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Author: hwimsey Story: The Coven of Echoes Rating: Teens Status: Completed Reviews: 48 Words: 163,077
“What do you mean you can’t remember? You have to be able to remember,” said Harry, raking his hand through his hair. He was stalking down the side streets of Edinburgh intent to find a vacant alley where they could Apparate to Hogwarts. They had just left St. Dymphna’s and Luna and Ginny rushed to keep up with him. He was far from happy and leveled a glare at Luna over his shoulder so severe that she threw her arms up in frustration for the countless time. “I don’t know,” she cried, rolling her protuberant eyes in dismay. “I told you, I was listening to music to include in next semester’s study. I’ve been trying to intersperse some classical music into the syllabus. It just got into my head and I couldn’t get it out.” “Tell me about it,” muttered Harry. Ginny cast her old schoolmate a sympathetic look. It was true. Ever since they had heard Luna sing the Taghairm in the hospital corridor, Harry was determined to find out where she had heard it. Luna, however, had no clue as to the music’s source. None whatsoever. “But you know, most classical music is magical anyway,” announced Luna in explanation. Harry paused. He looked at Luna with barely contained exasperation. “What?” “I mean, I think it’s just fascinating that most Muggles don’t realize how many of the great composers were wizards. I mean, how do you think Beethoven did it? Everyone thinks he was deaf. Or Mozart even. You think The Magic Flute was called that by accident?” Ginny feared Harry might blow at that one and bit her lip, stifling a wicked grin. She had tried in vain to get him to listen to jazz during their time in London. She should have opted for a different style; he cared for nothing unless it could be played loud and fast. “Are you sure you don’t want to run back and check on Neville?” Ginny asked her friend, retreating a few strides until both women were walking side by side. “Oh no. He’s probably already back at Hogwarts. I was doubling back to pick up a book I forgot in his room when Harry dragged me down the corridor.” You should be glad he didn’t strangle you, thought Ginny. She could understand Harry’s frustration. How could Luna not recognize this music when her mind was a veritable clearinghouse of every magical urban legend imaginable? “It’s nice to spend time with you, though, Ginny,” said Luna gazing up at the rooftops. “We hardly ever see each other anymore. It’s wonderful to see you and Harry in the same place.” Tell me about it, thought Ginny, seconding Harry’s earlier retort, and then replied, “It’s lovely to see you, too, Luna. It’s been ages.” “I always thought you two were made for each other. Like two Snarfflegump peas in a cocoon. Ah, maybe not. Snarfflegumps usually devour each other. But you know what I mean. I never understood why you left London in the first place.” She smiled as she began to tie her hair back with a chartreuse bow. Moments later she started to hum the Taghairm again and Ginny reached out to grab her wrist, shaking her head and mouthing, “Better not.” “Would you pardon me, Luna? I need to know where we’re planning to Apparate,” Ginny said before she rushed to catch up with Harry who was now several yards ahead of them. “Slow down. Some of us have shorter legs.” He smirked at this and hitched his gait. “Sorry. I just can’t believe she doesn’t remember the piece of music.” “She’ll find it. We’ll find it. It’s got to be a clue if nothing else and that should get us a little closer. Don’t worry. I thought you’d be thrilled.” She slipped her hand in his. “I am. About everything. I’ll just feel better once we have it.” He offered her a sly smile. “So I’m allowed to hold your hand?” “Luna’s harmless. And she is right, we do resemble Snarfflegump peas. Don’t you think?” He laughed and Ginny’s heart melted. She had forgotten how much of her happiness lived in Harry’s. She squeezed his hand. Luna remained a few yards behind them happily humming another tune while Harry and Ginny’s conversation took on the cadence of their walking. They began to pour over the details of the case. Ginny remembered how Harry could obsess over the smallest facet of an investigation, breaking off in the middle of a passionate embrace to write down a clue or lost memory. She didn’t mind then. She didn’t mind now. She felt incredibly magnanimous. She could share. “Harry, what do you think this Letter contains? Why are the Death Eaters and Madam Kouszlova so obsessed with it?” “I have my suspicions. But I’m not sure. It’s powerful – whether or not it holds powerful Dark Magic, I have no idea, though it’s already attracted a fair deal of it. You know, it’s strange. Aidan once told me about a path. I used to think it was something religious and gave him half my mind when he went on about it, but I think he was speaking of something important. Something related to all this. How we live our lives and what we leave in our wake. That the good we do or leave upon this earth is really our only testament of being. He used to say, ‘If we live with honor, we leave honor. If we live with love, we leave love.’ This Letter -- whatever it is -- what has it left in its path? Nothing but death.” Harry paused. “Let’s turn here. It’s completely deserted.” He pointed toward the end of a vacant alley: a perfect point from which they could Apparate the remaining way to Hogwarts. He motioned to Luna. Ginny’s heart raced. She stared down at the dirt and idly twisted her toe into the ground trying to avoid Harry’s eyes as Luna trotted over to them. In the past, he had always made it a point to kiss her whenever they Apparated. He said he loved the feeling. Dizzy love, he used to call it. “Luna,” Harry told her over his shoulder, “we’ll Apparate from here. Meet you at the gates.” “Oh, oh, all right. It’s been such an exciting evening. I hope I don’t Splinch.” With a pop, she disappeared. Harry turned toward Ginny. His eyes flashed mischievously. “You thought I forgot, didn’t you?” She didn’t say a word. “Let’s make it good. It’ll be our last chance for a while.” He swept her up in his arms and kissed her. Ginny tried to force her mind on the familiar gates and not the island she longed to disappear to instead. With its white sand and forgotten cottage. Hogwarts gate. Hogwarts gate. All too soon they were spinning from the Apparition and landing on the moist grass, wet with the evening dew. The lights glowed from the towers and turrets and bathed the grounds in ovals and rectangles of gold. Ginny took a deep breath and stared up at her old home. The scent of a roaring fire perfumed the air. A feeling of peace and contentment stole over her. “Luna,” said Harry as they met up at the front doors, “go through your things and try to find the music. We’ll join you after the meeting and rip the place apart if necessary. You can find us in the dungeons if you find anything beforehand.” “Oh, I don’t like the dungeons. Not good for Rotsworth goiter. See you soon.” She heaved open the doors and waved goodbye, leaving them alone in the glow of the Entrance Hall torches. Ginny snickered and stole a look at Harry. “Welcome home, Mr. Potter.” “Welcome home, Miss Weasley.” He pulled her to him and kissed her one last time. *** Ron was annoyed. Harry was late. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. They would have to start the meeting without him. Where the hell was he? A small table sat in the farthest corner of the farthest dungeon. It was the most private space they could find. Remus had requested it and Ron hated it. He was hungry, cold and tired. Why couldn’t they meet in Professor McGonagall’s office? Why did Remus want to meet with all of them in the first place? The sun had long since set outside the walls of Hogwarts. For those several people seated around the table, only the surrounding torchlight and a nearby fireplace offered up any warmth in the darkened alcove. Hermione was chatting with Tonks and Remus. Tamsyn stood by the door watching Areids who was pacing, the fumes from a few cauldrons following him in his stride. Ron had owled Harry around six to check to see how Ginny was faring and to tell him of the meeting. He had received the enigmatic reply. Brilliant. Will be there soon. H. The message carried either hope or sarcasm. Ron wondered which one as he poured himself another cup of tea from a rickety sideboard. He had left Harry in the late morning, watching him stand silently by Ginny’s gurney continuously rubbing the band of his watch. He seemed like a man intent on one thing and one thing alone. After facing death, Ron didn’t have to wonder what that one thing was. He just hoped one of them could remain silent long enough for the other to explain. He was ready to lock both of them in a room and not leave until something -- anything – was settled. He had never met two more stubborn people in his life. Meanwhile, he and Tonks had traveled to Hogwarts where they met up with the others and spent the remainder of the day getting everyone caught up with all the events that had transpired at both the Drogerie and the hospital. As a result, an air of frustration hovered over the room like the dank chill of the walls. People had died, lives had nearly been lost and for what? They were no closer to finding the location of this island. They weren’t going to get another chance at Ben’s code. Taking a long sip of his tea, Ron turned and eyed Hermione. She was speaking with Remus who had arrived just a few hours ago. Their heads were together in deep conversation. Hermione caught Ron’s eye and winked at him. He raised his cup with a smile. He hoped whatever Remus had to share would be short-lived. He hadn’t had time with her in ages and he ached for the luxury of just collapsing on the couch in her chambers. Just then the door opened and all eyes fell to Professor McGonagall whose own eyes sparkled as though she was caught somewhere between the dislike of the surroundings and the excitement of the gathering. Ron watched Harry and Ginny enter. He studied them for a moment to see if the hours Harry had spent staring at his unconscious sister had softened him. No, the two quickly parted upon entering the door. He rolled his eyes in disgust. After everyone took a seat around the table, Remus made his way to the front of the room. He held a battered leather portfolio in his hands which he placed down on the table. He looked intent as though he were about to teach a complex hex. Despite the physical comeback he had made after the war, his features appeared worn and disturbed. Ron bit his lip. He preferred to see his old professor relaxed and happy – a look he had taken for granted since his engagement to Tonks. Welcome back to the Order, Professor, thought Ron bitterly. “Thank you all for