Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows by elaithin



Summary: Moving on, strange dreams, mysterious newcomers, Death Eaters, the Veil of Shadows, and a little bit of life, laughter and love. Join Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione for their last year at Hogwarts - and the first year of the rest of their lives as they learn that just because Voldemort's gone doesn't mean life's going to be easy!
Rating: R starstarstarstarstar
Categories: Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.09.08
Updated: 2010.09.06


Index

Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - The End of a Very Long Day
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - The Talk
Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Life, Laughter & Love
Chapter 4: Chapter 4 - Letters
Chapter 5: Chapter 5 - The Trial of Dolores Umbridge
Chapter 6: Chapter 6 - A Grim Old Place
Chapter 7: Chapter 7 - Vires, Veneratio quod Diligo
Chapter 8: Chapter 8 - Foundations of Stone & Magic
Chapter 9: Chapter 9 - A Little Direction
Chapter 10: Chapter 10 - His Own Man
Chapter 11: Chapter 11 - When The Time Is Right
Chapter 12: Chapter 12 - The Quick and the Dead
Chapter 13: Chapter 13 - While You Weren't Here
Chapter 14: Chapter 14 - In Her Own Words
Chapter 15: Chapter 15 - Sweet Seventeen
Chapter 16: Chapter 16 - The Last September 1st
Chapter 17: Chapter 17 - When Blackest Dusk...
Chapter 18: Chapter 18 - Acts of Valor
Chapter 19: Chapter 19 - The Bright Light of Normalcy
Chapter 20: Chapter 20 - The Ties That Bind
Chapter 21: Chapter 21 - "Revelio"
Chapter 22: Chapter 22 - Happy Halloween
Chapter 23: Chapter 23 - Answering the Riddle
Chapter 24: Chapter 24 - The Curse of Cassandra
Chapter 25: Chapter 25 - Toil & Trouble
Chapter 26: Chapter 26 - In From The Cold
Chapter 27: Chapter 27 - "Whispers On The Wind"


Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - The End of a Very Long Day

Author's Notes: Many thanks to my main beta, my wife - TeyriJen, who intended to be co-author on this story, even if it didn't end up working out that way. Also, many thanks go to KitJordan and IcarusPhoenix for their beta work. If you see similarities between this and Icarus' "Nineteen Years", well, that's because we've known each other for far longer than is healthy for either of us. Rated R for creative freedom, but we'll probably stay in PG-13 territory. Note - this chapter was re-uploaded on 01/07/08, to fix some minor edits and clarify some points.


Chapter One – "The End of A Very Long Day"

* * * * *
"I think I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry said quietly. Though the portraits in the Headmaster's office heard him, they wisely let his living friends be those to reply. Harry was just fine with that - he especially didn't want any commentary from Phineas Nigellus on that point. Or on any point, really.

"Somehow, I don't think we're ever going to have it easy, mate," Ron said, trying to be his normal self. The sentiment was true, but he was too tired to make it into the joke he wanted.

"It's nice to dream, though," Hermione added, and Harry heard the fatigue in her voice as well.

The truth behind his friend's admissions was not something Harry particularly wanted to consider - not until a very long night's sleep, and, at the very least, a couple of sandwiches. With that in mind, he didn't reply with anything other than a grunt. There was really no need to say anything else. Not now, at least.

By unspoken agreement, the three turned and shuffled past the half-broken gargoyle guardian and down the stairs. Ron and Hermione followed his lead, both still processing the evening's events. When they reached the wrecked corridor below, Harry suddenly stopped.

His reward for this action was Ron thudding headlong into his back, and Hermione subsequently plowing into the both of them.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, confused, trying to think of what Harry could have possibly forgotten – or even more frightfully, given the recent events – seen.

Harry had to admit - it had been a hell of a day. In barely twenty-four hours, they'd broken into Gringott's Bank (which was supposed to be highly impossible), escaped on the back of a dragon, returned to Hogwarts, found the final two Horcruxes, destroyed them, and been part of a battle of the size of which the wizarding world hadn't seen in more than fifty years. Harry had died - died! - and Neville - Neville! - had destroyed Nagini, and then Harry had beaten Voldemort himself. None of it seemed possible. None of it seemed quite real.

He turned to face his two best friends. "I... I don't know what to do now," he said, honestly. For the first time in his life – since he was eleven years old – Harry really didn't know what came next. The reality of it came crashing in on him.

Voldemort was dead.

The man who'd tried to kill him since he was an infant, and every year since he'd come to Hogwarts, was no more. The man who killed his parents, the man who held the wizarding world in fear for years not once, but twice, was dead. Death would not abandon its claim on Tom Riddle this time. Any shortcuts he'd taken on the road to immortality were now firmly cut off. And now, for the first time since learning of his place in the magical world, Harry was no longer a marked man. He was... free.

The Prophecy had been fulfilled - and Harry was alive. He was alive.

It was an outcome he hadn't considered - hadn't let himself consider, not really - not since he'd learned of the prophecy in Dumbledore's office two years ago.

Ron seemed to intuitively grasp this, and did so more quickly than Hermione. She still had a puzzled expression on her face - but to be fair, Harry was perfectly willing to put that down to how bloody tired they all were.

"C'mon," Ron said, grabbing his friend's upper arm. "Let's go back to the Great Hall, get a bite.”

Some solutions, it seemed, were universal.

* * * * *

Harry knew that after the events of this night, 'tired' could not accurately describe how he felt. But the need, the drive, to be doing something overtook him as they walked Hogwarts' devastated corridors. Everyone there had chosen to fight, to stand up to Voldemort and his followers, to do what they knew to be right. Harry was proud that his return to the school with Hermione and Ron had been the catalyst for the final conclusion and that so many had taken his arrival as a signal. It was a humbling notion, one which made him feel personally responsible for every wounded witch and wizard…

Especially the dead.

Fred. Lupin. Tonks. Colin. And how many others he didn't yet know about?

Ginny. Ron. Hermione. Neville. Luna. How many there could have been...?

He would do what he could for them – for all of them.

As he passed familiar faces in the corridors, survivors huddling together, Harry didn't shy from the attention, for once in his life. Ron and especially Hermione watched with pride as he offered words of comfort, of thanks. Harry didn't realize it, but he was exhibiting the very qualities that had made Hermione push him into leadership of Dumbledore's Army. Simply put, whether he knew or accepted it - Harry was a leader. He'd grown into a man people looked up to, and he would be that way for the rest of his life.

"Eventually you'll figure that out, Harry," Hermione whispered to herself, though Harry didn't hear her, as we was distracted by his task of comforting Dennis Creevey . The young man was standing proudly as Harry thanked him and his brother for their help, and offered his condolences for the price Colin had paid.

Eventually, As they passed through the very familiar doors of the Great Hall, Harry was surprised to find it still as crowded as they were before. He watched as a small train of people were moving from the around the staff table to the Trophy Room - the large chamber to which Dumbledore had sent him after the Goblet of Fire spit out his name as the unexpected fourthTriwizard Cup Champion. It was there that they'd moved the bodies, at least, those from the immediate area, he supposed.

He would have to go in later... to find out whom else to mourn.

But for now, there was only one person he needed to find. He felt Ron and Hermione's silent eyes on him, his face, and they knew exactly who it was.

It seemed an interminable search. Harry's gaze flitted through the hall, passing over many familiar faces. The Malfoys were there, still hiding in a corner, with the uncertainty of their futures more than evident on their features. Harry was surprised when he looked at Draco or Narcissa , and didn't feel the old familiar hate welling up. He mostly felt pity for them. When he looked at Lucius - well, some men were beyond redemption, whatever anyone said. But now wasn't the time - frankly, Harry had better things to do.

Neville was chatting animatedly to Susan Bones, who was twirling her fingers around her hair as he showed her the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It was still laid out on the table in front of him, though Harry could see that Neville had cleaned Nagini's blood off of it. Luna was sitting near him, laying her head on Dean's shoulder, who was right next to Seamus. The former was was wearing the truly baffled (though pleased) expression, Harry had seen him wear around Luna back at Shell Cottage and the latter was comforting Parvati Patil. She had survived her duel with Dolohov, Harry was happy to see, though he knew Lavender Brown was being treated for wounds inflicted by Fenrir Greyback. Hopefully her name wouldn't be one more added to the butcher's bill.

There were so many he was glad to see who were, if not whole, at least alive. He could be thankful for that, at least.

There were several others who he didn't, however. Intuition struck Harry when he noted Padma's absence - if she was alive, she wouldn't be far from her twin. Cho Chang among those unaccounted for, and Harry felt the tightness in his chest harden some more. Harry didn't quite know how, but he was sure his former crush, first love, whatever one wanted to call her - was lying in that anteroom.

It might have been selfish, but that thought caused him to stop scanning the space - he didn't want to know who else had died. Not right now. Later - later, he could deal with the loss.

Right now, he just needed one person. Just one.

Ron spotted her first. Hermione saw that he seemed to pause a moment as though making a decision before he put a hand on Harry's shoulder, directing his attention to where they both knew it should be.

"She's over there, mate," he said pointing, the approval conveyed clearly in his tone. "Set things right."

"Thanks," Harry said, and knew that Ron accepted what he was really thanking him for.

- - - - - -

For her part, Ginny was sitting in the Great Hall, simply listening to the low buzz of conversation around her. Everyone was talking, eating, mourning - trying to process the wildness of this one absolutely... insane evening. She looked sadly at George and felt her heart ache as she thought of him without Fred. It was just... unnatural more than anything and it would hit George the hardest.

She looked around her, at families with their arms around each other, crying softly, talking softly, and reveling in each others' presence. Her family surrounded her as well, and while she did take comfort in this, none were who she wanted right now. She needed a little bit of strength beyond her own to help her try to get past the horror of that night. And no matter what had taken place a year ago - or hadn't taken place in the time since - there was just one person whose arms she wanted to feel around her.

It wasn't just that night she wanted to feel wash away, but the horrors of the past three years: ever since Harry had appeared outside the Triwizard maze, clutching the body of Cedric Diggory.

She felt him before she saw him, heading across the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione trailing behind him. He wasn't stopping, even though voices called to him. He acknowledged the groups with a nod, but continued to move until he was right behind her. Ignoring the fact that her parents were staring at them, Ginny stood up and turned directly into his arms, feeling them enfold her.

- - - - - - -

Harry breathed deep as his nose pressed down into the youngest Weasley’s signature flaming red hair.

Wildflowers.

How he'd missed that smell. How he'd missed her. What he hadn't missed that he hadn't needed to call out to her, that she had just known, instinctively, that he was nearby.

It was almost like magic.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were watching them carefully. The former appeared a bit surprised, (though hardly displeased and maybe just a little bit resigned), while the latter had an extraordinarily unsurprised and knowing smile on her face. Some little corner of Harry's brain suggested that Molly had probably started plans for her daughter's wedding around the time Fred, George, and Ron had first brought him to the Burrow in that battered old Ford Anglia. Somehow, that thought didn't send him running in utter terror. Maybe he was just tired, but in the end, it sounded rather... nice.

Harry smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and as Ginny smiled, a part of him felt a pure and simple joy, no matter the circumstances.

“Uh... Hi,” he said a bit lamely, and started cursing himself for just how stupid that sounded. He also pretended not to notice Ron’s snicker, or the thump of Hermione’s reaction to it.

“Hi, yourself," Ginny replied, her deep brown eyes twinkling with something other than their familiar mischief.

They stood silent for a moment, simply staring at each other.

Ginny was surprised at how different Harry looked. Not just physically, though there was that, too: his hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, touching down nearly to his shoulders, and his robes were burned and torn, with dried blood in far too many places. She would be willing to bet that there were new scars to match those on his forehead, forearm and hand. But he, Harry, he was.... more mature, definitely, more... something. He was marked by everything that had happened to him, everything that he had gone through. It had left its imprint on him, as surely asVoldemort's spell had left its well-known scar. He looked like a leader, for the first time that Ginny could remember. Instead of fighting against his destiny, he had finally accepted it and wore it like a mantle around him, setting him apart from those around him. Ginny was sure that he felt free, now that Voldemort was dead, but he was still marked.

Harry could only think that Ginny had become, if anything, more beautiful. During his time away, when all he had to dwell on were his memories, Ginny's face had become some sort of an amalgam between the girl that he remembered as Ron's sister and the young woman who had given him the only thing that she could think of for his birthday - her heart. Now, he noted the maturity in her face, the grief in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to see that disappear. He sadly missed the young man and woman they should have been at this point in their lives. There was strength therethere as well, but that was nothing new. Instead, it had been sharpened, more defined. There were marks on her face and throat, grime from the dust still billowing about the castle. Bruises were fading on what skin Harry could see. Time, life, and war had all changed her, too, it was plain to see. No one could deny the young woman Ginny had become, and Harry found he didn't lament that change one bit.

Maybe there needed to be more words, apologies given, Things Said, and all that... and it would probably come. Later.

For now, he just lowered his lips to hers, meeting in a kiss that seemed to make several moonlit nights pass in nothing but a moment. Ginny felt the unfamiliarity of his stubble as Harry's lips pressed to hers, and for them both, the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else ever would, not as much as what was right there, right then.

The creature in his chest roared its approval once more.

Not conscious at all of the probably hundreds of people watching, Harry opened his eyes and slowly pulled back. He was not surprised (though was very pleased) to see Ginny’s deep brown eyes staring back into his own. One palm slipped up to her cheek, and for a moment, he could only be amazed at how soft it was, even covered in the grime of battle. Her hand, even softer, slipped up to cover his.

“I love you," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he was even remotely aware he said them.

For a moment, there was no response except for the blazing look that Harry had come to classify as being uniquely Ginny. Then her eyes softened, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks, and she whispered back, "I love you, too. Always you, Harry..." Her voice trailed off as Harry pulled her back into a crushing hug, almost as if he were trying to join their bodies together by force, erase the lines keeping them separate. If only he could lose himself in her for a moment, or a lifetime, then perhaps he could forget all the death and pain that surrounded them.

Though the pair in front of them may have been pretending like the entire world around them didn't exist, Ron and Hermione were extremely aware of just how much attention was being paid to Harry and Ginny. Hermione did not fail to notice Ron's reddening features, though she did misinterpret them.

"Ronald, you said you were fine with this..."

Ron though, didn't wait for her to finish. "Oi!" he yelled at the many onlookers, waving his arms as though shooing off pigeons. "Give 'em some privacy, you tossers! It's complicated enough without you lot spoiling it!"

"Ronald, language!" Hermione hissed quietly, this time swatting him on the arm. Her heart wasn't really in the remonstration, though, and she was smiling. She rather agreed with the sentiment, if nothing else.

Duly chastised, most onlookers quickly went on their way - many smiling, though none more so than Harry and Ginny, who'd looked up at his outburst. Ron, though, didn't miss the ghost of a smile touching George's lips when he heard his little brother echo Fred's words from the previous year.

"Oh," Hermione said, a smile playing about her lips as well. Knowing that the time for questions would be coming, she reached over and took Ron's hand. He looked down in surprise for a moment, but curled his fingers around hers almost proprietorially. It was still a new feeling between the two of them, regardless of how long things had remained unspoken between them.

"Well, well," Mrs. Weasley said, looking between Harry and Ginny, almost lost in each other's eyes, and Ron and Hermione. She cleared her throat, and then gestured to the seats at the table with the rest of the clan. "Let's all have a seat, then. Let's get some food now while we can, although I must say that I'm surprised that anyone has any presence of mind remaining to make food. After all..." She trailed off.

Harry watched Ginny's gaze dart towards George, and then quickly turn her stare gaze away. He had the feeling that many times throughout the next several days that the same thing would happen, and from all of them. Caught between the desire to return to normality and then aftereffects of the nightmare they were currently emerging from, no one was quite sure what to say. How to react. To display pleasure, even happiness or contentment, it seemed almost a dishonor to the memories of those who had died. Even as he had the thought, Harry knew that it was stupid. No one would have wanted the survivors get on with their lives more than those who had died so they could - and no one would have wanted that more than Fred.

"Never underestimate the house elves of Hogwarts," Harry replied distractedly, the thought bringing to mind another victim of this war - innocent, strange little Dobby. "They've given as much as the rest of us."

"They had as much to lose as the rest of us," added Hermione, not forgetting her fight for equality for all, even now. Instead of the usual scoffs, though, Harry saw a smile pass her face as she noted that this only earned her several accepting nods. The house-elves joining the battle, underKreacher's leadership - would probably change the way a lot of people saw them. Not everyone, Harry knew, but enough, just maybe, that Hermione's hopes were more than just flights of fancy.

Hermione sat first, pulling Ron down beside her. Harry followed shortly thereafter and Ginny took the seat next to him, sitting so close as to almost be on the same chair. It was excessive, she knew, but after the past nine months of not knowing anything and fearing the worst, she wanted to remind herself as much as possible that he had survived, that he was still right here beside her, and nothing was going to take him away again.

Harry followed Ginny's eyes as she finally noticed Ron and Hermione - and the extremely obvious hand-holding going on there. It was, perhaps a bit strange, given that their robes were burned, like Harry's, and all three showed the signs of fighting far beyond what had just occurred here tonight, yet the affection was what got her attention.

"When...?" she started to ask, bringing a smile to Harry's lips.

"In the middle of the battle, of all things," he said, thinking back to earlier. "Apparently," Harry smirked as Ron started to blush a little bit, "It was 'now or never'."

Harry turned his focus away as Ginny and Hermione began whispering quietly across the table to each other, and he took in those closest to them. Charlie sat next to his father, drumming his fingers on the table in an excess of energy. Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley talked of inconsequential things, which Charlie would grunt an answer to if required of him. George and Percy were barely saying anything, as Bill watched them both in concern. It would hit them the hardest, he knew, even harder than it would hit their mother. Fleur was next to him, taking a moment from helping patch up those around them.

In her time with the Order, the former Tri-Wizard Champion had proven to be exceptionally good at healing charms, and had served as their battlefield medic, Remus had said. Harry saw the appraising looks she kept casting over him, Ron and Hermione, but he appreciated it as Fleur wasn't saying anything. She ate no food, only sipping from a flask of pumpkin juice to wet her throat. Her right hand was clasped in Bill's own, which snaked around her shoulders to meet it. Occasionally, she would lean against him, obviously taking comfort in his presence, as so many were doing with their loved ones.

Harry did note, however, that Bill's hair was back to the length it had been before his wedding to Fleur. He wondered absently how long it would be before Molly started trying to cut it. Remembering suddenly that his own hair wasn't much shorter than Bill's now, he also wondered if he would be in for the same treatment. A quick look to Ginny confirmed they were both thinking the same thoughts.

"Not a chance," Ginny whispered in his ear. "The hair stays."

Harry just smiled. Well, that decision was made, it seemed.

The four youngest ate the food that appeared in front of them. It was plain fare by the usual standards of Hogwarts, but it was hearty and satisfying. All around them, activity slowed in the Great Hall as more and more found family, seats, and food, even as others began searching for places to sleep. The wounded had been moved to the infirmary, if they were able to be moved. Healers from St. Mungo's had Apparated outside the grounds as soon as possible and were seeing to the many injured - from the defenders and attackers of the castle alike. The latter, of course, were being kept quite unconscious and secured in Filch's dungeons until the Aurors could do something with them. Harry smiled as he realized the old caretaker's chains had ended up having a use after all.

"Well, I think that we shall remain here for the night, of course, but that tomorrow we should think about going home. We have some very busy days and weeks ahead of us, and I think that we will need the... comfort and familiarity... of home. George, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy," Molly started with a nod to each in turn, "If you want to return to your own homes, I understand, but..."

"If it's not too much strain," Bill interjected, "we'll come back to the Burrow for a while. You and Dad'll need the help to fix the place back up. I think it's too early to split up just yet. Besides, we still have... Fred... to bury."

Tears welled up in the eyes of several present at the mention of the missing Weasley, and Harry tightened his grip around Ginny's waist. Molly broke the silence again, sniffing. "I think that would be just lovely, dear. We shall be a little crowded, but it will be nice to have us all under one roof again. Harry, Hermione," she continued, suddenly turning her attention to those two. "You'll be along as well, of course?"

It was not a question. Both nodded reflexively, taken off-guard by the decisiveness in her voice, which was firm despite it's quaver. "We can stop by Auntie Muriel's to pack, but between all of us, I think we can get the Burrow livable again. I shudder to think about the state of the house now."

"I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied honestly.

"It's Molly, Harry - and to you too, Hermione." she corrected him after a quiet moment with a pointed look at both of them. "I think we're well past formality at this point, don't you?"

Harry's questioning look was caught by Arthur first, who just gave him a small nod. "Thank you... Molly," he said, trying it out (and decidedly ignoring Ron's expression of complete shock).

After wolfing down his sandwiches, Harry looked around aimlessly for a while, his gaze settling on nothing in particular. It was nice just to let his mind be blank for a while, think about nothing, just simply be. It was the tableau farther down the table that finally caught and held his attention, where George was starting to look positively catatonic. Harry gave Ginny's hand a quick squeeze, and then stood to walk around the table to where the remaining twin was seated.

"George," he said quietly, placing his hands on both of the lone twin's shoulders. It hurt beyond words to see George's pain-filled eyes lift up to meet his - eyes that he had never seen filled with anything but laughter. The missing ear didn't help, either. "I'm sorry, George. I can't pretend to understand what you've lost. I don't know that anyone can. But if Fred had to go..."

"At least he went laughing," George finished in a manner eerily reminiscent of how he and Fred had always finished each other's sentences.

"Exactly," Harry said, giving him a strange sort of smile. It wasn't a happy one, to be sure, but George understood the meaning. "But I can't say thank you enough for everything you've given to this, George," he finished, and looked at all of the Weasleys - all of his family. His gaze passed over each of them in turn. "All of you. There... there aren't words enough."

There weren't, but neither were there words appropriate. The actions and the feelings behind them - even though it had been done as much for the safety of their family as for him - transcended anything that mere words could explain. The looks he had in return from the Weasleys - those of blood, marriage, and otherwise acquired - were enough for now. As he returned to his seat, Ginny stood and pulled his face to hers. He reveled for just a moment in the feeling of her soft palm against his cheek as she whispered into his ear: "There never have to be, Harry."

Both the words that Ginny had found and the looks that he had received acted as a balm to his heart, beginning to heal the hurts that still lingered. He took his seat beside Ginny and sat down to eat with his family, for once, giving no thought whatsoever to what came next.

* * * * *

Though fatigue threatened to overtake him, there was one last thing Harry had to do before he could finally let sleep claim him that night. After some time had passed, the adrenaline began to wear off and the events of the very long night had everyone claiming beds wherever they could.

Harry had noted Ron and Hermione's disappearance not too long before, and looked down to share a knowing look with Ginny.

"Now or never, right?" she chuckled, and so did Harry.

Bill, Fleur, Arthur and Molly were among the many who'd camped out on the transfigured cots in the common room, though he noted with satisfaction that the eldest Weasley sibling was not yet asleep.

Ginny and Harry were now curled up in front of the fire. It crackled and sizzled comfortingly, a gift from the house-elves, much like the food. She had been staring into the fire, thinking about nothing, simply relaxing with Harry right beside her. Occasionally, flashes from the battle would surface in her mind, but she would resolutely push them back down, thinking on flying on a broomstick, high above the rest of the world until the unsettling images left her. There would be time enough to think over what had transpired at Hogwarts later. For tonight, she wanted to do nothing.

She grabbed his hand as he stood up to walk past her. "Where are you going?" she asked him quietly, loathe to disturb the peacefulness of the room.

"Not far," he assured her. "I promise. There's just one more thing I've got to do tonight."

"You're not going alone," she informed him, shoving herself up from the floor to stand next to him, still holding his hand in hers.

"Not alone, no," Harry admitted. "But I do need Bill's help. I'll explain... later. Tomorrow, I promise. It's a long story."

"Fine, you can explain tomorrow. But you're a daft prat if you think you're getting out of my sight any time soon, Potter. Where are we going?" she said, looking around for a cloak against the chill night air. She didn't see her cloak anywhere around her - and why should she, she reminded herself - but there was a handy blanket stuffed off in the corner, overlooked in the search for bedclothes. She grabbed it and prepared to fling it around her shoulders, and frowned when she discovered just how much the blanket limited her movement.

Harry thought, for a moment, of asking her to simply wait up here. But then he considered the likelihood of just how well she would accept that request, and decided against it just as quickly. "All right. Get a cloak while I get Bill - Hermione put her bag up in the dorm, you should find one there."

Ginny just nodded, and hugged Harry tightly once more before heading towards the stairs.

Harry returned her tight embrace, even if he didn't respond to her questioning look, and watched distractedly as she tiredly ambled her way up the flight of stairs to the girl's dormitory. He couldn't help but think that even as tired as she was, in robes torn and stained from battle, she was still the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen.

"You know," came the quiet voice beside him, “I saw her watch you like that for years. I always wondered whether you'd smarten up and do the same. Charlie bet me a few galleons you wouldn't. I'll have to collect on him tomorrow."

Harry smiled faintly at Bill's comment. He'd chuckled ever since fourth year at how obvious Ron and Hermione's mutual attraction had been. He shouldn't have been surprised to find that he and Ginny had apparently been the same way. "Bill," he acknowledged.

Bill seemed to sense that Harry wanted to talk to him about something, but Harry merely waited in silence until Ginny came back down the stairs, fighting a yawn.

Harry turned to the other man then, as Ginny snuggled up next to his side. "Let's take a walk," he suggested. His tone left clear that it was not just a walk that he had in mind. .

Bill raised an eyebrow, but was silent as he followed Harry and Ginny out the portrait hole and all the way out to the grounds. The silence continued unabated until they had very nearly reached their destination - Dumbledore's cracked tomb. Harry could tell from the expressions on the curse-breaker's face that he was growing more and more curious. It was obvious he'd thought this would be about Ginny somehow, but it was very clearly about something else entirely.

"Harry," he said hesitatingly, eyeing the marble tomb. There was a hairline crack running across it, showing that it had been resealed. "What's this about?"

"This," Harry replied, pulling the Elder Wand from his pocket. Any member of the Order would recognize it as Dumbledore's, he knew.

"What is that?" Ginny asked, eying the fairly nondescript - to her, at least - wand.

"Merlin's balls," Bill cursed in surprise. "Harry is that...” He pursed his lips, thinking carefully on how to phrase his question. He couldn't believe Harry would have possibly robbed Dumbledore's grave, but.. "Harry, how did you get Dumbledore's wand?"

"You should know, Bill," Harry frowned, not understanding Bill's hesitation. "You saw me take it from Tom earlier tonight."

"Tom?" the eldest Weasley asked before drawing the connection. "Voldemort had it? But why? I heard you say something about wands when you were fighting, but I couldn't hear all of it."

"Tom stole it from the Professor's grave," Harry said sadly. He tensed slightly at this, but calmed when Ginny squeezed his hand. "If it was a normal wand, I don't think he'd have bothered. But it's not. This is actually the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows. Dumbledore took it from Grindelwald when he defeated him back in 1945. He's had it since then."

Bill and Ginny stood there for a moment in silence, and not a little bit of shock, trying to understand what was going on. To them, the Elder Wand had been a child's tale, the stuff of myth, and about as real as a crumple-horned snackork. Now Harry was sitting here telling them that it was absolutely real. "But if Voldemort had the Elder Wand - why couldn't he defeat you?" Bill asked.

"Long story," Harry chuckled. He'd been saying that a lot, and, for just a moment, he felt a definite kinship with the deceased Headmaster. Was this how Dumbledore had always felt, then? When he had all the answers that no one else even knew, or knew that they should be looking for? He was brought up short by the fierce stare he was now getting from Ginny. No, she didn't like being in the dark any more than he had. "Long story short, Tom wasn't the wand's true master. I was. The wand wasn't about to kill me."

Ginny frowned. "You're talking about wands like they're alive, Harry."

"Maybe they are, in a way," he shrugged, and focused his attention back on Bill.

"Then that means.." Harry watched as Bill drew the conclusions he figured were correct. Bill knew enough about the basis of legends from his work as a curse-breaker to figure out just how bloody and violent a history the Elder Wand really had.

"I have no intention of advertising this fact," Harry assured them. "The Order will be the only people to know everything that happened here tonight. I intend to return the Elder Wand to the man who should have been its last master. But if anyone ever figures the whole thing out, there's nothing to stop them from stealing it the same way Voldemort did. I can reseal the tomb, but I need to make sure anyone who ever tries to violate it again regrets it."

Harry paused for a moment, wondering what would happen if he just kept the wand... but the thought was dismissed shortly. It felt wrong somehow. Like he wasn't deserving of such a responsibility. Harry then decided that any further self-reflection could very much wait until he'd gotten some rest.

Bill nodded, flashing him a tired smile. "And who better than a curse-breaker?"

"Exactly," Harry nodded back.

"Well," he said, clapping his hands together before drawing his wand, "let's get to work then."

It was very nearly dawn when their self-appointed task was completed. Glowing runes now lined the edges of Dumbledore's tomb and all of them had very nearly had collapsed from the exhaustive spell-casting. Harry and Ginny had handled the more minor protections - ones he'd learned from Hermione over the last year, or she'd learned from their mother - and assisted Bill whenever asked. Bill's additions were.. memorable indeed.

Quite satisfied that no one would ever lay claim to the Elder Wand again, the three stumbled their way all the way back to Gryffindor tower well before the first rays of sunlight were broke over the horizon.

Harry was asleep before he'd even hit the pillow. He didn't really remember entering his old dorm, or finally slipping out of his boots or his half-destroyed robes.

He had had, after all, a very long day.

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Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - The Talk

Author's Notes: Significant thanks to my main beta (and loving wife) TeyriJen, who really should be credited as a co-author for this chapters. Thanks also to KitJordan, IcarusPhoenix and TopGun for their beta work.


Chapter Two - "The Talk"

* * * * *

The next day, Harry found himself extremely disoriented as he looked up and saw the familiar corners of his four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. He started for a second, quite surprised and not entirely recognizing where he was. Out of reflex, his hand immediately reached for the wand he knew was under his pillow.

A petite hand intercepted his before it got there. "It’s okay, Harry," came the very familiar and extremely comforting voice of one Ginny Weasley.

Her voice immediately set his nerves at ease, and so he reached for his glasses instead. As his vision really came into focus, he noted that the light was all wrong for morning. Not to mention that Ginny was curled up next to him on top of his covers, fully dressed, and looking as though she'd been simply watching him for quite some time. Harry was also quite aware that she had not been in bed with him when he'd collapsed into an exhausted sleep the night before.

"How long?" Harry asked, finally forcing himself to look away from her eyes as he finished waking up.

"All day," she answered, "but I guess that's to be expected. It's about three in the afternoon now. Mum sent me up to try and wake you about a half-hour ago. I just couldn't, though. You looked so... relaxed. Composed." Peaceful, she thought silently. Then, almost as if she couldn't resist, "Cute."

"Cute?" he asked, startled for a moment by the word choice.

"Cute. Especially the way that you held the extra bedclothes like a teddy bear. I thought about getting one for you, but then I remembered all my stuff is at Auntie Muriel's." He could hear the tension in her voice as Ginny strove to keep her voice light, and wondered why. He couldn't know how he had frowned in his sleep, stretching his hand out to someone several times, nor shuddered and shivered uncontrollably until Ginny had curled up beside him and laid her hand on his back. He couldn't know that only then had he calmed, perhaps knowing, even in sleep, that he was no longer alone. "Definitely cute."

"I can live with cute," Harry said quietly, the trace of a faint smile on his lips. "I can't believe everyone let me sleep so late."

He pushed the covers away and started to look for his robes. It took a moment before Harry realized that the torn, burned remnants of those from the day before were gone. He shot a questioning look to Ginny who, in turn, pointed at a neatly piled set on his nightstand.

"Kreacher brought them this morning," she said, her voice betraying the surprise about Harry's house elf; she no doubt remembered how disrespectful the creature had once been. "I don't think you'll be getting the others back."

Harry considered that for a moment. "Probably for the best," he murmured, pulling the robes on as quickly as he could manage. For a moment, he was very aware that this time last year he'd have been much shyer about changing clothes in front of Ginny. However, nearly a year of living a tent with Ron and Hermione had thoroughly diminished any overwhelming sense of modesty he'd once had. He was just grabbing his dragonskin boots (a gift from Fred and George, last year, the thought of the more outspoken of the twins sending a pang through his heart as he pulled them on) before he stopped, catching the silent laughter in Ginny's eyes. "What?"

"You seem to be in an awful hurry. Met up with a veela after all, have you?" she asked, cocking her head as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

"No, I've, wait - what?" he stammered out, caught thoroughly off guard. Of all the questions Ginny could have asked - that really wasn't the one he'd have expected.

"No, no." she sighed theatrically, and adopted a mockingly sad expression. "I understand. You've been gone nearly a year, I'm sure there's a bird in every village from here to London - " Ginny stopped there, no longer able to contain her laughter at the open confusion and panic that had scattered itself across Harry's battered features. Some of her amusement was real, but there was a hollow note to it, too. She was joking, teasing, trying to be desperately normal, but Harry knew her heart wasn't in it.

Harry gave a soft chuckle, once he figured that out. He didn't openly acknowledge the bit of normalcy she was trying to offer him, but he also knew she understood. "I need to talk to McGonagall and Kingsley, we've got to get started on getting the castle repaired, and we need to - "

Ginny was off the bed in a flash and pressed her index finger to his lips. "Hush," she whispered.

Wisely, he did so.

"Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter," she started quietly, though channeling a frightening amount of her mother's determination. "You don't need to do anything. You don't need to help McGonagall get the castle sorted. And really, even without the staff, Hermione is giving her more than enough help. You don't need to see Kingsley, either. They've both asked me to pass on that they'll be in touch but that right now, Harry, you need to relax. You have done your part. You've done more than anyone could ever ask of you. And they'll bloody well carry on without you."

Harry's eyes narrowed in slight suspicion at this. "Did they actually say that, Gin?" He didn't consciously realize that he'd already slipped back into the familiar nickname, despite the fact their present situation hadn't been precisely sorted out.

"I might have... encouraged the stance a bit," Ginny answered as she nonchalantly buffed her nails against the front of her robes, and then examined them in the sunlight.

Harry considered that for a few moments, before deciding that she really was right. He acquiesced by flopping back down on the bed next to her. She wasn't quite meeting his eyes, and he wondered for a moment if she was worried, trying to determine if she'd overstepped her boundaries.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching over to pull her closer. "Thanks."

He didn't know quite how to say what he should - how much it meant to him that she'd stand up for what she thought he needed, even to the new Minister of Magic and Headmistress of Hogwarts. And how much he appreciated that she was right. So he settled for showing her, pulling her face to his for a slow, leisurely kiss.

"I meant what I said, yesterday," he said when he regained his breath.

Ginny made a contented sort of purr as she leaned into him. "It was a bit mad yesterday. You'll have to remind me."

"I love you," Harry replied immediately, honestly, and this time on purpose. "And I'd rather be here with you than talking to anyone else in the world."

"My my, Mr. Potter," she replied teasingly. "And what makes you think I want anything to do with you? Boy saves the world, and suddenly thinks he's got all sorts of rights and privileges."

"Well Miss Weasley," he quipped back. "I should think there'd be some reward for stopping the greatest Dark Wizard of all time. What's the point in saving the world if you don't get to snog the prettiest witch in it senseless?"

"Oh, you think you're going to snog me senseless, do you?"

"That's the general idea..." he said, leaning in for another kiss. After a moment, he pulled back, surprising Ginny, to finish the rest of his thought. "...but not till later."

Ginny swatted his arm at that. "Prat."

Harry had to laugh at the pouting expression she adopted. He knew a great deal of her theatricality - and admittedly, his own - today was for his benefit, a desperate bit of normal to keep them both sane. Also, a handy way to avoid talking about what they both needed to. "I think we need to talk first though. Not just about us - that's part of it, but about everything that's happened this last year. You deserve to know, Gin, before anyone else does. No secrets. That was... Dumbledore's way. He had his reasons, I know, and to be fair, it did work in the long run. But it won't be mine."

"Harry," she said hesitatingly. "You don't have to tell me everything. You don't even have to explain right now if you don't want to. I can wait. I'll still be here for you. I said I would, and I always will."

"I'm tired of you waiting," he responded, capturing her hand and holding it in both of his.

This was a new side to Harry, Ginny realized. Something gentle, but resolute at the same time. His sense of self had been hardened in the past year. Ginny marveled silently at the changes in him, wondering if she still knew who he was. Harry continued talking, looking in her eyes. "I need to tell you. I know you won't judge me, Gin. You won't push, like Hermione, and you won't fly off the handle like Ron - not without a reason, anyway. I don't want to keep anything from you. Not anymore. Not now, not ever."

Ginny said nothing in response to this, merely cupping his face in her free hand. This was new, too, Harry being so open. And she knew without being told that he wouldn't be this way for everyone. This was for her. She gently stroked the abrasion on his cheek with her thumb with feather-like touches. Harry closed his eyes momentarily at the touch, then opened them and began to talk.

Harry didn't know where to begin at first, and the words came out in something of a jumble. He started with last year, what he and Dumbledore had been up to, and everything that had happened on the night the Headmaster died. He told her how he almost cast the killing curse at Snape - and would have, if he'd been able to finish it. He told her about the mission he'd been left and why Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to tell everyone. He explained fully why she hadn't been able to come with him. Not just because he'd wanted her safe - though that had been the largest part - but that, because of the Trace, she simply wouldn't have been able to. Especially once Tom had control of the Ministry. (Not that he'd predicted that last bit.)

He told her of their flight to Grimmauld Place and Regulus Black, and just how satisfying it had been to nail Delores Umbridge with a stunner, and get all those muggleborns out of there. He relayed the growing unease he'd felt, learning more and more about Dumbledore's family and his history with Grindelwald. He spoke of the long nights on the run in the countryside, of how the Horcrux locket had tried to tear the three of them apart. And how close it came to succeeding, when Ron had abandoned them and Hermione had stayed with Harry. He told her about the disastrous trip to Godric's Hollow and the seeing his parent's graves.

The story turned briefly to her. She did not speak, but squeezed his hand as he spoke haltingly of how he'd looked for her on the Marauder's Map on guard duty, and how proud he'd felt hearing she'd tried to steal Gryffindor's sword back for him. How he'd stare at her name at the map and wonder if she was thinking about him at the same time. If she knew that he was out there, wishing her well, loving her, using the thought of her for strength. He didn't get all that out easily, or smoothly, but it all came out.

He told her how they'd finally gotten the sword, and Ron's return, how he had saved Harry's life. The words came faster and easier than he'd ever thought as they sat for hours, and eventually, he got to the story of the Deathly Hallows and what had happened at Gringott’s. And then finally, to the day before, when they'd returned to Hogwarts. Eventually, he got to Snape.

"I had him wrong, all these years." Harry shook his head, his longer hair swaying out slightly from his head as he did so. Everything with Snape... it was something he was still struggling with. "That's why Dumbledore was so sure of him - because he'd loved my mum. Still did, right up until he died."

"But how do you know?" she asked, looking a little bit befuddled. That was only fair, Harry figured, since she'd had even less time to take it all in than he had, and he felt fairly befuddled himself.

"He gave me his memories - a lot of them, and it was the final piece," Harry clarified, and then pointed to the scar on his forehead. "Well, this was. I.. I found out what the last Horcrux was. It was me. That's why I survived as a baby - with my mother's protection; I was the Horcrux that Tom had never meant to make. I didn't learn that exactly then, not in words. That came later. I felt it, though, and knew what I had to do."

Ginny stared at him in horror. Understanding began to appear in her eyes as she realized why his death had been necessary. She reached out and hugged him fiercely to her, painfully aware of how close she had come to truly losing him. If it hadn't have been for the obscure and dark magic surrounding the Horcruxes... "That's... Oh, Harry."

"I think," Harry started thickly. "I reckon I knew somehow, that all these years there was a piece of, of... darkness in me. I thought it was part of me. I remember asking Sirius if I had, I don't know, gone wrong somehow. Umbridge said it to me once, that I knew I deserved to be punished. All the way back to all those years of living in that dirty little cupboard - "

"What?" Ginny asked sharply, looking intently at him. Her immediate anger at hearing Harry talk about himself that way was overshadowed by the last part of his statement.

Harry looked at her for a moment in confusion, before realizing where it came from. She had never known how horrible the Dursleys truly were. She might have had hints - Ron knew more than anyone, but even he didn't know about the cupboard. His eyes cast down at the rumpled red and gold bedspread for a moment in shame, before he stammered out a quiet response. "I... I never told anyone. Until my Hogwarts letter came, the Dursleys made me live in the cupboard under the stairs. My letter was even addressed to there. They only gave me Dudley's second bedroom, hoping that the letters would stop coming."

"A cupboard? Under the stairs? You lived in there? How could they... Why didn't you..." Ginny grew visibly flustered, her complexion turning pale, then red, a sure sign of an imminent explosion. The idea of anyone forcing a child to live in a broom cupboard, especially when another child had two bedrooms to himself... It was unthinkable, especially to someone who had grown up in a loving family environment. "Why didn't you leave?" she asked, the question bursting out of her before she could stop it. "I know, I know, where would you have gone? But, Harry, you should have told someone... Ron, me... Dumbledore... anyone!"

"I... Gin... I didn't know any better," he said huskily. "Your mum was the first person to ever treat me like a child - to hug me like a parent. I didn't know it could be like that, not really, not until I came to the Burrow."

"Oh, Harry," she said again, reaching out to hug him. She tightened her arms around him as much as she could, almost as if she could force the memories out of him by pressure alone. She'd known that he didn't have the greatest relationship with the Dursleys. There had been ample evidence of that over the years, especially to someone who had watched him as avidly - and unobtrusively - as she had. She may not have understood what she was seeing, but the signs had been there. And Dumbledore had forced him to go back to that... that place... year after year. The hug changed as Harry returned it, enfolding her within his arms, instead of him in hers.

Harry closed his eyes at the tightness of her embrace, and in some strange way, her total horror at everything he'd endured as a small child made him feel better. He'd known intellectually that things weren't supposed to be that way, but the Weasleys, every single one of them, had been the first to make him feel it. "It's okay," he whispered quietly into her hair.

"No, it's not okay, Harry. It'll never be okay that that happened to you," Ginny swore, her blazing brown eyes staring deep into his bottle-green ones. "But it'll never happen again, and that's for bloody well certain."

He carried on with his story then, clearing his throat - several times - so that he could speak. "So I knew I had to go to Tom, then. Dumbledore and the Prophecy were right about it taking 'a power the Dark Lord knows not' to destroy him. Tom could never conceive of sacrificing himself for anyone else. I could never have done it if not for you, for all of you, who mean so much to me. Once he'd killed me, he'd be vulnerable and he wouldn't even know it, as long as Nagini was taken care of. I figured if I couldn't manage it, Ron or Neville would. That's why I told him what to do, when I was on my way out."

"You talked to him on your way out to the forest?" Her voice was carefully controlled. She wasn't angry at him for not speaking with her, letting her know of his decision...

Well, maybe a little.

But the idea of Harry walking out to meet his own death, alone, was almost as hard to bear as the idea of what his childhood had been like. She couldn't imagine the supreme act of sacrifice it had been to do that. To walk past everyone who cared about you or that you cared about, knowing that there was one task that no one could help you with... To walk to the place that you would meet your death, knowingly, willfully, giving up everything that the future held for you...

He nodded. "You were helping this injured girl, and Merlin help me, Gin, when I saw you... I almost couldn't do it. I wanted to unveil right there. To help you, to be with you, to find some other way - "

"Surely, you dying wasn't the only way to stop him. If only I'd known, maybe I could have helped you come up with another way. Anything at all, to keep you from having to make that walk."

Harry pressed on, though. "But there wasn't. I knew that for Tom to be mortal again, I had to die. ' Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives', remember? So I gave myself up. I wasn't precisely alone," he continued, feeling his eyes mist over. "The last Hallow, the Resurrection Stone, was in the Snitch. Dumbledore had left it for when I knew everything. I used it...and..."

"Your mum and dad showed up, didn't they? To be with you," she supplied. He had told her what the Resurrection stone really did, so it was a simple guess to make.

Harry could only nod. "And Remus. And Sirius. They helped me. They gave me the courage I needed to walk right to him.." A small hint of a smile appeared on his face, almost the only one throughout the entire morbid recital, thinking of the looks on the Death Eater's faces when he'd unveiled. "And then..." He drew a breath. "And then he killed me. It was very calm, actually. It was just him and me, and then a flash of green, and I thought about your kiss, and then.... nothing. It didn't hurt. It wasn't scary. It was almost... peaceful, actually." So very different from the fevered, nightmarish imaginings that his mind had tortured him with once he had learned the prophecy. Sirius had been right, he realized. It really had been quicker and easier than falling asleep.

He was caught up in his own mind for a moment, carefully picking apart his own death scene, so he failed to notice the danger signs coming from Ginny. If he had been caught off-guard by the fiery little redhead's reaction about the Dursleys, her reaction to that particular piece of information had been even more.... forceful. It took several minutes before he was able to interrupt her ranting stream of epithets before she was calm enough him to continue.

"I had to do it, Gin," he said quietly, placing his hands on either side of his face. "I couldn't do anything else - not and still be me. My parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Fred - they'd have all been for nothing. I couldn't let Tom keep on killing everyone I cared about and there was no other way to end it. Not if y- not if everyone was going to be safe. So I gave myself up for the people I love."

The meaning behind that last sentence was not lost on her. Ginny knew he'd said people - but what he meant, what he really meant - was that he'd done it to save her.

"No," she said sadly. "I don't suppose you could have."

A silent moment passed as all that had been said so far was processed, and finally, it was Ginny who prompted him to continue. "What happened then?"

"I saw Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" Ginny responded, taken aback. That definitely wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. Of course he couldn't have actually died and come back to life. That kind of thing didn't happen, except in fairy tales. So of course, his conscious mind had fled while his subconscious had taken over for a while.

But still. Seeing Dumbledore, who really was dead. And it couldn't have been using the Stone... he'd already done that, and the late Headmaster hadn't appeared. That was hard to explain away.

If the topic had been anything else, Harry supposed he'd have teased her about the way her mouth was gaping like a goldfish. Wisely, he discarded that idea, and continued with his tale. "It was in a place.. in-between, I think. Where we go before we cross over. He explained that I wasn't really dead, but that I had done my part. My sacrifice would protect the rest of you, like my mother's had protected me. Tom's curse still couldn't touch me, so it had killed that twisted bit of his soul that he left inside me. And then he.. he told me that I had a choice. That I could go on to.. to, well, whatever it is that's after this. To where my parents were," Harry admitted quietly. "To move on."

He didn't know how to tell Ginny that, for a moment, it had tempted him as well. To be at peace, reunited with his parents. To be untouched by the aftermath of the battle. To not have to worry about anyone else's safety anymore. Surely, he had done enough. What happened after that was no longer his concern.

In short, to give up.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, not even fully-formed, it had been rejected. He didn't give up. It just wasn't part of who has was. Plus, there were other considerations.

"I knew Tom would be taken care of, even if I'd left things unfinished. I had to be sure, true, and a big part of me just couldn't leave that undone. But.. he's not why I came back, Gin. I was willing to die to beat him, but.. " At this last, he took both of her hands in his once more, and wondered if she knew what he was about to say.

"Harry, you-"

"I was willing to live for you," he confirmed with a hoarse whisper.

Ginny's breath caught in her throat for a moment and tears welled up behind her eyes, completely unbidden. The strength and depth of his feelings, for a moment, scared her. She'd loved him for years, yes, but she only hoped he felt the same. To be willing to come back, after being given a choice like that, all for her? He had come back from the dead for her. It was a great responsibility, to be the recipient of that, and she sent a fleeting thought out to whoever could help her that she'd be worthy of that far more important sacrifice that he'd made on her behalf.

"But why... why pretend that you were dead?" Ginny asked hoarsely, still resting her hands in his. Her head was still reeling from the emotional roller-coaster that the story had sent her own. Why had he done that? Why had he lain there, paraded about by Voldemort - or Riddle, as he was quickly becoming identified as in Ginny's head - in front of everyone. Didn't he know what that had done to her? How her heart had stopped as she'd seen him lying there, so cold and still, presumably lifeless?

She didn't realize that she'd whispered the last thought aloud until he answered it. "It was the only thing I could do, Gin. I needed that shot at the snake. I wouldn't have gotten one if he knew I was still alive. "

Harry continued with the story, almost rushing it now, wanting it all out. "When I came.. back, it was clear that Tom had been affected, too. He put the Cruciatus on me, but I was able to still pretend to be dead, because my sacrifice had pretty much broken his power. Or maybe because he was trying to use the Elder Wand on me, I'm not really sure. But I still had to take Nagini out. Narcissa saved me then -"

"Narcissa Malfoy? Draco's mum?" she asked in shock. "But I thought- How- why would she save you?"

"I told her Draco was alive and in the castle when Tom sent her to check on me," he supplied. "She lied, she said I was dead. I couldn't give Hagrid any hint when he was carrying me, and so I waited for my chance. We got through the forest and back to the castle. "

"I heard you then, when Tom forced Hagrid to cart me out like a trophy. I heard you and the others cry out and had to force myself to stay still." In a long list of difficult things that he'd already been faced with, that had ranked high. To stay still while the girl he loved believed him to be dead at the hands of his enemy, to hear her sudden cry as though someone had stopped her own heart. Perhaps difficult was the wrong word to describe it.

He forced himself to continue with his grim narrative. "Neville distracted them, and he was brilliant, with the way he took out Nagini. There was nothing left between me and Tom then. I used my cloak, trying to get to him as the battle moved inside, throwing spells from under it. I saw you and Hermione and Luna dueling Bellatrix and was coming to intervene when your mum, ah.. got there first."

Mrs. Weasley's screamed epithet and the short, brutal duel she'd held with Bellatrix Lestrange had made it abundantly clear why no one, not even Dumbledore, had ever wanted to cross Molly Weasley.

"Yeah," Ginny said, flashing back for a moment to when the killing curse had only narrowly missed her, and her mum had flown in to her rescue. "I've never seen her like that in my life. It was... kind of terrifying, actually."

They shared a laugh at that, and Harry pressed on. "So when I saw Tom try to go after your mum for that, I knew it was time. I didn't know I could cast that big a shield, to protect you all, but I just did it, and threw off my cloak to get his attention."

"I'd say that worked," she said dryly. She still remembered what it had been like when Harry had revealed himself to everyone. It had been a moment that legends were made of. The sudden electricity that ran through the Hall when he'd appeared, the thrill through her heart that had nothing to do with the way she felt about him... How fiercely glad she'd been to see him, showing up from the grave to save the day. It had stopped the fighting in its tracks, as defenders and Death Eaters alike had all stopped to watch the confrontation between the Dark Lord and the Chosen One. Glad didn't seem to be a strong enough word to contain everything that had run through her in that particular moment, but suddenly, she'd known that they'd win. How could they not, when the Boy Who Lived had returned from the grave, Lived again, to fight on their side?

"It was... different... this time. From the times we'd fought before, I mean. He'd always been control, he'd always been the one moving things, but I had one up on him this time. I knew why the Elder Wand didn't work. And I knew - I'd seen it, in those minutes since the battle started - that he wouldn't be able to kill me, or anyone else, again. So I gave him a chance to save himself - to be human again, to show some remorse." The act surprised him even now, but he couldn't have struck Riddle down without giving him a chance. He really was Dumbledore's man, through and through, it seemed.

"You didn't really expect Tom to take you up on that, did you, Harry?" she asked. "He would never - "

"Well, it hardly stopped him from trying to kill me again, did it? I did, however, have to try." Harry asked with a strange sort of smirk, completely unaware that he sounded more and more like Dumbledore the more he spoke. "The rules had changed, though, and the Wand turned on him - it wouldn't be used against its rightful owner. And... well, you know the rest."

"Why didn't you want to keep the wand?" Ginny asked him, a strange sort of curiosity lingering around the question.

"I like mine better." he answered with a simple shrug. It probably didn't make a lot of sense - well, it probably sounded completely barmy to be honest, but there it was. "But.. no one's ever getting a hold of the Elder Wand again. Its power dies with me," Harry stated with a definite sense of finality. "The stone's gone, too. It won't be found, out in the Forest. I think I'm keeping the Cloak, though. Feels right."

They sat in silence for no small amount of time while he allowed her to process and consider everything - he was still doing a fair bit of that himself, if truth were to be told. He was losing himself in the pattern on the curtains - smiling when he remembered Dumbledore's tale of once setting them on fire (accidentally, of course) - when she finally broke it with a quiet question. The question, really.

"So where does that leave us?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"I meant what I said last night," Harry repeated again, his eyes boring into hers as he spoke. "I love you, Ginny Weasley. And I'm sorry for everything I've put you and your family through. But if you'll have me, I'm yours. For as long as you want me. And well, probably even if you don't."

There were no words that she could respond to that with. After the entire story, she finally knew what he'd been going through this past year, everything that he'd done. They would have time now, thanks to him, to rediscover each other, to come to terms with the past, to define the present and maybe, just maybe, to begin to plan the future. To really hope that there even could be such a thing.

There were no words to answer him, but then, she hardly needed words in order to do so.

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Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Life, Laughter & Love

Author's Notes: Thanks to the excellent beta team of TeyriJen IcarusPhoenix & KitJordan. A little less fluff-focused this chapter as life begins to move on...


Chapter Three- "Life, Laughter & Love"

* * * * *

Sunlight filtered slowly into Ron and Harry's room at the Burrow as Harry drifted into wakefulness. The room still looked half-wrecked, but that had nothing at all to do with what the Death Eaters had done to the house. In fact, it had much more to do with the fact that Harry and Ron were steadfastly avoiding any sort of cleaning in the room, living quite comfortably as though they were two bachelors sharing their first place (A state that was not too dissimilar to the living habits of teenage boys). This met with frequent disapproval from Hermione and Ginny, of course, but Mrs. Weasley had so far let things be. Neither Ron nor Harry expected that to last very long, but the pair was thoroughly enjoying it while it did. While they enjoyed the lack of having to clean their particular space, by unspoken agreement, they were hoping it was something that would help prompt Mrs. Weasley out of her quiet mourning.

When they'd first come home, the place had been a mess. The Death Eaters had been through everything what looked like several times and had taken their frustrations out on the Weasley's home when they'd found nothing of value or import. The overhang over the front porch was collapsed, so they'd been forced to only use the back door by the kitchen. The damage to the family room was similar, and it had torn Harry's heart to see the beloved structure in such a state. Molly Weasley's famous kitchen had been completely trashed, and all the other rooms were in various states of disrepair - though not completely ruined. The house could be repaired, but it would take work. It was though the Burrow itself was a metaphor for the shape the wizarding community itself, and that was not something Harry found comforting at all.

Those first few days were still a confused jumble in his mind, of all the conversations with McGonagall and Kingsley, of everyone trying to set the Ministry right, mourn their dead, and move on with their lives. This was an ongoing process, of course. Though everyone was staying at the Burrow, things still did not feel quite... right. They'd stayed in the tents the first few nights, while repairing the bedrooms. The life, laughter and love Harry had always associated with his adopted home was absent, making the place seem empty and hollow. He began to wonder, really, whether anything would ever be the same.

There had been no funeral for Tom Marvolo Riddle. There would be no marker, no sign that he had ever even lived. His body had been burned to ash and a few fragments of bone - Harry had cast the Incendio charm himself. There would be no parts of him, no forbidden or ancient Dark Arts to bring him back from beyond the veil. The cold part of Harry found this to be an eminently agreeable arrangement. It was just, he thought, that a man who had committed so much evil in the name of defying death would be denied even the most basic remembrance. Another part of him railed at the concept - everyone deserved a funeral, that part insisted, no matter what they'd done in life. But it was just too risky. A grave for 'Voldemort' would be nothing more than a shrine to every maladjusted wannabe Death Eater in Britain.

Remus and Tonks' service had been nearly unbearable. Harry greatly regretted that he'd never been able to get as close to Lupin as he had been to Sirius, even though he'd greatly admired the quiet werewolf. And just like Fred, it seemed abominable that the world could be deprived of so unique and enjoyable a person as Nymphadora Tonks Lupin. He was grateful that they had had some small amount of time together, because he knew the joy the vivacious Auror had brought into the tragic life of the reserved Professor. He'd been able to get through the last Marauder's funeral (not easily, but easier), mostly because of Ginny's quiet presence at his side, and the fact that he had met and been able to hold his godson, Teddy, in his arms for the first time. At his request, Andromeda had agreed to have Lupin and Tonks buried next to his parents in Godric's Hollow, where a simple grave marker had been added for Sirius as well. Harry had added identical epitaphs to his parent's grave, Sirius' marker, and Remus and Tonks' as well - just two simple words. 'Mischief Managed'. He didn't think his mother - and especially not Tonks - would have complained.

He had not placed Wormtail there with them- ultimately, Harry had no idea what had become of the traitorous Marauders body and also found that he didn't particularly care. It was cold, probably, but he had used up all his grief for the people he actually gave a damn about. After everything Wormtail had done in his pathetic life, Harry just couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the rat. Even if Wormtail's momentary act of compassion to Harry had cost him his own life - Peter Pettigrew had made his bed long ago.

The funeral for Severus Snape had conflicted Harry the most. It was the only matter he'd consented to be interviewed on, having still not decided how much of the true story of Voldemort should be made public. It was still hard to reconcile the vengeful, spiteful Potions Professor who'd so hated his father, the Death Eater who'd revealed the prophecy to Voldemort, and the man who had utterly failed to teach him Occlumency with the quiet bravery of a man who had hoodwinked the Dark Lord not once but twice, mercifully killed Albus Dumbledore at the famed wizard's own request in order to save the soul of an ungrateful boy (despite the cost to his own soul to kill the only man who understood him), had quietly done his best to protect the students of Hogwarts, even under the Dark Lord's reign, and had ultimately been casually tossed aside at Voldemort's whim - but still found a way to help the son of his hated rival. He'd spoken honestly at Snape's funeral - Snape had not always been a good man, and he had done horrible things in his life, but Harry had not lied when he had publicly proclaimed him the bravest man he'd ever known. For Severus Snape had done good things too, more than anyone ever knew, and all in the name of an unrequited love. Snape had loved his mother all his life, and had gone against his own nature to try to do the right thing in the name of that love. That, more than anything, caused Harry to respect the late Professor, and after all of this, no one had complained at his insistence of burying the man next to Albus Dumbledore (At least, not to Harry's face. If they'd done otherwise, he didn't particularly care). Professor McGonagall had also consented to ensure that a portrait of the Potions master would be added to the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts.

Cho's had been hard in a different way, one that still tore Harry up inside whenever he considered it. He'd thought he'd loved her - was it only three years ago? He knew now that it hadn't been love, not even close. But in the confused, awkward state Harry had been in that whole year, after Cedric's death and then Sirius', there had never really been a chance for them. But she'd still been his first crush, and to know they'd never have a chance to even really be friends had been almost hurt for him. But the really devastating part had been that he didn't feel worse about it, and thought he should have.

By the end of Fred's funeral later that afternoon, he knew he was a wreck. The funeral had been memorable, with George really coming out of his shell for the first time to send his brother off properly. But everyone was looking equally rough, even with that until later, when they were back at the Burrow. Percy, of all people, had passed out bottles of firewhiskey so they could send Fred off in style... only moments after their parents had retired for the evening. Percy was, most of the time, still as uptight as he'd ever been, but everyone recognized that his attempts to change were a form of tribute to his younger brother. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley brothers had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, drinking ever increasing quantities of the magical liquor and raucously sharing more and more outrageous stories of Fred's life. (Fleur had not partaken in that portion of the festivities, claiming illness. She did, however, order her husband back downstairs to be with his younger siblings.)

Harry was also quite certain there was more to the evening than he could recall - particularly as he pondered the disheveled state he'd seen Hermione in when he'd blearily woken up to hear her sneaking out of his and Ron's room. He'd been ready to put it off as a dream until he saw the nervous looks passing between the two the next morning at breakfast. It made him wish very much that he could, in fact, remember whatever else might have happened that night - Particularly when Ginny was giving him an odd look or two herself.

Later that night, they had received a surprise owl bearing a package - inside had been Ron and Hermione's wands. The black-feathered owl was a beautiful bird, and had seemed quite aware of it, too. It had nipped unpleasantly at Harry's fingers as he'd been untying the letter, and left huffily after declining the owl treat it had been offered. After that behavior, they hadn't been surprised to find that the bird belonged to Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's brief letter explained that he thought Ron and Hermione might want them back, and - tersely, and very formally - had thanked Harry for his honesty in the deposition he'd formally given to the Ministry. Draco and Narcissa would not be tried as Death Eaters, though Lucius' fate was still undecided. Harry found that he couldn't exactly drum up any sympathy for the elder Malfoy's probable fate. He knew that if Lucius somehow wriggled free yet again and found himself at odds with Harry in the future, Harry had decided he would hex first and ask questions later. Ginny had only too readily agreed to that.

The day after that had been hard as well, though for very different reasons. That had been the day Kingsley - in his official role as (Interim) Minister of Magic, had very publicly presented them all with the Order of the Merlin. Harry hadn't known about it at all, and the Weasleys had conspired to get him to the Ministry for the ceremony on the pretext of some legal nonsense relating to Gringott's. Shocked was a mild term for what he'd felt when they'd flooed into the Ministry and been greeted by a barrage of cheers, applause, and the flashing lights of cameras. Harry would admit he'd probably never become accustomed to his notoriety, which had only increased with Voldemort's final defeat. (His picture on the Daily Prophet later that day, he noticed, kept running out of the frame, only to be dragged back by the photo-images of Ron and Ginny.)

That horrible statue was gone, he'd been particularly pleased to note, with a raised dais in its place. Arthur had told him later that a new - more accurate - version of the 'Fountain of Magical Brethren' was being sculpted to eventually go there. Ginny had led the bewildered Harry up to the stage, where he'd been presented with an Order of Merlin, First Class. Orders of Merlin, Second Class, had then been presented to all the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army, both groups which had led the fight against Voldemort in the second war. They'd even gone so far as to grant posthumous awards to everyone who hadn't survived - George had left bearing Fred's, and had later presented both of the medals to the teary Mrs. Weasley.

Harry had found the entire experience far more difficult and unpleasant than any of the funerals they had attended.

Under Molly and Arthur's expert direction, they had all gotten to work on restoring the place after that. Fred's funeral - and wake - had purged most the morose undercurrent that had filled the Weasley home, even if that desperately wanted feeling of normalcy had not yet returned. Nearly two weeks of progress by the virtual army of Weasleys (born and otherwise acquired) significantly showed in the Burrow's improved condition, and Harry was glad for it. Slowly but surely, they were all beginning to move on. Life, and the world, would not be simply put on hold simply because they were grieving.

Harry was startled out of his quiet reflection, however, when a voice called out his name at a volume he had never believed possible, minus a howler or the use of the Sonorus charm.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" thundered the immediately recognizable voice of one Molly Weasley, startling him enough to where he fell on his face, getting tangled up in the bedclothes as he'd he tried to hop out of his squashy, well-used bed. As he stared around in shock for a moment, he saw Ron start awake as well - though the redhead managed it much more uncharacteristically gracefully than he himself had. Harry thought his friend deserved at least a scowl for managing that.

"Oi," Ron groaned sleepily, rolling over to look over at his best mate, giving Harry the sort of look one gives a man heading to his own demise. "You've done it now, mate. I don't know what you did, but best you head down there before she really gets into her stride. There's no stopping her once that's happened."

"GET YOURSELF DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN!"

This last was even clearer as the door to the room had slammed open, revealing not actually Molly Weasley, but Hermione. She actually had a look of panic on her face as she strode purposefully towards Harry's bed. She kept nervously casting glances towards the doorway before speaking. "Harry..." she began, "I really think you should go down there - "

Harry was already pulling on the closest clothes he could find - a pair jeans and a t-shirt (decorated with a golden snitch across the front, a gift from Ginny) piled up on the floor beside the bed. Somehow he didn't think clean was of particular importance right now. "I think I picked up on that, Hermione," he said cheekily, but the effect was lost as his friend was bounding towards the door. This was not, he noticed, until she'd given Ron a swat and told him to get his lazy arse moving as well.

If nothing else, she and Ron's new found relationship was certainly having an effect on her language. His friends were open with their affection around each other, but not demonstrative about it. One would think that they were taking things very, very slowly. That is, if one didn't count the number of times Ginny or Harry had caught them in compromising positions. And given what he sleepily recalled from the night of Fred's wake, Harry rather suspected that the relationship had progressed much farther than either Ron or Hermione would admit openly.

For his part, Ron ignored his girlfriend's order, grunted, fluffed his pillow, and tried to roll over. "'Least you know you're really part of the family now," he muttered. "Gettin' the middle name an' everything."

A few silent moments passed as Harry finished dressing, deciding he might as well go ahead and throw on his trainers as well, before Ron's curiosity finally got the better of him. "What'd you do, anyway?" The redhead asked as he began looking around for some clothes of his own to throw on.

Harry didn't have to think much about that. "C'mon downstairs and you'll find out," he said quietly, a nervous lump finally beginning to form in his throat. "If I'm to be condemned, I'd like my best mate at my side."

"Always have been." Ron muttered mock-defensively. "Why would now be any different?"

"Because it's your mum, not Voldemort?"

Ron considered that a moment. "Too right, mate. On second thought, you're on your own. I want to live."

* * * * *

One week earlier

As Harry and Ginny came into place with a soft 'pop', he had to wonder if that slightly ill and very squeezed feeling that came with Apparition would ever fade. Ginny had Side-Along Apparated with him, of course, since she wouldn't be able to get her license for a few more months. He smiled faintly as he remembered her relentless teasing of Ron that she had successfully Apparated on her very first attempt, while she'd been back at Hogwarts last year. Even through Voldemort's reign and the terrible presence of the Carrows as "Professors", Snape had apparently done his best to keep the school as normal as possible.

Not that she'd had a good year by any means. Harry had known that she, Neville, and Luna had been leading the resistance in the school, but Ginny had still not spoken of it. He was certain she would tell him in her own way, in her own time.

"Merlin's pants!" Ginny swore out in shock, looking at the devastated front of Gringott's and the rather large hole in the cobblestone pavement in front of it. Much of the ancient bank's facing and trimwork had been reduced to rubble by the dragon's escape, though the remains no longer littered the street. "The three of you did this?"

Harry winced slightly at her exclamation - he still felt a bit guilty about it, actually. He was pleased to see a magical reconstruction crew working on repairs, however. The crews were using their wands to direct various pieces of stone and wood to where they were supposed to be. Charmed hammers and paintbrushes were working away of their own volition, and Harry could tell that, soon enough, no one would ever know that anything had happened to the venerable institution. "Yeah," he said simply as he watched the rebuilding for a moment. "They were waiting till they got the dragon back to fix the hole - Charlie was able to bring it back yesterday."

"I still don't think it's right, locking up an old dragon like that just to guard some gold," Ginny said with determination, aware that she was echoing Hagrid's sentiment - though the half-giant had expressed his opinion of the idea much more forcefully and colorfully.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could handle the bill for the dragon as well as all the damage," he admitted with a grimace.

"You're not serious," she said, stopping in her tracks. Open astonishment decorated her features at the very idea. Harry had kept walking for a second before he realized she was no longer walking right alongside him. "Harry! They're not honestly making you pay for this, are they? They've already sacked Bill and Fleur - "

That particular fact had been much cursed at the Burrow of late. The goblins had been convinced, knowing of Harry's close association with the Weasley family, that Bill and Fleur had helped him plan his break-in. Ginny - and then Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Fleur - had all repeatedly assured Harry, Ron and Hermione that they did not blame them in the least for the goblin's assumption, particularly once they knew why they'd broken into the wizarding bank. George openly applauded them for it, but Harry was also quite certain that there was a different response entirely from Percy. Still, if Percy did blame them, at least he wasn't saying anything. That was progress, Harry supposed.

"Well, uh..." Harry stuttered, looking studiously at the stone pavement at their feet. He had neglected to mention that to Ginny - she had thought they were just coming here to pick up some money from his vault.

Ginny's eyes widened as she filled in the rest on her own. Knowing her boyfriend as well as she did, it was not particularly hard to put two and two together. "Harry, you didn't, did you?" she started, and pressed on when he didn't respond verbally. "You volunteered?!"

"Well..." he managed to stammer out. He was turning a deep red now, embarrassed at having been figured out so easily. "It only seemed right. I think I'm lucky not to be in Azkaban, honestly."

"Harry, these are goblins!" she admonished him in shock. "You never volunteer to give them money! They'll take everything you have!"

"I know," Harry said slowly, finally looking up from his feet. "That's why they wanted to see me today, to give me my final balance of accounts. They said that they were... closing my vault."

Truthfully, the loss of the money didn't really hurt him. It was money he'd never wanted, and between the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, he had somewhere to live. Harry would just have to get a job to cover the rest, just like everyone else.

He couldn't also help feeling guilty, because he had, after all, broken into a supposedly unassailable bank and caused significant property damage - the term almost didn't apply to the devastation they'd managed to leave as a calling card - before absconding with their dragon. The only thing that really bothered him was the small, stupid voice in the back of his head that kept pointing out that he would never be able to do anything - provide anything - for Ginny if he didn't have any money anymore.

Harry didn't think that would matter to her..but, well, what if he was wrong? The idea sent a momentary panic through him. For all his assuredness when it came to fighting Dark Lords, Harry knew very well that he could be downright stupid when it came to girls.

Ginny didn't offer a verbal response as she read the emotions scattered across her boyfriend's surprisingly expressive features. As much as he held things in, he always had - and always would be - an open book to her. So instead of lecturing him further, she simply took his hand, and casually led him towards the bank. She knew that quiet show of support would quell Harry's nerves more than anything else.

Harry felt his worry evaporate as Ginny took his hand, and only barely stopped himself from grinning like an idiot. He inhaled sharply as they passed through the doors of Gringott's, that knot of nervousness taking root in his stomach once again. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath Ginny had leaned in close and firmly told him, "Breathe, Harry."

"Right," he trailed, and exhaled deeply. "Might as well get on with this."

Looking around, it was hard to tell the inside had been damaged at all. Clearly, repairs had been made here, first. It looked the exact same as it had that very first time Hagrid had brought him here. He did not see Griphook, however, and wondered what had ever happened to the little goblin. It was hard to blame Griphook for his actions back in Bellatrix's vault, given that Harry had in fact planned to double-cross him as well. Of course, Harry also admitted to himself that he wasn't particularly upset since he knew that Gryffindor's sword was once again resting in the Headmistress's office back at Hogwarts. He only hoped Griphook hadn't gotten into too much trouble over the incident.

As they queued up, they found that the wait was not very long at all, and Harry's nervousness had faded to a resigned acceptance by the time they reached the counter. At the goblin's question, he replied, "I'm Harry Potter. I'm here to authorize payment for damages and settle my account."

"Very well," said the goblin (whose name-tag Harry couldn't quite make out.) The goblin pressed its little visor back on its head, shuffled some papers around for a few moments, and finally spoke again. "Press your wand here please, Mr. Potter."

He did so, the tip of his wand leaving a distinctive mark on the signature spot. He signed several other forms in this manner, before the goblin reached down and then lifted up a small bag to the counter. "Final balance, six galleons, five sickles and twelve knuts," it dutifully reported. (Harry still could not tell, at this point, whether the goblin was even male or female.)

He swallowed, lifting the extremely light bag. Well, it was done now, he'd just have to make his own way, and -

"Would Mr. Potter like to be shown to his family vault now?" the goblin asked in the same businesslike tone.

Harry and Ginny shared a quick look of confusion between them before he managed a reply. "Uh - you've just emptied it. I don't really need to see an empty vault, do I?"

The goblin frowned at him, and then checked something on the parchment in front of him, and then spoke slowly, as though he was explaining something to a very small child. "That was your personal vault, Mr. Potter, left in trust by your parents for the purpose of seeing you through your schooling. Your family vault passed into your ownership last year on your seventeenth birthday. Gringott's sent notification via registered owl to your residence of record at "The Burrow" in Ottery St. Catchpole that day. It is noted that the owl was unable to make delivery until the day after."

The day after his -

"The wedding - the attack," Ginny said aloud. "I remember now, Harry, the owl dropped it off after the Death Eaters finally left. With everything else going on, we forgot to tell you."

Harry was floored. He had never considered the possibility that there was a family vault. It made sense once he thought about it - the Potters were an old, if small, wizarding family, and there had never been any personal items in his vault. "Yes, I would," he said, finally giving the goblin his reply. "Take us there, please."

"This way," the goblin dutifully instructed, clambering down from its stool and heading away from the lobby.

"Don't I need a key or anything?"

"Not for the family vault, Mr. Potter. The door will recognize you, as well as your mate," the goblin replied by rote, flicking his eyes quickly over at Ginny, who'd flashed a fleeting grin at the description.

* * * * *

A rather long and bumpy mine car ride later, Harry noted that they were heading the same direction as when he'd been here a little over a week prior. They passed the waterfall which removed all enchantments, and a team of goblins who were settling the old, blind dragon back into its nest. He thought he saw a flash of red hair that might have been Charlie, but they didn't even come close to slowing down enough for him to tell. The car stopped only very shortly before reaching the Lestrange vault. "Vault 47," the goblin driving the car sounded, and the three of them got out.

Stopping in front of the door, Harry felt Ginny give his hand a quick squeeze. He turned to smile weakly at her, and Harry knew he didn't have to tell her that he was nervous.

"Here goes," he said, thoughts of being rejected by the door and sucked into the vault, with only his skeleton to be found years later briefly flitting through his mind. He placed his palm flat against the center, felt a tiny prick, and the door just dissolved.

"Oh, my..." Ginny breathed, as they walked inside.

The vault was easily as big as the Lestranges, and very nearly as full. There were piles and piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts everywhere, along with artwork, gems, jewelry, antique furniture, a collection of swords and any number of other miscellany. Harry was, to put it mildly, astonished. He had never heard anything about the Potters being this rich (though it definitely explained why Draco Malfoy had wanted to befriend him when they were eleven), and was having a great deal of difficulty wrapping his head around all of it. After a moment's thought, though, he finally figured where the majority must have come from - the Black fortune had passed to him with Sirius' will, just like Grimmauld Place and "ownership" of Kreacher. And the Blacks had apparently been indecently wealthy.

"Gin.." Harry trailed off, his voice raspy.

"Yeah?" she asked faintly, just as astonished, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he was.

"I think we could have afforded that dragon after all..."

Ginny's face snapped over to meet his as soon the words were out of his mouth. Harry looked down at her, his face questioning her silently as she pulled herself tight against his chest. She could feel his confusion still, however, so she looked up and explained, "You said we, Harry," she answered quietly, an undeniable pleasure in her voice that had absolutely nothing to do with the room they were in or its contents. It was the first time Harry had automatically referred to them as a 'we', and that made her happier than anything in that vault ever could have. She smiled as she said it and Harry felt that his heart could have just stopped with the way she lit up the room.

"Just catching on, are you?" Harry replied. He'd meant it to be teasing, but it came out much softer than that.

However, as Ginny brought her lips tightly against his, Harry felt a moment of inspiration hit him.

* * * * *

As Harry trudged down the stairs to the Burrow's kitchen with Ron trailing sleepily behind him, he was decidedly unsurprised to find the whole Weasley clan seated and waiting for him. His gaze flickered over to Mrs. Weasley's clock - the normal one - and noted that it was half-past nine. They'd actually let him and Ron have a bit of a lie-in today. Maybe the Burrow was farther along than he'd reckoned.

His eyes landed on Ginny first, naturally enough, and she was flushed from embarrassment and avoiding looking at anyone else. Bill and Fleur had odd, stunned sort of expressions on their faces. Percy looked as though he was wrestling with a particularly difficult ethical problem, and Charlie was looking rather like someone had just given him his very own dragon. George was grinning like mad, however, for the first time that Harry had seen in weeks. He quietly tossed Harry a 'thumbs-up' gesture, and Harry let his eyes wander over the rest of the room as he sat down next to Ginny. Mr. Weasley had a strange, slightly sad expression on his face, and Mrs. Weasley was huffily scrubbing at plates in the sink, muttering quite a bit to herself.

He tried, very carefully, to look calm and in control as he saw Hermione. Her mouth was unabashedly hanging open in astonishment, the letter hanging in her hands. A quick glance confirmed everyone else had their letters, though Ginny's remained unopened in front of her, the wax seal with the logo of Gringott's Wizarding Bank still firmly attached.

It was at this point that Ron finally caught on to everyone's expressions as well. "Bloody hell," he muttered, and was even more shocked when neither his mother nor Hermione reprimanded him for his language. "Right then - well, obviously Harry knows what he did. But is anybody going to tell me?"

Mrs. Weasley whirled around at this, having not heard the two of them come down over the noise of her banging pots and own muttered tirade. If Harry hadn't known before where the Weasley children got their tempers from, he saw the full force of it bearing down on him now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione mutely hand Ron his own letter.

"Harry!" Molly began, at only slightly less of a volume than when she had been calling him downstairs. "I will absolutely not stand for this! You are going to go back and.. and... undo it this instant! "

It took everything Harry had to keep a calm expression on his face and not completely flee from the room in embarrassment. "No," he replied simply, extraordinarily grateful for the reinforcement Ginny gave him by reaching over and clasping her hand in his, on top of the table.

He wouldn't have thought two simple letters would have made the room even quieter, but they somehow did. At this point, every pair of eyes in the room snapped back towards him, accompanied by expressions of open-mouthed astonishment. Ron was looking at him with an expression of abject horror, rather like he'd just told them all that Voldemort wasn't really dead, and was, in fact, Harry's father.

After all - no one, no one told Molly Weasley ''no' in her own kitchen.

"No?" she said, almost conversationally. "Harry, do you have any idea what you've done? The finality of this? Your parents didn't leave you that money, Sirius didn't leave you that money for you to, to... fritter it away! We are doing quite well enough on our own, Harry. This is... this is - well, it's just unnecessary!"

"Unnecessary? But -" Harry tried to explain, but was cut off well before he'd even gotten started.

"Yes, unnecessary!" she replied huffily, turning her back on him to face her plates once more, as though that was quite the end of it. She continued scrubbing the plates with excess vigor.

"Why don't we hear what Harry has to say, first, Molly," Arthur said, very quietly, and laid a restraining hand on Molly's forearm. Though he was touching her arm, Harry locked gazes with the older man, who was very carefully examining Harry's expression. The scrubbing stopped, and Harry watched as the Weasley matriarch very slowly and deliberately turned around once more, and stood behind her husband. Somehow Harry found the man's quiet presence even more threatening that Mrs. Weasley's tirade.

"I won't undo it," he said quietly, and he heard someone take sharp breath in response. "I won't take it back, and there is absolutely no way you're ever going to make me, Mrs. Wea - Molly," he said, hoping that the permission he'd been given to use her name had not been suddenly revoked.

"I've watched all of you struggle, year after year, simply because you value all the right things in life. I have absolutely no use for all of that money. That's what's unnecessary. Molly, Arthur - all of you - mean more to me than you can possibly imagine. You're the family I never had, but that never once stopped you from taking me in and treating me as though I was just another one of your boys. As far as I know, you never even gave it a second though. And you never did it because I was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. You did it because I was Ron's friend, and you saw a skinny, mistreated little boy and you knew it was wrong, so you decided to do what you could to fix it. I don't recall you ever asking me if I wanted help then - you just gave it to me. That's what I'm doing now. But you can't possibly know what that will always mean to me... and I refuse to sit here and watch you struggle after everything you've all done for me. I won't stand for it - not one more damn minute. Whatever I've given you, it's far, far less than what I owe."

No one said anything else for a minute before Harry continued, looking down at the table as he fought the rising crimson in his cheeks. The rest came out barely above a whisper, but could be clearly heard in the room's still silence. "Erm... besides, everything I gave all of you was only half. Gin wouldn't let me do more than that. And I set up something for Andromeda and Teddy too - "

Arthur was the first to finally pull himself together and say something, and held up his palm to stop the flow of words from the black-haired wizard's mouth. "Be that as it may, Harry. This... this is just too much. We simply can't - "

"No, Daddy," Ginny interrupted sharply, raising her voice at her father for what was possibly the first time in her life. She would argue with her mother in a heartbeat - that was their way, after all. It was clear, though, that she was now speaking to everyone in the room. Molly's head jerked back at her daughter's tone, and Arthur fixed a curious stare on his daughter.

"You were always the ones who taught us to accept a gift gracefully. This is Harry's gift to us and it means very much to him to give. I won't let you take that from him, so you lot are just going to accept it, and say thank you, and that's the end of it." The youngest Weasley in the room folded her arms across her chest as she issued her statement with all the authority she had inherited from her mother, and was making it quite clear that she wasn't going to tolerate any further discussion on the topic.

Harry felt his throat go tight at Ginny's impassioned defense against him. He saw Arthur open his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by another quarter.

"She's right, Dad," said Ron, breaking the silence. Harry's gaze snapped up to his best mate, a response echoed by Hermione only a split-second later. He was floored by Ron's acceptance - he had honestly thought the most resistance would come from his best mate. As the youngest of the boys, Ron had always felt the brunt of their financial situation more than any of the others, and it had always been a touchy spot in his and Harry's friendship. Their eyes locked, and everyone watched the silent conversation pass between them, until both young men nodded. Ron stepped over to his friend first, reaching down to embrace him in a quick hug. Then he added quietly as he got closer, "That was bloody brilliant, mate. Did you see the looks on their faces?"

The dam was broken, and the room erupting laughter as Harry finally felt himself relax - and barely avoid being tossed out of his chair as Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in one of her patented bone-crushing hugs. This was worth any amount of gold, he decided, as she said softly to him. "Thank you, Harry, you dear boy. If you only knew what this gesture means to me, to us. It was never expected or required, but if it's what you really want to do with it, then the only thing left to say is indeed thank you."

Molly was more serious than he had seen her, disregarding the times that she'd almost had steam coming from her ears because of her temper. Harry knew that for the first time, he was seeing a glimpse of Molly Weasley the adult, instead of the mother he's always seen through the eyes of her son and daughter. She was approaching him as an adult, letting him see the Molly that her children would probably never would, simply because they were her children. Harry was a different case - although he was hers, as well, adopted into the family without a word, he was also a man in his own right. Harry guessed that they now saw this gesture as it was intended. Not as the charity they would have rightfully refused, but one of a man repaying his debts.

Fleur was, surprisingly, the next to approach him. "Eet iz a beautiful gesture, 'Arry," she said simply, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead as Bill shook his hand. "You are very sweet. Ginny, eet would be very foolish to leet 'im escape again."

"Oh, that's not even remotely a concern." Ginny replied promptly, casually tossing her hair with a flick of her head. "Not as long as he knows what's good for him."

"So noted," Harry said under his breath, drawing laughs from several others.

"Harry," Bill chuckled slightly, giving him a strange sort of glance that Harry didn't recognize as the sort of look that an older brother gives to a younger sibling that he's very proud of. "I think that may be the most words I've ever heard you say in one go. Well done. And... thank you."

As the conversation picked up, Harry embarrassedly accepted the thanks of each of the Weasleys. His face had turned scarlet enough by the end of it to remove any doubt whatsoever as to whether or not he was one of the family. Talk began to turn into something more normal and as soon as the attention was off him for a moment, he turned to face Ginny. He watched the way her face lit up as she was animatedly discussing new brooms with Ron, and suspected they'd all be making a trip to Diagon Alley to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies very shortly. The smile on her face brought a sudden thought to his head. He might not have figured anything else about his life yet, but he knew that he'd love nothing more than to try to keep that smile on her face for the rest of his life.

Abruptly, he saw Ginny's eyes flick up to the family clock, and saw her smile even more broadly.

Wondering why, Harry's own gaze followed and found that a new hand had been added. Two, actually. One - Fleur - was logical enough. She had married into the family last year, after all, and had probably been added sometime around the wedding. But the other addition, that one was the most surprising, perhaps. The slight sparkle around it suggested it had just materialized, and Harry's own face stared back at him, from a small hand between Ron's and Ginny's.

"How did it -" he started to ask Ginny in a curious whisper.

She just placed a finger on his lips to hush him before giving a teasing response. "Magic," she answered, and explained further when he just rolled his eyes in response. "We've always thought of you as one of the family, Harry," Ginny continued, and pointed at the clock once more. "What that means is that you've finally accepted it, too."

Harry's eyes went wide in astonishment at the realization. "Suppose I have." he murmured, and leaned in to give Ginny a quick kiss.

Ginny pulled back, though, a devilish twinkle in her eye. "Or it means you've decided you want to marry me. Could be either, I suppose."

A look of panic spread across Harry's features as Ginny laughed openly, and then brought her face back to his for the abandoned kiss.


Just as their lips were about to meet, however, Bill and Fleur interrupted them as they were getting everyone's attention. To the surprise of no one, they announced that Fleur was a few months pregnant. The first Weasley grandchild was on the way, and at the news, the Weasley kitchen erupted into a mad scramble of celebration as everyone rushed over to congratulate the couple.

Life, laughter and love finally, really, truly returned to the Burrow. And, looking at the smile on the face of the beautiful red-haired witch next to him, for the first time in almost eighteen years, Harry Potter felt all was right with the world.

Back to index


Chapter 4: Chapter 4 - Letters

Author's Notes: Thanks to the betas - TeyriJen, IcarusPhoenix and TopGun.


Chapter Four - "Letters "

* * * * *

A few happy, sunlit days later, a pick-up game of Quidditch was taking place over the Burrow's improvised pitch. The Weasley children had been almost unanimous in the first flexing of their new financial status, and had largely purchased new brooms. They were, after all, a family that took their Quidditch very seriously. Harry was enjoying actually getting to play as a Seeker, something he rarely got to do at the Burrow unless Charlie was about. All of the siblings were here today, along with a few friends, so their pickup game very nearly had full teams. So at the moment he was flying high above the pitch, observing the game as he scanned for the familiar flutter of gold that signified the Snitch. Exactly opposite him, Charlie was doing the same.

Ron was flying the new model Cleansweep 12, ( which wasn't as fast as the rather sleek Firebolt IIs Harry and Ginny had purchased), but had a much better tight-maneuvering, and suited him far better as a Keeper. Harry had to smirk at the way his friend was practically bouncing between the goalposts with his saves. Harry and Ginny were serving in their customary roles as Seeker and Chaser for opposing sides, since the rest of the group had firmly declared that the two best players in the family simply were not permitted to be on the same team. George was playing Beater for Harry and Ron's team, and Percy had been roped into Fred's old role as his partner. George hadn't bought a new broom, as he and Fred had purchased two new Comet 350s just a few months ago. Percy was playing on Fred's, but it was abundantly clear that he wasn't anywhere near as good a Beater as George was. Harry hadn't even known that the most studious of the Weasleys even knew how to play Quidditch in the first place, so he'd had to choke down his surprise. He wondered if anyone realized that Harry, Ron and George were quite accustomed to being on a team together - then he figured that was probably how they'd been saddled with Percy.

A strange sort of relationship was developing between Percy and George. Percy hadn't really lightened up, nor had George gotten particularly more serious. George was still mourning his twin (as was everyone, in their own ways), and to be truthful, he probably would for the rest of his life. However, his idea of mourning was drastically different than everyone else's, alternately causing everyone to break out in laughter, or wonder if George had finally gone truly around the bend. The two brothers were simply around each other all the time, making for a very odd pair. Percy was a constant presence for the lone twin, while Ron had willingly slipped into the role of George's new partner-in-crime, occasionally ably assisted by Harry and Ginny. It was not an uncommon sight for a member of the family to awaken with different color hair, skin, or clothes that wouldn't quite fit right. (It had been Ginny's idea to put shrinking charms on all of Percy's underclothes for a week straight. She'd been quite disappointed when it had produced no appreciable difference in Percy's behaviour.)

Bill was playing Keeper for the opposing side, and had settled for a slightly-used Cleansweep 10, not particularly wanting to spend quite as much as Ron had. Charlie was likewise playing Seeker, though he'd purchased a Firebolt II as well. Charlie had enthusiastically roared his approval of the new broom, claiming it to be the next best thing to riding a dragon. Harry had agreed, a response that drew a firm 'you're-never-doing-that-again' glare from Ginny and a very visible blanching by Hermione. To say that the latter preferred to pretend that incident had never happened was putting it mildly. Both their actions at Gringott's and the riding of a dragon had deeply offended the bushy-haired witch's sense of order. Her well-known - to the family, at least - fear of flying probably played a lot more into it, Harry figured.

Some of the larger surprises were the people rounding out the teams. Fleur had proven to be a particularly devastating Chaser, and Ron was hard pressed to keep her and Ginny from simply running over all of them. Bill had nearly taken Percy's head off earlier in the game for hitting his pregnant wife with a Bludger, before Bill had in turn received a blistering five-minute lecture from Molly (Of all people!) on over-protectiveness and the fact that he very well knew that the Burrow's 'home' Bludgers were charmed not to actually cause any physical damage other than force of impact. Harry, Ginny and George had been unable to contain open, howling laughter on this point, but had all immediately silenced themselves when Molly's flat-iron gaze had turned their way.

Still, the Ginny-and-Fleur pair was countered by two of their guests today - Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas, who had come together and found themselves on Harry and Ron's team. The odd blond girl actually flew quite brilliantly, and so erratically that the opposing team couldn't possibly predict her movements. She and Dean, who had played with Ginny on the Gryffindor team long enough to predict Ginny's moves, had used this to great advantage, and their side was now up, with the score 90-80. Ginny and Bill's team was rounded out by two more guests, Neville and Susan Bones, who had also come as a couple, and made a surprisingly fair pair of beaters. The four visitors had frequently been to the Burrow this summer, and everyone was quite used to their presence by now. Every now and then, though, Harry caught strange looks coming at him and Ginny from Dean, and resolved to ask the dark-skinned boy about it later.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he saw Ginny catch the Quaffle, and he nodded to himself in approval as Luna moved to intercept her opponent. There was still no sign of the Snitch, however, and Harry decided he'd try to have a little fun.

Charlie watched attentively as Harry suddenly shifted direction downward and, knowing that the younger Seeker had a better eye, immediately moved to follow.

Harry wasn't targeting the Snitch, though. As Ginny was moving in towards Ron's goal, Harry bore down on her at maximum speed, swooping just in front of her just as she was preparing to launch the Quaffle at Ron's leftmost goal. The sudden presence distracted her enough to throw off her aim, and Ron easily caught the Quaffle.

"Potter!" the diminutive redhead fairly shrieked, glaring steel daggers at her boyfriend.

Harry just flashed her his best grin. "All's fair in love and Quidditch, Gin-Gin," he teased, as patronizingly as possible. He only narrowly avoided the yellow stream of light signifying Ginny's famous Bat-Bogey hex that was her response.

"Uh-oh, little brother," he heard George smirk at Ron, who was also in hearing range. "Looks like trouble in paradise. Our ickle Gin-Gin seems a tad upset with Harrikins."

Ron just snorted loudly. "George, I'll bet you twenty galleons that they're well and truly hitched this time next year."

Harry, thankfully, had not heard Ron's reply as he was already resuming his search for the Snitch. It was probably for the better, because that statement probably would have knocked him off his broom all on its own. He studiously ignored George's comment, regardless. Ginny wasn't really mad. At least... he didn't think so...

He flew across the makeshift pitch at speed, before suddenly braking as he saw the flash of blue down on the sidelines. "Hey! Let's call it, you lot!"

"Harry, what're you on about?" Ron yelled, after diving to save the Quaffle from Fleur's throw this time. "The game finishes when you catch the snitch! You want to play with the titchy little midget, then find the bloody thing!"

Harry just glared at Ron for a moment, and then wondered how long it would take Ginny would teach him the bat-bogey hex.

"Fine," he finally muttered in exasperation, and turned his attention back to the pitch. He went up high to get a look - noting that Charlie wasn't marking him this time - and started scanning in earnest for the Snitch.

Luck was with him, it seemed, because he found the Snitch after only about two minutes. There it was, fluttering about only a few feet from the ground. Hah! he thought in triumph. He immediately dropped into a steep dive, heedless as always of how close to the ground the snitch was. A quick glance confirmed that Charlie wasn't following - he knew very well that the Wronski Feint was a favorite tactic of Harry's, and he was determined not to fall for it.

It was just Charlie's luck that Harry wasn't faking this time, and the younger Seeker had an unimpeded shot at grabbing the Snitch. As Harry's hand closed around the Snitch, though, the forward half of his broom dipped down just a little too far, and sent him flying from his broom and rolling into the dirt. Various exclamations were cut short though, when Harry stood as quickly as possible - more or less uninjured for once - and tossed the Snitch with a grin to a grimacing Charlie, who'd been the first to land after him.

Harry didn't say anything further, however - he was already heading across the pitch to where Hermione was carrying his godson in her arms. Back by the Burrow, he could see Andromeda Tonks chatting with Mrs. Weasley. Any thoughts about any similarities between Andromeda and her sisters had long since faded in the many visits he (and usually Ginny, and sometimes Ron and Hermione) had often made to see the two of them. In his hurry, he immediately rushed towards Teddy, and very nearly didn't get entirely over the fence first in his rush to his godson.

Hermione deftly held Teddy out of Harry's reach, and was shaking her head vigorously. "I don't think so. Look at you, Harry, you're covered in filth. You can't touch a baby in that condition. You're not clean at all. Madame Bellweather says that the easiest way for a child to get sick is to constantly be touched by those covered in germs -"

"Alright, alright," he broke in, stopping Hermione before she could really get going on what the esteemed Madame Bellweather said about child rearing. After the announcement by Bill and Fleur, as well as the periodic visits by Andromeda and Teddy, it had taken Hermione less than 24 hours to find a book on child rearing in the wizarding world. The previous night, he and Bill had both been treated to an hour long treatise on how to control any accidental magic by an infant, and he wasn't anxious to repeat the experience. He pulled out his wand, waving it over himself. Hermione heard him mutter Scourgify a few times and then Harry held out his arms expectantly. "Better?" he asked.

"Much," she said with a bright smile, and carefully handed the baby over to him.

"Thanks," Harry said softly, taking the small baby into his arms. "Hey there, little guy," he said quietly, examining the infant as always. Teddy's hair had gotten longer, he thought, and maybe even more unruly. Granted, that was a hard thing to judge, since the kid was a metamorphmagus like his mother. When Harry first took him, his hair was the familiar turquoise blue. That seemed to be Teddy's favorite, just like that shade of fuchsia pink had been his mother's. As Teddy's attention focused on Harry, though, he screwed his little face up and changed his hair to the same jet-black as Harry's.

Ginny had landed on the ground nearby, and leaned her broom against the bole of a tree even as the others were following suit. She, too, ran her wand over herself, cleaning the grime and dirt from her arms and shirt before coming close. She hadn't heard Hermione lecture Harry, but well recognized the look on the other girl's face. Ginny had also watched Harry and Bill the night before, unable to break away from the clutches of Hermione in full-on lecture mode. She had also noticed her mother listening in, shaking her head and smiling at some of the advice being tendered to the father-to-be and the new godfather. (For her part, Ginny had just been trying to contain herself from erupting in peals of laughter at the slightly dazed expressions Bill and Harry had both had.)

"Yes, Teddy, that's a much better hair color," she said softly towards the baby, touching his cheek with her knuckle. His face crinkled up and he laughed, attempting to chase the finger down as Ginny zoomed it around her his head. She laughed at Teddy's concentration, looking over at Harry. She was struck suddenly with a momentary vertigo, enough that she let her finger fall for a moment, allowing Teddy to grab it and stuff it into his mouth to chew on it with the same single-mindedness that he had while attempting it's capture. Unmindful of the drool beginning to snake it's way down her wrist, Ginny saw Harry standing there, much as he was, holding on infant that had his own messy black hair. Naturally Teddy's imitation hair was just beginning to stick up in the back as much Harry's did. She saw herself leaning over to kiss both of her men, smiling fiercely at the sight, and then the reality reasserted itself. Teddy wasn't theirs, she forcefully reminded herself, no matter how natural and right the thought seemed.

"Gin, you okay?" Harry asked her quietly, his concern more than evident in his voice as he noticed the expression on her face. It was... off...just a bit.

"What?" Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," she said, shaking her mane of red hair. The movement caught Teddy's attention, who promptly turned his own red to match. "Landed just a bit too quick, I imagine. Just wanted to get down here to see this little guy." She stuck her tongue out at the baby, making silly faces at him to get him to smile. Her efforts were well-rewarded.

Harry watched with a half smile on his lips, slightly quirking up the sides of his mouth. What was it about women of any age and babies? As soon as they were brought together, the outside world ceased to exist for either species. Harry may not have had much experience with the same phenomenon in the Muggle world, but he had definitely noticed it here. Going anywhere with Teddy was almost guaranteed to take twice as long, simply from the sheer number of women who would stop to chat. (It was, he noticed, the only thing that drew more attention than his identity.) He could almost hear Sirius' voice in his head, telling him what an advantage that would be if he was only single.

Nor could he help but marvel at Ginny's interactions with his godson, and felt strangely.. whole, standing there with it being just the three of them. Harry hadn't recognized Ginny's earlier look at the pair of them for what it was - the kind of appraising stare a woman gives a man who she thought would do quite well enough as a father for her own children. He also didn't have any clue whatsoever that he was giving Ginny a strikingly similar look at just that moment.

George and Ron had also put their own brooms away, and surreptitiously put Harry's and Ginny's into the shed as well. They were now watching the threesome from not too far away, the younger snickering and the older grimacing as they watched the cozy little display. The looks they'd seen from back there were obvious enough to them - and everyone else in the house too, probably.

"Fine," George muttered under his breath, and passed a handful of coins to his little brother.

Ron just grinned broadly back at his brother. "Told you so."

* * * * *

"Oh, where is it?!" Ginny exclaimed under her breath, along with several particular epithets that would have gotten a very strong lecture from her mother, had she heard them. Harry had said his broom-servicing kit was somewhere in this god-forsaken rucksack. She needed to trim the twigs on her new Firebolt II, with all the playing they'd been doing over the last week. Harry's rucksack was dirty still, and torn around the edges - clear evidence that he'd been living out of it, on the run, for close to a year. It was also perfectly obvious that the rucksack had been subjected to the same expanding charm as Hermione's little beaded handbag, because she certainly couldn't find any bloody thing inside it at all.

"Sod it," the redhead cursed through gritted teeth, and upended the whole thing onto Harry's bed. The youngest of the Weasley clan - for a few more months, anyway - exclaimed in triumph as the kit tumbled out. One item - a book titled Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches - caught her immediate attention, and she quirked her lips into a smirk. The broom kit fell out as well, drawing her attention back to what she was looking for - but as it landed on the bed, something caught her attention, and she couldn't claim to be remotely interested in fixing up her broom. Tumbled out right next to the kit was a series of bound letters, with her name spelled out in Harry's untidy scrawl on the first one. It took only a moment for her to confirm the next two were for Ron and Hermione.

An all-too-familiar empty, sinking sensation flooded into her as she sat numbly on the bed. Ginny knew Harry - probably better than anyone alive - and she immediately knew exactly what those unsent letters were. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, unbinding the stack. Her fingertips drifted over the name out the front for a heartbeat before she opened the letter. The tear of the envelope echoed against the bare floors of the room that seemed so suddenly empty.

Ginny didn't even notice that her hand was shaking as she pulled out the letter, and began to read.

Ginny,

I hope beyond anything that you never see this letter. But if you're reading this, that means that the final battle has finally come, and I'm not,and I'm dead I didn't make it. I hope that we've finished this ruddy "treasure hunt", and that I at least managed to take him down with me, or set someone else up to do it proper. I really hope I got to see you one last time before.... well, before. And I didn't.. well, that was still the best birthday present I could ever get. It's kept me going this long. You've kept me going, Gin.

If I didn't I'm not here anymore, then the fight falls to you and Ron and Hermione and everyone else. They'll need your fire to inspire them. Never let him win, Gin. Whether I beat him or someone else has to, never let him win. You understand that more than anyone, I think. You know what kind of monster he is.

I'm rubbish with this, at feelings and everything else, so I'll just be out with it. I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you last year. I'm sorry we never got the time we should have had. I'm sorry for all the things I never got to say to your face. I'm sorry I never saw what was right in front of me so much sooner. I'm sorry for all the years we've already missed, and everything we've missed if you're reading this. I'm sorry for all the things I did, and all the things we didn't get to do. I'm sorry I won't get see YOU wearing Muriel's tiara. I'm sorry we won't argue over who's turn it is to change the diapers. I'm sorry I'll never get to count every single one of those freckles. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I never got to say any of this in person. You deserved better than to be dragged into all of this. I just hope you don't ever think that I forgot you. I wish every damn day that you wer

I hope you get to be happy. I hope you still get all those things. Call me selfish, though... but I wish they'd been with me.

Love,

Your Harry.

p.s. Keep an eye on Ron, would you? And get the git to finally make a move on Hermione. Long enough is long enough.

Ginny's hand drifted slowly downwards as she stared off into space. She didn't know what to think, how to possibly process this at first. They'd been moving past all of this, learning to live again. Was this how it was always going to be? Life would begin, and then some sudden thing would remind them of all the nightmares, for the rest of their lives? How could he -

Ginny started as a giggle echoed through the quiet room. She whipped her head over to face the door, to see a display that would have had her taking the mickey out of her brother immediately under any other circumstances.

"Ron!" came Hermione's exasperated squeal. "Not now, Ronald. Your mum is just out- Ginny?" The bushy-haired brunette's voice changed quite suddenly as she spotted the redhead sitting on the side of the bed, looking for all the world as though someone had stepped on her pygmy puff. (This was not the case, obviously, as Arnold had only just waddled by the room in his constant attempts to avoid Crookshanks. The large ginger-haired tomcat regarded the little purple fluffball as something akin to his favorite squeaking toy.)

Ron's head darted up at the tone of Hermione's question, and it was a question as to which of them rushed to his sister fastest. "Gin?" he asked in as soft a tone as Hermione had ever heard from him. "What is it? What's happened?"

Ginny didn't say anything aloud. She still wasn't sure what to say, so instead, she just passed Ron and Hermione the letters with their names on them.

Ron instinctively knew this had something to do with Harry, who, he now realized, he hadn't seen in several hours. He tore his open first, muttering "This better have some bloody answers," as he recognized Harry's handwriting. "If that tosser's run off without telling anybody again, best mate or no, I'm going to - " His mouth immediately clamped shut as he started reading.

Ron,

Hey, mate. Hopefully you never see this, but if you do, that means I've gone and gotten myself killed. If I didn't take him down, then I know you were right there with me when I tried. I've never actually said how grateful I am to you. Not in words. But thank Merlin you needed a spot on the train that day. I wouldn't be who I am without you and your family. I would never have had a reason to be. You were the first person in my life to ever accept me - and even more, you even accepted me as ME. I reckon that you probably get that about me better than anyone, except maybe Gin.

Look, you're my best mate, You're my brother, so I'm not going to get all emotional here. You know what I mean, and I reckon you've always known. So do me a favor. Well, do me a few. If Riddle's not dead yet, make sure that gets taken care of, yeah?

Look out for Gin. I know you will anyway, but keep an eye out for me, too.

And finally. Take care of Hermione. And get off your bloody arse and tell her you love her already! It's been long enough. I always wanted you two to be happy together. It's like I told you - she's a sister to me. I knew you were thick, but I thought you could have admitted what you felt for her just a LITTLE sooner. If you haven't yet, put this damn letter down and kiss her, right now! I'll wait.

Back? Then take care of yourself too, mate.

Harry.

ps. - The Cannons are still a horrid team, Ron.

Ron tried to form the words to say something, but he stopped as he saw Hermione's eyes darting back and forth over her own letter. Re-reading for the third or fourth time by now, he expected.

Hermione,

I expect you're probably the one who found these. You'd be the most likely to know about old traditions. And if you don't, well, I expect you've probably thought of it yourself. (And organized them in alphabetical order or by address to make them easier to deliver, no doubt. I always kind of envied that about you.) I saw it in an old movie the Dursleys were watching once, and it seemed like a good idea. But, if you're reading this, that means I'm not around. I really hope that I finished my task. If not, please help the others see it through. You really are the cleverest witch I've ever known, and they'll all need you to tell them how to do it.

I've never really said it, but I'm kind glad you were hiding in that bathroom when Quirrell released that troll. I always figured that night was what took the friendship between the three of us to something.. more, this, whatever-it-is that we have. I'm glad you've been with me and Ron all these years - you're my sister in every way that matters. (Which makes my next request a little odd, given that I think of Ron as my brother.)

Love him, 'Mione. He's thick, I know, but he loves you even if he hasn't said the words or even figured it out for himself yet. Whenever all of this is over - and if you're reading this, I really hope it is - you two deserve to be happy. You'll fight, and you'll laugh, and you'll cry, and you'll grow old and have babies together - and you deserve every minute of it. You two deserve to LIVE, so.. make sure he catches on, all right?

Love,

Harry

"Oh.." Hermione said quietly, her hand pressed to her mouth.

Ron's response, typically, was more far angrier. His face was growing scarlet as he started talking, and he worked himself further and further into a full head of steam. "What was he thinking, leaving these lying around? Why'd he even write them in the first place? It's so bloody stupid - "

"He thought he was going to die, Ronald!" Hermione interjected, leaping to Harry's defense. Before one of their famous rows could start, though Ginny's quiet reply cut her off.

"Well, he was right, wasn't he?" she pointed out with a rather odd-sounding combination of hollowness and bitterness in her voice. "He did die, in the end."

Any further conversation was muffled by the sound of a door slamming downstairs. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all looked at each other in brief confusion as they heard booted feet clomping up the stairs. That confusion abated, however, when they heard Harry's voice muttering a string of curses.

"..couldn't use my sodding wand, no, we just had to do it the Mug-" Harry drew himself up short at the door to his and Ron's room. He was covered in grime, and holding an equally grubby rag against his palm, which was starting to soak through with red. "Hey, what's - " he started, before a red-haired blur thudded against his chest. He was far from unappreciative of the attention, of course, and the creature in his chest purred its obvious approval at her close proximity. "Gin, what?"

"My Harry," was all the answer she gave, speaking softly into his extremely dirty shirt.

In complete astonishment (and completely forgetting his wounded hand) he looked to Ron and Hermione for explanation. The bushy-haired witch just looked overcome with emotion, something that seemed to be happening more and more often lately - something he suspected had to do with her missing parents. He was just on the verge of asking if they'd all gone completely mental when Ron was the one to give him a partial answer.

Of course, Ron's answer was to reach over and thump him upside the side of his head, so Harry didn't find that to be particularly helpful.

Harry sighed. "Is anyone going to tell me what's got you lot so bloody worked up?"

Hermione held the three letters up in her hand. "It seems you forgot to properly dispose of something, Harry."

"Ah," Harry said stupidly, his face flushing with crimson as he realized just what letters those were. "You, erm, weren't exactly supposed to see that." The last few words were almost whispered.

"They were addressed to us," Ginny pointed out. And then, quieter, just to him. "And that's a hell of a way to say 'I'm sorry', you berk," she added in reference to the content of his letter.

"Well, yeah," he admitted reluctantly. "They were for if something.. happened. There were things that I didn't want to go unsaid. Things that hadn't been said for long enough as it was."

Ron hand his hand around Hermione's shoulders now, and she was absently threading her fingers through his. Both wanted to say something more, and both realized how quickly the topic had become a private one for Harry and Ginny alone. Hermione figured it out just a little quicker, though, and silenced Ron with an elbow as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you..." the shorter redhead asked in a hesitating voice, bringing her eyes up to where they just barely met his. "Did you really mean everything you wrote down?"

"Every word," he whispered quietly into her hair as she pressed herself against him once again. And for just a moment, he couldn't help regretting Ron and Hermione's presence so that he could show Ginny what he'd meant a little more... privately. She seemed to get the message, however, even as Harry gave her a reassuring squeeze. As he did so he quite forgot about his wounded hand, and the grimy rag he'd appropriated as a makeshift bandage slipped off.

"Merlin, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, letting go of Ron's hand to rush over to where Harry and Ginny were. "What happened to your hand? And why did you wrap it in this rag? It's going to get infected if you don't clean it right away."

"Oh, right..." Harry said, remembering why he'd come up in the first place. "Well, It's not that bad. I just came to see if we still had some dittany, actually."

It did not go unnoticed that he had completely declined to answer the question, nor had he offered an explanation for why he was so dirty.

Ginny grabbed the hand that Harry was, by this time, trying to hide behind his back. He'd closed it into a fist up until the point where she gave him a suitable glare, once more worthy of her mother. Sighing, Harry acceded to the silent command, and opened his palm. Ginny's mouth set itself in a flat line as she steadily unwrapped the wound, revealing a long, sharp gash spread diagonally across his palm. As soon as she removed the rag, it began to bleed even more profusely.

As Ginny examined the wound, Hermione took it upon herself to begin the interrogation. "Harry, what in the world were you doing? Does this have to do with what you and Mr. Weasley are doing out in the shed?"

Comprehension dawned on Ron's freckled face at that. "Oh, that's where you were. Blimey, mate, I thought you'd run off or something. Hey, did you find the - "

"Shut it, Ron," Harry growled half-heartedly, reminding his friend that the project in the shed was quite secret. He and Mr. Weasley had even gone so far as to add a password and a Caterwauling Charm the first time they'd found Ginny and Ron trying to sneak into the shed at night to see what they were up to. They'd only let Ron in on things when they'd needed another set of hands one afternoon.

"Right, sorry," came the suitably sheepish reply.

"If you're going to get hurt this easily, you probably shouldn't be - " Hermione continued, as though Ron had never even spoken. She did, however, file away the fact that Ron knew what Harry and Arthur were up to out there for later reference.

"Can't tell you," Harry said, cutting off any further inquiries.

Ginny looked up from Harry's hand at that. She was using the bottom of her t-shirt (which was considerably cleaner than Harry's oily and dirty rag) to clean out the wound and keep it from bleeding more. "More secrets, Harry?" she asked dangerously, her eyes narrowing.

"No, no, it's not a secret," Harry replied quickly, remembering his promise. "It's a surprise. Hopefully."

"But Harry, if you're going to practically slice your hand off-" Hermione cut in, and Harry started to feel rather like he was being double-teamed by the two witches. Ginny was not exactly being gentle as she cleaned out the wound.

"Hey, I am injured here, you know! Hermione?" Once again, Harry heeded Ron's advice, and cut her off before she hit her stride. It appeared to apply just as well to Hermione as it did to Molly Weasley. "The dittany please, perhaps some time before I bleed out all over Ron's room?"

"Yeah, mate, the red would clash horribly with all the orange. I don't fancy having to redecorate," Ron said, before remembering something else. "And what's this rubbish about the Cannons? I'll have you know they've got two new Chasers this season. They're going -"

That earned him equal glares from Hermione and Ginny both. Harry heard Hermione mutter something suspiciously like "boys!" as she started rummaging through her handbag. Finally, she got to the bottle of dittany - which was empty. "It's gone, Harry," she said with a frown. "I thought..."

"Oh, hell with it." Ginny muttered, and pulled out her wand.

Harry frowned, and started to pull his hand away. "Gin, it's not your birthday yet. You can't - "

"Absolvo." she muttered under her breath, waving her wand quickly across the wound. A small white light shot from her willow-and-dragon-heartstring wand, and completely sterilized both hand and wound. "Episky," Ginny continued, and this time drew her wand along the wound. As she did, the white light reappeared, and new, fresh skin and tissue formed.

Harry looked down at his hand in amazement. "Thanks," he said curiously. When had Ginny become so good with healing spells?

Ginny was still glaring. "Don't make me do it again."

Now was apparently not the time to ask.

* * * * *

Later that afternoon (after a long shower for Harry) the foursome were lounging out by the Burrow's small pond. All had changed into swimsuits, and were currently taking a break from the swimming they’d been doing. Ginny watched with interest as she saw her father exit his shed, his clothes in much the same condition as Harry's had been earlier. More subtle attempts to learn what Harry was up to had proven unsuccessful. She'd snuck into the bathroom using the trick with the handle the twins had rigged a long time ago while Harry was showering, to try to get a better look at Harry's dirty clothes to figure out what he was up to. It had taken a great deal of restraint on her part to not take a peek at Harry while he was showering, and she'd almost given the whole thing away when she started cursing under her breath while still in the small bathroom.

The prat had cleaned them off before getting in the shower. As well as she knew him, she was starting to get a little disturbed by the fact that he could predict her just as easily. It was a bit annoying really, and she said so now.

Harry just laughed, "Well, it's not like I haven't known you for years, Gin. More importantly, I know your brothers, and just how sneaky you became to defend yourself properly."

"Humph," she replied, and he teased her frustration away with a quick and simple kiss. That act which drew protests from Ron, until the point where Hermione rather satisfactorily captured his attention.

"Forgive me?" Harry asked teasingly, his deep green eyes seeming to bore into hers. There was a laughter there she had so very rarely seen, and a strange kind of peace.

When he looked at her like that, how could she not?

Still, she supposed she could forgive him for times like this - an afternoon of idle conversation, the four of them just enjoying the sun, the peace, the quiet, and each other's company. "Oh, fine," she finally muttered, taking care to at least look like she was sulking about it.

Unfortunately, even this blissful afternoon could not go uninterrupted. A large brown barn owl landed ceremoniously directly in front of Hermione, puffing out it's feathers in a clear sense of its own importance. Ron cocked his head at the self-important bird as Hermione reached over to untie the letter. "Kinda looks like Percy, doesn't it?" he asked, causing Harry and Ginny to laugh, and at least got a chuckle out of Hermione.

For no particular reason, Ginny decided to pull Harry into another kiss at that - a subtle reminder of when things had been estranged between her brother and the rest of the family over Harry, just whose side she'd chosen. Not that Harry would ever forget. Those ministrations distracted her until Hermione let out an excited squeal, which was closely followed by Ron lifting her up and twirling her around, and equally large smile on his face.

"Hermione, what is it?" she asked as she and Harry closed the gap, eager to know what had excited their friend so much.

"Read!" the bushy-haired witch exclaimed, shoving the letter into Ginny's hands.

Ms. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that the Australian Ministry of Magic has, based upon the information you provided, located your parents, the Drs Wendell & Monica Granger, under the aliases of Dr. Wendell & Monica Wilkins, practicing dentistry in the Muggle city of Cairns. However, we regret to say that neither Australian specialists nor our own people have been able to undo your well-performed memory charms, and that your parents thought us quite mad when we attempted to tell them that they were not who they believe to be. I feel I must also note that your father also displayed an exceptional level of skill with a cricket bat. I daresay my hat may never recover.

Your presence is therefore requested tomorrow morning at the International Portkey Office at precisely 8:15 am, where you will be relayed to the headquarters of the Australian Ministry, and then be taken to your parents. Please do not be late, as International Portkeys take some time to set up, and only the intervention of Minister Shacklebolt has allowed you to get this opportunity so quickly and bypass much of the standard paperwork.

Your servant,

Fiducius Dinkle,

Department of International Magical Co-operation,

Ministry of Magic, London, U.K.

Ginny's eyes darted up as she handed the letter off to Harry, and then rushed to rescue her friend from her brother's embrace - so she could hug her herself.

* * * * *

It had taken all of two days - even despite Ginny's extremely welcome presence - for the absence of his friends to send Harry into a funk.

Hermione and Ron had left for Australia the very next morning after getting the letter from the Ministry. Harry had never asked whether they wanted him to come with or not, simply assuming that they did. Therefore, when he'd come downstairs with a his rucksack to meet them, he had been just a bit put out at Hermione's declaration that he was going to stay right here, thank you very much.

Protesting had not gotten him anywhere, as Hermione had clearly laid out that they knew where they were going, would not be in trouble, and would be spending at least a week there helping her parents pack. Also, she felt that, as she would be bringing a boyfriend (Ron) home for the first time, not to mention explaining just why she had made her parents think they were completely different people for almost a year, she didn't really prefer to complicate the issue by bringing a second boy with her as well. Aside from that, she had only submitted paperwork for herself and Ron, presuming (or perhaps, ensuring), that Harry would have to stay at the Burrow with Ginny.

Harry had not taken any of that well and had, rather true to form, simply not said anything and wished them luck.

Truthfully, it didn't take the whole two days to send him into a downward spiral, as Harry found himself getting steadily more irritable from almost the moment Ron and Hermione had departed. It hadn't really come to a head until he and Ginny had gotten into a rather spectacular row in the middle of the Burrow's living room over the entire thing, when he made a rather thoughtless comment about being left out.

"Oh, how absolutely horrible for you, Harry," she finally snapped, having had quite enough of the entire argument. "I wouldn't know what that's like at all, to be left behind."

"Well, that's just completely off the point!" Harry yelled back, and then whirled away from her. He stormed out through the kitchen and into the back garden.

She's right, you know, a particularly irritating corner of his brain informed him. It's exactly what you did to her last year.

Shut it,
he told that part of his brain, refusing to admit that it was right, or that there was no real reason for him to have gone, and every reason for just Ron and Hermione to go on their own.

A bit of movement caught the corner of his eye, and Harry grinned - though it came out as more of a grimace - when he realized there was at least one way to take out some of his frustration. The little garden gnome that had popped his head out saw the wizard smiling predatorily, and wisely attempted to flee. Rather unfortunately for it, Harry's legs were far longer, and he caught the gnome with ease.

He managed to send the first one flying a good forty feet beyond the garden's back fence.

The little buggers were as foul-mouthed as ever, insulting both Harry and his parentage. He took a particular satisfaction in tossing the third one, which had tried to leave a generous-sized bite on his hand. He'd popped it on the back of the head to daze it, and then wound up far more than was necessary before sending that gnome flying.

Sixty feet. Not bad at all.

He was just pulling up a fourth when a voice startled him.

"Feel better?" Ginny asked quietly, startling Harry and causing him to jump. He hadn't heard her come out, and hadn't expected her to come after him. This, of course, had the result of letting the gnome he'd just grabbed get a bite on him, and Harry quickly became irritated again before punting the offensive little monster away. It wasn't nearly as effective as the 'wind-up-and-throw', method, but was much more satisfying.

"No," Harry replied, a defeated tone in his voice before he turned to face her. She was standing tensely, arms folded under her breasts and staring straight at him. That blazing look was still in her eyes, but he detected worry in her stance, too. It suddenly hit him - they hadn't really had a proper row like this before, between the two of them. She was just as worried as he was that ˜they were ok". Strangely, that thought comforted him. He felt his anger fade completely as he exhaled, as though he was simply banishing it from his body. "I'm sorry, Gin," he started, and moved over to pull her into an embrace. She laid her hands flat on his chest in response, and brought her eyes up to meet his downcast ones. "I didn't mean to blow up, or to take it out on you. And that was a really horrible thing to say, and I know you haven't really forgiven me for leaving you last year, but I just - "

Ginny interrupted him before he could get a really good head of steam on his self-flagellation. "Harry, it’s okay. I know that you didn't mean it to come out the way that it did. I also...somewhat... understand your reasoning for leaving me behind last year and not trying to contact. It doesn't make it all go away, yet, but I do understand. This situation is slightly different, though. They didn't leave you behind for your safety, you know. They want some time to themselves. They wanted you to have some time to put your life back together, rather than go haring off to Australia with them. It's understandable that you would be a bit put out by all that, but still. You don't need to take it out on me or anyone else here. You also don't need to sit around and sulk and being 'left out' ".Harry knew that she was right, but he still wasn't sure of what to say. He could also tell by Ginny's tone that she knew that there was more he was saying, and he reflected that she was probably right. It wasn't really that they'd gone without him that was really winding him up so much.

Ginny sat down on the Burrow's stoop, patting a spot next to her. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and held out her other hand for Harry's.

"Well.." he said slowly, following her instructions and sitting down next to her. He winced slightly as she took his hand into hers to examine the bite."It's really not that bad," she said, in regards to the wound. She waved her wand over it and muttered the same Healing Charm from a few days previously. The wound healed before their eyes, leaving a faint scar which continued to disappear as they both watched it. Once it was finally gone, Ginny put her wand back in her pocket and looked back into Harry's eyes. She had to pull his face up to get him to look at her, as he was studiously keeping his eyes downcast. "Harry, look at me. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm sorry about yelling," he mumbled out, the regret and guilt clear on his face. "I don't... I don't want to fight with you, Gin."

Ginny smiled. As always, it warmed Harry's insides, melting the small knot of ice that had formed in his midsection since Hermione had declined to take Harry with her and Ron. "You have to remember, Harry, that people fight. We argue, we have a difference of opinion... We are each our own person, and sometimes those people just don't agree. It doesn't mean anything. In fact, I prefer fighting to not, sometimes. It means that you feel comfortable and safe enough with me to let me see you with your guard down. As irritating as the sulking was, it was also just another way to verify that you do love me."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "Oh, I'll admit that it is a strange thing to say. It helps that I'm a girl, therefore I can say strange things like that and you just have to accept them." She smirked at him.

When he opened his mouth to say something, Ginny placed her finger over his lips, running the tip of it over his mouth briefly. She leaned forward and placed her mouth over his for a kiss. Harry quite readily accepted that, but he fixed a mock glare on her after they pulled back from it. "That's cheating, Weasley."

"And I'll do it whenever I have to, Potter," she said saucily, with an exaggerated flip of her hair that left them both chuckling. "But seriously, Harry, we both know that you being left behind isn't the only thing that's been on your mind." She didn't mention - because she didn't think it necessary - how many times she'd seen him with a pensive, thoughtful look on his face recently. Sometimes it was tinged with sadness, sometimes with anger, but it was there an awful lot of frowns on his face lately. Whenever he caught her looking at him, he would smile at her in that way that always did (and she hoped, always would) melt her insides. But it didn't replace the fact that there was something on his mind, something eating away at him, and she wanted to know what it was.

"I don't know," Harry finally admitted. "I'm just... restless. I don't know what to do now."

"What do you mean?" she asked him, giving him time to phrase his thoughts and dig out what it was. Ginny had her suspicions, but rather suspected Harry needed to put it into words himself.

"It's like.." Harry stopped, searching for the words before finally just deciding to start talking and see what came out, "As much as I hated the prophecy, and what it said I had to do. I had a purpose, you know. Even before I knew about it, I was driving towards it. But now I'm just drifting. Aimless. I've got no rudder but you, and you're going back to school next year. We're going to have to be apart again for almost a year. I didn't even finish school. I didn't take my NEWTS. And any kind of job with the Ministry is going to be because of sodding Voldemort. I never gave any thought to being anything other than an Auror. I figured I'd have to be one to beat Riddle, or I'd die trying and it wouldn't really matter. I never came up with a plan for ˜after" - other than some rather nice daydreams involving you." He winked at her, taking her aback for a moment.

She grinned at him briefly, then gestured for him to continue. "I'm living here in your parents house, who won't even let me pay rent - though I guess I side-stepped that one, actually - but I don't know what to do. I don't want to fight anymore, but I don't know how to do anything else, Gin."

"Well," Ginny begin slowly, thinking about it. He did have some very good points. Any job that he would try and obtain would be given to him because of who he was, not necessarily on his merits alone. There weren't that many openings for 'Evil Dark Lord Slayer' - thankfully - so it also wouldn't be given to him for the right reasons. She cast around for a moment, trying to think about what else he could do. "What about Quidditch? Anyone who has seen you fly knows that you are an excellent Seeker. Surely there would be an opening somewhere..."

He snorted. "Yeah, but what team would have me? I haven't played more than a pick-up game in over a year. The team scouts are going to be looking at the Hogwarts and other minor league teams. I wouldn't have a shot."

"Well, I think you might be selling yourself just a little bit short. You could always use your reputation to get at least a trial, you know."

Ginny didn't even need to see his glare to know just how likely that was, and just gave him a wicked grin when she did look up at him. "Well, we'll just have to find some way to pass the time until you figure it out, Mr. Potter. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?"

Harry readily returned that grin. "Oh, on that front, I've at least an idea or two," he replied conspiratorially before drawing her to him for another kiss.

Back to index


Chapter 5: Chapter 5 - The Trial of Dolores Umbridge

Author's Notes: Betas this time around are still TeyriJen (of course), IcarusPhoenix and TopGun.


Chapter Five - The Trial of Dolores Umbridge

Harry Potter couldn't help but wonder at something as he stepped out of one of the many floo gates that dotted the entrance area of the Ministry of Magic. Well, he couldn't help but wonder at two things, really. The first, as he picked himself up off the floor, was to ponder whether or not he would ever be able to land on his feet after stepping out of the floo.

The second, he wondered as he ignored the rather irritating snickers of Ginny and George, who had traveled ahead of him, was whether or not he would ever have a good experience in this particular building. Without fail, every visit he'd ever had to Ministry headquarters had been nerve-wracking (his full criminal trial for something as minor as underage magic), tragic (that horrible night in the Department of Mysteries), or violent (getting Mad-Eye's eye and Slytherin's locket from Umbridge). It was not a comforting trend.

Some might have said his most recent trip, where he had been awarded an Order of the Merlin, First Class, qualified as a 'positive experience'. Those people were not Harry, and did not understand that he shied almost painfully away from the fame his actions had won him over the course of his young life. His friends and family knew he had only accepted the award to avoid making a scene (something they had been counting on), and that no matter how much they thought he deserved it, he would never believe so himself.

That had not stopped him from approving whole-heartedly of the awards they had received, a fact that Ginny had been quick to inform him made him something of a hypocrite. Harry had conveniently developed a hearing problem at that point in the discussion.

Today, however, promised to potentially be a very, very good day. Or, if the Ministry hadn't really changed since Kingsley had been appointed Interim Minister (though no one applied the modifier anymore), then it could be a very, very bad one. What Harry was there for today was the trial and certain sentencing of Dolores Umbridge.

He hoped.

Now, though, Harry glared in what he thought was a convincing manner at the chuckling siblings as George reached down to help him up. "All right, Harry?" George asked, obviously only barely holding himself back from full-blown laughter.

"Fine," Harry replied with a grimace. "I hate the floo."

"That's just because you're no good at it, mate," George supplied quickly, adopting a tone of voice that sounded remarkably similar to Percy. "Or portkeys. Come to think of it, I reckon I've even seen you stumble out of apparition which is, I have to say, really quite the achievement, m'boy. There's not many who can have trouble landing when they're standing still. You manage it brilliantly, though."

