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Author: Rosina Ferguson Story: Harry Potter and the Book of Ages Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 8 Words: 64,426
Harry had taken hold of the outstretched hand to shake it in greeting, but found that the elderly woman was now holding his hand in both of hers. She was also staring Harry in the face at the same time with a look that made him feel as though she had x-ray eyes. He had never felt so exposed! Even Snape with his Occlumency lessons last year did not make Harry feel this transparent. It was unnerving and reminded Harry of Dumbledore and his penetrating looks. Some of Harry's worries must have shown themselves somehow to the woman holding his hand so firmly for she said, "Don't look so worried, dear boy. I've known for many years that we would one day meet, but I must admit I never foresaw this… setting." Eleanor moved to occupy the only armchair in the room. "Tell me, have the Healers worked their magic yet or not?" Still Harry remained silent, but he chanced a nervous glance over at Jenny who was standing by the door trying hard not to giggle. "Oh, Harry! If only you could see your face!" Harry shut his mouth which he didn't recall opening, then asked, "Healers? Magic?" "Come, come, dear boy! There's no need to pretend with me or with Jenny. She put two and two together when you mentioned Muggles earlier." "Yeah, but it took me long enough!" berated Jenny. "I can't believe I didn't realise that the 'Harry Potter' on the wanted sheets was THE Harry Potter! But I suspect the Ministry of Magic was hoping that everyone – magic or Muggle – would believe the pack of lies they've put out." Harry was heartened by these words, but still reluctant to trust too much. That was, until Eleanor Cantwell turned back the collar of her coat to show a tiny red and gold phoenix pinned there. The phoenix's eyes opened and shut as though blinking at the light and its plumage shimmered as though made of real flames. It was beautiful! As Harry looked at the brooch the phoenix opened its minute beak and Harry heard phoenix-song in his head. "Now, Harry, we don't have much time!" Eleanor commanded. "Tell me how you came to be here." Immediately and without hesitation Harry recounted the events of the past few weeks. Was that all it was – it seemed so much longer! While he was telling his tale Harry was trying to work out why Jenny's grandmother seemed so familiar. He was also trying to work out why he felt so willing to tell so much to this woman whom he had known for so little time. Something of these thoughts must have shown on Harry's face for when he'd finished his recitation, Eleanor sat back and said, "Jenny, dear, do you think you could rustle up a couple of cups of that disgusting concoction that the hospital calls tea? I imagine Harry here is quite parched after all that talking." When Jenny stepped out of the room Eleanor moved closer to Harry. She whispered almost in his ear. "I have a message for you from a certain red-head who, I am led to believe, you have a certain 'connection' to." Harry looked into her startling blue eyes in puzzlement. "Excuse me?" he queried. "Don't worry, Harry, Ginny only confided in Dumbledore that she was talking to you in your shared dreams. She wouldn't have done that if Molly and Arthur hadn't told her that they'd been talking like that since their courting days. Ginny didn't know as it is an extremely private experience and one that is not usually spoken of with others." "Why did Dumbledore tell you then?" asked Harry. "He told me of the connection, not of the contents. What you and Ginny share is – and should remain – totally private. I noticed you have not told Jenny anything of them." "'Course not!" responded Harry. "You see? It is instinctively private! No couples talk of what occurs behind bedroom doors and somniloquent dreams are the same. Many couples share their deepest dreams, fantasies and desires in such a way. It is a very strong bond of friendship, desire, trust and … love." Harry's blush would have rivalled any that Ron could have produced at that moment. Harry was staring down at his fingers which were busily pulling at a loose thread at the end of his bed sheet; he could feel the intense heat in his face and was sure he was glowing. "Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure Ginny feels the same," assured Eleanor. "I didn't know what to make of these dreams. I hoped they were real, but I couldn't see how that was possible. Last year Ginny was going out