HPNS- Chapter 11

Read Chapter 10 here or start at the beginning


THE SAPPHIRE KEYSTONE

“And you can have this dazzling item for a modest eight- hundred galleons, young sir!” said the salesman enthusiastically shoving a diamond- studded bracelet under Ron’s long freckled nose, “made exquisitely from pure Goblin gold and these diamonds are here all the way from India”.

Ron gulped slightly after registering the initial shock.

One of his bestest friends… perhaps more than a friend… was turning nineteen tomorrow. The question was not of being generous, but this was something he plainly couldn’t afford.

“Uh… erm… good! But just to be sure, is there anything else you got that’s a little below that range?” Ron managed to find his voice, “you see it’s just for a friend’s birthday”.

The salesman was a large, ruddy man, who looked immaculate with his trim, oily hair, conspicuous belly and shining white teeth. Although he didn’t look capable of it, he was watching Ron’s expression with great profundity.

In his fruity voice, he asked “Would this friend by any chance, be a girl-friend?”

“NO! I mean… umm… not really… actually I’m not… uh, no” Ron stuttered in his confusion and annoyance.

‘This is none of his bloody business!’ he thought to himself, while the salesman suddenly disappeared into the interior rooms of his shop without a word.

Ron Weasley stood inside the large and obscenely glittering emporium ‘La Bijou’ that had opened up under a famous French gemologist recently in Hogsmeade. It was the new hot-spot for all the latest fashion jewelry for both witches and wizards, and the only reason it was deserted on a Friday evening was because, only the previous day a group of Inferi had attacked shoppers in Hogsmeade. Ron had however braved a visit as this was the only day he had left, Hermione’s birthday being on the next day. Drumming his fingers lightly on the counter, Ron stood impatiently as the salesman finally returned clutching an attractive box of claret velvet with gems encrusted on the lid and fastenings.

“I have something here that might interest you sir. You’ve known this ‘friend’ of yours for a long time, no?”

“Yeah I guess… Blimey! Eight years now. But look here, before you open that I can tell you I won’t be paying a single knut above fifty Galleons for anything you’ve got” Ron said firmly.

Ignoring him the salesman opened the case and held out the object within it for Ron’s perusal. It was a beautiful necklace.

It had a simple, rather slim silver chain, but the pendant, shaped like a key was truly breathtaking. Ron’s eyes followed the glint of the craved stones in his palm as he was rendered speechless by its elusiveness. A shiver rippled across his arm and traveled through each vein and sinew in his body.

The salesman went on to explain at length, “This little beauty is something I wouldn’t offer a regular customer. But sir you’re lucky cuz’ you’re the only the customer I had today. The chain as you can see is made from silver and the pendant is a cross between Venetian silver and platinum. If you notice the gems in the middle, they’re Egyptian Sapphires as rare as you can find. This sir was crafted by twelve Egyptian elves and even placed in the centre of the Pyramid of Isis to focus magical energy. Its powers are not all discovered but I can assure you it is one of the strongest things I possess”

The monologue passed unnoticed, as Ron continued to flash the sparkle of the chain around the emporium walls. “Fine then, how much for this?” he asked shortly, not wanting to tear his gaze from the necklace.

That same night in her apartment, Hermione Granger looked around at the small living room with satisfaction. It was pristine with everything in order and arranged. It looked well looked after but not overly fussed over as her friends would predict and tease her.

She was anxious about the party and had taken every detail into account. The old muggle gramophone that she had inherited from her grandfather had been bewitched to play the latest tunes and the dining table was ready with all the plates on top of each other. As though to check if she had forgotten to invite someone, Hermione ran her eyes down the guest-list.

It was only Harry who hadn’t responded.

Holding back a huge wave of disappointment she reminded herself that it was good of the others to oblige to a party, despite the war. Her mother had offered to bring the cake and eatables but she would send an owl as a reminder anyway… Hermione could-not have any last-minute goof-ups.

Ascending the stairs, she decided to retire for the night but the excitement kept sleep out of her eyes for a long time. She got out of the covers to check if her outfit had been starched. Yes, it looked perfect… it was lovely and she could never thank Esmeralda enough for getting it for her birthday. More than anything she couldn’t wait to meet all her friends from Hogwarts who weren’t in the Order and find out how they were all carrying on, not to mention all the presents… it was only a matter of a few hours, and then she would be nineteen.

It felt as though she had hardly closed her eyes when Hermione was shaken awake by the sound of distant knocking. Forcing herself into a sitting position, she rubbed her eyes and examined the time in her beside clock. She squealed in fright and wrapped her dressing-gown around her, tidied herself in the mirror and ran down the stairs clutching her wand. The loud knocking resounded in her sitting room, shaking the dinner plates.

She quickly asked who it was without opening the door, her wand pointed at the key hole.

“Ron- Weasley- with- your- birthday- present!” came the reply, muffled slightly through the door.

“Well then” said Hermione, clearing her voice, before asking “What is the name of Hagrid’s younger brother?”

“Oh let me guess, kinda tall for his age, blonde hair, blue eyes and a magnificent physique, excellent English skills… wouldn’t that be Grawp?” Ron retorted, with an air of morning impatience.

Hermione opened the door only to be swept roughly into an unexpected and smothering embrace.

As he pulled away from her, Ron gripped her shoulders and yelled ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ right at her face. Blinking at him from the shock, Hermione stared at Ron for a moment, who’s face only a few inches away from hers looking positively alight with excitement.

“Th-thank you Ron” she finally managed with an uncertain smile.

“Blimey, I can’t believe you slept in on your birthday- that is so-not- you. I thought you’d have showered and be ready by now, so I dropped in. I couldn’t wait till evening to give you your present. So how do you feel, now that you’re nineteen?” Ron continued with exhilaration, as he let go of her and entered the tidy apartment. He was still in his pyjamas.

Hermione would’ve believed it if someone had told her that this man was actually an imposter, as she had never seen Ron this thrilled about her birthday in her life. And she couldn’t bear it if he was just being cheeky. So she told him to calm down and asked if he wanted any breakfast, as Ron glanced around at the room, drinking in the details of her lodging.

Quite without warning, he turned around and walked up close to her and held out an object wrapped in gold paper in his hands, “This is for you” he said and awkwardly added “uh, Happy Birthday again”.

Hermione peered at him and saw a hint of embarrassment in lieu of his outburst. “Thanks Ron, you really shouldn’t ha-“, she began to say when Ron cut her statement,

“Open it fast!”

***

THUD! The sound reverberated across the walls of the cave and in the walls of Harry’s ears. Jumping from a state of deep sleep, Harry Potter slowly registered what the noise had been. Reaching out for his wand that lay hanging on the edge of the table, he sprang to his feet, his heartbeat increasing by the minute.

‘How could he have been so callous?’

He had slept off on the stretch of books that had increased since the past week. Shaking the drowsiness out of his eyes, Harry focused closely at the entrance of the cave from where heavy, ominous footsteps grew louder. Deciding quickly that he would rather avoid the adversary than face it, he dived under a large boulder that hung precariously over a ledge.

His face was close to the ground and Harry observed the little rocks and particles shudder as the approaching sound thundered across the grotto. He gasped as a strange creature suddenly poked its face under the boulder where he was hiding.

Staring face to face, the creature first reacted by holding a small lantern into Harry’s eyes through the crevasse. At once Harry recognized it… he had seen it in his third year at Hogwarts… yes, the lantern and everything… it was a Hinkypunk.

From what he could see, it was a one-legged creature and looked as if it were made of an eerie green smoke. But what he couldn’t explain was why the sound of the approaching Hinkypunk had been so loud, not when it was hardly taller than him.