"I'm still better on a broom than you'll ever be, Weasley," Harry half-growled, though both knew there was no malice in the reply.

George considered that a moment, an artfully thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, that's true enough," he acknowledged fairly, and Harry noticed Ginny still shaking with silent laughter. "Still, mate, you can't blame me for taking the mickey out of 'The Chosen One' whenever such a simply smashing opportunity presents itself. Otherwise, I'll just have to be singing the praises of your perfection - "

Harry grumbled a response which would not have been suitable for Mrs. Weasley's ears.

"Well, we could leave that last to our dear little sister..." George trailed, before getting a swat and a few choice phrases. Ginny's heart obviously wasn't in the admonitions, though, and as she met Harry's eyes, she knew that he'd noticed George's choice of pronouns as well. The lone twin still did that occasionally, as though he was sometimes still speaking for both himself and Fred. To the general agreement of the rest of the family, everyone ignored it - it was a small price to pay to see George behaving moderately normally and not be buried in the occasional trance-like states that he would sometimes drift into.

"Ahem," came a polite, interrupting noise. Arthur and Percy had flooed in behind him, and were watching the threesome expectantly. Arthur had his usual expression of quiet bemusement, and Percy looked rather like someone had told him that he had to take a three-day weekend.

"If you're quite through fooling about-" Percy started, but was cut off by George.

"Percy, old bean, I don't think we've even started," he replied grandly, and began to launch into an exhaustive list of everything that he, as a professional prankster, would love to get away with here in the center of the stodgy old Ministry.

George was cut short in turn by an elbow in the ribs from Ginny, who pointedly indicated that Harry and Arthur had already started walking down the hallway. Harry's pace was a little more rapid than anyone else's - he clearly wanted to get away from any potential crowds as soon as possible, and Ginny increased her pace to catch up to him, forcing George to do the same.

Both Arthur and Percy were here to offer testimony as well, in regards to their dealings with Umbridge in their official capacities as Ministry employees. Arthur had seen plenty of her anti-Muggle and anti-Muggleborn bias given the department he ran, and Percy had been able to observe even more from his post of Special Assistant to the Minister. Everything he'd seen and been unable to stop still made Percy sick to his stomach most nights, and Ginny had seen the bottle of stomach-relaxant potions and sleeping draughts in the loo the nights Percy had stayed at the Burrow. Even George was here to testify - with the position of authority Umbridge had held the previous year, she had repeatedly used that post to harass Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as often as possible.

Apparently, the toad-faced little woman had held a grudge against the twins. George protested - loudly and quite falsely - that he never claimed to understand why Umbridge had so hated such fine, upstanding members of the community as himself and his late brother. No one believed him when he claimed to have nothing to do with the various objects delivered to Umbridge's office that had been enchanted to produce the sound of centaur hooves, either. (He wasn't really lying, either. That had been Fred. Mostly.)

Still, seeing George's testimony alone would probably make this trip today worth it, Harry and Ginny had agreed. Just the idea of the most irrepressible of the Weasleys in such a staid and serious place as a full criminal trial being held by the Wizengamot brought a smile to his face on its own. Even if everything else went all pear-shaped today, there would at least be that.

Harry quickly wiped the wide grin from his features as he began to notice the inevitable signs of his presence. There were points, stares, and low conversation among the various ministry workers as Harry and his distinctively red-haired escorts tried to make their way quickly to the elevators. All the attention was starting to make him nervous, and frankly, he'd been jumpy enough in any sort of crowd ever since the last battle. Before, crowds had just unsettled him because of the attention. Now, after the last year, Harry found he had to keep his reflexes firmly in check before he accidentally ended up hexing someone.

He still remembered the startled (and disturbingly frightened) look on Mrs. Weasley's face a few days previous when she'd shaken him awake on the couch and found herself, seconds later, staring at the lit tip of Harry's wand only an inch away from her nose. Harry had apologized profusely, and Molly had seemed to forgive him, but he had not missed that Ginny was the only person to awaken him, for any reason, after that.

His jumpiness must have been showing more than he thought, however, because Ginny abruptly seized his hand with her own. His fingers reflexively curled around her smaller hand as they walked, and Harry could feel his own pulse slow (and quicken, paradoxically enough at the same time) from that simple contact.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, looking down quickly at her, and nodding his head towards their joined hands. They had so far avoided any public displays of affection. The two trips they had made to Diagon Alley since the battle had been early-morning, away from crowds and reporters, and they had confined their handful of dates - actual, real dates! - to Muggle venues. Ginny had been absolutely amazed by Muggle movie theaters, suggesting that Arthur had managed to pass along at least some of his obsessive interest.

Harry hadn't wanted to expose her to the attention that he was sure she'd get as his girlfriend. The Daily Prophet could be absolutely ruthless, as he well knew, particularly with Rita Skeeter on its payroll once more. Ginny had, reluctantly, agreed. This had likely had something to do with the fact that both had known it was a losing proposition to begin with, but Harry had felt that they should at least try.

"It's going to come out eventually, Harry," she now reassured him quietly. "Let them say what they want. I'm a big girl, I can take it," she said before a devilish gleam spread across her features. "And in a couple more months, I can just hex the lot."

"Alright," he relented, and brought her hand up to his to give it a quick kiss. Harry also couldn't momentarily feel sorry for the reporters when that happened. He was wincing a moment later as the flash of a camera captured the moment, and reporters began to call out questions.

That feeling of sympathy quickly faded.

"Harry, how exactly did you defeat You-Know-Who?"

"Harry, why were you in hiding all year? Why didn't you end the war sooner?"

"Harry, is it true the Ministry wants you to take over the Auror office?"

"Harry, when are you going to give an interview?"

"Miss Weasley, is it true you've gone and used a love potion on Harry?"

The last was predictably from none other than Rita Skeeter, and proved to be the one question that actually got a reaction out of him. Harry opened his mouth to offer an indignant response even as one hand drifted down to the wand that was hanging from his belt in its holster. He was abruptly stopped by Arthur tugging him backwards into the elevator that thankfully closed before he could do or say anything.

"You don't want to do that, son," Arthur advised him quietly as he met his eyes. Harry felt Ginny's reassuring touch on his upper arm, and felt the anger bleed away.

"I know," Harry admitted, exhaling a deep breath. Thoughts of finally reporting Skeeter as an unregistered Animagus were not far from his mind, however. Unfortunately, Hermione had already verified that the irritating woman's name was now on the registered list, cutting off that avenue of blackmail. "Thank you," he whispered quietly back.

Arthur just gave a curt nod, and pressed a button for the lowest floor. He also inserted a small key into a slot, and offered the explanation in response to Harry's questioning look. "Senior department head's key," Arthur informed him, trying to hide the pride in his own voice. Since Kingsley had begun reorganizing things, Arthur had been promoted to Head of the Department of International Magical Co-Operation, making him responsible for all the Ministry's dealings with foreign governments. "Lets you take the elevator without interruptions. Quite handy, really."

"I'll say," George opined from the back of the elevator. "Dad, you don't suppose- "

"No, George, you can't make a copy."

"Bugger."

* * * * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt was starting to wonder just how many hats a man could be expected to realistically wear. He was, at the moment, Interim Minister of Magic. He was not particularly opposed to that title, as serving through Fudge's, Scrimgeour's, and Thicknesse's administrations had left the tall, dark-skinned wizard with a firm appreciation for the need for a reliable wizard to be in that seat. Minerva's frequent reminders of Albus' old, oft-quoted adage - that those who least desired power were often those best suited to wield it - had also served as a mantra for him, and he hoped that he was doing the right thing. Kingsley had also confessed to some of his friends that it was rather nice to have one of the Order of the Phoenix in charge for once - even if there was hardly an Order left.

And he'd already pretty much tapped that well dry. Hestia Jones and old Ded Diggle had taken over as the Heads of the Department of Mysteries. Bill and Fleur had already been tapped for new jobs, even if they had only smirked and declined to tell him what those jobs were. Elphias was too old for anything meaningful, Aberforth wasn't about to be budged from the Hogs Head, and Dung just wasn't trustworthy. He'd managed to place Charlie in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, and Percy - now that he'd come around - was actually serving to provide some stability as Undersecretary. He was happiest about Arthur's new post - that was probably the most deserved of the lot. Of course, even that was temporary. He hadn't even told Arthur yet, but he intended for the man to take over the Department of Magical Law as soon as he had the Department for International Magical Cooperation in order. But anyone else from the Order who was still alive (a frightfully short list) simply had other commitments.

He was so desperate for good people that, for a brief moment, Kingsley had even considered the utterly ridiculous notion that had been put forth in the Daily Prophet of trying to get Harry and Ron to take over the Auror office, but had very, very quickly come to his senses. The fact that it had occurred to him even momentarily probably indicated that becoming a politician was already causing his senses to soundly desert him. They deserved to be kids, and as good as they were that would have been putting just a bit much on their shoulders. Minerva seemed to certainly have plans for them, at any rate.

Unfortunately, this left Kingsley with the unenviable position of fulfilling several jobs himself until he could find replacements. So he was now serving as Interim Minister of Magic, Interim Head of the Department of Magical Law (which also made him Interim Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot), and Interim Head of the Auror Division.

It was rather a lot of titles, and was making Kingsley very tired of the word 'Interim'.

Still, it was worth it all for days like today. In official black robes, he lead the Wizengamot - only twenty-five members strong, after all the people he'd "released" from various posts in the Ministry - into Courtroom One for the trial of Delores Umbridge. As he walked to his seat, Kingsley's gaze flickered over to the crowded witness area. There would be no shortage of testimony against the toad-faced little woman today, and Kingsley had to actively keep the smile off his face, especially when he spotted young Harry and the accompanying Weasleys, all of whom would be offering testimony. Ginny was there to verify Umbridge's attempt to use the Cruciatus curse on Harry a few years back as well as other details from her time at Hogwarts, and the other Weasleys had testimony that would be even more damning, as would Harry's himself.

Yes, Kingsley could put up with all the titles to make sure days like today happened.

As he settled into the center seat of the judge's benches, the former Auror felt a pang that Albus wasn't in this spot and for so many of the others who weren't here. Remus would have been better than me, or Amelia, he couldn't help but think. Shaking his head, he banged his gavel. "Bring in the accused," he said formally, and waited for the platform in the center of the floor to levitate up. "We are here today to hold trial for one Dolores Jane Umbridge, charged with..."

* * * * *

Ginny watched absently as Kingsley - it was still impossible for her to think of the dark-skinned Auror she'd eaten so many dinners with at Grimmauld Place or the Burrow once the Order had all become so close as 'The Minister' - listed of the many charges that Umbridge was faced with. Umbridge wasn't in a cage, but her wand was on a small dais in front of Shacklebolt, waiting to be broken when the spiteful little woman was convicted. She noted with no small amount of satisfaction the expression of shock decorating Umbridge's features - it was quite obvious that, even now, she never even considered she'd done anything wrong in her life.

Settling in - this would be a very long day, she knew - Ginny turned to examine Harry for a moment. She'd noticed his hand grip the side of his chair as Umbridge had been brought up into the room and the tension made the scars on the back of his hand ("I must not tell lies") stand out in sharp relief. The reminder brought a frown to her features even as she covered the back of his hand in her own. Harry glanced down and quickly offered her a small smile, grateful for the small gesture of comfort. She smiled back, and felt him relax slightly as he turned his attention back to the trial.

Once again she marveled at how easily Harry drew comfort from her - it still didn't seem real, sometimes. Harry was so steadfastly reticent to accept such gestures from anyone, and once again she felt that familiar, smoldering anger at the unjustness life had inflicted on this man she loved. He was so close to Ron and Hermione especially, but there were parts of himself that he closed off from even then and always had. That barrier just wasn't there when it came to her, however. That train of thought brought back another memory - that night at the Burrow a week ago, the night before Ron and Hermione had left for Australia.

* * * * *

One Week Prior

Ginny Weasley was not generally a light sleeper. Much like her brothers - particularly Ron - she usually slept like a log. Tonight, however, the slightest noises seemed to awake her, and a house like the Burrow had plenty such noises to do so.

She blew a lock away from her face in frustration as she noted the time on the small clock on her nightstand. It was only three-bloody-fifteen in the morning. Flopping over to her other side, she started running through the day in her head again, to find anything to distract her long enough to drift off again. She was reliving a particularly enjoyable bit by the pond with Harry from that afternoon when a small thud and a muttered curse from outside her door startled her.

Listening intently, she heard slight creaks as whoever had awoken continued down the stairs. A few moments later she heard a few more creaks, but those stopped shortly beyond her door - right around the landing, she figured, where whoever it was could watch down into the den without easily being noticed. She was quite acquainted with the spot, as she and Ron had frequently used it to listen into the twins getting into trouble.

After a few more minutes and no more creaking steps, Ginny's curiosity got the better of her. She swiftly wrapped her dressing gown around herself, and slowly and carefully cracked her door open, careful not to alert or startle whoever was right outside. She wasn't really surprised to see Ron sitting on the landing. The expression on his face surprised her quite a bit, however.

Ron's emotions were always pretty easy to decipher - he didn't particularly care to hide them, most of the time. But right now, there was a tired look to his face that had nothing to do with sleepiness. It was the look of weary concern worn by one who was seeing something they didn't like, and had seen it far too often, coupled with a mix of frustration and helplessness. Ginny found herself startled by the intensity of his stare, and was trying to figure out who was drawing that look from him. Hermione, she well knew, was still soundly asleep in their room. With Ron, that left Harry as the next obvious person, and she wasn't at all surprised to see that familiar messy head pacing back and forth furiously in the den.

"Wotcher, Ginny," Ron whispered quietly, before she'd even known that he realized she was there. He'd also thrown out his arm to grab hers, indicating that he wanted her to sit beside him.

Tossing her brother a curious stare, Ginny fought the urge to frown as she silently acquiesced to the request. Ron's gaze didn't falter from Harry until he saw the dark-haired man take out his wand from his pajama pocket, cast a silencing charm, and then settle uncomfortably onto the couch. Within moments, Harry seemed to have drifted off into sleep again, and Ginny turned to face her brother. "Explain," she ordered simply, wanting very much to know why Ron had stopped her from coming downstairs.

Ron pursed his lips, and Ginny could see even in the dim light that he was trying to come to a decision. It gave her a new appreciation for how close her brother and her boyfriend really were, to see Ron's protective instincts working on Harry's behalf instead of hers. Finally, he seemed to come to the decision that he should tell her, because he began doing so in a soft whisper.

"He's had nightmares ever since first year," Ron admitted. "Maybe longer, I dunno. They weren't all that bad until after fourth year - "

"The graveyard?" Ginny asked rhetorically, and her brother gave a curt nod.

"And that tosser poking around into his head. Voldemort, not Snape, but s'not like that greasy git helped any. Things got really bad that year, but Harry let everyone think that was the only time the dreams were a problem. He'd wake up in the middle of the night like this; putter around for a bit, and then go down to the common room. He'd be back in the dorm before breakfast though. It was bad in sixth year, too, except when you two finally got a clue. Then when we were... out and about last year, 'Mione said it got really bad after I..." Ron's face took on an expression of deep shame at this point.

Ginny knew why, of course, but it was the first time she'd heard her brother mention the time he had abandoned Harry and Hermione during their quest. She was still a bit... miffed, to put it lightly, over the matter, but now was hardly the time. Harry had explained, and she of all people could understand the influence of one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, even if her temper was still taking its time to cool towards Ron. "He doesn't blame you for that, you know. He knows it was the locket's influence," she said gently, laying a comforting hand on her brother's.

"Nice of you to say it," he replied gruffly, and it was clear he still didn't feel the same. "But anyway, 'Mione said they got really bad then, but she couldn't tell anymore once he started throwing silencing charms on the bed. I think that's when he cottoned on to the fact that we knew."

"You've never talked to him about it?" Ginny asked, clearly dumbfounded.

"Merlin, no!" Ron exclaimed. "You know how Harry is, Gin. He'd feel guilty for 'ruining everyone's sleep' or some other rubbish, or he'd clam up and not talk about any of it and let things get worse. I won't push him to say anything he doesn't want to - 'Mione does more'n enough of that, but I can't help him with this if he won't let me. Seven years and I still can't convince that girl that he responds a lot better if you just let him be," he noted with a rueful shake of his head. Ron's expression became puzzled as he noted the look Ginny was giving him. "What?" he asked blankly.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, and lay her head against her big brother's shoulder, feeling an upswell of fondness for the git. "I'm just wondering when the hell you got so observant."

Ron snorted. "Always have been. Everybody thinks I'm so ruddy thick, but I see a lot more than most think. My best mate's the bloody-boy-who-lived and the girl I love is the smartest witch to go to Hogwarts, probably ever. Makes it right easy for people to underestimate me."

Ginny considered that, and not for the first time wondered if Ron wasn't a lot smarter than he ever really let on. After all, stupid people didn't exactly beat everyone they met at chess, and she felt ashamed for a moment to admit, even in the privacy of her own thoughts, that she was as guilty as anyone of dismissing Ron in favor or Harry or Hermione's more obvious abilities. "So what's this, then?" she asked after a bit, indicated Ron seated on the steps and Harry down on the couch.

Ron looked at her blankly for a moment. "S'obvious, innit? I'm keepin' an eye on him. I'm here if he ever needs to talk about it. Told him I had his back, and I always will," he said in a tone that indicated just how obvious he thought it was.

Ginny raised her eyebrows this time. Ron was certainly full of surprises tonight, she thought, and then berated herself for it a moment later. Ron had always been this way - she had just never noticed. "You're a good bloke, big brother," she finally said with affection.

"Yeah, well..." he stammered, predictably turning a nice shade of Weasley red, obvious even in the dim lighting.

They watched Harry in silence for a bit longer, and she saw Ron tense - and did so herself - as Harry began tossing his head side-to-side on the couch. After a few minutes, Ginny decided she couldn't possibly stand it anymore and rose to her feet. "Well, he might not want to talk to you about it, but I'm not letting this go on any longer. I know a thing or two about nightmares," she noted as images from the Chamber of Secrets and the DADA classroom flitted momentarily through her mind, unbidden.

Ron started to object, but then nodded. "Reckon if he'll talk to anyone, it'll be you," he finally noted. "G'on then. He needs you."

The way he said it made Ginny turn her head abruptly back to him. "You don't really mind us being together, do you?"

Ron barked a short laugh that echoed up the hallway. "Hell no, I don't mind. You make him happy, for some daft reason. And he's probably the only person that can rein you in without getting hexed. Anyone with eyes can tell you two were meant for each other, Gin."

"What's all that rubbish whenever you catch us snogging, then?"

"Big brother's got a reputation to maintain, don't I?" was the easy reply.

"Prat," Ginny muttered automatically, and then started down the stairs to Harry, who was still struggling in his sleep. She heard Ron's soft footsteps going up the stairs even as she traveled down them.

As she entered the radius of Harry's silencing charm, she felt a bit guilty for spending the last few minutes talking to Ron instead of being down here, as she heard Harry muttering to himself. Ginny could only make out words here and there, but he was growing more and agitated, and Harry jerked when she slipped her hands under his head. He stirred even more as she lifted him up just enough to slip herself under him, and then replaced his head on her lap.

"NO!" Harry cried out, loud enough that it would have woken the house. It had made Ginny's hear skip a few beats, though more for content rather than volume as he continued. "Ginny, no! Please don't be dead! Please, don't be dead Ginny! Ple- "

She silenced him by bringing her lips down to his forehead, her hair cascading down over both of them as she did so. "Shhh, Harry, its okay, luv. I'm here."

Harry had stilled at her touch, and he began to sleepily blink his eyes open. "Gin?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here, Harry. I'm not dead. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. That's all." Her palm slid reassuringly across his face, her fingers smoothing out his furrowed brow.

That's all.

* * * * *

Harry gave a snort of laughter at the scene in front of him, and felt Ginny startle slightly next to him. He turned a curious expression to her for a moment, but was satisfied with the explanation she'd been lost in thought and turned his attention back to the tableau before him. He felt a growing knot of satisfaction in his stomach. Arthur had just finished his testimony, and Umbridge's mouth was gaping in astonishment by this point.

"Now surely, Minister," the woman said, making her voice sound as sickly sweet as possible and simultaneously making Harry's stomach churn, "You can see that I was only doing the same as so many of the Ministry's employees. I was just trying to survive in the hostile environment, to blend in and - "

"Madam Umbridge, you took the eye of the man who mentored me as an Auror, a man that I greatly respected, and placed it in your office door as a trophy. That goes a great deal beyond 'trying to blend in', and my patience is not without limit. You would do well to remember this," Kingsley rebuked harshly.

Umbridge's mouth snapped shut so quickly that Harry could hear the click of her teeth even from across the room.

* * * * *

One of the other wizards, a short, dumpy looking woman who looked rather like someone's kindly grandmother had taken over questioning of witnesses at this point. "Mr. Weasley," she began to George, who looked as though he was trying to avoid sniggering at being addressed as 'Mister'.

Come to think of it, Harry himself was trying to avoid laughing at that, so he supposed he shouldn't judge.

"That would be me, Madam Smith," George replied with a straight face.

"According to your deposition, you first came into conflict with Madam Umbridge during your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, during her tenure as... 'High Inquisitor of Hogwarts'." Even the kindly, grandmotherly woman couldn't disguise her obvious disgust at the very name of the position, and Harry began to think that there might be hope for the Ministry after all.

"Yes, ma'am," George offered respectfully. (A condition which Harry had to fight from openly goggling at, and Ginny didn't even bother.)

"Elaborate, please."

"When old Toad-Face over there first came to Hogwarts - "

"George," Kingsley said in rebuke, as several in the room chuckled.

George merely continued as though he'd never been interrupted. "- she was mostly a right annoyance, doing things like breaking up any sort of fun, sucking the life and joy out of the world, kicking puppies - well, firsties, but it's the same thing - that sort of thing. Bit like a dementor-in-training, actually, but uglier."

Madam Smith glared this time, or rather, she tried to.

"She kept this up with those ridiculously pompous decrees, having old Fudgie pass along anything she wanted anytime someone made things difficult for her. There was a lot of speculation on just how she had him so wrapped around her finger, but that got abandoned after the Hospital wing got flooded with nausea patients. That was before we released our Puking Pastilles. I think. But ol' Toad-Face had some mad notion that people were out to get her. Nifflers in her office, potions in her pumpkin juice..."

"And you don't know anything about that, Mr. Weasley?"

"I know it was damned funny," George admitted honestly, for once in his life.

"Continue, please."

"She really set us off on the Quidditch pitch. There was an incident - " George continued to relay the events of his aborted seventh year, including everything that had led up to the twins famous flight, and everything that had happened over the last year once Umbridge had regained her Ministry position, routinely making difficulties for him and his brother. It was small things, mostly, but it showed the pattern of a constant abuser of authority - and George's decorative terminology lightened the hearts of all present in the room but one.

By the time George left the witness' chair, Harry was certain that if Umbridge could cast a wandless Avada Kadavra, George would have been dead a long time ago.

Thanks, George. Wind her up just in time for me, he grinned.

* * * * *

Six hours, lunch, a tea-break and a restroom break had all passed by the time the last person to offer testimony took the stand.

Unsurprisingly, that was the testimony that most - particularly the handful of reporters - wanted to see. The testimony of one Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Man-Who-Conquered and whatever the hell else they were using to sell newspapers these days.

"Mr. Potter," Kingsley asked in an official tone, having taken on this line of questioning himself. "What would you say the nature of your relationship with Madam Umbridge is?"

"I think she's just about one of the foulest witches I've ever met in my life, Minister," Harry finally settled on the somewhat honest answer. There were a couple of gasps around the courtroom at this, and he noted Skeeter scribbling furiously. "And given her actions toward me, I reckon she doesn't think real highly of me, either."

Damn her for finally registering as an Animagus anyway, he thought sourly.

"I see," the Minister replied, for the record. "Would you share precisely why, please?"

Harry held up the back of his right hand, where the old scars could be clearly seen. "First one's this. This was her idea of detention. Use of a blood quill, multiple times. They're curse scars, so St. Mungo's can't even get rid of them. I'll have them for the rest of my life." He flicked his gaze over to Umbridge at this point, and was nauseated to see a small smile of satisfaction on her face.

Keep thinking that way, witch.

Without prompting, Harry continued, and started ticking reasons off on his fingers. "Then there's the fact that while she was 'High Inquisitor', she routinely tried to convince people Voldemort had not returned - a bit suspect, I think, given where she sided once the Ministry had fallen to him. I almost hope she is a Death Eater, but I don't think she is. I think she's just.." Harry shook his head for a moment, and continued. "She specifically tried to refrain from teaching the students of Hogwarts Defense, so I had to do it myself, even after she managed to get that made illegal. When we were caught, she forced Professor Dumbledore to leave Hogwarts and tried to take over herself in some sort of mad power play. You should probably note that the Headmaster's Office wouldn't let her in."

"This... woman constantly showed racist attitudes, and was downright cruel in her punishments. When the law didn't agree with her, she had it changed. When Minerva McGonagall tried to stop her from attacking Rubeus Hagrid, Umbridge and her flunkies hit her with four stunners simultaneously. Her nonsense was a mitigating circumstance in the events that led to the death of my Godfather, Sirius Black, in the Department of Mysteries. And she attempted to use the Cruciatus Curse on me, but was stopped by Hermione Granger. I can't prove it, but I she also confessed to be responsible for the Dementor attack on myself and my cousin in Little Whinging that same year. Personally, I'd say she was definitively unsuited for any sort of work involving students, and about three steps below the toad that she looks like on a list of intelligent life."

Harry spared Umbridge another look. She wasn't smiling now.

Kingsley had to work very carefully to fight back his own laughter then. After a few moments had passed, he finally spoke. "Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, all of those are minor crimes, none of which will carry a life sentence in Azkaban. If she had succeeded in using the curse-"

"I agree," Harry interrupted, and heard someone draw in a quick intake of breath. There was a familiar twinkle in Harry's eye, but no amusement as he stood to address the whole room. Ginny found herself wondering again how Harry could sound so much like Dumbledore sometimes, and if he even knew that he did it. "If you'll excuse me, Minister, her real crimes are the ones that took place in this building. I repeated everything from before - statements which are all on the record - to make a quick point. Delores Umbridge is an evil woman. But she's not the obvious kind, like Tom Riddle was. A man like him, I can defeat. Someone like her, it's almost worse.

"We've heard testimony all day today about what she did here at the Ministry. She spent years making life more difficult for demihumans like Werewolves, and others like Centaurs and Merfolk... directly contributing to many of those beings siding with Voldemort. Then she turned to the Muggleborns. She took people's wands away - the most basic right of any law-abiding wizard, because of the simple circumstances of their birth. Because they weren't pure enough. She accused them of stealing magic - as if such a ridiculous thing was possible. She sent hundreds of innocent witches and wizards to Azkaban just for being born. Think about that. Families separated by her monstrous acts still are not wholly reunited - and some never will be. And this witch, this vile, loathsome, evil little woman - " Harry twirled around to point directly at Umbridge, and felt strangely gratified as she was now staring right back at him with a look of utmost rage and hate.

"This woman," Harry continued, "was a respected member of the magical community. She is everything that has been wrong with Wizarding Britain and the Ministry in specific over the last half-century. Minister Shacklebolt, you say your Ministry is about change. That things will be different now. I want to believe you. I want to be able to trust my government, so today, I beg of all of you - let there be justice here. Don't let - "

Harry's concluding statements - for that was what they had become, as he somehow had crossed the line from witness to prosecutor - were interrupted by several flashes of yellow that traveled across the room as the entire room erupted in an uproar.

"Protego!" he heard a familiar voice shout, even as something caught his shoulder. A golden shield flickered before him even as he whirled with the hit he'd taken, and he had his own wand out and pointed at his target by the time he came out from the spin.

Harry knew, instinctively, that the attack had somehow come from Umbridge. Stupefy! he thought immediately, and jet of red light shot out to strike Umbridge's chest. She was holding her palm open - she had no wand - but went down like a sack of potatoes when Harry's stunner hit her.

The Aurors guarding her hadn't even had their wands out by the time Harry had already taken her down.

"Hunh," someone finally said before Harry's franticly speeding thoughts identified it as George. "Who'd've thought that old bint could do wandless magic?"

"Not wandless," Percy corrected absently, and Harry noted that he, George, Arthur and Ginny were now surrounding him. "Accidental. Harry, I think she was rather displeased with you."

"Accidental?" Harry frowned, lowering his voice as the Aurors were trying to restore order to the rest of the chamber. Kingsley and the rest of the Wizengamot were already debating amongst themselves, and the reporter's quills were scribbling furiously. "Like when I blew up my aunt? I thought that only happened with kids... "

Or with people that're REALLY hacked off...

"Exactly," sniggered Ginny, before she swiftly developed a frown. "Harry, you're bleeding! Again!"

"I am?"

Harry glanced down to his arm - he'd felt the flash of pain, but had been so focused on responding to Umbridge's attack. He looked down to see a flesh wound on his bicep - she'd launched a blasting hex at him, apparently. A small chunk of flesh, about the size of a knut, had been carved out of his arm and blood was beginning to trail down his arm. "Bollocks," he muttered. "That kind of hurts."

"I told you to stop doing this," Ginny muttered, drawing her wand and healing the wound before anyone could even stop her. "And relax," she continued without missing a beat. "No one can tell I'm underage here."

Arthur frowned at the display, but decided now was not the time.

Harry, however, was beginning to grow more and more disturbed with Ginny's familiarity with healing charms. So focused was he on this thought, he didn't even hear Kingsley announce that they had a verdict. Dolores Umbridge was going to Azkaban for a very, very long time.

He didn't miss the cheers that started with George, however.

Back to index


Chapter 6: Chapter 6 - A Grim Old Place

Author's Notes: Many thanks to anyone who nominated or voted for us in the DSTAs. Thanks again to IcarusPhoenix and TopGun for their beta work - and to cwarbeck for catching some stuff everyone else missed. Oops!


Chapter Six - "A Grim Old Place"

"Lily! Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run!"

"Ginny, no, don't be dead, please don't be dead..!"

"Kill the spare..."

"Sirius!"

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, then kill the boy!"

"Sectumsempra!"

"HARRY!"

Focus, focus, Harry, you've got to - happy memory. Happy memory. After the cup. At the wedding. Finding her again in the Great Hall.. Ginny... "Expecto Patronum!" Harry was finally able to yell, and the silver shape of Prongs burst forth from his wand, driving the three Dementors away from the arch. The light illuminated the dim chamber, casting strange shadows everywhere. He was tired, he needed chocolate, and his arm was still bleeding heavily...

The oppressive cold faded as the Dementors fled. Harry noticed that they avoided the archway, and he fought down the now-recent memory of Sirius falling through that selfsame Veil - was it only three years ago? It seemed like so much longer. Some part of him was keeping track of the rest of the battle, but there, there was the one he wanted, right in front of the Veil. Lestrange. He was standing right there - bringing his sword to Hermione's throat. He tried Wind Travel, but Harry found that he couldn't focus himself enough for it - there was a sticky wetness working its way down the side of his head. When had he struck it?

"Accio sword!" Harry cried instead, but he realized even as he spoke that he hadn't been specific enough as the sword of Gryffindor came into his hand from where Hermione had dropped it, rather than the wicked looking blade Lestrange was bringing around to Hermione's neck. He managed the wind-travel then, and the white mist propelled him over to in front of Hermione just in time. He was working by instinct as he solidified to bring the sword up and - Yes! There was a clang as metal struck metal, and Harry pushed the other blade away from his friend.

Lestrange sneered. "Potter. Still interfering."

"Everyone's got to have a hobby," Harry replied, and the two swords squealed as both men pressed against them, each looking for the advantage, until they were right up against the Veil itself. Lestrange backed his blade off, bringing it out again, and Harry responded by instinct, meeting each blow from the Death Eater and finally, pressing the advantage. One of the points on Lestrange's sword caught Harry's - Gryffindor's - again, and the two men stared each other down over locked blades.

"You can't kill me, Potter. You know what'll happen if you do," Lestrange sneered again, his voice dripping with contempt.

"I don't have to kill you, Lestrange. I've just got to move you another couple inches," Harry replied calmly, his mind made up. He knew now, what had to be done. The binding had to be broken, and there was only one possible way... He abruptly lowered Gryffindor's sword, sending the both of them off balance for a moment. Harry shot out a hand and pushed, and Lestrange began to fall backward through the Veil, just like Sirius.

But as he did, Lestrange's hand shot out, grabbed a handful of Harry's torn robe and then he PULLED... and then Harry was falling too, through the Veil, and it felt like it would never stop.....

* * * * *

"
What the hell was that?" Harry half-yelled as he shot awake, the dream already beginning to fade. Something about Lestrange - but not Bellatrix, it was... one of the twins. Rodolphus? Rabastan? They were in Ministry custody, weren't they? And then there was... Gryffindor's sword? And... the Veil. From the Department of Mysteries, the one Sirius had fallen through. Harry's reminisces of the dream were broken by the ache he felt in his neck. There was a small lump in his pillow, and he reminded himself to check it before coming back to bed - if he was going to.

Don't know that I want to sleep with dreams like that...

Harry stumbled his way from the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place to the bathroom, brief images from the dream fluttering through his mind even as he splashed cold water onto his face. It was obvious to Harry that he wouldn't sleep again this night - it was half-past five anyway. Well, I'm up. Might as well get started for the day, he thought, keeping all of Ginny's recent admonitions to try to be a more positive person in mind. She'd been almost happy when he said he was going to start spending some nights a week a Grimmauld Place, and Harry rather hoped that was just because it meant it would be doing something and would be far less surly, rather than the notion that she was growing tired of him already. So Harry started his shower, and tried to focus on the dream. Most prominent in those memories was the Veil itself, and Harry relaxed as the hot water poured over him, the tension and urgency of the dream literally washing away as he started his day.

Guess being here at Grimmauld Place is bringing a lot of stuff back, Harry mused as he worked the shampoo into his hair.

This had been his first night in the house that Harry still thought of as his Godfather's. He'd stayed in the master bedroom this time, unlike last year, not wanting to disturb Sirius' room. The suite was almost ridiculously large, easily double the size of the room he'd always shared here with Ron, and directly adjacent to the library. It was also the only bedroom on the third floor. There was a large fireplace with an ornate mantle, but the wallpaper was faded and old. Various paintings hung in the room, but none with any figures in them - Sirius' parents had obviously valued privacy. There were other pieces of furniture as well, a ratty old couch in front of the fire, dressers and wardrobes for two, and a closet that had very obviously been magically expanded. But the room's best feature, as far as Harry could discern, was the sinfully soft bed. It was twice the size of his bed at Hogwarts, and the hangings, like much of the rest of the house, were in greens, silvers and blacks.

Definitely going to have to change that.

Except for the stiffness in his neck, it was probably the most comfortable bed Harry had ever slept in his life. There was obviously something wrong with the pillow, but that could be readied easily enough. The second thing he liked most about the room wasn't the room itself, but the adjacent master bathroom that was only accessible from it. Someone in the family had obviously been a Hogwarts prefect, because they had duplicated the size and style of the enormous Prefect's Bathroom back at the castle.

Harry also couldn't quite keep thoughts of what it would be like to have Ginny in that immensely over sized tub with him out of his mind, and that notion brought a definite smile to his face as he turned off the shower water and began to towel off. It also encouraged other physical reactions, so Harry decided that he certainly needed to get other thoughts on his mind. Therefore, he decided as he finished changing into a pair of jeans, some boots, and one of the few of Dudley's old shirts he still owned that today would be the day to really get down to it.

Not for the first time, Harry thought that sending Kreacher back to Hogwarts for the summer might have been a mistake. He could do with a cup of the house-elf's excellent blend of tea right now. Coffee and toast would simply have to do today - he didn't feel up to preparing any more than that. It was true that the house-elf was needed at the school - the rebuilding and restoration of the castle would take some time if newly-confirmed Headmistress McGonagall was to reopen for classes by September 1st. While there were plenty of volunteers working on the reconstruction, the damage to Hogwarts had been extensive. And people had their own lives to rebuild - or build in the first place, as he was attempting to do now.

But if Harry was to be honest with himself, that wasn't why he'd asked Kreacher to stay away from number twelve Grimmauld Place for a bit. Honestly, he didn't want the house-elf in the way. While the new relationship he now had with Kreacher was, if not a pleasant, but at least an interesting one, Harry found that he did not quite want to test that bond just yet. And what he had in mind for the most noble and ancient House of Black would most certainly be a test.

Weeks ago, Ron & Hermione had left England for Australia. They'd sent a few owls, saying that there had been some complications, but nothing that they couldn't handle, they were rather enjoying themselves and would be home soon. All letters sounding very normal and the pair were, by all accounts, enjoying themselves immensely. And after that idiotic fight he'd had with Ginny, and the satisfaction he'd felt after his performance at Umbridge's trial, (Where the hell had that speech come from, anyway?) Harry had finally started lining up his priorities.

First among those was a place to live, a place to call his own. He couldn't just keep staying at the Burrow forever, as tempting as it was. Harry simply wasn't a child anymore - even given that he'd never really had a proper childhood to begin with. After the last year, he just couldn't see himself living under someone else's roof, someone else's rules once more. Ron felt the same, he knew, and probably Hermione, though she'd never said it. Renting a flat somewhere - Harry very much wanted his privacy, and he still couldn't go anywhere without being practically mobbed, even after he'd given Xeno Lovegood a full interview for the Quibbler. (Well, mostly full - he'd simply referred to the Horcruxes as 'Dark artifacts' that Voldemort had used particular spells on. Skeeter had taken him to task over it in her latest editorial; the woman had seemed deeply offended by Harry's notion that not telling people exactly how Tom Riddle had become so unstoppable would be a Bad Idea.)

He'd also briefly toyed with the idea of rebuilding his parents' cottage at Godric's Hollow, but living in the place where Tom Riddle had murdered his parents didn't seem especially appealing. It seemed strangely morbid, and that house had its own meaning now, as a monument to the sacrifice of his parents. It meant more to the people of the magical world as it was, and Harry couldn't bring himself to change that - not yet. Someday, maybe, he could reclaim it, rebuild it, pick up on the dream that had been abandoned almost seventeen years ago when Voldemort had killed Lily and James Potter, and left a one year old boy with a distinctive scar.

Someday. But not yet.

So, he'd settled on Grimmauld Place. But the Black ancestral home wasn't really a suitable place to live either, not with its troll-leg lampshades, musty furniture, mounted house-elf heads and screaming portraits. The four-story brownstone, nestled in between others, was too dark, its windows too old and opaque. Its carpets were faded and ragged, and not of a style he particularly liked in the first place. The place was clean, right enough. Kreacher had reported ridding the property of a bundimuns as well as several other household magical pests. But the place was old, and far too accustomed to being the home of a family that had been centered more on the Dark than the light.

Therefore, that would all have to be changed. And the very first thing to go was going to have to be the portrait of Mrs. Walburga Black.

As he puttered through the motions of his basic breakfast, (thoughts of just what Molly would say if she'd seen him only eating toast had encouraged Harry to at least scramble up some eggs and bacon as well) he considered his options. Once he'd finished eating, and had several spells firmly in mind, he walked down to the main hallway, eying the dark velvet drapes that covered the foul-mouthed woman's portrait.

Sighing, he yanked the curtains aside. He was going to have to see the painting to pull this off.

"Filthy half-blood! How dare you defile the house of my fathers! I'll see you dead before I come down boy, dead and rotting like - "

"Muffliato," Harry said with a smile and the directed toss of his wand. Harry couldn't figure out why they'd never tried the Half-Blood Prince's spell instead of the normal silencing charm, but he was beyond gratified to see the spell work, and laughed openly at the expression on Mrs. Black's face as she continued screaming her muted epithets.

The Permanent Sticking Charm didn't seem to be the only protection on the foul old portrait. He'd tried cutting the portrait out of the frame with Diffindo, but the canvas had simply resealed almost as quickly as he could cut it. Similar spells had just rebounded, and one had very nearly given him a strong resemblance to George. That was the last cutting spell he tried.

Incendio hadn't worked either - although the rebounding jet of flame had taken out the troll-leg coat-rack, so it wasn't a total wash. Banishment charms simply did nothing at all. Thank Merlin Muffliato had at least been able to mute the portrait, though as Harry continued to work through various spells, he found that the silencing charm tended to wear off every half-hour or so. A Bludgeoning Hex hadn't knocked the portrait down either, (though parts of the ceiling had fallen on him from the force when he tried) and a few Blasting Hexes shot off at the portrait in frustration had rebounded and almost relieved Harry of some bits of his own he'd much rather be kept in their current, undamaged condition.

No need to tell Ginny about that, he chuckled to himself.

Still, it was bloody irritating how every spell he tried...

Wait. That's it. Every spell...

Within less than ten minutes, he'd Apparated back to the Burrow, found what he was looking for in Arthur's shed, and was smiling broadly from inside the den. Once he was certain that he was standing approximately on the other side of the wall from where Mrs. Black's portrait hung, Harry let loose a wide smile, brought the sledgehammer in his hands as far back as he could, and struck the wall with a satisfying crunch. It took almost two hours, but by the end of it, there was a new doorway to the den (or would be, once he'd framed it up a bit) and Mrs. Black's portrait was buried in the hallway in the midst of a pile of rubble. Aching, tired and dirty, even through the day was early yet, Harry pulled his wand and banished the entire pile to somewhere in the English channel. He didn't feel any remorse whatsoever that the intact portrait would have nothing but fish for company for all eternity.

From there, Harry moved first into the large den that was adjacent to the kitchen. The furniture here was very similar to that in the Master Bedroom, and he wanted none of it at all. Just being in here was too reminiscent of that night in his fifth year, where he, Sirius and the Weasleys had been anxiously awaiting the news of Arthur's survival.

"Amitto," Harry said, pointing his wand at a particularly ugly couch, keeping a firm mental picture of the area back at the Burrow where he and Arthur had laid out several tarps across the grass. He'd offered to send all of the furniture he didn't want to that tarp, where Molly could go through it to her heart's content. From there, she would decide what could be repaired or refurbished or transfigured, to see what Harry would need after he'd finished purchasing his own furniture or taking it from his family vault. There hadn't been a lot of material goods there, but the ones that were a connection to his family line, and if anything would make this place feel more like home, that would be it. And if he was going to make Grimmauld Place into his home, he might as well do it right and proper.

Harry then began to methodically work from room to room, banishing chairs, ghastly lamps and stands, cabinets, beds, curtains, any hideous piece of furniture that he came across to the Burrow's fields. Creature remains - like the mounted elf-heads, the preserved goblin hides, or the stuffed Centaur that he found were all banished to a particular field where they could be cremated. Anything sort of more personal (and probably Dark) belongings and artifacts were banished down to the storage half of the basement, where Harry would be able to go through them all with Hermione (and the others, but especially Hermione) so he could figure out exactly what all of it was. The other half of the basement, he knew, was given over to a fully-equipped potions lab, though Harry still wasn't certain how much he could trust *those* contents either.

The only rooms he left alone entirely where the Library (though the ugly desk in there had been quickly sent away - he didn't fancy working at a desk that had trimwork carvings disturbingly similar to that statue that had been in the Ministry last year), the parlor containing the Black Family Tree (he had very particular plans for that) and the rooms belonging to Sirius and Regulus. The Master Bedroom, in particular, seemed cavernously large with only the bed and nightstand and his new trunk inside it.

By the time Harry had finished banishing all of the unwanted furniture from the first three floors - leaving only the attic and the basement - he was alerted to how long he'd been working by signs of fading light outside the window. Harry was startled to come to the conclusion that, without realizing it, he'd worked through the day, skipped lunch, and was in danger of missing the dinner Molly had made him promise to come have. Ginny's threats if he missed dinner served as even firmer motivation, and Harry truthfully wasn't certain which Weasley woman he was scared of angering more.

The constant spellwork all day long had left Harry exhausted, however, so he trudged over to the Floo instead of Apparating like he normally would. For all George's jokes, Harry far preferred the squeezing sensation of Apparition over a dizzying spin through the Floo.

"The Burrow," he called out absently, stepping in as the green flames erupted. A few spins and a bit of ash in his mouth later, Harry stumbled into the familiar den of the Burrow. The familiar sights (and more importantly, smells) instantly felt like home, and he had to wonder if the feeling he always got coming back here was the same as all children did when returning to their parents' home, or if he simply felt it the more for the lack of ever knowing a place to truly call that.

Of course, he admitted, hearing the voices start to carry, that particular feeling probably had something to do with the red-haired girl he saw sitting at the end of the table. Ginny was chattering animatedly to two other people he hadn't been expecting to see. With the three of them here, how could home be anywhere else?

"Ron, Hermione!" he called out in surprise, causing three heads to quickly twirl his way.

"Harry!" the couple called out at the same time. Hermione was smiling broadly, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and a definite tan darkened her skin. Ron was darker too, he saw, but mostly from having far more freckles than he usually possessed. He looked no less pleased to see his best mate, however.

Harry immediately crossed behind where the two were seated, and draped an arm around each as he leaned over to enfold them both in a hug. "It's good to see you both," he said quietly as he pulled back.

The fourth, Molly, looked up quickly from her stove. "Harry, dear, you're home," she commented. "And absolutely knackered too, I see. Sit on down, then, I'll get you some tea while I'm finishing dinner here."

"Thanks, Molly," Harry said tiredly while he slipped down into the chair next to Ginny. She smiled as he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before he sat, but then her expression shifted to a questioning look.

"What?"

"Oh, sure," Ginny teased, "they get the big greeting, and all I get is a little peck. I see how things are."

Harry chuckled. "Sorry, Gin. Been working hard today - like your mum said, I'm completely knackered."

"Yeah, we saw the pile of furniture growing when we came in," Ron laughed, grabbing a roll from the bowl in front of him and quickly spreading some butter across it. Harry was amazed to see his friend actually finish chewing before he continued. "Had a bit of a full day, haven't you?"

Harry nodded, accepting the teacup Molly handed him with a grateful smile. "Yeah. Got busy - skipped lunch," he noted absently before buttering up a roll for himself.

"Harry!" Molly, Ginny, and Hermione all cried simultaneously and began to deliver admonishments over that fact - and each other's voices - and Ron was practically on his side with laughter even as Harry was briefly holding up his palms in gesture of surrender.

"It wasn't on purpose - I didn't realize how much time had passed," Harry said in his own defense, even as he looked to Ron for some - any - kind of assistance. He raked his fingers tiredly through his hair.

"Don't expect me to bail you out when you drop something like that with all three of them here, mate. You've really got no sense of self-preservation," Ron supplied readily, a smug look on his face.

Harry just grunted before trying to change the topic. "When'd you two get in?"

"Not very long ago," Hermione replied promptly. "Ten minutes or so."

"Everything all right then? Found your parents and everything?" Harry asked, resting his chin against his palm, and trying to focus on his friend as she started answering excitedly.

"Yes, we were able to get to Cairns and find them relatively easily..." Hermione began, launching into the story with relish. "The Wizarding community in Australia is so fascinating, because they've mixed so many British traditions with the ancient Aboriginal ones. We actually got to meet an old tribesman when we went out to Ayers Rock - d'you know the land there is even more magical than the land Hogwarts is built on? But he took us into what they call the Dreamtime. It's a - "

That was all Harry caught of it though, because he promptly drifted asleep sitting just as he was.

He was briefly aware, later, of a familiar pair of smaller hands helping him into his nightclothes, but aside from that, Harry slept quite peacefully.

* * * * *

Harry awoke the next morning to something he'd never seen - never felt - before. He felt safe, rested, and content. He had his own room at the Burrow now - it had been one of the additions when they'd been rebuilding at the beginning of summer. He was well accustomed to the room now.

What he was not accustomed to was the fact that there was someone else in his bed with him.

He tensed for a moment at the realization, before the scent of wildflowers and the sight of a familiar head covered in long, red hair nestled against his chest set him at ease.

Ginny felt Harry tense under her - the tightness of his muscles could be easily discerned by her own body, given the thin t-shirt and shorts that she was wearing. Then, just as quickly, she felt him relax under her as his hand came up to rest on her back. "Sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No," Harry replied, his voice uncertain. "No, it's okay; it was just a... umn, a surprise. A nice one, mind."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why're you in my bed?"

Ginny smiled. "Because I was sent to wake you up two hours ago when Mum popped out to get a few things. I rather liked you where you were, and didn't want to pass up the opportunity."

"I'm glad you didn't," Harry said softly.

"Well, that's convenient, then." Ginny sat up, and closed her eyes as she stretched languidly, lifting her arms above her head and stretching her back until she heard several pops. Letting out her breath, she opened her eyes to find Harry staring at her. "What?" she said, propping her head up on her arm to look at him.

"Well..." he murmured, watching appreciatively as she stretched in front of him. "You certainly know how to wake a bloke up, Miss Weasley."

"What are you talk... Oh. Oh, sorry," she said, blushing slightly. It was done in all innocence, but now looking back at the gesture, she could see how it would look... particularly inviting when in bed with someone. "So what are your plans for the day?" she asked, moving her hand over to his chest, her voice sounding slightly breathier than normal.

Harry brought his arm around her back, and pulled her closer to him. "Well, with you here like this, I tend to forget."

"Um," she responded, not really listening to him. Her attention was drawn to the feel of his hand pressing against her back, a pleasant pressure as he drew her closer. Ginny moved her own hand in circles around on his chest, enjoying the feeling of his chest, so solid beneath her hand. She slid her hand underneath his shirt and touched his stomach, the flesh still warm from sleeping.

"Come here then, and let me give you a proper 'good morning'," Harry said, and pulled her up to where his face was even with her own. Ginny's lips came up to meet his in a fierce kiss, and thoughts of getting up to face the day were soon gone from the minds of either of them. Neither seemed to be able to get enough of the other and all too soon, instinct was beginning to take over. Ginny's hands were just finished sliding Harry's shirt from off his shoulders when the flash of the Floo from downstairs alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone.

"Harry! Ginny!" came Molly's voice from downstairs. "Come on, then! The others will be meeting us soon!"

Ginny flopped back on the bed, still feeling her heart beating faster. For a moment - just a moment - she almost hated her mother and wished her a million kilometers away from them. It was just so damn inconvenient.

"Oi," Harry muttered, his head thudding back against the wall. "G'on then - head her off, and I'll be down in a minute. I think I need a cold shower right now. A very, very cold shower."

Ginny just laughed at that, and the sound was like music to Harry's ears. She stayed still for a moment, trying to catch her breath and regain her composure. If she stuck her face downstairs right now, her mother would know in a heartbeat that something had been going on. After she collected herself, she turned to glance once more at Harry and the empty, inviting space on the bed, and then hopped up. "Best be off then," she said. She almost started to stretch again, then looked at Harry over her shoulder and decided against it. There'd be time enough for that later. So she settled for a quick kiss, and then darted toward the door and down the stairs before her mother could come up to investigate.

* * * * *

Over a quick - if late - breakfast, Ginny explained how Harry had fallen asleep so quickly after getting home, resulting in her helping him up into bed the night before. (She neglected to mention helping him into his sleep-clothes - her mother didn't need to know that.) Molly had then proceeded to give him a good fifteen-minute lecture on eating properly and taking breaks instead of doing nonstop spellwork all day and, duly chastised, Harry prepared to set out again for the day. Both Weasley women vanished as he was finishing getting ready. He'd just finished tying up his boots when he looked up to see Ginny and Molly standing in front of him, both changed into old clothes suitable for housework just as he was.

"Going somewhere?" he asked pointedly, indicating their change of clothes...

Molly crossed her arms and fixed her best 'mother's stare' on him. Her body language made it clear that she was expecting an argument. It was also abundantly clear that she wasn't going to tolerate one. Ginny stood by, failing rather spectacularly in her attempts not to laugh. "Yes," Molly informed him. "We're coming to Grimmauld Place as well, dear. Arthur and the boys are already there. Fleur and Hermione as well, I believe. Hagrid had intended to come as well, but something happened up at Hogwarts this morning - "

Harry's head snapped up at this."What happened? Is he okay?" he asked, his voice taking on an urgent tone.

"He's fine, dear," Molly supplied with a dismissive shake of her head. "Just something with a new pet of his. Nothing for anyone to worry about. Now, let's be off. We've quite a bit to get done with that old house. I don't know why we never thought of this sooner."

Harry sighed in resignation, leaning his head on the back of the couch as he expelled his breath. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, Molly, but, everyone doesn't have to do this. I can handle it my - "

Ginny was the one who didn't let him finish this time."Harry," she said sharply, cutting him off. That blazing 'Do Not Argue With Me' look that he was beginning to get to know so very well was back in her eyes again, and he raised his eyebrows at her expectantly.

"Shut it," she instructed firmly, dragging him up by his arm. "This is what families do, Harry. Its past time you got used to that."

Harry grinned as he gave in, "Who'm I to argue with such a beautiful woman?"

"Always thought you were the smartest of the lot, not that I'd admit that to my other boys, of course." Molly observed with a quick pat on his cheek, as Ginny and Harry both grinned broadly. Mrs. Weasley then she led the way to the fireplace, letting out a small huff as she noticed that the Floo powder was nearly out. "Let's be off then. Best to Floo over, since we don't know what that lot's already up to. Last thing we need is to Apparate right into the middle of something."

"Too right," Harry agreed quietly as they approached the Floo. He'd been prepared to object, to continue insisting that he didn't need help, but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had cut that off rather neatly. What surprised him, really, was that he'd never thought of asking them for help remodeling his would-be home - it just hadn't occurred to him that they'd want to.

Ginny's right. Its past time I got used to this was the last thought he had as he watched Ginny step into the Floo in front of him. She stopped only to flash him a brief smile and he followed a moment later, bracing himself for the dizziness that was to come. He was not let down, and as Harry stumbled out, Ginny's small hand caught him, pulling him upright. He was suddenly struck with the realization that she'd gone before him just for that purpose. "Here to catch me when I fall, eh?"

"Always," she replied sincerely, wrapping herself tightly around him and quick, fierce hug that he was only too happy to return. He felt her face turn up to his, and time seemed to stand still for a moment as they were momentarily lost in each other's eyes.

"Bloody hell, mate," came a long-suffering and very welcome sigh. "It's not even like you two've been away from each other for ten seconds. Knock off the mush!"

Harry's eyes flashed up to meet Ron's, echoing the happiness shown in his wide grin. Simply put, it was good to have his friend back - not that either man felt the need to say so much in words. "Hey, mate," he said in greeting. "Sorry about last night."

"Yeah, well, it happens when you're a great stupid idiot who exhausts himself for no reason," Ron said with a shrug. "Y'could have asked for help, y'know."

"So I've been reminded," Harry said with a pointed look at Ginny, who had adopted a very self-satisfied air. The other Weasleys were walking into the den now, having heard the sounds of the Floo and the subsequent conversation. Arthur was first, followed shortly by Hermione, Percy, Bill, Charlie and George. Molly gave her husband a quick kiss and then moved off towards the kitchen even as greetings were passed all around amongst the others. Harry repeatedly thanked everyone for their help, and finally, they began to discuss what to actually do to the house itself.

Before Harry outlined his plans for the rest of the house, he pulled Hermione aside for a moment. After a quick hug - and a promise to catch up about Australia later - Harry explained one of the ideas he had, but that he didn't know how to go about it. Hermione's eyes lit up satisfyingly at his request for her to do a little research, and in no time at all she'd vanished down the hall to bury herself in Harry's library.

As he looked around, Harry noted that Arthur and Bill were speaking quietly to themselves, discussing ideas for the Den, it sounded like, and Percy was laying a thick stack of parchments that Harry would have sworn looked like Muggle blueprints. He realized the table that Percy was laying the blueprints out on must have been conjured, since he'd gotten rid of all the furniture the day before. George and Charlie were talking animatedly that he couldn't hear, but Ron and Ginny seemed to enjoy greatly.

For some reason, that notion made Harry unaccountably nervous.

Before long, though, everyone had gathered around the blueprints as Harry started outlining just what he wanted to do to the house. He had a pretty clear mental image, and found himself extremely grateful for the Weasleys' help. Arthur was a genius at Charms, Bill at Transfiguration, and Percy was so organized that Hermione looked like Ron in comparison. Charlie and George were able to offer more creative solutions when something stumped the rest of them, and Ron and Ginny, knowing Harry best, were able to reign in the others when their suggestions got too outlandish.

After a few hours of planning and the tossing around of ideas (and more often, the shooting down thereof, in George's case), Harry abruptly realized that Molly he hadn't seen Molly or Fleur in quite some time. "Where's your Mum and Fleur?" he asked, not really directing the question at anyone in specific.

"Kitchen," Bill supplied easily as he flattened out the next piece of blue parchment. As he tapped his wand to it, some of the lines began to rearrange themselves. "Fleur was packing up everything in there when you got here, so we can get to work in there first. Never let it be said that Weasleys don't have priorities. Mum's already going on about everything that can be done to it. I know it's your house Harry, but I expect you might just want to let her run loose in there."

"Yeah, mate," George supplied. "No one knows how to set up a kitchen better than Mum."

Harry considered that thoughtfully. Truthfully, the only thing he knew about the kitchen yet was that he wanted it cleaner and brighter - a bigger window, perhaps.... but Bill was right in that Molly would be happy with a project completely her own. And really, he couldn't possibly end up with a better kitchen than one Molly Weasley would design. He puzzled that over for a moment before turning to face the small redhead at his side. "Gin?" he asked, clearly soliciting her opinion.

"Yes?" she said with a curious frown.

"Well, it's your house too," Harry stated, as though that much was obvious. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought through the implications of such a statement, and continued on before he realized he'd said anything odd. "I don't really have any ideas for the kitchen. Do you? Or d'you reckon it's safe to just turn your mum loose?"

All conversation in the room stopped.

Ginny was staring up at him with an expression of naked shock, with fair bits of astonishment and surprise mixed in as well. Ron was covering his eyes with a single hand, and looked to be very tightly controlling the rest of his expression. Bill, Charlie, Percy and George had mixed expressions varying degrees of surprise. The only one who didn't seem in any way surprised or shocked was Arthur, who instead looked very much as though he was trying very, very hard as to keep from laughing outright.

"What?" Harry finally asked, trying to figure out why everyone was suddenly staring at him.

From the change in their expressions, Ginny, Ron and Arthur were the first to figure out that Harry really, truly didn't realize what he'd just said - or really, what he'd implied. Arthur was trying even harder to keep from laughing now - there was no need to embarrass the lad any further. "Harry, is there perhaps something that you and Ginny haven't told the rest of us?" he gently hinted.

Harry was still frowning, and trying to figure out what he'd said, when Ginny, finally recovered enough from her own astonishment, came to his rescue. She took his hand in her own, and moved her head close to him so that only he could hear. "Harry," she whispered quietly. "You said this was my house, too."

"Right," he acknowledged, still not following. "I thought that was obvious. Whatever's mine is yours, right? Isn't that how this works?"

Ron snorted, having regained his equilibrium. "Only when you're married, mate," he explained quickly, before one of his brothers could start the inevitable teasing.

"Oh," Harry said numbly, horror dawning on him as everything finally clicked. He started to flush a deep red in embarrassment as feelings of panic and extreme mortification began to set in and he turned towards Ginny. "Oh. I'm - ah, I'm - sorry," he stammered quickly. "I didn't mean - not like - I'm not saying that - "

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously at that point.

"AND I'm not saying I don't want that!" Harry amended quickly. "I'm not - uh - opposed to it, that is, I think I do want to marry you, Gin, I think - I don't know - I just, I shouldn't have assumed, I didn't think before I said - oh, hell!" He finally finished, and feeling like a complete fool, rushed out of the room before anyone could possibly stop him, or he possibly embarrassed himself any further.

He fled in panic to the first room he could think of - the drawing room, it ended up being - and slammed the door behind him. Harry turned towards the nearest wall. Staring back at him was the Black Family Tree, with it's long, pureblood-obsessed family history, and the scorch-marks indicating those who'd managed to become 'blood-traitors' by actually being decent people. By reflex, he found the marks indicating Sirius, Andromeda and Tonks - and noted with satisfaction that new names had appeared to include Remus and Teddy.

The dates of death of his godfather and the last of the Marauders stared back at him in stark contrast, reminding him, taunting him blatantly with the family he no longer had.

Seeing Teddy's name on there was a stark reminder to him of the family that he did.

After a moment, Harry began to slowly pound his head against the ratty old tapestry. The repeated thumps were actually fairly soothing, and if he couldn't use his brain for anything intelligently, a hammer seemed as good a purpose as any. He was faintly aware of the sounds of discussion coming from down the hall, and could dimly hear Ginny's and Ron's voices carrying over the others, though he couldn't tell at all what was being said.

Stupid, Potter. That was really, amazingly, astoundingly stupid.

Where had that come from? Marriage? He hadn't even thought before the words had come out. He'd pictured it often enough, sure - a happy life afterwards with Ginny for many years to come. That prospect had sustained him, a faint hope this whole long year but - they weren't there yet, were they? They'd only really truly been together a few months, how could they possibly - how could he have been so stupid as to let something like that slip out? Ginny loved him, yes, he knew that - but did she love him that much? And he loved her, but he didn't have any real experience with that. Was he in love with her that much? Was that what it meant, the way he felt whenever she was around - and especially when she wasn't? Was marriage even a possibility? Wasn't he too young to even be thinking of that? And to slip up like that in front of her brothers! George was never, ever going to let him forget it! His head began to spin as his thoughts began chasing themselves around in his brain.

Breathe, idiot.

Harry sank down softly, his back to the tapestry he'd just been pounding his head against, and cradled his head in his hands as he tried to sort out everything he was feeling at the moment. It was such a confused jumble of embarrassment, of shame, but beneath that, of... hope? Of possibilities? Was this how he really felt, then?

Merlin, I'm not even eighteen!

But that statement - calling his own home Ginny's...

It had felt so right. So natural. So true that it had never even occurred to him, Harry, who was so guarded with his emotions, to even censor himself. The words had come out... as easy as breathing.

I want to marry her.

I want Ginny Weasley to be my wife.

The realization hit Harry like being struck simultaneously with a dozen stunners. But he knew, somehow, in a way that he couldn't put to words or possibly explain that feeling was true. He did love Ginny that much, and his feelings of aimlessness and restlessness and the real reason for them over the last few months abruptly came into sharp focus. He saw a mental image of his holding Teddy close while Ginny teasingly played with his Godson, in the bright summer sunshine at the Burrow a few weeks ago. That was what was missing, and what he wanted. He wanted a career, yes, but - he wanted a home. And he wanted it with her.

But they were so young! That would be everyone's first objection, and to be fair, it wasn't a bad one. And marriage - that was huge, that was permanent. You couldn't go back on that. And Ginny - what did she think? Did she feel that way, that strongly for him? Could she possibly? She'd waited while he was gone, all year. Ginny understood him, like no one else ever had, or ever would, he thought. That meant something, right? But what if she wasn't ready for that either? Was he, really? Was it even something she wanted? She couldn't possibly, not after the way he'd left... but... but she'd taken him back, too, hadn't she?

There's no way we're ready for this, he told himself firmly, and the rational part of his brain knew exactly why that was true.

But is there anything you really want more? came the other part of his brain that just wouldn't shut up.

"Bollocks," Harry said aloud, and started pounding the back of his head on the wall again.

* * * * *

Ginny and Ron both started to rush after Harry as soon he was gone from the room, each instinctively understanding why Harry was so embarrassed. Both knew how guarded and private he was about his own emotions, and just how embarrassing he would find slipping up about something so deeply personal to be. Their way was blocked, however, by the three of the four eldest Weasley brothers, all of whom had their own questions.

Arthur's expression was still one of quiet amusement, tinged with some concern at how rapidly Harry had left the room. He understood, he thought, what was going on more than any of them (Ron and Ginny aside), except for perhaps Bill, who'd adopted a pensive expression. Arthur could see his eldest was working through the entire situation in his mind before saying anything, a habit he wished some of his other sons would adopt as well.

"When were you going to tell us?" Charlie asked with a frown. He wasn't entirely displeased - there was some amusement in his features - but he seemed to have entirely missed any of the subtext. That wasn't surprising - Charlie was even more straightforward than Ron in that way, and tended to take everything at absolute face value.

"There was nothing to tell, Charlie!" Ginny said hotly, still attempting to get past him.

"Now, Ginevra, I'm quite certain you're very fond of young Harry, but you know that you're both far too young-" Percy was volunteering, even as George was rushing forward to embrace his youngest sibling.

"Fond?!" Ginny stopped at that, and there was a dangerous fire in her eyes as she twirled on the most 'proper' of her brothers. Ron laid a restraining arm on hers as she reached for her wand, stopping her from hexing Percy the way she really wanted to. "Fond?! I love him, you prat, not that you could possibly understand that. And what we decide to do or don't do - "

"Is bloody brilliant, is what it is!" George roared in approval, lifting his sister up off the ground and twirling her around in a bear hug before she could object. The others were all clamoring back and forth to each other now, and the noise had drawn Hermione from the library and Molly and Fleur in from the kitchen as well.

George finally set Ginny down, who was immediately stuck trying to extract herself from the questions of her other brothers. Ron immediately moved in to try to help her - he'd already figured the whole thing out, and was busily trying to explain, just as Ginny was, but no one could possibly be understood in all the noise with almost the entire family talking over each other.

"What the devil is going on here?" the matriarch of the Weasley clan asked imperiously, her hands on her hips.

"Harry and Ginny are getting married!" George roared, once again clearly in favor of the notion.

"WHAT?!" Molly screeched, even as Hermione's eyes went wide with shock, and Fleur took on an all-knowing expression. Arthur was immediately rushing to his wife, hoping to head off the coming explosion -

"Well, of course zey are," Fleur commented, as though such a thing was abundantly obvious.

And that set them all off again.



"SHUT UP, EVERYONE!" the littlest Weasley finally roared, red sparks shooting from the wand she had pointed at the ceiling, and silence immediately descended on the room. "Harry and I are not getting married! Or maybe we are! I don't know! We haven't even talked about it! Harry made one little slip with something he said, and you've all jumped to conclusions, and now he's horribly embarrassed and has run off to hide, and I can't even go to him because I've got to sort you all out!"

She fixed a firm stare on Charlie, Percy, and George, who were standing in front of the new doorway Harry had made only yesterday, and through which he'd fled not minutes before. "Now move," she said, still fingering her wand rather obviously, "Before I've got to hex every last one of you. I need to see Harry before he manages to make himself feel any worse."

"Ginny, dear," Molly interrupted, doing her best not to sound harsh. "I really think you should explain - "

"Ron?" Ginny said in a flat voice, even as Charlie, Percy and George were getting the hell out of the way. She'd seen the expression on Ron's face and heard him arguing with Percy, and knew, at least, that her brother understood. If he kept up behaviour like this, she supposed, he was going to quickly surpass Bill as her favorite.

"G'on, Ginny," he acknowledged. "I'll sort it all out."

"Thank you," she said calmly, and followed Harry's path down the bare hallway.

* * *

"Harry?" came the soft question as the door creaked open, drawing Harry's head up finally from his hands. Ginny was looking at him with an expression of soft compassion, and Harry suspected he rather looked like he felt - bewildered, embarrassed, and extremely, extremely confused.

"Uh... Hey, Gin," he said weakly as she came in, closing the door swiftly behind her. His eyes only met hers for a second before he pointed them back firmly at the floor. Harry found that couldn't bring himself to look at her right now, to see the rejection he expected in her eyes, the shame - or would it be anger? - that he'd be so presumptuous -

"Harry, look at me," Ginny said firmly. She was on her knees now, with her face only bare inches from his own. When he simply shook his head, Ginny's mouth set itself into a line and she instead resorted to alternative measures. Her hand quickly closed itself around his chin, lifting it up, and before Harry knew it, she was sitting on him and giving him one of the most passionate kisses of his life. When she finally drew back, Harry was breathless, and all thought had emptied itself from his mind.

"Wow," he finally said, rather lamely.

"Thought that'd get your attention," she replied saucily, pleased that he was meeting her eyes now. She was willing him to see that she wasn't angry or upset - or certainly not at him, at any rate, and she saw the dawning light in his own that suggested that the message was received. In hers, he saw that satisfaction, and the warm twinkle that was so responsible for making him want to stay this close, forever.

"It worked," he acknowledged with a chuckle. They sat like that in silence for a few moments, their arms wrapped around each other, Ginny waiting patiently for him to get his thoughts together. She knew he would want to speak first, and before long, her patience was rewarded. "Gin - I am so sorry for that."

She cocked her head. "For what? Running from my family? It's understandable. There's quite a lot of them. It's hard to explain anything properly with all of them nattering like mandrakes."

"No, not that - "he started, and then amended his statement."Well, for abandoning you to them, yes. I was so embarrassed... I just didn't want to look at them. But... I was mostly scared of what you were going to say. I didn't mean to say something like that, I don't know why I'm such a great idiot, to just blurt something like that out - "

She silenced him with a single finger across his lips."Harry James Potter. Don't you dare apologize. You were being honest about how you felt - which, let's face it, is a pretty big deal."

"Gin," he confessed. "I don't know how I feel. I didn't realize that I felt it that much before, and it scares the hell out of me that you might not feel the same, or that I do... Merlin, I don't even know what I'm saying at this point, and I sure as hell don't know what any of it means. But... I do mean it. I love you, Gin."

Now it was Ginny's turn to be embarrassed, and she flushed a deep shade of Weasley red. "You do?" she finally asked weakly, the nervous little girl shining through her normal personality, usually so calm and self-assured. "We've said it, I know, but I still thought, that, maybe..."

"I do," he confirmed, feeling his confidence growing. "I love you, Gin. I might not be sure of anything else in my life right now - but that, that I'm sure of."

"Wow," she finally said, her own voice lame. They sat in silence again as Ginny's own emotions whirled. "Harry, I - "

"Gin, you don't have to - "

"Shut up and let me finish, Potter."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ginny took a deep breath, and settled her own hands against his chest, trying to think her way through her words. When that wasn't working, she finally spoke from the heart. "I do love you, Harry. Very much. And I never imagined you felt as strongly for me as I do for you - I hoped, yes, and I'd be lying to say that I haven't had fantasies about us being married ever since I was a little girl. But this isn't fantasies, Harry - this is our lives. We can't rush this."

"Luv," he finally said softly as one hand tucked some free-floating locks back behind her ear before he drew her closer to him. "I agree, I really do. I don't know what to think about all of it. It's - it's all new to me, you know? And when I said that, earlier, about this being your home - our home - it just felt so right and natural..." he cut himself off. "I'm not saying this properly. I don't know what these feelings mean. I need - we need - time to sort all of that out. So I'm not proposing or anything - "

Yet, that little voice said before he could shut it up.

"I understand, Harry, really. I love you, I really, truly do - but - we're not ready for that. We're too young," Ginny said quickly, surprised at the admission coming from her own lips. The way her lips quirked suggested to Harry that she completely understood the irony of Ginny being the first to suggest that she was too young for anything.

"No, we're not," he agreed. "We both know what we feel, then, but... we've not really been together that long, Gin. I feel sure, it feels right, and I think you do too, but - "

"But we need to know," she agreed.

And at her words, both realized that within themselves, in their heart of hearts, that they did know, and that someday, they'd have this conversation again, and that it would end quite differently. And both knew that it wasn't time yet.

"So not yet?" Harry asked, though the question was pointless.

Ginny's eyes glittered as she got closer once more. "Not yet," she confirmed breathlessly, with a voice full of unspoken promises. In silent agreement that they'd done all the talking that was needed, the couple drew together and proceeded to snog each other senseless on the drawing room for what felt like forever.

Unfortunately, (or perhaps fortunately, as the drawing room floor, with all of Ginny's family just down the hall, was hardly the place to take their relationship to a new level) their time was not as uninterrupted as they would have liked, and they were interrupted by a series of knocks on the door that Ginny recognized as belonging to her parents.

"Bugger."

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Chapter 7: Chapter 7 - Vires, Veneratio quod Diligo

Author's Notes: Beta'd by TeyriJen (Whose input is especially invaluable), TopGun and FaithfulCynic this chapter. Thanks to everyone who's reading the story - and please, review! Don't you know all authors are feedback whores?


Chapter Seven - "Vires, Veneratio quod Diligo"

"Ginny, Harry, would you open the door, please?" came the infinitely polite and patient voice of her father.

Ginny muttered something unintelligible then before drawing back from Harry. They both then proceeded to start straightening their clothes - and hope that they didn't look too flushed or obvious. "Coming, Daddy," she called louder as Harry stood and walked over to the door to unlock it.

Harry took a deep breath before twisting the knob and pulling the door wide. Standing outside were, unsurprisingly, Molly and Arthur, both looking patient, though Molly looked a bit flushed. The glance she tossed back down the hallway set Harry's mind partially at ease - her anger, it seemed, wasn't directed at him at least. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," he greeted them as neutrally as possible, stepping aside to invite them with an outstretched hand to enter the drawing room.

Molly sighed, fixing Harry with one of her 'mother's stares' as she did so. "Twaddle, Harry. We've been through this. You know very well its 'Molly and Arthur'," she corrected both gently and firmly in that way that she had that he still hadn't figured out.

"I didn't want to assume," Harry mumbled as Arthur drew his wand and conjured up two chintzy settees. The conjuring - even more than the Burrow - gave Harry a sudden insight into the eldest Weasley. He was suddenly aware that Arthur rather liked a ramshackle, run-down style. A bit of rebellion, perhaps, against his pure-blood upbringing?

Sure, Harry. You're observant now. Where was your brain half an hour ago?

"Think nothing of it, son," Arthur said absently as he and Molly sat down on one of the love-seats and waved Harry and Ginny both towards the other. "Sit, sit, you two. I think we should talk."

If Ginny was as surprised as Harry that Arthur was taking the lead in this situation, she didn't show it. He was so accustomed to anything of this sort coming from Molly, with Arthur only quietly stepping in as needed, that this was serving to throw him even more off-balance. Then he wondered if that was the whole point, but decided there was such a thing as paranoia after all. Mutely, he accepted Ginny's hand as she led him to sit as well. Equally quiet, she snuggled up next to his side, and Harry couldn't help but be nervous at the open display of Ginny's affection, especially right in front of her parents. After a moment's thought, he realized that she was openly stating exactly what her preferences were. Harry couldn't help but feel appreciative of that.

"So..," Arthur began, clearly trying to figure out just were to start this conversation.

A silent moment passed.

"Men," Molly muttered under her breath in exasperation, causing Ginny to giggle and Arthur to chuckle softly. Harry did as well, though a bit more nervously. "Such nonsense. After all we've been through, there's no reason for this discussion to be difficult."

She and Arthur locked eyes for a moment, and he gave a quick nod. At that, Molly turned back to face Harry and Ginny, who were waiting expectantly to see just what her parents were going to say. Ginny was chewing softly on her bottom lip, and Molly thought Harry rather looked like a cat waiting to get pounced on by a very large dog, so she launched into it with no further hesitation. "Arthur told me about your little slip of the tongue in the other room, Harry dear. He also told me how those ill-behaved boys of mine reacted. Don't let it bother you one bit. But I do have to confess that we are a bit... concerned."

Harry felt Ginny tense slightly next to him and knew that he'd done the same. He also knew it was obvious, because he'd barely begun replying with Arthur interrupted with a single palm held up in the air.

"Don't mistake what we're saying, you two. I'm - We're - happy to know that you feel that strongly for Ginny. And if I know my daughter - and I like to think that I do - then I'm quite certain she feels the same about you. Frankly, it's not even much of a surprise. And we know you're both adults - or you will be, Princess, in just a few weeks. But all the same, what concerns us is that, right now, you're both too -"

It was Ginny's turn to interrupt then. "Young, yes Daddy, we know," she admitted, and Harry could tell she was gratified to see that statement throw both of her parents for a loop. He had to fight to smile about it himself - here was Ginny Weasley, admitting she was too young for something? Surely Hell now had an ice-skating rink.

"We've..." Harry began, hesitantly. "We've talked about it, just now. We love each other, yes, but our relationship - what all of that means... well, it's still all very new. Especially to me. I've never - I've never felt this way about anyone, or had anyone feel this way about me before, Mr. and Mrs. -erm, Molly, Arthur, and - "

Ginny laid a hand softly on his. "What Harry's trying to say, Mum, is that we know we're not ready for marriage. So you don't have to worry - we're not going to go and elope the day after my birthday."

Something in Molly's expression suggested to Harry that she had feared precisely that. But something else made him wonder that, perhaps, it wasn't the idea of him and Ginny being married that had worried Molly so, but rather, that the Weasley matriarch wouldn't get to be a part of it.

For some reason, this realization pleased him almost as much as the end of his and Ginny's talk earlier, though for very, very different reasons.

* * * * *

When Harry and Ginny emerged from the library some time later, they found Ron standing in front of Charlie, Percy, and George with folded arms. The sight brought a wry smile to Harry's face, and for the first time, he truly appreciated the changes the last year had wrought on his friend. Ron had always been tall, but he wasn't nearly so lanky anymore. He'd broadened out - especially once they'd gotten used to being fully fed regularly once more, rather than the admittedly slim diet of much of the last year - and even more so in the weeks he and Hermione had been away in Australia.

There was a clear confidence to his step and posture. It was a combination, Harry suspected, that was a result of both everything they'd been through and the fact that Ron was now openly in love with the girl of his dreams. Harry was blind to these changes in himself of course, until Ginny had pointed them out. He didn't really believe her, but he could see the difference readily enough in Ron - especially as he was now cowing three of his older brothers, one of whom faced down dragons for a living, with nothing more than folded arms and a glare that would (and did, as Molly and Arthur had followed them into room) do his mother proud.

Ron's gaze flicked up at the pair as they entered, and Harry saw his friend relax visibly as he determined that Harry and Ginny were fine. Then he returned his flat-iron stare to his brothers, who were now turning to face the young couple.

It was once again George who spoke first. And he, at least, had the good grace to be looking more sheepish and embarrassed than Harry had ever seen. "Harry, mate -"

Ron cleared his throat with an emphasis that would have been exaggerated in any other circumstance, and George sighed.

"Harry, Ginny," George corrected, shifting his gaze to include the both of them. Ron had apparently made it abundantly clear that apologies were owed to more than just Harry, which the dark-haired man appreciated greatly. "We're sorry for jumping to conclusions, and - "

"Well, that doesn't mean we were wrong," Percy interjected swiftly, "They're both far too young to - "

"Percy," Ron said in warning before either Molly or Arthur could reprimand their third-youngest, his eyes growing even more steely. Percy's mouth obligingly snapped closed. Quickly.

"Yes, well," Charlie stepped in, partially to take the flak, and partially to prevent any new tensions with Percy. "What my idiot brothers and I are trying to say is that we're sorry," he said honestly. "We shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, and Ginny, we really shouldn't have gotten in the way when you were trying to go after Harry."

Harry's eyes flicked down to Ginny. She hadn't mentioned any of this. "Gin?" he said, knowing she'd understand his question.

"Wasn't important," she replied immediately, knowing Harry would demand the whole story out of her later. Instead, she turned her gaze back to her older brothers, folding her arms as she leveled a suspicious gaze at all of them. "Wait a moment. You lot have never - ever - apologized for anything this quickly in my whole life. What happened?"

Ron just shrugged slightly. "I threatened 'em with a bunch of curses, and then reminded them that Harry was the one who'd taught them to me," he responded easily, fighting back a smile of his own. It wasn't a kind smile, either, and Harry briefly felt a strong surge of loyalty to this man who was closer to him than a brother - and who, he sometimes thought, considered Harry himself to be closer than any of his own brothers.

"Ickle Ronnie-kins has gotten bloody terrifying is what it is," George amended sotto voce, giving the tallest of the Weasley boys a respectfully wary gaze.

"That'd do it," Harry murmured under his breath, and he was smiling himself then. "No harm done then, you lot, right Gin?" he said, and was satisfied with the nods he got from Charlie and George, though Percy was still looking at him oddly. That wasn't new, however. He was used to that from Percy, though Harry supposed that 'concern for little sister' ranked above 'dangerously psychotic nutter'.

"Right," she said through gritted teeth. It was clear she hadn't entirely forgiven her brothers, either, but was equally willing to let it go for now. Though it wouldn't be a surprise to soon discover any Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products being shortly put to good use, Harry suspected. Then he wondered if Gin would want help.

"Now that that's settled," said Bill's voice from an adjoining doorway, "Perhaps we can get on with remodeling Harry's house? Harry, Percy's got blueprints over here, we need you to tell us what you want done so that we can get the details taken care of."

"Right," Harry replied, breathing a sigh of relief that no one seemed incline to comment any more on the previous topic. With Ginny and Ron at his sides, he approached the table that Bill had conjured and Percy had set up the blueprints on, and started telling them everything he had in mind. The tension in the room abated as everyone moved on, and by shortly before lunch, was largely forgotten.

Finally, some of the noise from the kitchen wafted his way, and Harry frowned in puzzlement as he looked over at Ginny. "Gin?"

"Yes?"

"Why's your mum... humming?"

Ginny just smiled, but decided not to reply as she saw Bill and Ron share a look that suggested that they understood quite well just what had their mother in such a mood. After all, what Molly was humming the Wizarding world's version of the bridal march. It was a tune that Harry had only ever heard once in his life, and to be fair, she knew he had been rather distracted from by what he'd described to her as 'a red-haired temptress in a gold dress'.

Instead, she just patted his hand softly in a manner that Harry found extremely patronizing and said, "Don't worry about it, luv."

* * * * *

Three days later, Hermione had surprised him once again. At that point, Harry had decided that he rather liked being pleasantly surprised for a change, and found it to be infinitely better than the alternative to which he was so accustomed.

"I've got it!" she said, her eyes glowing brightly as she slammed a stack of parchments down on the kitchen table in front of him, causing Harry to drop the crisps he was absently eating as he and Ginny stared over the blueprints for the third floor.

Harry grinned broadly in recognition as his eyes scanned over the documents in front of him. Ginny, however, had no clue whatsoever why Hermione was so excited, or why Harry was suddenly so happy. Needless to say, her curiosity was thoroughly piqued. "Got what?" she finally asked when neither volunteered any further information.

Hermione frowned for a moment, and then her expression cleared. "Oh - Harry didn't tell you? He's had me working on a way to change the Black family tree - that awful tapestry in the drawing room?"

Ginny nodded, and refrained from pointing out that Hermione's need to specify further had been rather unnecessary. "Change it into what?" she asked, looking at Harry this time for an answer. He would at least keep it brief.

"Erm..." Harry started, a little uncomfortable. He'd become better at expressing himself, particularly thanks to her, but it was still difficult for him at times. "I thought it might be... nice... if... well, it's my house, so I thought that it should have my family tree on it instead. With nobody burned off."

Ginny's eyes twinkled at that. "Harry, I think it's brilliant. How'd you figure it out, Hermione?" she asked, turned her attention back to the brunette.

"Well, it was really hard at first. I had to get Percy to get the genealogical records from the Ministry - "

"Wait, you found a family tree of mine?" Harry interrupted. He didn't know anything about his family beyond his parents - and Ignotus Peverell - and now... "There was a record at the Ministry, all this time?"

Hermione nodded briskly. "Harry, your family is one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. Didn't you ever wonder why Malfoy was so eager to ally himself with you before you knew each other?"

"I always figured it was because of, you know," he replied, pointing quickly to the lighting-bolt scar on his forehead.

"Well, that was likely a part of it," she conceded with a nod. "But it was mostly because that sort of alliance is how all those old pure-blood families work, and yours is one of the oldest there is, Harry, going even farther back than the Weasleys or the Malfoys. And like Sirius said, all the purebloods are related if you go back far enough. There's at least one of the Malfoys, Weasleys, Blacks and Smiths all on there at one place or another. I've got a... erm... copy of the record here."

"Hermione!" Ginny cried out in shock, recognizing Hermione's hesitation for what it was. Without her background, though, Harry was lost as to her surprise, and regarded her response with confusion. Seeing that, she clarified. "Those records are sealed, Harry - only Ministry officials and family members are allowed to access them, and taking them out of the Archives is against the law."

Harry raised his eyebrows in respect. "˜Mione? You broke the law for me?" he asked, his lips quirking at his friend's growing embarrassment. He wasn't particularly bothered by the notion, and found Hermione's tendency to shift priorities wherever he or Ron were concerned especially endearing.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry, I didn't do anything illegal," she said sharply, before her expression shifted into a conspiratorial grin. "Percy did."

"Percy?!" Harry wasn't sure if he'd said it first or Ginny had, or whether the cry had come from them both.

"Mm-hmm." Hermione gave another nod, and then paused a moment, looking as though she was trying to decide how much to say. "He wanted to help."

Ginny murmured something largely unintelligible under her breath, but Harry pretended not to hear it. "I'll have to thank him, then."

Both girls recognized the inherent gesture in his reply, and Hermione decided it would be best to leave that topic there for now. She knew why Harry and Percy were still on rocky ground at times, though she was also well aware that it was for rather different reasons than the ones Harry thought. She also recognized that Ron and Ginny's ongoing irritation with their brother was largely on Harry's behalf. She was briefly tempted to, as Ron called it, meddle, but then bit her tongue as she remembered her promise to him to try to avoid just such a thing. "And then I had to talk to Mrs. Weasley about how she'd made her clock - that gave me the final answer, and I was able to create a spell to modify the tapestry - and restore it at the same time, of course, because I didn't think you'd want it to stay all ratty - "

"Show me, then," Harry instructed her, preferring to get down to the details.

His friend then launched into a detailed explanation of the spell that Harry would have to perform, describing carefully what he would have to keep in mind, and repeatedly going over the incantation. "When did you want to do this, Harry?"

"No time like the present," he replied as he stood. "Coming, Gin?"

She shook her head briskly, and took on a wicked grin as she looked Harry dead in the eye. "You two go on, I'll come and look when you're done. I want to finish mapping out the changes to the master bedroom - and the bathroom, of course," she added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Harry felt the rising flush creep up his cheeks at that. He'd shared the thoughts he'd had with her about the master bathroom from the first morning he'd awakened here, and had been subjected to rather merciless teasing on the topic ever since. As he saw Hermione's expression flicker from confusion to comprehension, he blushed even harder, and was incredibly thankful it was Hermione who had heard Ginny, and not Ron. His friend's acceptance could probably only be pushed so far, after all.

"Right, then," Harry said, drawing himself up and trying to assume some semblance of dignity. "Let's be about it." He left the dining room first - and winced as the two girls broke out into open laughter behind him.

Hermione didn't keep him waiting in the drawing room long, however, and she entered to find him staring at the tapestry. His embarrassment had faded completely, and he had adopted what she recognized as his 'thinking face'. "All right there, Harry?"

"Hmmn?" he asked distractedly, coming out of his thoughts. "Oh, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About... "He gestured haphazardly toward the tapestry. "About family. Isn't it funny how much emphasis some of the pure-bloods place on lineage and bloodlines and everything else? It'd be ridiculous if it wasn't so damn sad. They're so caught up with the form of the thing, that they forget the meaning. I reckon the Weasleys are some of the only ones who have the right of it."

"That's likely why they're so often called ' blood-traitors'." She made a mocking gesture with her fingertips. Her expression made it plain that she found that term to be just as distasteful as 'Mudblood', and rightly so. "You know, Harry, the Potters were considered blood-traitors, too."

"Yeah?" he asked brightly. Harry found that to be a comforting notion. He was beginning to worry what he'd find, knowing that there were Malfoys and Blacks in his family tree...

"Yes," she confirmed, handing him the folded sheets of parchment that contained the Ministry record of his family tree. "You'll need this in your other hand, when you activate the spell."

"Right," he said, swallowing nervously for a moment. Clutching the parchment tightly, he began following Hermione's instructions. He emptied his mind of all thoughts except for that of his family. His parents, whom he had only seen as memories or shades, but now he felt he finally knew through the recollections of others - and finally being able to speak to them, all too briefly, that night with the stone. He thought of all the family he didn't know, had never gotten a chance to know. His grandparents were all dead - he knew the Evanses had been the ones to die in the car crash that the Dursleys had always claimed killed his parents. His aunt had always said his father had been driving, and growing up, he'd thought that was why they'd hated him so much. But obviously James hadn't been driving the car, so what had happened there? And what about the Potters? They were in the pictures of his parents wedding, but no one had ever said anything about them being killed by Voldemort, just that they were dead. What had happened there?

But - more often as he tried to clear them - he found his thoughts drifting to the people he really thought of as his family. Ginny - his girlfriend? That seemed such a simple, inadequate word to describe how he felt about her, and she him. Teddy, his godson, a boy he would help raise as though he were his own, a boy who would never, ever go through life not knowing the kind of people his parents had been. If it wouldn't mean taking the last family she had from Andy, Harry would cheerfully raise the boy himself.

Ron, his brother in every way but blood. Ron had been the first real friend he'd ever made, the first person to accept him, and Harry - hadn't he done the same for Ron? Hadn't he been the first person to ever treat the youngest Weasley brother not like a tag-along? Hermione, his sister in just the same way - he knew things had been rough for her in Muggle schools - being the smartest in a class always was. How much had it hurt her to hear the same sentiments - which Harry hadn't denied - from Ron, back in first year? How much had it then meant for the two of them to risk their lives to save her? Like with Ginny, the language seemed inadequate - "Friends" just didn't cover what the three of them were to each other.

And Dumbledore - Harry knew he'd had a different relationship with Albus Dumbledore than almost anyone he knew of. The one he knew wasn't even the man that Ron and Hermione had been acquainted with, and indeed, Harry found himself wondering for the first time whether anyone other than Aberforth or Minerva McGonagall had known the headmaster in the way he had. Hadn't that make him rather like a grandfather to Harry? Harry wasn't sure - he'd never had a proper grandfather, but he suspected Dumbledore would have liked the comparison.

The Weasleys - all of them, even Percy. Molly and Arthur were the parents he'd never known - they'd exposed him to what a parent's love felt like for the first time in his life. Molly had doted on him like one of her own. Her words from before his fifth year echoed through his mind. "He's as good as, who else has he got?" Arthur had shown him, in every way that Vernon had failed, what being a father really meant, and Harry could only hope that, whenever that day came, he was even half as good a father to his own children.

Bill - his first thoughts about him still stood. Bill was just cool. He was the big brother Harry had never had until he'd met the Weasleys, and Harry abruptly realized once again that he did have brothers - six of them. Five, he forcibly corrected himself. There was Fleur, who he had other things in common with - the Tournament, being the only Weasleys without red hair... Charlie, who he was the least closest to, but who had jumped at the chance to help Harry and Ron and Hagrid even back in first year, with getting rid of Norbert. Norberta, Harry corrected himself again.

Percy who, for all his faults, had still broken the law (something Harry couldn't ever recall, and nor would he have ever thought likely) to help Harry with this very project. Fred and George - it was difficult, even now, to separate the twins in his mind. He was closest to them, aside from Ron and Ginny, of all the Weasleys - they'd been there, taking the mickey out of him from before his first Quidditch game, and all the way to the end, when they'd been among the first to show up when the call had gone out (even if Harry hadn't intended it) that Harry was at Hogwarts, and that it was time to fight. There were so many ties between himself and the Weasleys - blood didn't even seem to matter in comparison.

Then there were the others, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and lately, even Andromeda. Andy, he corrected himself yet again. Those who had assumed the roles of Uncles and Aunts in his life - teaching him the things his parents wouldn't have, guiding him in the ways his parents couldn't... (Then again, considering what Harry knew of James, that might not have been accurate) and generally being everything Vernon and Petunia Dursley should have been.

Ironically - the Dursleys, his only living blood family - didn't even rate. Though there was hope, maybe, for Dudley, if he really had grown as much as he'd seemed to last year.

I do have family, Harry thought, I have more family than most people ever get.

I am not an orphan.

That thought firmly in mind, Harry raised his wand, and cast the spell Hermione had taught him with such careful deliberation. "Pondero Potter Prosapia Nemus" he whispered, and a broad, bright green light flashed out from his wand and engulfed the entire tapestry that represented the generations of history of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. He held his concentration until the brightness of the light faded away, and Harry had to blink several times afterwards to restore his vision.

"Oh, Harry..." Hermione breathed, a hand pressed to her mouth. "It's incredible... "

"Blimey," Harry breathed in astonishment as his own gaze spread itself across the new tapestry. It settled first on the coat of arms, down at the base of the tree, that he recognized bearing the Potter crest. He'd certainly become familiar with it after bringing the heirlooms from his family vault, though he'd hardly gone through all of them - they were up in the attic until the house was ready. There was a Knight's helm, as viewed from the side, visor raised, with elaborate patterns in red, silver and gold flowing from behind it. Before it stood a pointed shield emblazoned in a pattern of grey and black with a checkered bar aligned across the center; And then, atop the helm, Harry couldn't help but smile broadly as he saw Gryffindor's lion rearing its proud head and forelegs back. Below it was the family motto - "Vires, Veneratio quod Diligo" or, translated from the Latin - "Strength, Honor & Love". Just those simple words were enough to make Harry's heart proud, so different were they from the Black's purity-obsessed motto of 'Toujours pur," and any lingering doubts about his family history were lain firmly to rest.



Blood-traitors, indeed
, Harry thought with a wide smile.

From there, at the base of the tree, were his first ancestors, their animated woven faces showing pride, with dates going back almost as far as the founding of Hogwarts, and as Harry's gaze traveled upward, he realized that even the tree itself was different. Where the Blacks had been a dead, rotted thing, the new Potter Family Tree was very much alive, it's bark a rich brown and it's vibrant green leaves blowing in an imaginary wind. His eyes traveled across, taking in the names and faces of his ancestors and really feeling that he was connected to all of those people. He had family, he had history, and he had -

"Oh, I'd wondered if that would happen!" Hermione squealed excitedly, drawing Harry from his thoughts.

"What?" he asked in confusion, looking to where his bushy-haired friend was pointing.

"Here, Harry, here - look!"

Harry's jaw dropped as he found what she meant. There, traveling from the spot on the branches near the top of the tree, were his parents' faces, smiling kindly as they saw him. From there, a single branch led to Harry - where a whirl of branches of varying strengths led away from his own name. There, closest to his face and name, was Ginny, their names connected by the shadow of a line that was just beginning to fill in. Harry let loose a bark of laughter when he saw his fabric counterpart and Ginny's picture casting blushing glances as they looked at each other, which was rarely at the same time. And then, also from his name was another pair of branches, these thicker, connecting him to where Ron and Hermione were shown on the Tree. (Ron's picture was laughing at the looks being tossed back and forth between the miniature heads of Harry and Ginny, he noted.)

And then, even more branches spread out from his name - to Teddy, which had Remus and Tonks and Andy linked to it, and to thin, but solid branches connecting Harry himself once again to Sirius and Hagrid and Dumbledore - and then, there, from Ron and Ginny's names to Arthur, Molly, and the Weasley's - all of them, there were Bill and Fleur, with a shadow of a branch extending from them, and a shadow that had a name that he couldn't quite make out. And there was Charlie, and Fred and George - the representations of both twins happily making faces at the next, Percy. Harry's jaw dropped as he saw that Percy's name had a branch attached to his own, with a smiling girl bearing the name 'Penelope Weasley.'

They were all there - all of his family. Not just by blood, but the family he'd chosen, as well. This thought was quickly followed by another - Percy's married?! He eloped!

"Hermione," he trailed, his fingers tracing the branch connecting him and Ginny. By instinct, he knew that - when, if? - they were married, it would grow solid. "How is this possible?"

Hermione was beaming excitedly - clearly she'd been waiting for just that expression. "It's the way the spell works. You had the family tree in your hand - " Harry noticed at this that the parchment was gone as though it had never been "- but it works on more than just that, it's not just your family by blood, but the family that's in your heart, in your soul and Harry, well, we're your family too, and - Oh! I'm on here! I knew Ginny would be, and Ronald, of course - but I didn't expect..."

Harry felt a bit dazed, trying to follow the speed of her explanation. "Well of course you are," he said as though the whole thing were obvious. "You're my sister, aren't you? Why wouldn't you be?"

She was still beaming as she embraced Harry in a fierce hug that was so tight that Harry rather thought she'd been taking lessons from Molly. Or Ginny. Finally she drew back, and Harry could see the mist in her eyes. "˜Mione?" he asked, hoping that this wouldn't be another female thing that he had absolutely no hope of comprehending.

"It's nothing, Harry, Everything's changed so much, and - "she started with a smile. "Well, it's nothing. I'm just very glad I could help."

"Thank you," he said fervently, and turned back to examine the tree that now bore the likenesses of his family, all of them.



* * * * *

All told, it only took about two weeks to transform number twelve Grimmauld Place from a horribly dank, dark den devoted to the dark arts into a different - and much nicer - place entirely.

There was what Harry had taken care of that first day, getting rid of all the furniture. It proved remarkably easy to transfigure most of it, though some pieces were just so foul that Harry found he didn't want them, even in a transfigured state. Those were taken out to a corner of the Burrow's field, and then disposed of in a very satisfying bonfire. Bill proved to be the greatest asset to this phase of the entire project, as he was able to teach Harry how to transfigure the furniture into pieces that he liked.

Then, of course, there had been Hermione's help with the tapestry. That had excited everyone - Molly in particular had been ecstatic to see how Hermione had adapted some of the charms from her clock. It had led to a bit of a situation, however, when all of the Weasleys had found out Percy's marital status. (Harry hadn't been able to figure out how to tell them, and had, in the end, simply decided to show them the tapestry. This discovery further complicated when it was learned that Percy and Penelope had eloped the weekend before. The former Miss Clearwater had broken things off with Percy some time ago - because of the way he'd treated his family, it turned out - and had only taken him back once he'd returned to the fold.)

George, it turned out, had already known about the sudden and quiet wedding, as he had been the best man and the one who had encouraged the pair of them to nail things down 'before Mum gets a hold of you both.' He had also apparently traded shamelessly on the absence of Fred, and managed to convince Percy that 'it was what Fred would have wanted.'

Harry and Ginny had agreed - well out of the earshot of Molly - that Fred probably would have found the whole thing hilarious.

Molly had not been amused, but the family had been quickly taken with the bookish, yet vibrant Penelope who was now sharing Percy's room at the Burrow. And Ginny repeatedly assured him that Molly would get over it - probably around the time that Percy and Penelope provided her with a grandchild. Harry still suspected that the fact that Penelope had dumped Percy until he'd gotten his head out of his arse had pretty much solidified her acceptance by the rest of the family - especially Charlie and Ron. He knew it made him approve of the newest Weasley.

Penelope's presence had also paid dividends, since she was an Unspeakable, and she, Bill, Harry and Hermione had spent the next day ripping down all of the old and ancient wards around the house, especially those based in Dark magic, and creating new ones that were much more to Harry's liking. With some research, they had even pulled down the Fidelius Charm that Dumbledore himself had placed on the house. This, though, had backfired when Rita Skeeter had located the place the next day, even if Hermione had once again captured her in her Animagus form. Harry himself had enlisted Professor Flitwick's aid in teaching him how to cast a new Fidelius shortly thereafter.

Next had come the removal of all the Slytherin traces in the house - like the snake-engraved candelabras and other hangings, the tarnished silver door-handles, and in one case a wall-mounted mural depicting a battle between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. (Hermione had found this mural particularly insulting, as it had depicted Slytherin victorious over his former friend, when Hogwarts: A History clearly indicated that it had been Gryffindor who had forced Slytherin to flee from the castle.) All of the portraits except for that of Phineas Nigellus had been removed, and Harry currently had his account manager at Gringotts looking into possible buyers. That one remaining portrait had been relocated to what Harry had adopted as his study, for use if he ever needed to contact the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. The Order of the Phoenix wasn't officially active anymore... but then, it never hurt to be prepared.

Then had come the really difficult parts - and this was where Bill had proved his worth the most. First he'd instructed them to use the strongest cleaning charms possible, scouring everything - even Sirius and Regulus' rooms, once Harry had been satisfied that anything he wanted to keep was out of them - down to bare wood flooring and stone and wood walls. From there, he'd directed everyone on how to permanently transfigure the floors and walls, so that finally, a cherry wood layer covered every floor in the house, save for the attic and the basement. The paneling continued to waist height in most rooms, up to the white plaster that had replaced all of the old, badly grayed and chipped materials that filled the rest of the walls. A sufficiently Gryffindor scarlet wall-paper with gold inlay had then covered the plaster.

Ginny had even found a way to make her own mark on the place - with Harry's blessing, of course - and was in the process of turning the brownstone's flat rooftop into a garden. Charlie had helped her reinforce the roof, and George had built the magically-expanded broom and tool shed. He'd almost earned himself a hexing from Ginny when he had refused to explain why a particular portion of the shed was being set aside. Ginny was now quite certain that whatever project Harry and Arthur had been working on in the shed back at the Burrow all summer was quite related, and was growing even more short-tempered that she was, apparently, the only one out of the loop.

Harry, Percy and Arthur had even devised a way to run electricity to the house, replacing all the old torches and candles with more modern Muggle lighting, and electrical outlets. Several new torch and candle-holders were installed, however, for whenever a more traditional ambiance was desired. They had been nearly complete with this process until Hermione had pointed out that, with the Fidelius Charm still in place (weakened though it was), there was no way to tie into the neighborhood's electrical system.

A floo call to Professor Flitwick had sorted that particular difficulty out, however, and Harry had ended up able to charm the whole thing to work off of what was, essentially, a battery in the attic that Harry or Kreacher would have to periodically recharge. Arthur had been amazed to find out that several generations of Muggle-borns had already worked that out quite some time ago. Many Muggle-borns integrated the best parts of both worlds, after all, and Harry essentially was one, even if he was technically a half-blood.

Harry had then taken Ginny, Ron, and Hermione with him to a Muggle department store to order all the house-hold appliances he'd need. That had gone well, up until the point where they had realized they had no way to transport all of them, and that a delivery man wouldn't be able find number twelve Grimmauld Place.

That problem had been neatly solved when Hermione had revealed she had a driver's license, and they'd been able to rent a lorry to carry everything. They'd had to load it up the Muggle way - much to Ron's complaints - but had settled for driving it to a secluded area and then banishing each appliance one by one back to Grimmauld Place. Molly had then taught them all the charms to make the appliances work like the magical ones Ron and Ginny were used to, and Harry had hooked them up to run off of the house's electrical system. Therefore, any Muggle or Wizard who happened to be at Grimmauld Place would be able to use the appliances.

Of everything Harry had purchased, Ron had proclaimed the telly to be the best addition of all. This hadn't surprised Harry one bit - though Ginny's not-quite-as-obsessive fascination with it had been somewhat the opposite. It was not uncommon to find them fighting over the remote control that he and Hermione had shown them how to operate.

Next, the girls - Molly, Ginny, Hermione, Fleur and Penelope all - had set out themselves finding the other decorations for the house. They'd taken Harry and Ron with them initially, but after three hours of the boys standing uselessly about, the pair had been banished back to Grimmauld Place to finish up the minor spellwork remaining. They'd already found brass fixtures of a decidedly Gryffindor theme to replace the gone silver Slytherin -styled ones, and Harry knew that they were now looking for wall hangings, bedding, curtains (which he'd objected to, and been overruled on), and various things of that nature. At this point, he was simply going to have to assume that Ginny and Hermione knew his tastes well enough that he would be satisfied with what they bought.

Harry lowered his wand as he finished expanding the last window. All that remained now was to finish the wallpapering left undone on the first floor - George had been doing it, but had been banned from completing it after he'd wallpapered Percy to the wall for three hours yesterday afternoon - and then it would be time to move the furniture, old and new, back in.

"I'm knackered," Ron said with an exaggerated sigh. "Let's take a break, yeah?"

"Sounds good," Harry grunted, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. They'd almost doubled the size of all the windows in the house with a charm Fleur had taught them and the amount of light now being let into the house was astounding. The kitchen - nor any of the rooms they'd performed the charm on - had seemed almost doubled in size, just by virtue of the addition of so much natural light. The now-clear windowpanes didn't hurt, either. Even undecorated, Grimmauld Place felt completely different than the crowded prison it had been for Sirius, and Harry suspected that his Godfather would rather approve of what he'd done with the place.

Grabbing a pair of butterbeers from the fridge, Harry handed one to Ron and twisted the top off with practiced ease. "Cheers," they both said before clinking the bottles and each taking a long pull. Ron had sat on top of the table and look out the kitchen's new bay window, and feeling not at all proper, Harry decided to join him there.

They sat for awhile like that, each just staring and keeping their own counsel as the sun began to fade over the London skyline. Finally, something prompted Ron to break the silence. "Bit weird, innit?"

"Hmmn?" Harry asked, dragging himself from his own thoughts - which at this moment, had been drifting into a rather pleasant daydream about the potential offered by Ginny's garden up on the roof.

"This," Ron clarified, waving at the house. "All this. I mean, all we've got to worry about is fixing up this old place, and not getting caught snogging our girlfriends by Mum, and what we're going to do for jobs. It's all so... normal."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, rather glad to know he wasn't the only one feeling that way. His restlessness had faded somewhat now, what with things with Ginny progressing as they were, and keeping busy fixing up Grimmauld Place. But that'd probably change soon enough, once that was done - and then Harry's mind abruptly seized on another part of Ron's statement, and he frowned slightly. "Oi, when did your Mum catch you?"

Ron snorted, though a flush began to work its way up his ears. "After we went to bed last night. 'Mione sneaked up to my room, and I forgot to toss the charms on the door. Mum had one of her nights where she randomly checks in on all of us, and she got a bit of an eyeful. Much longer and she'd have walked in us while we were... " The red flush worked its way up past the tops of Ron's ears at that admission.

Harry raised his eyebrows. He'd known they were growing closer, but it seemed as though they were purposefully taming it down around him. To find that they were already that intimate, and he hadn't suspected it - that was a bit of a surprise. "Really? You two are already..."

Ron nodded briefly, and Harry found his previous thoughts about the source of Ron's new-found self-confidence wholly confirmed. "We've wasted enough time dancing around each other, y'know? We're of age. We figured that there wasn't much reason to waste any more time. I think 'Mione was more worried about bolloxing it all up if we didn't, actually. Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"Hunh," Harry muttered, finding it surprising. "So what you're getting at it that 'Mione started it and you didn't want to stop?" He asked, strangely unsurprised to find that their bookish friend was the more aggressive of the pair.

"Well spotted, Potter," Ron conceded with a smirk as he took another pull from his drink.

That got Harry to chuckle. And yet - he couldn't help but feel an unpleasant twinge of jealousy that Ron and Hermione had progressed to that stage of their relationship, while he and Ginny were still waiting. What they were waiting for, precisely, was becoming an increasingly difficult question to answer.

His thoughts must have clearly illustrated themselves across his features, because Ron suddenly made a noise of disbelief. "You can't tell me you and Ginny haven't yet."

Harry felt an unaccountable desire to be honest with his best mate - even if he was his girlfriend's brother. "No, we haven't," he confirmed.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Way you two are I thought it was a sure thing by now. I mean, I overheard Mum checking the other day to make sure Ginny was taking her potions." The potion, Harry knew, was the magical equivalent of Muggle birth-control pills. Ginny had told him about it, but she'd never indicated that it was something she was already taking. That thought settled itself somewhat uneasily in Harry's stomach, but he pushed it aside. He didn't like the way that thought made him feel, and decided it was better off firmly ignored.

"Well, it's come close," Harry admitted frankly, bringing his attention back to Ron. "But..." he had to pause, trying to find the best words that wouldn't result in Ron launching himself across the table and wrapping his hands around Harry's throat. That would rather ruin the conversation. So instead Harry decided to be honest with himself for the first time as to just why they were 'waiting'. "Well, I'm kind of... scared," he finally admitted in a small mumble that, if he had not been so practiced at talking to Harry, Ron would never have heard.

Ron drew his head back, blinking away a stunned expression. "Sorry, what?" he asked in disbelief. "Blimey, Harry - you've fought dragons. You beat sodding Voldemort. This, you're scared of?"

Harry fixed a narrow-eyed glare on his friend. "I don't want to force Gin into anything, and I've never - well, she'd be my first - and last - you know that, and..." he didn't know how else to properly explain, but knew - well, hoped - that Ron would know what he meant.

"And you don't want to botch the whole thing and get the boot?" Ron finished frankly, displaying the intuitive understanding that Harry knew he so rarely allowed himself to show. But there was no mocking as he said it, just a gentle understanding that Harry was frankly grateful for.

"Yeah," Harry admitted weakly, and took another swig from his butterbeer.

Ron chuckled at that, which Harry took great exception to. He illustrated this by throwing his bottlecap at Ron's head. The redhead promptly dodged, but avoided retaliating - mainly because he had nothing in range to throw. "Sorry, mate. It's just funny."

"Care to explain that before I hex your bits off?" Harry was joking with his comment.

Mostly.

"It's just - like I said earlier - the way you two are?" Ron said, and Harry was gratified to see him speaking a little quicker than normal. "Ginny's yours, mate, and you're hers. You'd have to be a right idiot and intentionally bugger the whole thing to get her to leave you. As for the other stuff - just relax, and let things come as they come," Ron advised sagely.

"You realize, mate," Harry couldn't resist responding with a wide grin, "that you're giving me advice on how to sleep with your sister."

"Remind me of that again, and I'll be hexing your bits off," Ron said with an exaggerated shudder, but then his expression changed back to the serious one he'd had before. "Besides... I don't reckon it"s my job to protect her anymore - I reckon it's yours. And I'll have your back. Said I always will, mate, with this - and anything else that ever comes." He then grinned. "Besides, standing up to my family's not all too much harder than taking on Death Eaters."

"I know, Ron," Harry agreed in a whisper, smiling at the sudden display of loyalty that so embodied his friend. "And you know I'll - "

"I know."

That admission stalled the conversation, and Harry realized they'd both finished their butterbeers. With a few flicks of his wand, he summoned more from the fridge. Talking like this, so honestly and openly with Ron, it was something they rarely got to do anymore. There was no one, except for Ginny and Hermione, who he could talk to in this way, and frankly, Ron's just being another bloke lent him a perspective that didn't always match up with the views of either one of the girls. It always seemed there was something else going on, something to be done, or with the girls, or the family... it seemed there was precious little time when it was just the two of them.

A light entered Harry's eyes as the solution occurred to him. "Y'know... the Burrow's gonna be awful lonely for you this fall."

"Hunh?"

"Well, Gin'll be back at Hogwarts, and Hermione's going back, too. She hasn't said it, but we both know there's no way she won't, not with McGonagall's offer just hanging there. Your Mum'll be able to focus all her attention on you," Harry said in a teasing tone, indicating clearly that he had an idea, but Ron was going to have to work for it.

"Bugger," Ron cursed, then eyed Harry speculatively. "What're you on about, then?"

"Well..." Harry trailed. "Seems to me we're really too old to be living at home with our parents, y'know? Maybe it works for other people our age - but we've been on our own this last year... we're not like other kids our age."

Ron snorted, "You never were a kid, Harry. Except when it came to Quidditch."

Harry granted him that with a nod, "You either, Ron. Who else decides to sacrifice themselves for their friends at the age of eleven? We all grew up way too soon. Can't take that back, much as we might want to."

"Too right," Ron agreed. "I mean, I love Mum and all, and the Burrow, but since we've been back, it"s just been - "

"Like wearing clothes that don't fit anymore?" Harry suggested.

Ron nodded, "But you've got something in mind?"

Harry held his breath a moment. He really wanted Ron to agree, but wasn't sure he wanted the other man to know how much. There'd been enough frank honesty and sentimentality in this conversation already. Any more would be unseemly. "You could move in here. I've got plenty of space, and if we go to the Auror Academy, or go work for George or whatever, London's closer than Devon."

Ron's face darkened a moment. "Harry, I'll do it - but I won't take charity. I've got my own means now, and I won't - "

Harry had expected that objection. Ron had his own money now, true enough, but that stubborn Weasley pride was always going to be difficult to let go of. "Come off it, you git. It's not charity. You can pay me if you want - I won't accept it, but you can try. But are you telling me you'd rather stay with your Mum than live with me?"

"Well, Mum is a good cook," Ron started, pretending to trail off thoughtfully.

That earned him another bottlecap upside the head.

"Besides... you'd have somewhere to be alone with 'Mione," Harry grinned.

Ron considered it all for a moment before finally nodding. "Yeah... it'll be brilliant," he grinned widely, and Harry matched it. "But you get to tell Mum."

"Me, why me?" he sputtered.

"Because you're her favorite," Ron said easily. "She'd give the rest of us a right earful about all the mess you get away with." Harry just grinned even broader. A few moments passed, during which Ron's expression had grown thoughtful once more. "You don't really mind, about me and 'Mione, do you?"

Harry looked at him oddly. "Why would I? You two've been in love with each other since fourth year. You just couldn't stop arguing long enough to notice it. I owe Neville twenty Galleons - he bet me you two'd figure it out before we left Hogwarts."

Ron let out a bark of laughter. "˜Mione's been worried about it, you know. That's why we've been toning things down around you. She doesn't want to throw it in your face - you know how she is. It's been terrifying her that you think everything'll have to change now that she and I are together."

"So that's what it is," Harry muttered. "I was wondering."

"I didn't think you were completely thick."

"Shut it, you," Harry shot back. "She shouldn't worry - I really am fine with it, you know. I'm happy for you. And I've got Gin - it's not like things have to be different for all of us, it just means that Gin's a part of that now." She always should have been, he added to himself.

Once again, Ron seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't beat yourself up about it, mate," he told him. "I reckon we're both a good bit stupid when it comes to girls."

"Yeah... Won-Won," Harry acknowledged, taking the easy shot.

"Oi!" Ron yelled, launching himself across table finally. "You'll pay for that, Potter!"

Harry couldn't stop to protect himself, he was so busy laughing. Ron's tackle caught him right in the middle, and the pair tumbled off the table onto the tile floor. That didn't impede the impromptu wrestling match in the slightest, and they'd been going at it for several minutes when the floo flashed in the next room, and Molly, Ginny, Hermione, Penelope and Fleur entered, all carrying large packages - which were promptly dropped when they found the boys, apparently fighting.

Molly stopped first, her jaw hanging open in astonishment. "Boys!" she cried in protest.

"Harry!"

"Ronald!"

Ginny and Hermione managed to cry out at the same time, and both moved forward to intercept the pair. Before they could, however, Molly had her wand out, and the boys had been separated and were hanging in the air by the scruff of their collars.

Ron and Harry met eyes after seeing the girls' reactions, at their current predicament of being hung up by the scruff of their necks like errant puppies, both started laughing so hard that they were unable to stop for several minutes.

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Chapter 8: Chapter 8 - Foundations of Stone & Magic

Author's Notes: Beta'd by the incomparable TeyriJen, FaithfulCynic and TopGun. This was first written for the Reconstruction Challenge, and is also Ch. 8 of Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows. For the latter, it's been expanded since there's no worries about word count or rating here, and some additional plot elements which were excised from this version. Also, a big nod to MyGinevra's The Hog's Head, for one of the names bandied about around mid-chapter. You'll know it when you see it - it was just too perfect to not at least mention.


Chapter Eight - "Foundations of Stone and Magic"

* * * * *

Harry Potter, aged seventeen (though he would be eighteen in less than a month's time), rather thought that the two months since the wizarding world had been freed might possibly have been the best of his life. He did not generally think of it in those terms, of course, despite the embarrassing amounts of praise that was still heaped upon him by the Daily Prophet. He hadn't even picked up a newspaper in more than a month for that very fact.

Rather, Harry considered it instead as two months since he himself had been freed. Freed from the bounds of prophecy, of the fate that he had thought would leave him a murderer, of the demon in human form that had haunted his life and infected him with a portion of his soul for seventeen long years. Free to live, since the other no longer survived. Free to simply be.

To be what, he still did not know.

But most important to Harry's mind, and the one thing he was certain of (particularly as he considered the feel of the gorgeous girl in his arms), Harry was free to love. More specifically, he was free to love Ginny Weasley. With the feel of her smooth skin, the softness of her lips pressed against his, and the wonderful press of the rest of her body against his - Harry considered himself completely and totally distracted from his woes about his future.

Which, to be fair, had been her entire plan today.

"Mmn," he muttered incoherently as Ginny pulled back away from their kiss. Their brooms lay side-by-side, stacked haphazardly against a nearby oak. The couple was in what had become "their" own private spot, here on the Burrow's grounds. It was a secluded copse of trees near the edge of the Weasley property, with an excellent view of the pond and the valley beyond the treeline. If one was to compare it to the new garden that decorated the roof of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, one would find a remarkable similarity.

Harry had yet to enjoy the view beyond those trees, as he was really quite satisfied with the view in the more immediate vicinity.

He and Ginny were both in a state of undress that would have left her mother severely... put out with them, to say the least. Harry's shirt was unbuttoned, and hung loosely from his shoulders. Ginny's had been abandoned entirely somewhere near the picnic basket. Their attentions had been fevered, almost unstoppable in their need, but they still, for some unspoken reason, were holding back.

More and more, Harry had to ask himself why that was. It had seemed so important to wait before. Now, particularly considering the appealing woman he was laying with, it just seemed...

Well, it seemed pretty bloody stupid, frankly.

Ginny flashed him a wicked grin, as though she were reading his thoughts, before she stretched languidly on their blanket. The remains of their half-eaten picnic still sat in the basket, thoroughly abandoned. "What's the matter, Potter? Powers of speech haven't abandoned you, have they?"

"Completely," he grinned, and stretched his arms back behind his head as he settled back against the tree. Ginny shifted herself to sit sideways on his lap, and began absently running a finger across his chest. Her eyes, however, never left his, and he silently enjoyed the feel of her fingers dancing across his bare skin. "Keep that up and I might need a longer break from it all," he grinned, an expression which she happily returned.

"I think I could sit right here forever," she said contently after another long kiss and some time had passed.

"I wouldn't mind a bit," Harry replied with an equally content smile. He knew Ron would call him a sap - and probably a lot of other things - if he could see him right now. Well, actually, if he could see Harry and Ginny exactly as they were, he'd probably be using a lot stronger words than 'sap'. Fists or wands weren't out of the question either, really.

It'd make his friend a right hypocrite, of course, as Harry knew very well that Hermione and Ron had their own "spot." But Ron was down in Cornwall with Hermione and the Grangers, helping them settle back in and spending some time together, and therefore had very little to say about how he and Ginny spent their time.

Not that Ron's presence would have changed either Harry or Ginny's actions any, or that he had any say in the first place. If anything, Ginny might have sped them up in order to get her brother to flee even faster.

Would that the rest of the world could be so considerate. Their time together never seemed like it was enough, as though each were desperately trying to make up for the year they'd been apart, and the world often came crashing in on them all too soon, in ways great and small. Harry's smile quickly changed to a frown when a small silver Patronus in the shape of a tabby cat flashed into the clearing and interrupted their afternoon with the voice of Minerva McGonagall.

This probably wasn't going to be one of those 'small' times.

"Mr. Potter," it began. "I should like to make a request of you. Please return to the Burrow as soon as it is convenient so that I might have a moment of your time. I'll not keep you from Miss Weasley overlong."

Harry groaned and this time, it was not in a pleasant manner. He let his head thud back against the bark of the tree before he spoke. "So much for getting away from it all."

"Damn right she won't," Ginny muttered darkly.

* * * * *

When Harry and Ginny returned to the Burrow, they did indeed find Professor McGonagall chatting with Molly at the kitchen table, along with a man they didn't recognize. He had a rough-hewn look about him, Harry thought, rather like a Muggle construction worker. He was even in Muggle clothes - a flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, jeans, and heavy work boots. There was a wand hanging from a holster on his hip, however, so he was certainly a wizard. His dress and manner sparked a memory of Bill telling him weeks ago about the master builder that had been contracted by the Board of Governors to restore Hogwarts to its former glory in time for the fall term.

"Professor," he said in greeting, and Ginny shortly did the same. Molly gave both Harry and Ginny quick kisses on the cheek, and then excused herself to the den so that the foursome could speak privately. Though he felt reluctant, and even slightly wary, Harry would have to confess that his curiosity was beginning to grow.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," McGonagall acknowledged as they sat. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Robert Parker, a master builder from the States. He's been overseeing the reconstruction efforts at Hogwarts in our attempt to reopen for the fall term. I believe Bill may have spoken of him to you?"

"How do you do, sir," Harry said respectfully after he nodded at the Professor, and then extended his hand to the foreign wizard.

"I'm fine, kid," Parker replied, returning Harry's handshake with a quick firm one. His accent had a drawl that was decidedly American - somewhere from the southern half of the country, he reckoned. "Good to meet you. And make it Bob, please. I ain't so formal as all y'all 'round here are. From what ol' Minnie here tells me, I could damn sure use your help."

Harry and Ginny both fought back laughter at the nickname he'd provided the stern professor.

"Harry's help? But he's not a builder," Ginny asked by way of seeking clarification.

Harry nodded in agreement, even if he had to fight down the instinctively masculine objection to his skills, he really couldn't see why this man could possibly need his help. "Don't get me wrong," Harry started, "I've learned a lot, fixing up Grimmauld Place, but..."

"Minnie?" Parker asked, and was gratified to see the older woman nod (and hold back a wince, he thought). It looked as though he'd prefer the Headmistress to take the lead - likely because she knew him better. Whatever they wanted of him, Harry mused, they wanted it badly.

"I shall explain, Mr. Potter," she said and Harry and Ginny both reflexively came more attentive as she adopted her 'lecturer's tone'. "Hogwarts, as you are aware, is one of the most magical locations in this country. There are enchantments on the grounds, and especially the castle, dating back a thousand years. Defensive wards, certain other spells and the like. Every Head of the school has added their own touches to the school, and at this point, that is actually hampering our efforts more than assisting them."

Harry frowned at this. "How so?"

"Voldemort was the first to bring down the wards at Hogwarts in a thousand years, Harry," McGonagall said, and Harry wondered if she even realized she'd switched to his first name. "Even Slytherin himself never managed that, and he helped cast them. When Voldemort did so, it has caused much of the castle's magic to go... haywire, for lack of a better term. Even simple spells now have unpredictable results. Mr. Parker, Filius and I are all capable of casting the necessary spells to correct the situation, but what we lack is the power. Our efforts to have not achieved the permanence we need. Nor have we been unable to undo Voldemort's damage. We need this to be permanently straightened out, if there is to be a school again."

McGonagall's features tightened as she continued. "I am not Albus, Harry. He could have repaired this himself, I believe. But Albus is no longer here, and there is but one other wizard in Britain who compares to his strength," she said, looking directly at Harry. Then, with a second look, this time to Ginny, she amended her statement. "Though there is another who comes very close."

Ginny and Harry shared a brief look between them - McGonagall's pointed looks had not been lost, and six years under her tutelage had taught them quite well how to read them. Harry fought to keep the utter shock in his features from expressing themselves totally. "Us?" Harry asked, nearly rhetorically. "Me?"

"Indeed," McGonagall replied, her tone becoming deathly serious as she continued. "Especially if you are to use the Elder Wand."

Harry drew in a sharp breath at that, and felt a cold, hard lump form in his stomach. He pushed away the idea that he was as powerful as Dumbledore had been - surely that was a ridiculous notion. Instead, he focused on the other part of her statement. "Professor, I'm sorry, but we - Bill, Ginny and me - we've sealed the wand back up in Dumbledore's tomb. Even we couldn't get it out without setting off the wards we built into it. And the effects... well, they wouldn't be pleasant."

Well, a forty-foot crater would qualify as 'unpleasant', right?

"I daresay not," McGonagall chuckled, her expression softening a bit for the first time. "Professor O'Donnell and I were quite impressed when we examined them. We'll speak of that later, however. Harry, the Elder Wand possesses many special gifts of its own. It is a powerful magical artifact, not just an exceptional wand, and it recognizes you as its master. If you were to summon it, it would come to you."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry - what?"

"Hold out your hand, Harry," McGonagall instructed, and Harry did so by reflex. "Now think of the Elder Wand being in your hand. Will it to be so."

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on his mental image of the Wand that he still thought of as Dumbledore's. He fought down the part of himself that wanted to decline, but McGonagall knew how he felt on the topic of the Elder Wand. If she was asking him to claim it, and use it now, then it was important. So Harry concentrated harder, and imagined the feel of the knobbed handle against his palm and -

He heard identical gasps of surprise from Ginny and Mr. Parker. Parker was the first to say speak. "Good God, Minnie, you said, but I didn't believe - "

Harry opened his eyes. There in his palm was the Elder Wand once more. He could feel its power in his hand, exactly as he felt with his own wand. But... stronger this time. More like the day when, at eleven years old, he'd held his first want back at Ollivander's. If he concentrated on it, it was almost like it made his own magic... hum in recognition. There was an unmistakable sense of rightness and belonging even as Ollivander's words from so long ago echoed in his mind. The wand chooses the wizard.



McGonagall, however, exhibited no surprise whatsoever. "I need your help, Harry," she said softly. "If you don't provide it then I fear there may not be a Hogwarts to reopen. Not this fall and possibly... not ever."

Harry met her gaze with an even, steady one of his own. He felt Ginny's hand tighten around his own - she knew as well as he did that his decision was as good as made right then and there, whatever the consequences. "Then you've got it, Professor."

* * * * *

It was a shock, still, to see the castle like this. Yes, they'd had returned for the memorial service, but...

Well, it hadn't really sunk in, then. And he'd hardly been paying attention to the castle itself, not when there were more important things to focus on.

He wasn't blind to the damage now. There were the remains of the Astronomy Tower, which had collapsed two days after the fighting. Gryffindor Tower had an enormous hole just below the roofline in a spot that Harry abruptly realized was only just above the dorm room he'd stayed in for six years. Ravenclaw Tower looked considerably worse - even from here, he could make out some of the details of their ruined common room. The great fountain in the courtyard, where he was standing, was nothing more than a pile of stone and gravel.

Much of the piles of debris had been relocated - there was a great pile of stone sitting outside the castle walls, but the actual holes themselves had yet to be patched. They couldn't be, with the magic so unstable. And even house-elf magic had limits.

Harry's eyes continued to pass over the castle as he surveyed the damage. There, just outside of the Great Hall was a huge, gaping wound where a Giant had smashed his way in. There, farther up - the shattered corridor outside of the Room of Requirement where Fred had met his end. All of these, and so much more, Harry could see. So many small holes, so many nicks and scrapes and bruises. It was like an assault on the sense, and Harry was struck with the thought of just how wrong it seemed to see Hogwarts so.

