White crystals were dancing from the silvery clouds, quite early, she thought. But as soon as she thought thoroughly, she understood that she had meanwhile gotten used to much later starts of winter, with much less snow. She had nearly forgotten the chilly walks to the greenhouses – the bone cracking cold on the spectator posts during the last Quidditch matches of the year. Away from it all, she had completely dismissed how natural it all had been for her. Too distracted. By the new chapters of her life, her job, family – mostly family these days. Only a few years and the world had flipped upside down so many times she had forgotten what she had grown up with.
And yet, as her mind went back in time, there it was again, that tired makeup framed gaze, oddly sticking from all his gazes she had seen, having made her forget the cold she had felt by the worry for him. However still her brain also told her how he had regardlessly abused a mouse to serve him in his plight, eventually killing it. A man who had given everything for the people he had loved – and lost, but effortlessly ended lives he had deemed unimportant. Not just mice. Humans as well. And she was sure not all of them had been bad or impossible to spare. She despised him for that. More though, she despised herself for still craving for him.
Wrapped tightly in a travelling cloak she had halted by one of the windows, upon a single ray of sunlight. At first she had thought somebody had cast a spell in the distance, up on the hills, but there were some more, and as rapid as they had come, they were swallowed by the crystal coughing cotton candy again. Her stomach gave a rumble; received an answer from below. Even the baby disagreed with her lack of lunch, but she had had to come. Had to ask. She had been forced to delay it too long anyway. Somehow she had a feeling they were loading her with all the work she would miss to do during maternity leave. Not that it burnt her out, it just limited her time to think of other things. But now she was here.
Determined, she took her eyes from the window and marched on. Spoke what she knew to be the current password. As if woken from sleep, the Gargoyle startled and granted her entrance. Three careful knocks, in her trance, but done to make sure.
“Do come in.”
The muffled voice became clearer and lost its disregard upon the sight. In fact, McGonagall was very surprised to find her standing in the door. Aghast, she gazed over her spectacles.
“Goodness gracious! Hermione! To what do I owe the honour?”
“Good afternoon.”, Hermione smirked, but immediately spotted that she may have entered in vain.
“True, true! A busy one, though.”
“Yes. And actually, I’ve come to speak to Professor Dumbledore.”
“Oh. Well, I’m afraid, he isn’t here at the moment.”
“Saw that.”, she nodded up to the empty frame.
“Certainly. Would you mind me asking, regardless, how you are doing?”
“Fine.”, Hermione sighed, her eyes drifting around, probably out of curiosity – or pointless hope. “I’m fine.”
“And the baby?”
“Alive and kicking.”
“Good to hear.”
“Kicking, rather than alive.”
“It is Thursday.”
“Huh? Oh – yes, I’m aware what day it is.”
“You don’t understand me; it is Thursday. Third floor in the Grand Tower. The monks are having their weekly chess tournament. Albus hasn’t missed a single one ever since he – well, the portrait of him never missed any.”
“Oh. Thank you.”, she faltered, something clicked in her mind. “Oh!”
How could she not have – ? Why had that never occurred to her? Without even saying goodbye, she stormed back out of the study, downstairs and through the tapestry passageway to cut most of the distance. Down in the tower, although no living being was walking it, she was presented with a peculiar humming: It was the quiet murmurs and whispers of people who hadn’t left their portraits, but still tried to get a glimpse on the third floor gathering. Her heart leapt. It leapt so bad she nearly crashed into the next landing, when the stairs began to move, forcing her to re-route her path.
Had it been him? But that was ridiculous. How could a painting influence the movement of those stairs? However, applause filled the tower and the black figure rose to disappear along the frames, into nowhere, accompanied by her heart’s plummeting. Though at least she could see quite a mass of silver hair take in the position.
“No!”, Hermione yelped, all painted eyes on her at an instant.
“Hermione!”, Dumbledore chuckled across the abyss. “What brings you here? And what makes you so agitated?”
“Uh – I – I meant – please don’t sit down, Sir. I – I need to talk to you.”
“It may not be apparent to you, but although I may be a portrait of my former self, I can multitask.”
“Actually – ”
“Hm. I understand, yes. Let me join you then, in the abandoned classroom on the fourth floor. You know the forgotten laboratory painting, I presume?”
“I – think so? Yes?”
“Very well. Brethren, if you excuse me,”
Hermione had already climbed back up and walked into the corridor, ignoring her short breath, counting doors. Silly, in her opinion, once she had found the door. It was badly groomed compared to the others and the knob not polished from countless hands. Its patina had had much time to develop. Creaking it opened under her grip and closed behind her alike. Dumbledore was already waiting in a chair he had carried to the frame from a table in the back of the painting that leaned askew in a rear corner. She only recognised him through the dust and dark as his hair created a massive light grey patch. As Hermione approached it, she helped herself to a stable looking chair and with a flick of her hand, freed it and the painting from the grey veils, not though the few windows, leaving the room in an eerie ambience.
“Thank you. Alas, I must say, you missed him by seconds.”
“I’m aware.”, she sighed, trying to sit comfortably. “But he’s always going to avoid me, isn’t he?”
“If you say so, though yes, he might. He and I haven’t spoken many words since either of us died.”, she didn’t comment, but he must have realised how ironic that sentence was. “Forgive me.”, he smirked. “Appropriate phrasing has become quite the challenge.”
“You don’t say.”, as soon as the mumble left her, she hoped he hadn’t caught that.
“I still don’t fully understand why you seek to talk to me however. Or am I entirely mistaken? Do you not wish to talk about him?”
“I – do. I hoped for answers.”
“Answers? Not to the question as to why he avoids you? Did Harry know you would come?”
“What?”, Hermione gasped.
“He was here.”
“What?”
“Yes. This very morning, telling me nothing but, allow me to quote, `Hermione should know better, just saying. Pass that on, if you may.´”
“WHAT?”
“Is there something I should know about?”
“I – I – what the – ”
That confused her so much, she needed a pause. Dumbledore though didn’t grant her any.
“If I put two and two together correctly and he was talking about how Severus’ painting wondrously keeps escaping you, I can only agree with him. You know Severus. Or so you should. He will keep doing that, until you give up.”
“Why.”, she could only gargle, giving him pause now instead.
“Because he cares.”
“Sure.”
“He cares for you.”, eyeing her across his halfmoon glasses, he made her understand, and words echo in her mind.
`If you truly love, you will have to abandon´
Dumbledore only nodded, ponderingly. Was that it? For her, and even after years, it was not.
