Ginny woke with a start. An owl was sitting on her tummy, a note attached to her leg. Shaking some of the grogginess from her head, she took the note, petting the owl before she flew off.

Ginny pulled the curtain of her four-poster open slightly. It was still dark, and not even Hermione was up yet. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she wondered who’d be sending a note so early in the morning. Using the techniques Professor Flitwick had taught her, she focused on her desire for light. She focused on every sensation she could from her right hand, then imagined a cold light there. In her mind’s eye, Ginny could see flames licking at her fingers. Closing her eyes, she could even feel them there like a cool breath of wind buffeting her skin.

Ginny smiled when she felt the familiar tingle of magical energy distorting at her fingertips. All this took place in barely half a second, and in what had been a dark bed, there was now a dim bluish light. She quickly dropped the curtain so that she would not disturb her dorm-mates.

Like opening a tap, she brightened the light slowly as her eyes became used to it, until it was at a sufficient level that she could read the note.

Ginny,

Dress for the freezing weather, and then come to your window.

Guessing that she could fight from the window if it was someone who meant her harm, she yawned, extinguished the light and slid out of bed. She looked over at Hermione’s bed, and held back a giggle as she saw a lumpy shape in the side of the curtain. That girl was going to die with a book in her hand. She opened her trunk, finding to her glee that the results of her experiment last week had persisted for longer than she had even hoped for.

Last Wednesday, she had completely emptied her trunk, and willed it to get bigger, making absolutely sure that she constrained the outer proportions in her mind’s eye. To her utmost satisfaction, the inside of the trunk grew until she probably could have sat inside with a lamp and a book. Professor Flitwick had been so pleased by her Undetectable Extension Charm (which she learned was actually NEWT-level), he’d given her twenty points. Twenty! Then again, she wasn’t supposed to have learned more than a couple of basic charms at her age, if any at all.

She dressed slowly, but was still surprised when she eventually heard a voice in the dark.

“Ginny, is that you?” Lavender asked. It was more yawn than voice, really.

“Yeah. Why are you up so early?” Ginny replied, genuinely puzzled. Of all of them, Lavender was always the last to get up, being even less of a morning person than Ginny herself.

“Oh, come on. You’re the one with the boyfriend — you have to remember what day it is.”

Ginny’s head snapped round to look at the note lying on her bed. Dress for the freezing weather, and then come to your window. It had been so vague, she hadn’t given any real thought to it. And yet it was in his handwriting... ‘What’s Harry planning?’

“Well? Did he remember?”

“I think so,” she said slowly. “Lavender, can you help me?”

Even in the dark, she could see the girl’s grin forming.

Harry wasn’t cold. He’d put on plenty of layers to combat Scotland’s best attempts to make him into an icicle. That didn’t stop him shivering, though.

Lying flat to his broom to keep the wind at bay, he leaned heavily against the tower wall. Fear of screwing up gripped him like a frozen iron fist around the heart.

He’d already flown over to the mountain overlooking the lake, and cleared an area on its peak. Then he’d badgered the twins until they told him how to get into the kitchens so that he could get a picnic basket sorted out. Of course, the fact that the kitchens were overflowing with house-elves distracted him for quite a while.

Harry was frankly quite disturbed by their attitude towards life. House-elves were very strange creatures. It wasn’t so much their appearance, which was a bit like a cross between a five-year-old child and a sphynx cat, with gigantic eyes and long noses. Nor was it the way they dressed in tea towels. Rather, Harry was freaked out by the way it seemed that they considered it the greatest of pleasures to serve him. Having been on the other side of such servitude, he couldn’t conceive of how they could be happy with their lot in life, but they almost fell over each other when he thanked them for the picnic basket. The picnic basket... Harry had asked for some cupcakes and a few sandwiches — ham and cheese, maybe a chicken and bacon. Now he had a chocolate cake that made his stomach grumble when he smelled it, a stack of various sandwiches he hadn’t even checked yet, and a bag of chocolate brownies.

They took pride in their work. He hadn’t seen a single elf who wasn’t either revering him and begging to be of service, or cleaning or fixing something or teleporting in and out.

