The Funeral
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a work of imagination and is directed solely at readers of this website. No infringement of any rights is intended and no criticism of J.K. Rowling or her work should be considered to be stated or implied.
Part 4. Transference
Ginny had not reacted to Harry's bad news regarding his research on Pygmy Puffs as he had expected. She had not burst into tears or become mildly hysterical. Instead, she had dried her eyes with her tissue, still sniffing occasionally, and had then become withdrawn and thoughtful. The two of them had spent a largely silent evening and had gone to bed early, both seemingly wearied by the day's events.
In the morning, they had continued to seem awkward with each other and had moved around the bedroom and kitchen like strangers, unexpectedly thrown together by the vagaries of chance. Neither of them had mentioned Elfreida. However, as Harry had prepared to leave for work, Ginny had kissed him fiercely on the mouth; his head clasped firmly between her hands; her eyes wide open and staring intently into his own. Harry had stammered his goodbyes, before apparating to the normal place, close to the ministry building, where he always began his working day.
He didn't immediately go inside. Ginny's kiss had made him think once more about Hermione and he found that he was longing to see her. Was this something new, or had he always been attracted to Hermione and tried to ignore his feelings for some reason? He could remember being proud and embarrassed when Hermione had hugged him for the first time, telling him that he was a "great wizard" during their first year at Hogwarts. He also recalled sitting by her bedside gazing down at her seemingly lifeless body when she had been petrified in their second year. Then, there had been that sudden lurch in his stomach when Hermione had tightened her grip around his waist as they rode on Buckbeak, the Hippogriff, pressing the developing contours of her body into his back, her soft hair tickling his neck. But the first time that he had really been conscious of any romantic feelings towards Hermione had been when she suddenly kissed him on the cheek at King's Cross station at the end of their fourth year. He had agonised about that kiss all summer; thoughts of Hermione and Cho Chang competing in his mind. However, by that time he had been fairly certain that Ron fancied Hermione and he suspected that she might return Ron's feelings. He was therefore acutely aware that any wrong move on his part could have disastrous consequences for his friendship with both of them. Cho Chang had also surprisingly been very friendly towards him at the beginning of his fifth year at school and so it had been relatively easy to dismiss any lingering doubts about Hermione. However, that hadn't stopped the pair of them seeming to become closer than ever that year. Only Hermione could have coaxed him out of the bedroom at Grimmauld Place, when he was convinced that he was possessed by Voldermort, and he could still acutely remember the despair that he had experienced when Hermione was hit by the Death Eater's curse during the fight in the Ministry of Magic. After that, Harry had been preoccupied with regrets over Sirius, but, in any case, he had become even more wary of Ron's possible response to any moves that he might make towards Hermione; and then things had changed completely. He had started to see Ginny in a totally different light and, after that, the suspected relationship between Ron and Hermione had solidified. However, Harry could clearly recollect the anger that had coursed through him the first time that he saw the pair of them kissing. But that had just been frustration because they were wasting time; hadn't it?
Harry felt guilty as he entered the ministry building and walked across the polished wooden floor of the foyer towards the bank of elevators. His wife's pet for over 20 years had just died and here he was day dreaming about another woman! The atmosphere at home had been very strained over the past couple of days and Ginny's kiss that morning had been filled almost with an air of desperation. He needed to do something for her; to make a gesture that would bring them back together and clear his mind of any thoughts about Hermione. With a sudden flash of inspiration, Harry decided that what he needed to do was to buy Ginny a new Pygmy Puff, to take Elfreida's place. And so, on an impulse, he crossed to the reception desk and asked the receptionist to pass a message on to his personal assistant, informing her that he wouldn't be in for a couple of hours. Harry then left the building intent on finding a source of Pygmy Puffs.
