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SIYE Time:13:02 on 28th March 2024
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Gods Bless Accidental Magic!
By Dopeydo

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 306
Summary: Everybody has their limits. As Harry finds his reason to live, he will break many of them… and not all intentionally. As Harry finds his reason to live, he will learn what it means to be broken in turn. There is a great power in friendship, but there is just as great a power in fear. (Crossover occurs late in the story.)

Note: Picks up from halfway through chapter six of PS. Abuse warnings are limited to pre-Hogwarts experiences. Rating is mainly for language.
Hitcount: Story Total: 200322; Chapter Total: 6490
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
It's here! I've broken my rut! It's all unbeta'd from here on out, so forgive my screw-ups. I'm not going to bother making any promise other than I'll get the next one out asap. If youhaven't noticed yet, all the previous chapters have been rewritten. Not so obvious to begin with, but there have been some major changes. Enjoy :)




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The text seemed to swirl gently within itself like so much oil set into the wallpaper; ‘William Arthur Weasley’ had once been scorched right into the wall, but the charring around the edges was the only thing to indicate this. The character of the room around him had developed with the character of the previous occupant. The posters of hieroglyphs and pyramids still proudly stood on the opposite wall, panning over texts and landscapes. This place had a strange, tranquil feel to it. The sun was just rising, and its rays peered at him through light curtains. He peered back at them, the inexorable pull of conditioned habit tugging at him to get off his arse and get breakfast ready. The image of Uncle Vernon with his belt came to mind, making him flinch. Yet he sat there, watching, waiting, listening...

Something shifted below.

Harry let out a deep breath and sagged back, sinking away. The soft mattress beneath him was so reassuring.




George nodded to Fred. His twin diligently sorted through Harry’s clothes, which were almost all still in his trunk. At the same time, George cast a Confundus Charm on the half-asleep Harry. Jumbled as his mind now was, Harry was not going to wake any time soon. The miscreant smiled as he weaved the glamour charms over their target, layering them just as the Gambol and Japes’ book had said to make them a nightmare to get rid of. Keeping his chanting to a low murmur lest he should run out of breath, George stared intently at Harry’s raven locks.

In the meantime, Fred was carefully spreading a fine powder in the clothes he had picked out. It settled in the fabric, and he once again marvelled at the effectiveness of such a simple trick. This stuff was not coming out without a fight, and much of that fighting would be done by the guy who was taking over his little sister’s world. They could, of course, have given Harry a good talking-to or something, but actions speak louder than words. And they tend to be a lot more fun. Besides, this would show them what the kid was made of.

They were done within minutes, and were careful to restore everything exactly as it had been. George released the Confundus when they were back outside the room, and whispered with a grin, “Welcome to the family, Potter.”




Yawning, Harry stumbled down the stairs to find that Ron, Ginny and Percy had risen before him. Ron and Ginny offered him broad grins in greeting, and he smiled absently. “Morning,” he called to everyone. He felt... strange. Somehow this whole charade was wrong to him, but in spite of the nervous tingle in his stomach he felt so many kinds of content.

“Good morning, Harry,” Percy replied, not looking up from his parchment.

“Welcome to the family, Harry,” Ron said into his plate, still grinning.

He raised an eyebrow at Ginny, but she simply shrugged at him with an innocent expression. He was slowly learning to be suspicious of that face, but he let it slide.

“Eat as much as you like, Harry, dear, just make sure you don’t let Ron at any of it.”

“Mum!” Ron cried indignantly.

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley.” Harry felt rather relieved at Mrs Weasley’s jibe. She had seemed a little distant with him since the meeting at Hogwarts. She was forever fussing over him, making sure he ate as much as even Ron did last night. For the first time that he could remember, he was tucked into bed, much to Fred and George’s delight. But he detected a tension in her manner that he was sure could only be attributed to one thing. He understood, of course. He only hoped that over the next couple of weeks, she might find him to be at least be a bit more appropriate for her daughter.

“Hermione would be so proud of you, Ron. You talked without food in your mouth,” Harry teased. Ron shot him a glare, but it didn’t last long as he started sniggering.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘No idea.’

He squinted sideways at her. She gave him a cutesy, innocent little smile that did nothing at all to reassure him, and just carried on eating.

Mrs Weasley came in a little while later, telling him that Mr. Weasley had left for work about half an hour before he came down. “He isn’t usually out quite so early, but he needs to finish up some paperwork before his holiday leave.” She turned and saw him, and her hand went to her mouth. “Fred! George! What did you do?!” She hurried over to him, drawing her wand. Harry stared, alarmed, and looked to Ginny, but she just looked at him blankly. There was something funny about her eyes today, he thought. He squinted at her, but she turned quickly away, definitely smirking now.

“Nothing, mum,” one of them replied from the stairs.

“Oh, look — seems we’ve all rubbed off on him!” the other exclaimed with a grin.

After some obviously fruitless attempts at fixing whatever was wrong with him, Mrs Weasley turned back on the twins. “You two! Tell me what you did this instant!” She didn’t seem all that angry. In fact, she seemed pretty amused herself.

“It wasn’t us mum!”

“Yeah, promise!”

Suddenly, Harry felt a little uneasy. He was starting to get an itch in the seat of his pants. He ignored it, but as Mrs Weasley continued to press the twins for information, Harry began to lose track of what was said.

“Harry, did you wash your hair this morning?” Mrs Weasley asked.

‘Did I wash my hair? What in the world...?’ He tried to answer, but the itching was rapidly worsening, and all that came out was a sort of strangled gasp. He finally lost control, and started squirming in his seat.

“Harry!” Ginny shrieked with wide eyes. Even in the state he was in, he could see the amusement in those eyes.

“What did you do?!” Mrs Weasley bellowed, advancing on Fred and George with her wand up. They gulped and paled dramatically.

“Well, we can’t really reverse it, mum. The hair and the eyes will fix themselves in about a week.”

“I’m not asking about that! Why is he behaving like that?” Sparks jumped from her wand.

Fred smirked ever so slightly, and gave him a challenging look. George deigned to poke the sleeping dragon. “Behaving like what, Mum?” he asked innocently.

Mrs Weasley brought her wand up slowly. Harry’s eyes went wide for reasons beyond the growing irritation between his legs. ‘Would she really...?’he thought, stunned. “Itching powder, was it? In his trousers, maybe?”

