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lavanya_six) wrote2008-10-04 06:59 pm
Harry Potter and the Orders of Merlin - Ch.01
Oh, and you could charitably say Chapter 1 starts with Character Death. Mwa ha hah ha hah ha ha ha ha!
Enjoy.
April 17, 1999
Overhead, at a little past three in the afternoon, the stars winked out, one by one.
The Sun was freshly laid in its grave. Harry and Ginny had watched as it, too, faded into nothingness, leaving only darkness broken by the 'nighttime' sky. Soon, though, the heavens above followed the Sun into oblivion. Billions across the world stared up in shock, bewilderment, and fear as some unseen hand mopped up the Milky Way. Some prayed. Others went mad. Many begged for forgiveness; from whom and for what, only they knew. A lucky few, such as Harry and Ginny, were able to find comfort in the arms of their loved ones.
"I'm sorry." Harry buried his tear-stained face into the nook of his fiancée's shoulder. His jumper was sticky with red blood. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I've k-killed us all."
Ginny comforted him with gentle touches but averted her eyes from the darkness overhead. "Shhhhh."
"I should never have trusted the Professor!"
"It's my fault," she insisted, eyes growing wet as the toll of the last few hours finally sank in. "I should've been stronger, Harry."
He pulled his head up and looked her straight in the eyes. "Don't say that."
"If I hadn't stolen the key—"
Harry silenced her with a kiss.
Their lips, salty with tears and half-dried sweet, did nothing to slake their passion. The teens grappled with one another on the lonely hill in the desolate English countryside as all around silence took hold of the Earth. The End was nigh, but the final moments of man were not to be marked by atomic fire or righteous flood or war or any other horseman… but rather by a sigh. All around the couple, the world began groaning.
There was to be no last moment save, no 'Boy Who Lived', this time. Instead the whole of the Earth unwound, as if the gears and wheels of an elegant timepiece simply decided to part ways and be together as a watch no more. Gone were the clouds and the seas. Soon the land and mankind itself would follow. Ginny Weasley fought back a shudder as the groans of annihilation washed over her and her lover.
"I wish," Harry said for his last words, "that we'd never opened that damned box."
The world ended.
# # # presenting # # #
Harry Potter and the Orders of Merlin
Written by: Lavanya Six
(please don't sue)
# # # a tale about stories in fiction # # #
Chapter 01 – The Party at the Burrow
July 31, 1998
For the first time in his life, Harry Potter woke up without a single worry on his birthday – and with a girl in his bed.
Ginny Weasley was a light yet firm weight curled up at his side. His girlfriend's messy red hair was spilled across the quilt that covered Harry. The fact Ginny had several bed sheets and a thick blanket between her and Harry was probably the only reason her family hadn't made a fuss yet. Since the Battle of Hogwarts Ginny had made a habit of dropping by in the middle of the night when Harry slept overnight at the Burrow, but she hadn't yet stayed with him past dawn until now. Her visits were always chaste, which left Harry feeling a large measure of relief tinged with the smallest bit of disappointment. Still, the comfort of having someone else near him while he slept gave Harry a contentment that surprised him with its power.
Carefully extracting himself from the bedcovers he grabbed his towel and a change of clothes, stopping only to give Ginny a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving what had once been Percy's bedroom. Outside, dawn approached, and Harry, used to rising with the sun after his long excursion in the wilderness during the hunt for the horcruxes, joined it to greet the new day. Harry made his way to the bathroom and cleaned up.
Afterwards Harry popped outside to enjoy the quiet greenery of the Burrow. Treading carefully around snoozing gnomes underfoot, he walked out to the orchards and just wandered about as the morning's golden light shone through the tree branches. At once Harry was struck by the sense of rightness he felt at the Burrow… the rightness of being home.
Yet…
A home of his own was something Harry still found himself lacking. While he had come into ownership of several pieces of property from his parent's trust since coming of age none of them held any appeal. His parents' house in Godric's Hollow was little more than a moldy tomb and not something Harry could contemplate renovating and moving into. Number 12, Grimmauld Place was the closest he could consider as a home but its walls had too many memories, not to mention that the Death Eaters had gutted the place after they had uncovered its existence. So since the end of the war Harry had stuck it out at the Burrow, first as a guest, but now as something… more. And though Harry knew that the Weasleys were always welcoming of him, he was beginning to feel a twinge of guilt each time Mrs. Weasley set down a plate of food in front of him.
