Order of the Phoenix
Shades of Vallambrosa
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Twenty One
~ Shades of Vallambrosa ~
The two men were sitting in comfortable-looking chairs, which surprisingly enough actually felt comfortable as well, facing one and another across a small table. The younger of the two brushed
some stray locks of his raven black hair away from his startling green eyes. He lounged lazily in his seat and considered the ancient man sitting opposite him.
He was truly ancient, older than time itself, but looked surprisingly fit and active despite this. He was clad in stately black robes and a hooded cloak with the cowl thrown back, exposing his long silver hair which framed his bottomless black eyes. Clutched in one claw-like hand was a large, golden hourglass, the sands of which were slowly trickling down.
\\We begin.//
With judicial poise the old man reached out with his free hand and motioned at the elegantly carved chess set sitting on the table between them.
\\Your move.//
"Oh, I'm afraid I am not that good at chess," said the young man, looking down at the chess board with a perplexed frown. He gnawed on his bottom lip and then asked, "I don't suppose you'd consider playing a game of exploding snap instead? Or maybe gobstones?"
\\...//
"That's what I thought."
***
A pall of calm and quiet had descended over Hogwarts since the attack had ended. Perhaps the calmest and quietest place in the school was the Hospital Wing. It had been rather busy immediately after the attack, two weeks before, but had since become almost deserted, save for the single patient, who had yet to wake.
To say that everyone was worried about Harry would have been an understatement. The Gryffindors had been sneaking out of their dormitories during the nights to visit him and were more often than being caught in the act. Ginny, Ron and Hermione were the three primary culprits but took some comfort in the fact that every single Gryffindor besides themselves had been caught in the act at least once.
Ordinarily they would have used Harry's invisibility cloak, but a judicious search of his trunk had failed to turn up the item. This was highly unfortunate, especially when considering the detrimental effect it was having on house points. While Harry had been lying there unconscious for the past couple of weeks Gryffindor had slipped from first place to third. If he did not wake up soon they would end up coming dead last this year.
Snape will be delighted, thought Ginny morosely as she sat beside Harry's bed early that Sunday afternoon.
Ever since waking up from the sound thrashing Ginny had erroneously inflicted upon him, Snape had been positively vindictive towards her. In fact when he had first woken up, his screams of outrage and calls for Ginny to be expelled had been heard in the Great Hall. Since then matters had only deteriorated to the point where Ginny had spoken to the headmaster about the possibility of doing as Harry had suggested and dropping Potions altogether.
No such luck, unfortunately.
Tiredly rubbing her eyes, Ginny looked down at Harry, lying deathly still on the hospital bed, his breathing so shallow you had to watch closely to see it. His skin was a pale as it had ever been and contrasted starkly with the blackness of his hair.
Everyone had been certain Madam Pomfrey would have Harry up on his feet in a day or two when they had first brought him to the infirmary. Their preconceptions were rudely shattered very early on as the nurse diagnosed his injuries. Apparently surviving the Killing Curse had taken more out of Harry than any of them had realized or imagined.
Multiple lacerations, abrasions, torn muscles and ligaments, a few broken bones, fluid in both lungs, a ruptured spleen, haemorrhaging in the liver, frayed nervous tissue throughout the body and spinal column and possible neurological damage.
That was the short list.
It had taken Madam Pomfrey, along with a dozen mediwitches and wizards on loan from St. Mungo's, seventeen hours before declaring Harry out of the woods. Her official report to Dumbledore, made in the presence of Remus and Sirius who had passed it on to the children, had been that Harry's heart had stopped and left him technically dead four times during her ministrations.
Stop thinking about it!
Ginny glanced away from Harry's still form, looking around the room and wondering for the hundredth time that afternoon how the twins had managed it. It was only a pity that Pomfrey would doubtless discover their "Get Well" gift before Harry woke up.
If he ever does.
"Ginny?"
She turned in her seat to see Hermione standing next to her with Ron hovering behind. The bushy haired girl was carrying a plate with a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches, which she presented to Ginny as she sat beside her.
"We brought you something to eat," said Hermione quietly as Ginny took the plate in hand.
"Thanks, I completely forgot about lunch," said Ginny, picking up a sandwich and taking a bite. As she chewed she tried to think back to the last time she had eaten, but couldn't remember.
Ron sat down on the bed next to Harry's and looked worriedly at her. "You missed breakfast as well. And supper last night."
Why do I already know where this is going?
Ginny looked up from her meal. "You've missed quite a few meals as well."
