The Lewis House 117 страница

Hermione jabbed a thumb behind her, where Ginny had disappeared into the upper, darker corner of the half-empty box, paint in hand. Harry clambered unsteadily over the rows of seats in order to get to her, and Hermione didn't turn to watch them. Instead she pulled out her Omnioculars and focused on the match - but when a foul was called a moment later she grew bored and focused beyond the pitch, to the other side of the stands, where the Falcons supporters were sitting. She swept the Omnioculars across the crowd, wondering if she would recognize anyone.

A second later, she wished she hadn't looked. Her heart gave an uncomfortable, ugly wrench.

Malfoy was sitting in the center of a throng of important-looking people, his clothes and hair impeccable, his smirk implacable, his own Omnioculars - which looked much more advanced - held to his eyes as he scanned the pitch.

Hermione drew breath - her first impulse was to point Malfoy out to Ron and Harry - she lowered the Omnioculars and urgently tapped Ron's shoulder.

Ron turned around, reached up, grabbed her by the waist and looked up at her with his very silly orange and black striped face. "You're not leaving, are you?" he asked worriedly. "You can't leave - this is the best night of my - well, no - but it's close - you have to see it through to the end with me, you can't leave."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that Malfoy was across the way, but the words wouldn't come. Instead she put her hands in Ron's hair, bent down and gave a very soft kiss on the mouth, not minding too much that she could feel sticky paint coming off on her nose and chin.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured. "Unless it really does last five days."

Ron squeezed her waist and beamed up at her. "They don't have much of a lead, really," he said. "I've seen teams come back from far, far worse - they're going to win, Hermione. I feel it."

Hermione was very glad that she hadn't said anything about Malfoy, and that they were all invisible to Malfoy and all his friends. This night was important to Ron. He deserved to enjoy it without any interference.

"I'm sure they'll win," she said quietly, rubbing his head with her fingers and enjoying the feel of his thick hair in her hands. She hoped it wouldn't all fall out too soon. Ron closed his eyes and reached up his chin for another kiss, which Hermione was more than happy to give him. After all, the box was dark, and there was hardly anyone left in it, except for other absolute maniacs, who were all staring out at the pitch and paying no attention to -

"Aha!" Harry crowed, stumbling down over the seats and back towards the front row. He paused beside Hermione, pointed at her and Ron, and burst out laughing as though their kiss was the funniest thing that he had ever seen.

Hermione thought it strange that he should be making fun of them. Harry's torso was a mess of orange and black paint, which had been smeared all over him in no particular pattern - there was paint in his hair and on his face and all down the front of his trousers. And as Ginny took her seat beside Hermione again, it was hard not to notice that her hands were bright orange, and that there were tell-tale black streaks across her shirt and in her hair.

"Something funny, Potter?" Ron demanded, and then he scowled. "That's not an S."

Harry didn't seem able to stop laughing. "And that's not a Time-Turner," he managed, grabbing Hermione's left hand and peering at it. "It's too small…" His voice trailed off and he gaped at what he was seeing.

In a panic, Hermione tried to snatch her hand away, but Harry gripped hard, holding up her hand so that he could examine her engagement ring very closely.

"Oh," Hermione fretted. "Let go, Harry, I don't want anyone to see it, I forgot to charm it, I didn't realize we'd be here for so long -"

"Is this an engagement ring?" Harry asked, looking dumbfounded. "Is this supposed to mean you're getting married? To each other?"

Everyone who remained in the top box whirled around, their interest in the match apparently forgotten. They all stared at Hermione's hand. Ginny clapped her hands to her mouth.

"Ron!" George said, looking horrified. "Not you too!"

"Welcome to the rest of your miserable life, Ron," Fred said, grabbing Angelina's hand before she could smack him, and kissing the back of it.

"How…" Harry still held onto Hermione's hand. His eyes were full of hurt. "How could you not tell me?" he asked. "How come you didn't want me to see it?"

Hermione felt a stab of horrible guilt. "Oh, Harry, it wasn't that we didn't want to tell you-"

"I wanted to tell, you," Ron declared. "I said we ought to tell you no matter what, but Hermione said -"

"I wanted to wait until my parents could appreciate it, and tell them first," Hermione wailed, feeling worse every second, as Harry continued to gaze at her with lost and bewildered eyes. "Harry, please don’t look like that! I've been dying to tell you - we both have."

Harry blinked. He let go of her hand and stared down at Ron. "You're getting married?" he asked. "Really? Are you serious?"

