Note: This story takes place during Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It follows the life of an original character of mine, and while some plot maybe the same as the book, others will be different. Enjoy, and please leave your feedback.
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, and I did not write the Harry Potter series or create her characters. This however is my own story.
Daughter of Evil
Chapter One: Demise of Fernan Island
The wind was fierce that night. It whispered through the humid air, blocking the ears of all that dared to venture outdoors, and buffeting them wherever they tried to go. There was no dispelling it; it was a magical wind, one that would last forever until the caster or one of his direct descendants cast the charm to halt it. That would not happen for a while however, not while there were still dangerous forces at work in the world.
This wind was known to the inhabitants of Fernan Island, a small island situated off the coast of Plymouth, as the Wind of Callow. The wind only affected this small island, and had been cast by a powerful wizard named Callow, a man of the Fernan family in the late 1800s in order to prevent attacks on his family. It provided security to the island’s inhabitants in the form of a magical shield, while also providing somewhat of an alarm system. If a witch or wizard decided to Apparate onto Fernan Island, the Fernan family would know immediately and could thus determine the proper course of action. It was one of the many benefits of the wind albeit most of the other benefits were difficult to describe or comprehend.
Fernan Island had always been a restricted island, and an island that very few people knew about. Those who did know about it but did not live on the island wrote that its inhabitants were loyal to one another, and there was a great sense of camaraderie among all, however there was some confusion in the dialect used. Sometimes they spoke in the same manner that they did back in the old days, and yet other times they spoke with the current colloquialism.
The coast was patrolled constantly by guards, and tall gates surrounded the city. The only way intruders could access the island was by boat, or by direct Apparition. This controlled access had proved extremely useful as of late, what with the man Lord Voldemort on the rise to power. The Fernan family had been successful at eliminating all threats that posed themselves. Now they were arrogant in their success, believing that they could stop anyone or anything that may attempt to wreck their quiet way of life.
But on this night the wind was fierce. No one on Fernan Island had experienced this kind of ferocity from the wind in more than forty years. Not since Grindelwald was in power and at his peak. All the inhabitants were worried; what could this mean? But nothing out of the ordinary happened for many hours. It seemed like all their panic had been for naught.
It was nearing midnight when all of a sudden there was a tell-tale ‘pop’ sound of someone Apparating on the northern shore. The guards rushed to discover who was disturbing the peace so late at night. When they reached the cool blue sands that distinguished the north shore from the others and saw what awaited them, they were dumbfounded.
A young woman, maybe in her early twenties was sprawled on the sand, panting. A child of no more than three years of age clung to his mother’s long robes, and in her arms she clutched a bundle tightly. Her eyes were wide with fear and panic and when the guards tried to come near her she pushed the small child behind her and scrambled halfway to her feet.
“Calm down, we won’t hurt you,” the lead guard, a man named Carlos, told her gently. “Just tell us what you are doing here; Apparating on a restricted island in the middle of the night.”
“Please, you have to help me!” The woman pleaded on her knees. “They’re coming for me and for the people of Fernan too! We don’t have much time left, we have to hurry!”
“What are you talking about?” Carlos asked in confusion. The other guards looked at him, wondering what in the world was going on. This woman must have had some great trauma occur to her to think that harm could befall Fernan.
“Carlos!” The woman shouted suddenly. “You know that I’m right. Why would I lie to you now?”
“How do you know my name? Do I know you?” he asked incredulously. He couldn’t remember exactly where he had seen this woman before, but she seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was trying to figure it out when she spoke again.
“Just bring me to Karcerus please Carlos. I have to speak with him right away, before they discover that I’m gone. You’ll learn everything I have to share. But please, we have to prepare for attack. Everyone here is in grave danger, and there’s a good chance that they won’t survive this night. Not even Callow’s Wind can save us,” she told him urgently, getting to her feet and grabbing the boy.
As she got up Carlos realized that the bundle she carried in her arms was another child; a baby sleeping peacefully. He knew that she must be telling the truth. Why else would she have two children with her, know his name, and know of the spell of Callow? There was no other proper explanation. “Grab my arm and I’ll take you to Karcerus,” he told her.
To the others he said, “Prepare for battle. This woman may very well be giving us the advantage we need to defeat these intruders.”
“But sir, how can we know that she is telling us the truth?” a young soldier demanded. “This could all be a ploy.”
“She wants to see Karcerus, he’ll tell us if she’s lying,” Carlos replied. “Now do as I say Windle or you’ll be dismissed from your post for insubordination.”
“Yes sir,” the man replied sullenly.
“Now do as I commanded,” Carlos said to everyone assembled. “It has been many years since we have had to seriously fight and we must not be so conceited as to believe we will win without a decent fight by our enemies. Do not allow yourself to be caught off guard.” Then he Disapparated with the woman and the two children.
***
In a small house near the edge of Fernan city a middle-aged man sat a desk, poring over a very old book and scribbling on a long scrap of parchment. He looked up when he heard someone Apparating outside his door and went to open it before they could knock. He was faintly surprised to see Carlos standing there, for even though Carlos was an old family friend it had been several years since the lead guard had had any contact with him, but when he saw the guard’s companions he did a double take in complete shock.
“Surely it can’t be Gabrielle,” Karcerus whispered in disbelief, hardly trusting his eyes. It had been many years since he had seen her, not since she had disappeared on the night of her eighteenth birthday, and he had thought she was lost to him forever.
“Yes Father, it is I,” she answered, rushing forward to embrace him.
“How I have missed you child,” he murmured, petting her head as he felt her sobbing on his shoulder. “I never stopped looking for you. I couldn’t figure out where they had taken you but I tried to find you. Every day for the last five years I’ve been looking for you. I-”
“Father, we don’t have much time,” the woman named Gabrielle cut in quickly while wiping her eyes, her voice shaking with emotion and urgency. “I need to tell you some important information regarding where I was held for the past five years. Soon they will discover that I have escaped and there will be no stopping their wrath on us all. They will destroy all of us!”
Karcerus’ eyes grew wide. “Tell me Gabrielle, I will listen and we will devise a plan to get you out,” he urged her. He heard a throat clearing, and turned to look at Carlos. He then noticed the small boy standing beside Carlos, and the bundle in his arms. “Gabrielle! You have children?!” he asked in surprise. What else had happened to his youngest daughter?
“Yes Father, I do,” she replied quietly and he was immediately concerned by the lack of emotion in her answer. “But please! I need to tell you, or rather give you the story now, before time is out and I am lost to this world.” Karcerus started to protest but she cut him off again. “Don’t argue with me please, I know what will happen to me. It can’t be stopped.”
“What do you have to tell me then?” Karcerus asked quietly. While he disagreed with his daughter that all hope could ever be lost he knew better than to interrupt something that appeared to be so important.
“Do you promise to do as I say? No matter what happens tonight, and no matter what else you may be thinking, I need you to promise that you will follow my final wishes,” Gabrielle said.
“Of course, I’ll do whatever you say,” he agreed. He would do anything for Gabrielle, she knew that. He wondered whether she had come to him because he could be easily manipulated by her. Could it be a ploy?
Believing her father’s word, Gabrielle reached into her cloak and drew out a wand and a large vial. She put her wand to her temple and from it drew a long silvery thread. She deposited it into the vial, put a stopper in it, and handed it to Karcerus. He looked at the memory in his hands and then up at his daughter.
“I don’t have time to tell you in person,” she explained to his confused expression. “That memory is my story to explain to you and for you to tell my daughter when she comes to you one day.”
Karcerus looked at the baby that was still in Carlos’ arms, and then at her son. “The boy won’t survive?”
“No,” she replied simply.
“How do you know?” he demanded. “How can you know all that will happen tonight, and who will survive?”
“I lived among the Death Eaters for five years,” she told him, again without emotion. Ignoring his gasp she continued, “I know what they will do, not to mention that one of the prisoners has foretold the fate of myself and my children, and all of Fernan. I am not certain that you will survive, but you are the only hope I and my daughter have.”
“What battle is coming and what will I have to do to survive Gabrielle? Surely you can give me something that will help our chances of survival.” Karcerus asked. He believed that she was telling the truth about this battle that was to occur soon. If she wasn’t he would’ve already known by now. He wasn’t the island’s official truth keeper for nothing after all. Hearing that neither she nor her son would survive this battle she feared would take place tonight had filled him with a calm determination. He would not let the little girl suffer.
“Voldemort is coming to find me,” she whispered. “He is bringing an army of Death Eaters to destroy everyone in Fernan once and for all, to punish them for defying capture and imprisonment so many times in the past. He knows how special our people are. My husband will be among the Death Eaters and he has been ordered to kill me and our children personally. No one here will survive.”
Karcerus jumped as Carlos spoke for the first time. He had forgotten he was there. “Are you absolutely certain about this?” Carlos asked, seemingly panicked. With good reason, Karcerus told himself. It wouldn’t be easy being told that you were going to die in a few hours time.
“Yes Carlos, I am,” she replied.
“I must go to my troops immediately then,” he told both of them and gave the baby to Gabrielle. “Good luck on whatever your mission may be Karcerus.” He turned to leave but before he left he asked cautiously, “We grew up together didn’t we Gabrielle?”
“Yes Carlos, we did,” she confirmed smiling, albeit grimly, for the first time. “I never forgot about you and I Carlos, truly I didn’t.” Carlos didn’t say any more, he just walked away. Karcerus heard the ‘pop’ as he left back for wherever he left his troops.
“Gabrielle, what do I have to do?” he asked her again, this time pleading with her to tell him how to help her daughter, the last of his family line.
“You need to hide right now,” she told him, the urgency back in her voice. “Take Jamie and go to the place you made years ago to hide from Grindelwald’s army. At daybreak when all is silent, leave to Julian and Audrey’s house and tell them what happened, as well as share the memory I gave you with them. I trust you know where their house is now?”
He nodded and she continued, “Good. Now you will have to leave and never see Jamie again. Voldemort will be able to find her if you stay. I don’t know how, but he did something so that it is so. I need her to be safe, she is the only hope I have left,” Gabrielle finished, tears coursing down her cheeks once again.
Karcerus nodded. “I can do this for you Gabrielle.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle sighed; seeming more resigned to her fate now that she knew her daughter would be taken care of.
“What is your son’s name?” Karcerus asked quietly.
“Hadrian,” she told him. The boy looked at his mother, and clung to her tightly.
“Ah, an old Latin name, although one that used to be common to our enemies on Fernan Island. He’s precious though,” Karcerus told her. He was surprised that his daughter would name her son after a Fernan; the two families were not very friendly toward one another even today. “Who did you marry Gabrielle? Why a Death Eater?”
“I was lonely and desperate Father, you have to understand,” Gabrielle told him. “He gave me attention, and I leapt at the chance to rise in the ranks. He made sure I was taken care of for a while, but then he got tired me after a while. I went back to where I had been kept before, and Hadrian was kept away from me at all times. When I had Jamie, she too was taken from me. My husband is an evil man. I learned recently that he never cared about me, and he won’t think twice about killing us either. You’ll learn his name in the memory Father,” she told Karcerus, noticing the question he was about to ask. “I can’t say it out loud; it’s what I was taught not to do and it has become an ingrained habit.”
Suddenly they could hear a loud commotion in the distance. Gabrielle stood up, looking quite panicked now. She clutched her left arm. “They’re here,” she hissed, seeming in pain. “You have to leave now, else all my efforts will be lost!”
Karcerus stood up as well and took baby Jamie from her mother. He hugged his daughter and his grandson. “I love you so very much,” he told them.
“I love you too Father,” Gabrielle replied, picking up Hadrian. “I never stopped thinking about you; it’s how I survived. But now, we must part. Any other questions you might have for me will be answered with that vial. Perhaps if I do survive this fight I can tell you all my stories myself and you will never have to see them knowing that I perished and most of my deeds were in vain.”
“Gabrielle, you could still be safe,” Karcerus tried pleading with his daughter to change her mind one final time. “Or at least let me take Hadrian too. He’s only a child.”
But Gabrielle shook her head, crying once again. “I wish that could be so. But Hadrian will never be safe, no matter where he goes. This is the way it has to be. I’m so sorry, to the both of you.”
There was a loud explosion, and the floor beneath them shook violently. “You have to go!” Gabrielle shouted.
Karcerus grabbed his cloak and Gabrielle helped him put it on. “One last thing,” she said. “Before you leave Fernan forever, you have to stop the Wind of Callow.”
“Why?” he asked in confusion.
“It won’t be necessary anymore, not with everyone dead. And Voldemort has devised a way to manipulate it to do new things. We don’t want this magic in his hands, no matter how simple and harmless it may be,” she explained quickly, shoving him towards the cellar. “Now go!” She sounded close to hysteria. Karcerus was strangely calm, despite the imminent danger that now presented itself. But then the screaming started.
He went down the first couple stairs and stared at his youngest daughter. She and little Hadrian stared back for a few moments, but then she turned and ran. Karcerus was shaken but the abruptness of her departure. He closed the cellar door and followed the path underground, moving away from the city and to his secret hideaway under the purple sand of the west shore.
He sat on the tiny couch he had installed many years ago and looked down at the baby in his arms. He was surprised that Jamie was still sleeping soundly. She’s adorable, he thought to himself. One day she would be a heartbreaker for sure. He settled in for a long wait.
Throughout the night he heard many screams, felt many explosions. He could only imagine the horrors taking place above ground. He lost track of time, concentrating solely on the child that was now his responsibility to deliver to his son and his wife. He ignored all his thoughts about what he had learned that day, preferring to wait until he had a peaceful moment. He would have to see Dumbledore to ask if he could borrow his Pensieve to view the memory Gabrielle had left him.
What seemed like days later though it had only been hours, all was quiet. Karcerus checked his watch and discovered that it was close to seven in the morning. He crept back through the tunnels as quietly as he could. When he reached the cellar door in his house, he opened it cautiously, fearing an ambush by anyone that may have luckily survived.
He stepped out onto his kitchen floor and gasped. His house was completely demolished, and he could see the whole town all around him. Every building was destroyed, or else burning into oblivion from magic fires. He could see bodies strewn everywhere, but he couldn’t tell who was who. He didn’t see any of the tell-tale Death Eater robes, and his heart dropped. Had evil prevailed and destroyed all his family and friends? The violence that had taken place was too much for him to look at. He looked away from it all, not wanting to find his daughter or grandson among the dead. He quickly uttered the twenty-six word charm that would get rid of his ancestor’s magical wind and Disapparated with the baby before he could be discovered.
Lauren
Full Version: Daughter Of Evil
Chapter Two: Audrey
Sixteen years later Jamie Henderson stood in her room, contemplating the mess scattered around her. It was the beginning of August, the time of year she dreaded the most. She had to clean out her trunk then re-pack it with everything she would need for the upcoming school year. While she loved being at Hogwarts with all her heart, the packing and unpacking and preparations was easily her least favourite part. She was always afraid that she would forget to bring something and although she was generally a very organized person, she could never find a method to the madness in which she packed everything.
Sighing heavily she picked up her long mahogany hair and twisted it into a low ponytail, then sat beside her trunk. It popped open with a click and she began taking things out. Old photographs, textbooks, letters from her aunt, and a wide assortment of general trash that she no longer needed came out, and after she had completely emptied it out, she vacuumed and cleaned out the inside.
Normally at this point Jamie would begin to re-pack, beginning with her textbooks. However, this summer was different. She was still waiting for her O.W.L. results, and so without knowing what classes she could take this coming year she couldn’t pack her textbooks. Jamie had been nervous to find out her results ever since she left Hogwarts. Surely it couldn’t be too much longer until she found out if she had passed her courses?
She stood up and was about to bring all her trash downstairs to the bin, but before she could do so she noticed an owl making its way toward her open window. She waited patiently for her tawny owl Speckle to reach home. He was notorious for taking a long time to deliver letters when he didn’t want to be confined in his cage again. Jamie hardly ever relied on her owl, but during the summer months she had little choice.
Luckily for her, Speckle was only making short trips. Her best friend Hermione Granger lived quite near to her, and though they visited each other often and used the telephone, they agreed that Speckle should get some exercise during the summer and so they sent each other seemingly pointless letters so he could get out once in a while.
The owl finally reached Jamie’s window and perched on the ledge, holding his leg out expectantly. “Come inside Speckle,” she reproached him, amused. He was always trying to find a way to not have to come back inside. He fixed her with a steely glare, and then hopped inside onto her desk. She laughed and untied the letter, while simultaneously opening the door to his cage. He ruffled his feathers indignantly and proudly flew into his little home.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be using you anymore this summer Speckle,” she told him, feeding him an owl treat. He appeared to ignore her, turning his back on her as she opened the letter from Hermione. It was quite brief;
Jamie,
I am so very happy to have your company in the next couple days. Although we could go to the Burrow immediately after your arrival, I’d rather wait and spend some time just us girls before we embark on yet another year with those two bumbling boys we call our friends. I wonder when we’re going to receive our O.W.L. results… I wish we could have had them sooner; otherwise I wouldn’t have to bring ALL my textbooks! I cannot wait to see you again!
