Chapter 2. Eavesdropping in the Alley   (August 31, 1997)

George's howling laughter preceded him all the way through the floo network and into the foyer of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where he (and his laugh) arrived face-to-face with a configuration of small freckles that he knew innately. Even if they were located on the face of a wavy tressed brunette.

"Ack!" shrieked the freckled brunette, recoiling in shocked surprise.

George's face lit up like a roman candle. "My sweetest, naive sister Ginevra!" George croaked before he doubled over with laughter.

Ginny's hand flew up to her mouth. "George, .... I'm ....." she stammered, holding up a lock of her brown haired disguise.

George's contorted body froze. His eyes edged upwards into the stunned silence to take a second look at the girl with the freckles. This person, who looked mostly but not completely unlike Ginny Weasley, stood fidgeting in front of him, one hand still in her hair. A youth with sandy-blond hair, who looked mostly but not completely unlike Harry Potter, was staring at the two of them from across the room. Cameron stood behind the counter with a curious frown on her face. Fred, eyes rolling skyward, was moving quickly toward his twin.

"Excuse me for a moment while I stupefy my dear brother." Fred said calmly as he escorted George toward the back office. For all his momentary shock, George could not quite suppress a few final titters as Fred led him away. They heard Fred mutter something, and everything fell silent. He re-emerged into the front room. "George has had a busy morning engaged in .... charitable activities .... on our collective behalf." he said cryptically. "Apparently these activities have provoked a bit of mirth."

Harry looked around and shared a crooked smile. "Well, seeing that you don't have any other customers in here yet, and as Cameron is already well aware of Mr. Weasley's instabilities and eccentricities ...." He gave Cameron a slightly exaggerated wink, prompting her to respond with an 'I won't even try to understand what just happened' smile. "Yes, in light of that, I think we can all safely conclude that everything is fine. Oh, and please," he said to Fred, "let George know we wish him a speedy recovery from his .... errm .... mirth. And please make sure he gets his jumper back." he added as he handed Fred the purple and white striped garment that Ginny had retrieved from Magpie Lane.

Fred thanked them again as he showed them to the door, promising Harry that he and George would owl him within the next two days regarding the latest business proposition. Fred smiled, shrugged his shoulders by way of sheepish apology, and closed the door.

"Prat." Ginny muttered as they stepped down into the street. "Just what part of of the word 'incognito' is so difficult to understand?"

Harry gave her a squeeze. "It's okay." he reassured her. "Almost nobody was around. Cameron was already figuring it out even before this little slipup, and I know she won't say anything."

"You know?"

"Passive legilimency." he said with a guilty shrug. "She's been working for the twins long enough to start figuring out that your family is playing a role in resisting the attacks. She knows that the twins are making stuff that is .... well .... completely un-prankish, and I think she's starting to figure out that I might be the reason why they're doing it. But she hasn't figured out who either of us are yet and is doing her best to try not to figure it out. Smart girl." Harry looked over at the frown on Ginny's face. "Sorry, I'm no fan of invading the privacy of a friend or well-intentioned acquaintance either. But when things get a little dicey, it's better than obliviating someone."

Ginny shivered. "I know you're justified." she said catching his eye. "Just promise me you'll try not to use it unless you really need to? Assuming my ridiculous brothers ever stop shouting my name in public, that is?"

"I promise." he assured her. As they walked along the street, his thoughts wandered briefly into idle speculation about just what philanthropic activities George had been up to and what could have been so humorous about them. He might inquire sometime, but decided not to waste much thought on it now. He then made a mental note that it was clearly time for them both to change their disguises. Too bad. Brunette Ginny could make his heart do back flips. Sure, it would never be the intense palpitations that the redhead gave him, but the look was certainly growing on him.

As he reflected on their disguises, his thoughts drifted to the more serious matters which forced them into such subterfuge; the reason Ginny went to such lengths to protect his and her identities: him. At least they didn't have to hide their comings and goings from the Order anymore now that he was officially of age, but that concern had been replaced by a worry that every place he went, everyone he was seen to associate with, might be targeted by Voldemort or death eaters. He despised the inconveniences and dangers that he inadvertently placed people in. He especially hated how he inconvenienced Ginny: she was a pure blood from one of the oldest wizarding families; without him she surely could have kept a low profile and avoided becoming a target. A combined wave of remorse and gratitude for her sacrifices swept through him. He gave her another squeeze, just a bit longer and tighter than the earlier one. It was enough to earn him a smile from beneath her wonderful little freckles. That, in turn, was enough to shift his thoughts to happier meadows.

"Now for the main order of business." he told her softly. "Happy belated birthday!"

It was not that he had overlooked her birthday. Rather it was time to fulfill a promise. He had, with the help of a special art quill from Weasley Wizard Wheezes, made her a fairly pretty card that described what he was going to give to her as soon as she and he were able to surface from all the exhaustive NEWT preparations. It would be a magical trunk, much like the one he had purchased himself a little over a year ago. It was intended as a practical gift: he knew that all of Ginny's possessions would still easily fit inside his expandable trunk, but wanted her to have the conveniences of a wonderful tool like that if she needed to go on an excursion without him or vice versa. He was worried that she would consider it impersonal, but fortunately she had been thrilled by the idea and, even in their mutual exhaustion at the end of a 15 hour study day, she had made him most blissfully pleased to have proposed it. The memory still brought a glowing smile to his face.

