The Synagogue Fire
Joan sat at the table in the garage, looking at old pictures of her family.
She came across pictures of her parents before they were married. Her father's picture was in his uniform, all serious. Her mother's picture showed her cheerfully smiling at the camera.
She put the two pictures next to each other and considered them.
Suddenly, she was interrupted. "Now you're getting warm, Jojo." She gasped and looked over. There was her friend Judith. As she tried to calm herself and nonchalantly return to her activity, Judith continued. "A cop and an artist. An avenger and a visionary. What kind of kid did you think they'd have?"
Annoyed she replied, "Can you stop showing up like that? I mean, I miss you but it freaks me out because none of my other friends are dead!"
Judith scoffed. "Losers!"
Joan considered what she was told. "So, it's meant to be. It's some kind of calling."
Judith replied, "Circumstances conspire. Energies converge into powerful new forces. That's where you come in." Judith looked at her seriously and said, "You have to go!"
Judith turned and with deliberation walked through the table and door. Joan looked off, wondering what that was all about.
Dancing. Twirling. She was enjoying the night and the garden. The sprinklers turned on and she was surrounded by water. She looked over and saw …
She called out enthusiastically, "Come on in!"
Grace stood back and said, "I can't!"
She cheerfully inquired, "Why not?"
Grace said, as though to a small child at a party, "Cause it's on fire."
She was confused. "No!" She looked around and turned back. "It's only water."
Suddenly sparks flew up from the ground all around her. She became frightened. The sparks turned into fire. Now, instead of a wall of water it was a wall of fire. She and Grace looked at each other across the wall. Grace looked at her, waiting, watching….
She gasped and sat up. She was on a chair in the livingroom. She looked around. She heard sirens in the background. As she looked at the door, Joan rushed in, "There's something wrong."
She tried to get her bearings. She was on the chair because her husband had been called back to work. She looked over. Harry had woken up and was considering the two women. There was a look in his eyes …
They looked at each other. Helen stood up. "Let's go."
Harry, hesitantly, spoke. "You want a bodyguard?"
Helen looked at him. She glanced over and saw that Joan looked relieved somehow. She nodded.
They arrived at the center of the sirens. It was Grace's fathers synagogue. Grace stood there, wrapped in her father's embrace. A firefighter walked over, carrying a cloth covered scroll.
Joan rushed over. Grace saw her and murmered to her father, "Incoming."
He father let go and turned. Grace's friend Joan was on a mission and so he stepped back. Joan arrived and wrapped Grace in a hug.
She was a bit surprised. Joan knew that Grace had a thing about personal space. For some reason though, she didn't feel as uncomfortable as she would normally be. Surprised, she allowed Joan to embrace her … until it got weird and then she stepped back.
Instinctively, Joan quickly moved back. "I'm so sorry! Is there anything I can do?"
Grace was confused. Her mind was still numb. She looked around and saw her father thanking the firefighter who had retrieved the Torah unharmed. Joan's mom had moved over to talk to Chief Girardi. There was a man who was standing off and looking at the fire, an unknowable look in his eyes.
She asked curiously, "Who's that?"
Joan turned and looked. Joan's voice took on that tone she had when she was being truthful … but deceptive. It normally annoyed her but she was too numb.
"Oh. That's Harry. He's a friend of a friend from out of town. He decided to stick around and help out at Mom's church to get it cleaned up. The 'rents offered him the couch for the night."
She was confused. "Your Dad let a stranger stay in your house?"
Joan said dismissively, "Use to be a cop in England. Decorated. You know, the Blue Wall and all that. Cops look after their own. He came to act as bodyguard."
Grace considered Joan. She cocked her head and considered that. Why would Joan and her Mom need a bodyguard?
"Anyway," Joan looked around, "maybe you should come over to our house for the night. Your dad's likely to be dealing with this all night."
Rabbi Polanski went quickly to clear out the back seat of his car. The Torah would have to be moved to his home until the synagogue was repaired. When the firefighter had asked if he wanted it in his trunk he was horrified – one did not treat the Torah as a random object. It should be as respected as any person.
The firefighter apologized and stood there while the Rabbi made space.
Harry looked over. "You want me to take that so you can go back to fighting the fire?"
