Chapter 8
“You’re very quiet, Harry,” said Severus. He finished his seventh stir and whispered the incantation over the Color-Switch Potion. It hissed in response and, appropriately, changed color, turning from deep green to livid blue. “Something on your mind?”
“Nothing important.” Harry hastily began grinding up lionfish spines again, pounding away with the pestle. “Just…thinking about stuff. Work. Tomas going out with Maya. Pridefest. That kind of thing.”
The truth, of course, was quite different. Harry was thinking about the red-haired witch girl they’d met yesterday. Ginny Weasley. Indeed, he’d been thinking of nothing but Ginny Weasley since the moment he’d met her.
She was the first witch he’d ever had a real conversation with—the wand-maker in San Francisco didn’t count. She wasn’t what he’d expected, that was for sure. What had he expected, though? Severus had always made it clear that wizards lived apart from Muggles as much as they could, which was why the Muggle world was such a good place in which to hide from other wizards. Harry shivered, thinking of the horrible tales Severus had told him, of the Death Eaters’ treatment of Muggles. Even wizards who were not Death Eaters, Severus said, looked down on Muggles, regarding them as lesser beings, at best treating them with a pitying condescension. Indeed, Severus exhibited a bit of that contempt himself, though he worked very hard to smother it.
But Ginny hadn’t been like that at all. She’d seemed friendly and curious, reacting with delight to Maya’s invitation to tour the wildlife center and Tomas’s offer to teach her how to surf. Maybe Ginny wasn’t a witch at all, but a Squib, a phenomenon Severus had told Harry of, a non-magical child born to a magical family. But she said her brother wanted to ride a roller coaster, and the whole family was here for two months. That didn’t seem like the behavior of a family who wanted to hold themselves above the mucky Muggles.
But really, what did Harry know? He’d never spent any time with other wizards. All he knew of them, he knew secondhand, from Severus’s tales. He thought of Tomas’s suggestion that Severus invite the tourists for dinner and suppressed a snigger, trying to imagine Severus hosting a friendly meal for other wizards. Friendly poison-buffet, more likely. No, better for everyone that Severus not learn of the wizarding tourists.
Two months, though…that was such a long time. How was Harry supposed to keep the secret that long?
The lionfish spines were now the desired consistency: a rough powder, with some solid pieces still mixed in. Harry set the mortar and pestle aside. “Hey, Severus,” he said, “when’s the last time you spoke to another wizard? Besides me, I mean.”
Severus gave him a sharp glance. “I hardly remember. Why do you ask?”
“Just…” Harry gestured around the workshop. “All our potions supplies. We don’t get all of them ourselves.” This was certainly true. While Harry and Severus grew or gathered as many of their ingredients as they could, there were certain supplies—such as lionfish spines—that they couldn’t collect themselves.
“There are many Muggles who trade in magical supplies, you know that,” said Severus. He gave one of his brief half-smiles. “One thing the Internet is actually good for.”
"Right, Severus,” said Harry, rolling his eyes automatically. “Seriously, though, what are other wizards like? When you meet them?”
“I hope you’re not planning to find out yourself.”
“No! I just…wondered, that’s all.”
Severus finished stirring the potion and lifted it off the fire to cool. “Harry, wizards are human beings, just like Muggles. Meeting one is like meeting someone from a different culture: another person like you, but with a much greater chance of making a cultural mistake and causing offense. The difference with wizards is that such mistakes have a greater chance of turning lethal.”
Harry gulped a little, thinking of Ginny. “Even the kids?”
“Most wizarding children aren’t allowed to perform magic outside of school,” Severus said unexpectedly. “But they’re generally watched closely by their elders, who can perform magic. It’s best not to approach one.” He gave Harry another of his uncomfortably sharp glances. “Where’s this coming from, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I just felt curious, I guess.” Harry paused. “Don’t you ever wonder what’s going on? In the wizarding world? I mean, maybe the Dark Lord’s fallen from power or something.” The idea galvanized him, and he spoke faster, turning to Severus with sudden excitement. “Maybe it’s safe for us to—”
“Harry.” Severus’s voice snapped out, cold and hard. “I keep my ears open, and I can tell you this: the Dark Lord is still in power. The wizarding world is not safe for us. If a witch or wizard ever found out who you and I truly are and where we are living, they would hand us over to the Dark Lord and his followers. Then we would both die very horrible deaths. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Harry after a moment.
“Good.” Severus turned to stick a thermometer into the potion. He grunted approval at its readings. “Measure out an ounce of the lionfish spine, Harry.”
