Sticks & Stones

The part of the structure that remained could barely be called a cottage. An entire corner of the house had been blown off, so anyone walking past could see inside, on both stories. The lawn, which had clearly been overgrown, was scorched down to the dirt, as was the wooden fence. The light rain that had begun to fall was making the exposed hardwood floors slick, and was running off the eaves in thin, steady rivulets.

No one appeared to be anywhere near the house; it was late, and the muggles who lived in the nearby cottages of the quiet village had settled down for bed. But in a slight dirt road across the street, made muddy by the rain, there were five distinct areas the rain seemed to slide around.

A voice began chanting, in a low, moderated tone; another joined it, and then another, until six voices were chanting asynchronously. After several minutes they all trailed off, and the first one spoke softly; “I’ve tried everything I can think of, Harry, and I can’t find anything but a very low-power protection charm; it’s probably been there for years, and faded with time.”

“That’s all I found as well,” another voice said.

“Did anyone find anything different?” a third voice asked. When no one responded it said “All right, let’s go inside.”

Several sets of footprints made their way across to the broken-down cottage. Rather than heading for the gaping hole, they made for the front door; when the first set of footprints reached the door the handle jiggled, but it was locked. There was a soft sigh, and then a voice muttered “Alohamora.” The lock clicked, the knob turned, and the door swung open.

Hermione and Ron pulled the Invisibility Cloak off as soon as they were inside the cottage. “Lumos,” Ron muttered, and the cottage was lit with a dim, eerie glow from the tip of his wand.

“Wait, Ron!” Hermione hissed, and dragged his robes over his wand to mask the light. Then she waved her wand and incanted something that caused a dark haze to cover all the windows. “All right, it’s fine now,” she murmured, and Ron uncovered his wand.

Other people began pulling Cloaks off themselves as they got inside—Luna, Neville and Dean, Parvati and Padma, and finally, Harry and Ginny. Ginny pulled the door shut before rolling up the cloak and stowing it inside her robes; then she lit her wand like the others had—everyone except Harry, who was gazing around with a blank look. “Harry?” Neville asked nervously. “What do you want us to do?”

When Harry didn’t respond, Ginny smiled sadly; she and Harry had talked about the possibility that he would simply be too overwhelmed to issue orders, and had agreed that she would do so if necessary. “Neville, Dean, Luna, Parvati, Padma—you all look around the ground floor.”

“For what?” Dean asked sullenly; evidently he didn’t like being out at night in the rain.

“For anything that shouldn’t be here,” Ginny answered pointedly. “Dean, you’re muggle-born, so you know what belongs in a muggle home. If there’s something odd, we want to know about it.”

“What are you going to be doing?” Padma asked.

“Ron, Hermione, Harry and I will be doing the same thing upstairs,” Ginny said promptly. “Come on, let’s get this done! We want to be out of here in no more than twenty minutes!”

Everyone moved off into the house; Ginny noticed Dean was grumbling but didn’t call him on it—he’d been out of sorts ever since his best mate Seamus Finnegan had refused to join Dumbledore’s Army. Dean thought Seamus was being a coward, and only Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Ron knew it wasn’t true—that Seamus was in fact secretly spying for the D.A.

Ginny surreptitiously steered Harry to the stairs where Hermione and Ron were already ascending to the second floor. Harry’s eyes kept darting everywhere as he climbed, but Ginny couldn’t tell if he was looking out for trouble or trying to take in every detail of the place where his parents had been murdered.

“We’ll check down here,” Ginny said to Ron and Hermione when they got to the second story. “You two check down the other way.”

Ron and Hermione deferred to Ginny and headed to one side of the house, while Harry and Ginny walked slowly to the other. “Are you okay, Harry?” Ginny asked quietly once they were alone.

“I—” Harry looked around at Ginny and smiled weakly. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just—I don’t really know what to think. This was my home… I lived here for the first year of my life, with my parents. So shouldn’t I have, you know, happy memories of the place? But all I do have is this experience of walking through a gutted shell of a house, and what I can remember when my scar burns.”