The expression of the wizard in the magical storage shop lit up just as brightly when Harry and Ginny walked in the door. The elderly gentleman recognized Harry instantly and quickly plied him for feedback on the last model he'd purchased. Harry had loved his, and had never really thought about what might be arranged differently, so he and the wizard both turned the question to Ginny.

"Well ...." Ginny mused, "Harry's trunk is dark and moody with only the lamplight; it makes me feel like I'm in a basement. If there was a sunlight charm, or garden view windows it would feel so much more welcoming."

The old wizard had started taking detailed notes.

"And I love stairs." Ginny added. Harry smiled, thinking what it must have been like to grow up in the Burrow with its endless, rickety verticals.

"Would it be possible to take dimensions similar to Harry's, but stack them up so that the kitchen and sitting room are on a ground level, stairs leading up to the main bedroom and bath on a higher floor, and a ladder climbing to an attic study with four small windows angled to the cardinal points?"

The wizard, so gruff a year ago, seemed very nearly ecstatic by the unconventional request. "My dear!" he said, grabbing her hand excitedly, "For you absolutely anything is possible!"

He ran a finger through his notes. "One moment please." he said as he skipped over to a shelf and pulled down a large picture book. "These are your environment options. Just new this year, these are!" He opened the book to an index and nodded to himself. "The main choice will be milieu. Your selections are still somewhat limited as this is such a new feature. If you were to choose one today to start with, I would be happy to present you with an expanded selection next year and would offer you an upgrade at no additional expense."

Ginny nodded. They both leaned over to examine the index.

"Current choices of milieu," continued the wizard, "are boreal, alpine, pastoral, Cornish seaside and Riviera. You will notice as you page over to each milieu that there are between eight and ten different landscapes. You asked to choose four that we can blend to provide different views from each of the different faces of your trunk. Please keep in mind that you will have a level of control over seasonal and daily light and weather variations, independent of milieu. So technically ...." he offered Ginny a wry smile, "you could make the Riviera as snowy as you like, or have seaside fogs roll over your alpine chateau."

Harry slid his arms around Ginny's waist and peered over her shoulder as she flipped through the pictures. She gravitated quickly toward the boreal option, selecting a lakefront, a small brook, and two forest glade panels for her cardinal points.

"Oh, I was hoping you would choose something like that!" the wizard exclaimed gleefully. "It will play so well with your vertical arrangement. Imagine a summer evening!" he sighed. "Dim filtered green in your sitting room, moody shimmering lake from the kitchen, a deep indigo sky looking east from your bedroom, and a fiery sunset visible only from your attic study. Ahhh...."

Ginny eagerly worked through the various interior options. Unlike Harry's deep hardwood interior and bold primary colored furnishings, Ginny chose a bright pine motif and variety of pastels for flooring and furnishings.

The wizard nodded and recorded each specification, made several final notes and ran his finger down the list. "This will take a bit of time. We have never done something quite so exciting as this, thus I must speak to Nigel about devising a suitable staircase, as well as making adjustments and verifications." He pressed a finger to his chin in thought for a moment. "Would the lady and gentleman be amenable to waiting perhaps .... forty minutes?"

Ginny frowned, remembering the long list of things that Harry needed to accomplish today. She looked inquiringly into Harry's face. Without hesitation however, he beamed at her, saying "We will be happy to wait. I'm sure that we can find something to keep us occupied!"

The wizard was grateful and relieved. He reached under the desk and pulled out two small pieces of parchment, handing one to each of them them. "Might I then be permitted to offer you these small tokens of our gratitude?" Each parchment read:

To the bearer please award two scoops of whatever the bearer's heart may desire, plus a beverage to sate the spirit and invigorate the soul.

Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor

North Diagon Alley

"Thank you! I can't think of a better way to pass a bit of time!" Ginny said cheerfully. The proprietor returned her smile, escorted them graciously toward the door then hurried to his back room. Once they had stepped outside, however, Ginny paused in thought, adopting a more sombre expression. "Harry, if you needed to get to Hogwarts, I'm sure we could leave the chest for today and pick it up next week when things have settled down a little."

"Ginevra Weasley ...." Harry soothed. "Given how relentless our schedules have been over the past four weeks, do you really think I would pass up the chance to sit across from you for forty minutes with nothing better to do than gaze longingly into your eyes?"

She laughed and her blazing smile renewed. "Among sweet talkers, you are a prince!" she said, winking at him. "Sounds wonderful .... but it will never work."

"Why not?"

"Can you honestly believe that the world would ever give us even half an hour to sit together quietly in the center of Diagon Alley the day before school starts?"

"No, but I still intend to try!" He returned her wink.

The morning rush in Diagon Alley was beginning in earnest but, with the lingering morning chill, Fortescue's was still fairly quiet. There was one table occupied by a mother whose two small children waved as they went past. Harry waved back, making a silly face, earning giggles from the children and a smile from the mother. The only other customer was a student: a girl with long dark hair swept into a tight pony tail, immersed deeply in a book. She was more tanned and muscular than most witches. Without being able to see her face from their angle of approach, Ginny guessed that she was probably mid to late teens, which might make her a Hogwarts student. Something about her looked vaguely familiar, but without a direct view of her face Ginny couldn't quite pin her down. That was probably good, Ginny reflected, since she and Harry were still trying to remain incognito and were hoping to finish their business in the Alley well before afternoon when their various friends, plus Harry's students, would likely be out in full force. Ginny picked a table about 20 feet away from the student, well off the street and in a pleasant patch of warming sunlight.

