“Even after I woke up,” Neville admitted, “it took them a while to convince me I was alive.” Harry and Ginny, as well as the rest of the Weasley’s and Hermione, were astonished when they heard the news. Arthur took Molly, who had just woken, to see Alice hoping that this might lift her spirits, and it did. The Weasley’s and Longbottom’s had been friends for many years before the first rise of Voldemort and only Percy’s condition could dampen Molly’s delight.
An hour later, Neville explained, his father had also revived. Neville had been watching him closely, hoping that his mother’s miracle would repeat itself, and it did. When all three were together, ten years of suppressed emotions and memories were released and the Longbottom’s, as well as a few other families in the ward, spent much of that night holding their loved ones and weeping for joy, but usually just holding them. For the first time in a decade the three of them felt whole.
The next day, when word of the events spread to Hogwarts, Professor Sprout and Snape granted Neville a two-week leave of absence to become reacquainted with his parents. It was a dramatic and touching reunion for a family that had suffered so long.
The story of the Longbottom’s recovery made the front page of the Prophet, twice, along with a number of other similar stories. The hospital staff was at a complete loss for medical explanations about the miraculous recoveries. The best and most widely held theory was that the cases of insanity, such as the Longbottom’s, were not caused by organic maladies as first thought, rather by dark magic which made the injuries appear organic. But even this theory had holes, not that it mattered to the victims or their families one bit; they we delighted for whatever reason. Neville’s only regret was that his grandmother hadn’t lived to see her son and daughter-in-law wholly alive again.
From throughout the wizarding world, not just England, reports came into the Ministry of Magic describing dozens of unusual and unexpected events. By far the most dramatic was the situation with the Werewolves. Within forty-eight hours of Saturday night all known Werewolves in communication with wizards or their families had reported that their expected transformation had not happened, or like Remus, had started but quickly stopped. This, in addition to cases like the Longbottom’s, were just some of the numerous other magic-induced maladies had cleared up in minutes.
By far, the greatest number of oddities reported were the changes thousands had experienced in the effectiveness of spells they used daily. It was this last item that had brought so many people to St. Mungo’s the previous Saturday, and Harry was going to experience this first hand in a few days.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were progressing well at all levels and Harry was enjoying working with Mad-Eye far more than he thought possible. By the end of September all the students had been evaluated and Harry showed Moody the results. They decided to split the classes between themselves for the next two months; Moody taking the older students and Harry the younger. Mad-Eye knew that he was irritating Harry with this decision, but he felt Harry would work better with the younger students. ”I don’t have the patience for these kids.” Moody griped, and Harry had to agree. Ginny was not happy with this arrangement but she still met Harry down at Hagrid’s a couple times a week and this kept her morale up.
One Wednesday during the first week of October Harry was starting to teach the first years some basic disarming spells. The students were delighted to be doing something other than evaluations or learning to flick their wrists properly. All of them wanted to be first to try the Expelliarmus spell that Harry had talked so much about. Harry showed them the proper stance and aim to get them started but of the twenty-eight students in the room, the first twenty-seven could barely cause a twitch of Harry’s wand. The last student to attempt the spell was Rudy Keane who had placed himself at the back of the line hoping class would end before his turn arrived. Harry had gotten to know Rudy through Ginny, who was regarding him as sort of a younger brother. Ginny had also told Harry that Rudy’s wand skills were woefully lacking and he may need extra help. Trying to keep Rudy’s spirits up, Harry had Rudy aim for his chest, not his wand, hoping the larger target would give him confidence.
Two hours later Harry awoke in the infirmary.
“I can’t get rid of you, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey joked cheerfully, “and this time you’re going to have to pay attention to me. You don’t have all your friends around to cause distractions. Well, almost none.”
“What happened?” Was all Harry could think to say, his last memory was a short countdown for Rudy’s spell. He was beginning to notice aches all over his back, head and left shoulder. Ginny’s face come into focus and explained.
“It looks like Rudy has some skill with wands after all, love. From what he and the other students tell us, his disarming spell hit you so hard you were slammed against the wall, received a nice concussion, bruised ribs, and partially dislocated your left shoulder. You’ve been unconscious for two hours and we were beginning to think you would have to go to St. Mungo’s.”
