SIYE Time:19:32 on 17th April 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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Summer Story By Arnel
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 392
Summary: Summer at the Dursleys’ is typical for Harry Potter who hopes his stay with his relatives will only last two weeks at most. In this sequel to You’re Still You and New Year, New Hope Harry learns that his role as “savior” of the Wizarding world is more complicated than he thought and that he needs his friends and mentors more than he ever imagined.
Hitcount: Story Total: 135399; Chapter Total: 4254
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Chapter 12: Worry
“Professor Dumbledore!” Ginny cried as Harry sprinted up the corridor to the prone figure lying on the cool stone floor. She reached them seconds later. “Harry, is he... is he?”
Harry had turned the headmaster onto his back and was listening to the old man’s chest. “He’s still breathing and his heart is beating,” he said in a strangled voice. “Quick, go get Madam Pomfrey.”
Ginny hastened to the infirmary. “Madam Pomfrey, come quickly! Professor Dumbledore has collapsed,” she called, barging into the empty room.
Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, ladle in hand. “Where is he?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“In the corridor. I think he was trying to get here. Harry’s with him now,” Ginny explained hurriedly.
Madam Pomfrey thrust the ladle into Ginny’s hand. “Thank you, Ginny,” she said, heading for the door. “Would you extinguish the fire under my cauldron, please?”
Ginny emerged from Madam Pomfrey’s office just in time to hold open the door to admit Harry and Madam Pomfrey, who was floating the headmaster in front of her. She deposited him on the nearest bed and immediately drew the curtains.
With nothing more to do, Ginny and Harry clung together in the waiting area, uncertain whether to leave or stay. As the minutes ticked by and Madam Pomfrey stayed behind the curtain, they found chairs in the waiting area and sat in silence, watching the minute hand on the clock over the door move slowly around the face. It became increasingly apparent that this was a very grave situation.
Finally, Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtains, a very worried expression on her face. Ginny and Harry stood up as she approached them.
Harry spoke first. “What’s wrong with him, Madam Pomfrey?” he asked, his concern for Dumbledore apparent in his tone.
Ginny bit her lip as Madam Pomfrey answered. “I don’t know yet, Harry. I’ve stabilized him for the time being and need to call in a consultant. Will you please excuse me?” As Harry bowed his head and murmured his thanks, she strode into her office, shutting the door.
He raised his head. “Oh, God, Ginny. I think he’s been cursed,” he whispered.
Alarmed, Ginny wrapped her arms round Harry’s waist and hugged him to her. “How do you know?” she asked.
“I can feel it in my gut,” he said tightly. “When Ron, Hermione and I were talking to him the other night about yesterday’s adventure, Dumbledore taught us some specific revealing spells to test for Dark curses. It was almost as if he was speaking from experience because the spells were very, very difficult to get right...” He trailed off and was silent for several seconds. “He wouldn’t let us go to bed until he was positive we knew the spells.”
“He’s a good teacher, Harry. If he was cursed, he was right to teach you how to protect yourselves,” Ginny said, trying her best to comfort him. She tugged on his hand and he followed her docilely back to their chairs. “All we can do right now is wait.” She smiled at him. “And this time, you’re not waiting for me, you’re waiting with me.”
Harry smiled wanly back at her and they settled down to wait again.
They didn’t wait long, though. Only five minutes time passed before the door to Madam Pomfrey’s office opened and she came out, followed by Professor Snape. Ginny felt Harry inhale sharply and looked up to find him scowling at the Potion Master’s back as he strode behind the curtains around Dumbledore’s bed.
“What’s he doing here?” Harry hissed.
Cautiously, Ginny answered, “He must know something about identifying and getting rid of Dark curses.”
Further conversation was curtailed when Snape called over the curtains, “Potter, get over here. I need to question you.”
Harry and Ginny exchanged alarmed glances before they hurried over to Professor Dumbledore’s bed. They stood at the foot, waiting quietly. Ginny sucked in her breath at the sight that met them. Dumbledore’s face was the colour of wax, and his laboured breathing filled her ears.
Snape was standing at Professor Dumbledore’s side, his wand flashing as he cast spells in rapid succession. Next to him, Madam Pomfrey held a clipboard and quill, scribbling notes furiously. At length, the adults looked up, their faces grave.