Hermione
Jamie smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm. One of the many things they had in common was doing well with schoolwork, and so she completely understood Hermione’s impatience with receiving their exam results. Reading Hermione’s letter gave her an idea on how she would pack her things. She too would just have to bring all her textbooks back to Hogwarts.
Jamie and Hermione were often referred to as two peas in a pod, as they were eerily similar. They both did well in school, and had many common interests. However, they both knew that they were completely different people as well. Hermione was more enthusiastic about equal rights for all creatures, whereas Jamie truly didn’t care as long as everyone was happy with their lot. Jamie loved Quidditch, even though she didn’t play for the school team, and Hermione was less than interested in the sport. It was these differences that made them who they were, and made them different people. But they also had many similar interests, such as a love for books, and they both loved casting inventive charms.
Jamie was very eager to go to the Granger house. It was her favourite time of the summer. It was often quiet in her house, what with her aunt always being gone for her job. But when she was at Hermione’s, the Grangers treated her like a second daughter, and were always so pleasant to her.
She was stalling. She had to pack her trunk tonight; otherwise she would be late to Hermione’s house in the morning. She quickly organized all her books and put them in the corner of her trunk. She then packed her clothing and other magical items she would require. She finished by putting in all her personal items. It took her a better part of an hour to pack up, and once again she wished that underage witches and wizards could use magic outside of school. It would have made her task a whole lot faster.
Only one more year though and then I can use magic whenever I choose, she thought to
herself. She closed her trunk and locked it, and wheeled it by her door. She placed Speckle’s cage on top and then made her way downstairs for dinner.
Her aunt Audrey was setting the table when she walked in. She looked up as Jamie came in and smiled. Jamie’s aunt was a beautiful woman, with a sweet, heart-shaped face and a kind smile. She had a patient temperament and spoke with a soft voice. It was hard to believe that she was one of the most dangerous Aurors the Ministry of Magic had. Because of her talent and experience Audrey was often placed in charge of dangerous missions in far-off places, meaning that oftentimes during the summer Jamie was alone. However, she always found a way to be home when Jamie came back from Hogwarts and again when she left for the Grangers.
“Did you finish packing?” Audrey asked her, sitting at the table. She waved her wand and a pasta casserole lifted from the stove and landed in front of them.
“I just did right before I came down,” Jamie replied, sitting in her seat. “Hermione told me that we’ll be staying at her place for a couple days before going to the Burrow for the rest of August.”
“Oh well that’ll be nice,” Audrey said. “I’m so glad that you’re friends with Hermione, I feel horrible leaving you all the time.”
“I don’t mind it so much,” Jamie answered honestly. “Are you leaving again shortly?”
Her aunt paused mid-bite and thought for a moment “I don’t think so,” she concluded. “I just got back from a rather important mission and I don’t think that Scrimgeour would send me on another one quite so soon. He isn’t as crazy with my schedule as Fudge was, thank goodness.”
“You like Scrimgeour then?” Jamie asked. The new Minister for Magic was supposed to be a very practical man, she had heard. With Voldemort back in power he had to be in order to keep calm and order amongst the wizarding community. Truth be told, Jamie was glad that Fudge had resigned; he wouldn’t have been cut out for the enormous responsibilities that Rufus Scrimgeour now had.
“I do,” Audrey replied. “He has experience and doesn’t make rash decisions without thinking them through. I agree with what you said the other night; he is a much better leader to have on our side than Fudge was. How I wish your uncle could be here to see how his old mentor was stepping up to the plate.”
Jamie looked at her dinner as an awkward silence came between them. Her uncle Julian had died last November, in a battle with a couple of Death Eaters. Her aunt had completely fallen apart after this and had become very close to losing everything. Christmas break had not been a very pleasant holiday for Jamie. Thankfully the Grangers had come to Audrey’s aid once Jamie and Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, helping her along with the grief process, and once she was back on her feet she had realized that Julian would never have wanted her waste her life grieving for him when he had given his life to protect her and Jamie from harm.
Julian had also been a very successful Auror. He had been on a top-secret mission somewhere when five Death Eaters ambushed him. They were told that he had put up an excellent fight, but five to one were impossible odds to overcome. There had been a private memorial service at the Ministry and now that everyone was aware of Voldemort’s return, his death was no longer reported as an accident, but rather as how it had truly happened; fighting to stop the evil. The Order remembered Julian as a brave man and now they fought to avenge him as well as countless others who had lost their lives to Voldemort.
Both her Aunt Audrey and Uncle Julian were members of the Order of the Phoenix, although it had been kept a secret from Jamie until she and Hermione had gone to number 12 Grimmauld Place the previous summer. Jamie had not been surprised to learn of her guardians’ membership; they had always fought for the good of all and wanted Voldemort gone just as much as anyone. What had surprised her however was learning that some of the missions they went on had been for the Order, and that they were operating secretly behind the unsupportive Ministry’s back.
“Have you heard anything from anyone in the Order?” Jamie asked her aunt a while later while they were clearing the table, trying to ease away the awkward tension from dinner.
“Nothing more than what I usually do,” Audrey replied, but Jamie was concerned by the grim line her aunt’s mouth became. She didn’t have to wait long to find out why her aunt seemed so resigned to something. “However Dumbledore suggested that I tell you a detail of your past before you leave for the Grangers.”
“You’re allowed to now?” Jamie asked, surprised. She knew little about her past or how she came to live with her aunt and uncle. Audrey and Julian had always told her that would find out when she was older, that it wasn’t important, or that it wasn’t their place to tell her. Over the years her curiosity had lessened, rather than grown like others might have. She concluded that had it been important they would have told her, and her parents must have been either too young to raise her or else had not wanted her, so her mother had give Jamie to her brother when she was a baby. That was all Jamie knew about her situation; that her mother had been Julian’s sister.
“Not really,” Audrey replied grimly. “But I am allowed to share with you all that I know. It won’t make much sense to you now though.”
“What are you allowed to tell me?” Jamie asked eagerly, her old curiosity flaring up once again in spite of herself.
“Well, you know that Julian was your mother’s older brother and I’m sure you have been wondering why we raised you instead of her or your father. I am telling you now that your mother perished and no one knows who your father is. You were dropped off on our doorstep by Dumbledore one night who refused to tell us anything more than that, save that we were the only hope you had and that we had to take care of you as if you were one of our own. I’m sorry that this doesn’t clear up anything at all for you Jamie, but it’s all I know,” Audrey finished, looking at Jamie sadly. “I’m not sure why Dumbledore wanted me to tell you what I know, seeing as it does nothing to help you, but I’m sure he had his motives. Hopefully one day you’ll learn all the answers.”
Jamie contemplated this for a moment. Her mother had died and her father was anonymous and that was why she had to live with her aunt and uncle for her whole life. She thought of Harry and how their living situations were somewhat similar and snickered. Audrey looked at her in confusion.
“Thanks for telling me what you know,” Jamie said, still giggling. “I always wondered why my parents were not around and had given me to you, and now I know. I had asked Dumbledore that once last summer, I’m sure that’s why he told you that you could tell me now.”
“Ah, that would explain his motives,” Audrey nodded. “But what’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking about how similar mine and Harry’s living situations are,” she explained. “He too lives with his aunt and uncle, although they have a son whereas you do not have any other children, and Dumbledore left him with them when he was a baby after his parents died as well. The difference is that while you have raised me like one of your own children, they have always treated him horribly. It’s just funny to me how the circumstances can be so similar, and yet our upbringing is completely different.”
Audrey smiled at her niece. “I always wanted a child, and you were such an angel. You still are, putting up with my work all the time.”
“I have Hermione to thank for that,” Jamie replied. “Without her I might have been a rather sullen teenager.”
“The Grangers have always been good to us,” Audrey noted. “They have always helped us whenever we needed it. But on that note, I think you should bring all your stuff downstairs and put it by the door. We’ll leave early in the morning.”
Jamie nodded and walked to the stairs without comment. Audrey was famous for changing subjects very abruptly. It was just one of the many things Jamie had come to love about her aunt.
She got her trunk and Speckle and brought it downstairs as Audrey had asked. She left her wand on her beside table so she wouldn’t have to look for it in the morning. As she was coming back downstairs she remembered a question she had to ask.
“Hey Aunt Audrey, when do O.W.L. results come in?” Jamie asked, finding her aunt in her study.
Her aunt looked up from the document she was writing and regarded Jamie over the top of her glasses. “I believe they should be in very shortly, why do you ask?”
“Hermione and I were just wondering whether we should have got them by now or not,” Jamie explained. “I’m sure you can understand why we’re nervous for them.”
“Yes, you two are quite the over-achievers,” Audrey teased. “But don’t worry; I’m sure you both did fine.”
“You never know though!” Jamie protested. She didn’t like to think about doing well; she thought it would jinx her.
“That’s true,” Audrey conceded. “Tell me Jamie, what are you thinking of doing once you’re finished at Hogwarts?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Jamie replied. “There are so many careers out there, but I want to do something that I’ll truly enjoy doing.”
“That’s a good way to think,” Audrey said. “You still have a lot of time to figure it out yet anyway. Do you know what your friends are going to do?”
“Hermione still doesn’t really know, although she’s leaning towards a career helping other magical creatures like house elves and goblins and such. Harry and Ron want to be Aurors
I believe,” Jamie told her aunt. “I was thinking about being an Auror as well, but I’m not sure yet.”
“That is a good career,” Audrey approved, laughing. “I’m sure you could do it, and you’d probably like it as well. There are a lot of opportunities to travel and I know you’ve always wanted to see the world.”
“Yeah well, we’ll see when the time comes,” Jamie smiled. “I’m going up to my room for the night, do you need anything else from me?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” Audrey told her. “Sleep tight and I’ll get you up in the morning.”
“Alright. Goodnight Audrey,” Jamie said, and headed back to her room.
“Hey Jamie?” Audrey called before she left.
“Yes?”
“I love you and I want you to know that I’m proud of you no matter what you decide to do with your life. I’m glad that I was blessed enough to be able to care for you.”
Jamie smiled. “I love you too Audrey. Goodnight.”
So if you don't like this one as much as the last chapter, I won't blame you. I have a couple filler chapters to set up Jamie's tale, but then it'll get more exciting. Regardless of what you thought though, leave your feedback please.
--x Lauren
Sixteen years later Jamie Henderson stood in her room, contemplating the mess scattered around her. It was the beginning of August, the time of year she dreaded the most. She had to clean out her trunk then re-pack it with everything she would need for the upcoming school year. While she loved being at Hogwarts with all her heart, the packing and unpacking and preparations was easily her least favourite part. She was always afraid that she would forget to bring something and although she was generally a very organized person, she could never find a method to the madness in which she packed everything.
Sighing heavily she picked up her long mahogany hair and twisted it into a low ponytail, then sat beside her trunk. It popped open with a click and she began taking things out. Old photographs, textbooks, letters from her aunt, and a wide assortment of general trash that she no longer needed came out, and after she had completely emptied it out, she vacuumed and cleaned out the inside.
Normally at this point Jamie would begin to re-pack, beginning with her textbooks. However, this summer was different. She was still waiting for her O.W.L. results, and so without knowing what classes she could take this coming year she couldn’t pack her textbooks. Jamie had been nervous to find out her results ever since she left Hogwarts. Surely it couldn’t be too much longer until she found out if she had passed her courses?
She stood up and was about to bring all her trash downstairs to the bin, but before she could do so she noticed an owl making its way toward her open window. She waited patiently for her tawny owl Speckle to reach home. He was notorious for taking a long time to deliver letters when he didn’t want to be confined in his cage again. Jamie hardly ever relied on her owl, but during the summer months she had little choice.
Luckily for her, Speckle was only making short trips. Her best friend Hermione Granger lived quite near to her, and though they visited each other often and used the telephone, they agreed that Speckle should get some exercise during the summer and so they sent each other seemingly pointless letters so he could get out once in a while.
The owl finally reached Jamie’s window and perched on the ledge, holding his leg out expectantly. “Come inside Speckle,” she reproached him, amused. He was always trying to find a way to not have to come back inside. He fixed her with a steely glare, and then hopped inside onto her desk. She laughed and untied the letter, while simultaneously opening the door to his cage. He ruffled his feathers indignantly and proudly flew into his little home.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be using you anymore this summer Speckle,” she told him, feeding him an owl treat. He appeared to ignore her, turning his back on her as she opened the letter from Hermione. It was quite brief;
Jamie,
I am so very happy to have your company in the next couple days. Although we could go to the Burrow immediately after your arrival, I’d rather wait and spend some time just us girls before we embark on yet another year with those two bumbling boys we call our friends. I wonder when we’re going to receive our O.W.L. results… I wish we could have had them sooner; otherwise I wouldn’t have to bring ALL my textbooks! I cannot wait to see you again!
Hermione
Jamie smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm. One of the many things they had in common was doing well with schoolwork, and so she completely understood Hermione’s impatience with receiving their exam results. Reading Hermione’s letter gave her an idea on how she would pack her things. She too would just have to bring all her textbooks back to Hogwarts.
Jamie and Hermione were often referred to as two peas in a pod, as they were eerily similar. They both did well in school, and had many common interests. However, they both knew that they were completely different people as well. Hermione was more enthusiastic about equal rights for all creatures, whereas Jamie truly didn’t care as long as everyone was happy with their lot. Jamie loved Quidditch, even though she didn’t play for the school team, and Hermione was less than interested in the sport. It was these differences that made them who they were, and made them different people. But they also had many similar interests, such as a love for books, and they both loved casting inventive charms.
Jamie was very eager to go to the Granger house. It was her favourite time of the summer. It was often quiet in her house, what with her aunt always being gone for her job. But when she was at Hermione’s, the Grangers treated her like a second daughter, and were always so pleasant to her.
She was stalling. She had to pack her trunk tonight; otherwise she would be late to Hermione’s house in the morning. She quickly organized all her books and put them in the corner of her trunk. She then packed her clothing and other magical items she would require. She finished by putting in all her personal items. It took her a better part of an hour to pack up, and once again she wished that underage witches and wizards could use magic outside of school. It would have made her task a whole lot faster.
Only one more year though and then I can use magic whenever I choose, she thought to
herself. She closed her trunk and locked it, and wheeled it by her door. She placed Speckle’s cage on top and then made her way downstairs for dinner.
Her aunt Audrey was setting the table when she walked in. She looked up as Jamie came in and smiled. Jamie’s aunt was a beautiful woman, with a sweet, heart-shaped face and a kind smile. She had a patient temperament and spoke with a soft voice. It was hard to believe that she was one of the most dangerous Aurors the Ministry of Magic had. Because of her talent and experience Audrey was often placed in charge of dangerous missions in far-off places, meaning that oftentimes during the summer Jamie was alone. However, she always found a way to be home when Jamie came back from Hogwarts and again when she left for the Grangers.
“Did you finish packing?” Audrey asked her, sitting at the table. She waved her wand and a pasta casserole lifted from the stove and landed in front of them.
“I just did right before I came down,” Jamie replied, sitting in her seat. “Hermione told me that we’ll be staying at her place for a couple days before going to the Burrow for the rest of August.”
“Oh well that’ll be nice,” Audrey said. “I’m so glad that you’re friends with Hermione, I feel horrible leaving you all the time.”
“I don’t mind it so much,” Jamie answered honestly. “Are you leaving again shortly?”
Her aunt paused mid-bite and thought for a moment “I don’t think so,” she concluded. “I just got back from a rather important mission and I don’t think that Scrimgeour would send me on another one quite so soon. He isn’t as crazy with my schedule as Fudge was, thank goodness.”
“You like Scrimgeour then?” Jamie asked. The new Minister for Magic was supposed to be a very practical man, she had heard. With Voldemort back in power he had to be in order to keep calm and order amongst the wizarding community. Truth be told, Jamie was glad that Fudge had resigned; he wouldn’t have been cut out for the enormous responsibilities that Rufus Scrimgeour now had.
“I do,” Audrey replied. “He has experience and doesn’t make rash decisions without thinking them through. I agree with what you said the other night; he is a much better leader to have on our side than Fudge was. How I wish your uncle could be here to see how his old mentor was stepping up to the plate.”
Jamie looked at her dinner as an awkward silence came between them. Her uncle Julian had died last November, in a battle with a couple of Death Eaters. Her aunt had completely fallen apart after this and had become very close to losing everything. Christmas break had not been a very pleasant holiday for Jamie. Thankfully the Grangers had come to Audrey’s aid once Jamie and Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, helping her along with the grief process, and once she was back on her feet she had realized that Julian would never have wanted her waste her life grieving for him when he had given his life to protect her and Jamie from harm.
Julian had also been a very successful Auror. He had been on a top-secret mission somewhere when five Death Eaters ambushed him. They were told that he had put up an excellent fight, but five to one were impossible odds to overcome. There had been a private memorial service at the Ministry and now that everyone was aware of Voldemort’s return, his death was no longer reported as an accident, but rather as how it had truly happened; fighting to stop the evil. The Order remembered Julian as a brave man and now they fought to avenge him as well as countless others who had lost their lives to Voldemort.
