Facing Danger
Chapter 7: Joinings and Partings (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
The song is from My Fair Lady.
Chapter 7: Joinings and Partings
Albus Dumbledore lifted the heavy locket from the table and traced the snake marking on it with one finger. "Fascinating," he murmured.
A small noise from the direction of the door made him smile. "You may come in," he said aloud. "All of you."
"I told you so," Hermione hissed at Ron as the Pride filed in, looking chagrined.
"I had meant to speak to you about this at some point anyway," Dumbledore said, turning to face them. "This will merely facilitate things. Luna, you say that you can see Voldemort’s shape around this locket?"
"It changes," Luna said, "but Harry says it’s all Voldemort. I believe him."
"Harry." Dumbledore beckoned the boy forward. "Have you touched it at any point?"
"No, sir. Just held up the dome so Neville and Meghan could try."
"And they disliked how it felt." Dumbledore looked at the mentioned two.
"Very much, sir," Neville said as Meghan nodded hard. "I don’t want to touch it again."
"I will not ask you to. But I will ask Harry." Dumbledore held up the locket. "If you will, Harry."
Harry reached out tentatively and laid a finger on the locket. A shudder ran through his body, and he snatched his hand away, clapping it to his forehead. "It burned," he said. "But with cold, not hot. Does that make sense?"
"It does. And your scar?"
Harry took his hand away. "It hurt for just a second. It’s stopped now."
"But I held it," said Ron. "And Draco, too. We didn’t feel anything."
"And I would imagine any of the rest of you could hold it without discomfort," Dumbledore said. "Though Luna might not care for it."
Luna pointedly clasped her hands behind her back.
"Blood Heirs," said Ginny. "Harry and Neville and Meghan are, and we’re not. And Voldemort is, too. He put some kind of enchantment on it that blood Heirs of the Founders respond to..."
Her tone was doubtful, questioning, but Dumbledore nodded. "Well spotted, Ginny," he said.
And better than well, as she does my work for me. Now I must maintain it here, and plant the doubts elsewhere.
He slid the locket inside his robes. "If you ever see another item with that exact look to it, Luna, you must tell me immediately, no matter what else is going on," he told her. "Objects with this enchantment can be dangerous if mishandled. Fortunately, your handling of the situation was perfect." He made that a general statement, and more than one person beamed. "Now, if I may ask you all to leave Harry and myself alone for a short time? I wish to speak with him, now that it is safe to do so."
The rest of the Pride vacated the room, several signing comments to Harry as they went. Harry sat down in an armchair when they were gone, tucking his legs up under him. "I feel like I can still feel it," he said, rubbing the finger that had touched the locket. "Doesn’t it bother you to have it there?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not have your particular sensitivity to it. And on that subject, Harry, I want to thank you for your willingness to take on this new burden."
"New... oh, that." Harry shrugged. "Letha’s being so motherly, I can’t even turn around without her asking if I feel all right. That’s the worst of it just now."
"It may grow worse." Dumbledore considered his position carefully. "Harry, I encourage you not to give up your Occlumency practice because of this new level of safety. Voldemort may, at some point, find a way around it, or some problem with the spell may arise. I ask you to develop your other lines of defense, should this one some day fail you."
"Why don’t you just tell me to do it?" Harry’s tone made it a serious question, as free from sarcasm as any question asked by a Marauder’s child could ever be. "Why ask?"
"Courtesy, perhaps." Dumbledore regarded the boy sitting across from him with an inner sigh. "In our world, a boy is a man at seventeen. You are fifteen as of yesterday—many happy returns, belatedly—but you are approaching manhood rapidly. As well, whether we care for the fact or not, you will be an inevitable part of this war. I feel it incumbent upon me to treat you with courtesy."
"Do you treat Tonks like that? Or Padfoot, or Moody?"
Dumbledore frowned, unsure where Harry was going. "I attempt to be courteous to all."
"But do you just ask them to do things? Or do you tell them? We’re in a war, Professor, and you’re leading us, unless something changed and I don’t know about it. We swore to you, the Pride and I, that night after the third task." Harry’s legs came down, and he lifted his chin. "Maybe we’re just kids, but we can fight. And we can take orders." A grin lit his face, reminding Dumbledore sharply of James Potter. "We don’t like it, but we can do it."
"Though I run the risk of having those orders reinterpreted."
"Only if we need to, sir."
Dumbledore hid his smile. "In that case, I will tell you to continue your Occlumency practice, even though I understand you find it a hard discipline to follow."
"Yes, sir. To both."
"You have strong feelings, Harry, and you have never learned to hide what you feel. It has never been necessary, living as you do within a loving family. Those who have lived with trouble and worry frequently make better Occlumens."
Harry’s eyes were far off. Dumbledore let him think. After a moment, the boy nodded. "I can do that," he said quietly, as though finishing a conversation, and turned back to the Headmaster. "Is there anything else, sir?"
"There is, Harry." Dumbledore smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of his robes. Why was this so hard? The boy’s future would not change merely because he knew about it.
But his outlook will change. His feelings and his thoughts will change. And thus, he will change, and you do not want to be the one to change him, because you love him.
He banished the treacherous voice and looked up. "You know the beginning of the prophecy which names you as the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. I believe it is time you knew the whole of it."
Harry’s eyes widened. "Now?" he blurted.
"Do you have somewhere else to be?"
"No—but..."
Dumbledore waited, letting Harry put his thoughts together.
"I don’t know if I’m ready," Harry said finally. "I don’t know if I want to know it."
