Chapter 18
Miguel dropped Harry off at Mesquite Drive in the blue dusk of evening, the ocean darkening as the sun’s light drowned in its waters. By that time, Harry was very glad to get home: he was exhausted. He trudged across the yard toward the front door and the lighted windows. He was not surprised to see Severus sitting in the living room, reading a science journal in the lamplight.
He looked up when Harry entered. “Good evening, Harry. How was it? Are you all right?”
“Fine, but I really want to sit down…” Harry tottered across the living room and sank down in the big squashy armchair. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have gone after all.”
“No, it was good: I think the Weasleys like me.” Harry looked up with a grin. “I know Ginny does.”
“Miss Weasley is not the one who can ban you from the house.” Severus sat down on the sofa, watching him. “Do you think you made a good impression on her elders?”
“I think so,” said Harry, thinking back to the friendly Bill and charming Fleur. “I’m not sure if her brother Ron likes me, though. He kind of freaked out when I kissed her at Pridefest, and he was hovering over me the entire time like he thought I was going to grab her.”
“Brothers are often overprotective.” Severus waved this away. “Just keep being friendly. What did you talk about at dinner?”
“It was Miguel who did most of the talking.” Harry looked at Severus curiously. “How come you never told me we stayed with Los Dos when we first came here?”
“Is it relevant?” Severus looked surprised.
“I guess not, but…I didn’t know that.”
Severus shrugged. “Mike and Miguel helped us get on our feet when we first arrived in San Benito. It was a long time ago. What else happened while you were with the Weasleys?”
“Ginny gave me and Tomas and Maya a tour of the house.” Harry smirked in triumph. “I didn’t do that Dark detection charm—or any other magic—but at least I know the house’s layout and stuff.”
“That’s a good start!” Severus smiled in approval. “Sounds like you did a good job tonight.”
Harry couldn’t help smiling in return, but then it faded. “There was one weird thing…”
“What?”
“It’s been bothering me all evening. In Ginny and Hermione’s room, there was this…book.” Harry wondered how to put this. “A book from the wizarding world. Its title was The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord.” Harry peered at Severus. “The Fall of the Dark Lord. What do you think that meant? It’s not like the Dark Lord ever fell, right?”
Severus was silent a moment. “What did I tell you about things that make no sense at the Weasleys’?” he said at last.
“That the Dark Lord likes to keep his kingdom secret and if something doesn’t seem to make sense that’s because it doesn’t. But Severus, this wasn’t something someone said. This was a book! Why would the Dark Lord even allow anyone to write about him if he wants everything secret?”
“You’re underestimating the strength of that wizard’s ego,” said Severus, voice very dry. “Dictators love sycophantic books that fawn over them.”
Harry could see the logic of that, but something still didn’t make sense. “Well, sure, but why would it be titled The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord? If the Dark Lord cast a spell ensuring secrecy or whatever, why not a completely different title, like, I don’t know, Love Spells Through the Ages?”
“Because any spell that wide-ranging is going to have inaccuracies.” Severus’s voice was smooth and eminently reasonable. “The book’s original title was probably something like The Rise of Our Great Dark Lord. Ideally, you’d be right: the spell would change it to a completely new title. But, as it is, all it could do was alter it a little.”
Harry supposed that made sense. But he tried to imagine Hermione reading a book entitled The Rise of Our Great Dark Lord, let alone bringing it with her on vacation, and just couldn’t. Hermione Granger simply did not seem like the dictator-fawning type.
Actually, none of the Weasleys did. Though Severus had said as much, hadn’t he, when he’d said the Weasleys weren’t great supporters of the Dark Lord. But the Weasleys also did not seem like people living in fear under the cruel heel of a tyrannical Dark wizard. They all seemed…relaxed. Happy. Running jokes shops. Learning to surf. Inviting Muggles to dinner. Accepting Miguel and his homosexuality.
It just didn’t add up.
“Something the matter, Harry?” Severus’s voice was soft.
“Nothing.” Harry sighed. “It’s just…I know I’ve said this before, but the Weasleys just seem too nice to be the Dark Lord’s subjects. Too happy. They’re making friends with Muggles, inviting us over to dinner…”
“Just because an individual person is nice doesn’t mean their government is,” Severus pointed out. “Anyway, they probably are expressing their true sentiments when they befriend Muggles. It might even be an act of defiance for them against a regime they hate. But that doesn’t mean they won’t surrender if their lives or their loved ones are threatened. Anyone would. And they’re wizards, which means they’re used to lying to Muggles and hiding their true nature.”
