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SIYE Time:8:43 on 28th March 2024
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Aphrodite's Destiny: Love Changes Everything
By Mistress_Lrigtar

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape
Genres: Drama, Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 106
Summary: When nearly ten-year old Ginny Weasley brews a love potion with her best friend, Luna Lovegood, the results are nothing like what she expects them to be. She soon finds that not only has her life been irrevocably changed, but that of the boy she has always dreamed of, Harry Potter. They have unknowingly entered into the strongest and rarest of all bonds, the Spiritual Bond, and unlike other bonds, it is unbreakable. Follow both Ginny and Harry on their journey as they navigate the road of friendship and true love.
Hitcount: Story Total: 43608; Chapter Total: 4331
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Hello again, everyone! I apologize for the lateness of this post. Real life has taken precedence and I have just managed to edit this chapter one final time while attempting to work my day job! So, any errors you may find are all mine, as my betas did their fabulous work, as always. You know who they are - Arnel, Brennus, and seekers_destiny. Thank you three so much for your continued support.

Brennus was able to use his Brit-Picker skill and point out that chocolate scones are never, in any way or form a part of an English breakfast! Apparently, savory foods only. I learned something new!

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, thus far. I truly appreciate it your comments. I understand these chapters are long and can be difficult with our busy lives to get through in one sitting. I hope you will enjoy the latest installment of Aphrodite's Destiny!







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Harry woke up Christmas morning in his warm bed and pulled the faded, but thick and soft quilt up to his chin, gazing at the fuzzy ceiling. Without his glasses he couldn’t make out the cracks in the plaster or the creased and worn Quidditch posters that Charlie had Spellotaped to the walls when he had still lived there. The wardrobe was a hulking, dark brown blob in the corner and Harry’s blue jumper that he’d been wearing yesterday and thrown over the desk chair before climbing into bed looked like a lumpy shrub. The greyish winter light of early morning was filtering in through the window and looking down at the foot of his bed Harry realized there was an extra indistinguishable mound there. If he squinted it looked like it might be a pile of dirty laundry, but he didn’t recall leaving any clothes other than his jumper lying about. Perhaps Mrs Weasley had finally decided to stop pretending to be somewhat cordial and nice to him and was now expecting him to pitch in with laundry and other household chores.

Sitting up slowly, Harry reached for his glasses that rested on the bedside table, and put them on, bringing the room in clear focus. His eyes widened in surprise behind the lenses when he saw that the mound on his bed was not a pile of laundry, but actually several brightly wrapped presents.

“I have Christmas presents,” he whispered in the empty room. Tentatively, he leaned forward and pulled a small, square package into his lap and simply looked at the red paper and golden ribbon. He’d never held a present before and certainly never one that was addressed to him. Once, when he was four, he had made the mistake of touching the ribbon on one of Dudley’s Christmas presents and his aunt and uncle had swatted the hand with a ruler. It had hurt horribly, but crying only made it worse, and the only thing he had wound up receiving for Christmas that year was an angry red mark across the back of his hand. Cautiously, he touched the ribbon around the present, but no one jumped out to reprimand him, so he proceeded to untie the ribbon, and carefully unwrap the package, attempting not to tear the paper. When the box was revealed he lifted the lid and read the brief note inside:

Fred and George mentioned to me that you had a natural skill flying on a broom and had a keen eye. I thought you might have use of this.
Professor McGonagall.


Harry set the note aside and pulled back the creamy tissue to reveal a golden practice Snitch. At least he thought that was what the small ball was, and when he pulled it from the box, tiny wings opened up on either side and fluttered rapidly against his hand. Smiling, he let the Snitch go and watched it fly around his room, zipping and jerking about as it changed directions. Pushing the covers aside, Harry stood up in the middle of the bed and waited until the Snitch drew closer, quickly reached out and ensnared it once again in his hand. He grinned happily, opening his palm and allowing the Snitch to start to fly away before capturing it once more. This would definitely be a fun game to play and he imagined it would be even more exciting to try to catch the little golden ball while flying on a broom.

He stuffed the Snitch in his pyjama bottom pocket and sat back down on the bed to open another gift. The next was a small package from Fred and George. After their teasing before they left for school and the gentle ribbing he and Ginny had endured since they had returned for the holidays, Harry was tempted to set it aside. However, his curiosity got the better of him and found himself tearing at the wrapping to find they had given him a small box of Dr Filibuster's Fireworks. Their accompanying note was somewhat of a riddle: These are the only fireworks you are allowed to have. Harry shrugged the note off and unwrapped a small box from Ron that contained a box of Chocolate Frogs. Percy’s gift was the most boring of the lot and consisted of a Self-Inking quill.

The next package was heavier and wrapped in plain brown paper and twine and he instantly recognized Hagrid’s messy scrawl. Pulling the twine off and tearing into the paper, Harry opened the box and saw that Hagrid had sent him a cake and owl treats for Hedwig. Harry grimaced, remembering the birthday cake the grounds keeper had made for him. It was the thought that counted, however, and Harry was merely grateful to have gifts to open, no matter what the boxes may contain.