"You will have to know it eventually," Dumbledore pointed out quietly.
"I know..." Harry’s shoulders slumped. "But you never think eventually will come until it does."
"Would it help your decision if I told you that Voldemort is seeking a way to find this prophecy, since he knows only the part you know yourself?" Dumbledore watched Harry carefully, and knew he had the boy’s attention when Harry’s head turned slightly. "And that some of your unusual dreams while staying with your relatives relate to this?"
"Is it written down somewhere?" Harry asked after a moment of thought. "Does the Ministry keep records of prophecies?"
"It does, but not written ones. And the safeguards on the records are extreme. The magic placed on them is such that only someone who the prophecy is about —someone like yourself—would be able to touch them."
Harry frowned, wrinkling his nose. "Do you mean if he wanted it, he’d have to use me to get it, sir? But it’s about him too, isn’t it? Couldn’t he get it?"
"He could, but Voldemort has long believed in taking as few risks as possible with his own body, and after thirteen years disembodied, he will likely be more careful than ever. Especially now, with the Ministry refusing to recognize his return." Dumbledore kept the anger light in his voice, though he felt it thoroughly. "Voldemort will not jeopardize such a valuable fact by appearing in public."
"So since he won’t get it himself, he might try to use me to get it, by..." Harry looked up. "Threatening someone?"
Dumbledore let some of his approval show. "He might. Or he might work through someone else, someone you have reason to trust, or think you do."
"And that person asks me to... what? Take a record off a shelf at the Ministry?"
"Basically."
"It’s easy, then, sir. I just say no. Why would I even be at the Ministry in the first place?"
"There could be reasons. And the record could be disguised, or the reason why it is needed falsified. You might even be led to believe that someone is in peril of his life, or hers, and that the record is the only thing which will save them."
Harry smiled. "That’s what these are for, sir." He hooked a finger around his pendant chain.
"And if your pendants tell you the same story as the person in front of you?" Dumbledore sighed. "Voldemort will not skimp on this, Harry. It is one of the driving forces of his life at the moment, to hear in full the prophecy he believes shapes his life."
"He believes, sir? Doesn’t it really?"
Dumbledore chuckled dryly. "In a way, it shapes his life because he believes in it. If he had not believed, he would never have attacked you. Your parents would never have died. You would never have known your Pack, nor become this young man seated here before me. You would still have been Harry Potter, but a very different Harry Potter. Voldemort, likewise, would have been different. Perhaps he would never have fallen, or perhaps some other circumstance would have brought about his downfall."
Harry looked somewhat crestfallen. "But I thought I was the only one who could defeat him."
"A prophecy is only words, Harry. It takes belief to make it come true. Because Voldemort believes in the prophecy, which states that you have the power to defeat him, you do. He fears you. You are his weakness."
Harry stared at him. "So it’s only true because he believes it is?"
"Do not discount belief, Harry. Belief is behind every great act of magic. And the end result is the same as if the prophecy was magically binding. Because Voldemort believes that you are the only one who can defeat him, you become the only one."
Harry nodded slowly. "I think I understand," he said. "But I still don’t see why you want me to know the whole prophecy, Professor. If the only thing that makes it important is that Voldemort knows it, and Voldemort doesn’t know the end of it, why does the end matter?"
Dumbledore laughed aloud, surprised. "Neatly done, Harry," he said. "I find myself trapped in my own logic."
"Thank you, sir." Harry inclined his head.
"I suppose my ultimate reason is as simple as human curiosity," Dumbledore said. "The prophecy has to do with you. I cannot imagine that you have not wondered what it says."
Harry shrugged one shoulder.
"If you know, you are less likely to be tempted when you face the recorded form of the prophecy. You would also be more able to destroy it, which may yet have to be done."
"Destroy it?"
Dumbledore hid a laugh at the sudden interest in Harry’s eyes. "It would be tipping our hand to do so now," he said. "Voldemort has not yet indicated interest in it, except through your dreams. Also, I hate to do anything which cannot be undone, and destruction of a recording of this sort is final."
"And every minute Voldemort spends chasing the prophecy is another minute he’s not hurting people," Harry said.
"Indeed. So will you hear the prophecy, then?"
"Yes, sir. May I tell anyone else about it?"
It was the question Dumbledore had been expecting. "Your parents already know, as I am sure you are aware. And I cannot imagine you would have kept the general contents of the portion you were given secret."
"It’s actually why we made the Pride," Harry confided. "So I could tell them the first part of the prophecy as a den-secret."
"Then let this second part be a den-secret as well." Dumbledore took a breath, composing himself, then began to speak the words which had branded themselves into his mind that day more than fifteen years ago.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."
xXxXx
Someone knocked on the door of Sirius and Aletha’s bedroom.
"Come in," Aletha called from her chair by the window, where she was studying some notes she’d taken at St. Mungo’s.
Harry opened the door and stepped in. "Is Padfoot around?" he asked.
"No, he’s still at work. Will I do?"
"I guess."
Aletha set her notes aside and stood up. "What is it, Harry?" she asked, worried by his tone. "What’s happened?"
"I know now." Harry shut the door behind himself. "I know what has to happen." He looked up at her. His eyes held the same lost, frightened look they had when he’d awakened from his nightmares as a baby.
Except that now I can’t tell him it was all a dream.
Aletha crossed the room and gathered her Pack-son into her arms. "The prophecy," she said, making it a statement. "Albus told you the prophecy."
"Mm-hmm," Harry said into her shoulder, holding onto her tightly.
