Chapter Eleven: Into the Twilight Zone

Arthur Weasley was weary.  He had been sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for better than two hours going over memorial plans for Fred with Molly and Percy.  The whole sordid affair was one he wanted to pretend didn’t exist.  He sighed and considered going to the Hospital wing for a headache potion, however he really didn’t want to inconvenience Madam Pomfrey when she was so busy.  He rubbed his temples gingerly and squinted at his wife, who looked as exhausted as he felt.

Percy, on the other hand, was so grateful to be back in the fold of the family he didn’t seem to mind that Molly was burdening him with the brunt of the planning for the funeral.  Arthur wondered if Percy didn’t consider the responsibility penitence for allowing Fred to die in the first place — even though everyone knew he was not to blame for the terrible tragedy.

Arthur glanced at Molly, who met gaze lovingly, and sighed again.  He wondered when the surreal feeling of the past few hours would start to wane and reality would start to set in: when he would truly begin to believe Voldemort was gone and his family was safe again, his presence in the Order no longer necessary.  Considering the casualties of the first war, Arthur felt an odd sort of relief his family made it through the second war with only one martyr.  Comparatively, Harry had ended it before the terror reached the panic-levels they had known during the first war.

Arthur thought about the boy who saved them: Harry had arrived on Platform 9¾ thin and wan from years of abuse by the Dursleys, yet he had grown into a miraculous young man — one Arthur was proud to consider a son.  Harry was part of his family…Arthur loved him immensely.  And now his son had finally defeated Voldemort for good, ensuring the wizarding world would be able to move on without the constant threat of evil interference.  The feeling was bittersweet for Arthur: in order to realize his dream of living without fear, he had lost another son in the process.  While part of his soul rejoiced, the other part grieved.

Arthur wasn’t sure how he could explain his emotions.  He wasn’t sure of much — just that he planned to put one foot in front of the other until the effort didn’t feel forced.  When that would be…well, he hoped it would happen in his lifetime.

* * *

Harry and Ginny appeared on the lawn in front of the school pale and distraught from witnessing the scene in the forest.  Harry was silent as he pulled Ginny into the Entrance Hall and up the Grand Staircase, eager to dump the Time-turner back in the Headmistress’s office and retrieve Snape’s memory.  Once they’d achieved those things, he planned to sneak off to the Room of Requirement where he could talk to Ginny about what they’d seen — and try to put the horror of the night behind him.

As they passed the Great Hall, Harry looked in and was surprised he didn’t see a single Weasley about.  If his watch was right, there should be a congregation of the red-heads nearby.  He shook off the ill feeling that washed over him and advanced toward the second-floor corridor.

When he and Ginny reached the gargoyle, which was still somewhat peaked from his earlier celebration, Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into his robes.  “Is the Headmistress in?” he asked as he arched an eyebrow.

“No,” the gargoyle hiccupped; appearing completely pissed even though Harry knew there was no way possible for stone to drink alcohol.  “I think, hic, she’s gone to the Hospital wing.”

“Can we go up to talk to Dumbledore’s portrait?” asked Harry, wary of the statue’s odd demeanor.

“Do you know the password?” challenged the gargoyle as it huffed and rolled its eyes.

“No,” answered Harry honestly as he scratched behind his ear.  “Can we go up anyway?”

“I suppose.”  The gargoyle glared at the pair and then stumbled sideways to reveal the spiral staircase.

Harry strode purposefully into the office, not really worried about whether the Headmistress was inside or not.  He wanted to return the Time-turner to its box so he could forget McGonagall’s crazy plan.  Then he was going to rebottle Snape’s memory and try to put the madness of his life behind him.

“I see you’ve returned,” noted Dumbledore from the portrait.  “I trust your trip was enlightening?”

Harry cocked his eyebrow at the Headmaster as he returned the artifact to its box, carefully making sure to put it back in exactly as he had found it.  “I reckon I’ve seen enough — enough to last me an entire lifetime,” he muttered.  Turning round to eye the pensieve sitting on the sideboard behind the McGonagall’s desk, Harry looked fervently for the small vial Hermione had conjured to hold Snape’s memory.

