Chapter 12: Preparations
Over the course of the last week before the Christmas holidays, Harry remained relatively closed-off as he continued trying to work out exactly how to go about acting his age (not to mention how to convince Ginny that he was going to start acting his age). He even went so far as to get Brian to agree to a truce in the Constant Vigilance game for the remainder of term after he and Lily were released from the hospital wing. However, it wasn’t until the last day of classes that he finally hit upon an acceptable idea.
On the day after classes ended, Harry and Ginny said goodbye to their children as they left for the train station, and then returned to their quarters to finish packing and head to the Burrow.
“Ready to go?” Ginny asked when she entered his room to find him sitting on top of his packed trunk.
Harry nodded distractedly. “Yeah, but I think I want to stop by Diagon Alley before we have to go pick up the twins.”
“Looking for a reminder of why you hate being famous?” she teased.
Harry allowed himself a small smile. “No, actually. There’s just something I’m looking to buy. It’s pretty expensive, though, so maybe I ought to talk it over with you first.”
“Sure,” Ginny replied with a small frown before sitting tentatively on the edge of his bed. “Harry, what’s wrong? I mean, I know you were shaken up pretty badly by the attack on the twins, but you’ve barely spoken a word outside of class in the past week.”
Harry sighed and hung his head. “It wasn’t the attack that did it, really,” he told her. “It was what you and Malfoy said to me - that I was acting like Barty Crouch, or worse, Snape. For some reason, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I mean, I think I realize now that I have a lot of growing up to do, but it’s hard to know how to go about it. So I was thinking that if I could get myself a Pensieve, that might help.”
“How?” Ginny asked curiously, and he was pleased to note that she did not seem at all inclined to give him a hard time.
Harry shrugged. “I could go back and look at all the stuff that’s happened to me objectively. Plus, I’ve got at least one other use for a Pensieve that I can’t tell you about,” he added with a small grin.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t even know if it’ll work,” Harry answered. “Besides, it’s not Christmas yet.”
“Oh, so this has something to do with my Christmas present?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“If it works, then maybe,” Harry answered.
“Well, in that case, go get one, by all means,” she told him with a grin. “I can handle you spending a small fortune to make me happy.”
“I’d better get going, then,” said Harry, standing up and stretching a bit. “Can you take my trunk to the Burrow for me?”
“No problem,” Ginny agreed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” he said as he threw some Floo Powder into their small fireplace. “Diagon Alley!”
By the time he shot out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry felt like he had been spinning around in the green flames for ages. As soon as he was able, he got painfully to his feet and hid his face with the hood of his cloak before brushing the ash from his robes and heading out the back and into Diagon Alley itself.
Harry’s first stop was Gringotts, where he filled a large bag with gold Galleons and obtained a wad of Muggle money just in case he needed it later. From there, he headed out onto the cold street in search of a shop that might be able to sell him a Pensieve.
After several minutes of wandering up and down Diagon Alley, it became apparent that none of the local shops were likely to be any help in his search. Still, unwilling to give up without at least making some sort of effort, Harry made his way into a small junk shop, reasoning that it seemed the most likely place to start.
“Good morning,” he said politely to the shopkeeper, a short, balding man in a faded blue cloak.
“And a right good morning to you, sir,” the man said crisply. “Is there something specific I can help you with, or do you prefer to simply browse?”
“Actually, I’m, er- well, I’m looking for a Pensieve,” Harry said awkwardly, knowing how odd his request must sound. Pensieves were rare and powerful magical objects, and the shopkeeper had to know that he was about to make a fortune if he had one. He did not have one, however, as was immediately apparent from the look of disappointment that crossed his features.
“Sorry, lad; nothing like that in here. I’ve mostly got things people didn’t want anymore, and I don’t think anybody’s ever given up something like a Pensieve to somebody like me.”
“Oh,” Harry said flatly, trying and failing to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Would you happen to know where I might be able to find one?”
The shopkeeper thought for a moment before asking, “Are you familiar with Hogsmeade?” When Harry nodded, he said, “I’d try Dervish and Banges there; they deal in all sorts of magical equipment. There’s no guarantee of course, but I think it’ll be your best bet.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said gratefully before exiting the shop and Apparating to Hogsmeade. It only took a moment to locate the correct shop, and he was soon inside, brushing a light dusting of snow from his shoulders.