"Come on, over here with you." Aletha pulled him across the room and half-lifted him onto the bed. "Lie down."
"Wha..."
"Lie down, I said."
Harry curled up on his side, craning his neck to look up at her.
"You can change forms if you like." Aletha reached down to stroke Harry’s hair, but settled for the neck of the yearling Wolf. "There now. You’re safe."
Wolf shook his head.
"No, you’re not safe?"
Wolf snorted in exasperation and changed forms again. "I’m not ever going to be safe," Harry said bitterly. "Either I have to kill Voldemort, or he has to kill me. That’s not safe. That’s just... wrong."
Aletha shut her eyes for a moment, then released the barriers she usually held between her feelings and the outside world. When she looked at Harry again, she wasn’t surprised to see him flinch, just a little. "You’re right," she said softly. "It is wrong. I’ve been thinking about how wrong it is for a long time, and wishing it was some other way. But it isn’t."
"So what? I should just stop whining and try to ignore it?"
"Don’t put words in my mouth, Harry James Potter. I never said anything of the sort." Deliberately, Aletha adopted the tone she’d use if she’d caught Harry trying to bend a household rule. "I was attempting to offer you some comfort, but if you’re going to snap my head off, you can leave." She tapped the tip of his nose with one finger admonishingly. "And you can take your self-pity party with you."
"I am not having..."
"You’re feeling very sorry for yourself and looking for people to make it all better. Do you have a better definition?"
Harry’s fist clenched.
"I wouldn’t do that," Aletha said. "I hit back."
"It’s not fair!" Harry shouted, sitting up, both fists balled now. "I never wanted this! I still don’t want it! Dumbledore even said the prophecy doesn’t matter, except that Voldemort knows about it, but it does and it’s not fair!"
Aletha shook her head. "You’re so right," she said. "It’s not fair. And you bear the brunt of the unfairness. I hate it just like you do." She refrained from saying "just as much," since Harry didn’t need anything else to yell about. "But Voldemort is going to come after you, whether you like it or not. Still, I think he’s likely to put it off for a while, for the simple reason that he can’t get at you here."
She reached out and laid her hand on Harry’s shoulder for a moment. "You are safe, Harry. Right here and right now, you are safe. You won’t be forever, and you wouldn’t want to be, but you need it now. So here it is. You are safe."
Now as long as you believe me...
Harry slumped, then changed forms and crawled towards her as Wolf, whining. Aletha pulled her legs up onto the bed and crossed them, presenting as much space as possible, and Wolf plopped his front half into her lap and pushed his nose under her arm. Aletha didn’t try to hide her smile, since he would smell it on her anyway, but busied herself rubbing around his ears and along the sides of his jaw.
"You can’t get away from this by shouting about it, Harry," she murmured. "But you don’t have to face it right away, and you don’t ever have to face it alone."
Wolf gave her a skeptical look.
"I mean that. Even when you’ve fought alone, you’re never really alone, are you? Our love is always with you." Aletha smiled, stroking Wolf’s forehead over the white-furred line of his scar. "And we usually manage to get some practical help in there as well."
Wolf sighed and laid his head back down.
They sat until the door opened without a knock. "I’m home," Sirius said, "and what a... Harry?"
Harry tumbled off Aletha’s lap and ran to his godfather.
Aletha let Sirius see her smirk over Harry’s shoulder. "And you thought he’d forget about you," she mouthed at him.
Sirius shrugged the shoulder Harry wasn’t leaning against.
Take care of him, Aletha signed, and slid off the bed. As she closed the door, she made a mental note to put Unbreakable Charms on the lamps and other valuables in their room later on.
It might not be a bad idea to do every room in the house while we’re at it. Or ask Dobby or Winky to do it...
She’d done her best, but there were times when a boy needed a man.
And Harry has two. Lucky boy.
A growl from within the room made her chuckle quietly. "Just remember you have to clean it up, you two," she murmured. "And don’t hurt each other too badly."
Humming to herself, Aletha made her way downstairs.
xXxXx
The Pride met once more in their new Den, this time in full secrecy, with no outside members allowed (Ginny had wheedled Tonks into teaching her the Imperturbable Charm, and placed it on the door to discourage Fred and George from listening in). "What’s going on, Harry?" Draco asked. "You disappeared after Dumbledore was here, and we didn’t know where you were."
"I had to talk with Letha and Padfoot for a little while, about what I found out." Harry breathed deeply, reminding himself that he was in-den and safe. "It’s dangerous. It’s probably one of the most dangerous things in the world to know right now, because it’s what Voldemort wants to know. And now I know it."
"Are you going to tell us?" asked Ron, his eyes lighting up.
"Do you want to know?" Harry looked at his friend. "I mean that, Ron. Do you really want to know this? Voldemort’s going to be after anyone who knows, and he doesn’t play around. You could get hurt. Or killed."
"I can’t talk if I’m dead."
"There are lots of things that hurt worse than dead."
Ron scoffed. "How’s he going to get me? I’m with you everywhere you go, and you’re protected out your arse. Besides, how’s he going to know I know? He doesn’t even know you know, does he?" He stopped. "Did that make any sense at all?"
"No, it did," Hermione said quickly. "If Voldemort doesn’t know we know about whatever it is, he won’t try to get it out of us. Ron’s right, Harry. You don’t have to worry about us."
Except that I always do.
But Hermione had a point, Harry had to admit. This was the kind of information Voldemort would never have dreamed of telling anyone else. Why would he think that Harry would do differently?