As if to answer his question, the Hinkypunk raised the lantern and Harry made the mistake of staring into the gloomy light of the lamp. Hypnotized by its light, he slowly slid out of his place of hiding and looked up at what had actually been the cause of the noise…

***

There was a moment’s pause as Hermione held her unwrapped present in her hands, “You got something for me from La Bijou?” she asked incredulously, as she looked at the inscription on the velvet box.

Ron’s eyes glinted with amusement and pride, “Will you open it before I grow a beard, Hermione?”

Not knowing what to expect, Hermione moved her shuddering fingers around the silver clasp and opened the case. She couldn’t believe what she saw… it was something out of a fairytale.

In the depths of the spacious maroon inner compartment of the jewel encrusted case, there lay a necklace with a long silver chain and a slim, carved dazzling pendant.

“Ron-no-way! I-I really can’t accept something like this. I-I’m just having my birthday, not getting m-married” Hermione said, her voice quivering with disbelief.

“Why you don’t like it?” Ron panicked, “I was worried something like this would happen- I guess it is a bit dressy- but still, I thought the colour would suit you! It's not just that, the sales-bloke said that the key on the chain is a key to open the box and you can use the box to store your most worthy possessions. Geez you can’t really figure out what to buy women!” he said rapidly, clenching his red hair in dismay.

Hermione gazed at the necklace. It was so wonderful that she knew she didn’t deserve to own it. She couldn’t have hoped for something better… this was perfect.

“It’s beautiful…”she finally managed to break the silence, “I’ve never seen anything quite so… quite so lovely. But Ron this is really expensive and I can’t accept it. I mean for goodness’ sake, I got you a book on defensive magic for your last birthday. You have no right to give me something like this” she said, trying to inject some balance to her shaking voice.

“Well I can’t take it back, if that’s what you’re asking me to do. If you don’t like it I’ll just have to give it to Ginny” Ron said, with an odd look in his eyes.

Hermione looked up at him and insisted, “No look, you’ll have to let me pay at least half of what this is worth. Ron you’re not even earning a proper salary, I can’t let you do this. I’ve seen what the stuff displayed at La Bijou is priced at. Have you lost your mind? I mean when have I ever said I wanted something like this… something this much?” she stammered.

Ron looked deep into her eyes with the same convincing hard look that Ginny used most of the times.

“Look either you keep it without another word, or hand it over” he said softly.

“B-but…” Hermione began to say, but Ron interrupted her again,

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice!”

As she looked from the gleaming sapphires in her hand up into Ron’s sapphire eyes, she was mesmerized by the intense, mysterious look in them... he had never looked at her that way.

Running her fingers unconsciously over the gems, she looked down as her head reeled and the lump in her throat grew bigger. Her insides ached with a powerful and tragic feeling… she felt very small within… she couldn’t bear to look up at him, not if he looked at her like that again.

“Th-th-thanks” she said quietly, in a voice unlike her own. She felt Ron close in further, lower his head and ask plaintively, “Why don’t you try it on?”

“Oh sure… it’ll go perfectly with these rags I’m wearing and what I’m looking like right now” Hermione retorted.

Nevertheless she couldn’t fight the urge any longer. She walked up to the mirror at the corridor and with extreme deliberation, she lifted the gleaming object up to her throat. Once fastened, Hermione felt a wave of warmth flow through her body and as though it had always been right there, the necklace sat shimmering against her white skin. A very calm, slow and sleepy feeling swept over her brain as her fingers caressed the ornament… she thought it looked flawless and somehow matched with even the dressing-gown she had slipped on.

She turned sideways and faced Ron, more bravely this time and said, “Thanks Ron. Possibly nothing that anyone has ever got for me could beat this. Thanks…”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, spell-bound by the beauty of the chain… and of each other.

“Well, I’d better head back. Got some stuff to do before I come back in the evening” Ron said suddenly heading towards the front door, his pyjamas flapping at the heels.

Before he got out he turned around to face her once more and asked “Wear it tonight for the party, will you?”

Smiling imperiously as though under a trance Hermione replied, “I’ll never be able to take this off even if I wanted to”

***

“Hagger send Grawp. Hagger want Harry. Grawp find Harry!” Harry heard the giant converse in a thick, dull voice, its yellow brick-sized teeth bared.

Looking up at the alarmingly large frame of Hagrid’s little brother, Harry stood momentarily stunned by what was going on. If what Grawp had mumbled was true then the Order was looking for him and Hagrid had asked Grawp to investigate in all the caves.

Grawp extended a humungous beefy hand to sweep him up while he turned around and began to run. There was absolutely no way that he was going back to civilization sitting on the shoulders of a giant, not when he was so close to discovering the origin of the next horcrux.

Just as he was about to light his wand, the same Hinkypunk that had cornered Harry appeared before him.

“Grawp find Harry! GRAWP TAKE HARRY!” bellowed the giant behind him, its head scraping the stalactites dangerously.

Without turning back to look, Harry scampered right ahead following the light of the Hinkypunk. It seemed to be showing him a way, a passage where Grawp couldn’t reach him. However he couldn’t recall what Lupin had told them about Hinkypunks… something about them having brittle fingers…

Dismissing the thought, he dashed confidently ahead following the Hinkypunk as the gigantic creature behind him roared half- English words and chased him through every nook and cranny.

The cave began to grow murky and Harry could only see the light of the Hinkypunk’s lantern as he battled his lungs from the exhaustion of running. The giant did not give up his pursuit.

Taking one winding passage after another Harry began to realize that he had never explored this part of the cave before; he wondered if he would be able to find his way back. Feeling a great gush of air behind him, Harry understood that he had only just missed being caught in Grawp’s hands. Looking ahead he saw a diversion and a forked route besides each other. After having decided to take the route on the left Harry saw that the Hinkypunk employed the path on the right. Unable to throw off the Hinkypunk’s spell, he raced ahead into the right path while Grawp suddenly screamed with agony behind him.

This time choosing to stop to catch his breath and see what had happened to Grawp, Harry looked around and saw that a group of giant vampire bats were attacking him.

“Incendio!” Harry thought in his mind, his wand pointing at the bats. There was a huge bang of light and fire and the bats flew away in different directions, confused by the spell.

However in less than a heartbeat, he realized that he had sunk into knee-high quick sand… bogs… Hinkypunks lures travelers into bogs, Harry remembered with great panic and dismay.

***

“Happy Birthday Hermione!” cheered Ginny as she entered Hermione’s apartment wearing her favorite robes. The place looked fabulous, packed with people she hadn’t met for centuries, decorated with glitter and confetti.

“Thanks Ginny! You’re late and Ron isn’t here as well!” Hermione shouted over the noise.

Examining her up and down, Ginny thought that the birthday girl looked the perfect host. Hermione was wearing a foreign brand of robes, styled differently with the sleeves a little shorter and a wide neckline. The color was a rich plum and she had a gorgeous necklace on, that Ginny would’ve killed to possess. She looked very fetching if not very beautiful.

“Come on in! Luna was just telling us about the Long-tailed Mediterranean Gytrash!” Hermione said excitedly, “would you believe it this one’s actually real and she has pictures clicked of it as well!”

“… it’s quite a fierce creature but very useful when it comes to finding directions. I haven’t found out much but with a little bit of research and publicity, I think the Gytrash will no longer be a rare and elusive creature” Luna said in her dreamy voice to all the people surrounding her.

“If you ask me, you’ve sunk yourself into some major capital here Luna. I’ve never seen anything like it! Did you say you found it near the ocean?” Ginny said, stepping into the crowd and examining a picture of the Gytrash, which looked like a cross between a dog and a dragon, with Luna standing beside the ferocious creature as if it were an interesting breakfast cereal.

Ginny was happy that Luna was doing what she wanted completely unaffected by the war. Luna Lovegood had taken up research and travel in the quest for new undefined species in forests and islands. The Gytrash was one of her first breakthroughs and it looked like quite a functional creature, with properties that hadn’t been discovered.

