The Master of Life
The Haileybury Hammers
By Mr. Intel
Chapter Eight – The Haileybury Hammers
Wizarding Canada must not have gotten the word about Harry’s wanted status because the Canadian version of the Knight Bus carried them without incident to their new flat the following morning. The Wizarding Wireless that was blaring the local news said much about sailing and gardening conditions, but nothing about Harry or the large reward offered for his capture. Aiden had been covered inside his cage because Phoenixes, Harry was learning, weren’t remotely as common as owls and travelling with one was an open invitation to invite questions. Even with Harry’s cloak hiding him, the little bird had managed to attract attention, chirruping and clicking his beak on the cage during their trip.
“I’m just glad that bloke on the bus didn’t ask too many questions,” said Ginny as she unlocked their flat’s door. “He was a little too observant, if you ask me.”
Harry snickered. “You’re just saying that because you forgot to put on your wedding ring and he started to chat you up.”
Ginny whirled on him. “Don’t be so smug, Mr. Potter or next time, I might just decide to flirt back.”
Her smiling eyes reduced the effectiveness of her attack and Harry responded by sweeping her off her feet and kissing her solidly on the mouth. “You’re only allowed to flirt with me, Mrs. Potter.”
“Hmm,” she said, still smiling. “I like the sound of that.”
He walked them through the door and promptly dumped her on the sofa.
She squealed. “This carrying me across the threshold thing is getting to be a habit.”
“I can live with that,” he said softly and pulled her gently to her feet.
Their flat was a furnished, one level unit that sat in the Wizarding section of Saanich. Simple furniture adorned the modest, but roomy interior. It even came with dishes, silverware, and its own wireless. Through the sliding glass door, they could see a garden the size of their old Transfiguration classroom, abutting a tree-lined Quidditch Pitch. Harry’s hand itched to grab his Firebolt (which was still in England) and take a turn with Ginny.
They processed their wedding presents as a way to settle in. Those that were useful were unpacked and installed in the narrow kitchen or wardrobe-like toilet. The rest were stowed in the beaded bag with their formal robes and Ginny’s wedding dress. The last one was poorly wrapped, as if the person who’d wrapped it hadn’t ever given a present before.
The note on the package said it was from Dudley, so she passed it to Harry to read and placed the present on her lap. Ginny tapped the paper with her wand and it fell away, revealing a photo album. She thought how nice it would be to have a place to start documenting their new family. It was a surprise, therefore, when she opened the cover and saw that it was already filled with photos – moving photos – of Harry.
Harry sat slowly next to Ginny and stared at his parents as they brought him home from St. Mungos, gave him his first bath, and changed his nappies.
“Harry,” said Ginny tenderly. “You were so adorable!” She pointed to one where he was on his dad’s back as James hopped around the living room. Baby Harry’s face was alight with excitement.
“I can’t believe it,” said Harry, awestruck at the thoughtfulness of this gift. He reached out to touch another photo, when Harry was closer to the age when he lost his parents. “This is amazing. I think I remember this one.” The picture showed Harry with a toy broomstick. He would shakily mount it and the broom would start to move before Harry would step off, totter on one foot and fall on his nappy-covered bottom. Behind him, Lily wordlessly telling James off for giving a broomstick to such a young child. The sequence ended with Harry zooming out of the frame, his face split with a gleeful smile.
“I wonder where Dudley got this?”
“What did the note say?” she asked, flipping the page again.
Harry opened it and read.
Harry and Ginny,
Thank you again for inviting me to your wedding. I’m not sure what to say after all that happened between us, but I hope that things can be different from now on. I found this in mum’s room one day when I was looking for where she kept my birthday presents. It scared me to see moving photos, so I forgot about it until you left for the last time. It’s not much of a present, but it’s got to be better than the bottle tops and used tissues they used to give you.
“Didn’t he used to beat you up?” Ginny asked, perplexed.
