Chapter Twenty-Five: Tongue-Tied

The Firecall woke Minerva. Albus, naturally, was still awake with his paperwork, and hurried into the living-room to answer. A call this late had to mean something urgent.

It was Poppy. "One of the students has been poisoned."

"What!"

"Minerva, you should come, it's one of your lions. I don't know what this poison is but it looks nasty."

"All right, I'm just coming." Minerva, who had followed Albus in her dressing-gown, grabbed her slippers and a handful of Floo. "Who's the student?"

"Ron Weasley."

She and Albus looked at each other, sharing identical worried looks.

"I know what you're thinking, but Potter is fine," Poppy assured them. "He said something about him and Weasley swapping drinks and a new barman at the Hog's Head."

Albus' face clouded, and Minerva shivered slightly. "If you'll excuse me, my dear," her husband said calmly, yet she could detect fury in his voice. "I have to go and commit fratricide."

After a while, Hermione and Ginny, who had been woken up by Minerva, joined Harry in the Hospital Wing.

"What happened?" Ginny whispered, looking fearfully at the bed up the end hidden behind curtains.

Harry related his vision to her in a low voice, and the little he knew of Ron's condition. They both went even paler.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione gasped. "If you hadn't Seen—"

Harry just nodded, having had the same thought over and over. He was so stupid; why hadn't he dragged Ron to Madam Pomfrey when he first started feeling ill? He'd been poisoned hours and hours ago—what if it was too late?

"But you realise what happened," Hermione whispered. "They were trying to kill—"

"Me," Harry said in a hollow voice. "And because of dumb luck they got Ron instead."

Seeming to read his mind, Ginny said sharply, "That does not make it your fault, Harry."

Harry didn't answer. If he had just let Ron buy himself another drink, then at least Ron wouldn't be the one dying in agonising pain right now.

If Ron died …

Harry's head spun and he felt sick. His throat felt tight and painful; he couldn't say anything. He couldn't lose Ron too. He still grieved for Sirius on a daily basis; losing someone else would break him, he knew it.

Hermione and Ginny, who were sitting either side of him, both put their arms around him. Harry clutched Ginny's hand too, and she rested her head on his shoulder. How much time passed while they remained like that, Harry didn't know, but none of them spoke. The silence was eventually broken by a great commotion outside.

They all looked over at the Hospital Wing door. Harry had just put his hand on his wand on instinct, when the door burst open. Even Harry felt a tremor of fear at the sight: Albus was standing beside the original, bearded barman of the Hog's Head, one hand gripping him by the ear. Before Harry could react, Albus shook the man and practically snarled, "In!" The grubby man scrambled into the room.

Albus half-dragged the man up to the curtains surrounding Ron, let go of the barman's ear and instead forced his head around the corner. He jerked back, looking green.

"Not a pleasant sight, is it?" Albus said in the softest, most dangerous voice Harry had ever heard him employ. Harry shuddered.

"It wasn't my fault!" the barman stammered. "I had nothing to do with it—"

Albus dragged the man away from the curtains by the arm, and pointed his wand at just between the man's legs. There was a spark of light, and the barman let out a sort of cross between a grunt and a squeal and doubled up. "Albus!" he protested in a strangled voice. "There's no need—"

"I have been warning you for years about the conditions of that bar of yours that my students for some inexplicable reason want to visit," Albus growled. "I have told you to clean it up, told you to check your employees—" The barman's protests rose up in pitch as another spark of light connected with his privates, "—but you never listen! You have used your last warning, you miserable worm. If one of my students acquires so much as a flea bite as a result of visiting your bar I will have every Ministry health official on you like a tonne of bricks; and if Ron Weasley dies I will have no qualms about sending you to Azkaban." The man's face flooded white. "Now GET OUT!"

Harry didn't think he had ever heard Albus shout like that before. Objects in the room quaked, and the barman, released, fled.

Albus took a few deep breaths after the door had closed behind him, and finally turned to face Harry and the girls.

"My brother, Aberforth," Albus said, back to his usual calm demeanour. "I apologise for the outburst, but he generally requires a little more force to knock some sense into him."

Harry gaped. "That was your brother?"

Albus nodded, sitting down. "He doesn't know who the man was that served you. It appears he gave a false name and Aberforth, bless him, didn't bother to check up on it." Albus sighed, sounding exasperated. "There's one in every family."

"How's Ron, Professor?" Ginny asked in a fearful voice.

"Madam Pomfrey is doing everything she can. The poison has been identified, but it will be a while yet before we know anything more." Albus met Harry's eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Harry related the drink-swapping that had occurred in the Hog's Head, and then told Albus his vision.