Hell, he might not even think Dumbledore would tell me. We’re safe enough.
He just wished he didn’t have the feeling that he was making a terrible mistake.
"Dumbledore told me the rest of the prophecy," he said. "The one that could have been me or Neville, but turned out to be me."
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord," Neville recalled. "The rest of it must be pretty bad, Harry. You look like you want to throw rocks at something."
"You could say that." Harry bowed his head to remember. "I’m supposed to be marked as Voldemort’s equal and have power he doesn’t know about."
"That’s not so bad," said Draco.
"But that’s not the end," Luna countered. "Is it, Harry?"
"No, it’s not." Harry looked up. The Pride was watching him closely. "The end... the end says that either I have to kill him, or he has to kill me. Neither one of us can live while the other one does."
A shocked silence reigned. Hermione broke it. "That doesn’t make any sense," she said passionately. "You’re alive right now, and so is Voldemort. How can the prophecy say you can’t both be alive at the same time?"
"What does it say exactly?" Ginny asked.
Harry closed his eyes. "‘Either must die at the hand of the other,’" he recited, "‘for neither can live while the other survives.’"
Ginny’s forehead wrinkled in thought.
Without a word, Meghan moved across the circle and embraced Harry. Her skin was ashen pale, she shivered in his arms, but her embrace was as tight as though she were already denying him to death.
"I think it may mean being really alive," Ginny said after a moment. "The prophecy. It may mean Harry can’t have a real life until Voldemort’s dead."
"Define real life," said Harry, feeling a surge of indignation. "Does it mean I can’t have friends? Or a family? Or go to school? I do that all already, Voldemort or no Voldemort, and I’m not giving it up."
"That’s not what I meant and you know it," Ginny flared back. "I just meant you’re always going to have to think about him, until he’s gone. And he has to think about you, because he has to be afraid of you."
"Voldemort has to be afraid of Harry?" Ron said. "Doesn’t that go the other way around?"
"It goes both ways," said Hermione. "Harry even has the advantage. He has power Voldemort doesn’t know about... how did that bit go, Harry?"
"‘He shall have power the Dark Lord knows not,’" Harry recited. "It’s kind of ambiguous."
"Prophecies like to do that," Luna said. "Then they can claim they meant whichever one actually happened. This could mean that Voldemort doesn’t know about your power, or that he does know about it but that it’s something he doesn’t understand or can’t use."
Harry looked down at the top of Meghan’s head, and something came back to him. The night after the third task, before the moment he’d mentioned to Dumbledore earlier—another conversation between the two of them, when Harry had been close to despair because he thought that what he wanted most of all would be impossible to have ever again...
"I think I know what it is," he said. "Dumbledore told me that night, after the third task." He held Meghan a little tighter. "It’s love."
"Love?" Draco sounded skeptical. "The power the Dark Lord knows not is love?"
"He doesn’t love anyone," Meghan said, turning in the circle of Harry’s arms to face Draco. "He doesn’t care about anyone, except what they can do for him. And no one cares about him, not the way we care about Harry. All the Death Eaters stay with him because they’re afraid, or because they think they’ll get ahead with him."
"And we’re with Harry because he’s our friend," Ron said. "If things get really bad for Voldemort, a lot of the Death Eaters will probably bail. We won’t." His look was challenging.
"You think I’m going to bail?" Draco demanded.
"Stop it," said Hermione, glaring alternately at her brother and her friend. "No one’s going to do that. None of us, at least. Pride together."
"Pride forever," came a ragged chorus.
"Pathetic," said Ginny. "Say it like you mean it."
The response this time shook the room.
Hermione exchanged smiles with Ginny.
Harry hid his own smile behind Meghan’s braids, remembering one part of his conversation with Padfoot.
xXxXx
They’d wrestled in Animagus form, then talked some as humans, then gone back to wrestling. They were lying on the floor catching their breath when Harry thought of a question he’d been meaning to ask.
"Padfoot? Is it possible to like two girls at the same time?"
Padfoot rolled over to look at Harry. "Girlfriend like?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, it’s possible. Not the best of ideas, but it’s possible." Padfoot’s expression clearly said, What are you up to now?
"Thanks. I just wanted to know." Harry sat up and turned away.
"Oh no you don’t." Padfoot reached over and caught Harry’s shoulder, bringing him back around. "You can’t just ask a question like that and run away. Who’re the lucky girls?"
Harry leveled a glare at Padfoot.
"No teasing, I promise. Or how about this—you tell me one of them, and the other one stays secret. Deal?"
"Deal." Harry leaned back against the bed. "Her name’s Cho Chang. She Seeks for Ravenclaw. She’s really pretty and really smart, and she used to be Cedric Diggory’s girlfriend."
"Ouch." Padfoot winced. "That could hurt your chances."
"She kissed me before term ended last year."
"Maybe not, then." Padfoot nodded several times, his eyes speculative. "Now tell me a little about the other one. Not who she is, but why you think you like her."
"She’s..." Harry thought hard. How could he describe her without Padfoot guessing? "She’s my friend. I know her, and I like her. She knows me, and I think she likes me, but I don’t know if she likes me as anything more than a friend, but she might. We like a lot of the same things, and I trust her. And she’s smart and nice and pretty," he added almost as an afterthought.
"I’m sure she’d appreciate that," Padfoot said with a straight face. "But you still like the Chang girl."
"Yeah."
"She’s not your actual girlfriend, is she? You’ve never gone anywhere with her?"
"I wish."