“Potter, the headmaster has most likely been cursed by something he has worn recently,” Snape said in clipped tones. “You’ve been with him lately. Do you know of anything new he has worn and taken off?”
“He wore... a Muggle business suit the day he came to get me,” Harry said.
“The headmaster would have known whether his own clothes were cursed, Potter,” Snape snapped.
“What about hats or cloaks, professor?” Ginny suggested. “Someone sent Bill a cursed cap once.”
Snape shook his head. “Still apparel, Miss Weasley.”
Ginny turned to Harry. “What about a bracelet or a necklace? Charlie sometimes wears an identification bracelet a girl gave him when they were going out in their seventh year.”
“He doesn’t wear that sort of stuff,” Harry said quickly.
“How recently was Professor Dumbledore cursed?” Ginny asked, thinking about how long it had taken the diary to truly possess her back in first year.
“Within the last six weeks,” Snape said tersely.
Harry turned his back and leaned against the footboard of the bead. Ginny reached for him, but he shook her hand away. “What do you know about the curse?” he asked without turning back.
Snape’s answer was not a welcome one. “The curse seems to be slow-acting. In all probability, it will gradually rob the victim of his or her strength, it might paralyze or cause great pain, and most likely it will leave the mind alone, the better for the victim to be aware of his or her plight.”
Harry had closed his eyes and was biting his lip. With a monumental sigh he looked at Ginny, his expression bleak. “He knew that day,” he whispered. To Madam Pomfrey and Snape he asked, “Is the curse terminal?”
Madam Pomfrey answered, “Yes, Harry, it’s terminal.”
“How long?” Harry asked bleakly, turning to face the adults again.
“If I knew when Professor Dumbledore came in contact with the curse, I could tell you, Potter,” Snape snapped. “Now, do you recall anything unusual that the headmaster has worn in the last few weeks that he normally has not?”
Harry bowed his head, pushed his glasses up on his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ginny’s heart went out to Harry as she stood beside him, unable to help in any way.
Suddenly, Harry’s head snapped up. “The ring!” he exclaimed.
“What ring?” Snape, Madam Pomfrey and Ginny asked.
“Professor Dumbledore was wearing a ring the day he came to get me, but he hasn’t worn it since!” Harry explained.
Snape barked, “On which hand was he wearing it?”
“His left, sir.”
Snape grabbed Professor Dumbledore’s left hand and examined the fingers, eventually pointing to a raw, pink circlet of skin ringing the fourth finger. “Very good, Potter, you’ve solved our little mystery,” he said without looking up. To Madam Pomfrey he said, “This will be the only mark left by the curse, I am sure.”
“Can you cure him, professor?” Ginny asked, hoping against hope that a cure could be found.
“Don’t you know the meaning of the word ‘terminal’?” Snape hissed. “The headmaster has only months to live if I’m right about the nature of this curse, so no, I cannot cure him!”
Cowed into silence, Ginny turned to Harry who let her put an arm around his waist. “Will he wake?” he asked.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “I don’t know, Harry. Let’s go to my office and talk some more about that ring. I don’t think we’ll need it, but anything you can tell me about it, that will help.” She led the way past the curtains as Snape began waving his wand over the headmaster again and stopped as the door to the hospital wing opened.
Neville poked his head inside. “There you are, Harry. I thought we were meeting for our workout,” he said cheerfully.
Ginny stepped away from Harry. “I’ll tell him, Harry. You go with Madam Pomfrey,” she said. He nodded and walked into the office, shutting the door behind him.
Neville opened the door fully and stepped inside the infirmary. He asked, “Have I interrupted something?”
“Harry and I found Professor Dumbledore lying in the corridor about an hour ago,” Ginny said, taking Neville’s arm and steering him back out into the hallway.
“Is he ill?” Neville asked.
“Very,” Ginny told him sadly. “Both Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey are trying to make him better, but it doesn’t look good.”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing right now until Snape determines whether or not he can revive Professor Dumbledore,” Ginny said, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. “All we can do is wait.”
“And worry,” Neville murmured. He leaned against the wall and gradually slid down onto the floor, just as he had done the previous evening. “I’m not leaving until we know something.”