Harry had asked Mr. Weasley about it over Christmas, and whether it was possible that their behaviour was a result of some kind of curse, but he hadn’t known. What Mr. Weasley did say was that elves had served wizards for hundreds of years, at least since the founding of Hogwarts. In any case, there was no way to find out. He’d felt rather guilty asking for their help, but they’d been so happy to aid him...

A sigh escaped into the chill air. He couldn’t let this day be marred. This Valentine’s was special not just because it was his first with Ginny, but because it would also be their first real date. As an eleven-year-old at a boarding school, there wasn’t much he could offer her in that respect. But today would be different. Besides, he had the whole morning off today, and he could drop Ginny off outside Dumbledore’s office for her lesson later on.

Just then, the window slowly opened. He could see a translucent silvery shield expanding in the growing gap. Smiling nervously, he glided forwards, shifting only a knee to combat the winds. When he saw Ginny, he almost fell off his broom. She was beaming at him, a slight blush on her cheeks hidden by the glow that surrounded her. He absently drifted past the window as he stared at her hair. It was being blown about gently, despite the fact that her shield was clearly keeping the stormy night out. He didn’t see Lavender standing behind his girlfriend in the darkness, smirking with pride at what she’d achieved. Not that it had been too hard with Ginny’s talents at hand. The actual makeup was quite subtle, at least compared to what Lavender and Parvati occasionally did to themselves. Harry noticed a little eye shadow and lip gloss, and began to feel mildly underdressed.

“Well then, Harry, are we just going to wait around here, or do you have something planned?” Ginny asked.

“Um, hi Lavender,” Harry said awkwardly. “I do have something planned, actually, Ginny. Could you let me in, please?”

“Bit too cold for you, Harry?” Ginny teased.

“Yeah, something like that,” he replied. He drifted slowly forwards towards the window ledge, and secured a foot on it. “The plan’s to get you on the broom. Care to join me?”

Ginny made a face. “Harry, what exactly are we going to be doing out there?”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and anxiety. It was six o’clock already, and the sun would rise on the mountaintop within half an hour. “I wanted to do something special for our first Valentine’s Day. I mean, I haven’t really taken you out on any kind of real date yet, and you know...”

“Yeah, I do,” Ginny grinned. “Just be glad that I can block the cold out.”

“I hope you aren’t planning on taking advantage of being here,” Lavender said in a mock-serious voice.

He smiled and let himself glide into the girl’s dorm. “I’d get hexed halfway to next Sunday if I did,” he replied.

“Harry?!” It was Hermione. “Don’t touch down in here!”

Evidently her sense of loyalty was taking over her indignation that he was in the girls’ dorm room.

He wondered about why the other girls hadn’t been roused by all the noise. Staying two feet off the ground to make sure the picnic basket didn’t touch the ground, he drifted slowly backwards towards the window. “Um, why?” he asked, his cheeks starting to glow in embarrassment.

“Boys aren’t allowed in here. If you try to come up the stairs, they turn into a slide. A siren goes off if a boy is anywhere from the stairs to the dorms. But they only go off if you’re in contact with the ground. That’s how the wards identify you,” she explained.

“Is this ‘Hogwarts, A History’ coming to the rescue?” he replied teasingly.

“Yes,” she replied hotly.

“Alright, alright!” Harry laughed. “I’m not Ron!”

Hermione allowed him a smile. “Well, you can use this as another reason why you should read it.”

“Why?” Ginny teased. “We can just ask you.”

“Have mercy, I’m not awake yet,” Hermione replied with a weak grin. “Seriously, though, what are you doing here, Harry?”

“I’m trying to take Ginny on a Valentine’s Day date,” Harry sighed, glancing at his watch nervously.

“Ooh,” Parvati crooned from her bed.

“So you didn’t get Hermione to help with this one,” Ginny smirked.

“What d’you mean, Ginny,” Fay yawned. Harry turned pleading, puppy-dog eyes on his girlfriend, who reluctantly acquiesced.

“Alright, leave him alone,” Ginny grinned. She climbed nimbly on behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Come on, Harry.” He swung the tail of the broom around, and with a whoosh and a squeal of pleasure they rocketed out into the dying night.

“Oomph!” Neville puffed as he hit the ground. He glared up at Harry’s bed. ‘It was funny last week, but...’

