6.01

2130 SATURDAY  LITTLE WHINGING  SURREY

Mad-Eye Moody glared intently with both eyes — quite unnerving, I must admit — as he held my summons from the Ministry’s Improper Use of Magic Office. “Explain yourself, Potter.”

Ginny and I had discussed this very possibility and agreed upon a plan — tell enough meaningless parts of the truth to hide the fact that you are holding back on the really important stuff. She could be really sneaky when she needed to be, learning some tricks of her twin brothers. I could only imagine that the years we have ahead of us would be very interesting, and I found myself looking forward to it.

I gave a long-suffering sort of exhale, a little acting bit for starters. “Draco Malfoy was on the astronomy tower that night and had Dumbledore at his mercy. His mission had been to murder the headmaster, but at the last minute he didn’t do it. I understood at that moment some of the horrible things he’s had to deal with and the fine line he must be trying to walk. I went to him to see if we could put our pasts behind us, maybe work together next year, our last at Hogwarts. I made an offer to help him if he ever wanted out from the subjugation that his dad signed up for. He hasn’t accepted it yet, but he did say he appreciated the offer.” And that was all pretty much true.

“Some sort of Hogwarts detente, you say? Interesting story, Potter. Let me see your wand.”

I pulled it out and handed it over reluctantly. He performed the Priori Incantatem spell to check my wand’s history, and he saw the shield spell I performed in the cellar, the stunning and shield spells against Wormtail, the disarming spells against Tom and before that, Draco. Prior to that were all those spells I practiced in the Hogwarts Room of Requirement.

“The last spells from your wand don’t exactly match this list,” he said, holding up the parchment again, eyebrows raised.

I shrugged, trying to think of a good half-truth he might accept. “I might have borrowed Draco’s wand while I was there. Besides, how does the Ministry know what magic I did in a house full of magic?”

“The trace, you fool!” he bellowed. “The Ministry keeps track of all magic performed around under-age wizards, and they have you in particular under high scrutiny, regardless of whose wand you use, until your birthday when the trace finally breaks on its own. Don’t forget that! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

I winced at his reminder, but nodded, for it was a point well-made, and I had been lax. But time was wasting, and I needed to change the subject in a bad way.

“What about the opportunity to capture some Death Eaters? They aren’t going to be waiting out there forever.”

Moody gave me a long look and said, “We will be talking more about those spells, Potter. Come to the DMLE after you graduate. I want to see how well you’d do as an auror.”

“Okay…” I responded, not expecting the invitation.

Meanwhile, he turned sharply to Kingsley. “Contact the A-list, briefing in ten minutes at rendezvous point Griffin Three.”

“Right away, sir,” said the Auror, and he and Tonks quickly slid outside and disappeared.

“The rest of you youngsters,” he growled menacingly, “stay put until we give you the all clear. Order members, defend this house.” He then slipped out after the two Aurors.

“May as well get comfy,” I said, “this may take a little while.”

Hermione, however, looked as if “comfy” was a foreign concept. She strode over to me, hands on her hips.

“Harry James Potter,” she said, “we need to talk. Now.”

This time my long-suffering sigh was real.

6.02

1130 SUNDAY  OTTERY ST CATCHPOLE  DEVON

After Dobby dropped me into the Burrow’s orchard once again, Ginny was there to greet me by running at me full tilt and jumping upon me with all four appendages wrapping tightly around me. I managed to brace myself enough that she didn’t send us both toppling to the ground, and I received a thorough snogging for my efforts at staying upright. She probably would have snogged me senseless even if I had fallen, but my pride would have suffered. Maybe I could plead for even more snogging to help me recover… something to consider for next time...

She finally released me enough to cry out, “You did it!”

“Did what?” I asked coyly.

She smacked the back of my head. “Don’t be that way. I know what you had planned, you told Hermione that the prophecy was done, and I’ve seen the Prophet. You-Know-Who is dead, and you caught Wormtail, too! Everyone is so excited!”

“And just what is the Prophet saying this morning?”

“Oh, they’re short on details but very long on speculation. Your name might have come up once or twice, although the Ministry made it quite clear that you were not involved in the ‘mysterious overnight operation that brought freedom back to magical Britain’ and on and on…”

“Great! That’s just what I hoped they’d say.” I kissed her again for a long tender moment. “As much as I’d like to do that all day, I probably need to make an appearance with your family.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she grinned. “Maybe we can continue later…?”

“Always, my love, always…”

She raised her eyebrows at my endearment, but her grin would light the night. She grabbed another quick kiss, and we sauntered hand in hand to the strangely stacked structure affectionately known as the Burrow.

Once inside, I was subjected to a rib-crushing welcome from Mrs. Weasley, who then noticed that Ginny’s and my hands were still joined. “Is there something you two wanted to share?” she asked pointedly.

Ginny and I glanced at each other and I gave her a nod. This was her mom and I’d let her take lead.

“Harry and I are dating, mum. We started going out after the quidditch final but we… broke up after Dumbledore’s funeral. Git here was trying to be noble.”

I snorted while Mrs. Weasley stood waiting in anticipation.

“He finally apologized, and I took him back,” Ginny beamed. “But please don’t make a big fuss over us, mum, we —”

The rest of Ginny’s plead was lost in another smothering Mama Weasley embrace. “Oh, I won’t, sweetie, but this is so wonderful! You and Harry!”