Ron licked his lips. He glanced at Hermione. And then he faced Harry and nodded. "You… you'll be our best man, won't you?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. Hermione knew it wasn't from all the screaming. "Won't you?" he repeated, when Harry didn't answer.

Harry seemed to be trying to focus. He shook his head, rubbed his temples, and finally snapped, "Do one of those Sobering Charms on me."

Ron did it so quickly that Harry had to grip Hermione's shoulder for support as his eyes became clear and his footing became sure. He left his hand on her shoulder and met her eyes with his very fierce green ones.

"Do you want me to be best man too?" he asked, almost inaudibly.

Hermione suddenly couldn't find her voice. "Well who else?" she managed, after a minute. "Who else but you?"

Harry's eyes glazed again, with something shocking and wet that Hermione had never seen in them before. He stared at her for another second, then practically leapt over the seats into the front row and stood facing Ron as the rest of them looked on.

"Of course I'll be your best man," Harry said scratchily. "I - I just can't believe -"

Before Hermione knew it, and much to her surprise, Ron and Harry were hugging like brothers. When they came apart, there was a funny noise like something unsticking, and not only did Harry not bear an S on his chest, but Ron's letter looked nothing like an N.

"Congratulations," Ginny whispered, kissing Hermione's cheek. "We'll be sisters - I always knew it, but it's so good to know it -"

Ginny hugged Hermione tightly and Hermione hugged her back. It wasn't the way she had envisioned the announcement of her engagement. It wasn't the dream she had held in her mind. But as everyone grabbed her and hugged her and told her how glad they were to have her in the family, Hermione knew there was no better way to get engaged. And it didn't matter that she was covered with paint by the end of the enthusiasm, because when everyone had taken their turn, Ron heaved her into his orange and black arms, lifted her over the seats, and gave her a kiss that made everyone cheer.

And then the whole stadium cheered all around them. Ron pulled his mouth away from hers, grabbed her hands and thrust them into the air.

"That's another goal for Chudley," he told her, turning her around in front of him, so that she faced the pitch. "I'm telling you, we're going to win."

Hermione leaned back against him and let him wave her arms about. The Cannons didn't matter - but if they were important to Ron…

"GO, CHUDLEY!" she shouted with all the voice she had left. And when she was seized around the middle and given a series of warm kisses on the side of her neck, she knew that she had got it right.

*

It was midnight. Harry didn't know if he could concentrate on the match much longer. But the score was 1,220 points to Falmouth, and 1,080 to the Cannons, and he knew he had to stay awake. Everyone had left for the night except for him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and everyone had promised to come back in the morning if the match was still on.

"One hundred and forty points down!" Ron said, gripping the railing tightly. "If they catch the Snitch now - if they catch the Snitch right now - come on, Knight, come on, keep an eye on it…"

Harry did want the Cannons to win. But he couldn't stand up anymore. He sat down beside Ginny, who had climbed into the front row again with the rest of them. She curled up against him, lay her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"Almost over…" she mumbled.

Harry hoped she was right. He felt a bit cold, and wished he hadn't been so stupid as to throw away his shirt. He wondered how he was going to walk out of the stadium without anyone seeing him shirtless. He'd have to buy a Cannons sweatshirt on the way out.

"When it's over," Ron said, still clinging to the railing, "we're all going to the Snout's Fair for a drink - Goldie made me promise."

Harry wasn't sure he really needed another drink. He was very glad they'd done the Sobering Charm on him, though being sober made it hard to forget that Ron and Hermione were engaged. To be married. It wasn't that it was surprising… but it was very, very strange. It seemed so adult.

Hermione sat down on his other side, saying something about her plans for the year. Harry thought she was asking him a question, but he couldn't quite hear her.

"What?" he asked her, staring up into the floodlit stadium sky and trying to predict the Chasers' formations as they rocketed around. He knew how tired they had to be, but he also knew that if he had been out there, then he would have been playing like them, just as hard as he needed to, for as long as it took.

"I said, didn't Dumbledore leave Fawkes to you?" Hermione repeated.

Harry registered the words with some surprise. He hadn't thought about that in a long time, and he tore his eyes away from the Chasers to look at Hermione.

"Yeah," he said. "Fawkes is… mine." It was a strange thing to say. It didn't feel quite right.

"Do you think you'll ever collect him?" Hermione asked. "Where would you put him, if you did?"

Harry wasn't sure. And he couldn't imagine collecting Fawkes, who seemed to belong in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes was as much a part of Hogwarts as the Sorting Hat. It would have been wrong, somehow, to take him away from his home just because it was legal to do so.

