Searching for Percy

Chapter 8 – On My Father’s Wings

by Poppy P

 

On My Fathers Wings
Lyrics & Music By: Carole Bayer Sager & David Foster

Someday with his spirit to guide me
And his memory beside me
I will be free to

Fly on my father's wings
To places I have never been
There is so much I've never seen
And I can feel his heartbeat still
And I will do great things
On my father's wings
On my father's wings

 

A/N:  Sorry for the delay all.  Hope you’re still reading…  No quote contests this time as no one answered the last one, (okay, whiny, pitiful author moment over now).  A major thanks is owed to Yolanda for letting my kids play w/ hers, the Lennox-Snapes (Alex, Gareth and Colin).  And another huge thank you to Soupytwist (SQ Katie # (I’m not sure) for ‘British-ing’ me and overlooking my grammatical challenges :)  Cheers everyone!

 

 

            Petra rushed down the silvery ladder leading from the Divination room.  Having failed to rouse Damien, she’d left him on the floor of the Divination classroom, intent on getting to the hospital wing so she could alert Madam Pomfrey.  She jumped down from the last few rungs and looked about furtively.  Seeing no one, she ran for the end of the corridor.  What she saw as she turned the corner, made her heart fall all the way down to her toes with an icy thump. 

            “Well, well, well, what is Miss Weasley doing running about the castle at this hour?”

            Petra gaped at Malfoy helplessly, willing her brain to come up with a plausible explanation and failing miserably.  She looked from Malfoy’s triumphant, pasty face down to Miss P who curled herself around her legs and let out a loud, unpleasant ‘meow’.  Petra tensed as the foul cat disappeared around the corner with a flip of her ratty tail.  She couldn’t remember having put up the ladder to the Divination room, but surely the cat couldn’t climb it, could she?

            “Out with it Weasley,” spat Malfoy. 

            Petra flinched as little specks of spit flew out of his mouth and fell on her face.  “I…well…you see…I…”

            “You don’t have an excuse, do you?” said Malfoy without waiting for Petra to finish.  He looked at her appraisingly.  “You’re just like your uncles, you know that?  Breaking rules left and right and always getting away with it.  Well not on my watch, Missy.”  His mouth tipped into a lopsided sneer, Malfoy’s version of a smile.  “You’d think you might have turned out different considering your father was Mr. Perfect Prefect himself.”

            Petra felt her temper rising, causing a hot, red stain to color the back of her neck and giving her a brave sort of recklessness.  She used a name she had often her Uncle Ron use when referring to Malfoy although she had no idea what it meant herself. 

            “Don’t you talk about my father, Ferret Boy!”

            The affect on Malfoy was instantaneous.  His watery, gray eyes widened with shock and his pale face tinged with color.  “What did you call me?” he asked in a dangerously soft voice. 

            “Besides,” said Petra quickly, hoping to distract him from the name, “I do have an excuse.  I have a horrible stomach ache.”  She clutched her middle for emphasis.  “I was on my way to see Madam Pomfrey.”

            Malfoy looked slightly taken aback as he processed this information.  Petra placed her crossed fingers in the pocket of her robes and mentally cursed herself as her hand brushed against the cool material of the Invisibility Cloak.  Why hadn’t she remembered to put it on?

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed sharply.  “You were on your way to the hospital wing, through North Tower?”

“It’s not my fault I ended up here,” said Petra quickly.  “The staircases move you know.”

Malfoy hesitated for a second.  “I’ll escort you down to the hospital wing,” he said grudgingly, turning to go.  “Miss P, come on girl, let’s get Miss Weasley to Madam Pomfrey.  We wouldn’t want her to lose her way again,” he added nastily.  He stopped suddenly, looking about.  “Miss P?”  Petra followed Malfoy around the corner, silently cursing the cat. 

They found her at the foot of the Divination ladder, meowing up at the open trapdoor.  Malfoy turned to Petra.  “Anything you’d like to tell me, Miss Weasley?”

Petra was just about to open her mouth to deny any wrongdoing when they heard a loud shriek from up above.  Professor Trelawney suddenly emerged from the trapdoor and scrambled down the ladder.  “Mr Malfoy!” she cried breathlessly upon seeing him.  “Mr Malfoy, I had just Flooed back to my classroom after talking to a talented, young student about a Vision he’d experience and I found this…” she pointed her wand above her and slowly swung it down.  Damien’s lax body floated through the trapdoor and hovered in the air before them.  She produced a small potion bottle.  “I found this by his side.”

“P-professor, I can explain.  You see…” Petra began.

Malfoy took the bottle from Trelawney and turned slowly, catlike to Petra.  “On second thought, why don’t you save it for McGonagall.”