“I take it, neither he himself nor I can convince you, after all this time. It is very against my liking; however, if it helps you understand, or rather, accept, I shall reveal this to you.”, the trouble in his eyes of oilpaint was real though. “Of course I could, if you would grant me the time, reconstruct the following, yet I doubt that would benefit anyone, especially given the content of said occurrence.”, Hermione listened. “How to say, we may have reached the twenty-first century, but even amongst wizards – let me say, it is a still, as it always was, a troubling topic, capable of destroying lives. And all my life I have kept it secret to prevent just this; only confirmed it to the few that confronted me with sincere promise to not bother.”
“I know you’re gay,”, she sputtered without thinking and the moment that had happened, she regretted it, even though, after a few seconds, Dumbledore seemed relieved.
“I suspect, it was him who told you?”
“Yes. But – but he told me, if it should ever be in question, that I shouldn’t say I know it from him.”
“And yet you did exactly that.”, it was hard to really interpret the look he gave her, but it was enough to flush her cheeks and she wrapped her cloak closer, feeling the cold of the castle creeping up her body. “Now then.”, Dumbledore sighed. “I believe it was early February, yes. During the Triwizard Tournament. I had just come from – ah – a relaxing evening in the dungeons – ”
“You went for a swim in Slytherin’s pool.”
“Ah – yes!”, the old man blinked. “Naturally you know that too, yes. Was it Luna, I wonder? Never mind. I ran into a group of female students, having a concerned hissing discussion about Professor Karkaroff. At first I wanted to just walk by, not bothering them, though what I overheard made me concerned. They appeared under the unitary impression that Professor Karkaroff; the way he `crept´ around the castle; brought them in danger, that he would likely, one day, grab one of them and – ah – rape them on the fly.”
“I’d have been concerned too, yes.”
“Of course.”, he nodded. “And had I not had a certain assumption, I would have encouraged them to be cautious. Though as I had, I told them, that from what I had observed, they did not need worry themselves. Professor Karkaroff’s interest seemed to lie elsewhere.”
“Really?”, Hermione chuckled. “You thought he’s gay too?”
“Not that I had any interest in him, mind.”, why he found it necessary to emphasise that, she didn’t get – why would she assume that? “But in the exact moment, a voice startled me from behind.”
“Severus, I guess?”
“Indeed. You know the way he spoke when sneaking up to people. He wished me a good evening, asking when one of the greenhouses had been relocated to the Entrance Hall. Having caught me off-guard, I could only ask for clarification. He continued, I may quote `You would do good to put down that stone. It is potentially dangerous.´ and turned to go.”
“Well, if Igor was actually gay and didn’t want that revealed,”
“And neither did I want to reveal that I was, yes. You have understood quicker than I had. Congratulations. My mistake was to wonder aloud if he was meaning to threat me. I daresay, I had seen him determined as well as angry many times, but that time it was very significant, especially, as there were witnesses. Though remaining miraculously calm, he found it necessary to remind me that it was not wise to blackmail others based on mere assumptions, if I did not wish it to fall back on me. Naturally I was afraid of his threat, but did not give in. He told me he had no intentions to threat me; only to remind me, that he held loyalty high, but despised cowardly turncoats. You may guess what I referred to.”
“That Igor had been exactly that in his trial.”
“Yes. Severus’ answer to that was that the way Igor had acted, had saved both their necks – he, already vindicated by me to our party, was in danger to be hunted by remaining Death Eaters, and to those, Igor had sworn that Severus had remained one of them. He himself of course fled back to Durmstrang, hiding from their wrath, safe from threats outside, as much as anyone here in Hogwarts, for years to pass and grudges to cease. According to Severus, not the treachery in the play, as Igor hadn’t been the one who had decided on the practices in anyone’s trial.”
“He blamed you for having ordered him to be tortured.”
“Of course he did, regardless of how he had born it, trying not to show the pain inflicted on him – I had seen men and women break under easier circumstances. Still, and understandably, he held it against me, with all the reason. Trust me as I say, it was not one of my brightest moments. Neither that in the courtroom, nor the one in the Entrance Hall. I confronted him a few days later, alone, in a secure room. I asked him, if Igor’s friendship meant that much to him, why he had kept avoiding his presence for months. He gave me two explanations.”
“Two?”, Hermione narrowed her brows.
“One was, that the only person Igor had ever really cared for, was him. After all, the first thing Severus had done when they had met, had been to save his life.”
“I know.”
“It is only logical that you owe such a person. Igor however, bonded strongly with him. So strongly, Severus feared, after all those years apart, Igor would bond even stronger, to the point he was unable to live a life without his best friend – and Severus knew that if Voldemort returned, Igor was in grave danger, as Severus had sworn to a mission. Not for me, but for Lily. He had given a promise, and you know how high Severus valued such. He would continue said mission, but it would be impossible for Igor to stay. So he kept him at distance, hoping it would do; make it easier for Igor to live his own life once more, to prevent him from clinging to anything at risk of his life.”
“Sure. And the second?”
“Severus said, that if it hadn’t been for that mission, he would have gone with him without hesitation. He had had to make that decision, but in the end, he said, however hard it had been, it had also been quite easy.”
“What?”
“Sadly for myself, I only understood this weeks after, when Minerva told me about a peculiar argument they had had, where she had ranted to Severus how Igor was an egocentric misogynist with no sense for morals or manners. According to her, Severus had shrugged it off, saying that was just the way Igor was and that he had reasons for cladding himself with masks of drama so grand they even shielded his natural proclivity to insecurity, among many things. That, if she dared to look beyond, she would learn to ignore the sneers and think otherwise. Something, even you must confess, the two men had in common.”
“They had, yes.”, Hermione huffed.
“So Minerva asked him jokingly, if he had fallen so far that he found it necessary to defend the little remaining good in himself by enlarging sparks of potential weakness in monsters to give the impression of worship-worthiness and whether that had successfully brought him friends.”
“That’s – did she really say that?”, of course she knew of McGonagall’s capability of words, but to her that “Sounds like she learned from Severus’ ways to turn phrases,”
“You don’t seem to know Minerva well, even after having had her as your Head of House for several years.”, his grim look over his painted spectacles muted her well. “Now. She continued that of course it hadn’t brought him any friends but herself and maybe one person that seemed insane enough to stick by him whatever the cost. Severus on the other hand asked Minerva when he had given her the impression that she and him were more than just colleagues and how she could think that when knowing him and his private life so little that she couldn’t think of more people than Charity Burbage. Or since when she valued the number of considered friends more than the quality of the relation.”
“He’s had a point though.”, considered Hermione aloud.