The firefighter looked at Harry and said, "That would be nice, Harry. For the Rabbi and his people, it's precious. I'm certain you can understand that."
Harry realized who he was talking to. "That's almost biblical: God saving the Torah."
Firefighter God clucked at him. "It's not about the scroll. It's about the people and what they'd feel if it was lost."
Harry nodded in understanding. He carefully took the scroll, listening to instructions as he was given them. He held it reverently, the way it would be carried by a member of the Jewish faith.
Before he moved off Firefighter God said, "It's given over to each generation – much like certain items are in your world. Joan's friend Grace has a necklace which is an heirloom as well. It would be something you'd not be surprised to see in a Gringotts vault."
Harry was confused.
"Anyway, keep it safe." Firefighter God nodded toward Joan and Grace. "And keep her safe as well." Harry got the idea he was referring more to the blonde than the brunette.
The firefighter turned and moved back toward the synagogue.
Harry, with deliberation, walked toward the car which the Rabbi was preparing. For some reason, a small snatch of phoenix song that he had heard in the past came into his head. He had the outrageous desire to hum it as he walked, and so he did so.
Rabbi Polanski turned to signal the firefighter, but instead of the firefighter a different man was carrying the Torah. He walked slowly, with reverence, as though he understood the importance of the scroll.
As the man approached, he heard the man humming. The Rabbi was surprised. It was the exact tune that went with the prayer that his father sung when he himself was Bar Mitzvahed as a young boy. He remembered his father singing that song as he carried to Torah to him.
The man stopped in front of him and carefully handed the scroll over, just as his father had done so many years before. He idly noticed that Grace and Joan had walked up behind the man.
He started singing his own prayer as he accepted the scroll. He continued as he moved to place it in the back seat.
When he finished and it was secured, he turned and saw his daughter looking at him with those eyes that were too old. Joan was the first to speak. "Rabbi Polanski? With …" she looked over at the synagogue deliberately and then back, "the things you are dealing with, I asked Grace to stay over tonight with me. Is that okay?"
He felt relieved. It was a gift from God. "That would be more than acceptable. I will be involved long into the night here and it would comfort me to know she was safe."
He turned toward the man who had brought the scroll. "And I thank you for your help." He paused, "Who are you, by the way?"
The man smiled. "I'm a visiting friend. I happened to be at the Girardi's and offered to come with and keep an eye out … keep them safe and all that." The Rabbi nodded. The man then continued. His tone left no question as to his intentions. "And, since I'm playing bodyguard, I will help watch over Grace and make certain she is kept safe this night."
Grace looked a bit offended, but Joan shushed her. The Rabbi considered the man and felt he could be trusted. "That is also acceptable. My thanks for watching my little girl while I am distracted."
The man nodded his acknowledgement. He turned to his daughter and embraced her. When they parted, he murmured a blessing in Hebrew. His daughter, unusually, did not protest.
Joan walked them over to their car and then made her way to her mother. Grace considered the man. "What was that all about? I don't need some strange guy watching me – I'm fine on my own!"
The man smiled and replied, "Yes. But it wasn't about you, was it? With the fire, your father certainly needed someone to help carry the burden. My offer was less about watching you and more about that."
She paused. "So you're not going to get all protective and stuff?"
Harry grinned. "Oh, no! I keep my word. I won't be hounding you – but I promised to keep you safe tonight. I'll be doing that."
She scoffed. "Whatever!" Grace opened the door and sat down in the backseat. She was kind of surprised that she wasn't feeling the normal suspicion she had of strangers. Probably because she trusted Joan and her family. Whatever …
Harry sat on the couch, thinking. He was wide awake after all the excitement. He heard the soft patter of feet and looked up. Joan came through the door.
"You're still up!"
Joan sat down on the chair her mother had fallen asleep in earlier. "Yeah. Kind of want to talk to my dad when he gets home. After Grace fell asleep, I didn't want to be moving around and waking her up."
Harry nodded. He was still thinking. He turned his head toward Joan. "Is Grace wearing a necklace tonight?"
Joan was confused. "Um. Yeah. Well, she took it off to sleep, but it's on the table next to the bed."
Harry paused. "Can you bring it down for a minute?"
Joan looked suspicious. "Why?"
