Chapter 19
“So young Harry managed to gain entry to the Weasleys’ rental?” Albus Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes gleamed from the magic mirror late that night.
“Yes,” Severus confirmed. “Twice now. He was showing the Weasley girl movies on his phone today.”
“I will pretend I understood what that last sentence meant,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “Has Harry started looking for the Horcrux yet?”
“Not yet. I warned him not to blow his cover.”
“All very well, Severus, but remember, time is not on our side. The sooner we find and destroy that Horcrux, the better.”
“I don’t disagree.” Severus shifted, checking to ensure the privacy ward around his bedroom was still functioning. “Do you have any idea where the sixth one might be?”
Dumbledore was silent a moment. “You know, I’ve developed a theory about that. You can tell me whether you think it has merit.”
“What?”
“A wizard recently appeared here at Hogwarts with a very odd story,” said Dumbledore. “He described being haunted by a snake, a large snake not native to Britain, that kept appearing in his vicinity, sniffing him out of his hiding places—for this wizard was on the run from justice. Rather odd behavior for a snake, I think you’ll agree. And then he described the snake appearing one last time right before he was kidnapped and transported to a graveyard, where an old schoolfriend used his blood to resurrect Lord Voldemort—”
“Sirius Black!” Severus clenched the mirror’s handle. “Black is at Hogwarts?”
“Indeed he is, and he had quite a story to tell. I’ll admit I wasn’t at first inclined to believe him—one doesn’t usually trust convicted murderers who appear out of nowhere—but his tale corroborated with Harry’s report in all particulars. I was forced to admit his honesty. And his description of the snake’s behavior was most intriguing. I believe the creature is not just Voldemort’s companion but the receptacle of a piece of his soul.”
“A living Horcrux…” Severus considered this possibility. “Well, if anyone is powerful and reckless enough to create such a thing, it’s the Dark Lord.”
“Indeed.” Dumbledore eyed Severus gravely. “I will see what I can do to kill the snake. I don’t think you or Harry will be able to help with this one—whatever Harry’s gift with Parseltongue.”
Yet again, Severus cursed the moment of weakness that had caused him to confide Harry’s gift with Dumbledore. He’d been in a panic when he discovered Harry was a Parselmouth—afraid this meant the Dark Lord had some hold over the boy—but Dumbledore assured him this was not so. Ever after, though, Dumbledore insisted on reminding Severus that he knew the truth.
“How did Black escape Azkaban?” Severus tried to change the subject.
“Ah! Well, odd you should ask, Severus. Sirius certainly had a great deal to confide. According to Sirius, it was not he but Peter Pettigrew who was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper, and the one who betrayed them—”
“Pettigrew. I might have known.” Severus had loathed Peter Pettigrew quite as much as Sirius Black and James Potter, back at school. The little rat might not have actively taken part in Black and Potter’s bullying, but the memory of his vicious little titters remained fresh. “Cruel and a coward with it. Potter certainly had abominable taste in his friends.”
“Be that as it may, Severus,” said Dumbledore with a hint of reproof. “Pettigrew, it seems, is an unregistered Animagus who can take the form of a rat. Sirius saw Pettigrew in a picture in the Daily Prophet about a year ago, as a rat sitting on the shoulder of Ronald Weasley—”
“Weasleys again,” Severus muttered. “What is it with this family?”
“They do always seem to be in the thick of things,” Dumbledore agreed. “Anyway, Sirius hates Pettigrew even more than you do—”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
“—And the resulting emotional obsession allowed him to fight off the dementors. Sirius too is an unregistered Animagus: he can assume the form of a great black dog. He assumed his animal form, slipped through the bars and made it to shore. He actually made it all the way to Hogwarts, intending to find and kill Pettigrew, but Pettigrew escaped.”
“And went straight to the Dark Lord, I suppose,” finished Severus.
“Indeed. I suppose he proposed using Sirius in the ritual as a means of ridding himself of his pursuer once and for all.”
“Sounds like Pettigrew all right.” Not that Severus couldn’t sympathize with Pettigrew’s feelings on the matter. It really was a pity, Severus reflected, that Harry had freed Black from his bonds and allowed him to escape. Black might not have been Lily’s betrayer, but it still would have been exquisite justice if the Dark Lord had killed him. But Harry, of course, couldn’t see someone in trouble and not try to help. He was like Lily in that regard.
