PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: Silver Phoenix

Story: Interlude

Part: 8: The Secret-Keeper

Rating: Young Teens

Setting: Post-DH

Status: WIP

Reviews: 21

Words: 4,532

Updated: August 1, 2008, 12:48pm

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8: The Secret-Keeper

“You’ve got to be daft,” said Ron. “Why don’t you just buy a mat that says, ‘Welcome, Death Eaters’ and put it out at your front door?”

They had gathered on a grassy spot in Harry’s yard, under a knobbly old tree that was broad enough to provide enough shade for the three of them. Harry was sitting with his back to the tree and Hermione was sitting cross-legged next to him. Ron was lying on his stomach with his long legs spread out behind him, extending beyond the shade and into the sun. He could feel the heat seeping into his legs and noted somewhere in the back of his mind that he was probably getting a sunburn, but he was too lazy and too comfortable to change positions.

“Have you got a better idea?” Harry asked. “It’s this or hide out in some Ministry safe house until the Aurors round up every single Death Eater out there. And we all know how prompt they’ll be with that.”

Ron had received an odd, jumbled-up letter from Harry the night previous. He, Ginny, and his father had gathered in the sitting room after dinner to listen to the WWN together, as they had always used to do when the Weasley children were smaller. Returning to the old routine had probably been an unintentional attempt to create some sense of normalcy around the house. The three of them had been listening to Lee Jordan’s new program — now re-named Wizardwatch, which according to Lee was for “copyright reasons” — when a post owl had zoomed into the room through an open window. Ron had untied and read the letter while half-listening to Lee’s interview with an unidentified Ministry official about the ongoing trial of Antonin Dolohov. In his letter, Harry had scribbled something nonsensical about Aurors and Death Eaters, followed by a request for Ron to come to Arbour Glen as soon as possible the following day.

After putting in a brief appearance at the shop that morning, Ron had Apparated to Harry’s, finding that Hermione was already there. She no longer seemed angry with him; in fact, to Ron’s surprise and pleasure, she had given him a wordless kiss on the cheek when he had arrived, presumably due to the apology letter he had written. Although she no longer seemed angry, she did seem strangely restless and preoccupied. Harry’s account of his visit from the Aurors and his plan for dealing with the Death Eater threat had only made Hermione more agitated.

“Harry, I think the idea is good in theory,” Hermione said tentatively once Harry had finished, “but it’s awfully dangerous. What did the Aurors say?”

“They’re going to go along with it,” Harry replied vaguely.

“So they’ll be here straight away if anyone… if they… come here?”

“That’s the idea.”

“And you really think this is the best course of action?”

“Better than hiding someplace, waiting for something to happen.”

Hermione frowned, still unsatisfied. “So what happens if these people show up in the middle of the night, while you’re sleeping? Or worse, while you’re away from the house? What if you come home one day to find Death Eaters waiting for you?”

“We’ll set up alarm charms,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “And other spells, jinxes… we’ll put up a warning system and then we’ll trap them.”

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, the way she often did when she was rationalizing her way through an idea. “All right,” she said finally.

“Seriously?” Ron was surprised at her willingness to go along with something so obviously dangerous.

“Well, if there’s a chance to trap the people who are after Harry, wouldn’t you want to take it?” Hermione said with a sigh, beginning to absently tug out blades of grass around her.

Ron privately thought that both Harry and Hermione had gone mad. He remembered too well being trapped in Knockturn Alley, paralyzed and completely helpless, staring unblinkingly at the sky and counting the seconds as they ticked by. Perhaps he was more wary about the plan than either Harry or Hermione because he had dealt with one of these people first-hand. Besides, didn’t Harry want some kind of reprieve? Wasn’t he tired of Dark wizards and Death Eaters?

“I can’t run from it,” Harry said quietly, as if he had read Ron’s mind. “If we don’t deal with this now, they’ll always be out there. I have a responsibility to end this.”

Well of course he has to go all noble like that, Ron thought. He rolled his eyes and exhaled noisily. “Fine. But I don’t think you should just sit around here all alone, waiting for Death Eaters to come calling. One of us should be with you all the time.”

“I’m not all alone, I have Kreacher,” Harry pointed out. He glanced quickly at Hermione, no doubt afraid that she would have something to say about him still keeping Kreacher around as a servant, but Hermione was brooding over something and did not seem to be listening.

“Well, yeah… you do have him…” said Ron slowly.

Ron knew Kreacher would fight tooth and nail for Harry, and had in fact seen it first hand during the Battle of Hogwarts. But Kreacher was a house-elf. Ron glanced cautiously at Hermione as well, careful not to offend her. “But I still think it would be, er, beneficial to have a witch or wizard with you too, you know, just in case.”

