lying in the bath he'd run for her - the night they'd shared their first kiss.
`Later, after dinner, I was actually wondering what it would be like to kiss you, I remember.' Hermione laughed. `And now I know!'
`And?'
Hermione smiled indulgently at Harry, happy to appease his appetite for information. `No one has ever made me feel the way you do just by kissing me,' she told him.
Harry laughed too, relishing every moment and every little memory. Hermione couldn't help but go over and over the night they'd gone to the fair, just as insatiable as Harry for every detail of his thoughts and feelings. The fascinating subject of each other's memories and feelings saw them through the walk to the village, a glass of ice-cold butter beer at the Two Hoots and their walk home. As they passed Grimley's on the corner (closed, since it was Sunday) and turned into Ambling Row, they could see that the young Muggle couple who lived in Mill Cottage, behind the grocer's, were out in their front garden with their sweet little boy, his blonde curls catching the sun as he toddled around trying to catch a passing butterfly. They smiled and waved as they passed, both laughing at the cute sight. When they reached Ambling Rose Cottage, home of their neighbours, the Mallums, they saw that they, too, were in their front garden, tending to the rose beds which gave their home its name.
Mrs Mallum stood up slowly as they drew level with her; she'd been weeding around the rose bushes that ran along the front fence.
`Morning, dears. Lovely day for a romantic stroll, isn't it?' she said with an amused twinkle in her eye.
`It certainly is,' said Harry with a huge smile. Hermione nodded in agreement, then looked up at Harry, her heart in her eyes.
Mrs Mallum chuckled, delighted. She'd had a feeling about these two the last time she'd seen them, although on that occasion - the night of the fair - she'd received a very different reaction to that same question.
Watching them with a satisfied smile, the old lady bid them good day then knelt down and went back to her weeding, humming softly to herself.
Harry and Hermione turned and continued walking along to the Nook. As they passed through the front doors, they heard Verity call out their names and crossed to the portrait above the fireplace; Frewin was absent once more and Hermione wondered momentarily what errand he was on. Then Verity spoke and she forgot all about the absent owl.
`Are you both all right?' asked Verity, peering down at them anxiously; Emrys, too, was looking at them searchingly.
`We're fine,' said Harry and Hermione in unison.
`What on earth was all that about yesterday?' asked Verity, sitting back and smoothing her apron, apparently satisfied by her close inspection of them.
Harry gave them a brief recount of what was behind the previous day's events and as he finished, he realised Hermione was staring fixedly at the old couple.
`Hermione?'
Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's, her gaze still fixed on the portrait as she asked, `Did either of you see anyone come in yesterday? A stranger?'
Verity and Emrys both shook their heads. `No strangers,' said Emrys.
`You both left in the morning,' said Verity, `Mr Longbottom left not long afterwards, I think he was going down to the village; he was back well before you returned, Hermione. Mr Thomas's brother and his girlfriend Flooed in for a short visit. They left just as the young lad from the Grimley's delivered a bag of groceries to Esmerelda. Then you left and came back with your groceries, Hermione. And that's when bedlam broke out.'
Hermione gave Harry an amused glance and murmured under her breath, `She doesn't miss a thing, does she?' Harry gently squeezed her fingers by way of acknowledgement.
`Well, they could've come in by the back door, couldn't they?' offered Emrys. `If they went straight to the stairs we wouldn't have seen them from here. And if they were quiet enough, Esmerelda wouldn't have heard them from either her office or her flat.'
`I thought the back door was kept locked?' said Harry.
`I imagine it usually is. Except that on Saturday mornings, Mr Thomas usually does his laundry; I did hear him talking to Esmerelda down the hall and he commented about the warm weather, that everything would be dry before lunch. Perhaps he inadvertently left the door unlocked.'
`Or perhaps whoever it was used magic to open the door,' said Hermione.
`We may never know,' said Emrys sagely.
`We should check everyone's protective enchantments today,' Harry said to Hermione, before turning back to the portrait. `Dean's coming to the Ministry tomorrow,' he told them. `If all goes as planned, we'll be here with him sometime tomorrow afternoon to talk to you.'
`Very well, we'll see you then,' said Verity primly, settling back into her rocking chair. As Harry and Hermione left, still holding hands, they didn't see the fond look and warm smiles on the old couple's faces as they watched them walk away.
`I'll just quickly look in on Hedwig, then I'll be right over,' said Harry, heading for his flat when they reached their floor.
Hermione smiled in acknowledgement before entering her own flat, letting Crookshanks out for his daily walk in the garden, knowing he'd return when he was ready, Harry having set up a cat-flap that appeared as needed in the front door just for him, much the same as the window that Hedwig used at Harry's place. Hermione then headed into the kitchen to fetch some glasses and a jug of cold water from the fridge, putting them on the bench. Just as she'd poured them each a glass of water, Harry returned and joined her, voicing his gratitude for the cold drink after their walk.
`So, what would you like to do this afternoon?' asked Harry, as he took the empty glass Hermione held out to him and placed it in the sink together with his own empty glass.
Hermione leant back against the bench, her arms loosely crossed.
`I'm not sure, let me think,' she said, looking thoughtfully across at Harry who was leaning against the sink, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans.
Now that is not quite true, Hermione Jane Granger, she thought, smiling to herself, her eyes moving slowly from Harry's face, down to his feet and back again. I know exactly what I'd like to do this afternoon…
`What are you thinking about?' asked Harry, his breathing slightly ragged; the way Hermione was looking at him was causing his heart to thump erratically.
`Oh, just about what I'd like to do this afternoon,' replied Hermione airily.
`And that is?'
Hermione smiled.
`Hermione, that smile…'
`Mmmm?'
`It's…suggestive.'
`Suggestive? Of what?'
Harry straightened and walked across to stand in front of Hermione, lifting his hands to her shoulders. The look in his eyes made her pulse leap.
`I believe you're teasing me, Miss Granger.' The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine.
`Am I?' she asked breathlessly.
`You should be careful; teasing has consequences, you know.'
`Really? What would they be?'
`This is one…'
Harry's hands moved to cup her face as he dropped his head and kissed her, sending Hermione's heart rate through the roof. She felt blindly for the hem of his t-shirt, sliding her hands under it when she found it, up over the smooth, warm expanse of Harry's back, aware of his muscles tensing as her hands roamed over his bare skin. Then Harry's hands slid down over her shoulders and he wrapped his arms around her. As he pulled her tightly against him, Hermione was made immediately and unavoidably aware of Harry's patently obvious desire for her.
`Is that the other?' she asked huskily against his mouth.
She took Harry's low, hoarse growl as a barely recognisable as a "yes" before his lips closed over hers once more.