Ginny blinked, her smirk fading. ‘No, no, I doubt it. Not for this, anyway,’ she replied solemnly. ‘I mean, they’re not actually damaging you, are they?’

Harry sagged a little in relief. ‘I bloody well hope not!’

The smirk flashed back into view on her lips.

The twins hesitated even when Mrs Weasley’s wand stopped at eye level, but when sparks hit George in the nose, he started talking. “It wasn’t his trousers.”

“You’re enjoying this!” Harry gasped under his breath. He crossed his legs over and stared at Ginny, defying her to laugh.

She looked at him with a guilty expression that was corrupted by the twitching of her lips. “Yeah,” she agreed sadly.

“Harry, get upstairs and change your underwear,” Mrs Weasley told him.

He got up in as controlled a manner as he could manage. Biting his lip, he fought down the urge to charge up the stairs. Instead, he slowed as he neared Fred’s chair, timing the pass of his hand, and copied a manoeuvre he knew all too well from the receiving end. There was a convenient gap between the back and seat of his chair. Reaching quickly under the heavy jumper, he grasped the waistband of Fred’s pants firmly in hand, giving as strong a tug as he could manage.

He grimaced slightly in empathy at Fred’s strangled cry, but felt a strange sort of satisfaction all the same.

“None of that now, Harry,” Mrs Weasley reprimanded him sternly. “Dealing with this is my job, not yours.” Her hard stare almost made him regret it. But not quite. The appraising look George gave him told him that he had passed whatever insane test that had been. He nodded solemnly, and apologized to Mrs Weasley, but not to poor Fred.

Upon reaching his room, he began throwing his clothes to the floor, but soon realised that this wouldn’t completely solve the problem. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed a towel and ran to the bathroom. He latched the door, and on turning, saw his reflection. He couldn’t help laughing, despite the situation. They’d done a good job. His hair was a bright orange-red, and his eyes were a deep blue colour, but there wasn’t a power on earth that could tame his mop. And if they’d been telling the truth, the spell would last till Christmas. He turned on the shower, jumped in and began scrubbing urgently, as the itching had begun to build again.




“You mean you put it in all of them?!”

Fred and George grimaced, but still nodded.

“Well then,” she said with an air of finality. “You caused the problem, so you can fix it. The two of you are going to remove every trace of itching powder from his underwear, and heaven help you if you’re sloppy.”

They gulped, and nodded. Fred kicked himself a little bit.

“And no magic! I think that in light of what you’ve done, you can go ahead and wash the dishes for the rest of the holiday too!”

“Yes, Mum.”

Mum gave them one last glare. “Unless you’ve forgotten already, we’re trying to make him feel welcome here. Now, all of you finish your breakfast. There’s plenty of work to be done now that these two have found themselves their own jobs.”

Ron groaned and gave his brothers a dirty look.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Percy told them once their mother was out of earshot.

“Why, Perce?” George asked with a grin.

Fred smirked. “Gonna give us detention when we get back?”

Percy looked up at them scornfully. “Sometimes I wonder if the two of you will ever grow up.”

“Yeah, me too,” Fred agreed.

“I thought we agreed on that one already, Fred?” George asked with mock-curiosity.

“Oh yeah...” said Fred.

“Not gonna happen,” they chorused.

Percy stared incredulously at them for a few seconds. “Have you given any thought at all to why Harry isn’t going back to the muggles who raised him? Why he’s here in the first place?” Fred and George looked at each other, then back at their brother. “I’m guessing that whatever problems he had there, he’s looking for someplace a little more peaceful.” Ginny examined her brother’s measured gaze, wondering whether it was compassion for Harry or passion for order that was making him say this. Maybe it was a bit of both...

“Well, if that’s what he wants...” Fred began. He turned to look at George confusedly.

“He’s got a point, Fred,” George said slowly. “The powder may have been going a bit far, at least in his other pants.”

“What do you-” Fred started.

“Look, right now I’ve got two hunches,” George interrupted. “One is that there’s something nasty that those muggles did to Harry. Percy’s right, people don’t find a new family for the new air.”

Ginny winced slightly in spite of herself. ‘I hate those bloody Dursleys!’

“Two,” he continued, “Ginny knows something we don’t.”

“And what would make you think a thing like that?” she asked blandly.

“Like I said, just a hunch,” he grinned. The grin was quickly replaced by a contemplative frown.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?!”

“Why so aggressive, sister dearest?” Fred asked lightly, still shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Why so pushy?” she retorted nonchalantly.

George leaned in, still wearing that alien expression of seriousness. “Because... if Percy is right, and just this once I don’t doubt it, then I reckon Harry needs help.”

Ginny swallowed, and bit the inside of her lip. “If Harry does have a story, I’d hope to hear it too, George. Really. But that’s his business, not ours.”

The twins both gave her funny looks, but thankfully dropped the matter. She didn’t like the look she’d seen masking Ron’s face. One of envy, and of anger. She would have to watch for that. His insecurities would be a plague if they came out in front of Harry and Hermione too often.

Taking hers and Percy’s dishes, she went into the kitchen, and saw that Mum had apparently gone upstairs to help Harry without their noticing. She left the dishes, and wandered out behind the house.

Once she was out of their line of sight, she squeezed her eyes shut, and concentrated on her desire to be just outside Harry’s room. Nothing happened for a while, although she felt as if there was a hurricane in her head. After a few seconds, she felt calmer, and tried to focus all her thoughts purely on being right outside that door. There was a very uncomfortable squeezing sensation as she Apparated, and as she landed she fell to her knees, gasping. Manipulating magic in this way was always an exertion, both physically and mentally, but this was the first time it had been so tiring. She hadn’t remembered the crushing sensation of Apparating, either. That wasn’t much fun.

As she dragged herself to her feet, she found herself suddenly burning hot, with sweat beginning to form all over her body. She took a moment to catch her breath, then knocked on Bill’s ... Harry’s door.

“Ginny?” he asked nervously.

“Expecting someone else?” she teased.

“Guess not. Come in, then.” She pushed the door open slowly. Harry hadn’t changed the room in the slightest.

“So, I guess you could sense me?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m sort of getting used to it. Plus, it got kind of easier after...”