“So Black is still at Hogwarts?” Severus asked.
“Oh, yes,” smiled Dumbledore. “All the students and most of the staff are gone for the summer, of course, with the notable exception of Remus Lupin—”
“Lupin! What is Lupin doing at Hogwarts?”
“He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts last year. Did a good job, too, but had to give it up when he missed his Wolfsbane Potion one full moon and underwent a full transformation. No one got hurt, but he felt he couldn’t keep teaching. Still, I persuaded him to spend the summer at the castle, and I’m glad I did. He and Sirius are delighted to be in each other’s company again.”
Severus paused before asking his next question. “Dumbledore…you haven’t told them…?”
“Of course not,” said Dumbledore, his voice sharp. “I made you that vow and I intend to keep it.” As long as you do what you’re told, came the silent caveat. “Sirius Black and Remus Lupin do not know you are alive, or that Harry is in your keeping. But you should know that Sirius saw Harry that night, hovering above him in spiritual form. He still thinks it was James who saved him—though I’ll admit he’s a little confused as to why his best friend’s spirit would appear to him as a skinny teenager in boxer shorts.”
“I know. Harry told me.” Severus suppressed a sigh. He was of course aware of the unfortunate resemblance between Harry and his late father but, thankfully, it only went skin-deep. In spirit Harry was far more like Lily.
“Well, we shall simply have to let Sirius and Remus wonder,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “Meanwhile, are you keeping an eye on the Weasleys, Severus? Do you believe they’re in any danger from the Horcrux in their keeping?”
“Not any immediate danger, no. Miguel Gomez is watching them, and Harry reports back after every visit. The Weasleys are behaving like any other family on vacation. So far, the Horcrux doesn’t seem to have actively threatened them.”
“That’s good news,” said Dumbledore with a sigh of relief. “But we need to locate it as quickly as possible. Have Harry cast the Dark detection charm next time he’s at their rental. Then tell me as soon as you learn where the Horcrux is.”
“Then what will you do?”
Dumbledore’s smile was serene. “I think I will then pay a surprise visit to the Weasleys and confiscate an item stolen from the school.”
Severus grunted. “Then will you get them out of San Benito?”
“I can try, Severus. Though, really, aren’t you lonely for other wizards out there?”
“No,” said Severus shortly. “I never cared much for other wizards, and they certainly never cared for me. I care for Harry and his safety.”
Dumbledore was silent a moment. “You know, Severus, I still find your attitude a little surprising. I seem to recall that once you didn’t care at all what happened to Harry, as long as Lily survived.”
Severus remembered that dreadful night fifteen years ago. The shock and horror of what he’d found in the cottage at Godric’s Hollow. Holding Lily’s dead body in his arms, rocking back and forth, great howling sobs torn from his very soul. And then the realization that someone else was screaming with him. The wails of an infant.
Looking up to see Harry for the first time, the child clutching the bars of his crib in the moonlight, staring at him with Lily’s eyes.
“Destiny finds us the strangest of ways,” Severus said now to Dumbledore. “Now, is there anything else?”
“Just get Harry back into the Weasleys’ rental. And find that Horcrux—fast.”
When do you think we can next meet up? Ginny texted Harry on Hermione’s phone.
She was sitting on her bed, alone in the bedroom. Around her, the beach house was quiet: Bill and Fleur had gone out on a date, and Ron and Hermione had traipsed down to the beach. Ginny lay back and enjoyed the privacy—and the chance to use Hermione’s phone.
Maybe at the fantasy drawing class on Tuesday, came Harry’s answer. We can meet at the store. How does that sound?
Great! Ginny replied. She still found texting a bit weird—why not call the person and just talk to them?—but she had to admit, it was kind of fun. She especially enjoyed the clever way the phone suggested words to her, so she didn’t have to type them out. I’ll see you then. Are you reading anything new?
I’m going over some old favorites. Rereading Estranged right now.
What’s that about?
Changelings. A boy gets stolen away by faeries and goes to meet his faerie changeling and they save the faerie city together.