"Maybe you’ll get the chance this year," Padfoot said. "Harry, if there’s one thing I’ve learned..." He stopped. "Merlin’s beard, I’m turning into Moony."
Harry leaned over and poked him. "You still feel like you."
"Har har."
"Just say it."
"Don’t ruin a friendship over liking a girl. That was my biggest mistake with Letha. I thought that because I liked her, we couldn’t be friends. I had to show off and make her impressed with me, because if she actually got to know me, she’d hate me."
Harry frowned. "That doesn’t make any sense."
"Now you tell me."
Both of them laughed.
"Harry, if this other girl is really your friend, keep her that way," Padfoot advised when they were done. "If she’s meant to be something more, it’ll happen. But don’t give up... Cho, was it? Don’t give up Cho just because you think you might like someone else too. That’s the point of being young. You try lots of things. Some of them work, some of them don’t."
Harry grimaced. "And the ones that don’t let your friends tell embarrassing stories about you your whole life."
"Now you’re catching on." Padfoot grinned. "Just remember to get adequate dirt on them while you’re at it, and you shouldn’t have a problem."
xXxXx
Dirt on the Pride from the summer wouldn’t be too hard to come by, though it wasn’t the sort you could sell to a newspaper, Harry mused. It was just the funny little things that happened in life, like Ron running away screaming from the teacup-sized spiders in the third-floor closet, or Draco fighting with a homicidal robe from the attic, or Ginny and Meghan getting locked in the bathroom for two hours before anyone noticed they were missing.
Neville’s expression the day they’d been introduced to their new Defense teacher was definitely on the list. His mouth had dropped open, and he’d gone a shade of yellow Harry’d never seen on a human face before croaking one word.
"Mum?"
"Do close your mouth, dear," Mrs. Longbottom had said fondly. "I am a qualified Auror, you know."
"Yeah, but..."
"You could ask Harry what it’s like to be taught by a parent, or Draco or Hermione," she’d suggested. "I’m sure they could tell you."
Neville had watched her out of the room, his jaw still hanging loose.
"Problem?" Hermione said.
"My mum is teaching Defense!"
"Is she not a good teacher?" Draco asked.
"I don’t know!" Neville sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. "It’s just... it’s just..."
"She’s your mum," Harry suggested.
"Yes!"
"It was a little strange for us, too," said Hermione. "But we got used to it. And they knew what they were teaching us, so why does it matter?"
"Because..." Neville looked appealingly at the rest of the Pride.
"It is odd to think about your parents doing something else," said Luna. "Especially if you haven’t seen them work before. I always knew what Dad did, and Mum, because they worked at home, but if you don’t see your parents working, you just think of them as your parents. You don’t think of them as grownups like your teachers."
Neville shook his head. "I don’t know why I’m making such a big fuss over this. Mum and Dad are both good at what they do, and we need a good teacher this year like never before."
"And it’s getting hard to get a good teacher," said Ron. "Do you think the job’s really jinxed?"
"That’s part of the reason I don’t like Mum there," Neville confessed. "If it really is jinxed, what’s going to happen to her?"
A moment of silence fell as the Pride thought about that.
xXxXx
Another marvelous moment, Harry thought, had been the opening of the Hogwarts letters, a day or two after they’d found out Mrs. Longbottom would be the new Defense teacher. Dumbledore had talked with him a little about the prefect appointments, and Harry’d agreed that he got into too much trouble to be a good choice for prefect. "Besides, I lead the Pride already," he said. "If I try to be a prefect too, I’ll get mixed up."
"Precisely." Dumbledore had smiled. "And I think a taste of responsibility would be no bad thing for the young man in question."
Harry contrived to be watching Ron at the moment when his friend realized his Hogwarts letter was too heavy to be just a piece of parchment. He only wished he’d remembered to bring the camera.
One not-so-wonderful part of the summer, of course, was Harry’s lupus, but as he’d told Dumbledore, Letha was watching him like a jarvey with a gnome, and had a potion ready for him if he so much as winced. Apart from occasional stiffness in the mornings, the only symptom he really experienced through August was the thick aftertaste in his throat that came from drinking too many potions.
"You’ll have to keep track of it yourself while you’re at school," Letha reminded him some days. "Madam Pomfrey knows about it now, enough to keep an eye on you, but you’re the first line of defense, Harry. The potions won’t hurt you, so take them if you need them."
But of course, the greatest events of the summer were the three weddings.
xXxXx
Dobby and Winky’s wedding came first, since it was a simple ceremony, requiring only the two of them, a broomstick, and a witness. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, however, insisted on something more for Winky’s special day, and Dobby admitted with a slight look of shame that he’d been saving his wages at Hogwarts for just this kind of chance.
And so it was that Dobby and Winky were the first house-elves in centuries to be married in house-elf-sized wedding robes, crisp black for Dobby and ruffled white for Winky. They made the traditional house-elf promises to be faithful as far as their prior loyalties to their masters would allow, and Ron and Draco set Harry’s Firebolt on the living room floor for them to jump.
"The better the broomstick, the better the jump," Draco had wheedled Harry that morning. "And what could they do to it?"
Harry had looked tentatively at his beloved broomstick before relinquishing it. "If it gets damaged," he’d told Draco, "you get to buy me a new one."
"Deal."
But both house-elves cleared the broomstick on the first jump, making all the wedding guests cheer. The party adjourned to the kitchen for the wedding lunch, prepared, as was traditional, by the newlyweds.