“That’s the thing,” explained Harry. “I’m still not sure what’s changed. Before I left Privet Drive for the last time, he treated me decently for the first time ever. Then he showed up to our wedding and now this....”
Harry stared unseeing at the wall for a few minutes as Ginny finished perusing the album. There were some blackmail worthy pictures in there to be sure – especially the one of naked Harry running away from a nappy-wielding Lily. Other things needed to be attended to first.
“So how are we going to get rid of that cursed wand?” asked Ginny snapping Harry out of his reverie.
“The best place to start,” Harry replied, leaning back on the sofa as Ginny Banished the album to their room, “is at the beginning. We already know from Beedle the Bard where the Deathly Hallows came from and we also know that most people were killed for having it. We need to know exactly how each wizard obtained the wand to see if someone has been in our situation before.”
“What?” Ginny asked with a cocked head. “You think someone else out there was afflicted with your nobility and actually didn’t want the Elder Wand?” Harry smirked and Ginny propped her legs on his lap, stretching the full length of her body across the sofa. “Anyway... apart from you and Voldemort, I don’t know anyone that’s ever had it.”
“Well,” said Harry, as he prised off her shoes and began to tenderly massage the muscles of her feet. “Voldemort had it, but he never really possessed it.” He explained how the wand is loyal to a wizard until that person is beaten in battle, or otherwise has it forcefully taken from him. Ginny shut her eyes and tried not to focus too much on how wonderful his hands felt on her feet. “So it was Draco that was master of the wand. Before him, it was Dumbledore....”
“Malfoy beat Dumbledore?” asked Ginny incredulously, jerking her head up to stare at him.
Harry hesitated, idling his fingers. “I never showed you that memory?”
Ginny shook her head and wiggled her toes to pull his attention back to what he’d been doing so admirably.
“Dumbledore was nearly dead when Malfoy disarmed him,” said Harry and Ginny was rewarded when he moved his hands to her calves and shins. “He meant Snape to get it, and that’s why Voldemort killed him. The point is that Dumbledore got it from Grindelwald, who got it from Gregorovitch. Before that... who knows?”
“Well,” said Ginny after a minute of feeling all the stress from her muscles drain through his magical hands. “I don’t know anyone that can help us with wand lore other than Ollivander or Xeno Lovegood. But I do know that there’s somewhere right here in Victoria that has seen one of the Hallows.”
“Yeah,” said Harry catching on. “My grandfather’s grave.”
There was a silent stretch while Harry moved from her lower legs to her thighs, kneading and rubbing her muscles in a delicious manner. “Come on,” he said as she opened her mouth to let out an exultant breath. “We can’t laze the morning away.”
“Why not?” Ginny pouted. “Aren’t you the one that said we should have a proper honeymoon?
Harry replied by pushing her legs onto the floor. Ginny wasn’t expecting that and half slid off the sofa. “You’re no fun,” she said, sticking out her bottom lip and stared wide-eyed at him for effect. Harry closed his eyes and waved his arms.
“That’s completely unfair. You can only use that expression when it’s really important,” he said.
“Fine,” relented Ginny. “But on our way back, we need to get some groceries, or we’ll be eating out for every meal.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Harry asked as he stood and held out a hand.
“I don’t know about you,” Ginny said, allowing herself to be pulled up. “But I might like to have breakfast in bed from time to time.”
With a smile on his face, Harry apparated them away from their flat.
The book containing Harry’s family history indicated that there were Muggle records of at least some of his family in Victoria so they decided to check there for information on where he would be buried. After an initial search, they found themselves at the British Columbia Archives. The blocky construction and straight lines of the twenty-seven year old building sharply contrasted with the much older and more elegant Parliament Building and Empress Hotel nearby. Still, it was functional and efficient and they were quickly immersed in their search.
They spent the bulk of their morning searching through old newspapers and rolls of microfilmed court records but were unsuccessful. Then, when they were about to leave for lunch, Ginny spotted something behind the information desk.