"I think he should stay at school," Harry said. "I'll take care of him when I go back." The words were out of Harry before he had time to ask himself what they meant.

"You're going back to Hogwarts?" Ron said, his eyes still on the sky. "What for?"

"I…don't know." Harry looked out over the shining pitch. "I just have a feeling I'll go back."

"To teach?" Hermione sounded excited. "I've thought about doing that. I'd love to do that, someday, when I've done a few other things I still want to try."

"It'd be great, wouldn't it." Ginny's voice was quiet.

Harry looked at her in surprise. "You want to teach?" he said. "I never knew that."

"I don't think I'd teach," she said, following the match with her tired eyes. "But I'd like to be Madam Pomfrey."

Harry couldn't help a smile. The boys at Hogwarts would certainly think of their school nurse much differently than he'd ever thought of his. He slipped his arm around her.

"Oh, you'd be so good at that!" Hermione sounded truly excited now. "Ron, wouldn't you want to go back?"

"Yeah," he said, and snorted. "I'll be Madam Hooch."

"No, that's my job," Harry said. "You'll teach Defense."

Ron glanced over his shoulder. "Harry, I think that's your departm -"

Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "You'll teach them how to break Imperius better than anyone ever could."

Ron looked away. His ears were pink. But he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Yeah, all right," he said, after a minute. "I could teach Defense." He gave a snort of unexpected laughter. "And Professor Granger can take over Trelawney's tower."

"Right," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Can't you just see me?"

"Throwing orbs at the poor little children? Yeah, I can see you."

"Ron, honestly. No, I want Transfiguration, definitely, if McGonagall ever gets tired of it. Oh - although I wouldn't mind running the library. Actually, I'd probably do best if I taught Arithmancy - that was my best subject - and I'd love to be head of Gryffindor House, too, because I think I could set a good ex-"

Ron thunked down beside her, threw an arm around her neck and clapped his hand over her mouth.

"It's settled then," Harry said, and though they were only playing around he had the strangest feeling that they weren't joking at all. "We'll go back in ten years or so. When we're ready."

A hush fell over the four of them in the loud Quidditch stadium.

"THE SNITCH IS OUT AGAIN!"

Ron made a noise like a Manticore having a seizure, and grabbed the package of Weasleys Ultimate Party Crackers from the seat where George had left them. He passed them out to Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

"Get ready!" he commanded. "It's going to happen. It's going to happen!"

They all jumped up, crackers in hand, and waited, watching, as Carmel Coyle and Maureen Knight headed for the Snitch, side by side.

At the same time, as if in slow motion, Harry saw the Falcons Chasers approaching the Cannons goal posts once more. They moved in perfect sync, using a strategy Harry was not familiar with. But Oliver didn't seem to notice their approach. His eyes, like everyone else's in the stadium, were fixed on Knight, watching her as she streaked towards the fluttering silver and gold ball.

"OLIVER!" Harry shouted, as though somehow his voice could carry that far. "LOOK OUT!"

Knight edged just ahead of Coyle and reached out her hand. At the same moment, one of the Falcons Chasers caught the Quaffle, took aim, and slung the red ball towards the far left hoop.

There was no way that Oliver could stop the ball from soaring past him. He noticed it a moment too late - he flung nearly his whole body from the broomstick and performed a reckless Starfish and Stick that made the whole crowd gasp, but it wasn't enough. The Quaffle escaped his outstretched fingers and made for the golden hoop.

"CATCH IT NOW!" Ron bellowed. "NOW, NOW, NOW -"

Knight's fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Quaffle flew through the goal hoops.

There was a moment of silence, in which both sides tried to discern exactly what had happened, and at what time. The referee blew his whistle and made several gestures that were difficult to interpret. Ron sucked in a breath and held it, waiting.

"AND MAUREEN KNIGHT CATCHES THE SNITCH HALF A SECOND BEFORE THE FALCONS SCORE AGAIN! THE CHUDLEY CANNONS HAVE WON THE CUP BY TEN POINTS!"

Ron fell into his chair, his eyes closed, his body slack. Harry was sure he had fainted.

"IT'S THEIR FIRST WIN IN OVER A CENTURY - AND LOOK AT THEIR CAPTAIN - HE'S PERFORMING HIS RITUAL CELEBRATORY MOVE - HE'S FLYING TOWARDS HIS SEEKER - HE'S GOING TO TRY TO HUG HER, AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT ALWAYS TURNS OUT…"

But instead of pushing him halfway down the pitch, as she usually did, Maureen Knight threw her arms around Oliver and kissed him. There was a blinding light as a thousand flashbulbs popped.