Hermione dropped her hands then to grasp the hem of Harry's t-shirt, tugging it as she squirmed so that he automatically loosened his hold on her, his lips leaving hers grudgingly. Hermione began pulling his t-shirt up, Harry taking over when Hermione couldn't reach any higher and she then took her own top off, dropping it to join Harry's on the floor beside them. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Harry grasped her firmly around the waist, lifting her to sit on the bench. As Hermione hooked her legs around him, Harry leant back slightly, gazing intently at her; Hermione could feel his fingers on her back, working deftly on the clasp of her bra. Once it was released, Harry pulled her bra off slowly, his eyes dropping to take in the always-alluring sight of her breasts.
Hermione's fingers moved to Harry's glasses, but he pulled back slightly. `Not yet,' he murmured, smiling at her as he lifted his hands to caress her breasts, his thumbs brushing provocatively across their tantalisingly hard tips, `I want to see clearly.' Harry watched her almost greedily, drinking in the effect created by his touch. With a soft moan, Hermione closed her eyes and gave herself over to the flood of exquisite sensations rushing through her, throwing her head back, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Then she felt Harry's lips graze the side of her neck before moving slowly down; Hermione held her breath in anticipation, moaning softly once more as Harry's tongue replaced his thumb, then gasping as each of her achingly stiff nipples was enveloped in turn by the wet warmth of his mouth and the incredible feel of his tongue.
`Hermione…' Harry's husky whisper managed to penetrate her reeling senses. When she lifted her head and looked at him, the naked yearning in her eyes took his breath away. Then she slid her arms around his neck, tightening her legs which were still wrapped around him, crushing her breasts against his chest as she kissed him. When the kiss finally ended, Hermione smiled against his lips. `I love you,' she whispered, `please take me to bed.'
Harry needed no further encouragement. He kissed her back, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as his hands slid down her bare back and under her backside, lifting her as the kiss continued. Then as their lips parted, Harry, murmured, `glasses,' and Hermione obligingly removed his glasses with one hand, the other still around his neck. She put them on the bench beside her, smiling that smile at him as she said in a low, throaty whisper, `You don't need to see, you just need to feel, right?' Harry's response was to tighten his grip on her behind and carry her down the hall to the bedroom, her legs gripping his hips tightly, their eyes locked on each other's. When they reached the bed, Hermione let her legs slide down to the floor, her hands fumbling with her jeans, her gaze still locked with Harry's. Harry had removed his jeans just as Hermione managed to undo her button and zipper. He sat on the edge of the bed then lay back, his hands behind his head, watching her avidly.
Hermione found the adoring appreciation in Harry's eyes overcame her initial self-consciousness and she proceeded to take what Harry saw as an excruciatingly long time to remove her jeans and knickers.
`At last,' he whispered hoarsely as she joined him on the bed, after which neither of them was capable of speaking for quite some time…
*
While Harry and Hermione were busy not speaking in Harminster Leigh, over at the Lansdowne Arms Hotel in Kenmare, Ireland, three people were sitting around a small table in one of the hotel rooms, two of them poring over sheets of parchment filled with writing, the third going through a box of photos.
`I reckon we've done it,' said Seamus Finnigan as he sat back in his chair and stretched. `That MacGregor is a pushy bugger!'
Ron groaned as he, too, sat back in his chair, rubbing his neck which was stiff from sitting and reading for so long. `We can send that off tomorrow morning and relax, thank Merlin.'
Luna, sitting beside Ron, was humming merrily to herself as she flicked through the photos.
Ron smiled indulgently at her, reaching out to put his arm around her shoulders.
`Luna Lovely, let's go get some well-deserved afternoon tea. You don't mind, d'you Seamus?'
Seamus shook his head, covering a yawn. `I think I'll have me a little kip.'
Luna nodded at him, saying solicitously. `You need it, Seamus. You've been out late drinking every night we've been here in Kenmare.'
Ron laughed at the abashed expression on Seamus's face. `She's right, mate!'
`Of course I'm right,' said Luna evenly. `But it is Seamus's favourite team, isn't it? And they are all Irish.'
`Right again!' laughed Ron.
Seamus groaned. `All right, all right!' Then with a wicked grin, he pointed at Ron. `So, what d'you think you'll be doin' mate when we get to Chudley, eh?'
With perfect aplomb, Luna answered. `He'll be out late every night, drinking too much.'
Both men laughed, Luna looking at them with her customary tranquil expression, her silvery eyes coming to rest on Ron, becoming softer, almost glowing, as they did so.
`I won't mind one little bit,' she told him with a half smile.
`And that's why I love you,' Ron told her, leaning over to plant a kiss on her forehead.
`All right, you two, enough already - go!' cried Seamus. `I'll straighten this lot up and then go and lie down.'
Ron and Luna left and Seamus began gathering up the sheets of parchment.
`Bloody MacGregor,' he muttered. `What d'you reckon, Pig?' he said, looking up at Ron's little owl, sitting quietly for once on a perch supplied by the hotel. `Bringing the deadline for our first article forward by two weeks is a bit rude, don't y'think? Making Ron miss out on lunch with the captain of the Kestrels and me miss out on watching the team practise this morning, just to proof-read the damned article! That Colin'll drive him crazy with his clicking camera!'
The parchment was now in one neat pile, the box of photos sitting on top. Seamus picked up the first photo, coincidentally one of the Kestrel's captain, Sean O'Hare, grandson of the great Darren O'Hare, Kestrels' Keeper and inventor of the Hawkshead Attacking Formation.
`Mate, I'm sorry Ron couldn't make lunch today, but we'll both be seein' you and the rest of the team for dinner!' Little did he know that he wouldn't in fact see him for dinner, for reasons he would never have imagined…
*
Colin Creevey was having the time of his life. Which wasn't anything new, really: he managed to have the time of his life most days - he was that sort of person. Being alive excited him, and everything else was just icing on the cake. He was sitting with the captain of the Kenmare Kestrels, Sean O'Hare, a big, friendly, beefy red-headed man with intelligent blue eyes and a very courteous manner.
They'd finished their lunch at a crowded, popular local pub, each having a bowl of PF McCarthy's famous Seafood Chowder with brown homemade soda bread, followed by homemade beef and Guinness pie with veg and potato, both of which left no room for dessert, even for these two enthusiastic diners of such disparate size. Over lunch, they'd discussed which teams they believed would make it through the play-offs for the upcoming World Cup and why, and they were now enjoying a pint of Guinness each with which they'd toasted Quidditch, the upcoming World Cup and the success of the articles. Unbeknown to Seamus, Colin had left his camera in his hotel room, determined to do Ron proud; Ron had asked him reluctantly if he'd mind filling in for him and having lunch with Sean, although Ron's reluctance was more to do with missing out himself than having Colin fill in. This had all come about because they'd had to polish off their first article on the Wimbourne Wasps. The article was now being printed to coincide with the first edition of Wizarding World to be published after the start of the new Quidditch season, which was beginning on the first of August. Originally, the editor of Wizarding World, Ronan MacGregor, had planned on beginning the articles in the second edition of the season, Wizarding World being a bi-monthly magazine. However, the growing interest in everything Quidditch, magnified by the upcoming World Cup, had made him decide that the sooner the better - and he should take advantage of the increased interest, which he was expecting to translate into increased sales.