coming here today especially on such short notice. Or should I say thank you all for surviving to make it here today.” A dry ripple of laughter echoed off the damp walls. “I also want to thank Auror Areids for allowing me to take part in this investigation. I know I am speaking for Professor Granger and Professor McGonagall when I say that we understand the gravity of this case. Everything spoken within these walls will remain within these walls. You have our utmost discretion as well as cooperation regarding every aspect of this investigation. “A few days ago, Tonks requested that I investigate anything I could uncover regarding the Coven of Echoes. But before I discuss my findings, I’d like to recount what is my understanding of the events that have transpired over the last several days. If I err, please do not hesitate to correct me, as it is imperative that we are, as our American guest tells us, ‘on the same page.’ “Several nights ago, Healer Weasley was assaulted at St. Dymphna’s by a Death Eater while attempting to save a man and his family. The man was a member of a consortium of top American Unspeakables operating out of the Salem Institute. The consortium in which this man belonged is called the Coven of Echoes. We do not know how long the Coven has existed. All we do know is that all the members are marked with specific tattoos. Our first initial knowledge of the Coven lies around the time of the first wizarding war. What we know of this Coven of Echoes is this: its sworn duty is to protect something they refer to as the Letter. Sworn to protect it to the death. “From what we have learned, we can only speculate that the Letter factored into the First War. Perhaps Grindelwald tried to gain possession of the Letter or the Coven wished to use it to their purposes. We cannot be certain. It seems that the late Professor Dumbledore and a monk named Aidan attempted to destroy it, but for some reason they did not succeed. Either way, it appears that both Dumbledore and Aidan had a falling out with the Coven. Professor Dumbledore went on to serve at Hogwarts and tragically died during the Second War. Friar Aidan retreated into seclusion.” Remus’ eyes fell on Harry for a moment before he proceeded. “Recently, three Coven members became disenchanted with their promise, perhaps as Dumbledore and Aidan did years earlier. Through some method, perhaps something as simple as scent, they found each other and decided to destroy what they had been sworn to protect. This set into course a deadly chain of events thereby illuminating them to the scattering of Dark wizards, Death Eaters, still active in the United Kingdom. Operating with a notorious Zavrzenec gypsy, Madam Kouszlova, the Death Eaters hunted these three men, determined to discover the meaning hidden in the codes tattooed on their arms. “The massacre began with murder of Ben Stegal and Sinead Sullivan in Boston and spread to the deaths of Ian Rand and his wife, Simon Cahill and Susan Rains and the attempted murder of Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter and Ian’s daughter, Frances. It was clear that whatever this Letter was, it was worth the cost of human life. The focus of our investigation became quickly apparent: gain possession of this Letter thereby drawing out of hiding the Coven and the Death Eaters. “Up to his point, we have been able to uncover two of the three codes hidden under the skin of the renegade Coven members. We have ascertained that they represent longitude and latitude markers for an island described on a scroll found on Simon’s body. How it came to be on his body, we can only speculate. We know Simon and Ian spent some time with the monk Aidan in London. I doubt the scroll was meant for him as Aidan seemed adamant that the two men could not destroy the Letter for, as his cryptic message stated, they were not scarred. But I will address this particular later. Suffice it to say, I am aware that you have one coordinate of the location of this island that was mentioned on a scroll. A scroll which also tells what awaits the person or persons who attempts to take possession of the Letter.” Remus flicked his wand at the stone wall and the words from the scroll appeared. The lonely island basalt laid, three noble tasks to face thee. “Now, important to note is that the Letter resides on an island. As I said, we have its longitude only. What is equally important is the phrase, ‘the sound within the rocks to sing.’ Here is where, I believe, the Taghairm factors heavily into this. “The first person or persons to hear the Taghairm were Healer Weasley and the Trauma team at St. Dymphna’s. Ian sang it upon his death. Simon, too, sang it as he died. I use the word ‘sang’ for want of a better term – I have been told the Taghairm has no words – merely a melody that pours forth from the singer. “It was Harry who first made the connection between the cross tattoos of the Coven members and the actual word ‘Taghairm’. He learned through the Canticle,” Remus motioned to the slim volume lying on the table near Hermione, “that the word itself meant, ‘Divination by listening to the noise of water cascades.’ I believe that there is a correlation between the Taghairm and the song mentioned in the scroll: ‘The sound within the rocks to sing,’ but that is only speculation at this point. “Therefore when I began my research, I had three vital pieces of information: the Coven, the Letter and the Taghairm. As you know, information about the Taghairm is classified. Thanks to the Minister of Magic, I was able to gain access to some documentation held in London. This proved futile or at least futile in so much that all the documentation did was reference the Coven and a rumor of the Letter. At this point, I redirected my research to focus on the Letter itself, believing the two had to be related. “There is little if anything recorded in any of the major libraries regarding the Letter. Indeed, even the Canticle could not provide any insight. I had to travel to an obscure library in Albania, in fact, to find this parchment. And it was only due to some fluke that I actually stumbled upon it. It had been misfiled for years, perhaps purposefully.” Here he withdrew a parchment. “This is not the original, of course. That they let me make a copy is no small feat. But suffice it to say, slight of hand does have its benefits.” He smiled briefly as he laid out the documents and flicked his wand from them to the wall where their image lay magnified. “The text was very old and I had to translate it before copying it. I believe much is lost in translation or that my wand wasn’t capable of the dialect. I’ve tried my best to fill in the lost predicate or subject. But this is the gist of it.” The room followed along in silence as Remus read aloud: “None is older than the most sinister of all wizarding text: the Letter. Coveted and desired by all throughout the ages, it is known not whether the scrolls be truth or falsehood, only that the ground hath been soaked with the blood of all who have thirst for its power. For many have sought the untold powers claimed to be bestowed on he who doth possess the Letter. “From the beginnings of all that hath been magical, stories have been told of the breath of the scrolls, though no account is known as to the age or birth of the Letter, only that it hath been said the scrolls have existed since the dawn of Magic. Little is known but which hath did pass from mouth to ear over the passage of time. “Unbeknown to truth and scholars, it hath been said the possessor will weld a power greater than that of all his enemies, leaving thou shorn and broken. For thus, according to legend, it did happen to Dubhshlan the Destroyer, leaving him emptied of all his magic, by Lachlan of Lodainn, who by which then reigned in terror for many darken years until his death twenty and four years after. “Hidden and was hope to be lost, the Letter was said to have been resurrected, brought back to the light of days by Torin of Taobhn Tatha, who did house it in a binding of gold, covered with the fallen tears of those who had been forsaken, tears of those not born on the eve of Samhainn. “‘Twas said to have been the fair witch Orlaith, the wife of Torin, who had first spoken of the power to others, the power brought forth by the blood, bone and hair of others, the power required to poison a soul, the power that awakens the Evil born of the Letter. “But all hope hath not been forsaken, for it hath been said there will cometh two whom will bring forth the power to destroy the Letter.” Remus’ voice intensified. “And there cometh amongst all wizard kind, those who have been anointed with the power by which to overcometh Evil. ‘Tis but once every hundred years that the anointed two shall be born, destroyers of the evil begotten from which hath been written since the dawn of Magic. Vexed, their lives shall be burdensome; scarred, their lives will be marked. For ‘tis only through their joining shall the hope not be forsaken; only through their brotherhood shall the World not be lost.” The room was completely silent. Only the faint drip of an underground stream could be heard. Each person at the table seemed to be grappling with the meaning of the missive. Ron could no longer bear the tension. “Thank you, Professor, for all your diligence in obtaining this. But what do you make of it?” Remus remained still for a moment before answering as though measuring the weight of his words. “The thing that concerns me is not what I make of it, but of what Madam Kouszlova does. You yourself have seen her accumulate samples of blood and hair from three of the most powerful wizards ever to live. I do not think this is merely a coincidence, do you?” Ron’s skin crawled at the memory of the vials. “No, no, I don’t.” “And neither do I,” said Harry. “She has something planned, something she’s planned for a very long time. She needs this Letter to see it come to fruition. That’s why we have to find it and destroy it before she lays her hands on it.” “Yes,” interrupted Tonks, “but how are we supposed to find it? It all comes down to that missing code.” Harry opened his mouth to respond when Hermione spoke. “It comes down to more than that. If that parchment is correct, there needs to be two people -- two people born every one hundred years who can destroy it. Dumbledore and Aidan must have been those two. But do we have any idea who the next two are?” All eyes turned to Harry and he stared back at Hermione. “No! Harry, you’ve been through enough! How could it possibly be you?” “I know, Hermione, I just do. I’ve known since I heard the Taghairm. Maybe even longer. It never ended with Voldemort – there was always more.” “But who is the other?” “It doesn’t matter, Hermione,” said Ron softly. “It doesn’t matter until we can find the island. We only have one line on an entire globe. It