"But not three in a row, Ginny," he pressed. When she glowered dangerously at him he licked his lips but refused to quail under her fierce gaze. "Okay, I'll buy that when Harry shared the power of his Order of the Phoenix with you--"
"Give it a rest, Ron," she cut him off. "You and everybody else have been bothering me about that ever since the attack. It's starting to become old news."
"Don't get mad about it, Ginny," soothed Hermione, patting her on the knee. "We understand why you've kept it a secret. Ron just means to say that even with the Order's power you can't keep on like this."
Ginny turned to look despairingly at the other girl. "I'm not using any power from the Order. I don't think there's any left."
Hermione frowned. "What d'you mean?"
"I think Harry used all of it up during the fight," she explained. "That's why he was in such a bad way and why he's taking so long to recover. He doesn't have the Order to help him through this."
The three teenagers sat silently after that, considering Ginny's words as she quietly finished the sandwiches Hermione had brought. Once she was done, she tried to set the empty plate aside somewhere but could not find any free space. Finally she settled for putting it underneath her chair and then resumed her vigil over Harry.
Ron, having watched her, looked around the cluttered room and asked, "When did Fred and George come by?"
Ginny smiled. "Around noon, I think. Before lunch."
"How... how did they... how did they..." Ron could not seem to form the words, too caught up in disbelief at his older brothers' latest stunt.
"Not a clue," she answered, her smile growing broader. She had no idea how the two of them had pulled it off, without help. All she did know was that Madam Pomfrey was going to go crazy when she finally came in.
"Ah," came an exclamation from the doorway, drawing their attention, "I see that Fred and George have once again outdone themselves."
Professor Dumbledore, resplendent in his deep purple robes, strode into the infirmary. His blue eyes were twinkling brightly as he surveyed the twins' handiwork. Picking his way down the rows of beds he finally reached them and pulled up a chair to sit in.
He's earlier than usual, noted Ginny, checking her watch.
"Minister Fudge has just been to see me," explained Dumbledore. "His concern about Harry's wellbeing apparently prompted his visit."
"Why would Fudge care?" asked Ron scathingly. "Other than that it would look bad in the Daily Prophet."
Ron and Ginny's opinion of the Minister had never been all that high, but over the past few years it had been dropping at a steady rate.
First he had sent Hagrid to Azkaban, however briefly, during the Chamber of Secrets mess. Then he'd let that git Malfoy come within an inch of getting Buckbeak executed. And only last year he had, with remarkable stupidity and stubbornness, refused to believe the truth when Harry told them that You-Know-Who was back.
Dumbledore's eyes were almost glowing with amusement as he actually grinned impishly at the three teenagers. "His concern for Harry stems from the fact that Harry is the only person capable of brewing the antidote to Set's Bride, a particularly lethal poison that Harry tricked him into drinking around Christmas."
"Harry poisoned Fudge?" asked Ron incredulously. "He poisoned the Minister of Magic?!"
"So Cornelius believes," confirmed Dumbledore with a smile. "In truth it is nothing more than an exquisitely executed charade on Harry's part. Suffice to say the Minister is somewhat gullible."
Hermione looked positively scandalised. "Are you saying that Harry pretended to poison Minister Fudge in order to blackmail him?"
From the sounds of it, yes.
Ron was beaming with wicked delight. "Go, Harry!"
"Ron! Honestly!" berated Hermione, looking sternly at her boyfriend.
"Harry's methods of late have been somewhat questionable," agreed Dumbledore, turning his eyes to where Harry lay, "but these are extraordinary times which generally call for unconventional, if not desperate, measures."
"But still!" Hermione argued, "he shouldn't do things like that! The Minister is on our side in this."
Fudge is a coward, thought Ginny grimly. He's only ever on his own side.
Dumbledore smiled. "Thanks to Harry he is. Even after the attack on Hogsmeade Cornelius was unwilling to admit that Voldemort has returned. Harry's actions secured us his cooperation, willing or otherwise."
As they conversed, Ginny noticed that Ron was no longer following their conversation and was instead looking past them towards the infirmary's entrance. He cocked an eyebrow and muttered, "Now this is a surprise."
Ginny turned to see a tall, short-haired ash blonde girl with large sapphire eyes standing in the infirmary doorway. Since it was a Sunday she was not wearing her Hogwarts robes, but was dressed in a pair of pale blue jeans and a dark green silk shirt with the tails knotted, baring her flat midriff.
If Draco Malfoy was Slytherin's influential spoiled brat and Pansy Parkinson was Slytherin's queen-bitch, then Blaise Zabini was Slytherin's centrefold.
From what Ginny had overheard, the boys were constantly arguing who was better looking, Blaise or the Patil sisters. All they could ever agree on was that the cool demeanoured Slytherin was one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts.