“Good afternoon,” the elderly witch behind the counter greeted him. “Or good morning, rather. I suppose it is morning for a few more minutes.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed after automatically checking his watch and seeing that it was a quarter to noon. “You sell magical equipment?”
“That’s right,” the witch replied. Her voice crackled a bit, reminding him of the witches he had seen in old Muggle movies.
“Do you, er, have anything that’s sort of rare, or just standard stuff?”
The old witch shrugged. “A couple of our devices are one-of-a-kind. Perhaps if you told me what you’re looking for....”
“Right,” said Harry. “Of course. I’m looking for a Pensieve, actually.”
The shopkeeper’s mouth widened in a grin that was missing a couple of teeth. “Are you, now? In that case, yes, I believe I can assist you. This way.” She left her post behind the counter and led Harry toward a door in the back wall of the shop.
“Before we go any further,” she said, pausing with her hand on the door handle, “would you mind taking off your hood? I’m afraid I’ve become a bit paranoid in my old age.”
Harry hesitated for a moment before complying with her request. After all, how much harm could it do to let one old woman see who he was?
“Oh!” she exclaimed as his face came into view. “Pardon me, Mr. Potter; I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“Not a problem,” said Harry. “I wouldn’t have expected you to.” A moment passed while she simply stared at him, so he added, “I’m actually on a bit of a schedule, so if we could....”
“Right,” said the old witch, snapping out of her stupor and opening the door. “I’m very sorry about that, Mr. Potter; I don’t know what came over me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said resignedly as he followed her in a winding path among a maze of storeroom shelves. “I ought to be used to it by now.” The shopkeeper didn’t respond - Harry was rather grateful for this, as the topic was rather awkward for him. Instead, she led him around the last few turns in silence.
“Ah, here we are,” she said at last as she came to a stop before a very tall (and very dusty) set of shelves. “Everything on these shelves came from a large Estate Sale about ten years ago. Apparently, another old Pureblood family died out, and without any heirs, their property was sold at auction. I was lucky enough to get this lot, which, unless I’m mistaken, includes a-” She paused, rummaging around in a large wooden crate on one of the lower shelves. “Yes! Here it is: one Pensieve.” She stood, holding up a large stone basin with runes carved all around the edge. Harry let out a quiet whistle at the sight of it; except for the dust, it looked almost exactly like Dumbledore’s.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the witch said softly as she used her wand to clean away the dust. “Not much of a market for these, though; very few people can afford them.”
“Speaking of that,” said Harry, “how much would it be for this one?”
The shopkeeper eyed him critically for a moment. “Seeing as it’s you, Mr. Potter, I’ll set the price at two thousand Galleons.” Harry had to work very hard not to choke at the thought; two thousand Galleons was only a little less than what he made in a year as a Hogwarts teacher (although that figure didn’t include room and board). Nevertheless, he had come prepared to spend a small fortune, and nothing as insignificant as money was going to keep him from getting his hands on a Pensieve of his own.
“Done,” said Harry. The witch smiled in satisfaction and led him quickly back to the shop, where he handed over nearly all the contents of his bulging money bag.
It’s a good thing I was planning on spending an insane amount, or I never would have had enough with me, he thought as the shopkeeper placed his newly acquired Pensieve in a box for him.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter,” she said with a broad smile.
“Likewise,” said Harry. After making sure his hood was once again hiding his face, he picked up the box and stepped out of the shop, Apparating away as soon as the door closed behind him.
A moment later, he was standing in the front yard of the Burrow. As he approached the front door, it swung open for him.
“Thanks,” he muttered to Ginny as she stood back to allow him to enter.
“Not a problem. I take it you found what you were looking for, then?”
“Yeah,” Harry said excitedly. “Have a look.” He opened the box, revealing the polished surface of the stone basin.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Do I want to know how much it cost?”
“Probably not,” Harry answered. “It was two thousand Galleons.” Ginny abruptly fell onto the sofa in shock.
“Well,” she said at length, “it’s not as if we can’t afford it, right?”
“True,” said Harry. “The only thing I can’t figure out is why she said she was setting that price because it was me that was buying it.” He chuckled a bit. “I’m still not sure if she meant she was giving me a deal, or that she was jacking the price up because she knew I could afford it.”
Ginny laughed quietly and gave him a cheeky grin. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you found what you were looking for, and now you can use it to get my Christmas present.”