Ginny sighed. “You can take whatever you want away from this, Harry. You can be sad that you didn’t get to grow up here, or you can be happy that you had the chance to see where you and your parents were a family together, even if it was only briefly.” She smiled when Harry swallowed and blinked rapidly. “Now come on, we don’t have a lot of—oh.”

They had stepped across a threshold into a room. “This is where it happened,” Harry whispered.

There was no question that Harry was right. The room was clearly a nursery. The cradle had been knocked over, probably when Voldemort had cast the Curse meant to kill Harry. There were some other items that had been scattered about, but otherwise the room could have housed a child that day.

Ginny twined her fingers in Harry’s as he glanced around desolately. “There’s no sign,” he said finally. “My mother died right here, saving my life, and you’d never know it from looking. There should be something to mark it, some kind of indication!”

“Harry,” Ginny said softly, and placed her hand on Harry’s chest; Harry, who’d been working himself up, took a deep, shuddering breath. “This room is monument enough,” Ginny said, “for the people it matters to. Your parents didn’t give themselves to save you because they wanted a statue in the Ministry atrium.”

Harry snorted at that. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “Say, do you think that I own this place too?”

The question caught Ginny off guard. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “I guess it would make sense—who else would your parents leave it to?” She looked appraisingly at Harry. “Do you want to… to fix the place up? And live here, someday?”

“Merlin, no!” Harry exclaimed, looking at Ginny as if she were insane. “I couldn’t live here, not when I know what happened! And I don’t want to change anything here, either,” he continued more calmly. “I was actually thinking I’d like to get a bunch of Preservation spells placed on the cottage—you know, so it’ll stay exactly as it is.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “A monument,” she stated. “Are you going to make it a museum too? Have classes of Hogwarts first-years brought here by their Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers and told ‘This is where the Chosen One, the Boy who Lived, Harry Potter, became the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse—’”

“Okay, okay, I get your point,” Harry snapped.

Ginny’s expression softened when she saw how wretched Harry looked. “Harry… are you going to want to come back here?”

Harry looked up in surprise. “Well—no,” he admitted. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t exactly invoke happy thoughts.”

“Then why would you want to preserve it?” Ginny asked. “What your parents did for you—and what they mean to you—won’t be changed by whether this cottage is still standing.”

Harry stared at the overturned cradle for a long time. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Honestly, I think I’d almost rather have the place torn down—I don’t like the idea that people would lurk around here trying to find a way to profit from what happened to me. Like, I bet Dung could sell the cradle that Harry Potter defeated Voldemort in for a lot of Galleons. And,” he added darkly, “it makes me sick to think that Voldemort and his cronies were skulking around in here recently.”

“That makes sense,” Ginny replied with a slight smile. “So we can look into it. But later. Right now—”

“Right now, we’re supposed to be looking for whatever Voldemort was looking for,” Harry agreed. “Okay. Let’s have a look around, then.”

Neither of them found anything in their search of the nursery, and the next room over, which proved to be the master bedroom, was clear as well. “I think that whatever was here, either Voldemort found it or it wasn’t here to begin with,” Ginny said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, frowning; he seemed immensely frustrated. “I just wish we knew why he came here in the first place—then we might know what we’re looking for.”

“Let’s see if any of the others had any better luck,” Ginny suggested.

As Harry and Ginny stepped out of the master bedroom, Ron and Hermione came out of the room at the other end of the hall. They all shrugged at each other and generally indicated they’d had no luck. “What do you think?” Ginny called to them.

“That Voldemort was never here,” Ron called back. “There’s no signs, not even foot prints, nothing’s missing… hell, the explosion that happened recently didn’t even leave any magical traces! I think that—”

Ron was cut off by a scream coming from down the stairs. Without even thinking about it all four friends had their wands out and were running towards the staircase. When they got there, they all looked down and saw Luna on the ground floor; she’d fallen and was scrambling backwards, brandishing her wand uselessly at the two Dementors who’d just entered through the back door. “Ex- Expecto- Exp-” she was crying, trying to cast a Patronus Charm, but she was failing as the Dementors drifted closer.

