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

Author: CJS

Story: Harry Potter and the Ghosts of the Past

Part: 12: The Return

Rating: Teens

Setting: Pre-DH

Status: WIP

Reviews: 8

Words: 3,738

Updated: August 11, 2008, 9:38am

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12: The Return

Harry slowly drifted back to consciousness, squinting in the dim light as he tried to figure out where he was. His glasses were missing, and all he could determine was that he appeared to be lying in bed in a large, musty smelling room. As he shifted around trying to find his glasses a wave of nausea ran through him. He slumped back on the pillow, his brain finally recalling the Doxy attack that was undoubtedly the cause of his current weakness.

However, his movement had attracted someone. Footsteps approached his bed and a moment later his glasses were carefully slipped back onto his face. As his vision cleared he realised that he was back in his old bedroom at Grimmauld Place, looking up at a visibly relieved Tonks.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she greeted him. “About time you woke up. The healer here was starting to get a bit worried about you.”

Harry shifted his head to look at the wizard standing behind Tonks; a middle aged man with a large paunch and rosy cheeks. In the half-light of the room Harry couldn’t decide if the man had a ferret glued to his face or was sporting the biggest moustache Harry had ever seen. The eyes above it had a mischievous twinkle in them, and despite the fact that he looked like a cheerful version of Uncle Vernon, Harry immediately felt at ease in the man’s presence.

“Healer Miggins, Mr Potter,” he introduced himself cheerfully. “I’m very pleased to meet you, although I must say you gave me quite a scare when you Portkeyed into the middle of my consulting room.” Elbowing Tonks aside, he helped Harry gingerly raise himself into a sitting position. Once Harry was comfortable, the healer carefully rolled up his pyjama sleeves, revealing an ugly network of fading scars and livid bruises. Harry was glad he was supported by his pillows, otherwise he thought he might have collapsed in shock at the sight.

“What…,” Harry croaked, before stopping. His throat felt like it was coated in sawdust. Tonks quickly handed him a glass of water which Harry gratefully sipped, before trying again.

“What on earth happened?” he asked. “Just before I passed out it felt like my throat was swelling up; I could hardly breathe.”

The healer nodded. “The Muggles call it anaphylactic shock. Basically you suffered a massive allergic reaction to the Doxy venom.” The moustache twitched in amusement. “Allow me to offer my congratulations by the way. I believe you’ve set a new record for the most number of Doxy bites that a person has survived.”

“Great,” Harry grumbled, “as if I need any more titles.” Trying to avoid the smirk on Tonks’ face, he looked around and realised with a start that there was one more person in the room. Lying in the bed next to him was Ron. He appeared to be asleep but his face was wracked with pain, and below his waist the bed sheets had been rolled back revealing his heavily bandaged legs. It seemed that the healer had been in the middle of changing the dressings; Harry could see some exposed patches of burnt flesh, and he hurriedly turned away as the feelings of nausea threatened to return with a vengeance.

The healer had seen where he was looking. “I’m afraid young Mr Weasley isn’t going to be doing any dancing anytime soon,” he said seriously. “He has third degree burns to almost all of his legs. Oh, I can treat him,” he added, noting the horrified look on Harry’s face, “but unfortunately it will take time. I can’t really walk out of St Mungos with half a dozen bottles of skin regeneration potion under my arm.”

Harry laid back and tried to ignore the guilty feeling that was surging through him as the healer went back to checking his arms. Finally he nodded in satisfaction.

“Everything seems to be in order, Mr Potter. Your wounds are healing nicely but you will need to rest for a few more days to allow your body to recover fully. You should also try to drink plenty of fluids. I’ll just finish changing Mr Weasley’s dressings,” he added addressing Tonks. “And then I really must get back to St Mungos.”

Once the healer had finished cleaning and dressing Ron’s wounds, Tonks accompanied him as he left the room. The door had barely shut behind them before it was thrown open again and Hermione hurtled into the room.

“Harry! You’re awake,” she exclaimed, practically sobbing in relief as she threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. “Oh, I was so afraid I was going to lose you both.”

“Easy, Hermione,” Harry soothed. He gingerly extracted himself from her embrace. “What’s going on? Why are we here? How long have I been out of it?”

Hermione took a few moments to compose herself as she settled down in a chair that had been set between the two beds.

“You’ve been unconscious for about four days,” she said finally, her voice calm once again. “Once the healer had got you both stable he bought you here because if you stayed at St Mungo’s there was too much chance of the news becoming public.”

Even though they were alone in the room Harry looked around furtively before lowering his voice.

“What have you done with, you know…”

“It’s safe,” Hermione whispered back. “I’ve barely let it out of my sight since we got back.”

“We should take it over to Godrics Hollow as soon as possible,” Harry said urgently. “Mum might be able to help us destroy it.” He looked over at the still-sleeping Ron. “How long will it be before Ron’s better? The healer said something about not being able to get the potions he needed.”

