Surpassing Danger
Chapter 66: The Lion and the Queen (Year 7)
By Anne B. Walsh
"So you see it's all a show, happy ending and all…" Please enjoy this chapter of explanations, as we wind down towards the end of our ten-year story odyssey!
"Did you do that on purpose?" Fox muttered to Harry as the Pride, whispered invisible by Neville in the wake of the cornerstone's restorative magic, scooted cautiously along one of the benches of the Gryffindor table, moving towards the small section Padfoot and Letha had claimed for their own near the teachers' dais. "Telling everyone Moony's the Heir so they'd all go gawk at him and leave the rest of us alone?"
"Dumbledore set it up, not me, but yeah, I'm pretty sure he had that somewhere in the back of his mind." Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he edged past the last cluster of eagerly chattering witches and sat down next to Padfoot, succumbing to the urge to lean against his godfather's shoulder. "Merlin's snaky hat, I'm tired."
"Can't imagine why." Padfoot ruffled Harry's hair with one hand, as with the other he drew his wand and twirled it three times at the table, covering it with a thick red cloth which hung to the floor on all sides. "It's not like you battled an evil wizard four or five different ways in the past three days or anything."
"And you haven't had a lot of time to eat, or much appetite, I'd imagine." Letha accepted a number of capped potion vials from a house-elf beside her and set them out on the newly covered table. "So we'll just go back to the way things used to be when you were small." She smiled, as though she knew a secret. "Call it a refresher course, for about nine months from now. But we'll deal with all that later. Right now, here's the only choice you have to make for the rest of the day: cherry, orange, grape, or lime?"
Harry selected one of the red-tinged potions, as Ginny, beside him, took an orange one, the rest of the Pride reaching over shoulders or around elbows to help themselves. Padfoot, Harry noticed as he drank his potion down in three long swallows, had lifted the edge of the tablecloth and was conjuring something underneath it. Elsewhere in the Hall, other witches and wizards had created their own colorful tablecloths, though there appeared to be some dissent at the Ravenclaw table over the exact shade of blue to be used, and black badgers were appearing and disappearing along the Hufflepuffs' length of golden-yellow.
Not my problem. Finishing his potion, Harry handed the vial to the waiting house-elf. Though if it turns into a Silly Duel, I hope they take pictures. We'll all need some good laughs over the next few weeks and months and years, with everything that is still our problem…
"Mesdames et messieurs," Padfoot announced, flipping the edge of the tablecloth up onto the table to display the now-cushioned expanse of floor beneath, sectioned off with vertical drapes and filled with pillows and sheets. "Your den awaits."
"We'll make sure no one disturbs you." Letha chuckled, sitting down on the other side of the cloth's lifted section. "After that little display with the cornerstone, I doubt anyone will want to cross Pack or Pride for quite a while."
"Eh, they'll forget about it in a few weeks." Padfoot waved his hand airily. "Fountains of light shooting out the top of a rock, broken bits of wall jumping back up into place—that's nothing. The way the whole castle leaned over to one side for a second, though, that was impressive…"
"That may have been the Chamber of Secrets filling itself in," said Luna, pausing with one leg over the bench. "Salazar crafted it all by himself, it was never truly part of the castle, so the cornerstone wouldn't have recognized it. It's just as well, really. I wouldn't want to have to come to Hogwarts every other week once our children are old enough."
"And given that you'll be raising Marauders, that's exactly what you'd have to do." Letha laughed a little, her hand resting for a moment on her stomach once again. "Instead of which, whoever ends up in charge of the grounds will just have to collect them from the Forest every so often. Maybe you and Sangre can set up a meeting point…"
Harry lost whatever Luna replied to this in an enormous yawn. By the time he could see clearly again, he and Ginny were the only Warriors left outside the small den, and Ginny was swinging her legs over the bench, preparing to slide into the space Ron and Hermione were in the process of vacating.
"Nice job, Greeneyes." Padfoot slid his fingers across his cheek and tapped them against Harry's. "You kicked arse and took names, and you did it with style."