Colin had indeed done his friend proud, for Sean had thoroughly enjoyed his company, and when they finished their pints, he was genuinely regretful about having to leave. `Got a team strategy meeting this afternoon,' he said apologetically as he shook Colin's hand, almost lifting Colin's slight frame off the footpath as he did so. `And tell Seamus and Ron I'm looking forward to seeing them tonight,' he added as he left with a wave.
Colin waved back, and headed off in the opposite direction, deciding he'd walk around a bit before returning to the hotel.
When a stranger heading in the opposite direction bumped into him and then apologised profusely, Colin happily assured him he was fine and not to worry.
`Please, let me buy you a beer, at least,' said the stranger, `I nearly knocked you right over!'
Colin studied the stranger, a tall, well-built man with very short, sandy-coloured hair. `Name's Baker,' the stranger said, `Nigel Baker. I'm over from London on holiday. I'm by myself, so I'd really appreciate the company while I have a pint.'
Colin, mellowed by his lunch and beer with O'Hare, nodded amiably and said, `PF's is a good pub, I just had lunch there,' then he and the stranger turned and walked back the way Colin had come.
*
When Ron and Luna returned to the hotel a couple of hours later and went knocking on Seamus's door, they received no answer.
`He's probably still asleep, poor fellow,' said Luna.
`Poor fellow?' snorted Ron. `Don't you worry about Seamus, love.' They then made their way to Ron's room, which was really his and Luna's, but for reasons of discretion they also had a very small, separate room booked in her name; Ron was quite aware that while his normal, everyday life was no longer terribly newsworthy, his love life was another matter. He and Hermione, together with Harry and Ginny, had often been photographed when out and about; they'd also found themselves the subject of articles in various publications speculating about the state of their relationships. So far, they'd managed to avoid anything getting out about their split, or Harry and Ginny's. However, Ron knew that if there were any interesting rumours about his relationship with Luna, things would change. And he was certain that Harry, Hermione and Ginny would all share his feelings of distaste about that happening.
It was getting on for five o'clock and Ron and Luna were cuddled up together on the very comfortable couch in his room, talking and kissing - more often kissing than talking, naturally - when Seamus burst into the room, frantically calling Ron's name.
Ron jumped up, Luna twisting on the couch to face Seamus.
`What the hell's wrong?' asked Ron, horribly aware of a feeling of dread suddenly pervading the room.
`It's Colin,' said Seamus heavily, slumping in the doorway. `Some sort of accident, I think. The police are downstairs.'
`Police?' inquired Luna.
`Muggle Aurors,' said Ron absentmindedly to Luna before turning back to Seamus. `What's happened? What sort of accident? Is Colin all right?' he continued tersely.
Seamus shook his head, his face twisting in misery.
`What d'you mean?' cried Ron as Luna sprang to her feet beside him.
`He's dead,' whispered Seamus. `Colin's dead.'
*
Bad news travels just as fast in the wizarding world as in the Muggle.
Harry and Hermione were lying contentedly in bed, their arms around each other, talking desultorily, when they were interrupted by the sound of frantic hooting coming from the living room.
After staring, puzzled, at each other for a second, Harry turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching down for his jeans and pulling them on while Hermione summoned her pale blue satin dressing gown from the hook on the back of her bedroom door.
As they made their way quickly down the hallway, they could hear Crookshanks hissing and yowling. As they reached the archway, it was to see Pigwidgeon flying in frantic circles above the startled cat.
`Crookshanks!' admonished Hermione as her pet settled sulkily back into his basket, disgruntled at having been rudely awaken by the arrival of Ron's small owl. As she and Harry hurried across the room, Pigwidgeon managed to land on Harry's shoulder, Harry wincing as the tiny owl's claws bit into his bare skin.
Hermione reached up and removed the rolled parchment tied to Pigwidgeon's leg.
`He's exhausted,' said Hermione, handing Harry the parchment. `Come on, Pigwidgeon,' she cooed softly, walking into the kitchen to fetch an owl treat and a container of water for him; the small perch Ginny had always kept him was still in the cupboard and Hermione placed it on the kitchen bench along with the food and water. Giving her a grateful look, the little owl left Harry's shoulder and settled on the perch, taking only one bite of the treat and a small sip of water before tucking his head under his wing and going to sleep.
`Oh no…my God…'
Hermione's eyes snapped to Harry. `What's wrong?' she asked, alarmed, as she walked hurriedly back to where Harry stood in front of the fireplace.
`Colin…' Harry's eyes lifted slowly from the parchment to Hermione's face.
`Colin? Creevey?'
`He's been killed.'
Hermione tried to gasp, but her throat felt suddenly too tight; tears filled her eyes as she stared at Harry in uncomprehending horror.
`What? How?' she managed to choke out.
Harry wordlessly held out the parchment to her, Hermione's fingers trembling with shock as she took it. She held Harry's gaze for a few seconds longer before she could bring herself to look down at the parchment. When she did, the words were blurred by the tears in her eyes; after quickly wiping them away with her free hand, she recognised Ron's handwriting covering the paper.
Harry, Hermione - bad news. Colin's been killed. We're still in Kenmare. We were told by the Muggle police. A couple of kids found his body in a skip bin out the back of the pub where he had lunch with Sean O'Hare. There wasn't a mark on him. Had to have been the Killing Curse. His family are here - we organised for them to Floo over - much quicker. They're taking him home as soon as his body's released. Luna, Seamus and I will stay here with them - they're Muggles and they need our help. Once they're able to take him home, we'll come home too, until after the funeral. I had Pig take a letter to Mum and Dad first so I hope he makes it to your place before you hear the news from somewhere else. I'll come and see you as soon as I get there, whenever that might be.
Ron
Hermione's hand fell to her side, still clutching the letter, as she looked up at Harry, tears now streaming down her face. Harry put his arms around her and they stood, hugging each other, until a series of brisk knocks on the door roused them.
`Probably Dean,' said Harry. He paused before crossing to open the door, his hands cupping Hermione's face, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. `You all right?' he asked softly and Hermione nodded, giving him a small smile.
It was Dean, and when Harry opened the door, Dean knew immediately something was wrong. He was as shocked as Harry and Hermione when they told him the news of Colin's death and almost forgot that he'd come to tell them the arrangements for the next morning. Neither Harry nor Hermione was surprised when he told them that he would meet them in Hermione's department after seeing Ginny home.