But more than that - he could feel it. Harry didn't know how to describe it, he hadn't the words. It was as though Hogwarts were a living thing, and he could feel its pain, as odd as that sounded. If he let his eyes lose focus just so, he could almost see the magic that was only barely holding the place together. It was even more horrifying to see from that perspective. Tom had done such damage... were repairs even going to be possible?

"And he huffed, and he puffed and he..." Harry murmured under his breath.

Next to him, Ginny looked up at him with furrowed brow. "Harry?"

She obviously had her own mixed feelings about being back at Hogwarts. She still hadn't spoken to him in any detail of what she'd been through in the year he was away - no more than vague generalities. Though what he knew from Neville, he knew it had been bad. He was of a strong suspicion that her talents at healing charms had been all too hard-earned, and he was starting to even wonder if she'd been forced to practice on herself. Molly hadn't said anything, nor Arthur... but Ginny was also very, very good at keeping secrets from her family.

Even considering all that, Harry wouldn't - couldn't - push her on it. He knew he hated that, and could only assume that Ginny felt the same. She would speak of it in her own time, he knew. Or hoped.

But still - how long would it take before she finally talked? What would it get to take her to?

He shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to the present. "Sorry, old Muggle fairy-tale. Just seeing what Riddle did to this place..." he gave another shake of his head.

McGonagall and Parker were standing beside him as well. Parker had been very closely watching the way that Harry looked over the devastated castle. He'd recognized that lack of focus as Harry's eyes glazed over from time to time, and then and there knew that Minerva had been completely correct. "You can see it, can't you son? The magic?"

"I can," Harry nodded, as he realized what and how what he was seeing on the edges of his vision meant. "Dumbledore - he could do this too, couldn't he? I saw him do it once, that night at the cave." Harry's voice hitched slightly at the last - memories of that night with his mentor were still painful, and would probably always be so.

McGonagall gave a brisk nod, and was kind enough to ignore the pause in Harry's voice. "Yes, he could. I can as well, though Albus was much more gifted at it than I."

"I can see it too," Ginny whispered, tilting her head slightly to the side. Her voice had a slightly frustrated tone to it. "But only barely. If I look just so..."

"Why can I - we - do this now, Professor? Why not before?"

"A combination of many things, I suspect," she replied frankly. "You are of age now, Harry. Your powers matured on your birthday last year- this is the reason that seventeen is the age of majority in the wizarding world. Miss Weasley will very likely experience a similar growth in her abilities next month." McGonagall paused for a moment before continuing, as though she was deciding whether or not to disclose her full thoughts. Harry was grateful when she seemed to decide on honesty as the best policy. "I also believe that the presence of Riddle's Horcrux inside of you all this time..."

"It was sapping me," Harry finished, the answer coming in a flash of insight. Or maybe, like he'd said to Ginny that afternoon after the battle...maybe it was one of these things he'd always known on some level. "It was drawing off my magic, feeding on it, to keep him alive. Like a parasite," he spat out.

"Precisely," she acknowledged. "And now, without that hindrance, I suspect you shall surprise yourself in a great many ways, Mr. Potter. Do you believe that you might be able to assist us?"

"If I can do it, then," Harry started, and then took a deep breath as he made up his mind. Ginny squeezed his hand reassuringly - she thought he could do it, and that meant everything. Harry grinned. "Well then, let's get started, shall we?"

Parker shot him an equally wide grin. "Let's."

* * * * *

They had started with the state of the wards and the magic of Hogwarts itself. It was the only place to start, really, given the state of things. McGonagall had been able to teach Harry how to 'see' the magic properly, and in relatively short order, and to the raven-haired young wizard, it was like entering a brand new world. Suddenly he could see the way it was all connected, the colorful, simple lines of magic binding everything together. It was a heady - and humbling - experience. It was a shift in his senses, one he accomplished by paradoxically losing and gaining focus at the same time.

Thankfully, she also taught him how to turn it 'off'. Walking around like that all the time would have been slightly distracting, to say the least. That thought gave him another epiphany - he would lay even odds that Luna did walk around like that all the time. It would certainly explain a lot.

When he looked at the castle this way, Harry didn't see ruined stone and once-proud crumbling masonry. Instead, he saw bright, colorful ribbons dancing as though alive across the castle. They moved and bound everything on the grounds together in a pattern that only they understood. But the delicate weave was broken, interrupted, intertwined with oily black and green ones - that was Riddle's work, he knew. Their presence, their magic, was foreign, and to Harry's new senses they felt indescribably wrong.

By the time night had fallen, Harry was standing outside of the castle, in the same spot that he had surveyed the damage from when they'd arrived. The walls rose in front of him, a forbidding stone edifice that was more than a bit intimidating as he considered what he was going to do. McGonagall and Parker had explained it, after she'd coached him through learning how to use his new perceptions. But really, in this case, Harry was operating more on instinct than anything.

Harry breathed deeply, slowly letting go of his sense of self. Paradoxically, the more he did so, the more aware he became, until he could feel Hogwarts itself. Not as it was now, but the way it was supposed to be. A rush shot through him as the connection was made, and Harry knew that, somehow, he was tapping into the ancient magics that surrounded the school. The connection wasn't unfamiliar, though, and sparked a thought that Harry made a mental note to discuss with Hermione later.

He raised the Elder Wand in his right hand, let out a nervous breath, and then went to work.

It seemed remarkably easy from this perspective, as though this was all nothing more than an overly-complicated ball of knotted strings. His wand - for Harry now recognized his ownership of the Elder Wand as such, though he suspected he would always prefer his holly one - drew upwards, drawing one of the inky black lines that symbolized one of Voldemort's spells towards itself. The line of the magic tied itself around the end of his wand, responding to his will. Concentrating on that thread, Harry pulled - more with his magic than anything, but his hand still drew his wand sharply down. The spell came slithering free, until it had been tugged from the lattice of spells surrounding the castle completely.



One down
, Harry smiled, and continued his task.

Time passed, though Harry lost all sense of it. The remains of Voldemort's magic were slowly coiled up loosely in front of him, waiting to be dealt with. Though few could see it, to Harry's altered sight it was a great quivering black pile. Physics applied, after all. Even to magic in its own fashion. Energy could not be created nor destroyed, only manipulated. Therefore, Harry couldn't simply dismiss the magic - it would have to be transformed, used, put to something good.

Dawn broke as Harry worked through the night. This was delicate work, and extraordinarily exhausting. He'd feel it too, if he wasn't drawing on the magic of Hogwarts to sustain himself. It wasn't something Harry was consciously aware of doing, though he recognized he was working well past his own endurance. And even with that boost, he felt as though he could sleep for a week.

But he didn't stop.

He was vaguely conscious of Ginny approaching from the camp area she'd set up. She'd watched over him the whole night as he worked, he knew, drifting off to sleep only occasionally. She was coming closer now, as he removed the last of Voldemort's magical damage. He recognized it, somehow, as one of the oldest pieces of the Dark Lord's corrupting influence on the castle. Somehow he recognized this spell - this was the curse that Voldemort had placed on the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had to fight laughter that bubbled up at the realization that the rumor mill had gotten something right for once.

After a final tug, the curse joined the rest of the magic in the invisible (to most) pile.

And Ginny was getting just a little too close... "I wouldn't stand there if I were you," he noted, his eyes never breaking their focus.

Ginny started slightly - she hadn't realized Harry had been aware of her. "Why?" she asked, though she did step back a bit.

"Just watch," he grinned, and focused his attention on the concentrated magics in front of him. It needed to be transformed... redirected somehow, and he had just the notion - what Lupin had referred to as the 'Patronus Principle'. Harry concentrated his will on all of Voldemort's dark magic, and then thought a few particularly happy thoughts about the beautiful witch who'd just joined him. As he watched with half-lidded eyes, the magic changed, becoming lighter in tone until it was a brilliant white. The darkness, purified from the magic, settled to the bottom of the pile and then just... dissolved away, the pieces dispersed by an ethereal, nonexistent wind.

Harry opened his hand, his body stiffening as he drew all of that untapped power into himself and left all that evil intent firmly scattered. Focusing on his intentions, he then channeled it back out through the Elder Wand, back towards the castle, fixing the first view he had ever had of Hogwarts in his mind as he did so.

This explosion of power, everyone could see. McGonagall and Parker, he realized, hadn't left either. There were dozens outside now, despite the early hour. Harry noted Hagrid and Bill Weasley among them, but they all stepped back as stones began to hurtle from the accumulated pile of rubble that had been moved to outside the castle walls.

Gryffindor Tower was first, the stones filling in the holes just under its terraced roof. A flash, and the stonework was sealed. Ravenclaw Tower was next, as were the holes beside the Great Hall, and the Room of Requirement. Dozens of smaller wounds to the castle sealed themselves.

Finally, the rest of the power gathered up in the last spot Harry wanted repaired. (He would have left this particular space rubble if the power had run out first.) He concentrated, focusing all his attention, and all his memories, to where the Astronomy Tower had once stood. It rose anew from the rubble, completely reformed. Even the oldest of the holes in it - the one Albus Dumbledore had fallen from - had been sealed.

"There we go," Harry said weakly, the Elder Wand tumbling from his hand as he slumped towards the ground. Everyone else stared alternately at the castle or at him in shock. "All better."

Ginny caught him.

He was just conscious enough to realize that as he passed out.

* * * * *

He'd awakened shortly after noon, much to his chagrin, in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had, as always, given him a stern lecture along with her pepper-up potion. All things considered, he considered himself rather lucky to be let off the hook with little more than a lecture about overtaxing his magic. Harry had nodded and agreed at all the right points, left the hospital wing, and proceeded to, as always, ignore every instruction the mediwitch had given him.

Ginny's resulting lecture hadn't been nearly so forgiving or understanding.

As he'd suspected, his repairs had largely affected the exterior of the castle, though Parker informed him that the entire structure was once again stable. Bill Weasley was even now making sense of what was left of the wards, and they planned later for Harry, Bill, and McGonagall to cast new ones together sometime within the next day or so.

With Voldemort's magic gone from the grounds, Parker was also pleased to note that the contractors and the house-elves efforts were now proceeding normally - whatever Voldemort had done was no longer hampering the rebuilding efforts. Harry, therefore, was free to focus his attentions on the more unique sections of the castle that needed to be checked out.

Things like the Room of Requirement, for example. Harry had been expecting Crabbe's Fiendfyre to have damage the room, but, in the end, he found all of its enchantment's intact. Even when he summoned the Room of Lost Things, he found that it still worked, though the contents of the room were thoroughly destroyed. Some of it might have been salvageable - the copy he'd found of the Half-Blood Prince's potion's text had testified to that. The book's covers were only scorched - some falling debris had protected it directly from the flames. One shrinking charm later, the book was resting safely in his pocket.

"You know, son," Parker informed him as he, Ginny, and Professor McGonagall were traveling down the staircases. Harry once again found it amusing when McGonagall had informed him that the staircases were stilled during the summer months, locked down in the shortest pathways. That they didn't do so during the school year smacked of Dumbledore's sense of whimsy to Harry. Realizing that Parker was speaking to him. Harry turned his attention back to the American. "It's tradition for a master builder to add a touch of their own to a big project like this. Something that only they know about."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked over to McGonagall, "Professor?" he asked. A long-ago conversation with Hermione sprang into his mind at this, and Harry's eyes were twinkling as he considered it.

McGonagall nodded, though somewhat warily. "Mister Parker is correct, Harry, and I daresay what you've accomplished so far entitles you to that right." She let out a sigh before continuing. " And as I am quite certain that I do not wish to know what it is that you have in mind, I will take my leave, and ask no questions."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

"I'm certain you don't. Good day, all."

Parker left with McGonagall, Harry was happy to note. Ginny, however, was looking at him oddly. "Harry," she asked, just as wary as McGonagall had been, "What are you plotting?"

Harry just grinned, and grabbed hold of her hand once more. "C'mon. You'll see."

He led her down to the third-floor corridor on the right hand side of the master staircase - the same corridor that lead to the room with a trap door. The very same room where Fluffy had guarded the entrance to the hiding place of the Philosopher's Stone, and Harry had met Voldemort face to face for the first time in ten years. This whole corridor had been abandoned for much of his stay at Hogwarts. The dust and cobwebs were thick - the house-elves never came here, nor even Filch.

It was where some of the guest suites, an unused classroom or four, and a storage room that had various pieces of old, ugly, and unused statuary were located. He'd found the storage room back in fifth year, back when they were scouring the castle for a place to have their D.A. meetings, and that was his destination now.

He stood in front of what appeared to be a solid stone wall, trying to find just the right stone. He wished for a moment for the Marauder's Map... but it was on his desk back at Grimmauld Place. It would know. Finally, he found what looked to be the right one. "Yeah..." he muttered under his breath."Yeah, this is the one..."

"Harry, how do you know that block does anything?" Ginny asked, genuinely curious now, a state which was pushing aside her annoyance.

Harry just tapped his wand six times on the spot, and the bricks began to unfold out on themselves, just like the entrance to Diagon Alley. When they'd finished, an arched doorway led to a darkened room. He turned back to Ginny, and flashed her that wide grin again. "Magic."

"I give up," Ginny muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. It had become a running joke between the pair all summer, and she knew better than to press further whenever he gave that flippant answer. "Tell me when you're good and ready, won't you?"

"Of course," he replied, and walked in. He muttered a charm, and the torches and candles in the room obligingly lit themselves. This was indeed the storage room that he remembered, Harry was gratified to see. The emptiness and the dust verified that the room was still quite abandoned.

And the statues were better off abandoned, Harry noted grimly. There were chimaeras and griffons, dragons, cyclops and minotaurs, alongside harpies, salamanders and even a hydra. All the sculptures' expressions were twisted, the neutral features of the beasts forever etched in expressions of unmistakable evil. One in particular caught his eye - a crumbling statue of what was unmistakably Slytherin's basilisk. He heard Ginny draw in a sharp breath as she saw it, and Harry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She gripped it tightly, but there was strength in her voice when she spoke. "I'm okay, Harry - just get on with it, would you?"

"Right then," he said softly, and gave the top of her head a quick kiss. The hideous statues would make great raw materials. Harry didn't doubt that Dumbledore or some other Professor had long ago removed these works of so-called art. And since Transfiguration was a lot better at staying permanent than Conjuring was... "Yeah..." he grinned as he considered the space."Yeah, this'll do nicely."

Ginny just blew out a frustrated sigh, even if she was pleased to see Harry so clearly excited about whatever it was he was going to do. She'd seen it more from him this summer, true enough - but it was still a novel thing, to see Harry so excited. She'd happily accept his blundering around without a purpose to see the weight that was gone from his shoulders. Atlas, she decided, had taken back his load.

Harry was grinning again as he planted his feet, and concentrated on drawing on the castle's magic once more. With what he had in mind, Harry wanted this place to become a permanent part of Hogwarts. Maybe, just maybe it could help foster some unity between the houses, like the Sorting Hat had always urged them to do. It was right after all, he realized, and he could only wish that he'd done more towards that end himself when it had mattered.

Still matters, he mentally amended, even if it's too little too late for some.

He began muttering incantations as he started transfiguring various pieces of statuary into what he had in mind. Slytherin's basilisk was converted into a long, oaken bar. The new wood gleamed, and its brass finishings reflecting the soft torchlight. He could tell the house-elves about this place later, they'd stock the bar appropriately. Harry also had no doubts that some of the more enterprising students would figure out how to make their own additions to the bar's stock, and that too was as it should be.



A horrifically realistic wall hanging depicting the burning of several witches in a medieval setting (they were all laughing since they'd cast the flame-freezing charm, except for two on the end who were burning alive) was turned into a sleek mirror running the entire length of the bar. Smaller portraits, asleep for Merlin only knew how long, were transformed into shelves and other smaller items. Other statues became billiards tables, tables where small groups could sit, and large booths along the wall with cushy, comfortable benches running around them.

Before long, Harry was running out of statues to transfigure, so he had to start conjuring. This is where he really had to draw on the power of the Elder Wand, to make them permanent. It wouldn't do to have a chair vanish with someone sitting in it - well, unless that was on purpose.

When he was satisfied he had enough power, he started creating bar stools, chairs, smaller tables (a few that would be perfect for Wizard's Chess), and a series of comfortable couches and chairs arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. Then he did his most complicated conjuring - a fully working 360 degree fireplace in the center of the room, right in the middle of the couches and chairs he'd summoned up. The chimney shot up to connect to the roof, and Harry felt it as stone reshaped itself into metal, and the fireplace connected to the network that lined the entire castle.

Finally, Harry went to each of the room's four corners and commandingly spoke a spell, "Partum Prodigium." The spell was one Hermione had come across when they were working on Grimmauld Place, one that created a mystical doorway. Harry had used it to connect the shed on the roof to what had been a linen closet in the drawing room on the first floor, and it would serve a similar purpose here. He cast the second part of the spell - "Prodigium Destination", and connected each door to one of the four common rooms - Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and even Slytherin. Tempting as it was, leaving the Slytherins out would have somewhat missed the whole point of the place.

One more spell left, he noted. "Tantum Domus may obduco," he spoke softly at each door. It wasn't as effective as a guardian portrait he knew, but after that spell, each portal door would only allow members of a specific house to pass through each doorway. He conjured House banners to hang over each doorway, in order to identify each one's destination.

Ginny watched in amazement as Harry went to work. She shouldn't have been surprised; she knew better than anyone what Harry was like once an idea had seized him. But seeing him like this, so comfortable with his magic, using his power like it was nothing - it was a humbling thing. As she so often did, she felt and upsurge of affection for this boy - this man - that she loved, who was so completely unaware of his own power. Or limitations, she thought darkly for a moment.

Once again he didn't even seem aware of the passage of time, and so she settled onto one of the cushy couches he'd created, content to enjoy the show. She could have helped, but this was Harry's idea - it was better to let him finish it himself. Harry clearly seemed to have something specific in mind.

By the time he stopped, Harry had been casting spells non-stop for almost three hours. He was conjuring up a sign even now, hanging over the bar that he'd created. And he was frowning, absently raking a hand though his hair. Merlin, she loved it when he did that. He had his arms folded, and she went to him then, slipping an arm around his waist. "Having problems, luv?" she asked softly, her voice still loud in the dead calm of the room.

"I can't come up with a name," he started, and the paused. "Well, I've got one, but you won't like it."

"Oh?"

He waved his wand towards the sign, and the words 'Gin's Joint' carved themselves into the oak.

Ginny giggled, for a moment hating the girlish sound, and then abandoning that feeling when she saw how it made Harry smile. Then she just shook her head. "No, you're right; I don't like it at all. Maybe I can help - what were you thinking of when you came up with... all this?" She asked the last, waving a hand to indicate the entire space.

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair once again - he'd thought it would tame down, now that it hung down to his shoulders, but it hadn't. Instead it fell from his scalp in a way that Gin insisted was 'impossibly sexy.' He didn't see the appeal, but then she didn't understand why he found the way she bit her bottom lip - like she was doing now - to be so fascinating.

"I was thinking - well, Hermione and I had talked about it once - the House common rooms are great, but there's nowhere inside the castle for people to get together with their friends from other Houses. And that's a shame, really, because it's the big flaw with the House system. I get why we have it, and it works, but it divides us too much. Maybe if we'd had something like this, something could have been done for some of the Slytherins... we wouldn't all be so isolated."

"Well there you go, then," Ginny replied. "There's your name."

"What?"

She just rolled her eyes, and pulled out her own wand. With one wave, 'Gin's Joint' disappeared. With a second, new letters etched themselves into the wood. 'The Common Room' carved itself into the wood - in, Harry had to note, a much nicer and more stylized script than his had been. Another wave and four animals joined the name on the carving - lion, badger, eagle and snake, of course.

He grinned, "Brilliant."

* * * * *

Two days later, Harry was weighing the last task that he had to complete. He had no intention of doing all the work on the castle himself, and even Parker only wanted him around for the "heavy lifting". Harry rather thought the contractor was concerned about losing his fee, but then, Harry had no real desire to stick around taking care of the tedious work himself either, so it worked out.

There was also the fact that if he didn't stop wearing himself out, Harry had a strong hunch that he would shortly finally find himself on the receiving end of a bat-bogey hex. It was a fate he had so far avoided, and he very much wished to keep it that way.

He was standing in the courtyard outside the main doors now, examining the ruined fountain that sat in the center. It had been hit with more than a few curses during the battle - including a smattering of reductor curses. He had forgotten to repair it when going after the rest of the castle's external damage. Trying to reassemble the piled pieces had resulted in a very... incomplete structure, so Harry was now considering designs for the new fountain.

It should be more than just that, he thought as inspiration seized him. There's something we haven't put around here yet... we need a memorial of some kind.

That thought spurred another bout of inspiration, and suddenly, Harry knew exactly what he wanted to do. He began muttering incantations as he pulled out the Elder Wand, performing a particularly tricky bit of spellwork that would allow him to slowly reshape the stone into its new form. His wand moved back and forth like a conductor's baton, transfiguring the stone into clay that molded and reshaped itself, and then back into stone again. Then, without stopping the spells he was performing with his right hand, Harry pulled out his holly wand from the holster at his waist. He didn't know why, particularly, it was just something he did on instinct.

Even as the stone followed the directions of the Elder Wand and began to take on a new form, he started casting a second spell. This one transformed the slate grey stones into a patterned blend of shining hematite, jasper and tiger's eye, mixing strands to create a realistic, feathery pattern in the statue he was carving. He was reshaping with one hand, transforming with the other, and looked for all the world like he was leading a particularly complicated orchestra.

Ginny smiled at the quick intake of breath next to her as Parker watched Harry work in amazement. She held back a chuckle as the builder turned to address Professor McGonagall. "Hasn't anybody ever told this kid it's impossible to use two wands at once?" the man whispered.

"Apparently not," McGonagall replied, and there was an unmistakable pride in her words. "Clearly with Mr. Potter, we should not attempt to say what is and is not possible."

Ginny let out a rather unladylike snort. "No disrespect Professor, but I've been telling you lot that for years."

"Indeed."

Harry didn't hear their conversation, which was probably for the better. After all, it was a lot easier to perform the impossible when you didn't know it to be so.

When he was done, a new fountain had taken shape. He'd had to pull some of the excess rock from the tops of the closest castle wall, but that would be easy to replace. The fountain spread out in a large circle, with solid grey stone forming the base. A layer of black tiling spread across the rim, with each tile bearing a name of someone who had fallen in either the first or second wars against Voldemort. He grinned as he caught the name closest to him - 'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, 1881-1997'. He could see, nearby, the names of his parents, Cedric, Fred, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Colin, and Cho... all too many names. All too many lives cut short.

Abruptly, Harry realized that he'd placed the fountain on the very spot where Hagrid had lain him down, and the castle's defenders had thought him dead. It was the spot where Neville had charged Voldemort, and where Nagini had been beheaded with a single stroke of Gryffindor's sword.

Then and there, Harry made a promise to himself that he would spend the rest of his life making certain that no more lives had to be sacrificed to the Dark. Something burned inside him then, as though a flame were being reignited from a single spark. Enough was enough. The work of the prophecy was done, and Voldemort had been defeated - but there was still evil in the world. There always would be. Someone had to take a stand, and Harry knew that he would be one of those people. Darkness could only reign in the absence of light.

At the bottom of the pool, spread out in large letters all the way around read the legend: 'En Memoriam: Dedicated to all those who fought in the Wars against Voldemort. Burn brightly, little phoenixes, and be reborn.' "Aguamenti," Harry murmured, and a jet of water flew forth from his wand even as he slipped his old holly one back into its holster. The water quickly filed the fountain, and began to circulate itself from the jets at the base of the statue.

Finally, Harry considered the statue itself: It was a much-larger-than life replica of Fawkes, which, to be fair, was the only phoenix he'd ever seen. The hematite, jasper and tiger's eye had flowed themselves into veins which replicated the pattern of the phoenix's feathers, and the entire effect was rather striking.

With the sculpture complete, Harry had one last element to add. He pointed the Elder Wand toward the statue, and focused as much power as he could. This spell, he wanted to last for a long, long time.

"Eternus Curator," he yelled, casting the 'Eternal Guardian' spell, concentrating every last bit of magic he could muster. This inspiration came from the guardian gargoyle which had always watched over Dumbledore's office.

He heard McGonagall gasp behind him as the statue of Fawkes came to life and turned its head towards Harry. It was clearly waiting for something. Wand still held aloft, Harry spoke the words that would complete the spell. "I charge you, Guardian, with keeping any ill intent away from the doors of this place of learning."

With those words, Harry released the spell. The statue shimmered, giving off a bright glow, and then the phoenix state gave him a nod, and then settled back into its original pose. Its wings were spread aloft as though it were about to take flight, but there was an unmistakably defensive nature to its stance.

"Whew," Harry finally said, letting out a deep breath, and gratefully putting an arm - and most of his weight - onto Ginny's shoulders as she came to his side once more.

"I'll say," she muttered. "Think you've done enough now?" Her tone suggested that he would do well to agree, and thankfully, he did.

"Yeah, I'm good," he muttered back, smiling weakly. He'd done some pretty incredible magic these last few days - maybe Pomfrey had a point after all. Turning, he addressed the builder who he'd gotten to a first-name basis with these last few days. "Hey Bob; think you can handle the rest?"

Parker chuckled. "Yeah, kid, I think I can. And even if I didn't, I ain't fool enough to argue with your lady-friend there."

"Smart man," Harry muttered, to Ginny's satisfaction.

"Indeed," McGonagall noted. Harry knew she still wanted him to return for his seventh year in the fall, and for the first time, he considered that it might not be a bad idea. "Thank you for your assistance, Harry. Hogwarts owes you a debt of gratitude - or rather, even more of one, I should say."

Ginny held back a smirk as Harry tried not to blush. "Thanks Professor," he mumbled, and allowed Ginny to lead him towards the Floo that would take them back to Grimmauld Place.

* * * * *

Later that night, Harry sat at his kitchen table with Ginny as Kreacher cleared the dishes from dinner away. He'd recalled the house-elf once the remodeling of Grimmauld Place had been completed. He'd been nervous about the little elf's reaction, but the creature had taken the changes completely in stride. The only emotion he'd shown at all was when Harry had given the old elf Regulus Black's old room.

The kitchen silent otherwise as Harry contemplated the Elder Wand laying in front of him. Ginny sat across from him, watching as he kept trying at his task, and knowing somehow that he would not be successful. Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated once more, and tried to send the Elder Wand back to its resting place in Dumbledore's Tomb.

Once again, he failed.

The flash of the Floo behind him didn't even register as he considered the implications. He didn't hear Ron and Hermione approach, until the latter let loose a small gasp. "Harry is that... "

"Yeah," he replied tonelessly. He hadn't expected this. He'd thought he could just send it back, just let the wand rest in peace with Dumbledore... now he was beginning to realize just what it was McGonagall had been asking of him back in the Burrow's kitchen, days ago.

He looked up to see that Ron was frowning. "Mate, I thought you put that back in... "

"I did," Harry replied with a sigh, and then proceeded to explain to his two best friends just what he'd spent the last few days doing, and why. Ron had his eyebrows raised in appreciation, and let out a low whistle when Harry described using both the Elder and holly wands simultaneously. Hermione remained uncharacteristically silent, waiting until he finished his recitation. Ginny added things in from time to time - details he neglected to mention, or hadn't considered how they looked from the outside. (Harry strongly suspected he was in for a lecture from Hermione, too, about overtaxing his magic.)

"... and now it won't go back," he finished.

There was silence for a moment. They all understood why Harry felt as he did. The Elder Wand had a particularly violent history, one that Harry had wanted very much to put to an end. Using Dumbledore's wand just seemed wrong, no matter how right it felt when it was in his hands. "It was easy to put it away the first time," he noted, giving a slight shake of his head.

"It looked easy the first time," Hermione corrected, breaking her silence. "But it doesn't want to return, Harry," she explained softly. "You could get rid of it before, because you hadn't really used it. The wand recognized your intent when you repaired your old wand with it, but you changed that when you tapped into its power to repair Hogwarts. You've accepted it now, just as it had accepted you. It won't go back now," she finished softly. There was sympathy in her eyes, which Harry greatly appreciated.

Harry's eyes darted up to meet hers. "I thought you didn't buy into all of Ollivander's "nonsense" about wands," he noted, fighting the smile that was coming to his lips.

"Well," Hermione started uncomfortably, and then blew out a breath of frustration. "Oh, fine. Well, after using Bellatrix's wand, I thought there might be something to it. So I talked some more to Mr. Ollivander, and borrowed some books from him, and I have to say he's right. There is a magical nature to wands, as much as I hate having been wrong. What he told you was right - the wand does choose the wizard, and you've been chosen by two. There has to be a reason for that."

"So much for being normal," Harry muttered darkly.

"Harry," Ginny said softly, drawing his attention to her by placing her hands over his. "I know you don't like it... but you're not normal. None of us are, not after all we've been through. And honestly, there's not really such a thing in the first place. You are what you are, and this is just another part of that. And I'm relieved that you'll have that wand, honestly."

"Relieved?"

"It's just a tool, Harry. It's not evil on its own, even if it's been used for that. Dumbledore proves that - he used it for fifty years, and it didn't make him evil. It can be used for good, too. And if it's going to be used, then there are no one's hands I'd rather it was in than yours. And this way I know you've got the best protection possible. So to my mind, it's not a bad thing at all." Harry knew then, that Ginny understood the implications of the silent promise he had made. She'd seen the change in him earlier that day, when he was crafting the fountain. She knew what it meant, and knew that Harry had recognized his purpose. She understood that his life would take him into conflict with the Dark again.

It was just who Harry was, and she understood that - better, probably, than he did. And she was okay with it. It was, as she'd said once, one of the reasons she loved him.

Harry considered her words carefully, and then closed his palm around the Elder Wand once more. "I can live with that."

"Plus," Ron added thoughtfully, "If you're as powerful as Dumbledore was - well, its better in your hands than anyone else's, right?"

Harry snorted. That wasn't something he wanted to consider right now. Although the revelation that Ginny was as powerful as he was, or near enough - well, that should have surprised him. Strangely, it didn't, and he drew comfort from the idea that she really was his equal in every way. It was something the two of them could figure out with time. Not all the answers had to be found in one day, after all.

That night, Harry went to sleep in the master bedroom of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and dreamed once more of impossible things.

Back to index


Chapter 9: Chapter 9 - A Little Direction

Author's Notes: Okay, it took a little bit to get this chapter right, but I'm finally satisfied with it. Props to TeyriJen, FaifhfulCynic and TopGun as betas this time.

Also, much as I'd like to, I can't take credit for the idea of the wizard air conditioning fires. I'd love to, but it's from another fic, although I can't recall which.


Chapter Nine - "A Little Direction"

The spells were flying fast and furious today. It was worse now than it had been at the Second Battle of Hogwarts, or the Christmas assault on Diagon Alley last year. All around him, the witches and wizards of the Order, and the civilians nominally under their protection, were dueling with Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Harry felt his insides clench at the remembrance of that last major attack - Fred and George had been defending their shop and the fifty-odd civilians who'd taken shelter with them when a series of reductor curses had brought the building down. No one had survived. Harry sometimes thought, as many people as he'd lost over the years, the pain should somehow hurt less. But it never did.

Put it away for later, Potter, he mentally chided himself. The Order needs you now. Ginny needs you. Albus needs you.

Shaking his head, Harry barely registered the warm trickle of blood running down his left arm - shrapnel had turned the meat of his bicep into a confused mess, and Ginny's tourniquet and healing spells had been far too hastily done. But there wasn't time for Ginny to do any better on it. She and the other Healers - Fleur, Poppy, Hannah, Katie - they had far too many wounded to deal with, walking or otherwise.

Harry considered himself lucky that the blasting hex that had blown the windows of the office he'd been had only struck him with shrapnel. As powerful as that hex had been, it had to have been one of the Malfoys or the Lestranges who'd launched it. But Harry could still hold a wand, and frankly, he was needed too badly back at the main battle. The Order couldn't afford to lose the Ministry - there were no havens left. Long since deprived of any authority, the Ministry's real value lay in other areas now. It was a shelter, a place to survive, to hang on, but that was all. Since the destruction of Hogwarts, it was the most heavily magically fortified building in Britain. It was also the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix - a virtual army that was woefully outnumbered and out-powered by the myriad forces under Voldemort's control.

As he took one of the Floo shortcuts back to the Atrium, the building shook again - testament to the fact that Voldemort's duel with Dumbledore was still going on.

In the thirteen years since Hagrid had told him he was a wizard, Harry had faced Tom Riddle in battle just over a dozen of times. But he'd never been able to beat him, thanks to the binding Riddle had done. The blood he'd acquired from the both Harry and Dumbledore had been used in a dark ritual to protect Nagini, his final Horcrux. Even the one inside Harry had been destroyed years ago, but that damn snake still remained. And every time Dumbledore or Harry came up against Voldemort directly, things just stalemated. The binding saw to that - the only wizards Voldemort had ever feared, and he'd managed to keep them from killing him. The only comfort was that Voldemort couldn't create any new Horcruxes. There wasn't enough soul left in him to do it.

No more, Harry swore grimly. Avoiding any more of the more minor battles surrounding him, Harry Apparated to the other side of the Atrium -

Just in time to see Albus Dumbledore struck with a flash of purple light. Time slowed to an interminable crawl as the old wizard fell backwards towards the floor. Dumbledore's wand fired off a final spell at Riddle, who also fell to the ground in heap.

"Albus!" Harry cried, rushing to his mentor's - his friend's - side.

Dumbledore managed to hold his head up weakly. "The binding is broken, Harry, I have taken its effects upon myself... Nagini is dead. I'm afraid that..." he coughed, and Harry tried to run a diagnostic spell over his friend before Albus held his arm back. "No, Harry, it is my time. I am sorry to say that I cannot finish this - it is now up to you."

"Albus, no - we'll get you help, you can't - "

"I am sorry, my friend," Dumbledore said honestly. "But the Order is yours now. My war is long past, and I have held out far beyond my time. This war, this battle is yours. It has, as ever, been my privilege to know you and fight by your side, Harry. Burn... brightly..." Albus instructed him, and then drew his final, shuddering breath.

"...and be reborn." Harry finished, remembering something Albus had once told him, from the tales of Beedle the Bard. "Thank you, Albus," Harry said quietly. He felt the wetness travel down his cheeks as he performed a duty he was all too familiar with. With one hand, Harry closed those famous blue eyes, eyes now bereft of all twinkle, forever.

"Oh, how very touching," came the high, cold voice of Voldemort. "The old man is dead, boy. And now you can join him."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and then gently laid Dumbledore's body flat on the ground. Wand out, Harry stood squarely, his thoughts fondly turning to his family. He thought of his wife, Ginny, and his brother- and sister- in law, Ron and Hermione, and the children they all hoped to have. Arthur deserved to have grandchildren some day. It wasn't as though there was anyone else left to provide them. And Gin - she'd make a great mum. That thought sustained him, pushed away his despair, as Harry faced his destiny.

He raised his wand, ready to duel the monster who called himself Voldemort one final time. Today it would all end - one way, or the other. He met his opponent's cold red eyes, eyes which smoldered like a dead fire's embers, and then... Harry Potter smiled.

"Hello, Tom."

* * * * *

"Harry!" Ginny's shouted cry - or maybe it was the pillow she hit him with - startled him out of his sleep. "Hurry up, it's Sunday! 'Dromeda's going to be here with Teddy in ten minutes!"

Bloody hell - now I'm having nightmares about things that never happened? That's just not fair, Harry thought blearily as he awoke.

"Teddy?" Harry asked numbly, his voice thick with sleep.

"Yes, Harry, Teddy. Our godson? You know, little bloke, likes to make his hair blue?" Ginny moved around the room, picking up clothes and chucking them towards the clothes hamper. None of them actually made it (she wasn't trying very hard), but it wasn't her job to clean up Harry's room. Honestly, she was just excited about Teddy coming today. They'd had a standing arrangement with Andromeda to see both of them every Sunday. This visit was going to be different, though. For the first time, she and Harry were going to watch Teddy by themselves. Unsupervised. With no one around to help.

Or interfere, Ginny thought.

"Right," Harry said, shaking his head as though to physically toss the odd dream from his mind. His neck wasn't sore anymore - he'd found the cause after his first night here, a small orb that had apparently fallen out of a housing on the bed frame. The orb was covered in barely visible runes, and he kept meaning to have Bill or Hermione take a look at it, but he'd ended up just putting it back into its housing on the bed-frame. He would think about it occasionally but... well, it wasn't really that important, was it? They were just dreams. Why bother anyone over something so... silly?

Harry untangled himself from the bedclothes then, completely forgetting that he was clad only in a pair of boxer shorts, and that he was significantly not alone. He was startled out of his half-awake stumbling by Ginny's appreciative wolf-whistle. Harry stiffened at this, suddenly aware of the circumstances, but mustered the self-control to at least not blush (much). Instead, he simply squared his shoulders and tromped proudly towards the bathroom.

Ginny chuckled wickedly. She enjoyed making him squirm. Growing up with so many brothers hadn't rendered her completely immune to the male form (thankfully, because that would be both gross and a little sad), but she was much more comfortable with casual nudity, even partial nudity, than many girls she'd talked with. The fact that it was Harry, well, that just made it all the better. She watched attentively as he strutted across the room towards the bathroom, enjoying the way his muscles moved underneath his skin.

It looks so soft from here... She shook her head sharply and abruptly left the room. There was no time today to be sidetracked with such delicious possibilities.

Once the door was shut, Harry permitted himself to wince. He wasn't really embarrassed about Ginny seeing him nearly starkers - it was more surprise at himself for being so comfortable around her that he'd never even felt all that shy in the first place. Being that comfortable around anyone, but especially Ginny... that was still a very new thing.

But then, with a whistle like that, he was fairly certain Ginny hadn't minded the view at all. That was worthy to note for future reference.

The dream was completely faded by the time he slipped into the shower, replaced by much happier thoughts.

* * * * *

Harry wasn't surprised to find that Andromeda had already come and gone by the time he had gotten out of the shower and dressed. Teddy's grandmother reportedly had a great deal of personal business to take care of today, so her being in a hurry was no big shock. It was also the reason that he and Ginny were watching Teddy unsupervised (or at least, unaccompanied).

Ron had been carted off by Hermione to some sort of family reunion for the Grangers, so they wouldn't be around the house today. Ginny had promptly insisted to her parents (Who had agreed awfully easily, Harry thought,) that she and Harry could handle Teddy for a day, thank you very much, and had bullied her parents into taking a day for themselves out in the country somewhere. Teddy was only six months old. How difficult could this possibly be?

Now, Harry was starting to wonder just how their self-confidence in regards to their developing parenting skills had been so very, very wrong.

Snack time had been the first time that Harry realized that perhaps parenting wasn't simply an acquired skill that one picked up as the years passed and one grew older. Teddy refused to take the bottle - he was, instead, having much more fun grabbing the bottle by the tip and waving it around enthusiastically. The third time it hit Harry in the face and knocked his glasses askew, he turned to Ginny in exasperation. It really didn't help matters that she was trying too hard to stifle her giggles.

"Oh, think that's funny, do you? Here, you have a go then!" He handed baby and bottle over to Ginny.

She rolled her eyes at him with a grin, and then took a hold of Teddy. She tucked him into her arm and placed the bottle in his mouth, talking gently to him the entire time. In no time, the bottle was empty at Teddy was sucking air. She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye.

Harry looked at the empty bottle, and then glared at the baby, who had now moved on to happily trying to place his toes in his mouth. He turned abruptly away, muttering under his breath, with Ginny's peals of laughter following him out the room.

*****

At the moment, Harry was seriously considering that taking on this particular task to be one of the bigger mistakes in his life. And given some of the whoppers the young wizard had made, that was saying rather a lot.

"Augh!" Harry cried as he pulled back the corners of the soiled nappy, its contents not fit for polite description. Teddy found his godfather's response extremely entertaining, and babbled happily at this response, causing Harry to narrow his eyes and suck in a deep breath before shouting, "Ginny!"

Ginny came rushing in - all the way from the top floor, by the sound of the clatter - at Harry's cry, looking more than a little bit worried. "Harry, what is it? Is everything okay?"

"Look!" He said, pointing at the offensive smelling (and looking) nappy. "That's not normal, is it? That can't be healthy!"

Comprehension (and a bit of irritation) dawned on Ginny's features then, and she was clearly trying not to laugh. Much. "Harry - that... looks normal," she confirmed with a giggle.

"That can't possibly be normal."

"It is."

"It's green!"

Ginny forgot all pretense at this point, and departed, laughing quite loudly in a way that Harry thought was more than a bit rude. Eyes still narrowed, he faced Teddy with a grimace. Teddy, for his part, had moved on to amusing himself by blowing spit bubbles. "You know, Teddy," Harry confessed as he considered Ginny's abandonment, "I don't think I like your godmother very much anymore."

Teddy gurgled once again, and abruptly changed his hair from blue to a flaming Weasley red.

Harry had to chuckle as he redoubled his efforts towards his Herculean task. "Yeah, mate, alright. I like her too. Just don't tell anybody."

* * * * *
Around eleven, the young couple decided that as nice a day it was shouldn't be wasted. With that in mind, they decided to take Teddy for a stroll. Harry had purchased a Muggle pram for Teddy when he'd been buying everything else to outfit his godson's room at Grimmauld Place, and today they would finally get the opportunity to use it.

Teddy had, as usual in the presence of both of them, adopted Ginny's flaming red hair and Harry's deep green eyes. (He did occasionally switch to Harry's black hair and Ginny's brown eyes, but this was less common.) It would be quite easy to pass the three of them off as a young Muggle family out for a walk, so neither Harry nor Ginny thought anything of it. If truth were told, Harry thought that Ginny was, perhaps, a little too enthusiastic at 'playing family'. But he hardly minded, as he (though he did not confess it) found that he enjoyed it more than a little bit.

They walked around the square outside, idly pushing Teddy around, and just generally enjoying the company. Ginny had herself wrapped around Harry's arm as they walked, and they spoke of simple, inconsequential things. They amused themselves by pointing things out to Teddy, and to each other.

When a flock of ravens settled on the fountain, Teddy squealed for a better look. Ginny laughed, and took him out of the pram in order to accommodate him. At the sight of the black birds, Teddy screwed up his face and shifted his hair to an imitation Harry's messy black locks. Harry would have laughed at this display, except for one complication.

Unfortunately, a middle-aged Muggle woman and her young child were watching the young (apparent) family exactly when this happened.

The woman screamed.

By reflex, Harry's wand was out and trained at the source of the scream in bare seconds. Ginny was only slightly behind him, and to be fair, she was hampered by the infant in her arms.

This was possibly not the best response, as the Muggle woman screamed once again and pushed her young child behind her. Thankfully, there was no one else in the square at this time of morning - most of the populace was attending church services. It was a particular blessing as Harry realized what had occurred. "Oh, hell," he muttered under his breath, and carefully aimed his wand. "Obliviate," he said sadly. He hated that damn spell, and even more, he hated to have to use it.

The woman's face went instantly slack, and her little boy looked fearfully out from behind her legs.

Ginny also cursed softly under her breath as she replaced Teddy in his pram. Then she laid a reassuring hand on Harry's forearms as they strode purposefully over to mother and child, pram pulled behind them. The mother was still standing blankly, waiting for Harry to release his memory spell.

Ginny knelt down in front of the little boy. "I'm very sorry we had to do that," she said softly. "My name's Ginny, this is Harry, and Teddy. Can you keep a secret?" She didn't want to obliviate the boy any more than Harry did.

The boy nodded, growing less fearful at the very calming way in which Ginny was speaking.

"What's your name?"

"Robert," he whispered quietly.

"Hi Robert," Harry said, kneeling down also. "I had to erase a few minutes of your mom's memory. You see, I'm a wizard, and my girlfriend here is a witch. But it's a really big secret. Can you not tell anybody?"

Robert grinned. "I won't say anything, sir."

Harry returned the boy's grin with a wide one of his own. Impulsively, he ruffled the kid's hair. "Good lad," he acknowledged, and then turned to deal with the boy's mother while Ginny distracted the child with sparks from her wand.

As the memory-modified mother and her son walked away, Robert turned back to wink at Harry and Ginny, drawing laughter from both. Once they were out of hearing range, Harry let out a long breath. "That was too close."

Ginny nodded. "I'm glad we didn't have to obliviate the boy. But then, it's easier with kids, I suppose. They're not like adult Muggles."

Harry frowned, "Why?"

"They're still innocent," she smiled. "They still believe in magic."

"Be nice if we didn't have to hide," Harry muttered, and shook his head. "Think we ought to get Teddy inside now?"

"Yes, lets, before we end up in those Muggle papers - or with a warning from the Ministry about the Statute of Secrecy."

Harry had to laugh then. "Now you're worried about that? When you've been performing underage magic all summer?"

Ginny frowned. "You mean you didn't - oh, of course you didn't know. Harry, there's no one working in the underage magic office right now. I heard Dad telling Mum one night. He had to pull all those people into working under him in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Too much going on - he needed them on serious matters. I think he was rather hoping I didn't find out, actually."

"I can't imagine why," Harry noted sarcastically.

"Haven't heard you complaining when I'm healing you up, Potter."

* * * * *

As the afternoon progressed, Harry and Ginny did find that there was something they were good at with Teddy: namely, playing. They had an abundance of toys, and therefore, there were no problems with this whatsoever. Teddy was, unfortunately, still a bit too small for the training broom Harry had eagerly purchased for him. Harry had therefore promised his eager-eyed godson that he would get it back out around Christmas. This had drawn loud protests from the infant until Ginny had deftly distracted Teddy by blowing raspberries on his stomach.

Nap time turned out to be nowhere near as simply dealt with. Teddy, no matter how much they held, rocked, or sang to him, seemed to have no interest whatsoever in sleeping. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that he was clearly tired, and even fussier because of it.

After nearly an hour of trying to calm the screaming infant, both Harry and Ginny were snapping at each other, and Ginny was about three seconds away from calling her mother. "Look, we obviously don't know what the hell we're doing, Harry - just let me call Mum!"

"No!" Harry insisted stubbornly. "We said we can do it. They're just going to laugh at us if we call them now."

"Well, yes, but..." Ginny admitted, nervously chewing her bottom lip. "But I don't know how to get him quiet, and apparently, neither do you!"

"Well, why don't you know? You're the one with six siblings!"

"Of which I am the youngest, Potter, as you well know! I don't know any bloody more about babies than you do!"

Harry's response was cut off by the appearance of someone else in the room. Kreacher came shuffling in, drawn, Harry suspected, more by the shouting between himself and Ginny, rather than that of Teddy. Or perhaps all three. His presence drew curious looks from both wizard and witch.

"What?" Harry snapped in a tone that was far from kind, and would have gotten him cuffed upside the back of his head by Hermione if she were present. He stopped, and breathed deeply for a moment and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, he was much calmer. Kreacher, he noticed, wasn't ruffled in the slightest. "I'm sorry Kreacher - you didn't deserve that. Did you need something?" he asked as politely as possible over the noise Teddy was making.

"Would Master like a suggestion in dealing with the young one?" the old elf asked, turning his head up to stare at the fussing child.

"Please!" Ginny all but screamed.

Wordlessly, Kreacher extended his arms towards Teddy, and Ginny handed the infant over. With practiced ease, defying how large his bundle was in comparison to himself, Kreacher held Teddy upright over his shoulder, burped him, and then angled him back down in his arms. He rocked Teddy and began gently crooning to the infant.

Within moments, the blue-haired baby was sleeping soundly.

Harry and Ginny stared at Kreacher with identical expressions of open astonishment.

"Kreacher, how did you - "

"I can't believe I forgot to - "

Kreacher just smiled, an odd (and somewhat frightening) expression to see on the wizened old house-elf."Young Master Sirius was very much the same..." he trailed sadly. "Would Master like me to put the little one down for his nap now?"

"Yes, please, Kreacher, thank you," Harry babbled in clear relief. His throat caught slightly at the mention of Sirius, and he felt some of the old anger coming back. He calmed it quickly enough - it was no use blaming Kreacher for his role in Sirius' fate. Like Hermione had said, the last of the Blacks had spent a lifetime cultivating a bad relationship with the house-elf, and he had paid for it in the end. And Kreacher, for all his faults, had clearly cared for Sirius when he'd been a baby. It was, perhaps, not anywhere so near a black and white situation as it had first seemed. But then such things seldom were.

That thought settled itself unpleasantly in his stomach, but Harry put it away. Right now, he had an angry redhead to deal with, and that was something that required one's full attention. He looked back over to Ginny, whose brown eyes were smoldering in more-than-obvious anger at him.

Merlin, she's beautiful like this... he couldn't help but think. Before he could pursue those thoughts, however, a burst of sudden inspiration hit him.

And, abruptly, Harry laughed. Such a response more than threw Ginny off her stride from the mental argument she had been building up in anticipation of whatever Harry was going to say. Clearly, laughter was not among the responses she'd been expecting. And yet, for some reason, Harry's laughter was infectious, and after a moment, Ginny found herself laughing just as hard at the humor of the entire situation.

"Harry..." she stopped, trying to catch her breath."Harry, why exactly are we laughing?"

"Because..." he started, trying to breathe deeply as well. "Because... I was thinking - your parents didn't fight awfully hard on whether we were going over to the Burrow today, did they. That's not like your Mum - she'll take any opportunity to see a baby. And Hermione doesn't have any cousins, so who's her 'family reunion' with? And what's Andromeda got to take care of on a Sunday? We've been set up!"

Then he howled with laughter again.

Ginny got the point before he broke down again, however, and tried to stop herself from launching into a fresh peal of giggles. "You honestly think Mum set this up to keep us from getting ideas?"

Harry nodded.

She considered that for a moment. "Well, bloody well worked, didn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Harry confirmed, "No babies. Not for years."

"Agreed," she said fervently. "Good thing I'm on the potion then, isn't it?" Ginny grinned mischievously.

Harry had to grin widely at this news as well. Seeing as they hadn't taken that particular step yet, that was a bit of a surprise. But if she was... "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Brilliant," Harry murmured as Ginny drew close to him without prompting. He smiled fondly at the touch - as always, she was able to follow the pattern of his thoughts. If he was a more paranoid man, it would have frightened him. Mad-Eye Moody he was not, however, and Harry instead found it very pleasing to be so well understood.

"Well," he said suggestively. "Looks like we've got a little time to ourselves now."

"Looks like," she confirmed with an agreeable twinkle in her eyes.

"Guess we'll have to find something to occupy ourselves with, then."

"Guess so," Ginny replied, and drew Harry down on top of her for a deeply passionate kiss.

* * * * *

With Kreacher's surprisingly informative assistance, the rest of the day passed largely without incident. The hunchbacked old house-elf was able to provide pointers at appropriate times, and Harry and Ginny found themselves becoming much more accustomed to the baby in their midst. It was, all in all, a rather wonderful day and Harry couldn't help but be a little sad when Andromeda showed up to take Teddy home. By mutual consent, they had decided not to mention any of their difficulties to any of the co-conspirators who had set them up, except for Ron. Their day with Teddy had been just fine, thank you.

Ron returned home only a scant few minutes after Ginny herself had disappeared into the Floo. He grinned like mad when Harry confronted his mate about his role in their apparent setup, and after a few minutes of horsing about (including a minor playful hex or two), all was forgiven.

Ron was still trying to get his ears to stop wiggling when Harry indicated the chess board atop the table along one of the walls of the den. "Fancy a game?"

"If you're that eager for punishment, who'm I to disappoint?" Ron answered cockily.

"I'll beat you one of these days, mate," Harry retorted.

"That's what I like about you, Potter," Ron shot back, and directed one of his pawns into an opening move. "Your never-ending optimism in the face of hopeless odds."

"Prat," Harry smiled as Ron moved his first piece, and began to settle in for their usual silent game. He had to wonder, however, just why their games were always so quiet. It was a given, of course, that the ordering about of their pieces was the exception. That and that Harry's had a habit of behaving mutinously whenever they disagreed with his orders (Which was often.) But other than that, the two always remained silent, and all that ever accomplished was to let Ron focus even more, and Harry stew over the fact that he was losing.

As he made this realization, Harry suddenly felt that he'd been very, very stupid through eight years of chess games. He'd also spent eight years trying to copy Ron's style of playing, but he wasn't Ron.


Ginny would definitely agree with that.

Time for a change, then, he decided, and ordered one of his bishops into an unconventional attack, causing Ron to frown slightly. Ron was a strategic player; a planner. He meticulously thought at least five steps ahead. Harry couldn't beat that - his own strengths lay in improvisation, in making the most of what he had at the moment, by impulse more than anything. If he tried to out-plan his friend - as he'd been trying for eight years - he'd lose. Badly.


But he could be unpredictable. Oh yes, that he knew how to do.

A few moves later, Phase One was in progress. Ron was frowning even harder, trying to figure out Harry's pattern. Time for Phase Two. "So, Ron, did you hear that new Keeper fell through for the Cannons?"

Ron's head snapped up, his mind no longer anywhere near wizard chess.

* * * * *

Unfortunately, this tactic had only lasted for a few short minutes. It had been paying good dividends - Harry had swiftly been able to relieve his opponent of both a bishop and a rook - but Ron had quickly twigged to what Harry was doing. Both then spent the rest of the game trying to come up with things to throw the other off, which would have been particularly amusing to any observer.

Harry had briefly considered starting to share details of just what he and Ginny did when they were alone, but decided that since Ron would either A) hex the hell out of him, or B) retaliate with details of what he and Hermione did, that it really wouldn't be worth the effort. There were things a man should never know about his sister, after all, and it applied both ways in this case.

"Checkmate," Ron said with a grin, as Harry's king threw down his sword in surrender. Harry did not miss that the chess piece was glaring murderously at him, and not his ginger-haired friend.

"Damn," Harry muttered. "I really thought I was going to be able to throw you off enough to win this time."

"It was a good try," Ron said in what was clearly mock sympathy - and with a tone that Harry found to be more than a little patronizing. "Means you get the drinks."

"I'm going, I'm going," Harry conceded with a long-suffering sigh, and headed off to retrieve two butterbeers from the kitchen. Then, he rethought it and grabbed two bottles of Old Ogden's Fireale instead - a rich Irish ale from the makers of Ogden's Firewhiskey. It was a good, smooth brew, and Harry found that he was starting to prefer it over butterbeer. That it took a lot more Fireale to get smashed than the relatively small amount of Firewhiskey it took to achieve a similar state was also a bonus.

When he returned, Harry found Ron pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. He was backlit by the soft blue flames that were the wizarding version of air conditioning - the enchanted fire gave off cold instead of heat. The light cast deep shadows across his friend's face, making even more obvious what Harry had been suspecting all evening. Something was clearly weighing on his friend's mind, and had been for some time. He'd thought so from the way Ron would occasionally look at him and start to speak, but then snap his mouth closed.

Finally, Harry grew tired of it. He knew these signs, after all - his mate was feeling guilty about something. "All right then, out with it, you," he ordered as he handed Ron his ale.

"Out with what?"

"Out with whatever has you pacing like Hermione waiting on test results."

Ron gave a snort of amusement before collapsing down onto the couch. He took a long, appreciative pull from the bottle of ale before speaking. "That obvious, eh?"

"Ron, mate," Harry noted in a tone that was usually reserved for speaking to small children, " 'Subtle' has never been a word to describe you emotionally."

"I sent our applications in to the Auror Division last week, while you were up at Hogwarts," Ron confessed without further preamble. "I know you said you hadn't made up your mind yet, but - "

Harry froze at his friend's pronouncement. When he spoke, his voice was empty of tone and inflection, his words and voice very carefully neutral. "You what?"

Ron sighed - he could read Harry as well as Harry could read him, after all. "Bugger. Look, Harry, I know you've been going through this big soul-searching, needing-to-find-yourself phase or whatever, and that's all good, but -"


The black-haired wizard's mouth was set in a thin line now, and his eyes were narrowing dangerously. "So you thought you could make decisions for me, is that it?"

The redhead fixed a level stare on his friend, and refused to back down whatsoever. "No, mate. I just did what I knew you were going to do anyway."

"How d'you know that?" Harry asked. "How could you possibly know when I don't? For all you know, I'm going to play Quidditch, or be a... a... curse breaker, or..."

"Harry," Ron said pointedly. "You've never even considered any other careers, mate. You'd have told me if you were."

"Maybe I wouldn't," Harry said sullenly, knowing that the words were unconvincing.

"Then I know because of this," Ron countered, "I know because two weeks ago, I wrote the Cannons and declined their offer of being Keeper. Just like you turned them and Portree down for the Seeker job. Because I don't want to do anything else, either. Not even Quidditch. You're going to be an Auror, because we both know that just because that snake-faced git is dead doesn't mean there's not still dark wizards out there. And you'd never be able to live with yourself if you weren't doing something about it."

"That's not -" Harry started to protest, but even he was aware he was only doing so half-heartedly. Ron's admission had shocked him out of his denial. His best mate had turned town his bloody dream job, playing Keeper for the Cannons? After finding out that, how could Harry possibly deny what he'd been thinking lately? "Mate, are you sure - you've wanted to play for the Cannons since you were old enough to climb onto a broom."

"Tell me I'm wrong!" his best friend shot back, refusing to be distracted from his point. "Tell me you've changed just because you fulfilled some sodding prophecy of Trelawney's. It's who you bloody are, mate. I know this because I've been around you for too damned long, and I'm making the same choice. That stupid nobility of yours has rubbed off on me. But go ahead, mate. You tell me I'm wrong. You say the words and I'll Floo Kingsley right now and tell him to bin the damn applications."

Harry sighed heavily. "You're not wrong."

"'Course I'm not," Ron acknowledged easily. "You know it as well as I do. I saw it last night when you were telling us about the Elder Wand. You as much as made up your mind when you took that thing back. You're just being thick about the whole thing, like always."

"You know, I'm really tired of everyone else - you, Gin, 'Mione - all understanding me better than I do. It's bloody annoying."

"Then stop lying to yourself, mate," Ron said softly.

Harry gave a snort of agreement. "Reckon I should," he admitted. "So, Aurors? Don't suppose you mentioned that we come as a team, did you?"

Ron grinned widely. "I might've said something about it, yeah."

"Brilliant," Harry shot back. "When's our interviews then?"

At that point, there was a knock on the door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. This was a surprise, since most people Flooed first and just came through there. Not to mention that when Harry had re-cast the Fidelius, he had kept the number of people that knew his home's location to a very, very short list. As such, he was hardly accustomed to visitors knocking at the front door. Harry's eyes shot over to Ron. "Now?!"

Ron blushed, having the grace to at least be very, very embarrassed. "Erm... yeah. Shoulda mentioned it sooner, I guess."

"Gee, d'you think?" Harry shot back. "Git," he muttered under his breath even as he waved his wand towards the door to undo the magical locks. There was the intimidating click of several keyless bolts retracting, and the door glowed a soft blue for a moment as Harry dismissed the wards that would severely punish anyone who tried to force entry.

It wasn't that Harry was exceptionally paranoid or anything - he just liked his privacy. Besides, Constant Vigilance! and all that, he mused with a smile as the door swung open. Both young men shortly adopted identical expressions of shock when they saw who was on the other side.

"Minister Shacklebolt?" Harry said in surprise, drawing a wide smile from the bald, dark-skinned wizard.

"Evening, Harry; Ron," the Minister said casually as he motioned to the black-robed Ministry security wizards behind him to stay behind.

The security wizard frowned, but acquiesced - if the Minister wasn't safe at Harry Potter's house (which the security wizard couldn't see, thanks to the Fidelius charm), then he really wasn't going to be safe anywhere. Kingsley had a folder and some paperwork in his hands, and there was a gleam to his eyes that briefly reminded Harry of Albus Dumbledore. "And I've told you before, it's 'Kingsley'. Can I come in?"

"Of course, Min - uh, Kingsley," Harry stammered as a reply and stood back from the door. Kingsley strolled in very casually, and showed himself towards the den. He was familiar with the layout, of course, having been in Grimmauld Place any number of times as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was eyeing his surroundings carefully, however, clearly appreciating the remodeling work that had been done.

Harry hung back for just a moment after the elder wizard passed, and drew Ron aside by the simple expedient of grabbing him by his upper arm and all but yanking him back into the hallway. "What the hell is the Minister doing our interviews for, Ron?!" he hissed.

"Haven't a clue, mate," Ron shot back honestly. "I thought it'd be Robards or Proudfoot, maybe, or even Dad, since he's head of the DMLE now."

"If you'll come back in here, Harry, Ron," Kingsley's mirthful voice came, containing a more-than-pointed note to it. "Then I'd be happy to explain myself."

"Right," Harry muttered, and returned to the den with Ron in tow. He tried to relax as he did so but now that Kingsley was here, he was unaccountably nervous. What if they laughed at the application? Yes, he'd filled it out - mostly at Hermione's insistence - but he hadn't intended to send the damn thing in.

Knock it off, Potter. You told Ron it was time to stop lying to yourself, and it is, Harry mentally chided himself. You want this. So get it.

"I have to say, Harry," Kingsley began, looking around at the old manor appreciatively. "I like what you've done with the place. This is much, much better than the mangy old mess it used to be."

"Thanks," he acknowledged, trying to remind himself that there was no reason to be nervous. This was Kingsley, after all. And even if the man was Minister - how many times had he sat across from him at the dinner table? "It was a family project."

"I imagine so," the Minister acknowledged. "And your other project? How's that been coming? Arthur's been telling me all about it. He's quite excited about it, really."

A much more genuine smile spread across Harry's face then. Learning Arthur was excited enough to be talking of their project at work wasn't surprising - especially since he couldn't mention it at the Burrow, not with Ginny around. "All done. We're going to test the charms in the next few days sometime, but I think we've got it. Made a couple of new additions, too."

"Smashing," Kingsley chuckled. "I'd love to see it, when you've the time some day. Well, to business then," he continued and opened the folder in front of him. "I have to say, gentlemen, that I'm not surprised to see these applications at all. Now, my status as Interim Minister will be ended when we have elections on New Year's Eve, and I will happily be puttering my way back down to the Auror Office. That's why I'm here personally - and Harry, Ron, I thought you'd appreciate the advice of a familiar face."

"We do," Harry supplied for them both. He was grateful for the other wizard's explanation as well. He knew Kingsley no more wanted to be Minister than he himself did, even if Harry thought the other man was doing a smashingly good job so far. One of Kingsley's best decisions had been an edict which had seized the property, holdings - and most importantly, accounts - of all the convicted Death Eaters. The money had gone a long way towards the reconstruction efforts across the country - and had had the added benefit of putting the Malfoys out on the street. Harry knew it was petty to enjoy another's misfortune so much, but, just this once, he allowed himself to enjoy it.

That alone would have convinced Harry that Shacklebolt deserved to be Minister for life.

"Harry, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've never been comfortable with your fame. You've never wanted strings pulled on your behalf, yes?" Kingsley asked, drawing Harry away from his musings of Draco Malfoy in tattered and ill-fitting robes.

"Right..." Harry trailed, getting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Ron grimaced at this. He didn't really have a problem with that, and he said so. He'd very much been hoping to bypass the fact that, on paper at least, they didn't exactly meet the requirements. They had dropped out of school, after all. "I mean - we did do all the legwork so Harry could take Voldemort down. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Doesn't matter, Ron," Harry corrected absently. "It was prophecy. I never had a choice about stopping Riddle, just as much as you'd have never left me to do it on my own. That doesn't necessarily mean we'd make for good Aurors." He then thought of their... expedition to Gringott's. "Some of the ways we went about it might mean rather the opposite, actually."

"Bollocks," Ron muttered grumpily, folding his arms and not wanting to concede the point.

"There is, however," Kingsley interrupted, "a solution. One that will keep the pair of you from looking as though you're taking advantage of your - shall we say, celebrity status - and are instead earning your way." That it would help keep Kingsley's administration from looking like it was playing favorites (like several of the previous ones) went unsaid.

Both Harry and Ron had looks of protest at that point, but Kingsley continued on. "Don't get me wrong, gentlemen. I think you've more than earned your way. But you'll have problems your whole career if you don't do it right. That's attention no one wants and you two rather even less than that."

"What's the solution, then?" Harry asked curiously.

Kingsley opened a folder and placed two sheets of parchment in front of the two young men. "What we can do, gentlemen, is this. These are magical contracts - Declarations of Intent - that state that you have been accepted into the Auror Department. You sign these, gentlemen, and you're on the payroll."

Ron's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "And the catch?"

"There's a few," Kingsley granted. "The first term is that you - both of you - return to Hogwarts and completes your final year. You will then take and achieve your NEWTS in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology. Next, you'll be but through the official Auror training program, which we've compressed down to two years from three. In the meantime - yes, even while you're in your last year of school - you'll be listed on the rolls as Reserve Aurors. That means we'd be able to call on you in an emergency." A slow grin spread across his face. "Knowing you two, of course, you'll be in the thick of it regardless. At least this way, you'll have some official standing. But you pass those tests and the training, gentlemen, and you're in," Kinsley informed them, "All the way, and on your own."

Harry leaned back as he weighed everything Kingsley had told them. Sign that parchment, and the decision was made, he knew. Was he really prepared? Could he go back to Hogwarts?

Why the hell not? Wouldn't that be nice? A final year of school, with no one trying to kill him? A normal year with his girlfriend and his friends - and...

With Ginny. They wouldn't have to be separated for most of the next ten months. The upcoming school year had been like the white elephant in the corner of the room every time they'd seen each other lately... but, in the end; there was no need for the separation. Harry knew Ron felt the same; Hermione was going back, after all.

But this. One normal year... and then he and Ron would have purpose in their lives.

Harry realized then that he'd made his decision the moment he'd realized he wouldn't be separated from Ginny. He and Ron locked gazes briefly, and with the small nod the redhead gave him, Harry knew his friend's thoughts had moved along the same lines. As one, they turned back to face the Minister - and their future boss. "Where do we sign?" Harry grinned.

Kingsley's grin matched his own as he conjured up a quill. "Right here, then."

The three men kept talking late into the night, detailing Harry and Ron's responsibilities. They were officially Aurors now, even if they were reservists with terms waiting before they were brought to full active duty. But being on the Reserve wasn't an empty thing. There were details and procedures they had to be apprised of, recommended books to read, laws to familiarize themselves with and a whole host of other things. Ron, for his part, was glad that he had some money of his own now - just so he'd be able to afford the book list.

"Blimey," Ron eventually said, though he yawned halfway through the word. "It's late," he said, and pointed at the clock.

"So it is," Kingsley agreed, and stood to leave. Harry and Ron both escorted him to the door, and shook hands with Minister as he prepared to leave. Just as he opened the door, Kingsley paused, and turned back to the two young men. "Oh," he noted. "I forgot to give you these. You'll want them, I think."

The dark-skinned wizard reached into his pocket, and drew out two small black leather holders. He tossed one to Harry and one to Ron, and was gratified to see them both catch the small projectiles. Kingsley gave a half-salute, "Good night, gentlemen," he said with a wide smile, and disappeared out the door.

Harry flipped the small leather wallet open, and couldn't help but smile.

It was a badge.

It was his badge.

The logo of the Ministry of Magic was embossed against a golden shield, with crossed wands in the foreground, all done up in reflective silver. Down at the bottom, etched across a small bar, was the following:

Harry J. Potter
Auror Division, Reserves


A quick glance confirmed Ron's was identical (save for the name, of course), and both men grinned widely at each other.

"So..." Harry trailed. "One more year at Hogwarts, eh?"

Ron nodded. "It won't be so bad. There's no Snape anymore, after all, and there's no way Malfoy'll show his face again."

"Plus - the girls'll be there."

"Too right," Ron eagerly agreed. "And no Death Eaters. No Snatchers. Just Quidditch, Hogsmeade and classes."

"Might even have some time to test some stuff for George," Harry pointed out.

Ron grinned. "Hey Harry?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Let's not tell the girls yet."

Harry frowned at this. "Erm... why?"

"Imagine the looks on their faces when there's not two Hogwarts letters that show up, but four," he grinned.

Harry's frown vanished. Hermione's reaction alone would make the omission worth it. But Gin... "All right, but if Gin hexes us, I'm hiding behind you."

"Coward."

"Prat."

"Git."

"Ponce," Harry snorted, and dodged to avoid Ron's answering swipe at the back of his head. "Ron?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Thanks for pushing," Harry confessed. "I needed it."

"I know, mate."

Back to index


Chapter 10: Chapter 10 - His Own Man

Author's Notes: Whew! Sorry for so long between updates! Finals got me first, and then SIYE had it's issue - but chapter ten is here, and it won't be very long before eleven's ready. Enjoy! Thanks to TeyriJen, TopGun, FaithfulCynic and IcarusPhoenix for their beta work, as always!


Chapter Ten - "His Own Man"

Dawn came bright into the Burrow the morning of Harry's birthday. It was one of his favorite things, and one of the reasons he liked staying there so much. It was far from the only reason, of course, but it ranked highly. The sun just seemed brighter in the mornings at that place, no matter how eminently more livable Grimmauld Place had become. For now, at least, Grimmauld Place was still just a house where he and Ron lived. The Burrow was a home, and that made all the difference.

Of course, this particular morning, it was far past dawn, and the slow drifting into wakefulness that he had begun to enjoy these past months had been soundly interrupted - namely by the petite redhead who had (presumably) bounded into his room and woken him by the simple expedient of laying down on top of him. The feel of another, very familiar person pressed on top of him had been strange enough to penetrate his dreams - though admittedly, it had taken Harry a moment to distinguish dreams from reality. As a pair of soft lips pressed against his, he firmly came down on the side of 'reality' and opened his eyes to find all other sights blocked by a curtain of red and a face easily distinguishable by pale skin and prominent freckles.

It was, Harry decided, the best possible way to be woken up on one's birthday. Or any sort of holiday. Or any day at all, really.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Ginny said softly, very much unable to contain her wide grin.

Harry smiled as he stretched with a groan and ended up wrapping his arms around Ginny's body. He found it rather unfortunate at that point that her clothing was certainly not in a state of disarray. Reality, it seemed, had its downsides. "That is definitely the way a bloke wants to be woken up on his birthday, Miss Weas-"

Ginny effectively silenced him again by simply leaning forward and pressing her mouth against his once more. The young couple stayed that way for quite some time, and Harry was beginning to seriously not consider getting out of bed at all, if that was what he had to look forward to. When she finally drew back, it occurred to him that he was having trouble focusing on her - and everything else, really. It took a moment to dawn that this was because he had not put on his glasses yet.

"Better?" Ginny purred with a knowing smile as she slipped his glasses onto his face. She was not, he knew, asking about his vision.

"Much," Harry chuckled. "I'll have to return that favor on your birthday, of course."

She cocked her eyebrow at him, and her mouth curved upwards in a wicked grin. There was a welcome glint in her eyes as she leaned forward so their noses almost touched. "I look forward to it, Mr. Potter," she said with an unmistakable note of challenge in her voice.

He leaned slightly to close the distance between their lips when she pulled back abruptly and scrambled off the bed and headed for the door.

"Oi!" Harry protested. "Where're you off to?"

In passing, she scooped up a change of clothes and tossed them in his general direction. That they landed on his head was completely accidental, Harry was sure. He was also quite certain that his glare, if noticed, had been as completely ignored as his question had been... "Get your shower - Mum's got breakfast cooking, and you've had enough of a lie-in already. Ron'll go spare if he's got to wait for his food much longer."

"Y'know, Gin," he noted, dragging the tangle of clothes off of his head. "I think you're more excited about my birthday than I am."

"Of course I am," she answered, her childishly gleeful grin leaving no doubt that she really was Ron's sister after all. "There's presents! Come on then."

She began to whistle as she walked out the door, closing it behind her. Before she headed down the stairs, Ginny paused for just a moment on the landing and cocked her head towards the room, listening for the muted sounds of Harry moving about. When they came to her, she nodded in satisfaction and headed down to the main floor. Good man. Knew not to keep her waiting for him, especially when presents were involved, even if they weren't for her.

Maybe Ron had taught Harry a thing or two about Weasleys after all.

* * * * *

Harry dressed quickly after his shower. He'd finally found a decent shirt and jeans among the clothes that he kept at the Burrow, mainly a Puddlemere United shirt that he'd picked up when they'd gone to one of Wood's games earlier that summer. Ginny's selection of a shirt for him had fit a bit more snugly than Harry was really comfortable with. While he was no longer the "skinny shrimp" Dudley had often referred to him as, Harry still retained a bit of admitted negativity in his self-image. It was also not lost on him that a large number of the shirts - the ones he liked, at least - and nearly every pair of socks he'd left here had gone "missing".

He was also very much of the opinion that if he happened to check Ginny's room, he'd very easily manage to locate all of his missing articles of clothing. His girlfriend was rather notorious for "acquiring" clothing that didn't belong to her - especially socks. The t-shirt thievery hadn't started until they'd gotten together. As far as he knew, at least - though, upon reflection, it did seem that a disproportionately high number of his shirts had gone missing over the years during his stays at the Burrow.

Oddly, Harry found that it didn't bother him - not the way it drove Ron up the wall, at least. One of his mate's biggest endorsements to his and Ginny's relationship was that at least now his wardrobe was safe from his little sister. In the end, that had proven to be a forlorn hope. Harry had never commented on the phenomenon to Ginny, and he actually wondered if that didn't take some of the fun out of it for her. It had become something of an unspoken game between them, to see who would crack first.

So far, Harry was winning. But then, if he hadn't been able to nick a pair of Ron's socks himself this morning, he had to admit he'd probably be pretty annoyed.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all downstairs in the kitchen, along with Molly who was, as always, busying herself at the stove when he came down the stairs. Harry's gazed flicked over to the clock, and confirmed that it was half-nine. He had slept in a bit, hadn't he? "Good morning..." he started to say, but his own words were cut off by a rather large yawn.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're not still tired, are you Harry?" She flicked her eyes over to Ginny a moment. "Dreams not keeping you awake, are they?" Their eyes met briefly, just enough to exchange a questioning glance.

If only you knew, Harry thought as the strange image of himself, older standing over Dumbledore's body flashed through his mind. He just shook his head, dismissing the odd fragment of dream from a few days before, and started looking about for the tea. He also tried to ignore that Hermione, of all people, was trying to take the mickey out of him.

Yes, Ron was definitely a bad influence on her.

"Over on the counter, dear," Molly told him without even looking, causing Harry to once more marvel at just how she did that. Eyes in the back of her head, Ron had often said. Of course, raising Fred and George, she'd probably had to develop a very good situational awareness.

"Thanks, Molly," he said with unfeigned gratitude, and poured himself a cup of very hot tea before setting into his accustomed spot next to Ginny at the end of the table.

"Of course, dear," the Weasley matriarch replied easily as she set plates in front of himself and Ginny. After a moment, she added plates for Hermione and Ron, much the latter's satisfaction.

After Molly set her own plate - and herself - down, she regarded Harry once more. "Happy Birthday, Harry," she noted brightly, which Ron and Hermione quickly echoed. Ginny settled for giving him a kiss on the cheek, and Harry smiled warmly as Molly continued speaking. "Any plans for the day, then?"

"Not rea-" Harry started to answer after he'd finished a mouthful of eggs. He didn't even get the second word out before Ginny clamped a hand over his mouth. Smiling sweetly, she turned to face her mother and answered for him.

"He's got plans, Mum," she said, causing Ron to chuckle and a small giggle to escape Hermione's lips. "We've just not let him know them yet."

Harry fixed a stare on his girlfriend for a moment before returning his attention to the elder Weasley woman. "Apparently I do," he conceded, and resumed the attack upon his breakfast.

Molly looked as though she wanted to say more, but everyone's attention was diverted to the clacking of an owl's beak against the kitchen window.

Harry watched with interest as he continued with his breakfast, and abruptly realized that for the first time in a year, the sight of owl post didn't immediately renew the sense of pain and loss from the death of his own beloved snowy owl, Hedwig. That hurt, at least, was finally healing, even if Harry suspected it would never fully heal. Hedwig had been more than just an owl - she'd been his first birthday present and more than that, his first real friend aside from Hagrid.

He was able to remember her now for what she'd meant, and not dwell on just the thought of her loss. It was progress, he supposed. That train of thought ended, however, when Harry recognized the new arrival as one of Hogwarts' barn owls and flashed a conspiratorial grin over at Ron. He was sure that the girls saw the grins that he and Ron shared as they each counted the number of letters that the barn owl dropped off. Ginny's eyes had narrowed in suspicion, and a familiar look of calculation was now dancing across Hermione's features.

"Oh, Hogwarts letters," Molly noted, taking the envelopes from the bird and absently offering it a treat. "But there's..."

"Four," Hermione said aloud, fixing a stare on her boyfriend and his best mate, who were by now grinning in a way that oddly reminded her of Fred and George upon the successful completion of a particularly good prank. Ginny had not missed this either, and Harry watched as she purposefully took the letters out of her mother's hands.

Momentarily, he allowed his vision to shift as he looked at the letters, and confirmed that there was no unexpected magic contained in them. It was something he'd started two days before, when a letter that had arrived with the normal post had been hexed to put a ton-tongue curse on the opener. The witch in question (who Harry had never met) was of the opinion (which Harry had never solicited) that he was largely making things up about how he'd defeated Voldemort. Never mind that he had still not said anything more than a few words to the public on that topic and her opinions were formulated in response to the now-daily questions and wildly-inaccurate theories being bandied about by the Daily Prophet. He would have to do something about that soon.

Ginny absently tossed Hermione's letter onto the table in front of her friend. Her own, she dropped on the table in front of herself. The other two, she confirmed, were indeed labeled for Harry and Ron. Holding it up so the two could see - though her eyes were very firmly fixed on her grinning boyfriend - she spoke only a single word. "Explain."

Harry reached out and snagged her hand, dragging her over unceremoniously to sit on his lap. While this was not normally an action that engendered protest, at this particular time it incurred a rather direct glare. Without a word, he extricated Ron's letter and his own from her grasp, and tossed the redhead his. Then he waggled his own in front of Ginny for a moment. "Why, Miss Weasley, you seem to be very interested in the contents of this letter," he teased at his own risk.

"Harry, you prat," Ginny finally snapped at his cheek. "Of course I am. I very much want to know why you've got a letter, when you've been saying all summer that you weren't going back to school. Now open the bloody thing!"

It was not lost on Harry that Molly, rather uncharacteristically, didn't reprimand her daughter for language at all. She also did not seem to be at all surprised any more. He had to give the woman credit - she was rather quick on the uptake.

He did, however, grin some more as he broke open the wax seal. As he pulled the letter out with a flourish for Ginny's benefit, two things that he hadn't expected tumbled out with it. His teasing grin vanished, then, as he heard Ginny and Molly gasp simultaneously.

Two small badges landed on the table in front of him with a tinny clink as metal landed on oak.

One badge he'd expected. The 'Quidditch Captain' badge was familiar enough, and not exactly a surprise. He'd have been Captain last year again, in a perfect world, where they'd been at school and worried about things like N.E.W.T.s and their social lives, rather than hunting Horcruxes and evading Snatchers and Death Eaters.

He couldn't say that the second badge, an embossed gold one that read 'Head Boy', was something he'd expected in any way, shape or form.

"Bloody hell," Harry and Ron cursed at the same time. Harry's gaze darted up to his friend to see him lifting two badges from his envelope as well. His Prefect's badge - and another Quidditch Captain badge?

Okay, Professor, let's see what you've got to say, Harry thought, and directed his attentions to the words in front of him.

- - - - -
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall
(Order of Merlin, Second Class, Sitting Member, International Confederation of Wizards)

Mr. Potter,

I am pleased to inform you that arrangements have been made for you to complete your seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. As you see, you have been reinstated as the Co-Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Your fellow Captain is Ronald Weasley. While the Captaincy is normally handled by a single individual, your Head of House and I have agreed that you will need to also train up a complete reserve team this year, as many of your teammates will be graduating with you. A Co-Captaincy will better enable the pair of you to spread the responsibilities around. Please see your new Head of House at the start of term for more information.

I am also very pleased to state that you have been selected as this year's Head Boy. Enclosed, you will find a parchment detailing the responsibilities of the position. There is no better or more natural choice for this among your class, I feel, and you have my sincerest congratulations on this accomplishment, Mr. Potter. I suspect you will do your parents, your family, and your House most proud with this appointment.

Seventh years are also to be reminded that this is your N.E.W.T. year, and that you may seek to purchase additional study materials in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl to confirm the contents of this letter. Upon receipt of that owl, you will receive further instructions for the train, so that you and the Head Girl may inform the prefects of their responsibilities for the coming term.

Students fourth year and above are also advised to bring suitable dress robes, as there will be a ball this year.

Sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall,
Headmistress,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

-------
SUPPLIES (7th Years)

Uniform:
Seventh year students will require:


  • Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  • One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
  • One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
  • One pair of suitable dress robes
  • suitable clothing for Hogsmeade visits, including winter wear
  • Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

    Books:


  • The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7) by Miranda Goshawk
  • Advanced Transfiguration, N.E.W.T. Edition by Gilbert Gadfly
  • Animagus Transformations - Theory and Practice by Minerva McGonagall
  • Advanced Herbology (or How to Keep Your Fingers, Toes and Other Important Body Parts) by Phyllida Spore
  • Advanced Potion Making by Severus Snape & Horace Slughorn
  • Mighty Monsters by Newt Scamander
  • Constant Vigilance! by Alastor Moody
  • Complex and Complicated Charms, N.E.W.T. Edition, by Caduceus Cadawallader

  • Other:

  • 1 wand
  • 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
  • 1 set glass or crystal phials
  • 1 set brass scales
  • 1 pair of earmuffs
  • Potions ingredients as included on the following page.

  • Students may also bring a familiar (most commonly an owl, cat or toad). Dogs are not permitted.


    - - - - -

    When he finished reading, Harry's eyes came up to meet Ginny's. She was still staring at him, and very obviously waiting for her explanation. She had also clearly been reading along with him, and as soon as he moved the letter away from his chest, she threw her arms around his neck. "Harry, you're coming back! You're Head Boy!" she said as her excitement overwhelmed her irritation at the surprise. She was still going to extract the details from him, Harry was certain.

    Painfully, if he wasn't quick about it.

    "Yes, on all counts," he confirmed with a laugh, and Ginny swatted his shoulder even as she rolled her eyes. Despite all that, she was clearly pleased.

    Harry's eyes darted over Ginny's shoulders, to where Ron and Hermione were sitting across the table. Ron was still staring in shock at his Quidditch (Co-) Captain's badge - he hadn't even seen the badge that the bushy-haired witch was holding in her hands. Hermione looked on the verge of tears - but they were certainly happy ones, from the dazed smile she wore. "So, Hermione," Harry asked, mock-casually. "Did you make Head - "

    "Girl, yes I did," came Hermione's slightly breathless voice, and all other eyes in the room darted over to the bushy-haired brunette.

    "Oh, Congratulations!" Molly practically yelled, taking in the entire scene in front of her with no small amount of joy. "Head Boy, Head Girl - that's two more in the family, oh, and Quidditch Captains, too - Ginny, dear, open yours, have you made Prefect again, as well?"

    Again? Harry wondered.

    Ginny nodded mutely, pulling the badge out of her own letter. Harry noted that she didn't seem pleased by it - the wide smile that she'd given him had faded slightly. Nor did she seem surprised. Had she been a prefect last year, then?

    He still didn't know. Harry only knew scarce details of Ginny's last year - little things, like what they'd learned from Neville or her sudden proficiency with healing charms - but she had never volunteered anything beyond that. Harry knew only that it hadn't been pleasant, and he would continue to respect her obvious desire not to talk about it. If anybody knew what that felt like, he did.

    Now was hardly the time for such a heart-to-heart, regardless. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that he was Head Boy. How could that possibly be? After so much rule-breaking (Though there were always extenuating circumstances, one corner of his mind protested,) and never even having been a prefect in a first place...

    Dad wasn't a prefect either, and he was Head Boy, some corner of his mind reminded him.

    But it should be Ron! He's the one that wanted this! He mentally argued, and then looked up to find his friend staring thoughtfully at him. Hermione had noticed - and tensed up as well. Ginny and Molly were also watching; he saw now, and just as intently.

    "Ron, mate, I - " Harry started, but Ron gave a shake of his head.

    "Harry," he chuckled and Harry did, in fact, notice the way Ginny suddenly exhaled her breath at this. "Don't. I'm fine with it, mate. I've moved past all that."

    "But the mirror - "

    "I was eleven, Harry. I want - " his gaze flickered over to Hermione."Well, there's other stuff that's more important. And if I was Head Boy, it'd just be an empty title. You're the leader, the one people follow. Including me."

    Harry accepted this with a careful nod, and couldn't deny the relief he felt. "You're my partner, mate," he said, deciding it was time to show the girls the other thing they'd been keeping secret as well.

    If the Hogwarts letters had been a surprise, then the next pair of badges would be even more so.

    He pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans and flipped it open and set it on the table. Ron nodded in understanding and agreement as he did the same. The pair's Auror badges twinkled up at everyone, but Harry was still looking at his best friend. "Not a follower," he finished pointedly, waving the Quidditch Captain badge in his other hand, and threw it on the table next to the Auror badge. Ron's joined him on the table a moment later.

    "Partners," Harry reiterated.

    Ron gave a brief nod. "I can live with that."

    Hermione's voice interrupted then, "If you two are quite finished with all the male-bonding nonsense, maybe at least one of you would like to explain all this?" she asked, indicated the letters and various badges now littering the table.

    "I don't understand..." Molly trailed, a less-than-faint note of worry creeping into her voice. She'd know what the boys' choice would probably be some day, yes, but she could still hope for something less dangerous. Or so she thought. The two badges seemed to say that any such hope was well past lost. "How can you be Aurors already - you've not even completed school!"

    Ginny snorted, "Might as well get blood from a stone before trying to get these two to own up to something before they're ready, Mum." Her expression left no doubts as to her feelings, however.

    Hermione looked at her fellow witch in shock. "Ginny, I do believe you're forgetting that we have certain avenues of persuasion that were not completely open to us previously." Her gaze flicked up to Molly.

    "I've gone temporarily deaf, dears," the older witch noted. "Can't hear a thing, I'm afraid."

    Hermione grinned in a way that Harry - and especially Ron found to be very disturbing. Harry was even more disconcerted when he saw that grin mirrored on Ginny's face. Ginny then whispered to him in no uncertain terms, that if he ever wanted to even consider the notion of repeating some of the more pleasant things they did together, an explanation had best be forthcoming. Quickly.

    Ron's blush confirmed that Hermione had said something very similar.

    "Well..." Harry drawled, aware that he was playing with fire (or at least risking a bat-bogey hex). "It was really all Ron's idea..."

    Ginny's eyes narrowed.

    Hermione's head whipped towards Ron so quickly that Harry was rather surprised she didn't get whiplash.

    Ron glared at his so-called best mate. "Thanks, partner," he said sarcastically.

    Harry just grinned, "Floor's yours, mate."

    Ron grimaced, but started to launch into a much abbreviated description of his sending off of their Auror applications, and the subsequent consultation with Kingsley. Harry listened to it with half an ear as he quickly finished his breakfast, and was thankful, once again, for whatever miracle or magic was responsible for Molly Weasley's culinary skills, something he'd come to appreciate even more since he and Ron had moved into Grimmauld Place.

    As he ate, though, he noticed that Ginny was only partially listening to Ron's story. As his two best friends were discussing the new circumstances, she leaned in close, matching her eyes dead to his. "Thank you," she said softly, suggesting that she knew exactly what had gone into his thought processes, even if Ron didn't.

    It never ceased to amaze Harry how she was able to do that, to be so completely in tune with whatever was going through is mind. Frankly, if he hadn't been in love with her, it probably would have been more than a bit scary. "I didn't really want to be apart from you again," he said quietly back. The rest of it - his choice of career, what he was going to do, none of that was anything that needed to be discussed. She understood his choices, the reasons for them, his need to be his own man and make those decisions and would support them. It was perhaps a bit much for Harry to take for granted, but with one glance, Ginny answered all of his questions.

    "I know," she answered, and wrapped her arms tightly against him once more, and pressed her forehead to his.

    Their futures would be tackled together, and that, as far as Harry and Ginny were concerned, was exactly as it should be.

    - - - - - - -

    As it turned out, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione did have plans for Harry that day. Given Ginny's earlier excitement, he'd expected a small gathering of family and to get his presents shortly after breakfast. This was apparently not the case.

    "Well, what are we doing then?"

    "You'll have to wait, Harry," Ginny said with obvious mischief as she slung a large bag over her shoulder. Her eyes were twinkling in a way Harry found very appealing, and he realized that he could not bring himself to be overly cross with her for her silence.

    Not that he'd show that, of course.

    Harry sighed, "Wait for what?"

    "You'll see," she merely replied, taking hold of his hand. This was, clearly, a minor form of retaliation for earlier. "Come on now, Hermione and Ron are waiting downstairs. You'll have to side-along with Ron, since I can't do it legally yet. I'll go with Hermione."

    That thought gave Harry's stomach an unpleasant turn. "Wait," he called out as he was forcibly led down the stairs. "Why do I have to go with Ron? Why can't I..."

    "Because you're insufferably noble and surely wouldn't subject your beloved girlfriend to such a dangerous risk now, would you Harry?" Ginny asked, over-doing the sweetness of her tone more than a tad.

    It did not make Harry feel better about Side-Alonging with Ron, who had, of course, overheard that last bit. "Oi! I can still change my mind about this you know!" Ron called out in protest.

    "Of course you won't, Ronald," Hermione said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You've already seen my outfit. And Harry, you know very well that Ronald has significantly improved his Apparition abilities. Now, let's be off."

    "Yes ma'am," Harry mumbled obediently as he took hold of Ron's upper arm, ignoring his best mate's menacing glare. Ginny quickly grabbed hold of Hermione to settle the matter and with soft double-'crack', the two witches disappeared. When Ron didn't immediately Disapparate, Harry eyed Ron suspiciously. "Well, let's get on with it then."

    "Humph," Ron muttered as he turned on them on the spot, and the Burrow vanished from Harry's sight.

    As soon as they'd Apparated to their destination, Harry immediately had to throw his hands up to guard his eyes from the glare. That very glare was, he found after a moment, the reflected sunlight off of the very white sand they were standing on, and the rather large body of water they were facing.

    "The beach?" Harry asked, though it was a bit obvious. Immediately, he moved to hide his wand, before Ron stopped him.

    "Don't worry about it, mate. This is Beadnell Bay. It's got a pretty big wizarding population. The Muggles come here too, but they don't notice much. They've got their own section down the coast a bit, but this is mostly a wizard area," Ron informed him.

    "You've been here, then?" Harry asked.

    "Loads of times," Ron confirmed. "Mum and Dad used to take us here all the time growing up, before things got - well, you know."

    "Yeah, I know."

    "Thought you might like a little sun," Ginny said brightly, as she stripped off the over-sized t-shirt she was wearing. Under it was she was revealed to be wearing a two-piece bikini that, honestly, would have convinced Harry to go just about anywhere she asked him. Ever.

    "I think it's brilliant," he stated honestly. He was not speaking of the beach.

    "Thought you might," Ginny replied.

    Ron just rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, which forced Harry to drag his eyes off Ginny. "Oh, like you didn't do the same thing when you saw Hermione, mate."

    His friend at least had the decency to be honest, Harry noted. "Fair enough," Ron muttered with a shrug and a wide grin before accepting the swim trunks that Ginny was pulling from her bag.

    "Go on then, Mr. Potter," she said teasingly. "Get yourself changed, and then find me if you can."

    "You're on, Weasley."

    - - - - -

    In the end, the afternoon at the beach was very well spent - and not just because of the girls' choice in swimwear. The foursome had paired off into couples halfway through the afternoon to enjoy some private time, and all were grinning broadly by the time they reunited at five. After gathering their things, performing a few charms to make themselves presentable, and changing back into their non-swimming clothes, they Disapparated in unison back to the Burrow's back yard.

    "SURPRISE!" came the cry as soon as they had popped into existence.

    Stupefy! Harry's wand was out and firing a stunner before he'd even consciously realized it thought of it. The red beam traveled quickly in the direction of the sound, the closest source of which happened to be one Neville Longbottom.

    "Protego!" A golden shield flashed up in front of Harry's fellow Gryffindor as the spell came flying toward him. Neville grinned broadly as it was easily deflected away.

    "We've really got to work on that," Ginny muttered under her breath, taking hold of the embarrassed Harry's hand.

    He offered her a sheepish smile before returning his attention to Neville and many of the shocked other guests. "Sorry, mate."

    "S'okay," his friend replied, coming forward to draw him into a quick hug. "Mrs. Weasley warned us we should probably let you get your bearings first."

    "And you didn't listen?"

    Neville just grinned even more broadly. "Oh, I figured what you do. I just wanted to see the expressions on that lot," he laughed, jerking a thumb back towards the crowd.

    Harry gave Neville a considered look for a moment. It was astounding; no matter how many times he'd seen him this summer, just how much Neville had changed. The shy, bumbling, forgetful boy was long gone and a man that Harry didn't know nearly as well had taken his place. He knew Neville would be returning to Hogwarts this year as well - many of their classmates would, as so many had completed very little of their academic work for the year. That it would give him a chance to really get to know the new Neville was something Harry didn't regret at all, and joined him in his laughter before turning back to face Ginny, Ron and Hermione. "You three set this up then?"

    "Of course," Hermione replied. "It's been very convenient that you've been staying at Grimmauld Place. I don't know how we'd have kept you from noticing all the owls otherwise."

    "You'd have found a way, I'm sure," Harry replied as he drew a hand tightly around Ginny's shoulders. Looking around, he could appreciate how difficult it must have been to co-ordinate. It was certainly the most people he'd ever seen at the Burrow - very nearly everyone he knew.

    Well, everyone he liked, at any rate.

    With Ginny on his arm, the pair started walking around to greet everyone and thank them for coming. They exchanged a few words with everyone as they made their way around.

    Molly and Arthur were there of course, directing the veritable army of Weasleys to set the refreshments up on several picnic tables that had been set up. Percy and Penelope were helping dutifully, as was Charlie, who was standing very closely to a witch that looked vaguely familiar, but Harry could not recall meeting. Charlie introduced her as Adriana, a co-worker from the reserve who had come back with him when he'd taken his post in the Ministry's Care of Magical Creatures department. Ginny and Harry shared a knowing glance - the way Charlie and Adriana were interacting suggested far more than a casual relationship.

    Bill, Harry saw with a smile, was trying to convince Fleur to remain seated. She was just starting to show, and Gabrielle was rolling her eyes at her brother-in-law's over-protectiveness. She also kept pulling faces behind his back, making it very difficult for her older sister to maintain a straight face in front of her embarrassingly earnest husband. Harry and Ginny didn't have any better luck as they greeted them, but were able to put their laughter off to George's antics. George even resembled his old self, artfully directing several charmed paper lanterns in complicated flight patterns before finally hanging them where Molly had, Harry guessed, instructed him to put them.

    Andromeda and Teddy were there as well, and Harry was pleased to see that the witch was deep in conversation with Hagrid. Teddy was just staring at the half-giant with extremely wide eyes - he had not yet noticed the arrival of his godparents. Their usual routine - along with the accompanying shifts in hair color - was observed, and Harry happily took Teddy from Andromeda as they continued on their circuit through the crowd.

    With just those people, everyone Harry considered family was accounted for, and that alone made this a very good birthday indeed.

    But that was only the beginning. Minerva McGonagall was chattering animatedly (Not a descriptor he'd ever expected to use,) with Mister Parker, the contractor who'd been in charge of Hogwarts' renovations - and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Professor Flitwick, he saw, had moved to help George, and the two had charmed a pair of paper lanterns into rather convincing miniature dragons that were now engaged in an aerial dogfight (complete with fire-breathing capabilities). This caused Harry to suddenly realize that McGonagall wasn't the only Hogwarts professor with a hidden mischievous streak.

    Merlin help us all if George ever hires him as a consultant, Harry mused before turning his eyes back to the crowd.

    Gryffindor House was well-represented, he couldn't help but note. In addition to Neville, who had been accompanied by Susan Bones; Dean still accompanied by Luna - a relationship Harry wouldn't have predicted, but seemed to strangely work; Seamus in the company of Lavender, recently released from St. Mungo's. Like Bill, she had not become a werewolf after Greyback's attack, but the scars were something she would have to learn to live with. Seamus didn't seem to notice them at all.

    Parvati and Dennis were both present as well, though not together. Harry could see they were engaged in serious conversation, and he had no doubts as to what it was about. With Padma's and Colin's deaths, both had lost siblings that they were very close to. Dennis' best mate, Nigel, was standing nearby at a respectful distance, engrossed in what looked like a discussion about Quidditch with Demelza Robbins.

    Alicia, Katie and Angelina had clearly just come from their practice with the Harpies and Puddlemere and hadn't even changed out of their uniforms. Katie, like Oliver, was a starting player for Puddlemere along with Oliver Wood, who was also present. The foursome were still engrossed of discussions of the day's practices, and Harry made a mental note to get tickets the next time the Harpies and Puddlemere played.

    Lee, he saw, was staring appreciatively at Angelina. This likely had to do with the fact that she had at least ditched her outer robe, and Lee seemed to be eminently distracted from what Harry recognized as his magical dee-jaying equipment.

    Moira Jameson, Richard King, Miranda McGonagall, Mekaela St. George, Mathew Boardman, and Katherine Rhodes - Harry saw that the majority of Ginny's other classmates, who he had known but become much better acquainted with once they'd started dating - were all easily spotted in the crowd as well. He was a bit leery of stopping by that crowd with Ginny. It would be quite some time before they got away, he knew.

    His roving eyes quickly found Hannah, Anthony, Terry, Lisa and pretty much all of the surviving members of the DA, as well as any number of other students.

    It was even more sobering to note the people who weren't present - Remus, Tonks, Fred, Cho, Colin, Michael, Andrew, Jack, Su, Padma, Zacharias...

    On second thought, maybe there were some absences that he didn't really regret that much.

    He was surprised that, much like Hedwig, Harry found that he consider all those gone and merely wish they here, rather than start getting lost in his grief. His thoughts must have clouded his features for a moment, because Ginny abruptly tensed her hand against his and moved up to place her mouth next to his ear. "None of that," she whispered. "It's a happy day."

    "Right then," he said, giving her a small smile. Looking around, Harry found it startling, actually, how many people he could count as friends these days and - bloody hell, was that Griphook? "Blimey," he muttered, "I still can't believe all of you came here for me - "

    "Oi! Potter!" George called from across the grass. "Quit making out like this is some sort of high-born get-together! We've a party to be on with."

    Harry grinned broadly. "Right then!" he yelled back, and accepted the Fireale that Ron had returned with and pressed into his hand. "Everyone, thanks for coming, now let's make a time of it!"

    George grinned even more broadly, and tossed one his patented Weasley Whiz-bangs into the air. "Y'heard the man, Lee! Hit it!"

    Jordan obliged, and within seconds, the sounds of the Weird Sisters filled the Burrow's backyard air. The party had indeed been started.

    - - - - - -

    Someone - a Muggle-born, Harry supposed - had conjured up a few tables for table tennis in one portion of the yard. In no time, Harry found himself playing against Ron, who had taken to the game surprisingly quickly.

    Even more surprisingly was how quickly Ginny had taken to it. After winning six games straight, she had been forcibly banned from the table, and was now watching Harry and Ron play with amusement. She was also having moderate success attempting to throw both off their games with commentary that was drawing amusement from the gathered crowd. It was observed that she had significantly more success with Harry, who she distracted with comments spoken quietly over his shoulder where no one else could here.

    As Harry delivered a shot, he stood back to toss Ron a wide grin. What he found, though, was Ron standing as though petrified, staring at something just behind Harry.

    Before he could even turn around, he saw Ginny's face cloud angrily as she drew her wand. "What in the hell is he doing here?"

    Reaching down for his own wand, based on Ginny's reaction, Harry turned to find the last person he had ever expected to show up at his birthday party.

    Dudley Dursley.

    Even more shocking was who was accompanying him - Hermione and Justin Finch-Fletchley. The former looked more than a little bit nervous, though unsurprised. It didn't take Harry long to figure she'd been in on this development. He couldn't explain Justin's presence, however, or the steely sense of presence he'd never expected to see in that particular class-mate.

    The war had changed more than just Neville, it seemed.

    "What the hell?" he said, echoing Ginny's sentiment, though more in shock than anger. He managed to maintain the presence of mind to note that he had somehow remembered to place a restraining arm in front of Ginny, who did not look pleased at the interference. He also noted Ron did have his wand out, and was now standing just to Harry's left. The message was there that whatever was about to happen, Ron had his back as surely as Ginny did. Ron was, he had to admit, better about waiting for his lead though.

    Harry also realized that absolutely no one else was speaking, dancing, or doing anything else anymore. Lee's music had trailed off with a rather loud screech as the needle slid off the record, and the ensuing silence was deafening. Even all those present who had no idea about the real relationship between Harry and his cousin could see the way tension had skyrocketed as soon as this stranger had arrived.

    "Erm... hey, Harry," Dudley started nervously, and Harry grew even more astonished to see him wringing his hands.

    As his senses began to return to him, Harry took stock of his cousin. He'd lost much of his excess weight, and was now very firmly muscled. There was also a difference in his face - in one look, Harry could see that the spoiled bully who'd tormented his childhood was long gone - something had happened to Dudley in the last year, something that had changed him as surely as finding out he was a wizard had changed Harry.

    "Harry," Hermione began hesitatingly. "Please, don't be angry. We'll explain everything, I promise, but - Dudley wanted to come and wish you a Happy Birthday, and to... talk about some things."

    Harry just moved his disbelieving gaze to his friend now. "And you decided to bring him here?" he asked in disbelief.

    "Yeah, look, Harry, when Justin told me about your birthday - "

    "How in the hell do you know my cousin, Justin?" Harry asked, cutting Dudley off as he turned to face Finch-Fletchley.

    "It's a long story, Harry," the Muggle-born Hufflepuff answered. "And one I think Dudley should tell you. But I met him at the Refuge - he was a huge help to the Mudblood Resistance."

    Harry had heard of the M.R., of course - they had been one of the groups, along with the parents of several students, who had come to the aid of the school at the Battle of Hogwarts. Consisting entirely of Muggle-born witches and wizards - many who'd been barred by Thicknesse's Ministry from attending the school - had instead taken the derogatory name given to them by the pure-bloods and turned it into a source of pride. Justin, he knew, had modeled it after Dumbledore's Army, and they had been one of the principle thorns in the sides of the Death Eaters and the Ministry, alongside the Order and the D.A.

    Justin leaned in then, so only Harry could hear him. "But he told us who he was, too, and I'll give him credit, he didn't hold anything back when it came to his past with you. It earned him more than a few hexes for it, actually. You should've seen what old Reg Cattermole did to him."

    Harry snorted in slight amusement at that, and Hermione took it as sign to continue."I understand how you feel, Harry, but please - hear him out, for me?"

    Harry's return glance at his bushy-haired friend showed his resentment. She knew very well that such a request was just about the only way he'd do such a thing, and she'd only too easily played that card.

    "I would appreciate the chance," Dudley said quietly, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "I know you don't owe it me, Harry, and I probably don't even deserve it, but - I'd like the chance, nonetheless."

    If Harry could have ever guessed at words he'd have ever expected to come out of the mouth of "Big D", those wouldn't have been anywhere near the list.

    "Yeah," Harry muttered after letting out a long breath. "Let's talk."

    "Harry, I'll - "Ginny started, and he gave her a soft smile.

    "It's okay, Gin," he said reassuringly. "We won't go far."

    "All right," she said softly, and then pulled him close for a tight kiss. "I won't be far either, Harry."

    "You never are."

    - - - - -
    As Harry and Dudley walked away, Ginny turned to Hermione. "Why didn't you tell me that you were planning something like this?" Ginny asked, feeling almost a little bit hurt. With Hermione an accepted member of the Weasley family now, the two young women had been spending a lot of time together. That was hardly new, of course - over the years, she'd certainly been much closer to Hermione than either one of the boys. But it had developed into a truly sisterly relationship these last months. That Hermione could have planned this part and not ever mentioned anything to her at all...

    Hermione squirmed slightly under the accusatory glare being leveled at her. "Well, it all happened very quickly... Plus, I wasn't certain at all as to what your reaction would be to him coming today. You want to protect Harry so badly -"

    "And why shouldn't I?" Ginny popped back at her. "I know everything that he went through with... that family." She spat out the phrase like a curse. "Of course I wouldn't have wanted him to come, after everything that he did to Harry when they were growing up?"

    "Perhaps that's the problem," Hermione interjected. "First of all, you can't shield Harry from everything that used to hurt him. That protectiveness of yours - sometimes it can get in the way. Harry's the same way; you know that first-hand. I know you love him, but that doesn't mean you always know what's best for him."

    A dangerous fire was lighting behind Ginny's eyes. "And you do?" she asked, her voice dangerous enough that Ron was preparing to throw himself between the two witches.

    "Ginny - I really think this was something that Harry needed. Some kind of closure on the way that he was raised. I didn't believe Dudley could be sorry either when Justin came to me, but..."

    "But you still thought it was better to spring something like this on him? On his bloody birthday?" Ginny asked incredulously.

    "Ginny," Hermione said cautiously, and the redhead was glad to see that her friend had the grace to at least look embarrassed with himself. "You know as well as I do that Harry wouldn't have agreed to it."

    Ginny silently counted to five before replying, and when she did, she chose her words very carefully. "Hermione, you've been his best friend for seven years. You know how everyone responsible for him - even Dumbledore - has manipulated and controlled and used him. You should know how much he's hated that. You should know how much he needs to come to things in his own way, his own time, to be his own man. You should know that."

    "I do know that," Hermione shot back. "But Ginny - I'm terribly afraid that if this didn't happen now, then it wouldn't ever. I want Harry to have some peace. He deserves it."

    Ginny sighed heavily, and looked off in the direction that Harry and Dudley had walked. "Merlin help you if it goes badly, 'Mione," the redhead said sadly. "Because he'll never forgive you if it does." Ginny didn't say aloud that she wouldn't either. She didn't feel the words needed to be spoken.

    Hermione's gaze followed Ginny's. "I know," she admitted with obvious worry. "I know."

    - - - - -

    Harry led his cousin over to a small area where he and Ron had often come to sit and talk in earlier summers. It was far enough away from the Burrow that nobody could hear them talk, but close enough to assuage Molly's (understandable) worry in those years. It was a small copse of trees just by the pond, a spot Harry had always found to be very peaceful. He hoped that would help keep him calm today.

    "Muffliato," Harry murmured as he twirled his wand for a moment. Some conversations were best had in private. And if the casual use of magic didn't throw Dudley off - or remind him where things stood these days - then not much would.

    "That's the eavesdropper spell, right?" Dudley asked instead, and Harry was starting to think that he really couldn't handle any more surprises.

    The reality train has left the station, Harry thought for a moment at the incongruous idea of Dudley actually recognizing a spell.

    "How d'you know that?" Harry asked pointedly. There wasn't much point in pretending to be overly civil - he knew that, at least, Dudley would agree with him on that.

    "Justin used it a lot," the young man admitted. "Said that Neville bloke taught it to him. You taught it to Neville, didn't you?"

    Harry just nodded. A pregnant silence reigned for a moment, before the raven-haired young wizard broke it. "So... you wanted to talk," he prodded.

    "Yeah," Dudley sighed, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Harry watched as a moment as the other seemed to be debating with himself. Where to start, perhaps?

    Harry's guess turned out to be right. "Well... first thing you should know, I guess, is that Dad's dead."

    Harry blinked. Uncle Vernon was dead? "Erm... what? How?"

    "Heart attack, last year. About a month after we got to the Refuge. You've heard of it?"

    "Place over in Wales, right? Where a lot of the Muggle-borns went into hiding. That's where the Order stashed you?"

    Dudley nodded, "That Diggle chap figured it was the last place those Death Eater blokes would look for us. Said there was a whole bunch of magical protections on the castle, it belonged to some old famous wizard. I can't remember his name. Dad... well, he couldn't take being around all them wizards and all the magic all the time, and well, it's not like he was ever a paragon of health, was he?"

    "You don't sound that upset about it," Harry noted, even as he realized that he wasn't either. Vernon Dursley had been a thoroughly contemptible man, and as much as he wanted to, Harry couldn't find it in himself to be especially bothered by the man's fate. Not when he'd lost so many other people who truly had deserved to live. Death took them all, in the end. Young and old, good and evil, it didn't matter. And in the end, Vernon Dursley was a man who had sheltered an orphan at his wife's insistence, and nothing more.

    Dudley blew out a quick breath. "Weird, isn't it? But things between me and Dad weren't good that last month. That whole last year, actually, ever since - Dumbledore, right? - ever since he came to take you away year before last. I started seeing Dad, and Mum too, I guess... differently. Ever since you saved my life, I'd been... re-evaluating everything. Me. Dad, mum, the way we treated you. The way Dad acted to those people, who were just trying to save our sorry lives... hell, Harry, I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd tossed us to the Death Eaters yourself, after - well, after everything."

    Harry didn't respond to this verbally - trying to take in the changes in his cousin was simply occupying too much of his brain, as was trying to believe that these words were coming out of Dudley's mouth at all. Ten minutes ago, he'd have thought his cousin didn't even know how to string that many syllables together.

    "So after we got there," Dudley continued, "I started seeing Dad for what he really was. That kind of brought everything else into focus, and then he died - went completely barmy on this one bloke who used some kind of spell to start a fire for us, and keeled over right there in the middle of yelling. He was gone by the time those Healers got there."

    "I'm sorry, Dudley," Harry said honestly. He was sorry that the other man had lost his father, even if he couldn't summon up any grief on behalf of the man himself.

    Dudley nodded. He understood what Harry meant. "After that, I met Justin and some of the other blokes after they came to the Refuge. I... well, I guess you could say I made a choice, to be my own man, and not the one Dad had always wanted me to be. I helped out as much as I could, taught people how to defend themselves without a wand - d'you know how many wizards got no idea how to fight?"

    "I do," Harry nodded. Aside from the Aurors, most wizards were completely useless without a wand.

    "So I did what I could. Managed to get hold of a gun - that wasn't easy, mind - and then I started joining them on some of their raids."

    "Raids?"

    "Freeing people from the Snatchers, supply runs, that sort of thing. We also had people in place in case you popped up somewhere. What really changed my mind about everything though - was the way all these people talked about you. You're a bloody hero to them, you know? And once I heard all the stories..." Dudley hung his head down in shame. "You just being out there - I don't know what you were doing, and that look you've got makes me think I don't want to - you gave people hope, Harry. I've never seen anything like it."

    Harry at this point was finding Dudley's tale more and more unbelievable by the second. And yet - from his cousin's face, his words, and his body language - everything was practically screaming at him that the boy he'd grown up with - the bully of his childhood - was long gone. Gone, dead, and buried with his father. Looking back at him now was a young man who had seen war, and who had finally learned what was important in life.

    "And I tell you, Harry..." Dudley finally continued. "All that... well, it made me feel like the world's biggest prat and like I was about this big," he held his thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart, "all at the same time."

    "That's... quite a story," Harry confessed. "It's just..."

    "Not what you expected, eh?" Dudley actually grinned. "I get it, Harry. I don't... I don't expect anything of you, you know. I just wanted a chance to say my piece, and... for what it's worth, to say I was sorry. I don't know that it's worth anything at all, but..."

    "It's worth something, Dudley," the wizard admitted. "I don't know what, exactly, and I think too much has happened for us to suddenly be family, but - well, it's something."

    As the two young men locked eyes, an understanding passed between them. It was nothing either could put into words, but it was, in essence, an acknowledgement and a dismissal at the same time. Whatever interactions the two had for the rest of their lives, it would not be colored by their turbulent pasts. It was somewhere to begin.

    By silent agreement, they moved back towards the party. What had needed to be said had been - or so Harry thought. Dudley stopped, however, and told Harry that there was just one more thing. "I've sold the house on Privet Drive," his cousin said. "I've packed away everything you left at the house; it's ready whenever you want it. Mum - well, she's been real sick. Cancer, they think, but we don't know yet. I needed the money to pay for her medical bills. She'd - well, she'd like to see you, if you're willing. "

    Harry blew out a breath."I don't know, Dud," he admitted honestly. Despite how much Vernon had always been the antagonist, in some ways, Petunia's indifference had hurt him more than any of his "Uncle's" words or actions ever could.

    Dudley nodded, "I get that."

    Harry made a decision then. "I can do this, though. Send me the bills. I'll take care of them."

    "Harry, you don't have to - "the other protested sharply before Harry cut him off.

    "It's the least I can do, Dudley," Harry said firmly. "As for the rest..." he trailed off, and just gave a soft shrug."I don't know. I'll think about it."

    Dudley nodded in understanding, and Harry ended the discussion by inviting his cousin to stay for the rest of the party.

    Who knows? Harry thought as they walked back. Maybe he'll meet a nice witch. Wouldn't that just serve Uncle Vernon right?

    Back to index


    Chapter 11: Chapter 11 - When The Time Is Right

    Author's Notes: Thanks to to my excellent beta team of TeyriJen, Geluf, Top Gun and IcarusPhoenix this time around. I did a lot of hand-wringing over this chapter, so I hope you folks enjoy it.


    Chapter 11 - "When the Time Is Right"

    Nearly an hour after Harry's conversation with Dudley, Molly had called everyone over to where the picnic tables had been pulled together. This was also happened to be after Harry and Dean had prevented Arthur from causing the barbecue he was grilling burgers on to explode - though everyone had been pleased with the eventual results. Harry didn't have the heart to tell Arthur he'd charmed the grill with a perfect-timing cooking charm he'd seen Molly use one day.

    Harry had also filled Ginny in on the gist of his - well, reconciliation seemed too strong a word - talk with his cousin, and she had partially softened her stance towards Dudley. Not a lot, but she no longer looked like she was going to hex him every four seconds. That was probably a small miracle in itself.

    Following a deafeningly off-key rendition of 'Happy Birthday', Harry had been forcibly guided by Ginny and Ron towards where his presents were waiting. Some things, it seemed, had been put off for long enough.

    "What is it with you Weasleys and presents?" Harry whispered in an aside to Ron.

    "Simple pleasures, mate," Ron answered, and shoved Harry down into his seat.

    In a moment of insight, Harry realized that a good part of it was probably because the Weasley's hadn't been able to give much else to their children most of the time. Given that he hadn't received any birthday presents until the age of eleven, Harry could certainly understand that, and easily indulge their enthusiasm. Smiling, he accepted the first gift that Ginny, who had appointed herself present-giver, handed him.

    Ginny's year-mates, both male and female, had chipped in to buy him a rather large and varied selection of socks. Harry found that he greatly appreciated the gift - though not as much as Ginny had. Everyone laughed at Harry's mock-heavy sigh as he saw Ginny eying the socks. Finally, he peeled off the most colorful pair and just handed them to Ginny.

    "Oh, that's no fun," she pouted. Harry noted, however, that she took the socks anyway. "I'll get the rest of them, you know, Potter."

    "You can try, Weasley," he shot back, and resolved to ward his sock drawer. For a moment, he wondered if that was taking it a bit far, but then he decided that they were right - all was fair in love and war.

    More than a few of the gifts from his classmates (Seamus especially) were things that Harry had felt very embarrassed to open in front of Molly and Arthur - not to mention McGonagall. Sirius and Remus though, he suspected, would have highly approved of them.

    He was just thankful that with Neville's gift - which Harry devoutly hoped was intended for Ginny to wear and not him - he had been able to quickly stuff it back into its box before anyone but Ginny had seen. The smile she'd given him at seeing it, however, was something that conjured all sorts of mental images for Harry, and made him devoutly thankful that he was sitting down. It also made him marvel at all the ways Neville had changed - the forgetful little boy he'd first met more than seven years ago would never, ever have been able to work up the nerve to give a gift like that.

    Molly and Arthur had presented him with what an especially useful pair of gifts, but were ones that he had to quickly hide from Ginny, before she figured out what they were. Harry didn't think she'd seen them before, but it really wouldn't do to have her start asking questions now. Granted, his and Arthur's 'project' in the shed was finished, but the time wasn't right to show it off just yet.

    Bill and Fleur had provided a series of Muggle crime novels about bank robbers, drawing laughs from all around, and a glare from Hermione, which went largely ignored. Harry had given them an appropriate gesture in response once Molly's and Professor McGonagall's backs had been turned.

    Percy let loose a noise of displeasure. "That's hardly the way to respect your elders, Harry," he said disapprovingly, but then turned to his older brother. "And you shouldn't encourage his... extralegal tendencies."

    "Oh, stuff it, Perce," the eldest Weasley brother replied, giving Harry a wink.

    "Yeah, Perce," continued Charlie, "Listen to your elders." Harry laughed at that, and then took the next gift that Ginny was handing him.

    Charlie had given him a dragon-skin jacket that Harry (and Ginny, actually) was very appreciative of. That was one thing about Charlie - he was even more predictable than Ron when it came to gifts.

    As he tried it on, Fleur gave him an appreciative look. "You know, 'Arry - with ze hair, and ze jacket - you are starting to look a bit like my Bill."

    Harry saw Ginny gave her sister-in-law a (hopefully) mocking glare at the appreciative nature of the comment, and interjected before Ginny said anything. He had to admit though, that he did enjoy her possessiveness of him, "Erm, thanks, Fleur."

    "A proper haircut's what they need, the both of them," Molly fussed under her breath to her husband, who simply patted her hand in response.

    With the next set, Harry noted that Penelope had certainly been a good influence on Percy's gift-giving abilities. Instead of some useless handbook about how to acquire power and influence in some meaningless way (which, despite Percy's changes, he had still expected), was a complete set of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Advanced Studies books. It was the sequel series to the ones Lupin had given him, and numbered twelve volumes in total. And if Hermione's breathless, gaping stare was any indication, it was a very valuable set indeed. Harry made a mental note then and there to actually compose a formal thank you to Percy. Maybe now that hatchet was finally buried. Time would tell.

    George's gift, unsurprisingly, was a box full of WWW products - including several new prototypes - along with the extraction of a promise from his "business partner" from the need for "product testing" when he returned to Hogwarts this year. Harry had also somewhat disappointed George by utilizing his newly-learned talent for 'seeing' magic to disable the booby-trap charm - a color-changing skin hex, from what Harry could tell - before opening it.

    Harry did not miss that McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid were all pointedly looking away when Harry had opened that particular gift. He had also noticed Ginny using her own 'sighting' abilities on the box before he had, and knew from the far-too-innocent grin she'd worn that she'd simply chosen not to warn him. So distracted was he by this, however, that he did not see that Bill had been watching the entire thing very carefully, and was looking very impressed and satisfied with what he'd seen.

    Andromeda and Kingsley had then presented him with something he rather thought was the most practical of his gifts - a book on wizard child-rearing, and Kingsley's own copy of the first-year Auror's training manual. Watching as Teddy summoned a bit of shiny paper to himself to play with, Harry was deeply appreciative of the first gift - and incredibly honored by the second.

    Hagrid had presented him with a much more sentimental gift - an overstuffed chair salvaged from the wreckage of his hut. It was, in fact, the very first chair that Harry had sat in on his first visit to the half-giant's cabin. He grinned when he sat down in it and noticed that his feet still did not touch the ground.

    "Thought you an' Ginny might be appreciatin' something to cuddle up in, is all," Hagrid explained with reddening features. "Y'still haven't got enough t'be fillin up that house o' yours, Harry."

    Ginny decided to save him from his discomfort, and stood to give the big wizard a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said softly.

    "Yeah," Harry said, keeping his face perfectly innocent. "Thanks, Hagrid."

    Hagrid only got redder at that.

    The absolute best gifts, however, had been saved for last. That Ginny and Ron and Hermione were the source of two of them was a surprise to no one - but that McGonagall and Dudley were the source of the other two was.

    Ron and Hermione had paired up to get him a gift, and Hermione was practically fidgeting in front of him about it. Given her earlier surprise, Harry had to admit that he was feeling a little nervous himself.

    "I hope you like her, Harry," she said nervously, as Ron brought forward a covered shape that bore a remarkable resemblance to an owl's cage. There really wasn't much disguising that sort of gift.

    "We know what Hedwig meant to you, mate," he said quietly, where only the four of them could hear. "But when we saw her - well, you'll see."

    As Harry drew the cover back, he felt his nervousness grow ten-fold.

    That all faded immediately as he found a regal black-feathered hawk owl with striking green eyes staring intently back at him. He could immediately see why they'd chosen her for him - it was pretty obvious, after all.

    Never breaking eye contact with the bird, Harry had opened the cage. He silently stared into the owl's eyes as they took each other's measure. The owl broke contact first, bobbing its head in a good approximation of a nod. Then, with a playful nip of his hand, the owl crawled right onto his arm, as though that place was the most natural one in the world.

    "Oh, Harry, she's beautiful..." Ginny half-whispered as she extended a hand towards the bird, and Harry could hear the assent of the crowd.

    "What's your name, girl?" Harry whispered to the owl, who stared at him pointedly, as though such a thing were clearly obvious. There was a playful glint in the owl's eyes that Harry found familiar - and, abruptly, the bird's feather's changed colors to a vivid purple that was definitely not natural. Harry's sharp intake of breath couldn't be heard over the exclamations of surprise coming from everyone else. Owls were magical, yes - but one like this was rare indeed. Harry could most clearly hear Hagrid's comments of awe about such a rare bird, and he mentally echoed everything his half-giant friend was saying.

    Harry's eyes, though, hadn't left that of his new owl, and he let out a bark of laughter surprisingly reminiscent of Sirius. "Right then, 'Nymphadora' it is."

    Nymphadora hooted approvingly, and then moved to the table where she could peck at the uneaten remains of Harry's burger that sat in front of him.

    Ron's hand settled on Harry's shoulder, and he looked up to see Hermione and Ron both staring down at him. Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione who spoke - Ron could convey the same with a glance. Hermione always felt the need to use words. "I know she's not Hedwig, Harry, and I don't think anyone could ever replace her... "

    "Thank you, 'Mione, Ron," Harry said in interruption, letting her know that no more words need be said.

    McGonagall's gift came next, and she stepped forward to hand him a small, tightly-wrapped package. "I should say, Harry that this gift is not truly from myself. It would be fairer to say this it is actually from Remus - and Sirius and James too, in a way. But it is something I believe should be in your possession. I believe you will also find it to be of use with your studies this coming year."

    Harry's throat constricted a bit at that news, and he found himself more than a little curious as he unwrapped the paper to reveal a leather-bound journal of some sort.

    Opening the cover, his eyes drifted across the first page, where he read:

    Messrs. Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot & Prongs proudly present:

    The Marauder's Guide to Becoming an Animagus

    Warning: The contents of this journal were obtained through vigorous research and great personal risk. If one is so inclined as to be so foolish as to ignore the many warnings contained herein, then one deserves what one gets, and the Marauders take no responsibility for any unintended side-effects, up to and including:

    The taking on of animal-like traits while in human form. (Such as an annoying tendency to bark.)

    Any difficulties in disguising antlers, tails, shaggy ears, or any other body parts one fails to transform back.

    Most importantly, the loss or damage to vital portions of one's anatomy.

    Good luck!

    Harry broke into a wide smile as he felt Ginny's hand tighten on his shoulder, and he turned up to face the Headmistress. "Professor... thank you. I can't tell you what this means."

    "I understand, Harry," McGonagall replied kindly. "You should know that I made extensive use of these notes when composing the new textbook for the seventh year N.E.W.T. transfiguration class. Without it, I don't believe we would have been able to add Animagus studies to the standard curriculum."

    There was excited whispering among the many students present at that news - several had already seen the book on their lists with the Hogwarts letters, but that was a far cry from learning from the Headmistress herself they would all be able to officially pursue Animagus studies in the upcoming year.

    "Wicked," Ron breathed as the realization hit him, and he and Harry quickly shared a conspiratorial grin. Even if no one else went for it, the two of them certainly would.

    Harry's next gift was of an even more sentimental nature, which was all the more surprising given that Dudley was its source. Harry's cousin quickly explained that it was something he had found while cleaning out Number 4 Privet Drive before the sale, and had thought Harry would want it far more than anything else he'd left in the house.

    It was a medium-sized box, containing his parent's effects, and what few items Petunia Dursley had held on to that belonged to her sister. There was a bound stack of letters, addressed in what Harry gathered was his mother's handwriting. A tattered baby blanket that he supposed was the one he'd shown up at Privet Drive in, along with an over-sized stuffed Snitch. His father's wallet, containing his identification and his Auror badge, and a few other small odds and ends.

    Already, Harry found he couldn't speak. And even with that - when the initial things in the box would have been enough, it was the boxes bottom-most contents that were the most important.

    First were the two long, thin boxes. As he opened them, Ollivander's descriptions from long ago echoed through Harry's mind:

    Mahogany, 11". Sturdy, excellent for Transfiguration.

    Willow, 10 ¼". Swishy, good for Charms.

    He was holding his parent's wands. And yet, astounding as that was, it didn't compare to the final contents of the box: A small, velvet covered jewelry box, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Knowing what he would find, Harry opened it and discovered that his guess had been spot-on.

    Inside were his parent's wedding rings, and his Mum's engagement ring.

    "Oh my..." Ginny breathed, touching a hand to her mouth.

    The sound of her voice tore Harry's gaze away from the ring. It was a simple platinum band, bearing only three stones. A square diamond rested in the center, and a small gem-cut ruby and another gem-cut emerald flanked it on both sides.

    Had Ginny been paying attention to the way Harry knew he was looking at her, instead of looking at the ring - well, the conversation at Grimmauld Place the month before regarding marriage would have been entirely moot.

    "Dud..." Harry started, finally finding his voice, looking up to find his cousin. He was startled to see that Dudley was practically squirming in place, he looked so uncomfortable. But there was a directness to his large cousin's stare, and an earnestness that Harry chose to believe was the truth. "Thanks."

    "You're welcome," Dudley nodded. "It all should have been yours long before now."

    "Yeah, it should've," Harry agreed, "But thanks anyways, mate."

    Harry then accepted the final package from Ginny. It was small as well, but Harry could see that Ginny seemed nearly as nervous as Dudley had been. He also had to wonder, really, if he could take any more surprises at this point before turning into a blubbering mess. That wouldn't really help the 'hero' image.

