A/N. My apologies for taking so long. It has been busy in RL.
I appreciate all the emotional and passionate reviews. Even though some of them are painful to read the insight they bring into the story is invaluable. I wouldn't be able to write what I write without them. You guys make this fic the way it is and for that I'm truly grateful.
Full plate here to make up for the long delay.
First the past - yes I also ask myself why can't I just move on, but please keep the groaning down. Like before you may choose to skip it. In it Hermione tells Ron about Hugo and where the conversation goes surprises her (and me) and it's my last ditch attempt to write how Hermione ended up marrying Ron minus the subtlety. It also fulfills some mystery requirements.
Then there's present Ginny and present Warren. More mystery stuff. Hugo and Harry have a moment near the end.
Happy reading.
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Chapter 47 - A Family of Runners
It is late November and I am at my Pine Hill home. Months ago I converted the study into a more permanent office so I wouldn't need to be at the Ministry much. I've completed many of the projects I started in London and convinced Kingsley that there is more important work to be done elsewhere in Britain.
So I am running away again. Yes, it did cross my mind that I shouldn't change my life for Harry and Ginny. Just because she says London is not big enough for us and I'm having Harry's illegitimate child doesn't mean I should move out of my office and uproot my daughter. But I don't want to be the excuse if they can't work this out. And besides, if I do this right I won't have to come to the Ministry offices frequently for a very long time.
Today, Ron is picking up Rosie for a father-daughter weekend. When he arrives Rosie is still napping and I summon up the nerve to tell him about the pregnancy. I have to tell him out of courtesy as we are not officially divorced yet. He will be the first person I will be sharing this with.
"You're pregnant?"
Ron is shocked; maybe appalled is a better word.
"Twelve weeks," I lie.
It is more like eighteen. Hiding my pregnancy under my robes and with the aid of Disillusionment charms is easy. I plan to tell everybody my baby is due in late May and that is when I will officially have it. That way Harry would never think he is the father. Of course, I can't be pregnant for ten months and I am not taking some experimental potion to keep the baby in my body longer. I've thought this through. I can make myself scarce for the next few months and try my best not to deliver early.
"And the father?"
"Some married guy I met at a bar in St. Petersburg."
"What?" Ron is unable to hide his reaction, "Does he know?"
"No."
"Aren't you going to tell him?"
"I didn't really catch his name."
"You're telling me that you slept with a complete stranger you met in a bar?!" he is still in disbelief.
Okay, so maybe it's a bit of a stretch and I didn't think this through as well as I thought I did. If I can't convince gullible Ron all this will fall like a house of cards but Harry would never believe I would get into a serious relationship so soon after the break up with him either. Temporary insanity was the only way to go.
I get defensive, "It was a weak moment!"
"I'll say."
"Are you accusing me of lying?!"
"No. I just didn't think you'd be capable of meaningless sex and be careless enough to get knocked up," I am glaring at him, this is getting worse. He backs down, "I mean, from experience I can vouch for your contraceptive charm. It's really a miracle we had Rosie."
He brings that up because I often delayed gratification of whatever urges we had to make sure we were well protected. The truth was Rosie was a planned baby conceived the night Ron and I married.
"Well, I did get pregnant and who the father is is irrelevant. I'm having the baby without him."
"Are you out of your mind? You can't bring that child into the world fatherless!"
It's not that I have a choice. But even if I had I'm ticked off by his Neanderthal logic that I can't have a kid on my own.
"And why not?"
"Because - because it's crazy. What will people say about you?"
"I don't care."
He knows this about me. He has another point.
"What about the kid? What are you going to tell the kid when it grows up? That it doesn't have a father because he's some married guy you met at a bar?"
I am red in the face. First of all, the baby is not an 'it'. Secondly, as much as I hate to admit it, he is right. It was worse to have my child think he or she was an accidental product of lust than an accidental product of love, especially because the former wasn't true. What was I thinking?! As I try to conjure up a strategy, which meant more lies, Ron continues.
"And I can't have Rosie grow up being known as the daughter of some scarlet woman!"
Of course not, this is Ron after all.
"Rosie will be fine," I say though I'm not so sure.
