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Author: CJS Story: Harry Potter and the Ghosts of the Past Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 6 Words: 39,145
When Harry tentatively entered the living room the next morning, he found Mr Weasley kneeling in front of the fireplace. The disembodied head of a wizard who Harry didn’t recognise was hovering in the middle of the flames. “—and send Carstairs over to St Mungo’s,” Mr Weasley was saying as he consulted a piece of parchment. “There’s another Metamorph-Medal victim that needs interviewing.” “What about Amanita?” the head asked. Mr Weasley’s brow furrowed. “Who? Oh, the new girl? Give her the Diagon Alley beat. Perhaps she can catch that clown who thinks that silver-lined scarves are the ultimate Werewolf deterrent.” The head nodded sheepishly. “OK, Arthur. Well, I think that covers everything. Tell Molly I hope she feels better soon.” With that there was a pop, and the head vanished. As Mr Weasley tucked the parchment away he noticed Harry standing in the doorway. “Morning, Harry.” “Morning, Mr Weasley. Is Mrs Weasley OK?” They walked through to the kitchen, and Mr Weasley sat down before indicating to Harry to do the same. “Molly’s fine,” he said. “She’s just a bit upset about yesterday.” He held up his hand as Harry opened his mouth. “It’s not your fault, Harry. Like I said, Albus warned us that he expected you to do this at some point, and he made everyone in the Order promise that we wouldn’t interfere. I think Molly always hoped that it wouldn’t happen, but with Dumbledore’s death, and then Bill’s injuries, this was just the last straw. She’ll be all right once she’s had some time to calm down.” He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Now, enough talk. Let’s see if we can sort out some breakfast.” Making breakfast was familiar territory for Harry. As Mr Weasley clattered around trying to find things, Harry lit the stove with his wand and started frying some sausages. The smell of cooking that quickly permeated the house seemed to have a magic of its own, as within a few minutes, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all appeared in the kitchen. Ginny helped Harry by making some toast, and Ron and Hermione had just started laying cutlery on the table when a loud squawk from outside, followed by a bang, caused them all to jump. Mr Weasley hurriedly drew his wand as he peered through the window. “Stay here, you lot,” he said firmly, cautiously opening the kitchen door and stepping out into the garden. He returned a few minutes later, a stunned owl in one hand, and a letter in the other. “Anyone expecting any mail?” he asked as he gingerly laid both items on the worktop. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all shook their heads, but Harry was still looking at the owl. Mr Weasley noticed his puzzled expression. “The Ministry isn’t checking our mail anymore,” he explained, “so I’ve put a hex on the house to stop unknown owls. Hedwig, Pig, and Errol have all been charmed so that it won’t affect them.” As he talked, he herded the four teenagers to the side of the kitchen furthest from the owl. “Wands out,” he instructed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “I want you all ready with shield charms.” They all nodded nervously, fixing their eyes on the envelope. Harry felt his insides squirming with worry. After everything he had gone through, the battle with Quirrel, the graveyard, the ambush at the Department of Mysteries, surely Voldemort wasn’t going to have the audacity to try attacking him by post? “Ready, everyone?” asked Mr Weasley. As they all nodded, he pointed his wand at the envelope, which immediately flipped open. They all held their breath as...absolutely nothing happened. The envelope lay there innocently, the top of a page of parchment just visible inside it. Mr Weasley carefully inched towards it, pulling a rumpled quill out of his robes. He speared the corner of the letter and eased it out of the envelope, before holding it up to the light. He examined it for a moment and then sighed in relief. “I should have known,” he chuckled. “It’s for you, Harry, from Neville Longbottom.” Puzzled, Harry took the letter. Why would Neville write to him? Sitting down at the table, he looked it over. It was short and to the point.