    What he found when he opened the small package was, he thought, possibly the best gift he'd ever received in his life. It was a version of their family clock, but this time, in pocket-watch form - and with the name 'Potter' etched in gold across the face, along with various locations. The hands were unattached, all save two, and Professor Flitwick's accompanying gift had been a list of charms and instructions to set it up properly.

    He pressed the stud that flipped the cover open, and saw two small faces staring back up at him from the end of their hands. One was him, but the other, he saw, was Ginny.

    "Do... do you like it?" Ginny asked in a voice that made her sound like a very small girl.

    Harry responded by drawing her tightly to him and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that ignored their audience. As he drew back, Harry paused with his lips near Ginny's ear and whispered, "It's absolutely brilliant."

    After all, more than anyone else, Ginny knew how much he wanted his own family. And without words, she'd just let him know he had one. If that wasn't brilliant, then Harry didn't know what was.

    - - - - -

    "Y'know, Harry," Ron said in as serious a tone as Harry had ever heard from him, "This stuff... this stuff right here - is brilliant.

    Where'd you get it, George?"

    "Still not telling, little brother," George grinned before holding up his glass."Cheers!"

    Ron was, of course, speaking of the open bottle of Old Ogden's Finest. It was a specially aged blend of fire-whiskey that was particularly known for its potent effects. The bottles had come out after all of the older guests had departed - or in the case of Molly and Arthur, gone to bed - and all of the underage attendants save Ginny had now left as well. Harry found this last bit curious. He had no doubts that Molly and Arthur knew what was going on, and that their daughter would be participating in it - but Harry was also not in any way about to question his good fortune.

    He hoped that they didn't realize that, at this point, every single one of them was more than a bit, well, pissed.

    The party had also now dwindled to only a few people. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, of course, along with Neville, Susan, Luna, Dean, George, Parvati, Seamus and Lavender were all that were left. The circle of (mostly) Gryffindors was lounging under the stars, passing the bottle around, and just enjoying each other's company in general.

    Dudley had just recently left with one of Ginny's roommates - Mekaela, he thought. His memory was a little fuzzy. He and Dudley had not spoken much more for the rest of the evening, but he and Harry had settled into a comfortable detente where they could at least speak to each other, and even joke a small bit. Harry regarded this in itself as nothing more than a minor miracle - two years ago, he'd have never thought such a thing to be even remotely possible. Or, frankly, desired. He would thank Hermione later, he decided. He'd let her stew long enough earlier before letting her off with a simple 'Its fine.'

    Charlie and Adriana had been the only other hold-outs, but they had just recently left to enjoy company of a more private sort. At least, that was the universal opinion of the females. Everyone else had agreed, though Harry thought Ron a bit lucky that Hermione hadn't heard him refer to his brother as a 'lucky bastard.'

    "Y'know, Ron," Harry answered thoughtfully as he regarded the nearly empty bottle in front of him. Ron was all the way on the other side of the fire that had been set up to ward off the mild chill, and the dark-haired wizard was certain that the haze of the smoke was why he was unable to focus completely on his friend. "I think I con... concre... I agree."

    "Bloody right you do."

    Ginny leaned her head back at that - so she could at least attempt to look at Harry's face. This was slightly complicated by the fact that she was sitting between Harry's legs with his arms around her, but she somehow managed without toppling the both of them over. "You're drunk," she observed.

    "Am not," Harry replied indignantly, drawing laughter from all around.

    "Harry," Hermione began in a slightly imperious tone, "I have to agree. You're not drunk."

    "Thank you, 'Mione."

    "You're pissed," the bushy-haired brunette finished, drawing more laughter from the group, and causing Harry to launch a cork from one of the used-up bottles in her direction.

    "You know, Hermione," Susan observed idly from where she was sitting against Neville in much the same way as Ginny was sitting with Harry, "I think that's the very first obscenity I've heard pass your lips."

    Ron snorted. "S'what she wants you to think," he stated, his speech slurring slightly. Surprisingly, Ron had turned out to be a quiet drunk - he'd said very little for quite some time now. "Truth is, she's worse'n me when she gets going."

    Even Harry had a disbelieving look at this - at first - but then he was reminded of some of her muttered tirades after Ron's departure last year. So instead, he grinned widely as Hermione blush scarlet.

    "Yes, well," she hedged. "Appearances must be maintained. Can't have everyone thinking we're a pair of sodding savages, now can we? Someone's got to have the class in this relationship."

    George particularly howled with laughter, and faked wiping a tear away before he spoke. "I don't believe it. I never thought I'd see the day - Hermione Granger using language of the lowest sort! It's the end of the bloody world it is."

    Neville snorted. "No, that was back in May," he pointed out. Even in his drunken state, Harry could see that Neville realized the topic he'd just brought up was hardly a jovial one - it was also fairly clear that Neville didn't much care.

    This time, no one laughed. Everyone grew quiet very quickly, and there was noticeable shift in the mood from the jocularity that had been so enjoyed only moments before.

    Deciding to run with it, Harry simply raised his glass. "To... everyone," he stated simply. "Cheers."

    "Ah, Harry," Seamus interrupted with a wide grin. "We can toast 'em better'n that!"

    "G'on then," Harry chuckled, giving a wave towards Seamus as though he was yielding him the floor.

    "Right then, here's an old Irish toast for you," Seamus stood - through truthfully, he wobbled a bit in doing so - and cleared his throat before he raised his glass. He raised his voice, his Irish lilt coming through clear when he spoke. (Harry was convinced that Seamus played up his accent on occasions such as this, though he couldn't prove it.) ”To live above with the Saints we love, Ah, that is the purest glory. To live below with the Saints we know, Ah, that is another story!"

    "Cheers," came the chorus, and the entire group downed their glasses at once. Some laughed, some didn't, but Harry found the sentiment honest enough. For most, it was enough to break the sudden pall of grief that had descended. Seamus, appropriately enough, began to see to it that no one was without libation for long.

    As Seamus started refilling everyone's glasses, several of the people - mostly broken up by couples, as George and Parvati were the only 'unattached' people present - started speaking quietly to each other. As a consequence, only Harry and Ginny noticed as George - who was quite definitely no longer smiling - stood from the circle and started walking towards the pond. A moment later, Parvati followed him, a similar expression on her dark-skinned features. Clearly, Seamus' toast had broken neither from their now-morose thoughts.

    Harry and Ginny shared a look of concern, but he stopped her as she started to rise. "Stay here," he whispered quietly. "I've got it."

    "Okay," she nodded, and gave him a quick kiss before he stood to follow.

    ------------------------

    Harry hung back at first, in order to best appraise just what Parvati and George were doing. Parvati had caught up to George, and they were whispering quietly to each other as they walked. George absent-mindedly led their group, though he wasn't consciously taking them anywhere in particular. He was simply wandering, and as he turned his head slightly to the side, Harry was able to catch a glimpse of it in the moonlight. As he'd suspected, George Weasley's features were twisted into an unmistakable map of grief. Parvati, he could also see, wore the same expression. Clearly both were thinking of the twin they'd lost.

    Came up with that all on your own, did you, Potter? A sarcastic voice in Harry's mind said. He was faintly disturbed for a moment to note that the voice sounded quite a bit like Draco Malfoy.

    George was also, apparently, very aware that Harry had come up to stand behind him and Parvati. Neither of the newly-lonesome twins was speaking now that Harry's presence was so obvious. Both turned towards him at the same time.

    George's hands were shoved down deep into his pockets, his earlier joviality completely vanished. He'd always been the more serious of the twin Weasleys - inasmuch as the term applied, at least.

    Parvati, on the other hand, had been far more outgoing than her twin. Their differences had been so pronounced that they hadn't even been sorted into the same houses. The way she was standing now though, with the way her arms were folded across her chest and a very dour expression on her face, Harry was struck by how often he'd seen Padma adopt that very pose. If he didn't know better, he'd have assumed people thought the wrong twin dead for a moment.

    Sober up, Harry. Mind's wandering a bit too much, he chided himself, and Harry shook his head to clear it. That was a perk of magical alcohol - one could clear one's thinking from it far easier than Muggle alcohol. Wouldn't do to have some drunken fool start tossing around Reducto spells in a bar just because he was feeling belligerent, after all. A witch or wizard couldn't very well afford a total lack of control. Most wizards got a big surprise when they drank Muggle alcohol, Seamus had said earlier.

    Focus, Harry.

    George looked at him now, with a directness that seared Harry's very soul. Voice hollow, he spoke in a voice so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear it. "How do you do it, Harry?"

    Though he knew well enough what George was talking about, Harry asked regardless. "Do what, George?"

    George gave a quick bark of laughter - a sound that was far more rueful than humorous. "Live. Go on. Survive. Bloody hell - I don't say this to be cruel, Harry, but - you've lost more than most people do their entire lives. I always knew you were tougher than anybody thought but this... "

    The names passed through Harry's mind in an automatic litany. Mum. Dad. Sirius. Cedric. Dumbledore. Hedwig. Dobby. Remus. Tonks. Cho..... Fred. And a dozen others - those who hadn't been family, but had certainly been friends. Colin, Padma and so many others. Harry smiled, but there was no humor in it.

    It was a very sad smile indeed, and when George and Parvati watched his eyes, they suddenly saw the eyes of a much older man come out from behind those of the young man who had been living his life for the first time these past few months. Now they were the eyes of a veteran, of one who'd seen far too many horrible things. They eyes of a man who could answer those sorts of questions. "Sort of eats you alive, doesn't it?" he asked.

    George merely nodded, and this time it was Parvati who spoke. "It's like - well, it's rather like being separated from a part of yourself. I keep feeling like Padma is around me still, and I look for her... but she's not there."

    Harry thought about telling them about the Resurrection Stone - George knew already, of course - and how he'd learned that there was, in fact, an afterlife. After all, he'd been there, in a way. That wasn't the kind of words he thought the two of them needed to hear right now, however, so Harry held his tongue.

    George nodded once again - but then, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had all seen him speaking to Fred from time to time as though he were still there, so that wasn't a particular surprise.

    "That never really goes away, you know," Harry pointed out. He wondered for a moment if he would be this open without being half-drunk. A year ago, he knew he wouldn't have. Now - well, he liked to think so, at least. "I imagine it's always going to be hard for you two - I can't say I know what losing a twin is like."

    "But you know the loss," George observed.

    "And the pain," Parvati continued quietly.

    "I do," Harry conceded, and stuck his hands into his pockets. He told himself it was for warmth - there was a cool night breeze tonight, even if it was the end of July. "And it hurts like hell every time. Like a piece of your soul's ripped away. And it hurts so much; you wonder how you can possibly go on living like this..."

    The pain from Sirius and Dumbledore and everyone else only a few months before spiked up at his words. "And it never really goes away. It fades a bit. Becomes more manageable. You learn... well, you learn to live with it, I guess. And every day, the hurt is a little less. And then, eventually, well - all that's just not that important anymore."

    George snorted again. "Harry, don't patronize me, mate. Don't give me all that rubbish they spouted off at the funeral, about only remembering the good...â€

    "... and that we'll forget how much it hurts." Parvati finished a look of equal disgust on her face.

    Harry shrugged. "Some things people say because they're true, you know. And yeah- it sounds like complete rubbish. But it's still true. The good eventually outshines the bad. And then...†he shrugged again. "Then is just becomes a part of you. It helps to talk, to not keep it all bottled in - "

    George laughed openly at that, and this time his voice was full of humor.

    Harry gave him a sardonic grin. "Suppose that is pretty funny, considering the source. 'Mione - and Ron, too - they spent years trying to tell me that. Took it coming from Ginny for it to really sink in, I guess."

    George raised an eyebrow. "So you're telling me I need to... share my feelings."

    "Not when you phrase it like that," Harry snorted. "Just talk. Talk about Fred - and Padma -" Harry added, with a pointed look at Parvati. "I reckon the person each of you needs to talk to most is standing right here. No one else could possibly understand what you've lost other than well, the two of you."

    Parvati gave George a wary eye. That was indeed why she'd followed him, Harry guessed, but he didn't think she'd particularly thought it through. "You think it'll help?"

    "Couldn't hurt," Harry said with another shrug. "I'll leave you two to sort it out."

    And without another word, Harry did just that and returned to his party - and especially, Ginny.

    He very much felt the need for a comforting touch just now.

    ------------------------

    When Harry returned, he slipped easily back down next to Ginny. With a few whispered comments, he filled her in. Unsurprisingly, she picked up on the tinge of his mood without him ever speaking of it, and did what she could in small ways. A soft kiss, the stroke of her hand on his arms as he rejoined the group's conversation - that sort of thing. Harry could never find the words to express his gratitude for what she gave him - but as saw the way Ginny looked at him, he suspected he'd never have to. Somehow, already, she knew.

    Of course, he was still going to have to find away to tell her, regardless. Just because something didn't need to be said didn't mean that it shouldn't be.

    An hour passed before Parvati and George returned. Both seemed to be in lighter spirits, and they joined in on the current path the group's conversation had taken. Ginny had just fixed a suggestive gaze on the increasingly... comfortable Neville and Susan.

    "So - Susan, Neville..." she started, trailing off with an exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows. "Do anything interesting lately?"

    That caused Harry and Seamus to both start choking - as each had taken a drink of fire-whiskey at just the wrong time. Harry proved better at containing his. Seamus, however, sprayed his drink everywhere. Luckily, Lavender dodged just in time, and the alcohol ended up giving the fire a boost instead.

    "Sorry Ginny, were you asking something?" Neville asked in a tone of adopted innocence as Susan arched an eyebrow - once the flames had died back down a bit.

    "When did this happen, then?" Ginny asked, waving a hand to indicate 'them'.

    Susan smiled, and Neville suddenly looked sheepish. He nodded briefly to her, however, and the dark-haired Hufflepuff decided she would answer. "Easter hols, right after you left."

    "Figures," Ginny said theatrically, drawing some chuckles. "I always miss the good stuff."

    Susan grinned conspiratorially, and continued in a stage whisper. "The first night I started bunking in the Room of Requirement, I was there because Amycus had caught me escorting a half-blood third-year who wasn't "pure enough" to use one of the secret passages - the Honeydukes one?"

    Everyone nodded at the reference, and the Hufflepuff kept on. "Nev rescued me - he hit Carrow with a Petrificus Totalus," she grinned even wider.

    Harry saw Neville and Hermione shared a quick grin at that, though his bushy-haired friend blushed as well. It was, after all, the spell she had used on Neville all the way back in first year to keep him from stopping Harry, Ron and Hermione from going after the Philosopher's Stone. Harry also remembered how Hermione had been apologizing to Neville about that for years.

    Thinking back to the way Neville'd stood up to them back at the end of their first year, Harry decided his friend hadn't really changed all that much after all. It was just much plainer for anyone to see the sort of man Neville was these days.

    "And then Neville pushed him down the stairs before he saw him. It was bloody hilarious - he bounced down two landings, flat as a board. Was laid up with Pomfrey for two days," Susan said, starting to giggle uncontrollably as Ron's, Harry's - and especially George's - eyes were getting wider and wider at that.

    Susan was still staring right at Ginny, and as the giggles stopped, her grin had gotten decidedly more wicked. "Well, I jumped him as soon as we got to the Room. There's no sex like 'just-saved-your-life-sex'. It was the only thing to do in that situation, really."

    Ginny's eyes twinkled at that revelation, as Harry shifted uncomfortably behind her. "Indeed?"

    "Absolutely," Lavender, Parvati and Hermione chimed in at the same time. Harry wasn't sure whose head was whipping around fastest - it was a toss-up between any of the guys. Harry found it slightly discomfiting - though it could have been the alcohol - that none of the girls looks surprised at all.

    Luna nodded as well. "The nargles are especially helpful then," she added sagely. "They like the smell of adrenaline."

    As everyone had long since become accustomed to Luna, they all merely took that information in stride.

    George expressed his shock at another person instead. "Hermione! You are ruining all my preconceptions about you in one night!"

    "You'll live, George," the bushy-haired brunette said archly. "I'm certain of it."

    "Come to think of it," Parvati noted, giving Neville a wink, "That's a pretty close story to the time Neville and I were together, too."

    Every head there swung to face Neville, who was now blushing enough to do any Weasley proud. Susan was one thing, but Parvati, too? Harry's gaze flickered briefly over Lavender, who looked as though she was trying not to say something. From the way she looked briefly at Neville, however, even Harry's drunken brain could put two and two together.

    Bloody hell, Nev, Harry thought, and couldn't find the ability to actually voice the words. Lavender, too?

    "Neville!" George cried. "Old bean! I'd have never suspected."

    "It's always the quiet ones," Seamus grinned.

    Neville muttered something unintelligible.

    It was Susan who replied, "Oh - don't let him fool you. He's well aware that being the hero is enough to get any girl... erm, going, so to speak."

    "Well," Parvati continued, giving Harry and Ginny a pointed look. "I suspect you two'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

    Harry looked down at Ginny. "Something I need to know about you and Neville, luv?"

    She just rolled her eyes and patted Harry's arm in a way that was decidedly patronizing. "No, Harry. Neville and I have never been together. I'm afraid you ruined me for all other men."

    "Oh? How's that?" he asked, genuinely curious. (He also heard Ron chuckling at the way Harry involuntarily puffed out his chest at that news, but decided to ignore it.)

    Ginny sighed. "Harry, I love you, but you're bloody thick sometimes, d'you know?"

    "Well, explain it then," he laughed.

    "You killed a basilisk to save me when I was eleven. With a sodding sword and everything. You couldn't have been more of a knight in shining armor if you'd tried, Harry," Ginny said with emphasis. Her tone was sarcastic, but as she brought her eyes around to meet his, Harry saw a deep gratitude there, along with all the myriad of other emotions that existed between them - not the least of which was their love. He could only hope that his own eyes reflected the depth of his own emotions for her, and that Ginny knew that he felt every bit of what she did.

    Harry grinned. "Bloke's got to do what a bloke's got to do."

    Seamus laughed loudly at that. "Well, at least you did it properly, mate! Good on you!"

    Surprisingly, Dean was laughing too, and looked over at Neville and Seamus. "Blimey, mates. No wonder we never had a real shot. Harry made us all look like ruddy amateurs before we ever knew what was going on."

    Lavender, though, was looking at Harry and Ginny in disbelief. "You mean to tell me, you two haven't —“

    Neither one answered.

    It was Neville who spoke now. "Blimey," he muttered, "I'd have thought, if anybody, it'd have been you two..."

    "Well, things just haven't..." Harry mumbled, starting to get a little embarrassed.

    "But the way you two are," Lavender pointed out "Ginny, no one even considered you available at all last year, even when Harry was on the run. It was so obvious how you two felt."

    That brought Harry up short, and he felt Ginny tense slightly under his arms. "Gin?" he asked quietly. "Is that true? You - You didn't date anyone?"

    She didn't answer - and pointedly turned away from him so that he couldn't see her face - so Harry turned to Neville. "Nev? Is that true? Everyone thought we were still together, even after I - after what I did at the funeral?"

    No one wanted to answer now, but Neville was the only one not to look away from Harry aside from Hermione and Ron, who were watching the others intently. Ginny hadn't spoken of her year to them either, after all, so this was all new. Neville gave Harry a quick, curt nod. "I'm sorry, mate, but - well, no one bought it. Not those of us who know you two, anyhow, and I don't think anyone else really did."

    "Gin," Harry said in a low voice. "Why didn't you —“

    "I wasn't willing to lie, Harry," she said sadly. "It's never been my way, and I very much hope that you know me enough to know that. I wasn't going to pursue anyone else, not while I was still in love - really in love, for the first time! - with you. That wouldn't have been fair to them."

    "But you - the Carrows could have - Riddle could have - "

    "It wouldn't have been fair to me either, Harry," she continued, "And I refused to let any of those bastards dictate my life any further. I had to keep my feelings for you a secret - or at least try to - okay. But sod it all if I was going to take it farther than that."

    "But I thought —“

    "I know what you thought, Harry. But it doesn't matter now."

    Harry sighed, and wrapped his arms around Ginny. He pulled her tight as he leaned his forehead to hers, as though he was trying to pour all of his love and regret into her at the same time. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

    "I know," she said, her sad smile expanded into a much warmer one as Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck. "But don't worry about it. Past is past. I love you."

    "I love you, too."

    "See," Seamus interrupted as he popped the cork on a new bottle of Old Ogden's, "This is why everyone thinks you two shag like rabbits. Normal people fight, or hex, or scream, or something. A few quiet words and you two are right as rain. It's bloody unnatural is what it is."

    "Too right there, mate," Ron concurred.

    That got everyone laughing again, and the Irish wizard started passing a new bottle around.

    No one commented as Ginny's hand slipped into Harry's and she led him away.

    - - - - -

    They walked in silence, Harry's arm around Ginny's shoulders, and Harry wasn't paying attention where he was being led. He had an idea of the why of it, but as for the where, he couldn't say he cared.

    His thoughts were preoccupied with the revelation that one of the worst things he'd done in his life had been, essentially, a complete and total worthless mistake. He'd broken up with Ginny, put them both through nearly a year of pain - at it was all for no damned reason. No one had bought it. All of their friends had seen through it and if he was reading the few indications Ginny - and Neville - had given right, so had his enemies. And she, very likely, had been put through a living hell worse than any of the other students at Hogwarts because of it.

    I should have brought her with me. Restriction on underage magic or the Trace be damned, I should have...

    She still hadn't volunteered more than the smallest hints, precious few bits of information about her year. Why was that? Why didn't she want to talk about it? Did she just not want to burden him with it? Was that it? Harry very nearly broke his resolution to let her bring it up first right then and there.

    So wrapped up in his musings, Harry didn't notice at all where Ginny had led them. His thoughts were still swirling on that one topic when he felt a soft palm on his cheek dragging him back to the world. "Stop thinking about it, Harry," interrupted Ginny's soft voice. "I told you already. Past is past."

    "Sorry," he chuckled, drawing her close to him. "How do you always know just what I'm thinking?"

    "Trade secret."

    "Very funny, Weasley. I'll just - " Harry cut himself off as he got a look at his surroundings. "Wait a moment. How - when - did we get to your bedroom?"

    Ginny smiled, a particularly wicked smile that Harry was quite certain he was the only man alive to have ever seen. "You really were thinking hard, weren't you?"

    "Don't let it out or anything, but I do that from time to time."

    "Don't worry, Harry, your secret is safe with me," she smiled.

    As they'd spoken, Ginny had moved her hands to his chest, and was gently but firmly nudging Harry in the direction of her bed. Harry suddenly found himself almost hyper-aware of everything, and the nervous lump in throat traveled south to his stomach and settled itself in for what seemed as though it would be a good, long stay.

    "Finding it, uh, kind of hard to think now, though..." Harry stammered out as she pushed him back onto the bed.

    "That's the idea, Harry," There was that smile again. Then she leaned in to give him a searing kiss, and Harry was very, very aware of the press of her body against his. Any thoughts he had were whisked away - either due to a change in attention of a loss of blood flowing to his brain, Harry wasn't sure - but he started to respond by instinct.

    He pressed his lips back to hers, and pressed his hands firmly against her back, drawing her even closer. His hands began to wander southward as Ginny's traveled upwards, knotting her hands in his hair. His eventually settled in a place that would have gotten him slapped not all that long ago.

    Harry was also very disappointed when she pulled her face away from his. His questioning look was answered with that same smile, and he was fairly certain he'd never seen anything so alluring in his life.

    "Got your mind on something else now, Harry?" she asked teasingly.

    "Not a thought in my head, luv," he answered, and then made her yelp as he pulled her backward so that they were both now lying down on the bed.

    They started kissing again, and Harry found that his nervousness wasn't fading any. He had to wonder if Ginny was nervous. If she was, she wasn't showing it - but then, she was so much more confident when it came to this. She had always taken the lead in the physical aspects of their relationship. If Harry were to think about it, he probably wouldn't be surprised to realize that the way he'd been starved for physical affection as a child had left him with some confidence issues when it came to physical intimacy.

    However, lying there with a beautiful redhead - his beautiful Ginny - in his arms and kissing her passionately, he wasn't wondering one damn bit about any of that.

    Instead, he was trying to figure out just how the hell to get her bra off. Yes, he'd managed it before - but well, there was usually light. The darkness (and probably the fire-whiskey, he admitted to himself) was complicating matters.

    After his third attempt, Ginny gave him a patient smile and started to reach back.

    "No, don't," Harry said, stopping her.

    "Why?"

    "Just stay still," he said, and held his hand level over the clasp. His other hand was holding her hair to the side - he didn't want to affect that, after all.

    "Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny was starting to sound a little worried now.

    "Shush," he said, and furrowed his brow in concentration. He felt his magic inside him, moving out towards his hand, and pushed... "Evanesco," he whispered.

    Ginny gasped as her bra was successfully vanished. She looked to Harry in shock. "Harry - that was wandless mag-"

    "I was motivated," he answered roughly, and cut off any further comments by claiming the rewards of his hard work.

    Ginny's attention was, needless to say, drawn back to the more important matters at hand.

    Two pairs of hands resumed their exploration then, and Harry found his pulse pounding in his ears more and more as instinct began to take over. He felt nervous, he felt excited, he felt scared - so very many things.

    Before he even realized it, neither of them was wearing a stitch of clothing.

    Harry pulled back a moment, glad he was still wearing his glasses, to take a full look at Ginny. He eyes started at her feet at travelled all the way up her body, taking everything in. It was a sight he wanted to commit to memory for the rest of his days, and he had no doubts at all that he would be able to do exactly that. But when he got to her face, he found something he didn't expect.

    Ginny was nervous, too. It showed in the bit of worry he saw in her eyes, and he couldn't figured it out until she spoke, her voice shaking.

    "Do you..." she swallowed. "Do you like what you see?"

    He smiled warmly, and pressed his body back to hers. "You're perfect," he whispered, and pressed his lips to hers once more. Suddenly, though, he was very aware of his many scars. "And I could ask the same. I mean, I know I'm not perfect, Gin -"

    "Shh," she said, "You've nothing to worry about at all, Harry," she whispered reassuringly before trailing kisses up his neck."Good to know," he murmured distractedly.

    He felt her relax under him at that, the last of her concerns whisked away by his words - and other, more obvious signs of his affection. Ginny began to wriggle slightly underneath him, and was pulling him towards her...

    When some truly idiotic little corner of his brain kicked in.

    He closed his eyes, whispering for the feeling to go away, and then sighed heavily when it didn't. "Gin," he whispered softly, pulling himself back slightly. "I... can't."

    The wicked smile was gone now, replaced by the blazing look that meant, if her wand wasn't several feet away, she would have hexed first and asked questions later. "That seems to suggest otherwise," she said, pointing, her tone still quite dangerous.

    "I don't mean I can't," Harry corrected, very, very quickly. "Obviously I'm... uh, capable. I want to. I really, really want to. And I can't believe I'm so stupid as to be saying this... I meant... we can't. Not right here, not right now."

    Ginny's expression softened slightly. "What's wrong with here, Harry? What's wrong with now?"

    "Well, it's - I'm sorry, Gin, but... I don't want to disappoint your parents."

    "Harry," Ginny replied, "now is not the time that a girl wants to be thinking of her parents."

    "Me neither," Harry snorted. "But it's just, oh bollocks - I'm not explaining this well."

    Ginny frowned. "Yes, if Mum came in right now, we'd get a hell of an earful, Harry, I'll give you that. After all, you don't just have your hands in the cookie jar; you've gone and peeled the bloody paint off it, as it were."

    "As I recall, you've done some peeling yourself," he said, pointedly indicating his pants and boxers on the floor. He was rewarded by seeing her face flush (Not to mention finally learning that, yes, this particular Weasley did in fact blush all over.)

    "Yes, well," she hedged, "You still need to explain, Harry, or you are going to be soundly hexed, very shortly."

    "And I deserve it," Harry agreed whole-heartedly. "But look, Gin - your parents mean the world to me. They're the closest thing I've got to parents I've got of my own. And despite how very, very much I want this... how much I want to be everything to you... doing this here, now, under their roof, while you're still underage... it feels like I'm betraying them."

    "Merlin's balls," Ginny muttered, though she at least smiled as she said it. Harry relaxed some at that - she did understand, after all. "You really are a noble idiot."

    "I really am," he agreed. "It's a chronic condition. I can't seem to do anything about it."

    "You have no idea how indescribably lucky you are that I love you, Potter," Ginny whispered as she wrapped her arms back around him.

    "I realize it every single day, Gin," he admitted softly. One of his hands reached up to push her hair back behind her ear.

    "You can't say things like that, Harry," she admonished him.

    "Why?"

    "Because it makes it very hard for me to agree with you right now."

    He smiled. "That's fair. I'm having a very hard time agreeing with me right now."

    "So..." she started, blowing out a breath. "Erm... when, then?"

    "When the time is right," Harry answered, hoping he at least sounded confident.

    "I'm seventeen in eleven days," she pointed out. "And you have your own house."

    "Eleven days," Harry confirmed. He was very much not confirming that that was her birthday. "And yes, yes I do."

    "Guess we'll just... know when the time's right then?" she teased, and snuggled in closer. "You know what the real hell of it is, Harry?"

    "What's that?"

    "I really liked that bra."

    Harry just laughed, wrapped his arm around her tighter, and drew the covers up over the both of them. They talked some more, of inconsequential things, and drifted off to sleep together, safe and secure in the warmth of each other.

    - - - - - - - -

    Later, just as dawn's first rays were beginning to creep through the window, Ginny's door creaked open. Nymphadora hooted in a mild warning, but neither of her humans responded. Two pairs of eyes looked appraisingly around the room, taking in the trail of clothes and the two forms entwined together under the covers.

    "You know," Arthur whispered, "I thought I'd be disappointed when this day came. Or rather more upset."

    "Oh, hush, Arthur," Molly admonished him with a smile. "We both know very well what they mean to each other, and we wouldn't - couldn't - have chosen anyone better for her than Harry."

    "Yes, yes, I know," the Weasley patriarch agreed, though there was a bit of resignation in his voice. "Well. At least they're older than we were, Mollywobbles."

    Molly giggled at the pet name, but drew her husband away from the door. "Come on then, now, let's not wake them. I'll send Hermione up later so we don't embarrass the dears."

    Ginny didn't hear her father's reply, but as her mother closed the door, she simply smiled, and snuggled closer next to Harry.

    Back to index


    Chapter 12: Chapter 12 - The Quick and the Dead

    Author's Notes: Thanks to TeyriJen and Geluf for their quick beta work on this one, the largest chapter yet. Hope you all enjoy! (And remember - hungry authors have to be fed! Reviews are our sustenance! :) )


    Chapter Twelve - "The Quick and the Dead"

    "You don't mind if I join you two, do you?" Harry asked, lugging his trunk and Hedwig onto the train with him asked. "Everywhere else is full..."

    "S'no problem," the boy he'd asked answered, and then pointed at his trunk. "Want a hand?"

    It was one of the red-haired twins - the boy and girl, - that he'd followed through the barrier. The boy was taller than Harry, and the girl, who was looking at him curiously, was just a few inches shorter. The boy was standing on the seat so he could shove his trunk up onto the shelf. They had to be twins, because they were clearly related - same color of red hair and the same freckles, but they were first years too, he thought. Harry figured this because they looked about the same age as him, and like him, looked just a little bit too nervous for this to be anything but their first time on the train.

    "Yes, please," Harry responded eagerly. How in the world was an eleven year old supposed to get a trunk up there on his own? He tilted the end of his trunk up towards the taller redhead and the other boy tried to lift it to no avail.

    "Blimey, what've you got in there, everything you own?" the boy asked with a chuckle.

    "Actually, yeah," Harry whispered quietly.

    "Oh," the boy replied, turning a bright shade of red as he blushed all the way up to his ears. "Uh, sorry."

    Harry just shrugged it off.

    "Oh, really Ron," the girl said in disgust, and drew her wand. She pointed it at the trunk, gave her wand a swish and a flick and said something that sounded like "Wingardium Leviosa".

    Harry stared in amazement as the trunk lifted off the ground, light as a feather, to join the other two already stowed away. "Wow..." he breathed.

    The boy frowned. "Ginny, you could have done that for our trunks, you know."

    "I know," the girl said, giving Harry a wink. "But it was more fun to watch you do it the other way. And you could've done it too, if you'd thought about it."

    Harry laughed. "Say, how did you know how to do that? I thought we couldn't do magic until we got to Hogwarts."

    The twins shared a quick look between them. "You're allowed to learn outside of school," the girl explained. "I paid attention to our Mum - a bit more than this git, I'd say."

    "You just can't do magic outside of school. Not without getting in loads of trouble," the boy finished, ignoring the latter part of his sister's comment. Harry was beginning to suspect he did that a lot.

    "Well, thanks," Harry said, taking in that bit of information. As he did so, he pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, brushing it clear of his forehead and inadvertently revealing his scar. After the way people had reacted when Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley, he'd taken to brushing his hair down in front of his head, to hide the identifying mark. But the compartment was very hot, and he forgot about it. "That's good to know, I guess. I didn't tell my aunt and uncle we're not allowed outside of school, though. Hagrid said I probably shouldn't."

    Harry looked up to see that both redheads were staring open-mouthed at him. "You're Harry Potter!" the boy finally exclaimed.

    Harry blushed, and cast his eyes down to the suddenly interesting floor. Were they going to fawn like the people in Diagon Alley did? Harry really hoped he wasn't going to have to deal with that sort of thing all the time. "Erm... yeah."

    "Wicked," the boy breathed. The way he said it made Harry smile, and instantly made him feel more at ease - until the boy's sister smacked him soundly in the back of the head. "Oi! What was that for!"

    "You're embarrassing him, you git!" the girl said, before turning back to Harry. "I apologize for him. Mum tried to give him manners, really, but it just didn't take. My name's Ginny, Ginny Weasley. This is my idiot brother, Ron."

    "Big brother," Ron corrected.

    Ginny rolled her eyes. "By two minutes!"

    "I'm Harry," Harry interjected, hoping to cut off another sibling confrontation. "Harry Potter. I guess you, ah, know that though."

    "Scar's a bit of a giveaway, mate," Ron said sagely.

    "So," Harry started, finding he didn't actually mind the attention from these two. Honestly, he found them just as interesting as they found him. "Is your whole family wizards then? You must already know loads of magic."

    They talked for quite awhile, Harry asking questions about the wizarding world and their family, and Ron and Ginny asking questions about where he'd been. Both grew excited to find out he'd grown up in the Muggle world, but that lessened with time. He told them little in the way of details about his life with the Dursleys, but they were able to quickly gather that it was not a happy topic. They both assured Harry that he wasn't going to be far behind everyone else - there were apparently plenty of 'Muggle-borns" who went to Hogwarts.

    Around half past twelve, there was a great clattering in the corridor, and a round smiling woman slid back the door and looked down at the three of them. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

    Harry watched Ron's and Ginny's reactions as they mentioned they'd been sent with food. As with any other eleven-year-olds, roast beef and corned beef sandwiches simply didn't look appetizing in the face of all that candy, and it showed on their faces. Making up his mind quickly, he pulled a fistful of Galleons from his pocket, and looked levelly at the round witch. "We'll take the lot."

    Later in his life, Harry would think that all that candy had soundly secured Ron's loyalty right then and there. Ginny, however, was impressed by his willingness to share with two other kids had just met. Harry was just happy to have someone to share it with.

    After a time of trying various candies - Harry found Bertie Bott's Every-Flavored Beans both especially fascinating and challenging at the same time, particularly when he discovered a bogey-flavored one - Harry held up another package, labeled 'Chocolate Frogs'. "What are these? They're not really frogs, are they?" Somehow, that wouldn't be a surprise anymore. Indeed, Harry was half-expecting it.


    It wasn't even a surprise when the candy frog jumped from the open package, and right out the window.

    "Shame, that," Ginny commiserated. "They've only got the one good jump in them."

    "Yeah," Ron agreed, and then pointed at the package in Harry's hands, "Hey, see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

    "Card?" Harry asked.

    "They come with collectible cards of all sorts of famous witches and wizards," Ginny explained, opening one of her own. "Most everybody collect them - Ron's got loads. Oh, I've got Dumbledore again. I was hoping for Gwenog Jones.."

    "You've got about six of her!" Ron protested as Harry pulled off his card. There was a picture of a dark-haired witch wearing what looked like a toga. The picture moved at first, which slightly startled Harry until Ginny and Ron explained about wizard photos and paintings. Returning his attention to the card, he scanned his eyes over the text. It read:

    Cassandra: A Greek witch who lived in Troy, Cassandra is one of the most famous seers in History. She predicted the downfall and destruction of Troy, though Cassandra also bore a horrible curse: No one believed her prophecies, which were always true. One of her creations inspired the Prophecy Spheres kept within the Department of Mysteries, as she once created a mystical artifact known as the Orb of Cassandra, which was rumored to give -

    - - - - - - -

    "Oi! Harry, wake up!"

    Harry jerked awake to the very rude sound of Ron's voice as the other barged into his bedroom, pounding - loudly - on the door just before he came in. Harry closed his eyes again before the red-headed wizard continued speaking, "We're going to Diagon Alley today, remember? Ginny and 'Mione are coming to meet us in twenty minutes. Get up, y'lazy sod!"

    Harry reluctantly opened his eyes once again and rolled over to face the ceiling. For a moment, he thought he saw a blue glow coming from his headboard above him but when he blinked the clear his eyes, the glow was gone. If it had ever even been there in the first place, of course.

    Ron was standing by the foot of his bed now, his hand on Harry's shin as he shook his leg, presumably to wake him. He had not yet noticed that Harry's eyes were now open. "Blimey, would you get a move on already?" his so-called friend urged him. Harry thought his friend's impatience was rather rich, considering the source.

    Under his pillow, Harry's hand clasped around his wand (the phoenix feather one - putting the Elder Wand under his pillow just seemed like a bad idea) and he narrowed his eyes. Before Ron could do anything about it, Harry had drawn the wand, pointed it at the second-youngest Weasley, and fired off a spell.

    Levicorpus, Harry thought with a quick flick. The offending hand was abruptly removed from his leg.

    "Oi!" Ron cried in indignation, as he was now upside down a few feet away from Harry's bed. Harry grinned, but he didn't even look at his friend. After a minute or two had passed, Ron spoke again, "All right, mate. You've had your fun. Lemme down."

    Silencio, Harry thought with another flick of his wand. Then he closed his eyes and drifted back off into a peaceful sleep. He felt the need to get back to his dream, to see if it would pick up where it had left off. It was an urge he couldn't shake, as though it were somehow important to see what happened next. It was a strange feeling to have about a dream, but Harry's half-asleep brain didn't recognize the notion as an unusual one.

    Unfortunately, the dream did not return.

    When next Harry awoke, it was to very feminine peals of laughter. Very familiar feminine laughter. Had Ron said something about the girls coming by, earlier? When the noise continued, Harry finally cracked an eye open to find Ginny and Hermione standing at the door to his bedroom.

    Well, Hermione was standing. Ginny had slid down the wall, was holding onto her side with one hand while the other was wiping away tears.

    Hermione was giving him her best disapproving stare. And, given the practice she'd had on him and Ron over the years - not to mention the lessons that Ron swore she was taking from Molly - Hermione's best disapproving stare was actually pretty damned good.

    Well. That's not good. Shouldn't I at least be awake before I'm in trouble for the day? Harry mused.

    "Whassamatteryou?" he mumbled into his pillow instead.

    "What do you think, Harry?" she said, pointing to something that was hanging in the air a few feet away from the bed. After donning his glasses, he smiled to realize that Ron was still hanging there, upside down and silenced. And he had apparently decided to just sleep the whole thing out. He was even snoring, it looked like - though the silencing spell thankfully blocked that out.

    Harry snickered at the sight, earning him a continuance of the disapproving glare from Hermione. "Well, at least I can't hear him snoring. I should've thought of that years ago..."

    "Really Harry, it's not funny - a body isn't supposed to be upside down like that for extended periods of time. It could to serious damage to his cardiovascular system. He might even be unconscious, not just sleeping! Well, okay, I know that's not what he looks like he's unconscious, but that's not the point!"

    Ginny was still trying to recover her breath. Hermione's tirade caused her to fail.

    "S'okay, 'Mione, I'm letting him down now," Harry assured her patiently, regretting for a moment that he didn't have a camera handy. He flicked his wand a few times in order to release spells and Ron fell to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. It was, perhaps, a rude awakening, but Harry considered it a fair trade for Ron's barging in earlier.

    "Ow," came Ron's groan from the floor after a few seconds had passed. As Harry stepped out of the bed, he was grateful that he'd slept in a t-shirt along with his boxers - and that he didn't have a morning problem today. Every since his birthday a week ago, his dreams of Ginny had been particularly more active, and after each dream, Harry was forced to conclude more and more that he was a complete and total bloody moron.

    As he knew Ginny would agree with him on that score, he had not mentioned it to her. Unfortunately, he hadn't had to - the underlying sexual frustration that was now there every time they even did something as simple as kissed had them both feeling like they were about to explode.

    "I told you I'd come and wake up Harry, didn't I?" Ginny finally said to her brother, having found her voice. "You knew you'd probably get hexed."

    "Yeah, I know," Ron groused, and fixed a dirty stare on his best mate from his position on the floor.

    Harry just grinned back at him. "Sorry, mate," he said. He didn't look sorry at all, but Harry could hardly help that. Harry did manage to refrain from grinning too broadly as he extended a hand to help Ron up.

    "I'll get you back, Potter," Ron warned him as he accepted the helping hand. "You just watch."

    That time, Harry couldn't stop himself, and he flashed a cheeky grin as he responded, "I await your vengeance at your earliest available opportunity, Mister Weasley."

    Ron just muttered something incomprehensible as he and the girls left to allow Harry to get dressed. Ginny started to stay behind, practically sneaking in Harry's direction to get around her brother. Ron simply snaked a hand around hers on his way out so that he could pull the now-pouting girl out of the room along with him.

    Harry laughed even harder when he heard Hermione's voice echoed back down the hall, "Ronald, you really should have had your wand with you. You're an Auror now, well, a reserve one at least. You should always be prepared, you could have released yourself at least, then, and -" It sounded as though Hermione was getting a pretty good steam going, actually, before her voice faded down the stairwell.

    As he began to get dressed, though, a nagging feeling persisted in tickling at the back of Harry's mind. It was like he'd forgotten something from a dream, and he couldn't shake the notion that it was important somehow. But no matter how hard he thought about it, Harry couldn't bring it to mind, so eventually, the thought was lost in his preparations for the day ahead.

    - - - - - -

    The foursome flooed into the Leaky Cauldron so that they could gain access to Diagon Alley. They'd have used the one at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, except when they tried, they got a puff a blue smoke that, according to Ron, meant that connection was down for maintenance. It simply wasn't safe to Apparate into such a crowded area as the Alley, and so they'd had to briefly impose on Tom. They briefly ran into Hannah Abbot while there, she was working a summer job as a waitress they learned, because Tom was actually her uncle.

    After they said goodbye and moved into Diagon Alley proper, Harry and the others all marveled at how free they were for such a trip. It was a far cry from the last few years, with no Order members for escort, or not even being allowed to go at all, but just having to give Mrs. Weasley a list of the things they needed. Given that Ginny would be of age in only four days, and the war had been over for months, even Molly hadn't thought that they needed an escort. Well, not a security one, at any rate.

    Harry had found this particularly surprising, as every single moment he'd been at the Burrow in the week since his birthday, he and Ginny had not been 'allowed' to be alone together. Molly was subtle about it, of course, but there was always, always someone with the two of them.

    Ron especially seemed to take great glee in "Harry and Ginny duty."

    Harry had been frustrated with it at first, but when he'd gone outside to start chunking garden gnomes over it, she had simply followed him. Well, that and stroked her hand very, very lightly up his arm to be patient. Her birthday, after all, was not that far away, which she pointedly reminded him. On the one hand, just that touch had almost been impossible to bear. But the reminder that the days until her birthday numbered in the single digits...

    Well, with that thought, Harry found it much easier to bear up to the presence of their constant chaperones.

    Harry enjoyed watching the crowds as they walked, seeing people going about their business with no worry on their features. He listened with half an ear to the ongoing conversation between Ginny, Ron and Hermione, but mostly was distracted by just taking everything in. It all reminded him of his first trip to the Alley with Hagrid. There were a few signs of ongoing reconstruction here and there, but, for the most part it was all blessedly normal. It was hard to tell that so much of this had been abandoned only a few short months ago, he thought as they passed what had used to be Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. It was now a cafe of some sort, but Harry didn't bother to take in the name. It was the fourth new occupant of that space in as many months - Harry didn't care to lay down Galleons on how long it would last.

    Even better by Harry's reckoning was that no one seemed to have really noticed his presence. Not even with their quick first stop at Gringotts so that all four could pull out sufficient funds for the school year. He wondered if his change in hairstyle had anything to do with it - every time someone had snagged a picture of him the last few months, it had been hanging loosely about his shoulders. Today, though, it was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was wearing the cap Seamus had gotten him - the non-dirty part of his birthday present - a type of hat that a lot of Irish blokes wore that was apparently called a 'pub cap'. It hid his scar well enough, and between that, the ponytail, and the three or four days of scruff he had, Harry didn't look much like most photos of himself. Who needed concealing and glamour charms when Muggle methods worked so easily?

    "This is nice," Harry muttered to himself, not even realizing that he was speaking aloud. "This is how things should be."

    Ginny's hand squeezed tightly in his after she watched him observing a mother fussing at her two young children. "You did this, you know," she whispered, giving him a proud smile. "This is why you're famous - this is what you gave back to people. The freedom to go about their lives. A year ago, they couldn't do this - not without worrying if their blood wasn't pure enough, or if they'd be able to hide or hold out long enough. You gave them back hope, Harry, hope that life could be normal."

    "Not just me," he corrected. "I hate when people say that, it sounds like I did it all by myself or something, but really, I just - "

    "I know," she interrupted, placing a finger on his lips, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "But you handled the hardest part. It's okay to be proud of that, Harry."

    He just smiled in return. "I'll try to remember that," he said, giving in. It was a conversation they'd had several times, and one Harry imagined they would continue to have for a long time to come.

    "Just don't let it go to your head."

    "I'll remember that, too."

    Shortly after that, they stopped at the Magical Menagerie in order to get enough food and supplies for Nymphadora, Arnold, Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks for the year. True, they could always get more supplies if they needed them in Hogsmeade, but at Hermione's urging they were all stocking up 'just in case'.

    "Just in case of what?" Ron asked.

    "Well, you never quite know, do you now?" Hermione said primly, prompting Ron to roll his eyes and Harry and Ginny to laugh.

    Harry tried to hold back from laughing even harder as a cat very similar to Crookshanks chased a brown owl inside the magical pet store, spurring a memory as he recalled Hermione's cat's reaction to his new color-changing owl. Pig was fascinated by the new bird, Arnold just avoided it (obviously trying not to become dinner), but Crookshanks - well, he stared disapprovingly whenever Nymphadora did something flamboyant. It made Harry wonder if magical pets were even more prone to resemble their owners than normal ones.

    Next was Scrivenshaft's, where Harry had been surprised that they had practically had to drag Ginny out of there once they'd finished shopping. He'd expected to have to drag Hermione out - that was standard fare, after all, but with the redhead it was something of a shock.

    After some mild pressuring, Ginny confessed she'd recently taken up writing again, short stories mostly, for the first time since her first year at Hogwarts. Harry knew that she'd written a great deal before that, she'd once confessed to him that when she was younger, she'd greatly enjoyed writing stories. The experience with Tom Riddle's diary had soured that for her somewhat, turning a creative outlet into a private demon. That demon had begun to lose its hold, however, and as such, she came out of Scrivenshaft's with quite a varied selection of quills, ink and parchment. Harry just smiled and kissed her on top of her head before he helped put everything into the knapsack Hermione had charmed for them to carry everything in. He didn't want to say it here, but he was incredibly proud to see Ginny putting her experience with Tom Riddle's diary behind her, and it only contributed to the feeling of freedom, of new beginnings that had settled in on him from the moment they'd set foot into Diagon Alley.

    They even stopped by Pottidge's Cauldron Shop, as Harry had to replace his. He still hadn't gotten the rest of his possessions from Dudley, and Harry felt he might as well just buy a new cauldron and scales instead of collecting his old school things. Harry might have settled things with his cousin, but he didn't feel any great need to return to Privet Drive. Everything important to him he had taken when he left there for the last time. The rest of it - well, he'd just rather replace it.

    Ginny and Ron bought new things as well - they were doing that everywhere. This was, after all, their first trip buying school supplies where money was not an issue. Harry's gift to all the Weasleys would more than cover the cost of a year's school supplies. And then some.

    Ron, Harry and Ginny all got a good laugh - and even Hermione couldn't maintain a straight face - when they saw the posted sign stating that all Pottidge's brand cauldrons were compliant with the Crouch-Weasley Cauldron Bottom Act of 1994.

    They also stopped by Slug & Jigger's Apothecary, as everyone needed a completely new set of potions supplies. With the new text written by Slughorn from Professor Snape's notes, the Potions curriculum had been completely overhauled. Both of the old men that ran the place - Harry was never sure which one was Slug and which one was Jigger - were completely ecstatic at this, as it meant that the entire population of Hogwarts was in need of new sets of potions supplies.

    All in all, Harry was becoming very glad that they had the expanded knapsack. Hermione could probably make a fortune selling the things, Harry thought, and resolved to mention the idea to George - if Hermione hadn't already. Odds were that if it had occurred to him, then 'Mione had not only thought of it already, she'd probably made a pro-con list and made up her mind one way or the other.

    "Merlin, it feels like we've been here for days," Ron finally groused as they came out of the Apothecary. Harry had to give his friend credit - he'd held out longer than he'd expected him to.

    "Oh, don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione shot back, giving her watch a quick check. "It's not even half past ten yet."

    "Blimey, that's all?" Ginny asked.

    "S'what I'm saying," Ron muttered. "What've we still got to do, then?"

    "Umn," Harry paused for a second as he mentally ran down the list. "Madame Malkin's, Flourish and Blott's and we told George we'd stop in on him," he answered.

    "And then lunch?" Ron asked hopefully, a gleam in his eye that seemed to only strike when the topic of food arose. "I want to try that new place, the pub that set up in Fortescue's old spot."

    "Oh, yes!" Ginny said excitedly, taking Harry a little by surprise that she wasn't taking the mickey out of her brother. "I saw some of their menu - " she started chattering, and Harry and Hermione shared a quick grin.

    "Guess we'd better hurry up then," Harry said to his bushy-haired friend, "So we can get our Weasleys fed."

    "Indeed," Hermione agreed. "Well, Harry, at least we always know their priorities. You have to grant them that."

    "Like you're not hungry," Ginny muttered darkly. "I know you missed breakfast, Potter."

    Just then they moved past the offices of the Daily Prophet, and Harry flinched as he saw a crowd of reporters near the door. He'd given a fairly complete interview to the Quibbler back in may on the events of last year - as much as he felt comfortable revealing to the public, at any rate - but that hadn't slowed their hounding of him any. Harry didn't say anything to his friends, as he was hurriedly pulling his the brim of his hat down - to be sure to cover his scar.

    It might have worked, if Ron hadn't also seen the gathered reporters that were all moving away from the newspaper's offices. It looked like they were getting some kind of press release, as all were holding parchments and chattering to each other. Hermione saw the evil glint in her boyfriend's eyes, but only a moment's warning was, unfortunately, not enough for her to do anything to stop him.

    Ron reached a hand over to the back of Harry's head, quickly yanking off the other's hat. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and turned towards the crowd.

    "Oi! You lot!" Ron called, as Harry's head swiveled towards him in shock. "Look! Harry Potter's right over here!"

    Harry fixed a murderous stare on Ron, who was just grinning widely. That, however, was all Harry had time to do before the crowd of reporters descended on them like a herd of Thestrals going after fresh meat. As far as Harry was concerned, the comparison was an apt one.

    "Is that Ginny Weasley?" The first reporter, a blonde witch with a nametag reading 'Teen Witch Weekly' asked. "Mr. Potter, is it true you and Miss Weasley are engaged? Or are the rumors true that the two of you eloped to France last week?"

    Neither Harry nor Ginny had time to reply before another reporter - this one from the Daily Owl - pointed at his companions. "Look that's Ron Weasley, too, and Hermione Granger!"

    Harry had to admit, he enjoyed the shocked expressions on his friend's faces as they were recognized, too. It was the least Ron deserved - hopefully they'd hound him with questions too. That hope proved a forlorn one, however, as most of the questions still ended up being directed Harry's way.

    "Mr. Potter, is it true that you and Mr. Weasley have joined the Auror Division? Is there any truth to the rumor that Minister Shacklebolt's asked you to take it over?"

    "Yes, Mister Weasley and I are now reserve Aurors, with full status pending our graduation from Hogwarts and completion of the Auror training program. As for taking over the Auror Division, uh, no, there's not. That's completely ridiculous. We're only just eighteen and not even out of sch-" Harry started to reply, before another question cut him off.

    Amazingly, the question wasn't for him. "Mr. Weasley, how do you feel at coming in just behind Mr. Potter on Witch Weekly's 'Most Eligible Wizards' list?"

    Ron puffed up slightly at that. "I came in behind him?" he asked. "I didn't know that. Hey, who else - "

    Ginny and Hermione didn't seem nearly as amused, and they each slipped a possessive arm around the waists of their wizards. "Neither of them is 'eligible' for anything, thank you very much, " Hermione managed to spit out.

    It was harder to say what made the female reporter draw back more - the venom in Hermione's voice, or the blazing look coming from the tiny female Weasley. "And you can definitely tell all your readers that," she finished for her bushy-haired friend.

    "Harry, do you ever plan to reveal just how you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Harry couldn't see the press ID on this one, so he couldn't tell the publication that the doughy, middle-aged reporter represented.

    "His name's Voldemort - or Tom Riddle, if you can't bring yourself to say it," Harry shot back. "If you want me to answer any questions, you'll call him by his name. He's dead. There's no point in fearing him anymore."

    "But what if he comes back again?"

    "He can't," Harry said flatly, "Look - I gave an interview to the Quibbler about all that already. And I'm not going to tell you exactly what it was I had to find to make Riddle mo - to take his power. I'm sorry, but we just can't risk giving ideas to some other jumped-up Dark Lord-wannabe. Rita Skeeter can cry about it all she wants, but that's a question I'm just not answering."

    Most of the assembled reporters laughed - Skeeter wasn't exactly popular among their crowd, either.

    "Mr. Potter - is it true you've developed a drinking problem?"

    Harry's head jerked back. "Uh.. no..." he trailed. Where the hell had that come from?

    "Can you comment on how the war has impacted the wizarding world from an economic standpoint?" That had to have been a reporter from BusinessWizard.

    "As I am neither a banker nor a businessman, no," he answered. For some reason, some of the other reporters seemed to take his quick, off the cuff answers as open license to just yell all of their questions out.

    "Do you cut your hair yourself, or does someone actually lay claim to that title?"

    "Harry, what do you think about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year?"

    "Harry, any comments on the rumors coming from Pride of Portree that you turned down a position as Seeker?"

    "Harry, isn't it true that Severus Snape was your real father, not James Potter?"

    "Harry, is your relationship just a cover-up to conceal your feelings for Ron Weasley?"

    Harry and Ron just both sputtered a "What?" at the same time. "Where do you lot come up with some of this stuff? Honestly!" Harry asked, incredulous at the last two questions especially. He wanted to ask some questions of his own about who'd gotten the DADA job, but another reporter - the Witch Weekly lady again - prevented him from asking.

    "Harry, is it true you've got a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail on your chest?"

    Ginny laughed the loudest at this last one. Her words to Romilda Vane had apparently traveled far and wide. "No, he doesn't," she replied impishly, drawing a gleeful look from the reporter from Witch Weekly.

    "Alright, look," Harry said, holding out his palms. "I respect that I haven't always dealt well with you lot in the past - though to be honest, that's been pretty mutual. Now my friends and I are just here to do our Hogwarts shopping today - yes, we're all going back to finish our educations - so let me make a deal with all of you."

    That got their attention. Magical quills all froze, waiting to see what the Boy-Who-Won had to say. "Alright, I'm agreeing to a full press conference, before the start of the school term, where I'll answer as many questions as I can. On one condition: That you leave us in peace today," Harry announced, his tone clear that they would do well to take this 'suggestion'.

    There were murmured agreements as some of the reporters started to disperse. A few proved more tenacious, however. "Mr. Potter - did you ever learn how you survived the killing curse as a baby?" one reporter asked, hoping to get at least something quote-worthy out of him.

    Harry just drew Ginny to him tighter, and then looked at the reporter before the four of them tried to dash off. "The Beatles said it best," he said with a laugh, and led his girlfriend and friends away from the crowd.

    Ginny noticed that Hermione was giggling - and was very aware that neither she nor Ron got the reference. Ron was the one to ask, and he leaned in close to whisper his question. "What the hell's that mean, mate?"

    It was Hermione who answered: "All you need is love."

    Harry was smiling as they walked away, before one final question froze him in his tracks. "Harry," called out one last reporter, who he recognized as being from the Prophet. Of course. "What do you think of Rita Skeeter's recent announcement of a tell-all biography about you? She's just announced it'll be released on Halloween."

    Harry's smile vanished, and he was gratified to see the reporter step back slightly as a very cold expression slid over his features. "I have no comment," he said icily, causing the man to actually take a step back by instinct.

    "Of course," the reporter stammered, and left without further encouragement.

    Harry immediately went into the next shop door - which was, luckily enough, Madam Malkin's, and held his tirade until he was inside and the other three had joined him. It was not easy, but the last thing he wanted to do was have a temper-tantrum in front of a crowd of reporters.

    "Merlin's balls!" he cursed as he started to pace. "That ruddy cow! Who the fuck does she think she is? What gives her - her, of all bloody people the right? "

    "I know, mate," Ron chorused. "Where's she get off, writing a book about you?"

    "I'm going to, I'm going - well, bloody hell, I don't know what! I'm too mad, I can't even think of what to do the sodding witch!" Harry screamed in frustration, which caused a nearby witch to look disapprovingly at him. "Sorry," he muttered towards the older woman half-heartedly. After taking a few deep breaths, and lowering his voice, Harry then turned to Hermione. "Can't I do something about this?"

    "Not legally," she shook her head.

    "Doesn't she need my permission or something?"

    "Not in the Wizarding world, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. Ron wasn't pacing, but had his arms folded and was tapping his foot as he controlled his own temper- he didn't like Skeeter any more than Harry or the others did, of course, but he could hardly blow up about it when Harry already had. Ginny started running a hand up and down her boyfriend's forearm. She was trying to calm him, of course, Harry knew that, but it was having precious little effect as she was spitting mad herself. She was, however, a lot better at containing her temper than she used to be. Harry had noticed that ever since they'd gotten back together, and he suspected very strongly that her last year at Hogwarts had a great deal to do with it.

    "They don't even have slander and libel laws in this world," Hermione finished.

    "I sort of figured that after fifth year, 'Mione," Harry grunted. "Bollocks!" he cursed again. "There's got to be something!"

    "We'll come up with a plan, Harry," Ginny said, and he could see in her eyes that the wheels were turning. "We've got time - we've got until Halloween, after all. For now, let's not worry about it, all right?."

    "Yeah, all right," Harry admitted, and then blew out a frustrated sigh. "Let's just get our robes and get on with this then. I want to-" Harry stopped in mid-sentence as he spotted something - or rather, someone - across the shop. Ginny, and then Ron and Hermione, followed his stare to the section where the second-hand robes were kept - a section the two Weasleys knew rather well. They had, after all, shopped in it for much of their lives.

    "Is that Malfoy?" Ron whispered in disbelieving awe. "Getting second-hand robes?"

    Clearly it was - the other man's platinum blonde hair was easily identifiable. However, his wardrobe had seen better days, and the sneer he'd worn so long had vanished from his features completely.

    Ron's face took on an expression of unrestrained glee as Hermione answered him. "You know, I think it is. Well it's hardly a surprise, is it?" she asked. "The Prophet said the Ministry had seized most of the Malfoy fortune. They can't have much left."

    "Strangely," Ginny muttered tonelessly, "I find myself completely lacking in sympathy."

    Harry had expected he would feel the same, but oddly, he found that was not the case. He felt sorry for the boy who had been his schoolyard nemesis. Life had certainly never turned out the way Draco had expected, and it was clear he had to make adjustments now. He felt it was deserved, certainly, but mostly he just felt bad for the blond wizard, raised with a silver spoon (or was that wand?) now being forced to learn how to work on his own. His whole life had come crashing down around him the last few years, and Harry imagined it couldn't be easy to figure out that everything one had ever learned was not only wrong, but drastically so.

    "Hang on - " Ron started, his tone taking on a disgusted tone. "Is he getting Hogwarts robes? He can't be coming back, too? They wouldn't allow that, would they?"

    Ginny looked positively sick at the very idea. Harry noted her hand was drifting towards her wand, but she relaxed when Harry put her hand in his instead.

    "Well, no one took their N.E.W.T.S last year," Hermione reasoned out. "He'll be needing a job now, won't he? And he was cleared of charges."

    "So was his father," Harry supplied, even though his friends all knew that. He still regarded that as the most ridiculous thing that had occurred since Tom Riddle's demise. At least Lucius Malfoy had lost his fortune and influence, but that was cold comfort.

    "This just gets better and better," Ron muttered. "C'mon, Harry, let's go find out if he's really going back or not- "

    "No, Ron," Harry said quietly, speaking very deliberately as a resigned feeling came over him. "Let's just leave it be."

    Ron was reluctant to do so, but Harry just guided him over toward where Madame Malkin was waiting. Ginny watched Harry with a strange expression as he did so, while Hermione leaned close briefly to whisper that she was proud of him.

    Ginny remained mostly silent while they were fitted for their robes, speaking only to answer Madame Malkin's questions as she was fitted. Harry was growing concerned, but she simply shrugged off his whispered questions, and once they'd left the robe shop, she was herself once more.

    Surprisingly, Flourish & Blott's didn't take long at all, though Harry reckoned that was because Hermione simply grabbed a copy of their inventory catalogue on the way out. If she wasn't spending the majority of her money on books, Harry would be very surprised indeed.

    "Give you even odds that in twenty years she's got a better library than Hogwarts," Harry leaned down to whisper to Ginny.

    "Do I look like an idiot?" Ginny huffed. "There's no way I'm taking that bet."

    Before they left, though, Harry overheard one clerk telling another about how quickly copies of McGonagall's Animagus text were selling. There'd be a great deal more Animagi for the Ministry to keep track of soon, it seemed.

    Finally they came to their last stop - Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The shop was crowded as always - the business George and Verity (And Lee, when he wasn't working at the WWN) were doing made everything they'd done before the end of the war look like a slow Sunday afternoon. George had already been pressing Harry and Ron to work for him part time next year when they got out of Hogwarts and entered Auror training, and that was still a year off. Harry was happy to see business going so well. It helped George to deal with Fred's death, to keep on pursuing their dream, he knew, and the wizarding world still needed laughter. The more of both, the better, as far as he was concerned.

    "Hey, is that Parvati?" Ginny called out, looking at the dark-haired witch behind the counter. Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione had already separated from them - likely so Ron could decide just what he was going to bring to Hogwarts this year, and Hermione, so she could talk him out of it.

    "Looks like," Harry replied. "Let's go and say hi then."

    Ginny nodded, and the two of them worked their way through the crowd. There was a particularly large gathering in the 'new products' section, though old favorites like the Wildfire Whizz-bangs, Skiving Snackboxes (almost all out already), Extendable Ears, and one of Harry's favorites, the Patented Daydream charms. He even removed two from the shelf and slipped them into the hands of a young kid who looked like he'd be a first- or second-year. The boy was staring forlornly at a few coins in his hand. "Here, you'll need this for History of Magic," Harry grinned. "Tell the girl at the counter I gave it to you."

    There were perks to being part-owner of a business, even if one was a silent partner. When they reached the register, they found Patil finishing up with a customer. After she handed the boy his change - Harry thought he recognized him as a Hufflepuff a few years below him - Parvati turned their direction. "Yes, can I help- Oh, hullo Harry, Ginny!" she said once she recognized them. "Here to see George then?"

    "Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Thought we'd say hi to you too, once we saw you. You're working here now?"

    "Clearly," Parvati replied, rolling her eyes. "You've always been good at the obvious, Harry."

    "One of my many talents," he grinned.

    Ginny just snorted, but turned towards their fellow Gryffindor. "Why here, though? You never really struck me as the 'pranking' type, Parvati."

    "Oh, I'm not," she confirmed. "But it's a very busy store, and George needed the help. He told me how much it helped take his mind of things, and I thought it couldn't hurt to keep busy until the term starts."

    "And the Galleons don't hurt either, I suppose?" Ginny asked.

    "That - and you do meet the most interesting men in a place like this," Parvati shared confidentially. She looked over to where two older students - from Ginny's year, Harry thought - were standing, and gave them both a dazzling smile as she caught them checking her out. One of the two boys dropped whatever it was he was holding, and Harry laughed right along with the two girls.

    "I'll take your word for it," Harry chuckled. "George in the back?"

    Parvati nodded. "Go on. He told me earlier that the wards will let you two through. Ron and Hermione as well - I assume they're about?"

    "Merlin only knows where," Harry shrugged, and Ginny took his hand as they started walking towards the 'Employee' door. Frowning, Harry looked down at her and spoke quietly. "George has wards on the back office?"

    Ginny nodded. "They had a few break-in attempts last year, Death Eaters were trying to get a hold of their experimental products and invention records. Seems the Order wasn't the only people impressed by the twins. George takes security very seriously these days."

    Thinking back to Draco's use of the twins' Peruvian Instant Darkness powder the night Dumbledore died, Harry could readily understand why. "Not a bad idea," he murmured as they passed through the doorway into the back office.

    What they found was George entwined in a very compromising position with someone whom Harry was fairly certain was Angelina Johnson. It took Harry a moment to register that neither was wearing any clothes.

    When that finally clicked, Harry's jaw dropped open. He expected that he probably looked like Ron whenever Hermione caught him totally off-guard with something, but he found he couldn't do anything about it. He was also trying to will himself to move, to say something, to do anything to overcome the mortified petrification that seemed to have seized him.

    Finally, he took a look over at Ginny, who had the exact same expression. She, fortunately, recovered her wits first. The smart thing, Harry later realized, would have been to creep back out quietly. George and Angelina never would have known they were there, then. That, however, was not what Ginny did. What she did do was yell out "Oh, Merlin, my eyes!"

    Harry could relate. George's naked arse wasn't something he'd ever wanted to see either.

    Fortunately, Ginny's exclamation unfroze Harry from his shock, and he quickly seized her hand to pull her back through the doorway. He wasn't fast enough, however, as Ginny's exclamation had been sufficient to draw the attention of both George and Angelina. Angelina saw them first and yelped loudly, and immediately tried to find something to cover herself. George turned around quick, and managed to strike his head on a low-hanging lamp as he did so. This had the result of exposing Angelina even more when he reflexively ducked.

    "Sorry!" Harry yelled, pulling Ginny back out into the store with him, to the sounds of the dark-skinned girl saying - yelling - something that sounded a lot like 'I told you so'. As soon as they were both through the doorway, they stopped, both allowing everything to process. Harry looked to his girlfriend and gave her a small half-smile. While they might have been preoccupied with their own sex life - or lack thereof - for the last week, thoughts of consummating that relationship were certainly the farthest thing from either of their minds now. "You know, luv, I think that's more of George than I ever wanted to see. And I mean ever."

    "You think you're scarred?" Ginny shuddered. "He's my brother!"

    Ron and Hermione rejoined them then - the former not paying attention to what they were saying, the latter, unfortunately so. Ron was holding a bag of WWW products - Harry saw a vanishing cap sticking out of the top - and wasn't really looking at them yet, so he hadn't picked up on anything. Hermione gave them a puzzled expression as she asked "Which brother?"

    Ginny made a face as Harry gave the resigned answer. "George."

    "Yeah?" Ron asked, still looking through the bag. "What'd he do now, then? He get the both of you when you went back there or something?"

    "No..." Harry said thoughtfully, "No, I'd say he was the one who got the surprise. And a little bit more than that, actually." Ginny started to giggle at that, and then, after a moment, so did Harry. After a few more seconds, Hermione caught on, and she started giggling as well, though her face turned a flaming Weasley red as she considered it.

    Ron finally looked up, and his eyes back and forth at each of the three in growing confusion. "What? What'd I miss?"

    Just then, George and Angelina appeared at the other side of the door to the back office. Angelina's eyes were downcast. With her skin, it was difficult to tell, but Harry was fairly sure she was blushing. George was, unsurprisingly, grinning widely - and still pulling on his robes.

    "Oh," Ron muttered in understanding as he turned a shade to match Hermione's.

    "Wotcher, you lot!" George said, still beaming. "Harry, Ginny, enjoy the show then?"

    Angelina and Ginny smacked George's arms from opposite sides at the same time, causing Harry to wince in sympathy. Ginny leaned around her brother to whisper to the still embarrassed Angelina, "I'm so, so sorry."

    The Quidditch player - who Harry now saw was (now) wearing practice robes emblazoned with the Holyhead Harpies logo - just sighed. "It's my fault, really. I told George someone was bound to catch us back there."

    "No, I'm not sorry about that," Ginny said with a devilish grin. " Seeing that was actually a bit... educational, really. I'm sorry it was George. I didn't think professional Quidditch players were that hard up for men."

    "Well, you know," Angelina admitted, now matching Ginny's grin. "It's been a slow month."

    Harry had to give Ginny credit - the joke was just what everyone had needed (except for George, who wasn't embarrassed at all) to break past the awkward moment. Everyone even laughed, except for George, who pantomimed a wound to the heart. As George turned slightly to the side, Harry caught sight of something on the side of the lone twin's head where he should have had a missing ear. In fact, he saw, George was no longer missing an ear at all.

    "Er - George?"

    "Yeah, Harry?"

    "What's that on your head? I thought they couldn't re-grow your ear?"

    "Oh that? Dad's idea, actually. Muggles use this thing called a hearing aid, and he thought I could use something similar. Then we looked at the extendable ears, and decided they'd make a good prophylactic."

    Harry and Hermione both snorted at George's choice of words. "Erm, George," Hermione asked, "Don't you mean prosthetic?"

    "Right, that's it!" George nodded. "What's a prophylactic, then?"

    Harry struggled to maintain a straight face, "I'll tell you when you're older."

    After that, they had a pleasant visit. George showed off some of the new products, and then delivered his yearly update to his silent partner on the goings-on of the business. Harry was shocked to discover just how well the business was going. WWW was raking in the Galleons, and the profit-sharing George was doing with his employees was making for some very loyal workers. As per their agreements, Harry's share of the profits were being set aside for an idea that Harry still had bubbling in the back of his mind, but hadn't figured out how to set up yet. George even told them that he was thinking of expanding to more storefronts, though he didn't know who he would have manage them just yet.

    Ginny and Hermione were also excitedly, if quietly, pressing Angelina for details on the rekindling of her and George's relationship. Apparently George had sought her out the day after Harry's birthday, and they had gotten back together. Where it would lead, neither new, but Angelina had to admit that things were certainly going well enough for now.

    "Well," Ginny grinned. "That much was obvious."

    Angelina rolled her eyes, but she had to concede the point. "All right, true," she admitted.

    Finally, after Ron's urgent protestations that it was time for food became too numerous to ignore, the other three agreed it was time to leave. Harry led the way, with Ginny and then Hermione and Ron just behind him. They were sharing one last laugh as he opened the door out into Diagon Alley. Harry faced the outside world - .

    To find a wand aimed only inches away from Harry's nose. "Avada - " an unknown voice yelled, beginning the death curse that Harry was so intimately familiar with.

    The young wizard immediately threw himself backwards, toppling Ginny and the others behind him as he slammed the door back shut.

    "- Kedavra!" The familiar sickly green light of the Killing Curse shot forth, and blew the door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes into splinters.

    "Take cover!" Harry cried, and he was pleased, in that portion of his mind still able to take note of such things- to see Ginny, Hermione and Ron immediately springing into action. From behind him, he heard George and Parvati taking charge of the crowd. Both had been members of Dumbledore's Army, after all, and no one from that group lost their heads easily. Not after everything they'd done in the last year. Fred and George had been members of the Order of the Phoenix, yes, but they had led Dumbledore's Army outside of Hogwarts, just as Ginny, Neville and Luna had done inside of it.

    They all had wands out, and Harry had both of his. He was a bit nervous about using both wands in battle - hell, he wasn't even sure it would work. There was, however, no time like the present to learn. Seeing the shape beginning to come through the door, Harry aimed the wand in his right hand - his phoenix wand - at the unknown assailant.

    "Depulso!" he cried, and the curse struck the attacker head on. The unknown man flew back into the alley, buying Harry and his friends a moment to recover. "Hermione!" he called, ducking an answering curse that came through the door and shattered the shelf Harry was taking cover behind.

    "I've got it, Harry!" the bushy-haired witch called back. Harry's ears were still ringing as he watched Hermione conjure a temporary barrier. The sounds of oncoming hexes diminished as the wall began to absorb them.

    "What the hell was that?" Ron asked.

    "Killing curse," Harry responded grimly. "Ginny, Hermione, you okay?"

    "We're fine, Harry," Ginny answered. "You?"

    "Yeah," he nodded, and pulled up his wand. "Ron, you ready?"

    "Yeah, mate, you leading?"

    "Of course."

    "Harry!" Hermione protested. "Leave it! Let the Aurors take care of it. George is already calling them- "

    "Your barrier won't last that long, 'Mione, and there's too many innocent people in here," Harry protested. He but stopped as he met eyes with Ginny. She had a resigned look on her face, but she nodded. She understood the score - it didn't take a genius to figure out that the attackers were probably here for him at the least, and likely all four of them.

    " 'Mione, we can't leave it," Ron explained while Harry and Ginny carried out their silent conversation. "We're Aurors now. We're bound by law to investigate and defend people"

    "Oh, but - " the bushy-haired witch started, before she realized that her boyfriend was quite correct. A quick glance at her barrier confirmed it was crumbling - Harry's 'second sight' could see the magic that made up the conjured wall was unraveling faster with each passing second. "Oh, blast it. Fine."

    "And we're coming with you," Ginny said quietly. Harry's eyes matched her once more, and he saw the determination there. She would not be left behind again, Harry knew, and what's more - he realized he no longer wanted that. Whatever happened now, they would face together.

    He also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that that was the way it always should have been. Now was hardly the time for self-reflection, however.

    "Now, wait a-" Ron started, but Harry cut him off.

    "She's right, Ron. We need the backup," he said, in the tone of an order. That silent authority Ginny told him he had seemed to be taking hold of him again, and Harry decided that he might as well make use of it. "Ron, on my left. Ginny, 'Mione, you're second wave. Give us cover fire - stunners'll do it - and then sixty seconds, and then come after us. We'll cover you. We want to get people away from the store, and there's cover on the other side of the alley. When I give the signal, 'Mione, take your barrier down. Clear?"

    Hermione still didn't look happy, but she had the same determined look that Ginny was now wearing. "Got it, Harry," she said softly.

    "Now, then," Harry ordered with a brisk nod, and Hermione banished her conjured wall with a flick of her wand. Harry and Ron immediately rushed out the door, and only barely managed to dodge the hexes coming their way. Ron jerked Harry out of the way at the last minute, drawing him down some piled up refuse and construction debris once they'd reached the other side of the Alley.

    Harry briefly nodded his thanks. Peering over the tops, Harry and Ron both took stock of the scene, in order to see just what they were facing. They were prepared to supply covering fire for the girls, but it turned out not to be necessary.

    Two wizards, both dark-haired and darkly clothed, were firing spells into the crowd. They didn't look to be lethal ones, mostly stunners and the like. Harry noted the girls standing at the door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and with a quick nod, he and Ron prepared to make covering fire if necessary. It didn't prove so, as the attacking wizards now had their attention on the crowd, and clearly still thought Harry and company to be inside George's shop. George had activated the shop's nighttime wards, which were now sparking as they deflected spells. Both wizards were immediately identifiable when they turned briefly in the foursome's direction.

    "Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange," Harry muttered under his breath just as Ginny and Hermione joined them. The two were some of Voldemort's oldest supporters, a pair of psychotics. Rodolphus was the smarter of the two, Remus had once told him, and Rabastan was something of an idiot tag-along. Rodolphus had also married Bellatrix, which didn't make Harry think the man had been all that sane too begin with. Time, Azkaban, and the fall of Voldemort did not seem to have clarified his faculties any.

    "I thought they were dead?" Ron asked.

    "No such luck, clearly," Ginny commented in a droll tone.

    "They never did find bodies," Hermione supplied. "Not ones that could be conclusively identified."

    "Then we should have known better," Harry said grimly as he watched another woman fall to a stunner. "We've got to go now, before they get lethal with the crowd."

    "Harry, wait," Ron said, putting a restraining arm on his friend's. "That's what they're trying to do - draw us out."

    "Haven't much choice, do we? And we don't have time to come up with a plan."

    "S'okay, I've already got one," Ron grinned, and proceeded to fill the other three in. "It's not much, but - look. You and Ginny take 'em from this side, Hermione and I'll cross back and take 'em from behind. It's better than a blind rush."

    "Yeah," Harry nodded, and then looked urgently at his two best friends. "All right - go. And be careful."

    Ron was making full use of their four-to-two advantage, even if their opponents were experienced Death Eaters. He and Hermione split off from Harry and Ginny, and when Harry gave the signal, all four charged - each pair from opposite sides of the alley in basic flanking maneuver.

    "Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange!" Harry called out, mustering up as official a tone as he possibly could. He'd slipped his phoenix wand back into its holster and was now holding his badge where it was clearly visible. "I'm Auror Potter. By the authority of the Ministry of Magic, I am ordering you to stand down and surrender your wands!"

    Rabastan turned to his older brother. "D'you hear this rubbish? Baby Potter, thinks he's an Auror!"

    "Your master underestimated me, Lestrange," Harry said warningly, still eyeing Rodolphus. He was the leader, the real threat. "Look where it got him."

    Rodolphus' eyes darkened at that. "That brings us to the matter at hand, Potter. I challenge you now, to a Wizard's duel!"

    Ginny rolled her eyes. "You've got to be kidding," she muttered.

    Harry had to agree. A wizard's duel? What was it with these old purebloods? Didn't they realize it was practically the 21st century?

    "A Weasley, then?" Rodolphus asked as he took in Harry's companion, his tone full of both derision and dismissal. "Does she speak for you then, Potter?"

    "In every way that matters," Harry answered firmly. "Will you come quietly, Lestrange?"

    "No, I don't think I will. Crucio!"

    Harry realized at the last moment that the curse wasn't meant for him - Lestrange had aimed it at Ginny instead. Without a second thought, he threw himself in front of Ginny, taking the curse meant for her.

    Pain, unimaginable pain, coursed through every fiber of his being. Harry had been hit with the Cruciatus before - from Voldemort himself. It only lasted a moment, but it seemed much, much longer. It was though every nerve in his body was freezing and on fire at the same time, and Harry couldn't help but cry out. In that eternal moment, Harry realized that while Rodolphus Lestrange didn't have the sheer power his master had possessed, he wasn't very far off.

    The pain began to lift - he was dimly aware of hearing Ginny firing off spells from behind - or was it above? - him. When he cleared his head, the scenario had drastically changed.

    Ginny was standing protectively over him, and alternately bringing up a Protego shield and firing stunners towards the brothers.. Ron and Hermione had attacked the Lestranges from behind as planned, but were now back-to-back, fighting off what looked like two other Death Eaters. Harry recognized one as Marcus Flint, and the other was familiar but unknown to him. "Harry!" she called, her voice containing concealed panic, "Harry, can you hear me?"

    "Bollocks, that hurt," Harry cursed as he shook his head and attempted to stand. He was a bit wobbly, but more or less intact. The curse hadn't been held long enough to do real damage.

    Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "You're okay then?"

    "I will be," Harry said, standing. "We'll talk about it later."

    "You bet your arse we will, Potter," Ginny said darkly, the recrimination in her tone clear.

    Harry winced. That didn't sound good. Still, he wasn't going to apologize for taking the curse for her - not now, and not later. Standing, he fixed his phoenix wand above the closest target, Rodolphus, and fired off a Reductor curse. Ginny joined him, and their twin curses shattered the stone wall of the building the two Death Eaters were standing by, sending fragments raining down on them. The move bought them precious seconds, and freed Ron and Hermione to focus just on Flint and the other unknown aggressor. Harry and Ginny raced forward to meet their opponents, to reduce the odds of bystanders - who were still clearing out of the area - being caught in a cross-fire.

    Both Lestranges came up firing, and Ginny screamed as a slicing hex slipped through just a second before her shield came up and caught her across the arm. "Diffindo!" she fired back with a snarl, and Harry watched in amazement as the curse caught Rabastan across his chest and he went down - perhaps permanently.

    "Good shot," Harry complimented her, sparing her a brief look of worry as he tossed a protective shield up to ward off Rodolphus' answering Reductor curse. They were keeping the Death Eaters off balance enough to keep them from using Unforgivables - that was a plus. "You okay?"

    "I'm bleeding pretty badly, Harry," Ginny confessed, gritting her teeth together.

    Harry pushed her roughly behind some debris to where she could take cover. "Stay here, then, try to stop the bleeding while I take care of the other one," he asked her.

    "Harry, I can still help -"

    "I know you can," he assured her, pulling them both down to duck as some purple curse he couldn't identify flew over their heads. "I don't doubt you, Gin, I really don't. But you're hurt, and I don't want you hurt worse."

    "Fine," Ginny muttered, reluctantly admitting that Harry was right. "Take care of him fast, Harry," she urged. "I've just got you back. Losing you is not in the plan."

    "Promise," he grinned, and kissed her quickly.

    "Come out, come out, wherever you are, Potter!" sounded Lestrange's taunting cry. The smoke was thick now - someone had used a spell that had set fire to the closest building, and black smoke was now pouring everywhere. Harry spared a glance across the alley - both Flint and the other Death Eater were down, and wrapped in ropes - but it looked like either Ron on Hermione was hurt, too. There was too much dust, smoke and debris for him to tell which, though he saw the other attempting to tend wounds.

    Setting his face in a firm line, Harry stepped out, both his wands at the ready. "I'm here, Lestrange. I'm giving you one more opportunity to surrender. Your allies are down."

    Lestrange sneered, his bearded face twisting as he did so. "You're brave, Potter, I'll give you that. But foolish. Your compatriots are wounded as well. I stood high among the Dark Lord's circle. Do you really believe you can defeat me?"

    "I defeated Riddle, Lestrange," Harry taunted back. "Somehow I don't think you're going to even be a challenge." It was bravado, but Harry knew he had to appear confident. He also knew he was about to step into a very dangerous duel, It was, after all, now one on one. Harry would have to use his wits to survive against the more experienced wizard. There was no prophecy protecting him here, after all, nothing standing in the way of his ending up a corpse.

    And as Ginny had said - that just wasn't in the plan today. As he faced off with Rodolphus Lestrange, Harry actually found it strangely liberating. He hated to admit it, but the feel of combat, the rush of adrenaline, the pounding of his pulse in his ears - it made him feel alive in a way that was hard to describe. Everything had taken on an aspect of being almost hyper-real, and Harry felt as though he was aware of the smallest of details. The smell of the smoke, the sounds of those trying to put out the fire, the sight of the wizard standing across from him - all of it seemed indelibly stamped on his brain.

    Both wizard's eyes met, and they watched, waited to see how would move first. A split second before it happened, Harry saw it. He didn't know what 'it' was precisely, but he realized when exactly Lestrange was going to attack.

    "Avada Kedavra!" the other cried. Harry dodged, and summoned a nearby crate to fly in front of him to take the impact. It shattered, not catching all of the spell, and the impact sent kindling and cobblestones flying into the air as Harry fired his answering spell.

    "Flamma offendo!" Harry yelled, launching a searing jet of red-orange flame in Lestrange's direction. Lestrange dodged, though the flames caught his cloak, and Harry had time to launch another attack while his opponent used the Aguamenti spell to extinguish the flames.

    Spells between the two flew fast and furious then, and reviewing the memory in a penseive later, Harry would be awed by how similar the fight seemed to the battles he had witnessed between the members of the Order and the Death Eaters at the height of the war. Harry lost track of the number of times he transfigured something Rodolphus attacked him with, or charmed something as a distraction, or settled for the brute-force approach of sending flames, stones, and blasting or stunning hexes towards his opponent. Harry used both of his wands to accomplish this feat, and everyone still in the area was frozen in watching the display of magic between two clearly powerful wizards.

    He managed to block or avoid most of the spells Lestrange sent his way, except for a Reductor curse that slipped past his shield. Harry's right arm hung limply at his side, his phoenix wand clattered to the pavement. As he quickly cast a numbing charm on the shoulder, Harry realized the socket had very likely been shattered.

    Well, I've still got one good arm and one good wand, Harry thought as he gritted his teeth. Lestrange had stopped firing now, and was looking at Harry expectantly. "Do you surrender now, Potter?" he said mocking Harry's earlier words and tone.

    "Confringo!" was Harry's only answer as waved his wand rapidly, launching a quick series of blasting hexes towards the gloating Death Eater.

    All except one bounced harmlessly off of Lestrange's answering shield. The one that hit sliced across Lestrange's face in a graze, leaving a trail of blood all the way across his cheek and severing the top portion of the man's ear. Rodolphus face twisted in rage. "You'll pay for that, Potter!" the Death Eater yelled, and struck back hard. "Sectumsempra!"

    Harry barely twisted out of the way, and the curse sliced open his upper leg. He cried out against the pain, but launched a final spell at Lestrange, who hadn't expected retaliation so soon. "Stupefy!" Harry yelled through gritted teeth, and was gratified to see Lestrange's look of shock as the red jet of light caught him center mass.

    Lestrange dropped unceremoniously to the ground as Harry tried to stand. Harry could vaguely hear cheers - there was, apparently, still an audience. He managed to bring himself fully upright, but only just. His right arm hung limply, and his leg was bleeding a lot more than he was really comfortable with.

    "Harry!" Ginny called, rushing towards him. The bottom of her shirt had been torn away and tied around the top of her arm, which was still bleeding. Apparently there'd been enough dark magic in the curse to slow her healing efforts - she'd need to go to St. Mungo's. Well, they both would, Harry admitted to himself. "Are you all right?"

    "Yeah, I'm fi-" he started automatically, before remembering what she'd warned him about months ago. "Well, no, I'm not fine. My shoulder's all bolloxed up and my leg's bleeding pretty badly. But... I'll live."

    "Good to hear-" Ginny started, before Harry cried out.

    "Ginny, get down!" he said, bringing up his wand once more, just as a yellow curse flew just through the exact spot where Ginny had been standing.

    "Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, the first spell that came to mind, and sent it flying towards Rabastan Lestrange, who was apparently not as wounded as he'd earlier seemed. The Disarming Charm, shot from the Elder Wand and with the force of all Harry's panicked magic behind it, struck Lestrange directly in shoulder. It sent his wand flying - and sent the man himself spinning into the air a good ten feet, where his backwards progress was stopped with a sickening crack that seemed to echo through the entirety of Diagon Alley as Rabastan's head struck the stone wall of the building behind him.

    With Ginny's help, Harry mutely limped over, not even aware that the large gash on his leg was still bleeding profusely. He was beginning to feel faint from the blood loss, and as they stopped, Ginny removed his belt in order to make a tourniquet around his thigh. He was numbly aware of this, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the sight in front of him.

    Hermione and Ron joined them a moment later, apparently okay, though both bore the signs of hastily applied first aid. Harry looked down at Rabastan Lestrange.

    "Harry?" Hermione asked, seeing Ginny wrap her arms tightly around her love. "Harry, what is it?"

    Harry pointed downward, at the body of Rabastan Lestrange. He looked to meet Hermione's eyes, and he didn't doubt at all that she could see the shock in his own. Ginny's arms just wrapped tighter around him as he cleared his voice so that he could say the words.

    "I killed him," Harry said numbly.

    Back to index


    Chapter 13: Chapter 13 - While You Weren't Here

    Author's Notes: Thanks to TeyriJen, Geluf and IcarusPhoenix for their beta work this chapter - especially for the parts we fought over, which are all the better for it. Enjoy - and please review - I definitely want folks opinions on this one! Also - to everyone that's nominated me for DSTAs lately - Thanks!


    Chapter 13 - "While You Weren't Here"

    *****

    CHOSEN ONE KILLS DEATH EATER IN DIAGON ALLEY DUEL!

    By Jameson Robins, Staff Writer, Daily Prophet

    Diagon Alley was transformed into a horrific scene yesterday, the site of a duel between apparently newly-appointed Reserve Aurors Harry Potter (Aged 18) and Ronald Weasley (18) were first on the scene, accompanied by Ginevra Weasley (16) and Hermione Granger (18). The attack was apparently an ambush by four Death Eaters, two of which had been reported deceased. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, brothers, have a long history with the Death Eaters (see page 13), and were accompanied by younger accomplices Marcus Flint and Darrick Pucey. The Death Eaters attacked the Chosen One and his party as they were exiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and this reporter had a front-row seat for the ensuing battle. It is unknown at this time how the Death Eaters knew of Potter's location, but it is believed that a WWN announcement, covering some comments the young wizard had made at an earlier impromptu press conference outside the offices of the Daily Prophet was responsible. (For The Chosen One's statement on the announcement of Rita Skeeter's latest biography, of Harry Potter himself, please see page 22.)

    The battle lasted barely thirty minutes. Auror Potter, acting in an official capacity for the first time since joining the new Reserve Auror program, called for the Lestranges to surrender, which the Death Eaters declined to do. This began a pitched battle, the likes of which this reporter never personally witnessed even during the heights of the Second War - including Potter intercepting a Cruciatus curse meant for Ms. Weasley. While Auror Potter and Ms. Weasley faced down the Lestrange brothers, Auror Weasley and Ms. Granger faced Mssrs. Flint and Pucey. Mr. Potter's companions, along with Rodolphus Lestrange's, were all wounded in the altercation, though St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies reports that the foursome are all recovering fine, and should be released later today. Potter himself took on the elder Lestrange in a one-on-one duel that left part of Diagon Alley wrecked. It is believed by many that Harry Potter is as powerful a wizard as the late Albus Dumbledore was, and having seen his fight with Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the worst of Voldemort's former Death Eaters, that is not hard to doubt. Potter suffered serious injuries during the duel, including damage to his shoulder and an unknown kind of cutting curse to his leg. Still, he persevered, and managed to knock Lestrange unconscious. When full-time Aurors finally arrived at the scene, they were able to take Lestrange, Flint and Pucey into custody.


    Young Ms. Ginevra Weasley, who Mr. Potter recently publicly confirmed that he is romantically involved with, incapacitated Rabastan Lestrange earlier in the battle, and moved to assist him then. While she did so, Rabastan Lestrange had apparently regained consciousness, and attacked. Mr. Potter was able to warn Ms. Weasley in time, and responded with a disarming charm. It should be mentioned that the Chosen One also defeated Voldemort, a.k.a. Tom Marvolo Riddle, with the same charm. Unfortunately, the force of Auror Potter's charm sent the suspect flying into a brick wall. Rabastan Lestrange died at the scene from the resulting head injury. Head Auror Gawain Robards, speaking on behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement this morning, after viewing a Penseive Memory supplied by witness Mr. George Weasley of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, commended Reserve Aurors Potter and Weasley for their quick action, and reported that there would be no further investigation into Auror Potter's action. Auror Robards also expressed his regret that the Auror Division itself is still so understaffed that it simply could not get anyone into the scene quickly. This continues to highlight the new Ministry's ongoing staffing problems...

    Harry tossed the paper onto the small table that sat by the window of his hospital room. He'd passed out shortly after the end of the battle and hadn't woken up until a few hours ago. Despite its sensational headline - no surprise there - Harry was rather surprised to see a fair accounting of what had happened in the papers. Fair treatment from the Daily Prophet? That was something he certainly wasn't accustomed to.

    The article continued to discuss the Ministry's ongoing efforts to rebuild its personnel, especially that of the Auror Division. Cleaning out the Death Eaters and their sympathizers, not to mention everyone who'd been killed, had sorely depleted the rank-and-file of Britain's magical government. Harry found the all of that rather boring - after all, he and Arthur had had several very long discussions on that very topic once the man had taken over the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

    Ginny had been in earlier, though they hadn't spoken much. Harry had just wanted to sit quietly - it was his way, after all, and she had understood that. So she'd just sat with him, and they'd watched the bustle of the London street outside of the charmed window. She also understood that his reticence was related to the fact that Molly was there also - she had spent her morning traveling between his, Ginny's, and Hermione's rooms. Harry was polite, speaking whenever Molly directly addressed him, and he could see that she was clearly concerned for him. He hadn't been able to reassure her any more than simply telling her he was fine, which he was aware convinced no one.

    According to Molly, Ginny hadn't left his side all night - even forcing the Healers to treat him while she stood nearby. She had, apparently, come close to hexing a mediwitch who'd tried to escort her out before Kingsley himself had shown up and told the mediwitch to let her be. There had been concern that one of the spells Lestrange had hit him with might have a timed effect, but that had thankfully not been the case. He'd just exhausted himself, physically and magically - and probably emotionally, too - and had needed to sleep it off. She herself had only consented to be treated once she was sure Harry was fine. He knew he should probably be cross with her for that, but Harry quite honestly doubted he'd have behaved any differently if the situations had been reversed.

    She was gone now, to the healers for a follow-up checkup. Apparently one of the curses Lestrange had used during the battle had caught her incidentally, and they were checking her over to make sure everything was fine. It was a spell they hadn't been able to identify, and the Healers were concerned that it may have had some kind of time-delayed effect. Harry had never heard of such a thing, but it was apparently possible. Harry hadn't been allowed to accompany her because Kingsley had returned shortly before her departure, and introduced him to one of the most unfortunate of the many realities of an Auror's life - the paperwork.

    He'd spent two hours going over the entire thing with the man who was now his top-most boss, as well as Arthur Weasley in his official capacity as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Gawain Robards, the Acting Head of the Auror Division. Ron had been present for that portion, though Harry had seen his friend was alarmed at the dispassionate manner in which the report had been delivered. With them, Harry had unemotionally relayed the entire series of event, including an accounting of what he saw as his own mistakes. He included the amount of force contained in the Disarming Charm he had struck Rabastan Lestrange at this, but even Harry could candidly admit that with the reflexive nature of that action, there was very little he could have done to prevent it.

    Kingsley - and Arthur, especially - had repeatedly assured Harry that he'd handled the manner appropriately, stepping up to save the bystanders from the rampage of the four Death Eaters. They agreed that there would not have been a way to lead Lestrange and his party to a less populated area, nor to remove them to an area that Aurors would have been able to respond quicker to. A team of four Aurors had already been stationed in the Alley that day, but at that time had been responding to a reported break-in at Milling's Magical Curios - a high-priced store that sold many ancient - and dangerous - magical artifacts. There was no record of anything being taken, but the store was at the opposite end of the Alley, and by the time the more experienced Aurors had made it to the scene, the battle was already over.

    Harry had nodded and accepted that, though he made very little in the nature of personal commentary. He almost exclusively spoke only when he delivered his report, and said nothing at all while Ron had delivered his.

    While Kingsley and Arthur seemed to have believed that Harry had done his job appropriately, that opinion didn't seem to be a universal one. Robards' face had told a different story, Harry thought, but he didn't know the fellow. This was actually the first time he'd met the man who was now technically his boss. It was not the best first impression, Harry was sure. But for whatever reason, the Head Auror had not wished to contradict his own superiors.

    Afterwards, Ron had departed in order to go check on Hermione. Harry knew now that she was the one of the two that had been wounded, as Flint had struck her with an Iron Lungs curse. It had left some residual damage in the lungs - Ron had spouted off a lot of medical terms that Harry had never heard before, and he suspected Ron hadn't either then - and the doctors now had her on several potions in order to repair the damage. Ron had only barely been able to reverse the curse in time, and his feverish attempts to counter it had left him unable to assist Harry in his duel with Lestrange. He seemed to feel guilty about that, though Harry reassured him that saving Hermione's life instead had been the right thing to do. Ron certainly couldn't disagree with that point of view.

    When he left, Harry made the most personal comment he had yet said that morning, telling Ron to give Hermione his love. Ron had seemed to relax somewhat at that, though his worry for Harry was still written clearly on his features.

    After Ron and Robards had left, Kingsley and Arthur had both wanted to speak to him privately. Harry had acquiesced, aware that there was no real way he could refuse.

    "I know it was in accident, Harry," the Minister assured him. "These things happen when you're trying to bring in a dangerous criminal. It would be nice if they all just came along quietly. Unfortunately, that hardly ever occurs. Just remember: you did the right thing."

    "Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly. His lack of response otherwise made it clear to Kingsley that he wasn't trying to be rude - he just didn't care to talk about the matter. He didn't speak again until the Minister left him alone with the man who, in all likelihood, was going to be his father-in-law.

    "How are you, son?" Arthur asked him kindly. Arthur's professional demeanor was gone now, and like his youngest son, concern for Harry was written across every inch of his features.

    Harry was thoughtful for a second. "I really don't know how to answer that," he said honestly.

    "I expect that's true," Arthur replied frankly, giving the younger man a small nod of concession. "I knew this day would come eventually, you know. I have to confess - I thought it would be back during the war."

    "So did I," Harry admitted. It was a thought that had consumed him for a time, especially after Dumbledore had first revealed the nature of the Prophecy to him, after Sirius' death. "But in the end, I never had to kill anyone - not even Riddle. He did that to himself."

    "And you even tried to stop that," Arthur pointed out, "just like you did yesterday. You're a good man, Harry, and like Kingsley says, you did the right thing. It may sound a bit trite, but it is the truth, nonetheless. You remember that, son. Now, I may be biased that it was my daughter you saved," Arthur gave him a small smile, "And by the fact that I already regard you as one of my own, but don't be too hard on yourself about this. You don't deserve it."

    Harry gave him a weak smile, but still he betrayed none of his own inner thoughts. He was grateful for Arthur's words, and he did draw comfort from them, true enough. He could also see that Arthur was a bit concerned that Harry was still keeping his own counsel on the matter, before a dawning recognition set in the older man's eyes. "Ah, I see," Arthur said, almost to himself. Harry knew then that Arthur had realized that there was only one person Harry really wanted to open up to, and that was not him. "You'll be fine after all, I expect. I'll leave you to your thoughts then, shall I? I expect Ginny will be along shortly."

    "Thank you, sir," Harry said, and then returned the hug that Arthur gave him. Harry was proud - he didn't even stiffen at the contact. Maybe all those years of being around the Weasleys (or more likely, his relationship with Ginny) was actually getting him accustomed to the physical expression of affection.

    With no further words, Arthur left him with the aftermath that he least looked forward to: the paperwork.

    And Dear Merlin was there a lot of it.

    After-action reports. Signing off the signed statements of witnesses, verifying that their accounts matched his own, and identifying any abnormalities in those accounts. There seemed to be dozens of other forms, lists, and things Harry couldn't possibly see the reason for. Finally, however, a big part of it dawned on him:

    It was there to help him work through any issues he might have concerning the event. It was, in essence, one of the ways that the Ministry kept their Aurors sane, an approach that the Muggle policemen also used. Instead of simply reliving it over and over in his head - something that would probably give him what Hermione had called 'post-traumatic stress disorder, Harry had to analyze it, to break down events, to look for the flaws. (Privately, Harry suspected that all he had been through in his life had already 'blessed' him with that condition. His nightmares, which he was glad to admit were decreasing, were fair proof of that.) But going through all of that, along with his own thoughts, led him to the simple conclusion that Kingsley and Arthur were bang on. He'd done the right thing. Lestrange had resisted arrest, and the consequences were on his own head. It was, perhaps, a cold way to regard the death of another human being, and a part of Harry quailed at the dismissal of that fact. He regretted the outcome, yes, but Harry found that he could simply not blame himself for the actions of others. It was a habit he had been possessed of for far too long in his life, and it pleased him to think that he had finally broken it.

    Less work for Ginny then, he concluded, if she doesn't have to spend so much time talking me out of things. Easier to look at it honestly in the first place.

    Harry leaned his arm against the window's side and resumed his earlier people-watching. After a short time had passed, he heard the door to his room open and then close again softly. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the way it felt when he used his 'second sight', to see if he could identify the person by the 'feel' of their magic. It was a trick that probably wouldn't work with a Muggle, but Harry smiled when he found himself successful.

    "Hey, Gin," he said quietly, without turning around.

    "Hey, Harry," she answered in just as quiet a tone. She slipped up to his side with practiced ease, easing herself under his shoulder. One of her arms wrapped itself around his back, and the other slipped up against his chest. Harry found himself relaxing just under that simple touch, and he marveled once again that her simple presence made him feel so much better. "How did you know?"

    Harry gave a small smile. "I'm not sure you'll believe me," he said, looking down so that he could see her face while he spoke. It was the truth - like his 'second sight', it was an ability he had never read of, but one he had only seen Dumbledore perform. Abruptly, he realized one other had often similarly been able to identify someone's presence without looking - Severus Snape. Apparently, the late Potions master had been a much more powerful wizard than anyone had ever realized during his life.

    "Try me," Ginny said impishly, unmistakably challenging him.

    "I think it's what Dumbledore used to be able to do," he explained slowly. "Though it sounds a bit nutters, I know, but it's like I can - well, I think I can feel your magic. I knew it was you because that sense of you is different from what I feel from Ron and Hermione. They're the only other people I've been able to do it with yet."

    "Neat trick," she chuckled. Harry saw something glint behind her eyes as she said so, and he had to wonder if she was able to do it as well. Thinking back to how often she seemed to know exactly where he was, he suspected so. He was deprived of the opportunity to ask, however, when she gave him an appraising look and asked, "So how are you?"

    "You're the one who just saw the healer. Shouldn't I be asking you?" Harry asked pointedly.

    "Pssh," Ginny said dismissively with a small wave of her hand, "You already know I'm fine, or Mum would have followed me in here. She wouldn't possibly be finished with that yet."

    Harry laughed, "She's already had her go at me. Before you came by earlier."

    Ginny winced in sympathy.

    "She also said you never left my side while they were treating me - not even to get healed yourself," he added. He tried to put a note of reproach in his voice, but his words came out in a thankful tone instead.

    Her brown eyes glittered as she gave her reply. "You'd have done no different," she said pointedly, "And you are avoiding the question. Hermione and Ron are talking about you, you know. They're convinced that you're either throwing the furniture around, or are 'on the verge of a major depressive episode.'"

    "Hermione said the second one, didn't she?"

    "Good call."

    "I got over destroying furniture a few years ago," he said, thinking of Dumbledore's office. "It's out of my system." Harry watched her for a moment after he spoke. He looked to in her eyes, and wondered just what he would find. There was empathy there, understanding, and somehow, Harry's intuition told him that Ginny knew exactly - exactly - how he felt right now, as though it was a situation that she'd been in herself. His blood chilled as he made the realization. "And you?" he asked, "You're not worried?"

    "No," Ginny shook her head, "No, I'm not. You're... different, Harry. You have been for awhile now, and I think it's taking people a bit to see it."

    "But not you," Harry said. It wasn't a question - rather, it was an acknowledgement.

    "If I hadn't noticed, Harry, we'd be in a world of trouble, wouldn't we?" Ginny asked rhetorically. "Do you want to talk about it?"

    For so long, Harry's standard answer would have been 'I'm fine' or 'No', but now - well, Ginny was right. He had changed, and it showed that he was willing to admit the things he would have held so privately before. Maybe only with her, or Ron or Hermione - but, well, it was a start. "I think I do, yeah."

    Ginny just nodded, and waited for Harry to begin. She guided him to the small two-person couch that lined the wall of the small hospital room, and took his hand in hers. Harry appreciated the gesture, certainly, and was grateful that Ginny's opinion of him hadn't changed in the last twenty-four hours.

    "It's like..." Harry shook his head. "It's hard to explain. It's almost like I feel bad for not feeling worse about it..." He stopped, and raked his fingers through his hair as he tried to figure out how to put his feelings into words. He looked up to see that Ginny was chewing on her bottom lip - a sign that he recognized as meaning she was considering what to say as well. Given that he hadn't said anything at all yet, Harry was understandably confused by her actions. "Gin?" he asked.

    Ginny took a deep breath, and then looked away from Harry. She wasn't staring at the wall across from him, he realized - she was reliving a memory of some kind. Remembering his earlier bout of inspiration, Harry abruptly knew that the memory was not a pleasant one.

    "Would it make it easier for you, Harry," she started quietly, "to know that I've been where you are now? That I've taken a life?"

    Harry tightened his one hand around hers, and then, with the other, drew her face back towards him. "Tell me," he urged softly.

    Ginny nodded, and after a few heartbeats had passed, began the story. "It was last year - you've figured that, of course. Just before Easter - it's why my parents pulled me out, actually. Not much choice really, after that. Fred and George snuck in - they'd opened the Honeydukes tunnel back up a few months before, and took me out after what happened. The Carrows were getting more and more frustrated with those of us in the DA. Everything... else they'd done wasn't working. We were still resisting, so they... they let Greyback and one of his werewolves in. Did you know that some werewolves can do a partial change, just a few days before the full moon?"

    "No, I didn't," Harry said quietly, piecing together where this story was headed. He frowned slightly at her oblique reference to 'everything else', but he still didn't want to push her on that issue quite yet. That she was telling him something that had happened last year at all even now was amazing in itself.

    "I didn't either," Ginny said, almost mechanically. "It's a frightfully monstrous thing, a man like Greyback. And when they're half-transformed like that.... It was bloody terrifying, really. They brought them in to hunt down a few of us who were out after-hours. Neville and I were escorting two second-years, Francis Marsters and Jennifer Richards, back from seeing Madame Pomfrey in secret. They'd been tortured by Crabbe and Goyle, you see. Those two were rather good at that," she added in an aside.

    Harry's horror grew as Ginny casually told her tale. He hadn't realized what a true Hell Hogwarts had been last year, and in that very moment, he resolved that not another day would pass before he got it all out of Ginny - whether she wanted to speak of it or not. And her tone about Crabbe and Goyle's abilities at torture... he knew now she had experienced that first hand. The beast in Harry's chest roared its righteous indignation, glad that Crabbe was dead, and hoping Goyle soon joined him.

    "They found us. How could they not, with a werewolf's senses? They caught us by surprise on the fourth-floor corridor. Neville took on Greyback - Harry, you'd have been so proud of him. A few years ago, I'd have never thought Neville of all people could fight like that. While he was fighting him off, I went for the other one. Do you know I didn't even know his name? I still don't, actually. He was going for Francis, and I panicked. I remembered Remus' stories about how Greyback went after him as a child, and what that monster's done to Bill - so I hit him with the first curse I thought of. It was Sectumsempra'- and the way I caught him, it took that monster's head clean off."

    She delivered the rest of her story in a monotone that almost frightened Harry. The next sentence, though, Ginny spoke with such a passion that Harry had no doubt of the truth of her words. "And it terrifies me, Harry. It terrifies me that I don't feel bad about that. That in a heartbeat, in the same situation, I would do it again," Ginny finally finished. "So yes, I think I know exactly how you feel right now."

    "And you're right to say you'd do it again, Gin," Harry assured her. He knew then - really knew - that the truth of it applied to his own actions as well. "I'm sorry as hell you were in that situation. I'm sorry that -" Harry cut himself off. "Sorry. I'll have to get to that later. We need to talk, Gin, about a lot of things, I think."

    "I think you're right," Ginny confessed, but then pointed at him. "But right now, Mr. Potter, we're talking about you."

    "Very true," Harry nodded. "And... well, you're right. I wish to hell it hadn't happened, luv, I really do. I've never wanted to kill anyone. But at the same time, he was going for you, and I can't regret preventing that in the slightest. He wasn't a man who was ever going to reform, and had to have known it was a possibility. But..."

    "But you can live with it," Ginny finished for him.

    "Yeah," Harry said, blowing out a long breath. "I think I can."

    "I'm impressed, Harry," she said, her voice taking on a bit of a teasing tone. "No temper tantrums, no throwing things, no sulking about and brooding for days on end - you just might be growing up a bit, after all."

    Harry snorted. "You don't have to be so surprised about it, you know."

    She laid a soft hand on his cheek. "I'm really not," she said quietly, tenderly.

    She moved her head then, in a way that caused the sunlight from the window to filter through her hair, and for just a moment, Harry was struck again by how incredibly beautiful she really was - and how incredibly lucky he himself was. "Merlin, I love you, d'you know that?"

    Ginny smiled then, her first true smile of the day. "I know, Harry. And I love you, too."

    "Glad that's settled, then," Harry said.

    "We need to talk about what you did yesterday, also," Ginny pointed out. At Harry's look of confusion, she clarified her point. "Not Lestrange. Taking that curse for me. Harry, I want you to promise me something."

    He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What?"

    "I want you to promise me you'll never take a curse for me like that again," Ginny said flatly. "I'm serious about this, Harry. I'm not a little girl. I don't need protection."

    "I can't make that promise," Harry answered immediately.

    "Harry-" she replied hotly, her temper beginning to grow. Harry saw all the warning signs, but he ignored them.

    "No, Gin, I won't make that promise," he shot back. "You mean everything to me. I'd do it again, and I won't lie to you and tell you that I won't."

    "Dammit, Harry! I've lived through it before, and I can live through it again! It's not worth you getting hurt over! I'm not - " Abruptly, Ginny clamped her mouth shut.

    "You can save that line," Harry shot back. "I know the whole song. I practically wrote it. You're the one who made me see how stupid it was. But I'm telling you now, Gin, if I ever have the opportunity to prevent you harm, even taking a curse myself, I'm going to do it."

    "I don't want you to!" She yelled back. They stared at each other for a moment, each one trying to reign in their tempers, and having very little success.

    Suddenly, Harry found himself irritated with how close-mouthed she'd been about what all had happened at Hogwarts. He wondered if she'd been burying it all for so long now, that she just couldn't bring herself to open up. Something in him snapped be it due to leftover stress from the previous day, or the fatigue of pretending that nothing had happened to her, like she seemed to want to do, he decided that subtlety just wasn't going to work, and a more direct approach was required.

    "Gin," he finally stated, hoping - praying - that bluntness would get him somewhere. It needed to be out in the open, some little inner voice urged him. "What the hell happened to you last year? I know your story earlier wasn't all of it."

    Ginny stood slowly from the couch then, and moved to where she was facing away from Harry. She folded her arms in front of her, and stood very still as she looked away. He did the only thing he could think of - he waited. "I don't want to talk about it Harry," she said, still trying to evade the topic. He had to give her credit - she was better at controlling her temper now. A year ago, his words would have set her off completely.

    Fine, if that's how it's going to be, Harry thought. "I don't care," Harry said harshly. He was aware how uncaring he sounded, but then, he'd learned this very technique from Ginny herself. She'd used it to drag him out of his mood back when he'd thought Voldemort had been possessing him.

    When she faced him once more, her arms were at her sides, her hands curled into fists. When she spoke, it was with very careful, deliberate words. "Harry, I've bloody well told you- "

    'I'm not deaf, I heard you," Harry snapped. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but with each word, his voice rose. Maybe it was just months of pent-up frustration of trying to piece together the few clues she'd offered, but for a moment, Harry felt something else. He felt his temper growing, as though Ginny's carefully controlled anger was somehow feeding into him. But if the was also the only way to get her to talk, then so be it. If nothing else, Harry knew he had the ability to severely hack someone off. Might as well use it now. "But I don't really think that matters right now. I'm asking you, please, to tell me."

    "Now?" she asked incredulously, and even though Harry wondered for a moment if his words hadn't gone too far. That blazing look had appeared in her eyes now, and every bit of it was directed his way. He hoped - fervently - that she wasn't really mad at him - she was mad at whatever she wasn't telling him - he was a convenient target. And he knew that, if it got the truth out of her - then he was willing to be one. Hopefully it wouldn't end up with her hexing his face - or other, more sensitive areas - off. "You want to know now?"

    "I'm not stupid, Gin, I've picked things up, even if you haven't wanted to trust me - haven't wanted to tell me," Harry slipped, betraying a bit more of his true feelings about her silence than he would have liked. "You think I didn't notice how you were suddenly so bloody good at healing charms? Or the way you didn't say anything around Malfoy at Malkin's? Or the look Neville gives you whenever anyone mentions it around us?" Harry said heatedly. He knew he'd passed the safe point now, into straight out goading her - and it didn't even seem to matter.

    "Why now, Harry?" she asked bitterly. "You think I haven't trusted you? Is that it? Because I've been waiting to see if you gave a damn! If you even cared enough to ask! And now - now that something's happened to you, you all of the sudden you care. No, Harry, I didn't miss that at all!"

    "I thought you needed space!" Harry angrily retorted, all the patience he'd built up over the past months with the topic vanished, "I've been waiting for the slightest bloody clue that you wanted to talk about it. I hate people prying at me when I don't want to talk; I thought I was respecting your wishes!"

    "I'M NOT YOU, HARRY!"

    "YOU'RE BLOODY WELL ACTING LIKE IT!"

    Ginny gave him no verbal answer. Instead, she shot forward as though from a cannon, drawing her wand on Harry in anger for the first time in their lives.

    Harry stepped forward, so that the wand was mere inches from his face, and didn't break eye contact. "Do it then," he said calmly, quietly, willing every bit of his anger back down. "Do it if it'll make you feel better. I won't stop you. If that's what it takes to show you you're wrong, do it."

    Ginny returned every inch of his piercing stare, a part of her unmistakably wanting to do just what he'd challenged her to. He could see the silent battle being waged behind her blazing brown eyes - should she let her temper burn and hex him - or finally, just maybe, let it all go? He knew the signs now, and understood what she had wrapped so tightly down. He could only hope hoped this broke her out of it. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Harry, her fierce gaze broke, and her wand clattered to the floor.

    Ginny followed a moment later, falling towards the floor as though she were a puppet whose strings had been abruptly severed.

    Harry caught her.

    He sank to the floor along with her; his arms enfolded protectively around her, and let her scream. She let loose her pain, screaming out a year and a half's worth of pain, anger, betrayal and sadness - everything that had been so tightly contained ever since Dumbledore's funeral - all came flooding out in that single moment. She screamed her voice raw, her words mostly unintelligible as the dam burst.

    Some corner of Harry's mind was grateful that the privacy charms Kingsley had earlier cast were still in effect; as otherwise, there was no telling how many people would have come rushing in long ago.

    Harry didn't know how long they sat there as Ginny vented every pent-up emotion that had been shored up behind her carefully-prepared walls. In all that time, Harry could see, she'd never let any of it out, and now, finally, the pressure he'd added had just been too much. When she was finally done, when Harry's whispered soothings were no longer necessary, she looked up at him, afraid to speak.

    "Merlin, we make a pair, don't we?" he asked, giving her a warm smile. It was a smile that let her know it was okay, and he hoped she realized, that he loved her.

    "Yeah," she said, chuckling slightly as Harry wiped away the last tear. The anger was gone - or at least, satiated, though her sadness clearly remained. That light tinkle of laughter, though, that gave Harry his answer. She still loved him. That was all he needed.

    "I mean, all this time, I'm sitting here, thinking I'm doing the right thing by giving you space, and you're going spare waiting for me to ask," he observed. "It's almost funny."

    "It is funny, when you put it like that," Ginny admitted with hesitation.

    "I'm sorry, Gin," Harry said earnestly. "It seems like I'm always saying that, I know, but - I really thought that was the way to handle it."

    "No," Ginny admitted, "No, I'm not saying you've not got any faults Harry, but this - this wasn't one of them. I was being stupid, expecting you to just know how I felt."

    "You're not stupid, Gin," Harry corrected immediately. "Not now, not ever. How about we just chalk this one up to bad judgment on both of our parts? We've been through too much in our lives to expect that either of us is normal - I get that now. Do you think we can?"

    Ginny nodded. "Harry, after the things we've been through, we can certainly work through this."

    "Then talk to me," Harry softly urged. "Please."

    She nodded once again. "Can we at least move back to the couch?"

    "Sure," Harry grinned. "I think we can do that, yeah."

    With no further words, they did so, and Ginny softly settled down next to Harry. He took her hand in his, and was gratified to see that she didn't flinch or pull away from the contact.

    "It hurt like hell, Harry, when you didn't ask," she confessed, "And I was scared. And the more time went on - well, It's stupid, but I thought that, somehow, that you didn't want to know, or that..." she swallowed, drawing up all her Gryffindor courage before she could continue, "that you'd leave again, if you knew everything. But you were back, and things have been so good. It was easier to just pretend," she said with, no small bit of self-recrimination contained in that statement. "To pretend that everything was fine. We have the life now we should have had - I convinced myself that none of it mattered."

    "Merlin," Harry muttered. "You know no one's ever meant as much to me as you do, right?" She nodded. "Then listen: I'm not leaving again. Ever."

    "Is that really true, Harry?" she asked honestly, and it hurt that it was such a fair question. "Because don't tell me that if it's not true. I can't take that today."

    "It's true," he said urgently. "It really is. I love you. I do now, and I always will. I made a horrible mistake turning away from you a year ago. Maybe its hindsight, but it was wrong of me to leave you behind. I never gave you a choice in the whole thing, and I swear to you I'll never do it again," he promised, and then cursed softly after that statement brought him a moment of insight. "Damn - I did it a week ago, too, didn't I?"

    Ginny froze.

    "I mean, there you were, taking me up to your bed, and I..." Harry thudded his head back against the glass. "And I rejected you. I didn't see what you thought, I just acted, and -"

    "It's okay, Harry," Ginny said with a small smile. Her words were delivered with an earnestness that Harry couldn't deny, and he was glad for that. "I didn't really want my first time to be half-drunk with my parents in the house, either. Granted, if you hadn't had your attack of conscience, I'd have gone ahead with it - "

    "But still -"

    Ginny shushed him quietly. "No, listen now," she admonished. "It really is okay, Harry, because I wasn't ready, not truly. There was too much we hadn't said yet, and I was trying to distract you from asking too many questions. I didn't realize it then, but that's what it was. Given all of that, we both would have regretted it. And that's too important, Harry. I don't want to regret that. Not ever."

    Harry nodded, but the guilt on his face was still clear. "I don't either," he whispered quietly.

    "From now on," Ginny continued, "Let's have an agreement. You be patient with my temper, and I'll be patient with your... social inadequacies. And we make decisions together," she finished with clear emphasis on the last word. Then she held out her other hand to his, as though she wanted to shake. "Deal?"

    Harry accepted the hand, and the terms it came with. "Deal," he replied, and Ginny surprised him by pulling him across the couch and into a kiss. It was a different kind of kiss, one made so by the release of their tensions. It was a slow, easy kiss that was still somehow undeniably passionate, as each tried to pour all of their regret and love into it at the same time, and it was no less memorable than their first.

    "Damn," Ginny muttered when Harry pulled away. "Keep kissing me like that, Potter, and I'll put up with an awful lot,"

    "I'll do my best," Harry said, giving her a cheeky grin. Ginny responded by giving him a shove that sent him sprawling backwards across of the couch. She then proceeded to stretch out on top of him, and they both settled into a comfortable spot, with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Harry summoned a blanket from the hospital bed when Ginny shivered a bit, but on the whole, the simple presence of each other brought both comfort. They sat in silence, enjoying the peace, each wrapped in their own thoughts then.

    "That feels good," Ginny whispered, her voice betraying the vulnerability she still felt. "Safe."

    "You're always safe with me," he assured her in an answering whisper before they both lapsed into silence, gathering themselves back together from the emotional morning.

    After a time, Ginny started speaking again. "Suppose I should get on with it, then," she mused. She tried to make her tone light, and Harry indulged her attempt by not calling attention to it.

    "Only if you want to," Harry assured her. "I didn't want to push, Gin - I still don't, but I think it's important. I know more than anyone how bad it is to bottle up for too long. I've had a lot of experience," he admitted candidly.

    "I think it's past time," she said decisively. Her voice turned husky with the last words, and Ginny cleared her throat before she continued. "It all started for me the day of the wedding, I suppose. When the Death Eaters crashed the reception. After you lot escaped, the chaos only got worse. Everyone was running around, looking about frantically for any family they could save before Disapparating out," Ginny paused for a moment, actually smiling. "Auntie Muriel completely lost her head and was hollering that she'd take on everyone if anything happened to her tiara. Uncle Orson grabbed her and Disapparated. Most of the guests managed to get away."

    Harry nodded, remembering Lupin's account to them in Grimmauld Place of what had happened.

    "Yaxley led the group that stayed to interrogate us. They kept us there for so long, asking questions, mostly about you, though some about Hermione and Ron, too. Mum was livid when they searched the house. The ghoul fooled them. I remember looking out the window seeing their cake, smashed on the ground. The cake that Mum had worked so hard on. It just - it made me absolutely furious to see the cake spread all over the ground like that..." Her voice sounded dreamy as she recalled the night, over a year ago, summoning to the front of her mind her feelings, her actions. Ginny shook her head slightly before continuing.

    "When they questioned me... " she trailed for a moment, "Well, I wasn't exactly feeling cooperative. I was mad at you and Hermione and Ron for just disappearing, even though I was glad you were safe, and I was just so mad about that bloody cake," she paused again. "That was the first time I was put under the Cruciatus. I told them the truth - that you'd left me, that I didn't know for where or why, and it was enough for them. They finally left."

    Harry winced, feeling guilty that while he'd been safe and sound at Grimmauld Place, Ginny had been being put under the torture curse. He winced also at the truth of her last words - put that way; he was just a right prat, wasn't he?

    "Things calmed down, you might say, after a couple of days, but the house was under surveillance, and then Dad went back to work. He was so... strained, I guess, every night. Not knowing where you were, or Ron, Hermione, everything else that was happened with the Muggle-born Registration Act... It was almost a surprise to get our Hogwarts letters. Or, should I say, my Hogwarts letter, since I was the only one in the house going back. It was still signed by Professor McGonagall, but they didn't give us a book list. Said that all our books would be provided," she noted bitterly. "Should've had a clue then, I suppose."

    Ginny paused then, drawing in a breath. "Finally, September 1st came up, and Mum took me to King's Cross. She and Dad had this enormous row about the night before, whether or not to even send me back. Mum wanted me to stay at home. Even if I'd wanted to, I didn't have a choice, though, not with attendance being compulsory for purebloods. Not with Mum and Dad trying to convince them we'd given up the fight, so he could keep getting information for the Order from inside the Ministry. So I had to go, simple as that. We didn't even learn Snape was the Headmaster until we got on the train."

    "Wait," Harry frowned, "That was in the Daily Prophet."

    "On September 1st. No one had time to read the paper that morning. No one trying to get students to King's Cross, anyway," Ginny pointed out.

    Harry nodded at the realization, remembering how his stomach had twisted at the news that the man he had thought, then, to be Dumbledore's murderer had taken over his mentor's job.

    "It was one shock after another, then. We found out none of the Muggleborns were being allowed back. Yaxley and the Carrows and some others were at King's Cross, barring 'Known Muggle-borns' from even boarding the train for 'suspected theft of magical ability', " she said with a derisive snort. "We found out Malfoy and Parkinson were Head Boy and Girl. I never told you, but I got made a prefect to replace Danielle Evans - she and her mum were killed by the Death Eaters. They fought back when the Muggleborn Registration Commission came for them."

    "I'd wondered why you didn't seem excited about being a Prefect," Harry admitted. "Aside from the obvious, of course."

    "Yeah," Ginny nodded, and then looked to Harry. "A lot happened while you weren't here, Harry. Are you sure you want to know? Some of it - Harry, some of it is things you're not going to want to know."

    Harry's answering gaze never wavered from hers. "Yes. I want to know it all, Gin."

    "All right," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. And then she launched into her tale...

    Back to index


    Chapter 14: Chapter 14 - In Her Own Words

    Author's Notes: I can't possibly thank my betas, Teyri Jen, for the way she stepped up and made a particular scene in this chapter so, so much better. Or Geluf and IcarusPhoenix for their invaluable feedback. But I'll try, anyways. Thanks guys. To the people nominating me for DSTAs - I am insanely flattered. Thanks.

    And now, to business. There's a content warning on this chapter, the rating is, I think, well-earned. It's not explicit, but is traumatic as hell. (At least, it is if I did my job right.)


    Chapter 14 - "In Her Own Words"

    I could hardly contain my fury as Neville and I led the Gryffindors from the Great Hall. I wasn't really leading so much as stalking. He'd replaced Ron as the 7th-year Gryffindor Prefect, and Eloise Midgen had replaced Hermione but - well, Eloise has hardly ever been a leader-type, has she? Parvati wasn't there, and Sally-Ann and Lavender are even less Prefect material than Eloise is. Was. That's hard to keep straight sometimes - we lost so many.

    I was right pissed, though - that's probably the proper way to put it. It was just too many shocks and surprises in one day. It was the combination of everything - the Carrows at King's Cross, weeding out "undesirable" students, Malfoy as Head Boy and that pug-faced cow Parkinson as Head Girl, and bleeding Snape as Headmaster? And I had to sit to sit and hold my tongue like a good little girl while Dumbledore's murderer introduced the new "Professors"! It had not left my mood a kind one, to say the least. To be fair, it's probably better that I hadn't spoken during the feast, because really, starting a riot probably wouldn't have been the best start to the year. Give Neville credit, though, he was the only one not maintaining a five-foot distance from me. I was even staring down the Fat Lady by the time we got to her portrait.

    "Chosen One," I growled the password at her. What? Don't look at me like that. I didn't pick it. She swung open - a bit more hastily than usual, I thought, and I led those few Gryffindors who'd been allowed to return into the common room. You wouldn't have recognized the House. Between protective parents - given the way things turned out, I can hardly say they were being over-protective - or because of 'blood status', probably half of us hadn't been allowed back. My year was the largest, since it was mostly half-bloods and purebloods. Colin had been the only one from our year not allowed back. There were almost no third years at all, though.

    I stalked into the middle of the room, and then folded my arms in front of me as I stared into the fire. Just now, on the first day, it was abundantly clear that this wasn't going to be the Hogwarts we remembered. Not with Snape in charge. We'd expected McGonagall. We'd expected a refuge, a place to be safe. What we got were Death Eaters for Professors, who very likely wanted to try to indoctrinate us all to their twisted ideas.

    Something had to be done.