would take us months to search every one.” “Then that’s what we should do!” cried Tamsyn. In the intensity of the last few minutes everyone had forgotten about the blonde-haired Auror who sat alone at the far end of the table. “We should scour every island on that line instead of sitting here doing nothing!” “No,” said Areids sharply. “We’re not about to go gallivanting off and risk getting ourselves killed in a battle with Death Eaters on every goddman island we land on. Do you know what would happen? They’re following us, both the Death Eaters and the Coven. They’re letting us do the heavy lifting. As long as we don’t hit on the right island, we don’t have to worry about the Coven. But the Death Eaters are going to be following us, lying in wait to pounce.” “Listen,” said Harry standing at the end of the table, “I should have said this sooner. But something’s happened.” He went on to relate Luna’s singing of the Taghairm and her current search for its source. The room gasped. “I don’t know what we’ll find, but I doubt this is a coincidence. Now if we’re done here for the time being, I’d suggest we all head over to her chambers and help her with her memory.” Tamsyn was the first to reach the door. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, her eyes riveted on Tamsyn. “Mr. Potter, may I suggest we first adjourn for a hearty supper before we join Professor Lovegood? It seems none of you has had a decent meal not to mention eight continuous hours of enjoyable sleep in quite some time. I will send a message to Professor Lovegood on where to find us. Now, I’ve set a table in my office. I insist you join me.” Something forceful passed between the Headmistress and Harry. Ron swore it was nonverbal. She’s telling him something. A slight twitch of Harry’s eyes signaled he understood. The tension of the room, already at breaking point, lessened a fraction. “Absolutely, Professor,” said Harry evenly. “That’s an excellent idea.” *** Harry studied the room. Professor McGonagall’s advice was right. Dinner was indeed what everyone needed. The house-elves had outdone themselves and provided tureens of steaming French onion soup topped with melted cheese, a juicy roast dressed with apples and sage dressing and crisp vegetables coated in butter and chives. Professor McGonagall, eyeing their stern faces when they first entered her office, uncorked an excellent vintage of elf-made wine and kept the replenishing charm at hand. Finally over pudding, the gathering seemed to issue a collective sigh and settle back into newly materialized armchairs and divans. Harry stood by the fireplace sipping a glass of Firewhiskey Professor McGonagall had nearly pressed into his hands. “You look like you need this, Mr. Potter,” she said conspiratorially. “Professor, what did you mean? Why did you want all of us here and not with Luna?” “Several things have happened here since the arrival of a certain Auror. Things of a disquieting nature. I thought it best to discuss it with you beforehand.” “Such as?” “I was informed by Nymphadora that Auror Savage was here to perform research. I happened to inquire of Madam Pince this afternoon how her research was progressing and was told that she had only set foot once into the library since her arrival and only for a few minutes. Nor does it seem that she has consulted the Canticle, according to Professor Granger. She has been spending a great deal of time with Professor Flitwick, however.” “Professor Flitwick?” “I realize the gravity of the situation in which you find yourself, Mr. Potter. You have my offer of Hogwarts’ full support. I would be remiss in telling you that I have had concerns about the way the French Auror conducts herself here, however. She assumes a level of familiarity with the professors that is not in keeping with that of a visitor. But be that as it may, I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you of another offer I had extended to you. I have not forgotten.” “Neither have I, Professor,” said Harry his eyes lighting on the figure of Ginny who was whispering to Hermione across the room. “Neither have I.” “Life does not always unfold as we hope, but as Professor Slughorn often says, ‘We can tweak the circumstances.’ Do what must be done now. That is your duty. But do not forget us.” Her eyes followed his and her smile deepened. “We are not very far from Kilgraith, you know.” “Professor, you could sell ice to the Eskimos.” “So I’ve been told. Now, if you’d excuse me, we have some guests.” Several professors entered the room, a bandaged Neville one of them. The Headmistress left Harry’s side and went to welcome them. Neville approached, his uninjured hand extended. “Back so soon? You couldn’t stay away? I just missed you at the hospital from what Luna said.” “Sorry. She threw a wrench into the proceedings a bit.” “So I’ve heard. I just left her. She’s torn up her study. Although with Luna it’s difficult to tell the difference.” Harry tried to focus on Neville, but his eyes strayed to the portrait of Dumbledore. For a split second he swore the portrait had winked at him. He blinked only to realize it had been a play of the light. Dumbledore was still sleeping. He swallowed and returned his gaze to his friend. "Blown up anything lately?" he asked, gesturing toward Neville's bandaged hand. “Me? You Aurors – isn’t that your job? Blowing things up, capturing Dark wizards, uncovering secret potions? Hey, by