Chapter Seven: A Vision in Peril

Ginny found herself unsurprised that sex was highly recommended to bring on labor. Surely something had been knocked loose during that highly, well, satisfying interlude last night. All in all, she felt more rested and comfortable than she had in weeks.

Harry was still asleep, arm thrown over his eyes, snoring away in that endearing way that he had. Well, it was only endearing when she was rested, which she was. Feeling restless, Ginny swung her legs out of bed and rose to her feet.

“Mmm. Gin?” Harry mumbled, semiconscious. Harry only called her Gin when he was half-asleep or otherwise incapacitated. It always made her heart flip-flop.

“What?” She asked, sliding her feet into slippers, which were about the only style of footwear that would fit in anymore.

“What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s about eight o’clock in the morning,” she said flippantly, enjoying Harry’s reaction as he sat all the way up in bed.

“We’ve been asleep that long?” He was astounded and very much awake as he reached for his glasses.

“Yes. I think we exhausted ourselves,” Ginny said with a big grin.

“Proud of yourself, are you?” Harry asked, leaning back against the headboard and watching her bustle about the bedroom, selecting clothes.

“Well, it’s not exactly as easy as it once was, is it?”

“Only makes the ultimate goal more worthwhile,” Harry said, locking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. “Very worthwhile, if I may say so.”

Ginny giggled. “Oh, yes. I agree completely.” Her face screwed up for a moment. “Oh. Ouch. Well, that hurt.”

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, concerned once more. “Are you…?”

“No. I just think I cramped up a bit,” Ginny said, smiling unconcernedly. “Would you Floo Bill please? I want to be sure you catch him before he takes off. Once he’s at Gringotts, he’s nearly impossible to reach.”

“Of course,” Harry said, reluctantly pulling himself from under the covers and heading towards the bedroom fireplace. “Oh, and Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind if I take off for Germany for a bit today? Firenze has got a colleague there he thinks might be able to help us. I won’t be gone for more than a couple of hours.”

Ginny rubbed her belly and chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t suppose it could hurt anything. I doubt we’re having a baby today. These things take time, or so they tell me.”

“All right. As long as it’s fine with you. I just hate to leave right now,” Harry admitted, coming up behind her and rubbing her belly in that gentle way that he had. “No dreams last night?”

“None,” Ginny said. “I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. Floo Bill, would you please? I’m going downstairs for breakfast.”

“All right. I won’t stand between the pregnant lady and her morning eggs and toast.”

“Wise man,” Ginny said, and took off down the stairs.

Harry positioned himself in front of the Floo and thought momentarily of combing his hair or at least putting on a shirt. Bill was family, though, and he wouldn’t be able to see any more than Harry’s head, so it would be all right.

There was a moment of silence after Harry said Bill’s name before a very agitated-looking Fleur Weasley appeared. “Oui? Who iz eet?”

“It’s Harry, Fleur. Do you mind if I speak to Bill for a moment, or did I already miss him?”

“Non, non. Les enfants, ils ont fous ce matin.” At Harry’s confused look, Fleur sighed. “I am sorry, ‘Arry. Eet ‘as been a crazy week. Bill! Bill! Eet is ‘Arry!”

“Harry!” Billy’s jolly face appeared in the fireplace. “How are you doing? How’s my sister holding up? About to pop, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, a bit uncomfortable. “I’m doing fine, and Ginny’s doing well, but we were wondering if you’d do us a favor.”

“Of course, as long as it’s within reason,” Bill said. Harry smiled. He’d probably become used to adding the last condition after the twins had come along.

“I need to authorize you to go into the Potter family vault at Gringotts. I haven’t got the time to look into it, but Remus thinks it could be important for the investigation. I need you to look and see if there’s anything suspicious in there. Remus seems to think Mum was researching something really big when she died, and maybe the information is stored there.”

“So something secret, perhaps nondescript?” Bill asked.

“That would be my guess. Just look through everything and see if you notice anything unusual. It shouldn’t take you long at all. If you do find something, go ahead and withdraw it from the bank and bring it to me here.”

“Are you going to be in Godric’s Hollow all day?”