Harry was his best friend. Neville had come to Hogwarts without knowing anyone his own age. He’d never had much opportunity. If his grandmother had been planning an arranged marriage to keep the bloodline going, she sure hadn’t given him a clue.

Neville might still have had some company growing up if the Death Eaters hadn’t killed his elder sister as they forced entry into his home. According to his grandmother, his parents had removed the Fidelius Charm after Halloween, thinking there wasn’t any point anymore. His eyes misted over as he remembered all he’d ever known of his parents — incoherent and barely sentient in their permanent ward at St. Mungo’s.

He repressed the thoughts. Harry had been brilliant, recognising that Neville wasn’t exactly comfortable socially. According to him, though Neville struggled to believe it, Harry wasn’t particularly comfortable socially either. But Harry just subtly included Neville in everything he did, and Neville was impossibly grateful. That didn’t mean he couldn’t get pissed when the guy acted a git, though.

Laboriously, he clambered to his feet. His watch had landed beside him, and read seven thirty.

‘For crying out loud, we didn’t even have any lessons this morning!’

He ripped back Harry’s curtains and frowned. The fiend wasn’t there.

“Ron?” he called.

He was replied to by the expected snores.

“What’s the noise abou’?” Seamus asked, sticking his face out of his own four-poster.

“Never mind,” Neville said. “Go back to sleep.”

The Irish boy snorted, but nevertheless returned to the darkness of his bed.

Neville crossed to Ron’s bed, and shook the curtains. “Oi, Ron.”

“Huh?” came the groggy reply.

“Ron, this isn’t long before you usually get up. Why are you so tired?” Neville enquired.

Ron groaned. “Hermione kept me up doing the bloody History of Magic essay. We’ve got till Wednesday!”

“She’s trying to train you,” Neville smirked.

“Bloody hell,” was all Ron could come up with.

“Did Harry have extra Quidditch practice this morning?” he asked.

“Don’t think so,” Ron replied, waking significantly faster at the mention of his favourite sport. “He’d have told us. No, he’s got one in the afternoon, because only Harry has a free morning.”

Neville’s smirk broadened. “Did you memorise all the Quidditch team’s schedules?”

Ron shrugged. “Not really. I just listen to Wood. He’s Quidditch Captain, you know? He’ll know everything.”

“So where’s Harry, then?” Neville asked, trying to bring them back on-topic.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not in his bed, and his broom isn’t there either,” he replied.

“Maybe he just went flying. He likes doing that,” Ron replied.

“I just have a weird feeling,” Neville frowned. “Come on, let’s go to breakfast.”

“Why?” Ron moaned.

Neville smirked again. “Ron Weasley’s turning down food? Careful you don’t get crushed under the stampede of reporters — you’ll make the front page!”

“Oh, shut up, Neville,” Ron moaned before flopping back onto his pillow, seemingly falling asleep halfway down.

Neville rolled his eyes, and changed into school robes. Just because they didn’t have any lessons today didn’t mean they got off having to wear uniform. They were allowed normal clothes on weekends; not that it made much difference for Neville. He didn’t have that many casual clothes, for he had never had a need.

He wandered down to the common room, feeling unused to being alone for the first time in his life, only to be swallowed in a gaggle of girls.

“Hey, Neville,” Hermione grinned.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

It was weird enough that Hermione was hanging around with any of the girls in her dorm other than Ginny. That was when he realised that Ginny wasn’t there. And Harry had left unannounced with his broom. And there were loads of excited girls in the common room. And it was Valentine’s Day! The light bulb went on his head, and apparently Hermione had noticed, because she smiled. His cheeks pinked.

“I guess you’ve figured it out, then,” Hermione teased. “Everyone’s trying to figure out where they went. Lavender thinks they went to see the sun rise, because he kept worrying about the time.”

“So when did they leave?” Neville asked.

“About five minutes ago,” Lavender giggled. “Harry came in on his broom and flew off with her, it was so romantic.”

“So, what are the odds that they’re down by the lake?” Rionach asked.

“Not good,” Parvati answered. “Harry has more imagination than that. Come on, I barely know him and I can tell you that much!”

“There’s always Hogsmeade,” Lavender suggested.

“I can see that appealing to Ginny’s sense of adventure,” Hermione conceded.

“There you go – I have the best friend backing me up,” Lavender grinned.