Harry groaned. “I never should’ve told you that,” he grumbled. “What if I can’t get it to work?”
“You should have thought of that before you decided to tease me,” she answered lightly. “Anyway, if you’re ready to go, we should probably head for King’s Cross. And then, by the time we get back with the kids, Mum’ll have a feast waiting for us that would make the Hogwarts house-elves jealous.”
Harry laughed. “Alright, let’s get moving, then. I’ll just put this upstairs.”
Five minutes later, Harry and Ginny were dressed in Muggle attire and speeding along the motorway toward London. Although his thoughts tended to be fixated on the Pensieve awaiting him back at the Burrow, the fact that he no longer had to worry about trying to find one meant that he was finally able to relax enough to have a real conversation with her for the first time since the attack on Lily and Brian. They rapidly fell back into their old playful banter, and by the time they reached King’s Cross, Harry was feeling quite proud of himself.
“You know what, Ginny?” he said quietly as they entered the train station and began walking toward the entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
“What?” she responded, a small smile playing on her lips. She was expecting him to make a joke, but she was mistaken.
“I’ve really missed spending time with you like this. I’m glad you’re not angry with me anymore.” She stopped walking, and he followed suit. Looking down at her, he immediately noted that her smile was gone, having been replaced by a look of earnestness.
“I was never angry with you, Harry,” she said in a gently voice. “I was afraid I might lose you again because of something stupid and preventable, and I definitely would’ve been angry if you’d gone through with it - but that never happened, so I was never angry.”
“Then I’m sorry for scaring you,” he replied quietly, and then impulsively pulled her into a tight embrace. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close, and when he pulled away a long moment later, her smile was back in full force.
“Thank you,” she murmured before resuming their walk toward the platform.
“Anytime,” Harry whispered to her back. He jogged a couple of steps to catch up with her, and they walked side by side to meet their children.
After a hearty dinner, which was filled with stories about all that had gone on during the school term, Molly Weasley asked everyone what their plans were for the holidays.
“Well,” said Brian, “I was looking forward to being able to spend all my time relaxing, but apparently my professors-” he shot a glare at each of his parents in turn, “-don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“Oh, right,” Ginny shot back, rolling her eyes at him. “I’m sure we’re the only ones who assigned anything over the holiday.”
“You are,” Lily piped up, smirking. “If we don’t count Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, or any of our electives, anyway.”
“Ah, the truth comes out!” Harry exclaimed, laughing. “Just be glad your mother and I only set you one short essay each. You should see the assignments we gave our O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. classes.”
“Thanks, now I have so much to look forward to next year,” Brian moaned bitterly.
“Ginny, dear, do you have any special plans for the holiday?” Molly asked.
Ginny shrugged. “Nothing apart from what we always do - big family get together on Christmas day, eat until we can’t move, you know.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do for Christmas,” said Harry. “I really hope I’m able to finish my little project before then, though.”
“What project is this?” Arthur asked, looking quite interested.
“He’s working on some big surprise for my Christmas present, but the only hint he’s been willing to give me is that he needed a Pensieve to be able to do it,” Ginny grumped. “Honestly, Harry, I don’t know why you won’t just drop me a few more little hints.” She batted her eyelashes at him, causing him to chuckle and Brian to let out a disgusted grunt.
“I’m not giving you any hints because I don’t even know if my idea’s going to work,” Harry explained yet again.
“Oh, come on, Harry,” Arthur wheedled. “I’m sure she’ll understand if it doesn’t work out.”
“Fine,” Harry sighed. “I bought a Pensieve today, and I plan to use it for something like what Professor Dumbledore told me he did once. But my project should be a lot more fun than his ever could have been, not to mention it’s not nearly as critical.” He smiled at Ginny. “There, you’ve got some more hints to work with.”
She pulled a face at him. “Do you have to be so vague and cryptic?” she complained. “All I wanted was a straightforward hint, like color or size or something. That rubbish you just said didn’t tell me anything.”
“Come on, Dad, just a little hint?” Lily pleaded. Harry’s stomach gave an odd - but not unpleasant - lurch at the sound of the word Dad directed at him. To his dismay, Brian frowned.