After Dean had left, Harry and Hermione sat on the couch, their arms around each other as they talked about Colin, even managing to laugh at some of the memories of his first year at Hogwarts. It was Harry who said in the end what had been on both their minds.
`It had to have been one of the Dark One's henchmen, perhaps even one of his roving Disciples, who did this.'
`But why Colin?' asked Hermione. `It doesn't make sense. I mean you know him, you're friendly with him, but I wouldn't've thought he'd be on the Dark One's hit list.'
Harry shrugged and shook his head. `Who can say? I've been more worried knowing you were on that list, and I'm certain that Ron and Ginny would be as well.'
They retired with heavy hearts later that night, falling asleep with their arms around each other, although they thankfully managed an unbroken sleep.
*
Harry stirred first the next morning, his arms around Hermione who was lying curled against him, her back to him.
At first his thoughts were only for Hermione and he smiled drowsily, pushing her hair out of the way and nuzzling her neck. This elicited the desired response as Hermione began to squirm, making soft noises of appreciation. Harry's hand had just cupped one of Hermione's warm, firm breasts when she stiffened.
`Colin,' she whispered, turning onto her back and looking at him.
Harry closed his eyes, only just managing to stop himself from groaning out loud. He somehow found the will-power to withdraw his hand from Hermione's delectable breast and nodded, not trusting his voice to sound normal if he spoke.
`What time is it?' asked Hermione, although it was a rhetorical question as she simply turned her head and looked at her bedside clock; it showed six forty-five a.m.
`We'd better get moving,' she said, pulling back the covers. `I have that meeting with Maxine this morning, too.'
`You shower first,' said Harry, hoping his disappointment wasn't apparent in his voice; it was, but Hermione was too preoccupied to notice it.
He watched with longing and regret as Hermione walked across the room to her ensuite bathroom. Damn it! he thought, I wish she'd waited longer before remembering! Then he felt remorse for having such thoughts, although it didn't entirely eliminate his disappointment.
By seven-thirty they were both dressed, had eaten a little breakfast and were ready to leave. While drinking her tea, Hermione penned a quick note to Ron to let him know his letter had arrived and that they'd both be at the Ministry for the day, but that he should let them know the minute he was back from Ireland. Pigwidgeon was fully recovered and hooted happily as Hermione tied the note to his leg, Crookshanks watching with satisfaction as the little owl flew up the chimney. Before leaving, Harry checked the protective enchantments again, making a mental note to do the same with everyone else's before the day was through.
Once downstairs, ready to Floo, they automatically glanced up at the portrait over the fireplace. They both gasped quietly as they saw Verity's bowed head in her hands, her shoulders shaking; Emrys was kneeling beside her chair, his arms around her.
`Verity? Emrys? What's wrong?' asked Hermione, taken aback at the strange sight.
Verity lifted her head at the sound of her name, Emrys too, turning to look at them. Neither Harry nor Hermione could suppress their gasps of surprise: Verity was crying.
`We've just had some distressing news,' Emrys told them, his voice hollow.
Harry and Hermione were bewildered. `What news?' asked Harry, he and Hermione sharing a baffled look; was Emrys talking about Colin's death?
Verity's head dropped to her hands once more as she began crying again. Emrys shook his head sadly at them. `I'm sorry, we can't talk now.'
`It's not about Colin, is it?' asked Hermione.
Emrys stared back at her. `Who's Colin?'
Hermione shook her head. `A friend of ours we've just had some awful news about. Is there anything we can do to help?' she finished.
`Thank you, but no, there's nothing anyone can do now,' Emrys told them. `And I'm sorry to hear you've had bad news as well.' He turned his head away and went back to murmuring to his wife, his voice soft and soothing.
Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of utter mystification, but since they could neither learn any more, nor do anything to help, they left.
They were thankful they arrived before the majority of Ministry workers, as even those few that were present couldn't help but stare at them. They were also grateful they had the lift to themselves as it ascended without stopping to Level Two where Harry left Hermione with a quick "see-you-soon" kiss before heading for Robards' office. He knew, without needing to be told, that the department head would be in his office early, as always, and would expect to see him as soon as he arrived. Harry had actually counted himself very lucky not to have received an owl on Saturday summoning him back to the Ministry to answer for his actions.
While he knew that he'd be censored for what he'd done to the Ministry's protective enchantments, Harry hoped that his reason for doing so would be an adequate excuse. Robards listened patiently while Harry explained about the activation of the Comperio Charm he'd put on Hermione's flat. He was as puzzled as Harry over what the intruder may have been looking for, and pointed out that since they didn't appear to have found it, they may well be back, causing Harry to feel momentarily alarmed until he remembered the strengthened spells of protection now in place. Harry told Robards this, and also admitted to putting Comperio Charms on all the flats, causing the head Auror's eyebrows to rise to previously unknown heights.
`How many flats are there?' he asked.
`Five all up,' replied Harry.
`Five? I see,' said Robards, staring at him thoughtfully. `I imagine the protection spells along with the Comperio Charms would keep out any future unwelcome visitors. Five Comperio Charms?'
Harry nodded, then to draw his boss's thoughts away from Comperio Charms, he offered to help in repairing the damage he'd caused.
Suppressing a smile, Robards told him it wouldn't be necessary, that four of the Ministry's Defence Guards had been called in after Harry had left the previous Saturday and had worked the rest of that day and half of Sunday to repair the damage. What he didn't tell him was that their annoyance at being called into work on a weekend had been short-lived when they were told what had happened and who had caused it. They had been astounded that anyone could have broken through the wards and manifestly impressed by Harry's ability to do so. They had even attempted to do the same themselves, but despite knowing the structure of the spells and charms, they had failed, which only served to increase their respect for Harry's power.
Hermione meanwhile was in a meeting with her boss, Maxine Longley, a meeting that had been arranged after the meeting at Hogwarts the previous week. Mrs Longley was mainly concerned with the Book of Records and Hermione's work with it. Explaining how she'd come by the book and its history as she knew it, Hermione finished with the fact that Dean was coming in later that morning to see the book and that Harry would also be there. Satisfied with Hermione's precautions and pleased that Harry would also be present, Mrs Longley asked Hermione to keep her up-to-date then smilingly dismissed her.
When Hermione emerged from her boss's office, it was to find quite a few of the department's workers were now at their desks, most of them greeting her as she made her way back towards the entrance where she noticed Lucy, the receptionist, wasn't yet at her desk. She paused with her hand on the door knob and gave an uneasy glance over her shoulder at the empty seat where the now-deceased Muggle, Arnold Fuller, had sat and waited to kill her. Dear Merlin! Was it really only a week ago? So much had happened in the time since… With a slight shudder, she opened the door, closing it behind her before walking along to the green library door. As she stepped inside after giving the passwords and with the door's "Good morning, Hermione!" still ringing in her ears, she was surprised to see her two assistants, Riley and Cady, at their desks; Monday was the one day they usually never arrived early. She had the distinct feeling they'd been waiting for her and as she approached them, smiling and saying, `Good morning, you two early-birds,' the way they were looking at her made her certain of it.