 

 

Petra watched anxiously as Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain that hid Damien’s hospital bed from view.  “He’ll be all right,” she pronounced earning a collective sigh of relief from most of the group surrounding Petra.  The group included Professor Longbottom, Professor Flitwick (who was Damien’s Head of House), Trelawney and Headmistress McGonagall.  Malfoy remained near the hospital wing door, not so much out of concern for Damien as to make sure that he and Petra got the proper punishment.  Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtain aside so that they could see Damien, who was now awake and resting in his bed.  He looked quite anxious as the group approached him.  Petra imagined he felt just as helpless as she did about their current situation. 

“I’m very glad to know that you’re well, Mr. Thomas,” said McGonagall, her tone warm, though her face remained stern. 

“Thank you, professor,” mumbled Damien, not quite meeting her eyes.  He exchanged a fleeting, guilty glance with Petra.

“Damien,” began Flitwick in his squeaky, little voice, “What were you and Miss Weasley doing in the North Tower that caused you to get in this condition?”

“They were Wiggin’” Malfoy cut in, abandoning his post by the door.  “I told you, Professor Trelawney found that potion bottle by Thomas.”  Miss P meowed loudly as if in agreement with her master. 

“Malfoy,” Professor Longbottom cut in, “We know about the potion bottle.  However, we don’t know for sure that it contained Billywig stings or not.  Professor Snape is analyzing its contents right now.  In any case, my fellow professors and I appreciate your assistance, but we’ll take it from here.”

Malfoy looked as though he was being forced to swallow a ladle full of a particularly foul tasting potion.  He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, signaling to his cat to follow him out. 

Professor Snape rushed past Malfoy on his way into the hospital wing.  Snape stopped in front of the other professors, panting slightly.  “I came as quickly as I could,” he said, waving the tiny bottle under their noses.  “I suspected it when I saw Thomas’ condition, but I wanted to be sure.  This isn’t exactly an easy potion to make.”

“What is it?” asked Longbottom apprehensively. 

An oddly sympathetic look flickered in Snape’s dark eyes as he looked over Petra and Damien’s guilt ridden faces.  “This is Vox de Morte Potion.”

“What?” asked Longbottom, his brow creasing with confusion.

Now Snape looked slightly exasperated.  “Honestly Longbottom, did you ever pay attention in my classes?”

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, causing Longbottom and Snape to fall silent.  “So, it seems these students set up a little séance, did they?”

“That’s correct,” said Snape.  “The use of this potion is strictly controlled by the Ministry.  The repercussions of an untrained person’s use can be serious indeed.  It can cause death.  Not to mention that most of the ingredients are hard to come by.  In fact,” Snape paused, his dark eyes boring into Petra and Damien, causing her to shiver, “I’d be highly interested in knowing how these students got their hands on the recipe at all.  I don’t believe there’s an actual list of ingredients anywhere in Hogwarts, not even in the Restricted Section of the Library.” 

“Would you care to enlighten us, Mr Thomas, or Miss Weasley?” asked Flitwick. 

Petra didn’t even dare to glance at Damien.  She hung her head, unable to meet any of the professors’ eyes. 

“Professor Flitwick asked you a question,” said Professor Longbottom firmly. 

“Indeed,” agreed Snape.  “I am most interested as to where you found this potion.”

Petra blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  “The Internet!”  Petra heard a slight groan from Damien’s direction.

Snape’s eyebrows shot up sharply.  “The Internet, Miss Weasley?”

“Yes, of course!” affirmed Petra.  The professors and Madam Pomfrey looked slightly confused.  “You know, the Muggle computer communication system?”  She silently thanked her mum’s side of the family for being Muggle.  “The World Wide Spider Web?” she prompted, feeling slightly more confident.

“I’m aware of what it is,” said Snape in a tone that implied he was losing his patience.  “I am acquainted with quite a few Muggles myself.  However, I somehow doubt that you would’ve found the recipe for a such a complex potion on there.” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” said Petra in a loud, cheery voice.  “You can find anything there.”

Flitwick’s expression seemed to be wavering between concern and pity.  “Petra, the Ministry is well aware of the extensive communication network on the internet, that’s why they monitor it so closely.  Information about the wizarding world leaks out frequently.  Muggles set up websites about us all the time.  Why, I heard about this site called the Sug-“

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, indicating that Flitwick should return to the task at hand. 

“Yes, in fact, the Ministry has a special division which does nothing but monitor the Web.”  Flitwick nodded towards Damien.  “Your father, Dean, is an internet moderator, is he not?”

Damien nodded miserably. 