Thanks to their disguises, they were left alone. Of course they did not spend forty minutes gazing into each other's eyes .... but they did hold hands across the table and take advantage of a rare opportunity to chat about fun frivolous stuff that wouldn't attract any attention if they happened to be overheard. In its simple way, it was an idyllic pleasure to put aside all of the very serious issues that they would soon have to confront again, savor their icecream and pretend to be ordinary teenagers. Every once in a while the words stopped and they did sink into each other's eyes for a timeless moment. They were just drifting into one of those blissful states when Ginny was distracted by a sudden motion at the her periphery of her vision.

Over Harry's shoulder, Ginny watched as two youths sauntered over to the table occupied by the student Ginny had noticed earlier. They looked like .... no, it couldn't be!

"Who is it?" Harry whispered, watching Ginny's look of fascination but not wanting to turn turn himself around lest they attract unwanted attention.

"Ryan and Nick ...." she whispered, with a curious expression on her face. "All grown up!" Indeed, both looked to have grown at least two inches over the summer, but the most striking changes were in their mature, chiseled faces, the way they carried themselves, their muscular arms extending from tight muggle tee shirts. Nick walked like a person who had spent much of the summer throwing heavy objects around, while Ryan moved with a sleek efficiency that reminded her of .... Harry?

Harry studied the reflections in Ginny's eyes, while Ginny watched the scene unfold behind him. The pair of boys playfully accosted the female student behind Harry; she startled but quickly leaped up to give Ryan a fierce hug, turned and planted a kiss right on Nick's cheek. "Mary-Jo Clark!" Ginny mouthed to Harry. The young woman sitting behind Harry with the pony tail and the nice muscles was a newly matured and confident version of another of Harry's favorite students from last year.

After affirming that everyone's families were allright and that Mary-Jo's mother had made a complete recovery from the brutal attack on the Clark residence in early July, the three students (two Slytherins and a Gryffindor) settled into a playful banter and gradually settled into seats at Mary-Jo's table. Nick was making some goofy comment about how hot Mary-Jo looked; she punched him in the shoulder then shook her hand, feigning injury. Ryan rolled his eyes, muttering how embarrassed he was by such childish behavior.

"But seriously ...." Mary-Jo insisted, "you two look really good!"

"And you, MJ ...." Nick countered, "don't exactly look like something scraped up off the sidewalk either."

She snarled so ferociously that Nick jumped. Then she giggled.

"Stop it both of you!" Ryan grimmaced. "Or else I'm going to find another table."

"Oh, don't pretend like you don't adore us Ryan. If you can't handle a little bit of innocent fun, then be thankful you don't have to sit with the two love birds over there." Mary-Jo tittered, gesturing discretely toward the table where Ginny and Harry were sitting.

Ginny stifled a laugh, not wanting to bring attention to her subterfuge. Harry, who was not in anyone's line of sight, smirked openly but was also careful to subdue any inadvertent laughter. Ginny met his smirk with twinkling eyes, but then her face reformed into a puzzled frown. How would Mary-Jo have even noticed them, let alone know that the two of them had been acting affectionately? According to Ginny's recollection, when she and Harry had taken their seats Mary-Jo had not so much as glanced up from her book. In the twenty minutes since then, Ginny could not recall the girl having looked in their direction at all. Ginny knew that Mary-Jo had recently learned some hard life lessons about the evils and perils of the world; perhaps she had picked up some subtle street smarts and important self-preservation skills. Harry's expression, now equally contemplative, suggested that he too was converging toward that realization.

Ginny continued to observe the students. Ryan had given a little glance in the direction Mary-Jo had gestured, but then turned his attention to something she set down onto their table. "So!" he said, refocusing on his housemate. "You been keeping up the training?"

"You bet!" she said. "Not as if we're going to take down the teacher, standing still are we?"

Nick laughed. "No, but it's futile anyway. You know that, don't you? Every step we take to try to catch up with Harry, I'm sure he'll race two steps further up the path."

For the second time, Ginny's hand flew up to her mouth to stifle a snicker.

Ryan laughed. "Don't you know it! I bet he hasn't shown us half of what he can do. Hey, were you aware that it was just about right here that the big scuffle went down?"

"What scuffle?" Mary-Jo wondered.

Ryan pointed vaguely up the street. "Just right up there near Wheezes. Harry and the Weasley girl from IHA went toe-to-toe with Voldemort about a month ago."

"No way!" Mary-Jo hissed.

"You were there?" Nick gasped with a look of astonishment on his face.

"No, Sarah Lindsey's brother saw it. She told me about it last week when I ran into her at Flourish and Blotts."

Despite her tan, Mary-Jo had gone a little pale. "What happened? Are they okay?"

A smirk crossed Ryan's face. "Walked away without a scratch. From what I heard, there were a couple dozen death eaters rampaging around, being chased by some of the Phoenix gang, and right in the middle of everything, there's Voldy standing in the middle of the street, all smug, twiddling his thumbs just like he was waiting for him."

"For who?" Nick scratched his head. "For Harry?"

Ryan nodded. "Uh huh. So after a few minutes of chaos, over comes Harry and .... ummm .... girlfriend .... her name's Ginny, right?"