with that Michael Corner and then on the train home she said she'd chosen Dean Thomas, not me! Hermione said Ginny had given up on me months ago. Why now this?" "Harry, oh, Harry! Our heads don't choose for us, our hearts do! When I was a child I always imagined I would marry someone who was tall, blond, smart, witty and with a full beard and moustache." Harry's mouth had formed a smile, almost a laugh at these last words. This formidable-looking woman was telling him of her childhood fantasy and it was very hard to imagine. "Don't laugh!" she said almost playfully, slapping Harry on the wrist. "I too had my dreams and fantasies. I wasn't always an old dragon." "Sorry!" said Harry almost sheepishly. "But why are you telling me this?" "Well, the thing was, I knew no-one even remotely like that. When I was at Hogwarts I dated a few different boys, but, although they were nice, none was right. I'd been away from school for about four years when I first met Orell." Harry didn't know where this story was leading, but he was mesmerised by her storytelling and listened in silence. "Life was so hard then, the whole of the world was at war. The Second World War the Muggles called it, but we wizards knew it as The Grindelwald Years. Dark, dangerous times, Harry. I was working in Holland and at the end of a long and exhausting day, I went into a small wizarding pub in a town called Hoofdorp. I'll never forget it. The door opened and in walked Orell." "Don't tell me, tall, blond and bearded?" questioned Harry. "Yes. My dreams had shown me my ideal partner long before we had met. He'd been seeing me for months in his dreams and we knew the moment we met that we were meant for each other." "Love at first sight!" Jenny was standing holding two cups of tea. "Oh, Gran. What a lovely story! I never heard you talk about Grandad like that before!" Now it was Eleanor's turn to look embarrassed. She blanched. Jenny sat on the end of Harry's bed. "We had better watch the time as Simon will be back soon." Eleanor and Harry drank their tea, agreeing without words to mention nothing about the somniloquency to Jenny. "I was just talking to the SHO…" At their looks of confusion, Jenny explained, "The Senior House Officer – the doctor in charge of Harry's care? Well, he says that with the remarkable progress you've made so far it will only be another four or five days before you'll be fit for discharge." "What then?" asked Harry. "Well, at that time you'll be transferred under police escort to the hospital wing of the local remand centre after being formally charged as an illegal immigrant. There you'll wait until further investigation is completed. Then deportation back to wherever they think you're from." "Great! Just great!" Harry's good mood had evaporated. He threw his head back and stared at the cracked plaster of his ceiling. He was desperately trying to prevent the tears from showing. "Don't worry, Harry," said Eleanor. "Don't worry? If I prove to the police that I'm English they'll just arrest me for murder. If I don't they'll chuck me out of the country! Heads I lose – tails I don't win. How can I not worry?" Harry's temper had flared so suddenly it caught him off balance. "Shhhh!" came Jenny's urgent plea. "If the staff hear your voice they'll know we can communicate!" "Don't be silly, girl. I cast a Silencing charm on the room as soon as I came in," reassured Eleanor. "Oh! Of course. Sorry!" Now it was Jenny's turn to look embarrassed. Harry looked again at Jenny. He estimated her age to be about that of Bill Weasley. "Jenny, did you go to Hogwarts?" "No. I had hoped to, but I couldn't." "Oh, sorry." He presumed Jenny – like Sam's parents and Sam himself – was a Squib. It was Eleanor who voiced the unspoken question. "Jenny isn't a Squib, Harry. She was born to magical parents. My daughter was a very powerful witch as was her husband. Sadly, Voldemort murdered them both when Jenny was only five years old. She witnessed it all and went into shock. She didn't speak at all for almost three years and when she did eventually recover her voice it was found she'd buried her magic so deep within her that she could no longer summon it to her." "It's OK though, Harry. I can talk about it quite easily; in fact, it was you who brought me out of my shell." Once again Harry didn't have any idea what Jenny meant, but it was Eleanor who explained. "You see, Harry, when you did whatever you did to Voldemort as a baby it brought joy to my family in more ways than one. That monster was gone and my angel was back. She'd