Charlie and Tonks’ long-awaited event was next, held, as promised, on 19 August. Like Dobby and Winky’s wedding, it happened at Headquarters, but the preparations were more elaborate. Both house-elves worked unceasingly to get the house ready, and the Pride was pressed into service at every turn.
Harry escaped some of the more onerous labor because he was helping Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Danger in the kitchen, preparing as much as possible ahead of time for the wedding dinner. Remembering Padfoot’s advice, he tried to treat Ginny as he always had, as if she were his little sister as well as Ron’s (minus the teasing, of course).
At least she doesn’t blush every time she sees me anymore.
"How are the maid of honor rehearsals going?" he asked on the 17th, carefully steering the magical icing bag around the side of the wedding cake.
"It’s not that hard, really," Ginny answered from behind him, where she was placing a tiny candy heart in the center of each flower Harry’s bag laid down. "I walk down the aisle, stand behind Tonks, take her bouquet when it’s time for her and Charlie to exchange rings and touch wands, give it back to her when she’s done, and walk up the aisle with Bill. Nothing too exciting. But then, being in Joseph wasn’t either, until I realized how many people were going to be looking at me."
"You did fine there," Harry said. "You should do fine here."
"Thanks. How about you? How are you doing with being a groomsman?"
Harry laughed. "Like you said, walk up the aisle, walk down the aisle. Not too hard, even for me."
"Who are you paired with, Meghan or Hermione?" Padfoot and Letha hadn’t had much trouble choosing people to be in their magical wedding—Padfoot, in fact, had joked that they’d have done it earlier if they’d realized they had a built-in wedding party in the house.
"Hermione. I’m taller than Draco right now, so they thought it’d fit better."
"That’s true, you are," Ginny said musingly. "I saw it, but I didn’t really notice. How long has that been going on?"
"Since I got back. I shot up while I was with the Dursleys. Draco’s starting to catch me up, but he probably won’t make it before the end of the month, so he’ll walk with Meghan."
"And Mr. Moony with Mrs. Danger, of course. Do you think they’ll ever get magically married?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe someday, if it’s ever a problem. They’re not pureblood, so it’s not as big a deal." Two seconds too late, he realized his blunder. "I mean, not that it’s a big deal only if you’re pureblood. Getting married is always a big deal. It’s just that they were married, they’ve been married, and they don’t need to get married magically to be really married the way Padfoot and Letha do—and they don’t either, it’s just that..."
"Harry."
"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder.
"It’s all right. I understand." Ginny was grinning at him. "You don’t have to explain it to me."
"Good, because I was doing a piss-poor job," Harry said, then bit his lip. Why did I say that to her?
Ginny laughed. "Yes, you were."
Oh, that’s right. Because she doesn’t mind.
Padfoot knew what he was talking about, Harry decided. Ginny was a very good friend to have.
xXxXx
Tonks woke up on her wedding day with excitement tingling through her entire body. It was like the feeling she got on stakeouts, but stronger and far more joyous. Stakeouts resulted in fights, arrests, and at the very best, someone’s life ruined, even if he was a berk who deserved nothing better. This, though...
Well, if it ruins my life, at least I’ll go out happy.
Winky delivered a tray of breakfast just as Tonks finished buttoning her day robes. "Best wishes for your day, miss!" the house-elf said, bobbing a curtsey. "I is looking forward to calling you a new mistress of mine!"
"Thanks, Winky." Tonks picked up her spoon, then put it down. She didn’t feel like eating.
Eat, girl, Mad-Eye Moody’s voice growled in her head. You’re no good anywhere if you faint from hunger.
She managed to swallow a good bit of the porridge, and a strip of bacon and a few bites of egg followed before her throat closed again. A few sips of tea eased the tightness, and she was able to eat an entire piece of toast, rounding out the breakfast.
Not nearly as much as I usually have, but it’ll do...
The day passed in a blur. Fred and George delivered her Charlie’s compliments on the hour, every hour, which was how she kept track of time. There was an outbreak of indignant squealing when George tried to gain access to the dressing chamber at three, shortly before the ceremony was set to start, but he managed to shout out, "He can’t wait to see you!" before Aletha shut the door in his face.
Or was that Aletha? Tonks blinked. No, Aletha was off to one side helping Meghan with her makeup. The woman who had just shut the door on George was older, with white hair and glasses.
"Aletha’s aunt, Amy Freeman," said Danger close to Tonks’ ear. "She works for Noxet Bank in America, she’s here for a few weeks to help the Gringotts goblins with their little experiment with human tellers."
"Oh." Tonks recalled this vaguely now, and the introduction of a tall, willowy, blonde girl with an accent as well...
"Fleur Delacour," Danger said when Tonks mentioned this. "She’s back there with Hermione, doing something with her hair. I might ask her to do the same with mine, it certainly seems to be working. She’s come with Bill. You and Charlie are the first, but Bill may not be far behind."
The Weasleys were having an interesting summer all around, Tonks thought. Charlie was getting married, Bill was dating a part-veela girl, the twins were laying plans for their joke shop, and Ron and Ginny got to spend almost all their time indoors because it wasn’t safe for them to go out without an escort. Even Percy, usually the golden boy, was apparently becoming more and more unsatisfied with his parents’ politics.
Tonks, like the rest of the Order, knew that Percy’s dissatisfaction was in appearance only, that in reality the third Weasley son was firmly on his parents’ side, and Crouch’s, since Crouch sided with Dumbledore. However, Fudge had been making overtures towards Percy for most of the summer, hinting that a job might be opening on the Minister’s personal staff, and he’d finally come out and offered it to Percy at the end of July. Percy had brought the story to Order Headquarters under the guise of coming to dinner, and he, Crouch, the Weasleys, and Dumbledore had spent nearly three hours working out what to do.