"Let me guess," said Blaise, looking around, "the infamous Weasley twins."
Ron nodded in confirmation. "The two and only."
"I thought I recognised their work."
"As I understand," said Dumbledore, "it is something of a long standing joke between them and Harry here."
"Mrs Weasley is going to have a conniption when she hears about this," observed Hermione.
Ron grinned evilly. "D'you think she'll send them a Howler?"
Ginny, keeping her eyes on Blaise, replied, "We can only hope."
Almost every Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had come by to visit Harry at least once, though without any of the night time escapades that resulted in losing house points. The number of Slytherins to come visit was greatly less than the other houses. Mostly it had been first and second-years that came by, although some of the older students had made what looked like token visits.
Of course some of the Slytherins, in other words Draco Malfoy, were a bit preoccupied. Since the attack on Hogwarts and the aftermath there of Draco's father, Lucius, was a wanted man. Despite anything the Minister might say, or any of the Malfoy influence, nobody could dispute his being present during the fray.
Maybe it's a good thing Harry did poison Fudge. Or pretend to that is.
Now, after eye witness accounts by a full division of Aurors and a good many students, doubtless including Harry when he woke up, Malfoy's involvement as a Death Eater could not be disputed. Only the previous weekend had Ron and Ginny's father, Arthur, had led a Ministry sanctioned raid of Malfoy Manor, which had resulted in close to tripling the charges already laid against Lucius Malfoy.
The only reason Malfoy senior had not yet been arrested and brought to trial was that nobody had a clue as to where he was. He, along his fellow Death Eaters and Voldemort, had disappeared from the battle in, literally, a flash of light. Acting on Harry's last coherent sentence the English Ministry was working closely with the Central American Ministry of Magic in an attempt to locate the missing felons, but had so far met with no success.
Unfortunately snakes are notoriously had to find and catch.
With his father now a wanted man, unable to show his face for fear of being apprehended, and his ancestral home seized and impounded by the Ministry, Draco Malfoy had been in a livid mood for the past week. The thought that he would deign to come within fifty yards of the Hospital Wing, and Harry, was ludicrous.
Blaise was the only Slytherin that came by with any regularity. For that matter she visited the Hospital Wing with almost monotonous regularity. Sometime in the afternoon every day Blaise would come in briefly, more often than not accompanied by Padma Patil and a few other Ravenclaws. She did not stay very long, just enough to ask if there had been any changes.
This, however, was the first time Ginny could remember seeing her here alone.
For a Slytherin she's almost decent most of the time.
"I gather there hasn't been any change?" asked Blaise quietly, still standing by the door.
None of the four sitting around Harry's bed could fully hide their pain at that statement. Ron visibly winced, as though struck; Hermione ducked her head and rapidly blinked her eyes to hold back her tears; Dumbledore's moustache curled in an unhappy grimace and Ginny clenched her hands into fists and bit her bottom lip.
All four of them had been watching Harry closely every day, perhaps even more so than Madam Pomfrey, and the only change they had yet to see in Harry was the slow fading of the many bruises on his face and arms, which lay above the covers.
"Not that we can tell," answered Ginny. "Madam Promfrey will be come to check on him in about half an hour."
Blaise nodded and made as if to leave. Before she stepped back outside she looked over her shoulder and asked, "If he wakes up let me know, 'kay?"
Ginny nodded silently.
***
The two men were sitting in comfortable-looking chairs, which surprisingly enough actually felt comfortable as well, facing one and another across a small table. The elder of the two watched the younger man with hawk-like intensity, his impenetrable black eyes following every movement.
He was perched on the very edge of his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he considered the pieces standing on the chessboard between them. Frowning slightly he raked a hand through his unruly black hair and then looked up at the old man, his jade coloured eyes sparkling.
"And now we finish this."
With casual ease the young man reached for his one remaining knight and shifted the wooden figure up and across, setting it down with a flourish.
"Checkmate," he smirked, settling back in his amazingly comfortable chair. He smiled at his defeated opponent. "Looks like I'm not dead yet."
\\Two out of three?//
"..."
\\That's what I thought.//
***
He was lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing.
Harry did not even need to open his eyes to know this. He had probably spent more time in the infirmary than all the other students at Hogwarts combined. And he still had two years to go. After so much experience waking up here, Harry easily recognised the crisp and starched linens under him. Then there was that unique herb and antiseptic smell that permeated the rooms, always reminding Harry of a Muggle hospital with some form of incense burning.
Anyone here?
*Harry, you're awake!*
*Thank the beyond, we've been worried more than you would believe.*
*How do you feel?*
Like I got into a fight with Voldemort and lost.