“...our first kiss?” she guessed.

“Really? I thought it was a little while after,” he replied.

“Well, as soon as you kissed me, I could suddenly feel you there, you know? I mean, not just...” she blushed.

“You mean you could ... feel me without touching?” Harry asked, a little awkwardly.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “But it’s weird. It’s not at all like feeling you normally, I mean...”

They relapsed into silence, each trying to figure out how to express themselves without causing such embarrassment for each other.

“Is it like ... radar?” Harry asked slowly.

“Radar?”

“You know, the Muggle technology,” he explained. “It shows you what’s around you on a screen as blinking dots. Well, imagine being in the screen, and feeling that blinking dot, wherever it is.”

“I have to take Muggle Studies,” Ginny sighed.

“You can take a class about Muggles?”

“Yeah. Bill took it, and so did Percy. Bill took Care of Magical Creatures as well, and Percy took Divination to take as many subjects as possible.”

“Wow,” he muttered. “When can you take them?”

“Third year.”

“That’s ages away. You know what? I’ll ask your parents if we can go to Gringotts. I’ll change some of my money into Muggle cash, and we can go out to... Where’s the nearest Muggle city?”

She scrunched up her face, thinking. “Um, I think it’s called Exeter.”

“Right, we’ll go there. I’ll show you everything I know,” he enthused. Here was a part of the magical world where he wasn’t going in blind. You learned surprisingly much about the world when your aunt was pointing out how little you did know. ‘And who’s old Marge gonna pick on now?’ he grinned.

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon’s sister, matching him in appearance, temperament and attitude towards Harry. So she was big, foul, hated his guts and was perfectly vocal about it. Then there was her enthusiasm for her dogs, which she never had a problem with letting loose on him...

“Mum and Dad won’t let us go on our own, you know,” Ginny said with a small smile, as she dropped down onto his bed.

“So? We can all go.” He sat beside her.

“Yeah, I guess...” she shrugged. “We were talking about something else before...”

Harry grinned and moved to the corner of the room, closing his eyes. Then he span three times on the spot. Ginny stared at him, wondering if he’d suddenly been attacked by the strange creatures that Luna Lovegood from over the hill always talked about. The thought struck her that there might be time to introduce Harry to her. Just then, Harry stopped spinning. His arm shot out to point at her. She blinked, then squinted to see if his eyelashes were fluttering. But his eyes were firmly shut.

“What in Merlin’s name?” she gasped. Harry grinned, but kept his eyes shut, and his index finger trained on the centre of her chest. His stupid, lopsided grin... She got off the bed, and his finger followed her. Moving as quietly as she could, which was a skill she’d been polishing for a very long time, she tried to evade his impossible gaze. However, no matter what she did, he was able to keep his finger trained unerringly on her.

“Could you do that?” he asked proudly, still grinning.

“No, I don’t think so,” she replied, a hint of envy creeping into her voice. “How did you do it?”

“It’s the same thing I told you about that morning after the match,” he told her. “I can’t do it for anyone else, it’s just you.” She smiled a little to herself at that.

She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, and stretched out her arm. Try as she might, she couldn’t narrow down his presence. She just knew he was there, and that was pretty much as far as it went. Scowling, she turned around, and felt the familiar shift as whatever was inside her that did this told her that he was behind her. Turning slowly back towards him, she focused with all her considerable will on that feeling. It shifted, and she worked to align her arm with the origin point of the sensation, gyroscoping herself to compare all angles. Opening her eyes, she grimaced. She had been a little off, and was pointing to a spot just off Harry’s shoulder.

“That was pretty close,” Harry grinned. “I mean, I did move around a bit.”

“Yes, but so did I,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “It’s so hard. I mean, the way I feel it, it’s like you’re this massive fuzzy circle!”

Harry looked down at his midriff, frowning. “Do you reckon I should cut back my diet, then?”

Ginny gave him a funny look out of the corner of her eye, until he started sniggering. “Very funny, Harry. But I’m serious, the way I feel you, you could be the size of this room!”

“Well what that little experiment is telling you, Ginny,” Harry laughed, “is that I’m the sensitive one here.”

“We’ll see how bloody sensitive you are!” she cried, tackling him and tickling him into submission.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Hey, Ginny, are you in there?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, she is,” Harry gasped. “Come in, Ron.”

Ron opened the door, his eyes wide, then he wrinkled his nose. “Ginny, you realise he’s not wearing any pants, right?”

She went bright red, jumping off Harry, who was still wheezing on the floor. “What?” she asked.

“Well...” Ron explained, giving her a funny look. “After you went outside, Mum came down with all Harry’s underwear for Fred and George to clean.”

Ginny stared at Harry, who nodded, turning quite red himself. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked incredulously. “Forget it, never mind.”

“Anyway, Mum wanted you to come feed the chickens,” Ron said. “By the way, did you just Apparate again?”

“Surprised?” Ginny asked, hands on hips.

“Just a little,” Ron agreed. “I mean, it’s a bit mad, isn’t it? The first time was ridiculous, but now you’re doing it on purpose, without a wand, and without having learned it in the first place...”

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask for this Ron,” Ginny said bluntly. “And besides, if you’d paid any attention to Mum before Hogwarts, you wouldn’t be surprised in the first place.”

Ron stared at her blankly for a minute.

“How about just the last blood Weasley girl? Catherine Elizabeth? Seven generations ago and seventh child?” she prodded.

His expression cleared, and his jaw dropped slightly. “Mum never made a big deal out of it, though. I mean, I thought she didn’t expect anything...”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something here?” Harry asked, having recovered.

“Harry, heritage is important in the Wizarding world, no matter how people look at it,” Ginny explained. “I mean, just because we know there’s no difference between Purebloods, Half-bloods and Muggle-born as people and sorcerers, we still value our family history. Before we came to Hogwarts, Mum taught us our family tree back to the sixteenth century. There’s been a Weasley daughter every seven generations for as long as we can know. Each of them has been special in some way. And when that daughter is the seventh child, they’ve always had an even greater gift or gifts than with the others. Catherine Elizabeth Weasley was born in 1834 with the ability to drain both life and magical energies by contact.”

“Wow...” Harry murmured. He didn’t really know what she was on about, but didn’t want to spoil the mood. “What happened to her?”