But he isn't listening anymore. He has this look that he is having a rare brainstorm.
"Who else knows?"
"Nobody yet."
"Perfect!"
"Why?"
"We can tell everyone I'm the father!"
This is getting ridiculous. I have to put an end to this.
"Ron..."
"We can say we made up and we're having a baby!"
"Can it, Ron. You can't be the father. And stop saying 'we'. There is no 'we'."
"Why can't I be the father?"
"Because - because - you don't even know the father," I blurt out the first reason that came to mind.
"Which is a good thing," he points out.
True but still...
"I can't ask you to be responsible my baby."
"You're not asking. I'm offering."
"This is just crazy, Ron."
"No, it's not," he argues with me, "I don't mind. I'd rather do this than stand by and watch bad things happen to my Rosie and you because of what the kid will bring. This way Rosie will have a real brother or sister and the kid will have an identity."
I am shaking my head. I'm not doing this; I am so not doing this.
Ron dispells my hesitation and goes for the clincher, "What have you got to lose? If you don't want to do this for yourself do this for the kid; do this for Rosie"
I hate it when my ex uses what he knows about me to win an argument. It is so tempting but I can't help but wonder if there is anything else behind his altruism.
"We're not getting back together," I make myself clear, "We're going through with the divorce."
"Of course we are," he answers convincingly, "We'll just delay the final process until the baby comes. When are you expecting?"
"May."
I still don't like it. It is Harry's baby and Ron would have a fit when he finds out. On the other hand, that was probably going to happen anyway.
This proposal had a deja vu feeling to it. It felt exactly how it felt when he proposed to me while I was in the desperate-for-my-own-family pit. I said yes because I was convinced he was my one remaining chance for life-long happiness. He proposed within days of Harry and Ginny announcing they were having Al and we had a no fuss wedding soon after.
"One week," I say, having learned from that misstep, "Let's think about it for a week."
"Fine. But I won't change my mind."
I was hoping he would but he never did. Word got around quickly. Ron always had a big mouth.
'Mum, no. Don't get too excited. We are not back together.'
I never could figure out why my Mum thought it so tragic that Ron and I broke up. I didn't think she was particularly fond of him when we were going out.
'Tell Seamus that just because Ron and I are having another baby it doesn't mean we're a couple again.'
Since my return to London Ministry Jessie and I have become 'closer' friends. I like Jessie because she is down to earth and funny. We also don't know each other well enough to have spontaneous serious discussions which I prefer to avoid these days. I think she is the type who wants to keep her distance too. She doesn't like talking about herself or about her past and she doesn't pry into my business unless I bring it up or unless her husband makes her.
'I don't care what he told you. We've gone down that road too many times. We know it's a dead end. And really, I don't appreciate your meddling. You have no say in who I see and who I'm with. You have a say in everything else but not this. Are we clear on that?'
It annoyed me that Harry was worried. I know he means well and wants to warn me because he knows getting back with Ron is a mistake. He's feeling guilty about me doing just that (Ron must have strongly suggested the possibility). But the last thing I need is for him to say anything, good or bad, everytime I see someone, not that I can imagine myself dating again, although I know I eventually will. Really, he forfeited that right when he decided to stay with Ginny. On the bright side he seems convinced that Ron is the father.
All things considered Harry and I are fine. We are redefining some aspects of our friendship just like now but we're doing okay. I won't say it's easy but I can live with this because it is our choice and it is the right thing to do. It also helps that we had a good platonic relationship before.
And he knows not to tell me that he and Ginny have worked things out, that Al and James are happier and Ginny content. I'd rather not know the details. I am happy for him but it is so hard not to feel sorry for our child.
All that makes me think more and more about the possibility of keeping my distance for good. I'd love to stay and work for Kingsley but it's difficult to be around Harry. To be honest it stings seeing him doing his best to make his marriage work. Must he really try so hard? It's not that I don't think he should; his integrity is one of the things that I admire about him and it makes him who he is. It's just not easy being a witness to it in action and I find myself straying to the edge of the deep end of despair, measuring his love for me with ifs. I don't even want to go there.