Snape looked furious.  “We can now add lying to a professor to your long list of infractions, Miss Weasley.  I suggest you come clean.  Now!”

Damien cleared his throat loudly.  “I’ll tell you the truth then.”  Petra listened quietly, as anxious to hear Damien’s explanation as any of the others.  “The truth is that I sneaked a visit into Knockturn Alley in September and that’s where I found the recipe.  I wanted to use it to communicate with my Aunt Parvati who died here at Hogwarts during the Siege.  I told Petra about it because she’s my…my best friend.”  Petra couldn’t help the small smile that crept up on her.  “I told her I was going to try it tonight and she sneaked out of her dorm to try and stop me.  In fact, if she hadn’t of been there, I probably would’ve died.  She did…something with her wand that caused my aunt’s ghost to return to the spirit world.”

Snape stared at Petra appraisingly.  “A Patronus?” he asked with eyebrows raised.

Petra nodded.

Flitwick’s eyes lit up with interest.  “Really Miss Weasley?  What shape did your Patronus take?”

Petra opened her mouth to respond, but Professor McGonagall cut her off.  “That was very dangerous Mr Thomas!”

Damien hung his head guiltily.  He snuck a peek at Petra through the corner of his eye, and Petra somehow understood she wasn’t to correct his story.  “I brewed the potion, I’m the only one who took it, and I’m the only one who deserves to be punished.  I was just curious about my aunt because my mother has never told me that she had a twin sister.”

The professors all turned away from them, looking slightly stricken.  Madam Pomfrey actually slipped away, blowing her nose loudly.  When McGonagall finally spoke, her voice was somewhat softer. 

“It’s understandable that you would want to meet your aunt.  She was extremely courageous and anyone would be proud of her.  However, it is unacceptable that you should brew illegal potions and endanger yourself as well as a fellow student.  You will have to be punished.” 

“I understand, Professor McGonagall,” said Damien. 

“Fifty points will be taken from Ravenclaw,” said Flitwick grimly. 

“And,” continued McGonagall, “ because I want to impress the seriousness of your actions, I’m afraid you won’t be joining us for the A.D. Ball.”

“But Professor!” protested Petra.

“I understand,” said Damien loudly. 

“You will also,” McGonagal paused, her mouth set in a thin, grim line, “be writing to your parents and explaining your absence at the ball.”

Damien looked positively sick at the thought. 

Professor Longbottom cut in, “I’m afraid Miss Weasley should have consequences as well.  While her attempts to stop Mr Thomas are admirable, it would have been even more admirable if she had told a professor the moment she knew he intended to take the potion.  Twenty-five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement.”

Petra accepted her punishment meekly, feeling far worse about Damien’s consequences.  At least she still got to go to the ball. 

“We should let Mr Thomas rest now,” said Professor Flitwick, suddenly sounding exhausted.  It’s been a long night.”

Professor Longbottom put an arm on Petra’s shoulder.  “I’ll escort you up to Gryffindor Tower.” 

Petra gave Damien a small, goodnight wave and started to walk off with Longbottom when Snape spoke.  “Longbottom, if you don’t mind, I’ll escort Miss Weasley myself as I like to ask her some questions about the potion’s immediate affects on Mr. Thomas.”  He paused.  “I have a personal interest in that particular potion.”

Longbottom shrugged noncommittally, bid them goodnight and walked out the door, soon followed by the other teachers.

Despite Snape’s pretext for escorting Petra, he remained quiet throughout their trip through Hogwart’s dark halls and staircases.  It wasn’t until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that he spoke.  “You know Miss Weasley, one thing that I find very interesting is the fact that you would not try to use the Vox de Morte Potion yourself.  After all, you have just as much reason as Mr. Thomas, perhaps even more.”

Petra squirmed, uncomfortable under Snape’s gaze.  It seemed irrelevant that she say anything to the contrary since he seemed to be looking straight through her.  After a few seconds, Snape’s eyes softened and Petra thought she detected sadness in their dark depths.  “Petra, if you have any questions about your father, wouldn’t it be better to talk to your family?  I’m sure they would tell you anything you wanted to know.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you,” mumbled Petra, turning away from him slightly so that he wouldn’t see her bottom lip trembling.

Snape hesitated, looking slightly discomfited.  “You still get to go to the A.D. Ball,” he said, as though attempting to console her in his own awkward way.  “Gareth should be pleased about that.  I understand you two will be going together.”

“As friends,” said Petra quickly, feeling the need to explain.  “Gareth is in the same Muggle Studies project group as Damien and me.  Gareth couldn’t go with Viviana Lupin, so he asked me to go.”  She felt the need to keep talking as Snape kept staring at her.  “Gareth’s really smart,” she added lamely.

