Author's Note
G'day again everyone! Here's a nice, long chapter to curl up with - enjoy! - and I'll be back as soon as I can with the next one. Janie xoxo
SORCERERS' NOOK
By JanieB
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
In which an impromptu meeting is held at the Nook and Harry, Hermione and Dean visit the cottage in Hewett's Field where, amongst other things, a rather interesting dinner is arranged for that evening…
The next day, warm yellow shafts of morning sun found their way through the gently wavering leaves of the old willow tree and into the room where Harry and Hermione lay sleeping. The same sunbeams filtered through the same willow into the flat directly below, only here they found Dean already awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, stretching, while across the hall, Neville still lay asleep, oblivious to the dawning light, his cat, Trevor, curled up beside him. Since it was at the back of the building, Ron's room received only a hint of the morning light and he and Luna slept on peacefully.
Esmerelda was the only occupant of the Nook already up and about, making a pot of tea and cooking herself some breakfast. As she watched the wooden spoon she'd set to stirring her scrambled eggs, she couldn't decide which she was anticipating more: the second meeting to be held at Hogwarts that evening or finding out what Verity and Emrys had told Harry, Hermione and Dean at their meeting. The previous day, the old couple had told her of the pending private meeting and she'd known not to make an appearance, receiving Verity's assurances at the same time that she would be informed as to what came out of the meeting.
As he quickly showered before breakfast, Dean's head was a battle ground. So many thoughts were vying for prominence that he found it quite difficult to subdue them. However, by the time he was boiling the kettle for his morning tea, he'd managed to focus on what he'd be doing that morning: going to the cottage, opening his father's chest, meeting Toby, the house elf, and perhaps - if there was time - visiting his father's family home - and his father's grave...
Neville woke to the feel of his cat pawing at his face and miaowing, which was Trevor's way of demanding breakfast. As he scratched his much-loved pet under the chin to give himself time to wake up properly, Neville's thoughts turned to the meeting at Hogwarts that night and he wondered what new information would be revealed.
Now waking, Hermione slowly opened her eyes, as she had done so many times before, to see the dappled morning sunlight streaming through her window. She smiled as she moved slightly, causing Harry's arm, which was curled possessively around her waist, to tighten unconsciously as though to keep her close to him. As she turned in the circle of his arm to face him, her movement woke him and he smiled at her sleepily as she settled on her side to face him, lifting her hand to rest on his face while her thumb gently moved back and forth, enjoying the feel of the morning stubble on his cheek.
`Feeling better?' he murmured.
`Much,' Hermione replied, `and hungry.'
Harry chuckled. `Me too. So whose turn to make breakfast?'
`Yours,' said Hermione with a cheeky grin. `I'm going to have a nice, long shower.'
Harry looked at her mock-sternly. `And why can't I have a nice long shower with you?'
Hermione pursed her lips, appearing to give his question serious thought. Sighing as though resigned to the fact, she said, unable to hide the sparkle of mischief in her eyes, `Well, I can't really think of a good reason why not, so I suppose I can't stop you, if you really must.' Harry responded to this announcement by tickling her. Crookshanks was halfway across the living room, heading for the front door, when Hermione's peals of laughter drifted along the hallway; with a look that was the catly version of eye rolling, he put his tail in the air and stepped through his magical cat-flap.
Ron and Luna were the last to wake that morning.
`Morning, beautiful,' Ron murmured into Luna's soft, blonde locks as she lay snuggled with her back against him.
`Morning, handsome,' she murmured back, stretching languidly.
`Mmmm, you feel delicious,' Ron told her, running his hands down her naked body; he'd been delighted by the discovery that she always slept naked, and remembered with a quiet chuckle when she'd told him it was "safer" to do so because that way, sneaky little twifflers couldn't nest in your pyjamas, keeping you awake with their incessant tickling.
Luna turned and faced him, her bare breasts brushing his arm and chest, filling him with an intoxicating anticipation. She fixed him with a silvery stare, oblivious to the havoc she was creating in a certain part of Ron's anatomy.
`A person can't feel delicious, Ronald, they have to taste delicious.'
`You do,' he said gruffly, smoothing her hair away from her face. `You feel delicious, you taste delicious, you look delicious and you smell delicious. And don't argue.'
A small, delighted laugh escaped her and she beamed at him. `I love your logic, Ronald,' she told him.
`Logic's got nothing to do with it,' said Ron with a wicked grin. Then he kissed her.
*
Dean emerged from his flat and turned to walk downstairs, glancing only fleetingly at the shimmering rainbow that was cast over the floor ahead of him, courtesy of the morning sun streaming through the round, stained glass window. Then, almost as though it had been planned, as Dean took the first stair, intending to head down to Hermione's flat, Neville's door opened. Dean automatically stopped and turned.
`Morning, Dean,' said Neville with a smile as he closed the door behind him. `Off to work already?'
Dean shook his head. `Not today. I, erm, have to deal with - y'know, research, I mean - my family history.' In the light of day, the events of the previous evening seemed a little surreal.