“She found out she had it at school,” Ginny explained. “Ernest Flint had been having a go at her older brother over his new broom after a Quidditch game, and in the end Flint took the broom by force and used it to knock Samuel out. She walked up behind Flint and put her hands around his neck. Ten seconds later, he’s a squib, and she’s healing and reviving her brother without aid of her wand. Back then, the Weasleys were still powerful enough to protect her, but she lived a pretty secluded life after that out of fear of losing control again.”

“But she did, didn’t she?” Harry prodded.

Ginny nodded sadly. “That had been in her first year. By her fourth, her father was being told to set her up for becoming the first female Auror.”

“Auror?” Harry inquired.

“Dark wizard catchers!” Ron enthused. “They’re bloody brilliant!”

“Yeah, I can see why they’d want her,” Harry said.

Ginny smiled grimly. “Obviously, her dad gave in, and Catherine took the right subjects. She became their greatest assassin. Mum didn’t give us any real details on her life after that, but Bill found out that she was killed in action when she was 32.”

Harry winced. “That’s really rough. I guess it makes sense though,” he said softly. “Your abilities, I mean.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Ginny said. “I...”

“Hold up a second, I’ve just had a thought... Look, if there’s a Muggle Studies class, and Pureblood families teach their children about their history, then Purebloods have all their bases covered, right?”

Ginny nodded slowly. “Yeah...” Her eyes widened then in understanding.

“So who’s teaching the Muggle-raised about wizard stuff?” Harry asked, looking up at Ron.

“Don’t look at me, mate,” he shrugged. “I just thought you got an extra book on your list or something, I guess. Actually, I never really thought about it at all...”

“Well, there’s a surprise,” Ginny grinned. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Harry. Let’s go ask Mum.”

Ron stopped Harry at the door, letting Ginny go ahead. “If you want my advice mate, grab a belt. I reckon we’ll be de-gnoming the garden, and if one of them, you know...”

“You think I’ll get debagged by a gnome?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “They don’t even move!”

“Maybe not the muggle ones...” Ron replied.

Armed with a belt, Harry met up with the others in the kitchen.

“Harry, sit down and finish your breakfast,” Mrs Weasley told him. “You can join the boys afterwards if you want. De-gnoming is a regular event here, so you may want to learn.”

“Pardon me, Mrs Weasley, but speaking of learning...” Harry began. “I was wondering, well, we were talking, me, Ron and Ginny, about, well...”

Ginny took pity on him and took over. “We were talking about what Purebloods learn before sorcery school, and how the muggleborns don’t get the same benefits.”

“Oh?” Mrs Weasley smiled. “Well, yes, I think it’s left up to the students, really. I mean, I don’t believe the Muggle Studies course covers the kind of education that muggle-born students get before magical schooling either.”

“I guess,” Harry agreed. “But I was hoping that maybe ... if you could...?”

“If I’d teach you some of what I taught Ron and Ginny?” Mrs Weasley suggested.

Harry nodded shyly. He had felt so embarrassed to know nothing about the magical world when wizards knew more about him than he did.

“Well of course, dear, I’m sure we can find the time.”

“Thank you,” said Harry gratefully.

She seemed to consider for a moment, staring at the family clock. It was a rather peculiar clock, for it did not tell the time at all. It didn’t even have the standard two or three hands. Instead, nine hands represented every member of the Weasley family, with little magical photos of each of them smiling out from the ends of each hand. All but Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie were pointing to ‘at home’, all of whom were ‘at work’.

“... Maybe we can start this evening, Harry,” said Mrs Weasley.

Harry grinned. “Thanks, Mrs Weasley.”

“Don’t mention it, dear,” she replied with a kindly smile. “Now, eat up. Ron? Percy? You two go out and get started with those gnomes.”

Harry wolfed down the rest of his breakfast, grinning back at Fred and George as he left his plate and cutlery in the sink. He grabbed his trainers from beside the door, and sprinted out to find Ron and Percy.

The Burrow, home of the Devonshire Weasleys, was an odd looking place. It had neither the mechanical orderliness and cleanliness of Privet Drive, nor the grandeur and beauty of Hogwarts Castle. Rather, it seemed as though the Weasleys had taken a small farmhouse out of the way of the muggle village and added floors as they were needed. The task must have been undertaken by the Weasleys, too, for he doubted that any muggle architect could get a building constructed in so haphazard a manner to stand. But he had found that this crazy, isolated house had a cosy, homely feel that was affecting him even mere hours after he’d arrived.

One similarity to Hogwarts was the feeling of isolation. The rolling hills and thick woods all around them obstructed any nearby settlements, and gave the impression that they were completely alone. Closer to the actual building were the garage and outhouse.

As he walked over to the garage, he saw that it was periodically spawning chickens. Harry found on closer inspection that they were actually coming from a coop on the far side, but he didn’t know what to expect these days. Drawn in by curiosity, Harry peeked inside.

The first thing he noticed was the blue Ford Anglia in front of him. Harry vaguely recalled Uncle Vernon mentioning that his own father had driven an Anglia, back when Vernon got an Escort as a company car about five years ago. So the car was pretty damn old. It certainly looked old, like something out of the 50s. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why a wizard would take a car like this. It wasn’t nearly big enough for the family, and being so old it could only draw more attention. They may as well have gotten a Porsche.

The keys were in the ignition.

Harry stared at them. There probably wasn’t a significant threat of theft here, but still... Then he turned to look around at the rest of the place. It appeared to be a workshop of sorts for Mr. Weasley. Everywhere he looked there were muggle items in varying states of undress. A hairdryer had its innards strewn all over a tabletop, revealing a lot of coiling metal wire. A light bulb sat next to it, cut open with surgical precision, followed by an electric kettle with the upper housing removed to reveal the element. On closer inspection, Harry found a little white book to the side of that table, open to a page entitled ‘electric kettles’. Mr. Weasley had written ‘seems to use twisted metal tube to produce heat’, and ‘possibly similar to light bulb and hair dryer’.

Curious, Harry flipped through the book and found it to be full of seemingly random items which were apparently alien to wizards. He couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or amused when the page for ‘spray can’ said ‘use shielding and containment charms at all times’. When he eventually found the page for electricity, he found it entirely devoid of insight, which was annoying really. He already knew about pylons and the national grid, and that batteries could supply electricity. Hermione would know all about it, but as brilliant as the girl was, she really could go on a bit.