Neville shook his head and walked on towards the Great Hall. Harry must have planned this well. He remembered the hysteria around Ginny’s Christmas present. Harry had definitely had help from someone on this.

The answer to the resulting question was obvious; who else would he have gone to? Plus, Angelina was there to give him tips. It was ideal. Harry got his help from his twin brothers.

Harry leaned back into Ginny as they neared the ground, gently shedding speed as he located the specially-cleared area on the barely light mountain top. He’d spent several hours clearing the rocks and most of the snow. As they drifted lazily to the ground, Harry lowered the picnic basket carefully to the side as he dropped the broom to knee-height.

“Oh, so you can fly without trying to kill yourself,” Ginny teased.

“Just trying to protect you,” Harry teased back.

Ginny shot him a playful glare, and lay down on the ground.

“We’re really high up,” she murmured.

“Yeah. The sun is going to be rising early, just for us,” he replied.

He was sitting back on his heels, unable to relax. Angelina had told him that this was a great idea, but she wasn’t Ginny.

She frowned up at him. “I’m kinda nervous too, Harry. It’s a first time for me as well, you know.” She patted the ground next to her.

He lay down, but didn’t turn to face her. He heard his broom come to rest in the thick snow behind them, its gentle hum of power fading. He felt Ginny take his hand as she sat up slightly.

‘Harry, I love this, believe me. It’s a bit sappy, but it’s beautiful. Look, it’s starting.’

True enough, the first washes of colour were just starting to stain the night sky. Harry watched the amazement on Ginny’s face with wonderment of his own. The orange light was setting her hair as it blew around in the magically muffled winds. He could count the freckles over her nose onto her cheeks...

‘It’s got nothing on you,’ he replied earnestly.

The sun rose slowly over the children still lost in each other. They paid it no heed, nor did anything around them. The magical field distorted around them, excited by the girl’s high emotion. Its chaotic energies melted away the snow and nourished the flora like no amount of sunshine ever could.

“Bit odd, isn’t it?” Ron managed around a mouthful of bacon.

Neville rolled his eyes. Hermione just stared in disbelief.

“What?” he asked indignantly. “Harry never misses breakfast. Do you think something’s bothering him?”

Hermione and Neville glanced at each other. Say nothing, was the unspoken agreement.

“I don’t know, Ron,” Neville replied.

“Yes, that does seem to be the common factor between the two of you, doesn’t it?” said a slow, drawling voice. Malfoy had apparently noticed Harry and Ginny’s absence, and was taking advantage of the reduced likelihood of getting his arse whooped. “Is she planning on doing it today, then, Weasley? I wonder if students are allowed maternity leave...”

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked. He was on the other side of the table from Malfoy, and looked to be wondering whether it was worth slinging his toast at the guy.

“You bastard,” Neville said venomously before punching the Slytherin square in the face. Hermione gasped. Ron gaped, giving Neville an astonished, awed look. Crabbe and Goyle seemed ready to smash Neville’s face in, when...

“Mr. Longbottom!” Professor McGonagall cried. How she’d come over so quickly, no one knew. “You two, take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing!” She pointed at Crabbe and Goyle, who reluctantly followed her instructions. “Mr. Longbottom, you will serve detention today and tomorrow, and twenty-five points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Neville shook his head.

“You will serve your detentions with Filch in the trophy room at six in the evenings,” Professor McGonagall told him. She returned to the Staff Table.

“What are you doing? If she’d known what he’d said-”

“There’d have been even more fuss. Harry and Ginny want this to all just blow over.”

“What did he mean?” Ron asked, bewildered.

Hermione raised her eyes to the heavens, but still whispered in his ear. His eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with rage. He tried to get up, clearly to give the Slytherin more hell. Hermione pulled him back down, and whispered in his ear again. His eyes lit up with an evil pleasure Neville hadn’t before seen. Ron got up and walked over to Fred and George on the other end of the table.

“Malfoy deserves everything those two are going to give him,” Neville said darkly.

“My thoughts exactly,” she replied. She gave him a shifty little smile. “Nice punch, by the way.”

Just then, Ron came running back.

“Hang on, are you saying that Harry and Ginny are out somewhere alone?!”

Neville face-palmed. Hermione seemed torn between crying in frustration and laughing at the absurdity.