Knowing he was heavily medicated for pain, Harry just nodded, as best he could with an immobilized neck, and thought about what this meant to Rudy. The Expelliarmus spell should not have any effect on flesh, yet it had knocked him back into the wall hard enough to do a fair amount of damage. Then Harry remembered that this spell originated from...uh oh, that’s not good.
Harry instantly tried to focus his mind to make himself coherent, asking Ginny to write a note to Mad-Eye requesting he come by as soon as he could, but he would not tell Ginnyr why.
In mid-afternoon, when classes had recessed for the day, Rudy appeared in the infirmary and joined Ginny who was still talking with Harry. “Sorry, Professor Potter,” Rudy said in his shy voice. “I didn’t know I could do that.” Ginny had never heard Harry called “Professor” before, all the students in her DADA classes had always known him as just “Harry” and that was how they addressed him.
“Don’t worry, Rudy, Harry needs to be humbled sometimes, it keeps his head from swelling.” Ginny delivered the cliché for Rudy’s benefit and when Harry agreed with Ginny’s comment he felt better.
“Sit down Rudy,” Harry urged “tell me about your first year so far. Oh, and please call me ‘Harry.’” Making himself comfortable, Rudy related the story of how he met Ginny, the friends he was making with the kids in his dorm, and the hazing he received for being Ginny’s “little friend.” He blushed when telling that story.
“But mostly I feel completely lost here. I mean, I’m not homesick any more, the guys are great...and even the girls, too.” He added, remembering Ginny’s contribution to his sense of belonging. Ginny laughed and gave him a good boy, Rudy look.
“The whole idea of magic is so weird, and I don’t think my parents, or at least my mum, are comfortable about it. My uncle Tiernan is the wizard in the family and he told my da about Hogwarts and how he was going to rebuild the school...”
Harry interrupted, “Your father is the Muggle architect that redesigned and rebuilt the school?” he asked in amazement. Ginny was surprised, too; she knew that the school had been repaired by someone named Keane, but she had never made the connection and it had not been announced at the start of term feast.
“Yes sir, I mean Harry. Mum says he loved the job and the school, but he was bored by how little he actually had to do. The guildsmen, that’s what da called them, did all the work and he says he just got in the way.”
“Well Rudy, I think your father did a great job, I wish I had the dorms you have. Ours were cold and drafty and smelled like dirty socks.”
“Harry, that was just the boys dorms, the girls dorms smelled just fine, thank you.” Ginny added, scowling.
“Rudy, I’ll tell you what. Ginny told me that you don’t know a lot about the wizarding world so how about this? Next weekend is the first trip to Hogsmeade; you know what Hogsmeade is, don’t you? Ok. Since first and second year students aren’t allowed into town, I’ll have Ginny bring you over for dinner next Saturday. Then after dinner we can show you around. How does that sound?”
Ginny was giving Harry a how are you going to get that approved by Snape? look; so he added, “I’ll even get the Headmaster’s approval. In fact, why not bring a couple friends along? Just give me their names by next Tuesday and I’ll see what I can do. I think you’d best be off to your books now. Thanks for stopping by, and no hard feelings about this, right?”
The smile that lit Rudy’s face was all Harry had to see. The two shook hands and as Rudy ran down the hall toward the infirmary doors he turned back to Ginny saying “Bye, sis.”
“I see you’ve made a new boyfriend, Gin. Do I have to worry about competition?” Between the Potions and Rudy’s visit Harry was feeling much better. He tried to sit up but his shoulder protested and he got a little light-headed.
“You stay there; Madam Pomfrey said you can get up tomorrow after her Potions have had a day to work.” Then picking up her books to go study, Ginny kissed Harry and walked out the infirmary doors. Harry watched her leave, but the infirmary door reopened a second later and Ginny stuck her head in teasing, “Maybe I do have a new boyfriend, he got the better of you, didn’t he?”
Late that same afternoon Moody entered the ward and walked over to Harry’s bed. Speaking in a Snape-like manner, he told Madam Pomfrey to leave the room for a few minutes. Then he checked around the infirmary to be certain no one was lurking about. “Well Harry, what’s this about?”
“Professor, you do know what happened today in my class room, don’t you?” Off of Moody’s affirmative nod Harry continued. “Did you hear which spell was used?” This time it was a “no” and Harry realized he had to deliver the news. “Sir, the boy, Rudy Keane, used ‘Expelliarmus’ and did all this against me. What should we do?”