Hermione took Ginny around to meet her parents whom she had met a long time ago at Flourish and Blotts. Then she found both Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas both of whom had joined the Daily Prophet, Dean for the post of illustrator. Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan, Parvati and Padma Patil, and most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had all showed up as well.

Hermione suddenly drew her over to a corner where a curvy woman was standing alone sipping a cherry Cocktail. She was taller than either Ginny or Hermione, wearing crimson robes with a low neck that flattered her olive skin and sensuous figure. Her pretty face was adorned with huge doe-like eyes and a mop of wavy, black tresses.

“Esmè, this is my bestest friend- Ginevra Weasley”, Hermione said enthusiastically, “she’s a year younger and training at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. And Ginny this is my cousin from Mexico- Esmeralda De Sousa. She’s not magic but doing really well as a model for Ralph Lauren.”

Before Ginny could politely comment, Esmeralda bent low into Ginny’s face and asked in a predictably husky voice, “Is that you natural hair color?”

It was well after midnight when Hermione finally managed to rid her apartment of all the guests and bade her parents goodbye. Her father had made quite a scene by announcing all of her achievements as a toddler after he inadvertently tried a bit of Firewhisky, especially a detailed description of her first bath.

Esmè had unpacked her luggage and decided to move in with Hermione for the fortnight that she was visiting.

As she lay down on her bed once more fondling the chain at her neck, she wondered why the only person whom she really wanted to see at the party, hadn’t come...

Read Chapter 12 - Dead End here

Weasley and Weasley (Deceased)- chapter 5!

Read Chapter 4!
"Fred?"

George stared wildly around the room. He dashed first into the bathroom, then into the kitchen, then back downstairs to double-check the shop.

"What the hell are you doing?" cried Lee as George came bursting through the door. "I can hear you thundering around upstairs like a heard of Hippogriffs!"

"Sorry," George panted, a sickening knot forming in his stomach as he noted that Fred wasn't in the shop either. "I've, er - lost something."

Lee did not looked contented. "Yeah, well, find it soon, will you? They're getting rowdy in here."

George nodded, then spun on one foot and Apparated back upstairs. In his haste, he had not really thought about where he was going, and had wound up in the bathroom instead. He paused, thinking hard, then slumped down to sit on the edge of the bath, holding his head in his hands.

'He had to go sometime,' a very unwelcome voice spoke up from the back of his head. 'It couldn't have lasted forever…'

He had been so pleased to have Fred back and he hadn't even properly realised it. He had kept telling himself that it wasn't real and that Fred didn't really belong here, just to make it easier for the time when Fred, eventually, had to leave. Had he ever really been here at all? He had not been as transparent as a ghost, that was sure, and he certainly hadn't been able to walk through walls. But he had never really looked fully alive, either. There had still been a bit of haziness to his outline, a bit of distance to his voice.

'But why leave now?' George found himself thinking. 'Why come here on Tuesday morning, stay for a couple of days and then disappear again? Fred hadn't known how he'd got here - or so he'd told me, he hadn't seemed too keen to discuss it - so who was the one sending him here and then pulling him back?'

For a daft moment, he thought it actually might have been himself. 'My dreams,' he thought. 'I started having dreams about him again and then he comes back. There has to be a link… But I didn't summon him, I'm pretty sure of that.'

He began thinking over the events of last Monday, running through his head everything that had happened after he had woken up from the dream about Fred stealing stuff from Zonko's again. He stared around the bathroom for inspiration. He had been in a bit of a hurry, so he hadn't washed properly. He had splashed water over his face, he had not looked in the mirror, he had - wait a minute…

His eyes lighted on something lying on the bathroom shelf. It was thin and gold and glittering, dotted with black beads and bits of glass. 'That was the day,' he thought with a sudden shock of realisation, 'that was the day someone sent that back to the shop. That was the day I put it on and didn't realise I was still wearing it until this morning. And Fred came back that night and was gone again after I'd had a shower today - after I'd taken it off again today!'

Without another moment's thought, he leapt up and grabbed the necklace from the shelf. It twinkled mysteriously at him in the morning light, as though hinting that it knew something that George didn't.

"It's worth a try," he muttered. "The worst that'll happen is I look a bit stupid."

He took in a deep breath, and slung the chain around his neck.

~***~

It was bizarre seeing King's Cross this quiet. Fred felt a vague sense of déjà vu as he stared blearily around the platform, watching the smoke overhead drift lazily above him. The train would surely be here any minute, and then he would be back where he belonged…

He slumped down onto the cast-iron bench which sat facing the railway line. The past few days spent with George were already beginning to feel like an odd dream, and he was having a hard time convincing himself that they had been real. It was probably better that way, he decided. Better not to dwell on dreams.

"Back again, so soon?" a familiar voice asked, and Fred became aware that someone was sat next to him. A man with white hair, and a beard which trailed almost to the floor, was peering at him over half-moon spectacles.

"I suppose so," Fred said vaguely. "Doesn't really feel like I ever left, to be honest."

Dumbledore gave him a small and knowing smile. "Time does seem to lose its significance on this side, I'm afraid." He moved his gaze slowly to observe the empty platform.

Fred hoped he wasn't going to say anything about how cruel it was that he and George had been split apart at such a young age. That was what the other one had said - the long-lost relative who had come to collect him the last time. Only, at that moment, confirmation that he was never going to see George again hadn't exactly been what he had wanted to hear.

He looked again at the railway line. "Train's taking a bit longer this time," he commented quietly.

The man next to him nodded. "I think that may be because it knows you aren't going to get on it."

"What?" Fred frowned, wondering if he had misheard what Dumbledore had said. "Not get on it? How else am I going to get back?"

Dumbledore turned to face him properly, and his expression was suddenly rather commanding. "Your friends are on the right track," he said seriously. "But I don't think they, or even you, realise the severity of what you have become involved in. Your brother will need your advice, your help. For your reappearance has a great deal to do with it all."

Fred snorted. "Right. Fat lot of good I am, I can't even leave the shop."

"You can't leave him," Dumbledore corrected. "Your reappearance is connected with your brother, and so to go too far, not from the shop, but from him, would cause you to… well…"

"Go a bit wobbly, yeah," Fred nodded. The man with the half-moon spectacles gave him a warm smile.

"I was going to say 'would cause the connection between you to loosen, and therefore your spectral presence to become weaker'. Although, I rather think your phrase does the trick quite as well." Dumbledore winked at him, and Fred suddenly felt his bewilderment begin to dissipate.

"I must admit," Dumbledore continued, "I never envisaged entrusting such an important task to Hogwarts' most infamous rule-breakers…" He gave Fred a rather shrewd look, and the latter grinned. "But then, I was never really one for the rules myself."

Fred studied the man's face for a moment. "You said my reappearance has something to do with it… What do you mean by that?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You're on the right track," he said. Then, "Good luck, Mr. Weasley."

His brilliant blue eyes twinkled and suddenly Fred felt faintly sick. A moment later, he could see nothing at all.

~***~

"Harry was right - he can't half be confusing sometimes…"

"Fred! Fred, you're back - er, what?"

Fred was gazing past his twin with a dazed look on his face. "Er, nothing… Um - what? What am I doing here, again? Was I asleep or something? I dreamt it, didn't I?"

"No, no - you weren't asleep, you were gone! Just vanished!" George explained hurriedly. "Look - I think I've figured it out -"

"Vanished?" Fred looked bemused. "I thought I was going back."

"Well, you might have been, but -"

"I was on the platform and everything, same as before…"

"Yes, you probably were going back to the other side, or wherever, but the point is -"

"It all felt like a dream, you know? And when I was talking to -"

"It's the necklace!" George shouted, with a triumphant air. "It's this necklace - it must be. This is the reason why you're here!"

