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Chapter 11  -  The Happiest of Birthdays

They returned to the house to find Arabella and the household staff decorating Paravel with frantic energy.  Every room was festooned with garland, balloons and streamers.  Huge flower arrangements appeared from no where and were placed in every conceivable location.  Thousands of fairy lights and glimmering fountains were added to the terraces and balconies.  A spectacular ice sculpture in the form of a phoenix just taking flight adorned the entrance hall.  From the kitchens drifted strange and wonderful smells.  At five o’clock, Arabella chivied all of her guests (even Dumbledore) up to their room to shower and dress. 

Hermione emerged from her the shower around five thirty.  Drawing on a comfortable bath robe, she sat in front of her mirror, toweling off her hair – hair that was growing quite luxurious from using Arabella’s assorted magical shampoos.  There was a soft knock on Hermione’s door.  “Yes?” Hermione called, half expecting Harry, “It’s Arabella dear, may I come in?”  Hermione ran to open the door, and then offered Arabella her chair.  Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, smiling at her grandmother.  “Hermione, tonight I would like to present you to wizard society as my granddaughter.  There will be scores of witches and wizards here this evening, including Rita Skeeter, and they will undoubtedly put two and two together anyway.  I think that perhaps it would be best if we connected the dots for them.”  Hermione looked a little alarmed.  “You won’t have to do, or say anything in particular,” Arabella continued smoothly, but at some point during the evening, I’ll simply ask for everyone’s attention and introduce you.”  Arabella paused, “Are you comfortable with that?”   “Yes, I would be honored to be known among your friends as your granddaughter.”  Hermione replied, smiling.  “Not just to my friends, Hermione, but to the whole wizarding world, even to Voldemort.  Are you prepared for that?”  Hermione nodded again.  Arabella embraced her.

Arabella stayed with Hermione while she dressed.  They laughed and giggled to themselves.  Hermione gasped in wonder and delight at the gown Arabella conjured for her to wear.   Arabella spread it gently on Hermione’s bed where it shimmered white and silver.  It was timeless and elegant, with straight, simple lines, perfect for showing off Hermione’s athletic figure.  The strapless bodice was covered in tiny seed pearls, but the skirt was plain with a carefully placed (yet slightly daring) slit at the back. 

Arabella zipped Hermione into her gown, and then eased her gently into a chair in front of the mirror.   With expert skill, Arabella began piling Hermione’s hair onto her head in great loose curls, at last securing them in place with a long strand of pearls wound and pinned artfully into place.  Arabella surveyed Hermione in the mirror, “You look good enough to eat, my dear.”  “Thank you,” Hermione believed, hardly believing the reflection she saw in the mirror.  She looked like a much older, much more sophisticated version of herself.  She wondered what Harry would think.  As if reading her mind, Arabella said softly, “You love him very much, don’t you.”  It wasn’t really a question.  “With all my heart,” Hermione answered, then added, “being with him makes me feel strong and confident, and well…happy.”  “I’m glad, dear, that’s just how it should be.” Said Arabella, patting Hermione’s hand gently.

 

 “And now, I’ve got to get myself in order.”  She turned to go and then said, “you might want to consider waiting a bit before you go down” she winked at Hermione, “its always nice to make an entrance.”  And so, Hermione took her time fastening the tiny straps on her heels, then turned to a small cache of jewelry for earrings.  She selected a pair of pear and diamond tear drops that her father had given her the Christmas before.  They were perfect for the dress and coordinated nicely with the Cadeau Du Mer as it shone at her throat.     



Across the hall, Harry was also dressing for the evening.  Apparently, while Harry was showering, Hopkins had once again taken the liberty of laying out clothes for “young Mr. Potter”.  Harry was grateful, since he found the thought of a huge formal wizard affair somewhat daunting.  There was a crisp white shirt and dark pants.  On a hanger nearby was a new waistcoat of a satiny sort of material in a dark silver-grey.  To go over all this were new dress robes in a deep rich purple.  “Sorcerers robes,” Harry thought to himself.   He surveyed himself critically in his mirror a short while later.  He liked the way Hopkins had combined elements of magic and Muggle dress.  His eyes flicked upward to his hair which would not be tamed.  It was tidier than usual, but never as immaculate as he would like.  Shaking his head grimly, he turned from the mirror to the window.  He could see the fairy lights glowing brightly now, and large torches marked the pathways around the house.  

 A runner of red carpet stretched across the terrace and onto the drive, picked out by torches.  There was a loud “Bang” and a flash of light.  The Knight Bus, in all its violent purple glory, skidded to a halt at the edge of the carpet, scattering gravel all over Hopkins, who had apparently expected the bus and had come to greet it.  Witches and wizards of all ages and sizes were piling out of the bus.  Harry could just make out the red heads of Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley.  Hermione had to see this!

 Dashing across the hall to her door, Harry knocked, and then let himself in, saying in a rush, “Hermione, the Knight Bus is here, you’ve got to….” At the sight of her, his voice trailed off to nothing.  He was utterly speechless.  She looked like an ancient goddess, or an angel.  “What is it, Harry?”  She asked with a smile that was both ethereal and serene.  He thought his heart would leap out of his chest.  “You look…” he stammered, unable to find words to describe how he felt.  “Clean?” she suggested helpfully.  He laughed, “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘radiant’, ‘resplendent’, ‘gorgeous’, or ‘like a goddess’ but those are totally inadequate.”  He allowed his eyes to slowly sweep her up and down.  “Turn around” he whispered and she revolved gracefully in place.  He approached her purposefully.  He kissed one bare shoulder.  He felt a shudder of pleasure ripple through her. Taking her chin lightly, he tilted her face to his and kissed her tenderly. 

“We’d better go down now, hadn’t we?” she said, not really wanting to. “What was it that you wanted, anyway?”  He searched his mind, but couldn’t remember.  “I have no idea.” They laughed together, and headed for the grand staircase to the entrance hall.