"I don't know who the barman was; they left to see Voldemort before the Polyjuice wore off. But the other guy, the one pretending to be Umbridge, his name was Vawlter; he was one of the Durmstrang students who stayed here during the Triwizard Tournament."

"Vawlter …" Albus looked thoughtful. "The name doesn't ring a bell. I'll ask Professor Snape to find out what he can."

Silence fell in the Hospital Wing for about two hours. Harry was unable to sleep, even if he hadn't been sitting on a hard chair in the corner. Ginny's head was resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed, but he wasn't sure she was really asleep either. He himself was leaning on Albus, who had elected to stay with them.

After what felt like an age, the curtains finally parted again, and they all jumped.

"Any news, Minerva?" Albus asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose, as Minerva exited.

She smiled. "He's going to be fine."

Ginny let out a sob of relief, and Harry wrapped his arms around her, feeling like crying himself. Minerva came over and sat down with them.

"Where did Ron get a sleeping potion?"

"Oh—that was mine," Harry said. "He asked if I could give him one before he went to bed. Why? That wasn't how he was poisoned."

"No," Minerva agreed, "but it's what saved his life. The sleeping draught slowed down the effects of the poison, buying him several more hours. Without it, he would be dead now."

Harry sighed deeply, and tightened his grip on Ginny.

"I don't suppose the poison is a glittery teal colour?" Albus asked slowly.

"No," Minerva replied, looking confused. "Why?"

"Oh … nothing." But Harry knew what he was thinking.

At that night's Order meeting, Weasley's poisoning was the main point of discussion. Severus was getting very irritated, as he kept being shot filthy looks that clearly read Why couldn't you have warned us?

As he had explained a hundred times, if the poisoning had indeed been arranged by Voldemort, he had kept it strictly to himself. Severus personally thought it didn't sound like Voldemort's style—much too clumsy a move.

"Well," Albus said finally, looking weary, as the discussion seemed to come to an end. "We have other matters arising. Kingsley, didn't you say you had news?"

The Auror nodded. "Yes, I do. The Ministry have finalised a Polyjuice Potion detector."

For a moment a shadow seemed to fall across Albus' face, before he said, "There have been rumours of this detector going around since the last war."

"They have been working on it for years," Kingsley said. "This isn't the first time they have come close. But I can confirm that, this time, it is completed and being tested now."

Albus said nothing. Severus wasn't sure he could read his expression.

"Well, that should improve our chances a lot," Lupin said in a cheerful voice.

"Speak for yourself," Severus said. "You're not as likely as I to ever have a task involving the sort of stealth that requires Polyjuice."

"Nevertheless," Albus said, pulling himself out of whatever had been bugging him a moment ago, "it is good news for us." He shot Severus a scolding look. "It just means we will have to be extra careful should we be in a position to need to use it."

After that, the meeting wrapped up quickly. Severus lingered as the others were leaving Grimmauld Place, intent on catching Albus alone.

"I take it you want a word," Albus said once the door had closed behind Molly Weasley.

"Not so much a word, as a present." Severus pulled a drawstring bag from his pocket. Albus leaned forward suddenly as he opened it and tipped a simple rag onto the table. It was stained with dried blood.

Albus let out a low whistle. "This is it? Severus, you excel yourself!"

Severus tried not to look smug. "It is indeed. You are looking at the Dark Lord's own blood."

"How on earth did you manage it? And so quickly!"

"As much as I would like to tell you I engineered a clever way of making him bleed whilst diverting the blame away from me—I can't. Wormtail broke a potions vial and he cut his hand on the glass; I simply took advantage of it."

"All the same, it's very impressive. Well done, Severus." Albus peered closely at the rag, as if hoping to see a recipe for killing Voldemort in the blood.

"Albus …" Severus said slowly.

"Yes?"

"Well, I can't pretend to know what you plan to do with this, but if it's got anything to do with Polyjuice then I have to say, I don't think it's a good idea. Who knows what the consequences could be of trying to turn into him—"

"Severus, I have no intention of using this in Polyjuice."

"Oh. Good."

"Whatever made you think that?"

"Your reaction to what Kingsley said about the Polyjuice detector."

"Oh." There was that expression again. "No, I have no plans for using Polyjuice … it simply brought back a few memories, that's all." Now Severus thought Albus looked melancholy.

"Right. Well, then what do you plan to do with this?"

"I can't be certain yet. I thought it could well come in useful breaking through Voldemort's Horcrux protections." Albus placed the rag back into the bag and pocketed it. "Thank you very much, Severus."

Ron slept for two whole days before he finally woke up. By the time he left the Hospital Wing, the fact that he had been poisoned had travelled all around the school, and he found himself surrounded by curious students wanting to know what had happened.