Harry did so distractedly, laying a square of white paper on the scale and pouring the powder onto it. He was trying to imagine Ginny Weasley turning him and Severus over to the Dark Lord, and failing. It was very hard to picture that giggling, barefoot girl on the beach turning in a report to Voldemort.
But Severus was right: Ginny had parents. It sounded like several adult wizards would be visiting San Benito this summer, rotating through the beach house. Harry licked his lips, nerving himself up. He should tell Severus, he really should. It was the responsible thing—
“Anyway,” said Severus, his gaze on the potion, “if any wizards do turn up here, we can always return to the house in Nevada until they leave.”
Instantly, all of Harry’s good intentions evaporated, like steam off the surface of a heated potion. “Yeah, I guess.”
He gathered up the paper with its ounce of lionfish powder and handed it to Severus. He would just have to avoid the vacationing wizards as much as possible. And if he saw Ginny Weasley again, perhaps he should apologize for his behavior. It wouldn’t do for a witch—or her parents—to take offense to his rudeness.
And, if Harry was being honest with himself, he had been a bit of a heel to Ginny yesterday. Witch or not, bad behavior was still bad behavior. Severus had always had a great deal to say on that subject, particularly about men being rude to women. Irrationally, Harry felt that since he was letting Severus down so spectacularly in one area, he couldn’t let him down here too, even if Severus would never know. And it wasn’t Ginny’s fault she was growing up in the Dark Lord’s fascist regime.
Yes, if Harry saw Ginny again, he would apologize.
Severus lifted the hand mirror with a grimace of distaste. He’d already ensured Harry was asleep and had cast a Soundproofing charm on his own bedroom, so there was little to no chance of being overheard. But he still disliked this method of communication. It made him feel like the character of the Queen in that ridiculous graphic novel Harry had once made him read. What had the title been? Ah, yes, Snow, Glass, Apples. Sourly, he wondered how Dumbledore would react if Severus ever shared his feelings on the matter. Probably laugh uproariously and ask to be sent a copy of the book.
The mirror clouded over, then cleared to reveal an old face with bright blue eyes and a great swath of white beard. “Good evening, Severus,” said Dumbledore. “I trust it is evening, your time?”
“Indeed. And I had a long day, so let’s make this quick. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“The fifth Horcrux, Severus. It isn’t here at Hogwarts.”
Severus sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had been hoping so much to avoid yet another awkward, time-consuming hunt… “How can you know?”
“I’ve cast every seeking and scrying spell I know,” said Dumbledore, an unusual note of frustration in his voice. “Aided and abetted by the school itself. And the results are clear: the fifth Horcrux was recently hidden here in the castle but not any longer. Someone has removed it.”
Alarm rose in Severus. “The Dark Lord…?”
“No. Not Voldemort, nor any of his followers.”
Severus sighed with relief. “Who, then?”
“It’s rather unexpected,” said Dumbledore after a moment. “All of my spells indicate that the fifth Horcrux is now in the possession of one of the Weasleys.”
“The Weasleys?” After his initial surprise, Severus let out an ironic laugh. “Well, that family certainly seems to attract Horcruxes, doesn’t it? It must be their total want of common sense. Do you know which Weasley has it?”
“No pinpointing spell is that accurate, Severus, as you know,” said Dumbledore with a certain wry humor. “All I know is that one of the Weasleys currently has it in their possession. And I doubt very much whether they understand what it is they possess. I trust you appreciate the danger, Severus.”
Severus did indeed. “We must get it back as quickly as possible,” he agreed. “But what can I do? I’m hardly someone the Weasleys would listen to, let alone be allowed to look through their private possessions. And I’m on the opposite side of the planet.”
Dumbledore paused, and that pause was enough to warn Severus of the imminent arrival of highly unwelcome news.
“Actually, Severus,” the older wizard said at last, “you’re not. A large proportion of the Weasley family recently arrived in San Benito on holiday.”
The room spun around Severus. He didn’t realize he’d leapt to his feet before he staggered, knees giving way beneath him. “What?”
“Well, it is a tourist town, you know,” grinned Dumbledore, who seemed, to Severus, to be enjoying himself far too much. “What did you expect, if not tourists?”
“I expected you to keep your promise and keep other wizards away!” Severus yelled. “The Weasleys are all your adoring fans. Couldn’t you just tell them to choose somewhere else as a destination?”