Gathered in a small group at the second floor landing, just out of sight of the waiting guests below were Sirius, Remus, Ron, and Arabella.  Sirius was dashing in black dress robes, while Remus looked youthful and handsome in robes of deep grey.  Ron held out his new blue robes for Harry to see and they grinned at each other.  Arabella was in soft sparkling pink that brought out the bloom in her gently lined face.  She cast an appraising eye over them, then sighed, happy with her handiwork.  “And now, we really should receive our guests.  Dumbledore is already downstairs and has been welcoming people as they arrived, but now its time for the guests of honor” she gestured to their little group, “to be presented.”  Sirius shuffled his feet and Ron looked uncomfortable.  Arabella ignored them both and continued, “I will go down first and get everyone’s attention.  Ron, Remus, give me a few minutes head start, then follow.  Once I’ve introduced you, then Sirius, you, Harry and Hermione should come down together.” 

With that, Arabella glided happily away.  “She certainly has a flare for the dramatic doesn’t she?” said Sirius.  “I wonder how she would feel if I appeared as Padfoot?”  This broke everyone up and helped to dispel some of their nerves.

From the landing, they heard the sounds of Arabella’s guest clapping and calling to her as she arrived.  As instructed, Ron and Remus gave her a few minutes and then, with twin deep breaths, the descended the stairs.  Almost immediately, applause broke out.

Arabella had made a perfectly timed entrance down the staircase into a sea of smiling faces.  “Good evening, good evening everyone!” she called.  “Thank you for joining us on such short notice.  I’m sure by now you all know at least part of the reason for our celebration,” Arabella gestured to Rita Skeeter, “I am, of course, referring to the fact that today, in wizard court, Sirius Black was cleared of all charges against him, and set free.”  A cheer erupted from the crowd.  “And he will of course be with us in a moment, but I have some special friends of his that I would like you to meet without whom, his freedom could not have been achieved.”  On cue, Ron and Remus arrived at her side.  “You all know my nephew, Remus Lupin, and this is our particular friend, Ronald Weasley.”  There was cheering and stamping.  Fred and George whistled.  Ginny waved frantically.   A sea on hands pulled them from the steps and into the crowds where they seemed to be having their backs slapped and hands wrung endlessly.

Arabella was radiant.  She could see Harry, Hermione and Sirius making their way toward her.  Harry and Hermione came first, arm in arm, with Sirius towering handsomely behind.  Arabella was just about to speak when the guests at the foot of the stairs caught a glimpse of the stunning trio.  A roar erupted from the crowd.  It seemed ages before the clapping and whistling died down.  Arabella raised her hands for silence.  “Tonight, we are celebrating not only the freedom of Sirius Black, but also the fifteenth birthday of his own godson….Harry Potter!”  There was more cheering.  Arabella leaned to Harry and kissed him on the cheek.  He waved somewhat awkwardly to the crowd, and was pleased to see all the Weasley’s, as well as Hagrid, among the faces beaming up at him.  Arabella turned her attention to Hermione, “And this lovely creature, is my own granddaughter, Hermione Granger.”  There were a few “oohs” and “aahs” from those who had never realized Arabella had a granddaughter, then the cheering resumed, growing ever louder as Arabella brought Sirius to her side.  “And, here he is at last, the wizard of the hour, Sirius Black”.  The hall exploded.   Gradually, the cheering became chanting.  “Speech!  Speech!  Speech!”  Sirius shook his head and tried to beg off, but the crowd was not to be denied.  At last he, cleared his throat and began somewhat formally, “Minister Fudge, Professor Dumbledore, honored guests and friends, to have the truth finally known, to have finally been set free is overwhelming.  I am deeply grateful to you for your support tonight, and to those who never stopped believing in my innocence.” He paused to clear his throat.  Flash bulbs went off here and there.  “None of this would have been possible without the courage and creativity of Hermione and Harry,” He rested a hand on each of their shoulders.  Another round of flashbulbs and cheering ensued.  Eventually he continued, “or without the willingness of Professor Dumbledore to give people a second chance and persuade others to do the same.  Last but not least, thank you to our hostess for treating me like a son, although certainly a wayward one, and for this lovely party.  Now, everyone, please enjoy yourselves!”   

A sea of hands reached forward to Harry, Hermione, and Sirius, almost dragging them from the steps.  “This is madness,” Harry thought to himself as Doris Crockford stepped forward to shake his hand.  “You’re not kidding!’ came Hermione’s voice, clear as bell from the back of his mind. “Can you hear me?” Harry thought deliberately, making eye contact with her.  “Yes!” came her answering thought.  The party goers had managed to surround each of them, and they were being borne apart by the enthusiastic crowd.  “Meet me on the terrace in thirty minutes,” he thought to Hermione, as Daedalus Diggle bowed low and reintroduced himself to Harry.  “I’ll be there,” came her answer, ringing in his ears.  “Harry?” He could just see her freeing herself from Mundungus Fletcher “Yes, love?” he shot back, as Rita Skeeter advanced on him.  “I love you.”  Harry’s eyes shone and his face brightened.   Too soon, he was jolted back to reality by the booming, nasal voice of Rita Skeeter, “Ah, Harry!  I knew you’d be pleased to see me!  I can tell by the look on your face…”

Harry managed to free himself from Rita Skeeter, whose quick quotes quill was being continually jostled by the crowd.  He made his way over to Hagrid, who was, of course the easiest of his friends to spot.  “Happy Birthday, Harry” Hagrid shouted above the noise of the crowd.  Harry’s face split into a wide grin at the gentle giant who had given him his first ever birthday cake.  “ ’ad a busy summer so far ‘aven’t you?!” said Hagrid, knowingly.  Harry nodded, “and what about that little project you and Madam Maxime are supposed to be working on for Dumbledore?”  Hagrid leaned close to Harry’s ear.  “Top secret, that is.  Can you, Ron, and Hermione meet me later?”  Harry nodded “Yes” and was then pulled into the music room by Fred Weasley. 

At the back of the room, Oliver Wood and George Weasley had just finished hanging a large Gryffindor Banner.  They waved at Harry, as Fred propelled him toward a tight cluster of redheads.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley greeted him warmly and wished him many happy returns of the day.  Ginny hugged him shyly, then retreated to a corner where Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, and some wizards Harry recognized as the ones who helped spirit Norbert away from Hogwarts, were plugging in amplifiers and guitars.   To Harry’s utter amazement, Percy Weasley had been talked into playing the drums, and was just warming up when Ron appeared at Harry’s side.