Both her Aunt Audrey and Uncle Julian were members of the Order of the Phoenix, although it had been kept a secret from Jamie until she and Hermione had gone to number 12 Grimmauld Place the previous summer. Jamie had not been surprised to learn of her guardians’ membership; they had always fought for the good of all and wanted Voldemort gone just as much as anyone. What had surprised her however was learning that some of the missions they went on had been for the Order, and that they were operating secretly behind the unsupportive Ministry’s back.
“Have you heard anything from anyone in the Order?” Jamie asked her aunt a while later while they were clearing the table, trying to ease away the awkward tension from dinner.
“Nothing more than what I usually do,” Audrey replied, but Jamie was concerned by the grim line her aunt’s mouth became. She didn’t have to wait long to find out why her aunt seemed so resigned to something. “However Dumbledore suggested that I tell you a detail of your past before you leave for the Grangers.”
“You’re allowed to now?” Jamie asked, surprised. She knew little about her past or how she came to live with her aunt and uncle. Audrey and Julian had always told her that would find out when she was older, that it wasn’t important, or that it wasn’t their place to tell her. Over the years her curiosity had lessened, rather than grown like others might have. She concluded that had it been important they would have told her, and her parents must have been either too young to raise her or else had not wanted her, so her mother had give Jamie to her brother when she was a baby. That was all Jamie knew about her situation; that her mother had been Julian’s sister.
“Not really,” Audrey replied grimly. “But I am allowed to share with you all that I know. It won’t make much sense to you now though.”
“What are you allowed to tell me?” Jamie asked eagerly, her old curiosity flaring up once again in spite of herself.
“Well, you know that Julian was your mother’s older brother and I’m sure you have been wondering why we raised you instead of her or your father. I am telling you now that your mother perished and no one knows who your father is. You were dropped off on our doorstep by Dumbledore one night who refused to tell us anything more than that, save that we were the only hope you had and that we had to take care of you as if you were one of our own. I’m sorry that this doesn’t clear up anything at all for you Jamie, but it’s all I know,” Audrey finished, looking at Jamie sadly. “I’m not sure why Dumbledore wanted me to tell you what I know, seeing as it does nothing to help you, but I’m sure he had his motives. Hopefully one day you’ll learn all the answers.”
Jamie contemplated this for a moment. Her mother had died and her father was anonymous and that was why she had to live with her aunt and uncle for her whole life. She thought of Harry and how their living situations were somewhat similar and snickered. Audrey looked at her in confusion.
“Thanks for telling me what you know,” Jamie said, still giggling. “I always wondered why my parents were not around and had given me to you, and now I know. I had asked Dumbledore that once last summer, I’m sure that’s why he told you that you could tell me now.”
“Ah, that would explain his motives,” Audrey nodded. “But what’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking about how similar mine and Harry’s living situations are,” she explained. “He too lives with his aunt and uncle, although they have a son whereas you do not have any other children, and Dumbledore left him with them when he was a baby after his parents died as well. The difference is that while you have raised me like one of your own children, they have always treated him horribly. It’s just funny to me how the circumstances can be so similar, and yet our upbringing is completely different.”
Audrey smiled at her niece. “I always wanted a child, and you were such an angel. You still are, putting up with my work all the time.”
“I have Hermione to thank for that,” Jamie replied. “Without her I might have been a rather sullen teenager.”
“The Grangers have always been good to us,” Audrey noted. “They have always helped us whenever we needed it. But on that note, I think you should bring all your stuff downstairs and put it by the door. We’ll leave early in the morning.”
Jamie nodded and walked to the stairs without comment. Audrey was famous for changing subjects very abruptly. It was just one of the many things Jamie had come to love about her aunt.
She got her trunk and Speckle and brought it downstairs as Audrey had asked. She left her wand on her beside table so she wouldn’t have to look for it in the morning. As she was coming back downstairs she remembered a question she had to ask.
“Hey Aunt Audrey, when do O.W.L. results come in?” Jamie asked, finding her aunt in her study.
Her aunt looked up from the document she was writing and regarded Jamie over the top of her glasses. “I believe they should be in very shortly, why do you ask?”
“Hermione and I were just wondering whether we should have got them by now or not,” Jamie explained. “I’m sure you can understand why we’re nervous for them.”
“Yes, you two are quite the over-achievers,” Audrey teased. “But don’t worry; I’m sure you both did fine.”
“You never know though!” Jamie protested. She didn’t like to think about doing well; she thought it would jinx her.
“That’s true,” Audrey conceded. “Tell me Jamie, what are you thinking of doing once you’re finished at Hogwarts?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Jamie replied. “There are so many careers out there, but I want to do something that I’ll truly enjoy doing.”
“That’s a good way to think,” Audrey said. “You still have a lot of time to figure it out yet anyway. Do you know what your friends are going to do?”
“Hermione still doesn’t really know, although she’s leaning towards a career helping other magical creatures like house elves and goblins and such. Harry and Ron want to be Aurors
I believe,” Jamie told her aunt. “I was thinking about being an Auror as well, but I’m not sure yet.”
“That is a good career,” Audrey approved, laughing. “I’m sure you could do it, and you’d probably like it as well. There are a lot of opportunities to travel and I know you’ve always wanted to see the world.”
“Yeah well, we’ll see when the time comes,” Jamie smiled. “I’m going up to my room for the night, do you need anything else from me?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” Audrey told her. “Sleep tight and I’ll get you up in the morning.”
“Alright. Goodnight Audrey,” Jamie said, and headed back to her room.
“Hey Jamie?” Audrey called before she left.
“Yes?”
“I love you and I want you to know that I’m proud of you no matter what you decide to do with your life. I’m glad that I was blessed enough to be able to care for you.”
Jamie smiled. “I love you too Audrey. Goodnight.”
So if you don't like this one as much as the last chapter, I won't blame you. I have a couple filler chapters to set up Jamie's tale, but then it'll get more exciting. Regardless of what you thought though, leave your feedback please.
--x Lauren
Chapter Three: The Burrow
“Hermione, get your butt down here!” Jamie shouted up the stairs, laughing.
“I’m coming, just one minute,” Hermione called back down. She was standing in front of her mirror, fixing her hair one more time. She wanted to make a good impression to Mrs. Weasley, even though she knew that Ron’s mother loved her like another daughter. Oh stop lying to yourself, you just want to look good for Ron, she chided herself.
She hadn’t meant to fall for that boy, really she hadn’t. He had the sensitivity of a metal spoon and he was still quite immature. But something about his wit and lack of common sense had endeared him to her, and before she knew it she was quite smitten with him. When she had first figured it out she had been horrified at herself, but the more she had thought about it, the more she accepted it. It was only a matter of time before she would have fallen for one of those two.
“Hermione, we’ll leave without you,” her mother called this time. Hermione sighed and left her hair as it was; hanging simply down her back. Her mother had taught her that she shouldn’t change herself for anyone anyway. Everyone knew that was easier said then done though. She sighed and went downstairs to where her best friend and parents were waiting.
“Oh don’t you look cute,” Jamie smirked. Hermione blushed. She had told Jamie all about her infatuation for Ron when she had arrived two days prior. Jamie thought it was adorable and had asked her when they were going to hook up. Hermione had vehemently refused to be the one to initiate anything between her and Ron, but since then Jamie teased her all the time.
“Ready to go girls?” Hermione’s mother asked the pair, oblivious to the meaning behind Jamie’s comment.
“Absolutely,” Hermione said, grabbing her trunk.
“Now, have a good year and write to us often,” Hermione’s father told them, and handed them each a handful of Floo powder.
“We’ll send you loads of letters Dad,” Hermione told him, giving him and then her mother in turn a hug.
“Thank you again for letting me stay over,” Jamie said, giving them both a hug as well.
“Don’t mention it Jamie, we love having you,” Hermione’s mother told her warmly. Hermione knew her parents loved Jamie like a second daughter, and were always thrilled to have her come over.
She stepped up to the fireplace and dragged her trunk with her. “I’ll see you next summer Mum and Dad,” she told them, and then stepped inside and threw down her handful of Floo powder. As the smoke and green fire rose up she shouted “The Burrow!” and away she went.
She landed in Molly Weasley’s kitchen fireplace. She brushed herself off and looked up into the faces of Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny. “Hi guys,” she said breathlessly. She just moved out of the way when Jamie appeared in the fireplace.
“How are you girls?” Mrs. Weasley asked warmly, welcoming them inside and giving them each a hug. With a wave of her wand she sent the girls’ trunks upstairs to the room they always shared with Ginny.
“I’m good Mrs. Weasley, how are you?” Jamie asked kindly. Hermione nodded.
“Considering the times we’re in, I’m very well thank you,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “I’ll fix up some brunch, come on in!”
Hermione and Jamie followed the Weasleys further into the house. As Mrs. Weasley cooked up one of her famous home-cooked meals, Ginny and Ron filled Hermione and Jamie in on anything interesting that had happened as of late.
“There hasn’t been a whole lot,” Ron said. “Harry is supposed to come tomorrow, but he has to do something with Dumbledore first. We’re not sure what that is though,” he added in an undertone, glancing at Mrs. Weasley.
“And you won’t until Harry tells you himself,” she said casually, serving up plates of eggs and ham. Ron stuck his tongue out at her while her back was turned. Hermione stifled a giggle. Still the same old immature Ron.
After brunch Hermione and Ron excused themselves to talk privately outside. Jamie gave her a suggestive look as they passed and Hermione winked at her. She knew that she and Ron were only going to talk about Harry, but she liked provoking Jamie.
They sat on the fence at the edge of the Burrow. “So what do you reckon Dumbledore wants to talk to Harry about?” Ron asked her.
“I’m not sure,” Hermione admitted. “It could be about anything, but I bet he mentions Sirius.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ron said. “Harry was really shaken up when Sirius bit the dust.”
“Well yeah Ron, he was Harry’s godfather,” Hermione said, exasperated. Only Ronald wouldn’t understand why Harry would be upset that the only person who had ever cared for him had died. “Harry really loved him. How would you react if one of your brothers or your parents were killed?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ron conceded. “There hasn’t been a lot of action this summer, despite all the rumours about what You-Know-Who is up to.”
“Well would you really expect him to come out and announce that he’s back?” Hermione asked, amused. “He’s creating more fear by staying in the shadows.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” Ron agreed. “Mum’s been freaking out all summer, what with all the hands on her clock saying that we’re all in mortal peril.”
“You’re not worried?” Hermione asked.
“Nah, with Dumbledore around we’ll be okay,” Ron replied. “So how about we get the other two and we’ll play a game of Quidditch?”
Hermione sighed. He was such a boy. “I don’t have much of a choice do I?”
Ron grinned. “Majority rules.”
Late that night, Jamie lay in bed listening to the even breathing of Ginny and Hermione somewhere in the room. It had been a very pleasant day, as it always was whenever Jamie visited the Burrow. They had played Quidditch all afternoon, and then Jamie spent the evening reacquainting with the other Weasleys and members of the Order.
She had been amused to learn that Bill had become engaged to Fleur Delacour and even more amused to see Mrs. Weasley’s reaction her. Ginny didn’t really like her either, and had taken to calling her Phlegm behind her back, much to Jamie’s enjoyment.
Tonks had surprised her. She knew that the Auror blamed herself for Sirius’ death, but her simple appearance was downright depressing. Jamie had never seen Tonks so down. She had also noticed that Remus Lupin had seemed a little more subdued when he dropped by for a couple moments. But after all, Sirius had been his best friend since they were kids. Jamie chalked it all up to the fact that everyone was grieving for Sirius.
Laying there in the dark thinking about Remus and Sirius brought back memories of how she and Hermione, and then Ron and Harry had become friends.
They had been in their first year at Hogwarts. After the Sorting on their first night, Jamie and Hermione had met in their dormitory. Jamie hadn’t been shy to make friends. In fact, she embraced it. She could remember the very first words she said to this day;
“Hi there, my name is Jamie Henderson, what’s yours?” Jamie had said. Hermione had looked surprised to see someone talking to her.
“I’m Hermione Granger. I’m Muggle-born though so you wouldn’t recognize my last name. Everyone’s been asking me ever since I got on the train,” Hermione replied, sighing. “My parents are dentists, not wizards.”
“Oh, your name sounds so familiar though. I wonder where I’ve heard it before. I live with my Aunt Audrey and Uncle Julian, perhaps you’ve heard of them,” Jamie said.
“No way! I live right near your neighbourhood then,” Hermione exclaimed. “You lived in Oxford?”
“For all of my life,” Jamie grinned.
“That’s so cool, I never thought I’d meet anyone I might know,” Hermione confided, lowering her voice.
“Neither did I to be honest,” Jamie said. “But tell me, what are dentists?”
And just like that, Jamie and Hermione had become inseparable. When Hermione had been saved by Ron and Harry on Halloween that year, the four of them had become very good friends. Now, they were all inseparable, the four of them. Ever since their third year they had spent at least some portion of the summer together. It had become a tradition between them.
Jamie was brought out of her reverie when she heard voices coming from downstairs. They were male voices, and Jamie suspected the Dumbledore had arrived with Harry. She got up quietly and snuck downstairs.
Harry was sitting at the table while Mrs. Weasley was fixing him up some food. Jamie smiled; Mrs. Weasley was always cooking for her guests. She looked around and saw Professor Dumbledore standing by the door.
“Good evening Professor,” she greeted him kindly, taking a seat beside Harry. “Hey Harry.”
“Hello Jamie,” Harry said. “How are you?”
“I’m great,” Jamie replied smiling. “Have a good trip?”
Harry looked at Dumbledore and then said, “Yeah, it went pretty smoothly.”
“That’s good,” Jamie replied.
“Jamie! I thought you were sleeping,” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, turning around to give Harry a bowl.
“I couldn’t really sleep, and then I heard voices downstairs,” Jamie explained. “I just wanted to say hello to Harry and Professor Dumbledore.”
“Oh alright,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Can I get you a bowl of soup?”
“Yes please,” Jamie replied.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Ms. Henderson, can I speak with you outside for a moment?” He asked.
Jamie looked at Harry who shrugged. “Sure,” she said and followed the Headmaster of Hogwarts outside. He led her to the broom cupboard at the edge of the garden and opened the door for her.
“Professor, why are we standing in the broom cupboard?” Jamie asked curiously once Dumbledore had shut the door and created some light for them to see.
“I find it’s much easier to talk about sensitive topics when you cannot be overheard,” Dumbledore replied serenely, taking off his half-moon spectacles and cleaning them on his robes. Jamie gasped when she saw his right hand. It was blackened and shriveled beyond recognition.
“Professor!” she exclaimed. “What happened to your hand?!”
Dumbledore looked at it, and chuckled. “My dear girl, you do not have to be alarmed. It appears as though my reflexes have slowed in my old age and I had been somewhat careless.”
“Isn’t there anything that could fix it?” Jamie asked, horrified. His hand looked dead, all black and burned.
“Unfortunately there is nothing that can repair my injury,” Dumbledore replied simply. “But that is just as well. My hand is a testament to the foolishness of an old man.”
Jamie was thoroughly confused now. While she liked Dumbledore, she always found his way of speaking in riddles very tiring. “Sir, you wanted to speak to me about something?” she asked, wanting to get to the point of standing in a broom closet.
Dumbledore smiled. “Ah yes. You’re just like you’re aunt you know, always changing topics. But speaking about your aunt brings us to the point of being in this tiny cupboard. Did she by any chance speak to you about your parents before you left?”
“Yes,” Jamie replied. “She also told me that you were the one who told her to tell me. She didn’t seem thrilled about that.”
“Audrey never was one to cause misery unintentionally,” Dumbledore muttered, more to himself than to Jamie. She was mystified.
“Professor, what do you mean? What she told me didn’t cause me any harm or misery at all,” Jamie said. “On the contrary I was very glad to learn about the whereabouts, or lack thereof, of my parents. The fact that my father remains anonymous is of no concern to me. Audrey and Julian were fantastic parents to me.”
Dumbledore regarded her sadly for a moment, seeming to gaze right through her eyes. But then he straightened up and said briskly, “Well perhaps that is all for the better. I’m glad to hear that your aunt did follow my suggestion. I thought it would be better for you to know that much about your parents. Now that I have my answer, we can escape this stuffy cupboard, don’t you agree?”
Jamie picked up on something key in what Dumbledore had said. But she didn’t voice her suspicions out loud. Instead she said, “I agree sir, it’s rather humid in here.”
Professor Dumbledore parted ways with Jamie before she reached the door back inside the house. After she promised to pass on his regards to everyone, she watched as he strode back to the street and disappeared.
Mr. Weasley had come home while Jamie had been with Dumbledore and he and Harry looked up from their discussion when she walked in.
“Jamie Henderson!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed pleasantly. “As always it’s a pleasure to see you. How are you doing this morning?”
“I’m good Mr. Weasley. How are things at the Ministry?” she asked politely. She heard that Mr. Weasley had gotten an important promotion in light of the movement of Dark wizards. It had been clear to her that Mrs. Weasley was tickled pink by the fact that her husband now held a rather important position at the Ministry.