Ginny’s coming.

Harry turned just in time to see her poke her head in.

“You’re not degnoming,” she said, a sly smile pulling at her lips.

“You aren’t feeding the chickens,” Harry threw back.

“Pff, they’re eating,” Ginny said dismissively. “I see you’ve found Dad’s workshop.”

“Has he spent a lot of time on this?” Harry asked.

“Let me put it this way,” Ginny grinned, sauntering over. “I don’t remember him ever not rushing down here on days off to mess around with this stuff.”

She gave the Anglia a push, and it rocked visibly on its suspension.

“You should have seen this six months ago,” she said. “I had no idea there was so much stuff inside these things.”

“Seems like a pretty big thing for your dad to be figuring out,” said Harry. Considering that he was simultaneously reverse engineering light bulbs, working on a car seemed like putting the cart before the horse.

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. “He can drive it, sort of,” she told him. “He ran out of petrol though. It is petrol, right?”

“Yep,” Harry agreed. “What do you mean by sort of drive it?”

“Well, when he does it it isn’t smooth like cars in the village,” Ginny explained.

“It takes muggles a while to learn,” said Harry brightly. “I’m sure he’ll get there.”

“Hey, there’s a friend of mine that lives near here,” said Ginny. “Luna. She’ll be coming to Hogwarts next year. You want to come meet her later?”

“Sure,” said Harry. “What’s she like?”

“Expecting a monster?” Ginny teased.

“Knowing you, I wouldn’t know what to expect,” Harry grinned.

“Hey!” Ginny cried indignantly, though she was grinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’d probably make friends with a tree if we left you long enough,” Harry laughed.

“Ooh, I’d love to meet an ent,” said Ginny.

“Huh?” said Harry. “I thought they were just in...”

“No,” Ginny interrupted. “They’re really only legends here, but back in the days when Hogwarts was founded there were supposed to be walking, talking trees in all of the world’s forests.”

“No way,” Harry breathed.

“Pretty cool, right?” Ginny grinned.

“Well, I’m sure Luna’s really nice,” said Harry. “I should probably go do some degnoming.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I’m sure Ron’s suffered enough.”

Leaving Ginny in the garage, he looked around in search of Ron and Percy. They weren’t too far away, and they were throwing beige-coloured objects every now and again. When he got closer, he recognised that the objects were vaguely humanoid. When he was close enough that Ron noticed him, he realised that the things were highly animated, and appeared to be reacting violently to their human opponents. He checked his belt reflexively, and noted that the other two were just wearing robes.

“Hey guys,” Harry called.

“Hello, Harry,” Percy replied. “I understand you haven’t done this before. You should be able to simply follow my lead - there isn’t much depth or complexity to the task, sadly. It is only menial labour, but it must be done of course.”

“Uh, thanks, Percy,” Harry responded, a little bewildered. Turning to Ron, he whispered, “I thought he was only like that on Prefect duty...”

Ron winced. “Nah, it’s gotten worse since he made Prefect though. He just reckons he’s better than all of us. But Fred and George bring him back down often enough.” Ron grinned.

Harry smiled back uncertainly. He wasn’t entirely sure that pranks were the best way of going about it. Just then, he got a sharp pain in his ankle, and got his first good look at one of the gnomes. They looked rather like stout little potato heads, and apparently had quite strong jaws. Strangely, the gnome’s teeth didn’t seem to pierce his skin, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt.

Ron hurled his gnome high over the hedge at the end of the garden. “They’re real bloody pests, they are,” he grunted in sympathy. “Dad’s too soft on them, thinks they’re cute or something, so they just wander right the way back. Should hit em with a good few hexes.”

He wrenched the little bugger off his leg, and copied what Ron and Percy were doing: he hurled the thing as hard as he could away from the house. He glared after it, the sudden reunion with pain having caught him off guard. And as he glared, it kept going. In fact, it appeared to be going faster.

“Um, Harry?” Ron asked uncertainly. As soon as Harry’s attention was diverted, the gnome plummeted. They both stared after it, then looked at each other and shrugged.

“Ronald, Harry, you are needed,” Percy prodded, flinging a gnome with practiced ease while trying to keep the other ones at bay.

Harry snatched one, spinning on the spot before flinging it away like a hammer. “They don’t get hurt, do they?” he asked guiltily, suddenly realising how easily he’d been drawn into such a violent act.

“Nah, they just get a bit dizzy,” Ron replied. “You can’t do much that’ll hurt them without using magic.”

Harry soon got into a contest with Ron over who could throw the furthest. Harry was winning by a significant distance, even if the mysterious accelerating gnome was ignored. There was an almost endless supply of ammunition as the witless gnomes came out of their holes to see what was going on — it was half an hour later when Ron slung the final gnome over the hedges. When they went back inside, three mugs of cool pumpkin juice were waiting for them. If this was what chores were like here then Harry wouldn’t mind getting used to it.




“So no-one knows where my family came from?” Harry frowned.

“Harry, you come from a very old magical family,” Mrs Weasley explained. “Old enough, in fact, that no one’s quite sure where to trace it to.” She flicked back a few pages of the reference book she’d brought. They sat side by side at the kitchen table, where Mrs Weasley could keep an eye on dinner. “The earliest date we have for a Potter is in the thirteenth century. But we are fairly sure that the line was descended from Avitorius Potter. Not long after Hogwarts was founded, Avitorius Potter was engaged in an open duel with Godric Gryffindor...”

Harry’s eyes snapped up to stare.

“... and was defeated after a long, drawn out fight. He was called Scarface for the injuries he suffered at Gryffindor’s sword.”

“Why were they fighting?” Harry asked. 'My ancestor, and the founder who heads my house... But the Sorting Hat didn’t want me in Gryffindor...'

Mrs Weasley shrugged slightly. “There’s nothing more in here.” She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He twitched at the feeling. It was strange... alien. And for the first time in a while, he felt a jolt of fear. He inhaled sharply, feeling a burning in his skin. It was a familiar feeling - one that he got every time his uncle had beaten him. He struggled to lock away the memories. He didn’t want to remember. But the feeling didn’t fade so easily. That strange warmth which dulled pain and had allowed him to cope with his unbearable existence every time he had lain defeated in his cupboard and prayed for an end to come. He frowned as it finally faded, and unbeknownst to him it was for the final time. As it departed him it left behind a sense of relief so great that he let out all his breath reflexively. He was so distracted by it that he nearly missed what Mrs Weasley said next.