Unlike the previous times Harry had face Dementors, he didn’t feel fear, or a loss of happiness—he felt rage. How DARE they come into my parents’ home? he thought viciously. He brandished his wand, thought of how happy he’d felt the last time he’d destroyed Dementors, and shouted “Expecto Patronum!”

The giant stag erupted from Harry’s wand. It thundered down the stairs, causing dust and paint to shake loose in great clouds, and slammed full speed into the Dementors, shoving them back through the door with its horns.

Harry ran down the stairs after his Patronus, with Ginny, Hermione and Ron right behind. Harry continued right out the door, but Ginny quickly knelt down beside Luna. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously. “Did they do anything—?”

Luna looked up and smiled shakily. She was covered with dust and paint flakes, and had tear streaks on her cheeks. “I’m v-very s-sorry,” she said, trying to stand; her ankle wasn’t working properly. “I d-didn’t see them c-coming.”

Ginny checked Luna’s ankle, which seemed to only be sprained. “Why didn’t your Patronus work?” she asked. “I’ve seen you do it before…”

“W-well,” Luna said casually, “I c-couldn’t really bring up a h-happy enough memory.”

Ginny stared at Luna in dismayed shock. When we get back, we are going to settle this stupid mess with bloody George once and for all, she thought viciously. Even if I have to give him boils on his arse the size of Galleons!

“Bloody hell!” Ron cried from the back door. “Ginny, get everyone out here, now! We need Patronuses!”

Oh damn, there’s more of them, Ginny thought. “Luna, if you’re not able to cast them—”

“Go on, Ginny, I’ll be quite all right,” Luna assured her in a most un-assuring way.

“Ginny, I’ll stay with Luna,” Neville said, appearing from the next room. “I should check her ankle—”

But Ginny shook her head. “We need your Patronus, Neville—it’s one of the strongest in the D.A.”

“I’ll stay with Luna,” Padma said, dropping to her knees as Dean and Parvati raced past them. “I’m not adept at the Patronus Charm anyway.”

Ginny nodded quickly. “Don’t leave her side,” she ordered vehemently, and sprinted for the door, Neville right behind her.

When Ginny ran outside the drizzle immediately began dampening her hair down onto her head, and the cold hit her like a wall. But the cold wasn’t from the early November chill; there were dozens of Dementors—maybe even as many as one hundred. Harry was standing stock still, his wand out, and his magnificent stag Patronus was stamping its hooves and facing down the mass of Dementors alone. The Dementors seemed uncertain how to react—one wizard rarely managed to maintain his Patronus versus so many Dementors… but the Patronus wasn’t fading away.

Ginny saw that Ron and Hermione had moved to Harry’s left, about fifteen feet away, and had their wands ready; Parvati and Dean had done the same on Harry’s right. Taking long, slow breaths to calm herself, Ginny ignored the cold she felt pushing against her happiness and walked confidently to Harry’s left side. Neville followed her; he began circling to Harry’s right side, but Ginny stopped him. “Go join Ron and Hermione,” she said. “Their Patronuses are strong but not very large or mobile.”

Harry’s eyes never left the Dementors, but his brow furrowed even more as Neville moved toward Ron and Hermione. “I can handle them, Ginny,” he said evenly. “I’ve done it before.”

“I know,” Ginny answered, turning her eyes on the Dementors as well. “And I know you could take them all, if you had to. But you were alone that time, Harry—now you’re not. We’re here with you.”

Now Harry turned his head and looked at Ginny, his lips slowly curling upward into a smile. “Just remember,” he said warmly. “Happy thoughts.”

“With you smiling at me like that, it won’t be a problem,” Ginny replied saucily, and raised her wand. “Hermione,” she called, “Are you sure you can cast a Patronus while Levitating?”

“I’ve been practicing spell casting while Levitating for days, although I didn’t try it with the Patronus Charm,” Hermione called back, her voice full of assurance. “But I’ve been casting a corporeal Patronus for over two years. I can do it.”

