Harry went up to his dorm with a deep sense of foreboding. He’d managed to avoid Ron so far, what with the enormous party that had been thrown in the common room, but that luck was almost certainly about to run out. Ginny’s goodnight kiss had taken some of the weight off – his lips were still tingling. However, he knew that Ron’s reaction was as far from the twins’ as was possible. Percy wasn’t particularly happy, but he was okay with it. Ron, well... Neville refused to repeat the stuff Ron had said, and Seamus just grimaced when Harry asked about it.

He pushed open the door to find a wand trained at his heart. “Ron, I know you don’t know any duelling spells yet,” he said calmly. Getting annoyed with his best friend was not going to help him.

“Well, that goes to show that I pay a lot more attention to Ginny than you do,” Ron stated. “I just have to want something to happen to you bad enough, and believe me, that isn’t going to be hard.

“And I happen to know that she’d Bat Bogey Hex you till you passed out and then bury you.”

Ron scowled. “She doesn’t understand. She wouldn’t, or she’d have slapped you in the stands back there. You’re taking advantage of the crush she has on you, and you know it.”

“And I’m taking advantage of you being useless with a wand, dear brother,” Ginny deadpanned from the doorway. “Eruptus Nasus Chiroptera.”

There was barely time for his face to register his shock, as the winged bogeys burst from his nostrils. “Aargh!”

“I suppose this was for the best,” she said. “Better sooner than later, anyway.”

“Um, yeah,” he replied, fixated on Ron’s panicked form on the floor. “That looks painful. Aren’t you going to take it off?”

“Sure,” she said nonchalantly. With a wave of her hand, he was relieved of further torment. However, his face was still covered in snot, and he didn’t seem to want to get up anytime soon.

That was kind of cruel,” Harry muttered, slightly unnerved.

“Well, he ought to have known what was coming,” Ginny answered. “I don't use it much, but he's seen it before. What did he think, anyway? I can't decide for myself who I kiss?”

“How did you know to come up here?” Harry asked.

“I was waiting at the bottom of the boys’ staircase to begin with, and I heard you two. I didn’t want him hurting you. I like you just as you are.” They both blushed, but she was smiling.

“How could you have heard us though? We weren’t exactly shouting,” Harry pressed.

“I don’t know. Ron was loud enough,” she said.

“I suppose...” said Harry.

“I just got a feeling, I guess, like I should be here with you.” They didn’t notice Ron get up.

“Ginny,” Ron began, “you are too young for this, and I know Mum will agree. You can’t stop me telling her – you’ll have to tell her yourself at some point, unless you want to leave it to the twins.”

“I’m not too young!” she answered hotly. “We’ve seen Muggles younger than us kissing in the village!”

“Yeah, but they’re Muggles,” Ron replied confusedly. Blood began to trickle slowly out of his nose. He rubbed it away irritably.

“So? They’re still human,” said Ginny. “Ask Hermione about it. Seriously, it'll be funny to see her react to crap like that.”

“Whatever. You guys have known each other for what? Three months? This isn't right.” He stared at them for a while before slumping. “I’m going to go get rid of this.” He gestured to his face as he left for the bathroom.

“Do... Do you think he's right?” Harry asked tentatively. Things had gotten better and better for him ever since Hagrid showed up. The thought of the house of cards falling now filled him with trepidation. But on top of this, he still couldn’t dismiss the thought of how easy it was for Ginny to do something like that to someone.

“Do you think he's right?” Ginny asked. She sounded almost... vulnerable.

“I don't want him to be,” said Harry.

“Me either,” Ginny affirmed.

“I really like you, Ginny,” Harry said, blushing. “You're pretty and smart and...”

“Thanks Harry,” Ginny smiled, flushing brightly as she did, “I really like you too.”

They stood in silence for a minute, not looking at each other. Harry put doubts about his friendship with Ginny behind him easily - he didn't want to care. But there was still something niggling at him.

“You really like that hex, don't you?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Ginny shrugged. “I'm the youngest and the only girl. Sometimes it's hard to be heard.”

Harry took her hand. “I'll always listen.”

Ginny looked at him for a moment, then embraced him tightly. 'I... I know.'

“Good.”

Ginny’s head snapped up to meet his gaze. “Huh?”

“It's good that you know?” Harry half said, half asked.

“Harry, I didn't say that, I only thought it,” Ginny said, bemused. She stepped back, and Harry's arms flopped awkwardly back to his sides. “At least I'm pretty sure I did.”

Harry stared at her.

She gave him a contemplative look, then he saw the light bulb go off in her head. She grasped his hand tightly.

'Harry?'

“No way!” Harry exclaimed. “That is... wow.”

'I know right? You try.'

Harry grimaced in concentration, trying to focus on Ginny. 'Can you hear me?'

'Loud and clear!' she laughed.

'We have to figure out how to make this work without touching,' Harry enthused.

'Of course,' Ginny replied. 'But later. We have to be up for classes tomorrow morning.'

“Goodnight then, Ginny,” Harry grinned.

“Wait,” she said. “There's something we have to talk about first.”

Her demeanor was shifting, and Harry started to see more of the Ginny from the train. Cute, but not really her. “What is it, Ginny?”

Her face was reddening. “We're...” she squeaked. “I mean, after the match? Are we, you know?”

“Uh...” Harry scratched the back of his neck, starting to feel uncomfortable. “More than friends?”

She nodded hesitantly, not meeting his eyes.

Hey, stop that,” he chided, lifting her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Timid doesn't suit you.”

She smirked a bit at that.

“Yeah. At least I hope so,” he laughed nervously.

She beamed at him, then jumped on him, holding him so tightly it hurt. “It just seems so like a dream...” Ginny whispered.

“Yeah, it does,” he agreed.

“I'm never going to let you go,” she said firmly.

Harry laughed. “I believe you, but I reckon that's going to make the guys a little uncomfortable.”

Seamus sniggered from the doorway.

“Screw them,” she replied.

Seamus roared with laughter. “Well don't mind us then,” he said, diving onto his bed. Neville too went straight for his bed, but Dean and Ron lingered at the doorway. “If you two fall asleep there, we ain't gonna tuck y'in.”

“Pheh,” Ginny replied, “we're right by the boiler, we'll be plenty warm.”

“Well then I'm going to sleep. Have fun,” Seamus chuckled before shutting his curtains.

“Me too, I'm knackered,” Neville said. “You should go to bed, Ron, Dean.”

Dean relented, but Ron didn't. “Not till they let go of each other.”

“Oh buzz off, Ron,” Ginny sighed. She did let go of Harry, though. She gave him a little kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, boyfriend,” she smiled.

Harry grinned as she left. He felt strange tingles all over.

“Harry, look, I don't like this. I still think you're taking advantage of her.”

“Jesus, Ron, he's happy, she's happy, just piss off and leave ‘em be!” Seamus yelled. Dean and Neville snorted with laughter as they tried desperately not to offend Ron with their mirth.

Harry laughed nervously. “I don't mean to upset you, Ron, I just... Ginny's...”