Surprisingly, Hermione agreed with him. She broke out of her trance and said, “He’s right, Harry. You can’t do this alone.”

A smile spread over Harry’s face. “Yeah, I’ve learned that I’m pretty much stuck with you lot.”

“Unfortunately,” Ron agreed cheerfully. Hermione looked from Harry to Ron and gave a small smile.

“I’ve got to be at the shop every now and again, but I’ll try to stick around as much as possible,” Ron continued. “I can get Dad and Percy to spend some time here, too… maybe even George, but I doubt it.”

He did not mention Ginny. Her relationship with Harry was still ambiguous. Were they together? Had he ditched her again? It was all very confusing.

Hermione suddenly started violently pulling out blades of grass again. “Well, I’ll be here as much as possible, Harry,” she said in an oddly high-pitched voice. “I mean, I spend all of my time in the wizarding world anyway, right?”

Ron and Harry exchanged puzzled looks. Harry tilted his head slightly, as if to defer to Ron.

“Hermione? Everything all right?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“Never mind,” Hermione said with a sigh. “So, we’ll have to set up some security wards, obviously. Fortunately we’ve all got quite good at those.”

Ron shrugged at Harry and made a mental note to ask Hermione what was bothering her later on. She continued to list off spells and charms, talking more to herself than either of the boys.

“Then some alarm charms… perhaps some variation on the Caterwauling Charm, only we’ll have to somehow make it silent so that it alerts only us and the Aurors…”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” said Harry. “Do you think we can modify that one, or is there a silent charm like that which already exists?”

The three of them bantered about charms for awhile. Ron felt a sense of déjà vu sweep over him; it was almost as if they were back at Hogwarts, sitting out on the school grounds and discussing a homework assignment. He half-expected McGonagall to come barrelling out of Harry’s back door and tell them off for teasing the giant squid. The conversation gradually shifted to communication with the Aurors.

“We’ll have to work out some way to alert them if something happens, but how?” Hermione mused. “It has to be subtle, nothing that can be seen or overheard like a Patronus…”

“Well, that’s easy,” said Ron. “Your Galleons.”

Hermione gave him a puzzled look. “Pardon?”

“The Galleons, the ones you enchanted for the DA,” Ron explained. “You can use the same kind of enchantment on something for the Aurors, something normal so that no one can guess what they really are. If we need the Aurors, we can send a message to them through those.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that!” Hermione exclaimed. “I can’t believe you remembered, Ron!”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Ron teased.

“Brilliant,” said Harry eagerly. “I think that Galleons could work again…”

They stayed under the tree talking for the rest of the morning, hardly aware of the time. It became apparent that a few hours had passed when then shadows began to shorten and their stomachs started rumbling. Ron interrupted a heated debate between Harry and Hermione regarding the advantages and disadvantages of placing jinxes on inanimate objects to suggest they break for lunch.

“I’ll ask Kreacher to make us something,” Harry announced, standing up and brushing dirt off his jeans.

Hermione gave him a disapproving look but said nothing. Harry quickly headed toward the house, presumably wanting to leave before Hermione began lecturing him about house-elf rights. Ron watched Harry cross the lawn and disappear into the back door of the cottage. He and Hermione were left temporarily alone. Ron, who was still lying on his stomach in the grass, rolled on to his back and then sat up.

He touched Hermione’s arm. “You all right?”

Hermione sighed heavily and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. “It’s nothing you did.”

“Right, because it usually is.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I’m not still angry about the other night, at Harry’s party…”

“I was stupid. I’m sorry,” said Ron quickly.

“I know you are.” She gave him a warm smile, the kind that was just for him, and then dropped her eyes to the ground again. “It’s just something that happened at home a few days ago.”

“Your grandma?”

Hermione shook her head. “My parents. They’ve been having… difficulty with the after-effects of the memory modification.”

“Like forgetting stuff?”

“No, like… accepting that I did it at all.” Hermione sounded frustrated. “It’s difficult, you know… trying to explain to them what I can do, what it’s like here in the wizarding world. They feel left out of my life. I suppose it’s partly my fault, for staying at Hogwarts or with your family so much over the past few years. But it was always for a good reason! They just don’t understand. And now it’s hard for them, trying to get their lives back on track after being away for so long…” She broke off, looking troubled.

Ron shifted over so that he was sitting by her side. He looped a long arm around her shoulders. “But don’t they get that you sent them away for their own good?”