"I had good teachers." Harry returned the scent-touch, then bent down to hug Letha tightly. "Am I going to be a big brother again?" he murmured to her. "More than I already know about, I mean?"
"Yes, you are." Letha kissed the top of his ear. "And his middle name will be James."
"Oh good." Harry squeezed his un-godmother once more, then released her and sat down beside her. "That was the one thing I still didn't understand."
"Go put your friends in that same enviable condition." Letha blew a kiss to the rest of the Pride generally, then let the red cloth drop as Harry slid from the bench and into the cozy, Pride-scented dimness of the improvised den. Small noises of shifting told him his fellow Warriors were in the process of making themselves comfortable, and he did the same, following his nose to the spot where Lynx had curled herself into a compact bundle of fur, then transforming into Wolf and fitting his body around hers. She lifted her head and washed a spot along the underside of his jaw in greeting, and he nuzzled between her ears in reply.
"Catch," came the order in Ron's voice from the other side of the den, and a gold necklace came shooting out of the dimly-lit recesses. Wolf caught it on his nose and tossed his head back, looping it around his neck, then lying down carefully so that Lynx, too, would be included in the connection the chain made possible. She rumbled once in contentment, then shut her eyes and settled into stillness, the touch of her mind moving from jittery wakefulness to grateful, contented sleep.
Ready when you are, Harry sent through the pendant link, and closed his own eyes.
When he opened them a moment later, the Pride sat in a circle on the dreamworld version of the Quidditch pitch inside the Hogwarts Den, his seven fellow Warriors staring avidly at him. "Well?" said Hermione after several seconds of silence. "Is it true?"
Harry took a moment before answering to look around at his friends and siblings, the people in the world whom he trusted more than anything. If he'd had to, he knew, he would have lied even to them, even now, and done whatever was necessary to make sure they believed him.
But I don't have to lie anymore.
I won't, ever again.
"Yes," he said. "It's true."
"I didn't know it myself, not for many years," Remus explained to yet another group of eager listeners, grateful for the voice-restoration potion Aletha had sent over via house-elf, and the plate of sandwiches Danger had procured by similar means. "But it seems a distant ancestor of mine was actually the grandson of Godric Gryffindor. My father must have known about it, at least in terms of keeping me from setting things on fire as a child, but I doubt he ever thought much of it. It wasn't the sort of thing that would have seemed important to him…"
Not to mention, he was afraid of what might happen if that power ever got loose on a full moon night, commented Danger silently, as the little crowd in front of Remus busily told one another how amazing it was that anyone should think so little of his heritage.
He had reason. Remus repressed a shudder, thinking of what could have happened if he'd ever been able to attack the enclosures which held him with more than simply his weight and strength as the wolf. But I've had you all these years. And now I'll make do with the Wolfsbane, and seeing you in the morning. He let a bit of his inner smile bleed onto the bond. And this coming summer, it won't just be you I'll be seeing…
"I'm sure I've heard all sorts of things about young Harry Potter being able to handle fire," said one of the witches in the group in front of Remus. "That was supposed to be the gift of the Gryffindor line, wasn't it?"
Remus held out his hand, allowing the magic which filled the Great Hall to settle into his palm in a physical form. "Harry and I undertook a blood-bonding a few years ago, to keep his mind safe from Voldemort," he said as the watchers gasped and whispered in awe at the silver flames which danced against his skin. "While we were linked by that bond, he was technically an Heir of Gryffindor just as I am, but he gave up that bloodline and that power as part of defeating Voldemort."
Hang on a tick, said Danger as the side conversations resumed, people wondering aloud if they could have abandoned such an astounding ability, speculating on what they might have done with it, wishing there were some way for them to receive it for themselves. Something just occurred to me. That little girl of Harry and Ginny's…when was she conceived, exactly?
I don't see why— Remus began, when suddenly he did. Well now. That is interesting.