    I know you wanted me safe. I know you wanted me out of everything, so you would have something to come back to. I understood that when you left, Harry, even if I never liked it. But you know as well as I that the world doesn't give us what we want. And if Hogwarts wasn't going to be a refuge, then I had another job rather than the one you wanted for me. Probably a more important one. As I tried to figure out what to do about Snape, about the Carrows, the thought occurred to me :

    "What would Harry do?" I whispered, not even aware that I'd said it aloud.

    Neville was there beside me, and I could see he had been thinking the same things. His eyes met mine as we reached the same conclusion. "He'd fight," Neville answered, just as quietly.

    "Then that's what we'll do," I decided, and turned around so that I could face the common room. Lavender and Seamus were among those still around, and most of my own dorm-mates, and a good deal of the fifth-years, too. Good. They were the ones I wanted. "Oi" I yelled. "You lot! Gather 'round!"

    Some looked confused, some looked surprised. Most didn't, however, and I was fiercely glad to know that Neville and I weren't the only ones thinking of fighting back.

    Neville was eyeing me warily, so I waited for him to ask the question. It felt a little staged, truthfully, but that can be a powerful thing.

    "What've you got in mind, Ginny?" he asked me. We were playing to the crowd, the both of us.

    "I don't know about the rest of you," I started, "But I didn't plan on getting educated by a bunch of Death Eaters this year. I don't like that Voldemort -" people gasped at the name, and I frowned at them - "has taken the Ministry. I don't like people who say that the content of my blood is what's important about me. I don't like people that think wizards are the only actual folk on this planet. I won't let Hogwarts be perverted like this. It's wrong, and I'm not going - I refuse - to stand for it." Some kind of ... revolutionary fervor seemed to have gripped me, but I couldn't stop. It felt too bloody good not to hide. I said after my first year that no one, no one, would ever control my life again. I was learning then what that really meant.

    I pulled a small Galleon from my pocket, and addressed my answer to Neville. I was looking dead at him, but my words were meant for everyone present - everyone who hadn't already run up to their rooms in fear. Everyone who had a backbone of some kind. Everyone who'd had enough. "It's time to restart Dumbledore's Army," I announced.

    "But Harry's not even here!" someone called out. After a second, I was able to identify it as Sean McLaggen. I was impressed that he'd stayed - he was one of the only third years.

    "You think I don't know that?" I snapped back. "But do you even think that matters? Harry's off doing his part. Those of us left behind have to do ours. Harry's got something he's got to do so Voldemort can be defeated. We can't help him with it now. But that doesn't mean we can't be ready when he does need our help. It doesn't mean we just roll over and take whatever Snape and the Carrows want to do to us, does it now?"

    There were quiet murmurings in the crowd - mostly ones of assent, as far as I could tell.

    "But who'll lead us?" Lavender asked. I was impressed that she was willing to be involved. Yes, she'd been in the original D.A., but she hadn't responded to the call last year, the night Dumbledore died, either. I decided to give her and everyone else the benefit of the doubt - after all, no one but the six of us had known anything was likely to happen that night, had we?

    Neville answered that time. He moved to stand next to me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. "We will," he answered. His voice was strong and firm, and I was impressed by the way that Neville was acting. We always knew he belonged in Gryffindor. Now he was showing it. My gut feelings told me, then, what our roles would be. Neville would be our leader. He would be the person that people would respect, and follow. That wasn't me - I think with my heart too much. I would be the - if you'll pardon the term - the firebrand. The inspiration. Luna - and Neville and I both somehow knew she would form the third of our own 'Trio' - well, she'd be the brains behind the operation. Time bore out my predictions.

    "We have to choose now, between what is right and what is easy. Neville and I already know our choice. What's yours?" I made the question a challenge - a dare, if you will. And I delivered it to every member of Gryffindor House that had remained to listen.

    The number of people who cheered, who volunteered immediately - I've never been so proud to be a Gryffindor in my life. You were gone, and Hermione and Ron, too, and your mission was important. Probably one of the most important things that have ever been done in the history of magic. But the rest of us weren't going to sit idly by.

    We learned our lessons from you, you see. It was our war, our lives too, and we were going to fight it. Bollocks to anyone who said otherwise.

    - - - - - -

    Harry grinned, and was glad to see Ginny return it. "Ginny Weasley: Revolutionary, eh?" he chuckled. "Y'know, that's not too hard to picture."

    She gave a small chuckle as well, though she rolled her eyes. Harry was glad to see the relaxed mannerism - though he knew it wouldn't last.

    - - - - - -

    We started small, after that. Little acts of passive - well, mostly passive - rebellion in Dark Arts and Muggle Studies. We had fifteen or so Gryffindors. Despite earlier enthusiasm, people got scared. I can't blame them - not after they used the Cruciatus on Neville the first day of 'Dark Arts', just for mouthing off and asking Amycus if he was even acquainted with the word 'integrity'. Word spread to the other houses, but in the beginning, people were slow to join up. Luna recommended a hunger strike at one point, but I shot that idea down rather quick. I am a Weasley, after all. I got my first week's detention by asking Amycus if he even had a happy thought to conjure a Patronus with when he was "teaching" us how to "control" Dementors. (You control them by directing their feeding, in case you were wondering.)

    Detention consisted of blood quills at first. Later, I would almost miss those days. Thankfully, we don't have scars - Neville figured out a new mixture of murtletap extract that was able to prevent it. Dead useful, that stuff.

    Luna figured out the Protean Charm Hermione used to charm the Galleons, and we made more. Those things saved our arses more often than I'd like to admit. Fred and George were invaluable too, with all the supplies they smuggled in to us. We started the year off with a series of pranks that made them proud. I tell you though, I'm bloody glad neither one of them ever joined the Death Eaters. We'd have all been well and truly buggered if they had.

    We had the support of the teachers, too, though McGonagall was constantly warning us to be careful. She walked a fine line, her and Flitwick both. They did would they could, but it was never as much as we or they would have liked, and I hate to admit that we probably made their jobs to keep us safe a lot harder. It was mostly Amycus and Alecto we had to watch out for. I'll give it to Snape - he was always a greasy git, but somehow he never crossed the line like the Carrows did.

    But we did do things quiet at first, while some of our members were training the others up the way you'd taught us. The Room of Requirement gave us a safe place to meet, once Neville figured out how to bar anyone we didn't want from finding us. It wasn't time for an out and out fight yet, and we all knew it. The old D.A. became the leaders of the new - everyone that had returned to Hogwarts, that was. I should tell you, you were our inspiration. I know you don't like hearing it, Harry, but you really were. Every day that went by that they didn't capture you three was a day that you gave us hope. It meant that there was still a chance. So in your name, we trained. In your name, we prepared to fight.

    We might have still called ourselves 'Dumbledore's Army', but it would have been a great deal more truthful if we'd changed the name to 'Potter's Army'.

    The first time the Carrows caught me out of bounds, we were tagging. It was Luke Jordan's idea - Lee's little brother? Lee's mum is a Muggle-born, so they were raised in both worlds. He said it was something Muggle kids did, and we managed to get the twins to send us the spells. Just some simple painting charms, really, you just change the word for the color you want.

    "Dumbledore's Army, through and through?" Neville asked me, clearly curious as I stood back, admiring my work on the Charms corridor.

    I flashed him a small smile - the first I'd done in weeks, actually. "The Minister wanted Harry as a poster boy last year. When he refused," I explained, "the Minister called him 'Dumbledore's man'. Harry told him 'through and through."

    Neville laughed. "Sounds like Harry, all right," he admitted.

    You still made me smile, Harry. That was my only bright spot some days - knowing you were still free somewhere, even if I didn't know what you were doing. We'd just heard on Potterwatch the night before about the three of you breaking into the Ministry. We couldn't figure what you were after, but we knew it had to be important. Hearing that you were fighting gave everyone hope, and I think we were all a bit reckless that night because of it. No, that's not quite right. Drunk on your success is more like it. The Quibbler ran a full interview with that Cattermole bloke, and I was ridiculously proud of you for what you'd done.

    Neville eyed me a bit suspiciously, and I expect my grinning idiot look had a lot to do with it. "You two aren't really broken up, are you?" he finally asked. "I know what you've said, but - "

    I just gave him a small half-smile, not answering. I didn't really know how. Neville was one of my best friends in the world by now. Yes, you'd left me physically, but I never felt as though you'd really left me, Harry. Not once the entire year, until I saw Hagrid carrying your body. Maybe it makes me foolish, but I don't know. Don't much care, actually.

    Didn't stop Luna, though. "Of course they're not, Neville," she said in that far-away dreamy voice of hers. "Harry's just infested with pernicious pollywomples. It's completely obvious that Harry's just trying to keep her safe. That's the sign of the pernicious pollywomple, you know - make you push away what you really value. "œ

    I have to admit - Neville and I both laughed at that. Unfortunately, we paid for our distraction. We didn't hear anyone come up behind us. It was stupid, letting our guards down, but - we needed that moment of laughter. I still think it was worth it, actually.

    "Out past curfew, then?" I heard the sneering voice behind us, and my blood chilled to recognize the voice of Amycus Carrow. "And defiling the sacred walls of the halls of learning, too?"

    He wasn't alone, either. His foul sister was with him, and several of the Slytherins - Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle.

    One of these days, I might just learn to control my mouth. It wasn't then, though, and my acid-tongued words were was out before I even realized it. "I think you and your sister have defiled these sacred halls enough without our help, Professor," I answered, putting all of my true opinions into the last word.

    Neville winced. Luna actually giggled. I stared defiantly at Amycus.

    I can't say I much liked the smile he gave me back.

    That was the first time they let students punish us with the Cruciatus. Crabbe and Goyle proved to be masters of it, especially - turns out those great lumps had a talent after all. And they loved to practice on us, whenever they got the chance. And with the Carrows' blessing, they got plenty.

    - - - - - - - -

    "It frightens the hell of me, Gin," Harry interrupted, "To hear you talking about getting tortured so casually." He'd stayed silent so far, mostly because he inherently recognized Ginny's need to get her story out without a great deal of commentary.

    "It frightens the hell out of me too, Harry," the red-headed witch admitted in a hoarse whisper. She stopped her narrative long enough to simply bask in Harry's presence for a few minutes, as though she were physically drawing the comfort and courage she needed to continue from him.

    When she spoke again, her voice was strong and sure once more.

    - - - - - - -

    If the Carrows thought that was going to break us though, they got a rude shock. They wanted to raise the stakes? That was bloody well fine with us. We stepped things up after that, though we were a lot more careful. We lost a few more of the DA, too - two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff decided that it was just too risky. We couldn't hold it against them. We were asking a lot, honestly.

    Classes were a joke, except for Potions, Transfiguration and Charms. Those were actually useful, and we worked hard. Actually, Herbology turned out to be dead useful, too. Neville's a bloody genius. He was able to grow most of what we needed for healing potions in secret.

    After the Carrows decided the students would have to torture each other - that was their idea of a Dark Arts class, see, teach us some dangerous piece of dark magic, and then make us use it on each other. We wouldn't do it - though I'd be lying if I said we didn't use the spells. It just wasn't students we were going to use them on. Well, we decided then that tagging and passive resistance wasn't enough. We were searching for - we needed - a way to have a bigger impact.

    It was Neville who had the idea, actually, after I told him about the Ministry not passing along Gryffindor's Sword to you. He was the one who remembered that it was in the Headmaster's Office. The Carrows had brought him before Snape twice already - and he was the one who suggested we steal it for you. We came up with some half-baked plan to smuggle the sword out to the twins. If anyone could figure out where you lot were, we figured it would probably be them and Lupin. Honestly, the plan could have been quite a bit better, but we were so excited that we rushed it.

    It took us almost two weeks to find out what the password to the Headmaster's Office was - Snape had set it to 'Babbling Beverage', of all things. I kicked myself for not realizing his passwords would be potions. Should have been a bit obvious, yeah? We only finally learned it because we managed to recruit the ghosts and the portraits into our 'information network', as Luna liked to call it. I don't know what a network is, but we just went with it. It was Nearly Headless Nick who finally gave us the answer.

    We came up with a plan to distract the staff, and that was the first time Dumbledore's Army mobilized in force. It was chaos in the halls - rather like Fred and George's escape back in my fourth year. There were pranks going off everywhere. I don't know who, but someone even managed to turn the entire Dark Arts classroom into a portable swamp, trapping Amycus in his quarters. Fred and George even shared a little secret with me about Peeves and I enlisted his help.

    No, I won't tell you the secret. You just remember that when we're back at school this year, Potter. Peeves is on my side.

    While the staff was running around dealing with that, we rushed to the Headmaster's Office. We refused to call it 'Snape's Office', you see.

    "Babbling Beverage," I said urgently to the gargoyle in front of us. It glared for a moment, like it knew we weren't really supposed to be there, but it sighed and let us in regardless. Neville joined me in a sigh of relief as it moved aside. Luna just looked like she always does - like she'd expected it. She even patted the gargoyle on its head as we passed by.

    I swear I heard it say 'thank you'.

    We ran up those stairs like our lives depended on it. Everything was all going according to plan. This was before I started to learn that that is a bad, bad sign. When we got into the office, the portraits all immediately started acting like they were asleep, even though we'd clearly been able to hear their babbling before Neville shoved the door open. I did see Phineas Nigellus peak out at us a few times.

    When I saw the sword at first, I was unprepared for the flood of memories that came with it. It brought back everything from the Chamber. Images of Tom, of the basilisk, of you all flooded my mind and it took a lot of effort to mentally shove them aside. I ground my teeth as Luna and I took up positions to guard the door, and Neville moved immediately to the case and began looking for a clasp or something to open so that we could retrieve the sword.

    "What's taking so long, Neville?" I finally asked, tearing my gaze away from the passageway. I wish to hell you'd left us the Marauder's Map. We could have used it.

    "I can't figure out how to open the bloody case!"

    "Use magic, of course," Luna replied.

    "Oh, right," Neville muttered, and then cursed again as an Alohamora failed. Luna suggested several other spells, none of which worked, and we were each growing more agitated as it took longer. It was probably a bit silly to think it would be as easy as to just slip into the Headmaster's office and nick the bloody thing.

    And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Not from the stairs, where I'd expected it, but from Dumbledore's portrait behind the desk. "Professor Dumbledore!" I cried, "Help us! We need to get the sword to Harry!"

    His painting didn't move, didn't respond - it just kept continuing to sleep. I have to confess - I was starting to panic. Our distractions would only last so long, and this was not a place we wanted to be caught. And then I thought about you, and I'll I could hear was you talking about the "mission" he'd left you, and how you had to do it on your own, and.. well, something in me just... snapped. So yes, it is clear that I am not the best on controlling my emotions when my temper's running high. Everyone's got a flaw, right?

    "You doddering old git!" I yelled, and Neville and Luna both flinched. "You left him to finish your fight alone! The least you can do now to help us fulfill this 'mission' of yours!"

    Well. That got his attention. The painting of Dumbledore opened his eyes and then, I'd swear to you it was him, not just a painting. It had his smile, and that piercing stare with the twinkle hiding in his eyes that made you feel like you had a private joke, just the two of you. I almost let that twinkle disarm my anger. It would have been so easy to pretend that painting was the real deal. "Harry is continuing with his task, then?"

    "Of course he is!" I snapped back at him. "He's every inch the man you made him - and nobody knows what's he's bloody doing, not even me!"

    "I apologize for that, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, and I wondered how a painting could sound so sad. I felt myself deflate at his next words. "I never intended for Harry to cause you pain. Had another year passed, I fully expect that you would be with Harry now. You must be cautious, however - "

    "What are you making him do, Professor?" I all but begged. My anger had faded from its initial outburst, and I felt all my... despair, I guess you'd call it, bubbling out. I kept myself so tightly wrapped all year, Harry, because that was the only way I could keep from falling apart. And I guess, really, I never stopped. "What's so important that he had to leave me behind - that he couldn't even tell me why?"

    I don't know why I had to know so suddenly, but I could feel that need like a physical thing. That painting had answers, and damn it all, I wanted - no, deserved - them.

    "The fate of our very world, Miss Weasley," came the answer - but it wasn't from in front of me. And the voice wasn't Dumbledore's.

    It was Snape's.

    I whirled around, trying to bring my wand on the so-called 'Headmaster', but I was shocked by his tone. For the first time in my life, I heard Severus Snape speak in a tone that was something other than complete and total disdain. It wasn't that silky smooth voice I'd always heard him use. The way he spoke then - well, he actually sounded human. "Harry's task will determine the future of our world, Miss Weasley - whether Dark will triumph over Light. All our hopes lie with him."

    The 'Headmaster' was standing at the door, but he wasn't looming like he usually did. He was just... standing there, and he looked sadly at the portrait of Dumbledore. I saw a lot of things fly through his eyes as they met mine, and for once, I felt an urge to be genuinely respectful towards him. Somehow, then, I knew there was more to Severus Snape than what we'd always thought. I think now, knowing what I do, that the years of secrets and lies weighed on him post heavily then. The last thing I remember noting was the way he looked at Dumbledore's portrait while he spoke - with a touch of defiance, but a strangely respectful sort.

    "But..." I stammered; confused even more by everything about Snape that seemed so out of character. If I was confused, that said nothing for how Neville looked. And Luna - she still, still - didn't look surprised. You'd think, by now, we'd just use her as a benchmark. "Why?" I begged. "Tell me, Professor, please, just... I need to know."

    I saw a flicker of something pass Snape's face - sadness? Pity? For me? Or for someone else? Whatever it was, for those few minutes, he let his guard down.

    "I am sorry," he said, and they were the most honest words I'd ever heard come from his lips. "Obliviate!" he said abruptly, catching all three of us in the spell.

    The next thing I remember, I was shaking my head as though I was coming out of a fog, and then looked around. It was just the three of us - or had someone else been there? I couldn't remember. For a second, it felt like I'd taken a Bludger to the head, but the feeling faded soon enough.

    "Neville!" I yelled, not aware that the last several minutes of my memory had just been erased. "Have you got it yet?"

    Neville let out a whoop. "I've got it!" he yelled back in triumph as he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from its case. I saw him looking down at his hands for just a moment as his own look of confusion faded away. Neville then turned towards Luna and myself, and then I saw his face go ashen. "Oh, bugger," he said softly, as Snape swept through the door, entering the room in triumph.

    "Well, well," Snape said with a definite sneer. Just the sound of his voice set my teeth on edge, and I began to seriously consider drawing my wand. I wasn't even sure what prompted me to hold back. "Longbottom. Weasley. Lovegood. Trying to steal valuable relics from the office of the Headmaster? What did you three fools think you would accomplish? You don't even know where Potter is cowering," he said, scoffing again.

    "For all you know," Neville said, bravely.

    Snape made a sound that left no doubt whatsoever that he found Neville's bravado something less than convincing.

    "We'll find him," I answered through gritted teeth. I was surprised at the conviction in my voice. It wasn't a lie. We'd have found you, somehow, some way.

    "It doesn't belong to you," Neville continued, surprising even me with his fire. "It's Harry's - Dumbledore left it to him. Least you can do is see to it that his wishes are carried out, after what you did."

    I inhaled sharply at Neville's comment, and I saw Snape's eyes glitter dangerously. It was, perhaps, not the best topic to bring up at the moment.

    "One hundred points from Gryffindor for trespassing in the Headmaster's Office," Snape said abruptly, ignoring Neville's comment, or seeming to, at least. "Another hundred for your cheek, Weasley. And for your... opinions, Longbottom - detention with Hagrid tonight in the Forbidden Forest, all of you. Now get out of my sight!" He delivered that last with such a cold fury that I was amazed he didn't strike Neville down with the killing curse then and there.

    We counted ourselves lucky to escape with only detention. Oddly, we didn't even question it at the time. Looking back at the memory now, I can see how Snape was using his Legilimency to plant that train of thought in our minds. Otherwise, I think, it would have made us all very curious as to how we got off so lightly. I think the only thought we spared for it was that maybe Snape felt guilty about Dumbledore. Other events caught our attentions soon enough, and we forgot all about it.

    - - - - - -

    "Wait," Harry asked, putting up a hand to get her to pause. "If Snape Obliviated you, how do you even remember that conversation?" He was genuinely puzzled by the notion.

    He watched as Ginny squirmed in her chair for a minute, and he immediately knew the answer was somehow related to whatever it was she hadn't told him yet. Not that what she had said so far wasn't horrific in its way - the Cruciatus was nothing to be taken lightly - but it wouldn't have produced the reaction she'd had earlier in the day.

    "Madam Pomfrey," she began with no small amount of hesitation in her voice. Harry gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, and Ginny continued. "She found the memory charm when the night... well, she found the charm later, and she was able to remove it."

    Harry frowned, but he left the aborted reference to whatever the other incident was alone. "I thought that the caster had to be the one to do the memory charm."

    "Sometimes," Ginny admitted. "It depends on the wand motion, apparently. I suspect now that Snape never wanted to permanently wipe the memory. He had to have known, I think, that there was always a chance that he would die with no one knowing who he really was. We would have had a clue, I think. Even after Madame Pomfrey restored the memory, I thought there was something wrong - I couldn't make any sense of it until you explained about him."

    Harry nodded, feeling his own swirl of conflicting emotions that always arose whenever the topic of the late Severus Snape was raised. "It would make sense," he reluctantly admitted, once again torn between respecting the man for the role he'd played his entire adult life, and at the same time still hating him for the part that he knew had not been theatrics.

    Ginny's face was sad as she offered one last opinion on the topic. "Scrimgeour called you Dumbledore's Man, Harry, and you are. But I think, so was Severus Snape."

    "Through and through," Harry agreed sadly. "Even if no one ever knew it until it was too late."

    - - - - -

    Snape might have let us off easy, but the Carrows didn't. Things really started going to hell after that. That's when they started forcing us to practice Dark curses on each other - and let the Slytherins punish us with Unforgivables when we refused. They even used the Imperius on us a few times, but they stopped that when Neville and I proved able to break it. That had rather the opposite effect, so they returned to the old standby of torture. I wonder sometimes if that was all Tom taught any of them. For Death Eaters, the Carrows were decidedly lacking in imagination.

    When they had a student use the Cruciatus on us, it was almost always Crabbe and Goyle. They weren't even pretending anymore - the Carrows or Crabbe or Goyle would torture someone right there in class, making the rest of us watch. It wasn't discipline, like they called it. Frankly, I think they just got off on it.

    There was this one time - they petrified the whole class with the Immobulus charm, and made the rest of us watch as whomever the target for the day was suffered. Maybe they thought that if they beat us down hard enough, it would break us. Funny thing is; it worked with some people. For the rest of us, though... it just made us fight back harder. I realize now that Snape and McGonagall were keeping us safe before curfew, everywhere but the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies classrooms. Those were the Carrows' domains, and as the "School Disciplinarians", they had sole authority for anyone caught after hours.

    We'd have all joined Neville's parents at St. Mungo's, I think, if it weren't for Slughorn and Pomfrey. Somehow, they always found out who'd been tortured, and Cruciatus Restorative Draughts were always waiting in our rooms for us. And oddly... Malfoy. Whenever he'd been 'assigned' torture-duty... he never used Unforgivables. I mocked him for it at the time. I regret that now somewhat, but... I don't know.

    That was when they stopped letting 'disciplined' students - the DA, basically - go to Madam Pomfrey. That's why I learned healing charms, you see - someone had to do it. I got very good at them.

    I had a lot of practice.

    We didn't let up entirely, but we tried to watch ourselves more. Easier said than done, that was. We tried to get some invisibility cloaks from Fred and George, but it turns out they're hard to come by, and bloody difficult to make. Especially when so many people outside of Hogwarts had use for them. That was when the Muggle-born Registration people started going after half-bloods too, and all of the sudden, we had a whole new mission: Smuggling people out of Hogwarts.

    The night before everyone left the castle for Christmas hols, we'd gotten word that the Carrows were going after several students to hand over to the Ministry. Sally-Ann Perks was the oldest, and there were five younger students, mostly from Hufflepuff. They've always had the highest percentage of Muggleborns, you know. I wonder, sometimes, if it's not better to be new to our world like that - you don't come in with the prejudices the rest of us are raised with. Though with the way most Slytherins are, I suppose it's not very difficult to acquire them.

    Using our coins, we'd been able to get word to Fred and George and their 'branch' of the D.A. We were kind of three groups, then, passing information back and forth, with McGonagall and Fred and George being our contacts with what was left of the Order. They also passed along information to Remus and Kingsley and Justin and his group at the Refuge. What did Justin call it - the Mudblood Resistance? Merlin, I love that name. Anyway, we couldn't coordinate too much, but I know the Order was mostly filled up trying to get people into hiding and keep them safe. There were just never enough people to take on the Death Eaters head on - not with so many terrified out of their bloody minds. People will put up with a lot, if they just don't see it. I learned that lesson too, you see.

    We set up what the American Muggles called an 'Underground Railroad' - yes, I paid attention in Muggle Studies, before Alecto Carrow started teaching it. We got people out of Hogwarts when it wasn't safe anymore - as relative as the term may be. Fred and George unblocked the Honeydukes tunnel, and cast this complex illusion to make it look like it was caved in. Don't tell George I said so, but it was rather impressive work, really. I'd still love to know how they managed it.

    Neville, Luna and I, along with Michael, Susan and Hannah were escorting Sally-Ann and the younger ones to the tunnel. It was a large group, but with the way the Carrows had stepped up their patrols, we decided it was better to move en masse than try to slip each person out one at a time. Neville, Luna and I always went. None of us wanted to ask anyone to do something we wouldn't do ourselves. Something else we learned from you, Harry.

    "Who're they sending to meet us?" I whispered to Neville as Michael and Susan took point, checking the turns in the corridors before our party traveled. We'd already stunned Filch - and Mrs. Norris - and left them in a broom cupboard on the fourth floor. I don't have to tell you how bloody satisfying that was. I'm still amazed that Snape still never gave him permission to pull out all those Muggle torture devices that he was always going on about. Filch is still probably the only person who didn't think the Carrows went far enough. If he weren't so sad, I'd probably hate him. I just can't bring myself to, though.

    "Parvati at the entrance to the passageway," Neville answered. He'd been contact on this one, and had taken the Invisibility Cloak out earlier to coordinate with Fred and George. Oh, I forgot to tell you - I've got Tonks' old cloak now. She'd brought it in on the last time we'd smuggled someone out, saying I'd find it dead useful. She was right.

    I never got the chance to give it back to her.

    "And then?" I prompted.

    "Fred and George are at the other end of the tunnel, and they'll help them get to Abe's," he answered, giving me a little bit of an odd look. "Everything's going to plan, Ginny," he reassured me.

    I know that's what he intended, but I couldn't shake the bad feeling that had settled into the pit of my stomach. "Sure," I answered him, and I'm certain I sounded distracted. Neville didn't stop his pressing stare, and I gave him a sort of half-shrug. "I'm sorry, Neville, I've just... got a bad feeling about this."

    Neville was right, though - I was distracted. Mostly, I was distracted because of Michael, who, like I said, was with us that night. Looking at him from behind, I could almost imagine that he was you, and that you were here, leading us, and that Neville and I could rest. It was a comforting illusion. That the responsibility would be someone else's - no, that's not right. That the responsibility was yours. It sounds silly, I know, but I was getting so tired by that point. I dealt with it by... well, I didn't deal with it. Not really. Luna, she got less... well, less barmy, I suppose is the way to put it. Neville turned to any woman who would have him for comfort. (And I have to tell you - that is not something I ever saw coming.)

    No, Harry, Neville never turned to me. Not for that kind of comfort.

    But Michael's... resemblance to you wasn't what had me so distracted. It had been his words to me earlier in the evening, when we'd been preparing. He'd asked me out again, and... I couldn't say yes. I know what you intended when you left me behind, and I see the logic... but I couldn't bring myself to take it that far. I couldn't pretend to be with someone else. I just couldn't. And I knew that, eventually, that could unravel everything. If the Carrows found out our break-up was a lie. I was on tenterhooks the whole year, just waiting to find out that Malfoy or Snape somehow knew, but... it never happened. So that part of your plan worked, Harry. I don't want you to torture yourself over that. It was horrible, but it's over now, and we'll never do that again. And believe me, Potter, if you try, you won't live to regret it.

    "Ginny?" Luna whispered to me, pulling me aside to take the rear with her. She was giving off all the signs of being agitated, which is bloody strange to see on her. I signaled to Neville what I was doing, and he nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the corridor. We were almost there, now.

    "What is it, Luna?" I whispered. I really hoped it wasn't something major, but we'd learned something about Luna. She saw the truth of things. I don't know how she does it - I'm not even sure if she knows how she does it. Maybe it's Seer blood. Maybe she just sees reality a little bit differently than the rest of us. I tend to think it's the latter. Whatever it was, though, we were learning to pay attention to it.

    "Don't feel so bad about Michael," she whispered back to me. "It's not your fault," she urged, and I have to admit that I was confused. I wasn't exactly feeling guilty about turning Michael down. Yes, I was lonely, but - well, I wasn't that lonely. "And don't feel bad about me, either. I'll be fine, in the end."

    "Luna, what are you on about?"

    Luna was getting even more agitated. It's hard to tell with her, but I was certain she'd paled. "Just -" for once, she didn't seem to have words. I watched in astonishment as I saw her fidget her hands. It's so odd, that with anyone else, I'd have regarded nerves as normal. With Luna, it was sending up every red flag I had. "You'll see," she said sadly. "Look after Neville while I'm away, would you please? I know he seems so brave now, but I think the price to himself is more than he realizes. He's so much like Harry. He's a very good soul."

    "Of course I will," I answered, hoping that she was just having an attack of nerves. We had just reached the mouth of the tunnel, and I could see Parvati whispering to Neville. "Luna, you're not going anywhere..."

    She never got the chance to answer me, as the torches in the hallway abruptly flamed high. And then I saw - we were surrounded on both ends of the corridor. On either side, one of the Carrows led groups of Slytherins. Malfoy and Nott stood behind Alecto, while I couldn't make out who was at the other end of the corridor. From their size, it looked like Crabbe and Goyle - they had apparently traded up from being Malfoy's thugs to Amycus'.

    From their stance, I knew this wasn't going to be the usual banter. Things were for real, this time. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, the same way it had at the Ministry, and when the Death Eaters had infiltrated the castle the year before. Just thinking of that made my blood run hot - these people who had been invaders were now professors. It was wrong. Suddenly, I was just bloody fine with the idea. I wanted a fight.

    Alecto had a fierce grin when she saw Luna. "There's the Lovegood girl. Our instructions are to grab her as well, students. And Longbottom and Weasley as well, caught in the act of assisting these Mudbloods in their escape! Let's see Snape try to deny this!"

    "Bollocks!" I cursed, and I didn't have time to be puzzled by her words. Down the hall, I could hear Susan, Michael and Hannah battling Amycus, Crabbe and Goyle. Sally-Ann, Parvati and Neville were getting the younger students into the passageway. I cast the first spell I could think of, "Lumos Maxima!", to buy them time. We had to get the kids out.

    While I did that, Luna shot a stunner towards Alecto, though she ended up hitting Malfoy. I saw him drop just before the flash of my spell blinded everyone who'd been looking. For someone who always talked so much, that bugger really is sodding worthless in a fight.

    The spell bought us a moment, and I saw the last of our erstwhile refugees rush into the tunnel. Neville and Parvati were there, too, and abruptly, I knew how to get him to safety. We couldn't risk too much with me, him and Luna all getting captured. He had the cloak, still - he could get back in later. I didn't realize at the time that Sally-Ann wasn't with them."Neville! The tunnel, go!"

    "What about you?"

    "I'll seal it behind you, go, now!" Sounds from down the hall told me that Alecto and her group's vision was probably starting to clear.

    Neville knew we didn't have time to argue, so he didn't. Crabbe had slipped past Hannah, though, and had launched a hex of some kind that connected with Parvati. Neville caught her, and kept her from impacting with the floor. I don't know what happened next, because as soon as he'd passed through, I put every bit of power I could into a Reductor curse. I'm rather proud of that curse, you know. It collapsed the entrance to the tunnel behind them, and brought down a bit of the corridor, too. The dust and rubble provided us with cover, too. Whatever happened next, at least everyone else was safe.

    That was when I saw Sally-Ann. I always liked her, you know, even if she was the quietest seventh year from our House. She had this way of just fading into the background. I realized once, though, that she did it because she liked to watch people. She was the one who pointed out to me fifth-year that you'd been watching me all the time, you know. She actually twigged to it a few days before Hermione.

    She came to help Luna and me with Alecto, and she led strong.

    "I'm through running," she told me as we took cover. "I'm though hiding, I'm through being a wallflower."

    I gave her a nod. "Good to meet you, Sally-Ann," I teased her with a smile. "My name's Ginny."

    It's hard to say just what happened, then. Things got frantic, and Sally-Ann Luna and I were launching spell after spell at Alecto and Nott. I'll give that toad some credit - she and her brother knew how to fight. And Nott had been paying attention.

    A Reductor curse from one of them blasted away our cover, and I saw Sally-Ann stand. I realized, too late, that she intended to take Alecto head-on. Bless her; she was a Gryffindor to the very end.

    Which was, sad to say, all too soon.

    She stood, and started firing curses so fast you'd have been proud of her, Harry. I was. But then Alecto said two words, and it was all over.

    "Avada Kedavra!" She shouted it, but it was almost... casual. I think I screamed something. I must have, because my throat was raw afterwards. I saw Sally-Ann try to dodge, but... she couldn't.

    The green flash, that horrible green light, flew from Alecto's wand, and it caught Sally-Ann. And as quick as that, my new friend, who'd just come out of the shell she'd been hiding in for seven years... was dead.

    Time slowed down to a crawl. Sally-Ann's the first person I've ever actually seen die. Somehow, I got a hold of myself. I don't know how. The adrenaline, maybe, the need to act... something took over. I saw then that Susan and Hannah were down, too. So was Goyle. Michael was facing down Amycus and Crabbe on his own - and, well, he was hardly a match for them. Luna and I took Nott down with a pair of simultaneous stunners and, at my signal, we broke from our fight to reinforce him - we stood better odds if we stood together. I shot one last curse - a string of blasting hexes, I think it was - at Alecto as we ran.

    Amycus saw us heading that way, and his eyes glinted in a perverse sort of pleasure as he saw me. "Weasley," he sneered. "I've had quite enough of you, little girl. Diffindo!"

    "No!" Michael yelled, and stepped in front of the curse meant for me. For a moment, my mind replayed what had just happened to Sally-Ann, and I couldn't believe it was happening again. The slicing curse struck him in the middle of his body, and this... this... absolutely gruesome spray of blood seemed to be everywhere.

    "Michael!" I yelled, and immediately rushed to his side fast I could. There was so much blood - I couldn't see how he could possibly be alive.

    It was down to Luna and me then, and I glared at Amycus as I tried to stop Michael's bleeding. One hand was pressed to his chest, my other hand held my wand. I would not go down easy, I decided. I thought of you, briefly, and regretted that I didn't get to kiss you one more time. His chest was still rising and falling, but unless some kind of miracle happened, there was no way we would be able to save him.

    That's only the third time I've ever really thought I was going to die. I'm very... glad that I've been wrong each time so far. I've never been so glad to be wrong about anything, I think.

    I'm convinced now, that somewhere, somehow, there is someone or something who answers prayers. Maybe only for fools and little children, but I've been accused of being both. And it must have paid off because, abruptly, I got my miracle. Three jets of red light shot out, and Amycus, Alecto and Crabbe went down. I frantically took off my school robe and started pressing it against Michael's chest. I couldn't spare even a moment for the identity of our mysterious saviors, not if Michael was to live.

    "That won't do it," a voice said, and despite my task, I froze in surprise. My jaw dropped when I realized the identity of our rescuers - Blaise Zabini, and the Greengrass sisters, Daphne and Astoria.

    "Zabini?" I said, incredulous. That's not the right word. I was bloody well floored. We'd just been saved by a trio of Slytherins? "What are you doing? I thought you hated 'blood-traitors'."

    The dark-skinned boy sniffed. "In Slytherin House," he explained, "certain attitudes can be a survival trait, Weasley. We can talk later - right now, get your friend to safety," His eyes flicked pointedly to Sally-Ann's body. "He needs help, fast. We'll Obliviate the Carrows and the others and figure out what to do with them."

    I watched his eyes as he spoke, and decided that I had no choice but to trust him. We needed every ally we could get, after all. I removed my robes and performed some quick healing spells on Michael as Luna set about waking Susan and Hannah. It was nothing that would hold up well against the damage he'd taken, but it'd be enough to get him to Pomfrey.

    When they conjured up a stretcher for him and Sally-Ann and made to leave, I made one last quick stop, next to Alecto's prone body. I'm sure I was smiling viciously as I delivered my best kick to her ribs. "Bitch," I muttered. I thought, for just a moment, about repaying her for Sally-Ann. The desire faded though. I like to think that's not something I could do in cold blood, but mostly, I think I just didn't know how I would ever face you.

    I turned to Zabini, who was trying to hide a smile. "Zabini - I'll be in touch."

    "I'm looking forward to it," he answered, and we made off.

    As we left, Luna's earlier words came back to me, and I turned to reassure her, "See, Luna? I said nothing would happen to you."

    My blood chilled at the look she gave me then, and she didn't answer me.

    That was the last time I saw Luna Lovegood until May.

    - - - - - - -

    "She knew," Harry breathed in astonishment, "She knew somehow. Luna."

    Ginny nodded, "So it appears."

    Harry raked his hands through his hair. He knew Sally-Ann had died, though he didn't know when. "What about..."

    "Sally-Ann?" Ginny asked. "We put her body under a stasis charm, until we could get it out to her family. With everything we did, it's astonishing that she was the only one we lost, until the final battle."

    "Are you..?" Harry asked, knowing he didn't need to word the question.

    Ginny just nodded. "I am. It hurts, because I wish I'd known her better. But she chose the moment of her death. That's all any of us can hope for, really."

    Harry winced. He knew that all too well. "Yeah," he said lamely, and gave Ginny's shoulders a squeeze that he hoped was reassuring. He was starting to get overloaded with information, and at that point, could offer nothing better than that small comfort.

    It was enough.

    Or so he first thought. He noticed then, that Ginny tensed before she started speaking once more. And somehow, Harry knew that her next words would horrify him even more than anything else he'd learned of today.

    - - - - -

    Christmas was... a breath of fresh air. It was incredibly lonely, without the three of you. Fred and George did the best they could to cheer me up, but, well... What's the saying? All alone in a crowded room? That was me. But being around Mum and Dad, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Remus, Tonks, the twins... it helped. Merlin, it helped so much. It was a reminder that there still was life out there, not just a never-ending struggle. It gave me reason to hope, that, and knowing that you were still free. I told you we drew hope from that, Harry, and we did. Every single day.

    I'd been getting concerned about Luna, and we found out she was missing when Mr. Lovegood's house got leveled. We didn't know you had anything to do with it, of course - not until the Order found out you'd been there.

    I think I felt a little bit worse after that, actually, knowing that you weren't but a mile or two away, and we still didn't get to see each other.

    When the holidays ended, I dreaded the idea of going back to Hogwarts. Mum and Dad - well, they didn't know everything that had gone on, that was for sure. I couched the D.A.'s activities in very... general terms. Remus, Tonks, the twins - maybe even Bill - all knew better, but they kept their mouths shut. I still don't know if they saw right through it or not. I suspect Dad did - probably Mum, too. Parents really never are as oblivious as we'd like to think they are.

    The break passed too soon, and the DA laid low when we returned. We kept up our quieter campaigns, our resistance in class, but we didn't have to pull anything big. Well, other than a few pranks on Snape and the Carrows, but those were mostly just for amusement value. Want to know what Severus Snape looked like in a pink tutu? I've got pictures. It wasn't pretty.

    It was Valentine's Day when I broke one of our cardinal rules: I went somewhere alone.

    Of all places, I decided to go to the Astronomy Tower. It had been all but abandoned since it was where Dumbledore was killed. There were certainly no overly-hormonal teenagers using it as a trysting place now. The place suited my mood. Everyone was finding someone for comfort - I don't think Hogwarts' broom cupboards have ever seen more use. Michael had lived, but I'd rebuffed him again, and he and Hannah became an item for a little while. Mostly, I missed you desperately, and I wanted to be alone. I admit, I wasn't thinking straight - I didn't even take Tonks' cloak.

    I don't know how long I sat there, staring out at the grounds from that big hole in the wall. No one had heard any new news about you since Christmas, though I'd found out about Ron being at Bill's once he disappeared and said he was going to rejoin you. To say I was a bit put out with my brother was - well, that was putting it mildly. It's a good thing I never got the opportunity that I wanted to hex him. I'm not sure Hermione would have appreciated the result. For some reason, she seems to have this attachment to my idiot brother. I've told her I'm sure there's a potion for that.

    And that was my second mistake that day: I let my guard down.

    "Expelliarmus!" I heard a voice behind me yell. Before I had any hope of stopping it, my wand went flying out of the pocket of my robes. The clatter it made as it fell to the far side of the room wasn't a loud sound, but it was still somehow deafening.

    I groaned when I recognized who had joined me. Crabbe and Goyle. We were wrong about them all these years, you know. They weren't just thugs, after all. All it took was a taste of power - the power that they found in torturing other people - to make them into monsters. Or maybe that's something they always were, and we just never saw it. We always thought Malfoy was the one to watch, but those two... they were something else.

    "What's the matter Crabbe?" I asked, as he was the more... vocal of the two. I wouldn't say he spoke much, but Goyle mostly just grunted, so I was hardly about to address him. "Couldn't find a date for Valentine's Day? Or are the rumors about you and Goyle true, and me being here is just spoiling your plans?"

    Okay, so mouthing off to two blokes who significantly out-sized me, with my wand already gone... probably not the best plan. Still, what else was I going to do?

    Crabbe's response let me know the rules had changed somewhere. I was a little annoyed that no one had told me.

    Before I knew what was happening, his hand had darted out and backhanded me across the cheek. It snapped my head to the side. "Always been a smart-mouth, haven't you, Weaslette?" Crabbe snarled at me.

    I couldn't offer an immediate response, because, frankly, I was trying to get those irritating little stars out of my eyes. That and I was a little bit in shock. I expected a lot of things, but not that. I tensed my body, determined that Crabbe would not get another chance to lay a hand on me.

    "What, nothing else?" Crabbe asked.

    "Go fuck yourself." Once again, not the smartest response to have made, but I didn't have any other options. I tried to get away from them by darting around Crabbe. I figured I'm small; he's huge and doesn't move very fast... But when I tried to do that, it left me wide open for Goyle, and he grabbed a hold of my arm, spinning me back across the room in between the two of them. I stood there for a moment, and my heart started to race at a rather alarming rate. I had to force myself to calm down, to breathe, to think, if nothing else, try to get past these two clods... I was alone, unarmed, off in the distance where no one could hear me call for help if I needed it. It was, essentially, a very bad situation to be in. And I was acutely aware of that fact.

    Goyle advanced on me and I retreated, until my back was up against the wall. Crabbe came and stood right next to him and they had me blocked in. You know, I never realized how big those gorillas actually were until they stood that close to me. Crabbe put his hand on the wall above my shoulder and leaned forward, breathing really heavily in my ear. "You like Muggles, don'tcha? You like being all crammed in five to a room like they are, you blood traitor? How about we remind you what it's like, two on one?" He drew his finger down the side of my face.

    I swear, at first I had no idea what he was talking about. His statement didn't make any sense either, but I chalked it up at the time to just his limited IQ. Goyle didn't really say anything, just leaned in towards me as well. There was a very frightening lack of... anything in his eyes, besides a hunger for violence, I guess you could say.

    Also, maybe I've been a little... sheltered. I mean, obviously, I knew that horrible things happened to people every day, but I was at Hogwarts. Regardless of everything that had happened to me so far there, everything that told us on a daily basis that this wasn't the same Hogwarts, I don't think I had truly realized the extent of it. Illusions can be a comforting thing, you know. And any I had left had just been shattered.

    Once it sunk in, however, I felt my heart drop, then start beating so fast, I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack right then. Goyle's hands were reaching for me, and I couldn't think. All I could do was act. I bit his hand as it came near and then tried to kick Crabbe. I got a couple of good hits in. I remember hearing Goyle cry out as I bit him, and I think I raked Crabbe across the face with my nails. I don't really recall what else I did, but I fought as hard as I could.

    - - - - - -

    Harry watched as Ginny abruptly stood up, an expression of abject horror on his face. She folded her arms in front of her, hugging herself. She almost seemed to fold in on herself, even as he sat there and watched. She gave him a small smile, almost pathetic in its unfolding. "I'm not called a firebrand for no reason, after all."

    She turned to look at the wall for a moment, studying it, looking for the words to convey what she had felt during that whole horrible episode. She knew that he was watching her, waiting for her to continue, wondering if he should stand up and comfort her. She hoped he would. She needed the comfort of arms around her. She hoped he wouldn't, because she would never be able to get through this if she broke down.

    Without turning to look at him, she picked up the tale. "I fought as hard as I could. I'm sure that I did. But they were so big, and so strong... I couldn't stop them. I couldn't stop them, and no one was there to help me." Her voice trailed off. Her shoulders quivered for a moment. Harry was up in flash. Right before he could touch her, though, she sidestepped him, turning to look at him. He caught a flash of the vulnerability and hurt that she strove so hard to keep concealed before her voice and face both hardened. "Don't touch me right now, okay? Just... I have to get through this on my own, or they win."

    - - - - -

    I fought as hard as I could to get away from them. As hard as I could, but it's true what they say, you know? Size does matter. I knew what they wanted, but I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let them touch me. For a moment, one moment, I thought I could get away. I kicked Crabbe's knee from the side and he fell. I jumped over him and tried to make it to the door, but his hand flashed out and grabbed my leg. For a big bloke, he's faster than he's any bloody right to be. I fell to the floor, and then....

    Then they were on me. I saw their faces for a moment, brutish in their anger and hate, and then they beat me. They beat the hell out of me. Kicks, punches, everywhere. I curled up into a ball and tried to protect myself as much as I could, because I couldn't stand up. A boot to the head, a kick to the ribs, and then another, and another. It seemed like it never ended. My wrist was shattered, my eyes were blackened, and at least one rib was broken. I couldn't catch my breath, but I couldn't pass out, because if I did, there was nothing I could do to stop them.

    "Not a smart-mouth now, are you, Weaslette?" Crabbe taunted me, his voice almost seeming to float in.

    I coughed, spitting up blood from a punch to the mouth. At least, I hoped that's what it was from. "If this..." I managed to rasp out, "Is your idea of a... romantic Valentine's Day, Crabbe, you're a... a... fucking... idiot..." Again, not the smartest thing to do. This earned me several more slaps and punches, mostly to the stomach and face.

    Finally, I guess they thought that all the fight had left me. I was unrolled and one of them fell heavily to his knees in between my legs. I still don't know which one it was. I thought that... Well, I thought that it was inevitable at that point. I tried to think about something else. I just couldn't make myself move. It just hurt too bloody much. So I thought of... anything. Anything else, except you. I couldn't think about you, have your face in front of me while they... I turned to look at the door, and there was Malfoy, just standing there, watching. I don't know how long he'd been there, but there he was, just leaning against the doorway, watching, as if his two cronies were tormenting a first or second year.

    I felt a hand going up my skirt, and I tried to struggle. One last ditch effort, I guess, to get away. Whoever it was grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor a couple of times. That was what did it. Right before I passed out, I felt my sweater being unbuttoned and my skirt being pulled up. I looked over at Malfoy, right as I passed out, and saw the strangest thing. He had a look of revulsion on his face, and he had pulled out his wand.

    - - - - -

    Harry stood in front of his girlfriend, watching her wrestle with her demons. He knew that something had happened, obviously. He knew that something had to have happened involving Malfoy, but not this. Never this. Not in his most paranoid nightmares. He restrained himself from reaching out to her again, but she was still standing still, hugging herself, closing herself off from any kind of interaction.

    He didn't want to ask. He couldn't ask... but at the same time, he had to. He had to know how far this hurt extended into Ginny, if for no other reason than to help her heal from it. And, from the creature in his chest, a primal need to bring holy vengeance down on those who had dared so.

    "Gin, did they... did they actually..."

    Luckily, she answered before he had to verbalize the question.

    "Just... just let me finish talking, Harry. I'll answer your question."

    He nodded and stood back, clenching his jaw as he waited to hear the answer that might change everything.

    - - - - - - -

    I woke up in the Hospital Wing. Neville was there of course, though he'd fallen asleep by my bedside. I was glad for that. I didn't want to face him, yet, didn't want to see the pity - the sympathy on his face. If he was here with me, he must have known already. I think if I'd seen that look on his face just then, I would have completely lost it. Lost myself.

    I hugged my arms around myself as I sat up, and nervously scanned the room for signs of anyone else. There wasn't anyone. My ribs felt sore still, and I was a little dizzy, but otherwise, I felt... fine.

    Physically, at least.

    Inside, I was all but quaking. I've not been so terrified, not even when I found out you were leaving, not since I woke up in the Chamber of Secrets my first year and saw you, bleeding and dirty. I felt dirty, I felt vulnerable, I felt... used, hurt, angry, I felt...

    Absolutely bloody terrified.

    I am not a weak woman. I pride myself on being able to defend myself, and more than anything, I hated myself for letting my guard down, for letting them get the better of me. But the idea that they had touched me like that, that they had raped me, and that I had given up and let them...

    I barely managed to get my head over the side of the bed before I got sick.

    A light flamed on in the Medi-witch's office. In a heartbeat, Poppy was there.

    "Evanesco," she muttered, and the puddle of sick thankfully vanished. She handed me a small glass of water, which I accepted.

    "Thank you," I whispered.

    "You're welcome, dear," she whispered in return, and then she did something I had never seen her do to a student. She sat down on the bed next to me, and then wrapped her arms around me. "It's quite all right, dear," she said soothingly.

    "Poppy..." I whispered, willing her to see the question in my eyes. I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I just couldn't say them. I couldn't make them real.

    "No," she said reassuringly. "They didn't. I examined you when you were brought in. Whoever stopped them stopped them before they could... fulfill their intentions," she said diplomatically. There was a bottomless sympathy in her eyes, and I relaxed under her comforting touch, as much as I possibly could, at least.

    "Oh, thank Merlin," I whispered, overcome with relief. I wanted you for my first, Harry, and the thought that they had taken that from me, from us... It would have broken me. It almost did, regardless.

    I cried then. I let Madame Pomfrey hold me, and for just a little while, I cried out my frustration, my hurt, my anger, my pain. Not enough, clearly, but it was enough for me to survive.

    They were the last tears I shed until Fred died.

    - - - - - - - -

    Harry felt some of the tension and anger drain out of him as he learned that she hadn't been raped after all. Not all of it - not hardly. But enough so that he could function. So that he could help like he knew he had do. He knew that wasn't the issue, really, and certainly he didn't feel any better about the beating that she'd endured, but... well, it was something. He thought it should probably sting that he now owed Malfoy for saving her from a situation that never should have happened. Instead, he was just grateful, and he resolved on the spot that he would somehow repay his former enemy.

    But he knew, knowing the type of woman Ginny was, that such an experience, the loss of control, the feeling of helplessness - that was worse than anything that had physically happened to her. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he felt her tense under him again. "Ginny, it wasn't your fault."

    "Don't give me that, Harry," she snapped. "I'm the one who let my..." She stopped, and blew out a breath. "I know, you're right. They're the ones who did it. But I hate feeling helpless, Harry. The part that really gets to me, that I just can't get past no matter how much I think about it, is that I gave up and let them do it. It doesn't matter that they never finished what they started. I gave up. I stopped fighting and I let it happen."

    "There's a difference, Gin," Harry said softly, "Between giving up, and not being able to fight."

    She stared at him a moment and he could tell that her anger was rising. Her face was becoming flushed, and she let out a small growl. "I gave up. I should have been able to fight back. I've been able to take everything that was dished out to me, from my brothers, from the Carrows, from the Death Eaters, and throw it back in their face. I should have been able to fight back and stop it from happening!"

    Part of her knew that she was being irrational. He was right, of course, and she knew that. She also knew that, in the situation, there was no way that she could have expected to beat them. All of the other fights she had mentioned, there had been more of a balance. With her brothers, no matter how mad they were, they would never try to actually hurt her. With the Death Eaters, she'd had her magic on her side, as well as her ability to fight and run. With the Carrows, they had been somewhat tempered - hopefully - by the presence of witnesses and the somewhat restraining influence of Snape. In this, she had been in a fight for her life, with no magic, against two men who were much bigger and stronger, physically, then she was.

    She knew all that, but it didn't mean that she could admit it. And there was still that little voice, somewhere deep inside her, that wondered if she couldn't have done more. She had made mistakes, of course, mouthing off when she didn't need to. Maybe somewhere in there was the key to her winning and walking away.

    A tear trickled down her face, to be impatiently dashed away. Another followed, and soon she couldn't keep up with the flood.

    Harry didn't know what he could possibly say, so he grabbed her shoulders, making her look at him by the force of will alone. "I'm sorry, Gin. I am so...unbelievably sorry. I just..."

    "You should have been there, Harry," she said, not meeting his gaze. She spoke down to the floor, quietly, holding in her temper as much as she could. Until that moment, she didn't even realize how much anger she had towards Harry, that he would left her to be in that position at all. If he hadn't had left and gone on his stupid mission for Dumbledore, leaving everyone in the dark about where he was and what he was doing... If only he had taken her with him they could have worked something to shield her from the Trace. She never would have been off by herself, on Valentine's Day, thinking about him, open to attack.

    "You should have been there!" she shouted. "You left me alone and I had to do the best I could by myself. I called for someone to help, I needed someone to help. I needed you and you LEFT ME ALONE!" She pushed his arms off of her and backpedaled away from him. "Damn you, Harry, you left me alone!"

    "Not for one bloody second," Harry responded immediately. He felt a flash of anger, and then immediately dismissed it. It was useless, and certainly wasn't what she needed now. He spoke from his heart, and could only pray that the words could help. "I wasn't with you in body, but, Merlin, I never left you alone. You were with me every second I was away. I hope - I pray - that it was the same for you. I wish I had been there. I wish that hadn't happened to you more, I think, than I've ever wished anything in my life. And if you think about that, Gin, that encompasses rather a lot. But I won't take the blame for this, and you know I shouldn't. It won't help anything. It won't even make you feel better. No, that belongs to them. Crabbe's paid his debt. And so will Goyle."

    He moved closer to her then, pulling her tight to him. A part of Harry calmed considerably that she'd let him. He pressed his mouth near her ear, and spoke his words with a whispered urgency. "But it's over, Gin. It's over. Maybe you could have done more. I don't think so, but that doesn't matter, you see. You did all you could do at the time, and that's what we live with. Merlin knows I've given up. I beat Tom by letting him kill me. Sometimes it's all you can do. But what you can't do - and trust me on this, I know - is you can't let it eat you from the inside out. You can't take someone else's guilt and put it on yourself."

    His voice thickened then, with the hard edge of experience. "You can't take that, because you'll just drive yourself around the twist. We have to learn to let go. It's the only way to survive. The only way to live."

    For a moment when Harry put his arms around her, she stiffened. For one moment, she fought with herself over what Harry had said. Then logic won over emotion and she relaxed into him, putting her arms tightly around him. "I know. Oh, Merlin, I know. But Harry... Even though I was with you in spirit, I really wanted you with me in person. I needed you."

    "It'll never happen again," Harry promised. "I swear it to you. I know the words aren't enough. But no one - no one will ever do that to you again," momentarily, he heard Ginny's voice in his mind, from the day after the battle, as she learned of the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. "I'm here for you, Ginny, and always will be. It won't ever, ever, happen again. Do you believe me?"

    "I do, Harry," she whispered. "But I don't want you to protect me, you see? I'm not some helpless little witch. I won't be a victim. Not ever."

    "Fine," he conceded. "Then I won't protect you. We'll protect each other."

    She smiled then, and Harry was devoutly thankful that she still could. It gave him hope. "I can live with that."

    Harry kissed her then, and after an all-too-brief moment, he pulled back. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, he asked her, "So is that all of it? There's nothing else?"

    Merlin, I hope not, Harry thought devoutly.

    She shook her head. "Nothing important. You know the rest, about Greyback and his werewolf friend, about my going into hiding at Aunt Muriel's over the Easter hols. Nothing really important happened after that, not until we all came to the castle that night."

    Harry remembered that night well enough, of course. So then, he just held her, and Ginny relaxed into him, taking comfort just from his physical presence. Harry offered it willingly, well aware of how often the situations had been reversed.

    "Thank you," he whispered softly into her hair, after a time. "Thank you for telling me."

    "I wish I had sooner," Ginny confessed. "It... it's helped. It's not 'all better', of course, but it's... I can talk about it with you, now. I can figure out how to live with it. But I didn't know how, and it was so easy to just... pretend it hadn't happened. I thought I could just forget."

    "I've tried that," Harry said ruefully. "Doesn't work so well."

    "I think the last hour or two is evidence of that, Harry," Ginny said, and Harry nodded in concession. She chewed her lip for a moment, and then asked a question of her own. "What do we do now?"

    "Now?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Now we move on. We be honest with each other, and we deal with things one day at a time."

    "That's it?"

    Harry shrugged, and put his bravest smile. "That's it. We live. We laugh. We do everything we can. We'll fight. We'll cry. We'll love. We'll shag- "

    Harry was abruptly cut off as Ginny slapped his chest. He smiled broadly, though, when she started laughing, and that made the sting of her strike through the thin hospital pajamas more than worth it. "Prat," she muttered, "Making some big assumptions there, aren't you?"

    Harry shrugged again. "I bloody well hope it's not an assumption."

    Back to index


    Chapter 15: Chapter 15 - Sweet Seventeen

    Author's Notes: Thanks to the beta team on this one, as always - Teyri Jen, Geluf, Icarus Phoenix and Faithful Cynic. I'll warn in advance - Mardi Gras is here, and I live in Louisiana, so you can count on probably two weeks until the next chapter. Hopefully, this'll tide you over until then!

    p.s. - this is not the end of the story, this is *only* the end of Act I, meaning we're about a third of the way through Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows.


    Chapter 15 - "Sweet Seventeen"

    Things were different between them after that day in St. Mungo's, Harry had realized. It wasn't a large, earth-shattering change in their relationship, but it was a noticeable one.

    They showed this in small ways, whether at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place. Little touches when one walked by the other. A soft hand laid on a shoulder. A quick kiss on the cheek. A surprise hug while the dishes or some other everyday chore were being done. An impulsive kiss in the hallway. These were all things that they had done before, certainly, but the frequency of the acts seemed greatly increased. Harry thought it was rather like they had moved out of what Hermione called the "honeymoon phase" of a relationship, but had somehow managed to hang on to all of the affection associated with that time, while moving into a different, deeper kind of love. Harry made sure to always be there if she needed help with something, and Ginny made sure to do the same.

    It was a quiet thing, but to an outside observer, it was clear that something, some hurdle, had been overcome in their relationship, and brought them - if that was even possible - closer than ever. To Harry, it was something that brought him an almost overwhelming comfort. Every time he looked at Ginny now, he was aware on some level that they had entered a state of being where no one but the other could possibly understand them better. It wasn't as though Ginny had gotten over her traumas overnight - far from it, rather. That had no more happened than Harry could have suddenly recovered from the traumas of his own life.

    Instead, Harry found that the old saying was true. A pain shared was a pain halved. And when one of them was having difficulties with something - such as when Harry had gone back to Privet Drive, two days ago, the other was there. It was something Ginny had done for him for far longer than he'd realized, and Harry was determined to do the same. When she'd had a nightmare last night, Harry had answered her Patronus message by Flooing right over and sitting with her on the couch in the Burrow's den until she'd fallen back asleep. They had become each other's best source of comfort, Harry realized, and their relationship - their love - was all the better for it.

    Hermione, unsurprisingly, was the first to remark on it. He expected others had noticed - Ron, for example, always saw more than most realized. But his bushy-haired friend was always the one who felt the need to discuss something. It didn't always bother Harry, however, because that was simply the brilliant witch's way. He'd have been disappointed if she behaved in any other fashion, really.

    She and Harry were seated at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, making use of the light that was being let in by the broad bay window. It was early still, and none of them had any particular plans for the day. It was simply a slow, lazy day.

    Harry was reviewing the Auror training manual Kingsley had given him, paying particular attention to the section on utilizing Transfiguration and Charms in defensive strategy. After all, the demonstration Dumbledore and Voldemort had given him in the Ministry when he was fifteen had very much shown the young wizard the value of such abilities. And, also, there were McGonagall's words in the back of his mind that he had the potential to be Dumbledore's equal someday. Such a notion seemed, at the least, improbable. But Harry also had a love of magic for its own sake, and had decided he would push himself to the very limits of his abilities.

    While he was thusly occupied, Hermione was familiarizing herself with the principles behind Animagus transformation. McGonagall and the Marauder's text was open on the table in front of her, along with three or four other books. Two were newly purchased, and Harry recognized the others from his own library here in Grimmauld Place. While the topic matters covered in the Library had been of a significantly dark styling previously, they had been thoroughly broadened when, with Hermione and the Weasleys' help, they had moved all of his family's possessions from the Potter vault. That was far from the only transformation in Harry's home, which no longer would have been recognizable to any of the Blacks. It was, however, certainly the one that Hermione appreciated the most.

    Ron was in the living room, having developed a love affair with Harry's telly, leaving Harry and Hermione to their early-morning studies. Privately, Harry suspected it was just an excuse to avoid studying three weeks before the start of term. Kreacher had only just finished charming the dishes from breakfast clean, and Harry was uncertain of where the wizened old house-elf had disappeared to. Again, that was simply Kreacher's way, and Harry had come to accept that, as well.

    After St. Mungo's, Hermione had also more or less moved into Grimmauld Place. It had happened with no fanfare. One day, her things had all been at her parents and the next, they were all in Ron's room - or scattered about other parts of the house. Harry saw no need to comment on the matter, as he rather welcomed her continual presence.

    And besides - what Molly didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

    Harry heard the flash from the fireplace indicating that someone had flooed in. Ron's greetings carried down the hallway into the kitchen, and Harry found himself smiling as Ginny entered the kitchen. Hermione looked up from her work as well, and Harry saw Ginny bite back a laugh when she saw the books, piles of parchment, and the ink staining her friend's fingertips.

    "Morning, you two," the redhead said, slipping up behind Harry's chair. Harry tilted his head back, getting a rather nice view of her upper body. He noted that the clothes that she was wearing were particularly ratty - it was garden work she had planned today, then, he realized.

    "Morning," he said, waggling his eyebrows. Ginny rolled her eyes, but leaned over to give him a good morning kiss, even as Hermione was issuing her own greetings.

    "Going to work in the garden, then?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

    Ginny just nodded. "It's a pleasant day, and in London, that's just too good to waste. And the work gives me time to think," she admitted candidly.

    "All right," Harry replied. "Want help?"

    "No," she said with a shake of her head, causing a strand of hair to come loose from her ponytail. "But I'll be down for lunch."

    "It's a date," Harry smiled. "Love you."

    "I love you too," Ginny returned, her eyes crinkling in a smile as she did so. Harry had promised her, back at St. Mungo's, that he would tell her every day that he loved her. So far, he had kept that promise. He intended that he always would. Ginny gave him another quick kiss, and then laid a light hand on his shoulder as she left. Harry's eyes were on her every step of the way towards the stairwell.

    Hermione, of course, had observed all of the body language during the exchange, and when Harry turned his attention back to the table, he found her eying him speculatively. He returned her curious gaze as she began to speak. "I take it she's finally confided in you about last year then?" she asked pointedly.

    Harry looked at her frankly. "You knew there was something for her to tell me, then?"

    Hermione shook her bushy-haired head, and gave a small half-shrug. "Not in so many words, exactly. It's hardly as though she was going to speak to us of it, when she wouldn't talk to you. But it makes sense, Harry. I've heard the stories from Neville and the others, and I've been watching her the same way you have. Ronald and I were getting rather worried. He confronted her about it, actually...." she trailed, and the expression on her face told Harry just how well that discussion had gone.

    "How badly did she hex him?" Harry chuckled.

    "Just a bat-bogey hex," Hermione shrugged. "I love Ron, but Merlin, it wouldn't kill him to develop some tact."

    Harry just shook his head. "He does it on purpose, you know." He'd realized long ago that there was much more to Ron than the simple-minded man some people tried to cast him as.

    "I've often thought so," his friend admitted frankly. "But with some of the things he says sometimes..."

    Harry finished the thought for her. "You have to wonder."

    "Quite so." Hermione was giving Harry that appraising look of hers, and he started to wonder if she hadn't perhaps been studying Legilimency. He also realized that she would not be diverted from the topic of Ginny so easily "Was it very bad?" she asked. Her voice was full of compassion, as though she expected Harry's answer already.

    Harry found he could only nod. "Yeah," he answered after a moment, fighting back the anger he still felt for Crabbe, for Goyle, for the Carrows. "Yeah, it was. I think that... " he trailed, unable to finish the thought. "Yeah. It was bad." It seemed such an understatement, but Harry couldn't find any other words to describe it.

    "And how is she?" Hermione's voice was full of concern - and rightfully so, as Ginny was the best female friend she'd ever had. Harry decided that it probably hurt Hermione a great deal that Ginny hadn't come to her with whatever it was, and for a moment, he could see that in her eyes. He also realized that Hermione would never bring the matter up. After years of being Harry's friend, she understood that some things simply couldn't be told to everyone.

    "Getting better," Harry admitted. "Listen, 'Mione..."

    She held up a hand to cut him off, and Harry felt relief as she did so. "Don't worry, Harry. I know it's not your place to tell, even if you wanted to. I don't expect you to. I just want to know how she is. I've seen the way you two have been these last few days, and it's fairly clear that there's been a change - for the better, mind - with the two of you."

    Harry decided he could easily accept that. It was nothing he hadn't noticed himself. He hadn't even realized how much tension there had been between Ginny and him, and doubted that she had either. It hadn't just been tension, either, but some indefinable barrier that neither had realized the depth of. "I can't let anything go like that for so long again, 'Mione," he confessed, and she looked back at with him obvious sympathy.

    "I expect not," she said candidly. "But, well, Harry, we're hardly perfect at this. We'll make mistakes. But you and Ginny will get through yours, and you'll learn from them, and Ronald and I will do the same. And they'll be completely different mistakes, I'm certain. But we'll learn. It's the best we can do."

    The words startled Harry for a moment, so similar were they to his own words to Ginny only days before. He shook the feeling, however, and then narrowed his eyes at her. Rightfully, she recognized the gesture as a teasing one. "And when did Hermione Granger start becoming such an expert on matters of the heart?"

    "When I started listening to mine, of course,' she said imperiously, and both shared in a bit of laughter at the wry acknowledgment.

    A few minutes later, Harry was getting ready to return to his book when he realized that Hermione was still looking at him. Accordingly, he raised his eyebrows. "Erm... yes?"

    "How are you, Harry?" she asked. "We haven't talked about what happened with Lestrange."

    Harry blew out a sigh. He'd expected the question, of course, and it bothered him that Hermione's tentative nature in asking was warranted, given his past reactions. Allright, so he hadn't always been the most... emotionally stable individual. But he was getting better, wasn't he? "I'm... dealing," he said diplomatically. "I'm not happy about it, but... " he shrugged.

    Hermione just gave him a knowing nod in return. "I know, Harry," she said, and slipped on hand across the table to rest on top of his. "You know that if you need..."

    "I know, 'Mione," he acknowledged, and was rewarded with a bright smile from the bushy-haired witch. Despite her original protests to it, she rather liked the nickname he and Ron had saddled her with. Then, another thought occurred to him. "Oh - were you able to find what I asked for Gin's birthday tomorrow?"

    Hermione smiled even broader at the change of topic and Harry would have sworn if it was a girl other than Hermione, that she was about to... giggle. "Oh, yes!" she answered excitedly. "Reservations at eight. Like you wanted, it's even paid in advance."

    Harry returned her smile then, and unconsciously looked up towards the roof and its accompanying garden, where Ginny was. "Brilliant."

    - - - - - -

    The next day, at the Burrow, Ginny Weasley was happy. It was not, admittedly, a state of mind she'd have expected only a few days before. But since the battle in Diagon Alley - things had changed. And not for the reasons she'd have expected, either. Everything that had happened since - it was like weight had been taken from not her shoulders, but her soul. The... incident with Harry and the sheer emotional release that had resulted from just finally telling him about so many things....

    Well, she felt better. To say she had put it behind her would have been an exaggeration. Instead, she had begun to deal, and Ginny found that this was infinitely more preferable to her state of being these last few months. Now she was able to properly enjoy the things she wanted to, without feeling like she was hiding something. It was a much improved state of affairs, especially for this, her seventeenth birthday party.

    Today, she was officially of age, and this made her happy for so very many reasons. She was an adult. Legally and physically, if not mentally. The latter, she believed, had occurred long before. Whether that had been when had spent a year being possessed by the shadow of a Dark Lord, or when she had watched the boy she (despite her words at the time) still had a crush on come back from the Maze holding the dead body of Cedric Diggory, or when she'd battled Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic, or some undefined point after that. The point was, being 'a child' was not something she had felt as though she was in a very long time, despite the best efforts of her mother.

    Her party was a smaller affair than Harry's, but truthfully, that didn't particularly bother her. Not as many classmates had been able to come, and after the incident in Diagon Alley, the public mood was fearful. It didn't matter that the Death Eaters in the attack had been captured, questioned under Veritaserum, and revealed that they had no further accomplices. Memories of the war, of living in terror were just too fresh. People were afraid and it was just that simple.

    Her father said it would pass. Ginny very much hoped so. Their victory - Harry's victory - had been too hard-won to be thrown away so very soon.

    But there were people enough to make a party of it, certainly. Her dorm-mates - Moira, Miranda, Mekaela, Katherine and Rebecca - were all present. Ginny suddenly realized that their dorm would be even more crowded this year, with Lavender and Parvati joining them. Hermione, too, since the Head Boy and Girl's suites were out of commission. They were low priority among the repairs remaining to Hogwarts, and both Harry and Hermione had been perfectly willing to forgo them. (She expected fully that both would regret that situation once they realized how surprisingly difficult private spaces were to come by in the castle.)

    But Neville had come as well, of course. He was even still with Susan, and Ginny honestly hoped that he had settled down a bit more. She understood, of course, his method of coping with the last year, though she didn't think it good for him. Luna and Dean were together, apparently formally. (Dean claimed to have no real idea of how that had happened, but he wasn't complaining, either.)

    Lavender and Seamus were even still together. Granted, the two had a long on and off again history - Lavender's dating of Ron had been a significant 'off' period - but now they seemed definitely 'on'. Ginny had been surprised that she'd actually grown somewhat close to the blonde witch last year, and had been astounded to discover that Lavender actually had a brain hidden under the dye charms after all.

    Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Kingsley rounded everyone out, along with, of course, Andromeda and Teddy. The last two were considered extended Weasleys these days. Harry and all of her family were in attendance as well, of course. Though when they had all been arriving she had (as had her mother) noted Charlie was not in the company of the girl he'd brought to Harry's birthday. When he'd shown up alone, Ginny had just shaken her head at him, and Charlie had only offered a half-hearted shrug in explanation.

    They'd gone through the usual - lunch, everyone socializing, cake, the disturbingly off-key singing - and were now to what Ginny would guiltily admit as her favorite part - the presents. And though there were not as many people, to her, the quantity of presents had never mattered anywhere near so much as the thoughts behind them. If pressed, she would admit that it was very hard for her not to act like an eager schoolgirl just then.

    Various presents from her classmates made her laugh, or blush, or just plain thankful. She also noted an abundance of socks in the gifts, though Ginny did warn all of her roommates that such presents would not keep their socks safe. Hagrid gave her a beautiful wood carving of a phoenix - one she recognized as a replica of the Phoenix Memorial Harry had built in the courtyard at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had given her a collection of classical records, as she knew of Ginny's interest in older Muggle and Wizard music alike. Kingsley had given her something that she thought was just plain cool - a finely made arm-sheath for her wand. It was layered with Niffler fur, and felt and weighed so little it was as though it were hardly there at all.

    The presents from her family were the best. From Mum, Dad, Bill, and Fleur had all gone in together to get her a whole new wardrobe. It was far more than she really felt comfortable accepting... until she saw the clothes. It was enough to fill her dresser. And her closet. She was, to put it lightly, overwhelmed. She had never felt their lack of money as badly as Ron had, but it had hardly accustomed her to having such a selection of clothes - especially ones in such good condition. And they were even ones she'd actually wear - that had to be Bill and Fleur's contribution, really.

    "Mum, Dad..." she trailed, "are these all..." Her mouth turned into a small 'oh' as she pulled out a particular dress. "Oh, but I can't..."

    Her mother made a small huffing sound, though her eyes were crinkled together as she smiled. "You can tuck away the false modesty, dear. For once in your life, we've been able to buy you all-new clothes. You'll accept them and that's the end of it."

    "Yes, Mum," Ginny hastily agreed. She hadn't really wanted to argue, after all. She looked over to Harry, and found his attention was on a particular pile of clothes. When his eyebrows raised and his cheeks began to take on a pink tinge, Ginny found herself curious.

    Inside was a collection of skirts and shirts, that all seemed to be made of not quite enough material. Oh, my, is that one leather? Ginny realized. She closed the box very quickly, fighting the urge to blush herself.

    "Those must be from Fleur," Harry murmured to her under his breath.

    "Mm-hmm," she agreed. While the clothes that her mother had gotten her were nice, certainly, sometimes a girl wanted a few things to go out in that her mother would never, ever see her in. Ginny also mentally resolved to thank Fleur later. Profusely.

    Somehow, she suspected Harry would as well.

    From Charlie, it was a dragon-hide jacket to match Harry's. The only difference was the silhouette patch of a witch in Chaser's robes on a broom and holding a Quaffle sewn on over the left breast. She had to admit that she loved it, and she told Charlie so. She couldn't, however, resist teasing her brother about the matching gifts he'd gotten her and Harry. "Feeling unoriginal this year, brother dear?"

    Charlie matched her gaze with a teasing look of his own - a look that suggested he knew something that she didn't. "Suppose you'll just have to see, won't you, sister dear?"

    Ginny huffed good-naturedly, but turned to her next present. She was not surprised to find, from Percy and Penelope, that she had received a book. Two, actually: An autographed copy of Gwenog Jones' autobiography, and the Holyhead Guide to Becoming a Harpy: Chaser Edition.

    "Percy! Penelope! Thank you!" she gushed. She hated to admit it, of course, but she was gushing. Neither book was even out yet, for Merlin's sake! "However did you manage?"

    Clearly, his closer relationship with George these past months had infected Percy's character of late, because he responded by teasing her as well. "I'm sorry, Ginevra." Percy was the only person other than Harry to ever call her that (And Harry did it only very, very rarely), and probably one of the few people she wouldn't hex for it. Well, now, at least. "But I can't possibly reveal that information. The agreement was made in confidentiality."

    To his credit, Ginny couldn't actually tell if Percy was being serious or not. "Percy..." she said warningly, and Penelope laughed.

    "I told him you'd threaten to hex him," she confessed, and Ginny blushed - but only because she'd been predictable.

    Surprisingly, from George, she didn't get a box of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products. Given that was what he and Fred had given to everyone except Mum and Dad (although she wasn't sure about that) for the last three years, it was something of a shock. Initially, she put it off to the presence of Angelina, who seemed to be here on a date with her brother.

    What he had gotten her was even better: Tickets for six to the 1999 World Cup, scheduled for next June. England had a strong shot this year, with Ginny's idol, Gwenog Jones, having been guaranteed a spot on the National Team. She had been talking for weeks about it non-stop - to the point that Hermione had even told her off for sounding too much like Ron.

    "George!" she gasped, knowing very well how expensive tickets for the Cup were - let alone six of them. She ticked off the people, in her head: Ginny herself, of course, and Harry - Ron and Hermione, too...And George and Angelina, she decided. That was, of course, if Angelina wasn't playing in the Cup herself.

    She was glad the two were well on their way to becoming an official couple. Angelina had been dating Fred when he died, and Ginny had felt ashamed for questioning the relationship between her and George, once she'd remembered that. It was only natural really, that the two people who missed Fred the most would find themselves drawn together.

    What's that Tonks said Dumbledore had said, about 'there should always be more love in the world'? Spot on, she thought fervently as she gave George and Angelina both a brilliant smile.

    George grinned. "Oi, I figured it was the only way you'd stop going on about it."

    "That'll do it," Harry muttered, and said something that sounded a lot like "I hope," even quieter. Ginny narrowed her eyes at his too-thankful tone.

    "You watch yourself, Potter," she half-growled.

    "Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, adopting a contrite expression that caused many to laugh, including Ginny. She was glad Harry had lightened up so, and she wasn't above taking credit for the change in him. After all, she'd put in considerable work this summer. It was gratifying to see that pay off.

    Ginny took on an artfully pleased expression, and patted Harry on the head before taking her next gift. "Good boy."

    Any response Harry offered was lost in the ensuing encore of laughter.

    Ron's gift was also a surprise. It was paired with one from Hermione, as well, though that was to be expected. Certainly it seemed to be a trend that everyone was pairing off these days, and that would, naturally, extend to gift-giving as well. Given that he typically gave some sort of food-related present, Ginny was really quite pleased to get something else. Percy wasn't the only one being trained up a bit, it seemed.

    And after all, she could certainly afford to get her own chocolates.

    What she'd gotten instead, though, caused her to momentarily lose her breath. She did not realize that she was even holding it in until Harry poked her side and whispered to her "Breathe, Gin..."

    "Oh, Merlin..." Ginny breathed as she removed a full set of brand-new, professional-quality Chaser gear from the travel bag. Eagerly, her eyes darted to the paired present from Hermione, as she abruptly realized what the shape of the box meant. She ripped into it with abandon, and then stood back to reveal a brand-new set of Quidditch balls.

    "Thank you!" she yelled, gripping Ron and Hermione both in an embarrassingly tight hug.

    "Blimey," Ron muttered under his breath. "How can someone so small squeeze so hard?"

    "Indeed," Hermione agreed, rubbing her shoulder.

    Ginny merely stuck her tongue out at them, before a thought occurred to her. Yes, her family knew how much she liked Quidditch, but....

    Yes, a quick check of the clothes from Mum, Dad, Bill and Fleur revealed a new set of practice robes. Even the jacket from Charlie had something Quidditch-related - the Chaser patch on the chest. World Cup tickets from George. Books that weren't even out yet from Percy, one of which had tips on how to become a professional Chaser. And the Chaser gear from Ron, and ... even a set of Quidditch balls from Hermione?

    Something was rotten in Surrey, Ginny decided. And, turning to Harry - who was, after seeing the look on her face, suddenly looking anywhere but her - well, the youngest Weasley hardly had to look far for the culprit.

    "Harry..." She moved close to him, and to his credit, Harry did not back away - no matter how wise such an action would have been.

    "You told them!" she whispered, her tone carrying a hefty note of outrage. To be fair, outraged was exactly how she felt. She and Harry had spoken a great deal the other day, discussing their plans for the future. After much prodding from Harry, she had revealed what she planned after Hogwarts. Come hell or high water, she would be playing professional Quidditch. She had also expressly explained that she did not feel comfortable discussing this with her family - most notably, her mother - who she thought would not feel it was an appropriate career for her daughter.

    That Harry had shared that against her wishes...

    "I did, Gin," he whispered back, placing a hand on her shoulders. "And look - its fine, see? They approve."

    "Even Mum?" Ginny asked, reeling back in disbelief.

    "Even Mum," came the confirmation, though not from Harry - but from Molly Weasley herself. Her mother approached her then, a somewhat forlorn look in her eyes. It was tempered though, by the happiness in the smile she was offering her daughter. "I think it's - well, to borrow Ron's phrase - bloody brilliant. You are a strong woman, Ginevra Weasley, and you can do whatever you want in life. And this family will support you every step of the way."

    Harry gave her an 'I-told-you-so' look, but Ginny ignored it in order to embrace her mother. "Thank you, Mum," she said, hating how husky her voice suddenly sounded. "I didn't think you'd..."

    "I know what you thought, dear," Her mother acknowledged. "And I expect that's my fault. I put too much pressure on you, but... well; you're the only daughter I've got. Anyone would need a little more femininity in their life after dealing with this lot," she said, waving her hand towards the assembled Weasley men.

    "Too right," Ginny agreed, and embraced her mother once more. After a few minutes had passed, she turned on Harry. "You'd best have gotten me one hell of a present, Potter, if you think you're going to be out of the doghouse today."

    "Ginny, if it helps," Hermione started, and seemed to pause as she searched for the right words.

    Ron came to her rescue. "Harry didn't give the lot of us any choice but to agree," he said with a wide grin. "I think he was ready to hex anyone who said a word against the idea, actually."

    Remembering how Harry had reacted when the Weasleys had tried to return his 'gift' earlier in the summer, Ginny realized abruptly what Harry had done. Yes, he had gone against her wishes and told her family her plans. But he had also stood up to them about it, and if she was reading Ron and Hermione's reactions correctly (and Ginny was rather certain she was), then he had also all but forbidden any of them to tell her otherwise. Harry had, in essence, practically guaranteed her family's support. That he would run the risk of alienating the people who meant so much to him, just to ensure that she got the chance to do what she wanted with her life...

    Well, that mollified Ginny's earlier reaction, at any rate. "So what did you get me then, Potter?"

    Harry just smiled, and pulled a small package from his pocket. It was small, and square, but she couldn't really get a good look at it while it was cupped in his hand that way. A sudden flutter appeared in her stomach as she looked at the size of the package, and the way Harry was holding it.

    Someone gasped as Harry set the small gift, approximately the size of a jewelry box, down on the table in front of Ginny.

    Ginny could relate. He wasn't - not here, not now...

    Was he?

    Ginny's heart seemed to be beating at an impossible rate. She felt a smile growing on her face as she picked up the small box reverently. Yes, they had talked about it, yes, they had almost agreed to it, but still. Here, now, with all of her family surrounding her...

    She couldn't think of a more perfect time for Harry to propose.

    With a huge smile, anticipation clear on her face, and an answer to the question already forming on her lips, Ginny opened the box. "Oh, Harry, I wi... What?" Ginny's words died on her lips as she examined the package's contents.

    It was a broom.

    A very, very tiny broom, with some kind of bag? For what? To hold it in?

    He got me some bloody... charm bracelet
    ! She thought in indignation, half-hoping her astonishment and disappointment weren't showing on her face... and half-hoping they were.

    She looked up at him and the smile had dropped off her face so completely it was as though it had never been. "Oh, Harry, you really shouldn't have," she said dead-pan, holding the box out for the family to see. An explosive breath came from Molly as she quirked her eyebrow at Harry. It was clear that a great number of people had come to the same conclusions Ginny had, and were now equally confused.

    Ginny also realized that Harry seemed to have missed her reaction entirely - or had at least he had not realized the nature her assumption. Looking at his features, it was clear he thought she was just disappointed in the present.

    You are so very, very wrong, Potter, she thought huffily, and fought the urge to glare at him.

    Harry rolled his eyes, which just annoyed Ginny even further. "Oh ye of little faith," he muttered, and waved his wand. "Engorgio," he said casually, restoring the broom and its accompanying carrying case to its proper size.

    And that was when Ginny could make out the lettering on the broom's handle.

    "Oh..." she said, in a very quiet and mousy voice. Any disappointment she had felt had been thoroughly washed away in a wave of surprise, astonishment, and disbelief. From the way some of the guests were whispering among themselves, they'd noticed the name on the handle, too.

    "Bloody hell," George and Ron cursed at the same time.

    "George, Ron!" Their mother reprimanded them.

    Clearly, she has no idea, Ginny thought, and reached out a tentative hand towards the finely finished broom. That couldn't really say what it did.

    Could it?

    Harry was grinning an insufferably large grin as Ginny tried to find words - any words at all. "Harry..."

    "Yes, luv?"

    "Does... does that say 'Thunderbolt' on it?" She asked. She immediately cursed herself in the privacy of her own mind. She hadn't felt so timid around Harry since the time she'd stuck her elbow in the butter dish when she was eleven.

    There were more gasps as she said it aloud. The Thunderbolt was the newest broom from the makers of the Firebolt and the Firebolt II, and surpassed even those brooms. Ginny had to fight from pinching herself. This was, of course, a dream.

    "Bloody hell," Molly cursed. Even she had heard the hype.

    "Mum!" Percy, that time.

    Harry was still grinning, the git. "Why yes Gin, I believe it does," he said, more than a bit smug. As much as she wanted to hold that against him, however, she couldn't. So Ginny wiped the smile off his face by tackling him and giving him one of the best kisses they'd ever shared, instead. Neither seemed to notice that she was sitting on top of him, surrounded by virtually everyone they knew. For her part, Ginny didn't really care.

    "Blimey," George commented in a conversational tone. "Looks a bit like she's trying to eat his face off, doesn't it?"

    "I don't blame her," Ron admitted candidly. "If Harry bought me the best broom in the world... three months before they're bloody released... I'd snog the hell out of him, too."

    Hermione gave her boyfriend a very loaded look after that remark. After a minute or two had passed, and a few people began to cough uncomfortably, the bushy-haired witch cleared her throat. "Erm, Harry, Ginny?"

    Ginny abruptly realized how not private a situation this was, and immediately removed herself from Harry. She stood, and made a show of brushing herself off, and then looked down at her boyfriend. She was happy to note that he looked rather dazed. "Erm... sorry," she said sheepishly, turning back towards everyone else.

    Harry stood, and Ginny had to hold back a laugh as he straightened his glasses. Several other people didn't even bother.

    "That's..." her mother started, though she had to look away for a minute before she could recompose herself. She was just giggling too much to speak.

    "I think what your mother is trying to say," her father filled in, succeeding better in restraining his own laughter. "Is that we... understand. Harry, my boy, perhaps you'd like to explain? About the broom, that is?"

    Ginny whirled back towards the direction of her boyfriend, who was, she decided, definitely out of the doghouse. She couldn't possibly figure out how he'd pulled this off, and the question rested in her eyes. She was surprised when Harry suddenly looked extraordinarily... sheepish. He looked, more or less, like a little boy caught with his hand in the sweets jar. "Harry?" she asked.

    "Oh..." he started, and began to rake his fingers nervously through his hair. "It was... uh... nothing, actually. Not even worth mentioning."

    "Harry..."

    "I..." he started, and then coughed. "Iagreedtoanendorsementdeal," he confessed, very, very quickly. "Oi, Mum!" he said, turning towards her mother, and Ginny knew he was hoping the familiar address would be a distraction. "Was there any more cake, then?"

    Neither Ginny nor her mother was diverted in the least. "I'm sorry, luv, I didn't catch that," she said very slowly and deliberately. "Could you repeat it? Please?" Ginny was proud of herself - she'd even phrased the question in the sweetest possible way, in a voice that Harry never, ever, refused.

    He glared at her darkly for it. "I agreed to an endorsement deal," he admitted with a sigh. "I mean, there was hardly any other way to get one, really."

    "So let me get this straight," Ginny started. "You won't trade on your reputation for any kind of favors. Not with the girls who've been sending you their knickers..."

    "What's this now?" George asked, suddenly very curious.

    "Definitely not!" Harry protested.

    Ginny continued as though she'd heard neither of them. "Or all the people wanting to interview you, except when you're absolutely forced to..."

    "I hate reporters," Harry immediately countered.

    "Or when the bloody Minister himself - sorry Kingsley -" She continued, with a nod in Shacklebolt's direction.

    "No offense taken, my dear," the Minister of Magic rumbled, fighting back laughter.

    "...wants to offer you a job. 'Wouldn't look right', you said, as I recall," she continued, and Harry began to squirm.

    "Well, it wouldn't!"

    "But... you'll trade on your reputation in order to get your girlfriend a broom?" She asked, grinning devilishly at Harry.

    "Well..." he started, and then blew out a long breath. "Uh. Yeah. Pretty much."

    Ginny closed in then, giving all the appearance of a predator stalking her prey. It was a perception shared by many of the amused observers, and with the way Harry was looking back at her; it was probably an apt analogy. She stopped an inch away from his face. "Merlin, I love you, you daft boy."

    Harry's expression shifted into a broad grin. "I'll take that." And then, for the second time in less than ten minutes, they kissed passionately. It was, Ginny thought, becoming something of a habit. Albeit an extremely pleasant one.

    "Merlin," Ron groaned. "Again?"

    Hermione huffed. "You could stand to take some lessons, Ron," she advised him primly.

    When Bill laughed, he got the same advice from Fleur.

    When Arthur laughed, so did he, only from Molly.

    Ginny and Harry heard none of this, wrapped up in their own world as they were. "Gin," Harry finally said, pulling back. "People are staring."

    "Sod them," she whispered fiercely back. "Grab your broom, Harry. I want to fly."

    "All right then," he smiled. He summoned his broom. Following his lead, everyone else with a broom present did as well, though Ginny had the honor of being the first in the air. It was only fair - it was her birthday, of course. More than a dozen brooms were active, and she couldn't help the burst of pride as she realized that her Thunderbolt was easily outstripping them all. She won every race, and smiled broadly when she saw Harry watching her. She knew he was glad to see the look of unrestrained glee on her features as she flew.

    Flying just had a way of... blowing past all one's demons. Harry knew that, and so did Ginny. Up here, nothing else mattered.

    Finally, it was Harry's turn to race Ginny, and she was extremely surprised to see him keeping pace with him. Her eyes widened slightly as she finally noticed that he wasn't riding his Firebolt II. She stared at him as she brought her broom to a hover, absently brushing the hair away that had been whipping about her face. "Harry! You didn't say you'd gotten a Thunderbolt, too!"

    He laughed. "Well, I can hardly endorse a broom I don't use, can I?"

    She laughed back, and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Well. Catch me if you can, then, Potter!" she challenged him, and then shot off, intending to lead her love on a merry chase.

    "Any day of the week, Weasley!" he yelled back, and she knew he was following.

    - - - - - -

    Sometime later, after they had all been coaxed down off of their brooms, the party returned to a state of casual mingling. People just enjoyed the opportunity to be with each other, safe from fear, no matter what recent reminders there had been. For some, that made them value days such as this just a little bit more.

    Watching as Harry turned Teddy back over to Andromeda, she headed over to where he was now standing alone. She slipped her arms around Harry as everyone was socializing, surprised to find a moment that saw neither of them occupied with anyone else. "Thank you for this, Harry - for everything you did today," she said honestly.

    "Of course," he smiled. "Happy Birthday, Gin."

    "It certainly is," she acknowledged with a sigh as she looked back up at the sky.

    "What is it?" Harry asked, lowering his voice so that his words would not be overheard.

    "Oh, I'd just like to be up there, flying again," Ginny confessed. "That really is an excellent broom."

    And then Harry grinned wide. "Well, Gin, if you want to fly, I've got something even better than that broom."

    She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell, Potter," she said, aware that she was all but purring. It was fascinating, really, to see just what else Harry was going to come up with today.

    Harry stepped back, and then looked over her shoulder. She turned her head to see her father meeting Harry's look. She saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye, and then became even more perplexed as her father nodded back. "Harry..." she trailed, realizing that he was actually serious - he wasn't done yet. "You can't possibly have another surprise for me," she stated.

    "Well, not for you, no," he admitted frankly. "But it's one I'll gladly share with you."

    "That tells me absolutely nothing, thank you," she wryly pointed out.

    "Anytime," was Harry's cheeky response.

    Ginny rolled her eyes before she turned, like everyone else, towards the shed where her father was using his wand to direct something out towards them. It was large - shorter than a Thestral in height, but almost the same length. It was covered with a large, nondescript tarp - and Ginny had absolutely no idea what it was.

    "Harry?" her father asked him, and she could see that neither was bothering to contain their pride. "Would you like to do the honors?"

    Harry just grinned, and pulled his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa," he whispered, exaggerating his movements and levitating the cover to reveal...

    An absolutely recognizable motorbike, completely rebuilt, and gleaming as though it were brand new. Sirius' bike was unmistakable; particularly after she'd helped Hagrid and her father get it cleaned up a bit the summer before. Ginny felt her jaw drop. "Sirius' bike?" she asked in disbelief. "You rebuilt it - wait - is this what you and Dad have been up to out in that shed all summer?"

    Harry was grinning again, and while she'd been staring, had summoned his jacket, and two helmets. He held out one helmet to her. Inside the helmet - hers, she presumed - was a small bag. "Might want to grab some things for the night," he hinted in a whisper. "We've only got an hour and a half to get to London, and it's a bit of a flight."

    She numbly took the bag, and noted absently that Ron was talking excitedly to her father about the bike, while Hermione was asking her mum some questions. Harry even had them on parental distraction duty. She didn't even want to know how he'd managed that one. "London...?" she trailed, aware that she sounded more than a little confused. "You're being very mysterious today, Harry,"

    "I was going for smooth," he said with a frown.

    Ginny patted his cheek, and hoped she didn't sound too patronizing. "Don't worry, luv. You're doing very well."

    "Yeah?"

    "Yeah," she said, giving him a saucy look and a wink as she slipped a few of her new clothes into the bag...

    And then felt the unmistakable feel of her mother's hand on hers.

    Ginny's head darted up, and she found herself unable to fight the momentary panic that was rose within her. She fully expected to see her mother looking at her sternly, preparing to tell her that she wasn't going anywhere with Harry tonight, or to demand to know just what she was thinking. What she got, however, was not what she expected in the slightest.

    Instead, she saw her mother looking at her with that forlorn look again, but... a strange sort of happiness, too. "Mum?" she asked weakly, pouring all of her questions into that one word.

    Molly Weasley drew her daughter aside, well out of the earshot of anyone else from the party. Ginny was aware that both Harry and her father were looking at them in concern - the former quite a bit more than the latter. She also saw, out of the corner of her eye, as Arthur Weasley pulled Harry aside with a serious look on his face. She winced in sympathy. She wanted to rescue him, but at the present moment, that was hardly something she was capable of.

    "Muffliato," her mother said absently, waving her wand for a moment.

    Ginny looked at her in shock. "Mum, where'd you learn that spell?"

    "From Severus, of course," she said dismissively. "Ginny dear, I know you're a grown woman now - "

    "Mum, if this is about tonight -"

    "Shush, dear," her mother ordered, and Ginny complied. "As I was saying. You're a woman now, and I can honestly say that I don't expect you'll be home tonight. Not with the looks you and Harry have been tossing at each other all day."

    "Mum, I..." Ginny started, and then she froze as her brain caught up to her ears. "Er... what?"

    Her mum smiled at her again. "I was young once too, dear. Your father and I certainly didn't wait - doing the math on Bill will probably tell you that, though I don't know if any of you have ever thought of it. I expect Percy has, and Bill, too, of course. I rather thought you and Harry had already taken this step after his birthday -"

    Oh, Merlin, she knew about that!

    Wait... she knew about that?

    "-
    but watching you these last few days, I see that hasn't happened. Yes, dear, mothers always know. You'll understand that someday," her breath hitched for a moment, but she took a deep breath and continued. "I understand how you feel about him, Ginny. And Merlin knows you've both been through enough in your lives. Albus always said the world could use a little more love, and I've always thought he was very right about that. I won't say I approve, as that's not my place anymore. You are old enough for that decision to be your own. But I want you to know that I do understand. The only thing I need to know is that you're certain of this, dear." The question was asked with such directness that Ginny had no choice but to tell the truth.

    Ginny nodded immediately. She didn't even have to search her heart to know, something that surprised her a little bit. She had wondered, perhaps, if everything lately hadn't damaged her relationship with Harry, despite whatever outward sides of affection the both displayed. It pleased her greatly that the answer was no, and the depth of her love for him caught her off guard for just a moment. There was no hesitation in her voice, however, when she answered her mother's question. "I love him. I trust him, Mum. With my life, with my heart, with... everything."

    Her mother smiled again, and Ginny could see the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. But there was a mischievous sparkle there, too. Counter to their assumptions, Ginny had to wonder just who she and her brothers had gotten their tendency for mischief from, exactly.

    "Are you... prepared, then?" her mother asked delicately. "You have to be ready for the consequences - the responsibilities of that," she warned. "Mind you, I don't want any grandchildren from the two of you just yet. Merlin knows how many times I've had to remind Ron of that."

    "We are, Mum," Ginny assured her quickly, completely bypassing her mother's acknowledgement of Ron and Hermione's... relationship. "I know the charms, and so does Harry. They taught them to us back in fourth year."

    "Yes, of course," her mother replied. "I'd forgotten," she said, though Ginny knew very well that her mother hadn't forgotten anything at all.

    Mother and daughter looked at each other for a moment, and Ginny felt proud as she realized she had the acceptance that she had always wanted from her mother - that she saw her now as an adult, an equal. It was, she discovered, an even more liberating feeling that flying. And now, she just had to live up to that trust. She saw through the reason for her mother's lie, of course. She was warning Ginny that she had to be ready for those charms to go wrong.

    And, honestly, Ginny had considered that as well. It was, in her opinion, well worth it in any event. Harry, she knew, felt the same.

    "Well then," her mother said after searching her eyes for a moment. Ginny smiled as she saw that mischief return to Molly Weasley's eyes. "Make it memorable."

    "Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, aware that she was blushing a full Weasley red at the thought that her mother was actually encouraging her and Harry to...

    "What?" her mother asked her with innocence far too similar to the twins to be believed. "My first time was. I'd like that for you too, dear."

    Ginny laughed then, and then embraced her mother in a hug that was just as tightly returned. "Thank you, Mum," she whispered. "I love you."

    "I love you too, Ginny," she answered her. "Now go on. Enjoy your evening then, dear..."

    "Thanks, Mum," she said before walking away.

    And I plan to follow every bit of that advice, she thought to herself as she returned to Harry, who was steadfastly not looking at her father anymore, or at any of her brothers. She gave hurried goodbyes to everyone, and found herself blushing again when Hermione gave her a whispered 'Have fun!' Thankfully, no one else made any more suggestive comments.

    Harry was standing over near the bike, still occasionally giving nervous looks towards her father. "All right there, Harry?" she asked, partially teasing, and partially actually concerned. His conversation with her father couldn't have been an easy one.

    He slipped an arm around her waist. "I am now," he answered, and she felt her insides warm at the simple, honest truth that was so plain in his voice. It was always a marvel, how easily Harry could do that to her. She hoped for that feeling to never go away.

    "So what do we do now, Potter?" she asked, slipping behind him onto the old Triumph.

    "Now?" he asked rhetorically, and she could hear the grin in his voice. "Now we go for a ride."

    And without another word, they were off. Harry flicked a switch, and then they were flying - faster than any broom could take them.

    - - - - - - - - -

    It didn't take Harry long to decide that flying on Sirius' old bike was, if it were possible, even more brilliant than flying on a broom. The last time he'd ridden it, after all, he'd been just a bit distracted by Death Eaters trying to kill him. This time, he had the chance to enjoy it properly It was just as silent as a broom, thanks to one of Arthur's charms. It had a combination of Muggle-repelling charms that kept anyone from looking directly at it, which was advantageous as well. If a Muggle were to try, they would suddenly find reasons to be looking elsewhere. And the invisibility booster, which covered both rider and passenger as well, was ample protection against other wizards if he should need it.

    It was also bloody fast.

    But that - that wasn't even the best part, not by Harry's reckoning.

    No, the best part was the small pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Even through the dragonskin of their jackets, Harry felt as though he could feel every inch of her pressed against his back.

    It was... nice. Well, okay, that wasn't the best word. But it described the feeling amply enough to Harry's mind.

    "I thought we were going to your house!" Ginny's voice yelled over the wind as they flew past a familiar London neighborhood.

    "Sure," Harry yelled back. "Later!"

    "Later?"

    "Yes, later," Harry repeated. "Now shut it and enjoy your flight, Weasley!"

    "Yes, sir!" she replied with mock-seriousness, and Harry could hear the smile in her voice. He was glad for it. She was getting better each day, of course, but today had been her best. That, of course, was exactly what Harry had wanted for her.

    They flew over the West End, and Harry wondered if Ginny was surprised when he set them down on the rooftop of a parking garage near Piccadilly Circus. He deactivated the invisibility booster, stowed his and Ginny's helmets and jackets in the bag on the rear of the bike. After that, he cast a disillusionment charm on the whole thing, and then turned to face her. He was not surprised to see her curious expression.

    "Harry," she began, drawing his name out, "the only wizarding place near here is Tanner's."

    Harry knew he was grinning again, but he couldn't help it. Tanner's, as Ron had told him, was the most exclusive restaurant in Wizarding Britain. It was frequented by the affluent, had the best food, and was notably hard to get reservations at. And strangely, Harry found it much more comforting that they didn't care at all who he was - getting the reservations had been 'sped along' much more by his Galleons than anything else. It was odd to get attention for his money for once, rather than his fame. It wasn't something he liked in either event, but, if it meant he could do something nice for Ginny - well, why not take advantage of that fact? Harry did realize that this made up something of a hypocrite, but well... when it came to a certain red-headed witch, he didn't much care.

    "Yes, and we've got reservations in about fifteen minutes, so we'll have to hurry," He noted, and started heading for the garage's lift. He was abruptly stopped by the feel of a small hand around his wrist - and the fact that the body behind it was standing stock still.

    "Okay," Ginny said, holding a hand up. "I've had about enough surprises tonight. You're saying we've reservations at Britain's finest Wizarding restaurant. In fifteen minutes, no less."

    "Right," he confirmed, biting back a grin as he acted as though such a thing were perfectly normal.

    She raised her eyebrows, and then waved a hand to indicate their jeans and t-shirts. "And, you didn't think we might need to... I don't know... change clothes?"

    Harry grinned once more. "Well..." he trailed, "are you a witch, or aren't you?"

    Ginny had a few choice phrases for him then. Once he'd stopped laughing, Harry drew his wand. With an exaggerated flourish, he transfigured both of their clothes into much more appropriate attire, and one he was glad Hermione had figured out last year after they'd worn the same clothes just a few too many times.

    He was outfitted in a Muggle suit - a necessity, given that they'd have to pass by Muggles to get to the entrance to Tanner's. He smiled fondly as he watched Ginny admire the silk evening gown and shawl he'd transformed her clothing into. When her eyes met his, they were sparkling. "Excellent transfiguration, Mr. Potter," she said, her voice imitating that of Professor McGonagall's. "Full marks."

    "Thank you, ma'am," Harry said, and then offered her his arm.

    She took it, and they headed off toward the lift, looking every inch what they were - a young couple in love.

    - - - - - - - - -

    Harry had to fight to keep his eyes in one place as the Maître’d led them to their private dining room. Ginny, he noticed, didn't even bother. The ceiling of the restaurant was charmed, like Hogwarts, to reveal the sky outside. The effect, he found, was even more breath-taking close up. Ginny agreed. There were elegantly carved - and often animated - statues everywhere. The walls were covered in finely-woven tapestries. The fixtures, unless he was very much mistaken, were all solid gold. It was, Harry decided, the fanciest place he had ever been in his life.

    When he remembered the bill he'd paid in advance, Harry realized that Tanner's could afford such decor very, very easily. Harry wasn't one to overly worry about money, but the price tag here had still made him wince.

    They were shown to their seats at an elegantly laid table. The room had large bay doors on one wall, leading to a balcony on the exterior. At Harry's request, the doors had been opened to allow a pleasant breeze. Several potted trees and a few tapestries lined the other walls. These were magical, of course - at one point, Harry saw one of the trees reach out with a branch and knock back the branch of another tree that had apparently gotten too close. The only light in the room was the outside ambiance, and the soft red glow of the light coming from the candle-lit chandelier. It was, Harry decided, the perfect atmosphere for the evening that he wanted for Ginny.

    And it made him feel like he was out of bounds after hours, and just waiting to be caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris.

    Harry pulled Ginny's chair out for her, which surprised her a bit. He also saw the waiter give him a small nod of approval, and Harry relaxed just a little bit. After the waiter took their drink orders - a bottle of fine Elf-made wine, very rare, the waiter assured - and recommended the chef's special, Harry and Ginny looked at each other from across the table. "So..." Harry said, a bit hesitatingly after the waiter had departed. "Do you, uh, feel as out of place here as I do?"

    To his immense relief, Ginny laughed, and both felt the sudden tension break. "Oh, Merlin, yes," she agreed enthusiastically. "Harry, this place, all this - it's... breathtaking. I've never done anything like this in my life!"

    "Me either!" Harry said, a bit defensively, but in good humor. "Suddenly I'm bloody terrified that I'm going to use the wrong silverware."

    "I won't tell if you won't."

    "It's a deal."

    They engaged in small talk for a bit - Ginny speaking mostly, discussing her birthday, the gifts she'd enjoyed and how she was looking forward to reading the books Percy had gotten her. She had a lot of techniques she wanted to try as a Chaser the upcoming year at Hogwarts, and Harry wondered for a moment whether or not she should have been Team Captain instead of him and Ron sharing the job.

    The evening was going rather nicely, Harry thought, until Ginny got a twinkle in her eye that he found just a little disturbing. "What are you plotting over there, Weasley?"

    "So," Ginny responded, a teasing smile starting to play at her lips. "I have to ask, what are your intentions tonight, Mr. Potter?"

    Harry started a little bit just at the question. "I... erm... what d'you mean?"

    The red-headed witch started tapping a finger coyly against her chin, and mischief was dancing in her eyes. "Well, the fancy gifts, a fancy dinner... a girl starts to think she's being softened up for something."

    "No," Harry denied immediately. "No, that's not it, no set-up, no..."

    "No?" she asked. "You mean you don't intend to... have your wicked way with me, Harry?"

    Just the way she asked the question sent shivers up Harry's spine (among other effects). When he didn't answer immediately, however, Harry could see that Ginny was growing concerned. This was likely due to the serious cast his features had suddenly adopted. She had meant it as a joke, obviously, but he was suddenly much more serious than she'd expected.

    "Look, Gin," he started to explain, and then reached across the table. "I'll be frank -"

    "And I'll be Ginny," she immediately interrupted.

    Harry rolled his eyes at the horribly bad joke. He did give her a smile, which had been her true goal, he knew. "I'm being serious here, Gin - and no puns about that, please. Just give me a moment?"

    Her face curious one again, Ginny simply cupped her face in her hand and nodded. Her other hand snaked over the table to slip easily into Harry's.

    Harry took a deep breath before he continued. "Look - I know how all of this looks. And don't get me wrong, I'd love for that to happen. But I didn't do this... I didn't tell your family about what you want to do, or get you the broom, or make sure the motorbike was working in time for a birthday ride, or get the reservations here to 'soften you up'." He could see then that she saw the meaning behind his words. Ever since finding out what had happened to her, Harry had been giving the topic - as it related to them, at least - quite a bit of thought. So the words he told her next were very honest ones.

    "Nothing will happen that you don't want to, Ginevra," he said seriously, and he thought he saw her shiver a little bit when he used her full name. "Not tonight. Not ever. It's very important to me that you know that, that you realize that, and that you don't feel pressured. I did this," he said, waving his hand at their surroundings, "all of this, simply because I wanted you to have the best seventeenth birthday possible. It's... well, it's sappy... but I wanted to do my best to bring all the life and joy and love into your life that you bring into mine. Do you... understand?"

    Harry felt very vulnerable asking the question - this sort of openness was still difficult for him, sometimes, particularly on topics of this nature. He watched Ginny's beautiful face for a reaction - any reaction, and like so many men in love before him, only hoped that he had done the right thing.

    "I think you're bang on target, Harry," she said softly. The words were Ginny's usual bluster, but they were delivered with such love behind them that Harry knew that she did, in fact, understand his exact meaning. Harry knew exactly how much joy Ginny had brought him when he was at his lowest. And now, he would do the same for her. No matter what it took. He didn't know how to tell her this in words, so he let his actions speak.

    Ginny's tight squeeze of his hand let him know that the message was received. He looked at their hands, clasped on the table, and smiled as he squeezed hers. When Harry returned his gaze to her face, the mischievous twinkle was resting there once more. "There's just one thing, Harry..." she trailed.

    Harry raised an eyebrow. "Erm... yes?"

    Ginny narrowed her eyes in a manner that Harry hoped fervently was a joke. "I've got plans to have my wicked way with you, so you'd best not even consider bailing on them."

    "Scarlet woman," Harry teased.

    "Only if you're my scarlet man."

    "Is that even a term?"

    "Are you saying no?"

    "Not in any bloody way imaginable."

    "Good," Ginny replied firmly.

    Harry smiled at her again, and felt nervous - what did Luna call them? Gillywobbles? - settle in his stomach. It was as good a name as any. He was grateful for the distraction the waiter offered when he returned to refill their elf-made wine, and with their appetizer - until he saw it. It looked rather like fried flobberworm on crackers, he decided, and hoped it tasted better than that.

    "Sort of looks like fried flobberworm on crackers, doesn't it?" Ginny asked the moment the waiter departed, and Harry looked up sharply.

    "What?" Ginny asked, seeing his expression.

    "Nothing," Harry answered with a shake of his head. "I was just thinking the exact same thing."

    Ginny gave a snort in response. "Well, it does. Not too surprising you'd be thinking it, too."

    "No, I guess not," he agreed, and then poked it a bit with his fork. "You, uh, want to try it first?" he asked hopefully.

    She rolled her eyes. "I thought you were a Gryffindor."

    "This Gryffindor's bravery only extends so far."

    Eventually, hunger incited both to try to appetizer, which they learned in fact actually was fried flobberworm on crackers and didn't taste near as bad as expected. Even more surprising was that it actually tasted good. Their more casual discussion resumed then, starting with wizarding delicacies that Harry had never seen, since they weren't served at Hogwarts, and until very recently, money had been something of an issue for the Weasleys. The topic moved among several other things then - family, back to Quidditch, of course, programs both enjoyed on the WWN, and even a few they had started watching together on that Muggle TV network, the BBC. They talked of things both important and inconsequential, all the way through the meal. (The chef's special ended up being a spicy Welsh Green dragon steak, and Harry and Ginny both agreed not to tell Charlie - or Hagrid.) Mostly, they just talked, and each enjoyed being with the person who had come to mean the most to them.

    They were finishing the dessert course - something that Harry found to be thankfully Muggle in style - when the last surprise of the evening joined them. A man, dressed in formal black dress robes, entered the room carrying a case. Without a word, he opened his case, and pulled out what looked like several miniature instruments - 2 violins, a viola, and a cello. A 'string quartet' was the term, Harry recalled.

    Ginny looked at Harry curiously, but he pointedly didn't answer her obvious questions. Instead, he watched as the man enlarged all four of the instruments. The black-robed wizard waved his wand a few more times, muttered some words Harry couldn't hear, and then three of the instruments began to play softly of their own accord. The man himself took the remaining violin, and began to play as well.

    Ginny tilted her head, a mile forming on her face as she tried to recognize the piece. "Wagner?" she asked.

    One of the things Harry had learned these last months was that Ginny had a fascination with Muggle Classical music, something Professor McGonagall of all people had exposed her to. Even more amazing was that he was actually familiar with it as well because it was an interest his Aunt Petunia had shared. "Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral," he confirmed with a smile. It was a piece he knew she had only heard once, because he had played it for her earlier in the summer.

    She smiled. "It's lovely, Harry."

    "I remembered you thinking so," he acknowledged as he stood from his chair. Slowly, he moved over to her seat, and pulled her away from the table. Ginny looked at him in confusion - something he could tell she was getting frustrated at doing with him today - and he extended his hand. "My lady," he said formally, succeeding from keeping his mouth from quirking as he did so. "May I have this dance?"

    Ginny raised both eyebrows at him in surprise, but smiled broadly. "You may indeed, good sir," she answered as she took his hand.

    Harry pulled her towards the balcony. Without words, she drew close to him, and they began to dance together under the stars.

    Harry enjoyed the feel of her their bodies as the moved together to the music. He thought he should perhaps say something, but there really seemed to be no need for words. He simply enjoyed the dance, and marveled that dancing with Ginny wasn't like dancing with Parvati back at the Yule Ball or in lessons with Professor McGonagall. With Ginny - well, it was as easy and natural as breathing. He just had to relax, and let go, and it was like - cliché as the thought was - floating on air.

    After some time had passed - neither knew how much, because the man playing their serenade had simply kept on playing - Ginny pulled her cheek from Harry's shoulder, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

    "Harry," Ginny murmured softly.

    "Yes?"

    "I love you," she said, simply, plainly, but in a way that exposed the simple truth of it.

    "I love you, too," Harry answered, in just the same tone.

    "Harry?" She asked, barely a heartbeat later.

    "Yes?"

    "D'you suppose his violin's charmed to, uhm... increase the mood?"

    "If it is," Harry answered, his voice thick, "then it's working on me, too."

    "Harry?"

    "Yes?" He answered again, unable to keep a bit of growl out of his voice. What she said next made Harry very glad he'd arranged to pay the bill, and tips, in advance.

    "I think we need to go home," she said urgently, in a voice full of subtle promises.

    Harry had Apparated them back to his motorbike before Ginny could even blink.

    - - - - - -

    Harry couldn't really remember the flight home. He'd Reillusioned the bike, started it, gotten him and Ginny on it, certainly...but none of that really registered with the way his pulse was racing and his mind was moving at somewhere around a million miles an hour. He seemed almost hyper-aware of everything that was touching his skin, most especially the press of Ginny's arms around his waist.

    On autopilot, he parked the bike in the shed that was the only structure on the rooftop of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He helped Ginny off, and they stopped there, standing in the garden that she had wanted. Harry had to admit - he liked it rather a lot. Neville's touch certainly showed in how green and alive everything here was. Neville Longbottom, however, was not someone Harry wanted to be thinking of just now.

    Ginny took advantage of the situation to embrace Harry from the other side. With no further invitation at all, he lowered his lips down to kiss her. That sense of hyper-awareness was still present, he found, and he was noticing, feeling everything about her in a way he never had before. The press of her body against his. The soft fullness of her lips, the rough texture of their tongues as they kissed. The tickling sensation of her hair as the breeze blew it across his cheek. Her smell - that wonderful smell of wildflowers. He felt as though he was smelling Amortentia, and for a moment, he understood the real magic of that particular potion.

    He felt the need in her kiss, and knew he was returning it. It was like a physical thing, and he imagined the beast in his chest was roaring its enthusiastic approval once more.

    When he broke the kiss, Ginny made a small noise of discontent. "Shh," he assured her, running a hand down her cheek. "Merlin..." he breathed, and then unknowingly mirrored Molly Weasley's question from earlier in the evening. "Gin, I love you. But - are you certain about this?"

    Ginny wasted no time in answering him. "I couldn't be more," she said clearly. But then she paused a moment, and Harry drew in a quick breath as she ran her hand up his arm. The shivers - and everything else - were back. "Are you?"

    Harry's answer was another Side-Along Apparition - only this time, he brought the pair of them to his bedroom. "What does that tell you?" he asked.

    "That we're very over-dressed," she answered.

    "That we are," Harry agreed, and then kissed her again. This time, when Ginny pulled away, he was the one to make a noise of discontent.

    "Well, perhaps not overdressed..." she trailed for a moment, purposely waiting for the momentary expression of panic to flash across Harry's face. She was not disappointed.

    She's changing her mind now? he thought frantically. Oh, Merlin - this is revenge, isn't it!

    Ginny laughed teasingly, and then stepped back. Harry's nerves were set at ease as she drew her wand and pointed it towards herself. Then, the elegant evening dress Harry had transfigured for her earlier in the evening was once again transformed - into far more suitable bedtime wear.

    Well, suitable bedtime wear if one wasn't planning on doing much sleeping, at least.

    Harry looked down at the outfit, and for once, made absolutely no effort to hide his appreciation. It was invitation, he realized, for him to look at her (as she would be looking back at him, soon enough.), and it made Harry feel either extraordinarily lucky, or like he was the only man on the planet. He couldn't decide which, exactly. But with the sight before him, Harry's mouth suddenly felt very dry, and he was finding it difficult not to swallow his tongue. "Excellent transfiguration, Miss Weasley," he joked, trying and not entirely succeeding in hiding his nervousness. "Full marks."

    "I've always rather liked making good grades," she replied, and closed the distance between them again.

    Their kissing resumed, as did the motions of their hands. Their mutual need seemed to grow greater with every passing moment. Harry found the fabric of her clothes fascinating, and what was under them even more so. Ginny seemed to feel the same, as he was divested of his own clothing in very short order. They felt very little need for words at that point, either of them.

    They explored each other's bodies, frantically at first, impulse and instinct seemingly overtaking the both of them. Harry felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to explore every inch of Ginny's skin, and set about doing just that. It was, he decided in that moment, going to become his new favorite past-time. When his kisses began to take on a definite pattern along Ginny's collarbone, she giggled for a moment.

    "Harry, what are you doing?" she asked.

    "Remember my letter?"

    "Yes."

    "I told you I'd count every freckle. I've decided now is the time to start," Harry answered, completely serious.

    Ginny's hand reached up to his chin, and drew her face close to his own, and her tone and words made her meaning quite clear. "Harry. That you can do later. We've better things to be doing right now,"

    Harry's voice was soft as he answered, though the beast in his chest was roaring. "Yes ma'am," he answered. She lifted her chin towards his in invitation for another kiss, and Harry acceded. She stopped only for a moment, grabbing her wand from the night-stand, and muttered a contraceptive charm for the both of them.

    "Good thinking," Harry murmured, kissing her neck.

    "One of us has to," Ginny answered, and let out a small moan.

    "Good - I don't have the blood for it," he joked, and started to return to his work.

    This time, when their full bodies pressed together, and Ginny pulled Harry towards her, he did not stop. He did not pull away, but instead, followed her every lead. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter shared himself fully with another person, the woman he loved, and understood now that he would always love.

    "I never wanted this with anyone else," Harry said, his voice heavy, as Ginny returned her gaze to his face.

    "Me neither, " she admitted, and he knew the words were true.

    He smiled. "Happy Birthday, Ginny," he whispered into her ear.

    "It certainly is," came the breathy response.

    It was not perfect. Harry and Ginny fumbled their way around at times, in the way that inexperienced lovers do, but that hardly mattered. They laughed, and they loved, and Harry Potter finally, truly, understood what love was that night. Denied such knowledge for much of his life, it was now no longer a mystery. Ginny was his teacher, and Harry was hers.

    And, if nothing else, it was a night to remember.

    Later that evening, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley shared their dreams, bathed in a soft blue glow above their heads, though they did not know it.
    - - - - - - - -

    Harry Potter frowned. His reflection frowned back. There was grey in the edges of his beard, now, and more than a few liberal shots of it running through his once jet-black hair. It was a concept that took some getting used to, as his mental self-image was getting more and more out of date.

    "It's not the years, it's the mileage," the mirror informed him sagely, and Harry frowned once more.

    "Worrying about it will just make grey faster, you know," the voice of his wife admonished him. Harry smiled. Ginny Potter could still distract him from his moods, even after thirty years of marriage. These days she was especially talented at cutting them off before they ever even got started. It was just one of the many reasons he was grateful for her. "And I've told you, it makes you look distinguished... Professor."

    She emphasized the last word by waving a hand at their new surroundings, the spacious chambers of Hogwarts' newest Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms Professors. Harry had to admit - the quarters were certainly adequate. Very much so.

    "And yet," he teased back, "your hair is just as red as the first time I met you. Doesn't seem quite fair, somehow."

    "I haven't been Head of the Auror Division for nearly a quarter-century," Ginny reminded him pointedly, and Harry couldn't stop the small noise that escaped his lips. Of course she hadn't - though he'd wondered often is she wouldn't have been better at the job. Instead, she had played for the Harpies, and when James had come, had retired in order to write for the Prophet. Harry had rather enjoyed her job as Quidditch Correspondent - it had meant tickets to the World Cup every year, and all on the Prophet's Galleons.

    He moved to look out the window, where Hagrid's old hut - the one that had been rebuilt after the Battle of Hogwarts - was clearly visible. Hagrid still lived there, of course, along with his wife, Olympe. They'd had to expand the hut significantly when the children had come along - and wasn't their eldest due to start Hogwarts this year? So much had changed since he'd first met Hagrid - and it seemed like they were all suddenly changing right now.

    Ginny came up behind him, slipping her hands up to his chest in a familiar gesture. "Not regretting turning things over to Ron, are you?"

    "No," Harry answered. "No, he'll do fine. Better than I did, probably. And he should be at the Ministry. Maybe he'll be able to keep Hermione from working too much."

    Ginny answered that with a rather unladylike snort. Neither of them considered that likely, especially if the rumors that the Supreme Mugwump position on the Wizengamot was going to be open soon. Ron knew how to manage his wife, however, just as well as she was able to manage him. He'd make sure she didn't work herself into the ground if he had to stun her and Apparate her home himself. "Well, what is it then?"

    "It'll sound ridiculous," Harry hedged, knowing he'd have to admit what was bothering him, regardless.

    "You miss Potter's Home," Ginny answered for him, instead. She was referring, of course, to the home they'd built in Godric's Hollow while she was pregnant with James. Grimmauld Place had certainly been fixed up for several years, but both had wanted their family raised in a place more like the Burrow. Potter's Home - named so by Ginny - had been that place, built not too very far from the ruins of the cottage his parents had owned.

    "I do," he admitted reluctantly. "It's nice being back at Hogwarts - I'm looking very much forward to teaching, but..." he lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

    "It wouldn't be the same, Harry," she reminded him. "Not with James, Al, and Lily all out of the house. And we'll be back for the summers and holidays, of course."

    "I know, I know," he admitted.

    James and Sarah - Neville and Hannah's eldest daughter - had been married two years ago. Ginny suspected that Sarah was pregnant, and Harry agreed - he had ten galleons down with Ron on when his oldest son would finally come to tell them. Hell, Teddy and Victoire's oldest would start attending Hogwarts this year, too. Al had gotten married last year, and Harry had greatly enjoyed teasing his middle son about upholding family tradition and marrying a redhead. Lily - the girl he still called 'Little Lil' ' every time he saw her - she was marrying Lysander, her godparent's oldest, in less than month's time. Lysander had been in the year below her at Hogwarts, and he and his twin had just graduated a few months prior.

    Even Ron and Hermione's children were married, or soon would be. Rose and Scorpius - Harry still couldn't stop laughing at the thought of Ron and Draco as in-laws - were expecting, too. She was what - seven months along, now? And Hugo was getting quite serious about the Muggle girl from Ottery St. Catchpole he'd been seeing...

    "It's all changing again," Harry noted, and realized he sounded much younger than his forty-nine years.

    "Life does that," Ginny said sagely, and then she giggled when he stuck his tongue out at her.

    With clear purpose, Ginny turned him away from the window. With no words, she drew him towards their - in his opinion, ridiculously large - bed. "Come on then, Harry," she said, with that particular tone to her voice, that tone that never stopped making his pulse race. "Remind me that some things never change, and let me remind you. You haven't told me you love me today, you know."

    Harry had promised to do so a long time ago. He'd kept that promise for thirty years. "I love you," he said simply, bringing his lips down to hers, and brushing his fingers against the clasp of her robes.

    "I love you too," she said back, and Harry marveled that the words, and the look in her eyes, still made his stomach leap as much as it had the first time they had made love, back on her seventeenth birthday. "Now show me," she said.

    And he did.


    END OF ACT I


    Back to index


    Chapter 16: Chapter 16 - The Last September 1st

    Author's Notes: Enormous thanks to my betas, Teyri Jen and Geluf for their assistance with this chapter, especially when it came the two new characters. Sorry about the long wait, but school picked up after the Mardi Gras break, and my pace was slowed down a bit. Hopefully, it's worth the wait.


    Chapter Sixteen “The Last September 1st"

    The rest of the summer passed in a blurred rush, and, before Harry knew it, the morning of September 1st - his last September 1st as a Hogwarts student - had dawned. It seemed as though the last month of summer, ever since Ginny's birthday, had passed in some sort of haze. Every stolen moment with Ginny, every moment playing Quidditch, playing chess with or just talking to Ron, or Hermione's tutoring him on advanced magical theory were memories to be prized. The latter was because Harry had decided that, if he was as powerful as everyone kept wanting to say, then perhaps he owed a little bit back to the world of magic for everything it had given him. Hermione was only too surprised to find him an enthusiastic student, and their late night sessions - which often turned to debates as Harry argued the 'whys' and the 'hows' of the way magic worked with the far-better-informed Hermione - generally left Ron shaking his head and turning to Ginny or Harry's telly for amusement.

    All in all, it had been the perfectly peaceful end to a summer that, despite all that had happened since the previous summer had come crashing to a close at Bill and Fleur's wedding, was sure to go down in Harry's memories as one of the best of his life. Even the events of Diagon Alley and everything he'd learned about Ginny's last year at Hogwarts were beneficial in a way, for the closure they had provided. Harry truly felt like he had closed a book on the more painful parts of his past, and as the month had gone on, so had Ginny. Life, simply put, was good.

    It had taken it a bit to for Harry to recognize what the heady feeling he seemed to go through nearly every day with was - he was happy. Perhaps that should not have been such a shock for him to realize, but then, no one had ever claimed that Harry Potter had been subjected to an easy life.

    Still, those feelings and that realization did absolutely nothing for the fact that the Hogwarts Express was leaving in a few hours, and until now, he had not packed a single bloody thing.

    "Bollocks," Harry muttered, waving his wand almost frantically around his room. He was trying to rectify that now, and hurriedly packing everything he would need for the coming term. He cursed again when his haste caused him to break his new scales. A hasty Reparo and Reducio later, they were repaired, shrunken down, and loaded into his trunk. He started to wonder just why he hadn't packed already, when a rather visual memory answered the mental question for him. Ginny had been over the day before to help him pack, but they"d gotten a bit... distracted, and in the end, very little packing had been done at all. Given the choice, Harry would pick the one activity over the other any day.

    He began running through the mental checklist as he was shrinking and loading items in, and wondering not for the first time if he should just invest in a magical trunk like the one Moody had had. His bag with his dearest possession was hanging from his neck, so those were quite safe. Books, quills, clothes, robes, Wheezes, quills, parchment, broom - both, since he was donating his Firebolt II to the Gryffindor team, in favor of his Thunderbolt. His Defense books from Sirius, Remus and Percy, as well as his Auror's Manual and the Marauder's Guide to Becoming an Animagus made it in as well. Muggle clothes, his photo albums and a few of his parents' other things, the picture of Ginny and the one of him, Ginny, Ron and Hermione taken on his birthday...

