[FIC] What Secrets Keep - R - S/R - 13/16+epi
Title: What Secrets Keep
Series: What...
Author: jenexell
Pairings and Characters:Sirius/Remus (implied past relationship), Harry, Ron, Hermione, Pettigrew (the usual suspects)
Rating: R - Some not so pleasant imagery here and there.
Disclaimer: If this was real, I wouldn't share. As its not, I'm sharing with no personal gain or profit, other than perhaps to feed my attention whore complex. non-recognisable elements are mine! plagiarists will be eaten alive by weasels. Much information has been gleaned from the books (obviously), films, various Wiki's, other internet sources and my font of all HP knowledge ttfan.
Distribution: My Journal (jenexell), and quite a few other places too. (attention whore complex). If you want it, link back to my journal, don't steal its naughty.
Warnings: None for now.
Spoilers: Everything and nothing. Set during Book 2, Chamber of Secrets, but does diverge quite wildly from cannon in some respects. References pretty much everything, although I'm trying to ignore Pottermore because she keeps messing up my backstories!
Summary:Au Book 2. Sometimes there are just too many secrets, and sometimes all it takes to start unravelling them is a failed spell from a broken wand. But with secrets, lies, half truths, mysteries and a giant snake in the pipework, who can be believed?
Previous Parts:
::Prologue::1::2::3::4::5::6::7::8::9::10::11::12
Part Thirteen - Into the Abyss
Minerva McGonagall stood in the middle of Albus Dumbledore’s office and looked up at the sleeping portraits, willing them to awaken and offer her some kind of guidance. But as they had since Albus had left, they remained in silent slumber. Perhaps it was because she steadfastly refused to think of herself as Headmistress, merely as one standing in for the real Head in his absence, but the portraits would not wake for her. The office did not speak to her with the voice of centuries of knowledge and experience.
No it remained cold, dark and decided unoccupied. No matter what Albus had intended, she had known deep down in her very soul that this was not her office. Would never be her office until the day that Albus Dumbledore left it of his own free-will or, heaven forbid, died.
In a way she was glad for it. Glad the portraits kept their eyes closed in repose and did not waken to stare down at her with baleful reproach. Glad they didn’t bother to acknowledge her presence and let her know exactly how they felt about her. It was bad enough that others would. It was bad enough that she would.
Minerva McGonagall, the one under whose watch Hogwarts would close its doors forever.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d even come here. There was plenty that needed to be done. Plenty that she should be doing. It was impulse really. She’d been passing by the entrance and on a whim had made her way inside.
She should go. There was no point in her being here. The students would need to be organised ready to take trains home tomorrow. Letters were already being written and should be ready to be Owled before morning. The governors had been informed, as had the Grangers and the Weasleys. Undoubtedly the ministry knew by now and there would be questions that would need answering.
So much to do to close a school. And how she was going to face the parents of whichever unfortunate girl had been taken she didn’t...
A squawking broke the ringing silence of the office and Minerva startled violently, whipping around wand out and ready to face off against her attacker. Only there was no attacker, just a beautiful red and gold bird, watching her with intelligent and considering eyes.
“Fawkes?” Minerva asked disbelievingly.
“I would appreciate it Minerva,” A voice from behind her rumbled, causing the frazzled witch to pivot round, “If would refrain from casting anything harmful in Fawkes’ direction. He can become quite belligerent if his feathers are ruffled.”
“Albus!” Minerva exclained in both relief and shock. It didn’t take her long to recover from either emotion however, and pursing her lips, she folded her arms over her chest and scowled. “Where have you been? Severus told me last night he hasn’t been able to contact you for weeks!”
Giving his head a rueful shake, Albus moved further into the room, his fingers reaching out subconsciously to run over various items as he passed by them. “Upon leaving the school, I found myself somewhat amazed at how much needed to be done with the International Confederation of Wizards, that apparently could only be achieved with my presence and input. Indeed, so much was laid before me within days of my suspension that if I were a suspicious man, I would think someone were trying to keep me busy.”
Minerva blinked. “You think someone was trying to keep you away from the school?”
Moving around to sit behind his desk, the aging wizard lowered himself into his chair and let out a sigh. “Given that I was suspended in the first place, and the circumstances surrounding that suspension I’m afraid it seems highly likely.”