“No, I think I’m going to make a quick run to Germany,” Harry admitted. “I don’t really want to go, but there’s no one else I could delegate this particular task to. Firenze seems to think he has a colleague in the Black Forest that might have an idea about what’s up with Ginny’s dreams.”

Bill nodded, a bit distracted. “Finnegan, you put that down, do you hear me? How many times does Dad have to warn you about picking up wands? You’re going to hex your bits off without even realizing it, I’m warning you! …Sorry Harry, a bit of a parenting disaster, but yes, I can certainly do that for you.”

“Great, thanks Bill! I’ll let you deal with Finnegan.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a… I said put that down!” Bill disappeared briefly for a moment, only to reappear, wand in hand. “I’ll talk to you later Harry, all right?”

Harry chuckled. “All right. Later, Bill.”

**

Apparating from country to country was a bit of work, if you didn’t happen to be Harry Potter. Normally one had to get authorization documents and walk through a whole bundle of paperwork to be able to pop in and out of countries as freely as one pleased. Harry Potter had been doing it since he was seventeen, on the hunt for Horcruxes. He was pretty sure the Ministry was aware of his illegal activity, but it chose not to prosecute him. That was fine. He didn’t want to fill out the paperwork, anyway.

From his home in Godric’s Hollow, he imagined the Apparition checkpoint on the outside of the Black Forest. He’d never been there before, but he’d carefully studied a map and knew precisely where he was going. After a moment, he felt the odd sensation of being pulled away, and he was standing in a patch of grass, feeling very much like an idiot, as there was no one around.

“Harry Potter?” A stern voice sounded from inside the forest. It had a slight German edge on it, but it was easy enough to understand.

“Yes, that’s me,” Harry responded carefully, his hand on his wand, poised for an attack. Some habits from the war had died hard, and others had yet to expire.

“Firenze told us of your arrival,” the voice said, and soundlessly from the trees, a centaur appeared. “I am to take you to meet Rhysmana, much against the traditions of my people. You should stick very close to me if you wish to stay alive. I am the warrior Cylos.”

Harry nodded. “I thank you for your help, warrior Cylos.”

Cylos seemed to be very sure of himself, turning around right away and heading directly back into the forest, but Harry had learned to mistrust strangers and he followed more cautiously. Cylos made little to no sound when he stepped, which made Harry feel a bit like a clod. They passed beautiful creeks and effortlessly crossed small streams before they came to a separate clearing. Again, there was no one in sight.

“Harry Potter, you are to wait here,” Cylos said, “Rhysmana will come to meet you in a short time.”

Knowing that centaurs did not shake hands, Harry bowed from the waist as a token of his gratitude and sat in the grass in the clearing and prepared to wait.

He did not have to wait long, however, for the quiet sound of a hoof pawing the ground caught his attention and his head snapped up, his eyes focused on a shy-looking centaur.

“Hello, Harry,” the centaur said, stepping forward cautiously. “I am Rhysmana. Firenze spoke of me to you.” Her voice was quiet and unassuming and Harry had to listen carefully to catch all of the words. From what Firenze had said earlier, he had imagined a much different sort of character – a rebel against centaur society, perhaps.

“Hello,” Harry responded, rising to his feet. “I have heard… a little about you.”

Rhysmana chuckled. “At least you’re honest. I do wish you hadn’t stood. Please, have a seat. We shall both be comfortable for this interview, then.”

She sank gracefully all the way to her knees and arranged her body so that she looked very relaxed. When she attained the perfect position, she sighed. “I do enjoy being comfortable. How about you, Harry?”

“Oh, yes. Um, I suppose so….” His voice trailed off, a bit lost for words in this odd situation.

“You wouldn’t have much familiarity with comfort, though, would you?” Rhysmana focused all of her attention on him and Harry found the whole idea a bit disconcerting. “Heroes so rarely do that, when it’s forced upon them, they find it rather uncomfortable. A bit of a paradox, but an interesting one at that.”

“Oh? Yes. I suppose so.” Harry had never been entirely comfortable with the idea of being considered a hero far and wide. People would persist in the idea, however, so he let them and clung to normalcy with a death grip.