“True, yes. And Minerva was very keen on letting me know how Severus then answered her question what qualified anyone to have them be considered a friend by him. He told her that, inter alia, it was understanding the other’s needs by mere looks. To know when to listen silently or when to tell him to shut up and listen himself. To try finding the right words but also admitting incapability of finding them before making things worse. To try help and accept help likewise. To keep all secrets entrusted with, either way round. Someone who would make the world stand still just to be there for him; someone he would do the same for. Someone who made him constantly mad at them and yet incapable of making him hate them at all. A person who would treat him like mud and he would treat them like mud and in the end they could do nothing but appreciate it mutually. Someone who, after years apart, would come back, probably even begging on their knees to continue where they had left off and he would agree willingly without hesitation. And then, Minerva said, he had asked her when she had had such a person in her life. She couldn’t answer.”
“If I had been presented with such an explanation, I wouldn’t have been either.”, pondered Hermione. “But I’d also have asked myself if that was still considered friendship or already l-”
“He told her,”, Dumbledore ignored her words, “That it didn’t matter what impression she had of Igor, as Igor was not her friend and that he would any time pick him above all others Minerva thought should be his friends instead, as none of them had been in his life when had needed them most or the other way.”
“I assume she asked where Igor had been the previous years?”
“Very well assumed. Severus replied that physical presence was sometimes the least valuable and that it might take her years to understand the connectability of souls.”
“Wait.”, Hermione’s brows narrowed. “So – so he had – ”, of course she knew how connected he was to Harry, feeling Harry’s emotions many times, but, “Had he felt that Igor had been thinking of him – well, not all the time, naturally, but – ”
“I do not know, nor do I think I ever will. The fact is that in their limited time together, they had made a deep bond that lasted a lifetime. Yes, I would go as far as to assert that if Harry hadn’t survived, Severus would have left the country with Igor as soon as he had been given the chance, living a solitary life, somewhere at the edge of the world, away from all the grief. I can see, that makes you ponder? Yes, so it made me. At that point in time I had been amazed by his devotion to protect the only graspable remains of Lily. It never occurred to me, and it needed two more years to pass, for him to finally tell me why exactly he was so persistent. But the message I meant to convey is that Severus, and may his only remains be a number of walking brush strokes with a magically imprinted memory, avoids you because he wishes you to let go; to not cling to an idea of what could have been, Hermione. Just as much as he didn’t want Igor to suffer the full blow of the loss he had experienced himself. He was ready to die, and I believe you know so.”
“He was.”, Hermione gargled, tears in her eyes and her larynx swelling. “And he technically even broke up with me before – before he went to die – so – so I could be happy with Ron.”
“Exactly.”, Dumbledore nodded, emphasising it with both his index fingers briefly pointing at her. “He wanted you to be happy, and not devastate over the loss. He wanted you to embrace life, and you have, I can tell from what you are hiding under your cloak. But why then, if you really loved him, and still do, do you not grant him that wish? Do not linger on dreams that have lost their chance to come true.”
“But then why has he left me that message!”, she cried desperately.
“Message?”
“I mean, yes, it was exactly that message! Why has he done that again! Why surviving and leaving me that message, rather than burning the shack himself to cover the tracks?”
“Come again?”, her tears made her unable to fully focus on the blue pearls staring at her.
“He’s alive.”, she breathed out the whisper. “He survived.”
“Hermione – ”
“And I’m not mad. Minerva and Luna were with me when I wanted to recover his body to bury him. It was gone, and on the floor was a message written with his blood. Yes, it was the same kind of message, that I should live on – but – but – ”
“Hmm.”, Dumbledore leant back, scratching his temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”, it shocked her, that the portrait remained so calm on the news, almost investigating.
“Why indeed, then. You are right. That seems very unlike him. So unlike him that – Hermione. Has he told you why he never revealed to Harry, what their true relation was?”
“Yes. He believed in the same thing you just said. Harry would cling to him, bringing himself in danger. Well, at least he would have, while Voldemort was still alive; I understood that bit by now, yes. He said that Harry was better off knowing both his parents had given their lives for him.”
“Why, yes! Then how can you believe, Severus left you such a message? That it had actually been him?”
“I – sorry? I mean sure, his writing was wonky and in blood and in Russian to conceal the content at first glance and because he’d nearly died and lost a lot of blood but – it – it was his writing! His lo-”
“Did it never come to you, that someone else had been faster? However clever enough to make up an excuse as to why his body was gone, possibly someone close to him, knowing of your relationship and meaning to not have you live with a tragic loss?”
“What? Wha– no.”, shaking her head, her tears dried on her hot cheeks even though the room was icy meanwhile.
“We both just acknowledged that what you told me, is very unlike him – downright against his philosophy. Unless, as you say, of course, he had had a near death experience and had been suffering from massive loss of blood, we are still talking about Severus Snape. Do you believe that all this had changed him so drastically? Do you believe it because it is the truth or because you want to believe it, regardless of how little sense it makes? Or, do you believe it as it was that third person’s intention to have you do exactly this?”
“No – ”, she whimpered.
“Of course I cannot say what is the truth in this, I merely voiced my opinion based on bits of information that you provided me, completely out of the blue. Either way, please ask yourself, does the message not remain the same? To live on?”
Not even bothering the ear thrashing noise of the wood hitting the dusty stone tiles, or that the chair lastly broke apart, nor the ringing of the door meeting with its worm eaten frame, the handle chiming as it sprung out, her cloak fluttered around the corner, away. Away from it all, away from the remains of a man who knew nothing, in her opinion, her belief.
~~#~~
“What do you mean, he’s not here?”, the shrill voice resounded in the large office and many eyes dedicated to the papers within reach with embarrassment.
“Well, exactly that. He went off to Hogwarts.”
“No, he’s not at Hogwarts.”, she puffed, crossing her arms. “I’ve been there, and no one’s seen him.”
“You do though know that you’re talking about Harry, do you? Just because – ”
“Yes, just because no one’s seen him, it doesn’t mean he’s not there, I know. But I have searched all the places he would be going to, nothing. I tried at home, searched probably every corner of Godric’s Hollow, tried to track him – no reaction. And I can’t get into – Snuffle’s house either. He changed the password again, but there was no light in any window anyway. So I ask you to please open that door for me and get his arse out.”
“Honestly, Hermione, he’s not in there! I’ve just come here to acknowledge that myself,”
“I don’t believe you.”, she shook her head and marched straight towards the big door.
“And you didn’t tell me you got a free day?”
“Because I haven’t.”, she rattled the handle.
“Hang on – you’ve been sneaking off work just to – ”
“Surprise, I did.”, Hermione snorted with her wand pointed at the lock. “Or why else do you see me dressed rather formally.”
“Er – yeah – but – ”
“I just cannot live with how he’s approaching that cannibal from Cardiff.”
“Well, that’s none of your business, is it? You’re not an Auror,”
“But he’s my best friend and you’re my husband. I insist on you opening this door for me or I’ll blast it away.”