“But you’re back?” Minerva asked with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Hmmm.” Albus hummed in agreement. “After you contacted the Governors earlier this evening with the news that a student had been taken into the chamber of secrets, the governors met and saw fit to call me back.” He paused then and gave his deputy a thoughtful look. “I hope you understand that this is not an indication of any lack of confidence on the Governors’ part in your ability to manage the school Minerva.”
“I don’t give a rat’s arse what the governors think of me! Removing you was a foolhardy and ridiculous decision in the first place!” Minerva shot back in irritation. And yet she knew she’d spoken the truth. She didn’t rightly care much what the governors thought of her. She’d never cared for the opinions of idiots and by suspending Albus Dumbledore in the middle of a crisis, the governors had proven themselves idiots and so much more.
“Do not think too unkindly of them Minerva, I have reason to believe that many of the decisions they have made of late have been greatly influenced by threats made against themselves and their families.” Albus placated calmly. “In fact, their decision to call me back, in part had much to do with morality overcoming fear, but also had a great deal to do with their respect for you. Some of the governors felt, I am given to understand, that should the school be forced to close, it should do so under my headship, not yours. That yours should not be the name associated with such failure.”
“And have we? Failed Albus? Is there no hope for the poor girl the monster has captured? And those guaranteed to be right now attempting to rescue her?” Minerva pointedly asked, her eyes hard but worried. She knew she didn’t need to explain her comment. Given the two girls unaccounted for, it was no surprise at all who the two boys were. That Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley would do anything for Hermione Granger went without saying. That all three of them would move heaven and earth to aid the youngest Weasley was not such a foregone conclusion, and yet if young Mr Weasley were to insist on trying to help his sister (and given previous adventures that was not at all unlikely) then the other two would not be too far behind. In fact, when she took a moment to think about it, it actually made the most sense if it were Ginerva who had been taken. If it had been Hermione, then Ginerva would more than likely still be safe and sound within Gryffindor Tower.
So what that left to consider was where exactly the three seconds years were, what they were doing, and how likely it was that they would be able to achieve what Albus Dumbledore had himself been unable to. Could three second year students have truly found the entrance to the chamber of Secrets? Could they really have unravelled a thousand year old mystery in less than six months?
Of course they could. Resourceful didn’t come close to describing those three. Capable and predisposed to landing head first in the worst trouble imaginable were also highly apt descriptions. So much for Harry keeping out of trouble this year.
Blind. She’d been blind. She’d thought Harry had started to trust the adults around him, had started to behave as child his age should, and yet apparently this was far from true.
Of course there was another explanation for Potter, Weasley and Granger being unaccounted for. Just because the message had said that the monster had taken one student into the chamber, it did not mean that it would not have either petrified or killed any unfortunate student brave enough to attempt to stop it. But she didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t even want to give the idea room within her head right now. It was just too horrific to consider.
“Let go! Let go of me! I said let me go!”
Minerva frowned and turned towards the door, the distinct yelling of a young female voice coming from beyond. As she did the office door burst open, Hermione Granger stumbling through the entryway.
“Ow! You little... If I’ad my way you’d be... Headmistress.”
Followed swiftly by an irate looking Argus Filch.
The man sneered. “Heard you were up here. Found this one heading for the clocktower. Looked like she was doin’ a runner.”
“I was not!” Hermione protested vehemently yet with an undertone of panic.
Minerva took a moment to steady herself. Something about the sneering squib always managed to exasperate her. She knew he did a good job, and had no issue with him because he was a squib, it was more his attitude towards the students that tried her patience. Oh she had no doubt the students tried his patience far more than he tried hers, especially those with less tolerant attitudes but that certainly didn’t excuse the way he spoke to and often manhandled the children.
And then there was Miss Granger. Once more standing in front of her. Once more in the middle of the latest ruckus.
At least she was safe. Although that did confirm that it was Ginerva Wealsey who had been taken into the chamber. A circumstance that had resulted in the return of Albus Dumbledore. With a mixture of guilt and relief, Minerva gracefully took a step to the side, revealing the desk and the headmaster sat behind it to the new arrivals.
“Headmaster!” Filch blurted, then he scowled. “I wasn’t ‘ware you’d come back.”
“Not to worry, I in fact only a returned a few moments ago.” Albus smoothly replied, his eyes fixed not on the caretaker but on Hermione, his gaze curious. “Now if you would be so kind, I would appreciate it if you could inform the rest of the staff, I believe myself and Professor McGonagall have much to discuss with Miss Granger.”