“I think you’ll have better luck storing that in a glass phial,” suggested Dumbledore, who knew exactly what Harry was looking for.  Hermione’s bottle had disappeared.  “While it was suitable for its purpose at the time, I would suggest you use something more secure if you plan to keep the memory preserved for any length of time,” noted the old man, whose blue eyes sparkled with regret.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you Harry,” said Dumbledore softly.  “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way…he was a much better man than anyone suspected.”

Harry searched the bookcase next to the sideboard for an empty bottle.  Finding none he turned to Dumbledore in frustration.  Sensing his question, Dumbledore pointed toward a cabinet in the corner of the room, which Harry advanced upon and opened the door, finding several empty bottles suitable for his use.  “I talked to him, y’know?” said Harry softly as he grabbed a bottle from inside the cupboard.  “That was part of why I decided to go back…I needed to know.”

Ginny sensed the strain in the discussion between Harry and Dumbledore.  Not wanting to interfere in their discourse, she settled herself quietly into one of the armchairs and curiously followed the conversation between the two.  The men in the office, the live one before her and the imprint of the man on the wall, both seemed desperate to speak words neither could find to say.

“And was that conversation satisfactory, Harry?  Was Professor Snape able to give you the answers you hoped for?”

“No,” brooded Harry.  “I just can’t understand why he didn’t tell me,” said Harry gruffly as his eyes reddened and he struggled to regain his composure.

“I was wrong not to tell you why I trusted Professor Snape, Harry.  However, every man has secrets — the Professor’s secret was not mine to tell.  He cared for you in his own way.  He wanted nothing more than a world free from Voldemort.  He risked everything he was to insure your safety,” imparted Dumbledore.

“I know that now,” choked Harry, turning to find Ginny sitting resolutely in the armchair.  He re-crossed the room and stood beside it, taking Ginny’s hand in his.  “I can’t say I understand his actions, but I do understand why he did it, I reckon.  He was very angry with you, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore sighed.  “He was very angry with me.  He was a very unwilling partner in my plan to die.  I trust throwing that curse was the most difficult thing he ever did, Harry.  Also, he suspected you were there — not only did he kill me, he did it in front of you…something that haunted him.  He knew you would never forgive him.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore meaningfully.  “I will never understand why you chose to die that way,” admitted Harry.

“It was going to happen, Harry.  I had very little time left.  I may have lived a few more weeks, but reality is I cheated death all throughout your last year at school.  I should have died the night I destroyed the ring.”

“I forgive you both,” stated Harry simply with a hefty sigh.  He pulled Ginny up from the chair and then sat down in the warm spot, bringing Ginny back into his lap.  He buried his head in her hair and struggled to compose himself.

“Thank you, Harry,” sighed Dumbledore.  “Why don’t you two go and get some rest?  We can table this discussion until another time when you’re thinking more clearly.”

“Snape told me he hoped he was a better man in death than he was in life,” said Harry clearly as he pulled his head away from Ginny’s shoulder.  “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that happens.”

“There’s nothing that would make me happier,” said Dumbledore appreciatively.  “Now you two go on…let an old man have some rest.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Harry as he and Ginny rose from the chair.  Harry returned to the pensieve and collected Snape’s memory, carefully corking the bottle and then placing it in the pocket of his robes along with the sweets and Chocolate Frogs Ambrosius Flume had given him.  Giving the portrait a wave, the pair exited the office and descended the stairs into the corridor.

* * *

Ginny clasped Harry’s hand tightly in her own as they descended the spiral staircase.  When they reached the corridor they found the gargoyle sprawled in the hallway unconscious, oblivious to the world around him.  “I reckon the entire castle celebrated, eh?” asked Ginny, giving Harry a thin smile.  “Who would have known the gargoyle could piss itself into a stupor?”

Harry turned to Ginny and pulled her into a crushing embrace.  “I love you, y’know?  It’s over.  It really — is — over.”