spoken for the first time in three years – three long and worrying years. But her magic has yet to return. We don't give up hope that it might one day, but it was impossible for her to go to Hogwarts." Jenny picked up her story. "My parents had been Aurors so when I was old enough I joined the police. Not the same, I know, but I felt that injustice has to be fought no matter where it is found." "Damn!" Eleanor said suddenly. "That policeman's just entered the ward! Quick, turn the TV off!" Harry lay down and pretended to be asleep. Eleanor removed the Silencing charm with a quick Finite Incantatem just as Simon opened the door. "… sneaking off to watch TV. Really! Are you so obsessed with that rubbish that you couldn't even miss one episode?" said Eleanor as a quick alibi. "Gran, I thought you'd appreciate being given privacy while you talked to your friend and I thought Simon'd like a chance for a proper break. You have no idea how boring it is sitting here for hours and not being given a chance to even stretch your legs! I thought you'd be pleased I thought of other's needs before my own!" said Jenny with an air of indignation. "Humph! Thinking of other people's needs! Rubbish!" Eleanor left the room, the perfect picture of an irascible old lady, but only Harry saw her give a quick wink as she swept imperiously past him. Jenny threw up her hands dramatically. "I just can't win with her! Sorry, Simon," she added apologetically. "Don't worry, my own nan's just as bad. Thanks for the break, Jenny. I got a bite to eat OK. The chili con carne's not bad at all. You should try it." "Not really my cup of tea, Simon, I prefer Chinese food to Mexican." "Well, perhaps we could try that new restaurant that's opened in the leisure park next to the multiplex? It's supposed to be really good," Simon added hopefully. "Nice try, sunshine, but I already told you I'm not interested." Jenny's brush-off was pretty blunt. Jenny looked away from Simon and looked straight at Doctor Harry who was standing in the doorway. She couldn't help but smile at him. "I'm glad you're here. Can I have a quick word?" asked Doctor Harry. "Sure," she smiled, then over her shoulder she added, "'Night, Simon," as she walked out of the room. "Women!" Simon said, lowering himself into the chair. "What is it with her anyway?" Simon asked the question knowing full-well he would get no answer to the question men had been asking since time out of mind. o-O-o Harry did not see Jenny again for two whole days; instead he had been guarded by a series of different policemen, not including Simon. He presumed this constant change was either a conscious decision by the officers in charge of his case or just a coincidence. Either way, Harry found himself longing for Jenny's return. It took a lot of control on Harry's part not to react when, on the third day at the 2 pm shift change, Jenny stepped into his room. "Any change?" asked Jenny of her male counterpart. "Nope! He either sleeps or stares out of the window; I think he's not all there! Know what I mean?" "You could be right! Anyway, you'd better get going. Are you on tomorrow?" Jenny asked. "Yeah. I'm on 2-10 tomorrow. Off on Friday and Saturday then start a week of nights. See you." "Bye," Jenny replied as she settled in the armchair, picking up that day's paper from the floor. The door had hardly closed when Harry reached over to grab the paper. "Thank Merlin you're here! I've been dying to look at that paper all day!" exclaimed Harry as he scoured the front page where the banner headline proclaimed, "KILLER NEPHEW: HUNT MOVES TO ESSEX". The article went on: "A statement issued by the Surrey Police today advises that the hunt for Harry Potter, the Surrey schoolboy wanted in connection with the murder of his aunt, uncle and cousin, has moved from the south coast town of Hastings to Tilbury in Essex. A reliable but as yet un-named source notified the team investigating the murders which took place in the quiet stockbroker belt town of Little Whinging eighteen days ago, that Potter (aged 16) travelled from Hastings to Tilbury by boat. Further investigation of the claim is currently being undertaken. The police warned the general public not to approach Potter, as he is believed to be armed and extremely dangerous. "This note of warning is in addition to the release of the information Potter may be with his godfather, Sirius Black, who escaped from prison three years ago. Black had been jailed for the murder of thirteen people fifteen years ago and has yet to be-recaptured. It is highly