    Harry cursed again as his levitation was just a bit too forceful, and he was caught in the face by several rolls of socks, the last item he needed to pack.

    "Thought Hermione told you to pack yesterday." Harry winced ever so slightly as he heard Ron's taunting voice coming from the doorway. As expected, his best mate was standing there, smirking at Harry's predicament.

    "Oh, I suppose you"re all ready then?" Harry asked pointedly.

    "Yep," Ron nodded, unable to contain his wide grin. "Hermione made me pack up yesterday. Shoulda heard the things that bird threatened to do to me if I didn't."

    "Set you straight, then?"

    "Are you mental? The hexes that woman knows are downright scary. 'Course I did it," the redhead confessed. "What's your excuse?"

    "Well, Ginny came over to, you know, help..." Harry started with a very particular grin on his face. It was the grin he used whenever he and Ginny were tormenting Ron about their relationship, and his friend recognized it more than well enough by now.

    Therefore, it wasn't surprising in the least that Ron's response was to immediately box his hands over his ears. "I'm not listening!" he yelled, and Harry grinned widely as his best mate vacated the premises as rapidly as possible, leaving Harry to his packing.

    Chuckling lightly, Harry turned his attention back to the task at hand. A quick check of his pocket watch showed Ginny's hand as 'travelling' - she'd be here soon, along with her parents. The trunk was largely full when his hand absently settled on something on his headboard. Unbidden, his fingers curled around the small rune-laced wood and glass ornament, and he pulled it free. It came easily, with a slight popping sound, but Harry was barely even conscious of his actions. Before he even realized it, he was moving to place it in his trunk as well, handling the object with great care.

    As he did so, the small orb started to glow, and Harry nearly dropped it in shock, as he shook the fuzzy feeling that had overcome his mind.

    What am I doing? Harry abruptly thought. Why am I taking this? What IS this thing?

    He quickly remembered finding it his first night in Grimmauld Place, and that memory brought flashes through his mind, memories of things that had never been. Dueling Rabastan Lestrange in front of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Seeing Dumbledore killed by Voldemort, and an older version of himself battling his dead enemy in the Atrium at the Ministry. Somehow meeting Ron and Ginny both at the same time, and something about a... Chocolate Frog card? Speaking to Ginny some time when they were both far older, and making love to her - all this and dozens of other impossible (or at the least, improbable) things flashed through his mind in a moment.

    Was this somehow all connected? Or was it just -

    Then the orb in his hand gave off a pulse of blue light, and grew warm for just an instant. The fog came back, and Harry dropped the orb into his trunk out of reflex. Its face shifted, blending into its surroundings rather like a chameleon. The fog faded again, and Harry shook his head and started blinking. He looked around his room for a moment, fighting that horrible feeling that he'd forgotten what he was doing just in the middle of it.

    What was I just doing? Harry thought with a frown. He tried very hard to determine what he had forgotten, but it just wouldn't come. A moment later, he was distracted as Hermione found him, seemingly just standing about.

    "Harry!" the bushy-haired witch yelled as she popped her head in. "Hurry up! Ginny and the Weasleys will be here any minute! The taxis are already downstairs!"

    "Right, I know, I know!" he called back, and slammed his trunk shut. Whatever he'd forgotten, it obviously wasn't that important. With a wave of his wand, he shrunk down his trunk and slipped it into his pocket, and then did the same with the few things he'd left out - namely, the school robes and Head Boy badge that he'd have to put on once they got to the train. He was also thankful that he was legally able to do magic, as simply carrying his trunk in his pocket was loads easier than dragging it down the stairs of Grimmauld Place.

    Dora - he'd discovered that referring to the owl by her full name took too bloody long - hooted in protest as he started to depart without her.

    "Sorry girl," he said hastily, and tossed her an owl treat before grabbing the handle on her cage. "I won't forget you again."

    The owl's wide-eyed glare seemed to suggest that Harry would be wise to remember that, and she gave a low hoot of warning. "Hey," Harry protested defensively as she nipped towards his fingers, and shifted her feathers to a bright red, the color she used when irritated. (Harry suspected Ginny had been her inspiration.) "I'd never forget something so important!"

    - - - - - -

    "Blimey," Ron muttered, his tone full of awe and disbelief. "I've never seen the station so crowded."

    "You're not wrong," Harry muttered in equal astonishment.

    And truthfully, his friend wasn't. There were more people in the station than Harry had ever seen, was only just half-past ten. They had - for once - gotten to King's Cross nearly a half-hour before the departure of the Hogwarts Express. Privately, Harry thought that was because the four of them and the Weasleys had left from Grimmauld Place, rather than Surrey. The fact that there were only four of them going this year, and they could all legally use magic to pack, well that probably helped, too.

    Of course, he also thought he'd seen Ginny's wand pointed towards their taxis as they were coming down the stoop. And of course, Harry had had to hit both drivers with a mild Confundus charm, to keep them from asking too many questions about what house (or lack thereof) they'd come out of. And if the traffic had somehow seemed to move out of their way... well, that was just coincidence, wasn't it? Then again, it wasn't as though Arthur was going to arrest his only daughter for illegally charming Muggle taxis.

    Still, King's Cross was unbelievably crowded. Harry could easily tell that the majority of the uncommonly large crowd were wizards and witches. They were, after all, eminently discernible by the presence of owl, cat, toad or any of the more exotic pets (like Arnold, who was just barely sticking out of Ginny's handbag.) How they were all getting through the barrier with no one noticing was nothing short of a miracle. It was so crowded that Arthur and Molly had decided just to say their goodbyes in the parking lot, rather than brave that mess. Given how Molly in particular always wanted to hang on to every possible second with her children, well, that was saying something.

    "I mean," Harry said under his breath, mindful of the nearby Muggle porter. His tone very easily conveyed every inch of his astonishment. "I'd heard enrollment was up, but..."

    "Well," Hermione said reasonably, (As though she ever spoke in any other fashion, Harry mused,) "It's the largest it's ever been, actually."

    "Ever?" Ron asked, disbelieving. "As in, the whole thousand years there's been a Hogwarts?"

    "As in," Ginny confirmed, and started ticking off the reasons on her fingers. "Think about it. You've got everyone who didn't come back to school the last two years returning to finish. There's almost all of last year"s seventh years repeating their final year. It's not like a lot of us focused on schoolwork, and no one's taken the NEWTs. And then there's all the Muggleborns and half-bloods that were denied admission by the Death Eaters last year, so they're starting late..."

    "Wait," Ron asked, "If no one graduated last year, how is it everyone else is still advancing?"

    Harry knew the answer, since it was actually something he and Ginny had discussed. "They're hardly going to hold six years worth of students back a year," he noted. "And on top of that," Harry continued, verbalizing the thoughts even as he made the realization, "There's everyone who's come back from abroad, or whose parents never started them the last couple years, and all the regular new first years."

    Hermione shrugged. "If you add it all up -"

    "And I'll bet you have," Ron teased, prompting the bushy-haired witch to roll her eyes.

    "As I was saying," Hermione continued, "if you add it all up, you end up with a new year - of just first years, mind - that's more than double the size of ours."

    Ron let out a low whistle. "I hadn't thought about all that," he confessed with a shake of his head. "Like I said... blimey."

    "Right there with you, mate," Harry agreed.

    Hermione made a small clucking noise as she caught the time on one of the station's clocks, and began to walk a bit faster. "Come on, you three. We need to hurry. We've all got to get changed into our robes, and the Head -"

    "- Boy and Girl are supposed to set an example -" Harry continued, grinning at Ron.

    "Just like the prefects," Ron dutifully finished, also grinning as they both finished Hermione's litany that she'd been repeating for the last several days.

    "Boys," Hermione muttered, and grabbed Ginny's hand to set off towards the barrier at Platform 9 3/4. Ginny just tossed a quick grin back towards Harry - which he returned - and then allowed herself to be drug away.

    Harry and Ron shared a quick laugh, and the dark-haired wizard returned his attention to the crowd. He felt no particular urge to rush, and found it strangely peaceful to just watch the bustling crowds. A small part of him was scanning the crowds for danger even now - he'd noticed that habit had come back after what had happened in Diagon Alley, and had not gone away on any trip into public since. As he was now an Auror - a reserve one, at least - he supposed the habit never would. The realization made him a little bit sad, but he'd come to terms months ago with the fact that "constant vigilance" would be a necessary trait for the rest of his life.

    As Harry watched, he wasn't looking for anything in particular, really, but just sort of... enjoying the moment. This was, after all, his last September 1st as a student at Hogwarts. As strange as that seemed - and after all, Harry certainly did not feel as though he were only eighteen years of age - it brought a peace to him as well. He felt an irresistible desire to take in, to record, everything in this particular point in time. While he was doing so, his eyes settled on a dark-haired girl, whipping her head about as she looked at the information on a ticket stub - and looking right between platforms nine and ten.

    Harry didn't know what drew his attention to the girl, but he knew it wasn't the confused look she had. It was something... else, something that he couldn't place. Her long hair, jet-black, he now saw, fell to her shoulders and was kept back by a clip. She had very finely sculpted features that seemed very familiar to him, but that he could not for the life of him place. Her demeanor - not to mention her fashion sense - immediately reminded Harry of Tonks, and he quickly pushed down the pain at that realization. Looking among her things, Harry could see a Hogwarts crest among the many patches on the backpack that was slung over one shoulder. She had a cat in a cage, though Harry could see no trunk. She was of-age, then, Harry realized - she must have shrunk down her trunk just as he had. She was likely a seventh-year, then, but Harry had most certainly not seen her before.

    Damn if she doesn't look awfully bloody familiar, though, Harry thought, and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to puzzle the matter out.

    Ron's elbow suddenly made contact with Harry's side, dragging him out of his thoughts, and he let out his breath with a heavy 'whuff' sound. He turned to his mate, hoping his face displayed precisely how annoyed he was. "Oi!" he protested.

    The redheaded wizard chuckled, "Ginny'll have your bits if she sees you checking out other girls, mate. Fair warning."

    "What?!" Harry sputtered, his voice rising an octave. "I wasn't looking - well, I was, okay, but I wasn't, y'know... looking. "

    "Sure you weren't," Ron grinned, clearly enjoying Harry's discomfort far too much for Harry's liking.

    "Prat," Harry muttered darkly, "C'mon, she looks lost. Least we can do is lend a helping hand."

    Ron snorted. "You do that. I don't want Hermione to hex my bits off. I like 'em where they are, thanks."

    Harry just shook his head as he pushed the cart with Dora's, Pig's, and Crookshanks' cages into Ron's hands. "Take this," he said without waiting for a response. He approached the girl, who was peering determinedly at just where the barrier was. "Need a hand?" he asked, and fought back a smile when she jumped slightly in surprise. She obviously hadn't noted his approach.

    "Bloody right I do," she answered, and Harry laughed. She was obviously looking at him, trying to identify him as a Muggle or a Wizard, and decide on just what she should say. Harry was familiar with the feeling of course - he felt that way every time he encountered a new witch or wizard in a Muggle area. While there were quite a few - of the older set, especially - who had trouble blending into the Muggle world, there were others like Harry for who it was no trouble it all. It made things... interesting at times.

    "New to Hogwarts, then?" Harry asked, deciding to spare her the stress, and pointing at the crest on her pack. The girl visibly sighed in relief at his reference.

    "Oh, Mer- er, God, yes," she responded. Harry noted her accent was decidedly Londoner, and most certainly reminded him even more of Tonks - but she had to have studied abroad until now. Or perhaps just at home?

    "Platform's right where you think it is," Harry said helpfully, and then repeated the advice he'd gotten so long ago with a wide grin. "Trick is to do it at a bit of a rush if you're nervous."

    "Do what exactly?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

    "Walk through the wall, of course," Harry smiled, and looked over just in time to see Ron pushing the small cart with the pets through. Ron looked back towards Harry and the girl with a smirk just as he vanished through the wall. Her eyes widened slightly, and Harry walked towards the bricks himself. He stopped just in front of the wall, and then turned to grin back at her. "See you on the other side, then," he teased, and then stepped through.

    Given that Ron had gone first, it wasn't much of a surprise that Ginny was waiting when he came through, her arms folded. Harry's eyes crinkled at the front she was putting up. Ginny felt different when she was angry at him, which wasn't very descriptive, he knew, but was the only way he could think of how to phrase it.

    Harry raised an eyebrow, and he saw her gaze dart quickly over to Ron, who was trying (and failing) to not smirk. Much.

    "Well?" she asked.

    "Nothing, luv," Harry said, putting an arm around the small witch's shoulders. "Just helping a new student get through. Being a good Head Boy, like Hermione told me to."

    "Uh-hunh," Ginny said sarcastically.

    Harry turned around just as the dark-haired girl came through the wall, and he waved a hand to indicate her to Ginny. "See?" he said. He knew see that Ginny was playing up the "jealous girlfriend" routine, and he wasn't falling for it. It was part of an ongoing game of theirs over the last month. The both of them had discovered that, lately, they always knew when the other wasn't being truthful, to any degree. Without fail, actually, which had gotten to be somewhat disconcerting. They were simply unable to lie to each other, about anything. Every now and then Ginny had said she could feel his feelings, but Harry rather thought that sounded like rubbish. Watching the two, Ron whistled slightly as he headed ahead to join his girlfriend.

    Of course, Ginny had felt that, too. Neither of them knew what it meant, but oddly, neither seemed to want to press the matter.

    Harry momentarily refocused his attention from Ginny to the new girl, and his words were meant to be calming to the surprised witch. "Told you you'd be all right. Might want to hurry up a bit, though - train's a bit crowded this year."

    "Thanks," the girl said with a grin, and proceeded off. Harry watched as she examined her surroundings - it was certainly her first time on the Hogwarts Express. The wonder on her face left no doubt as to that.

    As she left, Ginny looked up at Harry, a half smile on her face, and a teasing twinkle in her eyes. "You know, it's not very much fun if I can't even pretend to be angry at you."

    "Oh, I'm sure I'll make you genuinely angry often enough," Harry admitted candidly.

    "Well," Ginny said, and patted his harm patronizingly, "that's something of a given, luv."

    Harry just snorted, and jerked his head towards the train. "C'mon then. Those two'll already be in the Head's cabin. Let's not be late."

    "And miss you getting in trouble with the Head Girl?" Ginny shot back. "Why?"

    "Sadist," he muttered, but he noted that she didn't resist when he tugged her hand towards the train. Nor, he realized, did she deny his accusation.

    Guess that's part of why we get on so well, Harry decided as he stepped onto the train.

    - - - - - - -

    "-And that's the patrol schedule for the trip to Hogsmeade," Hermione finished, having completed her long recitation of the Prefects' and Heads' duties for the upcoming year. Harry knew his friend's... thoroughness should have long ago ceased to surprise him. Somehow, it still hadn't. "Does anyone have any questions?"

    He looked around as Hermione asked her question. Ginny and Ron, he could see, weren't paying her too much attention. Along with Harry himself, they had heard Hermione's rehearsal of her 'Head Girl Speech', and were focusing on the other Prefects. (If pressed, Harry would have to admit that he had spent much of the time watching Ginny - but she was a Prefect. That counted, right?) He was a bit surprised when he realized that there were twenty-four of them in all. He'd known there were two for each house for the fifth, sixth, and seventh years, of course, but he had to admit he'd never really paid attention to the Prefects beyond his own year or house. He was even more surprised to realize that, Gryffindors aside; he knew almost none of the younger Prefects.

    For the seventh years, there was Ron and Ginny representing Gryffindor, of course, to Molly's great pride. Hannah and Ernie for Hufflepuff, Anthony and Luna for Ravenclaw (the latter of which Harry found incredibly amusing), and then Blaise and Daphne for Slytherin. Blaise had replaced Draco two years ago, of course, and it seemed as though the Headmistress had felt that Pansy's behaviour before the Battle of Hogwarts had not merited the retention of her Prefect's badge. Harry had to concur.

    Harry didn't really think he'd miss the pug-nosed girl's presence. If nothing else, having to work with Slytherins he actually got on with would actually make things easier for once. That was a nice thought.

    But the others - well, he knew the Gryffindor Prefects, or was at least acquainted with them. Denton Robards and (Harry's stomach tightened slightly) Romilda Vane for the sixth years, and Dennis Creevey and Ashley Bell, Katie's younger sister, represented the fifth years. Harry had to confess, he had done a double-take when Romilda had entered the compartment - and that time, Ginny had not been faking her anger. Romilda had grown considerably in the year he'd been away and was now rather... well, statuesque was the polite term, he thought.

    Or one could just be honest and say she was a bloody looker. Ron had noticed that as well, and Harry caught his eyes straying towards the dark-haired girl on more than one occasion - including while Hermione was answering one of Blaise's questions. Returning the earlier favor, he nudged Ron in the ribcage, though a bit less violently so as to not draw attention. "Careful there, mate," he warned in a whisper.

    "Believe me, I am," Ron said, his own whisper very serious, and Harry did a double-take at the tone. "Romilda was bad enough before. Can you imagine what she'll be like now?" Ron whispered urgently.

    Harry shuddered, and turned his attention back to the meeting.

    "I do have another question," the young, blonde fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect called out. Just the way he said the words set Harry's teeth on edge, and he would have been hard-pressed to say exactly why. However, he schooled his features as he looked at the younger boy, who he thought at first was just addressing Hermione. Seeing the expression on the boy's face, however, Harry realized that it was a question that was going to be far more directed towards him.

    "Yes?" Hermione asked politely, and Harry fought a smirk as he saw the briefest flicker of irritation cross her features.

    "How is it the two of you are Head Boy and Head Girl?" the boy asked pointedly. "You didn't even attend school last year. Shouldn't the position go to someone who's earned it? And he's hardly said a word this whole meeting." The last was delivered with a very direct look at Harry.

    Harry returned the gaze evenly, as the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Every head in the compartment whipped towards the young Hufflepuff - or from Harry. He felt Ron tense up beside him, but calmly placed a restraining arm on Ron's forearm. When he heard Ginny's intake of breath, however, he made no move to restrain her. "I'm sorry," Harry asked politely. "Who are you again?"

    "Wilson Smith," the boy answered immediately, and Harry mentally groaned when he realized why the boy seemed familiar. He was a dead ringer for his late older brother, Zacharias. In attitude, apparently, as well as looks.

    Ron didn't bother to hide his response. "Merlin, there's more of them?"

    "Ronald!" Hermione clucked. "Be nice."

    Ron's answering look just clearly asked 'Why?'

    Harry put up a hand, and Hermione stopped. Then he turned back to Smith. "Well, Wilson, we're the Head Boy and Girl because, primarily, Professor McGonagall told us we are. You see, we didn't have the option of returning last year, unlike some. Hermione here is probably the smartest witch Hogwarts has ever seen. I don't think there's anyone who's ever been more suited to the job."

    "Too bloody right," Ron muttered, folding his arms.

    Smith didn't back down, though - Harry had to give him credit for that. Not much, mind, but some. "And you?" he asked pointedly.

    Harry smiled. Because I saved the bloody wizarding world, you berk! he thought unkindly, but kept to himself. Instead, he maintained his carefully patient and pleasant tone, unconsciously copying something he'd often seen Dumbledore do. "You'd have to ask the Headmistress about that one, I suppose. Please do, when we get to Hogwarts. I'd love to see it."

    Harry's easy answer brought a low chuckle to the rest of the compartment and he continued on, this time addressing everyone. "I wouldn't be surprised if all of you lot tend to look to Hermione more for guidance than me. I certainly still do. But that doesn't mean I won't help any of you out if you need it, or that I'm not mindful of my duties as Head Boy. Anyone needs to see me, they always can. I've no problems with that, and if any of you do, we can address them - hopefully a bit more privately," he said with emphasis on the last word. "Objections?"

    Aside from Smith, no one had any - none they were willing to raise publicly, at least. And even the young Hufflepuff offered no more - for the moment, at least. "All right then," Harry continued. "You've got your patrol schedules and your passwords. Run along then - we've all got friends we want to see."

    There was a murmur of consensus in the compartment as everyone began to filter out, leaving just Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Hannah, Luna, Blaise and Daphne along with Harry himself. The departures were not without incident - Harry saw Ginny's eyes narrow as Romilda gave him an openly appraising look as she departed, and he winced. He'd hoped that particular problem was in the past. Apparently not.

    "I think I'll go search out Neville," Luna offered in a sing-song voice, "And the others, of course." Harry nodded.

    "I'll go with her," Hannah added, "They'll be in a few compartments, like as not."

    "Absolutely," he added. "We've room for plenty in here, after all." For the whole group, he thought, and realized that such a large compartment really would make for a nice trip on the train, even if it didn't give him the private time with Ginny he'd surely like. Still, it would be nice to finish out the ride with everyone he now thought of as his friends. Oddly, that circle had increased dramatically in the last year, though the most important people to him were unchanged, save one. The redhead in question snuggled up closely to him, now that the official parts were over, and Harry visibly relaxed as she sank into the cushions next to him.

    "You handled that well," Ginny commented softly, her eyes crinkling a bit in what he recognized as pride, and Harry returned her warm smile.

    "Thanks."

    "Settled my questions, Potter," Blaise said, grinning, and Harry looked up at the dark-skinned Slytherin. He didn't know him very well personally, but he knew that Blaise had stood up to be counted with the DA when it had mattered, and that Ginny trusted him. That, Harry had decided, was good enough.

    "How's that?" Harry asked, his tone curious.

    "Well," Blaise shrugged, "Can't say I know you all that well. Somehow I don't think all of Draco's ranting over the years gave a true picture. But I know a leader when I see one."

    Harry realized not that long ago he would have squirmed at the term. Now, he didn't. "Maybe the Headmistress knows what she's on about after all," he grinned.

    Ginny leaned over Harry's lap to talk to Blaise, "Don't say anymore," she said in a stage whisper. "If his head swells too much, we'll never get him out of the compartment."

    Ron and Hermione both laughed, as did Daphne. Ron then looked at the Slytherin with interest. "Malfoy talked about Harry that much?" he asked, and Blaise's grin widened.

    "All four of you, actually," he noted. "Seemed a bit jealous, but mostly, he hated the three of you especially."

    "It was mutual," Harry noted, unconsciously emphasizing the past tense.

    Blaise raised his eyebrow, and Harry felt Ginny still slightly next to him as she realized the why of his words.

    "Was?" the Slytherin asked.

    Harry was spared having to respond as Luna and Hannah returned with the rest of their friends - Neville, Dean, Susan, Seamus, Lavender and someone else. Neville had grown a bit more in the last month, Harry noted. Certainly all of his 'baby fat' was gone, and Harry was astonished to realize that Neville was now the tallest of all of them, passing even Dean. Harry was also amazed to realize that the stranger accompanying them was, oddly enough, the dark-haired girl who he had helped through the barrier back at the platform.

    Neville caught Harry's questioning look, and then nodded back. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Hey, uh, everyone. This is Cordelia. She's transferring back to Hogwarts now that the war's over. Her parents had sent her to Durmstrang 'for the duration'. Cordelia, this is...." Neville started, and then named off everyone in the large compartment by turn.

    "Wotcher, you lot," she said in greeting, and everyone returned it in some fashion or another. After they had, Cordelia quirked a grin and spoke in an unmistakable London accent. "Nev, I already told you to call me Cordy. Only person that calls me 'Cordelia' is me Mum." Cordelia's expression was light, but her tone suggested it was advice they would all be wise to take heed to.

    Harry laughed, "Cordy it is, then. Pleasure to meet you."

    "Charmed, I'm sure," Cordy responded sarcastically, and then eyed Ginny, who had just put her arm on Harry's chest, using the universal nonverbal signal for women everywhere that meant 'mine'. "Ginny, right?" she asked.

    "Right," the redhead answered pleasantly enough.

    "Message received," she grinned, and Ginny laughed.

    "Join the crowd, then," Ginny offered, and Harry saw Ron and Hermione both hiding smirks - as were more than a few others in the compartment. Amusing as the situation was, no one seemed to want to anger Ginny by commenting on it, something that gave Harry faith in the average intelligence of his friends. As everyone settled in, Harry realized that nearly all of them were paired off by couple - everyone except for Hannah and Cordy.

    "Did your parents not believe that Hogwarts would be safe?" Hermione asked, extending her own form of welcome as well.

    "Something like that," Cordy replied with a shrug, but decidedly not volunteering any further information.

    "Well, they were quite correct, weren't they?" Luna noted, and Harry felt a bit uncomfortable when he saw her look at Ginny. "Hogwarts wasn't very safe at all last year."

    "No," Harry agreed solemnly, and silently prayed for someone - anyone - to change the topic.

    "Right," Cordy said uncomfortably, and then paused as her gaze shifted towards Harry, who's hair had just shifted away from his forehead as he rearranged himself to let Ginny sit on his lap. "Ah, you're that Harry then?" she asked rhetorically.

    He grimaced, and the resignation was clear in his tone when he spoke. He knew he tensed slightly - it was unavoidable, really, an unconscious reaction by this point - but he was able to let go of that feeling quickly when Ginny's other arm gave a subtle squeeze around his waist. "Yeah," he said, and then adopted a half-smile. "Apparently I'm famous."

    Ginny rolled her eyes - as did Hermione - but Cordy surprised everyone by letting out a bark of laughter. "Fair enough, mate. Not sure if there's enough who've said it - not and meant it properly - but thanks."

    Harry accepted the words with a nod. They threw him a bit, however, not because of what she had said, but how she said it. Harry's intuition - which seemed to be telling him quite a bit lately - told him that Cordelia (Cordy!) had a very personal reason to be thankful that Harry had defeated Tom Riddle. It was a curiosity about her, Harry thought, and believed that it would only be the first of many.

    "Of course," Cordy continued, a devilish glint in her eyes that reminded him far too much of Ginny, "I did hear about that naked Quidditch match of yours."

    Harry and Ron - and several of the other boys groaned at the same time. "Bloody hell!" Ron cursed. "Not that rumor again!"

    That particular rumor, of course, had been run in the Quibbler during Harry's sixth year. Ginny had teased the hell out of Harry over it when they'd first gotten together.

    "Oh," Cordy said, clearly disappointed by the answer. "That one's not true, then?"

    "No!" Harry and Ron responded in unison, and laughter rang out in the small compartment once more.

    Ron took it upon himself to change the topic then, and Harry noted that attention was still firmly on the newcomer in their midst. "So you've been at Durmstrang all this time, then?" Ron asked, "Why don't you sound like it?"

    "Probably because I'm from London," Cordy shrugged. "I just went to school at Durmstrang, always came home for holidays." She looked thoughtful for a second as she looked at Hermione. "Granger, right?" she asked, and Hermione nodded, her face curious.

    "Professor Krum told me to give you his regards," she grinned, and Harry bit his tongue as Ron lost his smile.

    "Professor Krum?!" he asked, and Cordy looked askance at him as Hermione smiled warmly.

    "I'll have to send Viktor a letter," the bushy-haired witch noted, pointedly ignoring her boyfriend's stunned expression.

    Ron seemed shocked into a stupor at that information, and Harry turned his attention back to Ginny as Hermione, Neville, Susan and Hannah engaged the apparent newest member of their group in conversation. He knew Hermione was just winding Ron up, of course, and as fun as that was to watch, he wasn't in the mood for it just now.

    "Did you see how Hannah was looking at Neville when they came back?" Ginny whispered to him, and Harry shook his head. He was unable to keep his eyes from immediately seeking out Neville, Susan and Hannah, and he tried to see what Ginny was talking about. Whatever it was wasn't immediately apparent, as all three were talking animatedly to Cordy, just as Dean and Luna, Blaise and Daphne, and Seamus and Lavender were speaking quietly to themselves. Well, the first two were speaking. Seamus and Lavender were otherwise engaged, and didn't seem to care one whit that they weren't alone.

    The redhead grinned. "Susan's got some competition, unless I'm much mistaken."

    Harry raised his eyebrows. "Hannah? Really?"

    Ginny nodded.

    "Hunh," Harry said. "Y'know, I could see -" he started, but his words died on his lips as the door to the compartment slid open.

    An oddly-dressed young wizard, wearing Hufflepuff colors and with a surprising number of pouches and belts on his robes, entered. He was wearing a hat that Harry had only seen on the telly, with that Australian bloke who was always doing mad things like sticking his head in a crocodile's mouth. He was certainly one of the more unusually-dressed wizards Harry had seen, and that was saying rather a lot.

    "Dreadfully sorry," the newcomer said, as Harry caught his eye and gave him a quizzical glance. It wasn't uncommon for younger students to seek out the Head Girl or Boy to help with some situation on the train, but this bloke looked like a sixth-or a seventh- year, so he was a bit of a surprise. "But have any of you seen Luna Lovego-"

    "ROLF!" came the sudden shriek from next to Dean, and jaws dropped all throughout the compartment as everyone watched Luna Lovegood launch herself from the bench and essentially tackle the young wizard who'd just entered.

    "Blimey, I've never seen her that excited," Ron was the first to say. The newcomer's arrival seemed to have shaken him from his stupor about 'Professor Krum'.

    "Me neither," Neville, Ginny, Harry and Hermione all responded at the same time. To say that Luna's exuberance was unexpected was putting it a bit mildly.

    Luna, at this point, was speaking very rapidly to the new bloke - and he seemed just as excited to see her. And Harry imagined that if he could see all the little touches and not-so-subtle affectionate body language going on between the two, then Dean bloody well wasn't missing a thing. A quick glance towards his roommate confirmed that his expression had darkened, and Harry grimaced. Time to head off a problem, he realized, and cleared his throat. "Uh, Luna?" he called.

    "Yes, Harry?" Luna asked distractedly, not even turning to face him.

    "Friend of yours?" he asked pointedly, and was gratified to see Luna's mouth transform into a small 'o'.

    "Oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, this is Rolf Scamander. Ginny, you recall him, of course? He went away in third year to -" she frowned a moment, as though she was trying to recall the exact wording, and looked to Rolf.

    "I've been in Brazil with my father and grandfather, attending DeSanto's Escola de Magecraft, and studying magizoology," Rolf supplied readily. "They've a great number of fascinating magical species in the rain forest, although the Muggles keep killing them off. We were part of a large project to try to relocate several species -"

    "Oh!" Luna said excitedly, "Did you find a crumple-horned -"

    "Snorkack?" Rolf finished for her, and his face fell. "Sadly, no. We -"

    "Luna...." Harry interjected, drawing the pair's attention back once more.


    "Right," Luna nodded, and started pointing at the other members of the compartment. "This is Hermione - she's very bright, really, and much more imaginative than she used to be. That's her boyfriend Ronald - he thinks you're absolutely perfect for me. That's Neville, who is a very, very sweet boy, and Susan, who I don't know very well, I'm sorry to say. They're both very good at Herbology, however, and they helped me pass my OWL. I'm terrible with plants, you see. That's Hannah - her uncle runs the Leaky Cauldron, and this is Seamus. He's a bit too fond of alcohol, really, but he says that's all right because he's Irish. That's Lavender. She was attacked by a werewolf, but she's really become a much more pleasant person since, and Seamus doesn't mind her scars at all. I think they're quite pretty, myself, - "

    Ginny coughed, even as Lavender's face took on a stunned expression. Seamus and Lavender were among those the least used to the blonde Ravenclaw, and Blaise and Daphne looked as though they were about to be overcome with laughter. "Luna..."

    "Right, sorry," the blonde girl nodded, and Harry raised his eyebrows. Clearly Luna had grown as much as Neville or Ginny - or the rest of them - had, if she was starting to recognize when she was being a little too blunt. Though she did still need some prompting, it seemed. "You know Ginny, of course,"

    "Rolf," Ginny said in greeting, suppressing her wide grin at Luna's introductions.

    "Ginny," the tow-headed young wizard smiled - and didn't bother to hold back his grin at all.

    Luna continued on the moment Rolf's mouth shut. "And that's her boyfriend Harry, who doesn't like at all how famous he is, so please treat him normally. He'll very much appreciate that."

    Harry just shrugged when Ron winced and glanced over at him. "Well, she's right," he added frankly. Luna often was.

    "This is Blaise and Daphne. They're Slytherins, but they're quite decent actually. It makes for a refreshing change. This is our new friend Cordy. She's starting at Hogwarts for her seventh year, as her parents think its safe now. That's not all of her story, of course, but we've only just met her. Over there is Dean, my boyfriend,"

    Harry bit his lip when he saw Rolf's expression darken slightly at the term. Clearly Dean wasn't going to be the only problem in this burgeoning love triangle. If that was the worst Harry would have to deal with in his last year at Hogwarts, he decided, then the change was well worth it.

    "He"s rather cross with me right now. He thinks you're going to take me away from him," Luna explained plainly as several people's jaws dropped. Harry couldn't tell why they were surprised - this was Luna, after all. "That's already happened to him once, you see, so he's a bit - "

    "Luna!" Ginny yelled, and the blonde stopped.

    Harry cast Dean a sympathetic gaze, who just let out a heavy sigh. Just for a moment, Harry thought he saw something in his friend's expression towards him, but whatever it was vanished quickly. Once before - did Luna mean me and Ginny?, Harry wondered uncomfortably.

    Harry had thought Dean was fine with things, but... Harry just winced slightly, and tried to silently convey to Dean his apologies if that were the case. Clearly Romilda wasn't the only bit of unfinished business. The message seemed to be received - Dean gave him an understanding nod back, and then the dark-skinned wizard looked toward the newcomer. "Good to meet you, Rolf," Dean said, and extended a hand.

    The oddly-attired Hufflepuff recognized the gesture for what it was, and decided to take it, much to Harry's relief. "Good to meet you, Dean," he said, and then looked around. "Erm, good to meet all of you, actually. Is there room for one more in here?"

    It was Seamus who answered, "Join the party, mate."

    As Rolf settled in, Harry took note of the fact that they had members of all four Houses here. He considered how nice it was for them to all be together in a compartment like this, and finally decided on how to share something he'd done over the summer. "Oi - everyone. Little announcement. Don't mention it in front of the Staff, but when you go into your common rooms this term; you're going to find something new -"

    Harry was cut off once more by the arrival of the food trolley. Several people looked at him expectantly, but he just shook his head. "Never mind - it'll keep," he said, and started to reach for his money pouch.

    His hand was stopped by Ron's, who was grinning widely. Harry looked at him quizzically until Ron grabbed his own pouch, and looked squarely-at the round-faced witch who pushed the food cart. "We'll take the lot," Ron told her.

    Harry grinned as Ron echoed Harry's own words from the first day they'd met. He understood, as well, what it meant for Ron to be able to say them.

    The chatter of conversation resumed as everyone selected their favorite snacks. By unspoken agreement, Harry and Ron had both decided to start with Chocolate Frogs. When they looked to see what cards they'd gotten, however, both received a shock they were ill-prepared for.

    Their actions were oddly synchronized, as they stared at the cards in their hand in unabashed shock.

    "Bloody hell!" Ron cursed first, followed only a half-second later by Harry muttering the same words.

    The twin curses brought the attention of the entire compartment to them, and Ginny and Hermione looked at the pair most curiously. "Harry, luv?" Ginny asked, concerned. "What is it?"

    Harry and Ron held up the cards in unison. The one in Harry's hands bore a likeness of himself, as did Ron's. Both were pictures taken from the Order of Merlin ceremony, earlier that summer. Ginny and Hermione, from their positions on either side of the two wizards, could easily read the text.

    - - - - -

    Harry James Potter
    Order of Merlin, First Class
    Founder, Dumbledore's Army; Member, Order of the Phoenix

    Known as both 'the Boy-Who-Lived' and 'The Chosen One', Potter is most famous for his defeats of the Dark Wizard Voldemort in 1981 and 1998. Potter continued to distinguish himself assisting in the reconstruction of Hogwarts Castle in 1998. He, along with Ron Weasley, is the youngest person to join the Auror's Department, and is currently attending his final year at Hogwarts, where he is Head Boy, and Co-Captain and Seeker of the Gryffindor House Team. Also the youngest Seeker in a century (11yrs - 1991), Triwizard Champion (1994-5), and the wealthiest young wizard in Britain. He enjoys Chocolate Frogs and is rumored to be romantically involved with one Ginevra M. Weasley. He is also widely referred to as "Dumbledore's Apprentice."

    - - - - -
    Ronald Bilius Weasley
    Order of Merlin, Second Class
    Member, Dumbledore's Army, Order of the Phoenix


    Right-hand wizard to Harry Potter, Weasley has been Potter's constant companion since the age of 11. Provided crucial assistance to Potter in several adventures in their Hogwarts years, including assisting in the defeat of the Dark Wizard Voldemort. Currently attending his final year at Hogwarts, where he is a House Prefect, and Co-Captain and Keeper of the Gryffindor House team. Part of an influential Pure-blood family, Weasley has been romantically linked to Muggle-born Hermione J. Granger. A brilliant chess player, and noted among his friends for his strong sense of loyalty. Weasley also joins Harry Potter as the youngest people to join the Auror's Department.

    - - - - - -

    "Dumbledore's Apprentice?!" Harry muttered in shock. "Where the bloody hell did they get that idea from?" he asked, looking to Ginny, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

    "Shut it, you," Ron snapped immediately, a dreamy smile on his face as he held up the card. "This is the finest moment of my life, and I'll not have you ruining it."

    Harry grinned back. "It is pretty bloody brilliant, isn't it?"

    "Too right it is," Ron said firmly.

    "Merlin," Ginny muttered. "You two are unbelievable."

    Harry held up something from the next Chocolate Frog he'd opened. "Guess you'll not be wanting your card, then?"

    "What?" Ginny yelled, and quickly yanked it out of his hand, a dreamy smile similar to Ron's overcoming her as she reviewed its contents. Checks of further Frogs revealed that Hermione, Neville and Luna all had cards as well, and Luna finally admitted that she'd already known, and showed them all an advertisement in the Quibbler that revealed that there was an entire line of Chocolate Frog Cards dedicated to Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix both.

    Harry stood by his agreement with Ron, and decided that that little card was infinitely more valuable to him that any awards or accolades the Ministry or the papers could heap on him.

    At the thought, the small picture on the card winked up at him, and then departed its small pasteboard frame.


    - - - - - - - - -



    Hours later, Harry and Hermione reluctantly separated themselves from Ginny and Ron and the rest, in order to perform their patrol. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon of everyone just being teenagers. Harry found his thoughts often straying to how nice such simple days were, and then Ginny would chide him for obsessing. It wasn't as though she didn't do the same sometimes, and granted, both had a fair number of reasons to do so. But they drew strength from each other as well, and Harry had found that she was what always got him through the rough patches. He knew he did the same for her, as well, and Harry was well-pleased with that. It was, he had decided, the way things should be.

    Still, the afternoon fun was not completely devoid of responsibilities. As Head Boy and Girl, Harry and Hermione had the task of taking the last shift patrolling the Hogwarts Express, so that they could facilitate the off-loading of the train and help the first-years to find Hagrid.

    Of course, Harry thought, if anyone can't find Hagrid, they need their eyes checked. Ears too, probably.

    They encountered little of interest on their patrol, and discussed nothing much in particular. This was to say that mostly Hermione talked, and Harry listened. Neither seemed to mind the arrangement much, and it passed the time. Harry made occasional pointed comments, and that would keep the bushy-haired witch going as they walked.

    As they were approaching about the last few compartments, Harry stopped, and looked to his oldest female friend. "Hermione?" he asked.

    "Yes, Harry?" she answered, turning towards him with a curious expression.

    "Does the train seem like it's... longer this year to you?" Harry felt silly even asking the question, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the train was, in fact, longer than it had always been.

    She nodded, and the ghost of a smile danced across her lips. "That's because it is, Harry. The Hogwarts Express is charmed so that it always has exactly the number of compartments it needs to fit all the students and their luggage. With the larger student body, the train's enlarged itself as well."

    "Good to know I wasn't imagining it, then," he nodded, and resumed his walk. He wondered if he would ever stop being surprised by magic, and the little boy in him hoped he never would be. It would take away some of the joy, Harry decided, to know everything.

    Not that that seemed to stop Hermione from wanting to try, of course. Harry was about to say something to that effect when he saw the occupant of the train's final compartment. He had been relieved at that particular absence so far, but it seemed as though the fates were not going to be that kind, and he blew out a heavy sigh. "Well, that answers that question."

    "Draco Malfoy," Hermione said, recognizing the distinctive platinum blonde hair. It wasn't a question.

    "Yeah," Harry answered, the pit in his stomach beginning to turn as he thought about what Ginny had been through last year - and the debt that he owed the Slytherin for that night. He owed Malfoy for not revealing them to his father and Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor last year as well, of course, though Harry considered that debt repaid after rescuing the Slytherin from the burning Room of Lost Things. The debt for what Malfoy had done for Ginny was a much larger one.

    Frankly, Harry thought, Malfoy didn't look well. His robes looked like they must have been the same ones he'd worn last year, and were badly patched in some places. His hair was a bit more ragged than it had been in the past, and he looked thinner, as though he hadn't been eating well. His appearance in general was far from that of the immaculately hygienic boy that had been Harry's schoolyard nemesis all these years. Harry had thought that once Malfoy was headed back to school, things might improve for him somewhat. That was clearly not the case so far.

    Malfoy also wasn't alone. He was talking urgently to Pansy Parkinson - and it was abundantly clear that they were arguing. It was heated enough that Harry was actually wondering if they should step in to do something. A glance at Hermione confirmed that she was contemplating the same. He was looking at her as he saw the flash of decision enter Hermione's eyes, and she pointed her wand towards the half-drawn shades of Malfoy's compartment.

    "Clairaudio," she muttered, and Harry recognized her use of the eavesdropping spell that they'd made so much use of in their preparations to break into the Ministry of Magic.

    Draco's and Pansy's voices then wafted through the closed door of the compartment, as though the barrier wasn't even there.

    "-then how are we supposed to be married, Draco?" Pansy asked stridently. "What's the point of it? You've lost everything. Your family has nothing. No one - no one who matters - even respects the Malfoy name these days."

    "Oh, you've been paying attention," the blond shot back sarcastically, and Harry was strangely gratified to see a bit of the old Malfoy peeking through.

    "Our betrothal was a magical contract, Malfoy," Pansy said, and Harry and Hermione both pulled back from the venom in her tone. Hermione mouthed the question 'Betrothal? at Harry, who just shrugged. Harry hadn't been aware that things like betrothals and arranged marriages still went on in some parts of Wizarding society, but with the way some of the old Pureblood families were, it was hardly a surprise. Parkinson's tone grew even more venomous as she delivered her ultimatum. "But if you can't fill your end of the bargain anymore, then I want out."

    "Done!" Draco said instantly, and with a vehemence that plainly shocked both Harry and Hermione. They had always thought that Draco and Pansy were, well, perfect for each other. Clearly the blond wizard felt differently. "I never wanted to wed you in the first place, you pug-faced cow!"

    "At least my family still has some standing," Pansy shot back as they joined their wands together, and uttered the words that broke the contract made when they were only children. "At least our name still means something."

    "You can keep it," Draco responded bitterly, and didn't say another word until Pansy left.

    As she came out of the compartment, Harry and Hermione made no pretense at not having been there. The dark-haired Slytherin's eyes narrowed at the pair of them, but she made no insulting comments, and just bumped shoulders with Hermione as she passed. Harry rolled his eyes at the behavior, but Hermione launched a frosty glare at the other girl as she walked - stalked, really - away.

    Harry bit the inside of his lip for a moment, and then came to a decision. No one deserved to be alone after something like that. Not even Malfoy. He poked his head inside the compartment to find Draco sitting there, friendless and alone. "Malfoy," he said in greeting.

    Draco's eyes darted up, and he exhaled heavily and cursed under his breath as he identified his visitor. His voice was tired - he plainly hadn't the desire - or perhaps, the energy - for another confrontation. "What do you want, Potter?"

    "I was patrolling," Harry answered neutrally, pointing at the 'Head Boy' badge that hung on the outside of his robes. "Hermione and I overheard. I'm sorry about Pansy."

    Malfoy snorted. "I'm not," he answered honestly, before he considered who he was talking to. "You've had your laugh now, so just... go on."

    Harry was taken aback by Malfoy's total lack of bluster. It was so uncharacteristic of the wizard he knew, and was further cementing the idea that was beginning to take hold in his mind. He decided that now was as good a time as any to at least plant the appropriate seeds. If what Harry was thinking was possible, it was going to take a great deal of work - on both of their parts.

    "I expect you want to be alone," Harry said, not unkindly. "So I'll leave you to it. But if you ever need to talk, Draco," Harry said, very aware that he had just referred to the other by his given name for the first time in their long association. "Then... well, I'll be around."

    It wasn't much. But it was olive branch of sorts, and well, Rome wasn't built in a day and all that.

    Draco didn't respond, and simply looked away when Harry stopped talking. Harry left without another word; feeling slightly conflicted over the whole thing, but mostly as though a weight had been removed. When he examined that feeling, he realized that he no longer hated Draco Malfoy. He didn't like the other wizard, of course, and sincerely doubted they would ever become friends. But Harry had realized that hate was tiresome work, and he felt the better for letting go of it.

    Well, wands weren't drawn. That's a start, right? Harry asked himself optimistically as he rejoined Hermione.

    Hermione was giving Harry an unabashed look of appraisal when he came out. "What prompted that?" she asked immediately. Her astonishment was abundantly clear in her tone.

    Harry started to answer, but didn't know how to explain without breaking Ginny's confidence. "I owe him," he finally said. "The least I can do is give him a shot at being a decent human being."

    It was clear Hermione still didn't understand why, but for the time being at least, she simply accepted it with a nod. "Good luck," she added, and Harry knew she meant it honestly.

    Any further conversation was forestalled by the train grinding to a stop - they had arrived in Hogsmeade. Harry and Hermione were immediately occupied with the business of directing people students off of the train, and Harry volunteered to start directing the traffic outside. The confines of the Hogwarts Express seemed just a bit too cramped at the moment, and he was eager to be out in the fresh air and under the stars once more.

    He wasn't out for but a minute before he heard Hagrid's booming voice calling out: "Firs' years this way! Firs' years, over here now!"

    Harry smiled, the words taking him back to the first time he'd ever stepped off of the train, and waved fondly to his overly-large friend. "All right there, Hagrid?" he called with a grin.

    Hagrid's mountainous smile grew wide at the sight of Harry, and he readily returned the wave, "All right, Harry. You?"

    Harry thought about it for a moment, and he took in the familiar lights of the castle in the distance, and the presence of Ginny and Ron as they rejoined him. His gaze flicked over from the castle to the diminutive redhead who wrapped herself around his side as a precaution against the chill in the air, and Harry's grin got even wider as he answered, "Couldn't be better, Hagrid."

    Between Ginny's presence, being back at Hogwarts, and the fact that no one was out to kill him anymore, the answer was even completely truthful.

    Harry looked back at Hogwarts in the distance once again. Simply put... it was good to be back, and Harry was very much looking forward to a nice, easy, non-life-threatening year.

    "Couldn't be better," he said again, quieter, slipping an arm around Ginny as they moved towards the carriages. She smiled at the words. If no one else did, Ginny understood him.

    Back to index


    Chapter 17: Chapter 17 - When Blackest Dusk...

    Author's Notes: There aren't props enough for me to give my beta, Geluf. ESPECIALLY for the Sorting Hat's song, which we slaved over for longer than I'd like to admit. Big thanks to my other beta, my ever-patient wife, Teyri Jen. Enjoy!


    Chapter 17- "When Blackest Dusk..."

    Harry and Hermione - accompanied by Ginny and Ron, of course, and followed shortly thereafter by the rest of the Prefects - led the assembled student body of Hogwarts from the carriages up to the castle. A bit of memory came to him suddenly, and Harry smiled as he recalled hearing Hagrid instruct Cordy and all the other new students to go along with the first-years on the boats. The dark-haired witch had looked ridiculously out of place, sharing a boat with the comparatively tiny eleven year olds.

    The path from the gates up to the castle was silent, unlike previous years. For most, this was their first time being at Hogwarts since the night of Tom Riddle's defeat. The walk seemed a bit longer than normal, and many were preoccupied with their thoughts. The castle had been nearly ruined then, and the carnage that had been wrought was evident on students, castle, and landscaping alike. He and several others had been forced to assure many of the students that the Thestrals had, in fact, always drawn the carriages.

    There was simply a far greater percentage of the Hogwarts student body that was able to see them now. It was a sad thought.

    Harry was unconsciously fiddling with the Chocolate Frog card that had been in his pocket as they walked. It was a pair of them, actually - his and Ginny's. The aforementioned witch had her arm wrapped around his as they led the way along the path. She didn't seem to want to talk either, but he didn't find this awkward. He imagined she had her own preoccupations - doubtless nearly every returning student had some horrific memory from the year before that coming back to Hogwarts was forcing them to confront. Harry was resolutely attempting to put all such memories out of his own mind - but then, the days he'd spent here repairing the castle had blunted the edge of most of them. He hoped that was true for Ginny as well.

    As they crossed the ward-boundaries that Harry had set, not ten meters from the castle (the major wards were closer to the castle itself, with the weaker ones covering the entire grounds), Harry drew in a sharp intake of breath as he crossed that invisible, magical line. It was a tingle, but more than that - it was a feeling of home, of familiarity.

    Next to him, Ron and Hermione had paused as well, and were cocking their heads as though there were a song on the wind that they couldn't quite hear. Ginny had frozen in lockstep with Harry, and was looking at him oddly. Given that she had watched Harry cast them, Ginny was the first to make the connection with what they were feeling.

    "Harry," she breathed, her face full of wonder. "The wards..."

    "I know," Harry said, feeling his way through what his magical senses were telling him. "It's like they... It must be a side-effect."

    Hermione found her words then. "From when you recast the wards," she concluded aloud, and Harry could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "I've only caught just the edges of it. I can feel it...

    "... Like something just out of the corner of your eyes," Ron finished for her.

    "Yes," Hermione nodded. "Yes, that's it exactly. The castle, Harry - you feel something from it?"

    "It feels like Harry," Ginny whispered, and Harry flushed slightly, as he suddenly became aware of the hundreds of students behind them, most of whom could not figure out why they had paused.

    He looked to Hermione, who had closed her eyes for a moment, and then a faint smile crossed her lips. "Yes, it rather does."

    Harry frowned. "Hermione, do you think - "

    Ron cleared his throat, cutting Harry's question off."I'm sure this is all very fascinating, but maybe the three of you can debate what it means just a bit later, perhaps? As in, after we've gotten this load of very hungry students to the feast?"

    Ginny snorted, and fixed a level stare on her brother. "You just want to get there yourself," she said, pointing out something that was a surprise to no one.

    "No more than you, little sister," Ron shot back, and then rather childishly stuck his tongue out at her. Harry chuckled openly as Ginny blew her own raspberries in retaliation.

    "Ron's right," he acknowledged, a moment later. "Let's get this lot up there." With that, he started the procession moving again, throwing his arm back around Ginny's shoulders. He noted Ron doing the same with Hermione, and for just a moment, was surprised when the bushy-haired witch didn't lecture them both for their lack of propriety. Being with Ron really was beginning to loosen her up, Harry decided.

    Ginny had noticed, too. "Hermione?" she asked, her tone clearly meant to tease. "No lecture on keeping up appearances?"

    "Sod off," Hermione muttered good-naturedly.

    "About bloody time," Harry commented. "Y'know, Ron and I've spent too many years being bad influences on her with too little payoff."

    Hermione just glared, and Harry laughed again.

    The foursome's easy banter also had another side-effect. The spell of silence that seemed to overcome the assembled students had been broken. The crowd began to talk and laugh as they had been when they'd been on the train, and Harry was the gladder for it. It made everything feel right, to hear everyone acting so normal once again.

    Harry returned to his thoughts as they passed the last patch of grass to the entrance courtyard. He was amazed at how green and alive everything was. There were very few signs of the battle that had taken place just months ago, both with the grounds themselves and the castle proper. Even the Astronomy Tower had been completely repaired - though, of course, Harry had made a specific point of that.

    He also knew, of course, that things weren't nearly complete on the inside as they were out here - after all, he and Hermione had been asked to forgo their separate rooms as Head Boy and Head Girl this year, thanks to some problem with the enchantments that made the Head's rooms visible only in a particular house. Ginny had bet Harry ten Galleons that by the end of the first week, he'd be seeking permission from McGonagall to fix that particular problem himself. But from out here at least, Hogwarts seemed... rejuvenated somehow. It was almost as thought the climactic battle that had taken place within those halls, and the way that it had ended, had given the place new life. Harry's repairs, and all the ones done after by that American contractor, Parker, had a great deal do with all of that, but there was something more, something Harry couldn't quite put his finger on...

    "Old place has never looked so good," Ron observed sagely as they passed through the gates of the front courtyard, and could get a better view of the masonry.

    "Look at the stones," Neville said, and Harry abruptly realized that his other friend was just behind them.

    "They're like new!" Susan observed, astonished. "The edges are all sharp, like it was just quarried - and the mortar's fresh, not crumbling like it used to be."

    Ron and Hermione turned, and gave Harry openly admiring looks as Ginny looked up at him with pride. Abruptly, she leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You do good work, luv," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

    "I'll say," Ron and Neville said in unison.

    Harry fought the urge to blush - at which he failed remarkably, and looked to the fountain at the center of the courtyard they were in. The statue of the phoenix - of Fawkes - glittered with reflected starlight and torchlight both, and seemed, at the moment, to be sleeping. As the students approached, the ring of torches at the base ignited. Everyone stopped at this new sight, and Harry abruptly realized that none among them but Ginny had seen the new memorial.

    "Harry," Hermione breathed. "This... this is the Guardian you made?"

    Several nearby heads whipped around to look at Harry, who adopted an unfeigned expression of even further sheepishness.

    "Erm, yeah," he answered, and Ginny smiled fondly at him as he did so. She patted his arm in a way that Harry thought was supposed to be comforting, but actually came off as a bit patronizing. Then he saw her expression, and knew that the latter had been her intention, and not the former. He sighed for a moment, recognizing her message to not be embarrassed of his accomplishments.

    The bushy-haired witch extended a hand towards the still Guardian statue. "It's... beautiful," she breathed, her voice carrying a reverence that Harry had always heard associated with church, or priceless works of art. It made him look at the statue in a new light, and he had to confess that even he could scarcely believe he'd created such a thing. As Hermione's hand got closer, however, the Guardian game to life, spreading its wings magnificently, and then leveling its glittering eyes at the crowd of students. There were several gasps - and more than a few curses.

    The Phoenix Guardian shone, light glinting in the most interesting ways off its patterned blend of shining hematite, jasper and tiger's eye. Harry could still make out the words that he had inscribed in the bed of the fountain pool: 'En Memoriam: Dedicated to all those who fought in the Wars against Voldemort. Burn brightly, little phoenixes, and be reborn.'

    The last phrase triggered a memory of a dream, where Dumbledore said those words to him. It seemed to spark something else, the nagging feeling that had been following Harry all day that he had forgotten something. But then someone spoke again, and Harry lost the train of thought.

    "It's a memorial," Harry heard someone say, and he saw several others looking down to read the names of all of the victims of Voldemort's Wars - starting with Myrtle Henderson, the very first person he'd ever killed, all the way to his very last victim, Severus Snape.

    "Harry," Hermione spoke again, and he could see that she was reading the legend at the base of the pool. "I thought you'd never read the Tales of Beedle the Bard."

    "I haven't," he shrugged.

    "Where'd you hear that phrase, then?" Ron asked, pointing. "˜Burn brightly, little phoenixes, and be reborn?"

    "That's from "The Littlest Phoenix", isn't it?" Ginny asked. "Mum used to read that one to me when I was little."

    "My gran read it to me, too," Neville added.

    Hermione nodded, and Harry just shrugged again. He was going to answer that he'd heard it in a dream, but was compelled at the last moment to simple say. "Dunno, then. Must have just picked it up somewhere."

    The bushy-haired witch seemed to wonder about that for a moment, but seemed to accept it, and Harry turned his attentions away. He no longer wished to hurry anyone into the castle, though he knew that if they tarried too long, Professor McGonagall would come for them. He let the others have their moment, however, paying tribute or remembrance to whomever they needed to. Hopefully this was a thing that could allow closure for those who had not had it.

    Harry felt Ginny's hand tighten in his suddenly, and he favored her with a look of curiosity. He didn't have to wonder why she suddenly seemed tense, however, as he realized where they were standing. Harry could very easily understand why her mouth had drawn itself into a tight line, and she had gone almost as rigid as if she'd been petrified.

    After all, they were standing on the spot where she'd seen his dead body (Or rather, thought she had). Harry had thought he'd put the fountain on top of that spot exactly, but it was clear now that he'd been a few feet off. That was where Hagrid had lain him down. Over there was where he'd heard the anguished cries of Hermione and Ron, Minerva McGonagall, and most especially, the cry that still woke him sometimes in his nightmares - Ginny's voice, believing him dead - coming from. A few feet that way was where Neville had slain Nagini. Harry didn't even have to close his eyes to see all of it again, exactly as it was.

    Apparently he and Ginny weren't the only ones, either.

    "The burns on the grass are gone," he heard from Neville's voice, not-so-unexpectedly hollow.

    He was right, Harry saw. The grass was as immaculate as the rest of the castle's exterior, including the spot where Riddle had set fire to the Sorting Hat (while it still lay atop Neville's head). Briefly, Harry wondered if Professor Flitwick had been able to repair the ancient hat. The Opening Feast - Hogwarts itself - wouldn't be the same without the floppy old hat's odd songs. Not to mention that Harry had no idea how Sortings would be managed otherwise.

    Everyone seemed to be drifting into an increasingly somber mood, which was subsequently broken as Ron pointed out one of the names of those who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts, the small black plate bearing the name of Professor Sybill Trelawney. "I wonder if she saw it coming..." he muttered absently.

    Despite himself, Harry laughed, as did Ginny. Hermione looked thoroughly scandalized.

    "Ronald!" she called and Ron's head darted up.

    "Oh, Merlin," he muttered, the tips of his ears going red in embarrassment. "Was that out loud?"

    Harry smiled, and clapped Ron on the shoulder. "'Fraid so, mate," he said, and then rose his voice and turned to address everyone else. "All right, you lot! It's been long enough. Let's get on in before Filch comes looking. No sense giving him excuses this early in the year!"

    Several snickered at the notion, but Harry's point was made, and the students began to move inside. Loosening his grip on Ginny's hand, he lifted it up so that he could rest his arm across her shoulders, and pull her tight as they walked. The procession began again, and Harry saw Ron grab Neville's upper arm with one hand.

    "Come on, mate," he heard his friend quietly urge. Neville took a deep breath, and nodded. He needed no further prompting.

    Before too very long, they had entered the Great Hall. It had been completely repaired as well, and if Harry hadn't consciously thought about it being the place Tom Riddle had died, he doubted the realization would even have occurred to him. There was no sign of any damage, no clue really, that anything so momentous had occurred in this very room. Save, of course, for the small plaque that was now fastened in front of the Headmaster's Seat at the staff table.

    As Harry and his friends slipped into spots near the head of the Gryffindor table, he cast his eyes over the words. Many others were no doubt doing the same.

    "Here fell the Dark Lord, Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort, defeated with a disarming charm by Harry J. Potter. Let us remember, and may the Houses never be so divided again," Ginny read aloud. Harry expected to feel a moment of embarrassment at the mention - and the realization that every future generation of Hogwarts would read that plaque - but instead, he only found contentment, and a tinge of regret. Regret that he had not accomplished his task sooner, though he now had the perspective to understand why that had not been possible.

    "Amen," Ron breathed, and Harry nodded as his best mate's words drug him out of his thoughts. Harry looked around the large room expectantly for a moment, wondering idly how long they would have to wait. Students were still filtering into the Hall, so the Feast could not quite yet begin. Harry thus occupied himself by looking over to the staff table, to see what he could discern about all of the new professors.

    Professor McGonagall was seated serenely in Dumbledore's old chair, looking every inch the Headmistress. She wore her familiar dark green robes, and not for the first time Harry found it amusing that the former head of Gryffindor House so often dressed in Slytherin colors. She even looked younger than when last he'd seen her, at his birthday. Far less frazzled - she must have solved her staffing problems, then, Harry concluded, remembering the frustrations she'd voiced back at his party. Her pointed black hat looked brand new, however, rather than the battered old one the stern-appearing witch had worn in all of Harry's previous years. A memory - a real one - flashed through his mind for a moment, and he recalled seeing her old hat hexed right off her head during the Battle of Hogwarts.

    Well, that explained the new one.

    Still, the Board of Governors couldn't have chosen a better successor for Dumbledore and Snape, Harry knew, and he felt that if anyone said otherwise this year, then he'd deal with them. Soundly. His stomach knotted for a moment when he thought of using the Cruciatus on Carrow just for spitting in McGonagall's face. At first, he'd felt guilt over that act, recognizing it as just a bit of an overreaction. That opinion had changed after he'd finally gotten Ginny's version of what had happened last year. After learning all that – Harry didn't feel the slightest built guilty about using an Unforgivable on the rotund little Death Eater.

    At least there were no Death Eaters on staff, now. Not even on the Board anymore, come to think of it. Hogwarts truly would be a haven. Harry also expected that the Board would be much easier to deal with now that Lucius Malfoy had all the money and political influence of a house-elf.

    Harry couldn't fight a smile at that thought. Irony - or perhaps, justice - was a sweet, sweet thing.

    The chair to her right was empty, but that belonged to Professor Flitwick, the new Assistant Headmaster. He was, no doubt, quite occupied with shepherding in the first years and all the other new students. Harry was glad the diminutive professor hadn't retired - he really was a genius, even if he'd often been overshadowed by the accomplishments of Dumbledore. (And Snape, Harry reluctantly admitted to himself.)

    Harry grinned at the thought of the two wizards the new students would meet first. Hagrid, surely the largest they would ever lay eyes on, and then Flitwick, who was undoubtedly the smallest. That it would throw some of them - especially the Muggleborns - was a foregone conclusion.

    He could also see that Professor Slughorn had returned - as expansive as the man was, he was hard to miss - and the elderly Slytherin gave Harry a broad grin that he politely returned (in a much more muted fashion, of course.) Between finding the Half-Blood Prince's Potions text again, and the fact that Slughorn at least didn't berate him in class, Harry was confident of his ability to score the NEWT he needed. That, however, did not mean he was looking forward to the self-centered old Slytherin and his "Slug Club", however. Or the incessant name-dropping. Or the...

    Harry shook his head for a moment, and then started at least pretending to follow the conversation Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the others were having, so Ginny wouldn't get concerned. His attention still lay on the Staff Table, however.

    He knew that with Professor Trelawney dead and Firenze having rejoined his herd, there'd have to be someone new for Divination. He could see Professors Sprout, Sinestra & Vector, who had all returned to teach Herbology, Astronomy, and Arithmancy, respectively. The rest of the table's occupants were all new.

    Harry did recognize Professor Caitlin O'Donnell, a brightly red-haired and smiling Irish witch who he had worked with, along with Bill and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick to recreate Hogwarts' complicated system of wards. She was the new Ancient Runes teacher, he knew. Harry thought her particularly brilliant, and he imagined that if he weren't with Ginny, he might have developed a bit of a crush on the red-haired Irish witch. He vaguely remembered her as a sixth or seventh year when he'd first started Hogwarts, so it wasn't even like she was that much older.

    However, as Harry did have Ginny, he could merely draw amusement from the way some of the other older male students (like Seamus, up until Lavender saw him,) reacted.

    The next three members of the staff table were folks that Harry easily identified - after all, they were parts of Harry's extended family (Or would be, some day). He was more than a little shocked that he hadn't noticed them sitting there before, actually, but he put that down to the fact that all three were dressed very differently than he'd ever seen them.

    Sitting up there, in fact, were none other than Bill Weasley, his wife Fleur, and Andromeda Tonks. All were wearing formal robes of the styles preferred among the Hogwarts staff, though Fleur's were all white. The threesome was chatting animatedly between themselves. Harry attempted to get their attention, but the general ruckus in the hall prevented it.

    "Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, and Harry knew he'd just seen them, too. Ginny, Hermione and the others all looked to where the redhead was pointing. "That's Bill!"

    "Explains why he wasn't too upset about getting sacked from Gringott's," Harry noted aloud.

    "That git!" Ginny muttered. "No wonder he wouldn't tell us his new job, either!"

    Harry laughed. "I think I'd have kept it a surprise, too."

    "Well, you're a git too, then," Ginny stated.

    "Wonder what Fleur's doing here, though," Ron asked thoughtfully. "She's been working towards becoming a Healer."

    "Oh, been paying attention to her plans, have you?" Hermione asked, a bit too acidly, and Harry winced.

    "S'not like that," Ron muttered, the tips of his ears reddening.

    Hermione's expression softened. "Relax, Ronald. I'm just having you on."

    "Oh, thank Merlin," Ron muttered. "I hate fighting on an empty stomach."

    "You'd rather we fight after you eat?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.

    "Well, yeah."

    Harry and Ginny met eyes as they both bit their lips to keep from laughing. "I'm wondering more about Andy," he said, his brow furrowing. "She never said anything about this. If she's here, where's Teddy, then?"

    "I'm sure he's in good hands," Ginny said, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's. "She wouldn't abandon him. He means the world to her."

    "To us, too," Harry added. Still, it was a curiosity - if Andromeda was here, where was his Godson? He hoped he got the chance to speak to her tonight - if not, he made a mental note to seek her out first thing in the morning.

    "What're they teaching, do you think?" Ron asked, and (perhaps subconsciously) all heads turned to Hermione.

    "Just once, I wish you lot wouldn't automatically turn to me for an answer..." the bushy-haired witch muttered under her breath. When her friends simply answered the comment with carefully blank stares, she instead adopted a thoughtful expression. "Well, Harry's already met Professor O'Donnell, so Bill - er, Professor Weasley - (Ron and Ginny both snorted at that) can't be teaching that. I expect he's taken over Transfiguration. It's very useful to a curse-breaker. He's likely to be quite good at it."

    "He is," Ginny confirmed. "Fred reckoned Bill's actually an Animagus, but I've never been able to get him to confirm it. And Fleur showed me some of the things he's transfigured for her since they got together. He always used to make things for me when I was little, too."

    "I remember that," Ron nodded. "He even repaired my chess set once - when I first got it, it was so old, the pieces were practically still. He was able to get them going again."

    "Settles that, then," Harry nodded, and then racked his brain. "I can't imagine what Andy's - "

    "Professor Tonks," Hermione corrected, and Harry ignored her.

    "-teaching," he finished, pretending Hermione hadn't said anything at all. "I can't think of any of her particular skills that stand out. I know she doesn't think she's all that good at Defense though, so that's not the job she's gotten."

    "No," Ron noted, pointing towards a particular member of the staff table. "Unless I miss my guess, that'll be that bloke."

    "He looks the type," Harry confirmed, for the man they were looking at now certainly did. He reminded Harry very much of Mad-Eye Moody, minus the excessive number of scars and the spinning magical eye, of course. His eyes had a shaded, haunted look that Harry had seen all too many times - staring back at him in the mirror. It was the look of a man who had seen, and perhaps done, horrible things. And then had survived them.

    He was an older man - perhaps on the north side of his fifties or sixties. It was difficult to tell with wizards of that age, given how long they lived. For all Harry knew, the man was ninety. There was grey in his hair and beard, but the rest was a mixture of red and brown. He had piercing eyes though, and as the new Professor's eyes met Harry's, he gave him an appraising look. Harry didn't back down from the man's gaze, and he thought he saw something flicker in the man's eyes for a moment - approval? - before the other gave a brief nod. Harry returned it, and then the man looked elsewhere.

    "Yeah," Ginny chuckled. "That's definitely the new Defense Professor."

    He'd already seen Filch when the Caretaker had opened the Main Doors for them, so the old man and his cat were still around. Harry didn't think there was anything that would kill that old Squib, though he rather imagined that Filch was disappointed with the return of the old management. Some part of his mind flagged that as a potential problem - he'd have to learn just how what Filch had gotten up to last year, to determine whether or not some students might be looking to retaliate against the Caretaker now. Still, Filch couldn't have been too bad, or the Carrows would never have tolerated the presence of a squib, which was almost worse than Muggle-borns to them.

    He also knew that Poppy Pomfrey was here - he'd actually heard George and Charlie talking about her not long ago, with George being of the opinion that there wasn't any way she'd leave Hogwarts until her best patient (Harry) did. Harry had still never figured out how they'd ever even gotten on the topic of the Hogwarts medi-witch.

    Strangely, Harry found the thought to be a comforting one.

    From Hermione's summer correspondence, he also knew that Madame Pince was still here. That only left one other woman and one other man at the table unidentified. The former was a rather severe looking woman, who, judging by the cut of her robes, was probably Welsh. Given that Andromeda had no talents towards Divination that Harry knew of, Harry surmised that this was the new Divination Professor. That left her teaching... Harry frowned. He still couldn't place what she was here for.

    The last man, however, was oddly dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and short pants. And a wizard hat. He was a comical-looking round-bodied man, though not as big as Slughorn. With attire like that, Harry sincerely hoped the man was the new Muggle Studies Professor. The thought of this man teaching anything else was almost too much to take.

    Harry grinned again as he saw Hagrid "sneaking" in from the side door out of the corner of his eye. Hagrid's attempts to be sneaky were rather comical, but Harry held back his laughter. They were just about ready for the sorting, then, if the big wizard was joining them now. His stomach rumbled its agreement that it was about time, and Ginny laughed.

    The tinkling of a fork against a wine glass coming from Professor McGonagall forestalled any other guessing about the unnamed new Professors. "Mr. Filch," the elder witch said imperiously. "Please inform Professor Flitwick that we are ready to begin."

    "Yes, Headmistress," the little man answered, and then scurried away. Harry didn't hold back his snickers then - and nor did anyone else.

    A moment later Professor Flitwick entered the Great Hall, leading the entire group of nervous-looking first years and the older, unsorted new students behind them. Cordy led that group, Harry noted, and he decided that he wouldn't be surprised at all if she was sorted into Gryffindor. She certainly had the personality for it, and though he'd only just met her, Harry couldn't imagine the girl being sorted anywhere else.

    Another few moments later, and there was a gasp as a very familiar stool, and more importantly, a very familiar hat, were brought out by Filch. Mrs. Norris was hurriedly following the aged caretaker, but no one was looking at him now. Everyone who'd been at the battle remembered what had happened to the sorting hat.

    Harry spared a glance at Neville, and was pleased to see his dark-haired friend smiling broadly. Whatever demons Neville had to wrestle with from last year, this wasn't one of them.

    "Merlin's balls," Hermione exclaimed breathlessly, and this time no one commented on her language. "Professor Flitwick actually repaired it!"

    "You took the words out of my mouth," Neville said from his seat on the other side of her.

    Harry felt a warm feeling pass over him as he saw Professor Sinestra step forward and hand a rolled-up parchment to Professor Flitwick. All this really wouldn't have been the same without that ratty old hat - which looked to be in remarkably good shape, he now saw. Just like the castle, it was almost as good as new. Harry resolved to find out more about that particular curiosity - it was the latest on a list of questions that was getting much longer as the day wore on.

    As Sinestra moved to stand behind the hat - to place it on the head of new students, Harry surmised - the old hat opened its brim wide, and began to sing.

    "Another year has dawned for me,
    And so I speak once more,
    Of the legacy that history,
    Did leave the Hogwarts Four,

    This tale I've told for many years,
    And recent times have shown,
    That history is a potent voice,
    That's best not left unknown.

    Gryffindor the valiant mage,
    And Ravenclaw the knowing,
    Just Hufflepuff the kindly sage,
    And Slytherin the cunning.

    The future they set out to make,
    They did not craft alone,
    Built on a strong foundation,
    Of magic and of Stone

    Together did they build this Keep,
    United they were strong,
    Though together they were not to stay,
    This pact would not last long.

    And as the golden days did crest,
    The Four were torn away.
    Divided now, their hopes were dashed,
    And one went his own way.

    And so a thousand years did pass,
    And Two now Fate did find,
    I sorted them as I saw fit,
    I knew their hearts and minds.

    To these hallowed halls there came,
    A war of Dark and Light,
    And though the Light did win the day,
    There must always be the Night.

    But you may learn from this hard look,
    At the divided House's doom,
    Its wisdom written in no book,
    No lecture hall or hidden room.

    It does not do to dwell on dreams,
    Forsaking life's great call,
    But foolish is the man who sees,
    No truth in them at all.

    United you can lead the way,
    And now be not afraid,
    But though evil can be led astray,
    It cannot truly fade.

    But when the blackest dusk has drawn,
    You towards the darkest night,
    Remember that the coming dawn,
    Will always bring you light."

    Harry felt a cold sense of foreboding fall over him as the Hat sang its song. He'd paid attention, this time, and had very little need of Hermione to interpret for him. Unlike previous years, he had expected something more fanciful - something like the one he'd heard his first year. That had not been the case. While the overall message was positive, the song had the unmistakable sound of warning that the hat had held in his fifth year.

    That had not been a good year, and Harry felt that sense of foreboding turning into begin knotting in his gut.

    A quick look at the shadow that had fallen over Hermione's face told him she had caught the meaning behind the hat's words as well. Ginny, Ron and Neville all had similar expressions, and the muttering Harry heard told him that several others had been paying attention as well. Harry resolved then and there to find out if there was a Penseive among his various inheritances, and if not, to purchase one, no matter the cost, so he could review the memory. He did not to believe that the battle was not yet finished, but the Hat's warning seemed to suggest it never would be.

    But then, hadn't he come to that conclusion more than a month ago? Wasn't it why he was back here now? Why he'd joined the Aurors to begin with? Hadn't he learned that, facing down the Lestranges in Diagon Alley? So it wasn't really a surprise, then?

    So why did the Sorting Hat's song fill him with such complete and utter dread?

    A fragment of a dream filtered through his memory, of a fight with Lestrange in front of the Veil, and the both of them falling through. The fragment was so very vivid that Harry was almost convinced that it was a memory, instead.

    "It does not do to dwell on dreams, Forsaking life's great call, But foolish is the man who sees, No truth in them at all," Harry's mind quoted, unbidden, and the knot in his gut hardened.

    He felt Ginny's hand tense around his, and she gave him a worried look. Harry imagined that he could practically feel her concern at his sudden tension. "Harry?" she asked, her voice full of careful concern as Addlewaite, Alfred was sorted into Ravenclaw.

    Harry felt Ron looking at him as well, and he expected Ron to be looking confused. Instead, his friend had an expression of careful calculation. He looked to Ron as he gave his answer to Ginny. "Later," he said.

    "Later," Ron nodded, and Hermione did as well. Neville had caught everything as well. Harry's eyes flicked over to the Slytherin table, where Draco sat, shabby and alone. He remembered how long it had taken to convince others that something was going on with him back in sixth year. This time, it would not take as long. They would get to the bottom of things - and fast.

    So much for a quiet start to the year, Harry thought, as Gryffindor got its first new member - Andrews, Jeffrey. Forcing his more negative thoughts down to a quieter corner of his mind, Harry instead put on a smile, and led the applause for the trembling first year.

    All told, the Sorting seemed to take an interminable amount of time, though it wasn't surprising given just how bloody many of them there were. Still, by the time they'd gotten to Weasley, Patterson - a cousin of Ron and Ginny's, apparently, who was also sorted into Gryffindor, no surprise there - Harry's stomach was growling almost loudly enough to match Ron's.

    And they still had to sort the new, older students. This, at least, proceeded at a satisfactorily quicker pace. Harry supposed that with the students being older and their personalities much more defined, the Hat was able to sort almost all of them instantaneously.

    He had to say almost, because when the last person was sorted, it was anything but quick. That, however, was not what got people's attention. When Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice called out the name of the last person to be Sorted- the only seventh year -, the small murmurs of conversation and welcome to the new members of various Houses stopped entirely.

    "Riddle, Cordelia," Flitwick called, and Harry's blood froze.

    Rather abruptly, Harry forgot all about the content of the Hat's song, and Harry knew that everyone else's eyes in the hall were as wide as his own. Time seemed to slow as Cordy walked to the Hat, all earlier swagger vanished from her steps. There was no doubt that she was very aware of the attention she was suddenly getting.

    Harry's mind was racing, and he was only barely able to keep his astonishment off of his face. He realized he probably wasn't succeeding at that entirely. Riddle was a very uncommon name, after all - in Britain, or anywhere else in the world, so far as he knew. On top of that, it was now common knowledge that Voldemort's real name had been Tom Riddle. It was slightly less common knowledge that he'd killed or betrayed all of his own family. As far as Harry knew, Morfin Gaunt had been Riddle's last surviving relative, and he'd died in Azkaban. Tom had killed the rest, making his second Horcrux - the ring. The Resurrection Stone.

    Hadn't he? Harry wondered.

    But Cordy wasn't anything like Tom! She was funny, she was personable...

    Then memories, from the Diary, and other's viewed in Dumbledore's Penseive flashed through Harry's mind.

    So was Tom, when he wanted to be, a part of Harry's mind pointed out.

    Harry watched as the Hat slipped down over Cordy's head. The hat stayed for awhile, the longest of the night.

    "I haven't seen the hat take that long since... " Neville started, his voice thoughtful.

    "...since Harry," Hermione finished for him. Remembering how the Hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin, Harry was not comforted by that in the least.

    Then Harry got his second shock within a minute as the Hat opened its brim wide, and proudly declared the House that Cordelia Riddle now belonged to.

    "Gryffindor!"

    She's not like him! She's a Gryffindor! A part of Harry's mind exclaimed, and he started to relax before that traitorous little voice in his mind spoke up one more.

    So was Pettigrew! The voice pointed out. Just because one was a Gryffindor didn't mean one was on the side of the Light.

    Cordy approached the open spot Ginny had left open for her, watching Harry the whole way. Once she left the stool, her eyes never left his. The whole of the Great Hall - even the staff table - waited expectantly to see how Harry would react.

    Harry looked in her eyes, and wished, just for a moment, that he knew Legilimency. Instead, he had to settle for what he could tell himself. She was nervous, it was plain to see. She was worried. She seemed... very concerned about how he would take the revelation of her name, and was making no effort at all to hide the acceptance she so desperately wanted from him.

    Abruptly, Harry realized he had a choice to make. He remembered making a similar choice, years ago, when he met a small, blond-haired boy in Madame Malkin's and a dirty-faced red-haired boy on the Hogwarts Express. He remembered the stares he'd gotten all his life, just because of a bloody name. With that in mind, Harry's choice, in the end, was very easy indeed.

    "Harry, mate..." Cordy started quietly, and then her jaw dropped as Harry responded.

    He grinned.

    "What's in a name?" Harry asked, and stood so that he could properly lead the applause for the newest member of Gryffindor House. The dark eyes of Cordelia Riddle didn't leave Harry's own as he did so, and he could plainly see the softening in them as she relaxed. Whatever else happened, she now had a friend, and what little she knew about Harry and his associated meant that she knew she now had several.

    Whatever her associations, whatever her circumstances, Harry would not judge her on the basis of her name alone. Her actions - her choices - would decide who she was. He tried to put this forth with just a look, and Cordy seemed to understand. She gave him a small nod back. Harry didn't know how, but he felt he'd certainly made the right choice.

    "Thanks," she said softly, and then sat next to Ginny. Ginny had been grinning unabashedly at Harry with an unmistakable pride, and then turned to extend her congratulations to Cordelia as well. Ron was a little more guarded, but offered his as well. Hermione had a calculating expression, but she favored the new girl with a broad smile as well that left no doubt as to her welcome.

    "Nothing to it," Harry said with an easiness he did not feel. No matter his decision, no matter how right it felt, a corner of his mind was still wondering.

    Ron, it turned out, was much less willing to pretend. "So, er, Cordy," he said, starting the question that was on everyone's mind. "Are you - "

    "Ron, don't." Harry all but whispered. The words were quietly given, but they had the unmistakable tone of an order coming from the dark-haired wizard. Ron's attention practically snapped over to his best mate at the sound of them.

    Ron raised his eyebrows. "Don't?" he asked, plainly incredulous.

    "Don't," Harry repeated, and then raised his voice so everyone in the immediate area could hear. "That goes for everyone. It's none of our bloody business. That's the end of it," Harry said. He knew it wouldn't be, of course, but he could try.

    Ron cocked his head for a moment, but then just shrugged. "Your call, mate."

    "Thanks," Harry said, and looked up to see Professor McGonagall staring at him with raised eyebrows.

    "Yes, well," the Headmistress said loudly, and Harry could swear her eyes were twinkling as she looked at him. "Now that our Head Boy has made his... statement, I've only two words."

    With that, McGonagall waved her hand, and the empty plates and pitchers filled with a food that, if possible, smelled even better than it looked. "Tuck in."

    - - - - - -

    As usual, the meal passed quickly. An active conversation between Harry and his friends picked up - including Cordy. Before Harry knew it, Hermione was nudging him from his whispered conversation with Ginny. Harry didn't think much of her methods of getting his attention - he didn't really like bruises on his shins, after all. But to be fair, he and Ginny had been rather... er, engrossed in their conversation. Well, teasing was a more accurate word for it, he reflected. Harry frowned (as he rubbed his shin), and then looked quizzically at Hermione until the bushy-haired witch jerked her head towards the staff table. Professor McGonagall was standing up - it was time for the start-of-term notices.

    "Ah, right," Harry said reluctantly, and diverted his attention to the Headmistress. As he did so, he felt Ginny's hand tracing a pattern up his thigh, and he caught the impish gleam in her eyes.

    "Witch," Harry muttered under his breath before biting his cheek to keep his expression still.

    "Absolutely," she answered, quietly enough so that only he could hear.

    Then Harry saw the smirking look Cordy was giving him, and abandoned the notion that no one else had heard - or figured out what Ginny was doing.

    "Having a good time there, Harry?" Cordy whispered at him, grinning widely.

    "The best," Harry replied, forcing neutrality into his tone.

    Ginny and Cordy both honest-to-Merlin giggled at that.

    "-the Forbidden Forest," Professor McGonagall was saying, with a very pointed look cast in Harry's direction, "Remains forbidden, though I daresay warning some of you of that fact will be to no avail. Therefore, enter it at your peril. Mister Filch has updated his list of banned items once more, and those seeking that knowledge may find the list posted outside of his office door on the first floor."

    Harry fought to keep his lips from twitching at the Headmistress' phrasing. She didn't give a flying flobberworm about Filch's banned list any more than the students did.

    "We also have several new staff members to welcome this term," McGonagall continued, ignoring some of the students snickering. "Taking my former posts of both Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration Master, is Professor William Weasley. He comes to us from Gringott's, where he worked for several years as a Curse-Breaker. Some of you may also be familiar with him -"

    "Hey, I've got his Frog card!" a very young witch screamed, and then covered her mouth in embarrassment at the ensuing laughter.

    "- As I was saying," McGonagall continued, nonplussed, "Some of you may recognize him from his card, as Professor Weasley, as well as his wife, were members of the Order of the Phoenix."

    Bill stood, and gave his younger siblings - actual and "might-as-well-be" a big grin. Harry did not miss the appreciative noises given by several members of the female Hogwarts student body at that sight. Bill may have changed in his dragon-hide jacket for a pair of Professor's robes, but he was still... Bill. Scars and all, even Harry and Ron weren't so dense as to see why the female students appreciated this addition to the staff.

    "We also welcome Professor Weasley's wife, Healer-Trainee Fleur Weasley, to her internship. She will be assisting Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing this year. Our older students may recall the former Miss Delacour participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament here at Hogwarts a few years ago. I am also warning you all - and I am speaking to you boys here, Mr. Finnegan - that faking injuries just so that you can be treated by Healer Weasley will be severely frowned upon."

    That got another round of laughter - including from Harry as Seamus grinned broadly. As Fleur stood - holding Bill's hand - there were appreciative mutterings and applause (even if she was pregnant) from the male student body - and no small amount of disparaging ones from the females.

    With a glare that silenced such comments rather easily, the Headmistress continued her introductions. "For the Defense Against Dark Arts post - you will note, if you please, that the title and course material have been corrected from last year's unfortunate circumstances - it is my great pleasure to introduce to you Professor Gregor MacDougal, a former member of the Auror department, who has agreed to come out of retirement to fill this post."

    There was applause again as the grizzled old Scotsman stood, and grunted an acknowledgement of some sort. Harry found he was the most critical of this new addition - after all, he'd hardly had the best of luck with Defense Professors in the past. Still, the name Gregor MacDougal sounded familiar, though Harry couldn't immediately place it. Hermione, he expected, would be researching the man soon enough.

    "For the post of Muggle Studies," McGonagall continued when the cautious applause for MacDougal had died down, "I present Professor Edward Clinkscales. Professor Clinkscales has had a long career as a Magisociologist, and has spent the last ten years living on the American Hawaiian Islands, as you can no doubt tell from his, erm, rather unusual manner of dress."

    Clinkscales waved merrily at the Professor, and then the students. McGonagall's mouth drew in a tight line for a moment, and Harry bit back his laughter - but only because the Headmistress was now looking his direction.

    "Yes, well," McGonagall then continued after taking a deep breath. "I am also quite pleased to present our new History of Magic Professor Andromeda Tonks-"

    "Wait," Ron called out, interrupting the Headmistress - something she did not look pleased about. "You binned Binns?"

    There were several groans and laughs at the questions, and Harry saw even McGonagall's mouth quirk momentarily into a smile.

    Andy's was even wider. "Not to worry, Mr. Weasley," she said with a teasing glint. "Professor Binns has consented to guest lecture on occasion, whenever we cover Goblin rebellions."

    "Thank Merlin I'm not in that class anymore then," Ron answered frankly, and was met with laughter again.

    "Indeed," McGonagall acknowledged, and then answered the question Harry had been wondering about ever since he'd seen Andy up at the staff table. "Now, as Professor Tonks is the guardian of her grandson, many of you may see him on the grounds this coming year. I fully expect that you will all behave yourselves around an impressionable child."

    Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, and flashed Andy a large grin - which the woman readily returned - as he realized that he would still be able to see Teddy frequently throughout the school year. It had been one of the major reasons he'd had to think hard before deciding to come back, but now, it wasn't even a concern. Ginny squeezed an arm around his waist and flashed him a beaming smile, and Harry was happy to realize that she was just as excited about the notion as he was.

    Professor McGonagall continued with her introductions, introducing Professor Clea Wellington as the new Divination Mistress, and Professor Caitlin O'Donnell as Professor of Ancient Runes, which Harry already knew. He paid scarce attention to those introductions, however, with his mind already awhirl with the day's events.

    Problems with students who'd been here last year, like Smith, this thing - whatever it was, whatever it could be - with Draco, Cordy's imposing last name, the situation with Dean, a new DADA Professor, who Harry felt strangely wary of for no reason he could determine other than experience. Then there was Bill, Fleur, Andromeda and Teddy all being here at the castle, Quidditch, being Head Boy, the way his relationship with Ginny was progressing... and, maybe even most importantly, the Sorting Hat's song.

    "But though evil can be led astray, It cannot truly fade..." he heard in his mind again.

    It did not seem that this was going to be a slow year, after all.

    What the hell, Harry thought. As long as no one's trying to kill me, I'll take it.

    But the Sorting Hat's words made that hope a hollow one, indeed.

    - - - - - -

    That night, as Harry tiredly unpacked his trunk, he paid no attention as he removed a small orb from it. He had no awareness of what he was doing as he moved the orb to the head of his bed, to stuff it between the headboard and his mattress. After, he continued his unpacking, and bid Ron and all his other roommates - new and old alike - and fell fast asleep in his familiar four-poster bed.

    If an observer had been so inclined, they would have noticed a soft blue glow coming from the orb later, as Harry slept.

    For his part, Harry simply delved into worlds never imagined, things he had never seen, for such was the stuff that his dreams were made of.

    Back to index


    Chapter 18: Chapter 18 - Acts of Valor

    Author's Notes: So sorry for the wait, everyone! College has been really busy this term, so thank you for your patience. And thanks to my betas, TeyriJen and Geluf, for their invaluable contributions! On with the show!


    Chapter 18 - "Acts of Valor"

    - - - - - -

    Harry’s hand tightened around the sword of Gryffindor. Even as he reached through the flames, the steel grip was cool in his hand, comforting in its own way. He was far more nervous than he appeared on the outside - or so he hoped.

    Mostly, what he couldn’t believe that he was here, that things had come to this. All their preparations, everything they'd done in the D.A. ... no one had ever imagined that Voldemort could break through the wards at Hogwarts itself. Hogwarts was supposed to be a sanctuary.

    It was supposed to be safe.

    Harry had never wanted to return to the Chamber again. He'd revisited that place so often in his dreams - nightmares - and frankly, it was not an experience he or Ginny had ever cared to relive in the waking world. Harry couldn't fight his shudder as the all-too memories surfaced. Back in second year, they'd never have figured out the mystery of the Chamber so soon if Cordy hadn't recognized just who the name "Tom Marvolo Riddle" belonged to. Not that that had helped much. In the first two months of school, eight students, including Hermione, Draco, Fred and George had been petrified - the last four, all in one go. And then Ginny had gone missing for three days.

    That third day had been Halloween, and that was when the message in blood had shown up on the wall. Ginny had been taken down into the Chamber. She’d been completely possessed by Riddle’s Diary, they'd learned. When Harry had confronted him, Riddle's shade had gloated about how easy it had been to completely take over her mind. But even at twelve, Harry had easily seen see through the self-styled Lord Voldemort’s boasting. Plus, he knew Ginny — he knew she wouldn’t have been easy to possess, no more than Ron, Hermione, Cordy, Draco, or Neville would have been. All of his friends shared that indomitable character that made me uniquely Gryffindors. They would never stop fighting.

    Ginny had confirmed that, later, after he’d slain the Basilisk, killed the Diary, while Harry lay dying himself. It had been one of the most horrid moments of his life, seeing one of his best friends — the girl he was just starting to recognize, back then, might be more than a friend someday — face-down on the stone floor of the Chamber as though dead. The same girl who was certainly more than a friend to him now. Her panicking confessions still rang in his ears.

    Fawkes had saved him, though, Riddle's shade had been destroyed along with the diary, and Lockhart had Obliviated himself. In the end, Harry and Ron had joked about how glad they were to have only had Lockhart for a teacher for a few months. When Moony had come to replace him, they’d gotten a much better teacher out of the deal.

    Hermione, Ginny and Cordy hadn't thought that was very funny. At first, but then, Lockhart's cowardice had cured them of their hero-worship.

    Now the Chamber was open again. That, however, wasn't really the problem. The Basilisk, after all, was long dead. But with Dumbledore chased off, Hogwarts had lost its greatest protection, and the Death Eaters were inside the walls of the ancient keep itself. That was what had brought Harry here, now, to this place, reaching into a wall of fire to claim Gryffindor's sword. Voldemort had practically waltzed right through the front door of the castle. With Umbridge in charge, it wasn't like there was anyone to actually stop him. Bless him, Flitwick was leading the remaining teachers in the running battle in the hallways, but Harry didn’t know if anyone had gotten word to Dumbledore and the Order. As good as he was, Flitwick wasn't a match for Voldemort. They could only hope help arrived in time.

    But the real problem, to Harry's mind, consisted of one main thing.

    Voldemort had Ginny and Sirius down there. Whether he wanted to go or not, Harry had no choice.

    The D.A. had rallied, thankfully, and they had contributed heavily to the initial fight. But then he’d gotten a vision - the pain from his scar had cost him dearly, and he'd been hit with a slicing curse by Bellatrix, whom he, Hermione and Ron had been dueling at the time. In the vision, he'd seen Voldemort himself levitating the two people who meant the world to him down the chute and into the Chamber. Neville had caught the insane Death Eater with a Petrificus Totalus from behind and Hermione had stopped Harry's bleeding.

    They'd confirmed the vision with the Map - Ginny was nowhere on it. Harry had taken his "core group" and left the D.A. under the leadership of Dean, Seamus, and Cho. They’d snuck into Headmaster’s office — which Harry had discovered would let him in, even if was barred to Umbridge - to Floo Grimmauld Place, and Kreacher had confirmed that Sirius was gone. No one else from the Order was at Headquarters, nor did anyone answer at the Burrow.

    They couldn’t even find Snape to alert the Order, and McGonagall was at St. Mungo’s. No one knew where Hagrid was. The D.A. had no one to turn to for help - very suddenly, the second wizarding war hand landed on their very young shoulders. He, Ron, Hermione, Cordy, Neville, Luna and Draco had only barely escaped the Death Eaters and the damned Inquisitorial Squad thanks to the efforts of the rest of the D.A. Some of that Darkness Powder of the twins' had covered their escape into the office.

    After they'd finished with the Floo, Harry had seen something in Dumbledore's office, something that made him pause.

    "Harry?" Hermione had asked, before she followed his gaze to the sword hanging on the wall behind the Headmaster's desk.

    "Oh," she'd said.

    "Hell with it," Harry had muttered, and reached for the shining blade. "It helped last time, didn't it?"

    But just as Harry's hands went to close around the pommel, a sheet of flame had erupted, surrounding and enveloping the entire sword. It was hotter than any fire he'd ever been near, but for some reason, Harry hadn't pulled himself away.

    "Bloody hell!" Cordy had cursed as Neville and Ron jerked Harry backwards.

    "Oh, that's perfect," Draco had said sarcastically. "How are we supposed to get it now?"

    Everyone was silent for a moment, before Hermione had spoken up. As she did so, she'd met Harry's eyes, and Harry had seen the apprehension in hers. "Gryffindor's sword has to be obtained through an act of valor, Harry."

    He didn't blink. "Right," he said, and then reached into the fire. As he did so, he felt something, something indefinable. The closest he could come was the feeling he'd had when he'd been sorted. It was as though he was being judged.

    No one was more surprised than Harry when his hand came away unburned - and with the Sword. Harry hefted its weight experimentally and everyone else let out the breaths they'd been so carefully holding. "Let's go," Harry said simply.

    When they left the office, several Death Eaters - and the Inquisitorial Squad - were waiting for them. It was a running battle all the way to Myrtle's Bathroom, but Harry's mind was already on the confrontation ahead. Ron directed their defensive attacks while Harry himself led the way. Harry knew that he couldn’t kill Voldemort, but Dumbledore had only just started his lessons about Riddle’s Horcruxes when he’d been forced to leave the castle. He didn't know enough to leave and find them.

    With the Sword heavy in his hand, however, Harry decided that eliminating Voldemort’s current body would have to do. After all, his "victory" when he was a baby had bought them years. Maybe this could, too.

    Ron paused as they reached the second floor bathroom. “Harry — we’ll need a rear guard.”

    “Right,” Harry sighed, and then looked to his fellow Gryffindors (and one Ravenclaw). Luna had been remarkably quiet all afternoon, though Harry had been amazed at how brilliantly she'd handled herself so far. “Draco, Neville, guard the door.”

    “Harry-“ both protested.

    "Look, I know you've got scores to settle, ” Harry said, acknowledging the debt the Lestrange brothers and Malfoy owed to his two friend. He put up a hand, cutting the pair off from further protests. “But you two are a team, you work best together. I’ll need Ron and Hermione both with me to get Sirius and Ginny back. Cordy and Luna can support us - you two're better on your own than they are. No offense, girls -”

    "None taken, mate," Cordy acknowledged, and Luna simply nodded, her wide eyes accepting. Draco looked a bit sulky at the order, but Neville was resigned, and both young wizards finally agreed, however reluctantly.

    Harry looked down at the snake on the sink in front of him. Fear gripped his heart once more, and it had to have shown on his face, because Ron placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

    “We will get her - them - back,” Ron whispered, and Harry appreciated the reinforcement. To say he was pretty well terrified at this point - Voldemort had the two people who meant the most to him in the world - well, that would have been an understatement of the most severe order.

    “I hope so,” he answered truthfully. "I've got a plan."

    "You realize, Harry," Neville pointed out, adopting a bit of his usual wry grin, "That those are the four scariest words in the Queen's English."

    Harry just glared at his friend, deciding not to acknowledge that statement any other way.

    “Harry, mate,” Cordy started to point out, her voice thoughtful. “You and Moldy-shorts are the only Parselmouths in Britain. If y'seal the door behind us, we won’t need a guard — “

    “- And they won’t know where we’ve gone,” Draco finished.

    "I like that plan much better," Luna added frankly. "I wouldn't want to leave any of my friends behind. I think that's what we should do," she declared.

    Harry drew back in surprise, realizing they were right. He was more rattled than he thought, if he could forget something like that. Apparently Ron was, too. “Alright,” Harry acknowledged, and turned to the sink. “Open,” he hissed, and then the seven of them - Harry was only too conscious of the missing member of their group - willingly descended into the trap Voldemort had set.

    - - - - - - -

    The clanging of his alarm clock drug Harry forcibly into the waking world. As was increasingly often, he felt more than a bit irritated at the interruption, though he still didn't know why he was having such vivid - or strange - dreams. After slipping on his glasses and checking the time on the clock's face (pointing rather annoyingly at You're Late!), he groaned. Had he more time, he probably would have considered everything he'd just seen. But, after all, a dream was just a dream, and he was perilously close to being very late on the first day.

    That Harry had experienced in the past dreams that were not, in fact, just dreams didn't seem to register to his sleep-addled mind.

    He’d have to hurry to meet Ginny and the others before breakfast. , he realized, and wondered why Ron hadn't awakened him. Beyond that, it really wouldn’t do to start off his year as Head Boy by being tardy. Somehow, he rather thought McGonagall would frown upon that. Granted, she frowned upon a lot of things, but that didn't mean Harry wanted to make himself a target. Sighing, he slipped his robe on and grabbed his shower pack and towel, and rushed toward his dorm's facilities. Within minutes, his dream was completely forgotten.

    Ginny was the only one waiting for him downstairs by the time he was done with his shower. Harry was touched by the not-too-minor show of loyalty. She was a Weasley, after all, and keeping her from her breakfast was a bit of a big deal. "Just you left, then?" he asked.

    Clearly, Ginny didn't want to let the rhetorical question slide, and her eyes glittered at him as she answered, "Obviously. You had about two more minutes before I came and got you out of the shower myself."

    "I'm sorry I hurried, then," Harry smirked at her before giving her the good-morning kiss she'd obviously been waiting for. Ginny wrapped her arms tightly around him, and as she did so, a thought - well, a dream that he did remember - occurred to him, and he grinned wickedly at his girlfriend. "You know..." he started.

    "Oh, no," Ginny replied instantly, cutting him off as quickly as she stepped away from him. "I don't care if the common room's empty. We are not doing that here. And we are going to breakfast."

    "Spoilsport," Harry replied in a way that was simultaneously grumpy and good-natured. He settled for slipping his hand into hers, and they rushed to the Great Hall as quick as was possible with seven flights of stairs. Luckily, they were able to make judicious use of some of the castle's hidden shortcuts. Harry's stomach was busily reminding him that he was hungry, too, and Ginny took the mickey out of him about it all the way down. Harry, at that point, was merely wishing he had installed a lift when he'd been repairing the castle.

    "-I keep telling you you're one of the family," she teased as they joined the rest of their friends at the Gryffindor table. "What more proof do you need?"

    Harry just snorted, and bid everyone else a good morning. As he looked around the Great Hall, he noticed that only a few of the Professors remained at the Staff table. Also of note was that almost all of the Hogwarts students that were of the female persuasion were chatting very, very animatedly. Harry found this to be slightly worrisome (in a non-threatening way), but was distracted as Ron returned his greetings around a mouth-full of food. Hermione, strangely, ignored that and simply offered her salutations. Neville, Cordy, and all the others nearby did likewise.

    "Felt like a lie-in today, Harry?" Cordy asked, giving the dark-haired wizard a cheeky grin. Harry felt an instinctive pause at the dark-haired witch's attention. His decision to welcome her aside, there was a still a corner of his mind wondering if she could be trusted and wanted - no, very badly needed - to know the source of her surname, and all that it implied. Still, he tamped down on the urge to ask those questions. Harry suspected he would have to fight that urge a lot. Words were easy, after all - but actually welcoming Cordelia Riddle into their group, no questions asked, probably wouldn't be so easy.

    But it was right, a corner of his mind reminded him, and he decided to stick to his resolution.

    "Shut it, you," Harry said with a grin that was only partially forced, and then realized that he and Ginny hadn't been too late after all - no one had their schedules yet.

    Hermione seemed to have picked up on what he was looking for, and decided to extend sympathy. "Professor Weasley hasn't passed them out yet, Harry," she supplied, referring to their new head of house. That's going to take some serious getting used to, Harry thought once again. Maybe we can just call him 'Professor Bill'?

    Ron let out a snort at the title once again. "Going to be bloody hard to call him 'Professor'," the redhead observed before shoveling in another mouthful of eggs. Amazingly, he finished chewing and swallowed before continuing. Maybe Hermione was actually having an effect on him, too. "Honestly... how're we supposed to do that with a bloke we've seen in his skivvies?"

    Harry bit back a laugh, and decided that the question was a rhetorical one as Lavender's head whirled their way from farther down the table. "What was that, Ron?" she asked in obvious interest. Harry also noted that Seamus was rolling his eyes. Then again, if someone had mentioned Fleur in her knickers, Harry reckoned they'd probably have Seamus' absolutely undivided attention. Those two really were suited for each other.

    "Tell me about it," Ginny groused, as everyone ignored Lavender's interjection. "I wonder if...”

    "Don't you even try it," Ron suddenly warned, stabbing a fork in her direction. This rather pointed act had the effect of sending a piece of sausage flying her way. Harry's hand darted out to catch the greasy projectile pork before it could strike Ginny in the face. He was oblivious to the stares he drew from around the room as he did so, but the speed of his reflexes had not gone unnoticed - especially by the members of the other House Quidditch teams.

    "Thank you, luv," Ginny said, without missing a beat.

    "And you were worried about being out of practice," Ron muttered under his breath, and Harry lobbed the sausage back at him. Ron doges, but still, Harry didn't fight the grin that came forth - it was good to know those reflexes were still there. Given that he hadn't played more than a pick-up game in more than a year and a half, like Ron said, he had been worried about it.

    The thought made him briefly nostalgic that this year would be the end of his Quidditch career. He couldn't like - he was tempted at times to send 'Dora winging back to Puddlemere or the Cannons and say that he'd been absolutely daft, and that he would of course like to play for them. But whenever he thought such things, something would bring him crashing back to reality. He had the ability - the chance - to make a real difference in the wizarding world as an Auror. And as nice a dream as it was, Quidditch just didn't offer him the same opportunity.

    But then, he also had no doubts Ginny would get to play professionally, so he knew there'd still be plenty of games in his future. That lessened the sting considerably.

    Ron dodged the incoming food, but kept his focus on his little sister. "Don't even think of trying that little trick of yours with Bill if you get in trouble in his class, Ginny," he continued.

    "I'm quite sure I don't know what you're talking about," she responded, just a little too innocently in Harry's opinion. He and Hermione shared a quick glance where they both raised their eyebrows - clearly she was thinking along similar lines. The conversation had quickly entered 'sibling only' territory, and Harry and Hermione both knew they would have to pick their words carefully in order to keep their favorite red-heads from drawing wands. Harry really didn't want to see bat-bogeys during his breakfast.

    "Erm, what trick?" Harry asked, his tone somewhere between bemused and curious.

    Ginny just raised her nose in the air, continuing with her pretense of ignorance. Ron snorted, and then explained as he continued eating. "She's been doing it since she was three. She does this cutesy little-girl voice, makes her eyes really big, and -”

    Harry was now looking at Ginny speculatively. "She's never done that when I'm mad at her," he pointed out.

    "That's because I have other ways of getting you to do what I want, Harry," Ginny said, nonplussed, and continued eating her breakfast.

    Harry was grateful for the quick shield Hermione conjured for him when Ron spit his pumpkin juice out. He was a bit embarrassed by the comment, after all (prompting Ginny to comment once more that he even blushed like a Weasley).

    Of course, the way that Cordy and Neville were grinning at him wasn't helping, either. Then he considered Ginny's statement for a moment, and finally just shrugged. It was pretty accurate, actually. "Fair enough," he eventually said, and returned his attention to his plate.

    Neville smirked at Harry as he started eating the black pudding that he'd loaded his plate with. "Oh, Harry, you missed the announcement that McGonagall made this morning."

    Harry, with a mouth that was quite full, decided not to emulate Ron and gave Neville a questioning glance back. He did, however, notice that Hermione peaked up at Neville's words, and he wondered if this had anything to do with why the female student body of Hogwarts had been in such animated conversation as he and Ginny arrived. As it turned out, it was.

    "She explained why we needed dress robes this year," Neville continued. "We're having a Halloween Ball."

    Given the way the last Ball Harry had attended had turned out; it was no surprise that he very nearly choked on his sausages at the revelation. Ginny gave him a solid thump on the back, and after Harry had taken a bit of drink, he looked at the other wizard once more. "Say again, mate?"

    "Hal-low-een Ball," Ron answered in Neville's stead with a rather cheeky tone and overenunciating every last syllable. This, of course, earned him a suitable glare from Harry. Sadly, Harry's glare didn't have the effect Ginny's or Hermione's - or especially Molly's - did.

    Then Harry noticed that Ginny now seemed just as excited as all of the other girls - though, plainly, she was trying not to show it. Paying a bit more attention, Harry realized she was displaying very little outward sign of her excitement, but just looking at her he could tell that she was practically giddy.

    With this knowledge, the reason for the behavior he'd seen when entering the Hall was abundantly obvious. As much as a nightmare as the Yule Ball had been his 4th Year, Harry was understandably apprehensive at the thought of the whole thing. He was pretty well convinced he'd bollox the whole thing up, actually. Still... well, he could get this part right, at least.

    He hoped.

    "Rosaeus," Harry mumbled, drawing his wand and causing a single long-stemmed red rose to grow from its tip. Grabbing the flower, he cleared from his seat, and kneeled in front of the red-haired witch sitting next to him with exaggerated amount of pomp and circumstance. Ginny was facing him with an expectant look, and a happy glint in her eye that Harry found he rather liked. Of course, he also had the attention of were several other people, he now realized. Most of the Great Hall, actually. But Harry had come to terms with having an audience for most of the rest of his life - why not this?

    Unless, of course, she said no. That would be a bit of a blow to the ego.

    "Milady," he started, purposefully laying it on thick, "It would honor me greatly if you would consent to accompany me to the Halloween Ball. There is no fairer creature -"

    "Creature, is it?" she laughed, and immediately cut him off by swatting him. "Prat," she added and Harry grinned widely. After all, she had taken the rose. "You've been hanging around George too much this summer."

    "Probably," Harry admitted, "What do you say, Gin? Think I could convince you to go to the ball with me?"

    "I don't know," she asked archly, "Can you?"

    "I'm not too proud to beg, you know," he continued, very casually. "I can do it right here. Or would a midnight serenade in the common room be more to your preference?"

    "Oh, Merlin, no," she said emphatically, waving a hand in front of her to emphasize her point. "I've heard your singing. I'll go with you just to spare my ears."

    "The rest of us thank you," Ron interjected, and without so much as a blink, Harry shot a stinging hex at him under the table.

    "Ow!" Ron yelped, and reached down to rub his knee.

    Harry snorted as Ron muttered something very unflattering, and turned back to face Ginny. She was holding back a laugh, but she was smiling so brightly that Harry lost is breath for a moment. Merlin, she's beautiful... he thought in disbelief, and was suddenly occupied with many other notions. How the hell am I this lucky? "So... er... was that a yes?"

    "That's a yes," she confirmed with a smile, and leaned towards him for a quick kiss - their version of one, anyhow, which was probably a bit too lengthy for such public circumstances. Strangely, Harry didn't much care.

    Well, not until he heard the sound of coins being tossed from Cordy's direction towards Ron, and then a few more towards Neville.

    "Oi, take it, then," the dark-haired witch said with disgust.

    Ron, however, was just grinning widely, and Cordy answered before Harry or Ginny could ask. "Red over there bet me three Galleons the very first thing you'd do after hearing the news was ask her to go with you. Sodding love-birds. You owe me now, you know."

    "I'll keep that in mind," Harry noted as Ginny and the others laughed. Then he looked to Hermione. "So, uh, 'Mione..."

    "Yes, Ronald has already asked me," She answered immediately. "As soon as the Professor stopped speaking. I was rather impressed, actually."

    "And you said...?" Ginny prompted, trailing off at the last word.

    "After everything that happened last time?" Neville snorted.

    "Of course I said yes," Hermione admitted, though she looked as though she might have wanted to make her boyfriend stew a bit.

    "He only made you wait four years." Ginny muttered in a stage whisper, and the two girls grinned at each other.

    Harry and Neville couldn't help but laugh loudly as Ron started muttering under his breath.

    "Yes, well," Hermione shrugged, "Ron got it right this time. I didn't even want to hex him once."

    "Y'know...” Harry said thoughtfully, "I don't know that I'll ever get used to seeing you take the mickey out of Ron so easily. Argue, sure, but this teasing without fighting - it's bloody unnatural."

    "You know, I love how you're all talking about me like I'm not right bloody here," Ron added, his voice thick with sarcasm.

    Accordingly, no one acknowledged his statement.

    Hermione just shrugged. "It's a good bit easier now that we don't fight so often," she said frankly.

    Ginny and Cordy actually snorted at the same time. "That's because you've found other ways to relieve that, er, tension," the redhead noted, and they were all gratified to see Hermione blush and Ron's ears go scarlet.

    In surrender, Ron just gave a great sigh. He was, thankfully, saved from having to comment by the arrival of the new Transfiguration Professor - the aforementioned Bill Weasley - who was handing schedules out down the table as he went.

    "Miss Riddle," Bill said neutrally, and slipped Cordy's down to her first. Harry thought he saw a momentary change in the elder man's scarred features as he looked at the girl with the most unfortunate surname. He blinked, however, and Bill's face had changed back to normal - if it had ever been different - as the other wizard reached towards him.

    "Thank you, Bi-" Harry started as Bill handed him his. "Uh, Professor," he corrected himself before Hermione could. He glared for a moment when he saw Ginny smirk at the slip-up.

    "Morning, you lot," Bill acknowledged, nodding to them all in quick succession, and got salutations from each. "And don't worry about that little slip-up back there, Harry," the eldest Weasley sibling noted. "I expect it'll be hard for all of to remember, but at least try when we're in class, deal?"

    "Deal," Ginny answered for Harry as Bill handed his sister her own schedule. "So why didn't you tell us you were going to be here, o brother mine?" she asked pointedly.

    "And miss the look on your faces last night?" he asked. "Where would the fun in that be?"

    Harry grinned, "I said the same thing."

    Bill let out a low chuckle as he reached across the table, passing schedules to Hermione, Ron and Neville. Bill gave his sister a look as he responded to Harry. "Got a bit of your ear taken off for it too, I'll bet."

    Harry continued grinning as Ginny glared. "That too," he confessed.

    A sharp bark of laughter from the new Professor, and then he started to head further down the table. "You lot come down to my office later - I'll tell you all about it."

    "You bet your arse we will," Harry heard Ginny reply for all of them, and he laughed turned his attention to his schedule. Professor or no, Ginny wasn't about to change the way she spoke to her eldest brother.

    Cordy was the first to read their first morning's class aloud. Abruptly, Harry realized that he and Ginny were actually going to get to attend class together. That had seemed merely a pleasant fantasy before. Very soon now, it would be reality.

    "Double Defense," Cordy read aloud.

    "All morning with the new bloke, eh?" Ron mused. "Well, at least that'll be out of the way before lunch."

    Harry snorted at Ron's sense of priorities. Still, he had to admit, he was curious about MacDougal. "Are we paired with anyone?" With the increase in the student population, Harry thought it was possible that even the N.E.W.T. classes might revert to the paired system.

    "No - it's all mixed in,” Neville answered. That, of course, meant that there wouldn't be any avoiding the Slytherins - well, the ones they wanted to avoid, anyway. The ones like Blaise and Daphne were all right. Still, it was better that they weren't segregated. Not if some of the things Harry wanted to push for this year were going to be possible. It had to start somewhere.

    "Won't that be fun," Ginny muttered, and Harry saw her toss a glare towards Pansy Parkinson. Absently, he noted that Parkinson was far away from Mal- from Draco. He was, in fact, sitting completely alone. Harry noticed the gaze and the target both, and decided it would, perhaps, be best if Ginny and Parkinson were kept as far apart as possible. Still, it did not bode well for Harry's intentions toward House unity, not if there was still that much bad blood with some of the Slytherins.

    But with people like Pansy in the House - well, Harry could understand those feelings. He'd shared them, once. A part of him still did.

    "Did Durmstrang use the same style of schedules?" Hermione was asking Cordy as he returned his attention to everyone else. Harry also had no doubt that before term was up, the bushy-haired witch would have wheedled all sorts of details about the other school out of their new friend.

    The newest Gryffindor nodded her reply after she finished off the last of her drink. "After Professor Rasputin took over my third year - he was Professor Karkarov's Assistant. Karkarov disappeared just after the Tri-Wizard tournament."

    "The Death Eaters found him," Harry said.

    "We thought as much," Cordy acknowledged frankly, and gave a small half-shrug. "No great loss, to tell the truth. He was an absolutely horrid Professor, amongst his other issues."

    "Other issues?" Harry asked, and then wished he hadn't.

    Cordy made a rather unattractive face by screwing up her nose. "Bloke had seriously lacking standards when it came to personal hygiene," she explained.

    "Ugh," Ginny shuddered. Harry concurred, remembering thinking that Karkarov had been even greasier than Professor Snape.

    Maybe it was a Dark Arts thing.

    Having finished his breakfast, Harry pulled out his pocket watch. As always, his gaze flitted across Ginny's, Ron's, and Hermione's hands perfectly stationary on the face - never mind that they were right there with him - and he was satisfied to see that they were all safe. Then he fulfilled his original intent, which was to check the time - and saw that they didn't have very long at all left until class began. "Bollocks," he muttered, "Come on - let's go check out MacDougal's class."

    - - - - - - - - - - -

    Harry and his friends only barely made it before the first class started. McGonagall's long-ago threats of being transfigured into a pocket watch rang in Harry's ears as he and his friends all but skidded into the Defense classroom. Harry absently noted that the room had been completely altered from its familiar setting - no doubt McGonagall had realized that very many of the students would have had unpleasant memories of the old room. If Harry hadn't known otherwise, he'd have thought he was in a completely different part of the castle.

    There were a few tables left open for them, and Harry and Ginny naturally paired off, as did Hermione and Ron, and Neville, who Susan had saved a spot for. Cordy sat with Miranda McGonagall - the Headmistress' grand-niece, one of the other seventh-year Gryffindors. The witch was one of those who had joined Harry and his friends in not ostracizing her for her last name.

    Even just in the time between the sorting last night and the start of class, Harry had notices the stares and whispers following his new friend. Part of him was grateful they weren't directed at him, but the larger part actually pitied Cordy. He realized then, that even he was doing it to a degree. He was always thinking of her as 'Cordy', and never referring to her as 'Riddle'. The question Harry couldn't figure out if that was good thing - or a bad one.

    Dumbledore made dealing with stuff like this look easy, Harry thought ruefully. He had overheard Ginny and Hermione talking last night, while he had dozed with his head in Ginny's lap. The two girls had been speaking of Harry, and Hermione had pointed out to Ginny that people were starting to listen to him the way they had regarded Dumbledore. Harry had almost betrayed himself then - and especially when Ginny had agreed with Hermione.

    Truthfully, it was something Harry had given several long afternoons of thought to. The Wizarding world needed a leader to follow. Shacklebolt was close, but he didn't have the... notoriety that Dumbledore had. Or that Harry himself had. And, being brutally truthful - if everything Harry had learned this summer was true - Kingsley didn't have the power that Harry did. Harry was all too aware that power meant responsibility - but it also meant temptation, like Grindelwald and Riddle had succumbed to.

    The thought itself made Harry squirm uncomfortably. Even if he did wield the Elder Wand, and McGonagall herself thought he was probably the most powerful wizard in Britain... Accepting responsibility, accepting that he would do what he had to was one thing, but...

    Well. Dumbledore himself had said - and shown - why "The Greater Good" could be a most horrifying thing indeed.

    Further contemplation was forestalled by the arrival of Professor MacDougal. Harry got his first real good look at the man. He was older, definitely, at least sixty or seventy. He was a large man - over six feet tall, though Hagrid dwarfed him in comparison, of course. MacDougal's hair was pulled back, and his beard neatly trimmed. His robes were functional, but not overly decorative or unnecessarily bulky. His hair had once been a reddish-brown, but was now mostly grey and silver. Hints of the old color remained, however, and gave MacDougal a very 'weathered' look. His eyes were dark, giving a hooded sort of impression to his stare.

    And staring he was. The Professor had entered the room, folded his arms, and simply... waited. Harry watched as the chattering students silenced themselves. After the nervous shuffling and coughs abated, he found himself rather impressed by the way MacDougal had brought the class to order without saying a word. He had done it through sheer presence.

    That was a trick Harry wanted to learn, certainly.

    "Welcome t' N.E.W.T. Defense Against th' Dark Arts," MacDougal began, revealing a thick Scottish brogue. As the Professor started speaking, Harry looked around to see who all was in the class. Gryffindor had the largest representation, of course, but there were a fair number of Hufflepuffs as well, and more Slytherins than he'd expected.

    Ravenclaw had the fewest - but then, that house was rarely focused on Defense in the first place - Luna was one of the few. Their strengths tended to lie in Arithmancy, Potions, Ancient Runes - that sort of thing.

    "I'm Professor MacDougal," the older wizard continued. "For anyone wonderin' about my qualifications, I used t'be an Auror a ways back. I had some... disagreements, we'll say, with Cornelius Fudge and Barty Crouch, and as a result, I've been... out of the country for a bit."

    Harry liked MacDougal already. And as far as he could tell, those qualifications met the approval of most of the rest of his class, too.

    "Anybody who hates Fudge is fine by me," Ginny whispered, running over fingers over the scars on the back of his hand, and Harry made a noise of agreement.

    "Now, this last year especially, every single one of ye learned first-hand why Defense is a practical skill set t'be havin'," MacDougal continued, and then looked towards Harry. "More'n a few of ye have used these skills practically."

    No one commented at that, Harry noted - not even Seamus. Defense wasn't a joke. Not anymore.

    "I'm aware that four of ye're already members of Shacklebolt's new 'Reserve Auror' program. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Riddle and Ms. Bones, step forward, please."

    Harry's eyes opened as wide as everyone else's at the announcement that Cordelia and Susan were 'reserve Aurors', too. Briefly, he noted the surprise on Neville's face. Neville hadn't known either. Harry winced on his friend’s behalf. First the incident with Hannah on the train yesterday, and now Susan hadn't told him something like this? That didn't bode well for Neville's relationship.

    "Er, yes, sir," Harry answered, and was the first to stand. Ron, Cordy and Susan did likewise. At MacDougal's bidding, the four paired off, Ron and Harry on one side, Cordy and Susan on the other.

    "Good," MacDougal said, and then raised his wand and cast the Muffliato spell, so that only the four of them could hear. Harry's eyebrows rose again. Had the Professor been a member of the Order, then? Or had he learned it elsewhere? The spell had become common, after all, after Harry had passed it on to Neville and Ginny to give to the D.A. Still, he filed that away for future reference.

    "Now, all four of ye have yuir Auror manuals, correct?" MacDougal asked, a glint in his eye that actually reminded Harry of Dumbledore a bit - or maybe Sirius.

    "Yes, sir," Harry replied, as did the other three, all of them uncomprehending.

    "Read the chapters on sustained dueling, have ye?" MacDougal asked pointedly.

    "Yes, sir," Ron answered this time, and the other three nodded. Harry began to see where MacDougal was going. 'Sustained dueling' referred to a prolonged duel or series of duels - like at the Department of Mysteries, or the Battle of Hogwarts. Aurors were required to maintain a particular level of physical fitness, in order to build up endurance. It had also revealed that there was a correlation between physical and magical endurance. As such, Harry and Ron both had been working on their own physical training for nearly a month. The change wasn't overtly obvious, but both young men were more toned than they had been before, and Harry was beginning to build some new muscle mass.

    Both Ginny and Hermione had heartily approved of this, it was needless to say.

    MacDougal nodded, and then dismissed the spell. "All right, then. We're goin' t'put on a little demonstration here. Our young reserve Aurors here have all been doing physical training lately. Today, they're going to show you how that can be an advantage. Everyone stand from yuir desks, please," he ordered, and then pointed his wand towards the class at large.

    There was a mad scramble as everyone hurried to do so. MacDougal muttered a spell that Harry couldn’t hear, and the desks were strewn everywhere, creating a classroom-sized field with the desks as both obstacles and cover. Shelving and several other objects flew from the walls, and the formerly pristine classroom was now a prime battlefield.

    “Potter, Weasley,” the Professor started, “To the left. Riddle, Bones, to the right. Begin on my signal. No fatal spells. Beyond that, anything goes. First team to disable both members of the other team wins. But remember what ye're tryin' t'demonstrate here.”

    As the four students carried out their instructions and took their places, MacDougal cast another spell, and a shimmering, slightly gold dome encompassed the dueling area — to protect bystanders, Harry realized. The shield also blocked out the noise from the bystanders, preventing any outside interference (or distractions.) He very much wanted to learn that spell, too.

    Harry and Ron ignored the murmurs of the other students as they took their positions. They looked to each other, silently formulating a strategy. Their long years of working together paid off, and with just a few hand signals, they had decided that when it was time to end it, Ron would use distracting tactics while Harry powered through. By the time MacDougal shot sparks from his wand, they were more than ready.

    “Avis! Oppugno!” Ron cried immediately, conjuring a flock of blackbirds that went darting in towards the girls.

    "Protego!" Susan instantly responded, and Cordy quickly threw a pair of stunners as she did. Ron's birds - which Harry imagined Hermione was probably smirking about - threw off the black-haired witch's aim.

    Harry and Cordy's eyes met for a moment, and he saw more than a bit of mischief in her eyes. He couldn't help but return it.

    The game was on.

    Harry surprised everyone by crying "Chiroptera Mucosa," and launching Ginny's trade-marked Bat-Bogey hex Susan's way. The dark-hair witch dodged it completely, demonstrating one of the first principles taught in the Auror manual - that it was easier to dodge than raise a shield sometimes.

    And in the case of an Unforgivable, a lot more useful.

    Ron was gawking at his friend, "She taught you that one? She won't teach it to me!"

    Harry grinned, but didn't take his attention away from Susan and Cordy. "What can I say, mate? Gin likes me better'n you."

    Ron snorted, and paid for his distraction as Susan hit him with a Jelly-Arms Jinx. As his arms wobbled, Harry was rather unpleasantly reminded of his second year. He quickly hit Ron with the counter-curse. Ron muttered his thanks, as he and Harry took cover. Ron raised his wand towards the Basilisk skull that was hanging from the ceiling, and performed a pretty impressive bit of transfiguration that turned it into a Grand Piano.

    With a resounding twang, the piano crashed to the ground very near to the two witches' position, and by reflex, both darted away from their cover. Harry took advantage of this, and thought Conjunctivo! The light that shot from his wand only managed to catch Susan, and she blinked as she tried to steady herself, temporarily blinded.

    Cordy responded by sending an unknown spell winging Harry's way, and he ducked behind the overturned desk that served as his cover. The desk dissolved into a fine powder, and as he was darting to another one, he saw Cordy releasing Susan from the Conjunctivitis Curse.

    The mock duel continued in this vein for some time, with both sides using every non-damaging spell they could think of in order to prolong the battle. Harry had hit Cordy with the Densaugeo curse at one point, and she had responding by actually performing a spell that conjured a dripping wet trout and slapped him in the face with it. Curse was met with counter-curse, and jinx with counter-jinx, much to the perpetual amusement of Professor MacDougal and the other observers. Both sides made excellent use of cover, and in removing that cover from the other side, drawing on all aspects of their magical education to do so. Overall, Harry and Ron proved to be able to work in concert with each other better - which wasn't truly a surprise.

    "Aquamenti," Harry murmured, sending a flooding blast Susan's way, dousing the witch completely. They had been going for nearly an hour now, and Harry was feeling the strain of the constant spell-casting. Ron was pinned down by the conjured fairies that Cordy had dive-bombing him, and only too late, Harry realized that Cordy had taken advantage of the distraction to perform a Summoning Charm on his shoes.

    Unsurprisingly, Harry lost his balance as his shoes flew off of his feet, but he managed to stop his fall as they went sailing towards Cordy's outstretched hands. He narrowed his eyes at first, but had to chuckle - even if only to himself.

    Cordy was laughing - as were many of the other students, no doubt - but Harry returned his attention to Susan. After confirming that she was still behind the several overturned desks she and Cordy had most recently piled up as cover, he looked to Ron.

    Ron had a knowing look on his face. "Time to end it, then?"

    "Yeah, I think so," Harry said simply. Mentally, he fixed Cordy and Susan's positions in his mind, and then nodded at his partner. "Get the lights, would you?"

    Ron withdrew his Deluminator from his pocket. He'd made a point of always carrying it, and Harry could see that it was a wise idea. "Happy to, mate," the redhead grinned, and flicked the switch a few times. All of the lit torches in the room winked out, their flames quickly swirling into the small device that looked like a Muggle lighter. With the shades all drawn as they were, the large classroom was plunged into near-total darkness.

    Harry stood then, and aimed his wand toward Cordy and Susan's location. "Immobulus," he whispered, and added a little twist to the end of his wand movement to limit the area of effect to only a few meters. He had no desire to immobilize himself - or any of his classmates (or Professor), after all.

    The small remaining glow from the shield faded as MacDougal lowered, and the Scotsman let out a hearty laugh. "Well done, lads, well done, indeed! The lights please, Mr. Weasley?"

    "Of course, sir," Ron answered, and flicked his Deluminator again. Once illumination had been properly restored Harry and Ron - closely followed by Neville, Ginny and Hermione - went over to check on the two fallen girls. After Harry had lifted the Immobilizing Charm, Cordy glared at him. She did, however, accept the hand he'd offered to help her up.

    "No fair, Potter," she muttered good-naturedly. "Where'd Weasley get a toy like that, anyway?"

    "All's fair in love and war, Riddle," Harry grinned, declining to answer.

    That choice of words caught Ginny's attention. "What's that, luv?" she asked pointedly.

    Harry didn't miss a beat. "I didn't say a thing."