“Indeed,” said Snape with a twitch of his long, crooked nose.  “Particularly at Potions.” 

Petra tittered nervously.  “Well, that’s to be expected.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.  Good night, Miss Weasley,” said Snape with one last appraising look.  Petra gave the password to the Fat Lady and entered her common room wondering if sleep would elude her as she pondered all of the events of the day.  She felt as though she had aged twenty years from the time she overheard her Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry’s conversation about her father’s death.

 

Owl me when you’re down

Owl me ‘cause I’ll be around

Owl me won’t you please?

I’m begging you down on my knees!

 

The music was loud.  Enchanted lights pulsed in time with the beat, changing colors in time to the music.  The Albus Dumbledore Memorial Ball was open to all current Hogwarts students as well as Alumni.  It was easily the largest wizard gathering of the year.  Through the din of music and talking, Petra heard one of the adults complaining, “Why can’t they play some decent music, like some Weird Sisters?  I don’t like this new age, techno-wizard dung!”

Small, round tables lined the outer edges of the hall, leaving a huge space for dancing in the middle.  Petra was sitting with Gareth at one of the tables.  They had deliberately chosen a table as far away from Petra’s family as possible.  She had attended two previous A.D. Balls, but this was the first time she’d brought a date.  She didn’t want her uncles torturing her or Gareth. 

Gareth looked quite handsome in his green, velvet dress robes.  Petra tried to overlook the fact that he kept looking about, obviously trying to catch a glimpse of Viviana Lupin with his younger brother Colin.  She saw that Colin and Viviana were on the dance floor along with Billy and Mauve Finnigan.  Neither boy seemed to care that both of their dates were considerably taller than them. 

Gareth caught Petra staring at him as he frowned at his younger brother.  He apologized sheepishly. 

Petra shrugged.  “It’s all right.  I just wish you could’ve come with Viviana.”

Gareth snickered mischievously.  “Not to worry.  Damien and I have something planned.”  He looked quickly at Petra.  “You did lend him the Invisibility Cloak, didn’t you?”

Petra nodded, having trouble hearing Gareth over the noise of the music.  “We’re supposed to meet at nine o’clock in the Entrance Hall.” 

Petra and Damien had hardly had time to talk in the week that followed their experimentation with the Vox de Morte potion.  They had seen each other briefly in the library during their Muggle Studies project group.  It was there that Petra, Gareth and Damien had come up with a plan for Damien to attend the ball. 

Petra had paid an obligatory visit to her family’s table upon entering the Great Hall earlier.  Everyone had been there except for grandmother and grandfather Weasley who always stayed home with the grandchildren who weren’t Hogwarts aged yet.  Petra had been hugged and kissed time and after time while Gareth had had his hand pumped up and down by most of her uncles.  Petra had felt a bit awkward with her Uncle Ron, as she had not seen him since their argument at Uncle George’s house in Hogsmeade.  However, he had hardly paid her any mind.  He was too busy staring at Aunt Hermione who was looking particularly lovely that evening in robes of pale rose.  Uncle Ron kept glaring at Hermione as she danced with Professor Longbottom. 

Can you tell me where you find love?

In the middle of an ocean

Or maybe in a pub

In a Hog-warts classroom,

In a bottle of potion

Or maybe on the moon

In a cauldron

Or on the moon

Wherever it is

I’ll find it with you!

 

Petra’s mum was there as well, sitting at a table close to the Weasleys with Petra’s stepfather Dave.  Petra stopped by for a hug and a kiss.  Her mum was looking lovely as well, though she seemed a bit distracted.  

Back at their table, Gareth and Petra watched the dance floor and made comments about the various dancers. 

“Look at Max Hagrid and Helga.  She barely comes up to his waist!”
            “Ridiculous!”

“Check out your uncle, Petra.  He looks like a windmill!  Look, poor Professor Trelawney looks scared!”

“Watch it, Snape!”

Petra had to admit that Uncle Fred was somewhat of a wild dancer.  He was dancing so energetically that poor Trelawney was having a hard time keeping up with him.  She supposed she should feel sorry for him as Auntie Angelina was extremely pregnant with their fourth child and couldn’t hit the dance floor as often as Uncle Fred would’ve liked.  Petra glanced back at the Weasley table and caught sight of Aunt Angelina comparing her swollen stomach with Auntie Ginny’s.  They both looked as if they’d swallowed a Quaffle. 

Petra was starting to feel nervous.  She hoped Damien could sneak down without getting caught.  She turned to Gareth and motioned towards the dance floor, figuring she might as well dance one song with her date before they parted. 