“Things are well,” Mr. Weasley replied. “Today we confiscated several suspected Dark objects, and a nasty ring that while it doesn’t do anything to protect you from Dark magic, it turns your fingers an awful shade of maroon.”
“Sounds exciting,” Jamie deadpanned. Harry laughed at her monotone voice.
“It really is,” Mr. Weasley said eagerly. “Of course, I miss my old job with those funky Muggle devices, but this an important job that not anyone can do.”
“I definitely believe that,” Jamie said sincerely.
“Well, you kids should get on up to bed,” Mr. Weasley told them. “I have a hunch that important owls will be making their way to the Burrow later,” he winked in Jamie’s direction.
Jamie gasped excitedly. “Finally! Goodnight Mr. Weasley, Harry.”
Harry laughed again. “Goodnight Jamie.”
She ran upstairs and in her haste to get to bed she forgot that Ginny and Hermione would be sleeping. She threw herself onto the mattress she was sharing with Hermione, and accidentally kicked her in the back.
“Whatcha do that for?” Hermione asked groggily, rubbing her back where Jamie had kicked her.
“Oh Hermione, I’m so sorry!” Jamie whispered. “I forgot you were there!”
“S’ok,” Hermione muttered. “Where did you go?”
“I heard Dumbledore downstairs so I went to say hello to Harry,” Jamie explained. “Then Dumbledore took me outside to the broom cupboard to talk.”
“What did he want?” Hermione asked curiously, awake now.
“He wanted to see if Audrey had told me about my parents,” Jamie told her. “But Hermione, after that he made it seem like there was more to the story of my parents than that.”
“Really, like what?” Hermione asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jamie admitted. “I just have a hunch, but it sounded like he knew more about them than Audrey knows.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
“No, you know Dumbledore. He never tells you the answers you want right away.” Jamie knew Harry had had that happen more than enough times to him in the past. She hadn’t wanted to sound silly in case she had been wrong and there really wasn’t anything more to the story. But he had said that the information Audrey gave her should have caused her misery. Dumbledore must be losing it, Jamie concluded. There was nothing in what Audrey had said that would cause her any form of sadness. The fact that her mother had died and no one knew her father wasn’t anything too extreme. Jamie knew many kids who didn’t know their parents, Harry included.
And yet, despite all that she thought it, she still wondered whether Dumbledore was hiding something from her. She would figure it out eventually though.
“Oh Hermione guess what,” Jamie said, before they fell asleep.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“O.W.L. results should be here later today,” Jamie told her happily, drifting into an easy sleep.
Just a side note; Julian was Gabrielle's brother, and Audrey is his wife.
Lauren
“Hermione, get your butt down here!” Jamie shouted up the stairs, laughing.
“I’m coming, just one minute,” Hermione called back down. She was standing in front of her mirror, fixing her hair one more time. She wanted to make a good impression to Mrs. Weasley, even though she knew that Ron’s mother loved her like another daughter. Oh stop lying to yourself, you just want to look good for Ron, she chided herself.
She hadn’t meant to fall for that boy, really she hadn’t. He had the sensitivity of a metal spoon and he was still quite immature. But something about his wit and lack of common sense had endeared him to her, and before she knew it she was quite smitten with him. When she had first figured it out she had been horrified at herself, but the more she had thought about it, the more she accepted it. It was only a matter of time before she would have fallen for one of those two.
“Hermione, we’ll leave without you,” her mother called this time. Hermione sighed and left her hair as it was; hanging simply down her back. Her mother had taught her that she shouldn’t change herself for anyone anyway. Everyone knew that was easier said then done though. She sighed and went downstairs to where her best friend and parents were waiting.
“Oh don’t you look cute,” Jamie smirked. Hermione blushed. She had told Jamie all about her infatuation for Ron when she had arrived two days prior. Jamie thought it was adorable and had asked her when they were going to hook up. Hermione had vehemently refused to be the one to initiate anything between her and Ron, but since then Jamie teased her all the time.
“Ready to go girls?” Hermione’s mother asked the pair, oblivious to the meaning behind Jamie’s comment.
“Absolutely,” Hermione said, grabbing her trunk.
“Now, have a good year and write to us often,” Hermione’s father told them, and handed them each a handful of Floo powder.
“We’ll send you loads of letters Dad,” Hermione told him, giving him and then her mother in turn a hug.
“Thank you again for letting me stay over,” Jamie said, giving them both a hug as well.
“Don’t mention it Jamie, we love having you,” Hermione’s mother told her warmly. Hermione knew her parents loved Jamie like a second daughter, and were always thrilled to have her come over.
She stepped up to the fireplace and dragged her trunk with her. “I’ll see you next summer Mum and Dad,” she told them, and then stepped inside and threw down her handful of Floo powder. As the smoke and green fire rose up she shouted “The Burrow!” and away she went.
She landed in Molly Weasley’s kitchen fireplace. She brushed herself off and looked up into the faces of Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny. “Hi guys,” she said breathlessly. She just moved out of the way when Jamie appeared in the fireplace.
“How are you girls?” Mrs. Weasley asked warmly, welcoming them inside and giving them each a hug. With a wave of her wand she sent the girls’ trunks upstairs to the room they always shared with Ginny.
“I’m good Mrs. Weasley, how are you?” Jamie asked kindly. Hermione nodded.
“Considering the times we’re in, I’m very well thank you,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “I’ll fix up some brunch, come on in!”
Hermione and Jamie followed the Weasleys further into the house. As Mrs. Weasley cooked up one of her famous home-cooked meals, Ginny and Ron filled Hermione and Jamie in on anything interesting that had happened as of late.
“There hasn’t been a whole lot,” Ron said. “Harry is supposed to come tomorrow, but he has to do something with Dumbledore first. We’re not sure what that is though,” he added in an undertone, glancing at Mrs. Weasley.
“And you won’t until Harry tells you himself,” she said casually, serving up plates of eggs and ham. Ron stuck his tongue out at her while her back was turned. Hermione stifled a giggle. Still the same old immature Ron.
After brunch Hermione and Ron excused themselves to talk privately outside. Jamie gave her a suggestive look as they passed and Hermione winked at her. She knew that she and Ron were only going to talk about Harry, but she liked provoking Jamie.
They sat on the fence at the edge of the Burrow. “So what do you reckon Dumbledore wants to talk to Harry about?” Ron asked her.
“I’m not sure,” Hermione admitted. “It could be about anything, but I bet he mentions Sirius.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ron said. “Harry was really shaken up when Sirius bit the dust.”
“Well yeah Ron, he was Harry’s godfather,” Hermione said, exasperated. Only Ronald wouldn’t understand why Harry would be upset that the only person who had ever cared for him had died. “Harry really loved him. How would you react if one of your brothers or your parents were killed?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ron conceded. “There hasn’t been a lot of action this summer, despite all the rumours about what You-Know-Who is up to.”
“Well would you really expect him to come out and announce that he’s back?” Hermione asked, amused. “He’s creating more fear by staying in the shadows.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” Ron agreed. “Mum’s been freaking out all summer, what with all the hands on her clock saying that we’re all in mortal peril.”
“You’re not worried?” Hermione asked.
“Nah, with Dumbledore around we’ll be okay,” Ron replied. “So how about we get the other two and we’ll play a game of Quidditch?”
Hermione sighed. He was such a boy. “I don’t have much of a choice do I?”
Ron grinned. “Majority rules.”
***
Late that night, Jamie lay in bed listening to the even breathing of Ginny and Hermione somewhere in the room. It had been a very pleasant day, as it always was whenever Jamie visited the Burrow. They had played Quidditch all afternoon, and then Jamie spent the evening reacquainting with the other Weasleys and members of the Order.
She had been amused to learn that Bill had become engaged to Fleur Delacour and even more amused to see Mrs. Weasley’s reaction her. Ginny didn’t really like her either, and had taken to calling her Phlegm behind her back, much to Jamie’s enjoyment.
Tonks had surprised her. She knew that the Auror blamed herself for Sirius’ death, but her simple appearance was downright depressing. Jamie had never seen Tonks so down. She had also noticed that Remus Lupin had seemed a little more subdued when he dropped by for a couple moments. But after all, Sirius had been his best friend since they were kids. Jamie chalked it all up to the fact that everyone was grieving for Sirius.
Laying there in the dark thinking about Remus and Sirius brought back memories of how she and Hermione, and then Ron and Harry had become friends.
They had been in their first year at Hogwarts. After the Sorting on their first night, Jamie and Hermione had met in their dormitory. Jamie hadn’t been shy to make friends. In fact, she embraced it. She could remember the very first words she said to this day;
“Hi there, my name is Jamie Henderson, what’s yours?” Jamie had said. Hermione had looked surprised to see someone talking to her.
“I’m Hermione Granger. I’m Muggle-born though so you wouldn’t recognize my last name. Everyone’s been asking me ever since I got on the train,” Hermione replied, sighing. “My parents are dentists, not wizards.”
“Oh, your name sounds so familiar though. I wonder where I’ve heard it before. I live with my Aunt Audrey and Uncle Julian, perhaps you’ve heard of them,” Jamie said.
“No way! I live right near your neighbourhood then,” Hermione exclaimed. “You lived in Oxford?”
“For all of my life,” Jamie grinned.
“That’s so cool, I never thought I’d meet anyone I might know,” Hermione confided, lowering her voice.
“Neither did I to be honest,” Jamie said. “But tell me, what are dentists?”
And just like that, Jamie and Hermione had become inseparable. When Hermione had been saved by Ron and Harry on Halloween that year, the four of them had become very good friends. Now, they were all inseparable, the four of them. Ever since their third year they had spent at least some portion of the summer together. It had become a tradition between them.
Jamie was brought out of her reverie when she heard voices coming from downstairs. They were male voices, and Jamie suspected the Dumbledore had arrived with Harry. She got up quietly and snuck downstairs.
Harry was sitting at the table while Mrs. Weasley was fixing him up some food. Jamie smiled; Mrs. Weasley was always cooking for her guests. She looked around and saw Professor Dumbledore standing by the door.
“Good evening Professor,” she greeted him kindly, taking a seat beside Harry. “Hey Harry.”
“Hello Jamie,” Harry said. “How are you?”
“I’m great,” Jamie replied smiling. “Have a good trip?”
Harry looked at Dumbledore and then said, “Yeah, it went pretty smoothly.”
“That’s good,” Jamie replied.
“Jamie! I thought you were sleeping,” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, turning around to give Harry a bowl.
“I couldn’t really sleep, and then I heard voices downstairs,” Jamie explained. “I just wanted to say hello to Harry and Professor Dumbledore.”
“Oh alright,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Can I get you a bowl of soup?”
“Yes please,” Jamie replied.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Ms. Henderson, can I speak with you outside for a moment?” He asked.
Jamie looked at Harry who shrugged. “Sure,” she said and followed the Headmaster of Hogwarts outside. He led her to the broom cupboard at the edge of the garden and opened the door for her.
“Professor, why are we standing in the broom cupboard?” Jamie asked curiously once Dumbledore had shut the door and created some light for them to see.
“I find it’s much easier to talk about sensitive topics when you cannot be overheard,” Dumbledore replied serenely, taking off his half-moon spectacles and cleaning them on his robes. Jamie gasped when she saw his right hand. It was blackened and shriveled beyond recognition.
“Professor!” she exclaimed. “What happened to your hand?!”
Dumbledore looked at it, and chuckled. “My dear girl, you do not have to be alarmed. It appears as though my reflexes have slowed in my old age and I had been somewhat careless.”
“Isn’t there anything that could fix it?” Jamie asked, horrified. His hand looked dead, all black and burned.
“Unfortunately there is nothing that can repair my injury,” Dumbledore replied simply. “But that is just as well. My hand is a testament to the foolishness of an old man.”
Jamie was thoroughly confused now. While she liked Dumbledore, she always found his way of speaking in riddles very tiring. “Sir, you wanted to speak to me about something?” she asked, wanting to get to the point of standing in a broom closet.
Dumbledore smiled. “Ah yes. You’re just like you’re aunt you know, always changing topics. But speaking about your aunt brings us to the point of being in this tiny cupboard. Did she by any chance speak to you about your parents before you left?”
“Yes,” Jamie replied. “She also told me that you were the one who told her to tell me. She didn’t seem thrilled about that.”
“Audrey never was one to cause misery unintentionally,” Dumbledore muttered, more to himself than to Jamie. She was mystified.
“Professor, what do you mean? What she told me didn’t cause me any harm or misery at all,” Jamie said. “On the contrary I was very glad to learn about the whereabouts, or lack thereof, of my parents. The fact that my father remains anonymous is of no concern to me. Audrey and Julian were fantastic parents to me.”
Dumbledore regarded her sadly for a moment, seeming to gaze right through her eyes. But then he straightened up and said briskly, “Well perhaps that is all for the better. I’m glad to hear that your aunt did follow my suggestion. I thought it would be better for you to know that much about your parents. Now that I have my answer, we can escape this stuffy cupboard, don’t you agree?”
Jamie picked up on something key in what Dumbledore had said. But she didn’t voice her suspicions out loud. Instead she said, “I agree sir, it’s rather humid in here.”
Professor Dumbledore parted ways with Jamie before she reached the door back inside the house. After she promised to pass on his regards to everyone, she watched as he strode back to the street and disappeared.
Mr. Weasley had come home while Jamie had been with Dumbledore and he and Harry looked up from their discussion when she walked in.
“Jamie Henderson!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed pleasantly. “As always it’s a pleasure to see you. How are you doing this morning?”
“I’m good Mr. Weasley. How are things at the Ministry?” she asked politely. She heard that Mr. Weasley had gotten an important promotion in light of the movement of Dark wizards. It had been clear to her that Mrs. Weasley was tickled pink by the fact that her husband now held a rather important position at the Ministry.
“Things are well,” Mr. Weasley replied. “Today we confiscated several suspected Dark objects, and a nasty ring that while it doesn’t do anything to protect you from Dark magic, it turns your fingers an awful shade of maroon.”
“Sounds exciting,” Jamie deadpanned. Harry laughed at her monotone voice.
“It really is,” Mr. Weasley said eagerly. “Of course, I miss my old job with those funky Muggle devices, but this an important job that not anyone can do.”
“I definitely believe that,” Jamie said sincerely.
“Well, you kids should get on up to bed,” Mr. Weasley told them. “I have a hunch that important owls will be making their way to the Burrow later,” he winked in Jamie’s direction.
Jamie gasped excitedly. “Finally! Goodnight Mr. Weasley, Harry.”
Harry laughed again. “Goodnight Jamie.”
She ran upstairs and in her haste to get to bed she forgot that Ginny and Hermione would be sleeping. She threw herself onto the mattress she was sharing with Hermione, and accidentally kicked her in the back.
“Whatcha do that for?” Hermione asked groggily, rubbing her back where Jamie had kicked her.
“Oh Hermione, I’m so sorry!” Jamie whispered. “I forgot you were there!”
“S’ok,” Hermione muttered. “Where did you go?”
“I heard Dumbledore downstairs so I went to say hello to Harry,” Jamie explained. “Then Dumbledore took me outside to the broom cupboard to talk.”
“What did he want?” Hermione asked curiously, awake now.
“He wanted to see if Audrey had told me about my parents,” Jamie told her. “But Hermione, after that he made it seem like there was more to the story of my parents than that.”
“Really, like what?” Hermione asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jamie admitted. “I just have a hunch, but it sounded like he knew more about them than Audrey knows.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
“No, you know Dumbledore. He never tells you the answers you want right away.” Jamie knew Harry had had that happen more than enough times to him in the past. She hadn’t wanted to sound silly in case she had been wrong and there really wasn’t anything more to the story. But he had said that the information Audrey gave her should have caused her misery. Dumbledore must be losing it, Jamie concluded. There was nothing in what Audrey had said that would cause her any form of sadness. The fact that her mother had died and no one knew her father wasn’t anything too extreme. Jamie knew many kids who didn’t know their parents, Harry included.
And yet, despite all that she thought it, she still wondered whether Dumbledore was hiding something from her. She would figure it out eventually though.
“Oh Hermione guess what,” Jamie said, before they fell asleep.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“O.W.L. results should be here later today,” Jamie told her happily, drifting into an easy sleep.
Just a side note; Julian was Gabrielle's brother, and Audrey is his wife.
Lauren
Chapter Four: O.W.L.S
Early in the morning, Harry was woken up by what sounded like canon-fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: the dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped helplessly for his glasses with the other.
“Wuzzgoinon?”
“Ron, at least give him a moment to wake up,” he heard a familiar girl’s voice say reproachfully.
Harry’s hand finally found his glasses and he shoved them on. At first the light was so bright he could barely see, but the he could make out three figures standing in the room. First was Ron Weasley, his red-headed best friend who appeared to have grown quite a bit since Harry had last seen him. Standing beside Ron were two girls who looked more or less the same as always; Hermione Granger and Jamie Henderson.
