Order of the Phoenix
Veil of Tears
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Sixteen
~ Veil of Tears ~
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
Ron leaned over to Ginny, sitting beside him, and whispered in her ear, "I know I shouldn't say anything, but right now, this was not one of Harry's better ideas."
At the moment Ginny secretly agreed with her brother, but casting a look to where Dobby was cheering so excitedly, she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
Dobby was decked out head to toe in clothing that was either red, yellow or both. The tea cosy on his head was red with thin yellow stripes; his shorts were a pale yellow and his socks were red with tiny golden Snitches flying around and yellow with tiny red dragons flying around. Best of all was his shirt, which Dobby was clearly wearing with pride.
It was a bright scarlet, with an animated golden lion roaring silently on the front and the words "GO GRYFFINDOR!" flashing white and yellow on the back. This had been arranged by Harry and presented to Dobby for Christmas by the entire Quidditch team as an assurance that they did not blame the house-elf for when Malfoy had hexed their breakfast before the match against Slytherin.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
Everyone had agreed that, considering Dobby's peculiarities and obsession with clothes, this was the perfect gift for the dedicated house-elf.
Everyone had definitely not expected Dobby to actually attend the next Gryffindor Quidditch match, against Hufflepuff, and threaten to rupture their eardrums with his high-pitched screams of support for Harry. Non-stop. Ginny was beginning to wonder how the tiny creature managed to keep going without ever seeming to pause for breath.
Nor had anyone been expecting the other sixteen house-elves that had put in an appearance. Unlike Dobby they were dressed in the usual pillow cases and rags, albeit specially dyed bright red in support of Gryffindor. Apparently the kind gesture the team had bestowed on Dobby had not gone unnoticed and had endeared them to many of the house-elves.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
If nothing else, they're enthusiastic, mused Ginny.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!!"
"Harry, mon, had better catch that damn Snitch soon, mon," whispered Gareth, sitting on Ginny's other side, "Otherwise I'll be deaf for the rest of m'life, mon."
"I'm sure he's working on it, Gareth," she assured him, wincing at a particularly loud squeak from Dobby and several of his compatriot house-elves.
"Oh - that was a close one!" announced Lee Jordan, "Spinnet is almost hit by a Bludger sent her way by Beater Stein. Blocked by one of the Weasley twins - Ah - Hufflepuff are in possession - it's Jordan - she passes to Brickman - No! - intercepted by Bell!"
The score was seventy to thirty, in Gryffindor's favour. Apparently the first team were intent on proving that they were better than the reserves, who had slaughtered Slytherin in the match they had played before Christmas. And they certainly were, Ginny thought as she watched, but it was a close thing. Mainly the difference was that the older players were more polished in their moves and confident in their ability to work together.
Well, they've been a team for years now. It's to be expected.
Ginny watched as her brothers, who both, funnily enough, were identical right down to their auras as well, swept down the pitch on either side of the attacking Chasers. The girls were swooping towards the Hufflepuff goals in what Ginny recognised as a Peregrine Ploy, Angelina in the lead with the Quaffle tucked under her arm.
Well above the action and at the other end of the field, Harry was flying above the Gryffindor goals in a lazy figure-eight. Following doggedly behind him was the new Hufflepuff Seeker, Owen Cauldwell, who was in his second-year now. Despite the fact that Harry was tracing and retracing his flight path every fifteen seconds, Owen was sticking close to his heels.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
"Alicia shoots - it's a goal! Another ten points to Gryffindor!" cheered Lee. "Eighty points to thirty. Brickman has the Quaffle - ducks under a Bludger and passes to Tilley..."
Suddenly Harry shot vertically down towards the ground, his scarlet robes whipping behind him as he dropped like an anvil. Owen tried to follow, but his inexperience in the game cost him a few seconds before he was able to.
"Potter's diving!" shouted Lee, "He's seen the Snitch!"
"Harry Potter!! Harry Potter!! Harry Potter!!"