“I’m the tallest person in the whole world!” Ginny giggled as she soared higher and higher on the Nimbus.

Harry laughed as she vertically barrel-rolled and looped them higher and higher. He looked down, and thanked whatever gods there were that he didn’t have vertigo. The three-thousand foot mountain they’d left behind was looking rather distant. Ginny urged the broom faster and faster. Harry had no qualms about letting her fly his broom. She would never actually ask to use it, but Harry knew how desperately she wanted to play for Gryffindor. Her face lit up every time he handed it over, and she would pull tricks he didn’t know existed.

The broom began to hum with power as it eased past a hundred miles an hour. The trail of golden light and sparks the broom created via its disturbance of the magical field stretched far behind them, like a wound in the fabric of space.

‘We must look like a firework...’ Harry thought in wonderment.

He had to hold onto Ginny pretty tightly to avoid slipping off the broom. She, of course, needed the footrests to control the broom, so he was being held thousands of feet in the air by his girlfriend’s waist and some magical wood between his legs.

‘Yeah, someone should take a picture!’ Ginny enthused.

He didn’t need to be able to see her face to know she was grinning.

They suddenly breached the first layer of cloud cover. Harry shivered at the cold that penetrated Ginny’s shield. She leaned closer to the broom handle, accelerating beyond their already blistering pace. The humming from the broom rose in pitch, and the magical distortion trail stretched out hundreds of metres below them. Harry thought they must have reached the Nimbus’s top speed of 112 mph when they broke out from the clouds with a burst of vapour.

Ginny pulled back heavily, looping back and over until they breached their own trail. It tingled a lot, like prolonged static shock. Then they looked up. The sun shone naked before them, lighting up the fluffy cloud beneath and around them with a golden glow.

They sat in silence for minutes on end, awed by the spectacle. Harry leaned forwards to rest his chin on her shoulder.

‘Okay, this might have a chance against you,’ Harry said softly.

Fred and George watched with raised eyebrows as Ron blew up, his frustrations and anger boiling over. He stormed over to them. “Where are they?” Ron growled.

“Ask us no questions,” Fred said jovially.

“And we’ll tell you no lies, brother,” George finished.

Ron’s robes started to smoke in the thigh area as his wand reacted to his towering emotions.

“O-okay, let’s get you cooled off there, Ronniekins,” George said as they dragged him off.

Hermione rolled her eyes as they left. “At least they had the common sense to get him out of here,” she muttered.

“They’re the Weasley twins. Pranking is their lives. They know when it’s time to leave,” Neville replied.

“Maybe it’s time for us to go, too,” Hermione said abruptly.

“Yeah, let’s go find out where those two really went,” Neville said, rising from his seat.

Hermione stopped him before he went over to Angelina and Alicia for his answers. “Neville, you... you’ve sort of... changed since last term,” she said softly. “Is something–?”

“No, Hermione. I just ... found my place, you know?” he murmured back. He grinned, and when she smiled back, they left to find to find the girl who had almost certainly helped orchestrate Harry and Ginny’s day.

So far in his life, Harry only enjoyed one thing more than being airborne. He closed his eyes, wanting the only sensation in his mind to be Ginny in his arms. Not that he achieved this, of course. The intoxicating smell of her hair, the gentle sound of her breathing...

‘How long do we still have?’ Ginny asked in a sort of satisfied half-sigh.

Harry grinned, and lifted his arm slightly so she could see the mechanical watch he’d gotten from Hagrid for Christmas. The sun was high in the sky now, and they had a beautiful view of the school grounds, Hogsmeade and the vast surrounding countryside from the top of this mountain.

Hogwarts looked almost like a dollhouse it was so small, the Black Lake glittering below. From this distance, even the Forbidden Forest held no malevolence, only a strange kind of tranquillity. Harry took another delicious brownie and let Ginny take a bite out of it before munching on it himself.

‘I was sorely tempted to say five minutes,’ she began.

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned wider. ‘That hurts, Ginny,’ he said.

‘But I didn’t want to ruin the moment,’ she went on. ‘We’ve still got nearly an hour.’

‘I guess you want your gift now,’ he teased.

‘You act like you don’t want yours,’ she replied easily.

He let out a breath. ‘You win.’

‘Nothing new there, then,’ she continued.