As for Ginny and I, months after we still aren't on speaking terms. In fact, we haven't spoken a word to each other since the day before Harry's birthday and the times we've seen each other during family gatherings have been very uncomfortable. She can't stand me. I know because I see the fleeting look of disgust she hides quickly every time she sees me. I know her and I can understand how she feels. I would hate me too if I were her.
I haven't talked to her because it's a conversation I don't want to have. When I was younger I always believed that if you do something wrong, you admit it and you apologize. It was simple back then, everything was black and white. But purity of heart and innocence officially end when one learns big phrases like mitigating circumstances and grey zones. I'm avoiding her so I won't have to lie about being sorry because really, I am not. Sleeping with Harry was a conscious choice, one that I would, in all likelihood, choose to do again if I were in the same position.
And to think I did all this to someone who used to be my best girl friend. It was horrible of me though justifiable enough in my mind that the guilt doesn't make me totally hate myself. What's a night or two to indemnify (big word) me for the lifetime I won't have with him? So no, I have no remorse, nor the decency to pretend that I am sorry.
But while I have my reasons for not speaking to Ginny I'm not sure why she hasn't spoken to me, even just to tell me what a traitor I am. I thought for sure that the news would push her over the edge and that she would ask me bluntly if the baby is Harry's. She hasn't done that either. I assume that she has some knowledge about the factors surrounding our 'affair' and since I know she hates me in spite of said knowledge I can only conclude that she's still too angry to speak.
In weeks the chatter about the unusual circumstances of my pregnancy eventually dies down. Things are settling into what would likely be the norm, that is until the holidays when I upset the Weasleys. I decide to take Rosie and spend Christmas with my Mum in Perth. It is somewhat selfish but there is something about being around the big happy Weasley family during the holidays that hurts and makes me want to vomit. I know I'll eventually get over it, I hope I will anyway, but until I do I decide not to torture myself.
Christmas day came and went. Rosie is happy I think but it doesn't take a lot to make a toddler happy. I concede to my guilt and do let Rosie spend the New Year with Ron. It is the eve and she calls from the Burrow. Ron is coaching her and he makes her ask me to come over. I choke, instanstantly hating Ron for doing this to me and our child. I tell Rosie I can't because I have to work. As I hang up I can't help but think of Harry. I miss him, more during the holidays. I wonder how long this useless process of missing him was going to be this time around.
Even though I prefer to be by myself and I intended to have a working holiday my Mum drags me to parties and holiday gatherings around Perth. I actually have a good time with my Mum's friends and their families. It is in one of these where she first introduces me to Bill, a warm, funny Aussie in his early forties whose eyes sparkled at the sight of my mother. A few days before I was to go back to Britain I decide to broach a subject I've been meaning to.
"Bill seems nice."
A bit young for my Mum who was sixty but age didn't matter.
"Do you really think so?" my Mum asks me, nervously.
"Mum, I know you two are lovers."
"Hermione Jean! Have you been reading my mind again?"
"I don't have to. It's obvious," I reply.
"You don't object?"
I reassure her, "Dad's been gone for more than four years. It's okay. You both look like you're happy. And besides, you don't need my approval to see someone."
"It's just scary," she intimates, "Your Dad was the first and only man in my life. I think I'm falling in love with Bill."
In the not so long past I probably would have found my Mum's behaviour reprehensible but it's amazing how perspective changes with experience. I give her more words of encouragement (I think some of them were for me) and we talk some more about Dad and how Bill is different in some ways and the same in others.
Later that night I toss and turn in bed. I can't sleep. The room is too silent, the bed too empty, the sheets too cold, and I can't help but see the parallels in my life. Before I know it I'm crying, then I get upset at myself for crying and I cry because I am crying. I've felt this before, this seemingly intractible loneliness. I once thought it would be the death of me.
I remember how I survived it the last time. I will forever be grateful to Warren for helping me through it years ago and although things didn't end well for us I'm glad he wisely left before things got..um...complicated. In actuality this loneliness is not as boundless and endless as it feels right now. I know it will get better and I will get used to it eventually.
I think of my Mum. I'm excited for her, that she has opened herself up like that to another man again. I understand the need for companionship, for intimacy and how being without someone can be difficult. I understand all that now more than ever. I am rooting for her too because if she can be happy with Bill then I will see that it is possible. I need to believe that it is possible, that I have something to look forward to, to regain the hope I lost when things didn't work out as planned with Ron.