“I’m sorry. I’ve digressed from the subject at hand, and you do have rather important matters at home to return to, don’t you? Your wife, Ginny. She is with child, yes?”

“Yes,” Harry said simply, staring down at his hands. What an odd way to say it-- “with child”, though it sounded nicer than “pregnant” or “knocked up”.

Rhysmana studied him for a moment and then sighed. “But you aren’t here to talk of your feelings about impending fatherhood. Who could blame you? You hardly know me. You wish to speak of something both more personal and more public than your child’s birth.”

“Yes. I’d like to know why my wife is so haunted by these dreams… or visions. Whatever you want to call them.”

“Oh, I’d say they’re visions,” Rhysmana said, spreading her hands wide. “She is seeing events that actually occurred.”

“How you define them doesn’t really mean all that much,” Harry admitted. “It’s just that if they were sent by my mum, you would think she would be nicer about it. It’s a bit like whoever is sending the dreams wrests control of Ginny’s unconscious from her and then makes it so she can’t get any rest.”

Rhysmana reached for one of his hands and studied his palm for a moment.

“I didn’t think you did that sort of parlor trick,” Harry muttered, and then turned red when Rhysmana glanced sharply at him.

“Palmistry is, of course, an old wives’ tale,” Rhysmana said. “However, one can tell certain things about a person’s past, not their future, from the palm of the hand. The future is much murkier than most would like it to be. I know of very few who can discern its properties accurately.”

“I’m more concerned with the present.”

“Ah, yes. Many players on this stage,” Rhysmana said, running her hand idly through the grass. “Many people concerned with your Ginny Potter. Including the dead. I do think that Ginny is receiving the dreams from Lily Potter’s memories, but this is not the benevolent spirit of your mother sending them.”

“If they’re from mum’s memories, then she’d have to be sending them, right? I don’t know that she ever had a Pensieve. If she did, no one shared that with me.”

“The slow stealing of a soul is a crime indeed,” Rhysmana muttered. “Voldemort was never able to fully grasp the concept of a fate worse than death, but there were those among his followers who were intimately familiar with the idea.”

“Are you saying someone took mum’s soul?”

“Someone tried. Your mother is dead, and she was a very strong woman. So strong, in fact, that she is able to influence, from time to time, the dreams that your wife receives. She cannot stop the transfer, but she can make the experience more pleasant for Ginny. She is doing the best that she can.”

Harry let out a moan of frustration. “I can’t believe this. I’m more confused now than I was when I came here.”

“Your mother is doing her part,” Rhysmana said a bit forcefully. “There are few souls who are able to touch the physical world once they have passed beyond the veil, but with the help of your father, she is doing the best that she can to save your wife and your baby. You have an enemy after you, Harry, and it’s quite serious.”

Harry let out a harsh laugh. “I’ve always had an enemy after me. You’re not helping. I need names, specifics.”

“Harry, I can’t give you those. I can only discern vague things about the present. Your wife is in danger. Your child is in danger. You are in danger, and you need to be home. Right now.”

**

Ginny had wandered into the nursery. She settled into the rocking chair, much like the one that had been in Harry’s nursery. The gentle rocking motion soothed her to sleep.

**

“Voldemort is going to come after you,” Dumbledore said, leaning forward across the table, largely ignoring his cup of tea. “He’s heard of the prophecy and he will be able to narrow it down to you and the Longbottoms.”

James squeezed Lily’s hand. “We’ve been in danger since we’ve joined the Order. He knows that we’ve been actively opposing him.”

“Yes, but now he’s got a personal vendetta. Before you were a minor annoyance. Now you’re a threat. He’s not just after you two, he’s after Harry.”

Lily felt her heart stop and then start again. “Harry’s just a baby. He can’t be a threat to anyone.”

“Logic only is one of Voldemort’s strengths when it suits him,” Dumbledore said seriously. “I do have an idea.”

James breathed out a sigh. “I’m glad one of us can think.”

“It’s called the Fidelius Charm. I can see by your expression that you have heard of it, Lily.”

