Chapters 171-180

Customary Gryffindor Courage

Harry pulled his head from the Floo-coloured fire. A speck of soot was smeared over his cheek. ‘They’ll Apparate to Uffington Castle together. Oh—’ He turned and pressed a grubby Muggle picture into Claire’s hand. ‘Here. Ginny says to aim for the middle of those ditches. The Horse itself is on a steep slope. You don’t want to break your necks.’

Claire studied the picture. It was a clear print. They would have no problem Apparating there safely.

She looked over to Harry Potter. The young Auror was holding up well. But she expected no less from the man who brought down Voldemort. Only the way his angular jaw tightened betrayed his tension.Claire followed his gaze to the painting. From a purely artistic point of view, it would be almost sad to see the bold, abstract strokes of colour restored to an ordinary wizarding portrait.

‘When you are in Death,’ she told Harry, ‘don’t let go of Professor Snape. No matter what. You’ll never make it back alone.’

‘I know. I won’t. Don’t worry. Ginny would make my death a living hell if I didn’t come back,’ he joked.

‘Yes, your fiancée is a formidable witch,’ Claire agreed, flicking a glance at the brightly coloured tattoos on the backs of Potter’s hands.

The door opened, and Minerva McGonagall stepped into the room together with Alina Petrel. The girl was pale and unusually quiet. ‘Hello there, Miss Petrel. Are you up to a late night picnic?’

Alina straightened her back. A sparkle lit up her dark eyes. ‘I love midnight-picnics in January,’ she said with determination.

‘Why—’ Claire grinned. ‘—so do I! I can see that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Why don’t you and I run ahead to the Apparition point? I expect the headmistress and Mr Potter have a thing or two to discuss yet.’

Minerva nodded gratefully. ‘Hermione and Severus will meet you there—’ She glanced at her golden pocket watch. ‘—in twenty minutes. Keep the child warm, Claire.’

‘Don’t worry, Minerva. I may not be a powerful Necromancer,’ she replied, ‘but I think I can keep one of your charges safe for a few hours.’

oooOooo

The sword of Godric Gryffindor was heavy in Harry’s hand. The silver of the blade and the red of the rubies glittered in the candlelight.

His thoughts went to the effects of the leeching curse. Within only a week there’d been ten new deaths…one of them a toddler. The little girl had died of bronchitis. Not even Muggles died of that, damn it! Healer Mugwort was not optimistic concerning the chances of seven elderly wizards and witches in the ICU at St Mungo’s. And Kingsley—Harry felt sick when he thought of the weeks-old corpse he’d been asked to identify.

Minerva McGonagall looked weary. ‘Severus tells me that you will need to hold on to his hand the entire duration of your…’

‘Sojourn?’ Harry supplied. Contrary to what Hermione might think, the vocabulary games of their school-days had in fact broadened his linguistic horizon.

‘Yes,’ he reassured the headmistress. ‘I know. We’ve been over the technicalities. Severus will need his right hand for those bells. We hope that he doesn’t have to hold the linked wands. But we’ve practiced that—holding his wand together.’ In spite of himself Harry laughed when he noticed Minerva’s expression.

‘It does sound rather like bizarre sex practices, doesn’t it?’

The older witch just shook her head. ‘You have no idea. Though he—’ she glanced at Dumbledore’s portrait, ‘—would really appreciate the humour of the situation.’

Harry frowned. ‘I bet.’ Then he squared his shoulders. ‘I’d better get going. We’ve got an appointment at the Ministry.’ He sheathed the sword and held out his hand to Minerva.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For everything.’

‘Good luck, Harry.’

He could see that she wanted to say more and shook his head. ‘Good-byes and explanations are always awkward at this point.’ Harry gave her a wry grin. ‘I remember.’

He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak from the wingback chair. ‘I’ll do my best. I always do,’ Harry called out and quickly descended the dimly lit staircase before she had a chance to react. He passed the watch-gargoyle and headed for the front doors.

Death. Strange how that didn’t scare him anymore. A part of it, he reasoned, must be a certain‘been there, done that’ bravado and, of course, customary Gryffindor courage. But there was more to it than adrenaline or past death and near-death experiences.

Maybe for the first time ever, he was okay with his life. To the point where he’d be okay with his death, too.

He was an Auror. He’d always known that this was a dangerous job. Still, it was what he wanted. And pretty much what he’d done all of his life. He smirked. Born to be an Auror.

Ginny…Her determined courage was the only thing that made him queasy. It wasn’t his death he feared these days. He wrenched away from the icy grip of grief that clenched his heart when he thought of Ginny—of her losing him, along with shared dreams of a cottage with the pots of fanged geraniums on the window sills and handmade toy-brooms for unborn children. Nevertheless, he knew that no matter what happened, in the end Ginny would be okay, too. She was tough, his Ginny.

He balled his hands into fists as he hurried away from the castle, never bothering to cast an Impervius to keep away the sleet the wind was driving into his face.

He wasn’t so sure about Hermione. For all her down-to-earth stubbornness, she seemed strangely fragile in her love. And the thought of Snape dying after all the bloody git had had to endure just made him so fucking angry.

When Harry Potter arrived at the Apparition point, one thought was uppermost in his mind: I’ll be damned if I allow anything to happen to Severus Snape on top of everything else.