Smiling through tears, Ginny placed her hands on Harry’s shoulders, looking at him intensely with her warm, brown eyes.  “It is,” she breathed.  “It really is.  Whatever happens from here on, it’s going to be you and me…always,” said Ginny, taking Harry’s face into her hands and pulling him down for a gentle kiss.

“D’you think we could go find my family now?” asked Ginny pointedly.  “I know we need to spend some time together, and I really would like to talk about what we’ve just seen…  But my brother — I need to go to my family now if that’s okay?”

Harry pulled the pocket watch out and looked at the time.  “Your dad said we’d be going back to the Burrow this evening,” said Harry as he noticed they still had two or three minutes until their past selves would be coming around the corner to enter the office for the Time-turner.  “We have to get out of here so we don’t see ourselves as we come into the corridor.  Would you like to go downstairs?”  Ginny nodded and they moved onto the staircase and down toward the Great Hall.

The pair descended into the Entrance Hall and immediately noticed the absence of the Weasley family.  Confused, Ginny turned to Harry and looked at him speculatively.  “I know they were here when we left, Harry.  Mum and Percy were sitting at the Gryffindor table going over memorial plans,” she said with a bewildered look on her face.  “I don’t see them anywhere.”

“Why don’t we ask Kingsley?” suggested Harry as he pointed toward the Minister.  “Maybe he knows where they are or he can direct us toward Professor McGonagall.”

Ginny pulled Harry into the crowd of wizards surrounding the Minister for Magic.  Parting the crowd, Ginny advanced on the Minister asking, “Mr. Shacklebolt, have you seen my parents?”

Kingsley smiled warmly at the teenagers.  “Miss Weasley, Harry…it’s nice to finally catch up with you.”

Harry cocked his head quizzically at the Minister.  The Minister’s comment was odd.  Harry and Kingsley had a conversation before they went back to see the past.  “Um, yeah,” answered Harry in confusion.

“Ginny, I believe your parents are in the Hospital wing with the rest of your family,” answered Kingsley.  “They’ve been there all day.”

“All day?” asked Ginny.  “But they were here before…”

Kingsley looked at Ginny impatiently.  “No, they’ve been there all day, I’m quite sure of it.  I just left your father there not long ago.”

Pulling Ginny closer to him, Harry took charge.  “We’ll head over there, Kingsley.  Thanks,” he said.  Harry directed Ginny back out into the Entrance Hall as she looked at him in mystification.

“Why aren’t my parents here, Harry?”

“I don’t know, Gin, but something changed,” answered Harry shakily.

“What do you mean something changed?” tested Ginny.  “We didn’t do anything.”

“I’m telling you, Gin, something happened,” urged Harry.  “Don’t you feel it?  The atmosphere isn’t the same…something’s different.”

“Do you think we lost the war?  Did we change the war, Harry?” peppered Ginny shrilly.  Losing control, she started to shake.  “Where are my parents Harry?  Where is the rest of my family?”

“No, Gin,” placated Harry, “I don’t think we changed the outcome of the war.  Look—too many people are smiling.  The gargoyle was passed out in the corridor.  He’s still gone, I can feel it.”

Ginny began to cry.  “We said we weren’t changing anything, Harry.”

“We didn’t!” exclaimed Harry.  “All we did was talk to Snape!  That was the only thing different.”

“Oi!  You two!  Where have you been?  Mum is about to go spare…she wants you back in the Hospital wing,” clamored Ron as he came up behind them.  Sensing the anxiety between Harry and Ginny, Ron took a step back from the pair to give them some room.  “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” said Harry.  “It’s not a bad time,” he said as he glanced knowingly at Ginny.  “We were on our way.”

“Say, Harry,” asked Ron, “have you seen Kreacher?  I’m hungry.”

“Can’t say that I have,” answered Harry.  “Why don’t we go and see what your Mum wants?  Then we can sneak down to the kitchens and grab something for everybody.”

“That’ll work,” grinned Ron as he turned round and headed back toward the first floor.  “Are you two coming or what?”

