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Author: Gridley Story: Harry Potter and the Flame of Life Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 13 Words: 11,587
Number 12, Grimmauld Place, July 1997 “Alastor, you’ve got to understand,” Minerva begged. “With Hagrid resigning as Care of Magical Creatures teacher, I’m three faculty members short. Four, if Slughorn actually leaves! I can’t just drop everything here to come to a meeting!” Moody looked at her face in the flames. “I’ve told you where you can find one of them. Now that his cover’s blown, Remus…” “Turned me down,” McGonagall finished. “He said he had something more important to do. Which makes two of you.” “I agreed to teach Defense before the war started,” Moody growled back. “Things are different now. Someone has to lead the Order, and it looks like it isn’t going to be you, now doesn’t it?” “As long as there are students to teach, I have to keep Hogwarts open. I’m not…” she swallowed. “…Not Dumbledore. I can’t do both. I’ll stay here as headmistress as long as we have students.” “Which, at the rate things are going, will be about two weeks after the start of term,” Moody shot back. McGonagall’s lips tightened. “I called to tell you I won’t be at the meeting tonight, not to argue. Good bye.” Moody turned away from the fire. He looked at the table where the diminished ranks of the Order sat waiting. But this time they haven’t been diminished by casualties. No, it’s much worse than that. You-Know-Who didn’t have to cast a single spell to break us up. The Weasleys are getting ready for a wedding. A wedding, in the middle of a war! No one from Hogwarts. No spies, not even Dung. “All right,” Moody growled. “Everyone who’s coming is here. Let’s get started.” ~~ The Burrow, next day Harry sat at the breakfast table, more than a little shocked. I thought the Burrow was chaotic the day before school started. But this… this is unbelievable. It wasn’t long after dawn, but seemingly hundreds of people, a third of them redheads, were dashing about with last-minute tasks. Fleur had arrived half an hour ago with Gabrielle, and the two of them had been hustled off by a crowd of middle-aged women. They’d dragged Ginny off too, ignoring her protests. Mrs. Weasley was supervising a small battalion in the kitchen, which had been magically enlarged to eight times its size. It was still crowded. Mr. Weasley was outside in the garden, nodding seriously to anyone who asked him a frantic question and casting nervous glances at the house when he thought no one was looking. Harry had been woken by the noise in the kitchen at false dawn and had been slightly surprised that anyone was up, since the wedding was set for noon. He’d been flabbergasted by the news that Fleur had planned four hours to get herself dressed and ready. Bill, he’d been informed by someone’s aunt, had allowed himself a mere two hours to get into his dress robes. Harry took another bite of toast and wandered into the garden. Three different groups were setting up sections of chairs, one of them with their backs to the rose-covered arch where Bill and Fleur would take their vows. “I tell you, forty centimeters ees plenty!” An accented voice called out. “You’re putting them too close together, I tell you! We’ll be smack up against the next row’s backsides!” “So? Ze shorter ze aisle, ze faster ze procession, yes?” “Well, I suppose.” “And ze shorter ze procession, ze faster we eat, yes?” “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Well. Forty centimeters it is! How many inches is that?” The twins had cornered an elderly woman (with a pre-existing corner this time) and were reading to her out of a book. “Now, if she trips coming down the aisle that’s extremely bad luck,” Fred intoned. “Oh dear! Is it?” The woman gasped. George nodded solemnly. “Oh and look at this: ‘Those who in July do wed, must labor for their daily bread.’” “Must labor for… oh dear! Should we hold off the wedding?” Fred shook his head. “No, changing the date is even worse luck. Look, it says…” “Hold on,” George cut in. “Everything will be fine. That is,” he paused and looked up. “Someone did hire a chimney sweep, right?” About the only person who looked calm was the minister, who was methodically setting up near the arch. Harry wandered over. “Is it always like this?” The minister looked up at Harry. He made a show of surveying the lawn, taking in the two groups unrolling red carpets perpendicular to one another, the chairs with their backs to him, and the anxious group gathering around Fred and George. “Normally when someone asks me that, I say, ‘no, it’s usually worse.’” He bit his lip. “I have to say, though, this is rather impressive.” He shrugged. “Well, have no fear. They’ll be married right enough, even if a third of the guests are looking over their shoulders at them.” ~~ As it turned out, the minister was right. Flanked by Ginny, Gabrielle, Charlie, and Fleur’s cousin, Jean, Bill and Fleur were married. Harry was impressed to note that even the twins behaved themselves. Of course, he was less impressed when the twins went over to Charlie after the ceremony to get the Silencing Charms he’d cast on them lifted. ~~ The band was playing “Only the Music,” and Bill and Fleur were dancing their first dance as man and wife. Almost every eye was focused on the happy couple. The men were staring particularly hard at Fleur, who actually seemed to be glowing. Ron, much to Hermione’s apparent