Puzzled, Harry showed the letter to the others. “What do you think?” he asked. “Well,” replied Mr Weasley, “I don’t think it can be a trap; the Leaky Cauldron is still pretty safe. Anyway, Molly and I will be taking Ginny to get her schoolbooks. You could come with us. I’ll give you some Floo powder so that you can come back after you’ve seen Neville.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at each other, and Harry knew that they were all thinking the same thing. An opportunity to go into London, and more importantly to be left there on their own; this was too good a chance to miss. He cleared his throat nervously. “Um, Mr Weasley?” He paused, trying to keep his nerve as Ron’s dad gave him an inquiring look. “We, um, we need to go over to Grimmauld Place as well, but...we need to be alone. It’s to do with...with what we spoke about last night.” “Oh, I see.” Mr Weasley had suddenly gone very stony faced. He looked like the last thing he wanted was to agree to Harry’s request, but finally he nodded; it seemed that even after his death, he was not prepared to defy Dumbledore. “Very well, Harry,” he said in a resigned voice. “I’ll speak to the rest of the Order and make sure you’re not disturbed.” He sighed heavily. “But for Merlin’s sake, don’t let Molly find out what you’re up to.” _______________ Saturday morning arrived quickly, and the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione all stood in front of the fireplace, ready to travel to Diagon Alley. “Here you are, dear,” said Mrs Weasley stiffly, offering Harry the pot of Floo powder as her husband disappeared in a flash of green flames. As he took a handful of the glittery powder, Harry couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty about what he, Ron, and Hermione were about to do. Mrs Weasley seemed to have decided to deal with the news of Harry’s future plans by pretending that the conversation hadn’t happened, and the atmosphere in the house had been slightly strained for the last couple of days. If things went wrong today, thought Harry, it could get even worse. Throwing the powder into the fire, he stepped into the warm flames and shouted “Diagon Alley,” closing his eyes as an endless procession of wizard fireplaces started to whirl around him. When he felt himself slowing down, he thrust his arms out to steady himself, and then stepped out into the empty bar room of the Leaky Cauldron. Once the others had arrived, they all went out to the small wall that hid the entrance to Diagon Alley. Mr Weasley tapped a certain brick with his wand, and then led them all through the archway that appeared. The long, winding cobbled street that was the main wizarding shopping area in Britain looked even more dingy and desolate than it had been the previous year. A number of shops were still boarded up, and despite the efforts of Mr Weasley and his team, there were still a number of furtive and disrespectable-looking wizards and witches offering any number of alleged protective charms and talismans from small stalls and barrows. As they had done before, the group split up; Mrs Weasley and Ginny headed off to Gringotts, whilst Harry, Ron, and Hermione, accompanied by Mr Weasley, first went to an apothecary to top up their potion supplies, and then to the Magical Menagerie for owl food, before they all met up again at Flourish and Blotts. The bookshop had changed a great deal since they had last been there. The section on defensive magic had been extended and now covered almost half the shop. Harry couldn’t help thinking that Hermione was like a Muggle child in a sweet shop as she excitedly scurried up and down the shelves, occasionally pulling a book out and examining it. He hoped she wouldn’t buy too many. The rucksacks they were planning to take on their journey could be magically expanded and lightened, but Harry still felt it was best to take as little luggage as they could. He and Ron restricted themselves to buying copies of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven, which was bound to come in useful, and at Harry’s insistence they also bought a second-hand copy of The Conjurer’s Guide to Campfire Cooking between them. Thanks to Aunt Petunia’s use of him as slave labour, Harry was the most adept of the three at cooking, but even then he was used to having a Muggle stove. By the time Ron managed to prise Hermione away from a copy of Fight Fire with Fire: Dark Magic Used Defensively, it was almost twelve o’ clock, and there was just enough time to visit the twins’ shop before heading back to the Leaky Cauldron. As they approached the large shop that was home to Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, it became clear that the war against Voldemort was beginning to challenge even Fred and George’s marketing abilities. The shop was only half full, and the atmosphere was much more subdued than Harry remembered, although this could have been due to the fact that the twins were nowhere to be seen. Verity was there, however, and cheerfully waved them over to the till. “Fred and George have gone out somewhere,” she replied in answer to Mrs Weasley’s questioning look. “They said they’d be back sometime this afternoon. I’m