“Don't bother,” Ron replied, before shutting himself inside his bed.

Harry sat on his own bed, conflicting feelings tearing at him. Someone tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“Just give him some time,” Neville whispered.

“Thanks mate,” Harry smiled. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

As he lay down to go to sleep, Harry felt a connection to this bed, this dorm, this tower and all the people in it that he had never known before, in spite of Ron’s enmity. Drifting off into dreams of friends and flying, Harry's last thoughts were that he had finally found a place to call home.

Unbeknownst to him, at that point, a delicate silver instrument in Professor Dumbledore’s office exploded in a shower of brilliant white sparks.

Harry had a wonderful night’s sleep, but he’d been getting a funny feeling lately. His scar was always either tingling or itching. It didn’t bother him enough to make him worry about it, but it was still pretty annoying. He lay awake at five in the morning, untouched by weariness. The previous day had probably been - no, definitely was - the best day of his life. He’d won his first ever Quidditch match decisively, kissed the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and most everyone, especially Ginny herself, was cool with it. There were still her parents though, and her two eldest brothers. He wasn’t even sure about her youngest brother. ‘Or is that youngest elder brother? I’m definitely up too early!’

He felt something stir in his head, and was reminded of the first time he’d felt it. He’d been halfway between sleeping and waking then, too, and he could feel the two separate entities. Now, he considered the possibility that they were the same thing. In his head, something was ... intensifying, or maybe waking up. About ten metres in front of him, behind the wall between Dean’s and Seamus’s beds, he somehow knew that something had just shifted. It really was Ginny. He could feel her! Then, the presence in the first year girls’ dorm began to steadily move. He got up quickly, eager to see for himself if he was right. But his body protested its lack of rest, and he collapsed with blue and white splodges erupting under his eyelids. He waited for the nausea to pass, and the presence was, by this time, starting down the stairs.

He dressed quickly, and rushed down in pursuit. He made sure to keep his steps quiet as he padded down the stone steps in only pyjamas and socks, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. He passed the second year dorm entrance and came out into the common room right behind a familiar, red-haired head. He smirked, his theory proven. His hands shot out to her sides, and within seconds, she was on the floor, squirming.

“Good morning.” He said cheerfully, letting her up and thinking he’d won. More fool he. Ten seconds later, he was the one on the floor, begging for mercy.

“It is now,” she said with a grin. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then sat back on her heels. “Were you waiting for me?”

“No.” She raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated. “I kind of felt you come down.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with the talking silently thing?”

“I think I’d like to get up and continue this conversation on a sofa.”

“No, I like you where you are,” she replied with another impish grin.

“Then, you’re going to have to join me.” He pulled her down to the ground, and she resisted, obviously, so he let go suddenly and she fell on her bum with a thud.

“Shut up or I’ll hex the smile off your face,” she growled.

Harry didn’t reply, he only gave her a challenging look.

Ginny squinted at him then got to her feet. “You win, come on.”

“How am I winning here?” he mock-grumbled.

She grinned, and his stomach did another somersault. “I think you wanted to ask me about hexing my brothers last night before we got distracted?”

“I think I've got a good idea by now, but yeah.”

She bit her lip. “I reckon you've got a pretty good idea too.”

“So fill in the gaps for me,” Harry prompted, sitting down in an armchair which she squeezed into next to him.

She sighed. “Harry, I’m the youngest in a pretty big family. My brothers all considered me kind of fragile. Ron only hung around with me if there was no one else, especially after Percy left. But the twins were always hard on him, so he often found himself stuck with me. Which often led to him being alone for quite a while.” She smirked. “Anyway, Bill and Charlie were the only ones who ever actually wanted to spend time with me, and listened to me. I was the daughter my Mum always wanted, but she wanted a wallflower to fawn over.”

“Well you sure aren't that,” Harry smiled.

From the little time he had known her, Harry was sure that Ginny could never be content with sitting around looking pretty. In fact, he didn’t think she’d even be happy with just sitting. He’d noticed lately that she was randomly disappearing every now and then with little or no explanation or warning.

“I know,” Ginny frowned. “That was the problem. I wanted to fly with my brothers, explore the village... But apparently I'm fragile because I'm a girl. Worse, being Mum's favorite made me the twins' ultimate target. So I had a bunch of restrictions put on me, and the only bonus was some favour with my parents. It's nice to be able to pin stuff on the twins, but soon that starts to feel hollow. Bill taught me that hex so I could defend myself without having to hide behind Mum's apron. The twins never forgave him.”

“I can see why,” Harry snorted.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Still, doesn't help with Mum. I have to sneak around to do anything I want to do.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied sardonically.

“Oh Harry, I didn't mean to compare it to you!” Ginny exclaimed, horrified.

“It doesn't bother me,” Harry said uncomfortably. “I mean...” They sat in an awkward silence for a while.

“The twins did some fairly nasty things to earn that hex, you know,” Ginny said. “I was kinda showing off for you on the train.”

“Why would you want to show off for me?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Because you're Harry Potter,” she answered, blushing brilliantly.

“But you know me now,” Harry said. “I'm nothing special.”

“You've been at Hogwarts three months and been made the youngest seeker in a century, and been bought a Nimbus 2000 by the school,” Ginny reminded him. “Nothing special my arse.”

Harry had to laugh. “If you say so. But I still don't think so. I mean, I'm famous for something I don't even remember, that I sure as hell didn't do myself. I mean, you're special because of your loyalty, and the way that I feel when I see you smile, and-”

“Oh stop it,” Ginny whispered, blushing down to her neck.

Harry kissed her now very warm cheek. “Tell me about how the twins earned your hex.”

“So how come you two were up so early?” Ron asked across the Gryffindor table. Neville looked askance at him, clearly having inferred his own version of events.

“We wanted to hear the dawn chorus, Ron,” Ginny said flatly.

Ron made a face. “You two are already mushy, and you had your first kiss yesterday!”

“What can I say, Ron? Your sister brings out the best in me,” said Harry.

Ron snorted in disgust. “Well, so long as that was all, I guess,” he muttered before starting to eat. ‘If eating is the right word for that...’

Ginny giggled. They were keeping minimum contact between themselves - just their elbows were touching. ‘I’m sure Fred and George could inspire you.’

‘That would just be cruel, Ginny.’

It was half an hour before their meal was interrupted, and Harry wasn’t sure whether he was glad or disappointed that it wasn’t Malfoy. “Ah, Mr. Potter. Could you see me in my office after breakfast, if it isn’t too much trouble?” came Professor Dumbledore’s voice from behind him. Everyone in the area looked up, surprised.

“Um, of course, sir.” Harry answered.

He smiled and leaned in a little, beginning to whisper. “Just by the by, Harry, I am rather fond of Fruit Pastilles.”

Harry was nonplussed, he had to admit. Luckily, he had a quick-witted girl on his arm.

‘It’s the password. He must have changed it. It was raspberry jam when I last went up there.’

The understanding must have been visible on his face, because the headmaster winked, and left.

“What was all that about?” Neville asked.