“You can’t blast away a Ministry door, you know that much.”, Ron huffed, as red as her and probably most others in the office, and pulled his own wand, tapping it multiple times on the handle. “There.”, he swung the door open. “Happy now? There’s a reason why the Auror Office is working behind sealed doors. Because, they don’t need anyone prying into their work and complaining about their methods while those got no idea of how that business works. The only ways it works.”
“You sound just like him.”
“Guess, he’s my best friend too.”, hissed Ron. “Get out of here. He won’t be happy knowing that someone let you have a look in here. Especially me.”
“Then don’t tell him.”
“He’ll know that the door had been opened,”
“How could he possibly – ”
“He’ll do, trust me. He’s got his means and I’m sure he told you that over and over again, any time you ask him how he’s doing this or that. Hermione, he’s grown up and can make decisions of his own.”
“I seriously doubt that.”, her arms were crossed again.
“What you really should do is get home and calm down, not come down. It’s New Year’s Eve. And you’re pregnant.”
“I know perfectly well that I’m pregnant!”, Hermione shrieked and stormed out, leaving the main office door swinging shut.
“I have no idea how you can keep so calm. I’d have freaked out and killed that Banshee.”
“Yeah, you really have no idea, Brad.”, Ron sighed as he slouched over to his former desk once the Head’s door was locked again. “She’s indeed become a Banshee. Keeping calm and ignoring her is pretty much all I can do for survival.”
“And what’re you doing now? Back to the shop? Or fancy a drink with us later?”
“George can do without me – and as odd as it might sound, I honestly don’t feel like fancying any drink today.”
“You’re not following that caterwauler, are you?”, chuckled Melissa.
“Nope, I’ll go looking for Harry.”
“You think you’ve got better chances?”
“By far, yes.”, Ron smiled and shortly patted Brad’s shoulder. “It’s got some advantages if you accept his opinions,”
“Figured that.”
“Right, Happy New Year, everyone.”, he waved, already by the main door and the carol of greets echoed in his ears when he lazily hit the button to call the lift.
The Atrium was bustling with people trying to leave through the chimneys and the arrival area constantly gleamed green, New Year’s greetings resounding everywhere. A black man in midnight blue robes tried to tear himself from all sorts of people and Ron waited for him to catch up.
“Quite a fair, eh?”
“Oh it is, Ron, yes.”, Kingsley sighed. “Thank goodness I could take you as my excuse to get away.”
“I feel honoured!”, grinned Ron.
“I can hardly await your mother’s feast. Haven’t eaten a bite today. Why are – you hesitating?”
“Oh I’m not, I’m just not going the same direction.”
“Aren’t you?”, Kingsley frowned back at him.
“Nah – I don’t think so.”, Ron shook his head. “Harry’s gone missing again and Hermione’s exceptionally nitpicking these days. I thought I’d just go looking for him and spend a quiet evening with him. Besides, ever since George and Angelina moved back in, the whole house is a minefield of Freddie’s toys.”
“All right. Then I wish you a Happy New Year. And to Harry as well.”
“You too. Happy New Year.”
They shortly hugged and patted each other’s backs, then Kingsley turned and left in the flames. Some seconds later, Ron found himself standing on a gloomy square between trees and high old houses, with some drops hitting his nose, while a breeze brushed through his hair. A little annoyed, he looked up into the clouds that were shimmering in the lights of London, wincing when a raindrop met with his eye. Somewhere further away a banger went off already and he could hear distant cheers as the clouds flashed up green. Like usual, the kids needed to be entertained earlier. He was rather glad that there were green flashes that could actually make children happy. The Muggles had no idea. But in the world away from their eyes, Kingsley had made the use of green sparks for entertainment purpose just as illegal – as that curse was. And no one would question it.
Blowing a sigh, he walked straight towards the buildings that began parting for another and just when the topmost stair sat firmly in place, the door was torn open from his hand, dragging him with it into a gasp.
“Bloody hell!”, both gingers panted at once, but as soon as they recognised their opposite, shared a warm laugh.
“Uncle Won!”, the boy on Ginevra’s arms beamed and stretched out his own.
“Hey, little rascal.”, Ron grinned and patted his head.
“Blood traitors – ”
“SHUT IT!”, Ginevra yelled back into the corridor, causing her son to clap his hands on his ears. “WE KNOW WHAT WE ARE!”, they could hear Mrs Black mumbling to herself as she wandered upstairs. “Sorry, dear.”
“’S alrigh’,”, sighed James.
“Damn, you can still carry him?”
“He’s getting heavy, yes, but I still can. Though I really think I shouldn’t all too often. Not much more than a week now, I think.”
“Really? And you still don’t know what’s it gonna be?”
“No, that little bastard does its best to turn just enough for not granting anyone a glimpse.”
“That bashful thing!”
“Yeah.”, Ginevra chuckled. “Harry’s in the lab. He’s not coming, but I guess you figured that much. I’ll get the Elephants to George’s. Shall I convey your wishes to everyone?”
“That’d be great, thanks. Elephants?”
“Commission. Harry’s been working on a tonic that grows you elephant ears. They work like wings even.”
“Hang on,”
“Yeah. He’s also managed to get a remedy working and I offered to deliver the madness for him and snatch the gold from dear Georgie.”
“And I believed he’d said he’d never work in that business,”
“Think it’s an exception. Challenge, you know. He’s been challenged too less lately and so he accepts every bit he can get a hold on. Don’t ask him for a duel, he might blow your head off.”
“So does Hermione today.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll try to treat her firmly. Happy restart then.”
“You too. Don’t shoot tonight. Uncle Ron wants to be there.”, he placed a swift kiss on her cheek.
“As if I’d let you this time,”, she grinned and they switched positions.
“You sure you can – ”, plop. “Yeah, you’re sure.”, Ron sighed and closed the door, startled when the lock clicked and a number of chains rustled across the door to secure it. “Not locking yourself in, huh? If there’s one thing Hermy’s right about,”
Shaking his head, he slouched upwards over worn out moth eaten carpet that rather attracted dust than it covered the stairs from it. Other than the muffled soliloquises coming from a room on the first floor which he recognised to be Mrs Black, the house was silent – and dark. Sun had set an hour ago and even though he knew nearly every crack of the goddamned building by now, he had slight problems with trying not to stumble in the darkness. Barely visible in the drab, he read the letters on one of the doors and gently opened it, peering into the faintly lighter room due to the single window in it.
It smelled after whatever Harry had used for the joke tonic and a cauldron was still steaming on the table where once had been Regulus’ bed. Pretty much everything had gone from the room. Everything but the chest of drawers and the desk by the now cleaned window with green curtains as well as some yellowed newspaper clippings on the walls where the old wallpaper hadn’t disappeared behind the shelves filled to the brim with jars and glasses of potion ingredients. Ron stepped closer to what looked like the written down remains of some match. There were faded stains all over the parchment which had been folded so many times that the edges were tattered and each of the two columns was cluttered with streaks and results totalled up every few inches. At the bottom was a cartooned drawing of a white chess queen that again and again beheaded a black king and the word `fail´ written in strangely familiar scrawl between it and the winner’s column. Whoever that Amy had been, she had clearly beaten Regulus.