“Not without a great many unwelcome questions, Severus,” snapped Dumbledore. “And anyway, they didn’t tell me. Molly and Arthur arranged the whole thing for their family, and why shouldn’t they? I understand one of the goblins of Gringotts owns a beach house in San Benito; no doubt Bill Weasley used his connections to borrow it. But it’s all to the good, Severus. Right now, Molly and Arthur are there, with their sons Bill and Ronald, and their daughter Ginny. I understand that Bill and Ronald’s girlfriends are also accompanying them. I believe the rest of the family will be visiting over the course of the summer. You will have ample opportunity to determine which one has the Horcrux.”
“Oh, will I?” snarled Severus. “In case you’ve forgotten, Albus, I am still believed to be an unrepentant Death Eater by most of the wizarding community, including the Weasleys. Those who don’t believe I’m dead, of course. None of the disguising magic I could use will be much use against wizards who already know me and what I look like. Polyjuice Potion wouldn’t be much help either: they’re hardly likely to let a strange Muggle comb through their things. I can’t exactly stroll up to their beach rental and ask to be invited for tea!”
“You can’t,” said Dumbledore quietly, “but Harry can.”
Silence fell. Everything froze to an icy stillness, broken only by the pounding of Severus’s heart.
When at last he spoke, he did so slowly and deliberately: “Do I understand you correctly, Albus? Are you asking me to send Harry into a nest of strange wizards to obtain one of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes?”
“Not obtain it,” said Dumbledore. “Merely determine which Weasley might currently have it. Last year there were four Weasleys at Hogwarts: the twins Frederick and George, Ronald, and young Ginny. They are the most likely candidates, but they may have passed it on to one of their elders. It will be something that once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, perhaps her fabled Diadem—”
“I don’t care if it’s Merlin’s favorite teapot,” Severus spat between clenched teeth. “I will not expose Harry to such danger. If you’re so sure one of the Weasleys has it, you can come here and look for it yourself!”
“You know I can’t do that, Severus,” Dumbledore snapped. “Finding out what the Horcrux is and who has it will take time, and I can hardly spend all summer imposing myself on the Weasleys. But no one will suspect Harry. None of the Weasleys suspects that Harry Potter is still alive, let alone in San Benito. And he is perfectly placed to befriend one of the younger family members, to gain access to their house. The Weasleys are not Dark wizards; they would never harm him. He’ll be perfectly safe—”
“Perfectly safe!” Severus could hardly breathe. “You’re proposing to expose Harry to a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul and you call it perfectly safe!”
“So warn him, Severus. Impress on him the danger. Make sure he takes precautions. But we must get that Horcrux back. It was pure luck we found Riddle’s diary in Ginny’s possession before it did any damage. If we hadn’t…the consequences would have been terrible. Voldemort’s Horcruxes are not to be trifled with by innocents.”
“Exactly,” snarled Severus. “Which is why I will not expose Harry to one, under any circumstances. That is final, Dumbledore.”
There came a pause. Dumbledore gave Severus a measuring look, blue eyes narrowed.
“You know, Severus,” he said in a soft voice, “I have often wondered exactly how the wizarding community would react if they ever learned Harry Potter is still alive. Would they hail it as a miracle? The return of the boy who vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Or would that be overcome by the scandal of the last of the Potters being raised in hiding by a former Death Eater?”
“Aided and abetted by the famous Headmaster of Hogwarts,” Severus retorted. “If you spill the secret, Dumbledore, you’ll be ruined!”
“That is hardly of concern to me, in my current state,” said Dumbledore calmly. “I am concerned for the fate of this Horcrux. Tell Harry whatever story you like, Severus. Get him as many protections as you can. I’ll send you some useful amulets if you want. But make sure he befriends the Weasleys this summer, and finds out what the Horcrux is and who has it. If he doesn’t, I can’t speak for the consequences.”
Another pause. Severus gripped the hand mirror so hard he was surprised it didn’t crack.
“You son of a bitch,” he spat out at last.
“Excellent, Severus!” Dumbledore’s smile was seraphic. “I knew you’d see things my way. Shall I send you those amulets?”
“Get out!” Severus snarled the spell ending the mirror communication. The glass clouded over, and when it cleared, Severus saw only his own enraged face, black eyes glittering, two red spots on his cheeks, chest heaving with fury.
God, how he hated Albus Dumbledore. More than anyone else in the world, save only one person. And that was just the problem.
Severus knew already that he was going to obey. He didn’t have a choice. Dumbledore had made that quite clear. And Severus had bound himself to this quest long ago.
With jerky movements, Severus put the enchanted mirror away in its box, and began to ponder exactly what to tell Harry the next day.