“Yuh, wuh wus thu, Hurry?” Ron slurred with a mouthful of sausage.

“Eurgh, Ron, that's disgusting!” Hermione scolded.

“Wuh?” Ron asked.

“Oh, choke on it,” Hermione snapped.

Neville sniggered quietly.

Having finally swallowed, Ron turned on Neville. “What's so funny?”

“Hermione's growing fangs, look,” he laughed. She blushed slightly, but ignored the laughter.

“Back to topic, what do you think Professor Dumbledore wants to talk about, Harry? I doubt this is a routine interview,” Hermione prodded.

“Not a clue. I guess I’ll be finding out soon enough.” He started eating faster, whether out of nerves or out of eagerness, he wasn’t quite sure.

‘He can’t have found out about us, can he?’

‘Ginny, if he hasn’t, then his status in the Wizarding World would be in considerable danger. We were kissing for an indefinite amount of time in front of the entire school yesterday.’

‘He wasn’t there.’

‘He’s Dumbledore.’

‘Besides, I meant the mind-talking thing.’

‘I know, but I couldn’t resist,’ he smirked. She slapped his arm.

‘Go on, then.’ She kissed him briefly, then shoved him off the bench.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” He lifted a sausage from her plate, having already finished with his own and ran from her, laughing. She glared, and from her finger came a pink streak which hit him in the bum, making him jump as he ran. He smirked back at her before leaving her line of sight.

“What was that?” Neville asked timidly.

“Oh, just a Pinching Hex. Or at least I think it was. Maybe I just invented it!” Neville’s eyes widened and she giggled. “Don’t worry, Neville. I haven’t any inclination to test on you. Yet.” He gulped visibly. “I have brothers for that.”

“Hey!” Ron cried in outrage, his forkful of egg for once forgotten halfway to his mouth. Ginny just grinned wider and returned to her food. She didn’t really need to test her spells, since she usually knew what they did before she tried them, and she hadn’t a clue how to reproduce those results with a wand. There was still no news of a wand for her from her mother, but she supposed her parents had decided there wasn’t much point. Still, she would need one next year, when she had classes with the rest of her peers.

‘If only I could stay in Harry’s year.’

“Erm, Fruit Pastilles.” He felt a bit awkward calling out the name of a random Muggle sweet to a stone statue, but the gargoyle sank back into the wall, and began to spin, bringing the stairs up with it like a corkscrew. Harry was so entranced just watching it that he nearly forgot to get on, and had to jump up to reach the bottom step before it drifted out of reach.

“Come in, Harry.” He hesitated before entering, a little disconcerted by the headmaster’s ability to sense his presence.

“Good morning, Professor,” he said as he closed the door. There was a beautiful scarlet and gold bird on a perch behind the old professor, who he guessed was Fawkes, from Ginny’s descriptions.

“I’m sure you are wondering why you are here,” he asked rhetorically, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Um...”

He gestured to a bare tabletop. All the tables besides the one the headmaster was sitting at seemed very delicate, with spindly legs. “There was an instrument upon that one just like the rest. It monitored the wards on 4 Privet Drive. You may have noticed that you were never done any lasting physical harm while there. Something happened last night that removed the wards as if they’d never even existed. The monitoring instrument literally disintegrated. There are few things that could have done this.”

“Did I do something?”

“It is possible. You see, the wards only last while you are under 17, and both you and someone else carrying your mother’s blood in their veins call the place home.”

His eyes widened. “Professor, I ... I think...”

“Yes, I see you have reached the same conclusion as I, since it is quite doubtful that either Petunia or Dudley Dursley recently decided that their accommodation was no longer to their liking.”

“So, um, sir, does that mean that I can’t go back there?” he asked in a small voice, doubtful as to just how good his life could get.

He sighed. “Alas, I would have preferred that the wards had remained and you could, since the wards were some of the most powerful in existence. However, you do indeed require a new home.”

Barely keeping a hold on his happiness, he had to dig his fingers hard into his palms to stop himself from grinning. He doubted Dumbledore would appreciate it. “Um, sir, do you have any ideas as to where I might be living from now on?”

“Well, I certainly have ideas, but this is a decision of great importance, and I must employ time to aid me in making it.”

“So, I, um, won’t be going back to the Dursleys?” he asked again, the facts not quite sinking in. The headmaster looked him in the eyes, Dumbledore's blue ones twinkling unnaturally, almost as if there were clusters of stars shining... Dumbledore frowned slightly, and relaxed his intense gaze. Harry blinked, feeling a strange and sudden migraine coming on.

“No, it would be most inadvisable to send you back there. We shall have to look to the hospitality of either one of your new friends, for the other options become rather complicated. But there is little that can be done now. I simply wished to inform you of this, ah, development. If there is someone you know who would be able to accommodate you, please do not hesitate to inform me.”

He took it from his tone that this was a sort of dismissal.

“Thank you, sir.” He didn’t really know what else to say. He’d been liberated from his oppressors by a single thought, a single sentence. It was like all the good luck he’d missed out on for ten years had all been squashed up and shoved into the space of a few months. He drifted out and towards the Great Hall in a bit of a daze. Just as he reached the Entrance Hall, Ginny ran out at him, carrying the broom he’d left at the table.

“Well?” she demanded.

He didn’t meet her eyes, distracted as he was. “I ... I’m not going back to the Dursleys."

He was shocked out of his trance as a firework went off just over his head.

“That’s fantastic, Harry!” she dived at him, engulfing him in a huge hug.

As he returned the hug, it began to really sink in, and an almost painful grin stretched his face. ‘No more Dursleys. No more Dursleys.’

“How come?”

“Uh, Dumbledore said something about wards... Apparently I collapsed them. Anyway, yeah, no more Dursleys.”

“So where will you be spending your holidays, then? Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know yet. He said that he had some ideas, but I should ask my friends if they’ll be able to have me, like, as an actual family, because I need a whole new home, not just somewhere to sleep for the holidays.” He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying, because he was trying to suggest with his eyes what was going through his mind. He’d only known them for a few months, but he had no doubt that of all the places he could think of, the Weasleys’ was the place he wanted to stay.

“I’d like to, Harry, but I have to ask Mum and Dad. And this would be kind of like adoption. You know I can’t say anything. But I really would like to.” She kissed him softly, pressed the handle of his Nimbus into his hand and dragged him off to practice.

‘Your family owl – does that mean...’

‘It means you should look out!’

Harry covered his face as Errol dive-bombed the table, sending bacon flying everywhere. Ginny giggled, recovering Errol from the serving dish and stroking his wing absently as he lay unconscious on the table, while unfolding the letter he’d brought with her other hand.

‘It is good news! They want to come and see you and Dumbledore in a couple of days, so they haven’t just shot it down.’

‘They’ll have told Professor Dumbledore, too, right?’

‘Maybe by Floo call...’

‘The fireplace thing?’

‘Yeah. This is great! It means they want to meet you and get to know you, and stuff...’ she ended with a contemplative look.

‘Or they want to let me down easy.’

‘Hey, don’t start...’

‘I’m not starting anything, I just... I don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? It feels like everything is going far too well.’