Moody sat in a chair and looked intensely thoughtful for a minute, then rose and addressed Harry. “I’ll watch the Keane boy closely, Harry. He has a lot going in his favor with being sorted to Gryffindor, perhaps the other characteristics will not advance. I’ll take a personal interest in Mr. Keane’s situation. And you, Professor Potter, know better than to have anyone aim a disarming spell at your torso. Get well soon, you’re doing fine work.”
In the weeks after Percy’s return no one knew quite how to act at the Burrow. Molly was developing dual personalities trying to deal with the tragedy of Percy’s condition and the joy of Ron and Hermione’s wedding. Her days consisted of breakfast, a trip to the hospital, lunch, another trip to the hospital, dinner, working with Hermione on plans, then one last brief trip to see Percy. She was becoming run-down and had lost a noticeable amount of weight. Fred and George tried taking turns helping their mother, but they were experiencing problems of their own. The number of items returned to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was steadily rising; the most common complaint: the item failed to perform as advertised.
Ron was preparing for the start of the Quidditch season and was almost never at Hog House with Hermione and Harry, a situation that Harry felt put pressure on him to play babysitter. Ron had asked for the help and Harry agreed, but the last thing he wanted was to deal with was an inebriated brunette, particularly one who fancied making moves on him. Harry strongly suspected that Hermione had not told Ron what happened the last time she got drunk, and the strain this was placing on their friendship bothered Harry. He even tried to speak with Hermione about it but she refused to listen saying she was fine and reminding Harry that she had promised it would never happen again. Harry was hopeful, but also wary.
Hermione’s work schedule had changed overnight; she was now working full-time, five days a week and usually eight hours a day. Albemarle has requested Hermione’s internship be converted to a full-time position, and with the lack of qualified personnel in the Historic Document department Albemarle knew his request would be approved. By mid-September Hermione had bid farewell to Layman and her other co-workers and started working with a squib named Hypatia Lee. Hermione immediately made friends with Lee, noting that “she was the only person I’ve met outside of Hogwarts who works as much as I do.”
Both Hypatia, or Patty as she preferred to be called, and Hermione started the new job by taking an intensive two-week course in Rune Translations, the basic prerequisite for advancement in the department. Patty was the only remaining member of the previous team still working, the other four having died in a Death-Eater attack shortly before the end of the war. Albemarle had brought in two temporary assistants during the summer, but desperately needed more full-time employees, thus his requisition for Hermione Granger.
The classes were intense and difficult but both women worked well together and enjoyed the challenge, usually ending the day at a London Pub with a glass of wine or a mug of beer. When the class ended in early October both were fast friends and eager to jump into the work they had been assigned. The promises of additional help over the next few weeks gave Hermione hope that she and Patty would not be overworked; and Hermione had a wedding to plan, too.
Ron and Hermione’s love and friendship had deepened over the past few weeks, both by their more frequent visits and because of the effort both were making to shape their future together. Hermione would often visit Ron on Friday evenings in Chudley, spending the night with the seeker on Ron’s team, Ashley Bickers. Hermione knew Ashley, mainly by reputation, she had been a seeker for Hufflepuff, completing her seventh year during Hermione’s first. She wasn’t the best seeker, but her talent for disrupting plays by the other team more than made up for any other shortcomings. In fact, it was Ashley who played a large role in Ron’s first game, forcing two long shots on the goals which Ron had so easily stopped.
The relationship Ron and Hermione had built in the prior seven years had been started by the incident with the troll. That pushed them together, what kept them together was certainly not love, at least at the start, but it had later developed into a combination of friendship and admiration. Ron’s role in the final battle had shown Hermione a side of him she had never really seen. The awkward, insecure, confrontational boy she once knew had become a couragous man, defending her and almost dying for it. She thought about the many scars on Ron’s chest, legs, and abdomen; he’d taken them for her. The single time they had made love both had looked at each others body without feeling shy or ashamed, and Hermione traced each of the scars, fourteen in all, and realized that each was a sign of love and valor.