    "Thought so," she huffed, but made her mirth clear by giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “You were wonderful," she whispered.

    Harry fought to control his reaction to her praise. "Thanks. It was... fun," he said, and the other three agreed, though they were plainly as wiped out as he.

    MacDougal snorted. "Very touchin'," he muttered under his breath. Absently, he waved his wand towards the center of the room, and the classroom reorganized itself. Unbidden, everyone reclaimed their seats.

    "All right," the Professor began. "Who wants to evaluate what we just saw, and can tell me why these four we able to continue casting spells for so long?"

    Unsurprisingly, Hermione's was the first hand up.

    - - - - - - - - - - -

    In a cold and forbidding place, on the edge of the North Sea, to the north of Scotland, there was a place called Azkaban. The wizarding prison was something children were taught of, as a deterrent. "Follow the rules, or you'll be sent to the Dementors," many a child had been told. Those days were done, however. The Dementors were long gone, and after the fall of Voldemort, Minister Shacklebolt had not invited them to return. It was rumored that the Department of Mysteries had perhaps even discovered a way to destroy Dementors, but they refused to admit it.

    The prison had seen better days. Truthfully, it had never been a bastion of architectural wonders, but the several breakouts over the last several years had damaged much of the building. Repairing it beyond the necessary capacity was hardly a priority for the overworked Ministry.

    In this dank and dreary locale, a place that could suck all the warmth from one's soul even without magic, a man waited.

    Rodolphus Lestrange paced the interior of his cell. It was maddening, this confinement, but then, Rodolphus had to admit that he was probably more than a bit mad already. Oh well. Twelve years with the Dementors did that to a man.

    Still, this 'new' Azkaban - one guarded by Aurors and Goblin mercenaries - wasn't nearly as foreboding as it had once been. It was not implacable. There were always... possibilities.

    Rodolphus eyed the new prisoner in the cell across from his. She had just been transferred from Ministry holding facilities that morning. It was a cell that had so far been left empty. However, there was precious little room in Azkaban these days, and it was now definitely occupied. He had no love for the woman, it was true, and she certainly wasn't appealing to look at, even had Rodolphus remotely cared about such things. But she had been an enthusiastic servant of his Lord's regime, and a Ministry employee for a very long time. There was likely a great many things locked away in her mind.

    Lestrange grinned - hardly a happy sight - as a plan began to form in his mind. A plan that would not bode well for Harry Potter and his friends, or this "new order" of Kingsley Shacklebolt's, no, not at all.

    I may be mad, he thought, but then, we're all mad here.

    Oh yes. He could make use of Dolores Umbridge, indeed.

    And Rodolphus Lestrange threw back his head, and the first sound since the beginning of his imprisonment crossed his lips.

    He laughed.

    Had anyone heard it, they would have found it more chilling than even the winds that buffeted the sea outside. But Umbridge was asleep, and no one else was near.

    Lestrange laughed some more.

    Back to index


    Chapter 19: Chapter 19 - The Bright Light of Normalcy

    Author's Notes: Sorry about the wait, folks, but the semester's over now, so it won't be so long before the next one. Promise! Thanks as always to my betas, TeyriJen and Geluf.


    Chapter 19 - "The Bright Light of Normalcy"

    The first few weeks of classes passed without major incident. It was refreshing, Harry thought, to realize that this was what a normal - well, normal for a young wizard - life was like. His biggest concerns were Ginny, his friends, his homework, and the future, in that order. The first three all tied into the last in some way or another. He had always felt the weight of the Prophecy on his shoulders before, but now that it was lifted, Harry felt like a new man. Yes, there were the concerns raised by the Sorting Hat's song, or that vaguely unsettled feeling he always had when he woke up in the morning, but all of these vanished in the bright light of normalcy.

    Bill's classes, they had found, were some of the most fun they'd ever taken. These were followed closely by Professor MacDougal's Defense classes. Bill had a knack for making Transfiguration both exciting and fun at the same time, something the stentorian Professor McGonagall had not encouraged. It was a simple difference in style, but Harry, with his new appreciation for the foundations of magic, appreciated the change greatly. It made his resolution to take school more seriously much simpler. Hermione had been astonished at the way Harry had thrown himself into his studies. Ginny just smiled knowingly whenever someone brought up the change in him, and Ron - well, he complained, loudly, but he was right there, working just as hard as Harry.

    As for MacDougal, well, he was most often compared (favorably) to Moody. Harry rarely brought up that the "Mad-Eye" who'd actually taught them all back in fourth year had been a Death Eater - truthfully, Crouch's impersonation had been so good that even Harry himself forgot sometimes. Ron, of course, always mentioned it. His classes were simply unpredictable. Anything could, would, and did happen, and Harry found that, absent the risk to life and limb, that sort of thing was actually very... fun. Largely, his class had focused on the integration of the various disciplines - Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Hexes - and so on into battlefield tactics. Once he'd learned of the Room of Requirement, his classes were frequently relocated there.

    Ginny reported that Professor Clinkscales was... interesting, to say the least. Harry's own impression was that the man was a bit mad, but then, he didn't have the class. Ginny, however, often came out of class grinning like crazy, and she'd told him that she found the Magizoologist to be "highly entertaining". Harry had almost choked on his roast beef one evening when she said it was like someone had taken her father, Luna and one of the twins and put them into a blender. The very idea made Harry wonder if he could somehow manage to sit in on one of Clinkscales' classes one afternoon.

    The class that had been most revolutionized, of course, was History of Magic. Hermione was the only one of the foursome taking that particular NEWT class, however. Though not a metamorphamagus like her daughter, Andromeda Tonks was (in Hermione's words) a damn sight better at making it interesting than Professor Binns had been. Harry had made a promise to Andie that he was going to sit in on at least one class one afternoon, just to see - she'd extracted that promise from Harry and Ginny the first Saturday they'd come to her quarters to spend with Teddy. Still, according to Common Room gossip, all of the younger students were absolutely thrilled with her, and Harry couldn't help but feel just a little proud of that. Ron was of a mixed opinion - he'd always thought that History of Magic was a great class to catch up on one's sleep in, after all.

    There was also Professor O'Donnell, the new Runes Mistress. Hermione couldn't seem to bring herself to stop lauding the woman's abilities. After all the discussions she and Harry had been having on magical theory lately, Hermione was increasingly pressuring Harry to see about taking private lessons from O'Donnell and Sinestra, dealing with the very nature of magic itself. While Ron seemed disgusted at the idea of extra lessons, Ginny and Harry (especially Harry) were actually intrigued by the idea. Harry wondered, briefly, if he'd have been much more academically minded if he hadn't had to fight for his life during every previous year of schooling. The interest was there, it turned out, simply long-buried - and Harry was greatly enjoying indulging it. But doing that would mean dropping Hagrid's class again, and Harry didn't really want to do that to his friend. Not to mention that Harry was really enjoying Care of Magical Creatures these days.

    As for the new Divination Professor - Madame Wellington - Lavender and Parvati had apparently been very surprised of the new Seer, who taught in a style much more reminiscent of Firenze than of the late Professor Trelawney. She was a severe, very no-nonsense woman as it turned out, and emphasized the unreliability of Divination more than anything else. There were signs and portents that could be interpreted, but true Prophecy was few and far between. Even Hermione approved of that approach - as did Harry, for that matter. Harry remembered, thinking in the new Common Room (a smashing success among the older students in particular, from all the Houses, Harry had been pleased to note) that he was impressed by how much the two girls had grown. But then, Lavender's mauling at the hands of Fenrir Greyback and the death of Parvati's twin, Padma... situations like that would age anyone. It was sad that their maturity had come at such a price.

    But then, that could be said for a lot of people. After all - the two witches were hardly alone in that respect. In a paradoxical sort of way, the more Harry learned about what people had been through in the last year, the more proud he was to have been the person who brought a final end to it. That provided a strange balm to his conscience, and Ginny just looked knowingly at him whenever they spoke briefly about it. They hadn't had opportunity yet to discuss it any depth, and Harry resolved once more to try to get some private time together. Between his duties as Head Boy, her duties as a Prefect, and their studies, it seemed they had spent more time putting out fires between their classmates than anything else. They'd only even managed to see Teddy and Andromeda twice in the three weeks since the start of term, and they were living in the castle!

    Hell, Harry thought in frustration, we've only found the time to be, uh, together once so far since school started!

    Being truthful, it was not something that Harry had been expecting to be an issue. But what he found now - and Ginny wholeheartedly agreed - was that it had been much simpler to abstain from lovemaking before they had actually engaged in the act itself. The monster, Harry had concluded, needed to be fed from time to time. The more often, the better.

    All in all, thinking these thoughts (mostly because of his frustration at the last topic in particular) in his free time between lunch and before Transfiguration - when Ginny was in Muggle Studies, Hermione in Ancient Runes, and Ron was studiously taking a siesta - had left Harry in a bit of a mood. He wasn't particularly bad, at least, so he thought, though Harry was aware that he was more than a bit... surly. He'd even snapped (irrationally, he knew) at Ron when the redhead had asked to borrow a quill. Given that the snap had earned him a thump on the back of the head from Hermione, Harry pretty much thought he and Ron were even, though.

    Nearly an hour into class, however, after a lengthy lecture on the theory behind human-animal transfiguration- 'Professor Bill' had cured him of this sour mood - by using Harry as his guinea pig.

    Or rather, guinea squirrel.

    Harry, who hadn't really been paying attention to the lecture, hadn't even known what he was volunteering for when Ginny had nudged him. As such, the transformation had... unsettled him. Just a tad.

    I'm not a squirrel, I'm a boy! Harry thought frantically as the female squirrel chased him across the now-massive (to his new perspective) Transfiguration classroom. Of course, Harry also couldn't deny he had the sudden desire to start stockpiling acorns.

    He made Hermione squeal by clambering quickly up her body, his squirrel instincts urging him to climb, climb, climb. To be fair, Harry realized his tiny claws were actually pretty sharp. He could feel the soft wool of Hermione's robes tearing as he climbed. He'd have to apologize later.

    Then again, his bushy-haired friend had thumped him earlier...

    Harry stopped his ascent on Hermione's shoulder, and peered around at his surroundings from beside her head. He was getting a better handle on his sense of 'self' now. From his new perch, he was able to get a good look at his pursuer. The other squirrel's fur was a distinctive shade of red, and as she peered up at him from Hermione's feet, Harry was able to recognize a very familiar glint in the squirrel's chocolate-brown eyes.

    Harry started to speak, before abruptly clamping his mouth shut to stop the chittering noises that had issued forth from it.

    Gin! He mentally exclaimed, after coming to the abrupt realization that no, he could not speak the Queen's English while in the form of a rodent. That's how it's going to be then?

    Ginny-the-squirrel chirped in surprise as Harry-the-squirrel's beady little eyes narrowed, and she was very easily able to read his intentions. Animal form or no, she knew her Harry well. Launching himself from Hermione's shoulders, Harry chittered again - this time the noise was clearly recognizable as laughter, even if it was coming from a squirrel - as his girlfriend's role was swapped from that of the predator to that of the prey. The class in general was entertained by the reversal of fortunes. Ron and Cordy especially were laughing so much that they were barely able to stand, Harry absently noted.

    Ginny led Harry on a merry chase, clearing furniture, climbing curtains, leaping from desk to desk. Harry had to admit, the activity was exhilarating.

    Of course, as everyone was paying attention to the antics of squirrel-Ginny and squirrel-Harry, no one noticed Professor Weasley quietly placing Colloportus charms on all the doors and windows, and then begin transfiguring students one-by-one as they weren't paying attention. Ron and Cordy, distracted as they were, went first. That is - no one noticed until they were hit with the spell.

    One after another, Bill aimed his wand at each of his students, and muttered a spell that Harry's squirrel-ears couldn't hear. Hermione was the last to be transfigured. Their impromptu chase had ended as Harry and Ginny had noted the increased squirrel population of the classroom, and were sharing a perch on their desk. Exhilarating as it had been, both were a bit tired now. Ginny-the-Squirrel perched next to Harry-the-Squirrel, their tails curled protectively around each other. They were also both more than occupied with chittering in amusement as squirrel-Hermione sat exactly where she had been transfigured, somehow still managing to look stunned. A stunned, bushy-haired squirrel was not something Harry had ever expected to see.

    Then they caught sight of Ron sniffing around the bowl of nuts Bill had set near the bottom of his desk, and with just a look, both decided to chase him. Ron-the-Squirrel had been quite peeved about being chased away from food, and had retaliated by tackling Harry. After things had continued in this vein for a bit, Bill had used a single spell transfigured everyone back and they all reclaimed their seats. Hermione was the only one who had never left hers.

    A still-rattled Hermione raised her hand.

    "Yes, Miss Granger?" Bill asked, his eyes twinkling.

    "Professor," she began, and Harry was surprised to note the slight quaver to her voice. Harry doubted anyone but himself, Ron, or Ginny heard it, but it was definitely there. The incident had shaken Hermione far more than she was willing to reveal. "I thought teachers weren't supposed to transfigure students."

    "Not as a disciplinary tool, no," Bill grinned, and Harry was gratified to see Hermione relax some at the eldest Weasley sibling's easy manner. "However, you'll find nothing in Hogwarts' rules about using it as a teaching tool."

    "Oh."

    "Now, that you all understand what it's like to be an animal," Professor Bill continued, "Mr. Weasley, how did you feel when you were first transfigured?"

    Ron pursed his lips a moment before answering. "It was instinct at first, mostly," he confessed. "At first, it really felt like I was a squirrel."

    "And I thought you just liked nuts," Harry teased, muttering the words under his breath so that only Ron could here

    Ron just glared, but retaliated by redirecting the attention to Harry. "You were one that started panicking," he pointed out.

    "Very true," Bill noted, and looked very glad that his little brother had pointed it out. "Mr. Potter, why do you think that was?"

    Harry ran a hand absently through his hair while he thought about it for a moment. "Well, first it was because I didn't know what had happened. The squirrel's instincts kicked in, and then I was being chased," (he said this with a definite glare in Ginny's direction) "but the longer it lasted, the more I... regained my sense of myself, I guess you could say. It got easier to assert my own mind."

    "Exactly," the Professor said with an excited emphasis. "Because of...? Yes, Miss Lovegood?"

    "It's because when a human is transfigured into an animal, the animal's mind is dominant at first," the blonde Ravenclaw said airily. "As the human mind reasserts itself, the sensation of animal instinct lowers. Biology determines the function of the animal mind, but our magic allows us to maintain our sense of self."

    "Precisely!" Bill agreed. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Now who knows how this differs from Animagi?"

    Surprisingly, Ginny was able to get her hand up before Hermione. This didn't seem to surprise Bill, Harry noted, and he realized he could practically feel the excitement coming off of his girlfriend in waves. She was almost hopping in her seat, and Harry grinned at the sight. Bill nodded to her, and Ginny answered, quite enthusiastically.

    "In an Animagi, the mind of the wizard or witch and their animal are co-dominant. The animal's instincts are much more accessible, and with time, even begin to express themselves when the wizard or witch is in human form. This is why Animagus magic is regarded as a reflection of personality, as it is drawn from traits the wizard already possesses. Native American shamans believe that everyone has an animal spirit, and were actually the first to develop Animagus magic as an expression of those spirits, and didn't exist here until after we made contact with the New World. Because of this, Animagus training is recommended only for students that are at, or near, their age of majority, when their personalities and magical core have already been largely developed and stabilized."

    Harry was not alone in staring slack-jawed at Ginny for her brilliant impersonation of Hermione. Finally noticing the attention, Ginny reddened slightly, and mumbled something under her breath.

    "What was that, luv?" Harry asked, grinning widely.

    "I said I've wanted to be an Animagus for a long time," she confessed, not caring anymore that the whole class was listening. She gave a wistful sort of sigh as she added, "I think it'd be brilliant."

    "And it very much is," Bill acknowledged, smiling fondly at his little sister. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Weasley, for that... thorough explanation."

    While Ginny beamed, something Bill had just said registered in Harry's mind. His eyes narrowed as he face Hogwart's youngest staff member. "Wait a moment - Bi-, er, Professor, what did you mean by 'is'?"

    Bill grinned, in a way that suggested to Harry that the other man had spent just a little too much time around goblins... "I mean this," he said, and immediately shifted his own shape to that of a fox. Gasps aplenty came from the classroom, and Harry felt s though he'd been caught just as off guard as just about everyone else. Bill was a Nile fox, some part of Harry recognized, from his Aunt Petunia's endless watching of nature shows. Appropriately enough, it was a kind of fox found in Egypt, and Harry figured that was where Bill had learned.

    Ron was staring, slack-jawed, while Ginny had a triumphant expression on her face. "I knew it!" she squealed, looking quite victorious. A moment later, after trotting around the room so that all of the students could get a look, Bill transformed himself back to a full-grown wizard.

    Hermione was all but sputtering. "But, but..."

    Bill grinned widely at his youngest brother's girlfriend, clearly enjoying catching her flat-footed. Given how little it happened, Harry found he was rather enjoying it, too.

    "Yes, Miss Granger?" the Professor asked, nonplussed.

    "But... but you're not registered!" the bushy-haired witch protested. "I've checked the list!"

    "I am now," he confessed, after letting out a hearty laugh. "I was trained by another wizard while I worked in Egypt as a Curse-Breaker. When I returned to England, certain... parties... thought it would be best if my abilities remained unknown."

    Harry watched as Hermione's face took on a look of understanding, and he knew that she realized Bill was referring to the Order. Briefly, Harry wondered if the older wizard's status as an Animagus had prevented Greyback from infecting him - but then, so far as he knew, Lavender wasn't a werewolf, so that seemed unlikely. Harry checked the clock then, and was amazed to realize that they only had a few minutes left in class. Bill seemed to have noticed as well, and delivered his final thoughts for the day.

    "Alright, everyone, I want you to read chapter six in Advanced Transfiguration and chapters one through three in Animagus Transformations before Monday. I want two feet on parchment on the advantages of having an Animagus form. Next time I'll outline the process we'll be following in this class in attempting Animagus transformations. Dismissed."

    For once, no one complained about the homework.

    - - - - -

    Later that evening, after dinner, many of the sixth and seventh years had gathered in the new Common Room. Harry's addition to the castle - just down the third floor corridor on the right-hand side, two doors away from where Fluffy had guarded the entrance to the Philosopher's Stone's hiding place - had proven to be massively popular. With its portals - that only the members of each House could pass through - it saw great use as a shortcut through much of the castle. Professor Sprout had even been heard to remark that none of the Gryffindors were ever late to Herbology these days.

    Aside from that, one of the things Harry had always thought the castle had lacked was an indoor area for students of all houses to gather. Officially, of course, none of the staff knew of the room’s existence. Unofficially, Professor McGonagall had relayed to Harry that she heartily approved of a place where students from all Houses could mingle. And by the unspoken agreement (or simply the tradition of secondary schools all over the world), on Friday nights the Common Room was the territory of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years.

    The formerly empty bar had been stocked by Harry, Ron, and Neville, who had made use of the Honeydukes passage during the first week back to pay a visit to Aberforth Dumbledore. Hermione had not been amused, but nor had she bowed to the pressure of her post as Head Girl to report them. She did, however, frequently lecture Harry on his responsibilities to provide a good example as Head Boy. It was to his credit that Harry always maintained a straight face when he insisted that he, in fact, was. Bottles of butterbeer - and Firewhiskey for those who were of age - were available for a "donation". Winky had been quietly employed by Harry to keep snacks and food on hand. Various students had donated wizard's chess boards, card decks, and any number of other amusements. Harry was even planning to see what could be salvaged from the Room of Hidden Things, but none of them had found the time to do so yet. There was even a box of 'community supplies' consisting of products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Filch, much to Harry's amusement, had sworn undying revenge on whoever the supplier of the increased number of WWW products amongst Hogwarts halls was. This, of course, was Harry himself, making use of his silent share in George's business.

    All in all, the idea had been a success. The Common Room gave the older students a place to defuse some of their tensions, and it was an area of the castle that was "theirs".

    To Harry's great relief (and Hermione's consternation, though she couldn't fault the results) the presence of freely-available pranking products had defused much of the tension among students over last year. Instead of hexing each other in the hallways, students of all stripes were finding creative combinations of pranks to get their revenge. While it made traveling to classes a bit of an adventure, even Hermione agreed with Harry that it was better that having to deal with violence between the students all the time.

    In short, despite the horrors of the previous year, life was moving on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

    Presently, Harry and Dean were seated at the bar, where Seamus had appointed himself bartender. Harry thought it a rather appropriate role for the Irish wizard - though he was surprised by how often Seamus was helped (or replaced) by Hannah Abbott. As it was Friday, neither Harry nor Dean - nor anyone else save likely Hermione - felt guilty about not doing their homework, and were instead, enjoying a quiet ale. Dean had pulled Harry aside, asking for advice on his relationship with Luna. He was frequently baffled by the girl, and while this was entertaining, Dean admitted that he didn't always know how to handle her.

    Harry glanced across the room, where Luna was animatedly chattering to the boy they'd met on the train, Rolf. Harry suspected that Rolf was the real reason that Dean was worried. Ginny was also a part of that conversation, and had an expression on her face that looked as though she dearly wanted to escape it.

    When she saw Harry looking her way, however, she smiled, and Harry felt once again as though no one else was in the room - or the world, for that matter.

    "-you know what I mean?" Dean was asking, forcing Harry to revert his attention to his mate.

    "Er, sorry Dean," Harry confessed. "I was... distracted."

    Dean snorted. "Nothing new there, Harry. I wish -" the dark-skinned wizard started to say, but then clamped his mouth closed, apparently having thought better of it.

    Harry's eyes narrowed slightly - he hated when people did that. "Wish what, mate?" he prompted.

    Dean paused, and seemed to be going through some sort of internal debate. "Truth?" he asked.

    "Better than a lie," Harry answered bluntly, his curiosity piqued.

    "I was wishing Ginny had looked at me like that back when we were together," Dean confessed quietly, and Harry drew in a sharp breath. In Dean's eyes, he saw the regret of a man who had cared deeply for someone who hadn't cared for him in the same way. Harry's insides twisted a moment in sympathy, and, unaccountably, he felt a sharp pang of curiosity that he couldn't account for.

    That was something he would have to consider later, however.

    "Dean -" Harry began. He had always felt vaguely guilty for even liking Ginny while she had still been with Dean, but Ginny herself often told him he had a highly overdeveloped sense of guilt and responsibility. Thankfully, she found that attractive in a wizard.

    "No, Harry," the other wizard started. "It's... fine, really. I'm happy for you two. It's just... hard sometimes, to see you together. You're so close, but before sixth year, I'd swear you'd barely paid any attention to her. Well, that kind of attention, at least."

    "She was always my friend, Dean," Harry said quietly.

    "She was always in love with you, you mean," Dean corrected him.

    A stab of his own regret flared up in Harry, a regret that would never quite fade at how long he had been blind to what was right in front of him. "I reckon she was," Harry admitted, even quieter.

    "But now...” Dean continued, "Hell, Harry, it's like she used a love potion on you."

    "You wouldn't be talking about me, would you Dean?" Ginny asked sweetly, (A little too sweetly, Harry thought) having caught the other wizard by surprise by approaching from behind him.

    Harry grinned. "How about it, Gin? Did you use a potion on me?" he asked, joking.

    Her slim red eyebrows drew down as she fixed a flat stare in Harry's direction. "See if you ever see the inside of a broom closet with me again," she replied frostily.

    Harry counted himself lucky to dodge the spray of ale that Dean spit out. Still, he knew Ginny was kidding too- he was fairly certain of it at least - and reached out to grab her hand and pull her to him. She put up a mock defense, but allowed herself to be brought to where she wanted to be, regardless. Harry considered that confirmation enough that he was right.

    Dean looked at them both sadly for a moment, and then back over to Luna and Rolf. "That's my cue to leave, I think," he stated.

    After Dean had walked away, Ginny looked to Harry with a serious expression on her face. "What was that about?"

    "Old hurts," Harry answered simply, and Ginny winced. "What brought you over here?"

    "Aside from the fact that it's where you are?"

    "Aside from that, yeah."

    Ginny's face grew even serious again then, and Harry felt himself growing confused, and a little bit concerned. "Harry, when you and Dean were talking, did he just sort of... spring that topic on you?" Harry was impressed at how she avoided mentioning that the topic in question was none other than herself.

    "A bit, yeah," he answered, still uncertain of direction she was going with her question. "Some things are just between blokes though, Gin,"

    "I'm not asking you to tell me, Harry," she said quickly. "I get that, I do. All those brothers I have? Believe me, I know."

    "Then why?" Harry asked. His eyebrows slid down his face in the beginnings of a frown.

    "Well..." she started, and then paused to find her words in much the same way Dean had only minutes before. "It was like I..." Ginny trailed off, biting her bottom lip in a way that Harry found indescribably sexy, her expression turning thoughtful as she tried to puzzle whatever it was out.

    Harry looked at her quizzically. He was beyond lost as to what was going on now. "You... what?" he prompted.

    Finally, the redhead just shook her head, and looked as though she were dismissing the fragments of an odd dream. "Never mind, Harry, it's nothing. Come on."

    "Gin, are you sure?" Harry asked, concerned by the bizarre behaviour.

    She smiled brilliantly, and he was instantly reassured. "I'm fine, Harry," she said, and a devilish gleam entered her eyes. "You know," she said, making a show of looking around the Common Room. "If everyone's here, I'm sure we can find somewhere more... private."

    "So you were kidding, earlier?" Harry asked hopefully.

    "Yes, Harry," she replied patiently. "Now, are you coming?"

    Harry, the monster in his chest, and their combined libido didn't need to be asked twice. "Let's get out of here."

    Back to index


    Chapter 20: Chapter 20 - The Ties That Bind

    Author's Notes: Okay, so I know I promised this chapter sooner. However, it just wasn't agreeing with me, and I hope you find it worth the wait. Thanks to the betas, Geluf and Teyri Jen, once again. Here's hoping for a shorter turnaround on the next chapter!


    Chapter 20 - "The Ties That Bind"

    "Potter scores again! England is now tied with Australia!"

    Harry hopped to his feet, cheering, and taking care not to drop baby James as he did so. The black-haired infant was eagerly watching the game, and Harry had been taking great joy in pointing out Ginny to their son whenever she flew by. (Not, of course, that the boy's mother was anything other than a red-and-blue blur to his infant eyes.) Harry couldn't have been prouder of his wife, truth be told. For most female Quidditch players, a baby meant the end of their careers. It almost had for Ginny, too, but just a few weeks after James had been born, she'd been offered a shot at the National Team once again - a team that had a real shot at the World Cup for once. They'd discussed it, and Harry had taken some time off from the Auror Office while she'd gotten herself back into shape. And she'd done it and done it well, because the World Cup was something she had always, always wanted - and something Harry had always wanted for her.

    He was, naturally, surrounded by family. There were so many of them these days, they'd actually had to pay for tickets for half of the bunch, owing to the fact that they were over the allowed number of tickets players could hand out to family. Teddy was seated next to him, cheering right alongside for his godmother, his hair periodically cycling through the particular shades of red and blue that decorated the Union Jack. Ron and Hermione were there, of course, the latter just starting to show with their first child. Ron maintained it would be a son, but these days, the odds were on Weasley girls, not boys...

    On the other side of Teddy were Victoire and Dominique. Victoire was the spitting image of Fleur, but her sister Dominique seemed to have drawn much more from Bill than her mother. Bill was here as well, though Fleur had stayed home with the new baby. And there was Charlie, and then Percy - Audrey was watching their twin girls with Fleur. Audrey wasn't altogether fond of Quidditch stadiums. Or brooms. Or with anything that caused her feet to leave the ground, really. Penelope had been more fond of Quidditch, Harry remembered sadly. Still, it was good that Percy had found a woman like Audrey. She grounded him.

    George was here, of course - Angelina was the manager for the National team, which Ginny was captaining. Audrey and Fleur had kept Fred with them. Privately, though, Harry had to wonder at the wisdom of pairing Fred, Molly and Lucy all together. It did seem to just be asking for trouble. The three were very much like the departed namesake of George's oldest, especially when paired up. Angelina was pregnant as well. (Someone always was, these days.) Harry rather thought Hannah and Neville were expecting, too. And the Finnegans. And the Thomases. And Ginny had heard from Astoria - even the Malfoys were expecting. Maybe it was something in the water?

    The last time he'd done a guest-lecture at Hogwarts, Minerva had even confided that she was intending to retire before the wave of Weasley-Potter spawn descended on Hogwarts. She didn't think her heart was up to the task. Harry chuckled at the thought - he didn't think he'd have been up to the task, either - and then had his attention drawn back to the game again as the announcer called Ginny's name once more.

    "And Australia gets a penalty for some blatant blagging. Potter takes the shot - and it's good! England is now up by ten! If Benson can catch the Snitch - and, wait, there it is! Oh, Merlin, YES! Benson is neck and neck with Australia's Seeker, Roderick Castlemane - and... Benson's got it! England wins the World Cup! England wins the World Cup!"

    And Harry, James in hand, was back on his feet again, cheering just as wildly as everyone else. Even in the rush of the crowd, he could feel Ginny's excitement shining through as clear as a beacon on a dark night. He didn't have to look long, and she was there, his angel astride her broom. Their eyes met, and then Ginny kissed him.

    He could barely hear the announcer over the cheers, but to be fair, Harry was not paying all that much attention.

    "And yes, it looks like Potter's found her husband for their traditional victory kiss. And... it's still going. Come on, you two, this is a family event!"

    Harry and Ginny both glared (good-naturedly) on the announcer's box, and he cast a Sonorus charm on himself before answering: "Stuff it, Lee!"

    Everyone around them laughed, and Ginny leaned in closer, to whisper something in his ear. "Harry, I found out something this morning," she confided, her face beaming.

    "Yeah?"

    "I'm pregnant again."

    Harry pulled back, and knew the joy in her eyes matched his own. "Yeah?" he asked again.

    "Yeah," she answered, her smile spreading ever wider.

    "Brilliant," Harry declared.

    Harry shook himself awake - and had to fight to keep his face from breaking out in a silly grin. He was able to recall more of the dream this time - Ginny playing at the World Cup was a particularly pleasant one. Though if pressed, he would probably admit that the end was really his favorite part. Given that the tryouts for the Gryffindor team were this afternoon, it wasn't difficult to figure out where, precisely, the inspiration for the very vivid dream had come from. As for the other parts... well, Harry could figure out the inspiration for those parts, too.

    He'd kipped up in the dorm for a quick nap after lunch, and his battered gold watch confirmed it had been just over an hour and change since he'd laid down. Still, Harry felt refreshed and decided to set out to find Ginny and the others. It wouldn't be long now until it was time for the tryouts - they were likely down near the pitch already. After a quick change into his practice robes, Harry grabbed his Thunderbolt and slung it over his shoulder.

    The common room was empty as Harry passed through, save for a pair of first year boys studiously organizing their chocolate frog card collection.

    "I got Sirius Black!" Harry heard one of them call just as he was pushing the Fat Lady open.

    "Oh, I've got about six of him," he could hear the other boy say dismissively. Harry let out a slow chuckle at that. Somehow, he imagined Sirus' reaction to having a chocolate frog card would have been just as approving as Ron's - or his own - had been.

    The feeling of emptiness inside the castle continued as Harry ambled down the staircases. He certainly didn't get caught by any of the trick ones anymore, and was even able to navigate the moving ones without paying more than a cursory amount of attention. It was almost surreal, though, how abandoned Hogwarts seemed. The murmurs of the portraits kept it from being completely silent, but there was overall an extraordinary lack of young witches and wizards about.

    An October in Scotland was chilly of course, but not excessively so. As it wasn't raining today, Harry expected that most of the student body was enjoying themselves outside. He did come across a pair of younger students that were setting up a portable swamp in the fifth floor corridor on the left-hand side. Harry hated to do it, but he had to confiscate the swamp - though he muse (where the younger students could hear) that the hallway outside of Filch's office could use some sprucing up, just before he 'accidentally' dropped the Weasley Wizard Wheezes' product on the stone floor.

    Still, he encountered no one else, and Harry very much hope everyone was enjoying the weather outside. It was that, or there was some new catastrophe that had everyone's attention and no one had bothered to wake him. He didn't really want to lay odds on which of the two was true, and in the end Harry decided to use the Marauder's Map to cut down on the length of time it would take him to find Ginny. And the others, of course, he mentally amended.

    He was just passing the stairs that led to the Astronomy Tower when he saw a single set of footprints that showed that that tower, at least, was not empty. The owner of those footprints, combined with that location... well, that took the grin from Harry's features.

    Right there, after all, in the same neat little script used everywhere else on the Marauder's Map was a single name: Draco Malfoy.

    Harry's breath hitched. It took him only moments to come to the decision. The Astronomy Tower was one of the very last places Harry ever wanted to return to. Being honest, when he'd been repairing the Castle, Harry had given serious thought to leaving the bloody thing as a pile of rubble. Not after Dumbledore... and what had happened to Ginny, too. Malfoy had been there for both of those events; something that was not even true for Harry himself. That room was the very center of whatever this unfinished business between himself and the blonde Slytherin was. For Malfoy, Harry realized, the place would be of even more significance. It was where the young wizard had learned he was not a murderer, and again, when it had counted, had proved himself to be something other than a monster either. And Harry would owe Draco for that for every day of the rest of his life.

    Harry had kept his eye on the other, ever since the train. Even now, six weeks into term, Draco Malfoy was a pariah. He had seen no student - not even the Slytherins - extended Malfoy anything but the most basic of courtesies. No one openly taunted him (not where Harry could hear, at least) and no one had assaulted or even so much as hexed him. Not since Harry had let filter down from his position as Head Boy through the prefects that instances of retaliation among any of the students would be severely punished. The reputation of being the man who defeated Voldemort was good for that, at least.
    But Malfoy was still very widely and very clearly shunned. And while Harry didn't doubt that Draco had every bit of that treatment coming, he found it wasn't something he wished on the other wizard, either. (Strange as that was.) He well remembered the times he'd been a pariah himself. It wasn't pleasant. That Draco had actively taunted him during those times, Harry chose to ignore. Mostly.

    When he reached the top of the stairwell, Malfoy was exactly where Harry expected him to be. The old hole in the wall -the one Albus Dumbledore's body had plummeted through after being struck with the curse from Severus Snape's wand - had been converted to a picturesque window with no frame. The whole room was a shrine of sorts now - here and there were little mementos, tributes to a man that had meant so much to so many. Harry even saw a feather from Fawkes that he recalled Hagrid mentioning he had left in memoriam.

    Harry's mind's eye was briefly overtaken as he took all this in. Memories of the night Dumbledore died battled against his imagined version of Ginny's beating and near-rape at the hands of Crabbe and Goyle, each trying to outdo the other in the amount of horror they produced within him. Harry shuddered for a moment, and then joined Draco in leaning on the windowsill. He had a good view of the grounds from here, and Harry could easily determine that he'd been right before - most of the students were out and about. "Draco."

    Draco didn't look at him either, but simply kept up his absent-stared study of the panorama in front of them. "Potter," he finally acknowledged when Harry didn't take the hint and leave.

    "I'd say I'm surprised to find you here," Harry started, "But I'm not. Not really."

    Draco let out a snort. "I come here to think," he admitted quietly. The Slytherin's eyes met with Harry's for just a moment, and Harry was surprised by the degree of self-loathing he saw in them. It was an expression Harry knew well.

    "I expect you've a lot to be thinking about, these days," he replied diplomatically.

    Malfoy sneered for a moment, and started to respond in the manner Harry was accustomed to from him. He stopped, though, and had obviously rethought whatever remark he was going to make. That was new. The Draco Malfoy that Harry remembered had been just as quick to mouth off as he himself had been (especially where Malfoy or Snape had been concerned), in the past. When he spoke, his voice was tired, but annoyed. "Potter, if you want to brag that you were right all along, I really don't want to hear it. And if you're going to gloat that my family owes you their freedom -"

    "You and your mother owe me nothing for your freedom, because she saved my life," Harry interjected. "Those debts are paid, both ways. But trust me; your father going free was no work of mine. I think your father is the vilest sort of being, and he deserves... well. I think he deserves much worse that he's gotten"

    Draco didn't disagree, and Harry got the impression that the other young man wasn't terribly pleased about his father being free, either. That was new, too. But then, adults rarely held on to the sanctified view that they had of their parents from childhood. As with them all, Draco too had been aged by the war. And, as with them all, in ways he'd never expected.

    Silent minutes passed as both looked out on the grounds. Harry was increasingly aware of how awkward the whole thing was, and wondered not for the first time just what the hell it was he was trying to accomplish (a sentiment Ron had shared on the topic). After all, neither of them still really knew what to say to the other. Hell, they didn't even like each other. There was a tension there - too many words said in the past, too much to be just brushed under the rug. But, strange as it might have been, Harry found that he couldn't hate Draco Malfoy - not anymore.

    "You know, Draco," Harry finally started casually, simply hoping the right words came out, and never letting his gaze waver from a group of first-years playing tag near Hagrid's new hut. "If I hadn't disarmed you back in your house, I'd have never beaten Riddle. I know you're busy hating yourself right now - and to be honest, I think that's a good thing. I think you should hate yourself for some of the things you've done. But then, there are some things you've done right, too. When it came down to it, you weren't a murderer. When it came down to it, you stopped a horrible thing from happening. So maybe, just maybe, you can work on forgiving yourself, too." As Harry wasn't looking, he didn't see the shock on Malfoy's face as the other realized what he was referring to.

    "Keep your sympathy - and your advice - for someone who needs it, Potter." The words were there, but the bluster was quite empty.

    Maybe I am, Harry thought, but he didn't say it. There was no need. Malfoy understood him, he believed. Well, that, or he was completely dense and Harry was absolutely nutters for thinking a few words here and there would change the other's outlook on life. Shaking his head and offering no further commentary, (and certainly not waiting to see if the blonde wizard would bother to reply) Harry left the Astronomy Tower.

    It was far too pleasant a day to be spending with Draco Malfoy, of all people, when he could be spending it in the far more enjoyable presence of Ginny Weasley.

    It didn't take him long to find her. Like the other previous members of the Gryffindor team - and all the hopefuls - she was already out on the pitch. Or, more accurately, above it. The smile returned to Harry's features as he watched her so effortlessly flying, a whirlwind of scarlet in her Quidditch robes. She was leading a few of the younger students through a practice session before the tryouts. Watching Ginny fly was, to Harry, very nearly as good as flying itself. She'd only improved with time, and Harry could imagine that would only continue. Briefly, he wondered if her animagus form would be able to fly as well.

    "Wondered if you'd wake up in time," his other favorite redhead muttered. Ron was standing at the bottom of the pitch, near the goalposts, watching with arms folded.

    "So where's Hermione?" Harry asked as he joined his friend.

    "Dunno," Ron shrugged absently. "Said she had to look something up and I..."

    "Got it," Harry agreed. There was no telling what their academically-minded friend had sunk her teeth into now. Still, Harry didn't consider that too much - he was simply watching the easy way Ginny was putting the younger kids through their paces.

    "You sure about this, Harry?" Ron asked, his face quite serious all of the sudden.

    "I am, mate," he agreed. "Let's face it - I was an absolutely rubbish Captain back in sixth year."

    "You weren't that bad," Ron lied.

    "Yes, I was," Harry argued - again. They'd had this conversation a dozen times already. "I was completely distracted. I still say we won the Cup in spite of me that year. We won it because of her."

    "Okay, okay" Ron agreed, sighing again, and Harry was glad for the honesty. "I don't really want to give it up, you know."

    "We're agreed then?" Harry asked.

    "Yeah, yeah we are," Ron finally said. He looked a bit wistful, but he gave Harry a smile, and pointed at the whistle that the black-haired wizard had picked up from the locker room. "You want to do it?"

    "We both will," he answered, and clapped Ron on the shoulder before bringing the whistle to his lips. Harry noticed that Ron covered his ears before Harry had gotten everyone else's attention. Given how loud the whistle was, that probably wasn't a particularly bad idea. Still, it did its job. After a few minutes (and a few shouts) all of the Gryffindor Quidditch hopefuls were arrayed, brooms in hand, in front of the team's Co-Captains.

    Harry was surprised at how many of the older students were there. Neville, Dean, Seamus, even Cordy had all shown up, brooms in hand. Granted, Dean had been on the team before, and Seamus wasn't a bad Beater either - but Neville, he was a surprise. Harry didn't know enough about Cordy's flying ability to know about her, though he suspected she would be passably good at it. She seemed the type.

    "All right, you lot," Ron began. "We've a few orders of business before the tryouts get started. The first thing I want to tell everyone is that we are going to have a reserve team this year. So don't be afraid to try out for a position you think is full. Everyone's going to have to try out for their spot - even me and Harry."

    There were assorted remarks of surprise at that, and Ginny raised an eyebrow at Harry as he cleared his own throat. "The other order of business is this," Harry continued as he took over for Ron. "Ginny, would you come up and join us, please?"

    Ginny's eyes widened in surprise, just before she cast a glance that was both curious and suspicious at her boyfriend and her brother. "What are you up to, Potter?" She murmured as she joined them.

    "You'll see," Harry whispered. "Miss Weasley," he said, more loudly, and extremely pompously. He was purposely imitating the Fred and George of old, a routine he and Ron fell into rather often these days. "My esteemed Co-Captain and I have been talking - "

    There was a bark of laughter that Harry identified as coming from either Neville or Seamus. "Arguing, you mean. You two've been goin' round and round about this for two weeks!" the Irish wizard yelled.

    "Shut it, Seamus," Ron instructed, "Or Lavender finds out about - "

    "Got it, mate," Seamus answered hurriedly.

    Harry continued as though neither had spoken, "And while we appreciate the faith Professors McGonagall and Weasley showed in naming us co-captains of the team this year, well, we don't really think we're the best choice for the job. So, our one and only decision as Co-Captains is this: We are stepping down, and naming Chaser Weasley as our replacement." As one, Harry and Ron removed their Captain's badges, and pinned them to opposite sides of Ginny's robes.

    Harry very much enjoyed that Ginny seemed, at the moment, to be too shocked to respond. It allowed Dennis to capture a perfect photograph of the moment. The flash also snapped Ginny out of her shock. And then she turned on Harry. "I'll get you for this, Harry," she said, in a low, dangerous voice. "Don't think I won't."

    Harry wasn't scared at all. "Miss Weasley," he said cheekily, "I'll gladly take whatever punishment you feel like dishing out."

    Ginny's eyes glinted at that, and there were more than a few catcalls as she leaned close enough to kiss him - but then didn't. "We'll see," she said cryptically.

    The somewhat smug expression he'd been wearing slid right off of Harry's face.

    The laughter died off as she abruptly turned towards the hopefuls. "Right then!" she said, after casting a Sonorus charm on herself. "Let's get this started. Anyone trying out for Chaser over to the left, Beaters to the right, and Seekers and Keepers behind me with Harry and Ron. Like my esteemed predecessors said, everyone's going to have to try out for their post. We'll do Seekers first, and then Keepers and Beaters, with Chaser tryouts last. Chasers, you'll get the chance to practice against the Keepers and Beaters. Now move!"

    If anyone had any notions that Ginny would be an easy-going Captain, they were abruptly dismissed. As she'd said, she ran the Seeker trials first, and people were surprised how hard she was on Harry. Harry himself wasn't, though. He and Ginny might have been in love, but... well, this was Quidditch. He understood.

    Ginny had a clipboard in front of her that she was scratching away at with a self-inking quill. The Seeker trials were run by releasing two snitches for the six hopefuls (including Harry), and then scoring how often and how quickly each person trying out caught a snitch. In the seven trials, Harry had caught a snitch the most, and the fastest, but he'd only just barely beat a second year named Brendan St.George. Still, he was confident as he lined up with the other Seeker hopefuls.

    "Right," Ginny said, chewing absently on the end of her quill in a way that made Harry grin. "Right - Harry, you're still Seeker, but it's a near thing. You're very rusty when it comes to playing on a full-sized pitch. I'm not sure if your reflexes are as quick as they used to be, either. We'll talk later about a training schedule. St.George, you're not bad, but you need training up a bit. I'm putting you in the reserve slot - pay attention to Harry. You could learn a lot from him once he's back on his game. You should be ready for next year, though. Harry?"

    "I'll work with him, Gin," he answered readily, and fought back his smile at seeing her so in control. "And myself, too." She was right - he was rusty. But then, he hadn't played more than a pick-up game at the Burrow in more than a year and a half, so that wasn't terribly surprising. He laid an easy hand on the younger boy's shoulders, and started to lead him away.

    As he did, he looked up to see Ginny eyeing him again, a slightly worried expression on her face. He knew then, that she was worried she'd gone too far in her 'Captain' role. He set her at ease with a quick grin, and was momentarily thrown as he realized that he felt her relax.

    What the hell? Harry thought. Whatever it had been was gone now, and Harry was quite certain he had only imagined it. But then, it was hardly the first time he had felt that way lately, and he was starting to wonder if wasn't (no pun intended) all in his head. He would have to bring it up later, however, as Ginny had turned her attention to the Keeper and Chaser trials that were starting. She was completely focused on this.

    A lack of practice didn't seem to have thrown off Ron at all, Harry absently noted as the dozen Chaser hopefuls traded off making runs against the three people trying out for Keeper. Once he realized Ron had this in the bag, Harry became lost in thought. Brendan had sat down next to him as he'd guided the younger player off of the pitch, and the dark-haired boy cleared his throat after a few minutes.

    "Uh, Mr. Potter - "

    "Harry," he corrected absently. His mind was working furiously, trying to figure out what had just happened.

    "Harry - can I go tell my friends?" the second year boy said, and Harry gave him a warm smile.

    "That you made the team? Go right ahead. Don't be gone long, mind - I expect our Captain will want to start our practices later today."

    "Yes, sir," he said, and Harry was kind enough to wait till the boy was gone to laugh.

    "So, Ron came around then?" piped up a new voice from behind him.

    "Hey, Hermione," Harry acknowledged without looking. After all, he more than recognized her voice after all these years. "Yeah, he did."

    "It wasn't easy for him, you know," Hermione pointed out as she joined him.

    "I know," Harry confessed. "He's wanted it for a long time. But Ginny wants it more, and I think she's better at than either Ron or I would be."

    "I expect you're right," she agreed, and Harry saw that she was noting the wide smile that Ginny wore as she led them through practice. "Of course, I also expect you're just trying to live up to the promise you made to her."

    Harry turned then, and faced Hermione with a very serious expression. "Every day, 'Mione. Every day for the rest of my life."

    Hermione just patted his hand, and favored him with a soft smile. "I know, Harry."

    Deciding to change from the sudden mushiness, Harry favored his friend with a frank expression. "And what've you been looking up? I know for a fact that all your homework is already finished this weekend, because you made the three of us do it before Quidditch tryouts could even start." In fact - Hermione had threatened to attach all of them to their chairs with permanent sticking charms if they hadn't. She knew exactly how distracted Harry, Ginny and Ron would all be for the rest of the weekend.

    Hermione pursed her lips. "It's something Ginny asked me to look into," she informed him, and Harry raised a curious eyebrow at her. "I'd like to speak to the both of you later about it, actually."

    Harry shrugged. "Okay," and the both of them return their attentions to the pitch.

    As the trials continued, Harry wasn't surprised to see Ron keep his spot as Keeper. Dennis Creevey becoming the reservist for that slot was a little bit of a surprise, but not as much when Harry remembered how often he'd overheard Colin debating Football with Dean. While Dean was a rabid West Ham fan, Colin had been equally rabid about Manchester. Dennis shared that love, apparently - or had acquired it since the death of his older brother, Harry didn't know which. Skills as a goalie apparently transferred over to Keeping very well. Harry approved of the addition - Dennis was a good sort.

    The Beater tryouts had their own surprises, as well. Richie Coote and Jimmy Peakes made it back. They'd improved considerably. Like Dennis, they were Muggleborns, and Harry recalled Jimmy telling him that they'd all been at the Refuge last year. Jimmy and Richie had been members of Zach's 'Mudblood Resistance', the group that had worked with the elements of the DA that were outside of Hogwarts, and the remains of the Order of the Phoenix. Clearly, they'd had time to improve their skills.

    Sill, one of them - and here had been the surprise - had very nearly lost their slot to Neville. They would have, too, if Neville hadn't turned down the spot on the team. Harry watched the odd look Ginny was giving his roommate as the other left the pitch. Neville lowered himself down next to Harry and Hermione, and gave the both of them a lopsided, sheepish grin.

    "Neville, mate," Harry started, knowing he was looking at the other like he was crazy, "If you don't want the spot, why'd you try out?"

    Neville grinned. "To see if I could, Harry."

    Harry just gave a small laugh as the other man folded his arms behind his head and leaned back. It was odd sometimes, all the changes that Neville had been through. That all of them had. Harry had had this thought several times, and he knew he probably would once more. It took getting used to, was all. But then, no one is the same person they were at eleven, Harry mused. Not even Neville Longbottom. Another thought occurred to him. Or Draco Malfoy.

    "Bollocks," Harry muttered as the Chaser hopefuls lined up. This was going to get interesting. Demelza was trying out again, but she'd been injured pretty badly last year, and even she admitted that she wasn't up to where she had been. The next hopeful was Cordy, who gave the threesome in the stands a wink and a wave when she spotted them looking. Harry waved back, and found himself hoping that she made the team. He'd always thought Quidditch had gone a long way towards getting him accepted among his classmates. Hopefully it would do the same for Cordy.

    She was still having a tough time, truth to be told. It probably didn't help that she refused to answer any questions about Tom Riddle, and despite Harry making his feelings on the subject known, some of the whispers still persisted. Still, the London-bred witch seemed to handle it in stride - for the most part. Harry suspected this to be a facade, but he wasn't able to prove it.

    No, the reason for his curse was the person standing behind Cordy - Romilda Vane.

    "What, Harry?" Neville asked. "Someone you don't - oh." Neville saw her too.

    "Yeah."

    "Well," Hermione sniffed - she liked Romilda even less than Harry did - "At least we know there's no way Ginny will let her on the team."

    Harry sighed; he knew Hermione hadn't thought it through before making that comment. "She may have to," Harry admitted, remembering Romilda trying out as a fourth-year.

    "What? Why?"

    "She's got to be fair, hasn't she?" Neville pointed out. "If she's good enough, and Ginny doesn't let her on, people'll just say it's because Vane keeps going after Harry."

    And that was true - Romilda had been relentless, but only when Ginny wasn't around. Harry was polite in his rejections, but this only seemed to encourage the dark-haired girl.

    "Bollocks," Hermione echoed. "I should have thought of that."

    Silently, Harry agreed. It wasn't like Hermione to miss something so blindingly obvious. The only time she did was when she was distracted... which probably had to do with whatever she wanted to discuss with him and Ginny.

    Curiouser and curiouser.

    The three fell silent as the Chaser tryouts got underway. Ron continued Keeping for the first round, but after a bit, he turned it over to Dennis and joined the others in the stands. Ginny easily kept her own spot, but Demelza didn't. The sixth year had been put out, but even she admitted. Cordy had done three goals better than Dean, who had tied with the surprise contender, Romilda Vane. Dean and Romilda had scored an even number of goals, though truthfully, Romilda had been better at avoiding the Bludgers Peakes and Coote sent her way.

    "Come on, 'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, indicating the scoreboard which had been enchanted to tally the tryout results. "I know Romilda's a bit... dodgy, but we can't hold a grudge against everyone who's almost accidentally killed us! This is for Quidditch!"

    Harry snorted at that, but he was only partially paying attention to Ron and Hermione's discussion of the candidates, as he was more interested in watching Ginny while she was trying to reach her decision. She was, quite endearingly, Harry thought, chewing on her bottom lip as she weighed all the factors. Harry felt her apprehension as though it were his own. She asked the candidates to wait to one side while she made her decision, and then went back into the locker room. Unbidden, Harry followed her as she no doubt knew he would."

    Cordy laid a hand on Harry's shoulder as he passed by. "Everything all right there, ducks?"

    Harry gave her a lopsided smile. "It'll be fine, Cordy. Just a... hard choice."

    "Hmm," she muttered noncommittally. "Some birds just can't take a message."

    "Exactly," Harry agreed, and then pointed towards the locker room. "I'm gonna..."

    The dark-haired witch nodded absently, and Harry noticed that she was looking interestedly in Dean's direction. He fought back a grin at that and filed that observation away for later, and added one more thing before he left. "Hey, Riddle - welcome to the team."

    "Cheers, Harry," she grinned back. "G'on then. See to your girl."

    Harry chuckled, and then moved into the locker room. He heard the repeated thudding before he entered, and found Ginny slowly pounding her head against one of the metal lockers.

    "Hell of a choice," Harry muttered, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorway. "Your ex-boyfriend, or my not-so-ex-stalker." He made the words light, intending them as a joke.

    "It's not funny, Harry."

    "Sure it is," Harry shrugged. "It just means that you've been with me long enough that my luck is now your luck, too."

    Ginny gave a small snort of laughter at that. "If that's the deal, Potter, then I'm tossing you over the first chance I get."

    "You already had that chance," Harry said, abandoning his spot in the doorway as she came closer. He folded her into his arms from behind and Ginny sighed as she relaxed against him and brought her hands up to cover his.

    "Very true," she admitted. "I suppose I missed my chance then. I'm stuck with you now."

    "For as long as you'll have me," Harry said, an old feeling welling up inside of him. Academically, he knew his fears of rejection had everything to do with being and orphan several times over - the loss of his parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, and in their own strange way, even the death of Uncle Vernon and the impending demise of Aunt Petunia. Deep down, there would always be a part of Harry that was scared he wasn't good enough, and would spend his days alone.

    "Then I guess -" Ginny started to say, and he felt her tense under his arms. "Blast it all, Harry, don't do that. You know very well that I love you and you're not going to be alone."

    "I know that," Harry replied automatically, and then he felt the astonishment creep across his features. "Wait - Gin, how did you know what I was thinking?"

    "You said it, Harry, clear as day."

    "No, I didn't."

    "You must have."

    "Gin, in all the time you've known me, have I ever - ever - casually admitted something like that?"

    Ginny pulled away from him, but only so that she could face him. "No..." she said slowly, and then took a deep breath. "No, Harry, you didn't say it. I... felt it from you."

    Harry blinked, "Er...what?"

    Ginny was wringing her hands, and Harry knew that she was nervous. It occurred to him then, that he wasn't just drawing that from her body language, or how well he knew her, but that, somehow, he could actually feel her nervousness. His throat felt extremely dry at the notion, for some reason he couldn't quite place. "How... how is this possible?" he asked, his voice full of wonder.

    He felt it more clearly now, all the stronger that he was aware of it. Ginny was scared of answering the question, scared of... of rejection?

    Well, he could put a stop to that. "Hey, come here," he said quietly. With very little resistance, he pulled her to him, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "Gin, tell me... what is this?"

    It was a few moments before she spoke, and Harry could feel Ginny gathering her courage. "It...It's a kind of bond, Harry, that happens between magical couples who are married. It means we're connected now, bound, and... It's probably for the rest of our lives."

    Back to index


    Chapter 21: Chapter 21 - "Revelio"

    Author's Notes: So..yeah. Sorry about how long it's been - suffice to say, there's been a great deal of RL reasons for the deal. So, without further ado... Chapter 21.


    Chapter 21 - "Revelio"

    Harry blinked.

    It was possible - likely, even, he considered - that he should have had something of a... stronger initial reaction. The very concept, however, momentarily floored him, and so later on, he would feel that his response had really been quite justified. He and Ginny were bound together? What did that mean? And for the rest of their lives? That was just...

    "Harry?" Ginny asked, her voice betraying her concern. He returned his gaze back towards her, and took in her features, all the little things that he so loved. The slight downward turn of one eyebrow, the way her hair was hanging down in a ponytail but still resting on one shoulder, the little part of her bottom lip that she was chewing on. The way her Quidditch robes hung, emphasizing certain... features. (If he was honest with himself, some of his reasons for supporting Ginny in her desire to play professional Quidditch were somewhat selfish. He really did love the way she looked in them.)

    Distracting observations aside, Harry was rather startled to realize that Ginny was nervous - very much so. She had actuallyly been scared to tell him of this? Was he interpreting that right? What did that mean?

    "Harry, say something."

    "Umn... wow," he repeated, not feeling particularly erudite at just that very moment.

    Ginny blinked, and then her eyes narrowed in a way that Harry did not like. "Wow? That's all you have to say? Wow? Really?" she said sarcastically. Ah, Harry thought, there's my Ginny..."Harry, I just told you that -"

    "I know, Gin," Harry said cutting her off, and grinning widely as he raised a hand to indicate she should stop. "I'm just a little... surprised."

    "Obviously," she retorted, her voice practically overflowing in it's own sarcasm. He rather thought a deaf man would have been able to pick up on it. "Care to, oh, I don't know, expand on that? Just a bit, perhaps?"

    "Well," Harry continued. "I mean, I'm not used to good weird things happening to me. Rather the opposite, actually," he finished thoughtfully. "And this... well, this is pretty bloody brilliant."

    His observation stopped Ginny in her tracks. Now that he was aware of it, it was even easier to perceive her emotions, though they were a bit difficult to sort out. He had the uncomfortable thought that it was someone like the connection he'd once had with Voldemort. there had always been a .. sense of Riddle in the back of his mind. But now... well, it was somewhat like having been aware that something was on the other side of a curtain, and then suddenly pulling that curtain aside and being blinded by the light. Harry had always thought of himself as rather straightforward and uncomplicated when it came to feelings. Most blokes were that way, he reckoned. Still, this... connection seemed much more pleasant that the one to Riddle had ever been. There was now a place in his mind that was... just Ginny.

    Cool, Harry thought, and then grinned again.

    Ginny, though - the feelings that he cought off of her was a complicated swirl that took a bit more effort to sort through. Riddle had been straightforward... but then, he had pretty much just been angry all that time. Ginny, she was... happy - that he was happy? And annoyed. And an undercurrent that he recognized from his own emotion - an always-present feeling of love, that seem to reflect back on his own, similar 

    emotions (and set a particular beast to roaring at the same time.). Was that for him, then? "Blimey," he muttered, slipping both of his hands around hers, and guiding her closer to himself... "How can you feel that many things at once? That doesn't drive you mad?"

    "I'm used to it," she said wryly. "You're really okay with this, aren't you?" There was wonder in her tone, and her feelings, too. He seemed much more aware of their physical proximity, too. As though he were aware of every last inch of his own body - and even more aware of hers. Just the simple touch of his skin on Ginny's seemed, amplified somehow.

    "Course I am," Harry smiled, and pulled her tight. Quite suddenly, there was nothing Harry wanted more than to be with her. "No one else I'd rather be bound to. I love you, Gin."

    "I love you too, Harry," she whispered back. The young lovers remained that way for a few minutes, each cautiously exploring the way the other felt, getting used to the feel of each other's minds.

    "I mean, think if it had been Ron this happened with," Harry said after a moment, trying to take his mind off of the way Ginny's skin felt... To say he was being driven to distraction by her presence wasn't enough. He was starting to feel as though he would go quite mad of they didn't act on his - their? - feelings. "Talk about awkward."

    "Prat," she said, but smiled, and omitted her customary swat and simply held him. Harry could feel the tenseness in her arms, and knew that she was holding herself back as well. "If you start feeling about my brother the way you feel about me, we're going to have problems."

    "No argument there," Harry readily agreed, and then remembered something he'd wanted to ask. "Why were you scared, luv? Were you scared of being... connected to me?" He was nervous even bringing the matter up - what if that really was it? What would that mean for them? And how could he even have the thought, they way he - they way they both felt, right now?

    Ginny knew, of course, that it would useless to lie. Still, Harry felt her consider it for a moment, before she resolved to answer truthfully. He also felt her embarrassment that she'd even considered it, and decided that this was certainly something that was going to take some getting used to. "No, Harry, I wasn't scared of being connected to you. Rather the opposite, actually," she said, intentionally echoing his earlier statement.

    "You were scared of how I'd react."

    "Well, yes," she admitted frankly.

    Harry ran a hand through his hair. Truth to be told, Ginny was probably right to worry, given Harry's track record on that sort of thing. He said as much, and smiled at the look of surprise and its following smile on her face.

    "You never cease to amaze me, Potter," she finally confided. "I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner, but I was nervous about it, and I wanted to be able to explain it properly - "

    "- so you asked Hermione to look it up?" he asked.

    "Right, she - " Ginny stopped mid-sentence, and then looked at Harry oddly. "How did you know that?"

    "She told me, up in the stands. Said she had something important to tell the both of us. She'll be terribly upset that you stole her thunder, you know." Harry's hands were on Ginny's upper arms, now, and that feeling of electricity had not faded. If anything it was now as though Harry's hands were being run through flames, and not being burned. "I love you," he said sincerely.

    "And I you," she said back. Ginny felt the same as he did, he could tell - that constant undercurrent of love 

    had manifested itself in desire, and as he kissed her, Harry knew that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. And despite all the reasons he'd been telling himself that the Gryffindor locker room was a bad place for it, somehow, Harry really couldn't bring himself to give a damn about any of them. All he could think of was Ginny - and that they were both far too clothed. "And Harry?"

    "Hmmmn?" he said, as he began to trail kisses down her neck.

    "I don't want to think about Hermione right now."

    "Me neither," Harry replied, and brought his lips to hers in a rough kiss. As he did so, he dropped all of his mental walls, and the connection between them flared into a glorious strength that made both gasp - and want more. Perhaps it was the emotion of the moment, or the newness of their bond, but there was no nothing other than the sudden need for each other.

    A few well-placed charms later and they gave - very willingly - into that need.

    It was only afterwards that Harry stopped and looked around. "You know," he said idly, "I never thought we'd do this in the locker room."

    "You mean you never wanted to?" Ginny asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

    "I didn't say that," Harry corrected. "I'm sure every bloke fantasizes about it. I'm just lucky enough to be in love with a future professional Quidditch star."

    Ginny let out a sharp laugh. "I suppose so. That was a bit... sudden, though."

    "Er, yeah," Harry agreed. "It was like I couldn't think of anything else, really."

    "Me too," Ginny admitted. "I think talking to Hermione about this might be a good idea after all."

    Harry just nodded, and Ginny sighed as she pulled her hair back into it's ponytail. "Well, let's go tell Romilda she's on the team, then, and see what Hermione's got to say. I expect someone going to come barging in here soon if we don't."

    "You're the boss, Captain," Harry said, placing a teasing emphasis on the title.

    "Don't you forget it, Potter," she said warningly.

    "Never," Harry laughed, giving her a cheeky grin as they both quickly finished dressed. At least the Quidditch practice would explain why they looked disheveled. Or be convincing enough. They hoped.

    Harry and Ginny walked out, his right arm lazily cast over her shoulders while her right hand played absently with his. Truthfully, both had nearly forgotten that they'd gone inside to determine the last members of the team. If he'd noticed, he'd have seen a look pass between Neville - who had become Ginny's closest confidant last year - and Hermione, who had always been able to read between the lines.

    Still, Harry scanned the crowd for Hermione's signature bushy hair - or Ron's easily-spotted red - and found them in short order, if a bit too late to notice the look. Everyone who'd come for the tryouts was still here, and Harry noted Ginny start blushing - and felt himself doing the same. No acknowledgement would be better than acting embarrassed, he decided. They set off towards Ron,Hermione, Cordy and Neville, ignoring the waiting - and expectant - crowd.

    "Weasley!" Romilda finally yelled, a look of indignation clear on her features.

    Ginny stopped, and faced the younger girl with an expression that made her annoyance perfectly clear. 

    "What?"

    The dark-haired witch was undeterred. "Aren't you going to tell us who made the team?"

    "You did, Romilda," Ginny answered briskly, rather masterfully (Harry thought) schooling her features to hide how she truly felt about that prospect. "You're starting chaser. Dean, you're reserves. Everyone, we're done for today. First team practice is tomorrow afternoon. Dismissed."

    And without another word, without waiting for any responses, Ginny reclaimed Harry's hand and set off towards their friends. Now that their immediate... needs had passed, both of them wanted answers.


    Cordy, Luna and Neville had been with Hermione and Ron when they caught up to them, and after a brief discussion, the six decided to head to the Common Room. Harry wondered why Luna was avoiding Dean again, but then, from what he'd heard Dean and Seamus talking about, that relationship wasn't going so well.

    The group of friends picked a quiet corner - the one that had become 'their' corner, these past few weeks. The exact composition of their group often changed, but this was where the four of them most often were.

    "Butterbeers?" Ron asked.

    "Firewhiskey," Ginny responded immediately, and Harry nodded.

    Ron raised an eyebrow, but simple shrugged, and enlisted Neville's aid in retreiving them from behind the counter. Harry smirked once again, wondering what McGonagall would do if she knew that there was firewhiskey so easily available within Hogwarts. But so far, she'd given no indication of knowing that the inter-house Common Room even existed, and Harry had hardly been inclined to be forthcoming with the information. Plus, he'd placed charms that forced anyone underage to simply spit alcoholic drinks right back out, so it wasn't much of a concern.

    "Muffliato," Harry muttered, drawing more raised eyebrows. He rarely used that spell anymore, so his friends were quite surprised to see him doing so now. Harry took the firewhiskey that Ron poured, and downed it quickly.

    Cordy broke the silence. "Nev, mate, d'you get the feeling we're missing some crucial bit of information here?"

    "Yeah, I do," Neville answered earnestly, and looked back and forth at his black-haired roommate and his red-headed girlfriend. "Harry? Ginny?" He asked, having pieced together that it was something between, or about, the two of them. Many questions were contained in those simple two words.

    "It's nothing major, Neville," Harry started, and then paused. "Well, no, that's not right. It's major. Very major. It's just not... dangerous. Right?" he asked, looking down at Ginny, who had curled up against his side.

    "No, I don't believe so," she admitted. Harry could tell, however, that she didn't quite know either. Strangely, her lack of knowledge actually made him feel better. They would figure this thing out... whatever it was... together. That seemed good. Seemed right. Even now, he felt closer to Ginny than he ever had before. They'd commented on being each other's "missing halves" - like most couples do - before. Now, though, that seemed to actually be true.

    Well, they’d figure it out with Hermione's help, of course. That also seemed as it should be.

    Ron raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm completely clueless here, too. What are we talking about?"

    Ginny chewed her bottom lip a moment before she answered. "Harry and I can feel each other's emotions," she admitted, and Harry curled his hand tighter. Ron and Neville looked appropriately astonished, and Cordy looked just a bit befuddled.

    Luna was nonplussed. "Of course you can," she shrugged. "I'm surprised, Harry, that it's taken you this long to realize it."

    Harry blinked at that, once again not sure how to take one of Luna's statements. He turned, though, as he felt Ron's eyes boring into him.f. "Wow," his best mate muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I knew you loved her, mate, but..."

    Hermione turned sharply to look at Ron. "You know what this is?" Harry wondered if she'd intented to put so much disbeleif in her voice, or if was quite accidental. He thought the latter, and smiled because of it.

    Ginny snorted, while Ron only looked indignant for a moment. Harry felt no need to express his own surprise. "No more than I do. Our parents have it, so we're acquainted with the concept, but...”

    "I, of course," Harry interjected, "remain the one with the least amount of clue whatsoever."

    "Nothing new there, then," Ron teased.

    Cordy was just watching the byplay between the four, before finally looking to Neville. "Well, I've never heard of it, Harry, so it's new to me, too."

    Neville shrugged. "I've heard of it before, but I don't really know anything about it. Hermione, isn't it supposed to be really rare?"

    "Yes, well," Hermione continued, composing herself. "Harry, like Ginny told you, this is a type of bond seen generally during wizarding marriages. They're often invoked, but rarely, they form naturally, built out of a witch and wizard's promise to each other. A natural bond is generally much stronger than an invoked one. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are really quite a good example - I don't know if their bond is natural or invoked, though,"

    "Natural," Ginny answered. "I asked Mum about it once, but that's all she would say."

    "It's not surprising," Hermione nodded. "Bonded couples tend to treat it as a very private matter. This bond - the natural version - forms when a couple - well, when a couple is completely honest with each other, and I mean totally and - "

    "And completely," Harry finished for her, thinking back to the day before Ginny's birthday, after the attack in Diagon Alley. And the day of her birthday itself. They'd certainly been honest with each other then. Brutally so, really.

    "It's generally formed when a certain level of, ah," her eyes darted to Ron quickly, "intimacy is reached between a witch and a wizard."

    "I do know about that, Hermione," Ron said frankly.

    "I thought I felt something that day," Ginny confessed, and Harry reddened as he realized that their sex life was coming up as a topic in front of their friends. Ginny seemed undeterred, however. "But I thought it was just...”

    "Oi!" Ron interjected, even as Harry cleared his throat, Neville looked away, and Cordy started laughing 

    uncontrollably. Luna remained itnerested in whatever she was writing on the muggle notebook that she carried around. "I said I know about it, not that I need to hear about it!"

    "Er, right," Ginny muttered, and very shortly, her complexion became a match for Harry's.

    Harry, meanwhile, was trying to get Hermione back on-point. "Right, so we've got this... connection..."

    "It's called a soul-bond," the bushy-haired witch interjected. "Though some just call it a heart-bond. There are quite a few names for it, really."

    "Right, this... soul-bond. Okay, it's because Ginny and I love each other. We know that."

    "Everyone with eyes knows that," Cordy interjected.

    "Shut it, you," Harry continued. "But - what's it mean?"

    The bushy-haired witch shrugged. "Whatever you want it to, Harry. Look, I've got some books the two of you can read, but... the short version?"

    "I'd prefer it."

    She took a breath. "It means you'll be able to feel each other's emotions for the rest of your lives. Some couples have even been able to speak mind-to-mind, but that's more rumor than fact. Those who've soul-bonded tend to treat it as a very private subject, Harry. It means you'll always know how Ginny feels about you, and vice-versa. Only you can decide of that's a good thing or not. And there's some side-effects-"

    Harry cleared his throat again, and darted his eyes towards Ron.

    Hermione caught the intention, and continued without even breaking her stride. "- but I'll go over those in private with Ginny later."

    Ginny tensed slightly next to Harry once more, and he laid a reassuring arm around her before he'd even realized it. He felt her nervousness rising up once more, and cupped her chin with his palm. Like so, he gently guided her face up until her eyes met his, and the rest of the world simply ceased to be.

    "I still think it's brilliant," he whispered.

    "I know," she whispered back, "And that still amazes me."

    Harry just smiled. He knew what she meant - and had the feeling that, from now on, he always would.


    After Harry and Ginny learned of their bond, the weeks passed quickly. The nuances of the connection, of being able to feel each other so thoroughly, took a great deal of getting used to. On occasion, Harry would find it difficult separating which emotions belonged to him and which belonged to Ginny. She seemed to have much less difficulty with it, something that Harry found irritating to no end. It made three particular days of the month very... interesting, indeed. That was when they discovered one of the side effects that Hermione mentioned - when they were feeling the exact same thing, be it anger, desire, or any of a number of emotions, there was a sort of 'feedback effect' produced where their emotions spurred the same feelings in the other to new heights.

    Still, time had passed so quickly that before Harry realized it; it was the day before Halloween. It was Friday, and a Hogsmeade weekend - many of the students would be going to town the following day, before attending the Halloween Ball that was scheduled for that evening. He and Ginny had even made plans for a quiet afternoon to themselves, after a lunch at the Hog's Head with a large group of their friends.

    But any excitement that may have been building about those happy events was completely absent from Professor Weasley's seventh-year NEWT Transfiguration Class. They all had exactly one thing on their minds.

    For the last month, Slughorn's NEWT Potions class - Harry and his friends included - had been brewing the Animagus revelation potion, the first step towards becoming Animagi themselves. The potion would put them into a trance, where they would be able to identify the animal that most reflected their personality and self-image. (Not for the first time, Harry wondered how none of his father's friends had picked up on the significgance of Peter Pettigrew having been a rat.) As of today, however, the potions were ready. Today, they would find their forms. Whether they would ever be able to manage the transformations was a completely different matter, of course.

    Ginny, unsurprisingly, was finding it difficult to even sit still in her seat. Harry smiled at this, and smiled even more at the simple, childish glee (there was no other word for it) that he felt coming off of her in waves. Since they had learned of the bond, and how to manage it, the couple had become increasingly aware of each other - to the point where there was a constant awareness in Harry's mind (and vice-versa)... a presence that he had no need to label as 'Ginny'. She was simply there, in his heart, and in his soul, and he now no longer remembered what it had been like before her. And that, Harry had decided, was precisely as it should be.

    Even if it meant he felt a little like bouncing in his chair himself.

    "All right, settle down, settle down," Bill - Harry still couldn't think of him as Professor Weasley - said, mostly to Ginny, from the front of the class. As always, he was leaning against the front of his desk. Harry still didn't think he'd ever even seen the young Professor sit at that desk. "Everyone got their potion, then?"

    There was a general murmur of assent, and Bill grinned. "Well then... cheers."

    Harry reached forward to grab the purple, foul-smelling brew in front of him, and realized only as he had set it to his lips that Ginny had already downed hers. "Bottoms up," he muttered to himself, and swallowed the whole thing as quickly as possible in order to get past the horrific taste. One of his hands reached out to slow Ginny's slumping form from hitting her head on the desk... even as he himself faded out, dimly aware that the table's wooden surface was approaching fast.

    Harry blinked.

    He was in a wooded area, now. It was autumn in this imaginary place as well - the leaves on the trees had turned several brilliant shades of red-orange, and were beginning to fall. Quite a change from the slightly stuff Transfiguration classroom, Harry decided, amazed at how real this dream felt. The wind blew softly through the trees, and the wooded area reminded him very much of the Forbidden Forest. It was twilight, the sun's rays only barely filtering through the treetops. The sights, sounds and smells of the forest seemed more vivid than ever. Colors seemed richer, sounds seemed sharper, and he was even more aware of the feel of the grass under his pair feet - it was though he could discern every blade, feel every pebble.

    "Hello?" he called out, and then snorted at his own stupidity. It was hardly as though anyone was going to answer, as this was all in his own mind. This was also about the time that he realized that his feet weren't 

    the only things that were bare about his mental self. Privacy was probably a good thing, given that.

    "Harry?" a very familiar voice called out from behind him and Harry let out a startled cry.

    He whirled around, very conscious of his body - or this representation of it - even in this surreal dream world. "Ginny?" he called, as his mind caught up to the voice he'd heard.

    Sure enough, there she was. She was equally (gloriously, Harry thought,) nude, and didn't seem the least bit shy about it. "Calm down, Harry, it's not like I haven't seen it before." Harry chuckled, and decided that he might as well abandon all modesty as well. He took her hand in his own. It was warm to the touch, and felt even more real, more solid than anything else here.

    "This 'bond' is full of surprises, isn't it?" Harry asked.

    "Guess so," Ginny grinned. "We should find our animals though."

    "But I'm enjoying the view," Harry mock-whined.

    "As am I, Harry, but the potion does only last so long."

    "True," he admitted, and then turned as he heard a rustling from the nearby forest's edge. "I think they've found us, actually" Harry reported.

    From the edge of the trees, two dark-furred animals came. They walked stealthily, cautiously, but they seemed to recognize Harry and Ginny. As well they should, Harry thought oddly - they're us.

    The wolf to the right had black fur, which puffed up oddly between its shoulder blades, and bright green eyes that Harry recognized from the mirror every morning.

    "Hello, boy," Harry said quietly, and kneeled to let the wolf sniff him. Beside him, Ginny did the same, and Harry started taking in the details of the other wolf. Of course, that wolf had striking red fur, spotted brown in some areas, and its brown eyes seemed to contain the same mischievousness that Ginny's did.

    "Our forms match," Ginny said, her voice full of wonder. "What do you suppose that means, Harry?"

    He grinned, taking in every detail of his wolf, and of Ginny's. "Nothing we didn't already know."


    Thankfully, Transfiguration had been the day's last class, and after dinner, Harry and his friends gathered in the Common Room again to discuss their forms (or potential forms, at any rate. There was no way to tell which students would be successful and which wouldn't.) Bill had confided in Harry one afternoon, however, that McGonagall's revision's and the unorthodox approached taken by the Marauders combined left him hopeful for a much higher success rate in training Animagi than had previously been had.

    Privately, Harry expected that there were many more Animagi out there than anyone beleived, and just very few who chose to register.

    Ron's form, as it turned out, was that of a red Labrador, a fact which was no more surprising than Hermione's form of a barn owl. Both animals suited his friends well, for the most part. Harry and Ginny tried to keep to themselves how amusing they found Hermione's form, but had failed to do so when Neville, Ron and Cordy had started giggling at the bushy-haired witch. There was just something inherently amusing about someone who was afraid of heights being a bird in their Animagus form. Cordy had identified her form as that of a lynx, and Neville had shocked everyone with the revelation that his form was a bear.
    

    "Always knew you had it in you, mate," Harry grinned, and then looked to the blonde witch sitting next to Neville. "What about you, Luna?"

    "A crane, actually," she answered. "Not the most graceful of birds, perhaps, but they're quite fascinating, and the natural predator of the crumple-horned snorkack. Perhaps Rolf and I shall be able to find one, once I'm able to transform."

    Ron frowned. "You and Rolf? I thought you and your father usually went looking for things like that?"

    Luna shrugged. "Daddy never has much liked field studies, but they do quite appeal to me."

    Harry grinned, and shared a quick look with Ginny. Poor Dean, he thought, bloke just can't catch a break. "Good luck."

    "Thank you, Harry. And what of you and Ginny? You two have been quite secretive about your form."

    Cordy looked puzzled, but was somewhat tentative when she asked the blonde witch, "Uh, Luna, don't you mean 'forms'?"

    "No," she said simply, and Harry grinned as Luna's large eyes darted to meet Hermione's, who nodded as well. Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend, who shrugged.

    "I'll explain after you tell us," Hermione answered, drawing frowns from Ron and Cordy both.

    "Out with it then, mate," Cordy said.

    "Yeah, Harry," Ron agreed. "We've all said."

    "We're wolves," Ginny answered, and no one missed the look on Hermione's face. It would have been hard to, given that she'd jumped to a standing position and was doing a strange sort of victory dance. This, naturally, had drawn several stares from around the rest of

    "I knew your forms would match!" she said triumphantly, and Luna nodded as well. "Well, we knew," Hermione admitted. It had been strange this year, to see how much Hermione and Luna really had in common once they got past the younger girl's oddities.

    The teasing among the group continued after that, culminating in a mock wrestling match between Harry and Ron, which ended up knocking Harry's bookbag over, spilling its contents quite thoroughly. This wouldn't have been unusual; except for one of the books that came spilling out had Harry's face on it, sitting above a rather prominent title. Cover-Harry was covering his eyes and looking more than a little embarrassed, as was the real Harry.

    Ginny was the first to pick it up.

    "Oh, bollocks," Harry muttered, as she read the title aloud.

    "Harry Potter: The Authorized Biography- by Xenophilius Lovegood and... Harry Potter?", Ginny read, in a frighteningly distant tone. Her face then turned to his, and her eyes were flashing in a way that made Harry more than a bit nervous. "Harry, what the hell is this?"

    He winced, especially as Luna answered for him. "Oh, Harry wanted to surprise everyone. But really, it was your idea, Ginny."

    "Her idea?" Ron asked. "I don't remember that."

    "Me either," Ginny said darkly. "In fact, I think I'd remember saying something like that. I'm rather certain of it."

    "Well, kind of," Harry explained. "Gin, do you remember saying that we should get the drop on Rita's book? Beat her to the punch?"

    "Well, yes," she answered, "But I meant you should stop it from getting published."

    "Well, I tried that," he answered truthfully, and he had. "But as it turns out, the wizarding world has very expensive solicitors; it also has a rather depressing lack of publishing laws, especially concerning slander and libel. "

    "So you wrote your own?" Ron asked, still skeptical. Harry couldn't blame his friend - it was hardly as though he was known as being forthcoming with, well, anything.

    "Uh, basically."

    "But," Cordy interrupted. "Doesn't Skeeter's book come out on Halloween? That's in tomorrow."

    "This one," Harry answered, tapping on the cover, "came out today."

    "So you're just beating her to it?" Ron grinned, and Harry grinned back.

    "Basically," Harry nodded. "My solicitor didn't think anyone would buy her version if there was one with my own name on it out there."

    "Brilliant!" Ron proclaimed, and Ginny settled back into Harry, as she started to thumb through the book. She was shaking her head, but Harry could tell now that she'd simply been more surprised than anything.

    "Harry," she said in surprise. "You put... you put everything in here."

    "Pretty much," Harry nodded. "The only thing I left out was exactly how Tom had made himself immortal."

    Hermione was shocked now. "But.. you've always been so private before."

    "Still am," He shrugged, getting uncomfortable with the conversation. "But honestly, I was getting really tired of getting asked some of those questions. And maybe they'll leave me alone - or understand why I've never liked the attention - now."

    No one seemed to have a response for that, and Harry returned his attention to the small redhead that was curled up next to him. "Sorry I didn't tell you," he whispered quietly. "I wanted to surprise you at the bookstore in Hogsmeade tomorrow."

    "It's okay," Ginny nodded. "I get why you did it, Harry. It would have been pretty funny."

    "Lockhart never would have let you live it down, though," Ron sniggered, and Harry moaned.

    "Merlin, don't remind me.”Bit early in your career, don't you think?" he quoted in disgust, drawing curious looks from Ginny and Cordy both, prompting the conversation in a discussion of Harry's interactions with Lockhart, which Ginny had never seen, and Lockhart himself, who Cordy had never met. As Seamus, Dean, Lavender and some of the others joined them, the fire ale and the stories continued. Ginny, Harry noted, was surprised to learn that there were some funny stories from her first year - and that despite what had happened to her, she even had a few amusing ones of her own (chief of those being finding Percy and Penelope in flagrante delicto, as she phrased it.)

    It was, in general, a very pleasant evening.


    That night, Harry's dreams were anything but. His head bathed in the orb's blue glow, as it often was, left his dreams full, and more real than they had any right to be. The dreams were odd, however, and strangely disjointed.

    --

    He and Ginny enjoyed a nice, private picnic lunch at the cave. It was the cave where Sirus, and later Hagrid, had hidden out at various times.

    "Feels weird, some times, knowing Sirius lived here as a dog - just to be closer to me," he confided.

    "He loved you, Harry. I don't think it was that big a sacrifice for him."

    Harry gave a wry smile. "I'd have done the same."

    --

    "Lucius, Lucius, Lucius," came Lestrange's mocking voice. "You really have been such a disappointment."

    Lucius Malfoy looked back, still haughty, even in his rags. Or trying to be, at least. "Leave me be, Lestrange. I have no interest in associating with any of you."

    "Quite allright, my dear Lucius," Rodolphus answered. "It won't take long for me to get what I want from you."

    "And what is -" the blonde wizard was cut off as Lestrange pointed his wand, and spoke only two words.

    "Siphon Totus"

    A sickly yellow beam slammed Lucius Malfoy into the brick wall behind him.

    --

    "We should meet the others," Ginny finally said.

    "We are," Harry nodded, and pointed down the street. "At the Hog's Head, here in just a bit."

    "Made the plans already, then?"

    --

    "It's Lestrange!" Ron yelled from the window. They had barricaded themselves in, when the first curses started flying outside. Aberforth was getting the younger students back into the castle through the portrait of his sister. Harry and Ron were buying him time, unofficially being helped by Hermione, Ginny, Neville, 

    Cordy and several other former members of the D.A.

    "Who else?" Harry asked.

    "Carrows, Crabbe and Goyle - mate, there's at least two dozen of them out there!" Ron cursed again. "Harry, sodding Umbridge is with them!"

    "Always knew that old bint was Dark," Ginny muttered.

    "King doesn't have enough Aurors to keep the department up, and Azkaban under guard," Harry muttered.

    "They seem to be following Lestrange," Hermione noted. "And Greyback," she shuddered.

    Harry felt the need to shudder, himself, though he didn't show it.

    "They're coming in!" Ginny cried.

    Harry whirled on the remaining students. "Everyone into the back rooms, now! Get back to the castle!" He had both of his wands out then, and turned to face the door just as Rodolphus Lestrange led his group of former Death Eaters inside the pub, and the battle began in earnest.

    "Surrender, Lestrange!" Harry called out. "By Authority of the Ministry of Magic, you and your associates are under arrest!"

    "Not likely, boy," the dark wizard coldly replied.

    --

    It didn't take Harry long to determine that something had changed since he'd faced Lestrange back in August. The long-haired, goateed Death Eater was far stronger than he'd been in their last confrontation.

    "Diffindo!" Harry muttered, making a slashing motion with the Elder wand.

    "Reducto!" Lestrange responded, sending the curse at the ceiling, even as some of his followers targeted the floor.

    And Harry watched as two main beams - and the roof - fell right on Cordy...

    And Ginny.

    Back to index


    Chapter 22: Chapter 22 - Happy Halloween

    Author's Notes: Props to by betas this round, TeyriJen, Faithful Cynic, and Icarus Phoenix. Also, a pre-emptive apology for the end of the chapter. Enjoy!


    Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows
    Chapter 22 - "Happy Halloween"

    Harry awoke from his dreams - no, nightmares was really the proper term - feeling considerably... unsettled. But then, a night spent envisioning Ginny being crushed beneath the falling rubble of the Hogs head would quite naturally have that effect. All in all, he rather felt as though he'd not slept a wink. He moved about his morning routine in a distracted haze, preoccupied with trying to recall what he could, relentlessly nagged by the notion that it had been far, far more than just a simple dream.

    His distraction easily manifested in the haphazard way that he put himself together for the day - his shirt remained partially untucked, he forgot his watch, his wallet, and his coin pouch all at various points, and had to return to the dorm to reclaim them. He didn't even pull his hair back into its customary ponytail, instead leaving it free to hang around his shoulders, and he forgot to shave, something he knew very well annoyed Ginny when they kissed.

    As he trooped down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, Harry missed Hermione's speculative eyebrow at his appearance. "You look like you'd fit right in at a Muggle university today, Harry," she commented with all the subtlety of a brick wall.

    "Mmmn," Harry grunted noncommittally in response.

    When Harry had said nothing further by the time they were halfway to the Great Hall, Ginny decided that this bore commenting on. "Harry?" she asked as they worked their way past one of the trick stairways - the one, that on the last Saturday of every month (such as today) would randomly Apparate itself to top of the immense stairwell, and deposit unsuspecting students near the Room of Requirement, usually when they were trying to get to dinner. "What's the matter, luv? You're not quite here today."

    "Reducto!" Lestrange said, sending the curse at the ceiling, even as some of his followers targeted the floor.

    And Harry watched as two main beams - and the roof - fell right on Cordy...

    And Ginny.

    Harry opened his mouth to answer, to explain that he'd dreamt of Lestrange and the trip to Hogsmeade all night... but then he found that the words wouldn't come. Every time he tried to speak them, his mouth would close instead. He began to get frustrated as he felt Ginny's mind probing their bond, trying to see what should could determine that way, and then getting even more frustrated as Ginny mistook his silence for his old reticence (not unreasonably, he admitted), and he was finally able to get out a muttered "Bad dreams."

    "I'm sorry, luv," she said, rubbing one of his shoulders. "But it is just a dream, you know. It'll be fine."

    His mind's eye was filled once more with the image of Ginny crushed beneath the rubble of the Hog's Head, and Harry's stomach clenched.

    "Yeah," he agreed the words sour and foul-tasting on his tongue. "Just a dream."

    Ginny looked at him oddly, and Harry thought, not for the first time, something was possibly very, very wrong with him. His biggest clue for this was because it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to explain about the dream... it was that something, or... someone, was stopping him from doing so.

    But then, under the admonition that it had, after all, been just a dream, that awareness slowly faded, and Harry soon found himself acting very normally, and joking with the rest of his friends about the upcoming day in Hogsmeade, and the Ball scheduled for that evening. By the time he'd eaten his last rasher of bacon, Harry had quite forgotten that anything had been wrong at all.

    But he couldn't help but wonder at the odd looks that Ginny was giving him from time to time. But then, even though Harry himself had quite forgotten that something was wrong (or at the least, not right) Ginny was becoming very aware of it.



    Rodolphus Lestrange smiled.

    It was not an attractive smile, he knew. He was hardly an attractive man, not that he had ever cared for such things. His marriage to Bellatrix had been one of convenience - neither of them had ever had the slightest interest in whelping a brood of children like the Weasleys had. If he was honest with himself, he knew he even looked a bit deranged, and knew that he probably was. The majority of his adult life had been spent in the company of the Dementors of Azkaban, after all. That would unhinge anyone.

    Now, however, it was the sight of the dragon that Walden MacNair was precariously perched on that made him grin so widely. The Hungarian Horntail was a fine beast, and MacNair was probably one of the only wizards who could control such a creature. Even he could only do so with great difficulty. It was lucky for Rodolphus and his fellows, then, that MacNair had escaped capture.

    The Aurors assigned to Azkaban all lay dead, wounded, or unconscious thanks to the vicious attack of MacNair and his Horntail. The two of the beast-master's friends, each astride a Hebridean Black didn't hurt, either. And recruited Umbridge had been quite fortunate. One of the Aurors guarding the prison had owed the piggish little witch for something, and had smuggled in a box of wands for Lestrange and his men. They weren't the best wands, but they would do until they could acquire better. Their own wands, of course, had been snapped at their trials. But Lestrange was still smiling - grinning like a madman, really - as he left Azkaban by the simple expedient of walking through the hole in the wall that the dragon had created with its immense, spiked tail. Of all the elaborate escapes he had contemplated, this one was very nearly anticlimactic.

    The thirty survivors of the Dark Lord's forces were all that remained of his army. But by Voldemort, Rodolphus decided, they would not go quietly into the night. Raising his newly acquired wand, he pointed it at the crumbling remains of Azkaban fortress, and spoke a single instruction to his compatriots.

    "Level it," he growled, and cast the first spell himself, the most powerful Reductor Curse he could manage. MacNair's massive dragon took flight, and began to add its own flames to the carnage. Wave after wave of blue light came from the rocky coastline as the ancient fortress was battered from inside its own wards.

    Within minutes, the feared wizard prison of Azkaban became nothing more than a pile of crumbling stone on a windswept, godforsaken island.

    As the ancient fortress that so many wizards had been trained to fear fell, Lestrange watched with grim pleasure. As he led his men to the pier, where they would able to Apparate away, his attention was seized by a groan down near his feet.

    An Auror - that fool Dawlish, wasn't it? - was dragging himself along the ground. The man was badly burned, and would no doubt die quite soon.

    "Stop..." Dawlish gasped out, though he had to know his efforts were futile. "You're... under... arrest."

    Lestrange let out a hearty laugh. "Such nonsense!" he said, kicking aside the man's hand. "For your temerity, though, I will grant you this one small mercy."

    Dawlish's one good eye widened as the dark-haired wizard smiled once again, and aimed his wand. "Avada Kedavra," he whispered, and John Dawlish breathed his last.

    "Come, my friends," Lestrange said, as though he had just done no more than swatted a fly. "We've an appointment to keep. Let's not be tardy."

    After a morning spent - much to Harry, Ron, Neville and Dean's dismay - trawling through the jewelry and various other accessory shops in Hogsmeade, Harry was really quite pleased when the witches pronounced the shopping portion of the day to be done. The group subsequently paired off into couples, as was their wont. Neville and Susan - who were apparently 'on' again, much to Hannah's dismay, according to Ginny - headed off towards Madame Puddifoot's. Harry grimaced at that, and thought he saw Neville do so, as well. It was a bit like seeing a friend head off towards a funeral, or something similarly unpleasant.

    "I don't get the attraction to Madame Puddifoot’s," Ron said, shaking his head.

    Harry could only shrug, as there didn't really seem to be much to say to that. Ron knew very well that he didn't get it either - he was just thankful that Ginny hated the place as much as he did. The thought of Madame Puddifoot's did awake the familiar ache of when he thought of Cho, however. She had been his first crush, and Harry would always hold a place in her heart for that. Even now, months after her death, he still wished they could have gotten the chance to become friends.

    A subtle squeeze of his hand let him know that Ginny was aware of the direction his feelings were taking. He felt her concern, and gave a small half-smile. It wasn't a smile that said he was okay - that would have been a lie, and therefore completely useless - but it reassured her that he would be fine.

    "It's quite simple, Ronald," Luna answered, dragging Harry's attention back to his friends. "It's a very sappy place for the juvenile romantics that attend Hogwarts, people who do not have or do not want true intimacy, but are willing to settle for the appearance of it. Some girls like that sort of thing."

    "Well, yeah," Ron said. "That I know. Still don't get why, though."

    Harry smiled as he saw Hermione give his best mate a peck on the cheek. "That's because your emotional range has expanded just a bit, dear."

    Harry grinned. "What're you up to, do you reckon?" he teased his friend. "Serving spoon?"

    Ron grinned back. "A ladle, at the least."

    Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny and Dean looked momentarily confused. Luna didn't seem to particularly care that she didn't get the joke.

    Instead, she turned to Dean, and in her generally forthright manner asked him, "Will we be getting a room at the Hog's Head? I'd quite like to have sex today."

    Strangely, Harry found that Luna's pronouncement didn't surprise him - or any of the rest of his friends. It should have, he thought, but the fact was that Luna was quite open and frank about her own sexuality, just as she was with everything else. Harry had to fight a blush as he remembered that an errant question one afternoon had actually resulted in the blonde witch drawing out diagrams. No, after that discussion, it had become very difficult for Luna to shock any of them. He wondered, off-hand, if she had taken that as something of challenge.

    That didn't surprise him either, he decided.

    Dean, though, had seemed momentarily startled, but he and Luna had peeled off from the group in short order. Hermione was dragging Ron towards Scrivenshafts, and Harry and Ginny decided to take advantage of the distraction to disappear on their own.

    They wandered a bit aimlessly for a time, speaking of whatever came to mind. They discussed Harry's ongoing Auror training. Harry, Ron, Susan and Cordelia had been joined by several others - Seamus, Blaise, Justin, Parvati, and most importantly, to Harry's mind, Neville. Three of Ginny's roommates as well, Miranda McGonagall, Katherine Rhodes and Mekaela St. George had signed up just last week. Kingsley had relaxed some of the restrictions for entering the Auror Program, citing credits for "prior experience." They now had two full-time Aurors staying at the castle just to train the dozen "reserve Aurors". They also discussed Ginny's prospects - her chances at the Harpies were looking better that ever, as the all-female Quidditch team had just announced that they would be seeking a new Chaser for the next season, and would be actively scouting.

    Harry grimaced a little at this as he realized that meant Ginny would be stepping up the amount of Quidditch practices the team did. Hopefully not too much - she hadn't turned into Wood or Angelina. Yet.

    They also ran briefly into Percy and his pregnant wife, Penelope. Percy was scouting a location in Hogsmeade for George and Lee to expand Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Harry promised to pass on to Ron that the business was doing well - Ron had been working for his brother from time to time before the year had started, especially once Harry had transferred his shares in the company to the youngest Weasley brother. What Ron had really been doing, of course, had been keeping an eye on George, and forcing him to work through his grief. Percy was filling that role now, in addition to his work at the Ministry.

    After saying their goodbyes, Harry and Ginny wandered a bit more, this time in silence, simply enjoying the presence and mental feel of each other. Harry was surprised, eventually, when they came to a cave. The cave, in fact. The cave where Sirius, and later Hagrid, had hidden out at various times. Ginny cocked her head at the tenseness that spiked and then faded as he realized where they were. It was a feeling remarkably similar to what he had felt when he'd considered Puddifoot's and Cho earlier, and Harry wondered sometimes if the rest of his life would be thus - constant little reminders of what he had lost.

    "Luv?" she asked, putting all of her questions into that one word.

    He looked down at the small redhead at his side, and Harry just shrugged. No, life wasn't all loss, he reminded himself. There were certainly other, better things. And he knew - better than most - that the pain got easier with time. "Just missing people today, I guess. Madame Puddifoot’s made me think of Cho. And this cave makes me think of Sirius. Feels weird, sometimes, knowing Sirius lived here as a dog - just to be closer to me," he confided.

    "He loved you, Harry," Ginny reminded him warmly. "I don't think it was that big a sacrifice for him."

    Harry gave a wry smile. "I'd have done the same."

    "I don't doubt that," she smiled back, and then reached for the handbag that was hanging for her shoulder. Harry raised an eyebrow as her arm disappeared up to the elbow - he hadn't realized that Hermione had made her a Bottomless Bag, too. "Dead useful, that," he commented, rather pointedly changing the subject. Today was not for grieving. Today was for better things.

    She grinned widely as she pulled out a picnic basket and two chilled butterbeers. "Sure is."


    The sequential 'pops' of nearly thirty apparitions, only a few hundred feet from the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, could not have gone unnoticed. Unfortunately for young Auror Ewan Mackenzie, he was the one to notice. Truthfully, he was the only Auror on duty in the town, and his duties were expected to be nothing more than resolving simple issues, or sending an alarm to the two senior Aurors present at Hogwarts responsible for training the dozen 'Reserve Aurors' that were studying for their final year of their Hogwarts education, and being given a crash-course in Auror operations. The procedure was that those two Aurors would then mobilize, calling on the reserves as necessary. Frankly, with the worst of the Death Eaters all locked away, no one was really expecting anything of consequence to happen in Hogsmeade.

    That was very, very wrong, as it turned out.

    Mackenzie never had a chance. Rodolphus Lestrange hit him with a killing curse before the rookie Auror could even draw his wand, and the remnants of the Death Eaters slipped into the town unnoticed, their prison robes transfigured into clothes that would allow them to blend - for a time, at least.

    Lestrange walked with purpose as his men - and they were his men, now - split into the groups he'd assigned, heading for their targets. Their Lord was dead, yes, and Rodolphus was the strongest leader they had left. He had his own goals today, but for the majority of them, their goal was simple: Cause chaos. Lots and lots of it. The more mayhem, murder and destruction, the better. Lestrange had even timed their escape on the first of the students "Hogsmeade Weekends", just for maximum effect. The security provided by Shacklebolt's Ministry was a ramshackle thing, a house of cards loosely stacked upon a foundation of sand.

    And Rodolphus Lestrange fancied himself the tide.

    "Are you sure we should be attracting this attention, so soon?" Fenrir growled from his place at Lestrange's side. The werewolf was just itching to transform, but wanted to wait until the battle itself. He was one of the few able to control his transformation - because he had so willingly accepted the wildness of the wolf inside him. Greyback, Lestrange often thought, was far more monster than man. Still, he had his uses.

    "Ah, yes," the little toad added, and Rodolphus did not hide his sneer. "I do have to wonder if this is the best course of action - "

    "Be silent, Dolores," Lestrange said curtly. "Potter's debt has come due, and examples must be made."

    "But attacking Hogsmeade?" Umbridge pressed on, blithely ignoring his warning. "That will hardly leave the populace disposed towards us when we seize power once more - "

    Lestrange whirled in place, seizing the diminutive woman by her throat. Her eyes bulged satisfactorily as she began to sputter. "You assume I want to rule," he all but growled, and, his point made, he released her.

    Umbridge slumped to the ground, grasping at her throat. "What...is it you want, then?"

    "I want them to burn," he answered, and Delores Umbridge flinched at the look in his eyes. He could see her realization that she was in over her head; her sudden fear was like a physical thing. The observation made him smile. "I want to bring back our Lord, and then I want revenge. This 'peace' of theirs is a sham. They must be made to see the truth of the world."

    "And that is?" she asked, not bothering to hide her fear.

    "That we are all monsters, of course," Lestrange replied easily. "And in a world of monsters, only the strong survive. We shall see, then, who is worthy," he looked pointedly down at the toad-faced witch. "And who is not."

    To his side, he saw Greyback grin widely at the promise of such glorious carnage.

    He turned away from the woman - she had served her purpose now, and would receive her due soon enough - and drew a small pouch from his pocket. It was another item that Umbridge's "associate" had been able to smuggle into Azkaban. A single hair, belonging to none other than the blood-traitor Lucius Malfoy.

    "Invenio," he muttered, laying the hair against his wand, and holding it flat in the palm of his hand. With a small flash, the hair ignited and disappeared, and the wand spun to point a particular direction - east. Following the wand's urging, Lestrange, Greyback and Umbridge proceeded to the poorest, most low-rent section of the town. It was an area no one liked to admit existed, and since the end of the war, had only grown. It was where the refugees, the homeless, the downtrodden went. Every society had such a place, and wizarding Britain was no different - especially since Knockturn Alley had been cleared out.

    And it was where they found Lucius Malfoy, clutching a largely-empty bottle of cheap Muggle whiskey. It isn't even Firewhiskey, Lestrange thought disdainfully. Had the man no pride at all, anymore?

    "Lucius, Lucius, Lucius," he said, his tone mocking. "You really have turned out to be such a disappointment."

    Malfoy looked back, still haughty, even in his rags. Or he was trying to be, at least. Rodolphus had never liked the other man's "wizarder-than-thou" attitude, and he especially disliked it now. "Leave me be, Lestrange. I have no interest in associating with any of you." In point of fact, Malfoy's pardon was contingent on his having no contact with Death Eaters, former or otherwise. Lestrange knew that as well, but he cared very little.

    "Quite all right, my dear Lucius," Rodolphus answered. "It won't take long for me to get what I want from you."

    "And what is -" the blonde wizard was cut off as Lestrange pointed his wand, and spoke only two words.

    "Siphon Totalus," he said, and a sickly yellow beam slammed Malfoy into the brick wall behind him. A sick crack sounded as the man's head was thrown backwards, but Lestrange paid it no mind. The beam expanded to envelop the blonde wizard in a bright nimbus of light, and Rodolphus had to fight the urge to cover his eyes. Instead, he watched clinically as the other man tried to scream. Lucius mouth worked frantically as the halo of light expanded, and then pushed - no, pulsed - backwards towards Rodolphus, and finally, up his arm. He breathed deep in as the feeling of power flooded him, and Rodolphus knew that the spell was working, and that he was absorbing the very magic from the blood traitor.

    It was quite a satisfying feeling.

    It was really too bad that the spell could only be performed once a month, or his own body would rip itself apart from the strain. But still, he drew even more satisfaction in using the ancient spell, one that had been hidden in Malfoy's own library, a spell that Malfoy himself had hidden from the Dark Lord.

    The feeling - the rush - of empowerment began to fade, along with the nimbus of light, and finally Malfoy fell from the wall to the ground. A rivulet of blood ran down the wall where the man's head had struck, but physically, he was otherwise unharmed.

    "Check him," Lestrange ordered, and Greyback moved forward quickly to comply. The werewolf pressed two fingers to Malfoy's neck, and then sniffed experimentally.

    "Dead," the werewolf nodded. He looked slightly disappointed, but then, Greyback had often mentioned that he wanted to find out how Malfoy tasted.

    "Very well," Lestrange shrugged. It was one less matter to worry about. He had what he needed from Lucius. He could practically feel the power singing in his veins. "Now. Let's finish what we came here for. Send the signal to the others."

    "And the children?" Greyback asked, his gleaming smile now completely feral.

    "Are yours," Rodolphus granted, and raised a finger in warning at the thought of his brother. "Except for Potter," he warned the werewolf. "He is mine."


    Harry made a small moan of discontent as Ginny pulled away. They had begun to take advantage of their privacy after the picnic lunch, in the way that hormonal teenagers often did. In Harry's opinion, however, they were far too clothed to be putting a stop to things where they presently were.

    "That's quite unfair of you, you know," He chastised her as she started to replace her hair elastic.

    "Hmmmn?"

    "Getting me all worked up like that. It's quite unfair."

    She gave him a wicked grin in response. "I'm sure you'll pay me back for it later."

    "Count on it," he promised, and leaned forward to capture her lips for another kiss.

    "We should meet the others," Ginny smirked. He felt her amusement at his reaction (and obvious predicament), and was mollified by the knowledge that she didn't really want to stop either.

    "We are," Harry nodded, and pointed back in the direction of town, and this time, she interrupted his words with a kiss. "At the Hog's Head, here in just a bit."

    "Made the plans already, then?"

    "Mmmn-hmmm," Harry replied, and returned to his self-appointed mission of counting all her freckles. He never seemed to move very far past her neck - as he claimed, he had to keep rechecking for new ones.

    "At one, right?" She prompted.

    "Mmmn-hmmm."

    "Harry, it's one-fifteen now."

    Harry's head thudded back against the tree that he was sitting propped against. "Bugger," he muttered.

    Quickly, laughingly, they gathered their things, and hurried back towards Hogsmeade. As they passed the bookstore, Ginny laughingly pointed out the large stack of unsold copies of Rita Skeeter's "tell-all" about Harry Potter and Voldemort, sitting next to the 'sold-out' sign for the book by Harry himself and Mr. Lovegood. It brought a smile to Harry's face as well, and they were still laughing about it as they passed through the doors, into the Hog's Head.

    "Serves her right," Harry said smugly as they entered the bar.

    And then Harry froze.

    A feeling of déjà vu suddenly struck him, as he saw the way everyone was standing. A feeling of déjà vu so powerful that that didn't even seem to be an appropriate term. His dream the night before, all the details of it, came rushing to him - remembering the cave, and something about Lucius Malfoy, and then - he and Ginny were here, and there were Ron, and Hermione and Susan and Neville, Percy and Penelope -

    "And Draco was there -" Harry murmured, and realized that Ginny was looking at him oddly, as Harry felt his alarm grow. Draco was there. Sitting alone, once again, and in a Firewhiskey that didn't look as though it was his first of the afternoon.

    "Abe!" he called out, and Dumbledore's brother looked up sharply at his tone. Harry knew that there were edges of panic in his voice, but he didn't care. It was too soon. This was supposed to be over!

    Be a dream, he fervently prayed. Merlin, please, be just a dream!

    "Yeah?" the grizzled veteran asked, looking at him expectantly.

    "Ariana's portrait - open the passageway!" He said, falling into the 'command tone' that he'd gotten accustomed to during their Auror training sessions. He'd become their de facto squad leader, and it was a responsibility that he found fit comfortably these days. "Get everyone back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Hermione, Ron, seal the front door, now! Cordy, Mekaela, Miranda - look for somewhere we can fire at the street with cover. "

    "Second floor windows," Neville answered immediately. It was a mark of how many people trusted Harry that no one was questioning his sudden, mysterious orders.

    "Go, now," he said, and saw the two dark-haired witches rush up the stairs, accompanied by Justin and a few wizards who'd been members of the D.A. and the Mudblood Resistance.

    "Harry, what's-" Ginny started, and then clamped her mouth shut. Not because she wasn't curious, but because it was no longer necessary. Outside, the sounds of spellfire - and the screams - had begun. Harry cursed softly to himself.

    "Damn it," he muttered, "It wasn't a dream." With his attention focused outside of the windows, he missed Ginny's sharp glare at his words.

    Hermione had moved quickly to comply with Harry's orders, as had everyone else. The witches and wizards of Hogsmeade were fighting back, he could see through the windows. Spells coming from above his position meant that Cordy and the others had taken the initiative and were attacking the Death Eaters (he assumed that was who the attackers were) from their raised positions. All of the younger students were following instructions, and heading back through the door that Aberforth had indicated. Still only a few could go through the portrait portal at a time.

    "It's Lestrange," Ron reported from the other window, after he'd spelled away enough of the grime. Idly, Harry wondered why Abe didn't keep this place cleaner. It wasn't as though cleaning magic was particularly difficult...

    Back on task, Potter, he admonished himself, and gave Ron his full attention.

    "Who else?" Harry asked, moving quickly to stand behind him, Ginny and Hermione right at his side. Neville and Susan were there as well, and Draco - well, he was still sitting at his table drinking Firewhiskey, supremely unconcerned.

    "Carrows, Goyle - mate, there's at least two dozen of them out there!" Ron cursed again. "Harry, sodding Umbridge is with them!"

    "Always knew that old bint was Dark," Ginny muttered. Harry nodded his agreement.

    "Harry, all of these people are supposed to be in Azkaban," Hermione pointed out.

    "And Kingsley's not likely to cover up something like this," Ron added. "Fudge or Scrimgoeur, sure, but not Kingsley."

    He nodded his agreement once again. "King doesn't have enough Aurors to keep the department up and Azkaban under guard," Harry muttered, putting the pieces together. "But someone should have been able to get word out, unless..." Harry trailed.

    "Unless there was no one left to," Ron finished for him.

    "They seem to be following Lestrange," Hermione noted. "And Greyback," she shuddered.

    Harry felt the need to shudder, himself, though he didn't show it.

    "Everyone's pulling into their buildings and sealing up," Ron reported as the sounds of spellfire began to die down. Harry sent a Patronus message back to McGonagall, even as Ron sent one to their supervisors and Neville sent one to the Ministry. A moment after the silvery stag, Ron's terrier, and Neville's bear disappeared through the windows; the front door began to thud. Harry saw the flashes through the windows. Hermione's wards glowed brightly, and the flashed as they broke under the assault.

    "They're coming in!" Ginny cried.

    Harry whirled on the remaining students. "Everyone into the back rooms, now! Get back to the castle!" He had both of his wands out then, and turned to face the door just as it was beginning to crack, he looked to Ron and Neville.

    "It's going to be too crowded in here," Ron muttered. "We're not going to have room to move."

    "I'm open to suggestion, mate," Harry replied. "But I don't think they'll cooperate if we just ask them to step outside, though."

    "Agreed," Ron nodded.

    It was Neville who had the idea. "Blow out the wall, then."

    "I'll pay Abe for the damages later. Do it," Harry responded. "Reducto on three."

    Just as the door splintered and Rodolphus Lestrange led his group of former Death Eaters inside the pub, Harry, Ron and Neville launched their spells, each targeting one section of the walls. Blue light shot forth from four wands, and the force scattered Rodolphus and his Death Eaters - along with most of the wall - back out into the street.

    "Surrender, Lestrange!" Harry called out. He heard an ominous creak above him, and fervently hoped that they hadn't caused too much property damage. "By order of the Ministry of Magic, you and your associates are under arrest, on the charge of felony escape!"

    "Not likely, boy," the dark wizard coldly replied, and Harry noted Lestrange had no debris at all on him - clearly he'd gotten a shield up in time. "You'll find things have changed."

    "I've sent you to Azkaban once, Lestrange. I'll send you back just as easily," Harry responded as his nerves quieted. He was no boy anymore, no stranger to battle. He was afraid yes, but his fear was controlled, and it served only to heighten his responses.

    He raised his shield just in time to reflect the incoming curse. It was a bright blue curse, and not one he was familiar with.

    Flippendo, he thought absently, sending the first curse Lestrange's way, even as his own allies started firing on the Death Eaters that had entered the ramshackle pub. It was chaos, and Harry was only barely able to keep track of everything that was going on as he and Lestrange each focused on taking the other out.

    Harry dodged a stream of fire that Lestrange sent his way, but as he sprawled out on the floor of the pub, he was hit was a Pulsus charm that sent him flying all the way to the back wall of the pub. He watched as the timber above him began to crack and splinter, and only barely moved before a portion of the roof came crashing in on him. Even more of the roof fell back near the front, where they had blown at the wall.

    "Good reflexes," he heard Draco's sardonic drawl, and was surprised to see the former Death Eater up and casting hexes at his former compatriots. After a moment, he realized that the blonde wizard was quite drunk.

    "Think you should be fighting in your condition?" Harry asked, sending an array of blasting hexes back towards Lestrange, who was now preoccupied with Neville and Susan.

    "As I don't really care if I live, I don't see why not," the blonde wizard replied in a moment of uncharacteristic frankness.

    Busy replying to Harry, Draco didn't see at all, the Killing Curse that was coming his way, and Harry quickly summoned a chair to take the curse instead.

    He got a surprise when Malfoy turned on him in a rage. "Damn you, Potter! Why do you keep trying to save me?!"

    Harry answered him coldly, "Because Albus Dumbledore thought you were worth it," he answered. "But if you don't care about your own life, I'll leave you to it." Without another word, Harry started looking for a way to get back over to where Lestrange was now dueling Percy. Penelope was behind her husband, clutching at her stomach in a way that wasn't good. Susan was down, Harry saw, and Neville was treating her. Reflexively, he looked for Ginny, and saw her taking cover near the rubble that had fallen in from the second floor. Ron and Hermione had joined Abe behind the bar, and were sniping hexes out when they could. He couldn't see the other girls, and abruptly, Harry remembered that they had been upstairs.

    No time for that now, he admonished himself, and tried to get a clear shot at Lestrange once more. It was difficult to get through the bar, and Harry wasn't sure he could make it in time.

    "Confringo! Sectumsempra!" Lestrange yelled, one after another, and this time, Harry realized, Percy's reflexes would be just a bit too slow. Harry tried to cast a shield between them, but the spell rebounded off a stray rafter.

    "Penelope, move!" he shouted, but his words were too late. The blasting hex caught Percy in his shoulder, sending the Weasley brother spinning - and the Sectumsempra caught Penelope right in her abdomen.

    No, no, no, Harry thought franticly, and cast a charm that blew every bit of debris between him and Lestrange right at the Death Eater. The other man grinned at this, and their duel resumed in earnest. It didn't take Harry long to determine that something had changed since he'd faced Lestrange back in August. The long-haired, goateed Death Eater was far, far stronger than he'd been in their last confrontation.

    "Diffindo! " Harry muttered, making a slashing motion with the Elder wand, and using his Holly one to levitate a chair towards the other wizard.

    "Reducto!" Lestrange destroyed the projectiles and took the spell, which caught him in the arm. Harry watched another wizard yelled something, which seemed to please Lestrange. That couldn't be good. "Enough of this!" he snarled. "We have what we came for. Bring the building down!"

    "Reducto!" he cried again, aiming his curse at the ceiling, and even as his followers targeted the floor, Harry's feeling of déjà vu returned full-force.

    "NO!" Harry yelled, rushing towards where Ginny was trying to help Cordy up from under a fallen beam. Cordy and the other girls had been upstairs, he realized, and Ginny had been trying to pull them out of the rubble while under fire. Ginny turned at his cry, even as Lestrange's spell struck the timbers with an earsplitting 'CRACK'. As his hand closed around Ginny's arm, her eyes went wide as he Apparated her away.

    Unfortunately, Harry neglected to Apparate himself, as well, and as the ceiling fell on top of him, and the floor fell out from underneath him, the last thing he was aware of was a great pain in his back, and that Cordy's horrified face was only inches from his own.

    And then a merciful darkness claimed him.

    Back to index


    Chapter 23: Chapter 23 - Answering the Riddle

    Author's Notes: Thanks to my betas Teyri Jen and Icarus Phoenix - especially Teyri, who made this chapter so, so much better than it was.


    Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows
    Chapter 23 - "Answering the Riddle"

    It had happened - was over and done with - before Ginny even knew it. One moment, she was trying to free Cordy from where she was trapped under the combination of a fallen timber from the first-floor ceiling and one of Abe's heavy oak tables. The next, she heard a cry of outrage - fear? - from Harry, was flooded with his panic across their bond, and then startled as Harry's hand closed itself around her arm, and he did the impossible once again. One was not supposed to be able to Apparate another person - not without doing a Side-Along and Apparating oneself, at least. But Harry had just done it.

    Great stupid prat, Ginny groused as she popped back into being - at the Burrow no less!

    Ginny let loose a string of curses (including a few fairly impressive ones she'd been taught by Charlie and Fred.) She noted her mother staring at her in shock from the Burrow's kitchen window, and saw the fear in her mother's eyes as she took in Ginny's no doubt disheveled appearance. After all, she was covered in grime and spell-burns from the battle - something, that would, understandably, panic Molly Weasley nearly as much as her sudden Apparition home would.

    But Ginny knew she had absolutely no time to explain and so she curled her hand around her wand, very clearly envisioned the street outside of the Hog's Head, and turned on the spot. She suffered through the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed backwards through a rubber tube for the second time in as many minutes. She was slightly relieved when it worked - having only been able to Apparate for a few months, she found herself still a little bit nervous every time she did. Especially given that she was Apparating from Devon to Hogsmeade.

    The sight that greeted her was far worse than she expected. She had heard the curses as Harry Apparated her away, of course, but she hadn't expected... this. Nothing remained of the venerable old pub but a pile of rubble all centered in a crater. Some part of her noted that there were a great many other people running around the town now - she registered the green robes of Healers, several wizards and witches that she knew worked for the Ministry, and some people who, by their manner, were certainly Aurors. The Death Eaters seemed to be gone.

    But all Ginny could focus on was the crater of mortar, timber and stone, and the fact that Harry was almost certainly inside of it. If he wasn't, he'd have been here, leading the efforts to get survivors out of the rubble. He wasn't, though, which meant someone needed to take charge. The thought galvanized her, and Ginny immediately started looking for the others - someone had to be here. Someone who could help.

    And if not, I'll do it by my bloody self, she decided.


    Professor Bill Weasley was not, to put it mildly, a happy wizard. In point of fact, he was a very, very angry one. That anger had been slowly boiling over ever since he’d first seen the smoke from Hogsmeade. The fact that that evening was to be a full moon didn't help - he was already on edge (not to mention craving a bit of steak.) Mostly, though, it was the idea that the town was being attacked that had drawn his ire.

    After all they'd been through these last few years; surely they had earned some peace? More than just these few, precious months? There had been Fleur's miscarriage back in July, just after they'd told the family. That had been hard enough for the two of them to get through, and around the beginning of September, his wife had been pregnant once again. All Bill wanted now was peace, and to be able to see his little boy (or girl, Fleur swore) be born.

    But peace, it seemed, was far too much to ask for. There was virtually no way to explain the smoke and the flashes of spellfire than could be seen even from the castle. Not even some sort of accident would explain those. And when it came down to it, Bill decided, they just weren't that lucky.

    McGonagall's Patronus hadn't taken long to find him. The silver tabby had reported that the Headmistress was locking down the school, in case the attack on the town was a diversion. That meant, Bill knew, that the only way in or out of the grounds would be the main gates, which would have Hagrid and Grawp standing guard anything that got past that would have to get past the Phoenix Guardian Harry had built over the summer, which would be no easy feat. All the "secret" tunnels in and out of the school had since been closed.

    The other part of the message consisted of instructions for Bill to accompany Professors MacDougal and Flitwick, along with the castle's two resident Aurors to reinforce Harry and the others. MacDougal filled him in as they were leaving the grounds - apparently Rodolphus Lestrange was leading a group who was terrorizing the town, and Harry and the others had been pinned down covering the escape of several students through the portrait tunnel in the Hog's Head.

    Bill still found the entire notion unbelievable - and infuriating. The damned Death Eaters were supposed to be in prison, for Merlin's sake! A part of him still wanted to believe it was something else - right until a sick sort of recognition had come over the Transfiguration Professor when he’d recognized an attacker that he’d hit with a blasting hex — Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had, amongst his other crimes, killed Fred and Remus Lupin.

    Bill, Flitwick (he still would never be able to call the elder professor 'Filius') and Gregor had been trading curses with Dolohov and his compatriots, when they had quite suddenly Apparated away. A continuous series of pops indicated the departure of the Death Eaters, and Bill recognized several of the new people Apparating in as Aurors and various other Ministry wizards. Bill wondered if the Death Eaters were retreating because of the incoming reinforcements, or if there were some other, more sinister reason for them to be leaving.

    "Nice that they show up after the Death Eaters have left," Bill muttered, still absently fingering his wand.

    'MacDougal laid a hand on his forearm. "Let it be, lad. No one was expectin' this today."

    "We should have," Bill muttered, even knowing that there was no way that such a thing was possible. "Let's get to the Hog's Head."

    "Aye."


    Harry Potter was dying.

    Or if he wasn't, by Merlin, it at least felt like it. He groaned as he awoke, rather wishing he that he hadn't. Unconscious, at least, he hadn't been aware of the pain. It took him a moment to realize the greatest pain was in his back, and that his legs felt numb. Harry dimly registered that those were things that fell under the heading of 'not a good sign'.

    At first, Harry wasn't even sure his eyes were open, it was so dark. Finally, there was a voice: "Harry?" That was Cordy, wasn't it? "Harry, can you hear me?"

    "Yeah," he grunted, after coughing some of the dust out of his lungs. There was still a great pressure on his back, but Harry couldn't turn his head to see it. His eyes, thankfully, began to adjust to the darkness, and Harry realized that Cordelia Riddle wasn't very far from him at all. Her face was only inches from his own. "Cordy?" he asked thickly. He tried to ask 'Is that you?', but the words came out more as "Zatchu?" His tongue was thick in his mouth, making speech difficult.

    "Yeah, mate, it's me," the girl said, her Londoner accent heavy with relief. "It's good to hear your voice. I thought you were dead."

    "Wha'happen?" Harry asked, trying to focus. It was considerably difficult to so, there was so much bloody pain. His back hurt, the amount of pain increasing along with his awareness. And his head was pounding. Every pulse sounded like a waterfall in his ears. Mentally, Harry made two more ticks on his list of 'bad signs'.

    "Lestrange brought the building down on top of us, and his men took the floor out from underneath us," she reported. "They've even gone and collapsed the basement - I think we've fallen into some sort of... cave or something," she said. "I reckon I saw a bat a minute ago."

    "Great," Harry concluded, and then lifted his arms. He tried to push up, but his eyes lost focus as that act caused the amount of pain he was in to rise considerably. Rather wisely, he stopped pushing, and the pain went back down to a more manageable level. "Right," he muttered. "Not doing that again. Pain bad," he noted wryly.

    "Can you move?" Cordy asked.

    "No," he confessed. "Hurts."

    "It's hard to see," she admitted. "But it looks like there's a fair bit of wood on your back. Looks like dirt and stone on your legs - I think you're lucky not to have been completely buried, actually. How's your feet? Can you move 'em?"

    "Sure, I - " Harry started, and tried to wiggle his feet. He stopped when he realized that no, he couldn't move his legs. In fact, he couldn't even feel them.

    He didn't even try to hide the fear he felt at that realization. "Cordy..." he whispered.”Cordy, I can't feel my legs."

    "Considering the shape they're probably in, that's probably best," she said bluntly. "The parts I can see of you look pretty chewed up, mate. What the hell were you thinkin'? Why didn't you pop out when you did Ginny?"

    "Wasn't thinking," he admitted. "Reflex."

    "Some reflexes," she muttered.

    "Look, I know you've got that bond or whatever with Ginny - can you... Can you use it to contact her, somehow?"

    "I've never tried," Harry confessed.

    "Now might be a good time."

    Harry didn't reply verbally. Instead, he tried to concentrate, to stretch out for his sense of her, and found... nothing. He couldn't calm his mind enough to reach out to her. Not being able to feel Ginny frightened him even more than not being able to feel his legs.

    "I... can't," he reported, and then gritted his teeth as something on his back shifted, and a fresh wave of pain overcame him.


    Finally, Ginny spotted a familiar head of bushy brown hair. "Hermione!" she called, seizing the other witch's attention.

    "Ginny!" her friend cried, and then caught her in a frantic hug. "Oh, my - I'm so glad to see you. You're alive! We thought you were still inside!" She gestured towards the rubble-filled crater.

    "No, Harry Apparated me out," she muttered.

    "Oh, he's safe too, then!" Hermione said, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. "We were so worried, when we couldn't find either of you-"

    "No, Hermione, he Apparated me," Ginny corrected her. "He didn't Apparate himself," the blood rushed from her face, and a sinking, nauseous feeling struck Ginny's stomach as she realized what Hermione's words meant. It meant that her initial fear had been right. Harry was still down there. Rather abruptly, Ginny also realized what else had been wrong, ever since she'd Apparated back from the Burrow: She couldn't feel him.

    "He's still in there..." she whispered, looking towards the rubble. Going by instinct, she started to rush forward, to clamber down, to dig her way down stone by stone if necessary. She was stopped just at the edge by Hermione's surprisingly tight grip on her arm. "Hermione, let me go! I've got to get to him!"

    "Ginny, wait!" the other girl said forcefully. "We have to be careful. If Harry's still buried in there, we've got to be very, very careful about how we move the debris. We don't want to make more of it collapse on him. We think Cordy is still in there, too - no one's seen either of them. Some of the younger students haven’t been accounted for either. We've got Healers treating the wounded. Percy's with Penelope - she -”

    "Hermione, you don't understand, "Ginny interrupted, unable to stop her rising panic. This was no time to be cautious! ”I can't feel him. He's not there!"

    "Ginny, that doesn't mean the worst," Hermione said in a careful voice. "It could just be he's unconscious."

    Ginny just stared at her for a moment, as she furiously considered the possibility. It made something inside her unclench slightly, made the panic a bit more manageable... Only slightly, though. "Then let's get started," she said, her face resolute as she moved forward to look over the situation. Her first instinct was obviously not going to work, she realized as she stared at the rubble. Dimly, she followed Hermione back to Ron and Aberforth, who were discussing how to go about things. Ginny knew absolutely nothing about cave-ins or safely moving rubble, but she could tell that simply lifting the wreckage off could cause even more of a problem. If the pub itself had just collapsed, it wouldn't have been an issue. But according to Aberforth, the whole town was over a network of caves, and they Death Eaters had collapsed the roof of the cave that lay just below the former pub. If she did something to destabilize part of the remains of the pub that Harry was lying in - only unconscious, she firmly told herself, and then uneasily let the rest of the thought trail off. She listened with half an ear as Ron and Hermione discussing the problem with Aberforth, trying to determine a way to proceed in the absence of any kind of expert.

    She took herself firmly in hand to keep from screaming at them to move faster, to stop herself from just levitating everything off, piece by piece, to figure it out before... well, before. Ginny reminded herself that she was glad the old man had managed to escape the collapsing pub, which had also been his home and livelihood for decades. As time seemed to slow for her, listening to the drone of voices beside her and all around her, she firmly told herself that they also knew that time was not on their side, and losing her temper would not help the situation - or Harry - any.

    Unable to contribute to their discussion, and certainly unable to just stand there staring for much longer, Ginny instead focused on what she could do. She closed her eyes, and drew on the meditation techniques Bill had taught her, that summer in Egypt after her first year. She centered herself, doing her best to calm her racing heart, and focused on that sense of their bond. She was looking for that part of her mind that was indefinably Harry. Ever since they'd become aware of their connection, she had never had to work so hard to find him. It was weak, very weak, and that unnerved her more than she would ever be able to put into words.

    She extended herself outwards, searching hard, ever harder, and finally...

    There he is!