A long, flat box wrapped in silvery paper caught his eye and Harry chose to open it next. When he picked it up, it felt remarkably light for being such a big box in comparison to the others and he was immediately curious to its contents. The paper was actually tissue paper and there was no way for him to unwrap it without tearing the paper to shreds, so he didn’t even try. Pulling off the lid, a silvery black fabric spilled out over the sides of the box and into his lap. Harry picked it up and unfolded it to reveal what he thought might be a cloak of some sort. A piece of parchment slipped out and Harry picked it up to see who had sent the cloak. However, the note was not signed and simply stated:

Your Father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.


Harry studied the writing, as it looked familiar to him, and then he realized it was Professor Dumbledore’s, which he had seen many times over the recent months from short letters inquiring how he and Ginny were getting along.

Harry stared down at the shimmering fabric. He was holding something that had belonged to his father, and a thrill ran through him. Aside from the family heirlooms he had seen briefly in the Potter family vault, he had not actually been in possession of anything that his parents may have had while they were alive.

Rising once again, Harry slipped off the bed and pulled the cloak around him and instantly his body disappeared. “Gah!” Harry yelped, as the first fingers of panic seeped into his brain, only to be chased away by the more rational side that told him he could still feel his body, so there was no need to panic. He looked down his front and saw that his stocking feet were poking out from underneath the hem of the cloak and he wiggled his toes, relieved that yes, he seemed to be fully intact.

He was about to take the cloak off, when his door burst open and a harried looking Ginny rushed in, looking about wildly. “Harry!” Her eyes alighted on him and she screeched in terror. “What happened to you?!”

Harry looked at her in confusion and then realized all she could see was a floating head, which he imagined must be a very strange sight indeed. Grinning, he pulled the cloak off and her fear was instantly replaced by anger.

“Well, that was a mean trick!” she yelled. “You scared me to bits!”

Harry realized his spike of elation followed by panic must have reached her and he was immediately very contrite. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I was a bit shocked myself for a moment.” He held the cloak out to her. “What do you think this is? Professor Dumbledore sent it to me and says it was my father’s.”

Ginny’s anger faded as quickly as it had risen and she beamed at Harry. “What a wonderful present, Harry! It looks like a cloak.”

“I know, but when I put it on, well, you saw, my whole body disappeared,” Harry stated.

“Put it on again,” Ginny said, eyeing the cloak speculatively and Harry complied, this time pulling it over his head as well. “You’ve disappeared completely! Blimey, Harry, I think that may be an Invisibility Cloak! I’ve only heard about them because they are extremely rare. Not to mention that I didn’t think they lasted very long. If that was your father’s, then it must be over twenty years old.”

“I want to see how it works!” Harry exclaimed, pulling it off and handing it to Ginny. “Try it on.”

“Really?” Ginny asked excitedly, taking the Cloak from him. Harry nodded, and beaming, she pulled the Cloak over her head and body.

Harry watched in amazement as she disappeared from her head down to her toes. “That’s brilliant!” he declared.

She pulled it off, her hair lifting off her scalp with the static electricity caused by the Cloak and handed it back to him. When he took it from her, his fingers brushed the backs of her hands and Harry felt a tingle run up his arm along with her happiness that he had shared his present with her. He folded the Cloak and placed it back into the box.

“You still have a few presents to open, Harry,” Ginny observed, nodding towards the packages that remained on his bed. She settled on the edge of his bed and handed him a lumpy one. “This one is from my mother.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise and with her close proximity he could feel Ginny’s internal shock over the fact. So, she hadn’t been so certain he’d receive a present from her mother either. Taking the package from her, he sat next to her and opened it. Again material fell out of the paper, but this time it was lumpy and black. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a scarf, but Ginny’s dismay was apparent.

“Your mum knitted me a scarf?” Harry asked.

“She knits all of us jumpers every year for Christmas! It's a tradition,” Ginny seethed, "and all she made for you was a scarf! She did it on purpose to be spiteful!”

Harry felt Ginny’s anger, but didn’t share it. He was grateful that Mrs Weasley had thought to give him anything at all, even if it was just a scarf. As with Hagrid’s cake, it was the thought that counted.

“Harry,” Ginny said softly. “I am so sorry. You don’t have to like it just because it was given to you.”

“No,” Harry replied. “It really means a lot to me that she bothered at all. I know it’s been really hard on her.”

“Stop being so nice!” Ginny scolded. "I’m tired of my mum treating you this way.”

“She treats me a lot better than my relatives ever did,” Harry reminded her.

“I want her to treat you like she treats my brothers,” Ginny pouted.

Harry sighed. “Ginny, I’ve only been here four months. I think it’s going to take a lot longer for your mum to accept me.”

Wordlessly Ginny reached over and clasped his hand, and he immediately felt how deeply her hurt and anger towards her mother ran. Closing his eyes, Harry absorbed it, trying to temper her feelings with his own. To him, receiving a gift from Mrs Weasley was definitely better than not receiving one at all. Don’t be upset.

Ginny jerked next to him and peered over at him, confusion filling her brown eyes. “Did you just say something, Harry?”

“No,” Harry replied. “I just don’t want you to be upset.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Ginny affirmed. “Did you think it?”

“I suppose so,” Harry mused.

“Try again,” Ginny urged. “Think of something to say, but don’t actually say it.”

She stared at him expectantly, making him feel incredibly nervous, and Harry felt his cheeks tinge red. Ginny giggled, which only made it worse. Now that she wanted him to think of something, his mind had gone completely blank. I can’t think of anything.