We'll just have to see where that goes. Danger craned her neck, and sighed in relief as huge, steaming platters of food began to materialize on the high table, with stacks of plates, bowls, and cutlery neatly set out on either side. And we are about to be eclipsed by a far more interesting subject. So if you wouldn't mind—
"Not at all," Remus said aloud, drawing his wand and touching it first to Danger's head, then to his own. A few moments later, two patches of air got to their feet and meandered slowly down the narrow aisle between the tables, pressing themselves against the bench as people came crowding by in their rush to get at the banquet the house-elves had prepared.
"Hey there, strangers," said Sirius as first Danger, then Remus, slipped inside the Disillusioned Privacy Spell, their own Disillusionments dissolving as they did so. "Care for something to eat? Kady's taking orders."
"I'm fine for right now." Danger sat down beside Aletha and exchanged a thorough hug with her friend. "Except maybe a cup of tea, please, Kady?"
"Right away, Miss Danger. And Master Remus?" Kady beamed up at the person she'd named. "Is there anything you is wanting?"
"Make it two, and some biscuits to go with. Chocolate, if possible."
"Of course, Master Remus!" Kady vanished with a sharp snap.
"I should've figured this out a long time ago, shouldn't I?" Sirius raked his hair back from his face. "Every damn house-elf in this place calls you that, and they have as long as I can remember. And they never did to me or James, or anyone else I can think of. Except you," he added to his wife. "You're 'Mistress Letha' to them, have been for years. Since well before we ever knew which of us Pearl got the powers from."
"Just one more reason we should never underestimate them." Aletha sighed deeply, cupping her hands around her own mug of tea. "I can hardly believe it's finally over. We've won. We can go home—or rather, we are home." She glanced up at the ceiling of the Great Hall above them. "Since I doubt Severus will want his position back. Either of them."
"Speaking of which, did he even make it through this whole mess?" Sirius glanced towards the door which led to the outside. "I mean, we got the Mark off him, so he wouldn't have gone down with the rest of them, and he was with us up until our lion and queens popped out of the Forest, then we saw him in that spirit-parade with Harry and Ginny's little girl, but I haven't spotted him anywhere since…"
"Does it matter?" Remus turned to accept his tea from Kady as she reappeared, balancing a tray wider than she was tall on one tiny hand. "Letha would know if he were in need of healing somewhere on the grounds—or so I assume?" he ended on a questioning note, glancing towards his Pack-sister.
"Yes, I would." Aletha's eyes unfocused briefly. "And he's not. Whether that means he was ambushed somewhere in the Forest and he's dead, or he simply chose to slip away while we were handling other items of business, I couldn't tell you."
"We'll find out sometime." Danger relieved Kady of her other burdens. "Maybe. In the meantime, let's talk about more important things." She grinned broadly. "Like us."
"Yes, like you two." Sirius reached across to tug a handful of Danger's hair, pulling his hand back just in time as she snapped her teeth at it. "Hey, knock that off. That's not how the Consort of Gryffindor ought to behave."
"Is it how the Consort of Ravenclaw ought to?" Danger riposted. "Bully."
"Brat."
"Enough," said Aletha tolerantly, catching Sirius's hand in her own and pressing it gently to the table. "But it really does make a great deal of sense, when you think about it. The Heir of Slytherin, of Salazar's elder line, chose to safeguard his existence with the deaths of others, by tearing his soul in the making of the Horcrux Letifera. What could be more fitting than the Heir of Gryffindor being saved by the life and love of others, through the healing of his soul in the bond of the Horcrux Vivens?"
"Makes sense out of Gryffindor's sword being guarded by Slytherin's Heirs, too." Sirius helped himself to one of Remus's biscuits, dunking it into his tea a few times before taking a bite. "They were related. What with the original Amanda, Alex's daughter, and John the Wolf, Maura's son, both marrying one of the Beauvoi sibs."
"And there was something Fox said to Neenie, while he was pretending to be Lucius." Danger glanced downward with a smile, at the red-draped segment of table currently serving as a den for their cubs. "About an Heir of Slytherin being buried at Godric's Hollow. There is one. William Beauvoi, Alex's last Heir in direct line of descent, and the keeper of Amanda's amulets, until they were given to those who could safely use them…"
"Safely." Remus sighed. "As safe as any of these powers ever can be." He rimmed his mug with flames, brushing his fingers through them. "I never noticed it at the time, but knowing what I know now, I'd imagine being Gryffindor's Heir embarrassed and terrified my father in equal proportions. He never wanted to be anything other than ordinary, and this power that lived in him was so far from ordinary that he must have repressed it incredibly. Because at the moment of his life when he would have needed it the most, he couldn't use it."