He pointed vigorously at the chain around his neck. Fred, alarmed at this sudden outburst, stared at it dubiously. "That's the reason why I'm here?" he said, not bothering to disguise his disbelief. "Looks a bit tacky to me. Isn't it one of those charms that went wrong?"

George shook his head. "I thought so too," he said earnestly, "but it's not. I don't really know what it is, to be honest, but - someone sent it back to the shop on Monday with some other stuff. They sent it in this box all wrapped up and I thought they were just sending it back because it didn't work - remember the ones that turned black during testing?" Fred nodded, and George went on, "Well, I thought it was just one of those. So I put it on and nothing happened, and then - I don't know - I got distracted or something and I didn't realise I still had it on. I only noticed a few hours ago when I took a shower."

"You haven't showered for five days?"

"Shut up - that's not the point -"

"Certainly explains the smell…"

"Look -" George's eyes widened in frustration, "I'm trying to help explain why you're here." He took in a deep breath. "It's got something to do with this, I'm sure of it. When I took it off, you disappeared. And I've just picked it up again and now you're back. See - watch." He lifted the necklace from round his neck and tossed it onto the bed. Fred vanished.

For a moment, George was unsure as to whether he wanted his discovery to be true. That was twice now the timings of Fred's disappearances and reappearances had coincided with him putting on the necklace, which meant it really was him controlling when Fred came back. But how on earth did it work?

He stared at the necklace lying on Fred's bed. It was just a little, slightly garish, broken charm… wasn't it? Why would someone have sent it to him, wrapped-up in a return-to-sender package, if it had the power to bring back the dead?

He took in a deep breath. "I need Fred to think," he murmured, and snatched up the necklace from the bed. In another moment, it was around his neck again.

"Mother of Merlin!" Fred tottered over from the other side of the room, clutching at his stomach. "Don't do that again! I might be dead, but apparently that doesn't stop me feeling sick…" He sat down rather heavily on his bed.

George's face was plastered with a mixture of relief and delight. "That proves it," he said. "It's definitely this - that's twice now your reappearances have been linked to me wearing this thing." He tugged at the necklace.

"Right," said Fred slowly, giving the necklace a very suspicious look. "Well, that would make sense with what Dumbledore said, I suppose. About you having something to do with me being here."

All the relief drained from George's face, which twisted itself back into a frown. "What? Dumbledore - you spoke to Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," his twin nodded. "He was on the platform, while I was waiting to go back. He said something about - er - we're all on the right track, or something. Hard to remember now, actually. He wasn't exactly crystal clear about it. But if it's you wearing that necklace that's bringing me back, well, then that must be it. He said the further I go away from you, the weaker the connection, or something, and that you're going to need my advice."

He stared up at George and shrugged, as though that was a perfectly reasonable amount of explanation. George raised his eyebrows.

"So… I'm the one making you come back. I'm the reason you're here. And it's probably because of this necklace," he was saying the words slowly, almost to himself, as though confirming the thoughts in his head.

Fred nodded. "And, Dumbledore mentioned - well, I think he meant this - the case. Bandersnatch's murder."

George's expression changed instantly. He stared meaningfully at his twin. "The murder?" he asked. "Dumbledore talked about it?"

"Well, not in so many words, I suppose," said Fred, standing up again and removing his hand from his stomach. "He said 'your friends are on the right track', but that we don't know how serious it is. That the whole situation is a bit bigger than we realise."

"Wow." George's eyes widened. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"When am I ever not?"

"Dumbledore is involved, isn't he?" George breathed. "Otherwise, how else would he know the reason behind the murders?"

Fred frowned. "You think he knows who did it?" he asked, and the other nodded. "Well, if that's true - why didn't he just tell me?"

His twin shrugged. "He's Dumbledore, isn't he? That's not really his style. Besides, I was thinking something else as well: if you can go back and talk to Dumbledore, maybe you could find Bandersnatch and -" He stopped, seeing Fred shaking his head.

"No don't do, I'm afraid," Fred sighed. "It doesn't really work that way."

George looked slightly crestfallen at his words, but nodded all the same, and Fred suddenly felt rather deflated. He crossed to the other side of the room, then leaned against the wall opposite George, folding his arms and chewing on his lower lip again. The clock on the wall beside him ticked softly through the ensuing silence. George glanced at the time.

"Nearly half ten," he remarked absently. Then, "Merlin's beard, I left Lee on his own in the shop. I better get back down there. Um -" he looked over at Fred, who was raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, don't worry about me," Fred told him. "You go on. I've got plenty to think about up here…"

Weasley and Weasley(deceased)- Chapter 4!

Read Chapter 3!

The summer had been fighting off the clouds for several days, but had finally given in. A series of black and grey brushstrokes now criss-crossed the sky, and the heat that had kept so many holidaymakers outside was fading fast. George shivered as he pulled shut the shop door after another long day, watching the rain clouds sweep their dusty colour over the evening sun.

He moved back into the shop, where Lee was clearing away boxes from under the desk, and his gaze glanced up at the ceiling. Fred would, undoubtedly, still be up there, mulling over the murder case or re-reading Angelina's letters for the hundredth time. He felt something jolt in his stomach. It was wonderful having Fred back; the day of the Battle for Hogwarts he had felt an immeasurable sense of loss - more so, he believed, than anyone else who had lost friends or family during the war. It sounded clichéd even to think it, but George was sure that a whole half of him had gone with Fred, and he had been convinced that he would never feel the same again. Being able to see his brother again was fantastic - to hear him joke and laugh and finish George's sentences…

But there was a part of George - a part he tried very hard to suppress - that felt that maybe Fred wasn't as happy being here as George was to see him again. Fred had never said anything, he had always seemed delighted to be around his twin and loved to reminisce about their glory days of rule-breaking. But that was all that they seemed to do - reminisce. Even though Fred was here, he was never really here - he belonged somewhere else, and George had spent the last year of his life trying to convince himself that Fred was happier there, and that he, George, had a life to keep living alone. Every time he saw the shadow that crossed Fred's face whenever he mentioned the rest of the Weasleys, or Angelina, he felt a pang of guilt - as though it was he, George, who was keeping Fred from moving on, who was forcing him to take a back seat and watch a life play out before him that he could never have.

And there was another curious thing: why was it that no one else could see Fred, only him? If he was truly a ghost, then why wasn't he see-through and why couldn't he float through walls? He had never once, in his life, heard of a ghost that only one person could see. During a few mad moments, George had considered writing to Hermione to ask if she had ever come across such a phenomenon. But then he thought that she might query as to why he was asking her such a question, and to explain that he was having visions of his dead twin could not possibly lead to anything good.

"Hey!" Lee's voice broke into his thoughts. "I just found this under here - d'you want it?" George looked round to see that his friend had emerged from under the desk, and was holding out a battered photograph to him. He took it and stared down at the crumpled image - it was a picture of him and Fred.

Their strange clothes and the sandy background, not to mention how young they looked, told him that this had been taken five years ago during their holiday in Egypt. He and Fred were waving enthusiastically from the front of the picture, each sporting a mischievous grin, whilst Percy was in the background, lingering behind a pillar with a nervous expression on his sunburnt face. The George holding the picture smiled.

"Right," Lee announced, heading for the door. "I'm off, now. Need anything?"

George shook his head, and his friend departed. "See you tomorrow," Lee called back.

"Yeah," George said vaguely. "See you." After a few moments, he tore his eyes away from the picture and Apparated upstairs. He moved over to a jumbled notice-board behind his bed and pinned the crumpled photograph between a couple of tattered newspaper articles. He took a step back to admire the effect, and smiled again.

"Very nice," came a voice from behind him. "Egypt, wasn't it?" Fred had moved to stand beside his twin, and was peering at the photograph with narrowed eyes. "Didn't we lock Percy in a pyramid?"

George smirked. "We tried to, but Mum wouldn't let us," he said with a grin. "Don't you remember?"