She stopped between their desks, looking from one to the other. `What's wrong?' she asked them.
After exchanging glances, Cady spoke first. `Is it true?' she asked, the awe in her blue eyes echoed in her voice.
`Is what true?'
`Harry-Potter-broke-every-protective-charm-and-spell-the-Ministry-has-in-place,' said Riley, the words coming out in such a rush that they all ran into each other.
Hermione stared at them for a second, then she burst out laughing. Cady and Riley both looked rather embarrassed, although Riley ploughed on, pushing nervous fingers through his short, sandy hair, his manner a little defensive.
`Well, I heard about it on Saturday night - my sister's boyfriend's father is friends with a neighbour of one of the Defence Guards who had to come in and fix things.'
Hermione smiled at them, shaking her head in amazement at how things got around. `Not quite all the charms and spells,' she told them.
`So he did do it?' breathed Cady, her eyes glowing with admiration.
Before Hermione could answer, they were all startled by a sharp knock on the door. Feeling certain it was Harry, Hermione hurried back to let him in.
`Cady and Riley are here,' she told Harry quietly as she closed the door behind him a few seconds later. As they headed across the room towards the Armarium, Harry was uncomfortably aware that both Hermione's young assistants were openly staring at him. With a mischievous smile, Hermione whispered, `I think Cady's now your number one fan, by the way.'
Harry gave her a quizzical look, but since they were now within earshot of the young witch and wizard, Hermione simply arched one eyebrow and smiled at him.
`Good morning, Mr Potter,' breathed Cady, her face flushed as she nervously twisted a lock of her shoulder length black hair around her finger.
`Erm, morning, Cady,' said Harry, feeling a little uncomfortable in the face of Cady's obvious admiration.
`Pretty amazing feat!' exclaimed Riley, wanting desperately to be brave enough to call Harry "Harry", but not quite making it.
Harry gave Hermione a puzzled look as if to say, "what the hell is going on?"
`Apparently, news of the, erm, incident, in which you were involved on Saturday, has spread. Quickly. To many.'
Harry groaned. `Are you serious?' he asked. `It was hardly newsworthy for goodness' sake!'
It was as though Harry's confirmation of the "incident" somehow removed their barely-held-in-check restraint, for both Cady and Riley started speaking at once, highly excited at "getting it from the source"; Harry stared at them, speechless, then turned to look at Hermione for help.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh, although she did feel sorry for Harry. `Enough, you two!' she cried, holding her hand up, palm towards them. `Stop!'
Cady and Riley both subsided into silence, although they still couldn't take their eyes off Harry.
`We are actually here to continue researching something that's rather important,' Hermione told them, keeping her expression serious. `We're expecting a friend of ours to arrive sometime from nine o'clock onwards. His name is Dean Thomas, and when he does arrive, would you please bring him straight to the reading room?'
Cady and Riley exchanged glances, recognising Dean's name, then they both nodded, their eyes once again fixed on Harry. Cady was already composing sensational owls to her friends in her head while Riley was thinking about how many rounds he'd get out of this at his local pub.
As they made their way towards the Armarium, Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and sighed loudly. `I really don't see what the fascination is, you know?'
As she wrapped her arm around his waist, Hermione gave him one of those smiles. `I do,' she said cheekily.
Harry rolled his eyes. `I don't mean that sort of fascination, as you very well know.'
`I know, I'm sorry; I couldn't resist teasing a little.' Hermione tried hard to sound contrite.
`Don't forget the consequences of teasing, Miss Granger,' he told her, giving her a look that threatened to liquefy her very bones.
They'd reached the midnight blue doors of the Armarium and Hermione turned and looked up at him, her eyes darkening with the force of her feelings as she asked, `Would that be the same consequences as last time I teased you?'
Harry retained the presence of mind to glance over his shoulder in the direction of Cady and Riley, which was just as well since they were both still staring avidly in Harry and Hermione's direction.
`Hermione, they're still watching -'
`I know,' Hermione interrupted him, her voice revealing her regret. They looked at each other for a long moment, resisting the urge to kiss, knowing they were being watched. `Would you like to come in with me this time? I asked Maxine this morning and she said it was all right.'
Harry nodded. `I would like to see the inside,' he assured her.
Hermione drew out her wand, tapping on the door three times, the deep resonant voice that sounded like Kingsley Shacklebolt speaking immediately.
`Please state your full name.'
`Hermione Jane Granger and Harry James Potter.'
`Please state the three passwords in the correct order.'
`Revolvo. Libellus. Incedo.'
`Which object do you wish to view?'
`Object number seven-one-three.'
As the door swung open with a distant rumbling, revealing a room that appeared to be full of bright light, he felt Hermione's hand take hold of his as she stepped forward, drawing him with her. They passed into the light - then they passed through it and Harry looked over his shoulder at the doorway; he couldn't see out - it was as though the light was a screen.
`This way,' said Hermione, still holding his hand. Harry followed automatically, looking around with interest. Harry thought that this may well be what Aladdin's cave would look like if it was tidy and ordered. The Armarium was an immense cave that had been carved out of solid rock, the perfect insulation against magic - either entering or leaving. Thousands of niches of varying sizes had been cut into the walls, some empty, but most held black boxes, also of varying sizes. Above each niche he could just make out a number carved into the rock, but his eyes were drawn to a flashing, bright blue light further down the cave. As they drew closer, he could see that it was the number "713" above a waist-high niche; when they reached it, Hermione removed the black box and the light stopped flashing.
As they made their way back to the door, Harry took the box proffered by Hermione. `Would you mind carrying it? It's rather heavy,' she explained.
They passed through the screen of light, Harry behind Hermione, the door closing immediately after he stepped out.
Cady and Riley were watching as they emerged and Hermione spoke to them, raising her voice slightly to ensure she was heard.
`As well as Dean Thomas, our friend Ron Weasley may also come to see us; please bring him to us immediately if he does.'
Cady and Riley both nodded then turned and stared at each other.
`Did she say Ron Weasley?' whispered Cady.
Riley nodded, stunned. `The Trio, all three of them, here! Cliodna's Cape!'
Once in the reading room, a small alcove with a single, square wooden table surrounded by eight chairs, Harry put the black box on the table while Hermione took out her wand and tapped two of the small blue tiles set into the wall beside the alcove opening, activating a silencing charm. He and Hermione then sat down next to each other with the door to their left, both looking down at the unopened box.
