Consequences of the Mind
6: Maidencombe Beach
By Mr. Intel
Chapter Six — Maidencombe Beach
With the shock of Voldemort’s capture of Azkaban, and the assumed bolster to his forces that the imprisoned Death Eaters there gave him, the mood at Hogwarts was grim. After two weeks without any more information on Voldemort or his followers, the panic that had gripped the school that day ebbed into a distant memory. By the time the first Saturday of December was upon them, it had all but left their minds.
The day had dawned tepid and clear, but there was the promise of a cold storm in the western sky. Harry and Ginny took leave of their classmates and walked hand-in-hand towards the Quidditch pitch, intent on enjoying the snowless grounds one last time and the peace that was sure to leave them once Voldemort made his next move.
Harry swung a picnic basket from his free arm and smiled at the simple pleasure of having Ginny next to him. As she leaned her head against his shoulder, they both sighed contentedly. Being with Ginny had been a balm for Harry. It wasn’t so much that he needed her, as that he couldn’t imagine life without her. She had become part of him somehow and Harry couldn’t find a way to explain the abrupt change — he just knew his life was now inextricably entwined with hers.
Ginny led him up a small hill behind the pitch as several bumblebee-coloured players began to fly around the stadium. Their distant shouts could be heard clearly if they were facing Harry and Ginny. Ginny conjured a woollen blanket and spread it out on the ground.
"Pity the pitch was booked today," Harry said with a taint of humour in his voice.
Ginny smiled as they sat and took the basket from Harry. "Yes, pity. We’ll just have to make do with this spot for our date, then," she explained, as if there were someone watching and they needed to know the cause of their plans changing.
Harry took the carafe of juice from Ginny and poured it into two large mugs. Ginny handed him a sandwich and they began to eat.
Soon, Ginny had her head on Harry’s lap and Harry had his arm draped over Ginny’s hip as they both watched the Quidditch players in the distance.
"Smith hasn’t got his new Chasers trained yet," Ginny said distractedly.
Harry wiped some mustard from his lips and set down the last bite of his sandwich. "Their Seeker needs work, too. Eleanor something-or-other?"
"Eleanor Branstone," Ginny confirmed.
"She’s got talent; and the right body-type for Seeking...."
"Been looking at her body closely, then?" Ginny asked cheekily.
"Only for the good of the team, mind you," Harry said with a grin. "But what I was going to say was that she’s still inexperienced. See how she doesn’t quite know what the Snitch is doing until it escapes?"
Ginny was squinting her eyes in the direction Harry was pointing. "How do you even see that tiny little thing all the way out here?"
Harry puffed out his chest. "Loads of training, natural talent, and — OOF!"
The back of Ginny’s hand smacked into Harry’s midsection and the wind whooshed out of his lungs. "— loads and loads of ego," Ginny finished for him.
Harry rubbed his stomach and then transferred his hand to Ginny’s, continuing to rub in small circles.
"Mmm," she said as he traced along her rib-cage. "I’ll keep you for now, though."
Ginny turned to face up, granting Harry better access to her middle, but Harry chose to move his hand up to her head, instead. She pouted for a second, but as he applied gentle pressure to her temples, her face melted into a drunken grin.
As he moved his fingers through her hair, Harry became fascinated with how soft it was, how many shades of red it contained, and the fact that Ginny became a pile of goo as he worked his way across her scalp.
Gently transitioning from massage to smoothing her hair, Harry watched Ginny’s eyes until they fluttered open. "That was very nice, Harry. I didn’t realise how much stress I was carrying until you released it all."
"Funny how that works, isn’t it?" Harry asked. "Always glad to be of service, Miss Weasley."
Ginny bit her lip and then sat up, curling her arms around Harry’s neck. "It’s a service I’m glad to return, Mr. Potter," she said softly. Harry slid his hands under her head and pulled her closer until their lips met.
One of the few downsides of their bond was the fact that kissing required more and more restraint. The pleasure seemed magnified, though Harry mused later that maybe Ginny was just getting astronomically better at that particular activity. Still, when they were together, their minds and hearts completely open to each other, there seemed to be an unrestrained feeling of joy that connected them. It grew stronger and stronger the more they lingered and when they broke apart, panting, eyes glazed, hearts racing, it was all Harry could do to not abandon restraint altogether.
"You’re always such a deep thinker, Harry," Ginny whispered. "Does kissing me always evoke such contemplation?"