Our baby moves, I think to remind me that I'm not alone, and I rub gently against the spot. Guilt comes again, the kind that tells me I am betraying Harry just by considering that I can fall in love again. It is stupidity to love someone this way but how do I stop thinking that being with someone else does not make me love him any less? I certainly don't think his decision to stay with Ginny means that he loves me less. It isn't fair that I apply the rule only to myself.
My phone rings. I wipe the tears off my face and reach for it on the bedside table, thankful for the distraction, until I realize it is Boris Dovalov. Boris knows better than to call me but since he is I know it is important.
"I apologize for interruption," the wizard says in his heavy Russian accent, "You have to come to St. Petersburg fast. Friend needs Jean Peverell."
"Boris, Jean Peverell is retired," I politely remind him and then I add, "Ask Grigori to make an exception and help your friend."
"You not understand. It is not my friend who needs help but yours. And it is bit complicated. There is dark player in town. Grigori suspects someone from your past. He is one who wants to kill friend."
"Which friend?"
Boris tells me and I am surprised.
"Why?"
"Disagreement about remuneration. Your friend is arrogant, pissed off wrong people, not first time as you know."
"Who is this dark wizard?"
Boris can't say, "Speak to Grigori."
I have to go. I tell my Mum something about work came up unexpectedly. On my way to St. Petersburg I think about how to convince the ageless Russian healer to tell me who the dark wizard from my past is. There are so many that I can't begin to guess. The thing is Rasputin rarely involved himself with matters of the living but I hope he deems this an exception.
XXXXXXXXXX
At the Pitch, Gates was in Ginny's head coaching her what to tell Harry on the phone.
"They just showed up," she repeated what Gates wanted her to say, "They're fine."
"Where's Al?!"
Harry was angry, angrier than he'd ever been with Al and there was no point.
"In his room. He already knows he's in trouble. It can keep until you get back then we can talk to him together," she answered then asked, "When do you think you'll be back?"
"I'm not sure," Harry replied, significantly sobered by her question, making her want to take it back, "As soon as I clear this up."
"Okay."
He hung up. Gates took the phone from her grasp and tossed it on the kitchen table from where Anne was watching with fear in her eyes.
"Don't be afraid, Anne," she tried to reassure her sister-in-law, "He's all bark and no bite."
Gates was quick to correct her, "What she means to say is, if I wanted to bite I would have already."
"What do you want?" Ginny cut through the chase.
"For starters, where the fuck are your manners? I just brought your son back in one piece. I'm feeling a lack of appreciation here."
"Thank you," she replied coldly, folding her arms across her chest.
"You're welcome. It was something any decent man in my position would do."
Ginny retorted derisively, "And I'm sure you did it because you have an ounce of decency in you."
Gates laughed, "Funny that you talk about decency as if you know the meaning of the word. But I'll take that as a compliment."
"Whatever gets you off. Look, I know you're busy catching criminals or being one so let's not waste anymore time. Why did you come here?"
"You mean aside from the pleasure of seeing you express gratitude?" he taunted, and when she didn't react Gates went on, "Actually I was curious. I found this exquisite cloak in Rosie's rucksack and she tells me it actually belongs to Harry. Can I see the rest of his collection?"
Gates wasn't asking and Ginny had no choice.
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It was a standoff at Grimmauld.
"We have to let him in!" Jessie exclaimed.
"We will not," Grudy could not be moved.
"I'm going out to meet him," Ted made an executive decision.
"You know not if man is who you think man is. Imposter he could be," one of the other elves pointed out.
"True," Ted acknowledged, "But he could also be the man we think he is and we won't know until someone talks to him."
"He looks very anxious," Jessie noted, "If he is Gummy then he will not stick around long enough to converse with someone he doesn't know well."
"I got that covered."
Ted changed his appearance at will and in a blink of an eye he looked exactly like his godfather.
"What do you think?"
"Your eyes and voice give you away," Grudy criticized.
Jessie was more encouraging, "You're Harry Potter. Have more confidence. And try not to speak too much. You'll do just fine. And be careful."