Ginny turned to face him fully. ‘What are you saying?’

“What in the name of Merlin's rotting...?”

“Ronald!” Hermione interrupted crossly.

“But Hermione, you saw them, too!” Ron complained.

“Saw what?” Harry asked, genuinely confused.

“You two were just having another one of your bloody staring contests, but it was weird!” Ron said. “It was like your faces were changing and stuff without anyone saying anything. Hermione was just saying she’d be away for Christmas and you two went all odd.”

Harry and Ginny shared a look. “What do you mean odd?” Harry ventured.

“I dunno,” Ron answered. “But it was like you were having your own private conversation.”

They shared a look. “Is that even possible, Ron?” Harry asked.

He shrugged. “Not a clue. But that’s what it looked like. It was freaky!”

“Have you read about anything like that, Hermione?” Neville asked from her other side.

“I...” Hermione mumbled, staring off into the distance. The four of them looked at each other and shrugged.

“Hermione? History of Magic class...” Neville said softly, and they all laughed when she jumped and grabbed her bag. She glared back at them.

“It’s an important subject... It’s about what shaped the world we live in... It...” she muttered.

“Oh, calm down, Hermione. We’ve still got twenty minutes. It was just a joke!” Harry said.

They finished eating without further reference to Harry and Ginny’s connection, for which the two of them were grateful.

He touched down gently, the grin latched to his face. Ginny and Ron landed next to him, while Hermione and Neville were a little less graceful dismounting their brooms, which drifted lazily away as they picked themselves off the ground for the umpteenth time that day. Malfoy was keeping to the occasional biting comment, and otherwise keeping his distance, so Flying Lessons were becoming pretty enjoyable.

To his credit, Neville had gotten more confident since he started hanging out with Harry and the others. However, he was still only able to drift around at a snail's pace, and at similar altitudes. Hermione was still utterly hopeless though, and her mission in all the lessons so far had simply been to hang on to the broom for dear life and not look down. She didn't seem to have much of a problem with heights. She'd been okay with looking down from the top of the astronomy tower. It just seemed that every time she started rolling to one side on the broom, she panicked and fell off. And she rolled just getting onto the damned thing.

“Here, Hermione,” Harry said, retrieving her broom. Madam Hooch had been unable to help Hermione or Neville beyond keeping them airborne for more than a minute at a time, and had requested they meet her at the weekend for extra lessons so as not to hold up the class. “Think of it like riding a bike.” He had had opportunity to do so only once in his life, but after Dudley threw it in the duck pond, Lucas hadn't been keen on letting him ride it again.

“How do you mean?” she panted.

“It can feel your fear,” Harry replied. “Put a bit of speed into it and believe in yourself. Quit trying to prepare, just let it all happen.”

“I was hoping you were going to suggest a good set of stabilizers,” she commented, mortified.

“Go on, Hermione,” Harry grinned. “Even if you don't believe you can do it, I do.”

Hermione looked at him like a deer in headlights, then grasped the proffered broom as tentatively as she might a grenade. Clambering gingerly up onto it, she winced as it dipped slightly under her.

“It can sense your fear,” Harry prompted. Somewhere behind him, Parkinson jeered.

Hermione's jaw clenched visibly, and she stretched on the broom, imitating Harry. She lowered herself carefully to the shaft, and then her body flexed just so. The broom, old and battered as it was, fairly streaked off away from him.

She was still fairly reserved. She didn't roll past about thirty degrees, and she didn't turn sharply enough to dodge an oncoming milk float, but she was flying. The blissful, relieved, gobsmacked look on her face said it all.

He heard Ginny, Neville and Ron gathering either side of him. “She's ... flying!” Neville exclaimed.

“Too right,” Harry replied happily.

A few minutes later, Hermione had run the course of floating rings they were tasked with passing through for this lesson, and pulled up in front of them. She stared down at the broom open-mouthed, as if still trying to comprehend what had happened.

“Come on, let's go put these brooms away,” Ginny said brightly. Hermione looked up at them, beaming, gave the ground a challenging look, then slid herself off.

She ended up on her knees. Still, she picked herself up, dusted herself down, and when she walked with them to where Madam Hooch was gathering them, it was with a new and visible confidence.

“Congratulations, Miss Granger,” Madam Hooch commended. “There is always something to be said for peer support. Five points to each of you, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter.” Harry doubted the look of pleased disbelief would ever leave Hermione's face.

It was a long walk up to Dumbledore’s office, but Harry barely noticed, lost as he was in his thoughts. He kept trying to flatten his hair with his free hand, hoping to make a good impression, but he couldn’t tame it. Ginny was smirking beside him, but keeping silent even through their link. He’d not noticed them climbing a single staircase when they were suddenly at the gargoyle. Ginny said the password, and the wall behind it split and slid open to the sides. The gargoyle slid back into the opening, glowing momentarily blue as it became one with the stairs, which instantly began to slowly corkscrew upwards. They stepped on together, and Harry prayed to whatever deity would listen.

“We’ll take him in, Albus, and care for him as best we can,” Arthur began, making Dumbledore smile. “But don’t you think this might be a little much? It won’t stay quiet for long, and just the thought of what Skeeter might do with this. . .”

“My daughter would rise to fame as a scarlet woman!” his wife cried.

“Now, I hardly think that would be the case,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Should the situation call for such measures, I could always whisper into the right ears to keep her quiet. We would be forced to keep current events under wraps in the near future anyway, since we would need to ward the Burrow quite heavily, simply for the safety of all involved. There are many who still wish Harry harm, and as his guardians, you would face a significant threat from any revenge attacks by remaining Death Eaters.”

“Yes, well, we’re hardly going to turn him away, but we do want to at least get to know him a little before we take full legal responsibility for him,” Arthur replied. Harry’s status had nothing to do with the situation. All children deserved a caring home, and Harry especially, considering what Ginny had told them in her letter.

“Ah, come in, Harry, Ginevra.” He took a moment to wonder for the umpteenth time how Dumbledore had managed to tell that someone was there. He sure as hell hadn’t noticed anything different in the office.

Ginny came in, scowling, followed by a smirking Harry. Arthur had an idea why. She truly hated her given name. It had been her mother who named her. They’d gone with English names for all the boys, but with the first girl in seven generations, a little break from tradition was in order. Italian. Not that Ginny had anything against the nation, but it was yet another symbol of the division put between her and the boys. That was why Arthur did his level best to prevent Molly from admonishing their little girl for her little misdemeanours. It worried him how Ginny might suffer if she was so restrained.

“Hello, Harry,” Arthur said with a smile.

Harry smiled back tentatively. He was a fairly small, slim boy, but the scar on his forehead and the quiet fire in his bright emerald eyes marked him as a giant among wizardkind.

“Well, Fred and George weren’t lying,” Ginny’s mother muttered.

“I'm sorry...?” Harry inquired.

“Fred and George told me you were Harry Potter at the platform.”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” he said, grinning now. He felt somehow satisfied that she remembered. He would certainly remember that day for a very long time. “I’m really very grateful. My whole life has been getting better since then.”