Harry trailed small kisses along her nose and around her lips. "Yes," he answered. "Everything about you makes me think." Kiss. "Makes me want to be better." Kiss. "Makes me want to be the best — for you."
Ginny blinked away a tear and grasped Harry into a strangling embrace. "Oh, Harry," she said tremulously. "I love to hear you say things like that."
Then she was laughing, and Harry was wiping her tears away. They held each other for a while longer and the afternoon started to slip away. As Hufflepuff left the pitch, the sun dipped low on the horizon.
Reluctantly, Harry pulled Ginny onto her feet and they made their way back to the castle, both whistling the same song.
*
That evening, Harry noticed Hermione casting him odd looks as she sat amongst a pile of books and parchment. They had all completed their homework earlier that day as a way to convince Hermione to participate in their chess games. Now that she had been thoroughly trounced by both boys, her quill was zooming over her parchment as she leafed through one of the four open books in front of her and every so often, she would catch Harry’s eye. It was a calculating look, as if Harry was the subject of an impending prank that required months of planning and research, and it unsettled him.
Ron’s bishop was brutalising his rook, and the action caught Harry’s attention again. Ginny was sitting on the sofa next to him, reading his copy of Seekers and Chasers: Who’s really more important? A few third years were agonising over their Potions assignment, and Crookshanks was batting at a few dust bunnies that Ginny had enchanted into mice for him.
Hermione finished a long complex equation, or at least that’s what it looked like from across the table when Harry glanced up. She checked her calculations, throwing the quill to the table. "Yes!" Hermione yelled, pumping her fists into the air as she broke the peace of the common room. All heads turned to watch her as she stood abruptly, clutching a piece of parchment. She stalked over to where Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat, and brandished it like a prize. "It can be done and I know how to do it!"
Ron was the first to speak. "Know how to do what? Suck You-Know-Who into an unbreakable Butterbeer bottle?"
"No," she said, sending him a scathing look, "although that’s not an altogether bad idea, Ron." Then she turned to Harry and that calculating look returned. She sat down on the sofa’s arm next to him and said in a hushed tone, "Remember that project you were working on in the library? The one I said I’d take a look at?"
Harry didn’t at first, but his encounter with Cho in the library jogged the other memory back into his mind. "Yeah..."
She looked around suspiciously, and then grabbed his hand. "Let’s go find somewhere a little more private." She tugged on Harry’s arm until he was standing and Harry followed helplessly with Ron and Ginny in tow.
"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, suddenly tuning into the conversation.
"Hermione’s got a bug in her ear about something," Ron answered. "Something about a Harry project."
Roger Davies walked by just then, with Cho skulking behind him. She didn’t make eye-contact with anyone in their group, but stared determinedly at the ground as they passed. A distinct coldness could be felt amongst the four of them, and it only passed when Cho and Roger had turned the corner.
Ginny’s hand found Harry’s and he let go of Hermione’s. "Did I ever tell you why she wasn’t expelled?" Ginny asked quietly.
Harry shook his head. "No... you didn’t."
"Well," she began, "I heard Professor McGonagall talking to Snape in the dungeons yesterday. Snape was demanding that she be expelled for her actions, and added that you should be as well, Harry — for encouraging her behaviour, I think he said...."
"I did not," Harry retorted hotly. "I never encouraged her to...."
"I know," Ginny re-assured him, "but you know how Snape is...."
"Yeah," Harry muttered in agreement.
"Anyway, McGonagall said that she couldn’t expel Cho because she’d been under outside influence and wasn’t accountable for her actions. The only reason she lost Head Girl was because she had demonstrated poor judgment in being controlled in the first place."
"Controlled?" asked Ron. "You mean like Imperious?"
"I don’t know," Ginny answered. "Luna bumped into me then, and they stopped talking."
Harry noticed that they had just passed the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, and Hermione was pacing back and forth in front of a bare stretch of wall. They followed Hermione into the Room of Requirement, chatting about the implications of Ginny’s news and sat on the same squashy pillows that had lined the floor at their first D.A. meeting.
"Right," Hermione said, grabbing their attention. "Harry? Do you want to tell them what you were looking for in the library?"
"Uh..." Harry answered uncertainly. "Sure. Well, it was Professor McTierny that got me onto it in the first place. I was a little tired of getting hexed in class, even though I had been casting perfect Shield Charms. Then, he said something that made me wonder — what if we could increase the power of a shield spell, so that it could reflect more powerful spells?" He looked at each person in the room, as they anxiously waited for him to finish. "What if we could cast a spell that would even block Unforgivables?"