Once he had made his decision, he worried briefly about the re-classification of the tiny creatures and what it could mean. Controlled status wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Many magical creatures that were kept as pets, such as miniature dragons and hippogriffs, enjoyed that classification. In any case, he reasoned, Ginny had kept Elfreida for over 20 years and had never shown the least sign of any adverse effects. After all, how much harm could a fluffy ball of fur actually do? Harry decided that he would check out the reasons for the change in status, once he had found a supplier, just to be safe, although he was sure that there would be no problem. He had no idea where he might find Pygmy Puffs and he therefore decided that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would be as good a place as any to start his search.
The business was now run by George alone and much of the fun and inventiveness had disappeared from the product line. Harry thought that George kept things going mainly in memory of his twin brother, Fred, and now had little interest in developing things in the way that the pair of them had once planned. However, the shop was still an enchanting place, as far as Harry was concerned, and he loved to wander around, seeing the enjoyment that young wizards and witches still derived from the various items of merchandise. There was also a life-size, portrait of Fred on one wall, which reminded Harry, as the image moved around, pulling funny faces and laughing, of the way that the Weasley twins used to be; before Voldermort had intervened.
George was leaning on the main counter at the far end of the shop, pushing some wobbly pink cubes around thoughtfully with the tip of his wand, as Harry entered. The opening of the door set off a burst of laughter that resonated around the cluttered space.
"Oh, hello Harry," George looked up distractedly. "I think that we've got a faulty batch of "tongue twister candy". It lengthens the tongue OK, but it just won't tie it in knots the way it should do." He gave the candy a last hopeful prod and then turned his full attention towards Harry. "So, what brings you here? Need some more Peruvian darkness powder or, perhaps, some of our patented hair controller?"
"Neither of those," replied Harry smiling. "No, it's Elfreida. She's died, I'm afraid and Ginny is a bit upset. I thought that I would try and get her a new Pygmy Puff."
"Can't help you there mate." George shook his head. "We haven't been able to get hold of any for a long time. The Ministry put an import ban on them years ago. Now, they're all bottled up in Bulgaria, although a few probably get sneaked out unofficially. As you know, we don't deal with that sort of thing, being honest trustworthy citizens," he added with a wink.
"Do you know why they were reclassified?" Harry asked.
"No. I never did get to the bottom of that. Seems to be a bit sensitive. I heard it had something to do with Dark Magic, although Elfreida always seemed perfectly harmless and innocent to me, so I've never really tried to find out any more. Shame really. They sold like hot cakes, when we first got them."
Harry frowned, thinking that he had reached a dead end.
"Tell you who might know," George suddenly continued, brightening. "Do you remember that woman who replaced Hagrid a couple of times at Hogwarts?"
"Professor Grubbly-Plank?"
"Yeah. That's her! Well, her daughter, Greta, works at the Ministry. She's head of the Department of Magical Creature Regulation. She's bound to know all about it, but whether she'll tell you anything, I couldn't be sure."
"Thanks, George," Harry responded, feeling more hopeful. "I'll give her a try. You've been a great help, as always." Harry pretended to tip an invisible hat in a mocking salute. In response, George raised his eyebrows and stuck a finger in his mouth, imitating a gagging reflex as Harry walked back out into Diagon Alley.
Harry had not met Greta Grubbly-Plank and had never had anything to do with the Department of Magical Creature Regulation and so, he had no idea where to find her. Arriving back at the Ministry, he therefore checked with reception and was surprised to find that Greta Grubbly-Plank's office was on the same corridor as Hermione's, only further from the elevators, which explained why he had never gone passed it.
Harry approached Hermione's office door with some trepidation. He couldn't get yesterday's kiss out of his mind. He had experienced a feeling of total immersion, as if there was a powerful connection between the two of them that had just been waiting for the opportunity to emerge. Harry didn't want to risk revisiting the embarrassment of the day before and tried to sneak past Hermione's door unnoticed. Unfortunately, however, Hermione generally kept her office door open and, sensing someone in the corridor, she looked up over the top of the half-moon glasses that she now wore for reading just as Harry inched forward.