“Well, I – I wasn’t about to just ignore you...” she gushed.

“I know, ma’am.” Her eyebrows rose slightly. “I mean, none of your children that I’ve met would have abandoned me, even if the twins would have made something of it. You ... you must be good people for them to become the people they are.” Ginny squeezed his hand, and as he looked down at her, she gave him a brilliant smile, so that he couldn’t resist grinning back.

“Thank you, Harry,” said Mrs Weasley, smiling warmly at him.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, Harry, we were wondering if you could tell us a little about yourself?”

“Oh, um, I lived at 4 Privet Drive since I was a year old. And I'm pretty good at flying. There really isn’t much else to tell.” Ginny nudged him, but he wasn’t about to give her parents information that might make them consider him ... subnormal.

‘Harry, I don’t care about it, and they won’t either,’ Ginny mentally chided.

‘How can you know that?’ Harry questioned.

‘Harry, you’ve got to understand! It’s them that were evil, not you. What can they possibly think of you?’

‘That I’m a freak. That I...’ he pressed.

‘Harry, you’re not. And this is a fresh start! Unload all this rubbish!’

'Ginny, you're the one that doesn't understand. A normal person doesn't...'

'People don't choose to have arseholes for relatives!' Ginny insisted. 'Look at yourself. You think it's just luck, or fate, that you've got all these friends that care about you? It's because you're a really nice person, Harry, and Mum and Dad'll see that too.'

‘... Fine. But this is for you, all right?'

Ginny smiled at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath before starting again. “I... I lived in the cupboard under the stairs for ten years. My Uncle Vernon hates anything that's not normal. Actually, he hates a lot of things. Aunt Petunia's the same, only she's rarely ... violent.” He heard Mrs Weasley gasp, but Ginny squeezed his hand tighter still, and he ploughed on. “Dudley, my cousin, is the same age but he still has trouble counting. Still, he gets anything he asks for, and gets to blame everything he does on me, so...” He stopped there, unwilling to say what he knew Ginny was waiting for.

“You ... lived in a cupboard?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Is there no room?”

“No, I moved into Dudley's second bedroom after the first Hogwarts letter arrived,” Harry replied.

“Second?” Mrs Weasley asked incredulously.

“It's where he put all the stuff he didn't care about,” Harry clarified. “So the books and the things he broke.”

“When you say your aunt was ... rarely violent, what did you mean, Harry?”

Harry began to squirm - this was feeling more and more like an interrogation. Mr. Weasley's kindly, reassuring smile kept him going, though. “Well, she only hit me a few times if I'd burned the cooking or something. She usually just yelled at me. Hitting me seemed to annoy her even more, so she'd yell for ages then.”

“And your uncle?”

They were going to judge, Harry knew. Mrs Weasley already thought he was abnormal, he could see it in her face.

“Go on, Harry,” Ginny whispered.

‘This wasn't what I signed up for! I was just going to meet them, and...’

Finding himself incapable of the words, Harry unfastened his robes with shaking fingers. Four pairs of eyes widened in disbelief. He shrugged the clothing off, and took off his tie and shirt, revealing the mess of scars on his chest and back.

“ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?” Mrs Weasley raged.

He shrank behind Ginny, and saw that the twinkle that usually inhabited the Headmaster’s eyes was long gone. He nodded solemnly, and the words that came out of Ginny’s mother’s mouth next were so loud they sort of melted together in Harry’s head and became one blinding, deafening, overwhelming sensation that almost had him on his knees. It was like he could feel her anger buffeting him like a gale-force wind. It was sucking the energy out of him, and there was something in it that scared him. ‘Ginny?’

“Molly, dear, calm down, please – you’re scaring him.” Mr. Weasley interrupted her gently.

‘Don’t worry – she isn’t angry at you,’ Ginny thought comfortingly. ‘It’s Dumbledore she’s yelling at. I've never seen her this mad... Harry why didn't you tell me it was that bad?'

“HE... what?” Mrs Weasley turned at her husband’s plea and seemed to sag slightly as she saw Harry hiding behind her daughter. “I’m sorry, dear,” she began, her tone much softer and quieter. “I didn’t mean to... You see, he was supposed to find a safe place for you to grow up after your parents... And to think that he could allow you to be... abused, like this... I’m sorry.”

“It was his cousin, too. Tell them, Harry,” Ginny urged.

Harry shook his head violently.

Freak!

“Dudley and his friends used Harry for sport,” Ginny explained. “They called it Harry-hunting. Harry didn't tell me anything else, but...”

“Dumbledore, I simply cannot believe that you would allow something like this,” Mrs Weasley seethed. She approached Harry slowly, kneeling in front of him. “Take my hand, Harry,” she said softly. Her touch was gentle, and Harry allowed himself to be led out of the office. He didn't even notice where they were going until he heard her voice again. “Madam Pomfrey?”

“Yes? Oh, Mol-”

The older looking woman broke off at the sight of Harry, whose robes were hanging unfastened, revealing the scarring to anyone who looked too closely. She drew her wand, and Harry found that he was suddenly glowing in a multitude of colours.

“Here, Mr. Potter, come and sit down.”

She gestured to a nearby bed. He sat, and a washcloth and bottle of clear, yellow liquid appeared next to him. She bathed his torso in it, the bottle never seeming to empty. As she finished, Ginny appeared with the rest of his clothes, and Mr. Weasley with her.

“That ought to take the edge off this procedure.” She turned and called behind her, “Apprentice Cooper? You'll want to take station outside the infirmary, I'm going to begin ritual four.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” said a young, dark-haired woman, who hurried outside the doors.

“I'm sealing the ward.” The doors closed, and glowed blue, orange, yellow and black. “I need absolute silence now,” she commanded. “These healing trances are tedious things to maintain.”

The Weasleys stepped back obediently, while Madam Pomfrey conjured a transparent dome around the two of them. Once it was complete, she closed her eyes in obvious concentration. Harry, long lost in the progression of events, sat quietly as Pomfrey's wand traced around him then along each of his scars. Harry felt himself breathe easier as she worked, muttering under her breath for a while before going silent. Her wand would flick slightly and he’d feel something move inside of him. It was an alarming sensation, only mildly painful but still incredibly wrong somehow. Still, each time she did it he found that a discomfort he had simply gotten used to was washed away.

After a while, she began to glow slightly. White light emanated from her and her wand movements slowed down, sweeping over his whole body and trailing light like aerosol vapours to hang in the air for a few seconds before dissipating. Even as those vapours became so thick as to obscure Harry’s view of the infirmary around them, ethereal mist started to pour out of her brown, now glowing orange eyes. He could feel the effects of the ritual on his very bones. It began as a prickling sensation before he felt them growing under her ministrations. Unlike the realignment of his internals, this bit hurt. A lot. But he gritted his teeth and gave Madam Pomfrey the silence she asked for.