~HpɸqH~
Damp and stone. The clink of water dripping. The smell of deep earth.
Great statues of serpent heads rose out of the water that lapped across the surface of the flagstone causeway down the centre of the submerged room. They formed an intimidating guard of honour, sentinals watching the path towards the place beyond, and the enormous effigy carved it seemed into the very rock. A huge face, with a great mane of almost serpentine hair. The blank stone eyes stared severely back.
The Chamber of Secrets. The lost hall of Salazar Slytherin. The domain of his Heir and his beast.
Harry froze at the first sight of it. His feet halting against his will as his mind reeled at the scale and imposing nature of it. Swallowing thickly, he looked over his shoulder, back the way he had come. Back to where Ron remained trapped with Lockhart behind a wall of fallen stone.
For the last two terms Harry had been rolling his eyes and getting increasingly annoyed with Ron’s broken wand, but not now. No, now he was greatful for it, because without it, his best friend would be a vegetable and if Lockhart had had his way, Ron wouldn’t have been the only one. Lockhart had no shame. Not only was he a fraud, a liar and a sham, he’d also sunk low enough to pretend to faint just to catch Ron off guard and steal his wand, with the express purpose of wiping both of their memories. Talk about a creep.
Well the creep got his just deserts didn’t he? Ron’s wand had backfired on him, and although the misfired spell had almost brought the tunnel down on top of them all, creating a wall of fallen rock between himself and Ron, it had done them one small favour. Lockhart’s memory was gone. Granted that meant he couldn’t help them, but Harry wasn’t convinced Lockhart could have helped them anyway. Besides, he’d proved that even if he could, that didn’t mean he would, when he’d stolen Ron’s wand in the first place, so they were all better off with him incapacitated anyway.
Harry just wished Ron wasn’t on the other side of that wall. He could have done with having his best friend by his side right now.
Turning back towards the head of Salazar Slytherin, Harry stepped cautiously forward.
~HpɸqH~
“What do you mean, there is nothing we can do?!”
Hermione sat on the conjured couch in Dumbledore’s office and winced. She’d heard that tone before, more often in the last year than she’d like, and it never boded well for the recipient. Professor McGonagall’s ire was formidable.
And yet Professor Dumbledore merely stared back impassively, apparently unconcerned. But then, he seemed remarkably unconcered about a lot of things that Hermione felt he really ought to be concerned about.
“Exactly as the statement implies Minerva,” The old wizard calmly replied. “I understand the severity of the situation, but at this moment in time there is nothing we can do.”
“Miss Granger has just revealed the location of the chamber of secrets, apparently knows the kind of monster within, and has just told us that two students! Two second year students! Have gone off to face who knows what kind of danger in the company of that foppish fraud Lockhart and you say there is nothing we can do!?” McGonagall railed. “This is madness Albus!”
“What would you have me do Minerva?” Dumbledore returned with a tilt of his head.
If Dumbledore intended to say more, McGonagall didn’t let him. “Go after them!”
“I agree that would be a preferable course. I dislike the idea of young Harry and Mr Weasley in such a place as much as you do.” Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. “However, consider for a moment the nature of the Chamber of Secrets. I was here the last time it was opened. Although we searched we could not find an entrance. Nor were we able to do so this time, even though we now know that in all likelihood at least one of those searches took place at a time when the Chamber had been opened and Slytherin’s heir was inside. We must therefore assume that the entrance must close behind the entrant once they pass through, and if as I suspect the charms concealing the entrance only react to parseltongue, then even if we were to attempt to follow, we would be unsuccessful.”
Dumbledore’s words fell on Hermione like a slab of concrete. Harry spoke Parseltongue. He would have been able to get in. But as far as she knew, no-one else did. Except the Heir, who was down in the chamber with Ginny. Harry and Ron were trapped. And Nothing and no-one could help them.
“We have to help them professor!” She blurted without thinking. Slamming her mouth closed when she became the focus of the two professors.
“Alas, My dear Miss Granger.” Dumbledore sighed. “I am afraid that we are left with no other choice but to trust in your friends and their resourcefulness.”