His friends were of a similar opinion. Hermione had gradually been turning up the pressure on him to use some of his wealth and celebrity to find a new place to make his home. Even Ron, never one to bring up money matters if he could help it, was starting to comment about it.
"We're adults now, Harry," Ron had pointed out over their third round of butterbeer one night at The Hog's Head. "I've moved in above the shop. Hermione's already eyeing places for after she graduates. What's so bad about finding a place of your own?"
It was not a question Harry had an easy answer for. At first Harry had told himself he stayed at the Burrow simply to enjoy the hard-won peace, or to be near Ginny as she grieved over Fred, but after much soul-searching Harry was beginning to wonder if perhaps he was simply afraid of moving on. As nightmarish as the last year had been – as the last seven years had been – it had been a time in his life he wouldn't trade for anything. He'd had school, his friends, and a new life away from the Dursleys in a world of magic. But now, with the end of the war, what was he going to do with h—
A low-flying owl knocked Harry from his ruminations. "Ow!" he cried, clutching his forehead as the bird bounced off it. "Bloody hell!"
The owl in question flapped frantically and did a crash landing into the grass. By the feather patterns he knew that the owl carried a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt. It shook its little head and then looked up at Harry.
"Four times!" he shouted at the owl. "You do that on purpose, don't you?"
The bird hooted a perfunctory apology.
He glared at the bird, then took a deep breath. "Come on. Let's get you some food and water."
The owl took flight and followed Harry inside the Burrow. Mister and Mrs. Weasley greeted him.
"Happy Birthday, dear!" cheered Molly, flicking her wand about, setting knives and spoons and pots around the kitchen to their tasks. The smell of delicious food filled the air.
Arthur was likewise merry. "How does it feel to be eighteen, son?"
"It feels good," he admitted. "Really good."
The patron of the Weasleys eyed the large bird fluttering down onto a clearing in the middle of the kitchen table. "Another owl from the Minister?" asked Arthur, full well knowing the answer.
Harry conjured a bowl of fresh water for the tired owl. "Yeah," he said, petting the owl. "He really wants me back at Hogwarts."
It was an issue that had plagued Harry and Ron throughout the Summer, ever since the initial grace period from Voldemort's defeat had passed. Despite the Dark Lord's final end many parents in the Wizardly World were nervous about sending their children to Hogwarts for fear of reprisals from Death Eater remnants. Just took weeks ago a gang of former Snatchers had murdered a Muggleborn in Hogsmead.
Fear of Voldemort's shadow had also led to rumor mongering about the legacy of the Battle of Hogwarts. All sorts of tales involving lingering curses, malicious poltergeists, and weakened archways filled the Daily Prophet. A citizen's action group, the Witches United for Our Children's Safety, had organized marches in Diagon Alley to bring attention to what they felt was a pressing public safety concern. Few believed the reassurances of the Ministry of Magic, something that seemed delightfully ironic to Harry. For years witches and wizards across Britain had eaten up the so-called truths of the Ministry despite all the evidence to the contrary. Now, after the Ministry had undergone an internal revolution with someone with a decent head on his shoulders at the top, no one believed anything it said. Still, somehow Harry couldn't bring himself to feel upset about that development.
In response to all the hubbub, Minister of Magic Shacklebolt had privately urged Harry, Ron, and Hermione to return to Hogwarts to complete their Seventh Years. He felt that the three champions of the War returning to their school would reassure a nervous public. Despite all his arguments and pleas, only Hermione agreed to return. Harry had declared that he could do more good as an Auror. So did Ron, though he decided to take some time first to work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and help his brother George through Fred's death. None of the three were particularly eager to return to Hogwarts – too many memories from the Battle – but Hermione finally consented when Shacklebolt offered her a high-ranking position at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures if she attained her N.E.W.T.s. The offer was too good to pass up.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been... less than supportive of Harry and Ron's decision not to return to Hogwarts. There had even been one particularly bad fight between Ron and his mother in the beginning of July. Harry and Ron had crashed at Hermione's folk's place that weekend.
Molly, not wanting to make a fuss on Harry's birthday, started to hum a tune. Arthur changed the subject, "Nervous about the big day tomorrow?"