the way, Hermione came to see me with this odd tea the other day.” Harry’s ears perked up at this. In the excitement of the last day he had completely forgotten about the small package he had uncovered in Ginny’s pantry. “She couldn’t place one of the ingredients. I took a sample and I’ve got to say I think she’s getting soft in her old age or something. It was fairly straight forward. It’s a plain mint tea. Plain black tea leaves. True, it’s got a fairly strong strand of pennyroyal in it, but plain tea from what I can tell.” “Pennyroyal? What is that?” Neville went on with a long and complicated dissertation of the mint. Words like Pulegium Regium and Mentha Pulegium scuttled about phrases like Pudding Grass. Finally his words slowed and he seemed lost in some ancient plant lexicon. Harry was no longer listening. He excused himself, crossed the room and corralled Hermione who was chatting with Professor Sinistra. “Would you please excuse us a moment, Professor?” Harry waited until the Astronomy professor was out of earshot and began. “Out with it. It can’t be just tea that we found in the pantry. Isn’t there a spell or an ingredient that you’ve missed?” “Hello to you, too, Harry.” Hermione frowned as he marched her over to a vacant window seat. “If you’d give me a moment, I was going to tell you. But I didn’t want to talk about it in front of everyone. Tonks told me not to.” “Tonks?” “Yes. She owled me and told me that Areids would be giving me a sample to analyze, but I wasn’t supposed to share my findings with anyone except you three. I don’t know why – don’t look at me like that. I’ve been trying to get the three of you to myself all night, but you’re a bit too popular it would seem.” She raised her wine glass at Professor Slughorn who was making his way across the room to join them. “Three? What about Ginny?” She arched an eyebrow and asked in a knowing voice, “What about Ginny?” “Shouldn’t she hear this . . . I mean, this affects her.” “Harry. You were always such a lousy liar. Ginny is going to be staying with me tonight. We just discussed it. But you can walk her to my wing if you like.” Harry felt his cheeks blush. What was it about Hogwarts that made a grown man feel like a teenager? He caught Ginny smiling at something Professor McGonagall was telling her, her long red hair willowing about her shoulders. He knew the answer right then and there. “Listen, what were the spells, what were the charms placed on it?” Hermione sighed heavily and rubbed her brow. “I’ve been over it a thousand times with Professor Flitwick. He first had it analyzed for charms and couldn’t come up with anything. Not a thing. Then I went through the ingredients – I even verified my findings with Neville. But it’s mint tea, Harry. It has a trace of pennyroyal in it which is slightly disturbing, but--” “Why would it be disturbing?” “Because, Harry, pennyroyal can be quite dangerous.” “Dangerous?” “Extremely. Especially to a pureblood witch. Pennyroyal acts differently on pureblood witches than with Muggle-borns or even half-bloods. Whoever was giving this to her didn’t want to kill her or to control her as far as I can tell.” “Then what did they want?” Hermione looked at him very seriously. “Pennyroyal is a potent abortifacient. Harry, whoever was giving this to Ginny didn’t want her to get pregnant.” Harry’s heart stopped beating. The journal in Madam Kouszlova’s lair blazed in his mind. Every detail of Ginny’s medical history -- every detail -- had been chronicled. “Hermione, listen to me. Did Flitwick analyze the tea alone? Did anyone help him?” “I don’t know. He didn’t say anything. Why would it make a difference? Oh . . .” They both turned to find her. There she was. Sitting on the divan, her arm slung over the back, she was laughing and smiling. She was also sitting very close to the small Charms professor. “Oh damn!” Harry muttered and met Hermione’s gaze. “Harry, you don’t think she actually . . .” “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Harry strode across the room till he reached the French Auror. She looked up at him in surprise. “Harry, I am so glad you’re all right. We heard of the attack and were desperate to gain any information.” He was about to open his mouth when the image of Luna materialized in the doorway. She was waving her arms wildly and smiling. A black disc was held high in her hand. A record album. *** Luna did not understand the hubbub that followed. That much was apparent. She kept asking questions and would not remain silent long enough for Harry or any of the Aurors to get a word in edgewise. Professor McGonagall had banished everyone except Luna, the Aurors, Remus, Hermione and Ginny from her office. “Stop!” Areids finally cried. “Where did you get this?” “You gave it to me, Professor McGonagall,” she replied adamantly. Everyone stared at the Headmistress in surprise who glared back at them, her hands firmly on her hips. “Are you implying that I am somehow associated with these wizards?” “When did Professor McGonagall give this to you, Luna?” asked Ginny calmly. “It was when all of Professor Dumbledore’s possessions were being moved out permanently. He had a stack of albums that were going to be thrown out. I thought they might come in handy in my class. You never know what you can find.” “Tell me about it,” said Ron. Ginny’s eyes flashed mischievously at Harry for a moment. Harry winked back. His excitement had been palpable