Fred said nothing, still staring at the photo. "I don't really remember that holiday at all, to be honest," he muttered. "Seems like a century ago."

"It was only about five years," his twin corrected, frowning at Fred. "It was after Dad won the prize draw at the Ministry. D'you remember - Ron bought a Sneakoscope for Harry and it kept going off at dinner because we put beetles in Bill's soup?"

Fred now had a very strange look on his face, as though he was struggling to picture what George was saying. "I don't remember any of that," he said slowly. Then he moved to sit down on the edge of his bed, a far-away expression in his eyes. "Actually," he began in a subdued voice, "this has been happening quite a lot to me recently. I keep… I keep forgetting things."

He looked up at George, who was looking rather anxious. "Forgetting things?"

"Yeah." Fred stared at the floor. "Like that holiday. I can only remember odd bits of it. And the other day when you were talking about Dumbledore, I was trying to remember what he looked like and I couldn't. Or any of the other teachers. Or our first day there."

"Even the Sorting Hat couldn't tell us apart," George said, but there was no air of nostalgia in his words this time. There was a concern in his face that made him look as though he was on the verge of tears. "But - when you first came back you could remember everything."

"I know," said Fred, somewhat miserably. "It all seemed like it'd only happened a few days ago, but now everything seems a million years away. It's why I've been reading all these letters, looking through all the stuff I left behind. Trying to bring it all back." He shrugged. "I don't know why I can't remember," he added, and his words held a tinge of bitterness. "And that's just top of the list of things I don't know at the moment - like why I'm here, for a start…"

George didn't know what to say. He hovered by the notice-board, occasionally throwing a glance at the photograph of him and Fred in Egypt. The glances seemed to say that he was regretting putting it up there.

Yet another minute of very awkward silence blanketed the room. Then Fred looked up. "Look," he began, with the air of someone making a firm and deliberate change of subject, "I've been thinking about the case - Mr. Bandersnatch's death, you know."

George nodded. "And?"

"And," Fred pulled his scrapbook from his bedside table, upsetting a pile of Wizarding detective novels entitled The Carter Sparks Mysteries, "it just doesn't make sense that it would be the goblins who killed him."

"Why not?"

Fred flipped open the book and his eyes flicked over a scribbled list. "Because if he knew that the goblins were the ones watching him - blackmailing him, even - then why did he need the spying equipment to figure out who was leaving the notes? If it was the goblins, they'd have made it pretty clear: if they wanted their money, they wouldn't have been all secretive about it, they'd've just demanded it from him face to face. No - if someone was sending him anonymous notes it had to be for another reason. Why bother recording a break-in if he knew who did it?"

He stared up at his twin, a rather earnest look on his face. But George shook his head.

"Maybe… maybe he was just recording it for evidence?" he suggested slowly. "Maybe he was afraid the goblins were going to do something to him, and he wanted proof? Maybe it was a cover-up - to make people think he didn't know who was blackmailing him so they wouldn't link it to the goblins?"

It was Fred's turn to shake his head. "Nah, old Banders wasn't that kind of bloke. If that was the case, then why keep the log books, the diaries? I reckon he was the kind of man who'd want the world to know he was in trouble, to prove his paranoia wasn't just madness. He'd have told someone - he did tell someone, but then the evidence was destroyed. Which, again, isn't the sort of thing a goblin would do. I mean, I know they're clever, but would they think to go upstairs? To find his diaries and rip them up, to trash the Sneakoscopes? I reckon they'd've just taken what they wanted and left. It's all too organised, it doesn't make sense…"

He sighed, lying back on the bed and gnawing at his lower lip in a thoughtful manner. "What do you think?" he said eventually.

"I think," said George, "that you have plenty of time on your hands and a lot of thinking to do. Lee saw Angelina yesterday and she said she's coming round tomorrow." He pointed a finger at Fred, and said in a mock serious voice, "And, Carter Sparks, I want a conclusion by then."

~***~


It was Friday morning, and the first time George had properly looked in the mirror for about a week. Since the dreams about Fred had started up again, he had avoided doing so, because the face in the glass looked, obviously, so identical to his twin's that he had imagined it actually was Fred staring back at him. He frowned, and watched thin lines creep across his freckled forehead. His eyes lingered on the place at the side of his head where his ear should have been.

He decided that, in the rules of what was generally socially acceptable, five days was too long to go without having a shower. Especially as he had promised his mother he would go home for the weekend. He wondered vaguely if Fred would want to come back to the Burrow with him as he pulled off his robes, and suddenly became aware of something cold hanging around his neck. He stared up into the mirror.

It was the necklace. The one that so much resembled the Good Vibrations charms sold in the shop, the one with the black beads instead of yellow. His forehead creased even deeper. Had he really been wearing it since Monday? Why hadn't he noticed it was still there?

In an almost irritable manner, he tugged it from around his neck and dropped it onto the bathroom shelf.

Ten minutes later, he stumbled down the stairs, tousle-haired and his eyes still blinking away steam, to see Lee deep in conversation with one of the customers. It was Angelina.

"Hey," she called when she saw him. The shock of her boss' death had evidently gone, and the idiosyncratic briskness had returned to her voice. "I was just telling Lee - I can't believe it - the Ministry aren't going to investigate his death."

"What?" All the morning sleepiness vanished from George's mind in a moment. "They aren't - but - why?"

Angelina shrugged. "I have no idea," she said. "I really don't. This is looking more and more like murder every day. Apparently," she lowered her voice slightly to a conspiratorial level, "Mr. Bandersnatch's solicitor had a word with the goblins at Gringotts and they're refusing to say anything about what Mr. Bandersnatch had been holding for them. They refuse to even acknowledge that they were involved - but it's stirred up quite a lot. The Prophet wrote about it in his obituary, and they sounded like they were pretty keen to know more as well."

"What - about what the goblins had to do with it?" Lee had his head on one side, a dark hand scratching at his jaw thoughtfully.

"Mmh," Angelina nodded. "Them and the rest of Gringotts. No one's saying a word. Rumours are that the Prophet even tried to get at Dumbledore's portrait at Hogwarts, but the staff wouldn't let them in."

"They're still dragging Dumbledore into this?" George asked, looking alarmed. He risked a quick glance around the shop, trying to gauge whether Fred had followed him downstairs. His twin was nowhere to be seen.

"Yep," the girl told him, "they just won't let go of this goblin story. The Ministry are trying their hardest to make it seem like an accident, and the Prophet want to turn it into some sort of huge conspiracy. I don't know who to believe."

George looked back at her. "Well," he said quietly, "we've - I mean, I've - been thinking about it and I don't reckon it's got anything to do with goblins at all."

"How come?" Both Lee and Angelina were now frowning at him. He wished Fred was here to remind him of what he was supposed to say.

"Well," he began tentatively. "It's all to do with the way the murder took place. If goblins had been involved, he would have been torn apart, don't you think? And the goblins wouldn't have bothered to trash the Sneakoscopes and stuff - they would have just taken what they wanted and left. It's all too - organised."

Lee nodded. "Yeah… yeah, you're right. Bloody Ministry - I thought things might've changed since - you know. With Kingsley in charge."

"It's the new head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement," Angelina said gravely. "Wants to hush it all up to stop the public panicking." She scowled, then stared meaningfully from George to Lee. "Look - I'm going back to have a look at the crime scene," she said suddenly. "And I want you two to come with me."

Lee's eyebrows shot right up under his drooping dreadlocks. "You're not serious?" he said in a rather awed voice. "Trespassing on property? Investigating a murder?" He leaned forward, peering at her with a suspicious expression. "Who are you?"

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she said playfully. "Besides, it's not their property if they're not investigating his death. It's our shop, for the time being, seeing as Bandersnatch didn't have any family. Until they find his will, it belongs to the other workers. I can come and go as I please." Her voice took on a more serious note as she said, "Now - the Ministry are clearing away their own stuff from the scene this afternoon. So I reckon we go there tonight after everywhere else is closed and have a proper look." She glanced from George to Lee. "What do you think?"