"A little. I've fought Death Eaters before so that part of an Auror doesn't scare me. I'm just not sure about the rest of it. I've never, well, filled out paperwork before," he said lamely.
Arthur chuckled knowingly. "Yes, well, working for the Ministry is ninety nine percent bureaucracy and one percent perspiration."
Harry tried to smile but someone it didn't come out right.
Two thin arms wrapped around him in a hug. Harry felt a familiar form press into his back. "Happy birthday, Mister Potter."
"M-morning, Ginny." Harry's eyes darted to her parents. Blissfully, Arthur and Molly were trying their darndest not to pay attention. Mrs. Weasley was busying herself with her spice rack and Mister Weasley was suddenly in possession of a copy of the Daily Prophet – though he was reading it upside down.
"Good morning." Ginny gave him one more squeeze before releasing him and trotting over to the cold box for some pumpkin juice. The youngest Weasley had her long hair flowing freely behind her. She'd started to grow it out over the summer and Harry had to admit it looked pretty good on her.
She sipped her drink. "Mmm."
Harry smiled.
"So Harry," she started, "any plans?"
He adjusted his glasses. "Well, I was planning on going for a broomride after breakfast. Would you like to come?"
Her only answer was a lopsided grin.
"And, uh, I was going to meet Ron at Hagrid's for tea. That always takes most of the afternoon. Other than that, there's the party tonight."
Ginny set her glass aside and looked at her mother. She mouthed something silently at her, to which Molly Weasley gave a quick nod. The two Weasley women then glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes. Harry blushed and suddenly found the owl at his side supremely interesting.
After Mrs. Weasley stuffed their faces with heaps of breakfast food, Harry and Ginny waddled outside to retrieve their brooms from the shed. She handed him his new Firebolt and the two took off together.
"Anything I should know about?" he asked once they'd put in a good distance from the Burrow.
"No," she admitted, "not yet."
Later that afternoon, Harry and Ron sat on the stoop of the Burrow, legs stretched out on the creaky porch boards. The sun was hidden behind a band of grey clouds and there was a scent of approaching rain in the air.
Harry Potter sipped some of Molly Weasley's secret formula Sober-Up Tonic and tried to ignore the intermittent frog-like croaking from inside the sludge-filled bottle. He forced himself to swallow, then turned to Ron Weasley. "If I ever take up Hagrid's offer of homebrewed firewhiskey, no, homebrewed anything, you have my permission to use Unforgivables to stop me."
"You know," said Ron, rubbing his temples, "I think Hagrid used that stuff to breed the blast-ended skrewts."
Harry paled at the resulting mental image of soused Manticores and Fire Crabs. "Oh God. That's horrible!" He paused. Then added quietly, "And probably true."
"Merlin, you're right! I… I think I'm going to be sick."
"Unbelievable! It's not even five o'clock and you're already drunk!"
Ron and Harry looked down the path leading to the Burrow. There, with a gift-wrapped box in hand, stood a certain frizzy-haired witch. Harry smiled, though. He knew Hermione Granger well enough to tell that she wasn't truly upset. Her left cheek wasn't making that little twinge it made when she was ready to hex someone, after all.
Harry raised the Sober-Up Tonic in a salute. "Harry birthday to me!"
She rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, Harry." The Granger girl sauntered up the path. Ron, who was smiling quiet brightly at his girlfriend, patted the clear space at his side. Hermione pointedly ignored him and stayed standing. "Sorry I'm late to the party. I had to stop at the bank and exchange my Muggle money."
"You still have Muggle money?"
"My parents do. Plus there are a few necessities that the Wizarding World doesn't really have versions of, as Ronald can attest to."
Harry look to his friend, who was flush. "I said I was sorry. How was I supposed to know you wanted the kind in the purple box?"
"I wrote it down."
"There were half a dozen kinds in purple boxes!"
"I gave you picture."
"You know Muggle photos give me the creeps!" He turned to Harry. "All those people…. not moving." Ron shivered. "Dad had this phase when I was a kid, real young kid. Used to bring home boxes of them. Albums of them. Made me help sort them. Those things gave more than a few nightmares, let me tell you."
"So," said Harry, changing the subject, "did the goblins give you the evil eye when you walked in?" Harry, upon attending Gringotts early in June to take possession of his trust, found himself met with a certain brusqueness. Stealing from them clearly hadn't endeared Harry to the Goblins.