“Why don’t we pray while we’re at it?”McGonagall huffed sarcastically, turning away from the desk and taking a few strides away. “A miracle certainly wouldn’t go amiss right now would it? They’re children! Three young children facing a Basilisk! A beast that has felled more grown witches and wizards throughout our history than I care to count! They’re going to die Albus! Children. I can’t, we can’t just...”
A Squawk cut her off and made Hermione jump.
“See,” McGonagall snapped out her arm and pointed at Fawkes, “Even the bird agrees with me!”
“Now Fawkes...” Dumbledore seemingly replied to the Phoenix, his tone cautionary.
Fawkes stretched his wings and let out a high trilling caw, bobbing his head, although it didn’t seem to be a nod of agreement. Hermione was spellbound. Stretching out, the bird was even more beautiful than he was perched. Gold and crimson flame. He had the attention of the room, yet he seemed to only have eyes for the Headmaster. For a brief moment it seemed to Hermione like they were caught in silent communication and then with a flap of his great wings the bird leapt from his perch, swooping low past Dumbledore then up, soaring vertically past the bookcases and shelves that stretched up to the ceiling.
“I say, oof! Mind those claws.” a distantly family voice yelped out, and then Fawkes headed for the window, something brown and leather in his talons.
Brown and leather. That voice.
“He took the sorting hat!” Hermione exclaimed.
Dumbledore continued to stare at the open window, his face grim, before looking back down. “Indeed. It is never wise to underestimate the instincts and cunning of a phoenix. Nor their loyalty. And where as we are currently powerless to assist Harry and the Weasleys, perhaps Fawkes is not.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to help, she wanted to do something. She wanted to let Sirius know what was happening. But she couldn’t do any of those things. Now she’d told Dumbledore and McGonagall all she could, all she could do was sit and wait.
And hope.
~HpɸqH~
It was cold.
It was dark.
Over the sound of the rocks clattering to the floor where he continued to try and dig a way through the wall of fallen stone, Ron could hear the murmur of voices.
He couldn’t hear what was being said. It was all distorted and echo-y and too far away. But voices meant more than one person. Harry, he hoped, and someone else. Ginny maybe? Or the Heir of Slytherin.
Ron swallowed thickly and kept digging.
Behind him, Lockhart remained blissfully, if worryingly unconscious. He’d hit him. In the head. With a rock. If his mum found out she’d kill him. If he’d killed Lockhart then he’d go to Azkaban, and then his mum would really kill him.
He couldn’t even say he’d done because the man was about to curse them could he? No because he’d hit him after that. To make him shut up. To get him out of the way.
Because he hadn’t really been thinking had he? Oh no, that wasn’t right. He’d been thinking, just not about Lockhart. He’d been thinking about Ginny, and evil would be Dark Lords and giant snake creatures that killed with a look.
So he’d whacked one of his teachers over the head with a rock.
He was so dead.
Well he would be if he didn’t die down here instead.
Something screeched on the other side of the wall. Someone shouted.
More screeching, more shouting. There was a roaring hissing sound and the sound of something heavy on stone.
Ron dug faster.
~HpɸqH~
Minerva McGonagall did not wait well.
She did not do powerless well.
She did not leave to chance, or fate, or divine intervention well.
What she did do well was organise. So that is what she did. She organised and she had an able if exhausted assistant to help her.
Normally she would not have tolerated Miss Granger’s blatant defiance, but under the circumstances she could well understand it this time. After all, if someone had told her to run along off to bed when her best friends were facing off against a Basilisk she would have been hard pressed to sleep either.
No, Miss Granger would only disturb her housemates if she were returned to her dormitory, and there would be disruption enough come the morning. So instead she allowed Hermione to help her. She’d taken messages, carried things and sat on Minerva’s office floor sorting through piles of paperwork.
It wasn’t a real job but it would keep her occupied while the Deputy Headmistress got on with the real work of sorting things out for the following day.
When the students would all need to be herded onto the train for their last journey home.
Many of the staff would be accompanying them.
Albus, Severus and she herself would not.
No, they would remain. To clean up.
To look for the bodies.
Damn Albus. Damn this school. Damn Slytherin and his monster.
Damn them all.
~HpɸqH~
Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, elbows on the surface, fingers laced in front of his face, his gaze distant.
“You’re playing dangerous odds here Albus. Never wise with a Basilisk.”