"Naturally," Hermione said, taking over from Harry, "I told him that it wasn’t possible to increase the power of spells. In our very first Arithmancy class, we were taught that each spell draws a certain amount of magical essence from the caster of the spell. We even measured the magic with a magimeter. Professor Vector had each student cast a levitation spell and every single person used the same amount of magic to do it, even if the feather didn’t float."
"So," Ginny said, "the thing that makes one wizard greater than the other isn’t the power of the spells he can cast, but the power of the wizard himself?"
"Exactly. Each witch or wizard has a set amount of magic that he or she can use that slowly recharges itself when a spell is cast," explained Hermione.
Harry thought back to when he had been practising the Patronus Charm with Lupin. He had been so wiped out after casting it over and over again that he was certain he’d used a lot of his magical energy. "So," he ventured, "what would happen if someone used all of their energy?"
Hermione paused for a second, looking down at her notes. "As you get closer and closer to zero, the caster becomes weaker and weaker, making it more difficult to cast even small spells. The problem, though, is not running out of magic, but in finding a way to cast a protective spell that is more powerful, draws more of the caster’s magic, and can therefore deflect more advanced spells." She shifted on her pillow and spread the parchment on the floor so that all of them could see it. "I explained to Harry that while inventing a new spell is a way to solve this problem, it’d take months just to sort out the calculations, and that’s if we had the whole Department of Mysteries at our disposal."
The parchment was filled with diagrams, charts, and moving pictures of spell-casting witches. The one at the bottom had a circle appearing around her after mouthing a spell. "So what is the solution?" Harry asked.
A smile turned Hermione’s lips upward. "We use two existing spells that compliment each other, and by so doing, create a hybrid spell that will do what we want."
"So we are creating a new spell?" Ron asked, scratching his head at the indecipherable scribble on the parchment.
"Technically, I guess we are," she conceded. "But not in the traditional way. Spell weaving is hardly ever done because the results can be... unpredictable."
Ginny’s head shot up and Ron looked at his girlfriend like she’d grown two heads. "Spell weaving?" he asked.
"What do you mean, ‘unpredictable’?" Ginny asked at the same time.
Hermione’s smile faltered. "Well, if even one of the calculations is off, you could blow up your wand, or... the spell could combine into something really dangerous."
"Like... what?" Harry prompted.
"It’s impossible to say." She used her wand to manipulate the numbers on the parchment. The diagram casting the spell changed, and instead of a bubble appearing around her, the paper caught on fire. "We have to experiment until we get it right."
Harry felt the colour drain out of his face. "Oh."
"We’ll just have to be careful," Hermione said primly. She took the now lightly-charred parchment and abruptly stood. "Who wants to go first?"
*
Casting hybrid spells had been a lot harder than Hermione let on. They weren’t in any danger from errant calculations, as they couldn’t even get a wisp of smoke from their wands in the Room of Requirement. Still, at the end of the day, Harry had felt something stir within him as Hermione continued to play with the numbers and suggest alternate wand movements. Harry wasn’t anywhere near casting an ultra-powerful shield spell, but he knew that he was getting close.
The week before Christmas featured the last Quidditch match of the term and would see Gryffindor up against Hufflepuff. Katie had been drilling them like a witch possessed in the days leading up to the match, making time seem to float from one weekend to the next. Before Harry knew it, it was Saturday — the day of his first appearance on the pitch since his disastrous performance against Malfoy. Even though his flying skills were better than ever, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that encompassed him before the match.
"You ready, Harry?" Ginny asked from beside him at breakfast.
Harry shrugged, trying to give the impression that nothing was wrong. "As ready as I’ll ever be."
Ginny put her fork down and swallowed the bite of kipper in her mouth. She discreetly placed her fingers on his arm and activated their link. You’re not fooling me, Harry. I know you’re anxious about the match.
Harry sighed out loud. I’m sorry. I know everything will turn out all right, I just can’t help being a little nervous.
He caught a glimpse of a smile from her and heard her reply. Good. No wallowing in anything remotely negative. Quidditch is supposed to be fun and I’m going to make sure you enjoy it.
Maybe it was the saucy wink she gave him, or the memories of kissing by the pitch while Hufflepuff was practicing, but he suddenly lost every bit of the anxiety that had been weighing him down that morning.
"Good," Ginny said out loud.
"What’s good?" Ron asked from across the table.