Ginny snickered again. You did it again.

So did you. Wait. We’re talking to each other just like my mum did in the meadow.

This could be fun!

Let’s try without holding hands. Harry released Ginny’s hand and formulated a simple question. Can you hear me?

Yes. Harry could feel a thrill that Ginny shared, even though her response had been fainter than when they were holding hands. It was a start. He was certain the range was limited, so standing up, he left her sitting somewhat bewildered on the bed, and walked out into the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor. Can you hear me now?

Barely. Ginny’s reply whispered through his head. It was strange, like she was still there in some ghostly form. However, he had just deduced that the range of their telepathy was about half what their current physical distance could be. Four months ago, they could not be separated by more than a room, but with some daily exercises to test the limits of those boundaries, he and Ginny were now able to move separately about The Burrow without having to stay nearly tethered to one another. It was much the same with their emphatic ability. That skill appeared to be closely linked with their physical distance, and when Harry focused on it, he could usually sense how Ginny was feeling. As Ginny had exhibited this morning, the stronger the emotion the easier it was to sense it without having to concentrate.

It was all still a bit confusing to Harry and he wasn’t certain how it worked. Professor Dumbledore was vague with his explanations, and Harry had the distinct impression that even the headmaster was unsure of the mechanics of a soul bond. He had informed them they would simply have to experiment with their abilities and hone them.

Are you coming back? Ginny’s impatient voice drifted through his head as if she were calling from a great distance.

Sorry. Harry trotted back down the stairs to his room. Ginny was still sitting on the bed and smiled when he re-entered.

“So, how far did you go? The attic?” she asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. “No, only one flight up.”

Ginny pouted in disappointment. “Why does it have to be so hard, Harry?”

“If it was easy, we would take it for granted, I suppose,” Harry answered. “Remember when Professor Dumbledore explained that he thought perhaps our soul bond was a bit like our magic? We have the ability, but we have to go to school and learn how to control it and strengthen it?”

“Don’t you think it will happen naturally over time?” Ginny asked. “Do you think witches and wizards eighteen hundred years ago practiced the way we are?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about all of that today,” Ginny remarked and then looked over her shoulder at his presents. “You still have one more present to open, Harry.” She picked up a small rectangular package wrapped in festive green paper and tied with a red bow and shyly handed it to him.

Harry took the present from her and sat back down on the bed. He could see Ginny’s neat script on the small card and smiled.

“It’s your first Christmas,” Ginny said, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously. “I wasn’t sure what to get you.”

Harry carefully unwrapped the box and laid the paper and ribbon aside before lifting the lid. Nestled atop the cotton wool filling was a pair of golden wire-framed glasses. He stared at them wordlessly, unable to make out exactly what he was feeling: immense appreciation, for one, but also guilt, shock and a profusion of other emotions that ranged from happy to sad.

“I know how much you hate your glasses,” Ginny offered, her voice sounding unsure, “and my Dad helped me get them, and those are nearly exactly like the ones your father wore, and I thought you would like that, and…”

“I do,” Harry interrupted. “But they’re too much. I only gave you a book.”

“I love the book you gave me!” Ginny insisted. “Especially since it is one of your favourites, Harry. Those glasses are really from my Dad and me. He helped me immensely in choosing them, and he charmed them to adjust to your eyes.” Ginny looked over at him dejectedly. “You hate them.”

“No, Ginny,” Harry said, looking back at her and seeing the worry in her eyes. He gently removed the glasses from the box, and unfolded the ear pieces. Taking his old, clunky black plastic frames off, he set them aside and put the new glasses on. At first the room was blurry, but it quickly swam into focus clearer than it had been before, and compared to his old frames it almost felt like he wasn’t wearing glasses at all. He stood up and walked over to the wardrobe and opened it to gaze at his reflection in the small mirror that hung inside. He was amazed at what a difference a pair of glasses made. The golden frames weren’t nearly as noticeable as the black ones had been and instead of detracting from his eyes, accented them.

“They’re perfect,” he remarked, turning back to Ginny with a grin. “Thank you.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Ginny smiled, rising from the bed and engulfing him in a hug. Her warmth and affection flooded through him and Harry returned the embrace. “Happy Christmas, Ginny.” He really enjoyed Ginny’s hugs, since until he had met her Harry couldn’t recall ever being hugged before.

Ginny loved hugging Harry because every time she did so, the joy he felt at the simple gesture never failed to infuse her heart. She still could not understand how his relatives could have been so horrible towards him, but was extremely thankful he would never have to see them again. Every time they hugged, which wasn’t often because her mother hated it, Ginny always hoped they would travel once again to the meadow. So far, that had not happened, nor had they visited it in their dreams since before she and Harry had met. Harry’s mother had told them they would have to be stronger before they could return there again, and Ginny wished she understood what that meant. She could only deduce that she and Harry were going to have to wait awhile longer.

She heard her mother’s sharp intake of breath a mere second before she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder, pulling her away from Harry.

“You know how I feel about the two of you being in a bedroom unsupervised,” her mother said harshly, one hand firmly planted on Ginny’s and Harry’s shoulders, as she looked between them sternly.

As always, Harry hung his head in shame and Ginny glared up at her mother. “Mum, it’s Christmas! You wouldn’t have pulled Ron and me apart if we were hugging!”