glad you’re here, though, Harry; there’s something they wanted you to have a look at.” Leaving Mr Weasley happily showing a resigned-looking Molly and Ginny the display of Muggle Card Tricks, Verity led Harry, Ron, and Hermione through a curtain and into the area that housed the more serious side of the twins’ business. As Ron and Hermione wandered about checking the large range of shield charm-enhanced clothing, Verity climbed up a rickety ladder and started rummaging around at the back of the topmost shelf. “Oh, by the way, Harry,” her muffled voice drifted down from the top of the ladder, “they told me about the special arrangement. If you take anything, just let me know so I can correct the stock levels. Ah, here we are. Catch!” Harry looked up just in time to collect the three large, flat boxes that were levitated down to him. Moments later Verity rejoined him, brushing dust and cobwebs off of her hat. Taking the lid off the topmost box, she reached inside and pulled out a silvery cloak. To Harry it looked slightly like an Invisibility Cloak, but whereas his appeared fluid and insubstantial, this one had a much heavier look to it, and there were odd flashes of red and blue in amongst the silver. “This is something they’ve just finished working on,” explained Verity. “You know how fond they are of dragon-hide jackets? Well, this is an Invisibility Cloak that’s been interwoven with Dragon Skin; it either stops or reduces the affects of a wide range of minor jinxes and curses, even when you’re invisible.” She nodded at Ron and Hermione “They want the three of you to have these ones.” The three of them looked back at her, temporarily stunned by this announcement. Hermione was the first to recover. “But these must have cost a fortune to develop,” she protested. “Why do Fred and George think we need them?” Verity checked the dividing curtain before lowering her voice. “They wouldn’t tell me the full story,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but they’ve been working on modifying Extendable Ears so that they’ll get past Imperturbability Charms. They went off somewhere the other night to test the latest batch. When they got back, they worked non-stop to finish these.” Harry knew there was only one place the twins would have gone to test the Ears. Mr Weasley must have gone to Grimmauld Place to tell the Order about the conversations that had taken place in The Burrow, and Fred and George had overheard him. Fortunately, he was saved from having to make an explanation as Mrs Weasley stuck her head around the curtain. “Harry, Hermione, Ron, come on. We’re going to be late.” Verity pulled out her wand and conjured up three large paper bags, each emblazoned with the Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes logo. She quickly tipped the cloaks into them, handing one to each of them as they walked back into the main room of the shop, and then headed off to deal with some customers as Ron, Hermione, and Harry hurried over to the door where Mrs Weasley was waiting impatiently. When they arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron just after one o’clock, Harry was surprised and a little disappointed to find it just as empty as they had left it. However, as he, Ron, and Hermione hung back a little bit wondering what to do, Tom the barman appeared, a crate of Butterbeer hovering in front of his wand. “Ah, Mr Potter,” he exclaimed. “They’re all waiting for you in the dining room upstairs. Perhaps you could take these up with you?” As Hermione pulled out her wand and began manoeuvring the crate towards the stairs, Mr Weasley sidled over towards Harry and offered him a small drawstring bag. “Floo Powder,” he said in answer to Harry’s unspoken query. He looked furtively over his shoulder to check where his wife was before lowering his voice further. “Now I’ve spoken to everyone, and headquarters will be empty so you won’t be disturbed, but given that I don’t know what you’re up to I guess that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll be safe. You can’t Apparate into the house, but you can Apparate out. Harry, I want you to promise that if anything happens, the three of you will come straight back to The Burrow.” Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Mr Weasley smiled weakly. “Well. Good luck,” he said, before heading over to the fireplace where Ginny and Mrs Weasley were standing. Harry turned and hurried up the stairs to where Hermione and Ron were waiting outside a door. Tentatively, Harry reached out and knocked. Almost instantly it swung open, and the round, cheerful face of Neville Longbottom poked itself around the side. “Hi, Harry,” he said. “Come on in.” Harry walked through the doorway followed by Ron and Hermione, and they nearly knocked him over as he suddenly stopped, stunned. Most of the room was taken up by a large dining table surrounded by large wooden chairs, nearly all of which were occupied. Nearest to the doorway were Fred and George, along with their old friend Lee Jordan. The twins spotted the bags that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were carrying and gave them a knowing grin. Opposite them were Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, two of Harry’s Gryffindor classmates. Harry noticed that Seamus was looking extremely nervous. Further along the table were Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, a stony-faced Hannah Abbot, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown who as usual were gossiping away, and Anthony Goldstein. Right at the end sat Cho Chang and another girl wearing a hat with a large floppy brim that completely obscured her face, but who Harry had a feeling was probably Marietta Edgecombe. Harry turned to face Neville, who had now been joined by Luna Lovegood. As usual, she was holding that month’s issue of The Quibbler and looking only vaguely interested in her surroundings. “What’s going on, Neville?” Harry asked as they all sat down in the few remaining chairs. Neville looked a bit embarrassed and busied himself passing around the Butterbeer that Hermione had brought up. Finally he sat down himself and turned to look at Harry. “Well,” he said, gesturing around the room, “we’ve all been talking about what happened last term and...if you agree, of course...we think it would be a good idea to resurrect Dumbledore’s Army.” “Oh.” Harry was temporarily taken aback, but quickly managed to sort out his thoughts. “I really don’t think we need to—I mean it’s not like we have to hide from Umbridge if we need to practice anything—” “No, Harry, we don’t mean the DA,” interrupted Dean. “We mean Dumbledore’s Army.” Still confused, Harry threw Dean a perplexed look. Opposite him, Anthony Goldstein sighed in exasperation. “Look, Harry,” he said, leaning over the table, “Neville and Luna have told us about what happened in June, and in the Department of Mysteries last year. It’s obvious that you are the Chosen One, or You-Know-Who thinks you are at any rate. He’s bound to come after you again. We want to be ready this time.” Finally catching up, Harry started thinking frantically. He couldn’t tell everyone that he wasn’t returning to school; too many people knew already. But how else could he get out of this? As he tried to think of a plausible explanation, Ron stood up. His face was almost incandescent with fury. “You want to be ready?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You weren’t ready in June, were you? You knew that Harry was right, that You-Know-Who was back, but when he needed you, when the school needed you, you weren’t there.” “Ron!” Hermione scowled as she started to pull Ron back into his chair, but she was interrupted by Seamus. “No, he’s right.” He looked at the table as he spoke, either unable or unwilling to meet Harry’s gaze. “We didn’t show up, and look where it got us.” He finally raised his eyes. “Maybe we couldn’t have saved Dumbledore, but we could have caught Snape or the other Death Eaters.” Seamus’ face wore a blank expression, but as he watched people shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, Harry could tell that Ron’s accusation had hit home. Perhaps being aggressive was the best route to take. He stood up, watching everyone turn in their seats to face him. “Do you really understand what you’re asking?” he demanded. “We’re not talking about facing harmless defensive spells here.” He pointed at Neville and Luna. “If they’ve really told you everything that happened, then you know that the first time we faced the Death Eaters, we all ended up in the hospital wing; we would probably all have been killed if Dumbledore hadn’t turned up when he did. And it would have been the same the second time around if we hadn’t used the luck potion that I won off of Slughorn. Too many people have already died trying to protect me. I’m not going to let you lot risk your lives as well.” “Do you think we’re worried about getting hurt or killed?” Susan demanded. “Harry, some of us are marked already. You-Know-Who is responsible for the murder of every member of my immediate family except for me and my parents.