"Your mother." Aletha nodded, her eyes quiet with understanding sadness. "I'd wondered about that. He couldn't control the fire that killed her, could he?"
"No, he couldn't. And I'd imagine that's why he never told me we were the Heirs." Remus sketched on the tabletop with a fingertip, the flames following his every move. "He'd probably intended to tell me when I came home from school the summer I was seventeen, and spend the holidays teaching me control—which would have meant total repression, never daring to use the power at all—only she talked him into going away for a week or two first, and on that holiday their hotel caught fire and she died. He must have thought I'd blame him for not being able to save her." He passed his hand over the fire, collecting it into his palm, and closed his fingers on it, snuffing it out. "And truth be told, I probably would have. Then."
"I'd have laughed at Regulus if he'd told me he'd fallen for a Muggle girl," said Sirius softly into the silence. "Probably would have shared the joke with everyone I knew. Including Wormtail."
"I could easily have burned my powers out, trying to heal my mother." Aletha snapped one of the biscuits in half. "Or myself, if I hadn't been warned about that."
"And if my parents hadn't died…" Danger exhaled a shaky little laugh. "But no one is ever told what would have happened. Maybe we all would have found each other, and found our way, and done what we needed to do just as well if everything had gone exactly the way we thought we wanted it to go."
"Then again, maybe not." Remus stroked a finger along the back of Danger's hand, and smiled at her when she looked over at him. "For all the pain and trouble along the way, I still wouldn't change a thing. As it fell out, I have you, and our Pack, and our little girl who's on her way, and whoever comes along after her. And for tonight, that's enough."
"Because when you have enough for tonight, you have all you'll ever need." Danger leaned back against her husband. "Have I mentioned lately I love you?"
"It may have come up once or twice, but I'm never averse to hearing it again." Remus looked around at the Blacks. "Further questions?"
"I have one." Sirius held up his hand as though they were back in class. "What about that stupid pretend curse you put on Gryffindor, Danger, back before my trial? The thing about having his best present opened, him and all his descendants, and the next morning Draco had Harry's Cloak open before we were awake?"
"Oh, that!" Danger laughed aloud. "Do you know what this one said he wanted most that Christmas?" She nudged Remus with her shoulder. "To see my eyes looking into his again—and who was it opened up her eyes that morning before any of the rest of you, and saw that little blond head floating in midair?" She glowered at the tabletop, as though she could see Fox through it. "But I'll get him back for it. My revenge is not swift, but it is very thorough. Someday, somehow, when he is least expecting it, around he'll turn, and there my head will be…"
The Pride's period of "let's all talk at once" lasted only a few moments, since seven people needing to ask questions were decidedly more manageable than the several hundred Harry knew his Pack-parents were facing back at the waking Hogwarts. Barely a minute after he'd made his declaration, the rest of the Warriors had ceded the floor to Hermione.
"So everything you've ever been able to do with fire has just been because of the blood-bond with Moony?" his sister asked, tapping her fingers against her lower lip. "I could have sworn there was something—ah!" She slapped an open hand against the grass, which rippled slightly in proper dreamworld fashion. "Got it! When Voldemort kidnapped you out of the third Triwizard task, when he was holding you captive at the graveyard, you burned the ropes off yourself, but you hadn't done the blood-bond yet, you wouldn't for weeks after that—"
"Which ought to mean I couldn't have burned the ropes, and I didn't." Harry shook his head, grateful that he had lingered for a few moments after making his bargain with the Founders to ask them this same question, leaving it up to them how much or how little to tell him. "The ropes did burn, and I thought it was me, but it wasn't."