“Ron is your brother!” her mother exclaimed. “Harry — is not.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Weasley,” Harry muttered before Ginny could explode with another outburst towards her mother. He raised his head and looked Ginny’s mother in the eye. “We forgot.”

“All I ask is that the two of you try to abide by the few rules we have laid out for you,” Mrs Weasley sighed, looking between the two of them. Ginny was certain her mother was noting Harry’ contriteness and her unapologetic stance and face, but she could care less. She wasn’t the least bit sorry for giving poor Harry a hug on Christmas day.

“Thank you for my scarf, Mrs Weasley,” Harry continued. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Mrs Weasley returned stiffly, and Ginny caught the guilt flash across her mother’s face and opened her mouth to express her dismay about Harry’s scarf when his voice filtered through her head. Don’t.

She deserves it! Ginny seethed silently, still glowering at her mother.

Ginny, please.

Only because it’s Christmas, Harry. Ginny conceded before speaking aloud to her mother. “Happy Christmas, Mum.”

“Happy Christmas, Ginny dear,” her mother said. “Now, why don’t you come downstairs and help me with breakfast?”

“All right,” Ginny complied, casting Harry one final glance before departing after her mother.

Harry stood and closed the door after them in order to have some privacy and dress when Ginny’s voice whispered through his head.

Can you hear me?

Harry smiled, Faintly, but yes. Where are you?

The kitchen, Ginny’s grin evident in her voice.

What’s for breakfast? Harry asked, pulling a maroon jumper out of his wardrobe.

A full breakfast with baked beans! My favourite! I forgot to ask you, what did my brothers give you?

Fireworks, Chocolate Frogs, and a quill.

Ginny snorted. I don’t have to ask who gave what. Ugh! Mum just asked me why I look constipated.

It was Harry’s turn to snort. Takes a bit of concentration, doesn’t it? Since starting the conversation with Ginny he hadn’t been able to undress and was standing in the middle of his room still holding the jumper.

Just hurry up and come down here, Ginny ordered. Mum’s making me set the table.

Right, Harry replied and hurried to finish dressing. He clattered down the stairs and helped Ginny finish setting the table. Her brothers and father arrived not long after and they all enjoyed a loud, but pleasant Christmas breakfast before Mrs Weasley shooed them all away so she could prepare the goose for dinner.

Luna arrived later Christmas day, her tiny figure appearing at the top of the hill above The Burrow. She waved merrily at Ginny and Harry who were busy building a snowman with Ron before kneeling on a sled she had been dragging behind her. Shoving off, she flew down the hill, her pale blonde hair fluttering behind her where it stuck out from beneath the rainbow coloured knit cap she was wearing. As she drew closer, Harry could see the hat was covered with multi-coloured puff balls on strings of yarn, and they bounced haphazardly as she jumped off the sled and ran the rest of the way to the garden gate.

“Happy Christmas!” she breathlessly said as she opened the gate and smiled at the three of them.

“Happy Christmas!” they chorused back.

“Want to help us finish making the snowman, Luna?” Ginny asked as they walked back to the lumpy shape in the snow.

“What is it? A yeti?” Luna asked, walking around the snowy figure.

“No! It’s supposed to be a snowman,” Ron said, offended and emphasizing the word ‘man’.

Luna shrugged. “It looks like a yeti to me, or perhaps an abominable snowman.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” Harry asked.

“No,” Luna replied matter-of-factly, “One’s pure white and the other’s more snowy white.”

Ron muttered something about the barminess of deducing the difference between pure white and snowy white, and slapped a huge mound of snow on the snowman where its head would eventually be.

“Oh! Now it looks like an ogre!” Luna crowed in delight, clapping her hands, and her eyes sparkled as she watched Ron attempting to mould the snow.

Ginny laughed aloud at the comment and Ron grabbed a handful of snow off the snowman and lobbed it at his sister. She shrieked as it hit her in the shoulder,

“Snowball fight!” she screamed before bending down and quickly forming a compact ball to throw back at her brother. He lunged behind the snowman, and her snowball splattered against the snowman’s chest just as Ron’s retaliating snowball whizzed over the snowman’s shoulder and knocked Luna’s ridiculous hat off her head.

“My hat!” Luna cried, diving after it and falling headfirst into the snow. She rolled on her back, laughing and moved her arms and legs in the snow, disregarding the fight to make a snow angel.

Harry went to retrieve her hat and felt a snowy mass hit him in the back of the neck as he bent to pick it up. Icy water dripped inside the collar of his jumper as he turned to see Luna looking amused.

“That’s what you get for trying to be nice, Harry!” Ron shouted before throwing another snowball Harry’s way. Instinctively, Harry reached out to bat it away before bending to create a new one to send back towards the red-headed boy in retaliation.

“Harry and Ginny against Ron and me!” Luna announced, jumping to her feet and running towards Ron and the shelter of the snowman.

“No fair using the snowman as cover!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Don’t be sore losers!” Ron taunted, throwing out another snowball that Ginny easily avoided.

“We haven’t lost yet!” Harry called.

A fierce battle then ensued, with the snowman getting completely demolished during the course of the fight. In the end they couldn’t tell who were the winners and losers since they were all covered in equal amounts of snow. They fell the the ground laughing.