He stared down at his chest, watching the skin ripple like a liquid, the scars slowly dissolving into it. The thought striking him, he looked to Ginny, trying to gesture to his forehead with his eyes. She was obscured slightly by the mists, but he saw her shake her head slowly. He supposed that mark would always be a constant in his life. Madam Pomfrey was really shining now. The light coming off her had taken on a slightly cream hue, and was ten times brighter than the mists that now enveloped them entirely. He sat perfectly still, terrified that his melting body would simply fold over itself. Harry looked back into her mystically glowing eyes and, unbeknownst to him, his own began to glow emerald green. A refreshing energy flowed through him, and his muscles felt even freer than before.

A thousand seconds passed, and Harry felt the ritual end. He hadn’t noticed it before, but when the link between him and Madam Pomfrey was severed, it was akin to a wound in his mind. The sensation was gone in a matter of seconds though, leaving him only dazed. Blinking the mist out of his eyes, he looked up and frowned. Madam Pomfrey was removing the dome, but she had changed during the ritual.

“No need to look surprised, Potter,” she said haughtily. “I’m a qualified and experienced healer, you know. Repairing the tissue damage was a long process, but simple enough. It was the malnourishment that was the hardest to deal with. Bone repair, muscle repair, tendon reinforcement... Nearly every non-vital system needed a re-work.” She shook her head in dismay. “Potter, I don’t know who’s been responsible for you the past few years, but I’d like to have a long chat with them.”

“He means well,” Mrs Weasley muttered under her breath. “He means well.”

“Madam Pomfrey... your hair,” he said bemusedly.

She looked at him like he’d declared his undying love of bread crumbs. “What about it, Potter?” she asked patiently.

“There’s no grey in it anymore,” Harry answered.

“He’s right,” Mr. Weasley murmured.

It wasn’t just the hair that had changed, having gone from quite thin and grey to relatively lustrous and brown. Her face and hands were less wrinkled than before, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken she stood slightly taller now than she had.

“Lumia speculare,” Madam Pomfrey cast, snapping her wand through a few small gestures.

An insubstantial, slightly transparent mirror appeared, and Harry saw his own reflection in the back of it. He didn’t look quite as different as he felt. He felt like he’d just had the most refreshing sleep he could conceive of. It was like being born again.

“Uncanny,” Madam Pomfrey said slowly, staring at the mirror. “Healing rituals of all forms take a toll on the caster, they never provide a boon...”

Ginny smirked at him. “Am I still the special one, then, Harry?”

“Always,” he grinned.

Mrs Weasley smiled warmly at him. “Charming young boy. Reminds me a little of you, Arthur.”

Mr. Weasley chuckled lightly and put an arm around his wife. Madam Pomfrey was busy casting things on herself that made her wand pulse with yellow and green lights. She frowned at the wand, then did whatever she was doing again. A few minutes later, she turned her attention to the door, obviously undoing whatever she’d done to it before. “You may come back in, apprentice,” she called. When Apprentice Cooper returned, she was not alone. Professor Dumbledore came in with her. “Ah, Professor Dumbledore. I assume you are here to see Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, thank you Madam Pomfrey,” he said. “May I inquire as to why the infirmary was sealed?”

Healer Cooper blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I was busy undoing physical damage in Mr. Potter here,” Pomfrey said stiffly. “Now, I need to consult with my apprentice and my old master.”

“Of course,” Professor Dumbledore said.

She turned to Harry. “I want you to relax for the next week, do you hear? You’re sound enough to attend classes, but no Quidditch practice, flying, running or anything even remotely strenuous.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry replied dejectedly. Flying had become a huge part of who he was, and keeping off his Nimbus for more than a day was going to be torture.

Professor Dumbledore pulled out his wand, and created a dome not unlike the one Madam Pomfrey had made, this time encompassing all of them.

“I think you should explain yourself, Professor Dumbledore,” Mrs Weasley said sternly, although a lot of her ire seemed to have melted away. Dumbledore simply nodded in response. Ginny moved closer to Harry, and he felt her take his hand.

“I do regret that this happened.” Dumbledore sighed, and seemed to age visibly before them. His eyes’ twinkle, however, remained. “Harry, there is something you must understand. I left you with your Aunt Petunia because she is your only remaining blood relative. That night, something amazing happened. You see, in the face of Voldemort’s terror, your mother sacrificed herself to shield you from him. She took a Killing Curse in the hope that it would spare you. She did it because her love for you was so pure, and so strong, that no price was too great to try and keep you safe. And the strength of that love, the power of that gesture, was so great, it transferred itself to the object of her feelings, fulfilling her wish, and protecting you from harm. It was more powerful than any shielding charm or other protective magic that exists. Your mother lived within you, undying, so that she would always be able to take that blow. The magic lives in your blood, a sort of genetic soul binding. You have your mother’s DNA in your body, as does your aunt and her son. The only thing the protection requires is another living being who can maintain that link with you, with whom you share some similar relationship. Petunia’s family was the anchor that bound this most unique ward to this existence. When you decided that Privet Drive was no longer your home, the protection was shattered forever.”

No one spoke. Harry slid off the bed and onto his knees, bringing Ginny with him, and she embraced him tightly as he kneeled there, his mind reeling, his stomach cold, churning, and his senses in mad disarray.

‘Harry... You didn’t kill her. It’s You-Know-Who’s fault. It’s him that cast the curse. If she hadn’t tried to protect you, he’d still have killed her. He killed anyone who didn’t join him, and your mum was Muggleborn. He hated Muggles and Muggleborns, killed loads of them. It had nothing to do with you.’ Ginny consoled.

‘But she was living in me. Dumbledore said she was alive through me as long as I called Privet Drive home!’ Harry moaned.

‘Harry, I don’t really know anything about death. But I’m sure that she’d have been proud of you for letting go. I think it would’ve been wonderful for the last thing she knew to have been that her son was moving on,’ she tried.

‘But I didn’t want to lose her!’

‘You didn’t. Harry, you never had her. She was just a shade. You can’t blame yourself for what You-Know-Who did. Talk to Susan Bones. She lost all but one of her family to him. She’s obviously had to move on. You have to as well.’

They stayed in each other’s arms for a while, until Harry calmed down. Then, she pulled him to his feet. “I-I...” Harry began, stuttering slightly. “I don’t blame you, Professor. And, Mr. Weasley, Mrs Weasley, I know you probably don’t want me, now...”

“No, don’t be silly Harry, we do want you. We were going to ask if you wanted to spend Christmas with us,” Mrs Weasley said gently. “We were going to Romania to visit Charlie – I don’t doubt you’ll have been told all about him.”

He smiled weakly. “Yes... Thank you. I ... I promise I won’t be a bother.” It was then that Harry first noticed that the ritual had made some very real changes to his body - he was a good two inches taller than before, standing beside Ginny. Where before they had stood nearly eye to eye, there was a clear difference now.

“Why would you be a bother, dear? No, no, don’t worry yourself. We’d love to have you. You can stay with us at the Burrow at the holidays, and we’ll make the final decisions some other time. But we would love to have you, dear.”

Mr. Weasley coughed, and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Yes, Harry, what do you say? Would you like to spend Christmas with us?”

“I’d love to.” He smiled more broadly.