Harry was reminded of the time after the Second Triwizard Task as Ron's story went from explaining his Butterbeer had been spiked, to telling a tale of being taken hostage by Death Eaters and having the poison forced down his throat only after he had taken out five of them and it had taken a dozen of them to do so. One thing Harry was grateful for was that, in all versions, Ron left out the part about the poison having been meant for him—possibly because he was enjoying being told how amazing it was that Voldemort thought he was enough of a threat to have killed. It definitely took some of the focus off of Harry, and Ron seemed happy at the attention. Hermione was not so grateful, as a large part of his new fanbase were girls who kept flirting with him. Ron wasn't flirting back, but he wasn't exactly fighting them off either.

After a couple of weeks of this, Harry—despite the fact that he didn't like to interfere in his friends' relationship—felt it was time he gave Ron a little nudge and pointed out that his girlfriend was feeling pushed aside.

"Oh," Ron said, guilt crossing his face as he looked over to see Hermione glaring, arms folded, at the gaggle of girls surrounding him.

"If she asks, I didn't say anything," Harry said. "You decided, under your own steam, to make a big romantic gesture for her and apologise for being such a moron."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Just make sure I don't have to do this again, okay?"

"Got it." Ron considered. "Aren't you supposed to be in redial Defence?"

Harry swore and hurried out of the common room.

He arrived out of breath, but only a few minutes late. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Quite all right, Harry. Take a moment," Albus said.

"Thanks." Harry leaned against the wall, getting his breath back. He saw Ginny smirking at him and shot her a look. "Stop it."

"Ready?" Albus asked.

"Yeah."

The lesson began. One of the good things about Harry and Ginny pairing together was that they were very evenly matched in matters of mind magic, which made whether or not one was able to penetrate the other's conscious as hard to predict as a coin toss, and the lessons themselves as tiring as Quidditch matches.

Albus was pleased with both their progress, and although he had spent the beginning lessons instructing on technique, most of the time now he was more of a supervisor to make sure his students' competitive streaks didn't get out of hand.

"Point Weasley!" Ginny crowed after forcefully pushing Harry from her mind.

"You're now tied," Albus said in amusement. He had long resigned himself to the two of them keeping count. Personally, Harry thought it was a good thing to do—it kept them both on their toes and aware of how much they improved.

"Ready, Potter?" Ginny said, eyes glittering.

"Bring it on, Weasley."

Harry felt her probing at his shields, but before he could gather the force to repel her, he was hit with a vision.

The office disappeared. Harry was standing outdoors, probably in a garden, and before him stood … himself. The other Harry stood beneath a flowering arch in dress robes, with a redhead in his arms. Ginny. He was kissing her tenderly, but passionately, as if there was no tomorrow. She was dressed all in white, and a bouquet lay at her feet.

The image faded as fast as it had come, and Harry staggered backwards in shock, and slid down the wall. It took him a moment to realise that Albus was addressing him.

"Harry? Harry! Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Harry looked up, and met Ginny's eye. One look told him she had seen exactly what he had.

"You saw …" he whispered. She nodded, looking as stunned as he felt.

"Saw what? Harry, you had a vision?"

Harry nodded. "Relax Albus, it's not a Voldemort one. Least, I hope not," he tried a joke. Ginny chuckled slightly.

"What did you See?"

There was a long silence. As close as he was to Albus, Harry somehow didn't feel like sharing this. Ginny was watching him quizzically, looking amused, as if waiting to see what he would say.

"It was personal," Harry said finally. "Albus, could you give us a minute?"

"Of course." Albus paused. "Oh, I see. I'll be … somewhere else." He left.

"So …" Harry clambered to his feet. The atmosphere felt rather awkward.

"Harry," Ginny said quietly, "when you get visions of the future … are they of things that will definitely happen, or just things that … could happen?"

"Honestly, I haven't figured it out yet," Harry said. "The books are a bit confusing."

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"I mean …" Harry searched for the right words to say. He was still in shock by what he had Seen, but at the same time, he felt … hopeful. "I really would … like it to be real—I mean, to happen. Eventually. I mean, not right now, obviously. When we're both—um …"

Ginny sniggered at his tongue getting tied in knots, and he frowned. "Stop it!"

"Yes," she said.

Harry blinked. "Yes? Yes what?"

"Yes, as in, yes Harry I would also like to marry you eventually-not-now-when-we're-both-um."

"Uh …" Before Harry could untangle her words, Ginny grabbed him and kissed him.

It was in that moment when Harry knew. One hundred percent.

"Uhhmmnoo."

Ginny pulled back. "What?"

"I love you," Harry said, no longer muffled against her lips.

A slow smile spread over Ginny's face, and she pulled him into another kiss.

"Uhhmmnoo too."

TBC …