“I wouldn’t worry about it dear,” Mrs Weasley said tenderly. “The Potters are rather like the Weasleys, in that almost every Potter has been in Gryffindor House. It’s likely that Gryffindor simply felt responsible for the actions of his student, and things may have... gotten out of hand.”

“You mean he duelled Gryffindor while he was still in school?” Harry asked astounded.

“Well I can’t say for sure,” she said, frowning. She flicked back a page and laid the heavy book open on the table in front of them. “All it says is that he was a young man at the time.”

Harry looked over the delicate script closely, but could find nothing more hidden in the dark swirls and dashes. In fact, he struggled to find anything at all, for this version of the English language was so old as to be nigh on unrecognisable.

“Harry, your family is old, wealthy and powerful,” Mrs Weasley said. He looked at her questioningly. “Harry, you are still too young to fully appreciate what this means, but in your life, you will have no shortage of friends, wherever you may find them.”

'And no shortage of idiots either,' Harry thought, picturing Malfoy’s face. “Um, thank you, Mrs Weasley,” he replied.

“Your family has produced more warriors and men of learning than nearly every other wizarding family in Britain,” she continued. “A lot will be expected of you, but remember this, Harry. Never ever let the expectations of others rule your life. If someone truly cares about you, then they’ll be more interested in you being happy, and the others are not worth caring about.”

Harry averted his eyes at the compassionate sentiment. “I...”

“Harry, you’re safe now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” Mrs Weasley continued gently.

Harry frowned slightly, but nodded. Fear wasn’t high on his list of priorities, and hadn’t been for a while now.

She smiled, and Harry’s shoulders relaxed. “Now, in 1283 Stephanus Potter wedded Mildryd of Luncaester, a Slytherin...” Harry blinked, and he could have sworn that her lips twitched as she turned to look at him. “Come now, Harry. You must have realised by now that not all Slytherins are monsters.”

He had to admit that she had a point. Apart from Malfoy and his goons, and Parkinson and her friends, the handful of other Slytherins weren’t complete retards. “I guess...”

“Good,” Mrs Weasley beamed. “Now, they had four children, of whom two played significant roles. The eldest son, Nicholas, went on to be a steward of Hogwarts, and held a position on the Wizard’s Council.”

“And the Wizard’s Council was what was there before the Ministry of Magic?”

“That’s right, Harry,” she smiled.

“But what was the steward of Hogwarts?” he asked.

“Well, Hogwarts’s steward was a sort of guardian and manager,” she said. “As a guardian, the steward would take care of the protection and defence of the castle. As a manager, he would manage the school’s finances and advise the Headmaster. Of course, the job is still there, but no one has taken it in nearly three centuries, so the duties have been taken up by the Board of Governors, Headmaster and the Deputy Headmaster. It’s said that the suits of armour in the castle each hold a bit of a previous steward, and that they answer the call of any worthy witch or wizard who takes up the title.”

“Woah,” Harry breathed. “Does that mean we could talk to them?”

“I don’t think so, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley frowned. “If you could, I’m sure someone would have done so already.”

“Okay. What about the others?”

“Other children, you mean?” said Mrs Weasley. “Well the next child was another boy - Thurismund. He was said to be six feet tall, and owned a longsword forged in a dragon’s breath. It was said to burn eternally, even when on his back, but would never hurt him. Nobody knows what happened to him.”

“I’m afraid that all I know of the other two, Brunhild and Alanus, are their names,” Mrs Weasley said sadly. “Perhaps they simply didn’t do anything of note.”

“So how big is my family tree, exactly?” said Harry.

“Well, there are gaps,” said Mrs Weasley. “There usually are. But I’m afraid that yours wouldn’t be especially wide. The Potters have always been on the front lines of wizarding wars. Houses such as the Weasleys have many secondary bloodlines in England. There are other Weasleys in Kent, Yorkshire, Leicestershire and Montgomeryshire in Wales. Some houses, like the Malfoys, are spread throughout the world.”

“But I’m the only Potter left,” said Harry forlornly.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Mrs Weasley crooned, wrapping him in a warm embrace. “But they died heroes. I know that’s no consolation, but try to find some comfort in it. Please try, Harry.”




“I’ll race you!”

Ginny sprinted ahead, her bright hair streaming out behind her as she shot up the hillside.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Harry cried, hastening to catch up. If there was one thing he knew he could do on solid ground, though, it was run. And he did not get tired.

The gradient of the hill was fairly forgiving, but the grass was wet and didn’t offer a great deal of grip. Ginny slipped slightly, but even as Harry moved to catch her, she kicked and scrambled onwards, leaving him once again to chase her. He did at that, and caught up to her around halfway up the hill.

“You’re faster ... than I thought,” he puffed.

“It’s ... easier ... without ... the ... snow,” she replied.

Harry tried to go easy on her, noticing how tired she seemed, but she was having none of it. Grinning at him, she warped slightly in his vision, almost as if she were Apparating. Rather than disappearing entirely though, she sort of stretched forwards slightly, teleporting in small jumps that accelerated her far beyond anything she should have been capable of. As she jumped, she left behind areas of darkness, like her partially-Apparated self was still casting a shadow. These, unlike most magical residue Harry had seen before, drained into themselves rather than evaporating, retreating from their surroundings rather than fading away into them.

Panting with effort, Harry dug deep and pushed to catch up with her. That wasn’t so hard. It seemed that even the small jumps tired her out, for she only managed seven or eight before she was back to normal running. By then, they were cresting the rise. They skidded to a halt, and collapsed at the top of the hill.

“I almost had you,” said Ginny. She was exhausted, panting like a dog and down on the ground, but she looked as though she were on cloud nine.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, sitting down next to her. “Next time I’ll go harder on you.”

Ginny laughed, but the laughter quickly became coughing and she rolled onto her back. Harry wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and it came away glistening with perspiration. He really had been working hard.

“Is that her house?” Harry asked.

“The one and only,” Ginny chuckled.