"A bit, but that's to be expected. Still, it gave me time to watch them at their work. You know, the goblins have the most fascinating system of accounti — oh! I ran into Percy at Gringotts! He said to pass on his regrets he couldn't be here today and that your present would arrive in the mail tomorrow."
Ron frowned. "I thought he was still in Germany."
"He said he had to rush back for an emergency consultation at the Ministry."
Harry got an elbow in his side from Ron. The redhead leaned in and stage-whispered, "Yeah. A consult with Audrey."
"Ronald!"
Harry, still feeling a bit mischievous after Hagrid's homebrewed firewhiskey, whispered back to his friend, "Bet they find a way to make paperwork fun." The two young men snickered at the non-joke.
"HARRY!" Hermione complained.
"I bet he signs on the dotted line," supplied Ron.
"Oh yes," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "In triplicate."
They roared at that one. Ron's face went red, even beating out his hair in vividness of color. Harry took his glasses off and covered his watering eyes with his free hand. Hermione glared at them, then looked away as her frown threatened to melt into an unbidden smile. Finally the pair sobered up and Harry said to his dearest female friend, "Sorry, sorry. Want a drink?"
She stepped past them, into the Burrow. "You mean you haven't polished it all off?"
Ron leaned over and whispered with all due seriousness, "I'm taking her home with me tonight."
From inside the Burrow, Hermione called back, "Not when you smell like a distillery!"
The Weasley family, minus Percy, reassembled from the vast corners of the country for dinner that night. Joining them at the table, Harry and Hermione relaxed in good cheer and good company as Molly Weasley outdid herself once again making too much food for them all. Afterwards there was a chocolate cake with candles whose smoke was enchanted to showcase a Quidditch match (courteously of Ginny).
"Wow."
"Make a wish," said his girlfriend.
Harry paused for a second, struggling to think of one, then stopped when he looked around the kitchen table and realized he already had everything in his life he wanted. He blew out the candles without another thought.
The presents were varied and all much-appreciated by Harry.
From George, he received a new game set of Exploding Snap… and a silent smile when he asked George what the joke was. "Oh, no joke," he said. "Why would I rig your present with highly experimental hexes, anyways? You're family. I have to treat you better than that."
This did nothing to reassure Harry. He set the present down tenderly.
From Ron he received a box of Chocolate Frogs and one Famous Wizard card in particular.
HARRY POTTER
Twice defeated You-Know-Who, saving both the Magical and Muggle worlds from his terror, Harry Potter is regarded as the shining star of his generation. Winner of the Order of Merlin, First Class, for obvious reasons.
"Oh my," said Harry, not quite sure how to take the blanket praise on the card, let alone the sight of himself smiling back from the photo on it.
"Shining star of his generation," repeated George. "You should put that on your office letterhead."
"Um, no."
From Hermione, he received a new set of fitted robes to wear to the Auror office.
"How did you know my size?"
"I had inside help."
At his side, Ginny coughed.
From Charlie he received a wicked looking pocket knife made from a dragon's talon. Bill gave him a rare book on curse breaking which Hermione eyed hungrily. Fleur handed him a bottle of fine French wine. With a wink, she told him, "To 'ave a nice time with someone special, 'Arry."
From Molly and Arthur he received a photo album filled with pictures of his, Ron's, and Hermione's time at Hogwarts. "Proper photos," said Ron, pointing out the moving figures in them.
Harry smiled. "Thank you all."
The party wound down eventually, and sleep began to take hold of Harry. The guests filtered out a quarter after nine. All of them, save Hermione and Ginny, had to wake up early the next morning for their jobs. Ron, Harry noted, did leave with Hermione, a fact which provided George with no small amount of joke material. Soon he too was gone.
"Your mother and I are turning in early," announced Arthur Weasley, poking his head out of the kitchen. "Try not to stay up too late."
"We won't," said Ginny.
Harry turned to his girlfriend, who sat next to him on the couch, conscious of the fact that he was now alone with her.
"So," he said, "I noticed that you didn't give me a present earlier."
"Oh? It must have slipped my mind."
He leaned over and kissed her.
Several minutes later they both came up for air.
"Happy birthday, Harry."
"Okay," he admitted, "that was a pretty good present."
She traced a single fingertip down his right arm. "Like that would be my present."