He lowered his hands to her sides. She turned her head to look up at him, and raised an eyebrow. Still unable to accomplish this feat of physical prowess, he raised both of his slightly, returning her daring look. She bit the corner of her lip, and uncharacteristically, gave in. She must have felt his shock over their link.

‘Well someone has to be mature here.’

He smirked with victory.

‘Oh, shut up.’

He’d begun winning their tickle fights. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on Ginny’s part, but rather that Harry was getting a lot stronger, and apparently she was realising that tickling him into submission was no longer a viable option. She could cheat, of course, but she didn’t seem to enjoy it as much when she did.

Harry reached into one of the inside pockets of his robes, which lay with hers beside them, and pulled out a box of chocolates that clearly shouldn’t have fitted in there.

‘No, it wasn’t Hermione,’ he said to answer the unvoiced question. ‘Although I think she had an idea what I was up to. She probably knows the layout of the whole library already.’

“I guess the twins told you about that,” she said, blushing.

“Um... yeah,” he admitted.

They’d warned him that it wouldn’t seem particularly original, but that Ginny had always been fond of chocolate.

“I was kind of worried you’d do something like Christmas again,” she murmured, shifting so she could face him. Her eyes were downcast.

‘Why?’ he asked. The chain of the little pendant was glinting brightly in the sunlight.

‘It was so romantic and beautiful, and probably expensive,’ she replied glumly.

“Well, I don’t know about the romantic bit,” Harry said awkwardly. “But I really couldn’t care less about how much it cost. I know it means a lot to you, because... Well, I’ve got more money than I could count, as Parkinson,” he spat the name like a curse, “was so eager to point out. But Ginny, could you ever look me in the eye and say that if I wasn’t rich, and famous, that you’d never have looked twice at me?”

Ginny couldn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

“That’s exactly why I would give you and our family everything in my vault if you’d let me, without a second glance. The way you make me feel — I feel like I belong with you. I feel... I feel loved.”

“Oh, Harry, I-” she gave up on words, and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

It was a patented Prewett Lung Crusher, but Harry didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. He returned the hug fervently. They sat that way for a while, embracing tightly enough to merge. As the tension and emotion slowly drained, so did the energy they’d put into the... well, less of a hug than a suffocation contest.

“You know,” she murmured into his ear, “you don’t talk much like an eleven-year-old.”

“You don’t sound like a ten-year-old,” he replied. “More like a ... five-year-old.”

“You!” she cried, pinning him to the ground and laughing as he begged for mercy.

“Ginny,” he half-gasped as he recovered. He knew this was a terribly unwise thing to say, but since he had her in such a good mood... “What about my present?”

Ginny was beaming as Harry floated out of the window behind her. She leaned back against the gargoyle as it corkscrewed her up towards the Headmaster’s Office. Today had truly been a highlight of her life so far. She would have been perfectly happy to go to sleep now, and keep the 14th February 1992 as a glowing haven of perfection.

‘Must have been the height — I’m getting a bit giddy.’

She walked forward, and received the expected disembodied welcome from beyond the door. Ginny entered the office, and sat before the Albus Dumbledore for about the thirtieth time. It was yet to get old.

“Good morning, Professor,” she said courteously.

“Indeed,” he replied amusedly. He was giving her one of his usual piercing looks, and she blushed at the realisation that he probably knew where she’d been that morning. Mercifully, he did not say anything on the subject, but the twinkling in his eyes was rather irritating.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to ask me about today, Miss Weasley?” he asked a few seconds later. She blinked, and stared rather rudely for a second before she snapped herself out of it. ‘This is Dumbledore.’

“Um, yes sir,” she replied slowly. It had been bothering her for a while, but she’d hoped it would simply fix itself given time. “It’s really confusing. I’ve found it really easy to cast charms and most transfigurations, but whenever I try to counter a spell that has already been cast, it hurts.”

“Are you saying that you feel pain when casting counter-charms?” the Professor asked curiously.

“Well, it isn’t much, Professor, but I’m not sure it’s so simple,” she replied, frowning.

She really would’ve been quite happy to spend the whole morning with Harry, but she’d been putting this off for far too long. Besides, since she had no lessons at all that day, she’d have time to experiment with whatever Dumbledore might tell her before Harry’s Quidditch practice.