Hermione looked at her program for the first time in hours. "Well, that would be a personal reason to leave the team," she said.

Laughing, Ginny held her cracker over her head and yanked it at both ends. A bolt of orange light shot out of it and zoomed out into the sky. When it was right over the center of the pitch, it exploded in a burst of orange fireworks and zooming black cannonballs made of smoke. The crowd cheered.

Harry pulled his cracker next, and then Hermione did hers. They shook Ron awake, dragged him to his feet, and handed him one of his own. The four of them stood in the top box and set off fireworks until there were none left, cheering with all their might as the Cannons zoomed around the pitch in a victory lap and flew together in a massive, tangled hug.

Anything was possible, Harry thought, pulling the last cracker and watching it explode triumphantly in the sky. Anything at all.

Epilogue

~*~

A/N: Thank you, B Bennett and Cap'n Kathy, who were the first to read and review, in person and in pen, sitting on the floor of Zsenya's apartment and accidentally throwing knives at each other, when AtE was still a two hundred page stack of paper that never actually made it into the final document. You read every single draft, didn't you? For two and a half years? You poor hapless souls. Just when you thought the wait for canon could get no more painful.

Thank you, Honeychurch, for your many beautiful suggestions.

Thank you, Dr. Aicha, for looking over this at the eleventh hour.

Thank you Moey, for evil chexing and for being patient and encouraging. And for 87.

Thank you, Jedi B, for teaching us the joys of plot, and the good of evil.

Thank you, Caroline and Hallie and Joe, for slowly but surely digging us out of glaring Americanisms. Arabella would like it known that she said "car park" the other day, when she was so craxed out on AtE that she actually could not think of the words "parking lot". She blames this on you.

Thank you, Firelocks and CoKerry, for stepping in halfway through and lending us your tireless encouragement, your excellent editing eyes, and your absolute devotion to canon.

Thank you to everyone who has kindly and constructively reviewed. Every single word you wrote was digested and - if not acted upon - considered seriously.

Thank you, Pretty Anna Moon, for the beautiful list illustration. That's them. But then, you'd know.

Thank you Laurel, for the timeline. And thank you, Slowfox, for contributing to it.

Thanks to everyone on list who illustrated, critiqued, out-took, debated, and enjoyed. You all made the ride a lot more exciting. We'll miss sharing this with you.

We're sure we're forgetting someone important. Whoever you are, we love you. We're just tired.

And finally - probably most importantly - thanks to JKR, for not outlawing fanfiction, and for finally delivering Order of the Phoenix.

Canon. Tonight. What the hell are you all doing reading THIS?

~*~

Harry's stomach had never let him down, and now was no exception. He felt as though flobberworms were slowly coiling through it, and he knew that he was nervous. He'd known about Godric's Hollow – it was always mentioned in reference to the "night that Lily and James Potter were killed," but he'd so far managed to avoid putting any time in thinking about the place where he was born.

The copper-colored box sitting on his bed gleamed as a sunbeam came shooting through his window. Harry had noticed it in his vault at Gringotts during one visit when he'd accidentally knocked over several large stacks of gold Galleons. The box, which had probably been in a prominent position when it had been placed in the vault by his parents, had been buried underneath the years of interest that had accumulated. He'd forced himself not to be curious and ignored it. But he'd risen early on this day off and made a special trip to Gringotts to retrieve it. He didn't know what was inside, but the impending trip to Godric's Hollow with Sirius this afternoon had awakened Harry's curiosity, and he was suddenly anxious to learn whatever he could about his parents before visiting the home where they'd lived.

Sitting down next to the box on the bed, Harry let his finger trace the crest that had been engraved into the metal. It looked very old; so many things in the wizarding world looked that way that it surprised Harry that he noticed it. But it made him wonder – exactly how old? Had this been in his family for centuries? Did his family go back for centuries? Obviously, they'd had to start somewhere. Who had made this box? Had it been one of the people he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised during his first year at Hogwarts?

Harry looked at his watch. Hermione was probably already at St. Mungo's. She might know some good books where he could look up family information. She'd probably already looked it up for him anyway, and was just waiting for the day when he would ask. Maybe the contents of the box would answer all of his questions. If only he could get it open. There was no lock, but the lid appeared to be on tightly, and none of the simple opening charms Harry had tried seemed to have an effect.