“It’s small enough to hold in one hand,” Harry said finally, “and that’s all you’re getting out of me. If I’m ever going to get it, though, I’m going to have to be pretty scarce for at least a few days.” He never would have admitted it, but the disappointed expression on Lily’s face filled him with warmth like few things he had ever felt. Unfortunately, it was mostly offset by Brian’s expression of indifference. Harry didn’t know what was going on with his son - things had been progressing nicely, he had thought - but as soon as his project was finished, he was going to get to the bottom of it.
After breakfast on the first full day of the Christmas holidays, Harry Potter retreated to Ron’s old bedroom at the top of the Burrow, his new Pensieve clutched tightly under one arm. Brian and Lily were down in the living room enjoying a rousing game of Exploding Snap, Arthur was off doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, and Molly and Ginny were making Christmas cards to send to friends and family. A large part of Harry really wanted to be downstairs with them, joining in all the fun, but he had made his plan and he was going to stick to it. Besides, it would be well worth the effort if it worked.
Once he had locked the bedroom door and charmed it to ward off intruders, Harry sat down in the room’s one rickety chair and used his wand to withdraw a fine, silvery memory from his temple. He dropped it gracefully into the Pensieve, where it swirled around for a moment before he picked up a pen and a small notebook, and then leaned forward, plunging into its depths.
A moment later, he was standing in a Muggle library, watching himself examine old newspaper articles with a microfilm reader. He stopped on an article about a hospital janitor named Warren Jarvis, who had been caught stealing jewelry and other valuables from patients. According to the article, he had been at it for over a year by the time he was finally caught. Harry quickly jotted down the man’s name and age, as well as the date of the article, before rising out of the memory and returning it to his head. After pocketing his notebook, he removed the spells from the bedroom door and hurried downstairs and out into the back garden, where he could Apparate.
He reappeared with a quiet pop in a deserted alley behind the same government building where he had first seen the record of his marriage to Ginny only a few months prior, and walked directly to a public telephone box. As luck would have it, there was a telephone directory inside, and only one Warren Jarvis was listed in the area. That didn’t necessarily mean it was the Warren Jarvis he was looking for, of course, but the odds were pretty good that it was. Harry scribbled the address and telephone number in his notebook, and left to find a taxi.
It took half an hour and more money than Harry would have liked to spend on transportation to arrive at Mr. Jarvis’s address. No light was visible through the windows, but it was a fairly nice day out, so that wasn’t too terribly surprising. After his unconscious ritual of brushing his hidden rowan wand with his right hand for good luck, he climbed the front steps and knocked loudly on the door. A few seconds later he heard footsteps approaching and the door swung open to reveal a man of about sixty standing there in his dressing gown.
“Morning,” the man said grumpily.
“Good morning,” Harry replied, noting that this man looked about the same age as the man he was looking for. “Warren Jarvis?”
“’S right,” the man mumbled.
“Are you the Warren Jarvis who used to work at the local hospital about, oh, fifteen years ago?” Harry asked. Jarvis’s eyes narrowed, giving him all the answer he needed.
“I don’t believe I know you,” Jarvis said shortly. “I certainly didn’t invite you here, so unless you have some sort of business with me, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, I do have business with you,” Harry quickly replied. “Nothing major, though; I just want to ask you a couple of questions.”
“And I don’t feel like answering them,” Jarvis snapped. “Good day.” Before Harry had a chance to react, the door had been slammed in his face. He sighed heavily and walked a short distance to a deserted alley where he could Apparate back to the Burrow without being seen. He wasn’t about to give up on his search for his wedding ring, which Jarvis had stolen years before, but neither was he willing to resort to strong-arm tactics to get the information he wanted. He would simply have to return at a time when Jarvis would be more willing to cooperate.
Harry’s return to the Burrow was met with a questioning look from Ginny. He shook his head in answer. “No luck yet. I’m just going to head upstairs and work on things a little more.” She nodded and gave him a small smile before turning back to her Christmas cards, while he made his way upstairs.
He spent almost the entire rest of the day examining his own memories both from before and after the battle where he lost his memory. As the experience was somewhat new and unnerving, he was reluctant to view anything too traumatic or emotional. He was, however, able to get used to watching his own memories from a third-person perspective, and he even made a useful but unexpected discovery. When watching his own memories in the Pensieve, not only was he able to view them with perfect clarity, he could also relive his feelings from that particular moment simply by focusing on feeling them. Deciding that this would probably be able to help him as he sorted through his memories, he made a mental note to watch his most emotionally charged experiences while feeling his emotions from those moments, as well as from the perspective of a detached third party.