Gareth turned out to be an excellent dancer.  It was easy to see why.  Professor Snape and his wife were exceptional dancers.  Petra noted that they had not missed a single song so far, although they did tend to dance everything quite close to each other, no matter how fast the song was. 

At five minutes to nine, Petra and Gareth headed for the entrance hall.  Petra scanned the dance floor before they stepped out.  She was hoping to get a few minutes alone with Uncle Ron so that she could confront him about the things she’d heard Aunt Hermione and Uncle’s Harry talking about.  However, she couldn’t seem to spot Uncle Ron or her mum for that matter.  Petra shrugged and led Gareth towards a suit of armor next to the great oak front doors.  Petra and Damien had arranged to meet at that spot.  The music was not quite as loud as here so Petra whispered, “D, are you here?” through the corner of her mouth. 

She jumped when she felt an invisible hand on her shoulder and she heard Damien’s voice whisper, “Here I am.”

“It’s about time Thomas.  I thought you were going to chicken out,” said Gareth, keeping his dark eyes on Petra.  “Are you sure you have the spell down?”

“What spell?” asked Petra, confused.

“Nevermind,” whispered Damien, dropping his hand from Petra’s shoulder.  “It’s all been arranged.  I got them when they came out to use the loo.”  Damien chuckled.  “That was a couple of minutes ago.  They should be feeling the effects any time now.”

“Who’s going to feel what effects?” asked Petra. 

“I’d high five you if I could see you Thomas,” said Gareth with an evil grin.  “Although we really owe the idea to Petra here.”

“What idea?” asked Petra, starting to feel annoyed by their indecipherable conversation. 

“Moke skin underwear,” whispered Damien in a highly amused voice. “I pegged Billy and Colin with a spell to turn their underwear into Moke skin when they passed by.  They’ll soon find it very difficult to get close to their dates.  So…,” he said, stretching out the word, “Snape here, gets to step in to keep Viviana Lupin company.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair to Mauve,” said Petra. 

“Yeah well, Billy deserves it too for having the nerve to ask a third year girl,” said Damien nonchalantly.  “And besides, Mauve’s perky.  I’m sure she’ll find someone else to dance with.”

“Here they come!”

Petra’s cousin Billy and Colin Snape came running into the entrance hall wearing horrified expressions.  Billy’s voice sounded unnaturally high.  “What can it be?”  He asked anxiously. 

Petra, Gareth and Damien under the Invisibility Cloak, stood by them as unobtrusively as possible so as to listen to their conversation. 

“I dunno,” answered Colin, his voice coming out in a high falsetto as well.  “Every time I tried to take Vivi’s hand to dance, my…my…,” he looked about furtively.  “My underwear tried to choke me!”

“Mine too!” said Billy, eyes wide with horror.  “What does this mean?”

“Dad told me about the birds and the bees this year, but he never mentioned this!” Colin grimaced.  “Do you suppose this is one of those puberty things?”

“I dunno,” said Billy, raising a hand to run it through his strawberry blond hair.  With this motion he inadvertently brushed his hand against Colin. 

Colin jumped away from Billy with a squeal.  “It happened again!”

“Me too!” yelled Billy in a high, strangled voice.

“We can’t stay here like this!”

“What about our dates?” asked Billy.

Gareth stepped up and laid deliberate hands on Colin and Billy’s shoulders, causing them to flinch and draw back.  Gareth chuckled.  “Having a bit of trouble boys?  Not to worry Colin, I’ll look after your date.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed.  “Did you have something to do with this, you stupid git?”

 Gareth leaned towards the boys with a covert look.  “I’d be very careful when I remove those pants, mates.  We wouldn’t want Madam Pomfrey to have to do some, you know…reconstructive spells…”

The boys’ eyes bugged out in horror.  They looked at each other for a second and seemed to come to an unspoken understanding.  They ran for the staircase and disappeared up the marble steps. 

“That was great!” hissed Damien, edging towards Gareth. 

Gareth turned in the direction he thought Damien was standing and flashed him a smug smile.  “It’s all in the delivery.  I learned that from dad.”  He glanced at Petra suddenly and hesitated looking slightly sheepish.  “Er…Petra, do you mind if I…”

Petra felt Damien’s hand slip into hers.  She wouldn’t be alone and that made it easy to say to Gareth, “It’s all right, Damien will keep me company.” 

Gareth looked both relieved and pleased.  He flashed them one last lop-sided grin before disappearing into loud, pulsing din of the Great Hall. 

 

Ooh baby!

I just cannot hide it

Cannot even fight it

All the magic of your love

 

Ooh baby!