    "Harry!" She called out, as she made contact with him. His impressions were tinged with pain - quite a bit of it. The sensation of it almost overwhelmed her through their connection. He was hurt, and badly. But he was alive!

    Hermione and Ron had rushed to her side as she called out, and steadied her as she lost her footing when the contact broke off. Ginny didn't even realize that she had only narrowly avoided falling into the crater.

    "Ginny?" Ron asked, his voice carefully schooled. There was an expression on her brother's face that she was used to only seeing him wear during games of chess. She and Harry had laughed about it, just last week, calling it his 'Auror face'. She hadn't had the heart to tell Harry that he was the same way. "What was it? Could you feel him?"

    "Just for a moment," she answered, finding her voice. "But - Ron, he's hurt, badly. But he's not alone. I think Cordelia must be alive as well. But...”

    "But we haven't got long, do we?" Hermione finished for her. For just a moment, Ginny couldn't help feeling a flash of irritation at her friend for her need to state the bloody obvious.

    "No," Ginny answered, the fear forming itself into a cold, hard knot in her chest. "No, we don't."


    Harry relaxed slightly as he felt Ginny reaching for him. "There you are..." he muttered. The connection was tenuous, and Harry doubted that they could maintain it for long. He tried to put as much of their situation across to Ginny as possible, which was considerably difficult as they were not able to use words. He thought she got the gist, however, before the connection faded again.

    "Uh, mate, I've not moved a bit," Cordy said nervously.

    "Not you," he chuckled. "Ginny. They're looking for us."

    "You can feel her again?"

    "Just a bit, it's -” Harry paused, and gathered himself. "It's really hard to concentrate." Especially when he was tired. So very, very tired. He found that it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and decided that he couldn't really think of any reason why he should bother. As he started to drift off once more, and thought that Cordy should at least know, in case she tried to talk again. "I'm just gonna take a nap now..." he said, his voice drifting off as he did.

    "Harry, no!" Cordy cried, and he dimly had to wonder just why she sounded so sounded so concerned. Just a quick little nap...

    "Don't worry," he said, and then wondered if his voice usually sounded that thick. He didn't think so. "M'fine."

    "From what I've been told, ducks, that statement's hardly a comfort, comin' from you," she noted. "Eyes open, Potter! Now!"

    Harry's eyes snapped open at her tone, that sounded so strangely like that of Aunt Petunia's, and even more strangely like that of Molly Weasley at the same time. "They're open, they're open," he grunted.

    "I need you to focus on me, Harry," Cordy said softly. It was a softer tone than he'd ever thought he'd hear out of the rough-edged witch. But there was a determination there, too, that Harry responded to more than anything. "It's important. I'm pretty sure you've been knocked in the head, and that doesn't go well with being out cold."

    His head kept swimming, thought, and it was hard to keep up with what she was saying from word to word. He felt as though he couldn't even keep track of his own thoughts, and a part of him recognized that this wasn't just because of the pain. "Trying," he answered. "Hard. Pretty sure I have a concussion."

    "That's what I just said," Cordy repeated.

    "Oh, right." His vision focused for just a moment, and in the dim light, Harry saw her face set into a determined expression that had matched her tone. Then he was distracted by the thin red line that trickled down the side of her face. "Hey. You're bleeding."

    "Hardly a surprise now, is it?" she said, and Harry recognized the wan tone to her voice. She was quiet for a minute, and Harry closed his eyes. He was so very, very tired...

    "You've never asked me about my name," she said, and Harry's eyes flew back open. Of course he hadn't asked about her name. He knew bloody well how much attention people paid to names. Hers was the white elephant in the corner every time Cordelia was in the room - the thing they did. not. talk. about. And mostly, Harry didn't want to know. He wanted to convince himself more than anyone that it simply did not matter. But by bringing it up, well, if she wanted his attention now, she bloody well had it, didn't she?

    "Not...” Harry's words were lost in a wracking cough, and he was disconcerted by the amount of blood that particular act expelled. That couldn't be good. One more thing for the list. "Not my place," he said lamely.

    She gave a sharp laugh. "Bugger me," she muttered. "If not you, ducks, then who the hell else does have a right to ask?"

    Harry found that he couldn't really argue that point, so he agreed with a simple, "Fair 'nough."

    She took a sharp breath. "All right," she said. "So ask me the question you've been wanting to since the moment you met me, Harry."

    There was only one question to start with, really. A part of Harry noted that, with something to focus on, a mystery to solve, it was much easier to stay awake, to focus. "Right, uh..." he trailed. "So. How are you related to Tom Marvolo Riddle?"


    Bill made his way through the town as quickly as possible. Flitwick was coordinating with the Ministry personnel who'd shown up, and Gregor and the Aurors had to stop when they'd come across the body of Lucius Malfoy. Bill found he had no sympathy for the former Death Eater, not after all he had done to Bill's own family.

    Finally, he made it to the Hog's Head - or rather, the rubble that was all that remained of it. Crushed glass from the windows ground under his feet against the street's cobblestone paving. The clothier next door had lost a wall as well, and a fine layer of dust had settled over all of their robes. The building on the other side was completely undamaged. Most surprising was that the pub's remains weren't on ground level, but seemed to be in a crater of some sort - deeper than could be accounted for by the structure merely collapsing into its basement.

    For just a moment, memories of days spent in the dodgy pub-crawls with his best mate, Frank, and later Charlie and Tonks on Hogsmeade Weekends. Trips with Charlie later, once they were grown - that was where they'd gone for his bachelor party, after all, just a few weeks before everything had gone to hell. He remembered Charlie trying to convince old Abe to let them try Firewhiskey, even if they weren't technically of age. All these memories flashed through his mind in a moment, and were pushed aside just as quickly. This was certainly no time to be nostalgic.

    He quickly found his youngest siblings, along with Hermione and Abe. They were working together to levitate a large section of the plaster wall from the top of the pile. He grimaced, his experience with cave-ins as a curse breaker telling him they were going about it all wrong. He moved forward, to tell them to stop, when he was distracted by the green robes of a Healer from St. Mungo’s, leaning over the body of a witch. Bill recognized the body’s stillness for what it was — well before he registered anything else. She was dead, that much was obvious.

    And then he saw her face. It was all too easy to recognize Percy's wife, Penelope. Bill realized, staring at the unseeing eyes of his sister-in-law. It was too soon. The family had only barely recovered from Fred's loss. They couldn't take another one so soon.

    Percy! He thought frantically, and it took only a moment to find little brother sitting nearby, his head cradled in his hands. The sight was just as heart-breaking as that of Penelope's body. One look was all it took to realize that his brother was now a broken man. There was nothing he could do but go to his younger sibling. Bill knelt in the dirt next to him, placing a comforting arm around the younger wizard's shoulders.

    “Perce,” he whispered quietly.

    “Bill?” Percy asked, looking up. His voice was small, and it cracked as with that single word. He was frightened, wild-eyed, and Bill was very abruptly reminded of Percy when he was three, and had been scared by the wind and the thunder in the middle of the night. Percy had come into his room that night, instead of seeking out their parents. Bill, who had been all of eight, remembered simply telling him to get in the bed with him. Percy had had such blind faith in his brother that night, and that was the look he was giving Bill now.

    “Yeah, Perce, it’s me,” he said reassuringly.

    Percy’s hands were shaking. “She’s dead, Bill. She’s… the baby…”

    “I know, Perce,” he said, and looked up as he heard Ron approach. He saw Ron look at the body — clearly that of a pregnant woman — that had now been covered up as the Healer had moved on to someone else. The way the sheet bulged over her stomach seemed to make her death only more obscene. She'd been due soon, but...

    Bill saw the flash of grief in Ron's eyes as he made the connection, but he had to admit he was strangely impressed by how quickly Ron pushed that emotion aside. He didn't say so, of course, as now was hardly a time for such observations. Clearly, though, his Auror training was beginning to take hold. Ron had a control of his emotions that his eldest brother had never seen in him. It hammered home for Bill that all his siblings were grown now, and made him feel just a little bit older.

    Everything today had made Bill feel just a little bit older, when it came down to it.

    “Perce,” his youngest brother said, his voice filled with a compassion Bill had never heard from him, and Bill was saddened to think of the price Ron had paid - that they had all paid - for that maturity. Percy looked dully up at Ron, who had now knelt down beside Bill. “Perce, I’m sorry.”

    But there was something else in his voice, too. “But?” he asked weakly, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

    "I can't imagine what you're going through right now. And... and a part of me doesn't want to. But I need Bill’s help right now, I really need it.” Ron said quietly. “I know it's asking a lot... I know you need him - us - right now. But... Harry’s still trapped down there, along with another friend of ours. Some of the kids, too, we think. We're not sure all they all made it through the portrait when we were evacuating. Bill's dealt with cave-ins before, and that's experience we desperately need.”

    Bill wanted to hate his younger brother for his words, for not giving Percy space for his grief. But he found that he couldn't. He knew that Harry was just as important to Ron as Percy was, and to Ginny, Harry was even more so. Ron could no more let his guard down right now to help his brother than he could stop breathing. There was still too much to do.

    And then the other part of what he’d said finally registered. “Harry’s down there?” Percy asked weakly

    “He is,” Ron nodded gravely. “And…"

    "What is it?" Bill asked softly.

    "Ginny says he’s not got long,” Ron finished. His eyes darted over to Penelope, and for a moment, Bill could read Ron's thoughts as easily as he could when the other man was younger. If they didn't get Harry out soon, the Weasleys wouldn't be having one funeral. They'd be having two.

    Bill didn't have to ask how Ginny knew Harry's condition, of course. He was one of the few they had told about their connection. He had researched it extensively, as he and Fleur had made the invocation of their bond a part of their marriage rights. So he understood very well how she could know what Harry's condition was.

    And just what it would do to her if Harry died.

    It was Percy who answered for him, his mouth set in a thin line. "Help them, Bill," he said quietly. "I'll be along shortly. I just need a minute to -"

    "I get it, Perce," Ron finished for him, "Take your time. And... we'll help you, you know. We'll be here for you. But... later." Percy nodded briskly, and Bill knew he understood. Without another word, Bill and Ron left Percy there, kneeling quietly by the body of his wife. Bill felt horrible for it - but when faced between choosing to help one sibling save the person they loved, and helping another mourn the loss of the same... As horrible as it was, there was only one real choice to make.

    Later, he could be there for Percy. For now, he turned his attention to Ginny, then, and prayed to whatever gods were listening that he wouldn't have to be there for her, too.


    It seemed an eternity before Cordelia answered his question. "Ol' Tom-the-bastard was my uncle," she said finally. "My Da was his little brother."

    "How is that possible?" Harry asked. "Voldemort killed Tom Riddle and both of his parents when he was 16. Dumbledore never told me anything about Voldemort having other family."

    "Wasn't relevant, I guess," Cordy shrugged. "My Da was born about four or five years later, after Tom Riddle, Sr. remarried. I think the only reason Voldemort didn't kill them was because he didn't know about them. They were down in London the weekend that the rest of the family was killed, and aside from the funerals, they never returned to Little Hangleton."

    Harry considered that information, and was surprised to find that he felt a spike of anger at Dumbledore over not being told of this. A moment later, he realized that the notion was completely irrational - there had been no reason for Dumbledore to tell him. It was likely even, that giving the connection between his mind and Voldemort's, that the former Headmaster had had every reason in the world to NOT tell Harry that some of Tom Riddle's family had survived.

    Still, he was momentarily at a loss for what to say, until finally, and odd thought crossed his mind. "That's a relief."

    His eyes having regained their focus and adjusted to the light, Harry found he could make out Cordy's expressions even better. Right now, she was staring at him as though he had three heads. "A... a... what?" she sputtered, bringing a grin to his face.

    "Well, like I said, it's a relief," he repeated blandly.

    "You want to clarify that, ducks?"

    "Well..." Harry laughed, which precipitated another round of coughing. More blood. Damn. "If you were his daughter, that would be really melodramatic. And also? Kind of... gross."

    Then Harry laughed again, and because the thought of Tom Riddle, of Voldemort, having sex with anyone was just so, so utterly absurd. He said as much, and after a moment, she joined him in his laughter.

    "Would be, wouldn't it?" she finally commented, once she'd stopped laughing enough to do so.

    "And I think I'm kind of amazed, too."

    "Why's that?"

    "Well, I never thought anyone had a worse uncle than me before."

    That brought another laugh.

    “Why now?” Harry asked after they calmed down from that. He was able to pull his left arm up, he found, and rest his head on it. That made things a bit more comfortable, and actually shifted a little bit of the weight off of his back. Some of the pain faded with the shifting, and Harry hoped that didn't mean that more of him was going numb. Abruptly, he felt himself start to panic once again - what if he was paralyzed? What if that was why he couldn't move his legs? - But he firmly shut those thoughts away, and looked at Cordelia.

    “Why wasn’t I here before?” she questioned. "At Hogwarts, you mean?"

    “Well, yeah,” Harry clarified. "Why come back to England at all? I don't think I would, if I were you."

    "I was all set to come first year, you know," she answered. "Bloody excited about it, too, once I got my letter. My parents were Muggles, of course. Mum thought it was grand, finding out about magic. Da, though... well, I expect Da knew already, given that Voldemort killed his family. Our family."

    Her voice grew quieter then, and Harry easily recognized the sound of old loss in her voice when she continued. “I never got to ask him, though. Voldemort killed my parents the summer before first year. Well, it was Voldemort, but... not really. He was possessing that professor.”

    “Quirrell,” Harry answered automatically, and the image of his first defense professor’s body disintegrating under his touch came, unbidden.

    “Yeah, him,” Cordy confirmed. “I never knew if Quirrell did it on his own, or if it was just Voldemort using him as a sock-puppet. I found their bodies, and went panicking to my neighbor. I met Professor Dumbledore then, and he explained some things. He explained that we were related to a very evil man, and that he’d killed my parents — “

    “To wipe them from existence,” Harry finished for her. “The Riddles, I mean. The whole family.”

    “Yeah,” she nodded.

    "So Dumbledore knew?" Harry asked, deathly quiet. "That summer - he knew that Voldemort was possessing Quirrell?"

    "No," Cordy corrected quickly. "No, he didn't know that until you fought Quirrell. He knew that Voldemort was possessing someone, but he thought it was this bloke at the Ministry.

    “What about you? Why didn't Voldemort kill you?”

    “He never knew about me,” she shrugged. “I was taken into fosterage by a pair of squibs. They’re nice enough folks, but…”

    “Don’t quite get on, do you?”

    “Not always,” she shrugged. Or at least, he thought she shrugged. It was getting dimmer again, and Harry hoped that it wasn't just him. "I... didn't always make the best choices when I was younger, mate. I acted out a lot. Ran away a couple of times. Fell in with a bad lot. I'd show you my tattoos, but Ginny would kick my arse, and I don't want that. Frankly, I was kind of a fucked-up little sod."

    "Aren't we all?" Harry asked wryly. “What about school?”

    “The Professor thought I’d be discovered if I came here. He thought my blood could be used to help bring Voldemort back - he didn't explain that to me till I was about fourteen or so, mind you - so we had to make sure I was ‘off the radar’, like the Muggles say.”

    Harry made an incredulous noise. “So he sent you to Durmstrang?”

    “No," she corrected. "No, Beauxbatons the first few years,” she admitted. Harry had an even harder time imagining the rough-edged Londoner mixed in with girls like Fleur and Gabrielle, and he said so.

    "It wasn't always a smooth fit," she confessed. "Harry, I've never really fit in... anywhere."

    "I know what that's like," he quietly admitted, and strangely, felt a bit awkward at the confession. He could talk about things like this with Ginny, or Ron or Hermione, but... anyone else was difficult. Even given how much he and Cordy seemed to have in common. "So, uh... how’d you end up at Durmstrang, then?”

    “No other choice, really," she shrugged. "I went under an assumed name for sixth year, and then last year — well, I had to stay here in London once the Death Eaters took control of the Ministry. They weren't allowing any students to travel abroad. I worked with the Mudblood Resistance some. I was helping Justin's group when we got the message that you were at Hogwarts, back in May.”

    He nodded. In this, Cordelia's story was like many of the Muggleborn's and half-blood's stories of the last year. They had done the best they could at the time. It was all any of them could do.

    "I don't know what to make of this," he said honestly. "Of course, it's not like we choose who we're related to. If anybody knows that, I do. And part of me wants to hate you for it. A big part, really, because of everything he did to me. "

    "But?" she said, prompting him to continue.

    “But we were connected,” Harry whispered quietly. “So I was closer to him that you ever were. I knew him, probably better than anyone else on this Earth. You never even met him. He used my blood to come back. So even if I wanted to - which I don't, mind - I couldn't hold something as stupid as blood against you."

    "I'm glad," she said. "It - it means a lot to me, Harry."

    "Other people won't be so forgiving," he warned. "You're my friend. But... you had to know what you'd be in for, coming back to Britain."

    "I did," she confessed. "But I won't hide from it, Harry. Not anymore. Frankly, it's not my style."

    They shared a look then, that communicated a great deal. For all their differences, Harry and Cordelia really had a great deal in common. Both had had harder lives than they should have, and because of the same man. "Why don't you like your foster parents?"

    "Why don't you like your aunt and uncle?"

    "They-" Harry started, and found the words hard. "It's complicated."

    "That's a good word for it," Cordy answered, and she did so, Harry realized he was losing his ability to focus. He tried to hold on even tighter, but each thought seemed to become more ephemeral than the one before it, and it wasn't long before he was starting to drift away. And the creeping chill he'd felt for awhile now was getting even worse.

    "Cordy," he all but whispered.

    "Harry?" she asked, the concern showing through her voice again. "Harry, focus on me, ducks. I need you to stay with me."

    "Can't..." he replied honestly.”Tryin... just... can't."

    "Yes, you can, you can do it just fine-"

    Harry didn't answer.


    For Ginny, they simply were not working fast enough. It was better for her now that Bill had taken charge. Progress was being made. Bill himself had cast a spell that had left a miniature replica of the scene in front of him. Every few minutes, he would use his wand to move a simulated piece of the wreckage away, and then observe the effects. With this trial and error method, he would direct the others as to which pieces to move, and where.

    But it was going so bloody slowly that the waiting seemed interminable to Ginny. She hadn't been able to recover her connection to Harry since that one time, and she just didn't know what that meant. Hermione said that their bond used up a portion of their magical energy. If Harry was injured, she said, the "available magic" was lowered, as a witch or wizard's magic instinctively tried to keep that wizard alive. This left very little magical energy for anything else - in this case, their bond. As their bond strengthened, it would require less to 'power' it.

    But for now, what it boiled down to was that Harry was either unconscious, or seriously wounded. Neither prospect appealed to Ginny.

    "All right, this is it," Bill called, and Ginny perked up. Turning around, she could see where Bill was fiddling with his replica. "We move this slab, and we should be able to get down into the cave below."

    "I'll do it," Ginny said immediately. Bill just looked at her, and nodded. She listened carefully to his instructions, and under his guidance, the final stone slab was levitated away to their growing pile.


    No matter what Cordy did, she couldn't get Harry to awaken. She'd tried everything short of hexing him - which would have been an option, if she could have reached her wand. Frankly, she was starting to despair that they'd ever be found - let alone in time enough to help Harry. But then, after an eternity in darkness, a sudden rush of sunlight streamed down into the cave.

    A sense of relief flooded the dark-haired witch. They found us!

    "Here!" she cried. "Down here!"

    "Cordy?" came a voice - once that Cordy easily recognized.

    "Ginny!" she cried in relief, never having been so glad to see the other witch. "Get down here, ducks, and hurry! Harry's hurt!'

    "We're coming right down!"


    It had taken nearly another hour after they'd broken through to the cave to get the both of them uncovered. It had taken the healers another twenty minutes as the Healers worked on stabilizing Harry enough to move him. Ginny had refused to be moved from her new place at Harry's side in that whole time.

    Cordy's injuries had been less severe. Though she had been pinned, she had avoided any crushing damage. Her biggest problem had been a piece of metal that had punctured her leg, missing her femoral artery by barely an inch. The dark-haired witch claimed it was the "luck o' the Irish."

    Never mind that she wasn't a bit Irish herself, of course.

    Harry, however, had been considerably worse off. Ginny still shuddered, ticking off the mental list. Spell burns on his left arm, which were fortunately easy to heal. Major bone, nerve and tissue damage to his legs, and several fractures in the lower vertebrae of his spine. It had necessitated a three-day treatment of potions and spells to heal the damaged bones and tissue, and regrow the nerves. Along with the use of the sedatives, they had also been forced to use the full-body bind to keep Harry from moving and undoing all the Healer's work. That had been lifted only an hour ago.

    Ginny could feel him now, however, and she took that as her most positive sign that Harry's condition was improving, no matter what Poppy told her.

    She sipped tea gently from the cup in her hand, savoring its bitter flavor. The dark, unsweetened tea suited her melancholy mood. Then, quite suddenly, all musings about her tea were dropped - along with the teacup, which shattered (unnoticed) into pieces on the Infirmary's stone floor.

    "Harry..." she whispered as she felt their bond begin to expand as he came out of his potion-induced stupor. She hadn't realized before, how much the bond had become a part of her - a part of both of them. Now, with Harry awake again, it was like moving from a dark room into one lit by a thousand glimmering candles. It was all the difference in the world.

    "Gin?" he whispered, his voice quite hoarse.

    "I'm right here, luv."

    "Water?" he asked, and she brought the cup to his lips, having already picked it up from his night-table. Anticipating his needs in a case like this - well, that was easy.

    "Better?" she asked. She felt the edges of her eyes crinkle as she smiled down. It was so good to have him back that maybe - just maybe - she could even forgive him for sending her away as he had.

    "Much," he said, and closed his eyes. She drew the curtains by his bed shut as he did so, and was gratified to see him open his eyes again after only a few seconds. "How long?"

    "Three days."

    His hand found hers, and she began to brush her thumb across the back of his. "How bad?" he asked, his voice betraying his fears. Ginny was glad for the privacy - she knew he wouldn't want anyone else to know he was afraid. She could tell Poppy he'd awakened soon enough.

    "You'll be fine, luv," she confessed. Now that he was fine, of course, her anger at him getting himself so injured was beginning to spike up. With effort, she forced that response down. "Wizards are a bit more durable than Muggles. Your spinal cord was cracked, and your legs were just about shattered completely. But you've been on bone and nerve growth potions for the last three days, in addition to the pain and sedative potions. That's why Poppy and the others kept you asleep until now."

    "I'll be...” Harry sputtered, and Ginny had to force herself not to laugh at the expression on his face. It wasn't really funny. Well, it was, but he wouldn't appreciate that... "You're telling me my spine and leg were crushed... and I'm now ruddy fine?"

    "Exactly. Minus, of course, what I'm going to do to you for not Apparating yourself out, you great stupid pillock." Okay, maybe she couldn't hold it all in.

    Harry at least had the good grace to wince and look guilty. "I'm sorry, luv. I didn't think about it."

    "I know," she sighed."I don't know if that makes it better or worse, Harry. But you did save me - even if you managed to nearly do yourself in the process - so I'll forgive you this time. But don't do it again."

    "Right," Harry nodded. "Next time, I'll make sure not to get myself almost killed."

    Ginny just rolled her eyes. Asking that of Harry was probably futile, she realized.

    "How's everyone else?" he asked, and she realized that he felt her sudden sorrow that welled up at his question. Without words, then, he knew at least that someone had died. "Who?" he asked, his voice thick.

    "Penelope," she answered reluctantly. "And the baby, too. And... some others."

    Harry closed his eyes. "Damn," he muttered. Ginny was surprised that he didn't launch into a tirade of self-flagellation at the news. Perhaps he really was getting better about that sort of thing. "How's Percy?"

    "Devastated," she said frankly. "He looks as bad as George did right after Fred died. George has been helping him through it, though. We had the funeral yesterday. I thought we should wait for you, but... "

    "No, that's okay," Harry said softly. "You said there were others?"

    "Yes...” she trailed, and tensed up slightly.

    "Who?"

    "Lucius Malfoy," she answered finally.

    That particular piece of information left Ginny with a great deal of conflicted feelings. Like Harry, she'd thought Lucius Malfoy going free had been a travesty of justice. She'd gotten satisfaction, of course, in seeing him broke and knutless. But it wasn't the same. And she'd never, ever forget that without that man, she never would have opened the Chamber of Secrets.

    And because of that fact, there had always been a part of Ginny that wanted to be the one to kill Lucius Malfoy herself. Neville and Harry were the only ones that she'd ever spoken to of that feeling. They'd understood. Neville had wanted Bellatrix Lestrange for similar reasons, and Harry - well, Harry had been given plenty of reasons to want to kill Voldemort, hadn't he?

    Harry's eyes went wide, and she felt from his shock that he was completely blindsided by the news. "What?"

    "You heard me," she said simply.

    "Are you - sorry, are they sure?"

    "Very," she answered. "Ron can tell you more - he, Neville and Cordy have been handling the investigation, along with Professor MacDougal."

    Harry frowned, and she watched as he began to put all the pieces together. She always liked watching him do that. She always had. "They nailed Azkaban, didn't they?"

    "Leveled it," Ginny confirmed. "Dawlish and all of his Aurors on-station are dead, too."

    Harry swore. "We were undermanned as it was," he muttered, passing a hand over his face. He started to lift the blankets off, when Ginny quickly slammed him back down on the bed with one hand.

    "You are not going anywhere or doing anything until Poppy says so, Harry James Potter, if I have to re-petrify you myself. Am I understood?"

    Despite himself, Harry grinned. It helped, she thought, that he could feel her determination through their bond. He knew, of course, that she was completely serious.

    "Yes ma'am," he answered.

    "Good boy," Ginny acknowledged. "Now you stay there while I go get Poppy."


    The examination didn't take very long. And, as it turned out, it was far easier for Madame Pomfrey to fix broken bones than to regrow them. Nerves too, apparently. Harry had always thought she'd been exaggerating. Granted, regrowing the arm had been quicker... but it had just been the one arm. Still, he was dismissed in short order, and given firm instruction to take it very easy for the next several days. Harry didn't miss that these instructions were given to Ginny and not himself. Clearly, Poppy expected his girlfriend to be a better influence on him than he was on himself.

    Well, she was probably right about that.

    Even as they walked, though, Harry was already preoccupied with finding Ron and the others to be brought up to speed on the investigation. He also had already started mentally composing the after-action reports Roberts and Kingsley would be wanting. The Death Eaters hadn't just been out to cause chaos at Hogsmeade, they wanted something else. Had they gotten it from Malfoy? Was that why he was dead? Or had that been coincidence?

    Given that he was essentially following Ginny on autopilot, Harry was somewhat surprised when she led them to the Room of Requirement instead of Gryffindor Tower. He glanced at her quizzically, growing confused as he felt increasing amounts of determination coming from her. She paced back and forth, and like always, the door opened. This time, the Room had configured itself into a replica of his study back at Grimmauld Place, a room that he had made uniquely his own. It was a room that Ginny knew he was quite comfortable in. The Potter Family Tapestry was clearly on the wall across from his desk, and he saw all the other details of his room at home were there.

    It was a little disconcerting, actually, to realize that the room could replicate his private sanctum like that. He really, really hoped that was only because it was Ginny, who was intimately familiar with his real study, had done the requesting.

    "Um," he started, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase his question. After all, these days, with so many students knowing about it, the Room of Requirement saw its most frequent use as Hogwart's largest and most elaborate broom cupboard. "Gin, I'm supposed to be taking it easy, luv-"

    She rolled her eyes. "We're not here for that, you randy bugger."

    "Oh," Harry answered, finding he was somewhat disappointed. "What are we here for then?"

    Ginny looked him directly in the eyes, and then asked a question he couldn't have imagined. "Harry, that morning, did you know there was going to be an attack on Hogsmeade? Was that your dream?"

    And as though a key had been turned, Harry suddenly remembered everything about his dreams - the ones he'd been having for months. Visions, of other times, other places, and how, the night before the attack, he seen it. He had seen Ginny being crushed beneath the rubble instead of him. And he remembered what had happened every time he had tried to speak of those - the way his mouth had stopped working, until he gave up on it. He remembered the Orb, found at Grimmauld Place. He remembered packing it, bringing it to Hogwarts. Even more strangely - he remembered forgetting about the whole thing.

    So no one was more surprised than Harry when he answered Ginny's question - when he was able to answer her question. "Yeah, yeah it was."

    Back to index


    Chapter 24: Chapter 24 - The Curse of Cassandra

    Author's Notes: So, yes, it's been a really long time between chapters. But frankly, there were some scenes in here that took a bit for me to be satisfied with. The next one should be up much, much sooner. I thank everyone for their patience!


    Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows
    Chapter 24 - "Cassandra's Curse"

    The words, so long locked away, spilled from Harry in a verbal torrent. He knew he sounded as though he were trying to get them all out at once, and that if he failed, he might never get the chance to utter them at all. (And truthfully, that was the case - so many months of enforced silence had to have had an effect, after all.) "It's been going on since the summer," Harry explained rapidly. "There's been these... dreams. Crazy ones, about things that never, ever happened. There was this one dream, where Dumbledore and I were fighting Voldemort in the Ministry - "

    The wellspring of concern that came from Ginny at that sentence slowed his verbal rush, if only for a moment.”Harry," she began gently, laying her hand on his forearm. "That actually happened, luv. Your fifth year. The night that - "

    "I know what happened that night," Harry snapped, a bit more harshly than he intended. Some hurts never truly healed, after all, and Sirius' death was - and would likely always remain - one of them. He hoped that Ginny felt his remorse across their bond, and took a deep breath at the calm acceptance that was still so heavily tinged with concern that he felt in return. For a moment, he wondered how they had ever thought themselves so close before this - there were no lies in their relationship, no untruths whatsoever. And to Harry, that remained a very precious thing indeed. "And I don't mean like that. I mean we were older, adults and - well, things were bad. Way worse than they ever really got."

    "I think things got bad enough," she said firmly.

    "I know, I know," Harry said, holding up a hand. "Some of these made what we went through look like a picnic. And there was this other dream, this one where I dueled Lestrange in front of the Veil. You know, the one in the Department of Mysteries. And there was this other dream, where you started Hogwarts with me and Ron - I think you were twins or something. And this one were Voldemort took you into the Chamber, with Sirius, in fifth year. "

    Ginny started to interrupt, but Harry paid no heed.”But then, some of them came true! There was..." Harry paused, though it was clear he wasn't waiting for input from Ginny in any way. He didn't even notice when she quickly cast the Patronus messenger charm, and her silver doe went shooting off to find Hermione. "Well - I had a dream about the attack in Diagon Alley, but I just put it down to a bad bit of cheese or something. Tom's dead, you know. I shouldn't be having dreams like this anymore. But then that attack happened. And then, I had a dream again, before Hogsmeade. And I tried to tell you! So many times! You, Hermione - "

    The petite redhead laid a reassuring pair of hands on his shoulders, an act that visibly calmed Harry. More important, likely, were the calming feelings that she was sending through their bond. "It's okay, Harry, we'll figure it out. Let's just... let's just wait for Hermione, all right?"

    "Ginny," Harry said, knowing that he wasn't keeping the fear out of his voice, and that - alone with her, at least - he wasn't really even trying. "What's happening to me?"

    - - - - - - -

    Hermione arrived in relatively short order, with Luna in tow, and the pair's surprise at seeing Harry up and out of the hospital wing was clear. It would have been clear even if Hermione hadn't started in on her (expected) remonstrations. "Harry! What are you doing in here? You need to be under medical supervision - "

    "You really should listen to Poppy, Harry," Luna warned, surprising Harry. "She's a very good healer, and it doesn't help her at all if her patients don't listen."

    "This is more important, you two," Ginny interrupted, cutting both witches off with no regret. Her voice was firm, and she would brook no further argument. That fact was more than evident when Hermione's mouth clamped closed, while Luna just looked on in interest. Both knew very well that Ginny was the most ardent advocate for Harry's needs that he could possibly have, and if Ginny thought that whatever this was was far more important.... "I'm listening," the brunette stated simply. Luna didn't speak, but simply turned her rapt attention back towards Harry, who immediately launched into the same explanation he'd been giving Ginny - though he was a bit calmer in his delivery this time.

    He ran back through everything he could remember, giving just a bit more detail whenever Hermione or Luna asked a probing question. He detailed all the dreams he could recall - and all the times he'd tried, or wanted, to say something about them. When he'd finished, he and Ginny looked to Hermione expectantly. She had that expression on her face, the one that said she already knew the answer, and that you bloody well should have, too.

    Harry had always hated that look.

    "Well?" he asked.

    "You never did pay attention in History of Magic," Harry's longtime academic lifeline muttered. (Less so these days, of course, because now Harry was actually a fairly diligent student. Or at least, he liked to think so. That didn't save him from the... lapses of his past, however, he realized.)

    But Harry couldn't help the derisive snort that came out, even if it did draw a glare from his friend. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy being the one with the answers, Hermione."

    She simply shrugged - and made absolutely no effort to deny it, of course. She locked eyes with Luna for a moment, and after just a bit of silent communication between the two, Luna nodded, and then Hermione spoke again. "It's Cassandra's Curse," she supplied finally. "There's a version of the spell - it has a potion component, though that's not terribly important here - that curses a seer to be unable to relate their visions."

    "But I'm not a seer."

    "But Harry's not a seer."

    The protests came simultaneously, and the couple shared a grin between them. Then he turned back to where Hermione and Luna were sitting casually on the couch. "So why would someone put this spell on me?"

    "Don't be silly, Harry," Luna chided. "No one put a spell on you."

    "But Hermione just said - "

    "Yes, I did," Hermione conceded. "I said I didn't think a person put the spell on you. I think this Orb of yours - I'll want to examine it, of course - is the Orb of Cassandra."

    "Of course it is," Luna confirmed. While Hermione had doubts - she was Hermione, after all - Luna appeared to have none whatsoever. "And the Orb itself..."

    Ginny drew in a quick breath. "Was cursed. Of course...” she muttered. Harry, unfortunately, still had no clue.

    "Great. All of you know. Care to clue me in?" he muttered, folding his arms over his chest in exasperation and throwing himself down on the seat next to Ginny.

    The brunette just shook her head this time, and muttered something Harry couldn't quite catch under her breath. This was for the better, he decided, as those thoughts likely were not very kind towards he himself. "The Orb was created by the Trojan princess Cassandra. She was a Seer, the first known to give truly accurate prophecies, and created the Orb so that her abilities would live on in the royal line. Wizards and Muggles - at least in Greece - lived openly together in those days. It's led to quite interesting developments in Muggle mythology, actually - "

    "Hermione - "

    "Yes, sorry," Hermione stopped herself, and then brought herself back to the point. "Another wizard, by the name of Apollo, loved her quite fanatically. Cassandra was successful in tying the Orb to her magic. But when Cassandra didn't return Apollo's love, he cursed the Orb so that anyone who used it would be unable to reveal their visions."

    "How do you know all this?" Harry asked, even though it was likely a foolish question. Still, even as he continued the conversation, another part of his mind began weighing the facts. And the facts all pointed to Hermione and Luna very likely being correct.

    Hermione made a noise of annoyance. "Really, Harry, this was in first-term of History of Magic, back in our first year. And it was in the additional reading assigned for Professor Trelawney's class. Didn't you ever wonder why the Ministry uses spheres to record prophecies?"

    Harry just shrugged. He'd never given it much thought, actually. And the less he'd done for Trelawney's Divination Class, the better... even now. "So how did this... Orb of Cassandra end up in Grimmauld Place?" he asked, brushing past the topic of his own ignorance.

    Luna was the one to offer the next explanation. "The Blacks were an old pureblood family; you know that, of course. But Cassandra lived three thousand years ago. It's almost impossible to say what the Orb's been through in that time. Trying to trace its path could make quite an interesting study, really."

    Hermione's eyes seemed to light up at that. "Oh, it would, wouldn't it? We could start by looking for historical references - "

    "So what broke the curse?" Ginny asked, giving a not-so-subtle clearing of her throat.

    "I don't know," Hermione said honestly.

    "But you have a theory," Harry supplied.

    "I do," she confessed, and hesitated for just a moment. "I've no evidence at all, of course," she hedged, and Harry prompted her to continue. "Well, Cassandra's Curse is designed to work on just one person. Your bond, however, binds you and Ginny together in ways that can never be completely separated. With the strength of the bond between the two of you, that magic..."

    "It's frayed," Ginny said aloud, drawing Hermione's conclusion for her.

    "What?" Harry and Hermione asked simultaneously. He turned to see Ginny looking at him oddly. The concern he'd felt from her earlier had returned as well - which, he supposed; only made sense. He was fairly concerned about being under the effects of an unknown Curse himself. Slightly preoccupied with the still somewhat alien notion of being able to feel Ginny's emotions, it took Harry a moment to realize she was using her Sight - the ability to "see" magic that both of them had developed in the last year. The realization made him feel a little bit guilty, actually, as it was one he'd been neglecting. Around Hogwarts, after all, Magic was everywhere, and using that particular talent turned his vision into a kaleidoscope here. And truthfully, he didn’t much care for the headaches that gave him.

    However, it was no surprise at all when Hermione began looking at him that same way, just a moment later. She hadn't possessed that ability when he and Ginny had first told her about it, but Harry had no doubt if that, once she was aware of the possibility, she would do her utmost to realize that talent. Clearly, she had managed.

    "Yes, I think you're right," Hermione muttered. "You see this, here?" she asked, tracing something in the air that Harry couldn't see.

    "That's what I'm talking about," Ginny said pointedly. "Look, it comes from here, and travels over - "

    "Well I can't see it at all," Harry snapped, unable to bite back the annoyance. He could see the magic that made up the Room of Requirement, but....

    "Well, you're too close to it," Ginny intuited, apparently having taken no offense at his pique. "It's like trying to see your own eyelids. You can't do it. But I can see it now, in your aura - there's this sort of brownish-black layer, and a thread headed back, out of the room, towards..."

    "Towards Gryffindor Tower," Harry finished, craning his head around to where she was pointing. "I can see the thread, once it gets far enough away from me. It's back to my dorm."

    "Back to the Orb," Hermione corrected.

    Luna, in a strange turn, was looking back at all of them like they had gone completely around the bend. It was a strange expression to see on her face, to say the least. "Excuse me, are you telling me that the three of you can see magic?"

    "Erm...yes?" Harry answered reluctantly.

    "Ridiculous," Luna muttered. "Utterly preposterous. One can't see magic, it's..."

    "Impossible?" Ginny grinned - as did Hermione. Harry just shook his head, and was glad when Luna declined to comment further - though he did find the wide-eyed witch's disbelief entertaining. There was something inherently amusing about Luna Lovegood finding something - anything - impossible.

    "So what do we do now?" Ginny asked.

    "We break the curse completely," Harry answered, without reservation.

    "And the Orb?"

    "We use it," he answered. When Hermione began to protest, he held up a hand. "That Orb let me save Ginny's life in Hogsmeade, Hermione," he said. "If we can remove the curse, that could be very useful. Especially with Lestrange and his... associates back on the playing field."

    "But you said the dreams weren't constant - that they weren't always of this world," Hermione pointed out.

    "But for the times it is..." he paused.”It's worth lack of decent sleep, Hermione. Too many have died - we can't let that continue."

    He was startled for a moment by Ginny's hand curling around his, and then her reassuring presence being pushed across their bond. "No, we can't," she acknowledged. She knew he was thinking of some of those other things, and he felt the darkness behind his own thoughts as he thought how similar - but infinitely more painful - some of those dreams had been to what Ginny actually had gone through in the last year. Harry would not see any of those things happen again. Not to Ginny, and not to anyone else if he could help it.

    But especially not to her.

    "Then we get to work," Hermione stated, recognizing that Harry had made up his mind. She drew her wand, and a moment later, a silver otter flew away. A moment later, another otter followed, but headed in a different direction.

    Harry raised a silent eyebrow in question, and felt Ginny's curiosity join his own.

    "I've sent Ron to collect the Orb, and another to collect B- er, Professor Weasley."

    "You want to do this now?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise. He had expected her to want to prepare a bit more, but...

    "No time like the present," the smartest witch in Hogwarts smirked, and Harry had no choice but to set himself at ease. If anyone could figure out how to remove a curse like this, it would be Hermione - and Bill Weasley, late of Gringott's, who just so happened to be the best (if only) curse-breaker they knew.

    ------------------------------

    A half-hour and even more explanations later, Ron and Bill and joined the impromptu meeting. Ron was leaning, his arms balance on one knee as he stood with one foot on the side of "Harry's" couch. Bill, however, was standing and looking back and forth between the wrapped (in a pillowcase) form of the Orb that was sitting on the Room's replica of Harry's desk, and Harry himself.

    "May I?" he said, his words nearly a reverent whisper.

    "Sure," Harry answered, fighting back his amusement. Granted, he realized why Bill was reacting this way, but... well, it was a bit funny. The tinkling sound his mind suggested that Ginny thought so, too. "Just... don't touch it," he warned.

    Bill fixed him with a flat stare. "I am a professional, you know."

    "Right, sorry," Harry said quickly, drawing a chuckle from the others.

    Bill - he wasn't Professor Weasley right now - let out a low whistle after he gingerly removed the pillowcase that Ron had wrapped so tightly around, and everyone got their first real look at the Orb of Cassandra.

    At first, it seemed a simple sphere of blue crystal. Quite striking, but relatively ordinary. After a moment, however, the object seemed to sense their presence - or perhaps, Harry thought, their attention. It's blue runes showed themselves, blazing an azure light that made the Orb look anything but ordinary.

    And as soon as those runes lit up, Harry felt the connection between it and himself flare. He felt a sudden overriding need to protect the orb, to hide it, above all, NO ONE COULD KNOW! His wand darted into his hand and he turned to the first of the dangers - the short red-haired one, and -

    And he never saw the spell that took him down.

    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

    The world resolved itself with into a hazy muddle of colors as Harry returned to the world of wakefulness. The familiar contours of Hogwart's hospital wing revealed themselves, and Harry let out a groan - but one borne of annoyance, not pain. Without his glasses, he saw only blurry masses of color, and made out a bit of red hair at the side of his bed. That also seemed just a bit too familiar.

    "Ginny?" he asked, pressing a hand to the side of his head. Merlin, he decided, one should not be able to hear one's own pulse like that!

    "Wrong Weasley, mate," came an equally welcome voice. "Blimey, you really are blind without these things, aren't you?"

    "Yeah," Harry croaked, and accepted the glasses he sense Ron was handing to him. As everything swam into focus, he saw his friend - his partner - watching him with a wary eye. He didn't miss the way Ron's wand was in his hand - and he immediately recognized both the caution, and the determination to use that very wand. He'd just never seen it directed his way before. "Er... all right, Ron?" he asked, unable to hide his nervous swallow.

    "I am," the other said. "You're the question, though,"

    "Why would you - " Harry cut off abruptly as a flash of memory resolved itself. At the same time, he felt a fuzzy awareness of Ginny. She wasn't far, but she was asleep herself. "Ginny!" he suddenly recalled. "I tried to attack her - did I - ?" his eyes burned with the question that he could not voice, and the hardness that had been in Ron's eyes softened.

    "No, mate," he said quietly. "She took you down before you could. You've been out for a full day again. Getting to be too much of a habit with you, you know. Hermione might've... er... dosed her tea with a sleeping potion to get her to rest. She was in a right state about you."

    Harry let loose a sigh of relief. "She's okay, though?"

    "She will be, once she's had some sleep. How about you?"

    "I feel..." after a moment, Harry surprised himself answering honestly. "I feel fine. The curse?"

    "Gone," Ron answered. "Bill, Luna and Hermione removed it from you, and then from the Orb. Bill's holding on to it, he said he wanted to observe you around it first, just to be sure."

    "Fair enough," Harry nodded, stepping out from the bed to begin drawing on the clothes that someone had laid beside it for him. "And you?"

    "Just wanted to make sure you were you again."

    "Also fair," Harry conceded with a grin. "You know Ron; you are taking all of this remarkably in stride."

    Ron just shrugged. "It's you, mate. I'm used to weird shite happening when you're around."

    Truer words were never spoken, Harry decided.

    -----------------------------------------

    Harry slipped himself down on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. Someone had covered Ginny with a blanket, but it looked as though Hermione's doctored tea had done its job. The redhead didn't even stir as Harry slipped her head and shoulders up so he could sit down, and then replace them on his lap. Ginny responded by burrowing sleepily into him, and Harry felt her own sleepiness drawing him into a restful peace. As she slept, he gazed into the fire, considering everything that had occurred.

    Ron had filled him in on some of it. Penny's funeral had already been held, and Harry resolved to check in on Percy as soon as possible. Harry was intimately familiar with that sort of loss, and it was not something anyone should have had to face alone. Though, according to Ron, George had all but stapled himself to Percy's side already.

    In the days since the attack, no one had seen Lestrange and his followers, but a tremendous public outcry had arisen. Privately, Harry wasn't surprised to find that Azkaban had been destroyed. Without the Dementors, the forbidding island had lost its most formidable method of prisoner control, and the Auror Division remained critically understaffed.

    What Harry found equally astonishing was how quietly the death of Lucius Malfoy had passed. The date of the funeral had been in the papers, of course, but it had been remarked that precisely one person had attended said funeral. Narcissa, now the Widow Malfoy, had been the only person to see her husband interred into the family crypt. Not even Draco Malfoy had attended, though Harry knew that Professor McGonagall would have granted permission for him to leave the castle. According to Ron, not only had Draco not sought that permission, but had - quite vigorously and publicly - turned the Headmistress' offer down.

    And then there was -

    "You shouldn't brood so much this early in the morning, Harry," a sudden voice came from the vicinity of his lap. "It'll wake a girl from her beauty sleep."

    "Hey you," Harry said fondly, and was glad for the emptiness of the Common Room.

    "Hey yourself," she said back, and he felt her tenuous probes towards himself - and her satisfaction as she found all was right in his head.

    "You feel right again," she murmured happily, and he smiled as he felt the edges of sleep still working their way around their mind.

    "All better now," Harry confessed. "It's been like - Oh, bollocks," he cursed as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

    Ginny's eyes opened wide at his sudden alarm. "Harry? What is it?"

    "The ball!" he suddenly exclaimed. "We did all that work, getting everything set so far in advance - and then we didn't even get to go. Did they still have it? Did you go?"

    Ginny just stared at him for a moment, a shocked expression on her face. "Everything we've just been through... and you're worried about a ball?"

    "Well...” he trailed, his voice sounding lame even to his own ears. He felt an embarrassed blush creep into his cheeks. "It was important to you. And... I was looking forward to it."

    Ginny laughed, a musical tinkling that set Harry's nerves at ease. She further responded by drawing herself of and positioning himself face-to-face in his lap. The fire was warm against her back then, and Harry was momentarily surprised as their bond shared that feeling as well. "Luv, you are one of the sweetest people I have ever met," she said finally, the amusement in her voice still abundant.

    He snorted. "Gee, thanks Gin. That's just the sort of thing a bloke wants to be called."

    "Nonetheless," she continued. "You'll have your chance. McGonagall didn't feel there was much to celebrate - she's rescheduling the Ball for later. New Year's, I believe."

    "Oh," Harry said.

    "Now come here," Ginny said, her voice becoming a low whisper, and a familiar and dusky sort of feeling worked its way across their bond. "Because there is something you owe me, sir."

    "Well," Harry grinned. "I like to pay my debts," he said before they met for a kiss that could only very delicately be described as 'passionate'.

    ------------------------------------------------

    For the next week, the Wizarding World was aflame with controversy. Harry remained surprised at the level that even he was exposed to, as he was now senior Auror for Hogwarts and the village of Hogsmeade. The Aurors-on-station and running the training program had been recalled, leaving the whole mess squarely in Harry's lap. Concerned citizens called out for action - the wizarding populace, it seemed, would not be so willing to lie down for Lestrange as they had for Voldemort, and the end result was that Harry spent almost as much time dealing with worried parents and Hogsmeade residents as he did dealing with the younger students as Head Boy. His classwork time was severely curtailed, but McGonagall had issued a blanket pass for Harry and the other Auror trainees. After Halloween, there was a definite separation among the trainees and the students who were merely completing their studies.

    Still, it was the public's reaction that surprised Harry the most. Whatever the reason, the witches and wizards of Britain had decided that they would not be going gently into any good nights. He expected it to pass; from what Ron had told him while he was... out of sorts, but the fervor seemed to show no signs of abatement.

    "Look at this," Harry marveled, throwing the Daily Prophet down on the table in front of him. Dora had hung around after delivering his paper, and was now perched on the table next to him as Ginny fed her a rasher of bacon. Two younger girls behind them at the Ravenclaw table giggled as his owl shifted colors from purple to red, showing her appreciation for Ginny. "Over a hundred people submitted applications to the Aurors this week alone."

    He saw Hermione look pointedly a group further down the table. A full dozen of those applications were from their classmates, who had been integrated into the training program that Harry was now running with Professor MacDougal's assistance.

    "How're that many people even qualified?" Ron asked, after carefully finishing the bit of toast he'd bitten off. (Something that, Harry noted, made Hermione look on in satisfaction.)

    "They dropped the Potions NEWT requirement," Harry answered. "I suppose Professor Snape did more damage than he ever thought. King said it was the only way they could make up losses, after the war, and then Azkaban."

    "How d'you figure that?" Cordy asked from her now-typical place at Neville's side. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and like all the rest of the team, she was wearing Quidditch robes instead of the normal Hogwarts' uniform. "I thought you said this Snape bloke was a hero, Harry."

    "He was," Harry admitted, but knew his voice carried more than that admission behind it. Even now, his feelings on the topic of Severus Snape remained complicated.

    "He was also the worst sodding teacher Hogwarts has ever had," Ron muttered.

    "He had a cover to maintain," Hermione said, although even she didn't sound convinced.

    Neville snorted. "It wasn't just cover," he said darkly. "He was a right prat about a lot of things."

    "He was..." Harry started, and felt Ginny cover his hand with her own as he fought his way around the words. "He was a very unhappy man, in the end. I don't think he could help it, really."

    "Sorry, wait," Cordy said, sticking up a palm. "I'm confused. Can someone start over?"

    Ginny took up the call, no doubt because she did feel the conflicting emotions in Harry. "Professor Snape was... complicated. He was a spy for our side, but most of the time, no one really knew which side he was on. As a teacher he was... well, somewhat lacking. His methods were harsh, and made a difficult subject - potions - even more difficult for a lot of students."

    "There's tons of people that never took their Potions NEWT just because of him," Harry continued. "And because that was a requirement, it's part of the reason we've been so short on Aurors for so long."

    "Did he do that on purpose, then?" Cordy asked. "Wasn't he the person Voldemort appointed to run Hogwarts?"

    "Yes, but that was because of Dumbledore - "

    "Who he killed," Cordy clarified.

    "At Dumbledore's request," Harry conceded sadly.

    "You're right, mate," Cordy snorted.

    Harry raised his eyebrows.

    "It's complicated," she confessed, which drew a snort of laughter from Harry, and similar reactions from the others.

    "Yeah," he nodded. "Tell me about it."

    "Let's not get into it," Ginny countered, and Cordy looked to her curiously.

    "Why not, ducks?"

    "Because," Ginny grinned. "Today, we have a match. And Ravenclaw is going down."

    Harry raised his pumpkin juice. "Here, here!" he toasted - a sentiment that was echoed all down the Gryffindor table.

    It was only later that Harry realized that the only member of the team not sitting with them had been Romilda Vane. Months later, he would come to regret that fact a great deal.

    - - -- - - - -- - - -- - - -

    The Ravenclaw game had been hard-fought, but ultimately Gryffindor had taken them, even if only by a mere twenty points. Ginny was down about that at first, before Harry reminded her that a win was a win, and after the House retired from the victory party, they had their own private celebration.

    Things settled back into a pattern after the game. Harry and his trainees continued to excel in Defense classes, and Ron had even managed the first partial Animagus transformation in Transfiguration, turning his hand into a reddish-furred paw. As they all got more involved in their classes, the fall term seemed to pass with an astonishing speed. One night, just a few days before they let out for the Christmas Break, Ron commented on the quiet in the Common Room one evening. "It makes me nervous," he grunted, twisting the cap off of the Butterbeer Harry had just handed him.

    "Me too," Harry agreed.

    "What's that?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book with a vague interest. Harry craned his neck just for a moment to see the title - yes, she was reading yet another book on magical law.

    Ginny made a noise of disgust. "The same thing they've been going on about for a week now," she muttered, and idly turned the page of her Holyhead Harpies Official Playbook that no one knew how she'd gotten a copy of.

    "Well, it's too quiet," Harry reiterated. "It's been nearly a month, and no one in the country's seen or heard anything of Lestrange and his men." Harry pointedly refused to refer to them as the Death Eaters, something his friends had adopted as well.

    "Cordy and Susan think so, too," Ron grumbled. "It's not just us."

    "You junior Aurors are all as paranoid as Mad-Eye ever was," Ginny teased, and Harry would have fixed her with a glare if he hadn't been so preoccupied.

    "Perhaps they've left England?" Hermione suggested, also not for the first time.

    "I don't think so," Harry shrugged, but there was a certainty in his tone that could not be denied.

    Ginny looked at him shrewdly. "A dream?"

    Harry nodded, but he didn't explain any further. After they'd successfully removed Cassandra's Curse from himself and the Orb, he'd started having dreams almost every night. Their accuracy varied - one or two minor things had come true. He'd stopped a second year from tripping and falling down the stairs only a few days prior. But they were difficult to sort through, and sometimes extraordinarily painful to watch. Dark circles were starting to form under his eyes once more, and once more, he felt Ginny's open concern.

    The dreams had left Harry certain of one thing, however. Wherever Rodolphus Lestrange was, whatever he was plotting, he had not left England.

    --------------------------------------

    Rodolphus Lestrange stood over the grave of Tom Riddle, Senior. It was this grave that his Master had held Harry Potter prisoner against, the night he had returned four years ago. It was the very grave where the bones of his father that Wormtail had used in his ritual had resided.

    And apparently, the Death Eaters were not the only ones who knew that. Someone had come along and destroyed the remains of every Riddle in this graveyard. One of those meddling bastards from the Order of the Phoenix, no doubt, or perhaps even the Old Man himself. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that all the remains of any member of the Riddle family were completely destroyed.

    "What will we do?" Greyback asked, his voice unnecessarily low. They were alone, or the werewolf would never have dared to put such urgency - and familiarity - in his tone otherwise. "Without those bones, we have no way to return the Master to life."

    Lestrange snorted. "You should not pretend you were one of the Dark Lord's faithful, Greyback," he chided. "I know very well you only joined us because he indulged your... tendencies for mayhem."

    "Which is the same use you have for me," Fenrir retorted. "You're locked on to this insane plan of yours - "

    The dark-haired wizard's eyes flashed. "It is not insanity," he shot back. "The Dark Lord returned before, he will do so again. We just need to complete the ritual."

    "But there's no remains left," Greyback reiterated once more. They had been over this before. "This is foolish, Lestrange. These are magics in which no one should meddle lightly - "

    The absurdity of Fenrir Greyback being the voice of reason was not lost on Rodolphus Lestrange. But he remained, as ever, his Master's faithful servant.

    "This is not the only relations the Dark Lord had," Lestrange explained. "There is a girl, at Hogwarts, who shares the Dark Lord's name." Given that the girl in question now seemed to be a member of Potter's inner circle, her... cooperation was unlikely. That was of no matter, however.

    "Then we need her," the werewolf commented, and Lestrange bit down on his tongue to stop himself from voicing his annoyance at the other's obviousness.

    "As we need Potter," Lestrange admitted. And then he smiled, a smile that chilled even Fenrir Greyback's bones. "And I know just how we're going to get them."

    Back to index


    Chapter 25: Chapter 25 - Toil & Trouble

    Author's Notes: Yeah, I said this chapter would be out faster, but my wife and I just had our second child. So no promises on speed, folks - but I'll do the best I can to make things worth the wait. Enjoy!


    Chapter 25 - "Toil & Trouble"

    Harry was, simply put, not having a good day. It had started out well enough, to be certain. Mr. Parker and his crew had been a fixture all year, continuing on the work Harry had helped him with back in August. The sight of him and his work-wizards fixing this or that section of the castle, or stripping down and rebuilding the layers of enchantments here or there had become positively routine. Harry had been more than happy to provide assistance in the form of magical 'muscle' whenever asked, spurring even more of his own academic interest in magic. (A fact that left him open to continual teasing from Ron, naturally enough.) Indeed, as a side-effect, several of the less academically gifted students had discovered talents with magical construction. Enough so that Professor McGonagall had been hinting at serious expansions to the Hogwarts curriculum in years to come.

    What this meant for Harry, however, had been good news in that the Head dorms had finally been repaired. The dorms themselves magically moved from one set of House dorms to another each year, as the Head Boy and Girl came from different houses. Last year, they had both belonged to Slytherin students (Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, respectively,) and had been destroyed when a large portion of the Slytherin dungeons had caved in on themselves. That had led to the Slytherin dorms being relocated entirely, as structural flaws from the nearby Chamber of Secrets had threatened to collapse nearly a third of the castle. Ron and Harry had not been successful in suppressing the amusement that had come with the Slytherins moving into their new tower, based on the revelation that several of them had turned out to be agoraphobic. None of the Quidditch players, of course, and the girls hadn't thought it was nearly as amusing. Ron had simply blithely stated that it was 'a bloke thing', and left it at that.

    Still, Harry was quite pleased with the news. While he certainly didn’t mind rooming with Neville or Ron at all — or even Seamus and Dean, despite the sometimes-awkwardness with the latter, - the other five boys were different. They’d been Colin’s friends, after all, and Harry had never been close to any of them. Suddenly sharing their space had been a bit much. Not to mention his new status as Auror-In-Charge for Hogwarts/Hogsmeade (the ‘Reserve’ part of his title seemingly all but disappeared), had led to large amounts of owl traffic at all times. Even Harry was annoyed with that bit — it was hardly as though those messages needed to come in at three in the bloody morning. But it would reduce tension with his dorm mates, so, all in all, Harry really was quite pleased to get his own room.

    Especially if it could provide the privacy he and Ginny seemed so rarely to be able to find. Except, of course, that the Headmistress herself had placed the charms on the Head rooms to prevent exactly that sort of thing from going on.

    Bugger it, Harry thought savagely. Between himself and Ginny, and with the likely assistance of Hermione and Ron… they would find a way around that.

    And then there had been the problems Kreacher reported with the Shack. Those plans were much more immediate, and needed to be resolved soon. Granted, he still hadn't spoken with Arthur, but he had set himself a schedule, and Harry very much wanted to meet it. Those issues were irritating, yes, but ultimately easy taken care of.

    And now there was this.

    “Romilda,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know why you’re bringing this to me. Ginny is Team Captain.”

    That was a lie, of course. Harry knew exactly why she had, even if he would rather chew on ground glass than spend a few minutes talking to Romilda Vane. For any reason.

    “A Team Captain who would just as soon shove my head up my own arse?” the dark-haired girl shot back. “I’ll avoid contact if I can, thanks.”

    “Look,” If you’d just stop looking at me like I’m your favorite type of pudding, Harry thought, though he bit just back from saying it aloud, then maybe my girlfriend could at least tolerate you. “Look. I get that. But she’s the Captain, and something involving the Gryffindor locker room should be run by her.”

    “And you’re the Head Boy and the Auror-In-Charge,” she said, smiling that smile that Harry imagined she thought would turn him to mush. Well, it turned something, all right. His stomach. But she had a point, no matter how much he might have wished she hadn't.

    “Reserve,” he pointed out under his breath, and then blew out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, take it from the start, then,” Harry said, dragging a form and a self-inking quill out his bag. He’d actually taken to just carrying some of the Auror paperwork around with him now - it was just quicker that way. As he filled out the details of the complaint form, Harry waited for Romilda to begin.

    “I went this morning to get my broom for an early practice. You know how Weasley’s been on me about my loops — “

    Harry did know, in fact. He did not mention that he would have been far harsher on Romilda than Ginny, who had displayed a remarkable restraint where her fellow chaser was concerned. A restraint that did not come easily to the diminutive redhead. “Continue,” he prompted.

    “And I saw someone casting charms at the locks. Alohamora, I'm pretty sure. I called on her to stop- it was a woman, black robes, and a bit round she was - and shot a stunner at her. It missed.”

    “You should have called for assistance,” Harry lightly reprimanded her, and was forced to acknowledge the point behind her answering derisive snort. Him telling anyone that was a bit silly. “Alright, you said your spell missed?”

    “Yes,” Romilda answered. “She shot something back at me — Diffindo, I think — and then ran off that way.” This last was said as she pointed towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry sighed. Of course that was the direction the unknown person had fled.

    Harry then asked Romilda to hand over her wand, and confirmed her casting of a stunner, along with the Relashio she had used to summon him, with a quick Priori Incantatum. He relaxed his eyes, and his Sight was able to see the lingering after-effects of the Diffindo, cast just from by the locks on the Gryffindor broom shed. The locks themselves also showed the effects of repeated Alohamora spells, six almost, cast in quick succession. Luckily, Ginny had been locking them with one of Hermione’s charms that she had developed last year. And really, why would anyone lock something with a spell any first-year student could undo?

    “Allright,” Harry sighed. “Thank you, Romilda. Can you do me a favor?”

    “Of course, Harry,” Romilda answered. “Anything you ask — and I do mean anything.”

    Harry fought back a groan. “Find Ron in the castle for me, would you, and let him know where I’ve gone?” Parker and his men were rebuilding the castle’s Floo system this week, and had warded against Patronus messages for the duration. Something about it threw the Floo system off. Hermione had her theories about it, and he had spent an hour debating them the night before while Ginny was studying her Arithmancy. Much to Ron's dismay, of course. “Professor McGonagall and Hagrid too, I suppose. Thanks,” Harry said, and left Romilda standing by the shed.

    There was a fresh trail of broken twigs and branches for him to follow— whoever was running was certainly no expert in forestry. As he followed it, Harry found himself reliving a slew of memories. For an area that was out-of-bounds, he certainly had been in it an awful lot. Not too far east of where he was where he’d first seen Voldemort in the flesh, the twisted, inhuman form of the possessed Professor Quirrell, feeding off of that unicorn. The Acromantula lair wasn’t much farther past that, and Harry wondered for a moment whether the Anglia was still out here. It had gone wild - but how long would the charms last?

    Then, just there - the lake where the Dementors had found him and Sirius, and then, deeper in — the Herd’s home, and where Grawp had been hidden his first year. Grawp, of course, now lived on the edge of the forest, serving as Hagrid’s assistant — and even playing with some of the students on a fairly regular basis. Far too many memories of this forest, and so few of them good.

    And that didn't even count the most recent one.

    Harry’s steps cracked against the underbrush as he followed the path — and then he stopped, as he came to another clearing.

    “I died here,” Harry whispered aloud, as that confrontation returned to his mind in vivid detail. The leering Death Eaters, that damnable high, cold laugh, the flash of green, and the all-too-brief thought of Ginny’s lips -

    Harry’s wand - the Elder one - fell from his hand. He felt the wisp of something against the back of his neck, raising the hairs to stand on end. His wand clattered unceremoniously against a fallen branch, as Harry found himself unexpectedly overcome by emotion. For what seemed an eternal moment, he was locked into the memory, but then something, some intuition compared the way he felt now to the way he felt around Dementors. Survival instinct kicked in, and Harry fought to shake himself from the locked cycle of misery.

    He was only peripherally aware, at first, when another hand picked up his wand from beside his feet, as he fought for control of his own mind.

    He damned well noticed when he felt the dense wood of a wand pressing against his neck. The wisp from before, he realized, hadn’t been just his own nerves - it had been a spell. Something designed to produce similar effects to the Dementors.

    "Expecto Patronum," he muttered, his hand emptily grasping for his wand. The holly wand, sheathed at his waist, did not respond and accordingly, no Patronus appeared. Nor did the Elder Wand, in the stranger's hand. Harry found himself locked in between a strange limbo of his most horrible memories, and being perfectly aware of what was going on around him.

    It was hard not to be, when the pink and black-clad abomination stepped in front of him, sliding her fingers along the length of his wand.

    "So... this is the wand that felled the Dark Lord?" Dolores Umbridge asked. "Now, you can't answer me, can you, my boy? You knew of course, that Dementors are a specialty of mine."

    "I...knew." Harry responded through gritted teeth. "Your ministry file makes note of the fact that it's the only magic you ever showed any true proficiency with, Dolores."

    "Oh, you can talk, after all?" she said, smiling cruelly. "That makes this ever so much more enjoyable. I have to turn you over to Rodolphus, of course," Umbridge stated in an off-hand tone. "But no one ever said it had to be quickly. Of course, we can settle accounts first. And there's at least one spell I do believe that I owe you, Harry."

    The effects of her Dementor spell were fading, Harry realized, the more he fixed thoughts of Ginny in his mind. He still couldn't register her across their bond; of course, the Forest was simply too far away for that. But it was the same thought that was behind the Patronus spell, and whatever Umbridge had done was not as strong as the effect of a true Dementor.

    And Harry was a much, much stronger wizard than he had been the last time they had tangled.

    Unfortunately, she was still holding his wand. Fortunately, however, she hadn't disarmed him. Harry had dropped the wand on his own. She hadn't taken it. He could still feel - and See - the connection he still held with the Elder Wand, and he knew very much that it wasn't broken.

    Which meant that Dolores Umbridge was about to do something very, very stupid.

    She didn't seem aware of this, however, and pointed Harry's wand at him. "I've waited almost four years for this, Potter," Umbridge snarled. "Crucio!" The orange light of the torture spell shot out towards Harry -

    And almost immediately rebounded back towards the caster. Umbridge let out a horrible shriek as the unimaginable pain of the Cruciatus Curse was inflicted on her. Harry calmly stepped forward, and caught his wand as she dropped it. With only a few flicks, he bound the toad-faced woman, and silenced her shrieks. Then, as an afterthought, he stunned her.

    Once she was unconscious, Harry let out a long, ragged breath. "That was too close," he muttered.

    When Harry marched back through the doors of Hogwarts Castle, levitating the bound and unconscious form of the fugitive with a grimly smiling Headmistress McGonagall just behind him, he received a great deal of applause.

    After all, everyone in their fourth year or above remembered Dolores Umbridge. And the idea of seeing her bound, unconscious and levitating along had fueled many a wistful afternoon's fancy.

    ---------------------------------------

    Harry watched, arms folded, as the team from London took Umbridge back into custody. Sadly, he'd had no Veratiserum on hand, so her interrogation was going to have to take place back at the Ministry. She had been silent ever since being revived; merely glaring at Harry with a look of such pure malice that Harry had been surprised. Kingsley had assured him that he and Robards would take care of it personally, however.

    And the question was - what then?

    "I just don't get what her goal was," Ginny muttered aloud. Ron and Neville were going along with the transfer team to make certain Umbridge didn't escape, leaving Harry to keep an eye on things from this end.

    "She was after me," Harry answered, his face set in a grim line. His mood only continued as he realized just how close to becoming master of the Elder Wand Dolores Umbridge had come. "And if I hadn't gotten lucky, she'd have had me."

    "You should have waited for Ron to join you," the petite redhead agreed, and he felt her remonstrations much more than she needed to say. Harry marveled for a moment how their connection had altered their relationship. Just a few months ago, Ginny would have been taking him to task for the risk, and it was possible they would have had a flaming row about it. Instead, he felt everything she would have said - and vice versa - and that was almost worse.

    And yet, it was strength, too, binding them together in a way Harry would never be able to properly define.

    "I know," he answered. "I thought- "

    "You underestimated it, because of Romilda."

    "Yeah," Harry said, shaking his head. "I figured maybe some of the Slytherins were trying to tamper with our brooms. Not, y'know... this."

    Ginny closed her eyes, and he felt her sadness as she leaned against him. Harry slipped his arms around her, and noted Hermione drawing Ron's attention away while they were speaking quietly. "We knew Lestrange was after you..." she trailed.

    "But you thought all this was over?"

    "Yeah."

    "Then I'll just have to put an end to it, won't I?"

    "Would you?" Ginny asked, adopting a false cheerfulness. "I'd be ever so grateful."

    "Anything the lady asks," Harry answered, and then raised his chin to address the other female he was closest to. "Hermione?"

    "Yes?"

    "I need you to look into something for me."

    -------------------------------

    Later that afternoon, Harry was completing one of his patrol circuits of the castle. Whether he was patrolling as Head Boy or Auror-In-Charge, even Harry was no longer sure. The distinctions he had so carefully drawn between his spheres of responsibility were disappearing more and more.

    If it hadn't been for Hermione's and Ginny's assistance, he was quite certain he'd have failed all his homework by now. There was just too much to do.

    As he finished his patrol, he stopped along the long catwalk that spread from the rear courtyard that lead down to Hagrid's hut. He stood, overlooking the large ravine, and simply enjoying the stark whiteness of a Scotland winter. A quick repetition of his warming charm saved him from the chill of that selfsame winter's wind.

    "You do find the peaceful spots, don't you, Potter?"

    Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "I thought we were going to try using each others' names, Draco?"

    The other snorted. "Sorry.... Harry. Old habits."

    "They do die hard, don't they?" Harry said ruefully as he glanced over the other with a frank look of appraisement. It was actually the first time Harry had seen Malfoy one-on-one since Halloween. "I'm sorry about your father, Draco."

    "I doubt that," the Slytherin responded. "He was an enemy to you. You should be glad."

    "I can't say I'm sad to see him go," Harry admitted honestly. Feeling bad that Lucius Malfoy was dead was just not anything Harry was ever going to manage. "But I'm sorry for you. Losing a parent is a horrible thing."

    "You would know, wouldn't you?"

    "Yes, I would."

    "Hmm." Draco said, with no inflection whatsoever. When he did speak, there was a carefully controlled tone to his words. Harry rather respected the fact that they'd gone all term without hexing each other, and Draco was obviously trying to keep that going as well. "You baffle the hell out of me, Potter. On Halloween, you saved my life. Again. You offer your condolences for my father, even though saying that you and he despised each other would be putting it... mildly. Come to it, I'm not precisely fond of you myself. I probably wouldn't cast an Aquamenti charm if you were on fire."

    "I think your father was only slightly less evil than Tom Riddle," Harry admitted, ignoring the latter part of the other's statement. "Which is a bit like saying lake water is slightly less wet than the ocean. But he was your father, Draco, and he loved you. Merlin knows why. But that counts for something."

    "You sound like Dumbledore more and more."

    "I could have a worse role-model," Harry said pointedly.

    Malfoy had no answer for that. But neither did he disagree.

    -----------------------------

    After the strange conversation with Draco, Harry started working his way back towards Gryffindor Tower, grateful that this day was ending. The closer he got to Gryffindor Tower, the more he felt Ginny's awareness teasing around the edge of his thoughts. He could get just enough of a sense of her to realize that she was still working on Arithmancy - or something else heavily involved - with Hermione, and decided he would be best off taking the long way around to get back to the tower. He might be more academically inclined these days, but he was just not in the mood for that tonight.

    As he passed one of the tapestries on the fourth-floor corridor, Harry heard the odd 'tink' of a glass bottle being dropped against stone. It was a rather distinctive tone, and Harry decided he should probably check it out. Given the day he'd already had, Harry drew his wand as he lifted the tapestry back.

    There was a long stone corridor behind the tapestry, ending in a dimly torch-lit room. He didn't recall there being a passageway here before, but then, Hogwarts seemed to have a mind of its own these days. Wand ready, Harry slowly and silently moved forward.

    When he finally entered the torchlit room, what he found was just about the last thing he would have expected. That thing was a highly intoxicated Dean Thomas, clutching a near-empty bottle of Firewhiskey for all it was worth. Letting out a sigh, Harry reholstered his wand and turned towards his obviously drunk former dorm-mate. "Dean, what the h-"

    Harry never finished his sentence, because as soon as Dean had seen him, the other had let out a low growl, and launched himself forward.

    "Oi!" he started to yell, but the air was forced out of him as the larger man slammed him into the wall.

    I do NOT need this today, Harry thought dimly, as he pushed the other off of him. Dean tried to come at him again, but Harry was ready this time, and nearly side-stepped the drunken stumble of an attack.

    "Dean, knock it off, mate," he said calmly. "It's me. It's Harry."

    "Know bloody well who you are," Dean mumbled. "You've had that comin' two years now. And I'm not your 'mate'. 'Mates' don't steal your girl."

    Harry sighed. "Oh for - That's what you're on about? Dean, you and Ginny split up almost two years ago, like just you said. Shouldn't you let that go?"

    The dark-skinned wizard responded by making another half-hearted swing at Harry, but seemed to give up when the far-more-sober wizard neatly sidestepped it again.

    "Did. Had," he answered, seemingly giving up on his more violent drunken urges. He slumped back against the wall again while Harry maintained a wary eye. "I always knew, you know."

    "Knew what, Dean?"

    "That she loved you. That she always loved you. Thought I could make her forget, you know? But not you, Harry. And once you started looking at her like that - it was all over for me."

    "I'm sorry," Harry said honestly. "You didn't ask for that."

    "You're not sorry," Dean said, though there was no accusation in his voice. He looked away, and Harry took the opportunity to cast a sobering charm on his friend.

    Dean was silent a moment, as he pressed his hands to his head. "No, Harry," he continued in a much softer, and hoarser voice. "No, you're not really sorry, and I don't blame you one damn bit."

    "What brought this all on, Dean?" Harry asked softly, lowering himself down on the stone floor next to his friend.

    "Luna dumped me today," he muttered. "Tossed me right over for that Hufflepuff kid."

    Harry winced. "Rolf?"

    Dean nodded. "Saw it coming this time, too." Harry had to. Well, frankly, so had everyone. Rolf was just strange enough to be perfect for Luna. Dean had been too... well, normal.

    "We've never really talked about that, have we?" Harry asked. "Suppose we should have, by now."

    "Suppose so," Dean admitted.

    "I really am sorry," Harry said honestly. "For you. Not for me, because Ginny's been the best thing to ever happen to my life."

    "She was the best thing to happen to mine, too."

    "I liked her that whole year, you know. And it wasn't just because she was Ron's sister that I held back. It was because she was involved with you. And I didn't want to step on that. I tried my best. I did."

    "Hell, Harry, I know that. It was obvious to everyone - except probably Ginny," Dean admitted. "She was probably the last one to figure it out. And the way I acted about all of it didn't help me any. I did more to torpedo that relationship than anything you ever did. I was kind of amazed you didn't swoop right in the day we split."

    "I wanted to," Harry confessed. Mention of Felix Felicis was just on the tip of his tongue, but Harry decided that was probably just a bit too honest. "But it just... didn't seem right."

    "But you still fell in love with the girl I was dating, Harry. And the fact that she fell for you so fast - had always been stuck on you, if we're being honest... that hurt, mate," the dark-skinned wizard said, shaking his head. "I hated you for that, you know. Quite a bit. Until... Dumbledore. And then everything else. The Snatchers, Malfoy Manor.... couldn't hate you anymore then. Didn't want to."

    "Still hated the situation though?"

    "Yeah."

    "Don't blame you at all," Harry admitted. "And now Luna..."

    "And now Luna," Dean nodded. "I sat here and made all the same damn mistakes all over again. But every time I saw her having so much fun with that Rolf kid - it just, it kept bringing it all back. I just want what you and Ginny have. What Seamus and Lavender have. What Ron and Hermione have. Is that so wrong?"

    "It's not wrong at all, mate," Harry agreed. "You just... haven't found the right girl."

    "Well, I'm starting to run out of options. Everyone we know is either taken or dead, seems like."

    There was far more truth to that than Harry wanted to admit. Accordingly, he reached into his robes, drawing out another bottle of Old Ogden's. Dean raised an eyebrow.

    "What're you doing carrying that around, then?" Dean asked.

    "Hey being Head Boy has a few perks, you know. I took this off a pair of fourth-years down on the first-floor corridor," Harry grinned. "And right now, I'm going to use it to get me and a good friend stinking pissed, because he deserves it."

    "I like that plan."

    "I thought you might."

    ----------------------------------------------

    Harry blearily dragged himself out of bed the next morning, lamenting the fact that he and Ginny hadn't been able to christen his new room properly. He was happy, though, when he realized that Ginny was standing next to his bed as he pulled his bathrobe on.

    "Had a good night, then?" she asked pointedly, dangerously arching one red eyebrow.

    Harry grunted noncommittally. One thing about Old Ogden's - the hangover was downright nasty. Harry decided then and there to always have hangover potion ready. Maybe a preserving charm or something that could keep it? There had to be a way.

    "We had plans, Harry," she reminded him, none too gently. Harry also discovered that feeling Ginny's irritation and/or anger across their bond when he was hung over was a thoroughly even more unpleasant experience than just being hung over itself was. And that, he decided, was just not fair.

    "I know, I know," he admitted.

    "Those plans did not include you staggering into the common room at two in the morning singing the West Ham fight song with Dean."

    Harry smirked. "Was that what we were singing? I couldn't remember."

    "I can't say I'm surprised," she noted. "You also tried to convince me that I should accompany you to bed. Luckily, we were the only ones in the common room, and no one heard your rather forward remarks, Mr. Potter."

    The smirk vanished. "Sorry. Luna dumped Dean for Rolf yesterday. I found him when we were coming back, he knocked me into a wall, and we had some words."

    "He what?"

    "It's a long story," Harry admitted.

    "Best get telling it then, if you expect to make breakfast."

    Harry sighed, but he started talking as he gathered his things for a shower.

    -----------------------------------

    "-inches on why Wind Travel would be useful in a fight. And if ye're all good little witches and wizards, then we'll even get started on it when we return from the Christmas holidays."

    A round of protests went up at the news of the delay, but were cut short by the sound of the bells that signaled the end of class. Harry grinned as he heard people muttering, but started loading his things into his bag.

    "Mr. Potter," Professor MacDougal called out, just as he turned to leave. "Stay a moment, would ye, lad?"

    "Of course, sir," he nodded, and turned to Ginny, who was waiting on him. Ron and Hermione had already headed out into the hallway. "G'on," Harry smiled. "I'll catch up."

    "You'd better," she grinned back, and leaned in for a quick kiss before she was off.

    Shifting the backpack's weight up on his shoulder, Harry approached the desk that the Professor was standing behind. Gregor MacDougal had turned out to be a remarkably competent Defense instructor. As a former Auror, he was immensely qualified for such a post, of course. But it still nagged Harry some days that someone so competent had not been around for the war. As more and more days passed, he found it more and more difficult to not ask the Professor why. It would have been a breach of the typical student-teacher relationship found at Hogwarts, of course, but Harry was less and less the average student these days.

    "You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked pleasantly.

    "Aye, lad. It's about those trainin' sessions ye've been runnin' fer yuir Auror candidates. Ye asked me to look over yuir schedule, and I've done that. I've got it - " MacDougal was cut off as he caught the edge of his chair with his foot, and started to topple over.

    Harry's hand launched out by reflex to steady the older man. In the process, he ended up bunching up the sleeves of MacDougal's robe on his left arm.

    Which revealed the Dark Mark that self-same arm had tattooed on it. The mark was faded now, of course. They all had been, since Riddle's death. Even as his mind registered that, Harry recognized the scar instantly - he'd seen it on plenty of the Death Eater's who'd trials he'd attended in the last year. He immediately went into "threat-response mode" and had released MacDougal and trained his wand on the other man.

    "Don't move, Professor," Harry said, his voice suddenly steel. "Not an inch."

    Back to index


    Chapter 26: Chapter 26 - In From The Cold

    Author's Notes: The majority of this chapter will seem very familiar to some, though it's context will now make more sense. With the semester over - and my son now sleeping through the night - the next chapter should be faster! Enjoy, all!


    Harry Potter and the Veil of Shadows
    Chapter Twenty-Six
    "In From The Cold"

    MacDougal surprised Harry, though not in the way the young wizard expected. Rather than reacting with surprise, or anger at having been found out, the aged former Auror – and Death Eater, apparently – simply sighed, and sat down at his desk. Harry made quite certain not to drop his wand, however. MacDougal may have played the part of the friendly old mentor all these months, but then, Barty Crouch had been a surprisingly effective instructor when he had been pretending to be Mad-Eye Moody, too.

    “Ye’ll not be needin’ that, lad,” the older man assured him, his voice still as genial as ever. It held a patient note of sadness as well. A voice that conveyed old hurts, long past, that had never truly faded.

    “You’ll have to forgive me for not exactly being trusting of Defense professors, sir” Harry said coldly, with a sarcastic emphasis on the title. “But I'd like an explanation. Now.”

    “And it’s an explanation ye’ll be havin’,” MacDougal said patiently, and settled himself back into the chair. “Keep the wand, if ye must. I figured ye’d find out about this-“ at that, he pointed at the mark which was now a scar – “soon enough. Though I expected to be tellin’ ye about it my own time, and not having to stare down a much younger wizard’s wand as I did.”

    Carefully, the young student-slash-Auror pocketed the older man's wand. Then, Harry surprised himself by lowering his own wand, and taking a seat. Something in him, some hunch was telling him to trust this man, despite all reasons not too. "All right," he said cautiously.

    MacDougal raised an eyebrow. "Decided to trust me then, have ye? Could be a risk, that."

    "I'm going with my instincts," Harry said flatly. "And they say I should at least hear you out."

    "And if not, yuir backup's not far, eh, lad?"

    "Something like that."

    The professor let out a hearty laugh, and then reached into his desk to pull out a small flask. "I'd offer ye a drink, son, but I'm fair certain ye wouldn't take it." Harry's patience was beginning to wane, and he suspected that it was showing in his body language, because a moment later MacDougal spoke again. "I had a family once, ye know. My wife, Colleen - she was a fair one, she was. Irish as could be, and let everyone know it, too. We had two children. My boy, Sean - he was only eight. Robin, my girl, she was twelve. Just about to start her second year here when it happened."

    Somehow, Harry already knew where the story was going. Whatever last bit of suspicion he was holding onto dissolved in the face of the unvoiced anguish he could hear coming from the other man. Harry was well-acquainted with loss, and he knew the sound it put into one's voice. Whether it was some bit of prescience, or just the tone in the older wizard's voice, he knew what MacDougal was going to say.

    "Did you ever wonder, lad, why Severus was the only spy we had on their side?"

    "I did," Harry answered his voice hoarse.

    "There were those of us who tried, of course," MacDougal continued. "I was one of 'em. Did some downright horrible things to get that mark and prove myself. Thing's that've surely damned my own soul and that I'll remember to the end of my days. Didn't mean a thing, though. The Dark Lord - he could always tell. He could always find out."

    "And he found you out?"

    "Aye, lad. He Imperiused me himself, and had me cast the curses that killed my own family. It drove me... well, "mad" would be a kind way of describing it."

    "I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, and was surprised that he so thoroughly believed the other man's story. That sort of lie, he rather thought, would be very hard to tell. He was only a little surprised to realize that he'd put his own wand away some time during the course of MacDougal's tale. "Professor -"

    "How'd I come to be teachin' here, then? I've ye to thank. When I heard ye'd done that bastard in... Well, I came out of it a bit. Maybe I'm still mad. I dunno. But I'm lucid. And I've a thing or two to teach all of ye. Ye brought me in from the cold, so I owe ye, straight up. That is...if ye think ye can trust me."

    "I think I can," Harry said, extending a hand. When the other man took it, he smiled. "After all, you're good enough for Minerva McGonagall, then that's good enough for me."

    "Well put, lad," MacDougal chuckled, and then poured some of his flask into a glass. This time, Harry accepted. "Well put indeed."

    -----------------------

    Three Weeks Later...

    "AAAAAAAAH!" Ginny yelled, and ducked as the infant hippogriff rampaged wildly through the living room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. This was not, after all, a common occurrence in Harry Potter’s home. George somehow gaining access to slip in a new product to test (Harry suspected Ron's assistance, there), catching Ron and Hermione in flagrante delicto, (something that happened all too often for Harry's sensibilities), or Kreacher arguing with one of the many portraits that he'd hung after raiding the Potter family vault. Any of these would have been expected, normal, and even amusing to a certain degree.

    A rampaging infant hippogriff was decidedly not.

    "Get him, Gin!" Harry called from across the room. He was desperately keeping an antique vase he’d gotten from the Potter vault, (emblazoned with the Potter crest and motto - Vires, Veneratio, Diligo, or translated, Strength, Honor, Love), and the column it rested on from what seemed to be an inevitable fall and an even more inevitable shattering. The vase was enchanted to keep flowers placed in it always fresh and currently contained a bouquet of red and white roses that he had surprised Ginny with for no particular reason. More importantly, it was a family heirloom, something that Harry valued highly. Also, he didn't know if the charm could be repaired as easily as the vase could be - and did not want to find out.

    "Just a stunner ought to do it!" Harry encouraged as the immature gryphon-horse hybrid beat it's wings frantically and tried to escape through the solid (and thankfully, charmed to be shatterproof) bay window Harry had installed the previous summer. "Come on, Gin - just - "

    Harry had, after all, already hit the “baby” hippogriff with two such stunners. The little bugger was remarkably resilient, however, and the only result was that it's already frantic flight was just a bit more erratic than before. He also thought the thing was bobbing and weaving like a punch-drunk boxer, hence his certainty that one more stunner would knock it cold.

    "I can't hex him!" the redhead protested loudly, giving Harry a look that indicated he was completely mad for even considering the notion. "Harry, he's just a baby!"

    Baby, my arse! Harry thought sourly. The bloody thing weighs about three stone!

    "Oh, for - " Harry muttered as he finally re-balanced the column that he'd been fighting with. Freed of that burden, he sighted his wand towards the hippogriff, which was a difficult target despite its size. This was, of course, mostly because of how energetically it was trying to escape, obviously unhappy with not being under the open sky. Harry could relate. He got a little stir-crazy when he couldn't fly sometimes, too.

    Finally, he got was able to get a clean shot as the animal calmed itself momentarily, and settled on top of his telly. For just a moment, he considered letting it break that, too, so that perhaps Ginny and Ron would spend just a bit less time in front of it. Stupefy!, he thought with resignation, and was satisfied to see the familiar jet of red light shot from his wand, and the hippogriff pitch backwards after contact.

    Thankfully, it did not get up.

    Harry sighed, looking around at the remains of his living room as Ginny checked the "baby" over. His couch was a tattered mess - the upholstery was scattered everywhere. Every painting on the walls had been knocked down, and the curio shelves that Ginny had taken so much glee in filling were soundly overturned, with bits of shattered trinkets strewn about.

    Harry sighed again as he realized that the bloody bird had even knocked a hole in the ceiling plaster - he could clearly see the distinctive orange of Ron's bedroom. "This is the absolute last time we babysit for Hagrid over the holidays, Gin. Honestly!"

    "Oh, it's fine," Ginny muttered, giving him a dismissive wave. She didn't even look his way as she did so, as she was too busy rearranging the stunned beast into what would presumably be a more comfortable position. As a final touch, she smoothed his feathers down with both hands. It was, Harry thought, the most peaceful he'd seen the thing. "We can fix all this easily enough. Hagrid could hardly take Littlebeak to France with him, now could he?"

    "Still don't see why we had to do it," Harry muttered under his breath, until he realized he was on the receiving end of a patented Ginny Weasley Glare. This was what he had classified as Glare #6, the 'Harry-you-know-bloody-well-this-is-your-fault' one. Harry knew it far too well for his own liking.

    He sighed again, and threw up his hands in admittance as he began to pace - stalk, really. "Okay, yes, I know I'm the one who said yes. But that's not my fault! Have you ever tried to tell Hagrid no?"

    "Of course not," Ginny replied, in a tone that was so saccharine it was almost sickening. "He's such a big sweetheart."

    "Which is how we have a baby hippogriff on our hands," Harry acknowledged, indirectly admitting his agreement to her description. He looked around the totaled living room once more, and couldn't hold back from repeating his earlier heavy sighs. This was not what he wanted to be dealing with. Not tonight.

    Kreacher had shown up after Littlebeak was stunned, and was already beginning to repair the furniture and other assorted broken belongings. Harry was always startled whenever he noticed the wizened old House-Elf. Since his muttered curses had stopped, the elf was downright sneaky in the way he could enter a room without being noticed.

    "Kreacher, you don't have to do that, we'll take care of it -” he started, but Kreacher cut him off with a dismissive wave that was remarkably similar to Ginny's. Harry wondered if she'd been giving the elf lessons.

    "Nonsense," the old elf croaked. "It is Christmas Eve, and Master Harry and Lady Wheezley have many plans. Master cannot be late. Kreacher will fix this, and take care of the noisy, mewling beast." The last was said with a look of utter loathing at Littlebeak, and Harry and Ginny's eyes met as they both tried to suppress a smirk. For all his words, Kreacher really was quite taken with the little creature- Ginny had overhead the elf doing something that could charitably called 'singing' to it the night before. Harry continued to be amazed at how good Kreacher was with Teddy, as well.

    Kreacher was right of course - they did have plans, and Harry very much didn't want to be late. Ron and Hermione were at the Grangers' house at the moment, and they were all due to meet up with the whole family at the Burrow later. Given how understanding Molly (and Arthur, especially) had been about Ginny's decision to come "home" to Grimmauld Place and not the Burrow when fall term had ended - well, he hardly wanted to test his luck on that front. Ginny might have been legally allowed to make that decision, but 'legal' and 'parentally-approved' could be entirely unrelated things. Harry didn't want there to be even the slimmest chance of starting a family row.

    "Right then," Harry muttered, as Ginny cast quick Scourgify charms on both of them. He simultaneously cast Reparo on both of their clothes as well - Littlebeak's rampage had done its fair share of damage to their wardrobe, as well as the living room. "Let's just take the Floo, then," he said after a moment's consideration of looking out the bay window. "That's a right nasty snowstorm out there; I don't fancy trying to Apparate in it."

    That had been a major topic of lecture during the Ministry-run Apparition lessons - the risks of Apparating during inclement weather. They'd spent a whole day on it, and Harry had taken the words to heart. Well, eventually he had. He didn't fancy splinching himself by Apparating right into a blown-down tree branch, or blending his feet into a snow drift. He'd seen it happen to Ron once, last year. It wasn't pleasant.

    "According to the telly, the storm covers half of Britain," Ginny pointed out, indicating that she agreed that it wouldn't be worth the risk. Harry wasn't surprised that she knew that - he often considered that glowing box to be unfair competition for Ginny's attentions. Yes, many of the programs were interesting... but they weren't that good. Given that such discussions usually ended with Harry being accused of thinking with the wrong parts, he was understandably reluctant to bring the topic up. So he merely gave a small nod at her sage-like report (despite the fact that he had watched the weather report with her.)

    “Well, let’s get a move on then,” Harry said, waving a hand towards the fireplace. He fought a small bit of nervousness as he approached - it seemed the monster in his chest was doing a nervous conga dance, and it wasn't doing much for Harry's nerves. Ginny stepped over to the oversized fireplace first and Harry surprised her by slipping his arms around her. As always, she closed her eyes and pressed slightly back against him, and the monster stopped dancing and sighed contentedly.

    “Mmnnn,” she purred, and snuggled a little closer back against him. It was how she nearly always responded when he came up from behind her like that, and Harry marveled at how simple it was for him to enjoy just that most basic contact. When she spoke, Ginny's voice had taken on a slightly teasing tone, “You know, of course, that there's no need for us to cuddle for warmth when we're traveling by fire?”

    “Oh, I know,” Harry confessed easily, and kept the same tone in his own voice. “I’d really just like to come out of a floo on my feet for once.”“Happy to be of help then,” Ginny said, and Harry could feel her grin through the magical connection granted by their love. He smiled as Ginny sent a pulse of her love his direction - a warm, tingling feeling that was far better than anything Old Ogden had - and then firmly (and subtly) reinforced his own Occlumency so that she wouldn't detect anything untoward in his own feelings.

    Harry reached for a handful of the floo powder that had somehow managed to maintain its proper place on the mantle, and tossed the powder into the small fire that had been crackling all day. It immediately turned green, of course, indicating that the connection to the Floo Network was active. Stepping forward in concert with Ginny, his arms still wrapped around her, he started to call out for 'The Burrow'.

    Unfortunately, however, Harry was interrupted mid-word by a rather vicious sneeze that he only barely angled away from the back of Ginny's head.

    Ginny whirled her head about to look at him in shock, only a moment before they felt the whirlwind pull of the Floo, taking them Merlin only knew where.

    - - - - -

    “Bloody hell,” Ginny cursed, as Harry felt around for his glasses. She found them first, and Harry breathed easier when he felt her slide them softly into his hand. That Muggle operation to correct eyesight was sounding better and better, he had to admit. He slipped the frames back on, and the world obligingly came back into focus in order to give him a good look around.

    It was abundantly clear that they hadn't made it to the Burrow after all. They were in an old house - everything was made of wood, though in decent condition. It had that same "newly-repaired" look Grimmauld Place had held when they'd finished the remodeling. Here and there were deep scars to the wood, but the new finish made them much less noticeable. The chill in the air identified the place as abandoned - or at least, empty at this particular moment in time. If anyone had been home, there certainly would have been a roaring fire.

    Harry breathed easier then. They were exactly where they were supposed to be - as far as he knew, at least. Ginny hadn't a clue. The bloke he'd talked to at the Floo Network Authority had gotten the timing right, after all, and Harry thought the effort well-worth it. Or at least... it could be. He looked to Ginny, and found her warily eying their surroundings. It was clear she was very much on her guard, and Harry mentally cursed for not anticipating that. Still, he had to admit, her determined expression, the way her hand had gone to her wand, the guarded feel of her emotions that brought to mind a wolf protecting her mate and cubs, and the way she was examining every detail of their surroundings...

    Well, it was attractive.

    Well, okay, it made her look pretty bloody incredible, actually. Harry let that feeling reinforce him - how could what he had in mind not be the right thing, when she made him feel like this?

    “Harry, where are we?” Ginny asked warily. Harry made sure that by the time she turned to see her boyfriend, what she saw was that he was examining their surroundings just as carefully as she was. Harry found that he was expending an extraordinary amount of his magical energy on his Occlumency, just to keep Ginny from feeling anything from him other than what he wanted her to feel. It wouldn't do to give the game away. He was momentarily struck with a new respect for Snape - was this, then, what the man had gone through every time he'd been in Riddle's presence? It was difficult as hell.

    Harry was unable to stop his reflexive wince at the question, and he hoped that Ginny would interpret it as simple frustration. “I don’t know,” he lied. "I don't recognize the place," he said, offering at least some of the truth. He didn't recognize the place, even if he did know exactly where they were.

    "Nor I," Ginny admitted, “But it seems… I don't know, familiar, somehow,” the redhead noted, and Harry muttered a silent prayer. Okay, perhaps she was a little too observant. He'd thought Kreacher and Winky's work would have been enough...

    As a distraction, he pointed to the mantle. "Bugger," he muttered, "There's no Floo powder.”

    Ginny sighed, and her eyebrows lowered into a look of measured consideration. “Well, we’ll just have to risk Apparition then, won’t we?”

    “No!” Harry said a bit too sharply, and Ginny’s head whipped towards him once more, her hair trailing behind as her face took on a look that was more than a bit curious.

    “No?” she asked, both eyebrows raised.

    “Well, it’s dangerous, you know,” Harry said quickly, and tried to hide the nerves in his voice and the sweat that was beginning to form on his palms. He had to distract her somehow - she was getting far too much time to think about things. “Like we said earlier, we could splinch too easily. And the wind’s really bad, there could be debris blowing about.”

    Ginny considered that a moment and Harry tried not to make his relief too obvious when she conceded the point. “What about Apparating into the Burrow itself, then?” she suggested.

    “Your Dad put up the anti-Apparition wards back up after what happened on Halloween,” Harry pointed out. He had no idea if it was true, of course, but Arthur had mentioned the possibility in one of the letters he and Molly had sent them at Hogwarts.

    The red-headed witch paled slightly at that reminder, and Harry bit back another curse as he realized that the statement had put her back on her guard. That was not the direction he wanted her going. Blimey, he thought, I'm absolute rubbish at this... She had to be wondering now if this was somehow a trap on the part of their enemies. It was an all too realistic consideration, and Harry felt stupid for not having considered that aspect of this plan. “Harry, you don’t think – “

    “No,” he assured her quickly, and she looked supremely doubtful of his certainty. “No, the Floo Network’s too risky to tamper with. Kingsley would know if they’d gotten someone in there.”

    Harry hoped that was true, at least.

    Frustrated, Ginny exhaled a deep breath, and then flopped herself down onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. She folded her arms crossly, and Harry felt the sharp edges of her irritation at their apparent predicament of being trapped in an unknown place. He could also tell that more than a bit of that irritation was starting to be directed his way.

    Dammit, that is not in the plan! Harry thought.

    “Cold?” he asked, hoping the question didn't sound as stupid to Ginny as it had to his own ears.

    Apparently, it did.

    “Of course I am,” she snapped. “It’s cold outside, haven’t you noticed?”

    “Erm, right,” Harry acknowledged after clearing his throat, and pointed his wand towards the fireplace. “Incendio,” he muttered, and the still logs burst into much more accommodating flames. The warmth spread through the room quickly, and he settled down on the couch next to her.

    “Better?” he asked as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Ginny cuddled her body up next to his, into their favorite way of sitting - with her shoulder tucked under his and her arm around his back. She favored him with a small smile, and he felt the warm glow from her that meant her brief moment of temper had cooled.

    “Much,” she answered, and then her earlier frown returned. “Harry, we need to figure out how to get out of here. It’s Christmas Eve. Mum will be horribly worried if we don’t show – “

    “I know,” Harry acknowledged with a nod. "Believe me, Gin, I know." She nodded back briefly, and then Harry looked at her in that certain way, the way that guarded none of his feelings, and showed how much he loved her. Of course, it was also a look she associated with some of their more... intimate moments, but Harry would never openly admit to the fact that he counting on that as a delaying tactic. “Is it so bad, though, being stuck here with me?”

    “Oh, Merlin,” Ginny muttered, giving him a very familiar roll of the eyes. “You’ve can't possibly have that on your mind already?”

    “What can I say, Weasley? You’ve created a monster,” he said, teasingly. As he spoke, one arm slipped behind her and another to join hands with hers, and he pulled her into a position where she was straddling his lap. Harry was very aware that, despite Ginny's words, she did not protest the change in seating arrangements. “And you didn’t answer the question,” he pressed.

    “I didn’t create that monster,” she shot back, and then grinned wolfishly. “I just set it free.” The last word died on her lips as she captured Harry's with her own.

    “Too right you did,” Harry agreed after he pulled back a moment later. He looked at Ginny, and her eyes softened as she finally relented to answering his earlier question. Her words started to take on a more playful tone, at least. That was progress, of a sort.

    “I suppose if I've got to be stuck with someone,” she admitted mock-reluctantly, "it might as well be you."

    “Good,” Harry responded, and started to kiss her neck. As delaying tactics went, Harry decided, this was a thoroughly enjoyable one.

    Ginny let out a soft moan as he found freckle #19. “My mum warned me about boys like you, you know,” she said pointedly.

    “Oh?” Harry asked, sliding his hands under the back of her shirt to caress the soft skin there. He also firmly put any mental imagery of Molly Weasley out of his mind - they were not what he wanted to consider at the moment. Still, Ginny's words did make him curious, and he couldn't help but ask, “And what did she say, exactly?”

    “There’s nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm,” Ginny quoted, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she smiled.

    “Oh? I’m charming, then?” Harry asked, giving her a look that was a bit like that of a rooster puffing out its chest.

    “More than you know Potter," she said, running a hand through his hair, "though you’re becoming just a bit too aware of it for my liking.”

    He pulled back then, far enough so that he could look at Ginny's whole face (and she his), and gave her a very solemn look. “Then I promise to use my powers only for good – “

    She responded by giving him a sharp rap on the shoulder, causing Harry to laugh. “You'd best be using them only on me,” she admonished, and then leaned down again to claim his lips in a fiercely passionate kiss that Harry was only too eager to respond to.

    "Yes ma'am," he finally answered.

    Hands - and other things - on both sides continued their explorations and ministrations until finally, Ginny reluctantly broke away. “Harry, we can’t stay,” she said, clearly disappointed, but her words no less the urgent for it.

    “Erm, Why not again?”

    “Because it’s Christmas Eve!” she answered, her tone suggesting that should have been obvious. “You think Mum would believe we got stuck somewhere? You, of all people? ”

    "You're hardly a magical slouch yourself," Harry pointed out.

    "My point exactly!" she continued. "She won't believe it for a moment."

    “We can tell her the truth - we've not got any Floo powder, and we didn’t want to Apparate in the blizzard,” Harry offered, thinking that part simple.

    “People will talk,” Ginny said, and by 'people' Harry knew she meant the inevitable teasing from Charlie, George and Ron. “There’s already been enough of that going about at Hogwarts.”

    “When have you ever been worried about rumors?” Harry asked, realizing that she was worried about something other than just her older siblings taking the mickey out of them. Doubly so when Ginny rather pointedly didn't answer, and Harry felt the sudden knot of tension that emerged, all tangled up in her other emotions.

    “Somebody was spreading rumors,” he realized. “The usual?”

    “Something like that,” Ginny admitted reluctantly, and Harry thought that she had debated not answering for a moment. They'd had this discussion before - Hermione had gotten hate mail back in fourth year just over inaccurate reporting. To say that Ginny had experienced a few... difficulties since they'd gone public with their relationship...well, that didn't seem to cover it. Not by half. “Don’t worry about it, Harry. It’s just people being petty.”

    “Romilda,” he said darkly, and Harry’s face set into a frown. Brilliant chaser or not, he’d had just about enough of that girl…

    Ginny abruptly let out a laugh, and Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re cute when you start getting righteous, you know,” she teased. "Don't worry, luv - I’ve already taken care of it; I'd just very much like to not be handing out more ammunition to folks.”

    Harry just rolled his eyes, and Ginny leaned down to kiss him again. “Come on. Let’s find a way home, and I promise I’ll make it worth your while later.”

    “Promise?” Harry asked eagerly.

    “Yes,” she answered, with only the faintest note of indulgence in her tone.

    “All right, all right,” Harry grumbled, mostly for effect. He wanted to give the appearance of being very disappointed that Ginny had stopped things, and honestly, there was very little acting necessary on his part to convey that impression. Still, that was hardly what he'd gone to all this trouble for.

    He let out a brief grunt as Ginny removed herself from his lap, and she started examining their surroundings some more. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

    “Looking for Floo powder, of course” she answered, giving him the "don't ask such obvious questions" look.

    "I don't see any," he offered, trying to at least pretend to be helpful.

    Ginny snorted. "You'll forgive me if I don't leave our fate up to your eyesight alone," she shot back.

    “Understandable," Harry grinned. "Not when I've got such an attractive distraction in the room with me."

    "Oh, Merlin," Ginny muttered in exhasperation. "There's no hope for you, you know. Don't be a lump - help me look, would you?"

    “I’ll check the next room, then,” Harry offered, pointing towards the kitchen. It was the only room joined to the one they'd Flooed, with what looked like a hallway door near it - or maybe a loo. Ginny absently nodded, and he watched as she checked over the mantle, and then began moved towards the shelves. She wasn’t near it yet, he was happy to see - he still had time to get one other thing. Quickly, Harry moved towards the aforementioned kitchen, looking for the spot Bill had said what he wanted would be. The Floo powder was in here, of course – carefully tucked away on a top shelf in the cabinets, where he could hopefully keep Ginny from it until later.

    Granted, it would look very bad indeed if she came here and found it after Harry reported it's nonexistance.

    Grinning, Harry found and confiscated the object of his search, and brought it over to the counter bar that separated the large kitchen from the living area. “Hey, Gin!” he called, a bit excited that this part had gone as planned. She turned away from her examination of the accumulated items on the shelves, and began to head his way.

    “What’ve you got, Harry?” she asked, coming over to him.

    Harry set the wireless down on the countertop. “We’ve got music,” he grinned, and then looked over it for a moment. “Looks like this one picks up Muggle radio, too.”

    "Yes," Ginny said, drawing the word out. "But does it work?”

    “Let’s see,” Harry said, and pointed his wand. The switch flipped to the 'on' position, and the face of it began to glow softly. Harry stabbed his wand toward it, seeking a signal.

    “There was dancin', and singin', and movin' to the groovin'- " blasted loudly from the speakers, filling the room with the sound of 1970s funk. Harry hurriedly pointed his wand at it again, searching for the next station. That was hardly the right kind of music for the mood he wanted.

    “Why was I humming, as if I knew.-” No – too depressing. He stabbed his wand towards the wireless once again.

    “If you ever change your mind, about leaving... leaving me behind-” Merlin, Harry thought, goggling at the uncooperative wireless. That's even worse!

    "Oh, come and stir my cauldron, And if you do it right, I'll boil you up some hot, strong love, To keep you warm tonight- " Harry quickly changed that one as well, and got a glare from Ginny for his trouble.

    "I like that song!" she protested.

    "Sorry," Harry shrugged. "Well, I sort of agree with Fleur when it comes to Celestina Warbeck," he said honestly, and turned his attention back to the wireless. Even if the words had sort of fit the situation, he just couldn't stand the bloody woman's voice.

    Of course, that was probably also because Madame Puddifoot's played her music on their wireless exclusively, and that place made Harry genuinely consider suicide as a viable alternative. Not the best romantic mood-setter, by any means.

    “I want something else, to get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life, ba-“ No, definitely not, Harry thought again, and suppressed a sigh.

    The next song was a duet between a man a woman, and sounded very old. It didn't take Harry long to determine, however, that it was exactly the right song.

    “I really can't stay,"
    "But, baby, it's cold outside."
    "I've got to go 'way,"
    "But, baby, it's cold outside."
    "This evening has been,"
    "Been hoping that you'd drop in."
    "So very nice."

    “Perfect,” Harry muttered, and Ginny looked wryly at him for his choice. He knew that she thought him a little... well, corny at times, but the emotions he could feel pouring off of her also told him that she enjoyed it. Her smile also showed that, at the least, she found the lyrics apropos as well.

    “You know, Potter,” Ginny finally said, after the song had ended. Her voice was thoughtful, her eyes were knowing and she was tapping her chin in obvious contemplation. “A more... suspicious girl might think you set this up somehow.”

    Harry started, and had to move quickly to keep from dropping his wand. “Why, uh, why would you say that?” he asked. He immediately cursed himself for the momentary loss of control of his nerves.

    “No reason,” Ginny answered archly, her eyes dancing with amusement. She leaned forward to give him a light kiss, and then, while Harry was waiting for more... she returned to her search.

    Harry sighed, but went through the motions as well, though it was certainly just an act. He was finding it ever harder to control his nerves as he surreptitiously watched Ginny out of the corner of his eyes. That monster in his chest - which Ginny had teased him relentlessly about when he shared the analogy once with her in a quiet, private moment - had full-on resumed its nervous dancing and Harry felt as though his stomach was soon going to collapse - or he was.

    Sure, Harry , he thought wryly, you can face down Voldemort stone cold, but this?

    He froze as he saw watched her move to the very last shelf. It was a shelf - the shelf - that contained only one thing: a small jewelry box. As Ginny approached, a soft magical glow began to appear around the box - a proximity charm set to draw attention when a particular person - in this case, Ginny - approached.

    And there was a tag, with a message in Harry’s barely-legible scrawl, that read: ‘For my Ginny’.

    - - - - - -

    Ginny’s heart felt as though it had completely still as she reached that final shelf - or, more accurately, it froze as she realized its contents. Abruptly her suspicions were all confirmed – Harry had, in fact set this up somehow. She really didn't know how he'd managed the trick with the Floo, but she no longer had any doubts that this was his doing. Abruptly, she felt exactly as she had on her birthday, back when she thought Harry was giving her a ring. Her mind whirled and the guarded feeling she'd been getting from Harry all evening suddenly made sense. That, and Harry's apparent nonchalance about being trapped had all but given him away. With that information, she knew that there was no way she was wrong this time. That little box could only contain one thing.

    Nervously, she reached out to take the box in her hand. The felt cover was soft in her skin, and felt a bit warm. Or perhaps that was just her, as her pulse was racing, her heart was fluttering. More than a small part of her - the part that was still a ten-year old girl, realizing that she had just seen Harry Bloody Potter getting on the train at King's Cross, or the eleven-year old who'd put her elbow in the butter dish... that part of her was convinced that this wasn't real at all, but was some sort of elaborate dream.

    Nevertheless, her fingers slowly opened the case. She let out a small gasp as she found Harry’s mother’s engagement ring - the one Dudley had returned on his birthday, just a few months after his defeat of Voldemort had changed the world - glittering in the soft firelight.

    A shaking hand was at her mouth somehow, and Ginny belatedly realized it was hers as she abruptly came aware of every detail in the room - the deep scratches in the floorboards, the smell and warmth of the crackling fire, the hint of a chill breeze through a not-quite-repaired window, and... everything. She knew then that this moment would be indelibly printed on her mind for the rest of her life.

    Suddenly, Ginny was very glad that it was cold outside. And that she had decided to stay.

    The ring had been cleaned, some oddly observant corner of her brain noted, and the gems replaced. There was still the diamond shining in the center, and a slightly smaller pair of precious stones consisting of one ruby and one emerald on either side. She saw the meaning for those immediately, of course - one to represent her, and the other to represent Harry.

    Her mouth formed into a small ‘o’ as she turned back to face Harry, her eyes shining. She tried to speak, but could find no words. Harry was right there, his every emotion on his face, and plainly felt through their connection. Ever since her Mum had explained why she and Harry could feel each other’s emotions when they were together, or how they always knew where the other was, it was something she had marveled at.

    But the feelings she was getting from Harry now, his nervousness, his worry, but most of all, his absolute love - for her! - and yes, his desire, simmering under the surface... feeling all of that, she had never been so grateful to be a witch in her life, to get such a gift. It was, to her mind, the greatest thing she could ever know - to know what it was to love, and be loved, in return.

    Harry's hands slipped around hers, and Ginny's voice was still uncharacteristically absent as he faced the open case - or more importantly, the ring inside - directly towards her.

    For a second time in scant minutes, Ginny’s heart stopped when Harry lowered himself down to a single knee.

    - - - - - -

    Harry was astounded by the complexity of the emotions he felt coming off of Ginny in waves. This was no great surprise, really, as they often did. Ginny liked to say that it was simply because it was something Man was not meant to know about Woman. He rather suspected she was right.

    He felt her joy, shining through above all else, and it gave him the courage to continue past the fact that he was utterly terrified that she would say 'no'. He’d rehearsed this part a thousand times in his mind, but now that this moment was finally here, all his well-practiced words abandoned him like a Slytherin confronted with a risk that had no rewards.

    So, instead, he spoke from the heart. He didn't know what he was going to say, but knew he could only be truthful. Gin was the world to him - it was that simple. He'd slay dragons, if only she'd ask. The least he could do was be honest about something so simple as how he felt.

    “Gin,” he started, and had to clear his throat. “I love you. I don’t know how many different ways I can ever say it, but I do. I know a lot of blokes say sappy things like 'I didn’t know what that meant before you' to their birds. But... you know how I was raised. In my case – on our case, it’s true. I didn’t know what love was before and you” he smiled a moment as something MacDougal had said weeks ago came back to him “ – you brought me in from the cold.”

    He saw tears - happy ones, he hoped - begin to form at the edge of Ginny’s eyes, but they were matched by her soft smile. Harry took that as encouragement to continue.

    "I want to be with you," he said honestly, "I mean, blimey, it's really sappy, but you're the half of me that I didn't know what was missing. I love waking up in the morning when you're there, because I get this... this feeling, that nothing could be righter with the word, because you're there, and that's all I need. That's all I'll ever need. It... well, it comforts me, because I know you've always got my back, no matter what the world throws at us. And that you'll help me with all those stupid, mundane little things that I'm absolute rubbish at remembering to do, but you always know. But mostly... you understand me better than anyone on this whole planet, and you know what that means to me. I'd... well; I'd do anything in the world just to see you smile."

    He did smile then, and was gratified by the bark of laughter and the smile she gave him back.

    “I promised to say I love you every day. If I’m to fulfill that – well, we need to be together for them. And I won’t ever leave you behind again – I don’t even think I could,” he confessed. “I don't want to be apart from you ever again. I want to spend every day, every hour of the rest our lives together," he swallowed, and locked his eyes firmly with hers before asking his question - the question.

    "Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?”

    Ginny's face took on that familiar hard, blazing look, and she wasted no time providing Harry with her answer. She threw her arms around him, and with no invitation needed or wanted, Ginny kissed him. It was like their first kiss all over again – seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours, and sunlit days and moonlit nights passed in the span of a single heartbeat. It was the kind of perfect moment that rarely comes along in any lifetime - let alone twice in the same one.

    Harry pulled back – eventually – and grinned. “So... that’s a yes, then?”

    Ginny flashed that blazing look at him. “Of course it is, you daft prat. I’ve been waiting for you to ask since my birthday!”

    Harry grinned. “Sorry to be so slow then.”

    "I'm sure you can make it up to me," Ginny answered, and Harry knew that she was no longer thinking about leaving in the slightest.

    - - - - -

    Later, Harry and Ginny reclaimed their clothing, and she moved to look out of the frost-covered window. Her mind was still whirling at the unreality of it all, and she felt the need for some perspective. She folded her arms over her chest as she gazed outside, and was struck by the simplistic beauty of the white Christmas.

    Ginny sighed in frustration as she saw that the blizzard outside was still going strong. In the distance, she could see a few faintly familiar lights, but couldn't quite place them through the haze of the falling snow. “Mum’s going to be so angry…” she trailed, as Harry slipped up behind her. She placed her owns hands over his as they wrapped her stomach.

    She felt Harry tense a bit, and Ginny turned to eye him sharply. “Not, uh, entirely…” he trailed.”I might have forgotten to mention something about that."

    Ginny just narrowed her eyes some more. “What about it, Harry?”

    “I forgot to mention one little thing,” he admitted, and then moved to the kitchen. Reaching for the bag of Floo powder, he set it down on the counter.

    “You had that this whole time?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. “Potter, you randy git. You don’t have to kidnap me in order to get some time alone.”

    Harry frowned. “I didn’t kidnap you for that,” he said, and then grinned. “That was just a...erm, bonus. I kidnapped you for that,” he continued, pointing at the ring that now sat on Ginny’s finger. She flushed slightly - well, more than slightly - as she remembered that when he'd finally put it on her, it had been the only thing she was wearing.

    Ginny made a show of admiring the ring, holding her hand out flat. “What’s that you forgot to mention, then?”

    “Your Mum and Dad know we’re here. I told them about it when I, ah, asked your Dad’s permission.”

    Ginny’s eyebrows rose and her expression softened. Merlin, he was unbelievable. She knew that, in the Muggle world, that sort of tradition was hardly ever observed. In the wizarding world, though, it was practically a bloody law. And Harry had, of course, wanted to do the whole thing right. “You asked Dad’s permission?” she asked weakly.

    “Yeah.”

    “And…?” Ginny prompted.

    “Well, he said yes, obviously,” Harry said, and squeezed his arms around her. "He even helped me sort out the arrangements for this place."

    “Where are we?” Ginny asked, ignoring his cheek, and knew that this time, Harry wouldn't lie.

    “The Shrieking Shack,” Harry answered, and his eyes crinkled a bit as he explained. “Turns out Dumbledore had owned it, and then he left it to Lupin. Lupin left it to me, to hold it in trust for Teddy…well, it’s complicated. ”

    Ginny laid a hand on Harry’s chest, and then drew him into a tight hug. “I think they’d like the use you’ve put it to,” she admitted.

    “Yeah?” Harry asked.

    “Yeah,” she said, and then grinned again. He saw the wheels turning in her eyes for a moment, and the smile faded to a look of confusion. “So you set all this up - the floo thing, repairing the shack, all this, just to surprise me with a proposal. I can follow all that. There's just the one thing I don't quite get."

    "What's that?" Harry asked.

    Ginny indicated the window. "How did you know there would be a blizzard?"

    Her jaw dropped as Harry flushed and she felt the deep pulse of embarrassment from him. "Oh - that... I... erm... might have overdone that a bit."

    "Harry - you didn't!”

    "I only meant it to be a small snowstorm!" Harry protested defensively. "It wasn't supposed to be this bad!"

    Ginny laughed. Only her boyfriend - fiancé! she fiercely corrected herself - could accidentally create the biggest snowstorm to hit Britain in years. Well, at least he’d given everyone a White Christmas. Harry blushed even more at her laughter, but she set him at ease with a kiss on the cheek.

    ----------------------------------------------

    “Is it ready?”

    “Of course it is,” came the half-growled reply.

    “Excellent. We strike with the new year.”

    Back to index


    Chapter 27: Chapter 27 - "Whispers On The Wind"

    Author's Notes: Aaannnd after an extreeeeeeeeeeemely long break, we're back, folks!


    Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows
    Chapter Twenty-Seven
    "Whispers On The Wind"

    The Christmas hols had gone rather brilliantly, Harry thought. Even though they'd known it was coming, Molly and Arthur (and the rest of the clan, for that matter) had been thrilled about Harry and Ginny's little announcement. Even the couple themselves were not immune to it, and Ron had been heard to remark on more than one occasion on just how damned irritating it was to see Harry so close to giddy.

    Percy,however, was still not doing terribly well since the loss of Penelope and their baby, and George had taken over the "monitoring" of his brother. The most serious of the Weasley boys was now living above the shop with the least so and helping see to the business aspects of the ever-growing store. Their arrangement still continued to seem surreal to Harry, but he was finally beginning to understand the bonds of brotherhood that bound all of the Weasley boys - men now, really - together. Even among brothers like Percy and George who, truthfully, were as different from possible as it was to be.

    The rest of the days passed in a blur of extended-family domesticity as the Burrow was the center of festivities. It was a comfortable sort of thing that Harry rather enjoyed, and Ginny had remarked that it was nice to see him so content. To that, Harry had to agree. Even the fact that Lestrange and his fellow Death Eaters were still free didn't intrude on this time. Fleur's family had joined the Weasleys for their holidays, and the result had been a very cramped home, even with the options available to wizard. Ron and Harry commiserated over the way even Ginny and Hermione seemed to be all but fawning over Fleur in the last month of her pregnancy. The only blonde member of the Weasley family was going to travel back with them on the train to Hogwarts, but Ron thought that Hermione had an all-together unhealthy look on her face at times.

    He voiced this opinion as Harry and Teddy were engaging in a game of peekaboo - one that resulted in Teddy's hair changing colors every time Harry succeeded in surprising him.

    "I tell you, it's not a good sign, mate," Ron muttered. "I can see the wheels turning in her head. She's planning babies, you mark my words."

    Harry just made a noncommittal noise. Privately, he thought Ron would do rather well as a father. Not that he'd tell him that of course. There was no reason to frighten him further.

    "And you didn't help, you know," his best mate continued. "What with the proposal and all that. Between Ginny showing off her ring to everyone who'll hold still long enough, and Fleur waddling around, there's a great deal of expectations being placed on me."

    "Would that be so bad?" Harry asked honestly, finally looking up from Teddy. "I mean, you're going to marry Hermione, aren't you? You've been in love with her since we were fourteen."

    "Well, yeah, I am. That's not the point."

    "It's not?" Harry asked, holding back a laugh.

    "Well, the point is that I feel like I'm bein' forced into it, see? It's like everyone's watching and waiting for me to do it now that you have. Including Hermione."

    "Well that's because we are," Harry said honestly. "You've been carrying that ring around for three months now. Don't you think you should at least ask her?"

    Ron made a frustrated noise. "I keep trying, but I can't ever get the words out! And I'm sure Hermione thinks I've gone completely around the bend, as often as I turn into a sputtering mess!"

    Harry just laughed.

    "Some help you are," Ron said darkly, and Harry just gave an easy shrug in response. Truthfully, he was feeling pretty happy himself about his impending wedding to Ginny - whenever Ginny and her mother decided it was going to happen. It had taken him all of a day of listening to their discussions before deciding that the best option was to simply agree to whatever Ginny wanted, and let her do the arguing with her mother. The following days had been much more peaceful.

    "Look, the best advice I can give you, mate, is to just do it."

    "That's it?"

    "That's it."

    Ron muttered some very unflattering things, then, and Harry went back to playing with his godson.

    The next day, everyone packed and apparated to King's Cross. Harry, Ron and all the other "reserve" Aurors had arrived early to help with security arrangements. Harry found that the brief respite of blissful calm he had experienced over the holiday had faded. Lestrange and his people were still loose, and he was growing frustrated that Cassandra's Orb seemed to be as happy as he was. Instead of useful dreams about just where the dark wizard and his compatriots were, he was getting dreams of him and Ginny living out their lives in idyllic domesticity. While certainly pleasant, the dreams were not exactly helping with his current problem. Hermione, however, was fascinated by the idea and suggested that his mood was somehow influencing the Orb.

    "What I need is something useful out of it," he muttered, crossing his arms. Across the way, he saw where Neville and Cordy were guiding younger students to the train. Like he and Ron, they were wearing the official cloaks that marked them as Aurors. Increasingly, the reserve Auror force was being called upon to fulfill the regular duties of the others, since the losses suffered during the destruction of Azkaban. And all too many of the older Aurors had retired - or returned to retirement - since the end of the war.

    Less and less, Harry felt like a student preparing for a job, and more like someone who was simply doing it.

    "We'll make do without it, mate," Ron assured him after showing a first- or second-year where to bring their cart. "It's not like it's an advantage we had before."

    Harry just grunted, and returned to his crowd watching. He watched as an older, very worn-looking wizard passed through the barrier, and appeared to be looking for something. The man's slightly furtive behavior was setting off warning bells, and Harry watched him with a hand on his wand until he saw the man join an older woman and two children. The children squealed at the sight of the man, and Harry forced himself to relax.

    "Merlin," Harry muttered. "Now I'm getting jumpy about people's grandfathers."

    Ron didn't help, with his chuckling about it.

    The reason everyone had come back early, of course, had to do with the aborted Halloween Ball, which had been rescheduled for New Years. The afternoon up to the point of the ball itself was filled with all the usual nonsense of such things - bets between the boys on how long the girls would take, the girls betting on just how long they could make the boys wait. There was, unsurprisingly, a fair amount of attention devoted to Ginny's ring.

    She didn't mind at all.

    Finally, Ginny was on Harry's arm as they walked down to the great hall. Harry was rather appreciative of the black dress that she wore, and made no effort whatsoever to hide said appreciation.

    "Mr. Potter," Ginny murmured, keeping her voice low so they could remain private. "Such wicked thoughts."

    "You bring out the best in me," Harry grinned.

    She snorted, "Maybe later. For now, Harry, we have a ball to go to, and I expect you to treat me like a queen."

    "As you wish," he quoted from one of the movies she'd loved so much in her recent explorations of the telly at Grimmauld Place.

    Several hours later, Harry and Ginny had their fill of dancing, and were gathered around one of the larger tables in the company of their friends. Ron and Hermione had come together, of course, and Luna had brought her new boyfriend, Rolf. Dean wasn't even glaring too much about that, as Cordy had surprised everyone by asking the dark-skinned boy to accompany her. Ginny had told him how the girl had apparently fretted for weeks over the decision, a revelation that Harry found to be at odds with the dark-haired girl's personality.

    The night had not been without it's flare-ups, however. Neville's tenuous relationship with Susan had rather spectacularly exploded (literally - the spell Susan had cast had shattered a table). Neville, however, was being comforted by Hannah over the fact. Harry felt more or less amused by the whole thing, but was informed by Ginny that those developments had her - and therefore his - approval.

    He didn't care much, really - his friends were happy. That was what mattered.

    "What?" Ron suddenly yelled from across the table. Harry's head darted up as he saw his friend staring, open-mouthed, at Hermione. She had a finger over her mouth, and was rather pointedly trying to shush her boyfriend. "What d'you-"

    "Something you want to share, mate?" Harry asked.

    "Not here," Hermione answered for Ron, whose mouth she had now covered with her hand. "Meet us out in the courtyard in five minutes."

    Harry felt Ginny's curiousity even before they shared a look. "What's that about, you think?"

    "No idea," he muttered. "Let's find out."

    A few minutes later, Harry and Ginny had joined a small group near the edges of the once-Forbidden Forest. It was still called that, of course, but a large gathering of wizards last summer had cleared the more dangerous magical wildlife out, with the assistance of the centaurs. The Acromantulas, in particular, had been all but exterminated.

    Ron and Hermione were there, the latter looking insufferably smug. Dean and Cordelia were there as well, but Neville and Luna were conspicuous by their absence. Neville, Harry suspected was with Hannah still. Luna and Rolf.. that was anyone's guess, really.

    "All right, Hermione, what's this about? Why do you look so smug?"

    "Do you remember when Professor MacDougal was talking about Wind Travel? Just before the end of term?"

    "Blimey, yes," Harry muttered. They'd seen a couple of death eaters pull that trick back during the war. Apart from how tactically useful the spell was, there was a primal part of Harry that found the idea of flying without even a broom to be simply.. brilliant.

    "Well," Hermione grinned. "I've figured it out. Do you want to know how?"

    An hour later, Harry - closely followed by Ginny - let out a whooping laughter of joy as he sped through the trees. He couldn't look at his body because, strictly speaking, he didn't have all of one. And he was traveling much too fast to really be able to see it, in any event.

    But that didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. The spell was deceptively simple, and utterly exhilarating as they traveled as though they truly were the wind. They raced, speeding among and in and out and over and around the trees of the forest, the only light cast by their spells and the full moon.

    It was one of the best nights Harry could remember having in a very long time.

    Of course it couldn't last.

    A red light lanced out, and Harry saw Dean fall from the sky in front of them. Cordy dived down after them, and Harry quickly turned to Ginny. In an instant, he realized the danger - in their exuberance, they had passed outside of the wards. 'Ginny' he thought quickly, hoping she would at least get the sense of things if she couldn't find the words. 'Warn Ron! Get help!'

    He only had time to feel her assent before there was another red flash. He raised a shield as he lowered himself to the ground next to Cordy. She was gingerly examining Dean, who'd had his fall broken by the brush.

    "Cordy, is he all-"

    That was all he got out, however, as another stunner lanced forward and knocked the dark-haired girl unconscious.

    And then he felt the sting of a stunning spell himself, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

    Minutes later, Ginny returned with Ron in tow, having sent Hermione back to the castle for help. They found Dean just where he'd landed, still unconscious and bleeding badly.

    But there was no sign at all of Cordelia - nor of Harry.

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