It was a good thing real fairies weren’t so malevolent, Ginny reflected. Muggle mythology sounded awfully grim. Sounds good. Didn’t you say that Shakespeare in the Park play was about fairies?
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, yeah. We’re still going, right?
Yes! Hermione’s parents will be coming soon. Maybe they’ll want to come along.
Nice!
Ginny hesitated. Will Stephen be coming?
There was a noticeable pause. He might. He loves Shakespeare. But he’s been busy lately.
Ginny wondered what to text next.
She couldn’t stop thinking of what she’d felt among Harry’s clothes. The long slender cylinder, hidden in the fabric, that felt so much like a wizard’s wand. But was it really? Was Harry Powell a wizard? And if he was, why hadn’t he announced himself to the Weasleys?
Well, the answer to that was obvious: he thought they were Muggles. How ironic, if Harry was a wizard pretending to be a Muggle to wizards who were pretending to be Muggles! But generally, wizards recognized one another. They knew when there were other wizards living nearby or coming to town—news traveled fast through the magical community, and wizards, especially wizards living among Muggles, were careful to keep themselves updated. The Weasleys hadn’t received any sign that any other wizards lived in San Benito.
So, if Harry was a wizard, he was a wizard living in hiding even from the magical world. Along with his Cousin Stephen, who, frankly, was sounding more sinister with everything Harry said of him.
Ginny wished she could ask her family for their thoughts. But Fleur would laugh at her, Bill would give her sensible-sounding but useless advice, and Hermione would tell her it was none of their business. As for Ron…Ron would ask what made her so suspicious and Ginny would have to tell him the story of feeling the wand in Harry’s shorts, and then Ron’s reaction to the phrase I felt a wand in Harry’s shorts…no. No. Just...no.
So Ginny was left alone with her suspicions. Perhaps she was overthinking it? Perhaps she could simply ask Harry? Hello, Harry, are you a wizard in hiding? And is Cousin Stephen, your guardian, actually some kind of Dark wizard criminal? Ginny blew out her lips, thinking of it. Yeah, that would go over well.
Well, let me know if he does decide to come! she texted back at last. And let me know when you can come over. I’d love to watch more Star Wars!
Will do! Another pause. Gtg now. May the Force be with you! This was followed by an emoji of a smiley-face waving goodbye and a blue lightsaber.
Ginny giggled: she loved the emojis. She sent one back of the waving smiley-face and a heart and laid the phone down. She stretched out, pulling her spine straight.
The house was very quiet. It was nice to be alone after so long, but Ginny was already feeling the first stirrings of boredom. She tried poking around on Hermione’s phone, trying to see if she could watch more movies, but couldn’t make sense of the results. She threw it down with a sigh and swung her legs to the floor.
She wandered out into the house, enjoying the way the sunlight fell from the windows, the shushing sigh of the sea. Still, she felt a twinge of homesickness. She was starting to miss Britain, miss the Burrow. Maybe she should head home soon. Mum and Dad would be glad to see her, she knew. But that would mean leaving Harry behind. She let out another sigh of frustration. If only Harry actually was a wizard! Then there would be no object to his coming to Britain with her for a few weeks. She smiled, imagining showing Harry around the Burrow, Diagon Alley, maybe even Hogwarts…
Ginny found herself at the foot of the ladder to Ron’s loft. She paused. There was something glittering and gleaming up there, something half-hidden.
After a moment’s further hesitation, Ginny climbed the ladder.
Ron’s loft was in much the same state of disarray as Ron’s room back at the Burrow: his bed was unmade, his belongings strewn around, books and clothes thrown on the floor. But there was something that did not belong in the teenage disorder: something that shone with precious light, tumbled among the bedclothes.
Ginny reached in, extracted it. It was some kind of crown or tiara, made of wrought silver. In form it was like an eagle with outspread wings, its body a great blue sapphire. At the base were engraved words: Wit Beyond Measure Is Man’s Greatest Treasure.
“HEY!”
Ginny whirled around. At the base of the ladder stood Ron, still in his swimming trunks, hair mussed from the beach, his whole face beet-red.