“Well, then, why don’t we just sit and get to know each other better?” Mr. Weasley offered.

”I shall take my leave of you then,” Dumbledore interjected. “Please, Harry, forgive me. I did only what I thought was best.” He removed the dome then, and strode out of the infirmary.

“So?” Neville prodded. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well, I guess,” Harry replied.

“Why wasn't I there?” Ron asked. “They're my parents too.”

“I asked them to come, Ron,” Ginny answered. “It wasn't a party.”

'I'm really glad you were there, though,' Harry projected.

'As if I would’ve left you alone,' she sent back.

“Don't leave us hanging, Harry,” Hermione chided.

“Well, they invited me to stay for the holidays...”

“Brilliant!” Ron grinned. He stood up from the sofa he, Neville and Hermione were sharing to high-five Harry.

“And apparently we're all going to Romania to visit your brother Charlie,” Harry added.

Ron blinked at him, grinning madly. “Are you serious?! Hey, Fred! George! Come listen to this!”

“What is it Ronniekins?” Fred jeered.

“You'll be changing that tune soon enough,” Ginny smirked. “Go start packing warm clothes you two.”

“Why? You're not gonna lock us in a room full of Slytherin birds are you?” George asked.

“Don't even go there,” Fred said, shaking his head in dismay.

“Nope,” Ron replied. “We're going to be spending Christmas in Romania.”

“Romania?” Fred echoed.

“Charlie Romania?”

“Dragons Charlie Romania?”

We're spending Christmas with Charlie and his dragons?” George asked.

“You better believe it,” Ginny giggled.

“Yeah!” they yelled, pumping their fists into the air in celebration.

“So, will any of you guys be joining us?” George asked.

“Harry is,” Ginny replied.

“Ginny, Ginny, the man can answer for himself,” Fred chided.

“She already thinks they're married,” said George.

Ginny blushed at the comment. “Go suck on a flobberworm,” she snapped.

“Ouch,” George mocked.

“Quite a mouth on this one,” said Fred.

“Does she bite when you're kissing and all?” George laughed.

“Only occasionally,” Harry sniggered.

Ginny looked mortified, but the twins were beside themselves.

“Harry!” she cried.

“What?” he asked. “I like it.”

“Okay, way too much information,” Ron protested, heading for the boys' staircase.

“I like you, Harry, seriously,” Fred said through his laughter.

“Well maybe you should bite him, then,” Ginny sulked.

“No thanks. I'm sure you've got that covered,” George replied.

“Well, this has been entertaining,” said Fred.

“But I think we ought to get back to Lee,” George finished.

“Catch you guys later,” Fred called.

“And don't leave any marks, Gin-gin, Mum'll throw a fit!”

Ginny punched him in the shoulder. “What did you tell them that for?”

“I didn't think you were shy,” Harry replied.

“I'm not, but you didn't have to tell them something like that,” she complained.

“Honestly?” Harry asked. “You're really cute when you're mad.”

She blushed down to her neck.

“And when you blush like that,” he added.

“Should I be worried about what you might say next to make me angry?” she asked, twirling her hair around her finger.

“Yes,” Harry smirked.

“Oh, it's on,” Ginny grinned maliciously.

They sat in Hagrid’s hut, pretending to eat his rock cakes. Ginny had attempted to transfigure one a month before, but it had exploded, and it had taken some hasty excuses to avoid hurting the huge guy’s feelings. The main problem was that Hagrid seemed to take the name far too literally. It really would take supernatural power to break one. Harry was busy holding Fang at bay, and then he remembered – how had he forgotten?

“Hagrid, what do you know about the third floor corridor?” he asked.

Neville gasped, Ron gaped, Hermione inhaled sharply and Ginny grabbed his hand. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’

‘Nope.'

“What?” said Hagrid vaguely.

“Only, there’s this enormous three-headed dog we saw a while back,” Harry pressed.

Hermione seemed to catch on quickly. “Yeah, and since you’re so great with animals, we thought that if it was there on purpose, Dumbledore must have trusted you with it.”

Hagrid allowed himself a small smile that wasn’t quite hidden by his beard. “Well, yeah... But hang on, how’d you know abou’ Fluffy?”

“Fluffy?!” Ron exclaimed. “That thing has a name?”

“Course he does! Won ‘im off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year. Lent ‘im to Dumbledore to guard the, uh...” They looked to him expectantly. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself, “it’s between ‘im and Flamel...”

“Aha! There’s someone called Flamel involved!” Harry said gleefully.

Ginny slapped his arm. ‘You prat! Now he’ll know he told us.’

“Shouldn’ta said tha’... You better go. Don’ wanna keep yer from yer homework. Go on now.” Hagrid quickly added, shooing them to the door.

Hermione opened her mouth as soon as the door shut.

“We know,” Neville said with a small smile. “Library.”

She scowled at him. “I’d think you would want to find out who this Flamel character is, too.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t resist.”

They sniggered. Hermione huffed, “Well, I’m going to the library. You’re free to join me.”

“Yeah, alright,” they all replied.

“So where are you going for Christmas, Hermione?” Harry asked. They were outside in the snow, doing what children did best in such conditions – maintaining the essential snow cycle: sky, ground, hand, someone’s head, ground... The twins had gone one better, enchanting several snowballs to repeatedly slam into the back of Professor Quirrell’s turban. McGonagall took ten points from each of them when she saw, and gave them both a week’s detention, but they swore it was worth it to see him ‘completely lose his shit’.

He ducked as Seamus’s shot at Dean from at least twenty metres away came sailing towards him.

“Oh, we’re going to Sweden,” Hermione answered. “Mum’s tired of not seeing any snow.”

“Anyone else going?” He replied, wondering why all the stray snowballs were coming his way and not hers.

“What do you mean?” she asked, making a wild shot at Ginny that ended up flying closer to Neville.

“You know – other family and friends. Cousins and stuff.”

“Oh. Well, I have some family in America, but no.”

“Oh, okay. See them much?” he asked, jumping and cursing as Ron dumped a load of snow over his head from behind.

“Not really. But we talk a lot.”

“What? Are there Floo connections to America?” Ron butted in.

“I don’t know, Ron. Why?” she inquired.

“You said you talked to them,” Ron replied as if there was some obvious connection.

“Yes, on the telephone,” Hermione said, putting her ‘I’m-going-to-figure-out-this-problem-an d-you-aren’t-leaving-until-I-do’ face on.

Harry abandoned them and turned to Neville, not wanting to hear the lecture and the bickering that was bound to follow. As he turned, however, he got a face full of snow. “Argh!” Ginny and Neville were both laughing at him, but he could tell who’d thrown it. Harry chased her through the snow, grinning as she shrieked.

Neville appeared to grow tired of watching them, because the next thing he heard was Hermione’s laughter as Ron got completely covered. Harry looked behind him as he ran and saw Neville waving his wand randomly at the snow, which was melting, changing colour, and flying everywhere. Then everything went white. “Oof!”

“Too easy.” Ginny’d tripped him! He grabbed her ankles, which was surprising seeing as his face was buried in the snow, and dragged her down with him.