Ginny smiled at Neville’s determination and sat next to him. “I hope we know soon because Ron and I have to leave at six o’clock,” she said.
A tense silence fell over the corridor. Ginny longed to be inside with Harry, but resigned herself to the fact that she would only be in the way. She knew very little of the mission Dumbledore had entrusted to Harry. Not for the first time, she cursed silently at being kept in the dark.
As she contemplated the recent turn of events, a spark of resolve began to grow within her. She was going to find out exactly what Harry, Ron and Hermione were up to and do everything she could to help them. Harry was going to need all the help he could get, especially if Dumbledore wasn’t going to be around. She didn’t care what Dumbledore’s reasons were for being so secretive. She silently vowed that whatever Harry faced, she would be right by his side.
Harry joined them a few minutes later. His face had a pinched look to it as he flopped down on the floor facing Ginny. She scooted towards him until their knees bumped and then reached for his hand.
“Is there any way we can help?” she asked, running her thumb over the back of his hand.
“Not yet,” he replied. “Snape was still casting spells when I left, although Madam Pomfrey thinks it’s going to take a potion to bring about any change.”
Neville reached over and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “No matter what happens,” he said bracingly, “you got Professor Dumbledore the help he was trying to get for himself.”
“I don’t know how much good it’ll do, though,” Harry muttered bleakly as Ron and Hermione appeared at the far end of the corridor.
“What’s going on?” Ron asked as he and Hermione joined them.
Together Ginny and Harry filled them in on Dumbledore’s condition; as the story unfolded, Ginny could see the gears turning in Hermione’s brain. She wasn’t surprised when Hermione got to her feet and pushed open the infirmary door.
Harry scrambled after her, but Ron held him back. “Let her go, mate,” he said. “She may have thought of something that might help.”
Ron was right. Hermione appeared at the door almost immediately. “Ginny, come quickly. Madam Pomfrey needs our help. Professor Snape wants to make a potion for Professor Dumbledore that takes specialized preparation of several ingredients and Madam Pomfrey suggested we help.”
Ginny jumped up and was half-way to the door when she realized that they were leaving Harry, Ron and Neville sitting in the corridor. “Do you think they could help, too?” she asked.
Hermione nodded. “Harry, Ron, Neville,” she called, “Grab some chairs and go sit with Professor Dumbledore while we get the potion ready.”
Harry mumbled, “Thanks, Ginny,” as he hurried past, grabbing a chair from the waiting area and disappearing behind the curtains surrounding Dumbledore’s bed.
Ginny followed Hermione into Madam Pomfrey’s office. The preparation area had been cleared off and the potion Ginny had tended earlier pushed aside. “Ginny, please fill and label these bottles with this Pepper-Up Potion. Make sure the date is clearly visible. This batch may not be as potent as it should be, but it’s perfectly good for minor ailments. I don’t want to waste it,” Madam Pomfrey said briskly as she began pulling bottles and jars of ingredients from various cabinets.
Ginny set to work as Madam Pomfrey enlisted Hermione’s help in macerating dried herbs for the new potion. The three witches worked quietly, with only the clink of their utensils breaking the silence, until Professor Snape entered the office and strode over to the fireplace without acknowledging anyone. His face was a study in concentration as he lit the logs in the grate and began adding ingredients to a small cauldron which hung over the fire. In no time, the room was uncomfortably warm. Ginny held her breath against the obnoxious smell.
She had just finished her task when Snape barked, “I need powdered viper scales now!”
Madam Pomfrey look flustered as she frantically searched the cabinet. “I’m all out, Severus,” she said. “I was going to order some next month.”
“You’ll just have to go into Hogsmeade, then, and see if the apothecary has some, won’t you?” Snape snapped. “I can’t leave this now.”
Hermione edged close to Madam Pomfrey and whispered something in her ear, causing her to smile and relax a bit. She in turn quietly spoke to Snape who nodded, then asked Ginny and Hermione to leave the room. When they were admitted again several minutes later, Madam Pomfrey handed Hermione and Ginny scrapers and led them to her desk. Two large squares of lime green snake skin lay on the wooden surface. Dried Basilisk skin flitted through Ginny’s mind as she remembered seeing the dead reptile sprawled on the Chamber floor.