Ron chuckled off the discovery and, with a frowning glance on the framed photo of the Slytherin Quidditch team Regulus had been in, left the room like he had found it, just to hear some loud clanking and rumbling noise from the room ahead and swearing following it that could not be mistaken for anyone but his best friend, even though it momentarily confused him that he was not able to tell what exactly his gnarling meant. He lively opened the door to the room that once had been the temporary home to Buckbeak.
“Oy, don’t get a heart attack, it’s just – me – ”
“What the – ”, Harry’s head came in sight under some ominous construction that included brass levers, gears, an old armchair, a number of conical differently big long tubes that were facing the chair in a rotatable sort of bundled ring and much more peculiar metal stuff as well as a large bureau.
“Whow! What’s that!”, Ron looked along the tubes and realised that he was actually standing not under the roof, but that it had been replaced with a seamless glass cupola which seemed to repel the little rain that was now falling from the sky, glistening in the blurred lights of London.
“Not my fault that you lot don’t like to come here,”, Harry smirked and crawled out from under the installation, his face smeared with what must be machine oil.
“Well, you scared the shit out of Hermione when she came here last. Didn’t want that to happen to me too, you see? Bloody hell! You’re – naked!”, Ron blinked heavily when Harry stood up and smeared the oil and sweat on his face even more.
“I knew I’d be needing a shower anyway. So why bothering washing clothes?”
“Good point. Er – ’s that an observatory or what?“
“Exactly.”, Harry chuckled, put down a spanner on a table by the bookshelves that now flanked what was left of the walls. “Though I knew I hadn’t fixed that nut good enough. Nearly paid for my neglect yesterday when the whole thing tilted. But, it’s all done now.”
“The cauldron downstairs is still steaming – ”
“Yes. Wanted to get that done as soon as possible and before it’d get dark. Lucky we’re in London. Ginevra let you in, I reckon?”
“Just bumped into her when she meant to leave. Literally.”
“Alright. She’d said she’d bottle it herself, you know. So I – ”
“Drinkable elephant ears and a huge telescope, blimey. What’s next?”, Harry shrugged.
“The shower?”
“Yeah. S’ppose so. You look like a streaking sweep.”, both chuckled.
“You’ll stay?”
“Hermione’s got one of her bitchy days,”
“I take that as a yes.”
“If you don’t mind,”
“Not at all.”
“Just so you know, she made me open your office.”
“Took anything?”, Harry asked and began testing the telescope on its functions.
“Nothing but a frustrated glimpse. She said she’d been looking for you all day – according to the places she’s listed,”
“So that was her, banging Walburga from sleep; I thought I’d seen a brown bush bumping and vanishing by the trees.”
“Haven’t found any clue how to get rid of her yet?”, Harry shrugged it off.
“She’s actually good company if you need someone to yell at. And since I’ve started using the place for practice and help Kreacher cleaning it magically in times, she’s lost most of her aversion towards me. There is magic in the house again, you know. I think, in spite of the fact that I defeated Voldemort, she sees me more like a son than she’d seen Sirius. Okay, she despised Sirius, so I guess it’s not such a big deal. But it charms her that I allow brutal murder, even though it’s former Death Eaters to get painted in their innermost Gryffindor colour. A plus might also be that I, as you phrased it, scared the shit out of Hermione.”
“That’s exactly why Hermione’s upset, actually. She’s all back on disapproving with you.”
“You think I’d give a damn? Because I think,”, he turned back a wheel, “I don’t.”
“I can totally see that. Well, she complains about – Cardiff.”
“Now does she? Why? It’s a nice city,”
“Yeah, and I mean, what’s wrong with trying to get help from the Sisters? And anyway, she fusses a bit too much about everything either of us does,”
“Then tell your dear Hermione not to fuss about,”, he tested some more wheels and levers.
“I tried.”, Ron huffed. “She’s a wall.”
“Ball.”
“Huh?”
“I said, she’s a ball. The rounder she gets, the more she bumps up and down on the mood ladder.”
“Yeah, that too. But I must admit, she’s somewhat right on the – magic – you’re performing in here. She said there’s some pretty dark stuff among it.”
“Nothing darker than what’s still thrown at me. And she knows perfectly well what kind of business I’m in.”
“Too perfectly well sometimes. She keeps prying.”
“Then, well, tell her to stop that too. There is a reason why Aurors usually have their doors locked,”
“Told her too often already, but she won’t get it. But now I can understand why Kingsley insisted on having her take the oath as well. Still I’m curious, what exactly you did that she refuses to tell anyone. Every time I try to get it out of her, she sorta freezes and does a runner then.”
“I – er – I told her, I was sorry,”, sitting in the armchair, he eyed him in thoughts.
“What did you do?”
“And it’s not my fault she snuck in. I guess she didn’t want to startle Walburga, but at least she made me realise I needed to be more careful. Maybe they’ve been a bit too convincing – or creepy – whatever.”
“They?”
“You know, I – perhaps I should show you.”
Harry pulled his wand from behind his ear, tapped it thrice on his head and – couldn’t help chuckling on Ron’s shriek as he staggered back against the shelves. Eyes torn open in horror, he stared at the exact copy of whom sat before him. Just as naked and dirty, another Harry had fallen as if from him and now laid on the floor, slack and motionless, the dead eyes equally piercing.
“Whoops, sorry.”, the original meant. “Doesn’t always work. You see, that’s actually what should happen, but I meant going for that – ”
He tapped his head another three times. Like before, emerging from his own body, the copy dropped to the floor, flailing, but this time actually raised and came to stand in the odd circle now, moving unfortunately as empty looking green eyes between the friends and the lifeless copy.
“Fuck – ”, Ron breathed, between shock and amazement. “Er – what – ”, the moving copy turned, went for a shelf, climbed it and sat down on top where was just enough space for that without having to crouch beneath the cupola.
“Yeah.”, Harry distorted his mouth, pondering. “They do have their own mind, sometimes. Like I said, I haven’t really worked it all out yet. No idea what they did to her, but it may also only have been the presence of more than one of me that freaked her out.”
“Hang on, how many can you make at the same time?”
“The most I managed were eleven, so far.”
“Eleven?”, gasped Ron.
“Yes. But they’re really unstable and sometimes I have to kill – I mean – erase them, before they do something stupid. And I always need a few tries if I haven’t made them in a while. At least if I want them to talk.”