Neville crossed to stand on the landing above him, frowning in confusion. `What d'you mean?' he asked.
Dean smiled ruefully. `Long story,' he told Neville, shrugging to indicate he wouldn't know where to start.
As Dean turned and started downstairs again, Neville followed. `So where do you have to go to do this research?' he asked.
Because the clattering of their feet on the stairs masked the sound of the door to Hermione's flat opening, it was only as Dean and Neville reached the ground floor and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, talking quietly, that they heard Harry and Hermione's voices and footsteps drifting down the stairwell. They both fell quiet and waited, looking up the stairs until Harry and Hermione came into sight.
`Morning,' everyone chorused together as they all caught sight of each other.
Esmerelda had heard Dean and Neville and was walking briskly down the hallway from her own flat to join them.
`Good morning, everyone,' she said brightly as she reached them, although her expression was solemn.
`Morning, Esmerelda,' came the response.
`Verity told me about the meeting last night and she did say I would find out what it was about. I am rather curious and wonder if you'd be able to give me an idea?' asked their landlady, looking first at Dean, then Hermione, and finally, Harry, to whom the question appeared to be directed.
Harry looked across at Dean. `It's up to you, mate,' he told him. `We can go now, and explain to everyone later, or -'
Dean interrupted Harry with a shake of his head. `I'm happy to talk to everyone now, while we're all here.' And he meant it; he felt as though the more people that knew, the more support he would have. Hermione gave him an understanding smile, which he acknowledged with a grateful nod.
`Right, then,' said Harry, looking around, `I'm not sure where -'
`Right here,' said Esmerelda, drawing her wand - and with a practised twirl, the five armchairs that normally graced the fireplace became five chairs set at a round table, complete with a tea tray in the centre.
`Well done, Esmerelda,' came Verity's voice as they all moved towards the table, looking up at the portrait over the fireplace.
`Good morning, everyone,' said Verity and Emrys together, drawing a jumble of "good mornings" from everyone as they took their chairs.
As Esmerelda reached for the teapot with one hand, a cup and saucer in the other, ready to pour, they heard the distant bang of a door, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Everyone sat back, turning to look towards the stairs while Esmerelda continued to pour cups of tea for them all.
Ron appeared as Frewin, the house owl, flew out of the chimney and settled on his perch, rustling his feathers, his eyes even larger than normal as he stared at the unusual gathering.
`Oi! What about us?' cried Ron as he spotted them, Luna appearing behind him.
Esmerelda drew her wand once more and, with an efficient flick, caused two more chairs to appear at the table, and two more cups and saucers to land in front of her with a gentle rattle.
`So what's going on?' asked Ron. He pulled out a chair for Luna who was smiling at everyone, murmuring, `Good morning!', as she sat down.
As Ron took the chair next to her, Harry explained, `We all just happened to arrive downstairs together and Dean thought it'd be a good time to fill everyone in, so here we are.'
`Cool, so we didn't miss anything?' asked Ron.
Harry shook his head, `Nope, not a thing, mate. We wouldn't've woken you just for this; we would've told you later.'
Frowning, Harry looked around the table. `Where's Seamus?' he asked Dean, in whose flat Seamus had been staying.
Dean and Ron spoke simultaneously, Dean saying, `He left yesterday afternoon,' as Ron said, `He's gone on to Ballycastle.' Dean nodded at Ron, who continued, `We're falling behind schedule, what with everything that's happened, and we have to leave Ballycastle next Sunday for Portree as per our original schedule, so Seamus has gone to get everything he can on the Bats. I'm Flooing to Ballycastle after the meeting tonight, and so are Ginny and Dennis, so we can get to work tomorrow.' He felt a sinking sadness as he thought of Colin. `I'm really going to miss Colin,' he added quietly, not realising he'd spoken aloud. Luna gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze and everyone around the table nodded in understanding.
`So where do we start?' asked Dean, feeling equal parts of tension and anticipation; sitting here, with everyone waiting on him, he now felt conversely as though his life was about to be exposed, a life he wasn't yet completely familiar with himself, and finding out that Ginny was leaving tomorrow didn't help.
`Actually, we'd better start by letting you know that we need to postpone tonight's meeting,' put in Harry.
`Until when?' asked Ron, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.
Harry turned and looked at Hermione. `What d'you think?' he asked, `Tomorrow night?'
Hermione nodded. `I think so. It's really only so that we can be with Dean today and we'd like some time to put together what we'll be talking about at the meeting, so we can do that tomorrow, during the day.'
Ron looked thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms up to clasp his hands behind his neck.
`In that case, we might Floo to the Burrow first and let Mum, Dad and Ginny know about the change for the time of the meeting. Ginny can Floo with us to Dennis's to pick him up - I know he's been packed, ready to go, since we owled him that he had the job. By the way everyone, the Creevey's house is now permanently connected to the Network so Dennis can get home quickly and Floo his mum to keep her reassured.'
