Now And Forever
Chapter 32
By Abraxan
Author Notes:
Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my fabulous betas, Alexander, Asad, Iris and Rich! Thanks too to Mark Anders Harrison for help with a Latin incantation, and Mike McKean for his help with a sports question!
NOW AVAILABLE!!! "Star Sons 1 - Dawn of the Two" an original fantasy novel by Abraxan (Lynda Sappington)! Go to Amazon or Barnes & Noble to order! If you want an autographed bookplate, send a business-sized SASE to:
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15401 Eaton Pike,
West Alexandria OH 45381.
Harry had given up on using a Glamour Charm on his back and right hand. Between the strength of the sun and getting in the water from time to time, the Glamour Charm made his skin look odd, as if it were being seen through a piece of glass with waves on its cloudy surface. Just letting his scars show seemed to draw less attention, so that’s what he did.
On yet another sunny, warm day, Harry was queued up at an ice cream stand on the beach. Ginny was dozing in the blue-and-white striped cabana he’d rented for
them, only her freckled legs showing beyond its shade.
"Mister! What’s on your back?" a small boy said. "You have lines all over!"
Harry sighed and turned to look at the child, a towheaded boy about six years old. "They’re scars."
"I have a scar," the boy offered. He held up his knee, which had a small round mark on it. "I got it from falling off my bike on gravel. My dad has a scar on his arm from a cut.
How’d you get yours?"
Harry swallowed hard, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to frighten the child, either. He knew staying close to the truth was the best policy when lying, so he blew out a breath and replied,
"I was wounded in battle."
The boy’s eyes widened. "My uncle’s a soldier. My dad was too, but he’s been out for a while. Are you a soldier?"
"I was."
"Maybe you met my uncle. His name’s Rich Maxwell, from Oklahoma?"
Harry smiled and shook his head. "Sorry. I don’t know him."
"We’re meeting him here tomorrow! He’s coming home."
"That’s wonderful! I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you."
"Bobby, are you bothering people?" a young man a few years older than Harry said. He looked up at Harry and grinned. "I’m sorry, he just outran me."
The child tugged on his father’s shirt. "Dad, he was wounded in the war! But he doesn’t know Uncle Rich."
The boy’s father held his hand out to Harry. "Thanks for your service, man. I mean that."
Uncertain what to say, Harry just smiled and shook the man’s hand.
"Whoa, what happened to your hand?" the man said as their hands parted.
Harry closed his hand, hiding the phoenix and griffin-shaped scars in his palm. "The war."
"I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?"
"No, it doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m fine now."
The young man was obviously relieved to hear that. "That’s good. What service were you in? I’m Steve Maxwell, by the way, from Oklahoma. This is Bobby."
"Harry Potter, from London," Harry replied. After a moment’s quick thought, he added, "I was in the Army."
"Where’d you serve?"
Harry knew his battlefields in Scotland, England and France would make no sense to this Muggle. "I, erm . . ."
The man nodded knowingly. "Special Ops, eh? I understand. I was in the Army too, but I didn’t qualify for Special Ops."
Harry frowned, confused. "Special Ops?"
"You know, secret stuff. I suppose you have a different term for it in England."
"Oh. Yeah." Since he didn’t know the English term, Harry just smiled. "Special ops" was a good term for the war he’d fought against Voldemort, since few if any
Muggles had been aware of the horrors taking place all around them at the time.
They were interrupted by the server asking Harry for his order. When he tried to pay, Steve Maxwell reached past him and said, "His ice cream’s on me."
"You don’t have to do that," Harry said.
"Least I can do for a fellow veteran. Take care."
"Thanks. You too."
* * * * *
Harry and Ginny were walking hand-in-hand down a boardwalk in Lahaina, looking in shop windows and enjoying a lazy afternoon. Ginny pulled her hat off and ran her
fingers through her hair as she turned to look at a dress in a shop window. She gasped and turned to Harry.
"Someone’s following us."
Harry had been daydreaming about Ginny wearing the pretty dress in the window, and how much fun it would be to take it off her. "Huh?"
"There’s a man behind us, Harry. I’ve seen him before, several times."
Harry straightened as if stretching, glancing casually over Ginny’s head as he did so. A paunchy, balding man carrying a camera saw Harry looking and ducked into a nearby doorway. Harry
frowned. "How long has this been going on?"
"I noticed him for the first time yesterday. I thought he was just going the same way we were, but I’ve seen him too many times now, always the same distance behind us, always with a
camera in his hands."
"Damn." Harry sighed. "So much for our having privacy here."
"Yeah, he must know who you are," Ginny agreed.
Harry glanced down at her and grinned when he saw the light of battle in her eyes. "Ready for a fight, are you?"
"Yes! He’s spoiling our honeymoon."
"No, he isn’t. He’s just an annoyance, but he won’t annoy us for long." Raising his voice a bit so the man could hear him, Harry went on, "Let’s go down to
the docks and look at the boats."
"Okay," Ginny said in a bright, happy voice. As they turned toward the docks, she whispered, "What’s the plan?"
Harry took Ginny’s hat from her hand and put it on her head, then spent some time adjusting it before bending down to kiss her and whisper in her ear, "He’s out and watching.
Let’s see if he follows us. We’ll sort things out from there."
Sure enough, the man followed them, always at the same distance. Harry turned his head a bit and concentrated on his glasses’ magical ability to see around corners to watch the man without
being obvious about it. "He’s taking pictures of us whenever he can see part of our faces," Harry said after a while. "Let’s give him a show."
"You’re on," Ginny said.