Pinning her to the snow, Harry raised himself above her. “Do you surrender?”

“Never!” she cried, as a barrage of snow threw him off her.

“Why you...”

She ran off giggling madly as he gave chase, trying to get the stubborn flakes out of his ears. “Come on, Harry! You can surely do better!”

“Locomotor Mortis,” he whispered. Leg locker jinx. She never saw it coming. He stood, smirking, over her wriggling form on the ground. “Tit for tat.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Harry dived out of the way just in time as a snowball the size of his head formed and flew at him. At the next one, he cried, “Flipendo!” in the hope of knocking it back at her, but she just made the thing dodge his spell. “How am I supposed to win?!”

“You aren’t!” Ginny answered.

He ran towards her, ducking and weaving to avoid the, well, missiles she was launching at him. She began to crawl backwards, but it was too late. He was on her. Unable to think of anything else to distract her, he pressed his lips to hers. They didn’t even notice that the others had stopped fighting. “Okay, that’s how,” she murmured when they broke apart. He grinned, and would have gone straight back to kissing her without the cough from behind him.

“Yeah, we don’t need to see that, Harry.”

“No offence, but we’ll have nightmares, so...”

He pulled away, grinning at Fred and George, who were standing there with their trunks floating behind them.

“No way, Potter.” Ginny grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him back to ground zero, burying his face in the snow.

The twins burst out laughing.

He twisted under her, and threw her backwards, the strength that he was gaining from Oliver's workout sessions shining through.

“Oof,” she huffed as she landed. Just as Harry got to his feet, he found himself thrown into the air, and held there. “Beg for mercy,” she smirked.

“Oh, don't mind us,” George said jovially.

“We're perfectly happy to sit and watch,” said Fred.

Harry tugged and strained, but he was completely helpless. A snowball smacked him in the side of the face. Fay, one of the girls in Ginny's dorm, waved cheekily at them. She was the one who was always singing along to her wireless. Not that many people minded – she had a nice voice. He gave her a wry grin in return, only to fall flat back into the snow.

“Hey guys,” Fay called. “Going anyplace nice for the winter?”

“We’re going to stay at the Romanian Dragon Reserve,” George said proudly.

“Oh yeah, Ginny said your brother worked there,” said Fay. “That’ll be pretty cool.”

“Beyond cool,” Fred grinned. “What about you? Fay, was it?”

“Yeah, just a family get-together at home, no big deal.”

“Fair enough,” said George. “I never say no to Mum's Christmas dinner.”

“Too right,” Fred laughed.

“You alright down there, Harry?” Fay asked, laughing.

“Pffff,” Harry spat the snow out. “I will be in a minute.” He forced himself to his feet, and leapt at Ginny, who screamed dramatically, hurling snowballs back at him telepathically.

“I'll catch you guys later,” Fay laughed. “Have fun!”

“Bye,” the twins called after her.

“Not that we want to spoil your fun,” George yelled after Harry and Ginny.

“But the last carriage down to the train’s going to leave in ten minutes,” Fred finished.

“You can’t keep that up forever,” Harry called to Ginny.

“Watch me,” Ginny laughed. In spite of her bravado, she was panting and sweating from her exertions.

“Are we late for the train?” Neville enquired. He, Ron and Hermione had been drawn over by the sound of the twins’ yelling.

“If it was up to these two, we would be, but some of us have a sense of responsibility,” Fred declared with a Percy-like air. Neville snorted.

“Where are our trunks, though?” Ron looked around.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, what do you leave behind when you walk in snow?”

He shrugged. “My trunk?” They all groaned, and went back the way they came. “What? What is it?” he called as he ran after them.

The train ride home had been relatively uneventful until about an hour after they left Hogsmeade. Fred and George left them in favour of hanging out with their third year friends, so it was just the five of them in the compartment. After they got tired of exploding snap, Ginny had begun to entertain them by creating a small light show. Percy came in a little while later to check on them, when their compartment door slid open again to admit someone far less welcome.

“So, Potter, you’ve ditched Muggles for Weasleys, have you? I’m not sure it’s so much better...” Malfoy drawled as he entered the compartment.

Malfoy had been even more of a foul prick since the Quidditch match. He’d been trying to get everyone laughing about how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker for the next match. When he realised that no one was laughing because they’d found his ability to stay on the bucking broomstick so impressive, he’d gone right back to his usual taunts.

“Watch yourself, Malfoy.” Surprisingly, it was Percy who’d spoken.

“What, Weasley? Hit a nerve, have I? Do you know you’re no better than stinking Muggles?”

“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ron scowled.

“Do you really want to be speaking to a prefect like that?” Percy asked, giving Malfoy a cold stare.

“I'm quaking in my boots,” Malfoy sneered. “What'll you do to me, Weasley? Give me detention?”

“Malfoy, what's the point in you coming here?” Hermione asked derisively. “What exactly are you trying to prove?”

“Just doing my duty,” Malfoy answered. “I'm reminding this bunch of blood traitors of their place.”

Ron got to his feet. “W-what did you just say?” Neville challenged. Harry was pleasantly surprised. Neville had been getting more confident around them, but never in front of a hostile figure before. He was flushed though, and not quite meeting Malfoy's eye.

Ginny's hand, which had been trailing light before, was starting to glow more intensely. Ron had his wand in his hand. Hermione looked confused, which wasn't a healthy state for her, really.

“Longbottom, you really need to get your head checked,” Malfoy smirked. “Considering your family's track record, being a half-wit is seriously going to hurt you some day.”

Percy and Neville both stood up, but even though Ginny was still seated she was ten times as intimidating. Her hair was swirling in a non-existent breeze as the light from her hands turned an angry red and began to pulse.

“You're outnumbered and overpowered, Malfoy,” Ginny said threateningly. “Piss off.” Neville looked ready to pop an aneurysm.

Malfoy paid her no heed. “You lot are making a habit of hiding behind the little Weaselette, aren't you?”

Harry made a valiant effort to follow Ginny's example and not simply blow up in Malfoy's face. “And I've noticed that you go nowhere without the two mute bodyguards. They going to step up and speak up or sit down and shut up?”

They looked at Malfoy. “If they want to talk, they'll talk. But I'm sure they don't want to waste their breath.”

“No, I'm sure remembering to breathe takes up plenty of their concentration already,” Ginny grinned. They shifted uncomfortably, cracking their knuckles and looking to their leader.

“Get lost, Malfoy,” Harry warned. “Ron's about ready to introduce you to the floor.”

“I'm sure he's quite well acquainted with it by now, of course,” Malfoy sneered. “Come, Crabbe, Goyle. Let's go find a cleaner part of the train.”

“Track record?” Ron asked the compartment once the Slytherins were gone.

Neville shook his head, still fiercely flushed and staring at his shoes. Percy looked at him for a moment before excusing himself.

“What's his problem?” Hermione asked. “Blood traitor... A bit pathetic if you ask me...”

Nobody answered her, and the train ride was rather tense for the Gryffindors after that.