from the moment the record had been played and the music had filled the room. Indeed, it was the Taghairm, the very music he had heard before nearly drowning, before his visitation with Aidan. Luna went on nonplussed. “Everyone knows Mendelssohn was the greatest wizard composer of all time. It’s not his fault he didn’t accept his true nature until later in life.” “A Muggle wrote this?” asked Areids. “He wasn’t a Muggle,” replied Luna, highly offended. “The Hebrides Overture was his first work once he accepted his wizarding calling. Early in life, he was supposed to attend Durmstrang, but his parents wouldn’t have it. But it was only a matter of time until he saw the light. A silly subject to write about, a cave, but inspiration falls where it falls. I mean, Octavia Breedlove never thought she could make a living weaving her own flying loveseats and now look at her.” “What cave?” asked Harry, ignoring flying loveseats, his heart speeding up in his chest. “Fingal’s Cave, of course, on Staffa.” “Where’s this Staffa?” demanded Areids. Not waiting for an answer, he conjured a globe. It glowed before them. “In Loco Sphaera Staffa,” he exclaimed. Tonks gasped. There glowing on the 56 degree, 23 minutes north parallel line was the small Herbridean island of Staffa. “Merlin’s beard, there it is,” whispered Tonks. “The location, what did the scroll say? Something about a basalt island.” Hermione had already opened the Canticle. “Here, listen. ‘Staffa's most famous feature is Fingal’s Cave, a massive sea cave near the southern tip of the island some 20 miles high and 75 miles long formed in cliffs of hexagonal basalt columns. This cliff-face is called the Colonnade or The Great Face and it was these cliffs and its caves that inspired wizard Felix Mendelssohn’s Die Hebriden. Difficult to approach, the island is accessible only at specific tides. Travel must be planned in advance.’” “It’s Staffa. That’s where the Letter lies,” said Tamsyn unbelievably. “When . . . when do we leave?” “We have to formulate a plan first,” said Tonks looking warily at the driven expression on the Auror’s face. “But we should leave this instant! There isn’t a moment to lose. We can Apparate--” “No, no, we can’t,” said Harry. “You can’t Apparate within those islands.” “How do you know?” shot back Tamsyn. “Aidan told me.” “Aidan told you?” asked Areids, his voice severe. “When the hell did Aidan tell you this?” “When I trained with him on Iona.” Areids’ face reddened. “You trained with this monk?” said Areids incredulously. “You actually trained with a member of the Coven? Why the hell didn’t you say anything earlier? What do you think this investigation is? I told you, no secrets! Goddamnit to hell, Potter!” “Secrets?” Harry shot the word back at him. “Secrets? What about your secrets?” His words slapped the American across the face. He took a sharp breath and glared at Harry as though ready to punch him. Then his body hardened, steeling his emotions from sight. “You’re right.” Slowly, he began to explain the details to the stunned crowd – about the Moondew, about Frances. “She’s -- she’s my daughter. Her real name is Faith.” When he finished, his voice was low and intense. “She’s all that I --” He stopped as though the words wouldn’t come. “I want her safe. That’s all I want. There are too many threats on my life. I don’t want them to be her inheritance.” The pain of his words passed through each of them. They had all lost loved ones in the war. They all understood. “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to say goodnight to my daughter. We’ll meet at breakfast to determine our plan of attack. I suggest we all take Professor McGonagall’s advice and have a night of decent sleep.” He left the room without a sound. *** Ron sat on Hermione’s couch, her head in his lap. Harry stood before the fireplace, his eyes never leaving Ginny who sat curled up feline in a large club chair. “I can’t believe the girl’s his daughter,” whistled Ron. “You’d never picture that prat changing nappies.” Hermione smacked his arm before settling into his shoulder. “He’s a prat, but I at least trust him. Now that French woman. She’s another matter. I feel like an idiot. I gave that potion to Professor Flitwick before I analyzed it. I should have taken a sample myself. Who knows what she did with it. She must have been just sitting in wait for it to show up here." “Perhaps,” said Harry. “Regardless, she has a lot to answer for.” “So you think she’s involved with the Death Eaters?” asked Ron. “I don’t know. The circumstances don’t look good.” His eyes found Ginny’s. She nodded softly. “Not just about this tea either.” He took a deep breath and retold the tale of his meeting with Tamsyn at the pub and Ginny’s awful sighting. By the time he finished, both Hermione and Ron were sitting up straight, their eyes wide. “Bloody hell,” said Ron. “How the hell did you put this all together?” Hermione nudged him in the ribs and rolled her eyes. “Oh . . . so that means that you two, that you’re, that he’s--” “Yes, Ron,” said Ginny, smiling, “we are.” “Thank Merlin for that!” he cried and stood up and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “I was ready to take you behind the shed and hex you.” Hermione had wasted no time and was hugging Ginny, squealing in delight. “But seriously,” said Ron, “what do you make of Tamsyn? We can’t ignore her.” “We don’t plan on ignoring her,” said Harry seriously as