"That’s my warrior princess," Harry chuckled as he took her hat off, smoothed back her hair and kissed her soundly, standing in profile so the man would have as good a chance at a
great photo as possible. When he saw the man lower his camera, Harry held his hand toward him. "Accio camera." The strap was around the man’s neck, so the camera coming to
Harry’s hand brought the man to him, as well.
Harry gripped the man’s arm and marched him to a nearby table and chairs outside a small cafe where he, Ginny and the now-gibbering man sat down. "Talk," Harry demanded. "Who
are you, and why are you taking pictures of us?"
"Please, Mr. Potter, please don’t hurt me!" the man said, near tears.
"You brought this on yourself," Harry hissed. "Stop blubbering and answer me." He glanced at Ginny, then continued talking to the man. "If you don’t give me some
honest answers quickly, my wife will hex you so you won’t walk right for a month. And if that doesn’t loosen your tongue, I have my own ways of doing it. Talk!"
"I’m, I, uh," the man stammered, staring at Ginny with wide, frightened eyes. She glared at him, as if daring him to do something she could use as an excuse to hex him. The man
looked back at Harry. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you."
"Well, you did. Who are you, where are you from, and what do you want?"
A waiter came to their table, which silenced all three of them. "What can I bring you?"
"Three coffees," Ginny said, giving the man a pleasant smile.
"Right away, miss." The waiter looked at the man with Harry and Ginny a bit oddly, then shook his head and blinked hard before going back into the café.
"What did you do?" Ginny asked Harry.
"I made him think we were all laughing and having fun together," Harry said. "That’s what he’ll remember, not this bloke with tears on his face looking
terrified."
Ginny smiled. "Full marks."
"Thanks." He turned back to the stranger. "Talk. I’ll use the Imperius Curse on you if I have to."
The man put his hands up as if surrendering—which is what he proceeded to do. "No! No, not that! I’ll talk, I’ll tell you! I’m Amos McCann, from Cornwall. I came to
Hawaii to get away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"The man’s dead. Surely you can say his name by now? It’s Voldemort, you know," Harry said with disgust. "Why did you need to get away from him?"
"He was killing people for no reason! I wanted to get as far away as possible, and this was the best idea I could come up with."
"What does this have to do with you following us?"
"I’m running out of money. I thought I could sell the photos to the newspapers and . . . I’m sorry."
"Being sorry doesn’t change the fact that you’ve disturbed our holiday," Harry said. His temper was beginning to boil now.
"Let’s hex him, Harry," Ginny said, letting the tip of her wand show above the table. "I haven’t hexed anybody in a while. And he’s earned it."
"Which papers did you send pictures to?" Harry demanded.
"None! I was going to send some today. I wanted to get pictures of you in several changes of clothes so they’d buy more pictures."
Harry glanced at the camera in his hands. It looked like the one Dudley had been given for his birthday during Harry’s last summer with the Dursleys. "This is digital, isn’t
it?" The man nodded. "Show me how to see the pictures." The man pushed a couple of buttons and soon Harry was scrolling through the pictures on the camera’s memory card.
"Please believe me, Mr. Potter, I would never have done this if I didn’t need the money. I saw you and thought I’d found a way to get home, now that You-Know-Who is gone. And thank
you for killing him, by the way. I’m sure you had many awful experiences. You’re a far better person than I am. I’m not a brave man, Mr. Potter. That’s why I ran and hid
rather than staying in England. I wish . . . well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never be the man you are. I’m terribly sorry I disturbed your holiday."
Harry sighed and looked up at the man, who didn’t seem to be evil, just misguided, in Harry’s opinion. "You do know that what you did is wrong?" McCann nodded. "You need
to find another profession. Paparazzi are lower than slug slime."
McCann hung his head. "I know. But when I saw you and Miss Weasley here—"
"That’s ‘Mrs. Potter,’ creep," Ginny snarled.
"Oh, my apologies . . . oh my!" The man’s eyes widened. "You’re on your honeymoon!"
"Right in one," Harry said. "I did call her my wife earlier, you know."
"I . . . I didn’t realize . . . I’m so sorry! If I’d known—"
Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "You’d have no qualms about taking pictures of us on holiday, but this being our honeymoon makes a difference?"
"Yes . . . no . . . I mean . . . ."
Ginny was glaring at the man with her wand pointed at his heart. Harry put his hand over hers, trying to calm her. "He’s not worth getting into trouble over. You can’t hex
him."
"We can’t just let him go, either."
Harry thought a moment. "How about a Memory Charm? That would take care of the problem."
Ginny finally tore her eyes away from McCann and glanced at Harry. "Yeah. That could work."
A sudden movement from McCann made Harry pull his wand, but Ginny had already hexed him. As his wand clattered to the ground, bat-shapes came out of his nose and beat him around the face and
ears.
Harry muttered, "Silencio," silencing the man’s panicked cries, then sat admiring his wife’s work for a moment. "I haven’t seen your Bat-Bogey Hex for a while.
Nicely done! But we can’t be so obvious."
"I know," she said as she ended the hex.
"Clearly, we can’t trust you," Harry told the man, "so Obliviate!"
"How have you altered his memories?" Ginny said, studying the now-slack face of the stranger.
"He won’t recognize us or remember seeing us," Harry replied. He turned back to the man. "How do you get the memory card out of here?" Once the man showed him how to
remove the card, Harry offered the camera to the man. "Here. Go and have a nice life."
The man took the camera, pushed back from the table and stood up. With a bemused, "Good day," he wandered away.
Harry held up the memory card. "One good thing came out of this."
"What’s that?"
Harry grinned. "He got some lovely pictures of us. We can have them printed and enjoy them."
"Cool!"