“Harry,” she said, pointing to a small door they hadn’t noticed before. Atop the arched entry were the words “Magical Records Division.”
“You don’t suppose...,” said Harry as he read the sign out loud, but Ginny was already tugging his hand.
It was just like the entry to the Leaky Cauldron. Invisible to Muggles, but magical people could see it clearly.
The witch at the front amicably led them through a door to the brightly lit research desk. An older couple was there, flipping through old newspaper clippings with their wands. On either side of the desk stood several bins that said “Retrieval” on them.
“Just tap your wand to the retrieval box and state the name of what you are looking for. All relevant records will appear inside.”
She left them to it and Ginny instantly retrieved all records containing the name Peverell. Harry took a bin and tapped his wand on it. “Potter.” The bin shook and hummed and then a large stack of newspapers, court records, marriage licenses, and death certificates appeared, tottering ominously before Harry divided it into other bins.
They took their bins to a side table where there was more room to sort through the papers. It was long, boring work. Harry found out that one of his father’s great uncles was a star Quidditch player at the turn of the century, and Ginny discovered that the first Peverells in British Columbia were Bastion and Wilma who lived and died in an estate by Butchard Gardens without ever having any children.
It was past two o’clock before they had finished sorting and they weren’t any nearer to discovering any connection to the Deathly Hallows or in finding Harry’s grandfather’s grave than before.
Ginny restacked her papers and dropped them in the bin before tapping her wand to it and sending the records back to their place in the archives. “Bugger,” she said.
Stacking his own papers in a bin, Harry nodded. “It wasn’t completely wasted,” he said, thinking about all the tidbits of information he now had to put with the faces from his family history book. “Still, I don’t reckon we’ll find much more in here. Let’s get something to eat.”
“Hold on,” said Ginny who, looking pensive, tapped her wand one more time to the bin. “McIsenrod,” she said and it shuddered as the search began. A single piece of paper appeared above it and settled into the bottom. Ginny picked it up and scanned the page.
“Harry,” she said, her hand starting to tremble. “This is big.”
A picture of McIsenrod dominated the top third of the page, captioned by a short description. It was a wanted poster.
“He killed his cousin and fled the country,” said Harry, who was quickly reading to catch up. “But who was his cousin?”
Ginny pointed down to the bottom of the poster. “Charlotte Peverell.”
Harry still didn’t have any clothes, other than the few Ginny brought for him. They ate a quick lunch at a local café and then spent way too much money on a trunk full of Muggle clothes for both of them, including a set of jumpers for Ginny, who hadn’t adjusted to the mild climate. They also sent Aiden to Hermione with an order for robes from Madam Malkin’s since the wizards in Canada seemed to prefer Muggle clothes altogether. The note informed Hermione that she should keep Aiden until the robes were delivered and then send the lot back with Harry’s Phoenix. That had the dual effect of speeding their delivery and disguising the purchase if the Ministry tried to track them to Harry’s whereabouts. As Dumbledore demonstrated in Harry’s fifth year, Phoenix travel was completely untraceable.
After shopping, they took a Muggle bus to Butchart Gardens since Ginny had been keen on seeing the gardens from before the wedding. She was especially keen on seeing Thomas McCafferty and unravelling the mystery of her cousin’s relationship with him.
On the way over, Harry searched his book for Charlotte. “Here she is,” he said and Ginny leaned in close to read the entry.
“She was married to Henry Abbott Swift, and their daughter, Darlene was your grandfather’s mother.” Ginny compared the dates of her death with the Darlene’s birth. “Your great-grandmother was only ten when McIsenrod killed her mother.”
Harry narrowed his eyebrows. “Which means he’s probably long dead. You can bet it wasn’t a normal family disagreement,” he said and Ginny knew that both death and being an orphan was a part of Harry’s heritage. “If Crackshot’s interested in him, then you have to know there’s something else to it.”
“We’ll let Hermione know what we’ve found tonight and see if she’s been able to start gathering information on him at the Ministry.” She took his hand and the bus slowed in front of their destination. “Right now, I want to see these famed flowers firsthand.”