likely that Black had influenced Potter and encouraged him to follow in his evil ways." Harry finished reading the paper and threw it to one side in disgust. At that moment a nurse popped her head around the door. "You're wanted on the phone." Jenny stood up and went to take the call. Harry sat in his bed, his anxiety increasing as the moments passed. When Jenny returned she looked furious but resigned. She reached into a pouch on her belt and withdrew a set of handcuffs. Making sure that the door was shut fast, she took one of the 'cuffs and placed it on Harry's right ankle and attached the other end to the frame of his bed. "What the…?" Harry didn't need to complete his question. "You read that article in the paper, Harry. They now have proof positive that you're Harry Potter. Apparently Simon suspected as much and got a good set of prints taken by the Forensics and Scene of Crime Team from a mug you used the other day. They got a perfect match with prints for 4 Privet Drive. It's now my job to formally charge you with murder." Harry's heart was beating sixteen to the dozen again. Jenny noted all the blood draining from his face, which made the scar on his forehead stand out more visibly than ever. As she stood and looked at it, the scar grew redder and redder until a tiny drop of blood trickled down into his right eye. At the same time a terrifying high-pitched cackle issued from Harry's mouth. —o-O-o— Harry found himself staring into a blazing fire in the centre of a massive ornate fireplace. The only light in the room came from the flickering flames and glowing embers. "Well done, Lucius," said Harry, his low voice low conveying his pleasure and satisfaction at the turn of events. "The plan is succeeding despite the hiccup caused by that blundering fool Wormtail. How is your dear wife feeling now? She will be well rewarded for her efforts to bring the prize to Lord Voldemort." "She was overjoyed at being able to assist you, my Lord. The effects of using Polyjuice Potion for such a protracted period of time has left her feeling a little unwell, but is now almost fully recovered." "Good. It was fortunate indeed that she was familiar with Muggle boats and sailing. An odd recreation for a woman, but one that proved surprisingly useful," responded Voldemort. "As you say, my Lord," replied Malfoy bowing low just within Harry's field of vision. "And how is our guest doing downstairs, Lucius? Has he provided the information I need?" "The man is proving surprisingly difficult, my Lord," said Malfoy hesitatingly. Voldemort swung around to stare his servant fully in the face. Malfoy quelled under the gaze. "Speak to me, Lucius, and do not lie! I would be most displeased were you to lie to me. Lord Voldemort always knows." As he had been speaking, Harry had clenched the fingers of his right hand; at the same instant Malfoy was raised up on his toes, the muscles of his neck taught and the marks of five fingers appeared on that fine white flesh. He struggled for breath. "We are making progress, my Lord. He is not a Muggle as we first thought, but a Squib!" A delighted smile crossed Harry's face. "A Squib, you say? Surprising news indeed, Lucius. Yes, I am indeed pleased. Fate once again favours Lord Voldemort!" He relaxed his grip on Malfoy's throat who fell to the floor, rubbing the abused skin. Harry let rip an almost hysterical whoop of laughter. —o-O-o— Whack! Jenny had slapped Harry around the face… hard! Now she was the one who was pale and shaky. The door to the hospital room opened and two nurses stood there. "Everything OK?" the first nurse queried. "Yes. Nothing I can't handle. My sergeant will be here soon, can you make sure the SHO knows, he'll want to talk to him when he arrives." "I'll have to bleep him, he's on call. How long do you reckon?" the nurse enquired. "About half-an-hour," Jenny answered. The door closed. Jenny leaned close to Harry. "What the hell was all that about?" "I told Sam to stay away from me, that I'd just cause him problems, but no! 