Nick nodded.

"Harry and Ginny come strolling over, start pelting him with basic hexes and stuff; they conjure some distractions like animals and falling debris. Voldy stands there, laughing like he's swatting flies, then he turns and launches a barrage of strange crap at them — unforgivables and lots of other purple and orange stuff that Sarah had never heard of. H&G do the usual block and dodge we learned in HA. Vol starts to get winded and starts throwing taunts instead of hexes, and it's like Harry sees his opening .... he slings out this jet of bright white something that nobody's every seen before. V-Mo braces himself, puts all his power into his shield ...."

Mary-Jo and Nick were leaning in, gaping at Ryan. Mary-Jo flicked her hand impatiently, urging him to continue.

"It started to look like Vol's shield is going to break, then suddenly he sucks up some blast of power right out of the sky and pushes back Harry's jet. Then jet and shield both go poof and .... tah DAA! Dumbledore walks into the street .... says something .... Voldy looks around and notices that all the death eaters are tied up, he laughs at them like it's all some big joke and bang! He and his eaters all vanish."

Ginny stared blankly at Harry, every bit as stunned as Mary-Jo and Nick. In the heat of the moment; in the midst of an intense blur of colors, shapes and raw emotion, Ginny had never once stopped to consider how a standoff like that might appear to a bystander. Such a detailed account, even if somewhat embellished and apocryphal, was shocking to hear.

Both tables had gone completely silent.

Ryan shifted uneasily, suddenly aware of just how quiet everything was.

Ginny's eyes went wide in realization. "Chatter at me," she hissed to Harry from behind the hand masking her mouth.

Harry jumped. A quizzical expression flitted momentarily across his face, but then he nodded and smiled. "Oh right! Yeah, I wish we could get tickets to the next Harpies match!" he volleyed conversationally, loud enough to carry to the next table. "I heard that Gwenog caught all three Exmoor chasers lined up in a row and took them all out with a single bludger!"

"That's my gal!" Ginny enthused theatrically. "I just wish their seeker had a little more spark."

Conversation at the student table settled in again as Florean served their ice cream and they began to share updates on other aspects of their summer. As was obvious from their striking physiques, they had not frittered their vacations away in carefree sloth. Inspired by vague rumors of Harry's non-magical workouts, the super-seven students (Ryan, Nicholas, Mary-Jo, a pair of Hufflepuffs named Jack and Jennifer, plus two Ravenclaws named Quinn and Sarah) from Harry's BHA class had apparently researched and implemented a fairly advanced Muggle physical fitness program, and had met at least once over the summer at the Jenkins estate to chase each other through bracken and fen. They had been unable to practise magic because all were still under-age, but they had apparently improvised their dodging practice, sometimes by enlisting older sibling to throw hexes at them, or via some muggle game called paint-ball. Harry nodded when he heard the term; Ginny's imagination didn't need much prodding to visualize the concept.

Mary-Jo inquired into the status of Sarah, Jennifer, Jack and Quinn. Ryan, who had apparently taken it upon himself to keep in close contact with the whole gang all summer, confirmed that they were all fine. At least four of the seven, it seemed, had experienced run-ins with death eaters. Harry's portkeys had ultimately bailed them all out with minimal harm, except for Mary-Jo's mother. Mary-Jo related how the death eaters had apparated in numbers into their back yard at a time when everyone in the family, except Mrs. Clark, had been busy in the garden. Mary-Jo and her father had tried to break through the line of thugs to rescue Mrs. Clark from the kitchen, but had been forced back and had decided to portkey to Hogwarts for help. After tearing through the castle for some time, they had found Professor MacGonagall who summoned several others for a rescue party .... only to discover belatedly that Harry himself had evacuated Mrs. Clark to St. Mungo's, apparently just in the nick of time. Ryan briefly related Sarah Lindsey's close call: her harrowing experience that involved the family scrambling to get clear of anti-portkey wards: a mad dash through an orchard, lots of impromptu shield spells (both protego and contego), some athletic hex dodging, a couple well timed reducto spells and very a heroic family dog who just barely managed to reach the portkey in time. Harry already knew that the Lindsey family had escaped; he had stood outside their property and had verified that all had escaped to Hogwarts, but he still found himself exhaling deeply as Ryan's dramatic rendition drew to a happy close. He had guessed last spring that the coming summer might be a tense one for his students. He took pride in hearing the range of skills that the students had made use of in their close calls, but he also had to come to grips with how quickly the death eaters were adapting their tactics. He scowled and vowed to modify his lessons accordingly, and try to find some way to get one step ahead of them again.

Ginny directed his attention to the old clock down the street to remind him that the trunk should be nearly ready for pickup. As Ginny stood up, Harry flagged down Florean to give him their vouchers and a gratuity. As Florean approached, Harry beckoned him in conspiratorially. "Sir, could you do me a favor please?" he asked.

Florean nodded, looking at him with the inquisitive air of someone meeting a person who seemed vaguely but indeterminately familiar.

Harry handed him ten galleons. "In addition to a gratuity for yourself, I would like to anonymously cover the bill for that table of students. If they ask questions, could you perhaps say that dedicated students such as themselves are a credit to our society, and please wish them a fine year at school?"

Without a word, Florean gave them both a friendly wink and whisked away their dishes.