“You’ll never believe who’s here.” Ron panted, trying to keep from being bumped by the throng of partiers who had come to hear the band, which was now playing in earnest.  “Who?” Harry mouthed over the deafening noise. “Dobby!” Ron bellowed back.  “in…the…dining…room!” he shouted to Harry, when without warning, a particularly pretty witch neither had met before fell into Ron.  She righted herself and gave him an appraising look.  “Dance with me?”  Ron’s jaw dropped.  He allowed himself to be led to the dance floor that had formed in front of the band.  With a grin, Harry realized he would be visiting Dobby alone. 

Across the entrance hall, Hermione had also been greeted by what seemed like hundreds of well-wishers.  Anyone who remembered the nasty articles Rita Skeeter had written about her the year before in “Witch Weekly” seemed ready to forgive and forget.  Turning from another of Arabella’s charming friends, Hermione ran headlong into Professor McGonnagal.  She gasped.  “Excuse me, Professor!” said Hermione, taken aback.  “Not at all dear”, she said, giving Hermione a rare smile.  “It seems that thanks to you, there is a great deal to celebrate.” Professor McGonnegal said warmly.  Hermione shook her head and looked down.  To be praised by Professor McGonnegal was too good to be true.  “And, I see,” Professor McGonnegal continued, “that Arabella has given you the Cadeau Du Mer!  Its lovely on you, dear and I daresay it will be quite useful this fall as you carry out your duties as a prefect.”  Minerva McGonnegal’s eyes were twinkling. “But Professor…” Hermione stammered.  Professor McGonnegal waved a hand impatiently, “If we trusted you to use a time-turner, we’ll certainly trust you to apparate only when it is appropriate within Hogwarts.”  Hermione completely forgot herself for a moment and hugged Professor McGonnegal.  “Thank you!  You won’t regret it” Hermione breathed.  “And may I assume that Potter is wearing the ring?”  Hermione nodded.  “Good,” said McGonnegal.  “With any luck, he will be as effective a prefect as his father was.  Will you be good enough to tell him for me?”  She winked and drifted into the crowd.

Harry had had just about enough of crowds and noise and was beginning to wonder if it was time to meet Hermione yet.  Harry wasn’t wearing a watch.  His old one had become water-logged during the second task of the tri-wizard tournament, and somehow he had never gotten around to replacing it.  Never knowing the time was irksome.  He found Hopkins, who was happy to give him the time.  Harry had nearly five minutes to spare.  Wading through the masses of people who had crowded inside to hear the band, Harry made his way out onto the terrace.  It was lit now only by flickering fairy lights, the torches having been extinguished once the Knight Bus departed.  Fountains splashed in the background.  Quiet laughter and soft music filled the air.  Harry looked for Hermione, but didn’t see her.  He seized the opportunity to pluck a solitary white rose from one of Arabella’s elaborate topiaries.  He leaned on the rail of the terrace and looked toward the sea.  There were no clouds, and a three-quarter moon hung eerily bright as if someone had pasted it in the sky.   A soft breeze rippled his hair. 

“Penny for your thoughts” said a soft voice in his head.  He smiled.  The ring on his finger began to glow.  With a soft “pop” she was there, in his arms.  Glancing around to make sure they were alone, she kissed him eagerly.  “Happy Birthday!” she said, nuzzling against his neck before handing him a small package wrapped in white and silver.

“What’s this?” he asked, shaking the box gingerly. “A little something I thought you might like,” she said, a smile spreading slowly across her face.  “But you already gave me a present,” he said in mock protest, “you gave me my godfather back!”  She shook her head impatiently, “Maybe this will help you keep up with him.  Open it, Harry” She said, playfully.  Obediently, he tore the smooth white paper to reveal a jeweler’s box inside.  Carefully lifting the lid, he gasped in surprise and delight.  “Hermione!”  He stared, unbelieving at the watch and its five hands.  Now, not only would he always know the time, but where to find those he loved best.

Hermione leaned forward and gently turned the watch over in his hands.  He read the inscription easily in the light from the moon.    Their scrolled initials interlocked on the silver back of the watch.  Encircling her once again with his arms, he breathed into her hair, “Hermione, you are…amazing.  Thank you for this” he held up the watch, “I will treasure it, always.”  She didn’t answer, but in a tender gesture that foreshadowed many happy years together, she fastened the watch on his wrist for him.

“You’re going to need it according to McGonnagal,” Hermione said mysteriously.  “Professor McGonnegal?” Harry asked, puzzled.  “Yes,” Hermione continued, “she’s here, and tells me that they left something out of our Hogwarts letters.”  Hermione paused for effect.  “She asked me to tell you that this fall, you and I will be….prefects!” The last word burst from Hermione in a ripple of laughter.   “You’re joking.” He said.  Certainly, it would be no surprise to anyone that Hermione would be a prefect, but him?  She read his thoughts.  McGonnegal said that she expected you would make just as fine a prefect as your father once did.  This pleased Harry more than she knew.   “And,” Hermione continued, “she knows about the power of the Cadeau Du Mer and says that as long as we use them ‘appropriately’, we can apparate around Hogwarts…”  “I see,” said Harry, highly amused, “Well then, I swear to use them only in the execution of my duties as a prefect…”  He gave her a naughty wink. 

There was a great deal of speculation about Harry and Hermione that night among the party guests.  Whispers rippled among the witches and wizards when they were seen together.  There was an undercurrent of electricity whenever they exchanged glances across the room.  And so, like any nosey tabloid reporter, Rita Skeeter sent her lurid photographer, Bonzo, skulking out on to the terrace after them.  He watched them from the shadows.  The shutter on his wizard camera clicked repeatedly open and shut silently over high speed film that required no flash.    Unbeknownst to the young couple, or to Bonzo for that matter, another pair of eyes observed as well.  From deep within an unlit recess on the terrace, Wormtail watched and listened.   