"Then—"
"Well," Ginny said softly, "I have been working on my Silencio."
Startled, he stared into her eyes.
"Harry," she said, "I want to—"
"Not here," he said quickly.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want your father to kill me."
"Harry—"
He took hold of her hands and ran his fingers through her own. "I said 'not here'. I didn't say 'no'."
Now it was Ginny's turn to stare back.
"Listen," he said, "I've been thinking about it and maybe it's time I found a place of my own. Make a home of my own." With you.
She sighed with a hint of a smile on her lips.
"Ginny—"
"I'm not trying to guilt trip you into sex. I just… crap." She sank into the couch. "Now I really should have gotten you a present."
"I don't need one from you."
The young redhead glanced at him curiously.
"Okay," he admitted, "that sounded bad out loud."
She leaned over and planted a lingering kiss on his neck. "Don't worry. I get it."
Harry took Ginny's hand in his own and led her upstairs, enjoying the private moment before they would separate for the night. It was when Harry checked to see if there were any garden gnomes, who had been sneaking into the house as of late, were hiding underfoot that he spotted The Box.
It was resting at the foot of the grandfather clock. The present was the size of about half a loaf of bread and was wrapped in shiny metallic blue paper. He pointed it out to Ginny.
Ginny walked over and picked up the present. "Label says it's For Harry and Ginny." She turned it over in her hands. "No name tag. Do you suppose it's from Percy?" She handed it to him. The present wasn't too hefty but Harry had long since learned that things were rarely what they appeared to be in the world of witchcraft and wizardry.
"Could be," he supposed weakly, well aware that it wasn't exactly her brother's style. Percy's had said his gift would be delayed until the next day, and even if it hadn't why wouldn't he put his name on it? Harry tapped the present with his wand, checking for hexes. "Never hurts to be careful," he told Ginny when she quizzically raised an eyebrow.
She gave him a small smile. "Big bad Auror afraid of a mislabeled gift?"
He tucked his wand away. "It's clean. Do you want to do the honors?"
She did, and went about it as fastidiously as Harry was messy; Ginny methodically unwrapped the gift, revealing a sturdy-looking box made of white material. There were no markings on it aside from a faint seam where he supposed it opened. Harry detected no lock of any kind, magical or otherwise. "Wow." She held the box up to the nearest lamp. "Harry, this is real ivory!"
"That isn't Percy's," he said, trepidation rising in his gut.
His tone gave Ginny pause. She looked over at him for guidance. "Do you think it might be bad?"
"It could be. Let me open it to be safe."
"What?" Ginny frowned. "So it can blow up in your face and not mine?"
"Well… um, yeah."
She snorted but handed the box over without additional comment. Holding his breath, Harry slowly… opened… the… box.
Inside, resting on a bundle of light blue silk, was a small brass key. Harry warily picked up the key but nothing nasty happened. The metal was cool but otherwise it was just a simple brass key. "Okay," he said studying the key. "So what does this open?"
"Or lock." Ginny watched the key with great interest. When she noticed he was looking at her she met his gaze and explained, "Keys lock things up too." She glanced at the box. "Is there anything else in there?"
He removed the silk. "No. Nothing." The box itself yielded something greater, though. A careful scan revealed that bottom of the inside of the box wasn't deep enough compared to the outside. Harry had never heard of a magical box that was smaller on the inside than the outside, but if this was just a mundane box…
"Look," Ginny pointed a dainty finger at small seam. "I think you can pull it up there. I think there's a hidden bit underneath."
Harry groped around for a few seconds, trying to find a catch for his fingers. When that didn't work he took out his new pocketknife and wedged the bottom open with the blade. He slowly pulled the false bottom up, careful to not drop the tight-fitting plate back into place. When there was enough to let some light into the hidden compartment he peeked inside. His gasp startled the girl sitting next to him. "Ginny," he said, his voice filled with dread, "look!" He pulled the whole thing out in a rush.
A small glass ball emitting a swirling, ghostly glow rested securely in a fitted gold molding. Harry was all too familiar withthis gift – it was an orb of prophecy. Etched into the gold that filled the bottom of the box was an inscription. It read:
To Sir Harry Potter and Lady Ginny Weasley:
It's all a game, you see, but when the pieces come together remember that games are real too.
Or else.
Your deepest admirer,
Merlin