Ginny stared down at the square of skin that lay in front of her, listening carefully to Madam Pomfrey’s instructions to scrape the huge green scales like she would scale a fish. “This isn’t going to work,” she whispered to Hermione as soon as Madam Pomfrey turned her back. “The scales are part of the skin.”
“You’re right, but we have to try anyway,” Hermione said as she inserted her scraper under a scale and pushed against it. The skin tore where the scraper touched it and she stepped away from her square. She dug into the pocket of her jeans and came up with a silver knife. “Here, use my knife to cut a small square into slivers, then see if it crumbles.”
Ginny unfolded the knife and did as Hermione suggested, cutting a tiny square from the corner of her skin and slicing it thinly. Each new sliver almost immediately disintegrated into a fine powder. She glanced over at Hermione whose efforts to shred her skin worked no better than the scraper.
“How come you carry a knife?” Ginny asked quietly.
“It’s a Muggle thing I picked up from my parents. They both carry one.”
Professor Snape’s voice cut through their conversation. “Well, why don’t I hear you two scraping?”
“We can’t, professor,” Ginny said. She scooped up some of the powder her cuttings had produced as well as a few ragged pieces of skin from Hermione’s pile and took them over to the fireplace. Holding out the two samples she said, “We’ve tried both shredding and slicing and the best form seems to be the sliced because it turns to powder as soon as it’s cut.”
For the first time ever, Professor Snape didn’t sneer. “Very well, powder it. It’s a magical substance anyway and I’ll need to be careful how it’s added to this potion. Carry on.”
“How much will you need?” Ginny asked.
“Not much more than what you have there,” he said, looking sour again. He gave her a small bowl. “Fill it.”
Ginny took the bowl back to the table and carefully filled it with powdered Basilisk skin. She then took it back to Professor Snape whose only reaction was a curt nod. On her way back to the table, she asked Madam Pomfrey what she wanted done with the rest of the skin.
Looking at Hermione’s large pile of shreds she said, “Finish powdering what you’ve shredded and leave it at that. Then weigh the powder and put it in this canister. Make sure you label it clearly with name, date and weight.” She set a large crockery canister on the desk and took away what was left of the two skins. Turning to Hermione she asked, “Do you need another silver knife? You may go when you’re done. Thank you for your help.”
Hermione took the proffered knife and she and Ginny finished powdering the Basilisk skin, filling the canister and labelling it. They washed their knives and the desk and left as quietly as they could: Professor Snape was scowling at his cauldron and concentrating on stirring and they didn’t want to disturb him.
“Am I right in thinking that the Basilisk skin reacted differently to the silver knives than they did to our scrapers?” Ginny asked as soon as the door closed.
“Yes,” Hermione said, grinning. “That skin is from a magical creature so it’s more likely to react differently.” She sobered as they approached the curtains around Professor Dumbledore’s bed.
The boys were all sitting on one side of the bed. Harry was sitting closest to it, holding one of Dumbledore’s hands. “No change,” he muttered sadly as Ron and Neville found chairs for Ginny and Hermione. Ginny smiled when Neville put hers next to Harry’s, but instead of sitting in it she walked behind Harry and placed her hands on his shoulders. She began slowly kneading the muscles of his neck, struggling to work on the tension that gripped them. Harry murmured his thanks and relaxed a little under her attention.
Several minutes later, the curtains parted and Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape stepped in, moving quickly to the head of Dumbledore’s bed. They each held a cup of potion and a spoon.
“May we stay?” Harry asked, not letting go of the professor’s hand.
“As you wish, Potter,” Snape grumbled. “Just stay out of the way.”
Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear, “I hope this works.”
“Me, too.”
Ginny sat down as Madam Pomfrey propped Professor Dumbledore against some pillows and dribbled a little of her potion into his mouth with her spoon. Nothing happened, so she gave him a little more. Then they waited.
Suddenly, Harry gasped. “He’s squeezing my hand!” he cried softly.
Encouraged by this news, Madam Pomfrey continued spooning the potion slowly into the headmaster’s mouth, helping him to swallow when he seemed to have difficulty. Little by little his colour improved and his eyes began moving beneath his lids. Finally, when nearly all the potion had been administered, he opened his eyes, wheezed, “Thank you,” and closed them again. Madam Pomfrey whipped out her wand and began casting spells. With each one her smile broadened.