Butchart Gardens borrows its name from the family that owned the land and created the fifty-five acres of lush, precisely maintained, themed arrangements. At the turn of the century, Jennie Butchart, wife of businessman Robert Butchart asked her husband if she could use the remains of a cement quarry near their home for a Japanese garden. Her success led her to create more gardens, which took nearly two decades to complete. It has been in the family ever since and sees more than a million visitors every year and is a Canadian National Treasure.
Ginny looked up from the pamphlet she was reading. “Let’s see the Japanese garden first,” she said to Harry, who was trying to figure out the map posted just inside the gate. She walked over to him and pointed a finger at a small patch next to a building. “There.”
Harry scratched his head. “How about you lead?”
Smirking, Ginny took his hand and they strode down the sunlit path together.
A thousand different colours and scents assaulted their senses. Bees hummed as they merrily dipped and bobbed between giant swaths of blossoms. Dozens of tourists were snapping away at the pristine grounds with cameras in the hope of capturing some of the magic that was there, for indeed, it was magical.
They turned a corner and entered the Japanese garden. Oak and Maple trees with leaves that shook in the breeze sprung out of neatly trimmed grass and carefully raked gravel. The path wound around mounds of flowers and carved itself into small hills of shrubs and next to sparkling fountains. A large wooden pagoda stood on the far end of the open garden. Ginny stopped. “This is it,” she said, taking in the whole scene. “I’ve seen this before.”
“This isn’t like the books you bought,” Harry said, slowly turning around to digest the whole scene. “It’s spectacular.”
Ginny shook her head and stepped off the path to get a different perspective, ignoring the sign that said ‘Stay On the Path’. “No, I mean I’ve seen this in a picture. Cousin Martha and that bloke she was with... They were in a picture taken right here.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “I remember that, but the trees looked a lot smaller and...”
Behind them, someone cleared their throat. “Please mind the grass.” A man emerged from behind a heaping mass of red and purple hydrangeas. “The fence is there for a reason.”
Ginny started and ran back to Harry, jumping over the low wooden fence. “Sorry,” she said apologetically.
“You aren’t the first to try to sneak off for a little romantic interlude,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Newlyweds, am I right?” he said with a nod at the ring on her hand.
“Well yes, but...”
“I’ve seen it all before.”
“We weren’t trying to sneak off,” said Ginny, gesturing at the pagoda. “I was just trying to see if this is where my cousin had her picture taken.”
The old man stepped onto the path gingerly. “Your cousin, eh?” he said sceptically. “Likely story.”
“No, really,” said Ginny, oddly determined to explain the truth. “She was here in the thirties and had her picture taken with the head gardener.”
The man’s countenance changed completely. Instead of patent disbelief, a hungry look washed across his features. “How do you know about that?”
“I told you,” Ginny said slowly. “My cousin Martha knew the head gardener and...” but she was cut off.
“Martha?” he asked tremulously. He took a shaky step forward and reached out a hand to Ginny. “You know Martha Maybeck?”
“Yes,” Ginny said again. “She’s my cousin. Well,” she amended, “she’s my mother’s cousin.”
The old man seemed to grow younger from merely mentioning Martha’s name. “You’ll be a Prewitt, then?” he asked, returning his gaze to Ginny.
“No, I’m a Weasley, Potter now,” she corrected with a small blush, “but my mum was a Prewitt.”
“Gideon and Fabian?”
“Ah,” he said as if that explained everything. “Well, come one, then,” he said and bid them follow. “Its tea time and I’ve got a load of work to do around the Ross Fountain before the fireworks.”
Confused, but highly curious, they followed. “You are Thomas McCafferty, aren’t you?” Ginny asked as they wound around a giant weeping birch and spotted a small building nestled in a copse of juniper trees by the side of a hill.
“Yes, I’m Thomas.”