displeasure, was almost drooling. Harry spared only an occasional glance for the newlyweds or his best friends. His mind was on Ginny, seated at the head table. I wonder if I could bear it if we danced. I wonder if I could bear it if we didn’t. I wonder if I did the right thing. Harry squashed that thought quickly. Of course I did the right thing. I want her to be as safe as possible, and that means as far away from me as possible. The song came to an end. Bill swept Fleur out in an arc, and they both bowed gracefully to the audience as the last note faded. There were cheers and applause as the two smiled at each other and then turned away. Bill drew his mother onto the dance floor, and Fleur her father. The band started playing again. Harry deliberately set his mind on other things. Just a week and a half until I’m of age. I just need to take my Apparition test, and I’ll be ready. Remus will help me find a place in Godric’s Hollow and then… I start searching. The couples broke apart again. Bill rejoined Fleur. Molly drew Arthur out, and Fleur’s father escorted his wife onto the floor. Charlie walked onto the floor with Gabrielle, managing somehow to give the impression that he was with a girl at least ten years older than Harry knew Gabrielle to be. But Harry hardly noticed Charlie. Right behind him was Jean, and he was leading Ginny onto the floor. The beast rose up inside Harry. An extremely imaginative combination of hexes flashed through his mind. If that slimy French bastard thinks he can just dance with my girl… But she’s not my girl. The beast vanished, buried under the cold weight of depression. Harry turned his head away from the dance floor. It must be some kind of ritual, bridesmaids dancing with groomsmen. And I couldn’t exactly expect Charlie to dance with Ginny, could I? Well, one dance and then it’ll be over with. Harry’s jaw was aching from the grinding of his teeth by the time the song ended, but his ordeal wasn’t over. More couples joined the dancing, including Ron and Hermione. Charlie escorted Gabrielle back to her seat before finding a partner nearer his age, but Jean stayed with Ginny. Harry resumed grinding his teeth. Jean was picture-perfect handsome, with wavy blond hair and dark blue eyes. Just exactly Ginny’s age, too, Harry thought, remembering the hurried introductions of the morning. It was the Yule Ball all over again, except there was no Ron to commiserate with him. No, Ron’s off dancing with his… are they actually boyfriend and girlfriend now? Do they know what they are? “Wotcher, Harry. Care for a drink?” Harry looked up in surprise. “Hi, Tonks. How are you?” Tonks sat down heavily next to Harry. “Tired and wishing Remus was well enough to come.” “What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked in alarm. “Oh, nothing, nothing,” Tonks assured him, waving her hand and nearly spilling her drink. “Just, ah, that time of the month.” She giggled. “I’ve never said that about a man before.” She took a gulp from her glass. Harry caught a strong smell of alcohol. His eye caught a swirl of red hair on the dance floor, and his mind replayed Tonks’ greeting. Actually, a drink sounds like a very good idea. Two drinks and three songs later, Hermione found him at the bar. “Harry! What do you think you’re doing?” Harry shrugged. “Keeping Tonks company.” So far, the liquor hasn’t done a thing. Damn. He looked over at Tonks. Well, it hasn’t done a thing to me, at least. Hermione glared briefly at Tonks. “Well, she’ll have to manage without you for a bit. Ron’s wandered off somewhere, probably drooling over Fleur, and I want to dance.” She grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. “Erm. I’m not that good of a dancer,” Harry began. “Time you learned, then,” Hermione answered shortly. Not wishing to make Hermione any angrier than she already was, Harry let himself be steered around the floor for several minutes. The song came to an end, and Harry tried to slip away, but Hermione grabbed him as the next song started. “Oh, no, I’m not sitting this one out.” “Er. What song is this?” “’More I Cannot Wish You.’ It’s a Muggle song.” Hermione resumed steering Harry around the floor. “Hermione, what’s wrong?” Harry asked softly. “Nothing!” she snapped. Harry shook his head and grinned slightly. “That’s my line, isn’t it?” She dropped her face. “It’s Ron. He’s just so… so…” Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He let go of Hermione and turned around. “Hi, Ron.” Ron grinned at him. “Can I cut in?” Hermione’s head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed. Harry hastily backed up a step to get out of the line of fire. “Honestly, Ron, can’t I even dance with Harry without you getting jeal…” Hermione’s eyes shifted to a point behind Harry’s shoulder. She smiled. “That is, I’d love to.” She swept away with Ron. “Hi, Harry.” Harry didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind him. Ron set this up. I detect his complete lack of subtlety. I’ve been set up by my own best friend. “Hello, Ginny,” he said as he turned to face her. “I suppose I should have known why Ron was so determined to dance with me all of a sudden.” She stepped close to him. “It’s not good manners to let a girl be alone on the dance floor, Harry.” Her eyes were soft with desire, and with sadness. The mingled emotions were too much for Harry. He put his arms around her and let the music carry them away. Unlike his previous dance partners, Ginny showed no interest in pulling and shoving him around. They simply stood, swaying slightly to the music, and held each other. It was quite a shock to Harry when the band started a more upbeat number. He was about to make his apologies to Ginny and run for some corner to hide in when he caught the opening words. “The best things, happen while you’re dancing…” Yes, they do. He grinned at Ginny. She smiled up at him. The pain was gone from her eyes. Was that a twinkle? Let’s find out. He swung her into a wild, unpracticed arc. She made it look graceful. “…For dancing, soon becomes romancing…” Harry began to understand why people liked to dance. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but Ginny somehow made it work. “…Even guys with two left feet…” Harry stumbled. He looked down in puzzlement. His feet felt…odd… Two dancers near him stumbled and fell. Harry looked more closely at his feet. He appeared to be wearing two left shoes. “FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!” ~~ “Why is it,” Fred asked, grimacing, “That Mum always assumes we’re responsible for everything that happens?” “Well,” George said thoughtfully. “She’s usually right, isn’t she?” A queue slowly filed past the twins, getting their shoes returned to normal. “How many does that make?” Fred asked, restoring a small high heel that had probably been painful to begin with. “Seventy-eight, not counting the two that flipped to right shoes. Alright, Harry?” “Ginny says that when your Mum is done with you, you’d better set a new record for long-distance Apparition. You’ll need the head start,” Harry reported, handing George his shoe. “You were dancing with Ginny?” George raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, mate; guess our timing could have been better.” “Oh no, it wouldn’t have been nearly as funny if you hadn’t picked that song,” Luna put in, handing a sandal to Fred. Fred eyed the sandal. “You were dancing in this?” Luna looked shocked. “Oh, no! For a girl to dance at a wedding is very risky. All sorts of evil spirits hover around, looking for the bride. That’s what the bridesmaids are for, to confuse them.” Fred looked over at George. “Was that one in our book?” “No.” “Shame. Is your father here, Luna?” “No, he’s putting a special issue together about the real reasons the students aren’t going back to Hogwarts.” Harry accepted his shoe back from George and frowned at Luna. “More people aren’t letting their children go back?” Luna nodded. “They’re afraid of You-Know-Who. And, of course, there are the Purple People Eaters on the Hogwarts Express. The school will probably close before the end of next term.” Harry found himself visualizing Hogwarts closed. Even though he wouldn’t be going back himself, it disturbed him. “Luna,” he began slowly. “Do you think more parents would let their children go to Hogwarts if they knew I was somewhere else, distracting Voldemort? If I told them how important it can be for their children to go there and learn?” Luna cocked her head, considering this. “Yes. I think they might very well.” Harry sighed. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t want to do a lot of things I wind up doing. “Do you think your father would like to interview me about my plans?” “I think so.” Luna bit her lip. “It would have to be today, mind. Next issue is going to be all about the Giant Chizpurfles.” Get away from here before I do something really stupid with Ginny, help keep Hogwarts open, and avoid whatever else the twins have planned. “Let’s go.” They had just reached the end of the path leading to the Burrow when Fawkes appeared in a burst of fire. He glided down and landed on Harry’s shoulder. Harry glared up at him. “Am I not supposed to leave the Burrow?” Fawkes shook his head. He chirped reassuringly and then lightly squeezed his talons on Harry’s shoulder. Harry relaxed. “Just along for the ride?” Fawkes nodded. Harry shrugged his other shoulder. “Well, let’s go.” ~~ “I will not be returning to Hogwarts this term. I am going to be directing my efforts at finding Voldemort and defeating him.” Harry watched Luna as she took down his words. Luna’s father had suggested an AutoQuill, but Harry had asked that Luna record the interview. He trusted her, in a way at least. “Do you have a plan?” Luna’s father asked. “I’m not going to say. I learned a great deal while I was at Hogwarts, and I wouldn’t be able to go forward if it wasn’t for what I learned there.” Harry wondered if he was laying it on too thick. Well, better too much than too little. “I’m going to miss Hogwarts.” “Tell me some of the things you’ve learned.” I learned to love and how to leave it behind. No, best not think about that. “I learned a lot of spells, of course, but I also learned how everyone has it in them to do great things. Let me tell you about some people I’ve known.” End Chapter 3 Author’s Note: Believe it or not, I didn’t make up any of the superstitions mentioned or referred to in this chapter. My beta, in addition to being a super beta, is an author in her own right, an admin for this site, and that’s on top of what most people would consider a busy non-fanfic life. I don’t know how she manages it, but I thank her for the time she spends working on my stories. “Only the Music” is by Heather Alexander. Lyrics for all three are available online, and you’ll get some extra meaning in this chapter if you read through them, or better yet listen to them.
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