`Would you ask your mum to let the rest of the family know about the meeting change while you're there?' Hermione asked Ron, who nodded as Hermione continued, `We'll send Hedwig to Professor McGonagall and also ask her to set a time - probably the same as last time - and let everyone know.'
`So Ginny will be going to Ballycastle with you today?' Dean asked Ron, his concern evident in his voice.
Ron shrugged. `That was the plan. Anything wrong?'
`No, not wrong, just that I was planning on visiting her later. To fill her in, y'know, on everything that's happened.'
`That's all right,' Ron told him, `I'll just let Ginny know you're coming to see her and she can Floo to Ballycastle afterwards, or even tomorrow morning.'
Dean looked very relieved as he thanked Ron.
`So, back to Dean's story then?' chimed in Neville, his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his hand.
`'Course,' said Ron, slightly abashed, `sorry to hold it up.'
`Don't worry,' Hermione assured him, `it's good we got the meeting thing sorted out.'
`Can I just ask,' chimed in Ron, indicating the space between Luna and Esmerelda, `why we're sitting like this?' Esmerelda had placed the chairs so that no one would have their back to Verity and Emrys, leaving the side of the table facing the fireplace empty; it was this that had prompted Ron's question.
Esmerelda sat nearest to the fireplace, which was to her left, with her back to the reception area; Harry was seated to her right, then Hermione, Dean, Neville, Ron and lastly Luna on the other side, opposite Esmerelda, who lifted her hand and pointed at the portrait. Before Esmerelda could speak, Verity said, `Good morning, Ronald, Luna. It's nice to speak with you at last. I'm Verity Leigh and this is my husband, Emrys.' Emrys smiled and nodded at them in acknowledgement. Ron and Luna both looked up at the portrait in amazement.
Luna recovered first, clapping her hands and laughing in delight. `And it's very nice to be speaking with you, too!'
`I shouldn't be surprised,' Ron said, shaking his head ruefully, `since Harry and Hermione have told me they've been talking with you...' Ron shrugged expressively as his voice trailed off.
`So,' said Harry, looking up at Verity, `who's going to do the talking?' Harry thought that Verity might want to take up the narrative again, but a small shake of the head made it clear that she had no such desire. Everyone then automatically turned and looked at Harry, Hermione with a small, knowing smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Harry's surprise at the realisation that it was expected he would do the talking lasted only a second, and with a smile for Hermione, he sat back and gave a reasonably comprehensive summary of Verity's story, leaving out any references to the Memory Charm used on Esmerelda as a child and the more personal details of her parents' relationship. He was concerned about Dean when he reached the battle in the cottage and what had followed; however, when he looked past Hermione to Dean, he received a small, solemn nod of encouragement.
When he finished, almost twenty minutes later, Esmerelda's rather strangled gasp pierced the silence that ensued. She stared, wide eyed and unblinking at Harry, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Then her gaze moved to Dean and she said in a low voice, slightly hoarse with emotion, `I'm so sorry Dean - all these years I've believed your father - although I didn't know he was your father - murdered my father, and all the time he was -' She broke off, shivering involuntarily, her face reflecting the horror she felt at the fate of both their fathers, as well as the realisation that her father had probably been the better off of the two.
A perplexed frown creased Dean's forehead as Esmerelda fell silent, until Harry quietly reminded him that Esmerelda was Hugo Wilkes's daughter. Dean shook his head as though to clear it, then nodded. `I'm sorry - I guess what happened in the cottage just put everything else out of my mind.' No one at the table looked surprised.
`So you're going to the cottage now, I take it?' Neville asked Dean, who was sitting next to him; Dean nodded in reply as Ron dropped his hands to the edge of the table and pushed his chair back, standing up. Luna joined him.
`You'll want to get going then,' Ron said to Dean, `so we'll be off; we'll just go grab our things first and we'll see you all tomorrow night at Hogwarts, all right?'
The sound of everyone murmuring their goodbyes masked Verity's vexed sniff; she was still miffed that she and Emrys had to wait until Harry and Hermione had time to tell them what transpired at these meetings. Hermione, however, caught sight of Verity's irritated expression and once Ron and Luna had headed off to the stairs, she addressed Verity and suggested their portrait from the cottage could be taken to Hogwarts the following evening.
`What a clever witch you are, Hermione, as well as beautiful!' exclaimed Emrys admiringly, causing Harry's eyebrows to shoot up. `Don't you think so, dear?' he finished, beaming at Verity.
Verity gave him an inscrutable look and as his smile vanished, Emrys made a silent note not to compliment Hermione too much in future. Verity, however, nodded with polite agreement as she turned to look down at Hermione. Harry's lips twitched as he refrained from smiling; he had watched the silent exchange between Emrys and Verity with amusement.
`I think that's an excellent idea, Hermione,' Verity told her. `We would appreciate that greatly. Your Professor McGonagall won't object?'