“That’s the thing. They don’t understand about Voldemort, or how serious it was. They’ve never quite grasped the idea of magic and it… it scares them, what I can do. I overheard my Mum say they’re…” Hermione’s voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “They’re afraid of me. My own parents.”

Ron tried his best to comfort her as she turned her face into his shoulder and gave a great sob. He stroked her hair as he had done at Dumbledore’s funeral, wondering if that was the right thing to do now. Ron marvelled anew at how soft her hair felt on his rough hand, which was still burned and calloused from the enchanted treasure in Gringotts. Then, feeling unexpectedly daring, Ron quickly kissed the top of Hermione’s head. He inhaled the scent of her hair as he did so and noted, not for the first time, that her hair smelled wonderful.

Hermione raised her head and gave him another warm smile. Ron smiled back and awkwardly brushed a tear off her cheek.

“It’s okay, though” Hermione said quietly. “I’m okay.”

“That’s good,” Ron replied. Then, spontaneously: “I think I’d like to kiss you.”

Hermione laughed, brushing a tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” she said with a nervous laugh.

She leaned forward and Ron eagerly leaned in as well, feeling a jolt when their lips finally brushed against each other. He felt as if he was in a dream. Her lips were soft and warm, and quite impulsively he found himself raising a hand and cupping her cheek as they kissed. He had never done that before — not with Lavender anyway — but somehow it seemed like the right thing to do…

The back door of the cottage slammed shut and Ron and Hermione jumped apart. Ron glanced over to see Harry crossing the lawn with Kreacher, who was carrying a tray laden with sandwiches. Harry seemed to be speaking in an unnecessarily loud voice to the house-elf, as if he wanted to be certain that Ron and Hermione would hear their approach. Ron grinned at Hermione, who smiled shyly back, her cheeks flushed. The three of them started in on the sandwiches and began outlining a plan to set up the security wards, jinxes, and curses they had come up with earlier.

“I think we’ll have some time,” Hermione said thoughtfully between bites. “Mr Peet claims that he didn’t give up the location of Arbour Glen, so that should slow the Death Eaters down. They have no way of knowing where it is…”

A thought occurred to Ron and he suddenly dropped his sandwich, feeling as if he had been punched in the stomach. “Oh no…” he groaned. “The map.”

“What’s that?” said Harry.

“The map… the one you drew for me the first time I came, when I had to sign that homeowner’s rubbish with you. I — I lost it, remember?”

“You lost it in Diagon Alley…”

“…the same day I was attacked,” Ron said weakly. “Sorry?”

“Well then,” said Harry grimly. “Guess we’d better get started sooner rather than later.”

They helped Kreacher tidy up after lunch, much to his chagrin, and then got to work. Hermione started with basic security wards and Anti-Apparition and Disapparition spells immediately around the cottage (“We don’t want to them to be able to just pop in and out, now do we?” Hermione pointed out). Harry tried out some charms on the rest of his property, including a neat one Hermione had heard of, which would make the trees in his yard come to life and attack any unwanted visitors. Ron was sent to extend Hermione’s Anti-Apparition and Disapparition spells along the road leading to Harry’s house, so that if someone were to try to Apparate in, it would be at a safe distance from the cottage. That way, Harry would have time to prepare for an attack.

As he strode down the gravel road, stopping to cast spells occasionally, Ron felt rather cheerful in spite of the circumstances. The trees on either side of the road provided a deliciously cool shade that felt wonderful after lying in the sun all morning, and whenever Ron began to feel panicked about Harry’s predicament, he remembered the feeling of Hermione’s lips on his and all anxiety seemed to melt away.

Eventually, Ron came to the old farmhouse where Hugh and his grandparents lived. Although he felt a bit wary about the talkative child, Ron tucked his wand into his pocket and slowed as he approached the drive, craning his neck to look for signs of the Muggles. He watched as a wiry old man with a head of white hair emerged from the barn, wiping his hands with a rag. Before Ron could hurry along, the old man spotted him and raised a hand in greeting. Ron waved back uneasily, unsure of what to do. Hugh’s grandfather crossed the yard at a leisurely pace, tucking the rag into a pocket of his overalls.

“Well, hullo!” the old man called as he strolled over. His voice was rough and hoarse. Hugh’s grandfather reached Ron and stuck his hand out. “The name’s Ed Somerville. You must be Ron.”

Ron shook the man’s hand, feeling taken aback. “Er…”

“Hugh won’t stop talking about you,” Mr Somerville explained kindly. “We don’t get many people up here. Figured a red-headed fellow walking up the road must be the same young man my grandson was going on about.”