“Good,” Ginny replied. “On my signal, you, Ron and Neville, bring your Patronuses in from your side instead of straight forward. Dean, Parvati, bring yours in from your side! Maybe we can catch a few Dementors in the middle and kill them!”

Harry gave Ginny a surprised smile as calls of assent came from the others. “You’re bloody brilliant,” he muttered.

“Remember that the next time I lose my temper,” Ginny retorted. She pointed her wand at the Dementors, thought of the first time Harry’s lips had met hers, and shouted “Expecto Patronum!”

Ginny’s wand exploded, and a long, graceful fox erupted from the tip; it caught up to Harry’s stag, which had already begun to charge, and they ploughed into the mass of Dementors. From the right, Dean’s grizzly bear and Parvati’s cobra were doing the same, as were Ron’s Jack Russell terrier and Neville’s magnificent lion from the left.

But Hermione’s Patronus wasn’t with Ron’s and Neville’s. Ginny was about to take her eyes off the yard when a white light, almost blinding, swooped down out of the sky, tearing viciously—and effectively—at the hoods of the Dementors. A quick glance to Ginny’s left confirmed that Hermione’s focus was on the flying Patronus—although her expression was as shocked as Ginny’s undoubtedly was. What happened to her otter? Ginny wondered before dismissing the thought. What was important at the moment was how much damage the new form of Hermione’s Patronus could do to the Dementors. And the answer seemed to be: Quite a lot.

The Dementors found themselves caught in the middle of the seven Patronuses and panicked, scattering everywhere, but many were mauled by paws, rent with teeth or shredded with talons—in almost no time the chaos was settling, and Ginny guessed that at least twenty Dementors hadn’t escaped.

“Is anyone hurt?” Harry asked, and fortunately all six of the others replied negatively. Ginny smiled fondly as she ran her fingers through the misty fur of her Patronus. “Nice work, girl,” she murmured before dropping her wand and letting the animal fade away.

“Your fox Patronus is so beautiful, Ginny,” Parvati said with a sigh.

“Vixen,” Ginny corrected with a smirk.

“I beg your pardon?” Parvati said, sounding offended.

“A female fox is called a vixen,” Harry said as he trotted over. “Appropriate, isn’t it?” Ginny smacked his arm.

Ron was looking at Hermione oddly. “What was that?” he asked suspiciously.

Hermione was clearly shaken. “I have no idea,” she said. “I—it’s an otter, my Patronus has always been an otter!”

Ginny glanced around the sky again, but the flying Patronus was gone. “You let it fade?”

“It was so bright, I’m sure someone must have seen it,” Hermione pointed out logically; Ginny suspected Hermione hadn’t been sorry to see the unexpected form go.

“Hermione’s right—that was far too much noise and light, someone’s bound to come and check, and there’s a chance that Voldemort will find out about this almost immediately,” Harry said rapidly. “Parvati, go help Padma get Luna out of the house. We’re getting out of here now.”

“Wait a minute!” Dean protested, pointing his wand at Hermione. “We all knew what Hermione’s Patronus was—that can’t be her!”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Hermione snapped, her temper apparently very short. “We’re all staying at the House of Black! Happy?”

Harry pushed Dean’s wand arm down. “It’s her, Dean. She’d be literally incapable of knowing about the house unless I told her.”

“Not to mention she hasn’t been out of my sight since breakfast!” Ron growled.

Dean looked ready to protest, but a warning glare from Ginny made him back down just as Luna, Parvati and Padma came out of the cottage. Luna was limping a bit when she came over, but firmly and stubbornly refused all help. “I’m fine, don’t fuss over me,” she said insistently, waving away Neville’s attempt to cast a Healing Charm.

Ginny hesitated, but they couldn’t afford to wait around any longer. “All right, let’s go,” she said.

Harry pulled out the old tea kettle they’d used as a Portkey. “We’re going to go straight back,” he said as everyone reached out to touch it. “Everyone ready? Okay… Portus!”