“You see, when I’m casting a charm, I just have to be able to focus on everything I want to happen. But when I have to counter an existing enchantment, I have to do that and, sort of, fight the old spell.”

The headmaster stared for a moment, and then leaned forward to look closely at her from over steepled fingers. “Miss Weasley, I think that it would be wise to, for now at least, allow things to simply run their course,” he said slowly.

“Do you mean it’ll get easier, sir?” she asked.

“As of yet, there is no way of telling,” he answered.

“But sir, do you know why this is happening?” Ginny pressed.

He smiled. “Know, Miss Weasley? I will not be dishonest. I may have many theories, but genuine understanding, I’m afraid, eludes me.”

“Theories, Professor?” Ginny repeated.

“Ever curious, Miss Weasley,” the headmaster chuckled. “Yes, I do have many theories as to what might be happening. Many of these are quite ridiculous, but all are equally likely,” he said, smiling genially. “I suggest that you put it from your mind for now.”

Ginny frowned; she hated being kept in the dark about anything. However, she wasn’t so immature as to not realise that the headmaster, being Dumbledore, must have a good reason for not yet divulging his speculations. “Yes, sir,” she said. She let it go, knowing that it wasn’t important.

‘So where did you say we were meeting them?’ Harry asked.

They were somewhere on the fourth floor, wandering aimlessly about the castle under his dad’s old invisibility cloak.

‘They said to wait for them in an unused classroom off this hallway. I think it was the fourth on the right,’ she said.

So not completely aimless.

‘You know, I find it a bit strange that after all the hell you’ve given him, Malfoy still keeps bugging us,’ Harry mused.

‘You’ve done your fair share of humiliation,’ Ginny pointed out.

His cheeks pinked slightly. ‘I don’t mean to, but every time the guy opens his mouth...’

‘Yeah, I know. You’re the most kind-hearted boy in the world,’ she replied teasingly, though not harshly.

She pulled open the door gently and tugged him through. The retort died on Harry’s lips.

‘The twins aren’t usually late...’ he said.

‘No, not unless they want to make some dramatic entrance,’ she said suspiciously, turning to look back through the door.

Harry let go of her hand and slipped out from under the cloak so that he could explore the room. They were in a small, open lobby area with dusty, cobwebbed arches extending past the wall on their right into the dark room beyond. He could just make out desks and chairs that had been hastily shoved to the far wall.

Walking slowly down the pseudo-corridor, letting his fingers trace the masonry of the pillars, he came to an arch much wider than the others that extended all the way to the floor, allowing his passage. As he turned to face the room, and looked up from his examination of the stonework, he gasped.

“What is it?” Ginny asked quietly.

He felt a little disoriented not being able to see her, but being able to sense exactly where she was was deeply comforting.

“Um, I’m not really sure. I mean, it’s a mirror, but you know... this is Hogwarts,” he rambled.

He felt her approach even after his first sentence ended, and as she whipped the cloak off, she appeared exactly where his sixth sense was telling him she was. Or perhaps it was his seventh sense.

It was her turn to gasp. “You were right!” she exclaimed.

His eyebrows knitted together. Her strongest emotions were wonder and awe. If he had been right, and it was just a mirror, then what was so amazing?

‘After all, she sees herself in the mirror every day...’

She seemed to sense his confusion.

‘No, wait, she is sensing it.’

“Look at the writing over the top,” she whispered.

He squinted to read the slightly faded script on the enormous, elegant frame.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

“Um, is it Afrikaans or something?” he muttered.

She looked at him a little strangely.

“I don’t know,” he said defensively. “Some foreign language I heard of.”

She smirked, and he suddenly realised what the writing was.

“Oh, come on!” he groaned. ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire: backwards. It was backwards.’

“Go on then, Harry – you first,” she laughed.

He rolled his eyes and walked forwards. His eyes grew wide.

He felt Ginny take his hand gingerly. “Do you want to tell me?” she asked.

He merely gaped in reply. He felt her move closer to the mirror, but saw nothing apart from the image before him. Instincts he didn’t know he had did battle within his head.

“But that’s...” Ginny mumbled. He nodded dumbly. She turned and embraced him tightly. He didn’t notice himself respond, so enthralled was he by the image before him.