"Who was it, then?" asked Fox. "It can't have been Moony or Danger, they were off dealing with the Karkaroff mess, and there isn't exactly anyone else around who could do that kind of precision fire work at a distance…"
"Want to bet?" Harry laced his fingers and tucked them behind his head, stretching his arms. "There was someone that night who was thinking hard about me, someone who wanted to help me. Someone who would have done anything to help me, no matter whether it was hard or whether it hurt or whether it took away something she could never get back…"
Ginny's eyes had been widening gradually through Harry's recitation. "I was holding onto my pendants," she murmured, cupping them in her palm as though to illustrate. "Holding onto them hard, so I could concentrate on that and not on screaming. And I thought that I could see my blood running under my skin, but it wasn't blood, was it? It was light. Red light. I used a Gryffindor jewel without even realizing it. I sent you that fire."
"You saved my life, is what you did." Harry laid his own hand over Ginny's, squeezing it gently. "Getting to be kind of a habit with you now, isn't it?"
"And I remember you got burned back in your third year, Harry, when Hagrid had those Skrewt things, and again when Moony was starting to teach you Occlumency." Meghan brushed her fingers across the back of her hand. "But Moony never, ever gets burned. Not from the sun or from his tea or from anything."
"He can see through my magic, too, the way Mrs. Letha can." Neville gestured in front of his eyes to indicate his power of whispering things invisible. "Remember Hagrid's house, the night you passed baby Norbert along to Tonks?"
Meghan giggled. "I remember Mama Letha said Moony said you looked like baby birds standing there waiting to be fed!"
"You want baby bird, I'll give you baby bird," said Ron, starting to draw his wand. Meghan shrieked and dived behind Neville, who reached around with his fingers waggling, evoking a second shriek and a brief wrestling match. "One thing does seem kind of weird to me. Gryffindor, Sir Godric, he's all about bravery and daring, but Mr. Moony…well, nobody could say he's not brave, 'cause he is. Still, no offense meant, but he's kind of ordinary. He doesn't go around doing the big heroic things you'd think the Heir of Gryffindor would do."
"Maybe that's because he's Maura's bloodline, not Paul's." Fox twisted a bit of grass between his fingers. "Might be interesting to find out just how many generations Paul's descendants lasted, if that's they were all about. Because isn't doing big heroic things generally how you get big heroic funerals?"
Ron joined in the general laugh on this one, and reached over to pluck a wisp or two of grass from Meghan's braids as she sat up, her robes disheveled. Luna motioned for Neville to face her and brushed him down briskly. "What needed you to be braver, Ron?" she asked over Neville's shoulder. "Fighting the Death Eaters to help save Percy and the Muggles, or dealing with everything that came after?"
"Ah, got it." Ron nodded, laying a hand briefly across his eyes. "Fighting the Death Eaters was scary, but it only lasted a little while. Having to figure out how to get places without being able to see, and pulling out of feeling sorry for myself because of it, and getting done everything that still needed to get done whether I had a working set of eyes or not, that was the harder part, because it lasted a whole lot longer, and because I couldn't just nerve myself up and go. I had to keep going, and keep going, and sometimes it just felt like nothing was ever going to get any better." He glanced towards Hermione, who nodded in understanding. "I wanted to give up an awful lot of times, and once or twice I got pretty close to it."
"But you never went through with it, not all the way." Neville leaned his arms on his upthrust knees. "That's the truest kind of courage. Not being a hero for a few seconds or a few minutes and then getting praised and lionized for it, but doing what's right all day, every day, through good times and bad ones. Maybe without anyone noticing what you do, or maybe even with people trying to tear you down for it because you make them uncomfortable about how they're handling their own lives, but instead of trying to improve themselves, they'll try to destroy you. Not that we don't need the…bold heroes, I guess you'd call them," he added, jerking a thumb towards Harry. "We do. But we need the quiet ones even more."
"Because evil isn't always so considerate as to call itself nice obvious things like 'the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters', and we won't always have prophecies about how to get rid of it." Ginny rubbed her hands along her arms. "Even if they are sometimes a little more cryptic than we'd like them to be, they're still helpful."