The postage-stamp cottage was confining, but very efficient. Ginny could tell that Thomas lived there, and wondered if he ever left the gardens. He used his wand to boil the water and put together some sandwiches. Soon, Harry and Ginny were tucked onto a small bench across a tiny table from Thomas.
“Weasley, eh?” he said pouring the tea into three porcelain cups. “Any relation to Septimus?”
“He’s my granddad,” she explained, spooning in two teaspoons of sugar and stirring. “Did you know him?”
“Aye,” he said, a hint of the Scottish highlands leaking into his voice. “He was my best mate before he married Cedrella Black.”
Ginny looked at Thomas, shocked. “Grandmum was a Black?” she asked. “I never knew she was related to....”
“Bartemus Crouch Sr., actually,” interjected Thomas. “He was her nephew. There were three main lines of Blacks when your grandmum married Septimus. The line through Sirius, which after two generations merged with the line through Cygnus when Orion and Walburga married.”
“Sirius’s parents!” said Harry, who was lapping up every scrap of information on the Black family.
“That’s how he got the name,” Thomas confirmed. “From both his parents’ great-grandfather. Then there was Arcturus’ descendants. Your grandmother was one of his children.”
Ginny’s head was swimming. “You mentioned that granddad was your best mate. What happened?”
Thomas took a sip of his tea, his expression unchanged. “It was during the time when Grindelwald was gaining strength. He and I were in a secret organisation, along with Martha and several others, dedicated to stopping him.”
“The Order of the Phoenix?” asked Harry.
“No, that was Dumbledore’s club, formed to combat Voldemort decades later. Ours was less... glamorous.” He took a bite of sandwich and stared out the windows for a moment. “We never challenged Grindelwald directly, but we were able to slow him down a little.
“There was a battle with his chief lieutenant, Rinspar Yaxley. Your grandfather and I were sent to flush him out of his hideout and Martha and another witch were to call in reinforcements. Well, he got the drop on us and before we knew it, Grindelwald was there. Even with four against two, they were able to injure one of us and escape.”
Ginny and Harry sat, eyes fixed on Thomas, their sandwiches forgotten. “Who was injured? What happened?”
He sighed. “It was the witch that came with Martha. She died that night.”
“Who was it?” Ginny asked softly sensing the worst.
“She was my sister.” He stood and walked to the window. “Your grandfather was fixated with Grindelwald’s wand. He duelled him single-handedly while the three of us took on Yaxley. When Yaxley was stunned, we turned to help Septimus, but he waved us off. That’s when Grindelwald cursed my sister.”
There was silence in the little kitchen, broken only by the slow tick-tock of an unseen clock. “So,” began Harry tentatively, “your sister would have survived if Septimus wouldn’t have stopped you from helping?”
Thomas gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know for sure, but she shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Thomas turned to face them. “I tried to tell him that she wasn’t old enough to be fighting in the war, that we could have used another witch, but he was adamant. She’s gone, he was our leader, and he has to take responsibility for it.”
“But why?” asked Ginny but she was cut off.
“Listen to me,” he said sardonically. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about this in thirty years and here I am talking to you like....” He took a deep breath and blew it out, forcing a smile back on his face. “Now, how about I show you around the place?”
With a shared look of concern, they wolfed down their sandwiches and followed him outside. He was a good tour guide, showing them one breathtaking scene to another. They devoured the unbelievable gardens, asking questions about how magic was used to grow and preserve them, and despite an almost overwhelming urge to do so, never once brought up Ginny’s grandfather again. The sun sank below the tree tops and lights twinkled along the paths and in the trees so that the flowers took on an almost otherworldly beauty.
They were at the entrance again, when Thomas locked eyes with Harry. “You fought in this last war, didn’t you?”
“I...yes,” Harry admitted.
“I can see it in your eyes, son,” he said. Then after a few seconds, he straightened up. “While you’re in Victoria, you should visit the Tall Ships Festival out in the harbour. They have boat races, ship tours, a mock battle, and from what I remember, there’s a very romantic spot from the docks where you can watch it all.” His waved them goodbye with a twinkle in his eye and popped back to his cottage.