Ron felt his face go red. “I, uh… I’ve really only talked to him once or twice.”

Mr Somerville chuckled. “Yes, well, I think he’s taken a liking to you. It’s tough, sometimes, for my wife and I to keep up with him.”

The old man suddenly looked tired, and heaved a sigh. He reached a wrinkled hand behind his head to rub the back of his neck. “When my… my son and daughter-in-law died… we’re not young, Margaret and I, and it's difficult having to run a farm and trying to entertain a five-year-old at the same time.” Mr Somerville shook his head and gave Ron another friendly smile. “Anyway, it’s nice that he’s found a young man like you to talk to. He said your friend lives up the road? He’s not trying to fix up that old disaster of a — ?”

Mr Somerville was interrupted as the door of the house banged open and Hugh shot out of the farmhouse like a cannon. He sprinted up the drive and arrived at Ron’s side in a few short seconds. “Hi Ron!” he said breathlessly.

“Well, hi,” Ron said.

“Grandpa-can-I-play-with-Ron?” The words tumbled out of Hugh’s mouth as he bounced from foot to foot excitedly.

Mr Somerville gave Ron an apologetic look. “Hugh, I’m sure Ron is very busy…”

“Yeah, I am, actually,” Ron said. He immediately regretted his choice of words, which sounded harsher than intended. A crestfallen look crossed Hugh’s face and his shoulders slumped.

“Today, anyway,” Ron added. “I’ve got to get back to my friend’s house just now. You can, uh… walk up the road with me, though, if you like…”

The transformation was amazing; Hugh’s face broke into a grin, his shoulders straightened, and he seemed to grow half a metre. “Can I, Grandpa? I’ll be right back and I won’t go into the forest, I promise. I promise for real this time.”

Mr Somerville hesitated. “Up the road, then, and straight back,” he finally conceded. “You’re not to go into Ron’s friend’s house though, is that understood?”

“Yep,” Hugh said distractedly. Ron was not entirely sure he had heard him.

Mr Somerville turned to Ron again. “You will send him right back, won’t you?”

It occurred to Ron that it was strange for these people to trust their grandchild with him, but then he remembered the people of Ottery St. Catchpole. Like the Muggles of the town nearest the Burrow, the Somervilles were simple, trusting folk. They had not been forced to adopt the culture of fear and distrust that had pervaded the wizarding world for the past few years. Ed Somerville was mercifully oblivious to the fact that they were expecting Death Eaters next door.

A thought suddenly barrelled into Ron’s mind: they were putting the Somervilles at risk with Harry’s half-brained scheme. Ron glanced down at Hugh, who was beaming up at him and fidgeting with anticipation, and felt lower than a Flobberworm.

“Right. Straight back,” Ron said, his voice wavering.

Mr Somerville gave him that friendly, trusting smile again. His face was weather-beaten and the skin looked as if it had been pulled taut across his skull, but when he smiled, he looked years younger. “Good. What’s your friend’s name, by the way? The one who lives up the road?”

“Harry,” Ron answered. “Harry Potter.” He found himself expecting a jolt of recognition from Mr Somerville, and felt strange when the man showed no indication of having heard Harry’s name before.

“Right, well tell Harry to come by sometime and introduce himself.”

“Will do,” said Ron, though bizarrely, a part of him wanted these Muggles all to himself. He was proud that he had successfully interacted with them without raising suspicion or making a fool of himself so far. Considering this, he felt an even further sense of responsibility for their well-being.

Ron nodded at Hugh. “Let’s go, then.”

He started back down the road to Arbour Glen with Hugh hot on his heels. The boy happily kicked a pebble up the road as he chattered away about something he had seen on the television that morning. Ron did not have the faintest clue what he was talking about, as he had never watched television, although his father did have one in the shed which he had never quite managed to get working. Ron suspected this was due to some sly sabotage on the twins’ parts; they had spent the better part of one summer torturing Ginny with a skinny black “snake” which had turned out to be a Muggle wire or cord or something.

“And it exploded all over the kitchen!” Hugh was saying enthusiastically. “But it wasn’t Paddington’s fault.”

“‘Course it wasn’t,” Ron agreed distractedly. He was feverishly trying to think of a way to cast protective spells on the Somervilles’ farmhouse without them catching on or being impacted by the magic in any way. The Death Eaters’ first priority was definitely Harry, but Ron was grimly certain that they would not be opposed to some sport with Muggles if they happened upon the Somervilles along the way.

Hugh changed topics without warning. “Want to play hide and seek?”

“I don’t think…”

“You’re It!”

“I don’t want…”

“You have to count and I hide. Ready?”