Ginny looked frightened.  Harry took her hand and urged her along the hall, rubbing circles on her palm with his thumb to reassure her.  They followed Ron in silence until they reached the Hospital wing.

“You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.  What’s going on?” asked Ron as he glanced back and forth between his best friend and his sister.  “Everything’s fine,” he reassured them.

“Everything’s fine?” asked Ginny shakily with a scared look on her face.

“Well, yeah,” sputtered Ron incredulously.  “Are you mental or what?  It’s been the same all day — or at least the same as it was before the two of you disappeared.”  Ron pulled the door open and loped into the ward as Ginny and Harry spied a group of Weasleys gathered round a bed in the far corner.  Not hearing movement behind him, Ron turned round to see Harry and Ginny, both white-faced staring at the picture in front of them.  “Mate?  Ginny?  What…are you lot okay?” he asked with concern.

Ron stared in disbelief as Ginny fainted dead away, falling to the floor with a resounding thud.  Harry stood stricken, glancing between Ginny and the hospital bed.  Things had definitely changed.  As he realized what lie in front of him, he lost consciousness as well, falling in a heap to the floor beside Ginny.  Fred was alive, and in the bed beside him was Tonks.

* * *

Minerva stood near the door of Madame Pomfrey’s office talking in hushed tones to the Healer about the students in the ward and the arrangement of visiting hours for the families who were rapidly descending upon the school.  Poppy was concerned about traffic in the ward and keeping the environment calm — something almost impossible to do with so many anxious parents attending to their children.  As the two women discussed possibilities for opening another makeshift hospital ward in the school, a large ruckus moved from beside Fred Weasley’s unconscious body over to the entrance door for the hospital.

“Madam Pomfrey!  Come quickly!” yelled Hermione as she rushed to Ginny and Harry.

Poppy thrust herself through the fray of Weasleys standing in the doorway and stopped abruptly, finding Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley unconscious on the stone floor.  “Gracious, children!” she cried, “out of my way!  Clear the floor!  Let me attend to them!”

Molly Weasley looked ready to keel over in shock at the glimpse of seeing another injured child.  “Poppy!” she gasped, “what’s wrong with them?” as she brushed the hair back from Ginny’s pale forehead. 

“PEOPLE!” yelled Madam Pomfrey, “I said STAND BACK!”  As the Healer’s loud cry echoed throughout the ward, the family of Weasleys stepped back from the two prone teenagers.  Poppy looked to Arthur Weasley questioningly.  “Would you levitate Harry over to the bed while I move Ginny?”  Mr. Weasley nodded and the two adults carefully moved the couple to adjacent beds near the end of the ward.

Poppy began waving her wand over Ginny to assess the problem.  Satisfied, she turned and did the same with Harry.  She conjured a bowl of cold water and two flannels, dipping them thoroughly to wet them.  She handed one to Molly, who immediately tended to Ginny, and then proceeded to mop Harry’s forehead.  “They’re fine.  It appears they’ve both fainted.  Let’s give them a moment to rest.  If they don’t wake up on their own I’ll intervene.  Until then,” Poppy said, directing her orders to the remainder of the crowd, “you all can go wait elsewhere.  Let me find out what’s happened without a crowd of people about.”

Minerva stood back from the scene feeling somewhat uneasy.  She wasn’t sure why, but she had a cold, ill feeling coursing through her — one that made her wonder if she should already know exactly what was wrong with Harry and Ginny.

* * *

Fred Weasley was utterly confused.  He wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive, but he’d been hovering about in the Hospital wing for several minutes or possibly hours now, watching over his own body as his family gathered round him in a bedside vigil.  He remembered dueling with a Death Eater alongside Percy and then a shocking white light.  He remembered feeling weightless — airy even — as he appeared in what seemed to be the cross between a Quidditch stadium and a joke shop.  The billboards glared with huge advertisements for amazing joke products…all sorts of things he’d dreamed possible but had never quite been able to formulate.  In fact, he’d been riding a Firebolt, gaping at the bright colors as he heard a crowd cheer every time the overhead scoreboard changed product pictures.  The place was like some kind of Nirvana…

And then the strangest thing had happened: His uncles Fabian and Gideon, whom Fred had only seen in pictures, zoomed onto the field for a fantastic pick-up game.  Fred remembered laughing and ogling the birds along the sideline as he had a discussion with his twin uncles about what they planned to do next.  Then suddenly, Gideon had flown away, leaving Fabian behind; only to come back seconds later to urge Fabian back home, telling Fred it wasn’t ‘quite time yet.’