`I shouldn't think so,' Hermione assured her. Verity nodded and then settled back in her rocking chair, automatically smoothing her apron; Emrys thanked Hermione, keeping his expression neutral before he, too, leant back in his rocking chair and closed his eyes.
`More tea, anyone?' asked Esmerelda.
With polite, "no thank you's", everyone stood as Ron and Luna reappeared, carrying their bags.
`Well, I'm off to work,' said Neville. He walked around the table to stand in front of the fireplace, Ron and Luna crossing to stand beside him.
`Oh, thanks, I'm late already,' Neville said to Ron, who indicated with a wave of his hand that Neville should Floo first.
As soon as Neville had left, Luna cast a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace, waving as she stepped into the green flames, Ron on her heels.
`Right, well, on with the day,' said Esmerelda with a brave smile; her usually bright eyes, however, were full of the distress she was still feeling. Straightening her shoulders, she pulled out her wand, and with a brisk wave, the five armchairs were once more sitting before the fire place; then tucking her wand into her robes, Esmerelda headed off along the hallway. Harry, Hermione and Dean had moved to stand on the deep green hallway runner and watched as Esmerelda made her way into her flat.
`Do you think she'll be all right?' asked Harry, lifting his arm to put it across Hermione's shoulders.
Hermione nodded. `She just needs time to take it all in.'
`I know how she feels,' said Dean with a wry grin.
Harry looked at Dean, his green eyes solemn. `Ready?'
Dean took a deep breath and nodded.
`Let's go then,' said Harry, dropping his arm to take Hermione's hand as they headed for the front door, Dean right behind them.
*
When Dean stepped out of the fireplace and into the Burrow later that day, his concern over Toby and the Pensieve, among other things, evaporated instantly at the sight of Ginny sitting on the sofa, her jean-encased legs stretched along it and crossed at the ankles; she was reading a magazine. As soon as Dean stepped out onto the rug, she dropped the magazine and leapt to her feet.
`How are you?' she asked, crossing to help him brush soot off his shoulders.
`Fine, now,' he said, grinning down at her.
Ginny felt warmth steal across her cheeks and she busied herself brushing some non-existent soot off the front of Dean's striped shirt.
`Tea?' she asked, running the fingers of both hands nervously through her long locks; for some strange reason she felt at a loss as to what to do with them.
`Actually, a butterbeer would be nice, if you have one.'
`I'll look - you sit down,' she said, indicating the sofa she'd just vacated.
Even as he moved to the couch and sat down, Dean's appreciative gaze didn't leave Ginny's slender form as she walked across to the small kitchen. She returned almost immediately, carrying two opened bottles of butterbeer. She handed him one, then bent down to push aside the magazine she'd been reading, before taking a seat.
`Cheers,' said Dean, holding up his bottle.
`Cheers,' Ginny repeated with a smile, touching her bottle to his with a soft "chink".
`Where're your mum and dad?' asked Dean.
`Dad's at work and Mum's doing some shopping in Diagon Alley,' she replied, before taking a sip and continuing, `Ron and Luna filled us in this morning on what Verity said,' Ginny shook her head in amazement as she continued, `which is just the most incredible story!'
`And that's only the beginning,' Dean told her with a sigh.
`Tell me,' Ginny said quietly, and so he did, casting his mind back to that morning...
*
No one said a word as they walked out the front door, down the steps, through the gate and across the street, the morning sun on their faces; when they reached the almost overgrown stile that marked the edge of Hewett's Field, Hermione clambered over first, followed by Dean and then Harry. As they made their way through long, rustling grass and between thick clumps of shrubs, Dean broke the silence by wondering aloud who owned Hewett's Field and why it had been so neglected, although he didn't really expect an answer. An arm of the woods that grew alongside Ambling Stream extended deep into the field ahead of them and as they neared it, a large cloud obscured the sun. They found themselves shivering, although it wasn't really cold.
They reached the first of the trees and all three of them instinctively grew closer together as they entered the cool dimness provided by the old hornbeam trees. Harry pointed to a few scattered rows of lichen covered rocks as large as his fists that he'd spotted lying on the ground either side of them as they walked.
`Looks as though they marked the edge of a path once,' he commented.
Hermione reached out for Harry's hand as they saw a few rays of sunlight ahead. Within a minute, they'd reached a small clearing in the woods and Hermione felt a sense of déjà vu as she, Harry and Dean saw the modest stone cottage set in the centre of the clearing. She felt as though she knew this cottage from Verity's story, and despite the sun having coming out once more, she shivered again, remembering what had happened here.
They stopped about ten paces from the cottage; it was dwarfed by an old, greying willow to the right, closest to the stream, which seemed to sag with the weight of its years. Hermione thought the cottage almost looked like a child's drawing with its stone chimneys and casement windows each side of a wooden door, which was studded with a rusty iron knocker, a large flat slab of stone serving for a doorstep.
The three of them stood side-by-side, Hermione in the middle, each of them taking in the scene before them, each of them remembering what they'd been told about this place.
`So this is it,' said Dean quietly.
