Harry Potter and the Blood of Merlin.

Chapter 12 - Wilting flowers

After Mrs Weasleys speech around the dinner table, the mood had become somber in the burrow. Even Fred and George lacked their usual lustre and resigned to their room soon after the table had been cleared. Harry didn't yet feel the need for sleep and watched as one by one the Weasleys and Hermione retired to their rooms. 'We must talk tomorrow' she whispered as she had left the room. Mr and Mrs Weasley had gone for a stroll in the late, warm air and he now sat alone in a large armchair in front of a smouldering fireplace, which had been used to cook dinner.

He had retrieved the photo album Hagrid had given him and with thought of the Mrs Weasley ancestors racing round his mind we wanted to look over the pictures Hagrid had put together.
Where the Weasleys cursed?
His dad on a racing broom.
Would someone go missing from Ron and his siblings?
His mother holding his fathers hand walking down a sheltered lane.
What had Rons twin uncles meant in their letter?
His father, a young boy sitting on his grandparents lap.
Where had the missing ancestors gone?
A young red headed girl holding a small bunch of handpicked wild flowers in her hand.

With the warmth of the night, his full stomach and the exceedingly comfortable armchair left Harry feeling tired and even with his thoughts running he found himself drifting off, his head resting against the smooth leather.

Grey smoke hung low and heavy in the air and Harry found it hard to breath. He could hear a metallic noise from somewhere but couldn't place it. He span to see a fire roaring behind him, not just from the fireplace but the whole side of the building.
'Plus rapide' a rough female voice called out, the smoke making her voice harsh, ' they will be inside soon and I cannot hold ze door much longer' a french accent coughed.
Through a shift in the smoke he saw where her voice came from, she was stood only a few feet to his right her back to him but her head turned to something in front of Harry, he saw she had a wand trained at the door, which was straining, the wood beginning to splinter.

'I am going as quickly as I can Mora, but this is delicate work' Harry's head span to see that within the wall of fire, a man sat on a small stool much too close to the roaring flames.  Even from his ten feet away he could feel the heat of the flames against his skin as an uncomfortable blaze. Surely he must be burning alive. His hand instinctively reached for his wand and he took to step forwards but as he did the man calmly rose.
'Finish' he explained but with a sad sigh.
'Ah la fin, can we go now, Mora asked her brow mixed with sweat and ash, her hair wild in the humid room.
'Yes, I believe we can' answered the man, his face now in view to Harry, an old looking man yet extremely young too, he couldn't place what it was. He had a handsome beard, not as long as Dumbledore but still admirable, the dark drown flecked with ash.
Then to Harry amazement he turned and looked Harry dead in the eye. So much so that he felt himself shiver and despite the flames he turned cold instantly, he opened to speak yet this time his cousin Dudley's voice came out of the mans mouth
'Thirty-six, that's two less than last year.'
Harry stepped back in shock, why was that man repeating his cousins demands for more presents?
'But we must go now' Mora pleaded with the man, one hand brushing ash from her stomach.
'Yes I believe we can now go Mora, hold my arm.'
And with that the door crashed in and he saw the two people twist into nothing as they aparated, he was jolted as a swarm of people burst into the room.
'Harry, goodness wake up'
He sat up right with a start only to face Mrs Weasley, quickly dear move away so Arthur can put out the fire she panted, half helping, half pulling Harry out of the chair, he looked over her shoulder to see the once calm crackling embers where now a roar of flames licking up the fireplace wall blistering a painting above the mantle. He jumped back and watch as Mr Weasley adeptly sent a jet of water from his wandtip towards the flames and smoke began to pour from the grate.
'Oh Harry dear, that my fault, I didn't think our walk would take this long, I meant to put out the ember before I left, Oh I'm so glad your ok, and she began to fuss looking over his clothes,
'You make a mistake and the Banshee comes and tells you' she murmured to herself.
'Honestly Mrs Weasley I'm fine' He tried to reassure her.
'How you didn't feel that heat I do not know, much longer and it would have burnt you up to, Oh my, I cannot bear to think...' she carried on fussing ignoring his attempts to re assure her.
'Seriously Mrs Weasley I'm fine' he told her again and she stared at him, her eyes just like ginny's,  looked over his face resting for a fraction of a moment longer on the scar.
'Harry look' she told him sternly and she pointed over to the fireplace, the chair in which had not long ago been napping in was being carried in front of Mr Weasley, his wand magically levitating it towards the door, the smooth leather was cracked and parched and the knitted throw that had been across his lap was now nothing but a black charred pile.
He looked back to Mrs Weasley, eyes wide, 'Oh' was all he managed,
I saved this for you Mr Weasley called over throwing Harry his photo Album and Harry caught it deftly and a photo fell out. He hugged it to his chest and Mrs Weasley bent to retrieve the fallen picture. He honestly didn't know what he would have done if this had been burnt.
'Harry dear' Mrs Weasley held out the photo, it was the one he had been looking at of the young girl hold the flowers, his mother as a child. He placed the book down and looked at the picture,
'She never aged that girl' Mrs Weasley told him, her hand on his shoulder and they sat in unison on a large footstool. Harry looked to her and saw she was smiling, 'May I?' She asked holding her hand out for the photo, he obliged and watched her smile widen as she looked over the picture. Harry knew this photo to be a muggle picture as his mother didn't move, a snapshot in time of his mother aged 10 maybe 11 he had guessed. Maybe just before she had gone to Hogwarts he liked to think.
As Mrs Weasley held the picture up he saw something he hadn't noticed before as he had never removed any picture from the book, in small neat handwriting there was something on the back of the picture.

He took the picture back from Mrs Weasley and read the note,
Tuney,
I got here fine and everything is ok, next time I'll send a moving picture, that's weird right?
I tried speaking with Dumbledore but he was adamant that you cannot come, but don't give up I'll keep trying,
I miss you so much, please don't hate me, or Sev, it's not his fault.
Love you
L

'Aunt Petunia wanted to go to Hogwarts' Harry exclaimed leaving Mrs Weasley looking  quite shocked, 'sorry' he said realising he had been rather loud.
'I thought she would have told you that Harry' Mrs Weasley answered looking at him,
'We don't exactly reminisce much' told her dryly.
' Oh, well, all I know is that your Aunt Petunia was extremely sad, and a little angry that she couldn't do magic, I think depressed your mother once said, but I'm afraid I don't know much dear, I didn't really know your parents that well, our school years didn't even cross over, but there is someone you can ask' she smiled brightly
'Who' and he racked his brain for who might have know his mother and aunt.
'Remus is coming tomorrow for, a er, little chat, I'm sure he would know much, much more.'