That evening, after an enjoyable dinner, Harry remained downstairs with the rest of the family. Lily approached his seat near the fire with her chess set in hand, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Looking for somebody to trounce at chess?” he asked.
Lily shrugged. “Maybe. Why; do you think I’ll be able to trounce you?”
Harry chuckled. “Well, since you’ve been doing it every week for an entire term, yeah I think you can. But I’m willing to play anyway.”
Lily smiled. “Good. Let me just get this set up, then.” She took a seat on the floor in front of his chair and began placing the pieces in their proper positions.
“Lily,” Harry said quietly just as she was finishing, “do you have any idea what’s up with Brian?”
Her face immediately became guarded as she asked, “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Lily; don’t play dumb. He’s gone back to scowling at me and avoiding me and stuff. Did I do something wrong?”
Lily considered him for a long moment before letting her gaze shift over to her brother and then her mother. “I might have an idea,” she said cautiously as she turned back to Harry, “but I’m not sure if I should say anything. I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Do you really think you’d make things any worse?” Harry asked incredulously. Lily nodded, and he sighed. “Alright, then. Just promise me you’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do to make things better, okay?”
Relieved that he was going to let the subject drop, Lily quickly agreed. “Now,” she said with a small grin, “let’s get this slaughter started.” Harry laughed and ordered one of his pawns to move.
A few hours and several devastating chess defeats later, Harry looked up to see that everyone but Lily and himself had wandered upstairs to bed. “It’s getting late,” he commented.
“Yeah,” Lily nodded, glancing absently at her watch. “I’m glad I don’t have to get up for classes in the morning.”
“Me too,” Harry agreed, “especially since I’m going to be up pretty late tonight working on your mum’s present.”
Lily’s eyes lit up. “What is it?” she whispered excitedly. “What’re you working on? I won’t tell her; I promise!”
“Oh, no,” Harry chuckled. “You’ll find out later, along with everyone else. If my plan works, anyway. If it doesn’t, then it won’t much matter, will it?”
“I guess not,” Lily said doubtfully. “But I’m sure it’ll work out just the way you’re planning.”
“I hope you’re right,” he murmured before sending her off to bed and settling into his chair to wait until an hour he deemed late enough. Finally, at one o’clock in the morning, he got to his feet, stretched, and quietly exited the Burrow to Apparate back to the alley near Warren Jarvis’s home.
After appearing with a soft pop and getting his bearings, Harry walked briskly to Jarvis’s house and quietly approached the front door. A silent unlocking spell granted him entrance, and a moment later he stood just inside the door, peering around in the darkness. The living room stood before him, and to his right he could see a doorway leading into the kitchen. Accordingly, he took the hallway to his left, and soon found Mr. Jarvis asleep in his bed.
Taking extra care not to make a sound, Harry drew his holly wand and cast a mild sleeping spell and a weak Confundus Charm on the man; that way, he would be unlikely to wake up prematurely, and if he did, he would attribute Harry’s presence to nothing more than a strange dream. As things stood, however, Harry didn’t think that would be a problem.
Two quick, decisive steps brought him to Jarvis’s bedside, where he used his left thumb to raise one of the sleeping man’s eyelids. After taking aim with his wand, he whispered, “Legilimens!” and immediately found himself assaulted by the other man’s thoughts, feelings, dreams, and memories. It took barely a moment to get them under control, and once he had accomplished that, the hard part was done.
Years flew by in reverse until Harry found his desired starting point and watched Jarvis slip a plain-looking gold band off of the left ring finger of a sleeping Harry Potter. Sifting his way forward through time again, he saw the ring go to a pawn shop in one of the seedier areas of London, while Jarvis returned home a few pounds richer. Having seen enough, Harry withdrew from his mind and used his wand to draw a copy of the memories away from Jarvis’s temple. After carefully placing the shimmering gossamer memory into a small glass vial, he took a step back and watched the sleeping man for a moment.
Warren Jarvis had stolen one of Harry’s most precious possessions - indeed, one of his only possessions - at a time when Harry was at his weakest, his most vulnerable. Yet now, for some reason, Harry felt no malice toward the man. Perhaps it was because Jarvis had already been caught and spent time in prison for his crimes, perhaps it was because the offense had occurred so long ago, or perhaps there was no logical explanation, but whatever the reason, Harry Potter was glad. Here before him was proof positive that he was beginning to let go of past offenses. He would have to continue to do so if he had any hope of not turning out like Snape, but for now it was enough that he had taken the first step.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry turned and quietly slipped back out of the house, where he once again found a secluded spot and Disapparated.