By the time Harry and Ginny had made it up the steps of the magical storage shop, Ginny glanced back to Fortescue's. The students were standing, preparing to leave. Mary-Jo had her change purse out and was speaking to Florean. She paused in confusion, glanced at the table Ginny and Harry had vacated, then scanned up and down the street .... then she caught Ginny's eye.

Busted!

Ginny couldn't help flashing a quick smile. She waved as she closed the store door behind herself. "We are really going to have to find new disguises, Harry!" she whispered.

"I'm nervous about this." Ginny said, gripping Harry's hand as they stepped into the Gringotts cart.

"I hear you!" Harry laughed. "Every time I get in one of these carts, I wonder if this time I'll lose my lunch. So far I've held everything in, but I promise to aim away from you if I feel green."

"No, silly!" she said, punching him gently on the arm. "I'm nervous about going into your vault."

Harry gave her a quizzical look. Griphook was studiously concentrating on getting them settled into the cart, but Ginny wondered if he too might be listening curiously to this little exchange.

"Harry ...." she wrestled to explain something that she wasn't certain she fully understood herself. "I latched onto you last year because I was convinced that it .... it was the right thing to do. I always saw how you were putting so much of yourself into trying to help others, but almost nobody was ever giving anything back to you. I thought I could do something about that."

He looked at her, transfixed, with a puzzled expression on his face, but she studiously avoided his gaze.

"So, I'm afraid that when I step into your vault and I see what's in there, it will cancel out what I really wanted to accomplish. I'll look like I'm only here for your money; suddenly I'll just be one more person who takes, takes, takes from Harry Potter. Even if I don't take anything, I'll ...." She breathed deeply and shook her head. "Oh, I can't explain it very well .... but when I tried to convince you last year that you could trust me and that I wanted to help, it never occurred to me that I might end up .... stepping into a Gringotts cart with one of the wealthiest wizards in Britain."

The cart was moving now, but Griphook seemed to be controlling the speed much more carefully than goblins usually did. Harry frowned, deep in thought, struggling to articulate a response.

Anticipating all the standard Harry Potter answers, Ginny raised her hand with fingers extended to enumerate all of the cliche responses. "Harry, I know that you don't care about money and that you have more than you'll ever use. I know that you like for your friends to have things that you know that they would enjoy. And I'm fully aware that I already let you spend way too much on that trunk for me .... I'm know I'm going to love the trunk, but I don't need stuff like that to love you, and I'm not sure I would have let you buy it if your eyes didn't always light up like little green Christmas lights when you give special gifts to people."

Ginny wrung her hands. "Harry, you've saved my life I don't know how many times. You take hours and days to teach me things whenever I ask you to. You listen to me when I go off on rants and wild tangents. You put up with my ridiculous family. And now you're giving me things no Weasley could ever afford. I'm afraid .... that I'm being selfish." She puffed a stray lock of hair from her face in annoyance, and stared pointedly at the dim rock wall sliding past. "I'm so confused!" she groaned.

The cart began moving leisurely through starkly vertiginous subterranean vistas, but Ginny barely noticed. Harry took her hand and tried to catch her eye, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Ginny," he began, "I know a lot of selfish people. And we all know that I've been self-absorbed and thoughtless at times. But you are .... not .... selfish!"

She continued to focus on the the wall; her hand lay softly in his, non-responsive to his grip. Harry pulled himself a little closer to her and lowered his voice. "Let's think objectively. Today, on this belated birthday of yours, why don't you think about everything I'm asking of you? Consider everything that you're giving me, maybe without even realizing. Let's see .... we haul ourselves out of bed way too early because I've got a crazy schedule. We put on disguises and go everywhere in secrecy because people are out to get me. I drag you to the Potter vault to pick out furnishings for our Hogwarts quarter because I don't have a clue about sensible decorating. To pick out books for the research you're doing for me."

"Us." Ginny said.

"Huh?"

"Us. We. Take all of those sentences of yours and replace every 'me' or 'I' with 'us' or 'we'."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, of course you're right. But even if you're getting something out of this, I'm still grateful .... and the fact that I'm so grateful means that you're not being selfish."

Ginny frowned thoughtfully but didn't say anything.

Harry squeezed her hand again. This time it squeezed back a little.

"And we still haven't considered the last thing that I needed to ask you." he added.

"What's that?" she asked. Out of curiosity, her eyes briefly met his before turning away again.

"Well, the thing is that there is money in the vault .... quite a bit. From what Griphook told me ...." Harry looked at the goblin operating their cart, who gave a slight nod in recognition. ".... it seems that there's more money coming in each year from holdings, investments, stuff that he's patiently tried to explain to me. The crazy thing is that there's a lot more new money coming in this year than I've spent on buying our home, paying for Hogwarts, shopping for new clothes, performance brooms, ice cream for friends, custom trunk for someone I love ...."

He paused as they approached a fork in the track. He vaguely recalled seeing this fork before, but it had been through horrified eyes, peering in terror through tensed fingers that seemed like woefully inadequate protection against a high speed crash. This time, however, he could actually make out black and white signs, lettered in intricate swirls of Gobbledygook. Griphook noted the sign and switched them smoothly onto the left-turning track.

Harry shook himself back to his train of thought. "So, what I'm saying, Ginny, is that if there's anyone who should be worried about being selfish, it's really me. And this is especially true now. Think of all of the death eater attacks this summer: houses destroyed, families torn apart, children orphaned .... then think about all the ridiculous wealth in this vault."