Ted nodded and walked out the back door. As he did he realized he didn't have much of a plan. How was he going to talk with Gummy without speaking and how was he supposed to know the man was Gummy when the only thing he knew about the former MLE was that he lost his marbles after a dark wizard made him murder his own family years ago.
His confidence wavering by the second, he was within a few feet of Gummy when the older wizard turned to face him. The bloke had the saddest pair of grey eyes Ted had ever looked into his entire life. There was little doubt in his mind that this was the former MLE.
Gummy didn't speak. He was measuring Ted as well and his stare was peeling away whatever little confidence the Metamorph had. Ted motioned him over to a less public corner and when they reached the spot, he went with his gut. He changed back to his normal appearance.
"You know who I am?" Ted asked.
Gummy nodded.
"And you know who I am."
Ted nodded back.
"Are you POTH?"
The older man carefully replied, "I cannot speak of what you speak of. I am not the Keeper."
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It was a standoff at the Ministry morgue. As Ron confronted the resurrected body of his ex-wife it (the body) repaired its tattered self back to normal. He could only groan internally.
I am so fucked...
Stupefy! Stupefy! Incarcerous!
Chains of metal materialized in the air and blanketed Hermione as she fell back onto the ground. The weapon she had in her hand clanked on the tiled floor.
Taken aback by the ease with which he got her under control, he let his guard down. A rush of MLE and Aurors came from behind him and fired at her, each spell that made contact made him flinch. When there was no retaliatory response, the cursing stopped. Auror Lintcoming carefully lifted the fortified incarcerous spell from her motionless figure.
Whoosh!
Dark shadowy streaks sprung out from the floor where she was. A flurry of curses, verbal and magical, filled the morgue.
"She's gone!"
"Where is she?!"
Ron swung his head from left to right. The wand that was on the floor was no longer there and the second he concluded she had it, he felt a deep jab in the back.
"Right here, boys," Hermione announced, disarming him at the same time.
He put his arms up and told the trigger happy crowd, "She's bluffing."
"Try me," she challenged, then spoke in his ear in a chilly, low, unfamiliar voice that only he could hear, "Unlike your ex I will hurt you if I have to."
Okay. She wasn't Hermione. Can this be anymore confusing? Just as he was trying to figure out what to do next, he saw Trussel and Humptail.
The Hermione imposter noticed them too and hissed what he was almost sure was a swear, "Hijo de puta."
"Fire at will!" Humptail ordered stoically from behind the front line.
He cringed for the impact but before the spell beams hit him the imposter forcibly turned him around. His feet came off the ground and they were flying at breakneck speed through the Ministry corridors. The walls were a blur and as they arrived at the lifts they made it through the almost shut doors of one and blasted through the car's ceiling. Soaring through the elevator shaft, wizards on broomsticks were behind them, firing shots, some missing them, some hitting them. As far as he could tell they weren't defending themselves.
"What are you?!" he had to ask, screaming the words so she could hear.
His question was ignored, "Is she alive?!"
"Who?!"
"Jean Peverell, is she alive?!"
She must mean Hermione.
"You tell me! What the fuck is going on?!"
They were near the ground level. It was then when he felt his wand being shoved into his hand.
"Watch your back! Trust no one! It was nice talking with you!"
"What? Wait! We're not done...ahhhh!
He was freefalling! The bitch dropped him! The fucking bitch dropped him!
XXXXXXXXXX
Meanwhile, somewhere in Western Canada, Harry was walking alongside Hugo in near silence. Hugo had been quiet for most of the trip across the Pacific too that Harry had to ask a few times if he was okay. His son answered simply that he was. They had been going through a dense forest on this sparsely lit, unmarked path for nearly an hour, making their way towards what Hugo said would be the IMAN school grounds.
It was just past midnight local time and when Hugo insisted to come here Harry's first thought was to do so through the proper channels. Hugo talked him out of it; his son did not want to draw attention to their being there. Instead, he asked Harry to break through the school wards.
"Trust me on this."
Hugo was only thirteen. It bothered Harry that he spoke the way he did but for now let that slide.