George stared around the shop again, trying to look casual, but really scanning the room for his twin. 'I'll have to tell him when I get back upstairs,' he thought dully. Then said, out loud, "Absolutely. Trespassing, investigation - I'm in."

"Me too," Lee grinned. "So - what's the plan?"

"Right," Angelina began, sounding heartened. "We meet here about ten o'clock, it should be dark enough then to cover us, but still light enough that we won't have to use our wands to see. We'll go over to the shop and take a look around - I know a spell that should -" She stopped short. Three more customers had just come bouncing into the shop.

She turned to go. "Ten o'clock," she mouthed, flashing the two of them a wide smile before she shut the shop door behind her.

George felt slightly dizzied, and for a moment he found his legs were somewhat rooted to the spot. He shook his head, as though trying to clear it of dust. 'I've got to tell Fred,' he thought.

"Give me a minute!" he shouted, seeing Lee's puzzled expression as he raced towards the staircase. He burst into the bedroom, a delighted grin on his face. "Fred! Fred - Angelina wants us to look round the shop tonight - it'll be like old times, you know, sneaking about and -" He stopped. "Fred? Where are you?"

The bedroom before him was empty, and Fred was nowhere to be seen.

And Chapter 5!

Wotcher!

Alright, so I stole the Tonks (and Bab) trademark greeting. Who cares. Anyway folks, here's the all-new and finally pleasing-and-magicky enough look of our blog, Felix Felicis. At least, I hope you think so too, and if you don't, then you'd better shut up and pretend you do. Though suggestions are welcome, obviously :)

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HPNS- Chapter 10

Read Chapter 9 here or start at the beginning


THE LULL AFTER THE STORM

Hermione felt herself going warm as she saw her mother arrive at the kitchen table with a bowl of her favorite cereal- ‘Sugar free Fruit loops’.

“Sweetie, are you sure this is all that you’re hungry for?” Mrs. Granger asked “you look as if you haven’t eaten properly for months”.

Quickly excusing herself for her lack of appetite, Hermione dug her spoon into her snack, “When will Dad be back from Mexico? I hope he’ll be back in time for my birthday” she said through a full mouth.

“Daddy will be here with Esme long before your big day” her mother replied, absent-mindedly running her pencil across the grocery list.

Drifting away into distant memories, Hermione recalled the cherishable times she had shared with her second-cousin Esmeralda De Sousa in their adolescence. She was Hermione’s age and something of an exotic creature, considered to be the most beautiful and eligible in the family. It had been ten years since they had seen each other and the last she had heard was that Esme had signed up for modeling. Although she was non- magic, her sister Ileana had already spent two years at Beauxbatons.

“I was reading the Daily Prophet the other day; the whole issue with Voldemort is quite ghastly isn’t it? I do hope you’re taking care of yourself, honey. Ron’s brother died only… when was it, three months ago?” Mrs. Granger patted her daughter’s back, voicing concern.

Hermione sighed deeply and said “Everything’s fine… we had a few Inferi attacks last week but that’s become more of the daily news now. Oh I’ve forgotten to tell you, the Ministry gave S.P.E.W permission to function and they’re leasing out some land for me to set it up. Pretty soon I’ll be able to start an actual campaign! I was planning on using the war as an excuse for House-elf liberation. I mean, if we could say that the house- elves might go over to Voldemort’s side like the giants if we don’t be fairer to them…”

Mrs. Granger listened dutifully to her ambitious, headstrong daughter babble on about her career. She had long gotten over her life-long dream of Hermione growing up to be a dentist, when nine years ago the letter from Hogwarts had arrived at their doorstep. She noticed how much more beautiful her little girl had become and felt a surge of pride flow through her veins. Hermione would turn nineteen in two month’s time, and Mrs. Granger wanted to give her the best birthday she could possibly make it… without magic of course.

At that moment when mother and daughter were occupied in pleasant memories and gossip… many miles away in a run-down apartment, Ronald Weasley waved the enchanted mirror in the air with frustration.

“HARRY POTTER, for the love of Merlin, will you ANSWER ME!” he bellowed at his own reflection in the mirror in his hand.

He waited in vain for something to appear… for someone. He continued to peer into the object while his breath steamed up the glass. The fiery blue gaze and freckled reflection did not metamorphose into the expected skinny face with green eyes. Five minutes later, Ron hurled the mirror onto his bed with a grunt of frustration.

He sat down roughly on the moth-eaten arm chair that occasionally cried abuses if sat on too hard. A clump of thick, straight red hair was clenched in both his fists as he moaned at the pain of solitude and ignorance.

“A Galleon’s wedged in your backside young ‘un!”, the armchair said in a wheezy furniture voice.

“Well you’re welcome to kiss my precious arse then!” Ron yelled savagely.

And then burst into a raucous peal of hopeless laughter. He regretted it though as the offended armchair toppled him onto the floor a second later, with the cushioning-fluff shredding itself angrily at him.

“That’s definitely the last time I accept Muriel’s old furniture…” he muttered darkly, rubbing his thighs from the unnecessary fall.

He suddenly jumped at the sound of a dull knocking at the window behind him. Turning around in his seat with wand drawn, he saw Hedwig tapping the frame with her small, sharp beak… a letter rolled up in her claws.

Ron tripped over some books that lay cluttered on the floor in his hurry to let Hedwig in. This was it, she was sure to have some news of where Harry was…

Hedwig flew in gracefully into the room, perched on the mantelpiece, groomed her feathers and stuck out her leg waiting for the letter to be removed.

Ron’s fingers fumbled as they made to relieve Hedwig while she looked around disapprovingly at the apartment that was messed up beyond repair.

“If you don’t clean up after your own crap, you’re not allowed to judge me!” Ron told her as he unfurled the parchment.

He ran his eyes down the long missive and then groaned. The minute, neat handwriting was easily reconisable as Hermione’s and not Harry’s, and then he remembered Harry having lent Hermione his owl for safe-keeping as he could no longer use her for communication.

Hedwig sailed over Ron’s lofty frame and tapped him on the head, evidently in wait for a reply or some Owl Treats. Having then received her share of the snack, she quietly preened her snowy white coat as Ron read Hermione’s letter on his armchair.

***

Rowena Ravenclaw was born as Rowena Biggerstaff into a poor home in Scotland. The precise date of her birth is however, unknown.

She was the youngest and brightest of her twelve siblings despite her father being a Squib. Her family was torn apart when she was five years old after her mother died of a common non- magic disease called Leukemia, which her incapable father couldn’t cure and afford to be taken care of by Muggle Healers. Despite having no formal education, Ravenclaw was an intelligent child who took a keen interest in reading books and texts of all magical significance. By the time she was thirteen, she escapedher estranged family and switched to a life of teaching orphans the tricks and different spells she invented. Finding companionship in these orphans with whom she lived in one of the Olde Streets of Scotland, she established an institution for their care and education when she was twenty. Soon after she met with her old father who asked her to shut the school for the orphans and return with her earned capital for the benefit of her family and for her eldest sister’s marriage. It was at time that she made new breakthroughs in spells involving memory modification. Evolving the simple spell which is widely used presently for the Obliviation of memories, she wiped her own father’s memory clean of ever having given birth to a thirteenth child.

At the age of thirty five she changed her name to ‘Rowena Ravenclaw’ taking the title of a great witch of the whose works she passionately admired. Handing over her school in Scotland to one of her brothers, she headed for Britain to meet up with the upcoming and popular wizard of that time – Godric Gryffindor. She admired his work on the properties and the uses of a griffin and had read many of his published books on the valuable use of other magical creatures. Gryffindor too had experience in teaching magic to the prisoners of The ‘War of Righteous Wands’ that was fought a decade before. Being a prisoner himself in the enemy camp, he had developed theories of transformation into animals and thus made significant contributions to the practice of turning into an Animagus. Gryffindor himself was one of the very first Animagi, with the ability of turning into a large tawny lion, managed to escape the rival camp by transforming.