“We’d better go back in,” Hermione said, eventually. “Kiss me first,” Harry said, “I need it to sustain me.”  “Silly” she said, giving him a long slow kiss.  “Mmm….my favorite kind.” He sighed, handing her the white rose, and leading her back to the mayhem of his first ever birthday party. 

They reached the dining room just as Dobby wheeled in the largest birthday cake Harry had ever seen.  It was three feet tall, covered in candles and said in a large, untidy scrawl “Congratulations, Sirius and Harry!”  Dobby was well-intentioned, but had managed to make something that looked more like a wedding cake than anything.  Harry and Sirius played along and cut the cake together before feeding each other large messy pieces.  Their friends hooted with laughter.  Hermione and Ron were laughing so hard they could barely catch their breath.

Next came the aspect of the party that Hermione had looked forward to most – an aspect that Harry had been obscurely dreading.  Dancing. 

While everyone was enjoying cake in the dining room, Arabella had been busy in the music room.  Like most large houses of its day, Paravel had a generously-sized ball room, complete with gilt mirrors and a highly polished wood floor.  With a flick of her wand, Arabella removed the wall that separated the music room from the ballroom.  Fresh from their first break, “The Weasley Band” returned to their instruments and struck up a nice slow number.  (Fill in your favorite slow dance here…)  Arabella lowered all the electric lighting in the room, until it was illuminated by the only by the glow of hundreds of candles drifting serenely in mid-air.

 

Dumbledore, himself led Arabella to the floor and they began to waltz expertly around the room.  They danced in solitary splendor for a moment before other couples began to glide out onto the floor.  It was a lovely sight.  Harry was just steeling himself for the moment when he would have to take the floor with Hermione (in front of about a zillion people), when Remus Lupin appeared at their side.  “Hermione,” he said, taking her hand and bowing slightly, “will you come and have a dance with your cousin?”  She looked at Harry, uncertain and then stammered, “Yes, of course.” Harry watched him ease her effortlessly out among the other couples, wishing desperately that dancing had come as naturally to him as flying had.   



Hermione was torn.  Admittedly, she loved to dance; and Remus Lupin soon proved to be as skilled in the ballroom as he was in the classroom.  But, for all Lupin’s style and talent, Hermione would have rather been with Harry – who had never taken his eyes off the whirling couple.  The song ended, and Hermione was just returning to Harry, when Sirius bounded up to have a turn.  The second song was much faster paced, and what Sirius might have lacked in finesse, he made up for with drama and energy.  They were soon breathing hard.  “Do you realize that you’ve saved me yet again?” he asked her. “What on earth do you mean,” she said, looking confused.  “That horrible Skeeter woman has been after me to dance with her.  If you hadn’t said ‘yes’ I would, at this moment, be steering that….parade float around the room.”  He shuddered involuntarily. She burst out laughing.  He hugged her tightly.  She looked up at him and said saucily, “You really should go and have a dance with her, Sirius.  After all, she’s going to be writing lots and lots of articles about you.  It wouldn’t go amiss for you to flirt with her a little either.”  He threw back his head, laughing.  “What a schemer you are!  Does Harry know what he’s getting himself into?”  “Absolutely” Harry answered, and tapped Sirius politely on the shoulder.  “May I cut in?”  Hermione’s heart did an amazing summersault.  Sirius bowed, and smiling said, “I yield to you, godson, and offer you the hand of the loveliest woman in the room.”  Hermione blushed deeply.   The music began again, mercifully, it was another slow number.

From across the room, Molly Weasley had watched the little drama unfold.  She guessed the reason for Harry’s initial reluctance to dance.  Just like Ron, he had had little or no opportunity to practice.  Her heart went out to them both, as did her wand.  With a discreet wave she sent out a charm destined to make dancers out of them both.  Ron, who was revolving awkwardly with the lovely witch he had met earlier, noticed the change immediately.  He nodded gratefully to his mother.  Harry, who was lost in Hermione’s eyes, wasn’t immediately aware of anything, except that suddenly everything seemed more comfortable and much easier.  His feet were now obeying every whim beautifully.  Great minds think alike, so they say and the same thought that had occurred to Molly Weasley, occurred to Arabella, as well.  Seconds after Mrs. Weasley’s charm reached Harry and Hermione, Arabella’s arrived.  The effect of having been his with not one, but two dancing charms was curious.  Harry and Hermione continued to glide about gracefully, only now, they were about six inches off the floor.  Neither noticed, or cared. 

Hermione was blissfully happy. During slow songs, Harry held her close and, when he wasn’t gazing at her adoringly, was whispering in her ear all the things she’d always wanted to hear.  During fast songs, he whirled and spun with her, matching her every move.  Many a hopeful wizard attempted to cut in, and all, even Ron, were refused.  They began to draw the attention of other dancers who seemed to sense the sexual tension that surrounded the couple.

They danced every dance, pausing only to inhale the champagne Hopkins offered.  At around midnight, the Weasley’s began their last song – a sultry tango.  The effects of the champagne and dancing charms had rendered Harry fearless (and possibly bullet proof). He led Hermione to the center of the dance floor.   They began to move, eyes locked on each other.  What started as a dance became a seduction.  Other dancers simply stopped, in awe.  As the music ended, Harry dipped Hermione gracefully over his arm so deeply that her hair brushed the floor.  They froze for a moment and then, he kissed her.   There was an explosion of whistling and stomping.  Harry and Hermione seemed to wake from a trance, a trifle embarrassed, but deeply contented.

Arabella directed everyone outdoors the terrace and balconies.  “And now, I believe Ron would like to say a few words…”  Ron parted the crowed and stepped toward Harry, Hermione and Sirius.  Ron grinned broadly and handed Harry a book “The Do-It-Yourself Guide to Creating Marks and Emblems by F. Lare Gunn.”  “Umm thanks, Ron…” Harry began, taken aback by the unusual title, but Ron interrupted saying, “wait for it…”  There was a burst of fireworks shining overhead.  On cue, Ron muttered an incantation and held his wand above his head.  From Ron’s wand ripped a huge form, composed of what appeared to be red, orange and yellow flames.  It streaked skyward and began to unfurl….wings.  It was an enormous phoenix –a firebird.  Hermione gasped, as did the witches and wizards around it her.  The phoenix rippled overhead, fierce and terrible, yet beautiful.  It cast an unearthly light on the upturned faces of the party guests below. 