Harry smiled, "A suggestion from our mutual friend. I plan on using my magic on it."
Joan was now really interested. If she knew Grace – and she did – she wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. Joan rushed to retrieve it.
She brought it back in and set it on the table. Harry stood up. "Maybe better to do this in the garage – the concrete floor won't be affected accidentally.
Joan led him out and cleared a space. She really wanted to see this.
Harry pulled out his wand and sent a spell toward the rest of the house. Joan looked at him curiously. "Mild sleeping charm. So they won't wake up and disturb us for a few minutes."
Joan nodded. Harry then took his wand and began making intricate motions and speaking in what she thought was Latin. The stone on the necklace glowed and the glow brightened as he worked.
Suddenly, the stone flashed – and then it looked as it always had. Joan was curious. "What did you do?"
He motioned for her to pick it up. "Acting on the suggestion, I put a few wards and charms on it. Anyone who approaches her with hostile intent will tend to become distracted easily. Slightly paranoid. That should help keep her safe."
Joan was really curious. "What if the paranoia causes them to attack?"
Harry grinned as they walked back inside. "Ah. You noticed that. If someone overcomes the feeling and continues to approach, it will cause a feeling of mild anxiety in whomever wears it – it will cause them to move away in the opposite direction of the hostile intent." Harry sighed. "If this world had magical users, I could have made it warm up or light up in response instead, thereby alerting the wearer. But, with magic being unusual here I didn't think it would be wise to do such a thing."
Joan snorted. "Yeah. That'd kind of freak me out if I didn't know." She moved to the stairs. "I'm going to put this back and then come back down."
Harry nodded and then sat back down, still thinking.
Joan soon returned and the two talked softly.
Will walked in the door of his house. He was disgusted by whoever had started the fire. They had to catch this guy – whoever he was.
He looked over and saw two people looking at him. He was a bit surprised.
"What are you two doing up?"
Joan, who had been sitting across from Harry, stood up and rushed to her father to hug him. "I couldn't sleep and neither could Harry. I wanted to talk to you – he's just being protective." She snorted. "Grace was a bit annoyed when he promised her father to keep her safe tonight."
Will smiled. He wasn't all that upset that their visitor had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on his family and his daughter's friend. He was a cop – he understood the imperative to do such things.
Joan dragged him around a corner. Will asked, "How's Grace?"
Joan said with some humor, "Snoring."
"Heh.It's good she can sleep."
"Dad, I think I know who did it."
"What?" he asked incredulously.
Joan said with some intensity. "The guy who rescued Adam. Ryan Hunter. I had the weirdest feeling about him that night. And I've seen him since. And we talked. And he … has this thing … with God." She tried to convey the depth of her convictions with her tone.
"He told you this?" Will asked with some surprise.
Joan quietly continued – as though the words were too offensive to be said too loud. "He thinks he's smarter than God. He thinks it's some kind of a game." Will's face took on a look of mild skepticism. "You just have to trust me on this."
Joan recognized the look on her Dad's face. It was the same one he used whenever anyone brought up God.
He tried his wise father voice. "Joan. A lot of people think they're smarter than God. A lot of people have big problems in this area – I'm one of them. I don't burn down religious institutions."
She had to make him understand! "No. This guy is different. I know it. And don't ask me how I know. I just do. So, please. Once in our lives trust that I might know something you don't."
He tried to make her understand. "Ryan Hunter was just in my office today. He's on the Citizen's Watchdog Committee. He works with the Police. I appreciate you wanting to help, but …"
Before he could continue on, a voice interrupted from the next room. "Can I make an observation?"
The two were surprised to hear Harry's voice. They moved around the corner to look at him. He stared ahead, looking solemn – with eyes too scarred by a past they didn't know.
Will asked, "What did you want to say?"
Harry looked at Will with some intensity. "Your daughter was raised by a police officer. And although she's a teenager and a bit immature at times," Joan looked at him witheringly, "she's not as unobservant as you might suppose. She has good instincts."
Will almost scoffed. This man didn't know about Joan's misadventures!
"You ever have a gut feeling?" Will nodded, conceding that point. "Intuition isn't some supernatural thing or mumbo-jumbo. Our mind correlates things we've observed and things that we know. Even if it's not conscious. And when your mind finishes correlating it – it makes a leap. You know things. You might not know how you know things – but you do."