A foot above the ground Harry pulled out of his dive and skimmed across the pitch. Owen followed after him, but with less extreme manoeuvring and with several seconds of lag time. Meanwhile Harry was streaking across the pitch, flying close to the ground, his feet almost brushing the grass, leaning low over the broom's handle.
Near the centre of the Quidditch pitch, he jerked his body upright and his right arm flicked out in a blur, grabbing the Snitch just before Harry flew into it. He twisted to one side and dug his feet into the pitch, leaving a trail of scuffed earth, and skidded to an abrupt halt. He arm was held up high in victory, and the Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers and celebrations.
"Potter has caught the Snitch!" screamed Lee ecstatically, "Gryffindor wins the game, two hundred and thirty points to forty - Hufflepuff scoring in the last seconds."
"Harry Potter!! Harry Potter!! Harry Potter!!"
Dobby was in paroxysms of delight and was popping from place to place around the stands with every incantation. All the other house-elves were screaming and cheering just as loudly and enthusiastically as the rest of the Gryffindor supporters, waving their thin arms in the arm and jumping excitedly up and down.
"Come on," groaned Ron, taking Ginny by the arm and pulling her to her feet. "Let's head down to the pitch and congratulate the conquering heroes before Dobby gets there."
"Ron!" chided Hermione, smacking him lightly on the arm.
Minor flirtations aside, they were down on the pitch not much later, making their way to where Harry and his teammates were congratulating each other. The rest of Gryffindor house swarmed over them, shaking hands, patting backs, exchanging hugs and kisses and all other manner of congratulations.
As Ginny approached she saw Harry shaking hands with Cho Chang, who had been sitting with Neville during the match. Since Hufflepuff had been Cedric's house nobody had expected her to give any support to Gryffindor, but she had sat by Neville's side during the game, albeit quietly, and with little fanfare beyond applauding when either team scored.
I'd really like to know how those two got together, she mused as she reached Harry and was swept up in a hug, much the same as after the previous game. After holding her tightly for a few heartbeats Harry pulled back slightly, but keeping his arms around her.
"I think a celebration is in order, don't you?" he asked, leaning towards her. Ginny felt her heart quicken as they drew nearer. Their lips were not even a breath apart and already she felt a fire burning within her.
Just before his lips could press against hers, Harry suddenly jerked back and away. For a moment Ginny had the horrible thought that another attack was taking place, but the startled look on Harry's face said otherwise. A moment later, before either of them could speak, Harry was hoisted in the air and set down upon the shoulders of Fred and George.
"Let's go, Harry!" shouted George, beaming widely.
"Victory party in Gryffindor Tower!" agreed Fred, as the two Beaters turned and began jogging off the pitch. Ginny gaped after them as they hurried away with Harry bouncing unsteadily on their shoulders. Clenching her hands, she hissed in annoyance and called threateningly after them.
"I'm going to plant the two of you headfirst in the ground like turnips!"
***
The party in the Gryffindor common room had lasted a couple of hours before tapering off as the students left for their trip to Hogsmeade. Despite the fact that the village had been attacked less than a month ago, Dumbledore had announced that repairs were well underway and a show of support for the village inhabitants from the school could only do good.
This was, however, the first visit any of them would be making to the village since the attack, and Hermione did not know what to expect. Harry had been exceptionally recalcitrant about sharing with his friends the details of what he had seen, and the Daily Prophet had not gone into much detail aside from giving a total figure of those killed.
Two hundred and seventy four.
It was just after two when Hermione, along with Ron, Ginny and Harry, reached the village and began meandering their way through the streets. If anything, it was worse than she had imagined. The black and white photographs presented by the Daily Prophet were pale shadows compared to the reality.
"Great Merlin," breathed Ron, looking about. "Dad wrote to me... he was part of a Ministry team sent to help... said it was bad. I never knew he was so good at understating the fact."
"It looks like pictures I've seen of places that were bombed during the war," agreed Hermione as they trod down the main cobblestone streets leading the village square.