Ron was beginning to get frustrated. “We are not going to play hide and seek and I am not going to be It,” he said firmly.

Hugh looked momentarily dejected, but then perked up. “That’s okay because you would have never found me anyway because I can turn invisible,” he said matter-of-factly.

So can I, thought Ron, thinking of the hundreds of times he had disappeared under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. Out loud, he said: “Is that so?”

“Yes, watch!” Hugh took a few steps backward, screwed up his round face, and then flung his arms out. “See? I’m invisible!”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am!”

“I can still see you,” Ron said pointedly.

“No you can’t, ‘cause I’m invisible!”

Ron could not believe he was actually having this argument. “No you aren’t because — ”

He had a sudden flash of comprehension. Though Hugh lived in a world without magic, this child used his active imagination to create magic where there was none. The things that for Ron were ordinary and mundane were actually part of Hugh’s childhood fantasies. Ron wondered what it would be like to discover that one’s make-believe was, in fact, real. He felt a new appreciation for what Harry and Hermione must have experienced as Muggle-borns new to the wizarding world, and wondered if every Muggle child tried to reach out to the magical world through this game of pretend.

“Hugh?” Ron said, suddenly deciding to play along. “Hugh? Where’d you go?” He scratched his head theatrically. “He was right here a second ago…”

Hugo laughed delightedly, and Ron found himself liking the sound of his laughter. “I’m right here! You can’t see me because I’m invisible!”

Ron grinned. “So you are.”

An “invisible” Hugh walked Ron all the way back to Harry’s house, where he deigned to make himself visible once more and said goodbye. Hugh suddenly flung his arms around Ron’s waist and hugged him. Before Ron could react, Hugh sprang away and began running back down the road, waving furiously over his shoulder. Ron watched the little figure disappear up the road. Then he squared his shoulders and went down the well-kept path leading to Harry’s, which Hugh could not see. Hermione was crouched on Harry’s porch, presumably trying to charm a potted plant to trip people as they walked up the porch steps. Ron marched determinedly over to them.

“What about the Muggles, eh?” Ron said loudly.

“What?” Harry asked as a leafy tendril shot out and knocked him off his feet. Hermione clapped in delight.

“The Muggles down the road,” Ron barked. “You think these Death Eaters that you’re luring here aren’t going to give two bloody sickles about them? Maybe they’ll put them in a Body Bind and float them through the air for sport, would that make you happy?”

“Hang on a second,” Harry said defensively as he got to his feet, rubbing his shins. “I didn’t think of that right away but I did mention it to Hermione while you were gone…”

“I think the Fidelius charm is our best bet,” Hermione explained uncertainly. She was giving Ron a puzzled look, as if wondering where this sudden fervent interest in Harry’s Muggle neighbours had come from.

“Is that enough to keep them safe?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“It was safe enough for the Order of the Phoenix,” Hermione reminded him.

“We’ll need a Secret-Keeper,” said Harry.

“I’ll do it,” Ron blurted out.

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks, and Ron felt vaguely annoyed. Each pair in the trio had at some point in their friendship been forced to unite against the third. Consequently, each pair had developed their own silent language in which they sometimes communicated. Hermione and Harry had strengthened this bond in the time that Ron had disappeared last winter, and Ron had noticed that their silent communication now happened more frequently than before.

“Look, I met the old man today and I’ve talked to the kid a couple of times,” Ron explained. “They’re nice people. The kid is… he’s really little, and he’s a good kid, and I would hate myself if something happened to him because of us, all right?”

Hermione’s expression softened, and she looked at Harry once more. “It’s really complex, and I’d have to read up on it, but I’m sure I can do the charm.”

Ron watched Harry’s face, which remained expressionless. He knew that Harry had an inherent uneasiness about the Fidelius charm because of what had happened to his parents. Again, Ron felt somewhat annoyed; Harry did not even know the Muggles, and yet he and Hermione were deferring to him as if it was his decision to make. Then again, Ron reminded himself, Harry was the one putting Hugh and his family into danger in the first place. Perhaps he wanted to shoulder the burden of the Fidelius Charm himself.

But Harry looked at Ron levelly and said: “Then you’ll be their Secret-Keeper.”

***

Author’s Notes: So I am moving out of the country and starting a new job overseas in September. Hence, I am frantically trying to finish this story before then. I apologize if chapters are not going up as quickly as I’d like (packing, prep, etc. is taking up ridiculous amounts of my time). I have the next few written but need to tweak them a bit. Reviews always help and motivate me to write, so please keep reading and reviewing!

Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, who has been fabulous about reading and returning chapters so quickly.

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