Hermione sniffed a bit as she looked over at Ron’s bed. Harry felt his insides clench with guilt but forced himself to keep his face blank as Hermione wiped her eyes before looking back at him.

“I don’t know. I spoke to the healer earlier and he said the treatment isn’t difficult, it just takes time. What’s really slowing things down at the moment is all the potions he’s having to give Ron for the pain. That’s why he’s asleep at the moment.”

Harry was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Finally he looked seriously at Hermione.

“How are we going to do it, Hermione?” he asked bluntly. “Ron and I have ended up hospitalized just trying to retrieve the cup. How are we going to survive this two more times? At this rate I’ll be amazed if I survive to even face Voldemort.” He looked back over at Ron, and another unpleasant thought struck him. “Of course that’s assuming I survive Mrs Weasley. Has she said anything to you?”

Hermione’s face fell and Harry tried to quell the panic he suddenly felt rising up inside him. “What is it? What’s happened?” he demanded.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t exactly know,” she replied flatly. “I haven’t seen Mr or Mrs Weasley since we got here. All I’ve been able to find out is that they’ve gone away somewhere, but no-one will tell me where or why.”

Harry frowned. “Are you sure they’re not just away on Order business?” he asked. “Remember that officially we still aren’t members because we’re ‘still kids’. Moody or Kingsley or whoever’s in charge probably doesn’t want us worrying about it.”

Hermione looked at Harry with a troubled expression. “That’s what I thought at first,” she replied, “But Fred and George were here yesterday and every time I asked them about Mr and Mrs Weasley they changed the subject.”

Hermione paused, looking round conspiratorially before lowering her voice so much that Harry had to lean right up against her to hear her.

“They did let one thing slip though. They know what’s going on, but…”

“But what?” Harry asked.

Hermione took a deep breath.

“They took an Unbreakable Vow not to tell anyone.”

Harry looked at Hermione in amazement for several seconds before finally finding his voice.

“What could be so important that they would do that?” he exclaimed

Hermione shook her head ruefully. “I don’t know, Harry. The real question is how can we find out?”

_______________

When Ron was finally allowed to wake up at the end of that week, he was just as mystified as Harry and Hermione were to hear the news about the twins.

“It’s got to be something really serious,” he said, his brow furrowed with concern. “Dad’s always warned us about making Unbreakable Vows. Are you sure they weren’t joking, Hermione?”

Hermione looked at him with an affronted expression. “I think I know Fred and George well enough by now,” she replied. “Believe me, I’ve never seen them looking so serious before.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time to find out if they were joking or not,” Harry commented morosely. “According to the healer it’s going to be at least another fortnight before you’re back on your feet.”

“And you can stop beating yourself up about that as well,” ordered Ron, spotting the all too familiar look of guilt that was creeping across Harry’s face. “We’re all in this together remember?”

Harry sighed. “I know,” he said eventually. “But if the two of you hadn’t been there…”

“…you would still be wandering in circles around the forest.” Ron retorted. “Or if you had managed to somehow get past that barrier you’d have either been ripped to pieces by one of Aragog’s cousins, or bitten to death by Doxies from what Hermione tells me.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the look of indignation on Ron’s face.

“I appreciate everything you both did,” he said quietly. “But how many times have you got hurt for me, especially you, Ron? I’m just worried that your luck’s going to run out sometime.”

“You let me worry about that,” Ron replied. Picking up his wand he aimed an Imperturbability Charm on the door before continuing. “While I’m out of action you two should at least make yourselves useful and concentrate on finding a way to destroy that cup.”

“Ron!” Hermione scowled. She shook her head in mock despair as Harry looked at her questioningly.

“Have you had a chance to try anything?” he asked.

“After the mess we made last time?” Hermione snorted. “No, I just did enough to confirm that it is protected magically. I think you were right; we should take it back to Godric’s Hollow. There aren’t too many Order members around at the moment. We should be able to leave without anyone seeing us.

“Where is everyone anyway?” asked Ron curiously. “Now that you mention it I haven’t seen anyone here except Tonks and the healer”

“Apparently there was a big Death Eater attack in Manchester while we were away,” replied Hermione solemnly. “They practically destroyed their version of Diagon Alley. Most of the Order is up there trying to track where they came from” She looked sideways at Harry. “The rumour is that Bellatrix was leading the group.”

Harry stood up unsteadily, a grim look on his face, and started rooting through his rucksack. He straightened up a moment later holding his cloak.

“Get the cup, Hermione,” he growled. “The sooner we destroy it the better.”

_______________

As the suffocating darkness of Apparition faded away, Harry found himself lying on the ground gasping for breath. As he picked himself up stars filled his vision, and he collapsed dizzily to the ground again. He was still lying there when there was a loud ‘pop’, and Hermione’s shoes appeared in front of his face.