`And since there's a good chance it's yours, Dean,' Hermione said quietly, `you should go first.'
Dean nodded and walked forward, lifting his hand to the rusted latch, wondering if it would open. It did, and he pushed the door open slowly, marvelling that it made no sound. He stood in the doorway, looking into what was obviously the sitting room, with a fireplace on the wall to his right, and two doors - one directly ahead and one in the wall beside him, on his left. The stone walls and plaster ceiling, supported by dark, heavy beams, had been painted a deep, mellow cream. No doubt by the intrepid Toby, he thought, as first Hermione, then Harry, moved into the room. Dean responded to their crowding at his back by stepping inside.
This is the room my father fought and died in, he thought, yet it somehow seemed unreal.
The room was cosy, although only sparsely furnished with two chairs, one a small wooden chair, the other a comfortable looking armchair, each side of a low occasional table, sitting in front of the fireplace on a slightly faded grey and blue rug. There were two things in particular, however, that caught their eye: the rather battered looking trunk sitting against the far wall and the portrait - an almost exact copy of the one at the Nook - hanging above the fireplace.
`Through that door to your left,' said Verity from the small portrait, `is the kitchen, and straight ahead is the bedroom.'
Dean's head snapped around to stare at what he now knew to be the bedroom door, where his father had lain all these long years. Not dead. Not alive.
Harry and Hermione watched as Dean walked slowly towards the bedroom; he stopped in the doorway, much as he'd done at the front door, and stood staring into the room.
As he looked around the softly lit room, Dean felt tears stinging his eyes. The single bed, with its luxurious maroon cover, stood under the window on the back wall. An antique bedside table held a fresh candle in a pewter holder along with a flask of water, a glass upturned on top of it. In front of the fireplace, to Dean's right, stood an identical setting to that in the living room, although there was no rug; the bedroom floor was covered with a carpet in soft greys and misty greens. There was an ornate, polished walnut wardrobe on the wall to Dean's left and the walls were hung with various paintings and -
Dean felt as though his heart stopped as his eyes came to rest on a large, framed photograph above the fireplace. It was of himself and his mother, taken in Diagon Alley outside Ollivander's, and he knew immediately when it was taken: the year he'd received his letter from Hogwarts, on the day his mother had taken him to Diagon Alley for the first time. His mother, looking slightly bewildered by her surroundings, was nevertheless smiling down at him as he held his wand out, admiring it. Mahogany, thirteen and a quarter inches, he thought as he stared at his eleven year old self, turning his wand this and way and that, then turning to smile up at his mother. He felt his throat constrict, knowing that his father would never have seen this picture; no doubt the devoted Toby had somehow taken it and hung it here.
Quickly dashing his hand across his eyes, Dean turned back to Harry and Hermione.
`Sorry,' he muttered.
`You've nothing to be sorry for,' Hermione said gently, `and we don't have to do anything today, you know that, don't you? If you don't feel ready -'
Dean gave her a lopsided grin. `I'll be fine, honestly; it's just a little overwhelming this first time, and it's all still so new. I think I'm still trying to take it all in, to be honest.'
`Not surprising,' said Harry. `So, what next?'
`If I may, I would suggest you call Toby,' said Verity, `as he can probably answer a lot of your questions.'
Dean nodded in agreement. `Do I just say his name?' he asked uncertainly.
Verity nodded and Dean cleared his throat, feeling a trifle foolish as he spoke the house-elf's name.
A familiar crack heralded the arrival of Toby, whose large eyes fell almost immediately on Dean.
`Greetings, Master Dean. I am your house-elf, Toby,' he said, his voice high-pitched, but soft. He bowed, the end of his long, pointed nose almost touching the ground; he wore a clean, white, toga-like garment, with an intricate "R" embroidered on the breast.
`Oh, erm, hello there Toby. Nice to meet you - thank you for coming,' replied Dean, feeling awkward, faced with the fact of owning the creature before him.
Toby straightened and Dean could see the sadness in the elf's eyes.
`Thank you,' said Dean huskily, `for looking after my father so well all these years since...' His voice trailed off, unable to continue.
`Please, sir, I am proud to have been able to care for Master Alex,' Toby replied humbly, bowing once more, his eyes moving to Harry and Hermione as he lifted his head.
`Oh, sorry,' said Dean contritely, `these are my friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.'
Harry and Hermione smiled at Toby as they said hello, Toby's eyes widening at the sight of Harry's scar.
`Miss Granger,' he said formally, a small hesitation in his voice as he greeted Harry, `Mr - Potter.'
`Oh, please, you must call me Hermione, just Hermione, and this is Harry.'
Toby's large eyes became even larger. `As you wish, Miss Hermione, Mr Harry,' he said tentatively, somewhat overawed at being told to call the Harry Potter just "Harry".
Harry grinned at Hermione, who sighed resignedly; it was almost impossible to make house-elves understand about equality.
`Good morning, Toby,' said Emrys and Verity, and the house-elf spun deftly on the spot, giving the old couple in the portrait a respectful nod.