“I couldn’t see why you-know-who should be the only one with a mark.  It’s bothered me ever since the world cup. Now you have one, too – The Mark of the Phoenix,” Ron explained passing Harry a wrinkled scrap of parchment with the incantation on it.   Harry couldn’t speak.  He just grabbed Ron and hugged him.  “Thanks, Ron” Harry choked out, as Deadalus Diggle released another shower of fireworks that passed directly through the center of the Phoenix.

Standing slightly apart from the rest, Dumbledore and Arabella took in the spectacular display going on overhead.  Speaking to Arabella in tones so low that they would not be overheard, he said “One day, that Mark will come to stand for more that just, Harry.  It will be sign of a new order – an order whose very existence will strike fear in the hearts of the Death Eaters.” His eyes became dreamy, “I wish Fawkes were here to see it.”    

As the fireworks ended, the Mark of the Phoenix began to fade.  The Knight Bus arrived to make the first of several runs from Paravel taking everyone home.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to take Hagrid to Paravel’s stables and surprise him with Buckbeak.  They found Hagrid, deep in conversation with Sirius Black.  “Sirius, we were thinking that Hagrid might like to see the, um stables…” Harry began, with a significant look.  Sirius realized immediately what Harry was up to and said, “Of course.  Great idea. I think I’ll come along…”  They marched Hagrid ceremoniously through the Park and to the dark stables.  Inside, Sirius said, “Wands only I think. Not everyone has been cleared, you know.”  “Lumos,” they whispered in unison.  And in the flickering wand light, Hagrid saw Buckbeak.  “Beaky!”  Hagrid could barely contain himself.  He examined Buckbeak, who was clearly pleased to see him, and found him to be in excellent health.  “So this is how you got out ‘er Hogwarts las’ year!” Hagrid bellowed, not waiting for explanations.  Hermione shushed Hagrid, lest he be heard over the roar of the Knight Bus, which had just returned for another load of tired party-goers.   Hagrid got a grip on himself.  “But now that you’re free, what’ll happen to him?” Hagrid was concerned.  “He can stay right here, Hagrid” Sirius said soothingly.  Arabella and I will keep him comfortable and happy until Hermione gets around to filing an appeal for him as well.” Sirius winked at Hermione, who punched him hard in the shoulder.

 

Chapter 12 – The Prophecy



 Miles away, on the high wind-swept moor above Paravel, a fire flickered in front of a derelict stone cottage.  Steadily, a rat made its way toward the crude light and shelter.  A tall figure paced at the edge of the firelight.  He muttered endlessly to himself, pausing every now and then to flex abnormally long and brittle looking fingers.  Coiled at the base of a nearby rune stone, was a large snake.  

 When the rat was but a few yards distant from the fire, he paused, shuddered, and transformed.  Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, the Potter’s betrayer, now stood, stoop-shouldered before his master. The tall figure froze and turned his eerie red eyes to Wormtail.  “What news have you brought me?” hissed a high cold voice.   Wormtail flinched at the sound, then said, “It is as we hoped, Master.  She is a Daughter of Paravel.  I have heard it from Arabella’s own lips.”  Voldemort inhaled sharpley, “and the Cadeau Du Mer? Does she wear it?”  “Yes, Master, I have seen her wield its power this night.”  Voldemort’s features twisted into a leering grin.  “See, Wormtail, how fortune favors the opportunist?  The prophecy may at last be fulfilled! A virgin sorceress now wears the Cadeau Du Mer.”  “She is not yet at the height of her powers, My Lord.” Wormtail stammered.  “It makes no difference, fool…” Voldemort spat, “She is an Heir of Paravel.  She will be able to summon the druidess from the sea.”  “Forgive me -I do not understand, My Lord” said Wormtail, instinctively flinching at the blast to come.

 “How can you lack such simple intelligence?” said Voldemort, his voice rising, “As an heir of Paravel, and with the Cadeau du Mer she can summon the Druidess Cliodna from the sea.  As a virgin sorceress, she can compel Cliodna to bestow on me her greatest gift…eternity!”  He laughed mirthlessly.  “Even if she is not at the height of her powers, she will be under the Imperius curse.  My own powers will enable her to do what is necessary.”  He paused, and then whispered the last words of the prophecy, more to himself than to Wormtail. “And the sea shall grant each man new life…”  His laughter rang out, high and cold on the moor.  “In my case, Wormtail, eternal life!”

 A thought struck him, his face darkened.  “Since you have not told me, am I to assume that while the girl wears the amulet, Arabella wears the ring?”  Wormtail stammered again, “N..n..no, Master, Arabella has chosen another.”  “Who then? Who wears the ring?  With whom does she share her power?” Voldemort’s voice had an icy edge.  “With Harry Potter, My Lord.  Harry Potter wears the ring.” Wormtail spluttered. 

 

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed darkly.  “How perfect!  How ironic!  All my destinies unfolding at Arabella’s doorstep!  Don’t you see Wormtail?  He wears the ring only so long as he lives.  I can take it from him once he is dead, as I nearly did from his father.”  Voldemort began to pace again, more urgently.  The fire roared higher to match his sudden energy.  Flames cast shadows like demons across the door of the cottage.  Wormtail watched in silence.  Across the moor, in his bedroom at Paravel, Harry gasped as his scar seared with pain.



Hagrid’s reunion with Buckbeak had been brief, but happy.  Sometime after midnight, Sirius invoked his authority as Harry’s godfather, and ordered everyone out of the stables and back to Paravel.  From the terrace, they waved “good-bye” to Hagrid as he boarded the Knight Bus for its final run. 

Hermione was first to turn in, followed shortly by Sirius, Remus, and Ron.  Harry had lingered downstairs hoping for a chance to thank Arabella for the lovely evening.  He searched for her in the dining room and music room with no luck.  He crossed the threshold of the sitting room, then froze in his tracks.  Through the open French doors that led to the terrace he could see Arabella – dancing with Dumbledore.  Harry smiled to himself and slipped quietly upstairs.