After the meeting, they continued to travel together in the search of students both from magic and non- magic families with the view to establish a centre for formal execution of Magical learning and transmission of the discoveries they had made in magic…

Harry flipped the page with a grunt of impatience; it had been hours since he had tried to make some ‘breakthroughs’ in discovering a special object that had a link with Rowena Ravenclaw.

Days and days of browsing through texts and material, perusing spotty and yellowing old pages and he had absolutely no idea of any particular incident or object that was specially associated with her. Adjusting his wand’s light over the page once more, Harry coaxed his aching mind to read further.

From what it seemed, Ravenclaw had been pretty poor besides her extraordinary intellect and talent.

It didn’t seem very likely for her to have possessed any precious heirloom, or to have acquired any object of personal significance… anything at all… that Voldemort would have liked to convert into a horcrux…

It was in a dark cavern besides the Belgian waters that Harry lay hidden, having set up a small research area of his own. He had been hiding there for more than two months now, just like Sirius except that this was a self-inflicted imprisonment.

The cave was perfect… damp, dark, isolated, free from any human interference and with a regular supply of water Harry couldn’t swallow or use for human consumption. Zygroff bats and a few rodents were the only creatures to give him company, besides a huge, tottering pile of reading material that would have given Hermione Granger a run for her money.

Suddenly Harry looked up distracted by the complete absence of sound. For the past half hour he had been trying to block out the screeches and admonishes that Ron had been screaming at him from the enchanted mirror… it seemed like Ron had finally given up. Harry was inwardly thankful for this as he didn’t like the way Ron’s voice echoed through the stalactites and passages of the cave, the noise would prompt someone or something to investigate this would-be abandoned cave…

Harry convinced himself that this was the best way… the only way to go about it. If he ever picked up that mirror and communicated his location, Ron and Hermione would both be there in the wink of an eye to get him out of there, with fresh advice and consolation…

He didn’t want it… he didn’t need it. Isolation was the only way… and to get back on the trail for horcruxes… and get it over with before anyone else got hurt.

Deciding to skip his dinner for the third time that week, Harry Potter buried his nose into another dusty volume, as enormous as the previous while another sleepless hungry night awaited him…

***

Ginny Weasley examined her brother’s visage carefully, he seemed to have forgiven her for the little discovery he had made in his office regarding Josh Darlington, or at least he didn’t want to mention it… both of which suited her just fine.

She observed that Ron looked a little better since he had been attacked by Greyback, now that the whole procedure of covering up Greyback’s death was over. It had been pretty hectic for him to attend regular office and Order of the Phoenix sessions where more excuses were developed to cover Ron’s presence near Greyback that night… and his connection with the Goyle-Nott case.

Smiling to herself she wondered how her pig-headed brother was taking the fame all that had earned him…

Ron Weasley had become something of a celebrity once the Ministry officially announced a month ago that one of their Junior Aurors had finally disposed off the infamous Fenrir Greyback and also taken care of Walden Macnair, who had been involved in the murder of the boys at Hogsmeade. The Prophet had requested an interview with Ron, which he only turned down because he was having a ‘bad-hair day’ and the fan mail was pouring into Ron’s broken-down mailbox, from people all over who congratulated him for his achievement.

Not that all this was bad, but Ginny wished that Ron could have been spared all this publicity. She had already lost a brother and all this would definitely draw Voldemort’s attention to Ron, who was conspicuous enough as Harry’s best friend as it is. She knew that she was closer to Ron from any of her other brothers, even if he was a prat most of the times. Fred and George were a unit by themselves, Bill and Percy always treated her like a baby, and she knew Harry and Hermione only through him.

“So are you going to make it to Hermione’s party or not?” Ginny asked Ron, sipping her Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks where they both sat.

“Yeah, she wrote that she adjusted it on a Saturday night so that we could all come. Any idea who else she’s invited… Harry won’t be coming of course… he seems to be too busy even to respond to a conversation!” Ron said with a grimace, looking down at his bottle as though it had cruelly ignored him.

Ginny tilted her head to one side with a smirk and said, “At least he’s a lot smarter than you are when it comes to avoiding attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the latest target on the Death Eater’s hit-list after all the pandemonium about Greyback and you”

“You’re just jealous because you haven’t been offered a reward of five- hundred galleons!” Ron retorted, his ears going red.

Rolling her eyes at him, Ginny got up to take leave of her irksome brother before saying “You’d better get her a nice present then for her birthday, since you’re all cashed up now. I doubt that the usual bag of dung bombs or Chocolate Frogs will work for you this time, Weasley” she said flashing her trademark devilish grin at Ron.

Read Chapter 11- The Sapphire Keystone here

JK's 'Hallow'ed Reading!!

Wotcher! The news might be stale but that doesn't prevent it from being juicy and coveted right? I know the magnitude of fan-dom here is so large that we'll jump on this lil coverage like Bowtruckles on Wood lice! this video is J.K. Rowling reading from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at the Natural History Museum, London on the 21st July 2007. Since we can't be in London (hmpf!), we've just got to rely on the fantastic Muggle collaboaration of 'Intirrnet'...

HPNS- Chapter 9

Read Chapter 8 here or start at the beginning

DIRGE OF A WARRIOR

“The scores are tied with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw at ninety, and we have Gavin Davis heading for the Gryffindor goalpost!” announced a loud voice at the magical megaphone.

“Davis intercepted by Walter Stevens! He flies towards the Ravenclaw end… GO STEVENS!”

A multitude of supporters in blue screamed with anticipation. Stevens was almost there, his progress unblocked and the hoop before him, unprotected.

“BLIMEY! Fantastic bludger work from the Gryffindor beater Hastings! It gets Stevens straight in the head. Quaffle in possession with Angela Haynes! She’s moving steady… this is it folk!”

Angela scored a point for Gryffindor and did an excited loop-the-loop in the air. She looked up some ten feet above her and waved at a red-haired player hovering in and out of the others. He gave her a thumbs-up… Angela smiled as the wind blew her hair about.

“A moment’s intermission as Charlie Weasley flirts with the very eligible Angela Haynes” the voice on the megaphone informed the crowd. There was a burst of laughter and whistles in the stands and the legion of red-clad fans shrieked “YEAH CHARLIE!” Blushing crimson, Angela looked away in time to avoid a Bludger aimed at her and flew in hawk-shed formation with her team-mates as part of the strategy.

The commentator yelled “Ravenclaw Keeper Jones saves another attempt from Gryffindor! Five minutes to go for the match! Fingers crossed everyone!”

The formation broke apart and Angela floated a little watching Charlie’s progress. He looked down at her again this time and without warning dived straight at her with unimaginable acceleration.

“NO Charlie! NOT NOW! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” she screamed wildly.

He stretched out his hand as though to ask her for a dance mid-air… she had barely blinked when right before her eyes, he halted.

There was silence around the pitch. No comments came from the mega-phone. Charlie Weasley held Angela’s hand in mid-air, and a heart-beat later held up the fluttering Golden Snitch into the air with his other hand.

Pandemonium exploded in the air and the Gryffindors whooped, screamed and wolf-whistled.

As they touched the ground, Angela slapped Charlie on the back and whispered “See you this weekend Hogsmeade. Oh and keep your shirt on” she added significantly, watching the rest of the team yank Charlie’s robes, hair and possibly anywhere they could grab at him.

The Gryffindors won the Quidditch Cup again that night, seven years in a row… and henceforth, Charlie Weasley became a legend… for all the years to come.