“Talk?”, Ron startled again, as the copy on the shelf had easily used its toes to pull a book from it, placed it on the bare lap and started reading.
“Yes, talk.”, it said with Harry’s voice, though a little hollow. “And I’m freezing up here, if you’re interested.”
“Then get back down.”, mumbled the real Harry.
“What use would that be?”
“None, actually. But I know for a fact, that it’s a little warmer down here,”
“You haven’t sat on these shelves often enough, analysing temperature differences, to be rightfully able to claim knowledge of it.”
“Whow!”
“Oh shut it.”, Harry gnarled to his copy, waved his wand and both of them dissolved; the book floated back into its gap.
“That – that does take soliloquies to a whole new level,”
“True. But they tell me nothing I don’t know already, and if they talk, well, you heard it. Frustration and sarcasm is pretty much everything they can spread.”
“And frights.”
“That as well. Right, so much for that. Need a shower too?”, Harry panted, slid from the armchair and picked up the spanner again before they went downstairs.
“I’d be more comfortable with the tub, if you let me.”
“Sure, nothing cheaper than conjured water.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Hungry?”
“Starving, actually.”
“Okay, I’ll have a quick shower then and you can carry on enjoying your liquid sarcophagus while I’ll make us supper. Fancy anything special?”
“Strangely, I still fancy Hermione.”
“But I won’t fetch and cook her, as tempting as it may sound.”, Harry laughed and lively pushed the bathroom door open.
~~#~~
Meanwhile rain had conquered the square and puddles were forming in front of the hidden residence, but the fire in the hall crackled gently. While Harry stood by one of the high windows and listened to its sound as well as the rain outside, studying the clouds that implied that the rest of London was rather spared by the rain, Ron had thrown himself onto one of the sofas, and he felt the pondering stare on his back. Now he was wondering not only whether his powers had become that uncontrollably grand that he could unintentionally make it rain above the house, but what was on Ron’s mind.
“I don’t get it how you can cope with that mane,”, he enlightened him in the next second.
“I got used to it,”, Harry meant and turned around, leaning to the inner sill. “And I’m quite good at braiding it now.”
“Still, it’s massive! If I’d had that much hair, I’d have shaved it all off. Not only the head – and nothing against the beard, mate, I’m talking about the whole suit.”
“I don’t need you to remind me that I’m Hairy Potter, the scrawny gorilla.”, Harry huffed, pushed himself off and started walking around lazily. “And Ginevra suggested as well, that I’d get rid of some of the `mane´, as you two call it, before it’s standing off like Hermione’s – ”
“Gorilla, yeah. But scrawny? No way that’s scrawny! What’re you doing?”, he didn’t answer. “Mate, you clearly work out. Not as regularly as I do, but you’re definitely doing it. So what? Chins?”
“Something like it,”
“Ha!”, Ron sat up. “Got y-”
“It’s easier observing people from above.”
“Er – ”
“That’s why I’ve been dismissing Robards lately when he meant to make me go in pairs with the others too. No matter what Hermione made you believe, I’m not bossy or on one of those, as she calls it, I-can-only-do-this-alone-trips. I just don’t like the thought of seeing anyone fall.”
“Hang on – above? You’re not climbing roofs, are you?”
“Yep, I’m climbing roofs.”, Harry said to the closed lid of the grand piano.
“No way!”, laughed Ron.
“You think I’m lying?”
“Er – no – ”, Ron blinked heavily and gulped at the look he received, “But honestly? You’re climbing on roofs?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”, Harry replied grim.
“Wicked! I mean, that’s kinda awesome, you know? How’d you conceive of that?”, Harry shrugged again.
“It’s easier than having to talk to the neighbours when you only need a walk,”
“You could – ”
“I know what I could. But sometimes it does feel better if you’re not surrounded by houses, but can stand above it all.”
“I so get it, mate. It’s like flying but with solid ground under your feet, right?”
“Somewhat, yes. So? Wanna see the fireworks tonight?”, Harry changed the topic.
“From under the dome you mean?”
“Yes.”
“It’s raining – ”, a distant bang accompanied a blue and golden flash behind the park.
“Doesn’t stop them though, does it?”, chuckled Harry, sank onto the sofa opposite to Ron and crossed his bare legs into tailor-fashion.
“Why’re you only wearing a shirt?”, he nodded at the long half buttoned up piece of white clothing and Harry saw that he explicitly referred to the hitched up sleeves.
“I also wear underpants,”
“Tz. I meant, aren’t you cold?”, Ron even wore one of his notorious Weasley Jumpers over his t-shirt and cotton sweatpants.
“Not really,”, Harry considered. “I’m a gorilla, after all. Got enough fur to cover me.”
“Yeah.”, Ron laughed, got up and sat down by Harry’s right, cross-legged as well. “Blimey, I tend to forget what your arm looks like,”
“Hmm?”, he followed Ron’s sad stare at his left forearm which was slightly maimed by a long scar from Wormtail’s knife and fang marks from Nagini as well as the Malfoy Ghoul that had bitten him when they had tried to shoo him from the attic in order to restore the Mirror Manor. “Yes. Rather unlucky, that arm.”, Ron reached out for it.
“Can I?”
“Sure.”, Harry let him take and study it. “What’s so funny?”, Ron had snickered faintly.
“Looks a bit like a tulip, if I think about it. Just without leaves.”
“Yeah – it – it does – ”, he hadn’t thought of it himself yet, but now that he looked at it in the mixed light from the fireplace and the chandelier above, the mingling of the scars indeed reminded him of a tulip’s outlines; Ron carefully touched the marks with his right hand, then brushed them hesitantly.
“Are they numb?”
“Only if you brush a little more firm, and then just a bit.”
“Gosh, I envy you. Mine’re totally numb.”, he dropped Harry’s arm and tried to take off both jumper and t-shirt in one, which caused him a muffled laugh as he got stuck, needing Harry’s help.
“I thought, you were cold?”
“Actually, I’m sweating like hell under that stuff.”, he did, “Phew!”, and threw the bundle carelessly onto the carpet. “You see that madness?”, his neck quietly cracked when he looked at his own left shoulder. “So much for Dittany.”
“You know she hadn’t had enough with her and we’d both been shaking.”
“But I find the shape quite interesting. Especially where it melts with those I got from the brains.”
“And I don’t know about your training yet, but another’s brought you a slight bump down there.”
“What?”, Ron startled. “Oh yeah, I know, I’ve got a bit of a snack pack. But it’s not my fault that your supper’s been so rich and delicious,”
“Certainly it’s been my supper.”, Harry snickered.
“Next time don’t leave all the chicken to me.”
“I’ll tell him when I see him.”
“Up there he is!”, Ron pointed at their reflection in the huge mirror above the mantelpiece.