“Ron…I…” Ginny’s tongue, normally so nimble, utterly failed her.
“Ginny!” Ron shot up the ladder like an irate squirrel. He snatched the crown off the floor and stuffed it back in his trunk before rounding on his sister again. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry!” She held up her hands in self-defense. “I just…I saw something shining up here and…and…Ron, what is that thing? Where did you get it?”
“I found it.” Ron stood protectively in front of his trunk. “At Hogwarts.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “You stole it?”
“I didn’t steal it!” Ron snapped back. “It was…unclaimed property. I found it in a room full of junk! I mean, real rubbish: broken furniture and stuff. No one had been in there in ages, you could tell. I took the crown thingy because, um…” He trailed off, his anger overtaken by embarrassment.
“Ye-es?” Ginny prompted when his silence stretched too long.
“I wanted to give Hermione a present,” Ron muttered, staring at his feet. “You know, we’ve—we’ve never had much money and…I wanted to give Hermione something that wasn’t utter rubbish. You know?”
Despite herself, a pang of sympathy ran through Ginny. “Yeah, Ron, I know.” She craned over the loft, looking down. “Where is Hermione?”
“Back at the beach. Please don’t tell her!” Ron begged. “You know she won’t approve.”
“So why give her the tiara, then?”
“I’m not planning to give her the tiara,” Ron explained. “I’m planning to pawn it when we get to Diagon Alley to shop for our school things. Then I’m going to use the money to buy her something really, really nice. Necklace and earrings, maybe. Or an enchanted trunk for all her books. Or whatever she wants, really. But I’ve got to keep it hidden until then.”
Ginny thought back to the motto engraved on the diadem: Wit Beyond Measure Is Man’s Greatest Treasure. Her jaw dropped as she remembered where she’d read those words before. “Ron…That tiara…It isn’t Rowena Ravenclaw’s, is it?”
“I’m not sure,” Ron said after a pause. “I guess it could be. So it’s got to be really valuable!”
“Ron…!” Ginny was completely floored. “Ron, you can’t just…You can’t just pawn a Hogwarts artefact in a pawnshop! It belongs to the school! You’ve got to return it, give it back to Dumbledore—”
“It wasn’t with Dumbledore,” Ron said defiantly. “Seriously, Ginny, you didn’t see this place: a great big room filled with the most broken rubbish you ever saw. That tiara was lost property. No one knew it was there, no one cared—”
“Well, they’re going to care once they figure out this used to be Ravenclaw’s!” Ginny groaned. “God, Ron, you are going to be in so much trouble! You’ve got to give it back, before they figure out you took it and lock you up in Azkaban!”
“No.” Ron looked more stubborn and defiant than ever. “I found it, it’s mine. And I’m going to use it to buy Hermione something really nice.”
“Good God, Ron, have you lost your mind? You won’t be able to buy Hermione anything if you’re in prison! You…”
Ginny blinked. Something had just slipped out of her mind. She could just feel its tail sliding between her mental fingers before it was gone beyond her reach.
“Ron…” She struggled to steady her thoughts. “What were we just arguing about?”
“I…” Ron looked as confused as she did. “I think you said I stole something from you.”
At once Ginny’s mind balanced again. Of course. Of course, that was it. “Oh, yeah, my fancy hairclip. But you don’t have it, do you?”
“Of course not!” Ron looked both amused and offended. “Why would I want your hairclip?”
“Well, you’re always going on about giving Hermione something nice as a present…” Still bickering, Ginny led the way down the ladder. “Maybe you should buy her a cat.”
Ron made a face. “I hate cats. Ever since Scabbers got killed by one back at Hogwarts, remember?”
“Oh, come on, Ron, that was ages ago and that rat was getting old anyway…” Ginny led her brother outside, letting the warmth and gentle breeze flow over her face. Who cared about rats or hairclips, anyway? She was going to see Harry on Tuesday for the fantasy drawing class, and he’d be over to show her more Star Wars soon. Ginny smiled, remembering the heavenly hour of snuggling with Harry on the sofa while they watched on his phone. What were lost hairclips next to that?
Something niggled at her, trying to tell her something. Something was wrong…but it was washed away under the wave of sunlight reflecting off the sea.