***

Ginny sat by Ron’s bedside in his apartment and her tears flowed down her cheek silently. Hermione squeezed her hands in hers, and she leaned into her shoulders and cried. Harry meanwhile stood in the corner of the room, his face hidden by the shadows.

Ginny shook with pain, disbelief and rage… that one night… Charlie… she couldn’t believe it.

Ron was propped up on pillows, heavily bandaged and stared blankly at the ceiling. Downstairs in his apartment there were innumerable voices and the sound of a deep and loud lament. Ginny heard her mother wail inconsolably in the kitchen below. Hermione rubbed her back comfortingly as they sat together.

“Ron, y-you need to take your potion” Hermione said quivering and moved towards the dresser.

Ron turned to face her very slowly, his eyes empty of any emotion and gulped the ‘Blood-replenishing Potion’ that he was to keep taking every hour.

There was a pregnant silence in the room once more… no one moved or spoke until Harry suddenly sunk to his knees in the corner of the room onto the floor. For a couple of minutes no one disturbed the chill quiet of the air, and then Ginny got up walked up to him.

“Harry…” she whispered as he lowered his face further. She embraced him and felt his hot tears dampen her sleeve.

“Harry it’s not your fault” Ron said in a voice unlike his, “Ch-Charlie knew there was the risk… no one thinks it was your fault… you shouldn’t either”.

Hermione wiped her eyes vigorously. She got up abruptly and said, “We should eat. I’ll just go and get some soup, shall I?”

She walked down the stairs slowly and quietly made her way to the kitchen. Her heart cringed with pain and fear… she didn’t want to go down and face the others… especially Mrs. Weasley.

Charlie had died on the same mission she had been… Harry had watched him die… Ron had nearly been bitten by Greyback… Greyback had been killed… Theodore Nott and Goyle were captured… but Greyback’s death at Ron’s hands and the detainment of the two Death Eaters was being covered up by the Order to prevent suspicion in the Ministry…

The visions flashed in her mind as though she were watching a film. The past few moments had been so confused and rapid that her brain was in a blur. The red sparks had glimmered like death in the air… Order was contacted through Hermione’s enchanted coins… members at different locations flew back to headquarters… patronuses verified…bodies were brought and concealed… the dreadful message was sent…

Ever since she had arrived at Ron’s doorstep ten days ago, things had been anything but dull. And now… another member of the Order was gone… a Weasley was dead… she had never really realized how real this was… of how much jeopardy they were all in.

“Hermione, why’re you hiding there?” Tonks’ voice snapped Hermione out of her reverie.

“I-I just came down to take some dinner for the others upstairs” she replied, her tone deliberately steady.

Tonks looked at her sadly and said that she had picked some food from the Leaky Cauldron for everyone. Hermione followed her into the kitchen and predictably found Mrs. Weasley bawling in her husband’s trembling arms. Her fingers shuddered as she arranged a tray of radish soup and bread to take upstairs. She dropped a bowl and it clattered on the floor. Mr. Weasley looked up with a jolt. Apologizing almost automatically, Hermione cleaned the soup and walked up to Mrs. Weasley on the chair.

She knelt on the kitchen floor before her, took her hand in hers and said “M-Mrs. Weasley… I know a place where we can lay Charlie’s body at rest. It’s quiet and beautiful… not very expensive… my Grandmother was buried there. I’ll sponsor it for you… please d-don’t cry”.

Upstairs Harry sat still on the floor in Ron’s room… the soup that lay forgotten was getting cold in his hands. His eyes continued to prick at the corners and his heart was heavy. He looked up to see Hermione solemnly and patiently feeding Ron his soup. Ginny occasionally raised the wooden spoon and took a sip, from where she sat besides Ron. She paused only to wipe her stained face, staining it even more.

There was a poison spreading in Harry’s body. He wanted to throw himself off a tall building and put and end to everything. He wanted to disassociate himself from everyone… everything… run away from the world… it was much easier to run.

He wished he could stand in front of Voldemort and scream till his lungs exploded… wished that Voldemort would torture him till he lost his mind… till he died… till he saw his mother and father again.

Harry knew that the Weasleys would never condemn him for Charlie’s death. But it was his own conscience that would consume him, up until he would breathe his last.

This wasn’t over… it certainly wasn’t. In fact it was thickening every moment…

Harry could picture Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the twins, Lupin… all of them between him and Voldemort. He had tried to stop it… stop them…but he had failed. Charlie was dead… and there was absolutely nothing that Harry could do to make it up to them… nothing.

***

It was midnight the next day but Ron lay awake in his covers. He could still hear the howl of the werewolf in his mind… inhale the stench of blood.

His head ached with the memories that were raw and vivid, and on top of it was an unbearable feeling of loss… isolation and emptiness. He couldn’t sleep… hadn’t slept anyway for nights.

Moreover, the wound on his back refused to heal and he could feel the cuts stretch and sting as he moved.

Tossing off the bed sheet, Ron hastily dressed and threw on his traveling cloak. Taking a carefully measured dose of his potion, he clutched his wand and walked up to the door.

Sealing his apartment with protective charms, he apparated to make his way for the Burrow… on his way to reach home…

He arrived at the doorstep a moment later, knocked, and soon enough a light appeared. His father’s figure was illuminated against the backdoor. After a quick exchange of confirmative questions as was part of the Ministry procedure, Ron entered his old home, the burrow of memories.

“Ron are you alright? You shouldn’t be out this late” his father asked him, as he quietly sank into his favorite couch by the fire.

“Dad, when and where are we having Charlie’s funeral?” Ron asked quite plainly.

There was a short pause after which, Mr. Weasley gathered himself and answered “Montgomery Lane. There’s a cemetery there and your mother and I have decided to have it day after tomorrow. Hermione thought it would be a nice place and offered to sponsor it” he said, his voice heavy with pain and fatigue.

“Hermione offered to pay for Charlie’s funeral?” Ron asked loudly; in spite of himself “Dad… it’s mental. She shouldn’t have to do it… you’ve still got four earning sons”.

Mr. Weasley sat next to Ron. “You’re not counting Percy of course…”

Ron gave a non-committal grunt, “Does he even know about Charlie?”

Mr. Weasley chose not to reply to the insensitive question. Instead he said “I’ve had a talk with Hermione. We’re having a quiet, private affair and I’m employed myself. Molly and I will manage this ourselves, you needn’t worry”.

There was a hiatus as Ron observed his father’s weary face… the idea that had been in his mind all night suddenly protested loudly within him.

“Dad, Dwindle’s offered me a bonus of hundred Galleons for capturing Macnair. I want you to use the money for Charlie’s funeral and we’ll give him a great one… one that people won’t forget too easily” Ron said steady and determined. When Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to protest, Ron interrupted him “Dad, Charlie would have done the same for me… and we’re all a family. I just need to do my bit… I need to do this for him…”

Charlie Weasley’s funeral was needless to say, a splendid and somber affair.

Besides Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys, Hagrid and the Hogwarts staff was present as well. As were all of Charlie’s friends and colleagues from work, seniors and juniors… the old Gryffindor Quidditch team… Angela Haynes… and they all raised their glasses to him.

They applauded and eulogized his courage, talent and spirit. Charlie Weasley had died a hero.

And Mrs. Weasley wiped tears from her face, not those of sorrow, but of love and celebration. It wasn’t the end… but a whole new beginning. As she bade her final goodbye to her darling son, the apple of her eye… she squeezed the hands of a son whom she had reclaimed… who had actually returned…one that she thought had left them forever.

Percy Weasley stood beside her, his hands clasped with prayer and respect for his elder brother. He walked up to the grave and lay down the Golden Snitch on the freshly dug soil. As he turned around, he faced his family once more… some of those faces accepted him while some were not so forgiving. Nevertheless, it was in their grief that they were finally reunited…

Read CHAPTER 10- The Lull after the Storm here