“Harry? Oh, I knew you were too weak to try Apparating.” Kneeling down, Hermione helped Harry haul himself unsteadily to his feet.

“I’m okay Hermione,” Harry assured her, anxious to avoid a lecture. “It’s just a bit of dizziness.”

“You have to be careful, Harry,” Hermione admonished him sternly. “You’re still weak, and no-one knows if there are any long-term effects from multiple Doxy bites. For all we know…”

“Hermione,” Harry cut her off. “Can we just get inside please before we attract attention?”

Still clucking her disapproval, Hermione followed Harry as he hurried up to the cottage and opened the door. Once inside he slumped down on the sofa in the living room as Hermione disappeared up the stairs. She returned a few moments later carrying Lily’s portrait, which she carefully balanced on a small chair opposite. Finally, she reached into her cloak, produced the cup, and placed it almost reverently on the floor in the centre of the room. The three looked at it in silence for several minutes, before Lily broke the silence.

“It’s hard to believe that something so beautiful can hold something so evil,” she commented finally. “It’s definitely a Horcrux?”

“I don’t know, but it’s definitely something,” Hermione replied. “Watch this.”

Producing her wand she cast a Revealing spell, and the cup was suddenly covered in a mixture of evil looking red and purple hues. Lily’s eyebrows rose as she studied the pattern.

“There’s a lot of dark magic there all right,” she confirmed. “Certainly enough to make destroying it by magic next to impossible.” She looked over at Harry. “How were the others destroyed? I don’t think you’ve told me.”

Harry quickly recapped how the diary and the locket had been neutralised. “Dumbledore never told me how he’d dealt with the ring,” he explained finally, “But when I last saw it, the stone had a big crack all the way through it.”

“Interesting,” Lily mused. “It sounds like you don’t actually have to destroy a Horcrux literally; you just have to damage it enough so that the soul fragment escapes.”

“How do we do that though?” wondered Hermione. “If it’s protected in the same way as the locket was, it’s going to be pretty impervious to most things.”

As Hermione and Lily quickly entered into a spirited debate about destructive spells, Harry sat looking at the cup, thinking furiously. His mum’s comment about allowing the soul fragment to escape had started an idea forming in his head, but he couldn’t quite piece it together. Finally it came to him.

“Can we melt it?” he asked, interrupting the two women. They both looked at him quizzically.

“The diary,” Harry explained. “The Basilisk venom was corrosive; it burnt a hole straight through it. Maybe we can do the same here? Pour something into the cup that’ll melt the surface.”

“Well, Basilisk venom is a bit difficult to come by, Harry,” Hermione replied. “And I don’t know how it would affect metal.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “A lot of Muggle house cleaners are acidic though. I could try mixing something together, but it might take time. I’ve never done any Muggle chemistry.”

“I can think of something much better,” Lily interrupted. “Voldemort’s strengths lie in lies and deception, yes? And there just happens to be a very powerful liquid that can combat both of those.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in total confusion.

“What we should try,” Lily continued, “is some Veritaserum.”

Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione’s baffled looks disappeared. Harry’s was replaced with a grin, but Hermione looked worried.

“Veritaserum? That could be even harder to get hold of than Basilisk venom. Even if I tried making it myself, it takes over a month!”

“I know where we can get some,” Harry replied confidently, “But I’ll need to find Hedwig”

“She’s at Grimmauld Place,” Hermione replied immediately. “Where do you think…”

She was interrupted by the distinctive ‘crack’ of an Apparition. Both Harry and Hermione instantly spun around, their wands drawn, only to find that instead of facing a Death Eater, their wands were aimed at a house-elf wearing lime green shorts, a pair of odd socks, and a Chudley Cannons baseball cap.

“Dobby?” Harry asked cautiously.

The house-elf nodded. “Dobby is very pleased to see Harry Potter again,” he said in his distinctive squeaky voice. “He is wondering why Harry Potter is pointing his wand at him though.”

Harry was thinking furiously. He was sure this was Dobby; the choice of outfit confirmed that if nothing else. But what was he doing here. Did the Imperious Curse work on house-elves? “How did you find me?” he asked suspiciously. “No-one knows I’m here.”

Dobby gave him an affronted look. “A house-elf must always be able to find his master, Harry Potter sir,” he replied reproachfully.

Harry sighed in frustration. “Dobby, I am not your master.”

“Not legally,” the house-elf admitted, “Dobby is a free elf and can serve whoever he wishes,” he added brightly. “And Dobby is always happy to serve Harry Potter.”

Making a decision, Harry glanced sideways at Hermione and nodded almost imperceptibly. Slowly, they both lowered their wands.

“Why are you here, Dobby?” Harry asked, sitting back down.