He had to agree with her. Luna’s home was certainly unique — tall and cylindrical like some sort of watchtower as opposed to a house. The Sunday morning sun shone at them from just over the roof, or rather the battlements, turning the building black.

“She’s a little bit odd,” Ginny said hesitantly.

“Well, that’s nothing new,” said Harry. Truth be told, ‘odd’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the rollercoaster he’d been taken on in the past few months.

“Hey!” Ginny cried indignantly.

Harry turned to look at her, and saw that she was still flushed from her exertions. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she wiped it away, slick and darkened.

“Oh, wait...” she said. “You meant learning about magic and everything, didn’t you?”

“What did you think I meant?” Harry grinned.

“Pff, get lost,” she retorted.

They ambled down the hill at a more sedate pace, and halfway down noticed a slight figure with long blonde hair coming towards them.

“Hey Luna!” Ginny shouted. The girl waved back, and Ginny ran to meet her.

As the two girls embraced, however, Harry got his first clue about how Luna was ‘odd’. She stared at him the entire time. He found that he couldn’t avert his eyes from her silvery blue ones, which had a protuberance to them that stopped just short of disturbing.

“Hello Harry Potter,” she said. Her voice was light, with an almost melodic quality. “Did you not bring your horse?”

“Um...” said Harry, bemused.

“Shh, Luna,” Ginny hissed, blushing.

“I’m sorry,” said Luna. “Ginny always said...”

“So, how’ve you been?” Ginny interrupted hastily. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Well, Daddy’s been out for the weekend looking for crumple-horned snorkacks,” Luna told her. Luna was giving Harry an impression of perpetual distraction, as if her mind were in two places at the same time. Her tone of voice changed only subtly depending on what she was saying, almost making her seem impassive in comparison to Ginny, who made it pretty damn clear how she was feeling. “He should be back soon...”

She turned and started heading back towards the house. Ginny spared him a moment to gesture that he should follow, before returning to Luna’s side. Luna was taller than Ginny, but then again who wasn’t? She was probably a little bit taller than Harry too, with her dirty blonde hair reaching halfway down her back. He noticed that she had a lot of bounce to her step, so much so that she seemed almost to be skipping. The strange thing was, she seemed to be wearing a necklace of corks.

“Has he had much luck?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Luna said. “But he’s hopeful. Tell me about Hogwarts. You won’t rest until you do.”

“I thought you’d want to hear about it,” Ginny sulked.

“Of course I do,” said Luna. “I was only pointing out the obvious.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out, but regaled her with her adventures to date anyway. Apparently she’d had a couple that involved neither him and Ron or Hermione. Still, she didn’t mention the troll. It was funny how nobody ever brought up the troll.

The first thing Harry noticed about the Lovegood home was the front gate. By itself it was rather ordinary, if a little bit worse for wear. It was the signs which had been affixed to it that drew his eye. The first read, ‘THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD’; the second one said ‘PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE’, while the third said, ‘KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS’. Ginny was still talking Luna’s head off though, so he stored his questions away for later.

The house itself seemed to be entirely made up of single room floors, each room being perfectly circular, with a circular stairwell going all the way to the top through the middle. The ground floor consisted of a kitchen that would have deeply offended Aunt Petunia. Not only was everything rounded to fit the round room, but in the ultimate statement of non-conformity, the room was brightly coloured and decorated with flora and fauna apparently painted by Luna herself.

“... I reckon we should check out the Forbidden Forest next term. Right, Harry?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Harry. “If anything attacks us, you can just set it on fire.”

The grin on Ginny’s face was almost feral.

“Would you like something to drink?” Luna asked. “Gillywater? Gurdyroot tea?”

“We’ll have gillywater, please, Luna,” said Ginny quickly. Harry was about to protest that he could speak for himself when Ginny turned to him and drew a finger discreetly across her throat.

“Have you two known each other for a long time?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” Ginny enthused. “We were ... five?”

“Ginny came running over the hill,” said Luna. “I’m sure she’d been up to some mischief.”

“I’m allowed to run around like anyone else!” Ginny protested.

Luna turned from mixing their gillywaters, which actually looked vaguely familiar to Harry. Perhaps he’d seen someone else drinking one at Hogwarts. He tended to stick to pumpkin juice. As it was, the liquid was a slightly cloudy, off-white mixture, reminiscent of ginger beer but for the flowers floating on it. Luna’s expression had not changed, and Harry was beginning to doubt that it ever would.

Ginny’s indignant frown turned into a pout. “Fine,” she said dejectedly. “I’d just hidden Mum’s wand. It was a revenge attack, okay?”

“On your mum?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ginny laughed. “Nobody messes with Mum. Or Dad. Well, the twins mess with them a little, but it doesn’t go well for them very often. No, I meant Fred and George, of course!”

“Some day, you’re going to make peace with your brothers,” Luna said. Harry thought she was smirking, but the harder he looked, the less certain he was.

“Sure,” Ginny replied. Her smirk was clear as day. “But until then they’re going to suffer.”

“See, if Ron says something like that it’s funny,” said Harry carefully. “When you do, it’s scary.”

“Best not to get on my bad side, then,” Ginny said, winking at him. “Thanks, Luna.”

Harry accepted the gillywater with a polite thank you, and looked to Ginny for cues. She just drank hers like it was fruit juice, so Harry followed suit. That was a bad idea. The spicy drink scalded the back of his throat, and he coughed reflexively. Most of it spread out in a fine mist in front of him, but he was unfortunate enough to find some of it in his nose, making him snort like a horse as it burned its way to his nostrils. Ginny, of course, was beside herself.

“I’m sorry, Harry Potter,” Luna said absently. “I should have warned you. I make it quite strong.”

“You ... don’t ... say,” Harry wheezed.

It took him a few seconds to recover, but even then he could feel an awkward tickling sensation above his palate. Gillywater was trickling slowly out of his nostrils. Ginny wasn’t quite done yet, though, and looked quite close to spilling her own drink, or what was left of it.

“Sorry about the mess,” said Harry forlornly.

“Don’t worry, Harry Potter,” said Luna. “Daddy will clean it up in two seconds when he gets back. I would try just a sip this time, if I were you.”

“But it came out of your nose!” Ginny howled.

Harry and Luna looked at each other, and he noticed her expression twitch. It was just the barest hint of amusement, but compared to her prior placidity it was like she was laughing as exuberantly as Ginny was.