The pawn shop in London where Warren Jarvis had sold Harry’s wedding ring years before turned out to be rather easy to locate; unfortunately, the employee who had sold the ring was not. Harry spent the majority of three days tracking down former employees (and making subtle and judicious use of Legilimency) before he finally found the right one. From there, it was a simple matter to track down the old woman who had bought the ring from the pawn shop, and even easier to learn that she had given it to her grandson the year before. Harry’s main worry suddenly became that the young man might have decided to give it to a girl.
Now, on the fourth day of his search, Harry found himself on the doorstep of a large home in Birmingham. His knock was answered by a woman a few years older than himself.
“Good morning,” she said pleasantly.
“Good morning,” Harry replied. “Is this the home of Aiden Golding?”
“Yes,” said the woman, “he’s my son. Do you need him for something?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered, fighting the nervous urge to try to flatten his hair. “Is he home? Could I talk to him?”
“Of course,” she said pleasantly. “Come in.” She led him into a comfortable living room to wait while she fetched her son. It only took a moment for her to return with Aiden in tow. He looked just like Harry remembered from the grandmother’s memory: about sixteen but as tall as Harry himself, with sandy hair and an easygoing air about him. When he spotted Harry, his brow furrowed for just a moment before he shrugged and stepped forward to introduce himself.
“Aiden Golding,” he said, extending his hand to Harry.
“Harry Potter; pleased to meet you.”
Aiden nodded. “So, Mum tells me you wanted to see me?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “I actually- Look, this is going to sound a bit odd, but do you remember your grandmother giving you a gold ring about a year ago?”
Aiden frowned in thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I remember that. Why?”
“Well, I can’t be certain without seeing it, but I’m pretty sure that ring is my wedding ring. It was stolen a few years ago, and I’ve been trying to track it down. If you’ve got it and you’re willing, I’d like to buy it from you.”
Aiden contemplated this information for a bit. “No problem; I think I know right where it is. Wait here.” Harry was left alone while the young man hurried from the room. Over the course of the next five minutes - which seemed inordinately long - he examined a number of family photos that adorned the living room walls, and generally admired the beautiful home.
“Found it!” Aiden shouted as he bounded back into the room. “It was sort of buried in one of my dresser drawers, but here it is. Is this the ring you’re looking for?” He held out a simple gold band. Harry picked it up and squeezed it tightly in his fist for a moment. Although he was sure this was the right ring, he had never been able to completely shake the tiny doubt in his mind that kept insisting he would never actually find it. Slowly, he raised the ring to the light and read the tiny inscription on its inside surface.
Love Stronger Than Death
Harry smiled and found, to his surprise, that his bottom lip was quivering ever so slightly. He had found it. He was actually holding in his hand the ring that Ginny had placed on his finger over fifteen years ago - the symbol of their commitment to one another. After taking a deep steadying breath and blinking back the tears that had unexpectedly sprung to his eyes, he turned to Aiden.
“This is it,” he said quietly. “How much would you like for it?”
Aiden’s eyebrows rose in surprise; apparently, he had been expecting Harry to make an offer, not ask him to set the price. “Er, I don’t know,” he said slowly. “To tell the truth, I have no idea how much those things cost.”
“Honestly, I don’t either,” Harry admitted. “Let’s see, when I bought this ring I think it cost around a hundred and twenty pounds. Why don’t I just give you an even two hundred?” He smirked as Aiden’s eyes widened so far that for a moment they reminded him of Luna Lovegood.
“Come on, seriously how much?” the teenager said after a moment. Harry shrugged and dug in his pocket for his Muggle money. When he found it, he counted out two hundred pounds and held out the bills for Aiden to take.
“I feel like I’m scamming you,” the boy muttered as he accepted the money.
Harry shook his head. “I’ve got plenty of money, and it’s worth it to me to have this back. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” said Aiden, leading him to the door. “If you ever want to buy any of my other old stuff, you’re welcome to come back!”
Harry laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again.” Still clutching the ring tightly in his hand, he headed down the front walk, pleased that he hadn’t even needed to use any magic here. With a genuine smile on his lips, he ducked behind a hedge and Disapparated.