The section they were passing seemed to have borne the brunt of one of the many fires that had swept through Hogsmeade that night. The building to their left, which Hermione recalled had been a large boarding house, had been reduced to a charred ruin. Even after nearly a month, the harsh smell of fire and smoke lingered in the air and soot drifted about on the gentle breeze.
As they walked by, Harry inexplicably slowed to a halt, his face suddenly overcome with a stricken expression. Hermione felt Ginny grab her tightly by the arm, her grip painful, but she could only watch as Harry sank down to the ground. As he knelt there he held his hands before him, as if he were holding something infinitely precious.
"Harry?" she asked timidly, "Harry, what's wrong?"
"It was here. A girl," he said after a while, looking helplessly down at his upturned hands. "Couldn't have been more than five, maybe six years old. Fine, gold hair, almost to her waist. The most beautiful blue eyes, like sapphires on fire. So clear."
Oh god, no, she thought, Oh, Harry...
"She looked like an angel," he whispered hoarsely. "Sounded like one too."
.oOo.
Flames were licking high into the night sky as the boarding house burned. The ground floor was completely engulfed in fire, and Harry knew that anybody trapped within was already dead. The floors above had also become engulfed in flames, if not yet at the same intensity as below.
Peering over the low stone and iron fence, he made out several bodies strewn just outside the front door. He could see the terrible black and green aura of the Killing Curse flitted around and about where they lay, telling him that there was nothing he could do; they were gone.
A soft whimper drew his attention away from the blaze and towards the street. The fire lit up everything in bright yellow and orange, allowing nothing to hide in shadow. He could see a small form curled up on the cobblestones, not far from where he had Apparated into the village.
It was a young girl, barely a third his age.
He knelt down by her and picked her up, something hot sticky covering his hands as he held her in his arms. Her hair was glowing a burnished gold in the firelight and she looked up at him. Even under the warm colours of the blazing fire he could tell that she was incredibly pale and knew that what he felt on his hands was her blood.
Miss? Can you hear me?
Her eyes struggled to open, and she gripped his hand tightly, making him feel the chill that was enveloping her body.
Mister? I feel cold. So col'.
Her injuries were very bad, and from what he could tell there was too much internal damage for even his magic to heal. Even if he could, she would still die from the blood loss.
It's all right. I'm here. I'll make you warm.
He cast a quick warming charm, something he had learned years ago, and tried to help move her into a more comfortable position.
I'm tired. I wan' go sleep.
Her head had sunk down and was resting in his lap as she looked up at him, her bright blue eyes growing heavy and slowly falling shut.
Sleep then. That's a good girl. Just go to sleep.
She nodded a fraction and tenderly reached up to stroke his cheek. He took her hand and held it gently, feeling her strength ebb away.
You'll feel better when you wake up.
.oOo.
"I couldn't save her."
The words seemed to be torn roughly from Harry's throat, and he seemed on the verge of bursting into a flood of tears. His eyes were glistening with moisture, but Hermione knew that no tears would escape them. She had never seen Harry cry, and she doubted that she ever would.
"You all right there, Potter?" called Blaise Zabini from across the street, standing with Padma Patil and Terry Boot, all three looking concerned about Harry's condition.
"He's fine!" replied Ginny, but not sounding very confident.
I'm not sure he is, Ginny, thought Hermione bleakly as she helped Harry to his feet, and I don't know if there's anything we can do to help him, either.
"Come on, the Three Broomsticks is just around the corner," said Ron, pulling on her arm. "I think I could do with a Butterbeer before we start shopping or anything else."
For once none of them disagreed with him.
***
The Three Broomsticks was looking much the worse for wear, Ron noted as the four of them reached the pub and walked inside. He supposed he should not have been surprised, on Christmas day the tavern was bound to be fully with patrons and thus a prime target for the Death Eaters.