`We'll wait until Dean comes to open it - what do you think?' asked Hermione.
`I agree,' replied Harry. `I think Dean's the only one now that could get any more from it.'
For just over an hour, they talked, discussing the strange incident with the Leighs that morning, wondering what news an old couple in a portrait could possibly receive and from whom they'd received it. Once the few possibilities they could think of had been exhausted, they moved on to talking about what may happen when Dean opened his family's book. They were in the middle of trying to resolve what avenues were open to them in the fight against the Dark One when Cady appeared in the alcove entrance, Dean behind her. Hermione jumped up and deactivated the silencing charm with two taps of her wand.
`Dean, hello,' Hermione greeted him with a brief hug, `please, come and sit down.' Harry had risen to his feet and he and Dean shook hands as they greeted each other.
Hermione turned to Cady, who was still standing in the entrance. `Thanks, Cady,' she told the wide-eyed young witch, `I'll be sealing the room now, but if Ron turns up, you know what to do.'
Cady nodded before turning away, Hermione tapping all six of the small blue tiles which caused a blue, handle-less door to fill the opening with a sharp, smacking sound, making Dean jump.
`Sorry,' Hermione apologised, `I should've warned you.'
She and Harry resumed their seats, Dean sitting to Hermione's left, his back to the door.
`How's Ginny? How did it go with Robards?' asked Hermione.
Dean shrugged. `Bit of a non-event really. Robards told us basically the same thing you did yesterday: don't worry about Malfoy. He said they've known about him for some time and he's under surveillance. He asked us not to say anything to anyone about him, of course. Ginny was relieved.' Dean shifted in his seat, his eyes moving to the box on the table between Harry and Hermione. `Is that it?' he asked, sounding a little nervous.
Hermione nodded as she removed the lid of the box, Harry reaching over to lift out the book. As he did so, Hermione replaced the lid and pushed the box out of the way so that Harry could lay the book in front of her; she then turned the book over and opened the back cover, removing the small photograph and handing it wordlessly to Dean. He took it, his fingers trembling as he turned it over and gazed down at his father for the first time.
Harry, one arm resting on the table, reached out his other hand and covered Hermione's clenched fist with it; her left hand was sitting splayed on the open book.
`It's not a wizard photo,' said Dean quietly, disappointment clear in his voice. `But I don't suppose it could be since Mum's a Muggle and she didn't know about Dad then…'
Harry and Hermione sat quietly, waiting for Dean's cue; Hermione's fingers relaxed and uncurled beneath the reassuring warmth of Harry's hand and she gave him a quick look of gratitude as she laced her fingers with his.
`I look like him,' he said finally, looking up and giving them a sad smile. `May I keep this?' he asked, holding up the photo.
`Of course you can,' Hermione told him. Then, gently pulling her fingers from Harry's so that she could turn the book and push it across to Dean, Hermione told him, `We don't know what, if anything, will happen when you touch or open the book, but first you'll probably want to read those entries written by your dad that we mentioned.'
Dean nodded, his expression sombre as he looked down at the book.
`It doesn't look very old, does it?' he said quietly, studying the tooled leather volume. `A charm, I suppose,' he murmured, then he read the words etched into the cover, `"Book of Records"', his voice barely audible.
As he lifted his left hand and reached across for the bottom corner of the cover, Harry and Hermione found themselves holding their breath in anticipation of they knew not what.
As Dean lifted the cover and set it down on the table, his eyes went straight to the inscription, reading it out loud, although quietly, `This Book of Records was first begun by Oswyn Riley. It shall remain in the possession of the Riley Family by Magical Decree.'
A soft yellow light suddenly surrounded the book and all three of them jerked back in their chairs, looking at each other in surprise. Nothing else happened though, and after a few seconds the glow subsided.
`There's more writing now,' said Dean, and read out, `You who are a true descendant of Oswyn Riley, place your left hand on the page opposite and state your full name. Thus will you be bound to this Book of Records from this day hence to the day of your death.'
Dean lifted his left hand and turned it over, looking at it as though it was a strange thing before lifting his gaze to Harry and Hermione.
Hermione nodded, and Harry said, `Go ahead, you are the rightful owner.'
Slowly and carefully, Dean put his hand, palm down, on the inside cover of the book. And then as he was about to say, "Dean Thomas", he checked himself and because it seemed the right thing to do, he said instead, his voice firm, `Dean Riley Thomas.'
A blue-white light emanated from beneath his hand, appearing to drain the colour from his face as he stared down at it. This light too, subsided after a few seconds and Dean lifted his hand up, turning it once more and studying it as though making sure it was unchanged. Then his eye was caught by words written in a beautiful flowing script where his hand had just been: `Each time you wish to read the Book of Records, Dean Riley Thomas, place your left hand on this page in order that the Book recognises your intention. Should you wish to make an entry in the Book, you will need to place your right hand on the inside of the back cover.' As he read them a second time, Dean realised the words were fading and he watched until they were gone; the page was now as blank as it had been when he'd first opened the book.
Excitement began to fill Hermione as she read the words, despite them being almost upside down to her. `Dean, this must be how the locked parts of the book are opened - when the rightful owner is recognised - now we can -'
But Harry broke in gently at that point. `Hermione, don't forget about the entries Dean's dad made. Don't you think we should leave Dean alone to read them?'
Even Dean couldn't prevent himself from smiling at the crestfallen look on Hermione's face.
`I'm sorry, Dean, honestly,' she apologised contritely. `Of course you should read what your dad wrote. It's under the last entry on the last contents page. Harry and I will leave you to it; when you've finished, just tap the first blue tile there, beside the door, and we'll come back in, all right?'
Dean nodded as Hermione and Harry rose and walked to the doorway where Hermione tapped the blue tiles in a complicated pattern. The blue "door" appeared to shiver before becoming as transparent and clear as glass. Hermione stepped through, taking Harry's hand and pulling him with her. Once they were out of the alcove, the "door" returned to its former opaque blue with a strange, almost sibilant noise which made Cady and Riley both look up from their work.
`We'll be in my office,' Hermione told them. `When the door to the alcove turns yellow, would you let me know immediately, please?' Both her young assistants nodded and went back to their work, leaving Harry and Hermione to make their way to her office, closing the yellow door behind them.
`Tea?' asked Hermione and Harry nodded enthusiastically. `I'd love some, thanks.'
While Harry transfigured the two chairs in front of Hermione's desk into a cosy couch for two, Hermione crossed to the small side table that held a tray with a jug of water, a teapot, mugs, sugar, milk and spoons. After boiling the water using a heating charm, Hermione poured it into the teapot and levitated the tray to her desk. They sat and talked while they drank their tea, speculating on Dean's reactions to what his father had written.