`Good morning Miss Verity, Mr Emrys. You have brought Master Dean as you said you would.'
`So what now?' asked Dean, looking up at Verity and Emrys. `What should we do first?'
Harry could almost feel Hermione's longing coming off her in waves; he knew she desperately wanted to find the Riley family Pensieve and see what it contained.
`Would Master Dean like to visit Riley Manor, and see his father's grave?' asked Toby, his voice holding equal amounts of hope and diffidence.
Dean stared thoughtfully down at the floor for a couple of seconds, then looked across at Toby. `I will do that, Toby, but not today, soon though. I would like to hear all about my father and his - my - family, too, when we get a chance, if you don't mind telling me.'
Toby momentarily went up on his toes, his mouth opening, eager to start talking right that instant. He caught himself in time, however, and nodded as he replied, `Toby would be most happy and willing to tell you everything, Master Dean, whenever you wish.'
`Toby, would you be able to just call me "Dean"?' asked Dean, uncomfortable with being addressed as "Master".
Toby looked stricken and Dean thought for a moment that the little house-elf was about to collapse.
`Only if you want to, of course,' Dean added hurriedly.
`Thank you, Master Dean,' said a pale-faced Toby, `but Toby is much happier to call you Master Dean; it is only right, after all.'
Hermione sighed again from behind him and Harry could picture in precise detail the expression of exasperation on her face at hearing the house-elf's words.
Dean looked over at the chest. `That was my dad's, wasn't it?' he asked.
Toby crossed quickly to the chest, nodding eagerly as he reached it, lifting one small hand to rest lovingly on its battered and dented surface.
`It is yours now, Master Dean. Do you wish to be inspecting the contents?'
`Yes, please,' said Dean. Hermione reached the chest almost at the same time as Dean, Harry smiling to himself as he watched her struggle to curb her impatience.
Toby bent down and carefully turned the large, ornate key in the lock of the chest; he then straightened as the lid slowly raised itself, coming to rest on the wall behind it with a soft, metallic thunk.
`Toby has maintained the spell that keeps everything intact,' Toby announced proudly just as Hermione's sharp gasp at the sight of the silver stitched, dark red cloak folded neatly on top of the contents of the chest drew all eyes to turn to her.
`Sorry,' she murmured, still staring into the chest, `it's just that it looks like a cloak we saw - remember Harry?' she asked, turning to look up at him.
Harry frowned, trying to recall where he'd seen a dark red cloak with silver stitching. `I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't remember -'
`In the book, Dean's book!' Hermione broke in urgently, `That memory we viewed, with Cynric - and,' she shuddered slightly at the memory, `Edmar, when he murdered Cynric... Remember, Harry? I said I'd seen that insignia before,' she pointed to the cloak in the chest, `and I'm certain that's what that silver stitching is; I said I'd seen the same thing on Dean's chest in his living room, remember?'
Harry nodded; he remembered. He and Hermione stared at each other, oblivious to the identical expressions of bewilderment on the faces around them.
`That must mean -' began Harry, and Hermione nodded. They both turned and looked at Dean, their eyes wide with astonishment.
`What?' asked Dean helplessly.
Hermione became flustered. `Of course it was obvious, I mean we did know, since it was your family's book - but somehow it didn't seem real until now.'
`What?' asked Dean again, exasperation creeping into his voice.
Hermione grew calm as she explained to Dean what she and Harry had seen when they viewed a memory in the Book of Records for the first time, and that Dean must certainly be descended from Cynric, of Riley Hall, murdered by Sivis Edmar, Duke of Dorset, Overlord of the Realm of Evil...
Dean let out a long, low whistle as she finished, his eyes falling to the red cloak. `This could be the cloak he wore that night,' he whispered.
`There is much more, Master Dean,' said Toby eagerly, lifting the red cloak and placing it reverently on the floor beside the chest; beneath it lay a myriad of objects, all wrapped in various types and colours of cloth.
`Do you know what a Pensieve is Toby?' asked Hermione.
Toby nodded and with a glance at Dean for permission, moved a few of the objects carefully out of the way, then with some effort, lifted out an item wrapped in dull grey cloth. Walking between Dean and Harry, he crossed to the low occasional table and placed the object on it before gently unwrapping it.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as a large, shallow stone basin was revealed, the same odd runes and symbols carved around its rim that adorned Dumbledore's Pensieve.
Hermione's face crumpled with disappointment as she realised the basin was empty. `There aren't any memories in there,' she cried, distraught; she remembered Harry's description of the peculiar silver substance that held thoughts and memories.
`But there are memories, Miss Hermione,' said Toby, returning to the trunk and almost diving into it, disappearing up to his armpits in the contents. After a few muffled grunts and exclamations, he emerged holding what appeared to be a long box, wrapped in the same dull grey cloth as the Pensieve. He brought it back to the low table and placed it beside the Pensieve before removing the wrapping. It was a long, rectangular box, covered in worn black velvet with a tarnished silver clasp.