As Harry followed his lead on the trail, it was obvious that the kid was very familiar with the woods and knew exactly where he was going. Once in a while Harry sensed and saw local wildlife about, and a couple of times almost drew his wand out, but his son seemed unperturbed, as if confident that there was nothing there that could harm them.
Hugo told him to relax, "It's a school with students. The forest is safe here. Mum always thought the one at Hogwarts was too dangerous to be on school property."
Harry did remain vigilant. There was a lot going on to be worried about. After speaking with Ginny and confirming that Al and Rosie were back safely at the Pitch, he got a call from Dennis that Boris Dovalov had been in touch with Max. He hadn't heard much from and about Boris for ages. Harry thought he had retired a few years after the Gaunt Moscow murders and couldn't think why the Russian would be turning up at such a strange time more than fifteen years later.
While he was speaking with Dennis, Neville was also trying to reach him. The Professor attempted to leave him a message but the Hogwarts defenses must have interfered and all Harry got was unintelligible garbage. He tried to get Neville before stepping beyond the IMAN boundary lines but was unable to and so he ended up asking Hannah to send an owl to her husband, hoping to hear what his message was about.
Then there was his inability to get a hold of Ron, of Ernie, of Padma or of Seamus. Or maybe he was just too impatient. He was anxious. He had a feeling that something was about to happen and he wanted to know what it was to prepare for it before it did. His gut said the key was POTH and Hugo said he knew someone who might have more information about them.
At last they got to a clearing.
"We're early. They should be here in a few minutes."
Harry could see the clusters of buildings off in the distance, in front of them, then off to the right and left. The IMAN. Harry had never been there and Hugo answered the question in his mind.
"That's the Muggle Studies Campus, much like a high school and university I guess. Over there is the Magical Being Studies school and that's the Witchcraft and Wizardry site. Just beyond is the IMAN Community where the congregation hall is and where the student living quarters are. It's the equivalent of a small magical town, it's amazing," his son described with pride in his voice, "I wish I could show you but we might trip off the alarms and wake the neighborhood up. Maybe when this is all over."
"Which campus do you attend?" Harry asked.
"The first three years we're supposed to take courses in each of the three campuses," Hugo explained, "Then for the last four we decide with our parents and teachers which definitive learning path to take."
"What about Isa and Spencer?" Harry was curious about Hugo's friends, "Do they go to the same classes as you all the time?"
"You're wondering about Squibs in magical classes?"
"Yes."
"In the first year we did. Everybody is given a wand in the first year," Hugo replied, "And everybody gets to opt out of the magical classes anytime, well with a parent's approval."
There was something about how Hugo said the last part that made him think at some point his son had wanted to do that and he couldn't imagine Hermione allowing it.
"This is certainly quite a place, unimaginable outside of it. Your Mum always had great vision," he had to say it, "Have you and your Mum decided your learning path?"
"We've talked about it a few times," Hugo seemed eager to share and Harry was relieved, "I want to be a doctor."
"You mean a Healer?"
"No. I mean a Muggle doctor but it's funny those are the exact words Mum said after I told her," Hugo chuckled somewhat and he had to do the same.
"Why a doctor?"
Hugo shrugged, his eyes grew more serious and were glued on a spot on the ground as he answered, "I want to help the sick get better, find cures, so people like Grandma wouldn't have to die the way she did."
Hugo was talking about Hermione's Mum who passed away from cancer a year ago. He was close to his grandmother.
"You could do that too if you're a Healer," Harry pointed out.
"I guess," came his vague reply.
"You don't like magic."
"It's all right. I don't hate it."
"You prefer not doing it?" Harry prodded, wanting so much to learn more about his son and when Hugo did not answer he continued, "It's okay. I'm not here to judge."
"It's not that I don't appreciate magic. I do. What's not to like?" Hugo confided, "Spencer thinks I'm stupid and arrogant, Isa says I'm wasting a gift, but I can't see myself living in the magical world."
"Why not?"
Hugo looked him straight in the eye and answered simply, "Because I want to be someone. I don't want to be known as your bastard son and in your world I will always be that."
Harry couldn't breathe for a moment and it broke his heart to hear Hugo think that and to see him cry. His son quickly brushed the tears off his face and tried to put up a brave front. Harry didn't know what to say. He made a motion to reach over but Hugo stepped away.