Large scorch marks marred the walls, though fresh paint covered one wall and was being applied to another. The wooden beams supporting the ceiling were cracked and badly burned in places, and some had even been replaced entirely. The acrid smell of smoke still seemed to hang in the air. There were fewer tables filling the room than Ron remembered and the shelves behind the bar were stocked with less bottles than before.
I wonder how many people died in here during the attack? Ron thought, unable to prevent it as they found an empty table near the back.
"What can I get for you kids?" asked Madam Rosmerta, who was waiting at the table before they had even reached it. She looked a good deal thinner than when Ron had last seen her and held a thick wooden walking stick in one hand.
"Four Butterbeers, please, Madam Rosmerta," said Hermione as she sank into the seat Ron had pulled out for her.
Rosmerta nodded and left them to finish seating themselves. As she walked to the bar Ron could see that she was limping along rather than sashaying as she usually did. She leaned heavily on the walking stick and moving her right leg seemed painful for her. Swallowing at this uncomfortable reminder of the attack, Ron turned back to his friends. Ginny and Hermione, he saw, had also been watching Rosmerta's hobbled walk.
"That reminds me," said Harry suddenly, looking in the opposite direction to where Rosmerta was walking. Ron turned in his seat and saw a middle-aged warlock sitting a few tables away reading the newspaper. Harry looked across their table at Hermione and asked, "Whatever did you do to that parasite Rita Skeeter?"
Ron was surprised at the mention of this. He too had forgotten that Hermione had caught Rita in her Animagus form, that of a beetle. He looked at Hermione, sitting calmly next to him, and saw the satisfied smirk that settled across her face. Now that Harry had brought it up, Ron was also curious as to just what his friend had to the notorious reporter.
"Let's just say," Hermione told them, "that the entomology exhibit at the Coventry Zoo has a special, one-of-a-kind, beetle Animagus as part of the live display."
"What?!" exclaimed Ginny, "you gave her to a zoo?"
Ron sat back in his chair and laughed merrily, delighted by the idea especially after all the trouble Skeeter had stirred up the previous year. Harry, who had been very quiet since they'd left the ruined boarding house, cracked a smile and chuckled appreciatively.
"It's only for the year," said Hermione, shaking with giggles. "I'll let her out as soon as I get back home after school is finished."
"You're evil," giggled Ginny.
They were interrupted by the return of Madam Rosmerta, using her wand to levitate a large tray of drinks behind her, the other hand clutching her walking stick. On the tray were four large flagons of Butterbeer as well as five empty shot glasses and a bottle filled with a rich amber liquid was almost seemed to glow.
"Here you go, boys and girls," announced Rosmerta, setting the flagons of Butterbeer down on the table, immediately followed by the shot glasses and bottle.
Ron was puzzled by this--he had assumed those were for another table--and was wondering why the tavern matron had brought them. Rosmerta held the bottle up, presenting it for their inspection.
"The last, and only, bottle of Fire-Whiskey that's left from my old stock," she told them, pulling the cork out and moving to pour the drink into the shot glasses.
"Aren't we a little underage for this?" asked Harry.
"Mr Potter, you're the only person I'd drink it with," explained Rosmerta, "and I don't feel like waiting."
.oOo.
He was amazed anyone had survived this. The inn had obviously been attacked by a large number of Death Eaters. Bodies were everywhere, inside and out, some killed by the Avada Kedavra, others by more conventional means.
Harry had helped maybe half a dozen people out of the damaged building. He would have preferred to keep them still and in one place, but he could not risk keeping them inside with the fires. All the alcohol from shattered liquor bottles kept catching fire, regardless of how many charms he used to try to extinguish the blaze.
He had just managed to get a badly burned old warlock to the gaping hole where the front door had been, when a loud crash sounded from the back of the building. He guessed that part of the roof there had collapsed. He was about to leave, having pulled out everyone who was still alive, and move on to the next building, when he heard it.
A cry of pain.
It was coming from the back of the pub, where the crash had come from. He forced his way through the wreckage of the room, casting yet another dampening charm as he went. The door leading into the back was jammed, forcing Harry to tear it off its hinges to get through.