Dean, Harry and Hermione stood behind the little elf, bending at the waist so that they could see over him to the Pensieve and box. The elf released the clasp and lifted the lid; Harry, Hermione and Dean straightened in surprise at the sight of row upon row of small, crystal bottles that appeared to catch every scrap of light in the room and send it back, shimmering brightly.
`What are they?' cried Hermione, her hand clutching Harry's arm. `Look!' She pointed with a trembling figure. `There are labels - on each bottle - what are they?' she repeated.
Harry was sure he knew what they were; these bottles were almost identical to the ones he'd seen in Dumbledore's office in his sixth year, when the professor had shown him the memories of others in his quest to give Harry as much knowledge of Voldemort as he could.
`They're memories,' said Harry, his eyes wandering over the contents of the box, wondering how many there were all together.
Hermione looked at the small bottles as though they were a priceless treasure, her grip on Harry's arm becoming painfully tight in her excitement.
`Hermione -' said Harry gently, turning his arm a little, `would you mind?'
`I'm sorry!' said Hermione, releasing Harry's arm. She was beaming. `It's just so amazing and exciting and wonderful and -'
Harry chuckled. `I know. But we have to think of Dean first.'
Hermione was immediately contrite. `I'm so sorry, Dean, I just got carried away for a second.'
`Quite all right, Hermione,' Dean told her with a smile. `You make me feel like I'm back at school; you were always curious and eager.'
`So how does this Pensieve work?' asked Verity, she and Emrys peering curiously down at the Pensieve and the box.
`Toby knows!' squeaked the little house-elf. `Master Alex explained it to Toby so he could pass it on to Master Dean.'
`I think we need a list,' said Dean. `Toby, is there a list of these bottles - memories?'
Toby shook his head regretfully, his large, bat-like ears quivering with the movement.
`Would you mind doing one for us? I'm sorry to bother you -'
`Tis no bother, Master Dean!' exclaimed the house-elf happily. `Toby is so very, very pleased to be able to help! Toby would be most gratified if you come back this evening so Toby can cook dinner for you and Miss Hermione and Mr Harry and present you with the list.'
Dean looked somewhat bemused at this offer and looked to Harry and Hermione for help while Toby re-wrapped the Pensieve, after which, with the exception of the box of memories, he proceeded to repack everything back in the chest.
Harry shrugged. `Sounds fine to me,' he said. `What do you think Hermione?'
`I guess so, as long as you really don't mind cooking dinner for us all, Toby,' she said.
`Toby loves to cook, Miss Hermione, it will be a pleasure!' replied the little elf, busy re-wrapping the black velvet box in its grey cloth.
`I guess that's it, then,' she said, looking from Dean to Harry.
`Say about six o'clock, is that all right?' Dean asked Toby, who nodded his head vigorously in reply, his ears flapping madly as he did so; he now had the wrapped box tucked securely under his arm.
`Do you mind if we're here, also, Dean?' asked Verity.
Dean shook his head. `Nope. I would feel happier if you were here, Verity.'
Emrys smiled indulgently while his wife fussed unnecessarily over her pristine apron. `Why, thank you Dean, that's a very sweet thing to say.'
With a mischievous grin, Dean waggled his eyebrows at Harry and Hermione while Verity was busy inspecting her apron for creases; Harry chuckled and Hermione shook her head, although she was smiling.
Dean's expression became serious as he said, a little diffidently, `What d'you think - should I ask Ginny if she wants to come tonight, too?' Harry and Hermione turned to look at each other; Hermione could see concern and trepidation in Harry's eyes and he could see anxiety and apprehension in hers. Watching them, Dean added hurriedly, `Of course, it's probably not really a good idea, don't worry...' Dean's voice dwindled into silence as Harry and Hermione both turned to look at him.
`What if,' said Hermione, `we asked Neville and Esmerelda as well?'
Dean's eyes brightened and he nodded happily. `Great idea, Hermione!' He turned to look at Toby. `Erm, Toby?' he asked, somewhat hesitantly, the elf's ears pricking up expectantly as Dean continued, `Would you mind I if we brought some others over for dinner, too?' Toby's ears waggled enthusiastically around his head as he shook it, his voice excited as he replied, `Not at all, Master Dean!'
Dean took a second to think, then said, `The most there'll be, will be six, is that all right?'
`But of course, Master Dean, six for dinner at six o'clock!' Toby's eyes seemed to grow larger in his face. `Oh my, I must be going Master Dean, Toby has much to do and doesn't wish to be late, at all!' With a hurried bow, the little elf disappeared with a crack.
Dean shook his head. `I don't know that I'll be able to get used to having a house-elf.'
`You could give him clothes, free him,' suggested Hermione.
Verity gasped. `Hermione! You couldn't offer a worse insult to such a loyal, hard working elf!'
Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes, while Harry couldn't help but chuckle and Dean looked uncomfortable.
`Hermione,' said Harry calmly, `I don't think you have to worry about Toby's welfare in Dean's hands.'