By the time the weekend arrived, they found themselves outside the Westwood Plateau Pitch, waiting along with hundreds of other Quidditch fans to see the Hammers play against the Vanguards. Their strange encounter with Thomas was still swirling in Harry’s head. He understood more than anyone how difficult it was to endanger someone needlessly. It’s the primary reason he’d broken up with Ginny at Dumbledore’s funeral. Still, Harry couldn’t help but think Thomas McCafferty’s story had something important to do with the Elder Wand.
“This is so exciting!” squealed Ginny. “Did you bring the Omnioculars? Ron won’t believe it unless we show him.”
Harry smiled at his wife and tapped the pocket of his robes. He had indeed brought the Omnioculars and his Invisibility Cloak. Touring Muggle-operated sites was one thing, attending a wizard-only event that was certain to boast thousands of attendees was asking for trouble. So he had transfigured his hair brown, replaced his glasses with more modern frames, and covered his scar with Muggle make-up he borrowed from Ginny.
The stadium was different than the one at Hogwarts that Harry was used to. Instead of large towers spread at intervals for fans to watch the action level with the players, the walls of the stadium were raised so that spectators were stacked on top of one another like boxes in a warehouse.
Their box was near the top, next to the announcer. As soon as they were inside, Harry locked the door and returned his hair to normal. “It itches,” he explained to Ginny and they sat down.
The Vanguards were warming up and he immediately zoomed in on their Seeker through the Omnioculars. The small witch was zooming through a set of conjured pylons in mid-air. She ran her broom through its paces and at the end, performed a Wronski-Feint and banished the pylons. She looked very good.
“My turn,” said Ginny and she took the Omnioculars to spy on the Chasers.
It was a cool night with a solid grey ceiling of clouds over the city. Ginny wore gloves and a scarf, while Harry had only his cloak.
“Ooh,” said Ginny as two of the Chasers collided with each other. “They could use some work on their Parkin's Pincer.” She gestured to the heap of robes and brooms where the Vanguard captain was zooming towards. “If they can’t even perform it in practice, I hope they don’t try it in the game.”
Harry didn’t really know what the Pincer was, but it looked like all the Chasers tried to bodily attack the other team’s chaser, which was played by the luckily uninjured Vanguard Keeper.
The Vanguards left the pitch and the Hammers took to the air. Applause rose from the stadium to meet them. They traded Omnioculars again and focused in on the Chasers and Seeker. When they were done, Harry leaned over to Ginny. “What do you think?”
“Hammers, no question,” she said. “Their Chasers will eat the Vanguards alive, and their Keeper blocked all but one of their warm-up shots.”
“No way. If the Snitch is out before they score a hundred points, the Vanguard Seeker will end the game.”
Ginny laughed. “How many times have you seen the Snitch in the first fifteen minutes? Because that’s how long it’ll be before the Hammers have scored one hundred and fifty points.”
Harry appraised his wife. “Wanna bet on it?”
“What do I get when you lose?” she asked saucily.
“Hmm,” he said, considering the stakes. Even though they were in a private box, he leaned in and whispered in her ear.
She blushed to the roots of her hair but stuck out a hand. “You’re on!”
The Announcer worked his way through the rosters of each team and even though the Vanguards were the home team, the Hammers got the most applause.
“And the Quaffle is out!” he yelled and the game began.
The Vanguard Chasers were as horrible as Ginny predicted, but they held the Hammers to a hundred points for the first hour, mainly due to some spectacular saves by their Keeper. They were even able to score twenty points on their own, making it only an eight point lead. The Hammers’ Beaters were relentless however, and it wasn’t long before one of the Vanguard Chasers was hit full on in the stomach.
“And that’ll be the end of the game for Wimberly,” said the announcer. “The reserve Chaser is fresh out of school and sure to be intimidated by the fearsome bats of Broadmoor and Bently.”