“Dobby has been given a very important task” the house-elf replied proudly, puffing his chest out. “Mr Wheezy wishes to see Harry Potter urgently. He has asked Dobby to take Harry Potter to see him.”

“Why do you need to take me?” Harry asked.

“Harry Potter does not know the place where Mr Wheezy is at the moment ,” Dobby replied.

“It must be really important,” Hermione interjected, before Harry could question Dobby further. “Otherwise he could have just sent you a message.”

Harry twirled his wand absently as he thought furiously. Finally he nodded.

“I’d better go and see what he wants. Have you got a quill and a bit of paper, Hermione?”

It only took Hermione a few moments to produce the desired objects. Harry hurriedly scribbled a message onto the parchment before rolling it up and handing it back.

“Can you give that to Hedwig?” he asked. “I’ll go and see Mr Weasley and then meet you back here.”

“Take the cup with you,” Lily warned as Hermione put the note in her pocket. “If anyone does manage to break in, I’ve got no way of protecting it.”

As Hermione doubled back, Harry walked out of the cottage followed by Dobby. Aware of the fact the anti-Apparition wards didn’t seem to apply to house-elves, Harry walked to the end of the track before quickly checking that there was no-one watching him. Satisfied that they were alone, he turned to Dobby.

“Okay, where are we going?” he asked. Without replying, Dobby reached out and took hold of Harry’s jumper, before snapping the fingers of his other hand. Instantly, Godric’s Hollow vanished. Instead, Harry found himself standing in the garden of an unfamiliar house. Pulling out his wand he quickly ducked behind a large shrub before looking around. In front of him was a large bungalow. The garden surrounding it was bordered by a large hedge, but Harry could see street lamps over the top of it; it appeared that this was a Muggle neighbourhood. Feeling an insistent tugging on his cloak, Harry looked down to see Dobby still holding on to him.

“Mr Wheezy is inside,” he whispered, pointing towards the front door. Not seeing any other option, Harry cautiously approached the house. He was just about to reach out and knock on the door, when it was thrown open to reveal Mr Weasley.

“Accio”, he shouted. Harry was too surprised to react quickly enough, and could only watch as his wand jumped out of his hand and soared into Mr Weasley’s. He gaped in shock and surprise as Mr Weasley moved to stand directly in front of him, both wands now pointing directly at Harry’s throat.

_______________

For a moment, Harry was too stunned to do anything. He could only look on in stunned silence as Dobby moved to stand to next to what he now assumed was someone pretending to be Mr Weasley.

“Are you sure this is him, Dobby?” the impostor asked, still not taking his eyes away from Harry’s angry glare.

“Of course Dobby is sure,” the house-elf replied testily. The fake Mr Weasly stepped closer, so that the two wands were almost brushing Harry’s skin.

“What’s my dearest ambition?” he demanded suddenly.

For a moment Harry’s mind went blank, before he managed to recall the night Dumbledore had taken him to The Burrow.

“To find out how aeroplanes stay up?” he replied hesitantly. For one heart-stopping moment he thought maybe he had got the answer wrong as Mr Weasley continued to scrutinise him carefully, before he slowly lowered the wands.

“Sorry if I scared you, Harry,” he said apologetically offering Harry his wand back. “But I think you’ll understand when…”

His voice died away as Harry suddenly moved with all of the speed his Quidditch training had bred into him. Mr Weasley found himself pressed up against the wall of the house with Harry’s wand embedded in his chest.

“Who are you really?” Harry growled. “How many more of you are there inside?”

“Please, Harry,” Mr Weasley replied nervously. “I assure you I am not a Death-Eater in disguise. I have some very important news for you; news that could have catastrophic effects if it were to fall into the wrong hands.

Harry was suddenly struck by an inspiration. “What did we have to eat, that night Dumbledore brought me to the Burrow?” he asked.

A puzzled expression crossed Mr Weasley’s features for a moment.

“It was onion soup, if I remember correctly,” he replied finally. He relaxed visibly as Harry slowly lowered his wand.

“What’s going on Mr Weasley?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the bewilderment in his voice.

“I don’t want to talk out here,” Mr Weasley replied, straightening the collar of his robe. “Come inside and I’ll explain.”

Harry’s confusion increased as Mr Weasley led him into the house. His initial suspicions about the house were confirmed as he was herded into a modern kitchen that was loaded with enough Muggle appliances to make even Aunt Petunia green with envy. Off to one side was a counter surrounded by high stools. Sitting down on one of them, Mr Weasley reached into a cupboard and produced two glasses and a bottle filled with fiery red liquid.

“Have you ever tried Firewhisky, Harry?” he asked as he poured a generous measure into each glass. Harry shook his head. “Well,” Mr Weasley continued, pushing one of the glasses over to Harry, “you may want to, once you’ve heard what I have to say.”

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