Harry knocked quietly on Hermione’s door, which opened instantly.  “About time!” she said, and playfully drew him inside.  She had changed.  Her hair now hung in shimmering waves down her back and across her shoulders.  The white and silver gown lay across a chair.  In its place, Hermione wore a slip of a nightgown.  It was lacy and clingy.  Overtop was a filmy sort of robe to match. She had dressed, or rather undressed, with this moment in mind.  Harry fumbled with the door, trying to shut it and kiss her at the same time.  Eventually, he managed both..  Drawing her close, he kissed her hard.  His lips were demanding.  His hands kneaded her waist and hips through the thin fabric.  She moaned.

  “Stay with me” he whispered hoarsely, “all night. I want you in my arms - in my bed - all night long.”  Her head rested against his shoulder.  He felt her nod, heard her breathe, “Yes”.  Closing his eyes, he focused on his own room, and they vanished in a swirl of wind.  He opened his eyes slowly.  The light from the fireplace and a few well-placed candles lit his bed.  “Look, Harry! Presents, they’ve left you presents.” Hermione gasped.      

 On his bed lay three packages wrapped in brightly colored paper and tied with ribbon.  “Open them! Let’s open them.” said Hermione, stretching out comfortably across his bed and reaching for the first one.  Harry sighed and looked longingly at her.  He knew exactly what he wanted to unwrap, but it would have to wait.  She handed him the largest box.  It was from Remus.  They tore at the paper like children.  Inside, to their surprise and delight, they found a small CD player and a stack of discs.  There was a note inside.  “Harry, as I’m sure you know by know, most Muggle gadgets won’t work in the presence of much magic.  This CD player has been enchanted so that it will work – even at Hogwarts.  Enjoy!  -Remus” Harry reached for first disc in the stack.  It was unlabeled.  He popped it into the player.  A haunting melody filled the room.  It was a recording of Remus, playing the piano.  It was Lily’s song, the one Harry remembered her singing to him as a baby.  He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robe, then turned to the next package. 

It was much smaller and the tag read “from Sirius”.    “It’s a camera!” said Harry, thrilled.  Not a huge clunky one like Colin Creevey’s, but small and sleek, designed to be used by stealth.  A card taped to the back read, “An easier way to gather evidence than using veritaserum.  –Sirius” They laughed together and reached for the last box.  It was small too, and it sloshed.  Harry shook it to listen again.  He grinned at Hermione and shrugged.  “It’s from Arabella” he said, handing Hermione the tag.  Paper off, he lifted the lid.  Inside was a tiny bottle of potion with a label that said simply, “Drink Me”.  “I feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland” he said.  “What do you suppose she’s playing at?”  “Something wonderful, I’m sure.  Besides, if you don’t like whatever it does, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey can fix it…” said Hermione mischievously. 

Harry uncorked the tiny bottle and drank the contents in one swallow.  Instantly, there was a burning at the back of his eyes.  They began to tingle.  Hermione gasped as they suddenly flashed bright green.  Harry yanked off his glasses and put his hands to his eyes.  The burning had subsided, but they were watering slightly.  “Harry!” Hermione said sharply, “are you okay?’ Gently, she pulled one of his hands from his eyes.  He blinked at her uncertainly.  Instead of the  blur he usually faced when looking at anything without his glasses, Hermione stood out in sharp focus.  Every detail of her lovely face was crystal clear.  He looked around wide-eyed.  He could see perfectly without his glasses.  Arabella had given him the gift of sight.  “What is it Harry?” Hermione said again, sounding worried.  “I can see…” he said slowly, “I can see everything – perfectly!  Arabella has somehow completely corrected my vision.”  Excited, he crossed to the window and looked out at the moon and the sea.  Overhead, he could pick out individual stars burning brightly overhead.  No more fog, no more haze, no more glasses.  “Thank you…Arabella”, he breathed into the night air. 

All of his packages had been opened.  Paper lay strewn on the floor.  At last, he could turn his attention back to Hermione.  He leaned backward slightly against the window sill and looked at her – just taking her in.  “You are more beautiful than I ever realized, Hermione.” he said softly.  “I should have had Madame Pomfrey fix my eyes years ago.”  “Maybe you should come a little closer - you know, take a really good look…” she practically purred at him.  Harry didn’t need to be told twice.  He eased onto the bed beside her, folding her gently into his arms.  Liking her suggestion, he set about kissing every inch of her. 

Hours later, they slept, wrapped in each others arms, deeply contented, and deeply in love. 

******


Harry was dreaming.  He stirred uneasily in his sleep.  He could see Hermione, lashed to a pole.  Her hands were bound behind her back, her mouth gagged.  She was standing ankle deep in the surf - the tide was rising higher and higher.  Without warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain.  He sat up suddenly awake, panting and sweaty.  He looked around. Hermione was there, sleeping peacefully beside him – safe.  But his scar still burned…    Harry looked at his watch.  4:00 a.m.  He debated with himself whether or not to go and wake Sirius.  At length, he decided that it could wait a few hours until breakfast.  

He watched the night sky fade from dark purple to grey.  Eventually, when there were streaks of gold against the clouds at the horizon, Harry slid out of bed, being careful not to wake Hermione.  He watched her sleeping. In his wildest dreams he never imagined that one day this perfect creature, this precious girl would share his feelings, his hopes….his bed.  And he felt, as he turned on the shower and stepped in, that he was a very lucky wizard indeed.

Hermione heard the bathroom door click quietly closed and the shower running.  She opened one eye, slowly.  It took her a minute to work out where she was.  Then it hit her.  Harry’s room.  She stretched luxuriantly.  “Harry’s bed.” she whispered softly to herself.  She looked over at the pillow that only a short while ago Harry had been sleeping on, and buried her face in it.  She sat up and swung bare feet to the floor.  She spied something white amid the torn paper and trappings of his opened presents.  She swept it from the ground.  It was his shirt.  His white dress shirt from last night, carelessly tossed aside in a moment of passion.  She blushed furiously at the memory.   Then, without knowing exactly why, she was seized by the urge to put it on. - to feel its softness against her skin.  She listened quietly for a minute.  The shower was still on.  If she hurried she might just manage it.   In an instant she had skinned out of her nightgown and drawn on his tailored dress shirt.  It was, of course, miles too big for her, falling just above her knees.  She stood in front of Harry’s long mirror and began rolling up the sleeves.   She turned, this way and that, surveying her image.  She never heard the shower turn off.  She never heard the bathroom door open.