“Oh, I don’t think that guy can hear me; his ears are all covered by that strange black stuff.”
“Here.”, Ron wiped a bundle behind Harry’s right ear, but it slid back in place. “What the – ”, he did it again, and again, and another time, unsuccessful.
“You said it, didn’t you?”
“That’s really bad,”
“No, you only need to know how to treat it. See?”, Harry skilfully took the bundle between three fingers, twisted it and brushed it down; it did not move a thou then.
“Damn!”, laughed the ginger and scratched his head, messing up the short cut a little. “You and Gin are really the only ones who’ve got control over that hair,”
“Presumably.”, Harry grinned.
“Oh – she didn’t tell me the new password, by the way.”
“Amy.”
“Amy?”
“Yes.”, the grin reduced to a warm smile,
“Regulus’ girlfriend?”
“Er – ”, and became lax with the confused frown.
“I first went into your lab since Ginny said you’d be there. Found that sheet.”
“Oh!”, Harry chuckled. “No, Amy was not Regulus’ girlfriend.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because,”, he grinned again, “Amy’s not a girl.”
“Sorry?”, Ron murmured.
“It’s short for Amalius.”
“And how come you’d know that bit?”
“I don’t know who of them came up first, but they nicknamed one another.”
“Yeah. Saw that. `Reg´.”
“Yes. And since there was clearly only one person allowed to shorten his first name, I guess Regulus went for the second.”
“Who exactly are we talking about there?”, Harry only gave him a bored stare. “Er – oh! Amalius! Yeah! Almost forgot, you told me.”
“I did.”
“Blimey – Reg’s sanctuary – now I remember – Sirius once told us they’d been friends,”
“Did he?”, Harry frowned. “He never told me,”
“Yeah. I think Hermione blamed Sirius for being childishly jealous because he was more liked by Sirius’ parents than himself – they had a brief argument about it.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah. And Hermione didn’t figure that password?”
“Surprised me the moment you said it. He’s even been calling him like that in Dumbledore’s memories,”
“Cripes! What d’you put into that meal that my own memory’s flicking blank?”
“Believe me, the fault doesn’t lie with my cooking.”, Harry flipped a finger against Ron’s temple.
“Argh! That hurt!”
“Sure.”
“It did!”
“I didn’t dispute.”
“Yeah.”, sighed Ron and suddenly his face went still, gazing ahead.
“You’re alright?”
“Huh?”, he jerked back, but his look glided at the other sofa again. “Yeah – it’s just – I – I’ve been thinking – you’d seen Dumbledore. In the – Limbo – I mean – ”
“Yes?”
“So he’s clearly dead.”
“Ron, I’ve seen him being hit by the curse – he’d fallen off the Astronomy Tower – I saw the slightly rotten corpse when I placed the Elder Wand back in his hands – and sm–”
“I know,”
“We’d had that before, Ron. We’d had that with Dumbledore, we had it with – ”
“I know!”, Ron hissed impatiently. “But just think! He told you it was only happening inside your head!”
“I remember perfectly what that Dumbledore, supposedly in my head, told me.”, Harry said calm.
“And Karkaroff’s been fighting in the battle even though he’d been considered dead for a year! What if – ”
“You know Hermione found his body.”
“But just say – I mean, even you can make dead looking copies of yourself in a blink. Hang on – whom’ve you learned that from anyway?”
“And Dumbledore’d been dying all throughout the year. If it hadn’t been the spell or the fall, he would have died from the ring’s curse shortly after. And you said it yourself. I’d seen him in the Limbo. He’s dead.”
“I know.”, Ron sighed again. “You – you think he saw his family? His parents and sister? I mean, you’d seen the others through the stone first and – and therefore – ”
“I’ve had those thoughts too, yes. So many thoughts. About who might have seen whom – ”
“So you think – er – Severus had seen – your mother?”
“There is not the slightest chance he has not seen her,”
“Course.”
“And I believe, he might have seen his parents too.”, despite having gone through all that so often in the past and knowing it was not the end, talking about death still knotted his throat and placed tears in his eyes. “He’d loved his mother deeply – and he told me he’d forgiven his father and – brother – what they’d done to him – ”
“He had?”
“Yes.”
“So they – they’d really been brothers?”
“Yes.”, Harry cracked a feeble smile. “He confirmed it. Or rather – his portrait did.”, Ron nodded. “Years ago, actually. I’m surprised you ask again now. I honestly thought you wouldn’t need – ”
“Why hadn’t he been there?”
“Where?”
“In the Limbo? Or when you used the stone? I mean, you knew how close he was to your mother then, but he didn’t appear.”
“Maybe because he’d gone on?”
“So you say, they’d all waited? Dumbledore waited a year? And the others – ?”
“Ron I – I don’t know how to explain – you see, I don’t even know myself what exactly the Limbo is or what it depends on that this or that person appears when you use the Resurrection Stone – those might be simple things, but they’re above most people’s understanding. I built myself a kind of view on it, but I could never say for sure what is the truth. And I believe, not even the Unspeakable can. Listen, I know you’re just trying to find a way talking around, but if Fred’s moved on, he has moved on.”, Ron shuddered.
“Myrtle said – ”
“Second – ”
“Yeah, confession made, I went talking to Myrtle when you went looking for Ginny after the battle.”
“That’s funny,”, Harry chuckled and reflectively leaned his head onto Ron’s scarred shoulder, resulting in one of either knee touching too.
“Why’s it funny?”
“Cause I went to see Nick after Sirius died.”
“Er – really?”
“Yes.”
“Alright? Er – what I – meant to say – er – she told me that it took a while until she was – a ghost.”
“Nick said that too, when I asked him about it later.”
“So that’s a fact, right?”
“Seems so.”
“Yeah, she’d said that she was just thoughts travelling the castle – and slowly her image became visible and at some point she could already feel – and make others feel her – become invisible and visible at favour – ”
“I know,”
“So – what if – what if he’s still just – thoughts?”
“Do you feel him?”, Ron hesitated.
“No – ”, he breathed.
“Then he likely went on.”
“But I do feel something, you know? Something – else – ”, it downright spluttered out of him and Harry sat back up to look at his profile. “When – when – I worked on papers alone – and I was about to get stuck with a case – or when I’m working through the balances with George – it’s – sometimes it’s like I’m back in the Potions classroom – and he’s sneaking around behind me – drilling his dark eyes into my back – ”, Harry couldn’t help laughing, nor himself from raising. “I know this sounds stupid,”, moaned Ron.
“No.”, he turned back to him with a smile. “That’d be Jeanne.”
“Jeanne? You – you think?”
“Oh yes, Jeanne’s been watching us a lot.”, he inhaled deeply, his eyes on the dancing flames.