“Sorry for waking you up Harry,” Jamie apologized sheepishly. “They just had to make sure that I wasn’t lying about you being here.”
“We missed you mate,” Ron added. “How were the Muggles?”
“Same as always,” Harry replied, grinning. “How’re you lot?”
“Never been better,” Jamie said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So now that we’re all here, how about you tell us what you were doing with Dumbledore last night before you came?”
Harry laughed. Jamie was not known for subtlety. If she wanted to know something, she would ask you outright. But she wasn’t rude or overly obnoxious. In fact, she could be quite shy and quiet sometimes. But it was her need for answers that had first made Harry notice her, and he was quite glad for her friendship. She was the only one of the three of them that he felt he could trust with anything because she wouldn’t shy away from anything he told her.
He knew he had truly relied on her after the battle at the Ministry in June. She had been the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he might break down at any moment. She had wanted him to trust her with whatever Dumbledore had told him the night that he died, but he couldn’t. And thankfully she hadn’t held that against him. On the contrary she seemed to understand pretty well. That was why he was so glad that she was his friend.
“It wasn’t that exciting,” Harry told them. “He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name’s Horace Slughorn.”
“Oh,” said Ron, looking disappointed for some reason. “We thought – “
Harry caught the warning look Hermione flashed at Ron and Ron changed tack at top speed.
“- we thought it’d be something like that.”
“You did?” said Harry, amused. Trust Ron to give away what they were all really thinking.
“Yeah … yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don’t we? So, er, what’s he like?”
“He looks a bit like a walrus and he used to be Head of Slytherin,” Harry told him. “Something wrong Hermione?”
She was watching him as though he might suddenly divert to a moodier version of himself. He caught Jamie’s eye and she shook her head slightly. He realized that Hermione probably thought he was going to fall apart, but he had no desire to talk about what happened at the Ministry or Sirius’ death.
“No, of course not!” Hermione said, clearly forcing a smile. Harry knew she was lying; her voice raised a couple pitches when she lied. No one would notice if they didn’t know her, but after being friends with her for six years Harry could now tell quite easily when his friends were lying.
“So did Slughorn seem like he’ll be a good teacher?” Jamie asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Dunno,” Harry said. He hadn’t really gotten to know Slughorn all that well the previous night. “He can’t be worse than Umbridge though can he?”
The others were interrupted by a voice that said, “I know someone who’s worse than Umbridge.” Ron’s younger sister Ginny slouched into the room, looking irritable. Harry was amused by this; Ginny was usually a rather happy person. “Hi Harry,” she said to him.
“What’s up with you?” Ron asked.
“She’s driving me mad,” Ginny replied, sitting beside Jamie at the end of Harry’s bed. Jamie put her arm around Ginny in a hug.
“What’s she done now?” Hermione said sympathetically.
“It’s just the way she talks to me – you’d think I was about three!”
“I know,” said Hermione, dropping her voice. “She’s so full of herself.”
The shock Harry felt must have clearly shown on his face because Jamie interrupted the other two girls. “They’re talking about Fleur,” she told him, grinning. “She and Bill have become engaged.”
“Really?” Harry asked, surprised.
“Yeah, and neither Ginny nor Mrs. Weasley like her, right?” Jamie asked Ginny, who stuck her tongue out like a petulant child.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t keep treating me like her little sister.” Ginny got up and went to the door. “I’m supposed to be helping mum now. You lot better come down soon. I don’t know how much more of Phlegm I can take.”
“Don’t worry,” Hermione said, “we’ll be back at Hogwarts soon and you won’t have to deal with her anymore.” She walked over to one of the cardboard boxes and opened it. “Hey Ron, what is all this stuff?”
“How should I know?” Ron replied. “It’s all Fred and George’s things for their shop though; I wouldn’t go poking around in those if I were you.”
“Oh come on Ronald, how dangerous could this be?” Hermione asked, holding up what looked like a small telescope.
“You never know with them,” Jamie said giggling. “If it’s not in the joke shop, I wouldn’t trust it.”
“Your mum said the shop’s going well,” Harry said to Ron. “Said that Fred and George have a real flair for business.”
“That’s an understatement,” Ron said. “They’re raking in the Galleons! I can’t wait to see the place. We haven’t been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad’s got to be there for extra security and he’s been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent.”
“I miss having them around here though,” Jamie said thoughtfully. “They were a laugh when we played Quidditch in the yard last year.”
For some reason Harry felt a small pang of jealousy. He couldn’t place why though. Jamie was his best friend, nothing more.
“Well we should be going to get our school things soon,” Hermione said, “so you’ll get to see them then.”
“And what about Percy?” Harry asked, desperate to change the topic. He didn’t want to think about what he was thinking. “Is he talking to your mum and dad again?”
“Nope,” Ron replied simply.
“But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back –“
“Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right,” Hermione cut in. “I heard him telling your mum, Ron.”
Jamie snorted. “That sounds like the sort of the Dumbledore would say.”
Harry spotted an opening for another topic. “He’s going to be giving me private lessons this year,” he told them.
Their reaction was highly amusing; Jamie’s eyes went wide, Ron choked on the toast Harry hadn’t even realized that he had been eating, and Hermione gasped.
“You kept that quiet!” Ron accused.
“I only just remembered,” Harry said honestly. “He told me last night in your broom shed.”
“Funny,” Jamie said. “He took me to the broom cupboard as well last night. I wonder why.”
“Something about not wanting to be overheard?” Harry suggested.
“Yeah, that’s exactly it!” Jamie said. “Odd…”
“So why private lessons Harry?” Hermione interrupted. She exchanged a glance with Ron. Harry knew he had to explain why. Dumbledore had said to do it… why not now? He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know exactly why he’s going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy.”
Neither Ron or Hermione spoke, but Jamie looked intrigued. “You mean the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry?”
“Yeah, that one,” Harry replied.
“It got smashed though,” Hermione said, regaining her voice. “No one heard what it said.”
“Dumbledore had a copy,” Harry explained. “From what it said, it looks like I’m the one who’s got to finish off Voldemort … at least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives.” He looked down at his blankets, not wanting to see their immediate reactions. Then there was a loud bang and Hermione vanished behind a puff of black smoke.
“Hermione!” Ron shouted. Jamie got up and went behind the cloud. Then Harry and Ron could hear her laughing.
“It punched her!” Jamie cried, laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face. The smoke cleared and Ron and Harry could see Hermione holding the little telescope that now had a tiny fist on a long spring protruding from the end and sporting a brilliantly purple black eye.
“What do I do?” Hermione exclaimed.
“Let’s go down and see my mum,” Ron suggested. “She’s good at healing injuries.”
“Oh, well, never mind that now!” Hermione said hastily. “Harry, oh, Harry…”
She sat on the edge of the bed where Ginny had previously sat.
“We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry … obviously, we didn’t want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this … oh, Harry …” she paused, during which time Harry glanced at Jamie, who looked concerned. Hermione started at Harry for a moment, then whispered, “Are you scared?”
Harry thought about that for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before. “Not as much as I was,” he decided. “When I first heard it, I was … but now, it seems as thought I always knew I’d have to face him in the end.”
“Well Dumbledore must think you have a fighting chance,” Ron concluded. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be bothering to teach you anything. I wonder what you’re going to learn…” Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He honestly had no idea what Dumbledore could be planning.
“Well I’m sure he’ll tell us when he finds out, right Harry?” Jamie said, winking.
“Of course,” Harry replied, smiling. “Shouldn’t we go downstairs now?”
“Definitely,” Jamie agreed, and stood up. She looked at Hermione, who still looked worried. “Hermione don’t worry okay?”
Hermione glanced at Harry again, and then she sighed, smiling slightly. “Alright.”
“Plus, I heard O.W.L. results were going to be here today,” Jamie told her.
“That’s right!” Hermione exclaimed, her eyes growing wide. “Let’s go!”
They left Harry to get dressed, and when he came down ten minutes later he saw no owls, but rather Mrs. Weasley standing over Hermione with a large book labeled The Healer’s Helpmate open on the table. She looked rather perplexed as she waved her wand.
“I’ve always been able to get them to go away,” she muttered to herself. She looked up and saw Harry, “oh good morning Harry dear. Take a seat at the table, and get some food.”
“She can’t get it to go away,” Jamie told Harry. She was sitting at the table, drumming her fingers rapidly on the surface. Harry grinned and sat beside her.
“No owls come yet?” He asked her slyly.
“Not yet,” Jamie said, looking worried. Harry laughed. Both she and Hermione were so focused on schoolwork. No doubt they had been waiting for their results ever since they left Hogwarts in June. But now that he thought about it, perhaps he should be worried. Maybe he failed every class, and then what would he do?
“What happens if we fail?” Harry asked Jamie.
“We discuss our options with our Head of House,” she told him. “I asked McGonagall at the end of last term.”
Just then, he heard Hermione scream. “Jamie, I see them!” She pointed out the window.
Jamie got up and stood beside her at the kitchen window. Harry stood on Jamie’s other side. He could see four large owls making their way to the Burrow, each carrying a think square envelope.
They soon reached the window and flew in on the table. They each lifted their right legs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Jamie each untied their respective owl and when they got their letters the owls took off out the window again.
Nobody spoke. Harry quickly slit his envelope open with shaking fingers and unfolded the parchment inside.
Harry read the piece of parchment through several times, his breathing becoming easier with each reading. His results were okay; he knew he would never pass Divination or History of Magic, especially the latter seeing as he had passed out in the middle of the exam. He had passed, he realized excitedly. And he had even gotten an ‘Outstanding’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts!
He looked at everyone else. Ron looked delighted.
“How’d you do?” He asked Harry. When Harry told him, he said, “Only failed Divination and History of Magic too then? And I knew you’d be top in Defence Against the Dark Arts mate. We’ve done alright, haven’t we?” He looked at Mrs. Weasley.
“Very well done!” Mrs. Weasley said proudly, ruffling Ron’s hair. “Seven O.W.L.s, that’s more than Fred and George got together!”
They looked at Hermione and Jamie. When Harry saw their expressions, he nudged Ron who laughed. The girls had similar expressions on their faces; happiness mixed with a hint of some other emotion. Jamie looked up and caught Harry and Ron looking.
“I did pretty well,” she said happily. “Eleven ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L.s!”
“Pretty well,” Ron quoted. “I’d say that’s excellent, wouldn’t you Harry?”
“Yeah Jamie,” Harry agreed. “I don’t think you can do better than that.”
“Well thanks guys,” she said, then turned to Hermione. “How did you do Hermione?”
Hermione looked up and smiled. “Good, but not as good as you. Only ten ‘Outstanding’…” She held out her parchment.
Harry looked at it. She had indeed gotten ten ‘Outstanding’ results, and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts. “That’s still excellent Hermione,” he told her.
“You’re not disappointed are you?” Ron asked, exasperated.
Hermione shook her head, but Harry and Jamie laughed because it was true. She was disappointed that she hadn’t done as well as Jamie.
“Well, we’re N.E.W.T. students now!” Ron exclaimed. “Mum, are there any more sausages?”
Harry looked back down at his results. They were as good as he could’ve hoped for. Unfortunately though, he hadn’t the Potions grade required to take Snape’s N.E.W.T. class. He felt his happiness leave slightly as he thought about his dream of becoming an Auror sliding down the drain.
Funny how it was once a Death Eater that had told him he would make a good Auror. Ever since the Fake Mad-Eye Moody had told him that, that was what Harry had wanted to be. But now, he didn’t know what he was going to do.
“You okay Harry?” Jamie asked, catching his expression. Harry hastily smiled.
“Yeah, I’m great,” he said. “Congratulations on your results.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “Hey, don’t worry about Potions okay? Dumbledore can get Snape to let you in I bet.”
“We’ll see,” Harry replied. Funny how she could immediately tell what he was thinking. It was yet another reason why he was glad that she was his friend. And that’s how it’s going to stay, he reminded himself.
So this chapter is just a re-written version of the chapter An Excess of Phlegm in HBP. The reason for this is that I needed to introduce everyone, set up all the character relations and some other minor things, and a re-write in Harry's POV seemed like the best way to do so. I'm quite sure that this won't happen again. Thanks for sticking with me!
Lauren
Early in the morning, Harry was woken up by what sounded like canon-fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: the dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped helplessly for his glasses with the other.
“Wuzzgoinon?”
“Ron, at least give him a moment to wake up,” he heard a familiar girl’s voice say reproachfully.
Harry’s hand finally found his glasses and he shoved them on. At first the light was so bright he could barely see, but the he could make out three figures standing in the room. First was Ron Weasley, his red-headed best friend who appeared to have grown quite a bit since Harry had last seen him. Standing beside Ron were two girls who looked more or less the same as always; Hermione Granger and Jamie Henderson.
“Sorry for waking you up Harry,” Jamie apologized sheepishly. “They just had to make sure that I wasn’t lying about you being here.”
“We missed you mate,” Ron added. “How were the Muggles?”
“Same as always,” Harry replied, grinning. “How’re you lot?”
“Never been better,” Jamie said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So now that we’re all here, how about you tell us what you were doing with Dumbledore last night before you came?”
Harry laughed. Jamie was not known for subtlety. If she wanted to know something, she would ask you outright. But she wasn’t rude or overly obnoxious. In fact, she could be quite shy and quiet sometimes. But it was her need for answers that had first made Harry notice her, and he was quite glad for her friendship. She was the only one of the three of them that he felt he could trust with anything because she wouldn’t shy away from anything he told her.
He knew he had truly relied on her after the battle at the Ministry in June. She had been the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he might break down at any moment. She had wanted him to trust her with whatever Dumbledore had told him the night that he died, but he couldn’t. And thankfully she hadn’t held that against him. On the contrary she seemed to understand pretty well. That was why he was so glad that she was his friend.
“It wasn’t that exciting,” Harry told them. “He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name’s Horace Slughorn.”
“Oh,” said Ron, looking disappointed for some reason. “We thought – “
Harry caught the warning look Hermione flashed at Ron and Ron changed tack at top speed.
“- we thought it’d be something like that.”
“You did?” said Harry, amused. Trust Ron to give away what they were all really thinking.
“Yeah … yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don’t we? So, er, what’s he like?”
“He looks a bit like a walrus and he used to be Head of Slytherin,” Harry told him. “Something wrong Hermione?”
She was watching him as though he might suddenly divert to a moodier version of himself. He caught Jamie’s eye and she shook her head slightly. He realized that Hermione probably thought he was going to fall apart, but he had no desire to talk about what happened at the Ministry or Sirius’ death.
“No, of course not!” Hermione said, clearly forcing a smile. Harry knew she was lying; her voice raised a couple pitches when she lied. No one would notice if they didn’t know her, but after being friends with her for six years Harry could now tell quite easily when his friends were lying.
“So did Slughorn seem like he’ll be a good teacher?” Jamie asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Dunno,” Harry said. He hadn’t really gotten to know Slughorn all that well the previous night. “He can’t be worse than Umbridge though can he?”
The others were interrupted by a voice that said, “I know someone who’s worse than Umbridge.” Ron’s younger sister Ginny slouched into the room, looking irritable. Harry was amused by this; Ginny was usually a rather happy person. “Hi Harry,” she said to him.
“What’s up with you?” Ron asked.
“She’s driving me mad,” Ginny replied, sitting beside Jamie at the end of Harry’s bed. Jamie put her arm around Ginny in a hug.
“What’s she done now?” Hermione said sympathetically.
“It’s just the way she talks to me – you’d think I was about three!”
“I know,” said Hermione, dropping her voice. “She’s so full of herself.”
The shock Harry felt must have clearly shown on his face because Jamie interrupted the other two girls. “They’re talking about Fleur,” she told him, grinning. “She and Bill have become engaged.”
“Really?” Harry asked, surprised.
“Yeah, and neither Ginny nor Mrs. Weasley like her, right?” Jamie asked Ginny, who stuck her tongue out like a petulant child.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t keep treating me like her little sister.” Ginny got up and went to the door. “I’m supposed to be helping mum now. You lot better come down soon. I don’t know how much more of Phlegm I can take.”
“Don’t worry,” Hermione said, “we’ll be back at Hogwarts soon and you won’t have to deal with her anymore.” She walked over to one of the cardboard boxes and opened it. “Hey Ron, what is all this stuff?”
“How should I know?” Ron replied. “It’s all Fred and George’s things for their shop though; I wouldn’t go poking around in those if I were you.”
“Oh come on Ronald, how dangerous could this be?” Hermione asked, holding up what looked like a small telescope.
“You never know with them,” Jamie said giggling. “If it’s not in the joke shop, I wouldn’t trust it.”
“Your mum said the shop’s going well,” Harry said to Ron. “Said that Fred and George have a real flair for business.”
“That’s an understatement,” Ron said. “They’re raking in the Galleons! I can’t wait to see the place. We haven’t been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad’s got to be there for extra security and he’s been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent.”
“I miss having them around here though,” Jamie said thoughtfully. “They were a laugh when we played Quidditch in the yard last year.”
For some reason Harry felt a small pang of jealousy. He couldn’t place why though. Jamie was his best friend, nothing more.