“You can keep it, if you like” Harry said quietly from behind her.  “It looks wonderful on you…”  Hermione whirled to find Harry, still damp from the shower, a towel knotted at his waist, staring at her.  She felt her face grow hot.  “It still smells of you,” she whispered.  He crossed the room to her, thinking how lovely she looked in nothing but his shirt.  He kissed her deeply.  “Wear it to breakfast won’t you?” he teased.  “Oh, yes, that would be very discreet wouldn’t it?” she said, in between kisses.  “Speaking of being discreet, I’d best be off.  I love you, Harry” and suddenly he was holding not Hermione, but the faintest ripple of wind. 

Harry arrived in the dining room, sans glasses, to find Arabella all alone about to enjoy her first cup of coffee.  “You’re up and about early!” she said,  “ I thought you would all sleep in after last night’s revels!”  He dropped a kiss on her cheek and sat down beside her.  “I want to thank you for last night.  It was, without question the happiest birthday I’ve ever had.” She started to speak, but he rushed on… “And your gift!” he pointed to his eyes “I can hardly believe it.”  “Thank you, dear,” she said,   “I hoped you would accept your potion in the spirit I intended.  Dumbledore wasn’t sure how you would feel about not needing your glasses.  They have been an intrinsic part of your identity for many years” she paused, “and they are one of the reasons people say you look so much like James.  He wore glasses, too.”  “No, really,” Harry said, “I think I’m going to like it, especially for playing Quidditch.”  Arabella relaxed visibly.  “Good then, I’m glad.  But just remember, if you ever want to go back to the way you were, tell me and I can do it.”  “Thanks,” he said and gave her a huge hug.

Within a half an hour, the dining room was filled with all of Arabella’s houseguests.   Harry waited until Sirius had finished his first plate of bacon before telling him about his scar and his dream.  Sirius furrowed his brow and asked if Hermione had dreamed about anything similar.  She shook her head “No”.    Sirius flexed his fingers, his forehead creased in thought.  He knew that eventually, some attack would come against them, but when? and against which one of them.  If Harry’s dreams were any indicator, it would be Hermione.  He slammed his fist against the table with sudden force.  He would not allow it.  He would not allow them to take this “adopted” goddaughter if he could possibly help it.  “You will begin the training to become animagi immediately after breakfast”, he said with decision.  Harry cast a sidelong glance at Hermione.  “I’m ready.” came her voice in his head. 

Just as everyone was finishing up breakfast, Arabella’s owl appeared with the morning post.  He appeared to be burdened with more papers than usual.  Ron went to fetch him.  As he untied the bundles he said, “Whoa! Rita Skeeter doesn’t mess around does she?”  Curious faces turned in his direction.  “Look at these” he said, sliding several papers across the table.  There were copies of the “Daily Prophet”, “Witch Weekly”, and a skinny tabloid that was new to him called, “Spellbound”.  In letters three inches high on the covers of each were headlines about Sirius Black.  The Daily Prophet story was perhaps closest to the truth.  It featured a very flattering picture of Sirius and an account of his trial.  It mentioned the celebration at Arabella’s briefly as well.  Witch Weekly’s piece was much chattier.  It nominated Sirius for “Most Eligible Wizard Bachelor of the Year” and talked endlessly about his eye color.  In a separate article, Rita had given and eyewitness account Arabella’s party, describing the guests, food and decoration in excessive detail.  In a sidebar there was a picture of Harry and Hermione.  The caption read, “Harry Potter re-united with school sweetheart, Hermione Granger - who turns out to be none other than Arabella Figg’s long lost granddaughter!” 

Ron snorted with laughter over the headline in “Spellbound”  Above a photograph of a horrible looking hag holding a revolting bundle of baby up for everyone to see, ran huge letters, “Hag gives birth to Black’s Baby”.   Only Remus managed to keep control over his features, “So, Sirius, tell us about his new woman in your life…” he said with a twisted half-smile.  In answer, Sirius threw the paper at him. 

On the terrace about a half and hour later, Sirius began to explain the complexities of the animagus transformation to Harry, Hermione, and Ron.   They listened with rapt attention, scarcely believing that what took  James and Sirius years to learn, they would manage in just a few weeks.  “You have a tremendous advantage over us though,” Sirius said, “you are going to be able to get the feel of your animals every day, with our assistance.  Do you remember when Mad-Eye Moody transfigured Malfoy into a ferret?”  Ron laughed, “Happiest day of my life…” Sirius continued, “Remus and I will be transfiguring you two into your animals for a bit each day so you can experience the sensation of transformation, and of what it is like to be each of your animals.  Each time we do it, try to memorize the feelings.  Eventually, we will start the transfiguration process, and you will use your own powers to complete it.  In time, you will assume more and more of the process until you can do it all by yourselves.  You’ll get it by degrees.  Understand?”  They did.

Remus rolled up his sleeves.  “Okay then, who’s first?”  Harry looked a question at Hermione.  She said, “Let Harry go first.”  “Right,” Remus said, stepping forward, “everybody step back a little.  Now, Harry, this isn’t going to hurt a bit.  Try to focus on the experience - the sensations. Ready?”  Harry nodded.  There was a flash of gold light.  In the place where Harry had stood, there was suddenly a glorious phoenix – larger and sleeker than Fawkes.  It soared high into the late morning sunlight.  Hermione squinted up at it and gasped.  He was fierce and beautiful.  Spiraling gracefully, Firebird descended to earth, landing gracefully on Hermione’s outstretched arm. 