It was almost half an hour later before there was a knock on the door; Riley had come to tell them that the "door" was yellow. Harry and Hermione quickly made their way back to the reading alcove, Hermione using her wand this time to turn the "door" clear once more; as they stepped inside with Dean, she tapped the blue tiles to once again seal the room.
Dean was pacing in the small strip of floor on the other side of the table from Harry and Hermione, who had resumed their same seats.
`I can't believe it,' Dean told them, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck and twisting his head slowly to release the muscle tension. `What am I saying? Of course I believe it, but it's just such a shock, finding all this out now! I'm going to have to tell Mum - she'd want to know.'
`Of course she will,' agreed Hermione.
`You'll have to bring her here, though,' Harry advised him. `The book needs to be kept here for the time being.'
Dean frowned. `Are you sure? I can't take it home tonight and bring it back tomorrow?'
Hermione shook her head, her gaze sympathetic. `I'm really sorry, Dean, I know it's your book, but it's of vital importance to us in the fight against the Dark One so please, I hope you understand that we can't afford to take even the slightest risk with it.'
`But it said the book is charmed to appear each Monday, no matter where I am. Won't that happen now?'
Hermione shook her head. `Not while the Tutis Charm it carries is intact and it's kept in the Armarium. It's not a problem, you bringing your Mum here, you know that, don't you?'
Dean nodded. `She does get a little nervous around magic, though, y'know? But I do understand about keeping it here - I don't want anything to happen to this book either. Or me, since I'm not sure about what it can do or how to use it properly.' Dean sighed and dropped back into his seat. `You didn't find anything else in here about my dad?' he asked them.
`Not so far,' said Harry, `although that doesn't mean there's not something else in there. It just means that it's not accessible to anyone except the rightful owner. You.' He could sense Hermione suppressing a growing impatience which he knew stemmed from her desire to find out as much as possible before the next meeting at Hogwarts, scheduled for the following Thursday.
Dean propped his elbows on the table, pushing the book back from the edge of the desk as he did so, dropping his head and cradling it in his hands.
`I just can't seem to think straight at the moment,' he said, sounding tired and fretful all at once, `and I need time to think all this over.'
Harry now sensed anxiety emanating from Hermione; he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. `We understand that, believe me,' he said. `It's just that Professor McGonagall has this Thursday coming set aside for the next meeting at Hogwarts. If you can manage it somehow, we'd like to have at least Wednesday and Thursday with you here, going through the book. D'you think that'll be all right?'
Dean lifted his head and looked at them, his brown eyes troubled. `I suppose so, I just don't know to be honest. I need to talk to Mum. If she wants to see the book, how soon can we arrange it?'
`Immediately. Any time,' said Hermione firmly.
Dean nodded, rising slowly to his feet. `Thanks, both of you. I'll go see Mum now. I've got the whole day off, anyway. I'm not sure what my boss really thinks about my absences, although so far he's been pretty understanding.'
`Don't worry about that,' said Harry, `the Ministry will make sure your boss understands how important your presence here is. You let us know if your Mum wants to see the book and when.'
They walked a slightly bewildered and despondent Dean to the lift, the sunshine streaming in the magical window at the end of the room seeming somehow incongruous in the circumstances.
Not long afterwards, they'd just re-emerged from the Armarium after returning the Book of Records to its niche when a gentle, three-note chime rang through the air.
Cady and Riley, who had been Harry-and-Hermione-watching, both jumped as they turned to look at the green entry door, which had just turned the palest green.
`Don't worry,' Hermione told them, `we'll see who it is.' She and Harry hurried over to the door, Harry wondering aloud if it could be Ron.
It was. A very drained and exhausted looking Ron. He was quickly ushered in by his two friends, all of them oblivious to Hermione's two assistants, who were unashamedly craning their necks to see who it was. The Trio stood just inside the now-closed door, talking in voices too low to be heard by Cady and Riley - to their bitter disappointment.
`Ron, you look awful!' said Hermione. `Have you slept at all?'
Ron shook his head. `Not really,' he replied, his voice sounding as though it was passing over sandpaper.
`Where's Luna?' asked Hermione.
`Back at her dad's; I'm gonna Floo her tomorrow.'
`Listen, we've just finished here,' said Harry, `do you want to go home? You can get some rest before we talk if you like. That's okay, isn't it? To leave now?' he asked Hermione.
Hermione nodded. `Of course it is. I'll just tell Cady and Riley and we can leave.' She turned and looked at Cady, waving her hand to indicate she should come over. Riley, despite not being hailed, followed Cady; there was no way he was going to miss out on the chance to be this close to the Trio, however grim the circumstances.
Cady, who was desperately trying to look at Ron and Harry at the same time as she was looking at Hermione and going almost cross-eyed in the process, could only nod as Hermione explained she was leaving for the day and should be in the next morning, that Cady should let Mrs Longley know all this immediately; she then instructed Cady to owl her with anything important, at any time that afternoon.
Ron, standing between Harry and Hermione, smiled wearily at the young witch and wizard, completely ignorant of the powerful impact his presence, together with that of Harry and Hermione, had on Cady and Riley.
Needless to say, after the Trio had departed, Cady and Riley barely got any work done, being far too excited about their day's experiences to concentrate…
*
When they arrived back at the Nook, Harry and Hermione immediately looked up at the Leighs' portrait, somewhat relieved to see them once more in their rocking chairs, apparently asleep.
By unspoken agreement, they made their way to Hermione's flat, where Ron flaked out on Ginny's bed while Harry and Hermione made some sandwiches, putting some aside for Ron when he woke.
Ron wandered out a couple of hours later to find Harry and Hermione sitting on the couch, Hermione at one end reading aloud from a book, Harry lying with his head in her lap with his eyes closed; Ron wasn't sure whether his friend was asleep or listening.
As Ron walked into the room, Hermione looked up and smiled. `There's a plate of sandwiches in the fridge for you,' she told him. Then she closed her book and ruffled Harry's hair. `Come on, sleepy head, time to get up.'
Harry groaned in protest and reluctantly sat up. Then he leant forward and kissed Hermione lightly on the lips. `Definitely my second favourite place to sleep,' he said softly.
`And your favourite?' asked Hermione, one eyebrow arched in amusement.
`Tell you later,' said Harry with a mischievous smile.
`Either of you two want something cold to drink?' called Ron, his voice muffled due to the fact his head was in the fridge.
`I'll have a butterbeer,' replied Harry, looking quizzically at Hermione who shook her head. `Nothing for Hermione,' he finished.
They all sat up at the table while Ron ate and when he'd finished he sat back and sighed deeply.
`Closest to normal I've felt since - since it happened.'
`Have you found out just what it was that happened?' asked Hermione, her voice revealing her tension.