"Yes, about that." Hermione frowned. "I can't say I'm too happy that we were tricked into thinking you were the Heir, Harry, when it was Moony all along. I mean, I can understand it in a way—Voldemort couldn't exactly hate you more than he already did, and our all seeming so sure it was you would confuse him and keep him off his balance—but when it comes to things like the lion's line continuing, you should never have been put in that kind of position, Ginny, not when Harry being the Heir was nothing more than a feint—"
"Except that if we hadn't got married, if we hadn't been trying to have a baby, Voldemort would have known it was a feint, so what would the point of it have been?" Ginny snapped. "You might as well say Fox ought to've told you he was alive, and put himself into mortal danger when Voldemort realized you weren't acting right for him to be dead! As it was, we kept our enemy confused for just long enough that we could beat him. And I don't regret anything, anything, that I've done to get us there." She sighed wearily, as if she had run out of anger before she expected to. "I'm only sorry you took my werewolf curse on yourself when it wasn't necessary. That, I'll regret."
"Oh no you won't." Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder mock-huffily. "If anyone's going to regret that, it's me, and I don't. Not in the least. One of us becoming half a werewolf is far and away better than one of us becoming the real thing! At least the curse calmed down in me eventually, where it never would have with you, because it would have had the disease to back it up…" She twisted a bit of her hair around her finger, her eyes far away. "That they shall change into the form of beasts at every full moon," she murmured aloud. "That they shall lose their human minds in the change. That they shall be forever feared and shunned by other human beings. And her one 'mercy'—that they shall never have children of their own."
"The story of Rhea Silvia, and how werewolves began." Luna drew her own wand and outlined a square on the air, the graceful lines she sketched filling with silver-washed color to create the image of a great she-wolf, lifting her mournful howl to the red-tinged moon. "I remember when you told it to us, three dens after Mr. Moony told it to you. When you had enough of your courage back to trust us, to be with us again."
"All down to this one." Hermione turned her smile on Ron, who dipped her a seated bow. "He just wouldn't give up on me—and speaking of which," she added, her momentary flippancy vanishing. "Ron, how did you know?"
"Know—oh, about Harry?" Ron became very interested in his fingernails. "Don't suppose you'd believe it was a lucky guess—"
"Ronald."
"Neenie," Ron returned in the same tone. "How do I see things these days? It isn't the same way you do, any of you, Dolohov put paid to that—"
"Oh!" Hermione clapped a hand to her forehead. "Of course, of course! You could see he wasn't dead, because you see heat, and living people are warm!"
"Well, he could've been freshly dead, no time to cool down yet. But then I saw…" Ron waggled his fingers under his nose, moving his hand away from his face. "Pretty sure dead people don't breathe. Though if we want to know for sure, maybe we should ask a vampire. They're technically dead, aren't they?"
"They're technically stupid." Luna scowled briefly, but with intense annoyance. "They can barely speak in complete sentences unless you're far enough away from them that they can't smell your blood, and even then, they're always thinking about how they can get you to come closer so they can feed on you…"
Harry caught Fox's eye as a three-way discussion about the difference between vampires and Inferi erupted among Luna, Meghan, and Hermione, with Ron and Neville as interested if somewhat baffled listeners. A moment later, a gauze-like curtain drifted into being, separating the Potters from the rest of the Pride. Ginny sighed in relief, the tension Harry had been able to smell on her bleeding out of her shoulders. "How did you know I needed this?" she asked, leaning back into the crook of his arm.
"Don't suppose you'd believe it was a lucky guess," Harry said in tones similar to Ron's, winning a brief giggle from his lady. "So why'd you shut Neenie down? Not that it's a bad thing to do necessarily, we all need it from time to time, but this seemed to have a little more of a point to it than usual…"
"You don't understand." Ginny pressed her face against his shoulder, shivering. "Oh, Harry, I thought we were going to lose you for real!"