“He’s sleeping,” she said finally and everyone relaxed. “He will recover.”
An hour later, Professor Dumbledore opened his eyes to find everyone, including the two adults, still sitting at his side. Both Ginny and Hermione were crying silently and when Ginny glanced at Harry, a single tear had escaped from his right eye. He swiped at it roughly and cleared his throat. “Welcome back, Professor,” he murmured.
Dumbledore’s eyes searched the faces around him, finally locking on Professor Snape’s. “Thank you, Severus. We shall talk later. I promise,” he said. With a small nod, Snape turned and left.
“How are you feeling, Headmaster?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “Do you require anything?”
“A little water, perhaps. I am very thirsty,” he said. He allowed Madam Pomfrey to help him drink, then turned to Harry, who had still not let go of his hand. “Harry, why the worried face? I am in the best of care here. You should know that.”
“I do know it, Professor,” Harry said quietly, finally relinquishing his hold on Dumbledore’s hand.
“You scared us so badly, sir,” Ginny said. “We were afraid we had found you too late...” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
“You found me? Where?” Professor Dumbledore looked genuinely alarmed.
Harry and Ginny told their story again and when they finished Dumbledore said, “I am so sorry to put you through this. Is that why you all are here?”
Ginny, Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione all said, “Yes,” to which Dumbledore responded, “I sincerely thank you for helping me. I am afraid I was not very good company.”
“It doesn’t matter, sir,” Neville said. “What matters is that you’re back with us.”
“Hogwarts wouldn’t be the same without you,” Ron murmured, his ears turning pink.
“Hogwarts will go on long after I have gone on to my next great adventure, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore said with a small smile.
No one spoke for a moment. Then Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “The headmaster needs his rest. I imagine you five have other things you’d rather be doing.”
Professor Dumbledore smiled, then asked, “Miss Weasley, Mr Weasley, when do you depart for home? It is nice to have you with me, but your parents are expecting you, I am sure.”
Ginny exchanged startled looks with Ron. In all the excitement they had forgotten about going home. “We better go pack, Ginny,” Ron said.
“Thank you, Professor,” Ginny said, feeling embarrassment warming her cheeks. She turned to Harry. “You’ll be all right, too?”
Harry smiled at her. “Thanks for keeping me company,” he said, looking around at Ginny, Ron, Neville, and Hermione. “I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall in half an hour.”
Reluctantly, Ginny stood and followed the others out of the hospital wing.
A few flicks of her wand were all it took to make Ginny’s things sail into her bags. She stood at her window looking out over the Forbidden Forest and thinking of all that had happened during the last few days. She didn’t want to go home, but at the same time, she was curious to find out how her parents’ dinner with Bill and Fleur had gone.
Someone knocked on her portrait, causing her to look at her watch. Time to go. With one last look around the elegant suite, Ginny gathered her things and went to the door. Ron and Hermione were waiting for her and together the three descended the stairs to the Entrance Hall where Harry was waiting with Hagrid. He walked them to the gates and stopped.
“This is as far as I’m going,” Harry said. “I want to stay with Dumbledore.”
Ron stuck out his hand and they shook. “Don’t be a stranger, Harry,” he said. “You’re coming to The Burrow in a couple of weeks, yeah?”
Harry grinned. “I’ll send Hedwig with a note telling you when I’m coming.”
Ron returned the smile. “We’ll be looking for her,” he said, glancing at Ginny.
Harry gave Hermione a quick hug, then turned and embraced Ginny. They clung to each other, not wanting to let go. Harry suddenly pulled back, an expression of anguish on his face. “I should have known…,” he began.
Ginny immediately cut him off. “How could you?” she retorted. “Professor Dumbledore is the world’s greatest secret keeper. He never lets anyone see all of his plans. I think there’s probably a lot of stuff he still hasn’t told you that he should have. Don’t blame yourself, Harry. Remember, this is all Voldemort’s doing.”