Albus didn’t look up, but did nod absently at the cautionary words spoken by the portrait of his predecessor. He supposed when it came to magical beasts, there was no-one’s word more informed than that of Newton Scamander.
“Poor show. Poor show indeed leaving those poor wee defenceless children down there.” A former Headmistress huffed haughtily. “Regardless of background, they’re still children you know.”
From a former Slytherin, that was saying something.
Had he made the wrong decision? Had he led Harry to his doom?
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead wearily. Despite the outward calm he had shown Minerva, despite the confidence he had mustered for young Miss Granger, worry gripped his heart. He hadn’t lied. There truly was nothing they could do. Harry was on his own. And if things were as he suspected, then he was facing a threat far greater than any of the others imagined.
For Albus Dumbledore knew something they did not. When the Chamber had been opened at the beginning of the year he’d spent numerous hours researching. So he knew, with but one or two tenuous exceptions (they being Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black), that in Tom Marvolo Riddle the truest and purest line of descent from Salazar Slytherin had ended.
They weren’t ready. Harry wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. How this had happened Albus didn’t know, but somehow it had and now he was utterly powerless to prevent events moving forward and Harry had been, somewhat inevitably, caught up in the wake. Destinies entwined.
The prickle of magic in the air around him made Dumbledore open his tired blue eyes.
There, on his desk, the sword of Godric Gryffindor. A Truly potent symbol of what Godric himself and his house stood for. A weapon of honour, valour, courage and nobility, forged in a time long past.
And it was vanishing. Fading out of existence as it was called to serve once more.
Slowly Albus sat back in his chair. First Fawkes, and now the Sword.
Perhaps hope was not so distant after all.
~HpɸqH~
Harry stabbed. He stabbed the Basilisk fang down over and over and over into the diary, his eyes fixed on the screaming writhing memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Voldermort.
The one who had murdered his parents. Had doomed him to the Dursley’s. Was killing Ginny, which would hurt the Weasleys, the closest people to family he’d ever known, in ways he struggled to understand but knew deep in his bones. The one responsible for so much hurt it was overwhelming.
Last year facing him had just been frightening. Now Harry felt something so much more acute. Hate. And an anger so rich and thick and burning it was like unlike anything he’d ever known. All he wanted in this moment was for him to die.
He stabbed again. Riddle screamed.
Feel it. The seething voice in his mind hissed. Feel the burn!
And then it was done. A brilliant flash of light and he was gone. Black blood covered Harry’s hands joining the blood of the basilisk and his own. His fingers tingled like they were falling asleep. The fang clattered from his grip as an incredible lethargy swept over him.
He hurt. Not just bruises and scrapes. Inside.
Dying.
Venom.
He was dying.
His thoughts began to tumble one over the other, all with the similar theme. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. There were things that needed doing. There was quiddich and spending time with Ron and Hermione. There was Sirius. He was only just getting to know him. He wanted to get to know him better. He wanted to help clear his name and spend more time with him. He liked Sirius, and Remus too. He shouldn’t have been so reticent. He should have spent more time at the hut, more time with his Godfather. With his family.
But he hadn’t. He’d wasted the time. And now he was dying.
“Harry?”
Harry shook his head and blinked a couple of times to clear his cloudy vision. Ginny. Ginny was awake.
“Harry...” She said softly, her voice filled with tears. “It... It was me Harry. But I swear. I didn’t mean to! Riddle made me!”
“I doesn’t matter now.” Harry replied although his breath felt tight. And it didn’t matter. What mattered was finishing what he’d come down here to do. Only he couldn’t get Ginny out. She would have to do that on her own.
“But...” Ginny protested, then her eyes widened as she caught sight of the wound on Harry’s arm. “You’re hurt!”
Slapping his hand over the puncture, Harry cradled his arm to his chest. “Ginny, listen to me. You have to get out of here.”
“But...” Ginny protested again, reaching out to Harry who reared back.
“Please. Just do it. Follow the chamber and you’ll find Ron. He’ll help you get back, alright?”
Ginny nodded, but as she did a now familiar cry broke the air and Harry looked up, a half smile curling the corner of his lips as Fawkes in all his splendour swooped low through the chamber and came to land beside him.
“You were brilliant Fawkes.” Harry told the bird sadly, his eyes meeting the bird’s intelligent gaze. And really Fawkes had been. He wouldn’t have made it as far as he had without him. First blinding the basilisk, then bringing the hat. He wasn’t sure if Fawkes brought the sword, or if the hat had made it appear, but it didn’t matter in the end did it? “I just wasn’t quick enough.”