*Not too far from the truth that.*
*We've been funnelling the Order's power into your recovery, but the going has been slow.*
*Very slow. You drained the Order so completely it took us over a week before we had built up enough energy to start even that.*
How long have I been out?
*Two weeks.*
*I think you should wake up now. You have visitors.*
With a groan of protest, another following as late afternoon sunlight streamed into his eyes, Harry's eyes fluttered open. Wearily he looked around and spotted Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore sitting excitedly in some chairs by his bed. Only the headmaster seemed to be restraining himself, settling instead for a warm smile, as the other three were practically bouncing in their seats.
"Harry?"
"Last time I checked, yeah." His voice was a harsh rasp, and Harry could barely recognise it as his own. Ginny, sitting closest to where his head lay, reached for a tall glass of water that was resting on the nightstand and handed it to him. "Thanks."
He took a long, soothing sip, letting the cool water slide down his throat. Lowering the glass he settled it in his lap and looked at his friends and mentor, all watching him with anxious yet relieved expressions. "Sorry I'm late," he apologised with a tired smile, "but I had to finish a game of chess first."
"A game of chess?"
"Don't worry about it. Ron," Harry told his friend, leaning back against his pillow and letting his eyes drop shut. After a while he opened them again and looked hesitantly at Dumbledore before asking, "Casualties?"
"None, praise the heavens," Dumbledore told him, eyes twinkling merrily. "Although one of the Aurors, Ms Bagnall was struck in the shoulder by a forest troll spear. Amongst the students, Mr Longbottom received a rather nasty concussion and broken arm, while Mr Boot of Ravenclaw broke both his legs."
Hermione leaned forward to elaborate. "Neville was so excited we actually won that he tripped going down the stairs and took Terry with him."
With a grimace Harry shook his head. "Could have been worse, I suppose. He could have tripped Cho instead."
Hermione smiled. "He did, only she didn't end up with anything worse than a bruised rear."
Suddenly Ginny hopped out of her chair and knelt next to Harry on the bed. She pulled him up into her arms and began squeezing the life out of him. "Thank Merlin you're awake. You have no idea how worried we've been for you."
"Sorry," he apologised, hugging her back. "Guess I kind of screwed things up."
Ginny pulled back just a bit and then leaned in to give Harry a passionate kiss. It was only by some quirk of fate that he managed not to spill the glass of water he was holding. They were at the point of giving in to the fiery desire burning within them, despite Harry's weakened state, when the soft clearing of a throat reminded them that they were not alone.
And we continue to be interrupted.
With a start Ginny jerked away from Harry, her face flushed from the kiss and turning an even deeper shade of red with embarrassment. Harry gently held her to his side with his free hand, looking around her to see Dumbledore looking highly amused.
"Ah, sorry," he apologised again, feeling his own cheeks blushing.
"Quite all right, Harry," forgave Dumbledore with a smile. "I understand completely."
"Why Mexico?" suddenly blurted Ron, capturing Harry's attention.
"Huh? 'Scuse me?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes were sparkling, but his expression was a serious one, obviously this was something he too considered important. "I believe Ronald is asking why you sent Voldemort and his Death Eaters to Mexico."
I sent them to Mexico?
"Mexico?" asked Harry, thoroughly bewildered. After thinking about it for a few seconds he gave a helpless shrug and said, "Well, I guess they had as much of a chance being sent there as anywhere else."
"What do you mean?" asked Ginny.
Harry took a sip from his drink of water and then answered, "The teleportation portion of the spell I used is a little... unstable."
Hermione leaned forward, her interest sparked. "Unstable? How?"
"There's no consistency regarding where it sends you to," explained Harry, wincing at the fact that the spell he had used, not to mention created, was far from complete.
"So why did you tell us you'd sent them to Mexico?" demanded Ginny.
"I was delirious," shrugged Harry apologetically. "Mexico seemed as good a place as any."
"So they're not in Mexico," summed up Ron.
Harry gave a shrug. "For all I know they could have ended up in the Dursleys' back garden."
They were interrupted by a gasp of horror that drew their attention to the doorway, where Madam Pomfrey was standing. For the first time since he had awoken Harry gave the infirmary a proper looking over as Promfey began a howling tirade that he had no doubt could be heard throughout the castle.
"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!!"
Harry found himself unable to do anything but drop his head back against the fluffy pillow behind him and laugh until tears streamed from his eyes and he could no longer breathe.
All throughout the Hospital Wing, covering every bed, every chair, table and stacked in untidy piles across the floor were hundreds upon hundreds of Hogwarts toilet seats.
TBC...