Will considers that. He didn't want to say anything against his daughter but he was fighting this conversation … subconsciously. "I understand that. I do. But Joan's a kid. She hasn't seen enough to know everything. She's made a few … odd decisions …"
Harry snorted. "Like the time she thought she was being stalked when she started working? Or the time she drove off on the day she got her driver's license? Or the kid she went to the prom with that pulled a pistol?"
Will was taken aback. "How do you know these things?"
"We talked earlier." Joan had sat back down and was watching the conversation. Finally! Someone on her side!
Will replied, "Well, yeah. Things like that …"
"How about the serial killer that was speeding down the road to get away from the girl who suddenly protested too loudly when she was exiting the store where she worked?" Will was shocked. He didn't know about that. He remembered the case quite clearly – it was the first time he thought his daughter was crazy.
"How about the fact that your daughter showed up on some random road just when her father was in desperate need of assistance? When his wife was sitting at home terrified because she didn't know where her husband was." Will looked at Joan. She looked calm and serene.
"Or how about the fact that a homicidal kid who had a history of rage and feelings of persecution did NOT pull a Columbine and go on a shooting spree – all because of being shown a small amount of kindness from a girl at school … the first time anyone was ever on his side?" Will was looking at his daughter in amazement. A whole bunch of little things that he had never put together before coming into focus.
"Or the boat she suddenly starts building and completely cocks up – thereby giving her father and brother a common goal where they hadn't had one in months. Or the sculpture she broke which prevented a friend from dropping out of school and trying to work as an artist – when he didn't have the support or experience necessary." He paused and then finished, "I think you'll find that your daughter at her most crazy is when she the closest to being … right."
Will was overwhelmed. He sat down heavily as he correlated all of Joan's stunts with what was happening at the time. He remembered the yard sale – which caused his wife to confront the rape for the first time in years. He remembered the sudden involvement in mock trial – which led to the prevention of a misguided confession. He remembered Her sudden involvement in musicals – which led to his own healing after that whole lawsuit.
When confronted truly by the truth – he had to admit that his daughter was far less crazy or vapid than he ever gave her credit for.
He stood up and deliberately walked over to Joan and pulled her up and then hugged her. She latched onto him, one of those special father-daughter hugs he loved so much. He whispered into her hair, "I'm so sorry if I ever implied that you were crazy or stupid."
Joan snorted and quietly replied into his shoulder, "That's okay. I usually felt crazy or stupid – even when it finally worked out. I think it's the normal human condition."
Will watched as Harry made his way out of the room, giving them privacy. He then forgot about him and went back to hugging his daughter.
Harry watched as the two made their way upstairs. Will nodded to him, telling him he could go back to the couch. He called up quietly, "About that guy … doveryai no proveryai."
Will paused and then replied just as quietly, "Trust, but Verify." He'd have to do some checks on Ryan Hunter. If his daughter said he was a bad guy, he'd look into it.
Harry waited another fifteen minutes and then cast another sleeping charm on the remainder of the house – he didn't want the two who had gone up earlier to interrupt him.
He then walked around the inside of the house casting protective spells on the house: Fireproofing, pest preventions … normal household wards where he came from. He cast a notice me not charm and made his way outside to complete the work on the outside of the house. He looked around and found a random piece of stone which would work as a ward stone and drew a few runes.
It wouldn't be good enough for a truly magical house, but he wasn't trying to build wards on a megalithic structure either.
Once he was finished, he made his way back inside. He looked at the clock: 3:15. He'd only had a couple of hours of sleep. And he'd probably be better off at least getting a couple hours more. There was one more thing he wanted to check though …
He stole into the room of the eldest son. He had been curious as to why he was crippled. HE cast a deeper sleep charm and then performed a diagnostic.
The results were surprising.
The man's nerves were actually attempting to heal but a misaligned bone kept prodding the bottom of the spinal cord and wreaking havoc on the healing that could be done. He thought about it. He actually felt a bit relived that he didn't have the potions he would need – it would be too tempting.
He did, however, have a bone realignment charm. Madam Pomfrey had used it on occasion after a brutal practice session or game. He silenced the room just in case and then cast the charm. He heard a distinctive "pop" from the man's back.