“Now we look like snow people,” Luna snickered, brushing snow from her hair and coat. “Unlike your poor snow yeti.”

Panting, their breath puffing out of their mouths in little white clouds of vapour, they all stared at the remains of the snowman. Luna hopped up and began re-sculpting it, forming the body, and Ron, Harry, and Ginny joined her. After some time of quietly working with the occasional comment, the snow sculpture began resembling a man as opposed to a yeti or an ogre.

Ron plopped back down in the snow and sighed. “This would be much easier if we could use magic. I’m knackered now!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ginny asked, stepping back to study their handiwork. “He needs something.”

“Eyes, a nose, mouth,” Harry suggested. “Isn’t that the sort of thing we should do next?”

“And clothes!” Luna added.

“You don’t put clothes on a snowman!” Ron exclaimed.

“You don’t?” Luna asked. “I always do. Otherwise, he will be terribly embarrassed and catch cold.”


“How can he catch cold?” Ron asked. “He’s made out of snow.”

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, “Oh never mind! Here!” He took off his red and gold scarf and black knit cap, wrapped the scarf around the snowman’s neck and smashed the hat down on its head. “There. Consider him dressed."

Ginny proceeded to straighten the scarf he had thrown on the snowman, while Luna pulled two pieces of coal from her coat pocket and firmly pressed them in the snowman’s face.

“Luna,” Harry asked. “Why do you have coal in your pocket?”

“Don’t you always carry coal with you?” she asked, looking at him in surprise.

“Er - no,” Harry answered.

“Well, you should!” Luna admonished. “You never know when you might find yourself in need.”

“Yes, Harry,” Ginny said seriously. “Didn’t you know you should always be prepared?”

“For what?” Harry asked, looking over at Ron, who rolled his eyes in response.

“Well, for eyes for one thing!” Luna exclaimed. “It’s a good thing I had some coal or our poor snowman wouldn’t be able to see!” She looked over at Harry. “Oh, Harry! I just realized you have new glasses! Those are very nice.”

“Thanks,” Harry responded, pushing the glasses up his nose self-consciously, “Ginny gave them to me.”

“They look very smart,” Luna said sincerely, pulling a long carrot from her other coat pocket and poking it into the snowman’s face underneath his coal eyes. Lastly, she found a twig sticking up from the snow underneath a nearby shrub and quickly deducing it would make a proper mouth, placed it on the snowman.

“Looks a bit like Professor Snape now,” Ron commented, staring at the coal black eyes that gazed impassively at the four of them.

Harry concurred, glad to have a reprieve from the torturous Occlumency lessons neither he nor Professor Snape appeared to enjoy much. Ginny had made a bit more progress during their last lesson, but Snape had become angry again when he had been forced to view yet another of Harry’s painful childhood memories. It wasn’t Harry’s fault his memories weren’t as warm and fuzzy as Ginny’s, and it wasn’t like he was any happier to relive those miserable times of his life. If he had his choice, he would much rather shove those memories into the dark recesses of his mind and never see them again.

Snape had lectured for over thirty minutes that that was exactly what Harry was supposed to be doing, but the professor wasn’t very clear on how he was supposed to do that.

“Let’s go have some hot chocolate,” Ginny suddenly suggested, clearly sensing Harry’s sudden dip on the happiness scale.

They spent the remainder of the day inside, nibbling biscuits and sipping hot chocolate while playing games in the sitting room. Ron attempted to teach Harry how to play wizard chess, but after several short games where Ron trounced him, Harry deduced it would take a lot of practice to ever be on the same playing level as Ginny's brother. He asked Ron if he was a member of the chess club at Hogwarts, and the other boy looked at him as if the thought had never even crossed his mind to join a club.

“I never thought about joining any of those clubs,” Ron admitted. “I only want to play Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

“But, didn’t Fred and George say that position is filled?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Ron mused. “Maybe I should think about joining the wizard chess club.”

“I imagine you’d find players that could give you a bit more of a challenge than me,” Harry suggested. “I’m not very good, am I?”

Ron snorted. “No, Harry, you’re not.”

They had a good laugh over Ron’s honesty and soon Mrs Weasley was calling them all to dinner. Luna’s father joined them and they had an interesting meal discussing Hogwarts, mysterious beasts that could be found in the Forbidden Forest there, as well as those supposed mythical creatures Luna’s father had seen in his travels around the world. Before discovering he was a wizard, Harry had no idea that unicorns, centaurs, and the like were actually real. So far, he hadn’t had a chance to see any of those creatures for himself aside from pictures in his textbooks, but he was certain that would change eventually.

hghghghg ghghghgh


Harry. Ginny’s voice whispered through his mind as he lay in his bed after having the best Christmas of his life.

Yes?

I’ve been reading the book you gave me, Ginny hesitated a moment, gathering her thoughts before continuing. It’s a bit strange.

Yeah, Harry admitted, suddenly extremely embarrassed to have given her a gift she clearly did not like.

It’s not that I don’t like it, Harry, but can you explain it to me?

Why I like it so much?

Yes! Ginny answered. I think it will help me appreciate it more.