Just like us. But Harry didn’t say that aloud.
“I think it’s time you went to bed, Harry,” said Severus. “You’ve done great work today, and you could certainly use a rest. Do you want cocoa or anything?”
“No thanks.” Harry stood. The room swayed slightly around him. “I think I’ll just get a shower and go to bed. Night, Severus.”
But even though he was so tired he felt dizzy, Harry still had trouble falling asleep that night.
Something wasn’t right. The Weasleys simply didn’t seem like the Dark Lord’s oppressed subjects. And Severus’s explanation about the book was plausible and yet…
So what do I think the real answer is? Harry challenged himself, lying in bed in the dark. Do I think Severus is lying to me?
Everything in Harry recoiled from the idea. Severus Snape was the only parent he’d ever known. He’d raised Harry from a baby, had fed and clothed him for fifteen years. He’d taught Harry everything he knew about magic. He’d never hurt Harry, never lie to him…would he?
Harry thought of the savagery with which Severus had modified Jose’s memory. His angry outburst when Harry asked about James Potter. The dangerous potions he brewed for dubious Muggle organizations in the workshop. Severus Snape was capable of ruthlessness and violence, of that Harry had no doubt. But it was impossible to imagine Severus turning that capacity against Harry. Severus had said many times, and proven it through his actions many times more, that Harry was the only person in the world he loved.
Exactly, said a strange little voice within. You’re the only one Severus loves. He’d burn down the world for you. So what wouldn’t he do, if he thought it would keep you safe?
And Harry found he had no answer to this.
It was almost a week before Ginny saw Harry again. She didn’t expect to see him on Tuesday, of course—he’d just been to dinner, and was ill besides—and the rest of the week he was working at the comics store. Ginny was kept too busy to go see him there: the twins were only here in California for the rest of the week, and were eager to fit as much into their holiday as possible. The family raced around San Diego County, visiting beaches and attractions. The twins were as keen to ride a roller coaster as Ron, and so they visited a beachside amusement park, where Ginny had just as much fun as her brothers strapped into the roller coaster car and screaming her head off, wind whipping through her hair. Midweek it was Independence Day, and they all Apparated to a hill outside San Diego to watch the fireworks boom and explode over the water.
It was fun, but Ginny couldn’t help reflecting how much more fun it would have been with Harry at her side. It was frustrating not being able to contact him. For the first time ever, she wished she had a smartphone.
“You know, you could use my phone,” said Hermione on Sunday. She held it up, glinting in the morning light. “I got a new SIM card for it and everything, so it works here in America. So I can talk to my parents.”
Ginny brightened. “Really, Hermione? That would be great!”
“No problem,” smiled Hermione. “I know you’re not going to get your own. Just no sexting, all right?”
“Sexting?”
“Dirty messages,” Hermione explained. “Sex jokes. That sort of thing.”
“Of course not,” said Ginny, blushing. “Though it might be fun to do that camera call thing you do with your parents.” It was fascinating watching Hermione’s parents inside the Muggle device, just like a magic mirror.
Hermione smiled a bit sadly. “I’m trying to stay in better touch with Mum and Dad. I sometimes feel like I’m drifting away from them. The magical world is so separated from the Muggle. But they’re my only parents.”
Ginny thought about this as she changed into her swimsuit and grabbed her towel, heading for the beach. It made her feel a bit sad. Her relationship with Harry was never going anywhere. While wizards had married Muggles before, plenty of times, that was not their situation. Ginny was going home at the end of the summer and that would be the end of her and Harry Powell. They couldn’t even try to keep in touch: Muggle technology didn’t work at Hogwarts, and she doubted Harry or Cousin Stephen would be thrilled with owl post. For the first time, this seemed like a terrible shame. It shouldn’t be this difficult for wizards and Muggles to communicate.
But all her melancholy evaporated when she saw Tomas’s car and the three Muggles getting out. “Harry!” she waved, and ran to greet him.
“You’re looking better!” she said, craning up to kiss him (ignoring Ron’s glower).
“I’m feeling a lot better.” He beamed down at her, then glanced nervously at the glaring Ron. “Uh…your brother’s not going to do anything, is he?”
“Never mind him,” laughed Ginny. “Let’s go down to the beach!”