The Auror heard himself say, "It won't be as bad as you imagine it would be. I won't let it."
"I'm not blaming you. I don't expect you to fix it. You can't.."
"Let me try," he countered.
"But I don't want you to," his son responded and before he could answer back, continued, "Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to piss you off or bust your balls. I'm not mad at you at least not as much anymore. I'm just trying to be honest. A few days ago you didn't know I was your son. You didn't know me. You didn't care about me. I was a nobody to you. So I wish you'd stop acting like you do care. I'm just an obligation that you feel guilty about because you were never there while I was growing up.
"And you're thinking of trying to make it up to me, to make me feel better, because if I do then maybe your guilt will go away. But I'm telling you now that I'm not interested in being your son or having you as my father. I don't want to be a part of your life. I don't want to be a part of your world."
Hugo's green eyes glimmered as the little light that shone on them reflected off the pool of tears. Harry understood. He could respect choice and Hugo's desire to be able to make his. But then again, he didn't agree and Hermione wouldn't either.
"Does your Mum know this?"
His son shook his head, "I couldn't tell her. I figured she had enough disappointment in her life."
Harry nodded, realizing the difficulty. While he didn't want to antagonize Hugo it was important to be clear and honest. He had to speak his heart too.
"You're right. Days ago I didn't know you were my son. But I am not pretending that I care about you. You are not merely an obligation and this isn't about making me feel less guilty that I wasn't there for you. It's about setting things right, making things the way they should be or at least trying to do that.
"I love your Mum. I love her and I always will. You are our son and by default I will care about you and love you whether you want it or not. I will always want you to be a part of my life. And I'm sorry if this upsets you but it's the truth."
Harry could tell by the way the young wizard clenched his jaw that he didn't like what he was hearing.
"I wish you'd stop lying. It only makes me angry when you do."
"I'm not lying."
"You don't love me! You don't love my Mum!"
"I do."
"I don't believe you!" Hugo rose to his mother's defense, "If you loved her then why did you leave her? Why did you stay with Aunt Ginny?!"
Harry didn't expect Hugo to understand. It had been tough for him to understand too.
He attempted to answer anyway, "Because at that time it was the right thing to do."
"Right? For whom? For Aunt Ginny? For James, for Al and for you? What about my Mum? She loved you and you left her pregnant with me! Then she watched you choose your family over her! How was that right for her!"
He was about to say that he didn't know about him, that his Mum should have said something, and things would have been different, but there was no point in bringing that up. There was no turning back, no changing the past, no reason good enough to comfort them both. There was only accepting what was.
"It wasn't right for her or for you. So, yes, you have every right to be angry. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm your father. I will always be your father, no matter what."
"I wish I never told you!" Hugo was back to his previous caustic self.
"Well you did, so here we are," Harry kept his composure, "I understand what you want. I can only imagine how horrible it must be to make the choice to not be a part of a world that will always be a part of you, because you are who you are. You're a wizard. You cannot deny that part of you, especially not because of me. I won't let you make that mistake."
"You're unfair. This is my life. It's not your choice, it's mine."
"Maybe but the choice is not yours alone until you're of age."
"I won't change my mind," Hugo said with his Mum's familiar stubborn tone.
As dejected as Harry felt there was nothing else he could do at the moment. Hugo was angry that he wasn't going to let go easily and that he wasn't going to allow him to run away from who he was.
He sighed, deciding to back off for now, "Then you have nothing to worry about."
The sound of someone approaching interrupted them. They both turned towards a spot in between two pine trees. It was Hugo's friend Spencer closely followed by Isa.
"Mr. P. I'm honored to finally meet you!" an enthused Spencer shook his hand vigorously, "I heard so much about you. You're awesome!"
Harry acknowledged the greeting but had an ear trained towards Isa who was now showing Hugo something on a small handheld device.
"It has all that I could dig up about Malvado," Isa explained.
"Including your notes and paper on secret magical societies?"
"Yes. And I'm still sore at you for telling me your mum was definitely not POTH."
"Hot wire me," Hugo replied.
Isa shook her head, "Are you crazy? It's a prototype."
"It's a good time to test it."