He bit his lip. A quick glance told him that Ginny was doing the same; empathizing with his discomfort. He took a deep breath and continued. "Winning this war is not just about killing Voldemort. It's not just about protecting innocent people from death eaters. It's about preserving our way of life. I would feel so much better if we could protect everyone; I know we're trying and we're going to keep trying, but even if Ministry digs its head out of the sand; even if all our friends become ten times stronger; even if you and I devote every waking moment to trying to protect innocent people .... there are still going to be victims. Some will be dead, but lots of the victims will be the ones who survive, but .... they're sad, scared, injured, poor, alone ...."

Another deep breath.

"So what if we .... you and I .... set aside a chunk of what's in the vault to try to help? Like, maybe establish a place of refuge for evacuated families. Suppose we renovated and reinforced one of the old Potter properties ....?" Harry began.

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she turned to face him. "Customized wards and personal protection charms. We can talk to the twins about bulk orders." she suggested.

"Home repair or reconstruction grants. Support programs for widows, widowers and orphans?" Harry offered.

Ginny's smile began to blaze. "Hogwarts tuition for needy children. Childcare for single parent households."

"Ginny, would you be willing to help? Could we set you up on a charitable trust? As far as Gringotts is concerned, you attained the age of financial majority over a year ago, so if you really wanted to run with some of these ideas I'd be thrilled to let you have at it."

Ginny nodded with an eager smile.

Harry turned to the goblin. "Griphook, do you think we could arrange to meet with you sometime in the next two weeks to discuss setting up a separate account for Miss Weasley?"

Griphook turned to face them. He had the hint of a smile on his normally inscrutable face. His eyes sparkled in a way that neither Harry or Ginny could recall ever having seen from a goblin before. "I would be most honored to help you with this, Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley." he said softly, as he turned back to the controls.

"Thank you!" they intoned. Ginny's hand squeezed Harry's fiercely.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley?" Griphook inquired, as he fingered a red button.

"Yes?"

"For your own comfort and safety, could I ask you to please take a very firm hold of the cross-bars provided in this cart?"

Ginny's eyes went wide; she grappled for a secure handle. Harry unwrapped her hand, guided it to the nearest cross bar, and ducked into a prone position.

Harry spent the next three and a half minutes concentrating .... very hard .... on some pleasant recent memories.

"Ouch, you're going to break my back, woman." Nick moaned as Mary-Jo loaded another two thick books onto his stack. "What's with all the extra reading?"

"If you're going to ace your OWLs, you need to get more than just the classroom perspective." Mary-Jo explained. "Some of the required texts are pretty lame, and even the best ones are full of loose conjecture .... you must open your mind, young grasshopper!" she intoned in an affected voice of venerable wisdom. "Plus, I'd like for us to try out some new ideas in HA this year; Harry's a great teacher, but he gives his best when you push him a bit."

"Huh? Okay." Nick acceded agreeably. "Hey, do you really think that was the PotterProf at Fortescue's?"

"Hummmm.... I think so, but I'm not positive." Mary-Jo responded as she scanned the shelves. "If it was him, then it was a pretty good disguise. But let's think logically: .... A. It would make perfect sense for him to be going around in disguise considering how many people want to either kill him or capture him .... or snog him senseless. Girls, I mean." she clarified with a smirk.

"Girls want to kill Harry Potter?" Nick asked, with an expression of feigned confusion.

Mary-Jo scowled. "You Griffindors are impossible! Now, as I was thoughtfully explaining to you before I was so ridiculously interrupted .... A. It makes sense he's in disguise, .... B. It would such a Harry Potter move to pick up the cheque anonymously, and .... C. Nobody walks the way Harry Potter walks."

"Oh? And how exactly does Harry Adonis Potter walk?" Ryan asked with a devious glint in his eye, as he approached them, balancing a stack of heavy texts on one uplifted hand.

Mary-Jo turned from the shelves. "You're a boy Ryan, I wouldn't expect you ...." She paused as Ryan continued past them toward the cashier. Her jaw dropped. "Stop it right there, Jenkins!"

Ryan stopped, and spun fluidly back to face his fellow Slytherin, books still balanced in a display of ostentatious physicality. "Yes, m'love?" he crooned, eyebrows upturned in an expression of mock innocence.

"When .... how .... did you learn to walk like Harry Potter?" she demanded.

"Sorry, what's that you're asking?" Ryan asked, cupping an ear with the one hand that was not still expertly balancing twenty pounds of books. "Oh? You were wanting to know how Harry Potter learned to walk like Ryan Jenkins?"

Mary-Jo burst out laughing, opened her mouth to say something, but then abruptly stopped. With a frown, she glanced at something in her hand that looked like a compact make-up mirror. After a moment's scrutiny, she looked back up to Ryan and Nick and soundlessly mouthed to them, "Hermione Granger." She gestured toward an adjacent aisle with a subtly flick of her eyes. "Spying on us."

Hermione frowned. The chattering teenagers had fallen abruptly silent and were now all filing quietly up to the cashier to make their purchases. Oh well. It didn't really matter — it was not as if anything in their juvenile repartee had shed tangible new insight. She already knew about the Harry Potter personality cult that was spreading among the wizarding youth; she was aware that girls fawned over him and boys aspired to his heroic persona. Their discussion had not given Hermione any more real impression about just how dangerous Harry and all his influence might be. Besides, she had not made this special trip to Flourish and Blotts to eavesdrop on silly kids; she had come here to purchase books. Specifically, she had come to buy a number of semi-restricted volumes that the merchant had refused to distribute via owl order.