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “If I’m next on the list, I’m not going to sit around helplessly waiting for it to happen. I want to go down fighting, like...like my aunt,” she finished quietly. Harry looked away, not knowing what to say. He had to force himself to look when, from the back of the room, Marietta spoke up. “Seamus is right, Harry,” she said quietly. “We’ve all let you down, badly. Some of us did worse than that.” Hesitantly she removed her hat, revealing the odd formation of pimples that formed the word SNEAK across her cheeks and nose. “I stood in front of Umbridge and betrayed everyone here, and look where it got us. Every day I read the paper and it’s full of more deaths, more disappearances, and I wonder what would have happened if we had believed you, if the fight against You-Know-Who had started a year earlier.” She bit her lip nervously. “I don’t want to find myself reading about your death and wondering if I could have done something to prevent it. I couldn’t cope with that; I don’t think any of us could.” Harry buried his head in his hands, replaying everything Marietta had just said in his mind, and trying desperately to find a flaw in her argument. Her words had affected him, but...he couldn’t tell them...he just couldn’t. Helplessly he looked round at his friends, hoping they could offer some advice. Ron and Neville were looking as confused as he felt. Luna merely shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” she said serenely, holding up her magazine. “I’m only here because I wanted to show Neville this article about a wizard in Lancashire who’s crossbred Devil’s Snare with a Venus Fly Trap.” Rolling his eyes in frustration, Harry turned to Hermione. Fortunately, her advice proved a bit more useful. “Look at everyone’s eyes, Harry,” she said quietly. Not sure what good it would do, Harry closely studied the faces staring back at him and had to stifle a gasp of surprise. Almost everyone in the room had the same look in their eyes, and it was one Harry knew well: fear. Feeling like a light had just been switched on in his brain, Harry recalled an article that Rita Skeeter had written shortly after Dumbledore’s funeral. In it she had pointed out that Harry was now the only wizard known to have fought Voldemort and survived to tell the tale, and had mercilessly berated the Ministry of Magic for their failure to persuade Harry to work with them. That, Harry realised, was why everyone was here; they simply had no one else to turn to. And almost simultaneously he realised that he did need their help. Maybe he, Ron, and Hermione would be able to destroy the Horcruxes on their own, but every time he had faced Voldemort, the Death Eaters had been there in support. There was no way Harry could take them on by himself. Knowing what he needed to say, Harry cleared his throat noisily. Immediately everyone faced him expectantly. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “the Prophet was right; I am the Chosen One, if that’s the phrase you want to use. I don’t know if I can beat Voldemort, but I do have to face him again.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “That’s why I’m not going back to Hogwarts,” he continued, trying to ignore the gasps of surprise and horror that met this announcement. “Anthony is right; Voldemort will come after me. I don’t want him going near Hogwarts; I have to draw him away.” “There must be something we can do to help,” said Dean. Harry nodded. “When I do confront Voldemort, he’ll almost certainly have the Death Eaters with him. That’s when I’ll need help. Do you all still have your contact Galleons?” He paused to check that everyone nodded in confirmation. “Then I’ll use those. But I meant what I said earlier: I don’t want anyone else dying to save me, especially if it’s out of guilt or a sense of duty. If the call comes, and you decide not to answer it, I’ll understand. I won’t hold it against you.” Everyone was silent for a moment, digesting everything that Harry had just said. Finally Anthony, who seemed to have taken the role of unofficial spokesperson, looked up at Harry with a grim determination in his eyes. “We won’t fail you this time, Harry. There’s too much at stake. Neville and Luna have made us see that.” Harry watched as everyone at the table nodded their agreement. Trying to hide a look of satisfaction, he turned to Neville. “Neville,” he said, “I’m going to need someone inside Hogwarts that I can communicate with, to keep me up to date on any news; maybe even to keep everyone in training if I can put together a list of spells. You’ve brought everyone back together; reckon you can carry on with the job?” For a moment Neville looked too stunned to reply. Harry knew that Neville wasn’t used to having responsibilities placed on him, but he also knew that no-one deserved this particular task more. To his surprise, however, Neville suddenly grinned and nodded. “Don’t worry, Harry,” he replied. “You-Know-Who’s going to regret the day he comes up against Dumbledore’s, no—” he stopped and corrected himself “—against Harry’s Army.”
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