“Who’s that Jeanne anyway? I mean – ”, Harry took another thorough breath.
“One of a kind.”
“Sorry?”
“I said, Jeanne’s one of a kind.”
“As you say, yeah, there’s some truth to that. So you think, she’s trying to see whether she can solve our issues faster?”
“More likely trying to make me solving them faster. What’s it with you, I don’t know.”, Ron sighed upon that, looking at the fire now as well as he continued.
“If she’d only help stopping that crank who’s running through Birmingham – ”
“The one who’s torturing random people on the street without being seen?”
“Yeah – ”
“That’s ancient history, latest by tomorrow morning.”
“Really?”, Ron chuckled, eyeing Harry curiously, who still studied the flames.
“I think, the words `this year´ say enough.”
“This year?”
“I said that I hoped I would catch that idiot already. The reply was that I’ll find them locked up by this year.”
“Hang on – you contacted Jeanne?”, he could see Ron’s eyes pop out, but did his best to hide a smirk on the side of his face his friend couldn’t see. “You actually contacted her to – ”
“No. I didn’t. I didn’t even ask for help. Why would I. It was never necessary to ask.”
“Er – ”
“No need to ask someone for a favour who has dedicated their life to you.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Okay?”, Ron chuckled again. “But – if they’re on it – the Peverell Sisters – why would you find – ”
“Locked up? As I take it, cell thirteen in block seven.”
“Seven-thirteen? In the Ministry? How – ”
“Haven’t they proven to be able to get in there without being noticed? And apropos, I wouldn’t notice the troublemaker if they’d be ending up in Azkaban right away, would I? Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time either. I just made sure to keep silent about it so far.”
“And why the heck locking them in?”
“Use your brain, Ron. I know you’re not stupid.”
“So you think they knew they wouldn’t be dealing with a former Death Eater?”
“Now.”, Harry had composed himself with the certainty that confirmation wouldn’t be necessary, returned to the sofa and sat down sideways, leisurely, and looking straight at Ron with some sort of determination, who though only eyed him curious. “What’s it gonna be?“
“Huh?”
“It’s half eleven. Watching fireworks?”
“Dunno.”, Ron’s eyes devoted to the second sofa again.
“Or you’d rather like to stay in here? Go for a walk?”
“Too cold outside,”
“Okay,”, Ron however shrugged.
“Whatever you like.”
“I was actually trying to tell you that,”
“Got that.”
“Look,”, Harry continued serious, moved his left hand towards his chest and lifted the Mokeskin Pouch, “I’ve got another, see that?”, Ron threw a quick glance and he wasn’t sure whether he had actually seen the oval scar. “That’s where the Horcrux glued itself to me. Yes, some hair’s grown over it, but it’s still there.”
“And?”
“And?”
“Meaning?”, Ron sighed and Harry dropped the pouch with a snort. “It’s not helping either of us if you continue showing your scars,”
“If I may remind you, it was you who started.”
“Sure.”
“You did.”
“I said, sure.”
“Ron – what I – what I’m trying to tell you – ”, breathing in deep again, he slowly placed his right hand on Ron’s scarred shoulder, searching for the words on a stain on the carpet, but Ron turned his head to him. “Everything leaves a mark.”, he said then and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Meaning?”, Ron repeated as hollow.
“And I pity Death.”, that gave Ron a longer pause and he was obviously fighting down many things he would want to say on that, yet didn’t – so Harry carried on. “Because it doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t matter how many lives Death claims,”, Ron blinked heavily, his features in a confused grimace. “No matter in which shape, there will always be more life to come.”, he didn’t need intruding Ron’s mind to see that his thoughts drifted to the unborn children of his wife and sister now. “Look at how long humankind already exists – and how many people there are already dead; who had lost someone in their life. We aren’t the only ones. Not the only ones to experience it, not the only ones having to cope with it – and there’s animals too. Just because we don’t understand their language, it doesn’t mean they can’t feel loss as we do, or even more intense. And Fred’s not gone.”
“But didn’t you – ”
“Listen to me, Ron. He’s not gone. None of them is. No one’s gone, if there’s someone to remember them. They’re in here,”, he gently stabbed Ron’s temple with his left index finger, “Here,”, pointed on his own head, “In here,”, he then softly pressed his palm against Ron’s bare chest, right where his heart was pounding behind, the other hand still on his shoulder. “And behind that oval scar of mine too.”
“I get you, Sirius.”, Ron huffed, glaring down on the shimmering wedding ring on Harry’s hand.
“No, you don’t.”, Harry breathed heavy another time. “I hadn’t been granted to grow up by my parents’ side,”
“I know you’re jealous,”
“No, I’m not, Ron. Not at all.”, the honesty in Harry’s voice made him look up, at his own reflection in the round glasses. “I hadn’t been granted to grow up by my parents’ side, but I see them, every day, when I look in the mirror – I know enough about them to recognise them in so many things I catch myself saying or doing – more and more every day – I can see so much of them in me – and though James’s not even three years old yet, I can see so much of myself in him – or of Ginevra – Ron, if you look close, you can see them all in us – because they’d been with us at a certain point in our lives – we are what we are because they’d made us – they shaped us – their souls might have moved on – their bodies decayed or vanished – but there is something of them that remains in us. And to accept that, that life goes on if we are just willing enough to open our eyes, that’s what’s called survival. Not wandering on in this world after others were deprived of the ability, but walking on with our noses held high, indicating pride to have known those people, and carry on their remains as a memory in honour.”
Ron didn’t say a thing, he only curled his rosy lips. There was no need for more words; Harry saw the tears travelling down his freckled cheeks and felt hot ones on his own skin. And within a second, Ron’s tears of grief became tears of gratitude. With a smile of a more pleasant warmth than the still crackling fire in the chimney, Harry leant over, kissed away one of those salty tears and laid his arms around his brother in mind, his best friend, who had ever been there, in almost all his ups and downs, no matter how, but there and so he would be there for him, no matter how. Because that was all friendship was about, lastly: being there for one another, and if it was only thinking of the other, as it was the power of a mind, that counted. No hand could be strong, if the mind leading it was weak. No power stronger than that of a mind..
A creature with red hair and bronze eyes got up from the open doorway, turned for the stairs and prodded down, over the endlessly gathering dust in the carpet, right into a pair of pale hands that lifted it with ease. Up in those comforting arms, it miaowed quietly, once, and supposedly with a smile, which could just not be seen due to the shape of its face.
“Can a-rithist sin?”, the soft voice asked, and the being repeated its sound exactly alike and was answered with a very quiet laugh. “Chan eil mi a' dèanamh càil, Bláan! Hmm?”, Crookshanks had dropped another sound, “Mar sin leatsh, mo caraid.”
“Happy New Year.”, whispered a similar voice upstairs.
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