Ginny waved her hand in the air. "Nothing. Get back to your toast before the plates disappear."
Ron made to grab his last piece when the plates shimmered and blinked out of site. "Damn," Ron muttered.
"Ronald!" scolded Hermione next to him.
His ears pink, Ron bent his head towards the table, as if bringing his mouth closer to it would restore his toast. "Sorry."
Hermione huffed and made a show of crossing her arms.
Harry caught Ginny’s eye and they shared a smile before standing. "Well…off to the changing rooms, then?" asked Harry.
Ron stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, all right."
His stress managed, Harry walked happily out onto the cold grounds with a smile. It was going to be a good game.
*
Harry’s fears were unfounded, as the new Hufflepuff Seeker was even more uncoordinated in a real game. Eleanor Branstone was a raw flier and was likely a Muggleborn, if his read on her flying was accurate. Still, she was quick, and was almost able to keep up with him on her Cleansweep Seven.
"Gryffindor Scores! Two hundred to eighty as Weasley takes the Quaffle."
Harry tore his eyes away from their search for the Snitch to watch his girlfriend weave in and out of the opposing Chasers. She passed to Katie, who drew the attention of two yellow-clad Chasers and immediately dropped it behind her and into the waiting hands of Natalie McDonald. The smaller girl shot up and over the defence, while Ginny positioned herself in front of the goals. The Hufflepuff Keeper flew towards Natalie, who cocked her hand back to throw. At the last second, she changed her aim and passed over the Keeper, directly at Ginny. The sound of a gong and another ten points for Gryffindor was the result. When Harry looked back to see where Eleanor had gone to, his breath caught. She was in a flat dive for the Pitch, and his eyes immediately saw what she was after. The Snitch was hovering in the centre, just above the grass.
With a burst of speed, he flattened himself on his broom and shot towards the Snitch in a straight line. The Snitch must have sensed the attention of both Seekers and zigged towards the stands. Harry mentally calculated the new trajectory of his prey and aimed his broom at a spot where the stands met the ground. Sparing a second to eye his opponent, he realised that the Snitch’s manoeuvre put Harry closer to it, erasing Eleanor’s lead.
The Snitch shot left and brought the advantage back to Hufflepuff and caused the two Seekers to meet even as they pushed their brooms faster. Harry watched the Snitch, waiting for it to twitch a little. It dodged right, causing Eleanor to veer in that direction, but Harry knew better. He flipped his Firebolt up and over his opponent in a half-barrel roll just as the Snitch reversed its turn and flew right into Harry’s waiting hand.
The crowds erupted in a deafening roar.
*
On the way back to the castle, with his victory fresh in his mind and his friends surrounding him, Harry ran into the last person he expected.
"So," sneered a familiar voice. "Think a little success against the worst team in ten years is going to win you the cup, eh, Potter?" He spat the last word for extra effect.
Harry’s smile vanished as the blonde boy pushed his way to stand toe to toe with him.
"Give it a rest, Malfoy," Ginny remarked. "Go polish your Prefect’s badge or something."
"At least I have a badge," he drawled.
The mood cooled considerably then and Harry decided he’d had enough.
"I think it’s time for you to leave, Malfoy."
"I don’t think so," he said defiantly, and whipped out his wand.
Harry tensed, but didn’t back down.
"If you only knew half of the things I did about this place."
Harry’s eyes narrowed. "That would be a very small amount, wouldn’t it?"
"Your Muggle-loving Dumbledore has done it again. Hired another defence professor that’s…" Malfoy would have continued to speak, but a yellow light hit his face and his lips disappeared. His mouth had been sealed shut, apparently on a permanent basis.
"That’s enough from you, little Malfoy." The new voice belonged to their Defence Instructor. He flicked his wand again, and Malfoy was thrown away from Harry and into Crabbe, knocking them both to the ground.
"Professor!" Hermione yelled. "You’re not supposed to hex students!"
But McTierny paid her no attention, walking over to where a wide-eyed Malfoy struggled to get to his feet.
"Oh, let him curse Malfoy all he wants," Ron said with a smirk. "At least we won’t be serving detention for it."
Hermione didn’t reply, but looked on anxiously while McTierny took points from Slytherin. It wasn’t until Professor McGonagall arrived that Malfoy’s lips were unsealed and the teachers stomped back into the castle with him in tow.
"Well," Harry said as they followed. "That’s an elegant way to shut Malfoy up."
Ginny nodded beside him. "We’re going to have to ask McTierny about that spell."