I, Harry hesitated. He had learned quickly from living with the Dursleys never to reveal his secret desires. To do so always resulted either in ridicule, punishment, or both. However, Ginny was different, he already knew this, and had known this from the moment he had met her. Not to mention, that a part of him must have wanted to share this with her, otherwise he never would have given her his most favourite book, The Little Prince.

I, he repeated, I thought you might like it since you like to read fantasies.

And, Ginny pressed, causing Harry to grimace because since their connection had opened up more, he was finding it harder to keep anything from her.

And, he sighed, I used to imagine what it would be like to be the prince and be able to travel to wherever I wanted to go, whenever.

How awful was it there, Harry? Ginny asked.

Harry stared above him watching the blurry shadows play across the ceiling and walls. Since the first night he had slept in Charlie’s room, he had never drawn the curtains over the window. He relished going to sleep in the silvery light of night instead of the pitch darkness of the cupboard at Privet Drive and being awoken in the morning by the sun streaming in the window. The sight of his aunt’s and uncle’s angry countenances, the feel of their hands clamping around his arm or the back of his neck, were becoming distant memories.

It’s in the past, he answered.

But our lessons with Professor Snape make you remember, Ginny sadly replied.

Yeah, he agreed.

Ginny sighed. If you could go anywhere that the Little Prince goes, where would it be and why?

Harry smiled at her quick change of the subject. He hated talking about his relatives. There was really nothing more to be said on the matter, not that he had ever volunteered much and Ginny had never pressed. She didn’t really need to; she’d gotten a sense of it all when they first met. Obviously being able to somewhat feel what he felt, no doubt she had experienced the humiliation and anger he felt every time his sessions with Professor Snape brought out a particularly brutal memory.

The desert.

Why? Ginny pressed.

Harry shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. Because I can’t think of a place that is more different than England.

Why does the prince stay in the desert for so long?

Maybe he liked it the best, too. Plus, he liked the pilot and the stories he would tell him, Harry explained.

What’s a pilot? Ginny asked in confusion.

Harry smiled, A Muggle who flies an aeroplane.

Oh, Ginny said, realization dawning. I didn’t like the part of the story where the snake bit the little prince, Ginny stated.

He could have told the snake not to, Harry informed her. It would have listened.

He’s a Parselmouth then! Ginny exclaimed. But they are usually bad, and the little prince seems so nice. She sounded incredibly confused.

What’s a Parselmouth? Harry asked.

Someone who can speak to snakes, Ginny answered. But I've always heard it's a rare gift and only bad wizards, like You-Know-Who can do it.

Oh, Harry paled, thinking of how he had seemed to have a conversation with a boa constrictor at the zoo just that past summer. He was fairly certain the snake had actually thanked him after he had inadvertently caused the glass surrounding its enclosure to vanish.

Harry? Are you all right?

Ginny appeared in his open doorway, her brown eyes glittering in the moonlight streaming through Harry’s window.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Harry said, sitting up in bed, and casting his eyes past her at the darkened landing.

“Everyone’s sound asleep by now,” Ginny scoffed, but she stepped back onto the landing all the same. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Harry lied.

“Liar,” Ginny hissed quietly. “We were having a nice conversation and suddenly it felt like ice water was washing over me. What did I say wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harry said again. “You didn’t say anything wrong, it’s just that another reason I always identified with the little prince is because,” he paused, thinking it couldn’t be a good thing to share a trait with You-Know-Who. I always identified with the little prince because I think I can talk to snakes, too, he admitted.

Ginny gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. You can? she asked, her eyes wide.

Harry nodded. I think I released a boa constrictor at the zoo from captivity this summer.

How’d you let him go? Ginny asked.

“I was standing in front of the glass, looking at the snake,” Harry answered. “When suddenly Dudley came over and punched me in the ribs to get me out of the way so he and his friend, Piers could get a better look. I became angry and the glass disappeared. The snake slithered out, past us. People were running all over trying to get away from it, and I swear it thanked me as it went by.”

Ginny giggled despite her dismay. “Oh, that is funny, but do you really think you can speak to snakes?” she whispered.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. We had a garden snake in my primary class and whenever it was my turn to feed it, it always told me it didn’t like the earthworms we fed it. I never really thought much about it, but I never thought it was a bad thing.”

“I think it’s just that usually only Dark wizards possess the talent,” Ginny stated. “But you’re the furthest thing from a Dark wizard, Harry.”

“I’d like to hope so,” he said.

“I know so,” she said with finality and Harry smiled.

hghghghg ghghghgh


“I came and collected you myself,” Hagrid was saying the following day. He sat on the floor just inside the door of the Weasleys cluttered kitchen. He’d had to duck nearly over at the waist and squeeze through the door, and there had been a moment Ginny had feared the groaning doorframe was going to crack. However, he had managed to enter, but even sitting his head brushed the ceiling of the room. The large man didn’t seem to mind as he regaled Harry and Ginny with stories of Harry’s parents, as well as how he had rescued Harry from his smouldering home after their untimely demise.

“You were just a wee slip of a thing, and you never cried once. Not a peep.”

“Where did they live, Hagrid?” Harry asked, from where he sat next to Ginny at the kitchen table. He flipped through the album he had found in his vault and stopped at a photo of the three of them standing outside a cute little cottage.

“In Godric’s Hollow,” the grounds keeper replied. “It’s a little village that’s home ta both Muggle and wizard folk alike. They thought they’d be safer there, away from things.”