I’m glad he can be here for our wedding, even if the "final break" is going to be tonight. The Weasleys had decided that it would fit the picture their enemies had of them as vulgar and uncivilized to fight with one son in the middle of another’s wedding. Only the family, the Pack, and Dumbledore knew that what Percy, Arthur, and Molly would be doing tonight had been carefully planned.
I’ll probably get lots of people consoling me on how my wedding was ruined. But as long as they don’t do anything in the middle of the ceremony, honestly, I don’t care.
But then she looked into the mirror and saw herself, dressed in white, with the veil over her long brown hair (she’d decided to go with her most natural look, in honor of the way she’d looked when she and Charlie first met), and she felt tears welling up in her eyes, because the one woman she’d always hoped would be there on her wedding day, couldn’t...
They say every bride gets a wish on her wedding day—well, here’s mine. I wish to find whoever murdered my mother, and to make sure they never do that to anyone else, ever again.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But the tears receded, and she was able to smile again, and to blow a kiss to the ceiling before she finished getting ready for the happiest day of her life.
Because even though she can’t be here, I’m sure she’s watching.
xXxXx
"Quite a house," Amy commented to Sirius and Aletha during dinner.
"You should have seen it three weeks ago," Sirius said. "It was a mess."
"What happened?"
"House-elves," Aletha said. "Decent ones. Sirius, is there any way you can get rid of Kreacher without him becoming dangerous? The Black family house-elf," she explained to Amy. "If Sirius frees him, the other side might realize there’s something up with this house. They won’t be able to find us, but they’ll know we’re in London. The trouble is, he gives me the creeps, and once we’re magically married, he’s tied to me too."
"He’ll never be back here, you know," Sirius said. "I sent him to Hogwarts, and he can just stay there. Dobby and Winky have this place under control."
"I still don’t like it."
Amy chuckled. "Is it just that he’s small and annoying, or does he have other endearing qualities?" she asked.
"He treated everything my mother said as gospel truth," said Sirius. "Which means he calls everyone vile names and tries to steal things that used to belong to my parents. Or he did, until I kicked him out."
"Still bound, but serving elsewhere..." Amy’s eyes were distant. "Think I heard something about that once, from a pureblood I worked with... it can be trouble, if I remember right. Take a house-elf out of his house for too long, and the family tie starts weakening. He only obeys you because he has to, right, Sirius?"
Sirius nodded. "I’m a blood traitor in his book, and Meghan shouldn’t even exist," he said. "He has to obey us, but he hates every second of it."
"So if you leave him at Hogwarts too long, that tie starts getting weaker. He might be able to disobey some of your commands."
"How long is too long?" Aletha asked urgently.
"Not sure, but it was definitely more than a year, so you have some time to think about it. Just don’t forget. Now, let’s talk about something more uplifting. Tell me about these two lovely young people."
xXxXx
Outside their bedroom, Charlie scooped Tonks into his arms. "Quite a fight there at the end," he said. "I’m glad I knew they were pretending, or I would have been scared."
"I knew they were pretending, and I was scared. I thought your dad was going to hit Percy."
"I think he got carried away. On the good side, whoever the spy is, he’ll be pretty well convinced Percy’s on the outs with Mum and Dad."
"As long as he’s not listening right now. Are we going to stay out here all night, or are we going inside?"
"After you, my love." Smiling broadly, Charlie carried her across the threshold, laid her on the bed, and shut the door with his wand.
xXxXx
29 August dawned bright, warm, and musical.
I’m getting married in the morning,
Ding-dong, the bells are gonna chime...
The singer paused a moment, as if thinking how to change the song to fit her situation better.
Boys, come and kiss me,
Show how you’ll miss me,
But get me down the stairs on time!
Sirius frowned as he combed his hair. "I hope that superstition about seeing the bride on the wedding day doesn’t go to hearing her too," he said to his reflection.
"I doubt it does," said Remus, coming in from the bedroom. He and Aletha had swapped rooms the night before, so that Sirius and Aletha wouldn’t see each other by accident in the morning and ruin the wedding. "Are you worried?"
"Just a little. I suppose I’m getting all my wedding day jitters now, since my actual wedding day wasn’t much to speak of." Sirius chuckled. "Even though it was one of the best days of my life. I was free, I finally had everything I’d ever wanted... what did I care about dress robes or a fancy hall?"
"And now you’re getting that, too." Remus leaned against the wall, waiting for his friend to finish at the sink. "I guess some people have all the luck."
"I guess."
xXxXx
Sirius swallowed hard as he stepped into the living room, where the entire Order sat in neat rows of conjured chairs, all of them staring at him.
"Just like in rehearsals, Padfoot," Remus murmured to him, then smirked for some unknown reason.
Easy for you to say, Moony. You’re not the one getting married here.
Dumbledore, in his gray-and-blue best, nodded gravely to them as they stopped in front of him. Although most of his titles were currently lacking thanks to Fudge’s untiring efforts to discredit him, all that was really necessary for a magically binding marriage was that the ceremony be carried out by both members of the couple before three witnesses, who were then magically implicated in the vows as well. Remus, Danger, and Dumbledore would be Sirius and Aletha’s three, as Ted Tonks, Molly, and Dumbledore had been for Charlie and Tonks...