Ron nodded. `Pretty much,' he said, looking from her to Harry, his face grim. `Colin was murdered on the Dark One's orders. The Disciple that did it broke Colin's wand and rolled it up in a piece of parchment.' Ron hesitated, looking down at the table.
`What's up?' asked Harry, frowning.
Ron looked up at Harry, his eyes desolate. `It was supposed to be me. I was going to have lunch with Sean that day. Colin went instead. The note said he'd make sure next time it was me and not my stand-in.'
Hermione's gasp drew both men's eyes to her. She was sitting, slowly shaking her head in disbelief. `Are you sure?' she whispered, horrified.
`Oh yeah,' said Ron, `I'm sure all right. I saw the note.'
They sat in silence for a minute as the reality of the situation sank in.
`I knew something like was highly likely, but…' began Hermione, her voice trailing off as she shivered with apprehension.
`So how did you find all this out?' asked Harry.
`We had to notify the Ministry, of course, and they sent some Aurors and others over - you know, to modify the Muggles' memories and such. They took charge of Colin's body and had some of those specialist Healers check it over. It was definitely the Killing Curse, but we knew that. And they found his wand with the note around it inside his jacket.'
`What about his family? How are they?' asked Hermione.
There was an awful sadness in Ron's face and his voice as he answered, `They're devastated. I feel -' Ron stopped, pain filling his eyes as he looked at them.
`It's not your fault,' said Hermione firmly, knowing what Ron was thinking.
Ron nodded wearily. `I know, but for some reason I still feel guilty because it was supposed to be me, not Colin.'
`Anyone would,' said Harry, `but keep reminding yourself you're not responsible. So, when's the funeral?'
`This Wednesday. They're having it at their local church - a Muggle burial.'
`What time?' asked Hermione.
`Ten in the morning. The Creevey's fireplace is gonna be connected to the Floo Network for that day for any of us to go.'
Hermione nodded, already mentally scheduling their attendance at the funeral before working on the Book of Records with Dean.
`What's going to happen with your tour, now?' asked Harry.
`Not too sure, mate. Seamus and I have talked about it and we think we should keep going. We reckon Colin would've wanted us to go on.'
`He would've, for sure,' said Harry as Hermione nodded in agreement, then Harry pointed out, `You'll just have to find another photographer.'
Ron gave them a crooked smile. `Already had two offers, actually. Seamus and I just have to decide which of them will be the easiest to live with.'
Harry and Hermione both looked at him with questioning gazes, waiting.
Ron took a deep breath before continuing.
`Well, either Dennis Creevey or Ginny.'
*
TENTH INTERLUDE
Ronald Weasley lived.
The First-Disciple-To-Be sank to his knees in despair, horror and hopelessness warring for supremacy in the twisted remains of his soul.
Ronald Weasley lived.
He was in one of the caverns set aside for living quarters within the Cave complex - his cavern larger than the others by virtue of the fact that it was for the use of the First-Disciple-To-Be. He felt a leaden certainty he would not hold that position or title for much longer.
Because Ronald Weasley lived.
He found himself torn between overwhelming fury and an utterly debilitating terror at the cruel twist of fate that had seen his latest endeavour fail. A twist that he'd failed to take into account. A twist for which he knew he'd be held responsible, regardless of how irrational that may be.
And then he felt a stab of pain so sudden and so agonising it threw him to the ground, clutching his head; it drowned out even the sound of his own screams as he writhed helplessly on the hard, cavern floor.
He lives!
Those two words tore through the excruciating pain and seemed to pierce his brain like two, vicious rapiers.
Master! Please! I beg you! No one could have foreseen - it's not possible to know such things - I beg you, please!
A feeling of raw, furious disgust washed through him which he knew came from his Master. Then the pain receded just enough for the First-Disciple-To-Be to cease writhing; he lay weak and panting on the cold floor.
It is possible to know such things! It is your place to know such things!
The Dark One was torn between an almost unendurable need to destroy the useless wretch, yet his lust to kill was stayed by the knowledge that there was, for the moment, no other suitable contender for the position of First-Disciple-To-Be. But he was always searching…
As his Master wrenched his thoughts from his pain-wracked mind, the First-Disciple-To-Be shrieked, the piteous sound reverberating around the cavern.
As the last echoes of his anguished cry faded away, he lay helpless, his feeble and fruitless attempt to get up leaving his body twitching convulsively.
Then the agony returned ten-fold and his body arched off the floor with the force of it, his mouth stretched in an endless, silent scream. His Master's voice, almost incoherent with an unimaginable rage, lacerated his tortured mind, leaving it raw and burning with anguish: If you fail again it matters not that I have no replacement for you! You will die and die and die! She must die! The filthy blood traitor that he loves must die! Do not fail! I will devour you if you fail! I will rip at your flesh with a thousand teeth! I will keep your soul in my hand and I will claw at it every second it manages to survive!
Mercifully, his tortured body fell into unconsciousness. When consciousness inevitably began to return, seeping through his tormented brain like some horrible, yet inexorable force, he began to tremble uncontrollably, aware only of his pain-wracked body. Then unavoidably, the memory of his Master's rage-fuelled tirade returned, bringing with it a terror greater than he'd ever known, a terror so vicious and brutal it made him violently ill where he lay. And so he remained, lying in his own vomit with the stench of his own fear permeating the air, for the many hours it took him to regain enough strength to crawl across the floor to his bed. He was still too weak to attempt even a simple cleaning spell on himself and so he clawed his way onto his bed and fell into exhausted unconsciousness.
*
The Dark One ripped his thoughts from the unconscious body of his First-Disciple-To-Be, withdrawing to the Inner Place, to the black lake, his anger causing the glass-like surface to churn. He became aware then of the large host of Disciples gathering in the Ante-Chamber, already beginning to murmur one of the chants he'd given them; it was the Chant of Veneration. Yet while it was the chant he favoured above all others, the pleasure he normally derived from it was absent.
Because that accursed fool failed me! A poor choice for my First Disciple! He lacks the magical strength, the depth of Darkness needed. But as yet, there is no other. However, I feel there is one unfound - one undiscovered. And when he is found, I will delight in the slow destruction of that ludicrous excuse for a wizard who thinks himself worthy to be my First Disciple!
Eventually, the chant soothed the worst of his anger and he was struck with a strange, almost human-like melancholy brought about by an old memory, a memory of another, one who had been equal to the task of being his First Disciple. One who had been destroyed. By Harry Potter. Then as the thought of Harry Potter spread into his mind like some malicious poison, the black water began to churn violently once more, disturbing the hideous occupants of the lake. With great effort, the Dark One redirected his thoughts, resolving to put in place a plan of contingency. He no longer had any confidence in the ability of his First-Disciple-To-Be to carry out the task he'd been entrusted with.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Author's Note
Looking forward very much to your thoughts and reactions, dear readers. Janie xoxo
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