Ginny growled. “I’d be intimidated to if my first appearance on a professional pitch was introduced like that.”
“I thought you had a vested interest in seeing the Hammers win,” Harry said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Ginny smirked demurely. “The way I see it, no matter who win the bet, I’m the winner.”
Harry never wanted to Snitch to get caught so badly in his life.
“You know,” he said after the new Chaser was done warming up and the game resumed. “Have you ever thought about playing professionally?”
Ginny half turned toward him, keeping one eye on the game. “You mean Quidditch?”
The crowd rose in their boxes, and began to cheer. The Vanguard Seeker was diving straight down, breaking up a Hawkshead Attack from the Hammers, their Seeker trailing behind. Harry’s trained eyes darted along the grass and stadium walls. “She’s feinting,” he said and the crowd let out a groan when the Hammer’ Seeker ploughed into the sod.
The Vanguard Beaters took the opportunity to hit both Bludgers at the defending Keeper. The Vanguards scored and the Hammers’ Beaters were very unhappy about it. They cracked the Bludgers at the opposing Beaters repeatedly until they were in an all out Bludger-hitting war. The Chasers were free to score unabated and the Hammers lead fell to sixty. One of the Vanguards’ Beaters panicked and shot a Beater toward the stands, right at Harry and Ginny.
“Look out!” Harry yelled and Banished the Bludger with his wand, just as Broadmoor (or was it Bently) zoomed over to hit it back.
The man growled menacingly at Harry and when Harry looked at him, he felt his blood run cold. A familiar gruff face stared back in shock at Harry, obviously recognizing him. Broadmoor narrowed his eyes. He looked like he was ready to leap off his broom and attack Harry with his bat in front of a thousand onlookers.
“That’ll be a bumphing foul charged against the Vanguards, but what’s this?” The announcer stuck his head out of his box and turned to look at who Broadmoor was leering at. “Get back on the Pitch, Broadmoor... Oh! It seems we have a celebrity among us, folks!”
Harry quickly pulled out his Cloak, but it slipped to the floor of his box. It was the last thing he expected and he wrestled with the silvery material to get it on, but the Announcer was speaking again.
“Our very own Joss Woodhall!”
“Huh?” asked Harry, thoroughly confused. Broadmoor finally flew off as the game resumed, but he kept turning his head toward Harry.
Woodhall stood in the box next to them and waved to the crowd. A thousand flashes from a thousand cameras glittered toward them.
Harry grabbed Ginny’s arm. “Come on,” he said and slipped on his Cloak. He unlocked the door to their box and they were in the hallway. He was frustrated, however, because it seemed that everyone had the same idea, and were jostling to meet Joss, who was busy signing autographs as the queue got longer and longer.
Sending a mild Stinging Hex at the wizard in front of him, Harry was able to slip through the line and onto the stairs, Ginny trailing behind.
“Excuse me,” she said, sounding very embarrassed.
It wasn’t until they were well clear of the stadium that Harry pulled off his Cloak.
“Harry,” said an exasperated Ginny. “Why did we leave? They didn’t even recognize you. It was Woodhall they were excited about.”
He shoved the Cloak back into his robe pocket. “It wasn’t that. Didn’t you recognize him?”
“Who?” asked Ginny.
“Broadmoor,” explained Harry, who turned back to the stadium as a roar echoed from the crowd. “He was the one who attacked us at Hogwarts. He was the one who was after the Elder Wand!”
Ginny’s face went white. “But Hermione Obliviated him,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t remember attacking us at all.”
He wasn’t so sure and judging by the way Broadmoor stared at Harry, it seemed like their lives were about to get a whole lot more complicated. “He recognized me,” Harry finally replied, “and that’s enough.”
Harry took Ginny’s hand and they Apparated back to their flat.
Log in using your account with us
Retrieve your password
Simply enter your email address in below, and we will send you an email with a NEW password in it. Once you have logged in, you will be able to change your password to something a little easier to remember.