Jonquils And Lightning

Jonquil's Deed

"It's about time."

Harry winced as he stepped into the kitchen, with Tom right behind him, and heard what Dorea had said. He glanced over his shoulder at Tom, but Tom didn't seem to mind. He had a faint smile on his lips as he leaned past Harry and started to dish food for himself out of the enormous platters of eggs and bacon that were already there.

"Um," Harry said. "I'm sorry that we spent so much time in the bedroom?" He glanced at the food again. It seemed odd that Dorea had breakfast ready to serve when it must have been at least four in the afternoon.

"Sit down," Dorea said, nodding to the chairs on either side of the table. The six that usually stood there had been reduced to three. "We need to talk."

Harry filled his own plate and sat down with a vague sense of dread. Tom sat down and then moved his chair close enough to Harry that he could casually drape an arm around his shoulders. Harry stiffened up, then shook his head. It was too late now to hide the evidence.

Tom's eyes laughed at him for trying, anyway, and he drank most of his tea in one long gulp before he looked at Dorea. "I'm not giving him up," he said.

"I don't believe that I asked you to," Dorea said, and sipped at her own tea for a moment, watching as Harry dug into his eggs. "But I do need to ask you do something for me. You see, Jonquil left us this note. I'm unsure of how early she actually left the house." She held out a scrap of parchment.

Harry winced as he took it. It looked as though tears had blurred the letters. It took him a moment to actually understand it, because of that.

Tom had already understood it, but he drew in a harsh breath, which meant his reaction wasn't any more enlightening. Harry struggled and made out the words.

Dear family, I know when I'm not wanted. I know that the man I would have chosen has chosen someone else, my own cousin. I can't stay here and watch them be happy together. Maybe that makes me childish, but at least I know my own weakness. Tom. His name was underlined several times. I'm going to another place, the world that Tom won't take me to.

"She went through the portal to my world," Tom said flatly.

Harry started. That wouldn't have occurred to him. He had thought she'd merely run away to London—not that that was great either, in a world where wizarding London was much bigger than in his own dimension and apparently had lots of dangers for a naïve eighteen-year-old. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Tom snapped his fingers in the air next to his own ear. "Now that I'm properly awake, I can hear the portal ringing. She wouldn't have been able to get past it, but I'm still on this side. Nothing is preventing someone else from going through it as long as they originate from a world that's not mine."

Harry grimaced. That was why Albus had had to perform a ritual to come through. He wondered briefly if he would have to perform one to get back, and then pushed the thought away. "How do we retrieve her?"

"I don't see any other way except for you to go through."

"You would put my great-nephew at risk, and not yourself?" Dorea's voice was as cold as bones in winter.

"If I go through, the portal immediately snaps shut," Tom said. He looked pale and strained, as though he was dealing with some immense injury that would rip him open any second. "There has to be a way to brace it, to hold it open, but..." His eyes slid to Harry, and then away.

Harry swallowed. He hated that events were forcing his hand, but it didn't make him feel as desperate as it would have a few days ago. He had chosen Tom, and that meant certain things just made sense. "I can do it."