Fred was thoroughly confused.  He’d been having a blast playing and roughhousing with his uncles and then…he just immediately ended up hovering in the Hospital wing.  To be quite honest, he’d been much happier on the Quidditch pitch with his uncles.  Where he was now, he’d been able to see George weeping openly over his body.  Fred was feeling pain again: whereas on the Quidditch pitch everything had seemed so perfect and easy.

Fred became even more concerned when he overheard Madam Pomfrey explain to his parents and brothers just how critically injured he really was from the explosion on the fifth floor.  When he heard the Healer tell his parents she didn’t expect him to make it through the night, Fred realized exactly what was happening to him.  He was a soul hanging over his own body, waiting for death.

What Fred didn’t understand though, was why he’d come back.  If he was here hovering over patients in the Hospital wing, then surely the Quidditch pitch had to be some sort of heaven; otherwise Gideon and Fabian wouldn’t have met him there.  If Fred had his choice, he’d much rather be on the pitch than hovering here in this cesspool of grief.

After several minutes of observation Fred also realized Tonks was lying next to him in the ward.  Shocked, he concentrated on the woman lying in the bed next to him.  He wondered if she, too, was floating around waiting…  That’s when he overheard Professor McGonagall explain to his Mum that Tonks had likely been Crucioed into insanity along with other nameless curses Madam Pomfrey was unable to detect or heal.  Tonks was likely to exist in her vegetative state until she grew old and died.  Or, the Healer had explained, Tonks may succumb to the curses, just as Lupin had on the battlefield.  Either way, Fred was sad that it was very likely Teddy Lupin would have no parents…just like Harry.

Fred returned his attention to his own family.  George and Fleur had sat with him for the longest time along with his parents and then finally his brothers Bill, Charlie and Percy had appeared in the ward, saying they’d gone home to tend to the Burrow.  Not long after, Ron and Hermione had appeared looking concerned that Harry and Ginny seemed to be missing.

Fred zeroed in on George, who appeared to be taking whatever injury Fred’s body had sustained very badly.  Fred felt frustrated.  He wanted to reassure George that wherever he was, this was a good place, not something to grieve over.  In fact, Fred knew George would think the Quidditch pitch was bloody brilliant.  He selfishly wished he could show it to him…although Fred realized that would mean George must die to make it possible.

As Fred sat contemplating what to do about George, Ron left the ward and came back several minutes later, causing a huge ruckus.  The next thing Fred noticed was Harry and Ginny, passing out one after the other, onto the floor just inside the door to the Hospital.  He watched in curiosity as his family rushed to their side, the teenagers were levitated to beds and then checked over thoroughly.  Fred gave a sigh of relief when he overheard Madam Pomfrey say they had fainted — Fred was worried something had actually happened to the pair.  Actually, part of him seemed to remember being thrilled that Harry and Ginny were back together, even though he wasn’t quite sure how he knew that. 

Fred watched as his family calmed and then settled, half dividing to the bedsides of Ginny and Harry, and the other half returning to his prone body below.  Wondering just how long he’d stay this way, hovering over his family, Fred noticed another commotion happening right beside his bed.  Aghast, he watched his mother scream and his twin look faint — not sure exactly what was happening, Fred drooped lower to observe the scene, only to feel a familiar tug pulling him back the other way.  He heard Gideon laughing again and Fabian calling to him to come back to watch the brilliant scenery.

Taking one last look at his wilting brother and distraught mother, Fred blew his family a kiss goodbye and turned back toward the Quidditch pitch.  He really hoped they’d understand someday.  Maybe.