Find books and get out, she told herself. This special shopping trip was risky. These days a muggle born witch wandering around Diagon Alley all alone was inviting trouble, like wearing a big bulls eye on her back. Yet, one thing more risky than being a lone muggle born witch wandering around Diagon Alley would have been being a lone muggle born witch dragging two muggle parents around. So she had left her parents back in their hotel room in Hounslow and had taken the long tube ride in by herself. Yes, it would have been great to have a couple friends along to keep her company; to provide strength in numbers .... but friends were not exactly her strong suit right now.

She was sifting through a disorganized pile of old texts and cheap paperbacks scattered in the bargain books bin when she saw something that brought the ghost of an amused grin to her face: a scuffed, dusty, never-opened copy of "Magical Me" by Gilderoy Lockhart. Flickering memories crossed her mind: the pompous author dragging a bewildered little Harry into the middle of a circle of flashing cameras, beaming an insipid, plastic author's smile and spouting lots of big, meaningless words, choreographed with heroic poses. All the while clutching poor, miserable little Harry who had appeared to be desparately trying to dissolve into the carpet.

That was the Harry Potter that Hermione knew: poor .... little .... miserable .... Hermione's smile faltered. Yes, Harry had frequently been miserable .... but he had always been filled to the brim with good intentions, empathy, naive kindness and innocence. In those days, she, Hermione, had been his rock; his source of knowledge and wisdom; the mature, caring hand guiding him through the maze of life. Or at least trying to guide him anyway. It seemed that every year their lives had invariably seemed to slip out of the comfort zone, sliding to a precarious ledge from which it had taken all of her best efforts .... okay, all of their combined best efforts .... to escape and survive. She did not miss the sensation of life spiraling out of control, but she recalled fondly the thrill of resolution: the pride at having conquered yet another evil threat or injustice.

She missed that exhillaration .... but to be honest, it was more that she missed Harry — she missed every miserable little ounce of her one-time best friend. That Harry was gone. He was no longer poor or little, he was no longer her best friend, and he was doing everything in his power to try to convince the world that he was not miserable. Somewhere in all of these transformations, he had become .... unrecognizable .... unknowable.

Or had he? Was the old Harry still hidden in there somewhere? Hermione Granger had overcome some daunting challenges in the six years since she had arrived at Hogwarts. She might now have been reduced to working all alone, but she was still on the case. She was confident that she was somehow going to solve this riddle: the inexplicable metamorphosis of Harry Potter!

As with all things in life, a book would hold the answers. Perhaps this one would be the key: she fingered the store's only copy of "Mind Control: How to Detect and Defend Against Legilimency, Imperius and Seven Other Forms of Cerebral Violation" by Constanzia Parlaporte. From a very quick skim, she had decided that it would be adequate for a start, but she wished she could find more books on the subject; get a more balanced perspective on mind magic. It irritated her to accept the wisdom of a Harry Potter groupie, but she had to admit that the girl had been right: very few books on magic were truly rigorous; too many discussions tended to focus on the author's personal experience rather than a more complete sampling of outcomes from different witches and wizards. Once one progressed beyond basic spells, one found more and more examples of published techniques that would only work for some lucky people, and failed for everyone else.

She slowly walked the book up toward the cashier. Regardless of whether this book would tell her what she needed it know, it was worth a try because she had exhausted the Hogwarts library in her attempt to apprehend Harry's mysterious machinations. Even Professor Dumbledore had admitted to being at a loss for how to handle Harry. He had come to her in mid-July with a plan to try to capture Harry, to ensconce him in safety before he either got himself killed or permanently damaged the fragile plans of the Order of the Phoenix. In the ensuing discussion, she had been unnerved to discover that Dumbledore planned to use force. She had then become even more stunned by the headmaster's subsequent admission that he already had tried to forcibly detain Harry, and had finally been completely shocked to hear that the attempt had failed.

If the headmaster of Hogwarts was resorting to force to try to subdue Harry, then Hermione was starting to wonder if her own worst .... nearly unimaginable .... fears about her dear friend might actually be real: that it was not just that he was becoming powerful and charismatic — he was growing dangerous, unethical, and his burgeoning powers might prove threatening to the wizarding world. Hermione believed that Harry still intended to do good. But so had Gellert Grindelwald.

Hermione shuddered. If only Harry had come to her last year for the help she was trying so hard to give him, then surely it would have headed all of this off. Whatever he was planning, he could still have done it .... her way, responsibly, safely. And she would never have been driven to this untenable position: considering drastic measures to stop him .... in order to save him .... perhaps save the world .... from some irresponsible mission of his that she had still not been able to fathom.

If only Harry had not shut her out! If only he'd shown her some trust. Then he would have earned her trust. But now there was this wall of mistrust, and behind it he was definitely hiding .... something. Until the headmaster had arrived on her doorstep with his desperate plan, she had been prepared to believe that whatever Harry was hiding, it was probably something stupid and self-damaging, but likely not utterly perilous. Now, however, she had no idea what to believe. Every time she surfaced from her attempts to understand the strange and amazing things Harry had already accomplished, she would discover he'd effected a bunch of wild, new accomplishments.