Harry stubbornly shook his head. “No, Gin. I should have guessed when he suddenly changed — the broom racing, drinks at the Three Broomsticks. It was the kind of stuff he’s always wanted to do with somebody but either couldn’t or wouldn’t. Why–why didn’t I every try sooner to do something for him… to be a friend or try to find out about what he needed?”
Ginny took both of Harry’s hands in her own and gazed fiercely at him. “Now you listen to me, Harry Potter,” she hissed. “You’re not going to fall into a depression over this. That won’t help Professor Dumbledore, and it certainly won’t help you beat V-Voldemort. You’re going to have to be strong. You’re going to have to push ahead, regardless of what happens. I’m here for you. Ron and Hermione are here for you, so is Neville, and so are a lot of other people. All of us love you, and will do whatever it takes to help you win this fight. Don’t ever forget that. It’s what’s going to help you beat Tom in the end.”
Harry hung his head, his forehead touching hers. He sighed deeply. “You’re right, Ginny. Thanks,” he murmured. “I needed that.”
Hagrid cleared his throat. Ginny stepped away reluctantly and followed him and Hermione and Ron down the road towards the village.
As the gates closed, she heard Harry call, “Watch for Hedwig tonight, Ginny.”
She turned back and answered, “I will.” Then the road curved and the gates disappeared from sight.
*
Later that night, Hedwig appeared at Ginny’s window bearing a letter in Harry’s handwriting.
Dear Ginny,
I don’t know where to begin. The news about Dumbledore isn’t good. I talked with Madam Pomfrey after you left and I wish you had been with me when she gave me her diagnosis. Dumbledore’s curse is just as Snape described. Madam Pomfrey thinks he only has a few months left to live.
I wish I could hold you right now. I feel so lost and alone and very angry and scared and talking things out with Neville tonight just didn’t feel nearly as comforting as they would have, had we been together. This is one of those times that holding you would give me strength to go on.
Ginny smiled through her tears at Harry’s rambling confession. She read on.
I stayed with Dumbledore until Madam Pomfrey threw me out of the hospital this evening. He and I talked a little. When he is stronger, we’re going to meet in his rooms. He is hoping to stay alive long enough to teach me the rest of what I need to know to defeat Tom Riddle. I’m scared, Ginny. There is so much to do before I have to face him and I don’t know if I’ll live through our final battle, even with all this careful preparation.
Think of me, Ginny, as you go to bed. I’ll be thinking of you.
Harry
Ginny folded the letter and crawled into bed. Tomorrow she would break Harry’s news to her family. It would definitely put a damper on her parents’ good spirits, for they had loved Fleur on sight. And even though they were surprised that she and Bill were getting married in France at the end of August, they had opened their arms to her and accepted her into their family.
Ginny’s thoughts drifted to Hogwarts and Harry.
Are you there, Harry? she asked. Hedwig brought your letter.
Harry replied immediately. I’m here, Ginny. She’s a good owl, Hedwig.
Yes, she is. Harry, I want to be there to hold you, too. It doesn’t seem right that the one I love so much needs me and I can’t be there to comfort him. Will you be all right?
It felt as though Harry were smiling. Yeah. I’ll be all right now. Thanks for understanding.
You’re welcome, Harry. You know I’m only a thought away.
I do know and that’s what is helping me through this. I love you, Ginny.
I love you, too, Harry.
Good night, they finished together.
A/N: The mystery of my evil cliffie from last chapter has been solved; now you know who was lying on the hospital wing corridor floor. I’ve had some interesting guesses about who it might be and they have amused me to no end. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long in suspense.
My usual round of heart-felt thank yous starts off with my pre-beta GhostWriter. He put a lot of thought into helping me with this chapter and was a real life-saver when I found myself hopelessly stuck somewhere between the middle and the end I’d already written. Thank you many times over for your help when I had no idea what to do with this chapter. And then there’s my beta Aggiebell who, for some reason, was convinced that my victim was Professor McGonagall! I’m so glad I was able to leave you guessing. Thank you for your help in getting this chapter posted. I always love your comments.
So ends another chapter. I find myself loving the writing of Harry/Ginny good-night scenes and all the affection these two characters seem to have for each other. I hope you, my readers, like them as much as I do. If you liked how the chapter turned out, please take the time to let me know what you think. I appreciate your taking the time to drop me a line and I always write back.
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