“Well we should be going to get our school things soon,” Hermione said, “so you’ll get to see them then.”
“And what about Percy?” Harry asked, desperate to change the topic. He didn’t want to think about what he was thinking. “Is he talking to your mum and dad again?”
“Nope,” Ron replied simply.
“But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back –“
“Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right,” Hermione cut in. “I heard him telling your mum, Ron.”
Jamie snorted. “That sounds like the sort of the Dumbledore would say.”
Harry spotted an opening for another topic. “He’s going to be giving me private lessons this year,” he told them.
Their reaction was highly amusing; Jamie’s eyes went wide, Ron choked on the toast Harry hadn’t even realized that he had been eating, and Hermione gasped.
“You kept that quiet!” Ron accused.
“I only just remembered,” Harry said honestly. “He told me last night in your broom shed.”
“Funny,” Jamie said. “He took me to the broom cupboard as well last night. I wonder why.”
“Something about not wanting to be overheard?” Harry suggested.
“Yeah, that’s exactly it!” Jamie said. “Odd…”
“So why private lessons Harry?” Hermione interrupted. She exchanged a glance with Ron. Harry knew he had to explain why. Dumbledore had said to do it… why not now? He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know exactly why he’s going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy.”
Neither Ron or Hermione spoke, but Jamie looked intrigued. “You mean the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry?”
“Yeah, that one,” Harry replied.
“It got smashed though,” Hermione said, regaining her voice. “No one heard what it said.”
“Dumbledore had a copy,” Harry explained. “From what it said, it looks like I’m the one who’s got to finish off Voldemort … at least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives.” He looked down at his blankets, not wanting to see their immediate reactions. Then there was a loud bang and Hermione vanished behind a puff of black smoke.
“Hermione!” Ron shouted. Jamie got up and went behind the cloud. Then Harry and Ron could hear her laughing.
“It punched her!” Jamie cried, laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face. The smoke cleared and Ron and Harry could see Hermione holding the little telescope that now had a tiny fist on a long spring protruding from the end and sporting a brilliantly purple black eye.
“What do I do?” Hermione exclaimed.
“Let’s go down and see my mum,” Ron suggested. “She’s good at healing injuries.”
“Oh, well, never mind that now!” Hermione said hastily. “Harry, oh, Harry…”
She sat on the edge of the bed where Ginny had previously sat.
“We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry … obviously, we didn’t want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this … oh, Harry …” she paused, during which time Harry glanced at Jamie, who looked concerned. Hermione started at Harry for a moment, then whispered, “Are you scared?”
Harry thought about that for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before. “Not as much as I was,” he decided. “When I first heard it, I was … but now, it seems as thought I always knew I’d have to face him in the end.”
“Well Dumbledore must think you have a fighting chance,” Ron concluded. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be bothering to teach you anything. I wonder what you’re going to learn…” Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He honestly had no idea what Dumbledore could be planning.
“Well I’m sure he’ll tell us when he finds out, right Harry?” Jamie said, winking.
“Of course,” Harry replied, smiling. “Shouldn’t we go downstairs now?”
“Definitely,” Jamie agreed, and stood up. She looked at Hermione, who still looked worried. “Hermione don’t worry okay?”
Hermione glanced at Harry again, and then she sighed, smiling slightly. “Alright.”
“Plus, I heard O.W.L. results were going to be here today,” Jamie told her.
“That’s right!” Hermione exclaimed, her eyes growing wide. “Let’s go!”
They left Harry to get dressed, and when he came down ten minutes later he saw no owls, but rather Mrs. Weasley standing over Hermione with a large book labeled The Healer’s Helpmate open on the table. She looked rather perplexed as she waved her wand.
“I’ve always been able to get them to go away,” she muttered to herself. She looked up and saw Harry, “oh good morning Harry dear. Take a seat at the table, and get some food.”
“She can’t get it to go away,” Jamie told Harry. She was sitting at the table, drumming her fingers rapidly on the surface. Harry grinned and sat beside her.
“No owls come yet?” He asked her slyly.
“Not yet,” Jamie said, looking worried. Harry laughed. Both she and Hermione were so focused on schoolwork. No doubt they had been waiting for their results ever since they left Hogwarts in June. But now that he thought about it, perhaps he should be worried. Maybe he failed every class, and then what would he do?
“What happens if we fail?” Harry asked Jamie.
“We discuss our options with our Head of House,” she told him. “I asked McGonagall at the end of last term.”
Just then, he heard Hermione scream. “Jamie, I see them!” She pointed out the window.
Jamie got up and stood beside her at the kitchen window. Harry stood on Jamie’s other side. He could see four large owls making their way to the Burrow, each carrying a think square envelope.
They soon reached the window and flew in on the table. They each lifted their right legs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Jamie each untied their respective owl and when they got their letters the owls took off out the window again.
Nobody spoke. Harry quickly slit his envelope open with shaking fingers and unfolded the parchment inside.
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS
Pass Grades: Outstanding (O) Fail Grades: Poor (P)
Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)
Acceptable (A) Troll (T)
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHEIVED:
Astronomy: A
Care of Magical Creatures: E
Charms: E
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: P
Herbology: E
History of Magic: D
Potions: E
Transfiguration: E
Pass Grades: Outstanding (O) Fail Grades: Poor (P)
Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)
Acceptable (A) Troll (T)
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHEIVED:
Astronomy: A
Care of Magical Creatures: E
Charms: E
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: P
Herbology: E
History of Magic: D
Potions: E
Transfiguration: E
Harry read the piece of parchment through several times, his breathing becoming easier with each reading. His results were okay; he knew he would never pass Divination or History of Magic, especially the latter seeing as he had passed out in the middle of the exam. He had passed, he realized excitedly. And he had even gotten an ‘Outstanding’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts!
He looked at everyone else. Ron looked delighted.
“How’d you do?” He asked Harry. When Harry told him, he said, “Only failed Divination and History of Magic too then? And I knew you’d be top in Defence Against the Dark Arts mate. We’ve done alright, haven’t we?” He looked at Mrs. Weasley.
“Very well done!” Mrs. Weasley said proudly, ruffling Ron’s hair. “Seven O.W.L.s, that’s more than Fred and George got together!”
They looked at Hermione and Jamie. When Harry saw their expressions, he nudged Ron who laughed. The girls had similar expressions on their faces; happiness mixed with a hint of some other emotion. Jamie looked up and caught Harry and Ron looking.
“I did pretty well,” she said happily. “Eleven ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L.s!”
“Pretty well,” Ron quoted. “I’d say that’s excellent, wouldn’t you Harry?”
“Yeah Jamie,” Harry agreed. “I don’t think you can do better than that.”
“Well thanks guys,” she said, then turned to Hermione. “How did you do Hermione?”
Hermione looked up and smiled. “Good, but not as good as you. Only ten ‘Outstanding’…” She held out her parchment.
Harry looked at it. She had indeed gotten ten ‘Outstanding’ results, and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts. “That’s still excellent Hermione,” he told her.
“You’re not disappointed are you?” Ron asked, exasperated.
Hermione shook her head, but Harry and Jamie laughed because it was true. She was disappointed that she hadn’t done as well as Jamie.
“Well, we’re N.E.W.T. students now!” Ron exclaimed. “Mum, are there any more sausages?”
Harry looked back down at his results. They were as good as he could’ve hoped for. Unfortunately though, he hadn’t the Potions grade required to take Snape’s N.E.W.T. class. He felt his happiness leave slightly as he thought about his dream of becoming an Auror sliding down the drain.
Funny how it was once a Death Eater that had told him he would make a good Auror. Ever since the Fake Mad-Eye Moody had told him that, that was what Harry had wanted to be. But now, he didn’t know what he was going to do.
“You okay Harry?” Jamie asked, catching his expression. Harry hastily smiled.
“Yeah, I’m great,” he said. “Congratulations on your results.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “Hey, don’t worry about Potions okay? Dumbledore can get Snape to let you in I bet.”
“We’ll see,” Harry replied. Funny how she could immediately tell what he was thinking. It was yet another reason why he was glad that she was his friend. And that’s how it’s going to stay, he reminded himself.
So this chapter is just a re-written version of the chapter An Excess of Phlegm in HBP. The reason for this is that I needed to introduce everyone, set up all the character relations and some other minor things, and a re-write in Harry's POV seemed like the best way to do so. I'm quite sure that this won't happen again. Thanks for sticking with me!
Lauren
Chapter Five: Cutting Ties
In a place far away from the Burrow, there was a large house on the edge of a rocky cliff. The windows were dark; it appeared as though no one was home. The curtains had been drawn and had a Muggle passed by, they would not have sensed anything odd about the house. It looked like an average beach house belonging to a wealthy family.
But this house was no ordinary house. In wizarding history it had been the summer home of none other than Wilhelm Wigworthy, author of the book Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. Now however, it was the safe house where Gilbert Wimple was staying. Wimple was a prominent figure on the Committee on Experimental Charms, and was wanted by the Death Eaters for treason to their secret order.
Back in the early days Wimple had been part of the organization but a couple months before Voldemort’s downfall he had disappeared. None of the Death Eaters knew what had happened to him until all of a sudden they were being rounded up left, right, and centre by the Ministry shortly after Voldemort fell and they were forced into hiding. In Azkaban they questioned how the Ministry could have known where their secret homes were located, and came to the conclusion that Wimple must have sold them out. When they heard that he was given a job at the Ministry and was moving up the ranks, they swore that they would have their vengeance on him. And now one of them would.
He crept behind the trees on the fringe of the property. Silent and stealthy, that’s how he would proceed. He could’ve taken Wimple by force; Wimple wasn’t that skilled a wizard. However, he preferred to have the element of surprise on his side, and take down the sorry excuse for a wizard without causing too much of a commotion. He had been ordered to leave Wimple alone until a group of Death Eaters could take him down and each get their revenge.
As if I would do that, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Wimple deserved to pay for what he had done. Because of that scum he had suffered much more than anyone could imagine.
He stood up and went around to the big picture window at the back of the house. He would’ve used a Disillusionment charm, but he was certain that Wimple would be paranoid and would have security measures around his property that could detect spell use. This was another reason why he had Apparated. As it was, he was ready to make his presence known. The time for creeping around had ended. He only had a limited amount of time before someone figured out that he had left.
“Reducto!” he cried, causing the window to blast apart in shards. He gingerly hopped through and landed on a plush gold carpet. Looking around, he saw that the room was empty. No matter, he thought to himself. I know Wimple is here somewhere.
“Comperio,” he whispered. As the spell took effect, he felt a magnetic tug pulling him toward the stairs leading to what appeared to be a basement. Great, he thought to himself, we can finish this in the dark. Little does he know that I prefer to battle in the dark.
He cast another charm that would allow him to see clearly in any light, and made his way silently to the stairs. Wimple would surely know that someone was here, and would be on the lookout.
He crept down the stairs, lighter than a whisper, his eyes constantly moving. He got to the bottom and discovered that the basement was a place that was hardly used. The floor was cold concrete; the walls were bare of paint. The overhead lights were on, so there was no need for a spell to help him see. There was a door at the far end of the room, and he felt his spell force him toward it. So that’s where he’s hiding, he thought.
He walked toward the door but before he could reach it, it flew open. He cast a protection spell around himself and felt a spell bounce off it.
“You really thought I wouldn’t be prepared for that?” he laughed, regarding the man that stood in doorway. Wimple was of medium height, and still looked the same as in the picture that he had stashed in his pocket.
“Who are you?” Wimple asked, clearly confused. “I thought the Death Eaters were coming for me…”
He laughed. “And now I’m here aren’t I?”
“But you’re not one of them,” Wimple objected, still confused. “I know who would come for me, and I don’t know you.”
“Maybe that’s true,” he replied, “but you’ve caused me enough misery for a lifetime.” Without a warning he silently cast a spell that caused Wimple to be bound by ropes and his wand to fall out of his hand.
“Come now,” Wimple complained, “at least let us have a fair fight. I know you’re here against your orders, too many of them want me dead to allow just one who I haven’t directly harmed to finish me off.”
“You’re too funny,” he told the man. “Of course I’m here against my orders. I’ll probably be punished when I get back, but seeing you dead will be worth it.” He was becoming confused. Why wasn’t Wimple pleading for his life?
“I knew I was going to die soon son,” Wimple said, answering his unasked question. “I’ve committed too much treason for them to let me live in peace. But before you kill me, as I know you will, at least tell me who you are. What have I done to you?”
He contemplated Wimple. Should he play up the theatrics and tell the man the information he sought? Or should he quickly dispose of him, and leave? He thought about it for a moment, and chose the former. It was Wimple’s calm about being murdered that had made up his mind.
“You ask why I came alone to kill you, and I suppose I can allow you the luxury of knowing that,” he told Wimple, who raised his eyebrows.
“Just tell me. Please.”
What was with this man? Why was he so concerned with what he did in the past? If it was him, he would want to forget all his treasons. He would probably create a new identity for himself, move to another country. He would leave all his mistakes behind. Not that he would ever have to do that.
“Why are you so concerned?” he asked Wimple. He had to know before he would give up any of his secrets.
“I deserve the pain of knowing,” Wimple said simply. He wasn’t even trying to fight against his bonds; he stood limply. Wimple looked defeated. It was throwing him off-guard.
“Do you remember the time when the Dark Lord had you stay with the prisoners he kept?” He asked Wimple quietly. He let down his shield; he had Wimple’s wand, he couldn’t be harmed by him now.
“Of course I remember that,” Wimple whispered, his face going white. “That was the worst thing I had ever done. If I could take back anything that I’ve done, it would be everything that went on while I was down there.”
“Good, I’m glad that you remember,” he said, his confidence returning to him. “It makes it so much easier that I don’t have to explain it all to you.”
“What do you have to do with that?” Wimple asked. “If I’m not mistaken, you would’ve only been a young child back then.”
“Think back Wimple,” he told the man. “Don’t you remember when the Dark Lord made you spend a full week down there, without being allowed to come up and get the horrible images and words out of your head?”
Wimple turned even paler still. “The most horrible days of my life,” he breathed. “I felt so horrible for her. All alone down there, being tortured for information and her kids…” His eyes grew wide in realization. “She was never allowed to see her kids, only at night when they were told to go to sleep down there.”
“That’s right,” he said coldly. So Wimple did remember the circumstances. “Those kids were only allowed down there to see their mother when they weren’t wanted by their father. Their father who hated them; even the baby girl. She was only a baby Wimple!”
Wimple gasped. “You’re the little boy?!” He asked, completely in shock.
“One and the same,” he said dryly. “That’s right Wimple, I am that little boy. The one you ignored when he cried out at night from the pain of those spells. The same one you told to grow up because it really wasn’t all that bad.”
“But you were fine!” Wimple cried. “No matter what they did to you, we were told that once you learned you would be revered above all of the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was ecstatic. Never before had there been a Death Eater who would be more loyal than you. And then later your sister would join you, and the two of you would be the most powerful children in existence.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it Wimple?” he said coldly. “This thing that was so great, it never happened. My sister and I didn’t become the great spell casters and loyal servants the Dark Lord claimed we would be. And why is that Wimple? You know what you did, don’t you?”
“I was trying to protect you,” Wimple said. “That’s all, I swear.”
“BUT WHAT DID YOU DO?” he roared. He was losing patience fast. This trip down memory lane wasn’t nearly as pleasant as he thought it would be. He wanted to kill Wimple now, but he wanted Wimple to realize what he had condemned that young boy too. It would give him the satisfaction he craved.
“I told the woman about the plan to kill her and her son,” Wimple whispered. “It’s true, I swear it. The Dark Lord had confessed to me that she was losing her value and the boy wasn’t progressing nearly as quickly as he would have liked. He wished for her husband to dispose of them both quickly and quietly. The baby would be kept alive for the time being.
“I told her about the plan, and she made me help her get away with the children. I told her that she could Disapparate with them at night while everyone was sleeping. For no matter what anyone thought, Death Eaters did sleep. She left quietly one night while I was keeping watch for her.”
“And you don’t know what happened next?” he asked in disgust. Only the traitor Wimple wouldn’t know the repercussions of what he had done.
Wimple shook his head. “After she left, I left myself. I was in hiding ever since, until I betrayed the Death Eaters shortly after the Dark Lord’s fall.”
“Well how about I tell you what happened then,” he said, “since you believe you did something really great and saved their lives.
“She went to her homeland, the Island of Fernan, and sought her father. She told him of the plan to kill her and her son and asked him to keep her daughter safe. He agreed and asked her to take the boy as well. She refused because you had told her that he would be found and killed no matter where he went. He took the girl and left shortly after that.”
“What happened then?” Wimple pleaded. “Why didn’t her plan work? I heard that everyone on that island had been destroyed.”
“The Death Eaters found out that she had escaped,” he told Wimple. “They found her, and for her disobedience they killed everyone on the island. They found her father and the baby girl and killed them too. They killed the woman you thought you saved and they would have killed the boy too, except that his father thought he might still have some use to the Dark Lord, contrary to what the Dark Lord had said. They left the island a place of great murder. It was the greatest mass murder that had ever occurred under the Dark Lord’s reign.”