He was right, the ceiling had collapsed and she was trapped under the debris. As he hurried over to her he wondered why she had still been in the building. Pulling away the looser debris he saw that she was pinned down by a large wooden beam, one of the cross beams from the roof.
It had fallen across her legs, crushing them under its weight. She was conscious, though, and in obvious pain as he hunkered down next to her.
I'm stuck. Get out, you can't do anything.
Another fire had started, just across from them, and Harry could see that it was rapidly making its way towards them. He smothered the flames, but could not extinguish them completely and in a few minutes they would be crackling away again.
How bad is it? Can you move your legs?
He tugged experimentally at the beam, trying to assess how it had fallen. He had doubts that he could lift it off her without causing her more injury.
I can't feel them. I can't feel anything below my waist.
A hint of panic in her voice. But still relatively calm. She was probably in shock, he thought, and quickly waved his wand over her body, healing her minor injuries and putting a pain relief charm on the others.
Dammit Mr Potter, get out of here! Don't waste your life trying to save me!
Harry glared at her and shook his head. He moved behind her and slid his arms under hers as he prepared to remove the beam.
I'm not trying to save you.
The beam was large, thicker than he was around the middle, and probably weighed close to a tonne. Harry lifted it with enough magic to force it back up to, and then through, the ceiling and into the floor above.
I'm going to save you.
As the beam shot into the air Harry pulled and dragged her out from beneath it. Once she was clear of the debris he easily picked her up and swung her over his shoulder. As he blew out the back wall with a gesture, clearing a path for them out of the burning storeroom, he noticed she was clasping a bottle of Fire-Whiskey in her hand.
Glancing back as he carried her out, he thought that it was perhaps the only bottle to survive the attack in one piece.
.oOo.
As Madam Rosmerta poured the whiskey into the shot glasses Ron glanced down at Harry's hands. While his friend's face might have been perfectly impassive, his hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles seemed to be without skin they were so white.
"Please, Roz," Harry finally said, "enough with the 'mister'. It's just Harry."
"All right, Harry," agreed Rosmerta happily, setting the glasses before each of them. She lifted hers in the air and proposed, "A toast."
Harry nodded solemnly and raised his own drink, "A toast."
Rosmerta knocked her shot back and said, "To life," before lowering the empty glass.
"To surviving," replied Harry, downing his drink and following the gesture.
Ginny had been watching Harry closely and said, "To healing." She threw back her drink in a smooth motion, trying not to splutter or cough she set her glass down, face burning as red as her hair.
Hermione eyed her drink cautiously and then toasted, "To friends," finishing the deep amber drink with a gulp. Her eyes clearly began to water as the fire-whiskey scorched its way down her throat.
Ron was the only one left and, after a moment of thought, he raised his glass high and in a solemn tone made his toast. It sounded almost like a prayer for the future and maybe it was.
"To peace."
***
The rest of their lunch in the Three Broomsticks had been rather subdued after Rosmerta left to continue working. Between the four of them they had finished the Fire-Whiskey and their order of Butterbeer. After that they had bid Rosmerta a fond, and somewhat slurred, farewell and then proceeded back out into Hogsmeade.
"Where have those two got to?" asked Ginny as she and Harry exited the clothing store she had wanted to look inside of.
After leaving the Three Broomsticks the four students had wandered around for about an hour or so, stopping by one shop or another. Somewhere along the line Harry and Ginny had gone into one shop while Ron and Hermione continued on without them.
Harry gazed around for a moment, before pointing. "Over there."
*Wow. That's the longest sentence you've said since lunch.*
Ginny took hold of his arm and started leading him across the street to where Ron and Hermione were standing in conversation. He looked over at her as she pulled him along, wondering how she could possibly be the same girl that used to blush, squeak and run away whenever he used to look her way.
"What the heck are they doing?" Harry suddenly asked, looking away from Ginny and across the street at where his two best friends appeared to be... they couldn't be... they were.