"Well, between you and me and the goal hoops, so did I." Harry allowed himself a brief snicker, given the overtone to his scent which would tell his mate in no uncertain terms that he was laughing at himself rather than her. "And I'm pretty sure that's why the Founders made the final term of the bargain what they did. By the time I came around to it, I was so focused on beating Voldemort, whatever it cost, that I would have cut that cord if I'd been handling it on my own. You had enough brains to remember we knew a trick that would fool him, and to pull it off without giving us away. But you're not allowed to tell," he added hastily. "You're never allowed to tell anyone that I thought I truly was dead, until Mum and Dad showed me I wasn't."
"Don't worry. I won't." Ginny's hands fisted tightly in his robes, shaking as they only did when she was badly frightened, even by something which hadn't happened. "Because you almost were, Harry. When you took hold of Fawkes's tail, when he lifted you up, you believed the cord was cut just as much as Voldemort did, and that belief was starting to weaken it. And Fawkes is very strong. If he had kept flying, without you knowing that you ought to be alive…you might not be, right now."
Harry went very still, letting his mind absorb this thought. "So why am I?" he asked when he could trust his voice to form the words without trembling overmuch. "Was it—"
Ginny freed one hand to withdraw her pendant chain from her robes and toss it over Harry's head. A picture formed in the space their two minds shared, a picture, from Ginny's perspective, of the moment Voldemort seized the spirit-dagger to sever the connection between himself and Harry. The cord which still bound Harry to his body was visible, but faint, and thinning perceptibly at a point nearby—
A point about which a set of tiny fingers had wrapped itself.
"She held onto me." Harry stared in awe at the determination on his daughter's small face, as she clutched at the line which held him anchored into life. "She could feel that you were sad because I was going away from you, and she reached out and held onto me so you wouldn't be sad anymore…"
"And that is why I will never let anyone say we should have been told you weren't the Heir." Ginny let the picture dissipate. "Because I like you better alive."
"I like me better alive too." Harry bent his head and found Ginny's lips with his own. So, he said silently through the pendant link. What should we name her?
We…actually have a little while to think about that. Ginny's mind filled with the image of a smiling, silver-haired witch holding out both hands to her. Lady Rowena knew a lot of people would look at things the same way Hermione did, that it's a bad idea for us to be starting our family so young, when neither of us has even finished school yet, and when you aren't really Gryffindor's Heir. So she offered me a gift. Her hand rested briefly against her belly, which still held the same gentle curve it always had. A gift of time.
"How long?" Harry asked, breaking off the kiss.
"Three years." Ginny grinned up at him. "How much trouble do you think we can cause in three years?"
"You're asking this of a Marauder's cub?"
"True. Silly me." Ginny chuckled under her breath. "Still, I did have an idea. For her name, I mean. If you like it."
Harry shrugged. "I can't like it or not like it if you won't tell me what it is."
"Oh, make sense, why don't you." Ginny stuck out her tongue at her husband. "I was reading over Mrs. Danger's prophecies a couple weeks ago, and I kept looking at the very first one she ever got, at a line near the end of it."
"'And peace comes to the Man Who Won'," Harry quoted. "That bit?"
"Exactly that bit." Ginny drew Harry's hand to rest against her midsection as well. "What would you think of naming her Irina?"
"Irina. 'Peaceful one'." Harry spread his fingers, imagining himself cradling the tiny life which slept within his lady even now. "You do realize we're going to end up calling her Reenie."
"There are worse things." Ginny smiled. "So what do you think?"
"I think that's just about perfect." Harry turned his hand over to grasp Ginny's. "Irina Potter it is." He glanced upwards, seeing only the ceiling of the dreamworld Quidditch pitch, but thinking of the people who were surely watching over his sleeping body in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. "And three years'll give us a chance to get in some practice, on Marcus and on…whatever Moony and Danger end up naming her." He chuckled as a thought occurred to him. "I wonder if Danger did any of that same kind of research? Because there's a line right before that one in the prophecy, a line about one of the other things that would happen once we finally beat Voldemort…"
"Nadia," said Danger firmly. "Her name is Nadia."
"'Hope'." Remus nodded. "Given that she ended a war before she'd even existed a day, it seems fitting."