Want to have you near me

Enchanted when you’re with me

All the magic of your love

 

Petra didn’t let go of Damien’s invisible hand as they made their way through the open front door to the spectacular memorial garden set up outside the castle.  After looking over the dance floor once more, she had determined that Uncle Ron and her mum were not there, so Petra decided they should look through the garden.  If they didn’t find her uncle and mum, at least they could find a spot to talk.

They strolled around the huge topiary sculptures lit with thousands of fairy lights.  The statues commemorated various war heroes.  The centerpiece of the garden was a huge shrubbery statue of Albus Dumbledore.  It had become a tradition for wizards and witches attending the A.D. Ball to bring brightly colored socks and hang them about the statue in remembrance of his fondness for this particular article of clothing.  A plaque at the foot of the statue read:

One can never have enough socks!

Petra and Damien circled the garden once.  They soon became embarrassed by all of the couples who had chosen the garden for a variety of romantic activities.  The last straw came when they thought they had found a private little nook behind a statue of Matilda the Manky, only to find it occupied by Professor Snape and his wife snogging in a way that would’ve made Gareth spontaneously combust with mortification. 

“Bloody Hell!” whispered Damein in her ear, “No wonder Gareth has so many siblings!  Let’s get out of here.”

Petra allowed him to lead her up the steps into the entrance hall again.  She felt Damien pulling her towards the Charms corridor to the right of the entrance hall.  When they were sure that they were out of sight, Petra ducked under the Invisibility Cloak.  She felt a little nervous, standing so close to Damien in the dimly lit corridor.  She shivered when he leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “Let’s go into a classroom.”

They were right outside the Charms room when Petra paused, hearing a pair of very familiar voices.  She motioned to Damien to follow her into the open classroom door quietly. 

“I…I can’t do it Penny.  She’s asking all of these questions…” Petra saw her Uncle Ron move towards a window and stare forlornly outside.  The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the moonlight outside.  It caught in Ron’s red hair causing it to shine orange. 

“You promised Ron,” said Petra’s mum.

Uncle Ron leaned his forehead against the window.  “What am I supposed to tell her, eh?”

“The truth!” said Penny angrily, glaring at Ron’s back.

“What?  That I killed her father?”  Ron’s shoulders slumped as the sound of his words bounced off the windowpane before him.

Under the Invisibility cloak, Petra pressed her hands to her mouth to smother a gasp.  Damien put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed tightly.

“Oh don’t let’s start that again!” protested Penny, striding across the room towards Ron.  She yanked him around to face her and Petra was startled to see that he was crying.  Great, glistening tears slid down his cheeks, and landed in spots on his dress robes.  “And just how do you figure that you killed him?”

“You know why,” said Ron harshly, casting Penny a hard look before dropping his gaze to the floor.

Penny shook him slightly as she spoke.  “You didn’t kill Percy, Ron.  Death Eaters did.”

“I may as well have,” said Ron, his voice dropping just above a whisper.  Petra leaned forward so as not to miss a word.  “I may as well have pointed my wand at him.”

“Ron!” began Penny, her voice rising.  “I will not let you cheapen his sacrifice with your self-serving nonsense.  Percy,” Ron flinched as though the very name caused him pain, but Penny continued, “Percy made the choice.”

“A choice he shouldn’t have been allowed to make!” yelled Ron hoarsely. 

“That wasn’t your decision,” said Penny quietly.  “It wasn’t anybody’s decision but Percy’s.”  She pushed Ron’s hair back in a sisterly gesture.  “I know what you’re feeling.  I was angry with him too.  I didn’t understand why he did it at first.”

Ron pulled away from her comforting hand.  “No, you don’t understand!  Every time I look at Petra…I…I…can’t…”

“You can’t what?” asked Petra in a deadly calm voice.  Ron’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of her.  Penny gasped and whirled around to find her daughter before her.  Petra had yanked the Invisibility Cloak off despite Damien’s attempts to hold her back.  Petra was beyond caution, beyond reason.  She didn’t care what the consequences were.  She only knew that she wanted answers and she wanted them now.

Ron looked at Petra for a second, then turned his back on her.  Petra literally saw red.  She was so angry she couldn’t breath.  “Tell me the truth!” she rushed forward, shouting at Ron’s back.

Penny dashed over to Petra, attempting to restrain her.  “You don’t understand, sweetheart…”

“Oh I understand better than you think,” spat Petra pulling out of her mother’s embrace to confront her.  “You’re liars.  You’ve all been lying to me.  I don’t even know what to believe anymore.  Tell me, Mum, was Percy Weasley even my real father?”

Petra didn’t see at what point her mother raised her hand, but her stinging slap momentarily blinded Petra with pain.  She reeled back clutching her burning cheek and bumped into Damien who was suddenly standing directly behind her. 