He tried again with the gillywater, more slowly this time. It wasn’t especially different to ginger beer in taste either. That wasn’t a bad thing, really, but he’d probably keep to pumpkin juice anyway. It had never tried to murder him, after all.

“It’s good, Luna, thanks,” Harry said softly, trying not to further aggravate his throat. Her absent-minded smile widened briefly.

“You are welcome, Harry Potter,” said Luna. She then turned to Ginny, who was still laughing. “Would you like me to check you for wrackspurts, Ginny?”

“I’m ... good, thanks Luna,” Ginny panted. “Gosh, Harry you should’ve seen yourself!”

“Wrackspurts?” Harry asked.

“They fly in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy,” Luna explained. “I wear these dirigible plum shaped earrings to help keep them away, but they still get in sometimes.”

She brushed her hair aside to reveal a very peculiar looking earring.

“Oh,” said Harry. He couldn’t really think of anything else to add.

They talked for a while about muggle primary school, which Luna was apparently enjoying slightly more than Harry had. She was just getting up to fetch a painting they’d convinced her to show them when they heard the front door open.

“I’m back, Moonbeam!”

Mr. Lovegood was a very distinctive man. Between his unique clothing and his air of exuberance, Harry doubted anyone ever had trouble finding him in a crowd. His hair was shoulder length, a paler blonde than his daughter’s and seemed fluffy and light. It was as if his head had been covered in yellow candy floss. He offered Ginny a warm smile, but turned confused brown eyes on Harry. Harry got to his feet, feeling a little bit antsy as another, unpredictable unknown was introduced to his day.

“Welcome home, daddy,” Luna smiled, drifting over to him from the stairs.

After they had embraced, Mr. Lovegood held his daughter at arms’ length. “Now, Luna, are you going to introduce me to your new friend?”

“Oh.” Luna gazed blandly at Harry, tilting her head slightly, considering him. “This is Harry Potter. He’s a friend of Ginny’s. Harry Potter, this is my dad.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lovegood,” said Harry, offering the man his hand.

“Polite,” Mr. Lovegood said appreciatively, shaking his offered hand vigorously. “I wondered if I might meet you before Minister Fudge turned on you. An army of heliopaths is no laughing matter.”

Harry blinked, and Mr. Lovegood had already moved on.

“It has been a while since you were last here, Ginny,” he said. “How have you been keeping?”

“Really good, thanks Mr. Lovegood,” Ginny grinned. “How are you?”

“Well, I would be happier if I had found a snorkack,” Mr. Lovegood lamented. “Still, the chase shall continue. Tell me, where have you been all this time my dear girl?”

“Hogwarts,” Ginny replied impishly.

“Hogwarts?” Mr. Lovegood smiled eagerly. “There is a story here, isn’t there? Come now, tell me all about it.”

“You have a darkness in you,” said Luna, softly into his ear.

Harry jumped about a foot in the air.

“What?” he whispered back.

She stared at him, not meeting his eyes — she was staring at his scar. Then again, she hardly ever seemed to blink.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“I...” Now that she mentioned it, it had been hurting recently. The pain had dropped off since he left Hogwarts, though. Was it something to do with whatever was under the trapdoor? He doubted it was valuable for giving people headaches, but...

“Hmm...” Luna almost seemed to forget he was there, and just stared at his scar for a while.

Harry looked over her shoulder at Ginny. She looked so happy discussing her time at Hogwarts with Mr. Lovegood. She’d seen more of the castle than he had if her earlier stories were to be believed. He wanted to feel hurt that she’d been going exploring without him, but he knew he’d had precious little time lately with homework and quidditch practice. The heavily enforced curfew meant that they had little to no chance of getting around at night. They didn’t know the castle well enough to evade the teachers and prefects, and ironically enough, once they did there would be far less reason to do it.

Ginny glanced over at him, and he flashed her a smile.

“That’s nice,” said Luna.

“Huh?” Harry replied.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Luna, finally returning her eyes to his own. “Besides, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Um, okay,” Harry said hesitantly. “Are you looking forward to next year?”

“Well of course,” Luna said. He supposed that the ability to make guys feel stupid was something that girls were just born with. “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.”

“What about women?” Harry asked.

Luna laughed suddenly, and when she spoke then her voice had none of its earlier, dreamy quality. “The ability to steal men’s treasure.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry frowned. He’d only been joking.

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” she said, returning to her normal voice. “Daddy told me that once.”

“So I suppose you’re hoping for Ravenclaw then?” said Harry. The ‘wit beyond measure’ thing was the Ravenclaw motto. At least, he thought it was. Gryffindor’s was ‘the last enemy that shall be conquered is death, but the first must be fear’. At least, that’s what Percy told them the Latin stuff over the entryway read. As far as he knew it was a reminder to take your shoes off in the common room. He did if they got a seat near the fire...

“Oh no, I’m not hoping for it,” she said simply. “I wonder if Ginny will be in your year or mine.”

“How would she stay in my year?” Harry asked. “She hasn’t...”

“Yes, she does read a lot,” said Luna. “She always has, but usually she likes novels.”

“How does she get so much done in so little time?” He’d intended the comment to be admiring, but it came out half-despairing.

“She does have an abnormal amount of energy,” Luna agreed. “I have a slight suspicion that she’s some sort of pixie changeling. She has the mischievous disposition. But she also has a lot of focus and passion. If she wants something she doesn’t give up on it. She got you, and that was always her least likely wish.”

Harry felt a bit lost by the end of that, but one thing stood out. “Has she really had a crush on me for that long?”

“As long as I can remember,” Luna admitted.

“But she hadn’t met me!” Harry protested quietly.

“I did mention that to her,” Luna said. “She didn’t fancy you, though, she fancied Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, the guy whose scar everyone wants to bloody stare at,” Harry scowled.

“She really does care about you, though,” said Luna.

“Why’s that?” Harry frowned.

“I can’t tell you,” said Luna with an air of finality. “But I know. And so do you.”

Harry looked back at Ginny. There were times when she looked at him and he thought she was seeing someone else. A hero. But she didn’t treat him like one. Not anymore. It was something far more complicated, and far more normal and weird at the same time. And it was exactly what he wanted. It was what he needed.

“Yes, I do.”

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