Hermione gave Dean an apologetic look. `I didn't mean to suggest that you wouldn't look after him -'
Dean waved his hands dismissively as he interrupted Hermione, saying quickly, `I'd never think you'd think that, Hermione. I just don't know what to do with him - I mean, should I be living at this Riley Manor?' Dean's expression made it clear he wasn't terribly comfortable with that idea. `Can I just leave Toby there, or should he come and live with me at the Nook?'
Hermione touched his arm sympathetically. `Don't worry about all that now; you've got plenty of time to sort all that out. Why don't you go and see Ginny? Harry and I have plenty to do today, and we can all just meet up here this evening.'
`Actually, you'll have to meet at the Nook,' put in Verity. `Esmerelda, Neville and Ginevra will need me to tell them about the cottage.'
`Of course, you're Secret Keeper - I forgot!' Hermione chided herself. `So Dean can ask Ginny about tonight. We'll leave a note for Neville, and perhaps, Verity, you could ask Esmerelda when you see her during the day?'
Verity nodded and Harry said, `That's settled then, let's go!' as he turned and headed for the door, Hermione and Dean following.
As they retraced their steps back to the Nook, Hermione was almost babbling in her excitement over the box of memories and what they might contain; the more excited she became, the more outrageous her speculation, causing Harry and Dean to roll their eyes at each other over her head as she walked between them. Once they'd reached the overgrown stile and clambered over it once more, Harry turned to Hermione and held his hand up, saying gently, `Hermione, why don't we just wait and see? Toby will give us the list tonight and then we - or rather, Dean - can decide what we do next. You're going to drive yourself crazy trying to come up with every possibility!'
Hermione smiled ruefully at him. `And drive you crazy, too,' she said knowingly.
`Maybe just a little,' said Harry with a grin, Dean chuckling as well.
`By the way Dean,' said Hermione, `I've been meaning to ask you: what did your mum say when you told her about the book, about your dad?'
Dean's face became serious. `She was pretty shocked. I showed her the photo, too, and she cried. She didn't want to read the book, or anything, at least not now. I think she just needs time to take it all in. I sure know how that feels.'
`At least she knows now,' said Hermione sympathetically.
Dean nodded as he replied, his voice tinged with sadness, `Yeah, I told her what Dad wrote in the book. ' Then, taking a deep breath, he gave Harry and Hermione a lopsided grin as he added, `At least I can talk to Ginny about everything.'
Harry and Hermione shared a quick, knowing look and a smile. `That really is great,' Harry told him as he turned to begin walking once more.
The three friends made their way across the road and back to the Nook. They found Verity and Emrys already back in their rocking chairs, both dozing, Frewin regarding them with one sleepy eye before tucking his head further under his wing.
`So,' said Dean, as they crossed to the fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo Powder from the container on the mantel, `Ginny and I will see you back here at six.'
Harry and Hermione nodded as Dean gave them a wave and stepped into the green flames; they turned to face each other.
`Do you think Ginny will come?' Hermione asked quietly.
Harry shrugged. `I'm not sure, but I think so.'
`I hope she does. It should be all right with the others there.'
`There was always going to be a first time,' Harry told her. `Let's go leave that note for Neville.'
As Harry and Hermione made their way upstairs, Verity and Emrys opened their eyes and looked at each other.
`Well, dear, it seems you'd best dust off your diplomatic skills for this evening,' Emrys said with a small smile.
Verity gave him a sharp glance. `Dust? Dust wouldn't dare settle near me. You're just teasing.'
Emrys chuckled and his wife smiled fondly at him before they both closed their eyes once more.
*
Their empty butterbeer bottles sat on the floor beside the sofa, forgotten as Dean had recounted the events of that morning. Ginny's eyes were slightly wild looking as she gazed at him.
`Dinner? With Harry and Hermione?'
`Ginny, it'll be fine! I'll be right there with you, I won't leave you, and with everyone there - and Verity and Emrys - and you'll meet Toby - and...' Dean had spoken in a rush, but as Ginny continued to stare at him, his voice faded away, leaving silence.
Ginny gave her head a rueful shake and with a small smile, said to Dean, `You're probably right. I'm sorry - maybe I was over-reacting.'
It was Dean's turn to shake his head as he reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. `Not over-reacting, at all. I should've asked you first before arranging it all. I'm the one who should be apologising.'
Ginny laughed as she leant forwards and grasped Dean's other hand. `Enough apologising! You are right, it will be fine - and I'm really looking forward to seeing the cottage, meeting Toby and -' Ginny's eyes took on a decidedly wicked twinkle, `- it's not every day you get to have dinner with your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, who is also your best friend, a portrait, and -'
`And,' Dean interrupted her, the twinkle in his eye matching hers, `your other ex-boyfriend, looking to one day become your new, and last, boyfriend!'
They both laughed then, and with her heart a lot lighter, Ginny knew that somehow it would be all right...
TO BE CONTINUED...
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