“And you,” Wimple whispered, “you are that little boy.”
“As I previously said, yes I am that same boy,” he replied. “I am the one you thought you had saved, but in truth you condemned me to a life of torture and pain. I was punished for the escape of my mother, and for the duration of my life I have been subjected to pain for every one of my mistakes and shortcomings. My sister was killed, but I believe that she was the lucky one. For the pain you have caused me, no matter how indirectly, is the reason I will kill you.”
He cast a spell silently. Wimple cried out in pain and fell to the ground. He felt his anger coursing through him and watched coldly as Wimple twitched in invisible pain. The Cruciatus curse was one that he had perfected at an early age.
After a few minutes he stopped the spell. Wimple lay on the ground panting. He looked up with bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down his face.
“Can’t you kill me quickly?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Why should I allow you that luxury?”
“I have thought about that woman and her children every day of my life for the past sixteen years.” Wimple screamed again as pain ran through his body.
“But I have been subjected to worse pain than I am giving you. So give me one good reason why I should just kill you now, and spare you the misery.”
He looked at Wimple in amazement as the traitor struggled and managed to sit up. “Because if you don’t, you will hear my screams every waking moment for the rest of your life,” Wimple panted. “You don’t want that on your conscience.”
“What conscience?” he laughed. “I lost my conscience long ago.” But he was unnerved by Wimple. Perhaps he should just kill him now and be done with it. He was running out of time to act.
“But you are lucky Wimple,” he told the man. “I will be found out soon like my dead mother if I do not act fast. Goodbye traitor.” And before Wimple could say another word he cast his final spell, “Avada Kedavra!”
Wimple’s lifeless body slumped back as the jet of green light hit him in the chest. He regarded the corpse for a moment, then turned around and went back upstairs to the main level.
He unlocked the front door and stepped outside. Once he reached the edge of the property once again, he turned around and looked at the large house.
“Reducto quietus!” he whispered. The house crumbled to pieces in a matter of seconds. No noise was heard as the legendary house was destroyed. He was a powerful wizard. The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters had made sure of that for his entire life. He was done here. Hadrian turned around and Disapparated from the last ties to his deceased mother and sister.
Lauren
In a place far away from the Burrow, there was a large house on the edge of a rocky cliff. The windows were dark; it appeared as though no one was home. The curtains had been drawn and had a Muggle passed by, they would not have sensed anything odd about the house. It looked like an average beach house belonging to a wealthy family.
But this house was no ordinary house. In wizarding history it had been the summer home of none other than Wilhelm Wigworthy, author of the book Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. Now however, it was the safe house where Gilbert Wimple was staying. Wimple was a prominent figure on the Committee on Experimental Charms, and was wanted by the Death Eaters for treason to their secret order.
Back in the early days Wimple had been part of the organization but a couple months before Voldemort’s downfall he had disappeared. None of the Death Eaters knew what had happened to him until all of a sudden they were being rounded up left, right, and centre by the Ministry shortly after Voldemort fell and they were forced into hiding. In Azkaban they questioned how the Ministry could have known where their secret homes were located, and came to the conclusion that Wimple must have sold them out. When they heard that he was given a job at the Ministry and was moving up the ranks, they swore that they would have their vengeance on him. And now one of them would.
He crept behind the trees on the fringe of the property. Silent and stealthy, that’s how he would proceed. He could’ve taken Wimple by force; Wimple wasn’t that skilled a wizard. However, he preferred to have the element of surprise on his side, and take down the sorry excuse for a wizard without causing too much of a commotion. He had been ordered to leave Wimple alone until a group of Death Eaters could take him down and each get their revenge.
As if I would do that, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Wimple deserved to pay for what he had done. Because of that scum he had suffered much more than anyone could imagine.
He stood up and went around to the big picture window at the back of the house. He would’ve used a Disillusionment charm, but he was certain that Wimple would be paranoid and would have security measures around his property that could detect spell use. This was another reason why he had Apparated. As it was, he was ready to make his presence known. The time for creeping around had ended. He only had a limited amount of time before someone figured out that he had left.
“Reducto!” he cried, causing the window to blast apart in shards. He gingerly hopped through and landed on a plush gold carpet. Looking around, he saw that the room was empty. No matter, he thought to himself. I know Wimple is here somewhere.
“Comperio,” he whispered. As the spell took effect, he felt a magnetic tug pulling him toward the stairs leading to what appeared to be a basement. Great, he thought to himself, we can finish this in the dark. Little does he know that I prefer to battle in the dark.
He cast another charm that would allow him to see clearly in any light, and made his way silently to the stairs. Wimple would surely know that someone was here, and would be on the lookout.
He crept down the stairs, lighter than a whisper, his eyes constantly moving. He got to the bottom and discovered that the basement was a place that was hardly used. The floor was cold concrete; the walls were bare of paint. The overhead lights were on, so there was no need for a spell to help him see. There was a door at the far end of the room, and he felt his spell force him toward it. So that’s where he’s hiding, he thought.
He walked toward the door but before he could reach it, it flew open. He cast a protection spell around himself and felt a spell bounce off it.
“You really thought I wouldn’t be prepared for that?” he laughed, regarding the man that stood in doorway. Wimple was of medium height, and still looked the same as in the picture that he had stashed in his pocket.
“Who are you?” Wimple asked, clearly confused. “I thought the Death Eaters were coming for me…”
He laughed. “And now I’m here aren’t I?”
“But you’re not one of them,” Wimple objected, still confused. “I know who would come for me, and I don’t know you.”
“Maybe that’s true,” he replied, “but you’ve caused me enough misery for a lifetime.” Without a warning he silently cast a spell that caused Wimple to be bound by ropes and his wand to fall out of his hand.
“Come now,” Wimple complained, “at least let us have a fair fight. I know you’re here against your orders, too many of them want me dead to allow just one who I haven’t directly harmed to finish me off.”
“You’re too funny,” he told the man. “Of course I’m here against my orders. I’ll probably be punished when I get back, but seeing you dead will be worth it.” He was becoming confused. Why wasn’t Wimple pleading for his life?
“I knew I was going to die soon son,” Wimple said, answering his unasked question. “I’ve committed too much treason for them to let me live in peace. But before you kill me, as I know you will, at least tell me who you are. What have I done to you?”
He contemplated Wimple. Should he play up the theatrics and tell the man the information he sought? Or should he quickly dispose of him, and leave? He thought about it for a moment, and chose the former. It was Wimple’s calm about being murdered that had made up his mind.
“You ask why I came alone to kill you, and I suppose I can allow you the luxury of knowing that,” he told Wimple, who raised his eyebrows.
“Just tell me. Please.”
What was with this man? Why was he so concerned with what he did in the past? If it was him, he would want to forget all his treasons. He would probably create a new identity for himself, move to another country. He would leave all his mistakes behind. Not that he would ever have to do that.
“Why are you so concerned?” he asked Wimple. He had to know before he would give up any of his secrets.
“I deserve the pain of knowing,” Wimple said simply. He wasn’t even trying to fight against his bonds; he stood limply. Wimple looked defeated. It was throwing him off-guard.
“Do you remember the time when the Dark Lord had you stay with the prisoners he kept?” He asked Wimple quietly. He let down his shield; he had Wimple’s wand, he couldn’t be harmed by him now.
“Of course I remember that,” Wimple whispered, his face going white. “That was the worst thing I had ever done. If I could take back anything that I’ve done, it would be everything that went on while I was down there.”
“Good, I’m glad that you remember,” he said, his confidence returning to him. “It makes it so much easier that I don’t have to explain it all to you.”
“What do you have to do with that?” Wimple asked. “If I’m not mistaken, you would’ve only been a young child back then.”
“Think back Wimple,” he told the man. “Don’t you remember when the Dark Lord made you spend a full week down there, without being allowed to come up and get the horrible images and words out of your head?”
Wimple turned even paler still. “The most horrible days of my life,” he breathed. “I felt so horrible for her. All alone down there, being tortured for information and her kids…” His eyes grew wide in realization. “She was never allowed to see her kids, only at night when they were told to go to sleep down there.”
“That’s right,” he said coldly. So Wimple did remember the circumstances. “Those kids were only allowed down there to see their mother when they weren’t wanted by their father. Their father who hated them; even the baby girl. She was only a baby Wimple!”
Wimple gasped. “You’re the little boy?!” He asked, completely in shock.
“One and the same,” he said dryly. “That’s right Wimple, I am that little boy. The one you ignored when he cried out at night from the pain of those spells. The same one you told to grow up because it really wasn’t all that bad.”
“But you were fine!” Wimple cried. “No matter what they did to you, we were told that once you learned you would be revered above all of the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was ecstatic. Never before had there been a Death Eater who would be more loyal than you. And then later your sister would join you, and the two of you would be the most powerful children in existence.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it Wimple?” he said coldly. “This thing that was so great, it never happened. My sister and I didn’t become the great spell casters and loyal servants the Dark Lord claimed we would be. And why is that Wimple? You know what you did, don’t you?”
“I was trying to protect you,” Wimple said. “That’s all, I swear.”
“BUT WHAT DID YOU DO?” he roared. He was losing patience fast. This trip down memory lane wasn’t nearly as pleasant as he thought it would be. He wanted to kill Wimple now, but he wanted Wimple to realize what he had condemned that young boy too. It would give him the satisfaction he craved.
“I told the woman about the plan to kill her and her son,” Wimple whispered. “It’s true, I swear it. The Dark Lord had confessed to me that she was losing her value and the boy wasn’t progressing nearly as quickly as he would have liked. He wished for her husband to dispose of them both quickly and quietly. The baby would be kept alive for the time being.
“I told her about the plan, and she made me help her get away with the children. I told her that she could Disapparate with them at night while everyone was sleeping. For no matter what anyone thought, Death Eaters did sleep. She left quietly one night while I was keeping watch for her.”
“And you don’t know what happened next?” he asked in disgust. Only the traitor Wimple wouldn’t know the repercussions of what he had done.
Wimple shook his head. “After she left, I left myself. I was in hiding ever since, until I betrayed the Death Eaters shortly after the Dark Lord’s fall.”
“Well how about I tell you what happened then,” he said, “since you believe you did something really great and saved their lives.
“She went to her homeland, the Island of Fernan, and sought her father. She told him of the plan to kill her and her son and asked him to keep her daughter safe. He agreed and asked her to take the boy as well. She refused because you had told her that he would be found and killed no matter where he went. He took the girl and left shortly after that.”
“What happened then?” Wimple pleaded. “Why didn’t her plan work? I heard that everyone on that island had been destroyed.”
“The Death Eaters found out that she had escaped,” he told Wimple. “They found her, and for her disobedience they killed everyone on the island. They found her father and the baby girl and killed them too. They killed the woman you thought you saved and they would have killed the boy too, except that his father thought he might still have some use to the Dark Lord, contrary to what the Dark Lord had said. They left the island a place of great murder. It was the greatest mass murder that had ever occurred under the Dark Lord’s reign.”
“And you,” Wimple whispered, “you are that little boy.”
“As I previously said, yes I am that same boy,” he replied. “I am the one you thought you had saved, but in truth you condemned me to a life of torture and pain. I was punished for the escape of my mother, and for the duration of my life I have been subjected to pain for every one of my mistakes and shortcomings. My sister was killed, but I believe that she was the lucky one. For the pain you have caused me, no matter how indirectly, is the reason I will kill you.”
He cast a spell silently. Wimple cried out in pain and fell to the ground. He felt his anger coursing through him and watched coldly as Wimple twitched in invisible pain. The Cruciatus curse was one that he had perfected at an early age.
After a few minutes he stopped the spell. Wimple lay on the ground panting. He looked up with bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down his face.
“Can’t you kill me quickly?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Why should I allow you that luxury?”
“I have thought about that woman and her children every day of my life for the past sixteen years.” Wimple screamed again as pain ran through his body.
“But I have been subjected to worse pain than I am giving you. So give me one good reason why I should just kill you now, and spare you the misery.”
He looked at Wimple in amazement as the traitor struggled and managed to sit up. “Because if you don’t, you will hear my screams every waking moment for the rest of your life,” Wimple panted. “You don’t want that on your conscience.”
“What conscience?” he laughed. “I lost my conscience long ago.” But he was unnerved by Wimple. Perhaps he should just kill him now and be done with it. He was running out of time to act.
“But you are lucky Wimple,” he told the man. “I will be found out soon like my dead mother if I do not act fast. Goodbye traitor.” And before Wimple could say another word he cast his final spell, “Avada Kedavra!”
Wimple’s lifeless body slumped back as the jet of green light hit him in the chest. He regarded the corpse for a moment, then turned around and went back upstairs to the main level.
He unlocked the front door and stepped outside. Once he reached the edge of the property once again, he turned around and looked at the large house.
“Reducto quietus!” he whispered. The house crumbled to pieces in a matter of seconds. No noise was heard as the legendary house was destroyed. He was a powerful wizard. The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters had made sure of that for his entire life. He was done here. Hadrian turned around and Disapparated from the last ties to his deceased mother and sister.
Lauren
Chapter Six: Strange Situations
The atmosphere was somber, and the lights were dimmed low. Jamie stepped quietly around the crowds of people. They glanced at her as she passed, whispering or speaking in hushed tones. She kept her head down, and made her way through the hall. It was so long, it appeared as though it would never end.
Breathing a sigh of relief she exited the building, and sat on the sidewalk. She didn’t care that it was cold out; it felt refreshing after the stuffy air inside. It had felt like choking, being in those rooms. She just needed a moment to breathe, and then she would return inside, as was expected of her. The time outside was much too short, but she knew someone would be wondering where she went if she did not return shortly.
Jamie walked slowly back to the room. It was so full that there was a line leading down the hallway. They all moved to the side to let her pass and stared at her with such sickeningly pitiful looks that she wanted to throw up. Surely to God they’ve been to a funeral before, she thought to herself.
The room grew hushed as she walked to the front. She rolled her eyes at Hermione who gave her a weak smile. Jamie paused in front of the closed casket. It was her job to open it so people could begin to pay their respects. How she ended up with this job she had no idea.
She took a deep breath and lifted the front lid. Her aunt Audrey looked to be at peace nestled in the satin that covered the inside of the box. Her face was calm and unlined, none of the usual worry lines crossing her brow. Jamie felt the tears spring to her eyes as she look at her aunt, and wiped them quickly so they wouldn’t drop. She felt an arm on her shoulder and looked up at Harry.
“It’s okay Jamie,” he whispered, rubbing her arm softly.
“I know,” she replied, moving out of the way so that others could move to the front. “I miss her so much already.”
Harry led her to the vacated side room, and she didn’t argue. Normally she would have protested that they had to keep up appearances but ever since Audrey’s death, she couldn’t seem to find the drive to make her own decisions.
They sat on the bench, hidden behind the winter coats of all the guests. Neither said a word for a moment and Jamie dried her face. She sighed.
“I’m not sure I want to go back out there,” she confessed, looking into Harry’s eyes. The two of them were seated very close. “I miss Audrey, but I can’t play the sad puppy game anymore.”
“Then don’t,” Harry suggested, leaning forward. Jamie closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers, and suddenly they were kissing; kissing like nothing else in the world mattered. But to her, nothing else did matter. She raised her arms and moved to grab his hair and -
“What is wrong with me?” Jamie gasped, sitting upright in her chair. She looked around wildly, breathing heavily. She was confused at first to find herself in the Gryffindor common room, but then realized that she must have been dreaming. This brought on a round of relief as she realized that her aunt Audrey was not dead, and she had not kissed Harry. She had just had a bad nightmare.
“I blame this essay,” she grumbled to herself, picking up her quill. She had been trying to finish an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but couldn’t seem to concentrate on the topic she was supposed to be writing about. It was for that reason that she had fallen asleep.
But what a weird dream! Jamie couldn’t believe that she had dreamed of kissing Harry. That was wrong on so many levels. Not only was he her best friend, she didn’t even like him that way. It was disturbing to think about.
And the wake…that was a shocker. Where does a dream like that come from? she wondered. She still couldn’t believe it; Audrey being dead? That was incomprehensible to her. And surely she’d more distraught and not wanting to escape so badly. She wasn’t anti-social, so where did that whole scene with Harry even come from?
But if Jamie truly thought about it, she knew where the death portion of her dream had come from.
At the Welcoming Feast, only two weeks prior, there had been devastating news. Hunter Thompson had gone missing over the summer. The silence in the room after Dumbledore had made the announcement had been deafening. Hunter Thompson had been a beloved member of Ravenclaw house, and a very proficient Quidditch player. He had been a prefect, and would have entered his seventh and final year at Hogwarts this year had he not disappeared.
The story was that during the summer Hunter had planned to visit America with his older sister. Right before their trip, his sister notified the Ministry that Hunter was gone. She had looked everywhere for him, but no one seemed to know where he was. For a full week a team of Aurors searched the city and the countryside for him. They never found him. Their last tip had brought them to a small abandoned house by the sea. When they got there, they didn’t find Hunter but instead found something intriguing. The house had been ransacked from top to bottom; even the floorboards had been pulled up. It seemed to authorities that Hunter had stopped by to pick up or look or something of vital importance, and then had run away. The search efforts stopped soon after this last discovery. It was believed that Hunter must have run into Voldemort and was most likely now dead.