Ginny followed his gaze and her eyes grew wide. "They're kissing!"
He glanced at Ginny and then back to Ron and Hermione, who certainly seemed wrapped up in each others' arms. Somehow, even though he had seen it coming, actually seeing his friends snogging like that was something Harry would rather have avoided.
Ra's light, they're using tongue!
"Ra's light," breathed Ginny, watching closely, "they're using tongue!"
Harry was so distracted by the sight of his two best friends that it took him a moment before he realized what Ginny had just said. He looked at her inquiringly, "Where'd you learn that?"
"What?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from the couple.
"Ra's light," he said, repeating the ancient phrase that praised the Egyptian equivalent of Merlin. It was only used by some of the older wizards and sects that bordered the Nile, so he doubted that Ginny had just heard it from someone. Besides, she had repeated his thoughts word for word.
Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Just came to me."
Would you lot have anything to do with this?
*I don't think so. Ever since the attack on Hogsmeade you've been tapping heavily into the Order's power while preparing...*
*The energy backwash from that is drowning out our connection to her.*
Then how come she said what I was thinking?
*Beats us. Just because we're all powerful and all knowing doesn't mean we know everything.*
*Could be a trace impression echo...*
*Uh, Harry... she's looking at you funny."
Harry blinked and looked at Ginny to see that she was looking at him with a strange sparkle in her brown eyes. There was a hungry look to her that made his stomach roll and twist about as it did before a Quidditch match.
"Want to join them?" she asked coyly.
"I don't think so," he replied, glancing at the two. Didn't they need to breathe? "I'm sure they would not appreciate the intrusion."
Ginny grinned up at him and wound her hands around his waist. She was standing very close to him now and he could feel her breasts brushing lightly against his chest.
"That isn't what I meant."
Oh God, she's propositioning me.
*So? What are you waiting for? Kiss her!*
Harry grinned back at her, wrapping his own arms around her. "Why, Miss Weasley... are you suggesting that the two of us engage in an act of wanton lust? Whatever would you mother say?"
She smiled wickedly. "Mum and Dad have had seven kids. I'm sure we're not thinking of doing anything they haven't done themselves."
He was tilting his head down towards hers as she spoke, his left hand trailing lazily up her spine to the nape of her neck. She shivered under his caress and leaned up to him, full lips parted just a fraction.
"Oi, Harry mate, good to see you out and about!"
"And with our ickle Gin Gin as well!"
"Warms the very cockles of my heart!"
"Oh, dear brother, it brings a tear to me eye!"
It was Fred and George, yet again this day, that had interrupted them. Both of them were grinning broadly and with a conspiratorial edge to their smiles.
"Join us for a Butterbeer?"
***
The full moon would be rising the next night, which was the reason Remus Lupin found himself coming to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore had arranged for Snape to brew sufficient amounts of Wolfsbane potion at the beginning of the year, enough to keep Lupin supplied whenever it was that time.
Once everything was brewed and bottled, the Wolfsbane had been left in the care of the Hogwarts Matron, Madam Pomfrey. And so Lupin was coming to collect a draught for the following night. Upon entering the infirmary, however, the Defence teacher came to an abrupt halt at the sight that greeted him.
"Morgana's Bane!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you two?"
Fred and George Weasley were sitting on one of the beds, both with black eyes, bloody noses that were probably broken from the look of them and colourfully bruised jaws. The twins turned with a moan and looked blearily at Lupin.
"We made the mistake-" said Fred, ruefully rubbing his bruised jaw.
"Of interrupting Harry and our dear sister-" continued George, with a split lip.
"During a tender moment," finished Fred.
Lupin was both horrified and amused, "You're not telling me Harry did this to you?"
Both twins shook their heads then groaned at the motion.
"Well, if it wasn't Harry," asked Lupin, "then who...?"
The twins exchanged a pained look and then turned to their Defence professor and told him in an outraged chorus, "Ginny!"
TBC...