Sirius jerked himself back to the moment as Luna, at the piano, began to play the beginning of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier series. It was the piece he’d heard the night he’d escaped from Azkaban, the piece he’d used to convince himself he was mad and hallucinating the swim to shore, unaware that Danger’s magic had formed a connection among the four adults who would soon become the Pack, that thinking of Aletha had allowed him to actually hear the music she was playing at that very moment in her home in London...
The Order oohed and aahed as Draco and Meghan came into sight around the corner. Sirius let his nervousness out in one great sigh of wonder.
Would you look at them.
Aletha had selected a pale yellow as the color for her bridesmaids’ robes, since it would flatter all three of them. Sirius wondered if she’d realized that this would make Draco and Meghan look rather like backwards reflections, light and dark in equal proportions.
Never mind.
Harry and Hermione rounded the corner, and the noise increased a little. Some of these people obviously hadn’t realized how tall Harry was getting, or how adult he looked these days. Hermione, on his arm, held herself like a queen, her robe nearly touching the floor and making her seem to float.
"Right out of a dream," Sirius breathed, and it wasn’t until he heard Remus’ small noise that he realized he’d spoken aloud. He risked a sideways glance. Remus’ face was impassive, but his eyes were all too active.
All right, what’d I say?
But there was no time to think about it. Danger was halfway up the aisle already, smiling warmly at Sirius, her eyes at first whirling, then sinking back to brown. Her hand moved from the small bouquet she carried as matron of honor. Good luck, she signed before taking her place.
The music changed to Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Strange, Sirius mused, how he’d heard the piece hundreds of times over his life with Aletha, but never known its name until two weeks ago...
Aletha stepped into the room. The Order of the Phoenix rose to its collective feet.
Her robe was white and deceptively simple, until the light struck it and it shimmered with the silver thread woven into the fabric. A sapphire pendant hanging from a gold chain lay against warm brown skin above the neckline of the robe. More sapphires sparkled in her ears, and the gauzy veil on her head covered only her hair. Her radiant face was visible to all, but her eyes were fixed on one man.
On me.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
xXxXx
Danger smiled as she watched Sirius watching Aletha. I wonder if he knows he’s got his heart in his eyes?
Remus watched Aletha hand her bouquet to Danger without taking her eyes off Sirius. I don’t think he cares. And I know she doesn’t.
And those are the only people really qualified to say anything, so we can just shut up.
What a good idea.
Danger inhaled deeply, and Remus caught the scent of white roses and baby’s breath. Her voice, when she spoke again, was wistful. Do you think it ever will really happen, the way we dreamed it?
It could. The cubs were all grown, or nearly, so we still have time.
Let’s plan on it, then. Three years from now, no more, less if we can.
Remus used the excuse of checking his pocket for the ring box to smile at his love’s impulsiveness. It’s a date.
xXxXx
Dumbledore cleared his throat as Luna brought the Canon to an end. "Dear friends," he began, "we are gathered here today to witness one of the most important events in these two lives. This man and this woman have come here today to dedicate their lives to one another." He paused. "Again."
The Order of the Phoenix chuckled.
"Though their marriage by Muggle means was legal in the eyes of our magical government, they have decided to bind their lives together with a bond that can never be broken. They have chosen to be married by a custom which is still observed in some levels of our society, but in a twisted form. They have taken that custom and they have restored it to its original intent." Dumbledore nodded to Neville, who was standing nearby, and the boy carried the small writing desk forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the marriage contract of Sirius Black and Aletha Freeman."
Applause, and Dumbledore stepped back. He would do nothing more until the very end.
Of course, the contracts signed by purebloods in our days restrict only the wife and not the husband, and most magical folk merely speak these words to one another, or variations thereof... still, I find beauty in this form of the marriage.
Sirius picked up a long black quill and held it loosely in his left hand. "I, Sirius Valentine Black, do on this twenty-ninth day of August, 1995, give myself as husband to Aletha Carina Freeman," he announced in a carrying voice. "I swear to love her and only her as a husband should love his wife, and to name our children heirs to all that I possess, including a father’s love. I swear to support her with my gold and my bronze, to fly by her side in clear skies and in fog, to remain with her always in good times and in bad, until death does part us, though that shall not be for long. And to this oath, I do sign my name, in my own heart’s blood, to bind it firm, and in token of this oath do I give her this ring, engraved with her name and mine and this date of our marriage."
Draco watched the signing impassively, his throat working only once as he swallowed, and all trace of the brightness in his eyes was gone by the time Sirius slid the sapphire ring onto Aletha’s hand.
Aletha repeated the vows, singing them out for all to hear, before she wrote her name in her flowing script under Sirius’. Setting down the quill, she slid the plain gold band onto Sirius’ finger, then held out her hand behind her. Danger passed over her wand. Sirius took his own from Remus and placed its tip against the tip of his wife’s.
"If I should ever draw wand against you, my husband, may my magic turn to fire in my veins," Aletha said clearly. "May my power rebel and refuse my call, and strike me down where I stand."
"If I should ever draw wand against you, my wife, may my magic turn to ice in my heart," Sirius answered. "May my power turn inward and freeze my life, to punish me as I deserve."
Dumbledore stepped forward, placing his own wand’s tip against the pair. "As you have spoken, as you have written, so let it be done," he said. "From this day forward, where there were two, let now there be one."
A flare of golden light from the place where the three wands met made everyone exclaim.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore said, "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Sirius Black."
He would have finished with the traditional instruction to the groom, but it seemed that Sirius needed no prompting.
Author Notes:
So no more summer. Some things just like canon, some things not. Stay tuned for school year!