Fred had told her, while Ron was recovering, about the final moments before Voldemorts destruction. ”You’d been knocked unconscious by those three Death Eaters. Neville had run off after Lestrange and didn’t get back soon enough to prevent the worse injuries. Ron stood in front of you taking one slashing spell after another until Neville returned. When the battle ended a few seconds later, Ron went to check on you but couldn’t move; the quadracept muscles in both legs had been complete severed and he had to hold his intestines in with one hand because of a deep gash to his abdomen. He was in terrible pain but insisted that Neville, George and I take care of you first.”
This story of selfless heroics, one that Hermione fully believed, made the move from friendship to love inevitable.
Now, months later, and still recovering from the depression caused by losing her baby, Hermione thought she was ready for the committment of marriage. Whenever Ron brought up the subject it envigorated her and soothed the deficiency she felt from losing the respect of her parents. Although Hermione had grown up wanting a big church wedding, that fairy-tale version of her life had ended with the pain of the past six months. A simple ceremony with those they loved the most was all either of them desired.
Ron and Hermione returned to Hog House the same day Harry got out of the infirmary. They had not been together since the night Percy was found two weeks ago and they all felt an estrangement. Harry and Ginny were going one way with their lives, Ron and Hermione another. But after a while, talking and trading stories over butterbeers, the three had become “the trio” again. Harry had to laugh; Ron and Hermione even got into an argument, just like the old days. But Harry had consciously left the word “good” out of that thought.
Fudge found himself buried behind a pile of paperwork, trying to keep track of the ever-increasing memory charms needed to cover for misfiring spells. He fully expected to be called before Scrimgeour again, but there was nothing he could do except continue addressing the problems as they arose. Three times over the past week Fudge had to ask other departments for assistance handling the cases. He hoped that as people became accustomed to their lesser or greater abilities these problems would start to reduce, but he had seen nothing to indicate this as of yet.
Preparing to leave the office a week after the problems started, Fudge received an inter-office memo from Scrimgeour telling him to participate in an emergency meeting investigating “the phenomena.” The meeting was scheduled for first thing the next morning so Fudge sat down to prepare his contribution to the investigation, pulling out a bottle of Red Current Rum and pouring a small glass.
The next day, with only a few hours of sleep, Fudge entered the conference room and sat among eight other wizards and five witches. Promptly at 9 o’clock, Scrimgeour entered the room and called the meeting to order. His point was made quickly: find the problem and fix it, there was little ambiguity in his requirement. Fudge felt lost and out of place, his only immediate contributions were statistics.
The meeting broke into two teams, one to track the source of the problem and one to address containment; Fudge was in the first group. As this first team started to look at the graphs and statistics Fudge had provided, and cross referenced them with reports form St. Mungo’s and other hospitals around the world, a pattern quickly emerged pointing to the exact time when the phenomena began: 7:28 Saturday evening, Greenwich time. The werewolf statistics were off a bit due to the time that the moon rose that night at different locations, but otherwise the starting point had been established.
Next, Fudge’s group began the review of all recorded magic around 7:28. They knew finding something here was a long shot in the dark, but they kept working until the second week when Scrimgeour suddenly pulled Fudge off the team and dragged him into his office. “It appears that we have a problem brewing outside of Northampton.” Scrimgeour informed Fudge. “A Muggle boy went missing a few weeks ago and the entire community is out looking for him. The Prime Minister has even stepped in to lend morale support. I want you to ask around and see if any of our people know anything.”
This was the sort of activity Fudge expected from the new job, he had not expected it to interfere with an official ministry investigation. Heading back to his office, Fudge called in two assistants and sent them out to contact some of the transients that occasioned the area where this boy, Peter Martin, had disappeared. After making some notes, Fudge returned to his working group and continued checking logs and reports, a tedious task that disheartened the former Minister of Magic by its sheer banality.
A few days later, and with no leads from the field, Fudge took a break in the dining hall where he encountered Prunella Pitt. Prunella was a well known witch within the Ministry’s Department of Weights and Measurements, her efforts at standardizing the quality of numerous Potion ingredients had earned her international recognition. She was also the mother of Darcy Pitt, a young lady whom Fudge knew had been dating Percy Weasley until her death near the end of the war. Fudge invited Prunella to sit with him for lunch and they talked through the hour, updating each other on their families and jobs. As their lunch ended, and Prunella was droning on about Darcy and her death, Fudge nearly missed a comment about her late daughter’s fiancé.