“But they weren’t,” the boy commented, unable to keep the small amount of bitterness from seeping into his words.

“No, but no one was then, Harry,” Hagrid regretfully said. “It was dark times, and I for one am glad they are over.”

Nodding, Harry slowly turned the pages in the album. He had looked the pictures over hundreds of times since taking it from his family vault. Of all the treasures the vault had contained, this was the only item that held any worth to him. It was all he had to remember his parents by, and now his father’s cloak. He wondered what his father may have used the cloak for while he had had it in his possession. He came across a photo of his father wearing a Hogwarts uniform and standing with three other boys and turned the album towards Hagrid.

“Are these my Dad’s friends?” he asked. He studied the picture, observing how his father winked at whomever was taking the photo, and wondering if perhaps it had been his mum. The boy standing next to him was tall and handsome with long, black hair that nearly reached his shoulders. His silvery eyes shone merrily and he smirked mischievously as he reached behind James’ shoulders to ruffle the lank brown hair of the tall, thin boy who stood next to him. On the end was a short, fat boy, with a pate of thin dark blond hair, and watery blue eyes that clearly showed the envy he felt for his three friends.

Hagrid gazed at the picture, sucking on his bottom lip as he contemplated the four men. “They were thick as thieves while at Hogwarts. If you found one, no doubt the others were close nearby. They went by the name of the Marauders and would give your two brothers a run for their money when it came to pranks.” He nodded towards Ginny at the last and she smiled up at him.

“They drove your poor mum mad with their carrying-on,” Hagrid ended.

"Where are they now?" Harry asked, "Maybe I could write to them."

The large man shifted his legs beneath him, looking uncomfortable at the question. "They disappeared after the war," he finally answered after he had resettled

“I wish I had known them,” Harry quietly remarked, staring at the picture. Ginny moved closer to him and silently placed her hand upon his knee as he ducked his head away from the two of them.

“They’d be proud of you, ta be sure,” Hagrid assured. He looked about the room expectantly. “Now where’s that owl of yours? I’d like ta see her.”

“She's in my room," Harry answered.

'Why don't you go fetch her?" Hagrid suggested, shifting his weight again to find a more comfortable position in the cramped kitchen.

Harry nodded and without looking at either of them quickly left the room.

“He’ll be all right,” Ginny reassured Hagrid, who watched the boy go. The half-giant gazed down at the little girl, his bushy beard stretching as he smiled.

“With a good friend like you, how could he not?” Hagrid commented.

“And you, Hagrid,” she reminded him. “I can’t tell you how much Hedwig means to Harry.”

“I know,” the large man said, before glancing into the sitting room at the tree twinkling with fairy lights and stands of popcorn and cranberries, and covered in homemade ornaments the Weasley children had produced over the years. “Did you have a nice Christmas yesterday?”

“Oh yes,” Ginny enthused. “It was the best Christmas ever, I think.”

“It was,” Harry agreed, returning with Hedwig sitting on his arm. “Thanks again for the cake and owl treats, Hagrid.” Hedwig twittered her appreciation of the treats as well, as Harry gave her one.

They sat and talked about what they had done the previous day and Hagrid told them about the trees he procured for the great hall at Hogwarts and how the staff decorated each with different themes. In the past the trees had been decorated for Christmases through the ages, but this year each tree had been adorned with decorations to represent the various subjects studied at the school. Hagrid admitted that his favourite was the Astronomy tree that was covered with suns, moons, planets and stars, and glowed with light from the constellations that were scattered about it. Ron, Percy, and the twins, just returned from their trek into the village to hand out homemade treats and savouries to the village baker, butcher, and grocer that their mother often frequented when she did her weekly shopping, and joined in the conversation describing the trees they liked the best in the great hall.

Hagrid stayed for lunch, where they shared a meal comprised of left-overs from the Christmas feast Mrs Weasley had prepared the previous day, plus a wide selection of sweets and savouries she had made for Boxing Day and had set aside for the family to enjoy.

Later in the evening, Ginny found Harry sitting on the hearth rug in the sitting room looking over an atlas of the West Country and settled next to him.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she peered down at the map.

Harry pointed to a small dot located near the southern coastal tip of Gloucestershire “Godric’s Hollow isn’t far from here.”

She could instantly sense his desire to visit his childhood home, and Ginny studied the map, gauging the distance between Ottery St Catchpole and Godric’s Hollow. Indeed, on the map it didn’t look far, however, the furthest she had ever travelled was the little village right down the lane. Otherwise her family always took the Floo. She was certain Godric’s Hollow would be easily accessible by the Floo network, but she doubted if she and Harry were ready to travel that way. After four months of twice daily doses of Professor Snape’s potion, she and Harry could freely move separately all over the grounds of the Burrow without suffering ill effects, but they had yet to test larger distances. Her mother promised to allow Ginny to attempt taking a walk to Luna’s house once the snow melted. Luna lived over the hill, about a mile from the Weasley home and it would be a good preliminary test of how far the children could be separated. If they travelled to Harry’s first home, it would have to be by some other way.

“You want to see it,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry bit his bottom lip, but said nothing. Ginny had learned over the past few months that it was extremely difficult for him to admit to anything he desired. Even after repeated assurances from her that he should express himself, he still tended to keep things to bottled-up.