he stepped toward Ginny who had risen from the chair to meet him. “But if we let on that we’re on to her, we’ll show our hand. We’ve got to give her enough rope to hang herself.” “That’s a dangerous gamble, mate. We should at least tell Tonks.” “I think she already suspects. But listen, we have to keep Tamsyn in the dark. She can’t think we’re watching her. She also can’t think Ginny and I are together or else she’ll know we’ve discussed the events of that night. So as far as you two are concerned, it’s business as usual. Okay?” Ron and Hermione agreed. They spent the next hour talking and laughing, relaxed in each other’s company. Harry closed his eyes, drinking in the feeling of Ginny’s slim body pressed against his side. He had missed her, he had missed them all. He squeezed her gently. Ginny, somehow aware of the rush of emotion coursing through Harry’s body, gazed up at him adorningly. This is how it should have been, thought Harry. My last year here. The four of us. There was so much he still wanted. All too soon, however, Hermione’s grandfather clock struck the hour. “Well, gentlemen,” she said, coughing discreetly. No one moved. Hermione’s face was a study. As a professor, she could not condone having men in her quarters after hours. But as a woman in love --- “Harry and I’ll head back to the guest suite, love. Don’t want to get you sacked. Oh, the scandal!” He shook his hands playfully and Hermione laughed. Harry, however, merely smiled. He had other plans. *** The boat whispered softly along the black water of the lake. Nestled under a heap of blankets, Ginny stared out at the moon as it rose over an open field. Harry lay next to her, his arms wrapped about her bare shoulders. “The view is better than a broom cupboard,” he told her brushing a tender kiss on her brow. She laughed, her lips grazing his neck. Ginny had wondered where Harry was taking her under the Invisibility Cloak after stealing her away from Hermione’s room hours ago. The playfulness that raged in their past seemed to be making up for lost time. She hadn’t giggled so much since she was a student. The thrill of evading Filch and Mrs. Norris, the romantic rush of slipping undetected into a boat that Harry had prepared, and the glory of his body -- all hard lines and want -- thrilled her to the core. She wondered as her lips found his, did he feel the power, the overwhelming need she did? Had it always been like this? Or was there something that had grown in their hearts untamed and uncontrollable since they parted? Had absence made the heart grow fonder and wilder? The waves lapped the boat causing it to rock dreamily. The warming charm Harry had set seemed hardly necessary. His body was always a furnace and she, so much colder, would melt into him. She wished he had cast a stabilizing charm. They had nearly capsized more than once. “You barely passed Astronomy, right?” she asked, staring up at the stars. “Yeah.” “And you didn’t do too well in Divination, either.” “Nah.” Ginny sighed and nestled closer to him. “But I can read the future a bit.” “You can?” “McGonagall offered me a job. Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was thinking when all of this, when we put all of this behind us, we could, I mean, I might take it.” Ginny twisted so rapidly that water sloshed in over the sides. Harry flicked his wand and sent it soaring back over the edge. He kissed her deeply, trembling as he did so. “You’re freezing.” He stared down at her, his eyes black in the night. The waves thudded against the sides of the boat, a lonely howl of a peck of owls filled the night sky. He closed his eyes, battling his own want. He kissed her mouth, his body like a live wire against hers. He hesitated. “Harry?” “Gin, listen, the gypsy, I need to tell you. She’s planning something involving you, I’m certain of it. She’s wanted to keep us apart. She’s wanted to keep us apart for a reason. That box we found in your pantry. It’s not just tea. I don’t know if Tamsyn had a chance to intercept it before Flitwick could analyze the charms on it, but what it did contain, what she couldn’t remove, was the mint that could keep you from conceiving a child.” He tightened his arms around her with his words. “I can’t help but think it’s all related to this Letter. When she read your palm, she told you that you would bear a son. She’s planning on it. I don’t know how it’s all related.” Ginny was the one trembling now. “I wish to God we could forget all of this. I wish we could run away to our island. Forget all this and find that cottage. Do you remember?” “I could never forget.” “Make love to me. Like you did then.” The boat glided to the far shore under the starlit sky. Waves in fitful rhythm played upon the shore, reflecting the knowing face of the moon like so many countless pearls. They left their wake in sand until all was still and silent and a nightingale’s soulful cry rose from the shadowy lines of the trees. Afterward, they held each other for a long time like lovers at the edge of the world. “What are we going to do? How are you going to get that Letter and end this?” He rolled onto his back and stared up toward the rising moon, distant and mysterious. “I think it’s time to visit an old friend.” B/N: I had such a wonderful conversation with hwimsey regarding the twists and turns the rest of this fic will take. I can hardly wait to see it… :-)
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