"Harry?" Her voice at least was soft and friendly, Harry noted with relief.
Realising that he was trapped and could not avoid a confrontation, Harry quickly adjusted his path and took a step inside the office. He could see that Hermione was smartly dressed, as usual when in the office, wearing a crisp white blouse, open at the neck; her hair tied back, away from her face.
"I didn't want to disturb you," he improvised, "but, look, I just wanted to say sorry again for what happened yesterday. I wasn't feeling too well all day and I just seemed to blank out. When I came back to my senses, I was kissing you. I don't understand how it happened, but I must have been day dreaming or something. Lucky it was you, really. I could have kissed a total stranger," he finished lamely.
Hermione looked back down at her papers. "Oh…well, that explains it. You've never…." She seemed to hesitate.
"Never… what?" Harry prompted.
"Look, was there something else that you wanted? Only, I'm very busy and…" Hermione suddenly sounded irritable.
"No," Harry interrupted. "I just wanted to explain."
"Well, you've done that now, haven't you?" Hermione retorted. "Don't worry. I'm not going to say anything to Ginny, if that's what's concerning you."
"That's got nothing to do with it," Harry protested. "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am."
"OK, you're sorry. So let's forget it! It obviously didn't mean anything. Now, if you don't mind, I really must get on with this." Hermione gestured towards the papers on her desk and then started to study them intently.
Harry shrugged and retreated sheepishly from the office, just catching sight of Hermione reaching for the box of tissues on her desk as he turned away. Harry sighed as he continued down the corridor, wondering if perhaps Hermione wasn't feeling well or was getting increasingly worried about Ron. She seemed in a bad mood for some reason and he hoped that it wasn't just caused by their encounter yesterday.
In contrast to Hermione's office, Greta Grubbly-Plank's door was firmly shut. Harry knocked tentatively with his knuckles and was grateful to hear a muffled "Come in," uttered from the other side.
Greta Grubbly-Plank turned out to be a fairly plain looking woman, who appeared to be slightly older than Harry. She had straight shoulder length, dark brown hair, flicked under at the ends, and matching brown eyes that peered at Harry through large, dark-rimmed glasses, from under a long fringe. Her skin was tanned and already heavily lined, presumably from spending time out in the open, tracking down or managing the creatures that she regulated. When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly gentle and feminine, belying her fairly rugged appearance.
"Harry Potter!" she explained, pushing her chair back and extending her right hand across the desk, palm open, in invitation.
Harry was used to being recognised by complete strangers and crossed to the desk in a few purposeful strides; seizing Greta's outstretched hand and shaking it warmly.
"Ms. Grubbly-Plank, nice to meet you," Harry gushed enthusiastically.
"Oh, call me Greta, please. And what on earth have I done to deserve this honour?"
Harry smiled. "I've come to pick your brains actually. I've got a little problem that you might be able to help me with."
Greta sat back down in her chair, indicating a guest chair on Harry's side of the desk with a wave of her arm.
Harry accepted the implied invitation to sit down and lent forward trying to decide how to approach things.
"My wife has had a pet Pygmy Puff for quite a few years," he began. "Recently, I came across the information that they are now "controlled", which worried me somewhat. The thing is… I can't seem to find out why and I'm wondering if my wife might be at risk in any way."
Greta Grubbly-Plank looked thoughtful for a moment, steepling her fingers in front of her lips. "I shouldn't think so," she began eventually. "As I recall, it was purely a precaution and I don't think that there have been any reports of problems in this country. Not long after the demise of He-who-must-not-be-named, however, we did start receiving some rather strange reports from Bulgaria about peculiar Dark Magic that appeared to be associated with the little creatures. It seems that they can possibly act as a conduit for emotional control of others. In particular, we had reports that some witches or wizards were using Pygmy Puffs to romantically ensnare some poor, unsuspecting victim. It seems that by using the right type of Dark Magic an individual can be driven to feel an infatuation - perhaps even love - for the owner of the beast. The effect is strongest when the Pygmy Puff is present or close-by, but wanes if there is a long period of absence, only to reassert itself as soon the two people meet up again."