They had another surfing lesson: Ron and Ginny were both getting good, though Hermione still fell off her board every time she tried standing up. “You’re not trying!” said Tomas, half-scolding, half-laughing. “There’re hardly any waves at all today. There’s no excuse.”
“Sorry!” squealed Hermione, neck-deep in water. “I don’t think I’m cut out for surfing.”
Ginny swam over to Harry, climbing up on his surfboard beside him. “The water feels almost warm today,” she said, kicking her legs leisurely. The gentle waves rocked her back and forth.
“Yeah.” Harry flipped his wet hair out of his eyes, and Ginny saw his scar again. Just a thin straight line. Well, of course: whatever had she been thinking, that a Muggle boy might have a curse scar? “Tomas is right, though, the waves aren’t great today.”
“Let’s put the board back on the sand,” Ginny suggested. “I think I’d rather just swim.”
They deposited the surfboard back on the beach and swam out again, cutting through the lazy waves. The water was very clear today, without turbulence churning up the seabed. Ginny could see clumps of weed growing in the sandy depths, and tiny fish flashing. “Harry,” she said, “are there any sharks around here?”
“Oh, sure,” he said casually, backstroking past her. “We’ve always got some great whites around. But they’re usually in deeper water, the trenches and stuff.” He pointed further out to sea.
Ginny gave the depths a nervous glance and swam a little back toward shore, making Harry laugh and splash her. She splashed him back, and soon they were having a water fight, droplets sparkling in the sun.
“This is a beautiful place.” Ginny flipped onto her back, letting the ocean rock her. “You’re lucky to live here.”
“It gets a bit grim and gloomy in winter,” Harry assured her. “But thanks. I love it here.” He hesitated, treading water. “What’s it like where you live?”
“Well, I go to school up in Scotland. It’s very wild out there, lots of mountains and forests and a great gray lake right on campus. But round where we live, in the south, it’s very green. Hilly, with lots of fields and little woods and rivers.”
“Sounds like Hobbiton.”
“Like…what?”
“Oh, the horror!” Harry struck himself dramatically on the forehead. “A Brit who doesn’t know her Tolkien! I’ll have to show you The Lord of the Rings movies as well as Star Wars. Speaking of which…” He paddled closer, light shining in his bright green eyes. “Do you think we could go up to your house later? If I can get onto your Wi-Fi, I can rent the movies on YouTube and show them on my phone.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Ginny, not understanding half of this statement but comprehending that watching movies alone with Harry was in her near future. It made her heart beat a little faster. “Fred and George have left already.”
“Oh, good—oh, sorry!” said Harry hastily. “I mean…they’re very interesting…” He trailed off as Ginny laughed.
“It’s okay: the twins can be a bit much. But they had to go back to work.” And hopefully not shagging any more Slytherin bank shareholders. “Actually, I’m getting a bit cold. Maybe we could get out now…”
Harry waved to the others, shouting to let them know they were heading back, and they swam out of the sea together, hauling themselves upright among the breakers and wading out onto the wet sand. Ginny ran up the beach and reached their clothes first, piled up next to Harry’s surfboard. “Here are your glasses, Harry!” She bent down to pick them up, resting on his shorts.
She frowned. His glasses had slid into a crease in the cloth, and in that crease Ginny could feel something hard and thin and long, something…familiar. Something that felt almost like…
A wand.
“Ginny? Something the matter?” Harry was squinting at her, obviously unable to see her clearly without his glasses.
“No! Nothing. Here’re your glasses.” Ginny handed them to him and stood back while he put them on, wondering how on earth she could phrase the questions buzzing around her mind:
Is there a wand hidden in your clothes, Harry?
Is there something you’re not telling me?
Are you a wizard?
“Ginny, are you okay?” Harry looked up from toweling off. “You’ve got kind of a weird expression…”
“No, I’m fine,” Ginny assured him. “Just…thinking about those movies. Which do you think we should start with?”
This successfully distracted Harry, who immediately began speculating on the exact order in which one should watch Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings series. Ginny smiled and nodded as they headed back up the beach, all the while thinking furiously.
Was that really a wand she’d felt hidden in his clothing? Was Harry Powell a wizard? If so, he was doing the best job of passing for a Muggle that Ginny had ever seen—but why? Why would a teenage wizard be in hiding here in San Benito?
And if Harry was hiding his true nature…what else was he hiding?