"Now's not a good time to fry your brains."
Harry liked his friend and how she made a lot of sense.
"I'll be fine," Hugo brushed off sound advice.
"What is it?" Harry asked, technologically challenged.
"It's a Muggle computer outfitted with an SPS," Isa answered. The blank look on his face prompted her to add, "An SPS? A synaptic pathway stabilizer? It accelerates neuronal affiliation for electrical impulses? What am I thinking. You're a wizard who still uses a cellphone."
Harry blushed, suddenly feeling old.
"Now that is just disrespectful," Spencer came to his aid, making him feel even older. He paraphrased what Isa just said in layman's terms, "It's a device that uses some principles of magical memory implantation to hasten learning and increase retention of new information, kind of like an information indexer. Hey, we could call it that. The Information Indexer, I to the power of 2 or I squared."
"It's much more that an information indexer," Isa disagreed.
Hugo cut their argument short, "It'll take me forever to read all that. We don't have time. Just hotwire me."
"To hotwire is to make use of the SPS to transfer from the computer hard drive to human brain memory cells," Spencer saved him again, "It's a data rush. It rocks!"
"We haven't tested. It may not be safe...wait," she turned from Hugo to Spencer then back to Hugo, her brown eyes opening wider by the second, "You tested it without me!"
"Aced that history test I flunked twice before," Spencer said proudly, holding his hand up for Hugo, who shook him off, "The look on our Professor's face was priceless."
"That was cheating!"
"Of course not," Spencer corrected.
Hugo concurred, "We proved that it works fine."
"Because Spencer passed a test?!"
"Aced a test."
"This is not exactly just a few chapters in a book. Two zerrabytes of information. That's information overload that a normal brain has not been found to be capable of retaining. Theoretically it could displace what you already have in there. You may not know who you are after."
"Tempting," Harry heard Hugo mutter.
"Forget the short cut. Just read."
"You should really listen to her," Harry told him.
"Fine," Hugo grabbed the device and replicated it, handing one to him, "Do you know how to use these?"
"Just touch the screen," Spencer showed him, panning through tons of information quickly.
It was idiot proof enough. Harry guessed Hugo was adverse to the idea of sharing.
"We're connected to you," Isa told Hugo, "If you need info just let me know and we'll send it but as we're using Muggle microsattelites we may get dropped signals if you are in magical areas that intentionally block that off."
"What about the fortuneteller? Did you find her?"
A fortuneteller?
Isa replied, "The fair is in Manila, at Luneta Park. She'll be there for the next three days but if she is the seer that she says she is she might already know you're coming. She said she didn't want to get involved."
"She might have changed her mind."
"Who is this fortuneteller?" Harry asked.
When Hugo and Isa didn't answer, Spencer obliged, "She's a two bit con woman who sets up fortunetelling booths at Muggle fairs. A year ago we went to see her for fun. She told Hugo that the son of Death will come and unleash senseless violence into the world and that the only person who could end it was the boy she was talking to."
XXXXXXXXXX
An hour ago, after Neville left Harry a message about finding the Snitch, he made his way back towards the Great Hall. Classes were to begin in fifteen minutes and he wanted to speak to the Headmistress about taking the rest of the day off to get the Snitch to Harry.
"Neville!"
A familiar voice called out and he walked over to his greenhouse.
"What are you doing here?"
"You found something in Professor Flitwick's chest."
"Yes, I did. Did Harry send you?" Neville asked excitedly.
"Not exactly. I'm so sorry Neville."
His entire body stiffened and he fell like a log to the ground. His pockets were emptied. Then there was another spell cast and he blacked out.
XXXXXXXXXX
A/N. Hermione and Ron about Hugo? I didn't expect Ron to make that much sense or for that segment to be so long.
Any thoughts on what Hugo said to Harry? I was wondering as I was writing if Harry should have been more firm or less antagonistic.
The fortuneteller's prediction - :lol: predictable :)
Someone asked about the past Hermione-Ginny conversation - it should come up in the next.
Haven't watched HBP yet. The thought of seeing Hermione becoming aware of her feelings for Ron is nauseating and the H-G kiss in the trailer is depressing enough. Is it as bad as I think it is?