Ron turned around immediately.  “Penny!  That wasn’t necessary!” he shouted, rushing towards Petra. 

Petra recoiled from her uncle, shaking her head.  “Don’t you come near me!  I hate you!”

Petra’s words caused Ron to stagger back as though she had thrown him a physical blow.  However she only saw it for a second because she turned and ran from the room as fast as she could.  She rushed through the entrance hall, ignoring the curious looks and stares from the people milling about.  She knew she must look a fright with her tear-stained face, in her rumpled dress robes.  But all Petra cared about was getting to the broom shed as soon as possible.  There was something she had to do, and nothing was going to deter her this time. 

 

Petra stumbled into the broom shed, half blinded by tears.  She wiped at her face impatiently, reached for the wand holster hidden by a charm in the front of her dress robes and muttered a locking spell at the door.  She walked backwards and tripped painfully over a bench, landing hard on the wooden floor.  Cursing, she lifted her wand and mumbled, “Lumos.”  She used the dim wand light to illuminate the ground before her as she walked up to the cupboard that Damien had been using to brew the Vox de Morte potion. 

The potion was still simmering over the smokeless fire.  After being caught, neither of them had wanted to run the risk of being caught going out to the shed.  The potion was still in the small, black cauldron sitting in the cupboard.  Being over a magical fire, it hadn’t burned.  Petra picked up the ladle beside it with a trembling hand.  She didn’t have a container, but she supposed a ladle full would do.  She brought the dark liquid up to her lips and paused, thinking of Damien’s reaction to the potion.  Had she not been there to do the Patronus, he might have died, his mind torturing him with his Aunt Parvati’s death scene over and over.  She wondered briefly what her father’s death had been like?  What horrible way had he died that made her Uncle Ron the man he was now?  Uncle Ron hadn’t changed until he found out how her father died.  Why?

She sat down on a nearby bench, contemplating the ladle full of potion in her hands.  Even outside of the cauldron, it bubbled and simmered, thin ribbons of steam wafting up into her face.  Enveloped in its comforting warmth, it was hard to believe that the effects of the potion could be so dire.  Damien had nearly died from using this potion.  On the other hand, he had also had the opportunity to talk to the aunt he’d never known.  True, he had received punishment; the hardest part for him had been having to write that letter to his parents.  His mother had written back telling him how disappointed they were for his having used such a dangerous potion.  However, she also apologized for never having told him about Parvati.  She said she was looking forward to telling Damien all about her once he came home for the holidays. 

They couldn’t travel to the ball because his mother had just given birth to his new little sister, Danielle Parvati Thomas. 

Petra smiled, despite her tears, remembering the picture that Damien had received from his mum; she was in her hospital bed at St. Mungo’s, his father and sister Diedra standing by the bed, and in her arms was a tiny, toffee coloured baby with Damien’s dark, curly hair.  The baby was waving her little arms and every once in a while, she opened her tiny, pink mouth to yawn.  Damien had Spell-O-Taped the picture to the inside of his Transfiguration textbook.

Petra could still see this picture in her mind and it vanquished any doubt she might have had about taking the potion.  She decided to hold the ladle with her left hand, so that she could keep her wand in her right.  She figured if it looked like she was going to have trouble, she could quickly shoot out a Patronus with her wand at ready. 

Petra’s left hand shook as it brought the ladle up to her mouth, drops of potion splashed on her dress robes.  They sizzled before burning through the material.  Petra’s hands shook even harder, yet she managed to touch the rim of the ladle to her bottom lip.  She opened her mouth.

“ALOHAMORA!”

A bright surge of light flooded the dusty, little shed.  The door tumbled off of its hinges and fell forward, narrowly missing Petra.  She dropped the potion, unsure of whether she had swallowed any or not.  Confused and frightened, she gripped her wand tightly and cried, “Expecto Patronus!”

Many things happened at once.  Petra’s Patronus shot out of her wand with a dazzling radiance.  At the same time, a group of people burst through the open doorway. 

“Merlin’s beard!” someone cried. 

Petra’s Patronus was a tall, lanky man with horn-rimmed glasses.  Even though she had never met him, she knew instantly who he was.  He tossed his luminous cape aside, puffing his chest out in a pompous manner.  On his chest was a large, glowing badge with a radiant P on it.  The figure stood before Petra, contemplating her.

Petra felt someone’s presence next to her and turned to find her Uncle Ron standing there.  Ron reached out to the figure with trembling fingers.  “Perce,” he whispered shakily.  The image grinned benevolently and faded away before her uncle could actually touch it.  It left a glowing warmth in its wake. 