“Magnificent” said Sirius in satisfaction.  “Now, how about you, Hermione? Ready?”  She nodded and set Firebird carefully down beside her.  Sirius cast the charm this time.  Hermione found herself surrounded by a burst of golden light.  In an instant she was a falcon.  Instinctively, she streaked skyward, shadowed closely by a glorious phoenix.  Her wings were powerful and elegant.  She was able to drift aloft with ease on rising currents of warm air.  She could see the figures below with amazing clarity.  Her eye caught a slight movement at the edge of the park.  It was a rabbit.  She screamed the high shrill cry of the falcon who is hunting and dove to the ground.  She snatched the rabbit easily in her powerful talons and deposited at Sirius’s feet before climbing again to where Firebird, waited for her.    

Together, they soared and tumbled, learning the limits of their new forms.  A piercing whistle from Sirius called them back to earth.  The phoenix approached first, flying directly at Ron.  It made a playful snatch at his red hair before perching on Sirius’ shoulder.  The falcon followed closely behind.  She circled Remus once, who instantly understood what she wanted and held out an arm.  She landed gracefully.  Her eyes were golden, her head regal, yet somehow distinctly feminine. 

Sirius transfigured the phoenix back into Harry.  He stood, blinking for a moment before giving them all a huge grin.  At the sight of him, the falcon instantly took wing and resettled herself on Harry’s shoulder.   “Witches….” said Remus rolling his eyes, “they’re all the same.”  He directed a wand at the falcon, who, in a glow of light, became Hermione.  “Very funny Professor Werewolf.”, she said.  But her eyes, now back to their usual brown, were filled with laughter. 

Throughout that day in those that followed, they made the transformations again and again, each time completing a little more of the process with their own powers.  Sirius was pleased with their progress.  In the afternoons, Hermione and Remus shut themselves into Paravel’s basement to brew what they hoped would be an effective batch of the wolfsbane potion that rendered Remus harmless during the night of the full moon.  They worked feverishly, all the while eyeing the lunar calendar.  The full moon was fast approaching.

And so, nearly ten days passed in happy activity.  Harry, Hermione, and Ron worked together on their flying skills and even began to practice dueling under the strict supervision of Sirius and Remus.  For Hermione’s part, she found that more time she spent as “Talons”, her falcon form, the better her hand eye coordination and flying skills were when she was her usual self.  More and more often, she was beating Ron to the myriad of objects that were thrown skyward for them to catch on brooms.   Try as she might, though, she could never catch Harry.

For Harry was increasing in skill and stature at an alarming rate.  Spending time as “Firebird”, his phoenix form, seemed to make him an even more intuitive and instinctive flyer, if that were possible.  He pushed his Firebolt to unbelievable speeds with total control.  Additionally, he was growing increasingly comfortable without his glasses.  Because Arabella had not just corrected his vision, she had significantly improved it beyond the normal standards of Muggle/Wizard vision. 

The evenings were spent together as a hybrid family.  Each night, they sat before the fire in the drawing room to pour over the latest batch of fan mail for Sirius.  Rita Skeeter had done her public relations job so skillfully, that Sirius was rapidly becoming the most sought after wizard in Britain.  He received countless offers of marriage, as well as requests for lecture tours, autograph signings and book deals.  The ministry tried desperately to recruit him to the Azkaban Security Oversight Committee – an offer he shunned immediately. 

Dumbledore himself even approached Sirius about taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  Sirius was flattered, but politely refused saying that he didn’t have the patience and that he had…other plans.  His “other plans” were something of a mystery.  He wouldn’t even tell Harry what he had in mind.  He simply told Harry gently but firmly, that he would tell him everything when all the details of his future were sorted out.  Sirius did make it abundantly clear, however, that his plans were being made with Harry in mind.  Harry was greatly relieved to hear this, because he was never going back to the Dursley’s.  Never.

Evenings, were indeed, spent in company, but the nights belonged to Harry and Hermione alone.  As soon as the household had settled in for the night, they sought each other out.  Sometimes she came to him, but more often, he to her. 

After the celebration on the night of Harry’s birthday, it had become common knowledge that the two of them were romantically linked.  On Ron’s very first day at Paravel, Harry had told him that he loved Hermione.  Now, weeks later, everyone at Paravel was rapidly drawing the same conclusion – that Hermione returned his love and the two had formed a significant bond.  And so, although everyone “knew”, it was never openly discussed, at first for Ron’s sake, and then eventually, because there seemed nothing left to say.  Their love spoke simply and eloquently for itself.  His face lit up when she came into the room.  They cast sidelong looks at each other during meals.  Quite naturally, they began to go about the place with hands held, or arm in arm.  Occasionally, they were even bold enough to flirt with each other at the beach or during training.  Harry was her rock, her encourager.  She was his touchstone, his cheerleader in all things.  All those that knew and loved them were happy for them, and glad to know about any part of the relationship Harry and Hermione felt they could share.

And so, in this environment of acceptance, Harry and Hermione’s relationship bloomed, as did their passion – an aspect of their relationship that was decidedly not shared. Sometimes, he felt his need for her would consume them both.  Only by force of will did the two manage to restrain themselves from the ultimate experience.  With all the strength of character they possessed (and a few cold showers) they were able to keep the vows they had made to wait until their training was over before taking the final step.  Their confidence in each other and their increasing comfort with each other as lovers made the nights an endless voyage of sweet discovery. 

 Harry found Hermione’s innocence touching and sacred.  Watching her accept and embrace her own sensuality was thrilling.  Wrapped safely in the arms of a non-judgmental and unconditional lover, Hermione was free to be whatever she wanted – bold, wanton, shy, funny, playful, romantic, even inspirational.        

 Hermione found their reversal of roles amusing.  She had always been the one leading him down the path of knowledge.  Whether it was helping him assimilate into the wizarding world, or helping him master the summoning charm the night before the first task of the tri-wizard tournament, she had always been his tutor.  Not so any more.  He had become her guide and teacher.  What hadn’t changed was Hermione’s aptitude for learning anything new.  She was an admirable student, quickly discovering how to fan the flames of desire that threatened to burn out of control whenever they were alone.  She loved the feel of his body responding to hers – his eyes turning smoky, beads of sweat glistening on them both.   Nights were simply too short,  And both refused to even think about what it would be like when they returned to their separate dormitories at Hogwarts.   For now, they had each other, and that was enough.

 

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