Harry then cast a few spells which he had learned once. They were the same spells that St. Mungo's used to stimulate the muscles on patients in their wards when they didn't want the muscles to atrophy. It wasn't as if he could do a whole course of treatments on the man – but a little kickstart to exercise and then relax the muscles couldn't hurt. It would also help realign the muscles around that misaligned spinal bone – the muscles had been in the wrong position so long that they might have forced it back out of place if he hadn't performed the spell.
He removed the sleep spell from the door as he quietly exited. He looked at the clock – 3:35. He'd have a couple more hours to sleep himself.
A/N: Instead of Omakes, I thought I'd add little blurbs which kind of highlighted Harry's effect on the universes he visits.
FUTURE CONSEQUENCES:
100 years from Harry's Visit
Joan Schmeitzel, Great-Granddaughter of Grace and Luke Girardi, fingered the necklace her mother had given her at her bat Mitzvah. It was an old family heirloom, passed from daughter to daughter (or niece if there was no daughter). While she had retained some of her family's disdain for useless ritual, the necklace was a loved and prized heirloom.
Suddenly, she felt a powerful urge to run. She didn't know why. But, she did. She never saw the serial rapist who had just been foiled. She also never heard the news story about the rapist who was caught because his sudden paranoia had made him sloppy.
25 years from Harry's Visit
Joan rushed home after a frantic call from her daughter. She had been given the house when her mother had decided to move into a retired community. She had grown up and fell in love and had a family in that house.
She pulled up to see fire trucks rolling up their hoses. She rushed out. "Judith! What is it? What happened?"
Her daughter volunteered, "A small mistake with a cooking project." She looked down. "I'm sorry, Mom."
She grasped her daughter in her embrace. "It's okay, honey. I'm just glad to see you're alright."
Finally she walked toward the obvious leader of the truck. "What's the damage?"
The man was cheerful. "Your family is extremely lucky. Grease fires like that can take down the whole house fast. For some reason, the fire stayed in the kitchen and you only lost your stove. You dodged a bullet, ma'am."
Joan once again hugged her daughter as she watched the people clean up their equipment.
(Mild references to coitus here – nothing graphic)
7 months from Harry's visit
The two new lovers both finished simultaneously. This was their second time ever doing this. It was the first time the experience had been fully satisfying for both parties. The first time had taken Lilly's virginity.
The 26-year old former nun looked down at her 21-year old fiancé in happiness. She was Catholic enough to wait until they were engaged – but waiting for the marriage in a few months was too long. And so, the two had begun this journey with solemn vows that they would cleave unto no other – even if they hadn't had the marriage mass yet.
Lilly pulled her leg from over her fiancé and layed down next to him, snuggling into his side. That was so much better than self-gratification!
She opened her eyes slightly to look down at her and Kevin's bodies – the first time she had taken the chance to just admire him without the nervousness of what they would be doing to mask it.
She noticed something odd. "Kevin?"
Kevin opened his eyes. He hadn't ever had a release like that. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"Are your eyes open?"
"No."
"Open your eyes."
He did so. "Okay." He looked down Lilly's body, admiring it. He then looked in her eyes. "What did you want me to see?"
She moved her arm and pointed at his own body. He looked down and saw something that he hadn't seen unless deliberately set up in over three years.
Instead of lying completely flat down the bed, as they had done since his accident, his knees were slightly raised – as though in his climax he had subconsciously pulled them in.
"Huh." He looked at his legs and then consciously tried something. He looked between his slightly raised knees at his big toe. His face became white.
Lilly got worried. "What?"
"Sit up and look my toe."
She did. He admired her for a moment as she did so. She said, "So, what did you want me to see."
"Just watch."
Once again, he mentally forced himself to concentrate only on his toe – and then it twitched very slightly.
Lilly's face took on a look of shocked joy. She looked at his face. "Does that mean … what I think it means?"
He looked at her, at his toe, and then back at her. With a deadpan look, he said, "I guess Marvin was right."
Lilly was briefly confused. "Huh?"
"Marvin Gay. Like he said, I guess all I needed was Sexual Healing."
Lilly's remaining insecurities about sex seemed to disappear after that day.