*
The next evening after dinner, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were about to leave the Great Hall when Professor McGonagall approached them.
"Would you four please follow me?"
Harry shrugged when his three companions all gave him quizzical glances. "I didn’t do anything," he whispered as the followed McGonagall’s swift pace down the hall.
They were silent during the short trip and found themselves at the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.
"Fudge Flies," she intoned and the Gargoyle sprang open.
Harry thought back to the last time he was in this office and the effects of the spell that he and Ginny had endured since. Then he remembered Professor Dumbledore’s circumstances and wondered if he had improved at all.
They seated themselves and waited while the acting Headmistress straightened parchment on the desk and cleared her throat.
"I understand you are scheduled to head to the Burrow for the Christmas Holidays. Is that correct?"
As they nodded their heads, Harry wondered with a sickening feeling if McGonagall was going to cancel their plans. Harry should have known they wouldn’t let him leave the protection of Hogwarts, especially with Dumbledore out of commission.
"I’m afraid your plans will have to change," she announced, and Ron groaned beside him. "You’ve been requested to spend a week at the Order’s new headquarters where Professor Dumbledore has asked to speak with you." She levelled her gaze at Harry just then and the smallest of smiles appeared on the elderly woman’s face.
"You mean…" began Ginny.
"We get to see Dumbledore?" Harry finished.
"That means he’s awake!" declared Hermione.
"Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall corrected, "is still very weak, but yes, he’s awake and as stubborn as ever."
This last comment evoked a smirk from Hermione, who traded a knowing glance with Ginny. Harry was completely baffled by this, but too distracted by the prospect of visiting with Dumbledore to think any more about it.
"When do we leave?" he asked.
*
It turned out that Mrs. Weasley had been notified about their plans because she was already at the new Headquarters preparing for their arrival. Arthur, Lupin, and the twins were all to be at Headquarters for the break. Harry was actually looking forward to the holidays and was grateful that it wasn’t going to be in Grimmauld Place.
With their bags packed and ready, they met McGonagall in Dumbledore’s office the night they were scheduled to leave. The other students that weren’t staying at the castle had already left on the Express, lending to the impression that the four of them were staying as well.
McGonagall held a slip of paper with two words on it, letting each person read it before they grabbed a handful of Floo powder and disappeared into the emerald flames.
When it was Harry’s turn, he read the words on the paper, Maidencombe Beach and watched McGonagall crumple and toss it into the fire. Harry took some powder, threw it and with a shout, stepped into the hearth.
Sliding out the other end, Harry was caught by Ginny before he toppled onto his backside. "Thanks," he muttered and was rewarded with a bright smile.
McGonagall popped through the grate and brushed at a stray bit of soot on her robes.
They were in a large room that had doors on either wall. At one end was the hearth they had Flooed into and the other held a large oak door flanked by two leaden windows. The entire building seemed to be made of wood.
The ceiling was held up by massive, rough columns that connected with slightly smaller beams at the top. McGonagall walked towards one of the doors on the right. Harry left his bag near the hearth and followed.
The door revealed a set of stout, but very worn wooden stairs. They walked up and turned one hundred and eighty degrees to face an identical set. At the top of those stairs was another wooden door, exactly like the one they’d entered that opened to a hallway that wrapped around the entire upper story. In the middle were rooms that looked like they’d never been opened before.
McGonagall turned right and led them to a door with no knob or handle and that had a small oval portrait of a wizard snoozing in its frame.
"Wake up, Paracelsus," she said reprovingly.
The wizard stirred and smiled brightly. "Minerva! How wonderful to see you again." He looked around and caught sight of Ginny. "And you’ve brought visitors."
"Yes, yes. We need to get in, please. Professor Dumbledore is expecting them."
The man, apparently named Paracelsus, huffed and put his hands on his hips. "Very well," he said with a sigh. "You know what to do."
McGonagall did, it seemed, because she placed her hand on the door, just above the spot where Harry would have put the handle. The whole door glowed for a moment and then it clicked open.
"In you get," she said, pushing the door open wider, and motioning with her other hand.
Harry gave her a questioning look, to which she replied, "I’ve a matter that I need to attend to. The door will let you out when you’ve finished."
Reluctantly, Harry stepped inside, followed closely by Ginny, Ron and Hermione. They turned a corner and sitting on his bed, as if there wasn’t a thing the matter with him, was Professor Dumbledore.
"Hello, Harry," he said softly. "I’m so very glad you could make it."