'It's my destiny, Harry,' he said, and look where it's got him! A cell in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor!" "Harry, you're not making much sense and I don't have time for your ranting just now! I have to talk to my gran and quick." Harry didn't know why Jenny suddenly had to talk to her grandmother and right now he didn't much care, he just lay back on his pillows and stared at the ceiling and let the tears come. They were silent and Harry cried not for himself, but for Sam. Harry had shown a great resilience to the Unforgivable Curses, but then he was a wizard and a seemingly powerful, though not fully-trained, one at that. But Sam? What could poor Squib Sam do? He wouldn't be able to resist! He was as good as dead and it was his, Harry's, fault. Yet another death on his conscience! "Are you listening?" Jenny almost shouted in Harry's ear. "What?" Harry queried apathetically. He felt that nothing he could do would help Sam now. Harry was almost ready to give up the fight. "I was saying that I'll phone my gran as soon as I can. I'm sure she'll come up with something." "Whatever," Harry said resignedly. Apathy was settling around Harry like a thick and smothering blanket. Harry did not have the strength left to fight. This worried Jenny more than anything else. From what Harry had told Eleanor and her, Harry had always been a fighter. Now he was letting his apparent helplessness mount up like an unassailable wall around him. The hospital room door opened and in walked a uniformed police sergeant, the three stripes clearly visible on his jacket sleeve. "Sir," said Jenny as she stood to attention. The sergeant nodded and Jenny relaxed her posture. The sergeant acknowledged the handcuffs attached to the bed and to Harry's ankle. "Have you formally cautioned him yet?" "Was just about to, sir, when you arrived." Jenny laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry James Potter, I hereby arrest you for the murders of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, in the County of Surrey and Marjorie Edith Dursley of Kennel Lane, Layer Martington, in the County of Essex. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." At Harry's total lack of response Jenny looked at her sergeant and shrugged. After a moment the sergeant spoke. "Potter! Do you understand what just happened? You've just been arrested for the murder of your family!" Slowly, very slowly, Harry turned his gaze on the face of the police sergeant. "And you think that is supposed to worry me how?" queried Harry. "We have evidence that you committed the murders. Eye witness accounts!" "I very much doubt that I'll live long enough to stand trial," Harry stated in a flat monotone. The sergeant turned to face Jenny. "I thought the SHO reported Potter was making an excellent recovery; is that not so?" Before Jenny could answer, Harry made a snort of derision. "No, it's not these," he pointed at the dressings still covering his broken ribs, "that will kill me, but believe me, I'll never be allowed to stand trial. He'll see to that!" "Have you been getting all this down, Cantwell?" "Yes, sir. I think so, sir!" Jenny had been writing Harry's words down in her pocket-book. She sounds like Percy Weasley, thought Harry. This brought Harry's mind to Dumbledore; he'd been able to 'save the day' at his trial last summer, would he be able to do so again? "Great man, Dumbledore," Hagrid always said. Well it would certainly take a great man to be able to save Harry's neck this time. "Committal Proceedings to be held next Monday with probable transfer to Saltmarsh Prison, Hospital Wing after that." "Yes, sir. Sir, what about his defense? Will the duty solicitor be notified?" "No need to notify anyone." In the doorway stood a pink cheeked, black haired woman in an immaculately cut business suit of charcoal grey, a pristine white shirt visible beneath it. She carried over one shoulder a briefcase and in her left hand she held out a business card, which she handed to the sergeant. "I am Mr. Potter's solicitor. My firm has represented his family for many years and now if you have concluded the formalities with regards to his arrest, I suggest you leave as I would like to speak to my client in private." The young woman carried an indisputable air of authority; clearly she was accustomed to her orders being followed. Therefore without a single question or objection both Jenny and the sergeant obediently left the room. Harry had hardly acknowledged her presence. In fact he had hardly moved at all. As the door closed, the young solicitor moved to close the curtains at the window; on the way she tripped over the wheel at the corner of Harry's bed. The briefcase went flying and so did she, landing in an inelegant heap on the floor. "Great Merlin, preserve me from my own clumsiness!" she exclaimed, but this time in a very different voice. Instantly Harry snapped out of his apathetic mood as he looked over the edge of his bed to see not a cool, calm and commanding solicitor but… "TONKS!"
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