"Not to mention how long we've both hoped this could happen." Danger closed her eyes, feeling the hum of the magic of Hogwarts as the castle sang greeting to the newest member of its family. "And I don't know if I could even have dreamed that she'd be an Heir, that she'd belong here at Hogwarts—"
"But you did dream of it," came Aletha's teasing voice from beside her. "'When they who saved the savior twine/the freshest blood with Founder's line'—sound familiar at all?"
"Harry being the savior, though we won't repeat that in front of him," Sirius put in. "Kid's going to have quite enough hero-worship to be going on with. And what kind of blood could be fresher, magically speaking, than a witch who's not just Muggleborn but who wasn't born a witch at all?"
"Though there is one thing you've dreamed that hasn't yet happened, and should happen. Soon." Aletha's tones took on an undernote of sadness. "Albus won't be with us for very long."
"What're you—" Sirius broke off in the middle of his sentence. "Oh. That."
"'Oh, that'?" Danger cracked one eye open to glare at her Pack-brother. "Two of your best friends in the whole world are going to be magically married, celebrating the end of decades of war and the continuation of the Gryffindor line, and all you have to say about it is 'Oh, that'?"
"I'm a man." Sirius held up his hands in surrender. "The closest I get to being involved with a wedding is signing the Gringotts forms when someone shoves them under my nose and saying 'Yes, dear' a lot."
Remus sighed. "Mr. Moony would like to remind Mr. Padfoot that Mr. Padfoot's daughter is fast approaching marriageable age, and will most likely wish to enter into that happy state as swiftly as she may, not to mention with as many bells, whistles, and fireworks as the other half of that pairing will allow her to cram into a single ceremony."
Sirius dropped his head on the table. "Mr. Padfoot respectfully requests that this conversation never be repeated to said daughter."
"Mr. Moony has no plans to repeat it, but cannot speak for Madam Danger and Madam Letha in this regard." Remus tilted his head at first Aletha, then Danger, and was greeted with identical smug smiles from both directions. "However. One wedding at a time, please, ladies. And the first one will be here, in the Great Hall." He lifted Danger's hand to his lips. "Just the way we dreamed it together, all those many years ago…"
And I had originally intended to write that wedding in this chapter, but I feel like it would be a bit of an afterthought at this point, and it deserves better. So it will move to the next chapter, "Hail and Farewell", which will be posted…well, shall we say sooner rather than later? I am, after all, on something of a self-imposed deadline.
Before you ask: no, Danger and Remus's very first shared wedding dream did not have Fox or Meghan in it, but yes, their real magical wedding will include these people. In-story, that's because at the point they first dreamed together, the timelines had not shifted enough to tell Danger's magic that they would save Draco or that Meghan would be born. Out of story, it's because I hadn't come up with those plotlines yet…so strange to remember there was a time, however brief, when the DV didn't include those particular characters!
But no matter. It does now, and I think it's all the richer for them. Also in the next chapter, the wrapping up (for now) of several secondary plotlines, and Albus Dumbledore's true final farewell, along with a request or two from him, and perhaps even a little surprise. What will that be? Well, if I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?
In other news, I have chosen a NaNo project (finally): it's called Salt of the Earth and is an expansion/exploration of certain folktales. The daughter of an exiled princess, who's never wanted much more than to become the best cook in seven kingdoms, suddenly discovers herself her grandfather's heir, responsible for trying to reverse the flat and dreary life his people have led since the day he banished his favorite daughter for giving him an unsatisfactory answer to a most difficult question: "How well do you love me?"
Thank you, as always, O readers, for your attention, your enjoyment, and your response. Don't forget to hop over to my website, annebwalsh.com, to read my blog, Anne's Randomness, and find out more about all my various and sundry forms of verbal entertainment! Tomorrow is Fiction Friday, and I just might be continuing the Glenscar story "The Sea-Bride" which I have been telling in installments over there.
And speaking of Glenscar, yes, of course it's on purpose that the two little girls who saved the world in the DV are named what they are named. All my writing is connected. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you might want to pick up my 2013 holiday special In the Bleak Midwinter and have a peep at a story entitled "With a Kiss"…