Ron turned towards the open doorway where Petra’s mum and Damien were standing, gaping at the pair of them.  “Percy is her Patronus,” he said in a voice filled with wonder. 

Penny only nodded; she was crying too hard to respond, although she was smiling as well.  Damien simply beamed.  To Petra’s astonishment, she found herself grinning back.

Petra’s uncle broke the spell.  “I think,” said Ron quietly, “that Petra and I need to have a talk.”

Damien took Penny’s arm and led her out of the shed. 

Ron sat on a bench, patting the space next to him.  “Do you know about the Siege at Hogwarts?” he asked once Petra had sat down. 

Petra nodded, “Damien’s aunt died during the Siege.”

Ron looked off into the distance, and nodded solemnly.  “Parvati Patil,” he said quietly.  Petra nodded again.

“Shame about that,” he shook his head sadly.  “She was a beautiful girl, brave too.  The thing is neither Aunt Hermione nor Uncle Harry or myself were actually at Hogwarts on that day.  The Order had sequestered Harry away for his safety.  Hermione and I had been taken away as well to prevent Voldemort from taking us and trying to use us as bait for Harry.  The thing is…” Ron faltered, running a hand through his hair.  “I didn’t find this out until a few years ago when the Ministry released the war files, that we…we…had a Secret Keeper.”  He paused and looked Petra in the eyes.  “You know what a Secret Keeper is, don’t you?”  Petra was so riveted by Uncle Ron’s words that she couldn’t even nod.  She let out a small squeak that Ron must have taken for understanding because he continued.  “My brother, Percy, was my Secret Keeper.”

Petra was suddenly aware that her mouth was hanging open so she closed it.  “My dad?” she asked. 

Ron’s chin trembled, but he nodded.  “Wormtail,” Ron spat the name out, “was a Death Eater who was…er…acquainted with our family.  He remembered how protective Percy had always been of me, of all of us really.  He guessed that Percy would be my Secret Keeper so he kidnapped him, tortured him, then killed him.”  Ron clasped Petra’s small hand tightly between his own.  “But your father never told him anything,” he said proudly.  “My brother never said a word.” 

By this time, Petra was sobbing.  “My dad was so brave!  I wish I had known him.”

Ron gathered her in his arms and pulled her close.  “I…I wish you had known him too.  You’re everything he would’ve loved in a daughter; smart, brave, beautiful….  In fact, you’re a lot like him,” he smiled ruefully,  “except for the beautiful part, that’s all your mother.”  Suddenly, he stood up, pushing Petra away from him.  He placed his hands over his face.  “That’s why I…Hillary…Hermione…. I can’t.”  He began pacing the length of the shed.

Petra looked at her uncle, an idea starting to dawn on her.  “Are you telling me, you don’t…think you deserve that kind of happiness?”

Ron nodded, not quite meeting her eyes.  He resumed pacing. 

“Well maybe you don’t!” cried Petra surprising Ron so much that he stopped pacing altogether.  “You heard me!  My father sacrificed himself so that we, the wizarding world, could all have a better life.  You’re spitting on that sacrifice by feeling sorry for yourself, pushing away Aunt Hermione and Hillary and everyone else who loves you!”

“But I…I…had everything that Percy would’ve wanted; fame, galleons, a top job in the Ministry and a daughter…  It’s not fair!”

“And you think my dad wouldn’t want you to have that?” asked Petra incredulously.  “My dad obviously loved you very much.  I’m sure wherever he is, he’s happy to see you succeeding.  But what you’ve done to Auntie Hermione and Hillary…” Petra faltered, shaking her head sadly. 

Ron sat down next to Petra again, his elbows on his knees, head hanging.  He finally looked up at Petra.  “I’ve really messed things up, haven’t I?”

Petra nodded.  “Yes, you have.  But you have a chance to make things better.”  She squeezed his hand tightly and smiled.  “Dad made sure of that.” 

“Is everything all right?”

Petra and Ron turned to see Aunt Hermione standing in the doorway of the broom shed, looking at them anxiously.  “Mauve Finnigan told me she saw Petra rushing outside, crying.  Penny told me I might find her here.”

“We’re fine now Aunt Hermione.”

Ron marched past Petra, and approached Hermione.  “Yes, we’re fine now.”  He took Hermione’s hand in his own.  “But I think we can get better.”

Hermione gaped at him in astonishment.  She left her hand in Ron’s.

Ron turned back to Petra, holding out his other hand.  “Come on, Pickles.  You owe me a dance.”

Petra took his hand, grinning happily.  “Okay, but just one.  I have a feeling your dance card may be busy for the rest of the night.”  The three of them walked out, hand in hand.  “And Uncle Ron, don’t ever call me that name again!”