Greta paused to allow this information to be absorbed. "But it is quite powerful Dark Magic, so I doubt if anyone over here knows how to do it. I should think that your wife is quite safe."
Harry frowned, his mind starting to wander in unpleasant directions that he found hard to contemplate.
"There is one other strange thing, though," Greta continued smiling now. "The effects end abruptly when the Pygmy Puff dies and there have been some very strange reports of transference, which can be quite embarrassing."
"Transference?" Harry questioned, his alarm rising.
"Yes," Greta responded. "It seems that the imposed affection acts to suppress the victim's real feelings and when the effect is suddenly removed, there can be a catastrophic release of all of that pent-up emotion. It can make the individual behave very strangely indeed. I hear that there have been instances where people have made complete fools of themselves, suddenly hugging the wife of an acquaintance or a work colleague and confessing their love, while in a sort of trance. It's quite amusing really. Although, it must be very unpleasant for the victim," she added hastily.
Harry sat dazed. There it was; the complete explanation for his sudden infatuation with Ginny all of those years ago; their idyllic life together; their disagreements when Harry was away; and his strange behaviour the previous day. He couldn't quite believe it, but deep inside he knew that it had to be true; he was a victim of Dark Magic and his life over the last twenty odd years had been a complete charade! Ginny had somehow entrapped him with Elfreida, although how she had known the Dark Magic involved, Harry couldn't imagine. And, why would she have done such a thing? It seemed totally out of character for Ginny or any of the Weasleys for that matter. They had always been like a second family to him.
It was also clear that the deception must have caused him to suppress all thoughts of Hermione; thoughts that had now returned with a vengeance. However, if all that was true, then he must have been kidding himself, even back in fourth and fifth year at Hogwarts, that Hermione was just a friend. Harry could easily identify the reason. He had always known that a relationship with Hermione was out of the question. Ron fancied her and she felt the same about Ron; that was why she was so upset at the Yule Ball; that was why she confunded McLaggen; and that was why she invited Ron to Slughorn's Christmas Party.
"Are you all right?" Greta Grubbly-Plank's voice broke into Harry's thoughts. "You look a little bit pale, if you don't mind me saying."
Harry blinked, finding it difficult to focus on his surroundings. His head seemed to be spinning.
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine thanks. Just feeling a bit dizzy." With an effort he pushed himself up from the chair and staggered to the doorway. "Look…thanks for all of the information. It's been nice meeting you Greta. Only…I have to go now. Bye."
Harry walked out into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind him, leaving Greta Grubbly-Plank staring after him, with a worried expression on her face. Once he was alone, Harry walked quickly in the direction of the elevators, intent on getting as far away as possible from Greta and Hermione. He was relieved to find that the door to Hermione's office was now shut and so he reached the end of the corridor without any interruption. Harry paused, trying to collect his thoughts.
He felt angry and confused. His first idea was to go home and confront Ginny, but he really had no evidence that what he suspected had actually taken place, apart from his own certainty that it had. He needed time to clear his head and let his anger subside. With that in mind, Harry made his way back to his own department and checked-in with the active assignment co-ordinator. He found that there was a report of possible use of Dark Magic in Prague which needed to be investigated and volunteered for the assignment. The co-ordinator was surprised, but only too happy to accept Harry's offer. And so, sending a brief note to Ginny explaining that he had been called away unexpectedly on business, Harry left for Prague immediately.
He had been in Prague for four days, pursuing his enquiries and making good progress, when he arrived back at his hotel one evening to find an owl from Ginny waiting for him. The message was short. Ron's condition had worsened and Harry needed to get back to London immediately.