“Of course,” Lily said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. “We’d hide somewhere. There would be only one person in the world who would know where we are.”

“Only one… in the world?” James looked flabbergasted.

Lily nodded. “Our Secret-Keeper. The only way to find out where we are would be to torture it out of them. Or get them to tell you voluntarily. We’d have to pick someone completely trustworthy.”

“And strong,” James added ruefully. “Even then… if the Death Eaters figure out who it is…”

Lily nodded, cutting James off. She didn’t want to speculate on the possibilities. “I just don’t know if we can ask someone….”

“For Harry,” Dumbledore insisted. “I know it’s a terrible thing to ask someone.”

James sighed and, in a burst of fury, hit his fist on the table and rose to his feet. “This is a horrible thing to ask someone. And who do we choose? Neither one of us has brothers or sisters that we’d trust with our lives.”

“Or parents,” Lily interjected, also rising to her feet. “My friends are starting families of their own.”

“I would be willing to be your Secret-Keeper. I have always felt very close to both of you, and your son is already a delight in my life.”

James shook his head. “You’ve already got too much responsibility, what with running the Order and Hogwarts. We couldn’t possibly ask any more of you.”

“Sirius is Harry’s godfather,” Lily said suddenly, and glanced at James, desperation in her eyes. “He already would do anything for him. I would hate to ask him, but he’s the closest thing we’ve got to a living relative, James.”

James nodded slowly. “We’ll have to talk it over some more, Albus. We can’t possibly make a decision like this tonight.”

“You might have to. Voldemort’s followers are already hot on the trail of this prophecy. My spies have made me aware that you have very little time,” Dumbledore said, also rising to his feet. “James, Lily, I can not stress to you enough the dire nature of this situation. I urge swiftness.”

“Of course, Professor,” Lily muttered.

**

Ginny woke up, her heart pounding in her chest. Someone was after her baby! No, no. She wasn’t Lily Potter. This was a different time, a different place, and she was a different person. She’d never been besieged by one of those visions in the middle of the day like that.

“Ginny? Ginny?” Hermione’s worried voice pierced the fog in her mind.

“I’m here! In the nursery!”

Hermione stopped in the doorway and looked around. “Oh, Ginny. This is just sweet. I know I say that every time, but it really is.”

Snowy owls and snitches floated around the room, and in the crib sat a stuffed dragon, courtesy of Charlie and his girlfriend, Maryann.

“Oh, thanks,” Ginny said, deciding that she wouldn’t get up since she was enjoying the rocking chair so much. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. Were you calling for me long?”

“A couple of minutes,” Hermione said honestly. “I assumed you were taking a nap. I was about to give up.”

“I was… having a dream.”

“Ah,” Hermione said, crossing the room and sitting on the floor next to Ginny. “Was it a bad one?”

“Scary,” Ginny said. “I had some back pain this morning, but Harry and I finally had a good night’s rest. I was grateful for the respite, but I knew it wouldn’t last very long.”

“Where’s Harry, by the way?”

“He’s in Germany. Firenze had a colleague he thought might be of some use to us, so Harry left this morning.” Ginny winced as another pain shot through her.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked concernedly. “You look like you’re in serious pain.”

“I think I’ve started having some contractions,” Ginny managed. “But they’re not often. I think I can wait….”

From the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass. Hermione grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled her up. “Come on. I don’t like the sound of that. Let’s use your bedroom Floo and get out of here.”

As they struggled toward the bedroom, Hermione could hear pounding footsteps racing up the stairs. “Ginny, go on! I’ll be right behind you!”

With the focus of a woman in labor, Ginny waddled as fast as she could through the bedroom door, threw some Floo powder on the fire, yelled “The Burrow!” and was gone.

**

Author’s Note: Yes, that’s where I’m ending it. I am tired and the action only gets better from here. I’ll see you all next week! Same Chi time, same Chi channel.

A few more things to point out, though. Chloe, in Caitlyn’s Lessons for Life, was the first Potter to have a stuffed dragon. You can find it at www.sugarquill.net on the Professor’s shelf.

And yes, I do know the Monty Python reference for “peril”. Makes me giggle every time.