And he hadn’t been. Not in the end. He’d managed to stave off the basilisk. He’d managed to outwit it for a while as it chased him. But in the end as he’d lunged forward to pierce its skull with the sword, it had bitten him, and now it was over.
He wanted to be angry about that. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t bloody fair. But he was so tired.
Fawkes looked back at him, and Harry wished the bird would stop. It made him feel worse. Like he was somehow letting the Phoenix down. But then Fawkes ducked his head and nudged Harry’s fingers away from his wound.
Go on Fawkes, have a look. Maybe then the bird would understand. Harry just hoped he’d lead Ginny to Ron and safety. Yet even as he thought this he felt something drip onto the wound. It stung. It stung like lemon in a paper cut only a thousand times worse. Harry winced and grit his teeth, his gaze snapping down to see what had fallen on his already burning arm.
Only the burn was getting less. Was this dying? Did it all get less painful before then end?
No, that wasn’t right. The wound was closing. Before his very eyes the wound was closing, and although he still felt incredibly tired, he didn’t feel the heaviness anymore. All he could do was stare. How could this...
“Of course!” He finally exclaimed quietly, “Phoenix tears have healing powers.” He couldn’t help the small laugh that came as he finished the sentence, a grin blossoming on his lips. Looking at Fawkes, he resisted the urge to reach out and pet the bird, unsure if such contact would be welcome. “Thanks.”
Fawkes trilled and puffed up slightly, then looked to Ginny in a way Harry thought was rather pointed. Right.
“Come on Ginny. Let’s find Ron and get out of here.”
~HpɸqH~
When it became apparent that they couldn’t climb back up the way they’d come in and Ginny couldn’t remember how she’d done it before, their only option was to let Fawkes take the lead. Not that he’d actually let them do anything else. For a creature incapable of speech, or at least speech that Ron, Ginny or Harry could understand, Fawkes could be exceedingly bossy.
Lockhart was at least awake, although his lack of any memory was something of a difficulty. Thankfully the man seemed happy to follow them like a lost puppy. After a good fifteen minutes trudging through caverns and tunnels, they arrived at a natural chamber bathed in moonlight, a great crack in the rock visible above their heads.
“Well how the bloody hell are we meant to get up there?” Ron groaned disbelievingly as he stared at the sheer walls all around them, Ginny tucked close into his side, her head against his shoulder. Turning to Fawkes, he gave the bird an irritated look. “Not all of us can fly you know.”
Narrowing his eyes, Fawkes glared at the redhead and squawked indignantly before lifting off his rocky perch and landing squarely on Lockhart’s shoulder.
“My you really are a magnificent creature aren’t you?” Lockhart cooed, reaching out to tickle Fawkes’ chin and getting his fingers snapped at in return. “Tetchy though.”
Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at Fawkes who was looking at him, the expression on the remarkable bird’s face one that seemed to implore Harry to understand where the other dimwits it was unfortunate enough to be lumbered with clearly didn’t.
Then it clicked. Dumbledore had told him about this too, when he’d mentioned the healing powers. “They can carry immensely heavy loads. He’s going to carry us!”
“What? All of us?” Ron shot back incredulously.
Fawkes levelled a look that Hermione would have been envious of in Ron’s direction, and Harry had to throw all his effort into stifling a laugh. “I think that means yes.”
It took a bit of organising, but Fawkes once again became bossy, squawking and trilling at them until they’d organised themselves in weight order. With a last minute brainwave, Harry cast sticking charms to his, Ron’s and Ginny’s hands, then as Fawkes lifted off, Ron grabbed Lockhart’s leg and Harry’s hand, and Harry wrapped his free arm around Ginny.
“This is Amazing!” Lockhart shouted as they soared up towards the open sky. “This is just like Magic!”
His hand glued to Ron’s, Harry thought that in his experience, Magic was far less painful on the arms and shoulders.
It was as they were nearing the practice field that someone other than Lockhart said anything.
It was Ginny. “Harry?”
“Yeah?” Harry replied, looking and speaking loudly over the whip of the wind.
Ginny’s upturned face was worried. “If we’re all stuck together, what happens when we land?”
Damn, he hadn’t thought of that.
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