Jamie had been shocked to hear this. She had known Hunter since they were little kids. His mother had gone to school with her uncle Julian so they had always had play dates. And when he had gone to Hogwarts the year before she started, he was sure to tell her all about it when he came home for the holidays. They had been really close until his mother died, four months before Julian had. Since then things had been awkward between them and she never really got to talk to him again. But still, she never thought that he had it in his character to do anything like he had. And to get mixed up with Voldemort? How could that happen to someone like him?
Jamie sighed. Things had been weird ever since she left Audrey’s, and she wasn’t sure when it would stop. But she knew that the cause of everything led to Voldemort. She had read in the Daily Prophet about a house being destroyed by the sea with no trace of the owner. It was events like that that were obvious to tell who caused it, but things like Hunter’s disappearance were explained in more logical ways, like a flaw in his character. Jamie knew the truth. Voldemort was behind Hunter’s disappearance, no matter what anyone else said.
She closed her books and went upstairs. Everyone else was already asleep, and she looked at her clock. It was two forty-four in the morning. Jamie sighed and changed into her pajamas. Another day gone, but another to come in a few short hours.
Hadrian walked briskly up the drive. He had little time to spare; he was late for an important meeting with the Dark Lord. He hadn’t known about it before he set out to the house on the cliff. However he probably would have gone to the house and completed his task even if he had known about the meeting sooner. It was simply unfortunate that both events fell in such close timing to one another.
The front door of the old building swung open as he stepped on the porch. Hadrian could hear voices coming from the back room that was the location of the dining room. Great, he thought to himself wryly, just what I need – an important meeting.
He walked toward the room and knocked on the door frame. There were only a few Death Eaters present; this meant it was a meeting restricted to the higher ranks of the Death Eaters. Everyone looked up from what appeared to be a heated discussion.
“Ah Hadrian, you’re late,” the Dark Lord said silkily, nodding in his direction.
“I apologize my Lord,” Hadrian murmured, bowing slightly. “I was unaware of this gathering until a few minutes ago.”
“I suppose I can forgive you for this,” Voldemort replied. “Come sit next to your father.”
Hadrian stiffened; “As you wish my Lord.” He took his place to the right of his father, not looking him in the eye. It had been many days since they had last spoke a word to one another.
“Now that we are all here,” Voldemort began, and a few of the other attendees tittered, regarding Hadrian. “I have a couple issues to discuss. Oddly enough they only involve you Hadrian.”
“I am honored,” Hadrian said softly. He had learned over the years that speaking softly was more effective than using a loud voice. You were less likely to be punished.
“I don’t think you will be when you learn why,” Dolohov snickered.
“That is enough Dolohov!” Voldemort commanded in a deadly voice. “It is true that you have displeased me Hadrian and I am most disappointed.”
Hadrian felt a thrill of surprise. They must have found out where he had gone and what he had done. He would not admit to it easily however. “What have I done my Lord, I am confused,” he confessed, trying his best to keep the block on his mind up.
“Ah Hadrian I am proud, you have been perfecting your Occulumency,” Voldemort noted. “However, this does not outweigh the fact of your disobedience. I know that you have just killed Gilbert Wimple.”
There was a collective gasp from everyone seated around the table.
“How could you?” Bellatrix Lestrange hissed from her seat beside Voldemort. “We had all vowed to get our revenge together. Who do you think you are, boy!”
Hadrian bridled at the insult. “I am not a boy, Bellatrix,” he retorted calmly, playing the position of calm adversary. “I had the right to do it, and you were not including me in your little vow. So I took matters into my own hands.”
“So this was child’s revenge? You were not included in the older members’ plot so you beat them to it? I ask you again, who do you think you are? Do you think you are special because you survived our attack? Because you are being raised like no other child has? This does not make you special, do not kid yourself!” Bellatrix finished, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.
Hadrian was about to reply when Voldemort cut him off. “ENOUGH,” he commanded, and a deathly silence fell over the attendees.
“Bellatrix, you need to control your mouth,” he told her and she flushed a furious scarlet. “Whatever any of you think does not matter. I am pleased with Hadrian for his actions. Wimple needed to be killed a long time ago and if none of you could do it then I am pleased that he did not follow your wishes.”
“Thank you my Lord,” Hadrian mumbled, shooting Bellatrix an evil glare. She sat like stone, fuming.
“That being resolved for now, I must move on to the next situation,” Voldemort continued. “I require your services for an extended period of time Hadrian.”
“Whatever you wish my Lord,” Hadrian said automatically.
As Voldemort outlined the plan and the tasks that would be required of him, Hadrian blanched, and then became furious. What an absurd idea!
“My Lord I beg of you, do not make me do this,” Hadrian pleaded. “This is a waste of my talent, and my time. Make one of your younger followers do it.”
Voldemort regarded him seriously. “Do not question my judgment Hadrian,” he said quietly. “I have thought long and hard about this and in light of your recent disobedience this is what I am ordering to do. Will you disobey your lord?”
“No, my Lord,” Hadrian whispered, bowing his head.
“I didn’t think so,” Voldemort said in approval, clasping his hands together. “Consider yourself lucky that you will not be punished further”
“Yes my Lord,” Hadrian replied.
“Now, you will spend the evening in the basement, as further punishment for this blatant disobedience to the others. This will be his only punishment,” Voldemort addressed the others, eyeing them carefully. “You are not to plot against him, nor harm any hair on his head. I will know if you do.”
Murmurs of disappointed consent filled the room. Hadrian breathed a sigh of relief. The basement would be bad enough without having to worry about being jumped once he got out. He knew he could beat any of the younger Death Eaters, but if the older ones present at the meeting wanted him then he would have no chance.
Voldemort stood up. “Hadrian I expect you to report to your post in two mornings. Everyone else continue your work until you hear otherwise.”
Hadrian stood and walked out the door. He crossed the hall quickly and reached the door that led to the basement.
Stepping down the stairs he realized that it had been a while since he had last been down there. There was still the same musty smell, the same chains rocking eerily against the wall, the same cold stone. He sighed and plopped down on the solitary folding chair in the corner. It would be a long night with no one to talk to and nothing to do.
Note: Sorry it took me so long to post! I quite literally have not had one moment of free time since Sepetember, so thank you for bearing with me. I'll try to post more frequently, especially now that I have ideas. So please leave your feedback, and thank you once again!
Lauren
The atmosphere was somber, and the lights were dimmed low. Jamie stepped quietly around the crowds of people. They glanced at her as she passed, whispering or speaking in hushed tones. She kept her head down, and made her way through the hall. It was so long, it appeared as though it would never end.
Breathing a sigh of relief she exited the building, and sat on the sidewalk. She didn’t care that it was cold out; it felt refreshing after the stuffy air inside. It had felt like choking, being in those rooms. She just needed a moment to breathe, and then she would return inside, as was expected of her. The time outside was much too short, but she knew someone would be wondering where she went if she did not return shortly.
Jamie walked slowly back to the room. It was so full that there was a line leading down the hallway. They all moved to the side to let her pass and stared at her with such sickeningly pitiful looks that she wanted to throw up. Surely to God they’ve been to a funeral before, she thought to herself.
The room grew hushed as she walked to the front. She rolled her eyes at Hermione who gave her a weak smile. Jamie paused in front of the closed casket. It was her job to open it so people could begin to pay their respects. How she ended up with this job she had no idea.
She took a deep breath and lifted the front lid. Her aunt Audrey looked to be at peace nestled in the satin that covered the inside of the box. Her face was calm and unlined, none of the usual worry lines crossing her brow. Jamie felt the tears spring to her eyes as she look at her aunt, and wiped them quickly so they wouldn’t drop. She felt an arm on her shoulder and looked up at Harry.
“It’s okay Jamie,” he whispered, rubbing her arm softly.
“I know,” she replied, moving out of the way so that others could move to the front. “I miss her so much already.”
Harry led her to the vacated side room, and she didn’t argue. Normally she would have protested that they had to keep up appearances but ever since Audrey’s death, she couldn’t seem to find the drive to make her own decisions.
They sat on the bench, hidden behind the winter coats of all the guests. Neither said a word for a moment and Jamie dried her face. She sighed.
“I’m not sure I want to go back out there,” she confessed, looking into Harry’s eyes. The two of them were seated very close. “I miss Audrey, but I can’t play the sad puppy game anymore.”
“Then don’t,” Harry suggested, leaning forward. Jamie closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers, and suddenly they were kissing; kissing like nothing else in the world mattered. But to her, nothing else did matter. She raised her arms and moved to grab his hair and -
“What is wrong with me?” Jamie gasped, sitting upright in her chair. She looked around wildly, breathing heavily. She was confused at first to find herself in the Gryffindor common room, but then realized that she must have been dreaming. This brought on a round of relief as she realized that her aunt Audrey was not dead, and she had not kissed Harry. She had just had a bad nightmare.
“I blame this essay,” she grumbled to herself, picking up her quill. She had been trying to finish an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but couldn’t seem to concentrate on the topic she was supposed to be writing about. It was for that reason that she had fallen asleep.
But what a weird dream! Jamie couldn’t believe that she had dreamed of kissing Harry. That was wrong on so many levels. Not only was he her best friend, she didn’t even like him that way. It was disturbing to think about.
And the wake…that was a shocker. Where does a dream like that come from? she wondered. She still couldn’t believe it; Audrey being dead? That was incomprehensible to her. And surely she’d more distraught and not wanting to escape so badly. She wasn’t anti-social, so where did that whole scene with Harry even come from?
But if Jamie truly thought about it, she knew where the death portion of her dream had come from.
At the Welcoming Feast, only two weeks prior, there had been devastating news. Hunter Thompson had gone missing over the summer. The silence in the room after Dumbledore had made the announcement had been deafening. Hunter Thompson had been a beloved member of Ravenclaw house, and a very proficient Quidditch player. He had been a prefect, and would have entered his seventh and final year at Hogwarts this year had he not disappeared.
The story was that during the summer Hunter had planned to visit America with his older sister. Right before their trip, his sister notified the Ministry that Hunter was gone. She had looked everywhere for him, but no one seemed to know where he was. For a full week a team of Aurors searched the city and the countryside for him. They never found him. Their last tip had brought them to a small abandoned house by the sea. When they got there, they didn’t find Hunter but instead found something intriguing. The house had been ransacked from top to bottom; even the floorboards had been pulled up. It seemed to authorities that Hunter had stopped by to pick up or look or something of vital importance, and then had run away. The search efforts stopped soon after this last discovery. It was believed that Hunter must have run into Voldemort and was most likely now dead.
Jamie had been shocked to hear this. She had known Hunter since they were little kids. His mother had gone to school with her uncle Julian so they had always had play dates. And when he had gone to Hogwarts the year before she started, he was sure to tell her all about it when he came home for the holidays. They had been really close until his mother died, four months before Julian had. Since then things had been awkward between them and she never really got to talk to him again. But still, she never thought that he had it in his character to do anything like he had. And to get mixed up with Voldemort? How could that happen to someone like him?
Jamie sighed. Things had been weird ever since she left Audrey’s, and she wasn’t sure when it would stop. But she knew that the cause of everything led to Voldemort. She had read in the Daily Prophet about a house being destroyed by the sea with no trace of the owner. It was events like that that were obvious to tell who caused it, but things like Hunter’s disappearance were explained in more logical ways, like a flaw in his character. Jamie knew the truth. Voldemort was behind Hunter’s disappearance, no matter what anyone else said.
She closed her books and went upstairs. Everyone else was already asleep, and she looked at her clock. It was two forty-four in the morning. Jamie sighed and changed into her pajamas. Another day gone, but another to come in a few short hours.
***
Hadrian walked briskly up the drive. He had little time to spare; he was late for an important meeting with the Dark Lord. He hadn’t known about it before he set out to the house on the cliff. However he probably would have gone to the house and completed his task even if he had known about the meeting sooner. It was simply unfortunate that both events fell in such close timing to one another.
The front door of the old building swung open as he stepped on the porch. Hadrian could hear voices coming from the back room that was the location of the dining room. Great, he thought to himself wryly, just what I need – an important meeting.
He walked toward the room and knocked on the door frame. There were only a few Death Eaters present; this meant it was a meeting restricted to the higher ranks of the Death Eaters. Everyone looked up from what appeared to be a heated discussion.
“Ah Hadrian, you’re late,” the Dark Lord said silkily, nodding in his direction.
“I apologize my Lord,” Hadrian murmured, bowing slightly. “I was unaware of this gathering until a few minutes ago.”
“I suppose I can forgive you for this,” Voldemort replied. “Come sit next to your father.”
Hadrian stiffened; “As you wish my Lord.” He took his place to the right of his father, not looking him in the eye. It had been many days since they had last spoke a word to one another.
“Now that we are all here,” Voldemort began, and a few of the other attendees tittered, regarding Hadrian. “I have a couple issues to discuss. Oddly enough they only involve you Hadrian.”
“I am honored,” Hadrian said softly. He had learned over the years that speaking softly was more effective than using a loud voice. You were less likely to be punished.
“I don’t think you will be when you learn why,” Dolohov snickered.
“That is enough Dolohov!” Voldemort commanded in a deadly voice. “It is true that you have displeased me Hadrian and I am most disappointed.”
Hadrian felt a thrill of surprise. They must have found out where he had gone and what he had done. He would not admit to it easily however. “What have I done my Lord, I am confused,” he confessed, trying his best to keep the block on his mind up.
“Ah Hadrian I am proud, you have been perfecting your Occulumency,” Voldemort noted. “However, this does not outweigh the fact of your disobedience. I know that you have just killed Gilbert Wimple.”
There was a collective gasp from everyone seated around the table.
“How could you?” Bellatrix Lestrange hissed from her seat beside Voldemort. “We had all vowed to get our revenge together. Who do you think you are, boy!”
Hadrian bridled at the insult. “I am not a boy, Bellatrix,” he retorted calmly, playing the position of calm adversary. “I had the right to do it, and you were not including me in your little vow. So I took matters into my own hands.”
“So this was child’s revenge? You were not included in the older members’ plot so you beat them to it? I ask you again, who do you think you are? Do you think you are special because you survived our attack? Because you are being raised like no other child has? This does not make you special, do not kid yourself!” Bellatrix finished, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.
Hadrian was about to reply when Voldemort cut him off. “ENOUGH,” he commanded, and a deathly silence fell over the attendees.
“Bellatrix, you need to control your mouth,” he told her and she flushed a furious scarlet. “Whatever any of you think does not matter. I am pleased with Hadrian for his actions. Wimple needed to be killed a long time ago and if none of you could do it then I am pleased that he did not follow your wishes.”
“Thank you my Lord,” Hadrian mumbled, shooting Bellatrix an evil glare. She sat like stone, fuming.
“That being resolved for now, I must move on to the next situation,” Voldemort continued. “I require your services for an extended period of time Hadrian.”
“Whatever you wish my Lord,” Hadrian said automatically.
As Voldemort outlined the plan and the tasks that would be required of him, Hadrian blanched, and then became furious. What an absurd idea!
“My Lord I beg of you, do not make me do this,” Hadrian pleaded. “This is a waste of my talent, and my time. Make one of your younger followers do it.”
Voldemort regarded him seriously. “Do not question my judgment Hadrian,” he said quietly. “I have thought long and hard about this and in light of your recent disobedience this is what I am ordering to do. Will you disobey your lord?”
“No, my Lord,” Hadrian whispered, bowing his head.
“I didn’t think so,” Voldemort said in approval, clasping his hands together. “Consider yourself lucky that you will not be punished further”
“Yes my Lord,” Hadrian replied.
“Now, you will spend the evening in the basement, as further punishment for this blatant disobedience to the others. This will be his only punishment,” Voldemort addressed the others, eyeing them carefully. “You are not to plot against him, nor harm any hair on his head. I will know if you do.”
Murmurs of disappointed consent filled the room. Hadrian breathed a sigh of relief. The basement would be bad enough without having to worry about being jumped once he got out. He knew he could beat any of the younger Death Eaters, but if the older ones present at the meeting wanted him then he would have no chance.
Voldemort stood up. “Hadrian I expect you to report to your post in two mornings. Everyone else continue your work until you hear otherwise.”
Hadrian stood and walked out the door. He crossed the hall quickly and reached the door that led to the basement.
Stepping down the stairs he realized that it had been a while since he had last been down there. There was still the same musty smell, the same chains rocking eerily against the wall, the same cold stone. He sighed and plopped down on the solitary folding chair in the corner. It would be a long night with no one to talk to and nothing to do.
Note: Sorry it took me so long to post! I quite literally have not had one moment of free time since Sepetember, so thank you for bearing with me. I'll try to post more frequently, especially now that I have ideas. So please leave your feedback, and thank you once again!
Lauren
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