“I read that Percy Weasley is in St. Mungo’s, Cornelius, and that he’s not doing well.”
“Yes, Arthur told me last week, what a tragedy.” Then hoping to deflect Prunella from returning to her stories of death, Fudge sought out some details about Percy that he had heard rumored. “Do they know exactly what happened, Prunella?”
“Oh, yes. I spoke with my Healer the other day and he was there when Percy and the other boy were brought in.”
Fudge hadn’t heard about this so he continued to prod. “Yes, um, this is excellent pudding. What did your friend say?”
“Oh, he says that Percy and this other boy, Peter Marvin, or Marlin, no, Martin, that’s it. Peter Martin. They should both be…my heavens, Cornelius, what’s wrong?”
”Pardon me, Prunella, I, err, just remembered I have a meeting with the Minister.” Fudge jumped up and walked back to his office where he immediately sent Scrimgeour an inter-office memo informing him that the missing Muggle boy had probably been found at St. Mungo’s. He then returned to the working group and looked for the box of records from the hospital. After an hour of sifting through hastily scribbled notes and forms, Fudge found what he was looking for:
Admitted to Hospital:
1. Percy Weasley
2. Unknown adolescent male
Injury
Unknown head injury
Then a later addition in a different handwriting under “Injury”:
Memory transfer break.
And an attached note gave the information about the “Unknown boy:”
Peter Martin, (Muggle) Approximate age 15.
The remainder of the forms gave answers to standard questions with additional scribbling from various Healers and nurses. Noting the date and time of the injury, Fudge tossed the record into the appropriate pile for further investigation. An hour later an inter-office memo found Fudge, who noted that the memo was marked “urgent.”
Fudge, you are authorized to contact the Muggle Prime Minister for the sole purpose of informing him that Perter Martin has been found. However, since his condition suggests a type of magic induced coma, you should insist that the boy remain under our care until fis final disposition is determined.
Scrimgeour
Minister of Magic
October was the start of Quidditch season and Ron was eager to get on the pitch. He knew his chances of playing were slim, but entering the stadium and hearing the crowd’s roar gave him a feeling of personal victory. As the team flew around the stadium doing warm-ups and practicing, Ron looked for Hermione and Harry; he was expecting both of them. A few minutes before the game started Ron saw them sitting together in the seats he had obtained. Sitting just a few rows behind Harry and Hermione, Ron saw Fred and his father cheering him, and the Canons, to victory.
The first game was a sloppy show for two professional teams, but Ron had a chance to play when the first string keeper was knocked-out by a bludger. Nevertheless, his playing time was limited; The Canons’ seeker caught the golden snitch and the play ended. Unfortunately, even the one hundred and fifty points earned for the capture were not enough to make up for the huge deficit; the Canons lost, 310 to 160. After cleaning up Ron met his guests and treated them to an early dinner at a local Pub.
“Well, it wasn’t a win but it felt great to play.” Ron was being modest; his goal tending was perfect, stopping all of four shots.
Hermione leaned over and kissed Ron on the cheek. “You keep playing that way and you’ll be first team soon, you were great.”
“Yeah, mate, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play better.” Harry added.
Harry and Hermione’s words made Ron display the traditional Weasley blush, but he accepted the compliments and offered a toast: “To Hogwarts, the school that taught me everything I know about Quidditch.”
“Shhh, Ron, this is a Muggle pub.” Hermione said, pulling Ron’s arm down and causing him to spill some of his beer on her head. Through her giggling, Harry thought he could hear Hermione say something to Ron about him helping wash it out later. In fact, Harry was quite sure that was what she said as Ron’s red face and ears turned a shade darker.
Remus Lupin felt like he had been through every test possible. For two weeks he and another werewolf, who he knew vaguely, had been subjected to prodding and spells and even some Muggle-like blood letting. After returning negative results on all the tests both were released but asked to come back a day before the next full moon.
Returning to 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus found Tonks lying on a couch with her legs elevated and looking like she would give birth any day. In reality she still had a month remaining before her due date, but Remus found the entire cycle of life amazing. Tonks had to remind him that being pregnant in the summer, especially this past summer, was not fun. Remus’ indifferent reply, which came out as a grunt, earned him a pillow to the back of his head as he left the room.