She let out the long, seething sigh of frustration of someone who lives to know and understand. Professor Dumbledore had been no help whatsoever. If anyone was more frustratingly secretive than Harry, it was probably the headmaster: he evaded, dissembled, twinkled his blue eyes; he wanted her help, not her questions. Regrettably,.... she winced in annoyance at the recollection .... she had acceded, helped him unquestioningly. And all that selfless sacrifice was for naught.

Dumbledore he had erected dozens of elaborate charms around her parents house intended to immobilize Harry upon contact. At Dumbledore's request, she had triggered the HA portkey that Harry had entrusted to her in case she was ever in danger. Moments later .... for the first time in all the years that Hermione had known Harry .... she had looked out of her bedroom window and seen him standing in the street outside of her home.

Ice still filled the pit of her stomach at the thought of him standing there. Alone. Watching.

For all the mistrust that he had shown her over the past year .... she had called him and he had come. In a coerced but deliberate act of deception, she had sent him a message conveying that she was in grave peril .... and there he had stood, ready to engage in mortal combat to save her. From nothing.

As Hermione stood in the middle of Flourish and Blotts, every muscle in her body went tense with the knowledge that in one desperate act of obedience to an inscrutable headmaster, she had betrayed Harry. In one stroke she had .... justified .... all of Harry's mistrust in her.

And even then; even after she had thrown away her credibility as a friend, for reasons she still didn't understand, it had failed. Harry had been one step short of triggering the wards and confinement charms. But he never took that final step. Maybe he somehow sensed the trap; perhaps in the end his mistrust was greater than his trust? He stood stood there, called out for Dumbledore to show himself (at least Harry clearly blamed him too) and then, after a brief exchange that conveyed his contempt, he departed.

After that, the rest of the summer passed as if that whole thing had never happened. Harry didn't die. The Order of the Phoenix continued to plod along. Death eaters came and went here and there; if anything their activities seemed to slow as the summer progressed. And finally, to finally cap the whole sordid affair in ignominy, she had received a very short, dismissive owl from Dumbledore:

Dear Miss Granger,

Thank you most kindly for your assistance earlier this summer. You'll be happy to hear that I had a cordial discussion with Mr. Potter last week and we are now working toward a congenial and productive relationship. I don't think you need to worry about him any more, although you are always welcome to approach me with any concerns that might arise.

As I review test results from the past spring, I am happy to offer you hearty congratulations on another fine year of scholastic excellence. I am looking forward to your continued achievement in this, your final, year at Hogwarts!

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

"Excuse me?!!" she had shrieked across her bedroom. The poor owl who had delivered the note had nearly fallen off her window sill in alarm. It still amazed her at how completely thoughtless it seemed. Not the slightest little mention of .... 'Oh, and sorry if I permanently destroyed the last vestiges of your friendship with Harry' ....??

Hermione had torn the parchment to small bits, stomped on the tiny shreds and incincerated them in a blast that had produced a sizeable hole in her bedroom floor. And then she had cried for an hour in confusion and frustration.

How could the headmaster have exploited her loyalty so callously like that, and then just blandly told her to forget about it?

Finally, after taking time to cool down and examine the situation objectively, she had come to the conclusion that there were three possible explanations. The first scenario was that the headmaster was showing his age. Hermione had noticed that Hogwarts faculty, in particular Professor McGonagall, were growing less subtle in their exasperation with the headmaster's leadership. She had never detected anything like that in previous years. Perhaps Dumbledore had started to become prone to overreaction and misjudgments? The second possibility was more sinister: if it was true that Harry's magical prowess was so advanced, might it be possible that he had somehow managed to interfere with the headmaster's mind? If so, might he have similarly compromised other people? How many? Who? The third prospect, which Hermione found the most attractive but least likely, was that Harry had decided to come clean to Dumbledore regarding his plans, and he and the headmaster had negotiated a viable compromise. Between these three plausible explanations, she could not decide. But she was going to find out!

Having produced her wand as evidence that she had reached the age of maturity, and rolled up her sleeve to show that she did not sport the dark mark, Hermione purchased the book and opened the door back out into the bright daylight and bustle of Diagon Alley. After two steps forward, she froze: there were three people standing in wait for her.

"Miss Granger?" said a boy with dark hair as he stepped forward, his hand extended in collegial greeting. "I don't know if you recognize me, but my name is Ryan Jenkins. I also attend Hogwarts and recognized you from Professor Potter's defense training." Ryan continued to hold out his hand patiently, even though she had not yet offered her own in response.

Hermione looked from the boy to his two friends. She recognized Nick Jones — a Griffindor going into fifth year — her eyes widened to see how much he had .... filled out .... over the summer. Hermione had never gotten to know him well, but he had always seemed pleasant. She also recognized the girl from prefect meetings: Mary-Jo Clark, a Slytherin going into sixth year.

"Please pardon the intrusion, but my friends and I noticed that you're shopping alone." Ryan continued with a look of polite concern. "That of course is no business of ours, but given the current security situation, I have been advised that, whenever possible, students should stick together in small groups while out in public. The three of us have finished all of our shopping, and have a bit of free time before we need to head home. We were wondering if you might like some company on the rest of your errands .... just as a friendly precaution."

"Umm .... okay .... thanks." Hermione responded, and finally shook Ryan's hand timidly. "I'm actually done shopping too, but maybe we could walk over to the Leaky Cauldron together?"