“I can understand completely why you would want to, Harry,” she assured him. “I’m just not certain how we would get there.”

Harry nodded, his eyes locked on the tiny dot on the map. “It’s probably not a good idea anyway.”

“It’s an excellent idea,” Ginny countered. “I’m sure Mum and Dad wouldn’t mind a day trip, but it’s figuring out how to get there that is the problem.”

“Portkey?” Harry tentatively offered.

She shook her head. “They are expensive. I know that’s how we travelled when we first met, but that is only because Professor Dumbledore is one of the few wizards outside of the Ministry who can create them. Most of us have to go to the Portkey Office and request one. It’s why we usually travel by Floo,” Ginny explained. “It’s much cheaper.”

“We can’t travel by Floo yet, I don’t think,” Harry said, voicing her earlier thoughts.

“No,” she agreed, thinking a moment before an idea reached her. “But, there may be another option. I know my Dad would agree immediately. It’s my Mum that will take some convincing.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, looking up from the map and over at her.

Ginny smiled, “Let me show you.”

Jumping up, she headed to the kitchen and he instantly followed. Grabbing her woollen black peacoat from the hooks that hung by the back door, she shouldered it on as she opened the door. Harry did the same, taking a blue plaid hunting jacket with worn fleece lining that had once belonged to Ron. Shrugging it on, he stepped outside and headed down the path after Ginny that led to her father’s shed.

Upon reaching the rusted metal door, she wrenched it open, smiling over her shoulder at her best friend as she did so. “I can’t believe I have never shown this to you before now,” she exclaimed, her breath coming out in white puffs as she spoke.

“What?” Harry asked again, his curiosity mounting as they entered the small shed and Ginny lit the lamps that hung on the wall with a match from the box that sat on her father’s workbench. Since they were under-age and the Weasleys abided strictly by the rules of the Ministry that forbade under-age magic, the children had to resort to using many Muggle ways to go about getting things done.

After she had finished lighting the lamps, the shed was bathed in a warm light and Ginny turned to face Harry. “What I want to show you is hidden in the back.”

She pointed past the washer and dryer that sat in the middle of the shed, on top of which was piled an assortment of plugs, sockets, dismantled radios and flashlights. It was just more of the Muggle clutter Mr Weasley had acquired and studied in his spare time. Other than the times they had spent working with Professor Snape, Harry couldn’t say that he had spent much time in the shed, as he thought of it as Mr Weasley’s private sanctuary. He had seen the twins enter the building from time to time, but they did not care what admonitions they received from their mother for nosing about amongst their father’s things.

Moving past the cluttered workbench, Ginny approached a large object, swathed in a white sheet that sat at the very back of the shed. Harry studied it closely as they approached, realizing that it took up the entire width of the building, with just enough room to walk around it. A few Muggle tools, wrenches and pliers were laid out on a small towel on the dirt floor of the shed, along with what looked to be headlamps for a car.

His suspicions were proved correct when Ginny pulled the dusty sheet off and revealed a small pale blue car that was beginning to rust along the fenders and rims of the head and tail lights. It was a car that would have caused instant derision in his aunt and uncle if it had ever appeared on Privet Drive, and therefore had immediate appeal to Harry. He slowly walked around it, taking in the shiny silver fenders and the white vinyl interior. On the boot was written Anglia in silvery script and he smiled over at Ginny.

“This is brilliant,” he exclaimed, “but why does your Dad have it?”

“You know my Dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry,” Ginny offered. “He often brings his work home, and this is one of his special projects.”

“What does it do?” Harry asked.

"The wizard they confiscated it from was attempting to enchant it to fly. Dad installed an Invisibility Booster in it,” she replied, opening the driver-side door and sliding behind the wheel. Placing her small hands on the white steering wheel, Ginny made puttering noises as she jerked the wheel from side to side. Harry pulled the passenger door open and settled onto the bucket seat beside her. Looking over the dash, he saw the odometer, the small radio with a couple of knobs and push buttons to change the stations, as well as the cigarette lighter and the glove box, but nothing that looked out of the ordinary.

“Looks pretty much like any other car I’ve seen,” he commented, pushing in the lighter. As soon as he did so, the car shuddered around them, and the seat he was sitting on, as well as the rest of the interior disappeared. “Whoa!”

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, “Dad’s been working on it, but you see, it still doesn’t work right. Only the interior disappears.”

“Why does he want it to disappear?” Harry asked.

“Because it can fly,” she explained. “At least I think it can. He’s added some charms similar to what makes brooms fly, but a car is a lot bigger than a broomstick. Anyway, I was thinking we could use this to visit Godric’s Hollow.”

“But, if the Invisibility Booster doesn’t work properly, how could we fly there?” Harry asked.

“We wouldn’t have to,” Ginny said. “It still works like a car, too. We could drive. I bet it’s only a couple hours at the most to your home. All we have to do is ask."

“And you think they’ll say yes?” He wasn’t sure he shared his friend’s optimism on that front.

“Dad will instantly, but Mum will take a bit more convincing,” she admitted. “But, I suspect she won’t want to journey anywhere until the weather turns, so that gives us some time to convince her.”

Ginny smiled over at Harry. “Don’t worry, Harry. With Dad on our side, Mum is bound to cave, eventually.”
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