Maybe there was nothing in that box. Maybe it was filled with more Galleons, or perhaps only air. Maybe his parents had kept it simply because it was so old. Harry leaned forward and looked at the crest pattern carefully. Something was moving on it. He blinked to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and then looked again. The crest wasn't shaped like any crest he'd ever seen – it looked like a cauldron, and the cauldron's handle was standing upright. At the top, underneath the handle, the word "POTTER" was clearly written. And inside the crest was an odd-looking winged creature that almost resembled Buckbeak, Hagrid's hippogriff. It had a bird-like head and wings, but its feet and tail were like that of a lion.

"A gryffin…" said Harry. It looked ferocious and its wings were flapping. It seemed to be… swatting something. Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that a tiny Golden Snitch was circling the gryffin's head, weaving up and down and around, and then disappearing entirely from the crest, only to return a few seconds later in a new location.

"I guess I'm a Gryffindor," Harry muttered, trying to anticipate where the Snitch would turn up next. "And I guess Quidditch has always been…"

A whirring noise interrupted him, and he was unable to move his head in time to avoid the Snitch, which had transformed into a real Snitch and soared out of the crest and off the surface of the box. It fluttered and flickered around his head.

"Hey!" Harry said, rubbing his forehead with one hand and reaching out with the other to try to catch the Snitch. The Snitch, however, had somehow made it across the room, and was now hovering above Harry's mirror. He'd never tried to catch a Snitch while on his feet, and he lunged for it, only to bang his thigh against the side of his wardrobe.

The Snitch flew under the bed, and Harry fell to the floor, ready to trap it between himself and the wall, but the Snitch flew past him, and Hedwig let out a screech as the Snitch circled her cage, bobbing up and down in the air. Harry stood and dusted himself off. His door was closed, and so was his window. The Snitch wasn't going to get out of the room. Harry sat down on the bed to wait, and Hedwig shrieked again in annoyance.

Harry put a finger to his lips and rose again, slowly walking over to her cage. The door was open but she was sitting on her perch, trying to peck at the Snitch through the bars. The Snitch, meanwhile, seemed much more concerned with the owl than with Harry, and didn't seem aware that he was now within arm's reach. When he thought he was close enough, Harry reached out and wrapped his fingers tightly around the fluttering ball, losing his balance while doing so and falling into Hedwig's cage. Hedwig flew out, pecked his head briefly, and then hopped over to rest on his desk.

Harry looked at the wings that had stopped flapping in his grip, and wondered what he was supposed to do with this thing now that he'd caught it. He didn't have to think for long, however, because a moment later, the Snitch disappeared from his hand entirely, and the lid to the copper box on his bed popped open.

Pulling himself up off the floor, Harry limped back to the bed, and with a shaking hand, opened the lid all the way. His heart fell at first when he looked inside. The box appeared to be filled with gold. But after a moment, the gold disappeared like Leprechaun gold, and revealed a pile of neatly tied scrolls, parchment, and even wizarding photographs underneath.

He lifted the largest scroll from the top, and carefully unrolled it. It felt odd, as though it were made from some sort of animal skin instead of paper. There were many intricate designs drawn on it in inks that still sparkled, but the writing was very small and very difficult to read. There was a seal at the top that he didn't recognize. Harry pushed up his glasses and tried to decipher what it said.

CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE

This certifies that Bowman Wright, metal-charmer of the village of Godric's Hollow, and Lucinda Gryffindor, daughter of Roric Gryffindor, granddaughter of Eamund Gryffindor, great-granddaughter of Gyrth Gryffindor, and great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Godric Gryffindor, are united in marriage on the 19th day of the month that is called Junius, in the year 1522.

Harry had read about Bowman Wright in Quidditch Through the Ages. Wright had invented the Golden Snitch. Harry gasped. Could it be that Wright was a relative of his? Hands shaking with anticipation, Harry pulled another scroll out of the box, and unrolled it, although it was very stiff, and he had to hold onto the top and the bottom to be able to read it. This one had a map drawn on the back of it.

DEED OF LAND

Grant for life by Roric Gryffindor, chief warlock of Godric's Hollow, to Bowman Wright, son of Bartholomew Wright, and Lucinda, his wife, of all of his land in Godric's Hollow, namely between Potter's Spring and the boundary charm at Wilson's Sty and the gate to the entrance of the Roman Road at a rent of 7 Golden Snitches per annum. Given at Godric's Hollow, Thursday next after the festival of All Hallow's Eve, 1523.

Turning over the parchment to look at the map, Harry noticed that it greatly resembled the hand-drawn map that Sirius had given him to study the previous evening. He traced the outline with his finger, stopping when he reached the building at the top of the hill. That was where he was supposed to be going today, but on Sirius's map, there was no building. This document was all about the village of Godric's Hollow.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04