I was pulled into another hug until I started laughing until I shook too hard for her to hold both of us. She stepped back and both of them were staring at me with bemusement.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my eyes, “I don’t know why I’m laughing, I guess I’m just really happy right now.” And I was, deliriously so. Maybe the emotions of the last few days were catching up to me or someone got me with a few cheering charms. So I just grinned stupidly back.

“If you say so,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Now what’s this I hear about you, Ron and Hermione not going back to school?”

“Oh, that’s old information,” I replied with a wave. “We will all be on the Express come the first of September — it will be our last time after all, wouldn’t want to miss that!”

She didn’t seem convinced, so I continued with a little less frivolity.

“The task that Dumbledore set for me to do has been completed, much quicker than any of us anticipated, so the contingency plans we made are no longer necessary. We will be in school — I swear.”

“Thank you, Harry, it’s just that a mother worries so about her children — all of them,” she added, eyes boring into mine. “Lunch will be ready in just a little while,” she added with a small smile.

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I really appreciate that.” And I did. It was good to be back in one of my favorite places anywhere, the Burrow kitchen under the loving hand of Molly Weasley, the only mother I’d really ever known. It made me wonder if things had been different, somehow…

“Excuse me, Harry,” came the gentle voice of Mr. Weasley, so different from his wife’s. “Do you mind if we speak privately for a few moments?” He glanced questioning at Ginny.

For some reason, the girl was actually smirking at me. “I don’t mind,” she replied coyly.

“Er, sure, no problem,” I replied, wondering just what I was missing.

“Let’s step outside for a bit,” he said, stepping back out onto the porch. He stepped down onto the lawn and started off toward the paddock.

As I caught up he looked over appraisingly. “Kingsley and Mad-Eye were here earlier, Harry. They told me some very interesting stories about some unusual happenings yesterday.”

“Yeah? What about?” I wasn’t going to volunteer anything I didn’t have to, not knowing the lay of the land yet, so to speak.

“Despite what was reported in the Daily Prophet, Peter Pettigrew and You-Know-Who were not captured in the raid over your village. They were discovered in one of the DMLE holding cells last night when the others were brought in. I understand that it caused quite a stir, and the guards couldn’t explain how anyone got past them. That area is secured against portkeys and apparition, you see.”

“Wow! What do they think happened?”

“They are at a loss to explain it, but you may have noticed that they didn’t mind taking credit for the captures,” he chuckled. “However, Mad-Eye has this theory that a house-elf under orders might be able to pull off a stunt like that. What do you think?”

“I suppose it might be possible,” I shrugged, “but who would want to do something like that?”

“I can think of a few people,” he sighed, “but Mad-Eye and Kingsley also went to Malfoy Manor to follow up on the activity mentioned in your summons. They found Lucius Malfoy stunned in his own drawing room, along with You-Know-Who’s decapitated snake in a back hall. Lucius was quoted saying you were there threatening him, Harry.”

The fact that the Ministry had a record of me casting spells at Lucius’ home meant that this could be trouble.

“Do you think anyone will believe him?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, “there will always be supporters — although a few less now — but I don’t know how this will be received by the average witch or wizard when it gets out that you were there with You-Know-Who, and he was subsequently found dead. Public opinion can be a very fickle thing, you know.”

Oh, I knew, all right. I had been alternately deified and vilified at Hogwarts, sometimes by the same people on the same day.

Mr. Weasley continued, “I just wanted to warn you, Harry, to be very careful. I imagine that whatever you did yesterday was incredibly risky, but you managed to pull it off anyway as you tend to do, and I’m sure that we should all be extremely grateful whether anyone knows it or not.”

I nodded stoically to his roundabout compliment.

He cleared his throat. “On another topic, I couldn’t help but overhear you and Ginny talking to Molly…”

I started, not expecting to get this particular talk so soon.

“She is our only daughter —”

“Mr. Weasley,” I broke in, “Ginny and I are still young and we have only been dating for a little while, but I can assure you that I will treat her with honor and respect to the best of my ability; she deserves at least that much. As for the future, there’s a possibility that we might end up together, and that appeals to me very much right now. But I want to let our relationship develop naturally, so don’t expect me to ask your permission for anything until after we’re both out of school.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that,” he smiled warmly in return. “And I doubt our Ginny will let you take her anywhere she doesn’t want to go. One word of advice from a guy who has managed to stay married for a few years now: Don’t turn small disagreements into big ones; let them go. When you have important decisions to make, make them together. If you believe strongly in something, make sure she knows that, just as you listen to what she has strong feelings about. Work things out to the best of your ability, and if that fails, just go with whatever she wants.”

He clapped his hand on my shoulder as we headed back to the house, laughing at what we would do to keep our ladies happy.

Lunch was a boisterous affair with a platoon of redheads in attendance. There was some small talk about the previous evening’s events, but the current favorite topic had to be Bill and Fleur's upcoming nuptials. It was only three days away, the Delacour family was arriving tomorrow, and there were still sooooo many little things yet to be accomplished. However, I had a very strong hunch that it would take a fraction of the time described in the book because Molly wouldn’t be inventing tasks to keep us occupied and separate.

That turned out to be the case; after lunch we were shooed outside to perform several chores around the yard. We even got to make a game of de-gnoming Molly’s garden. The odd little pests with potato-like heads would eventually come back, so the farther one could fling them, the better. Bill was the best at distance tosses, but Ron came in a very close second. It was little surprise that Ginny won the accuracy contest, but I only seemed best at getting my fingers bit when I was distracted watching Ginny. She, Hermione and Fleur all seemed to think my injuries were funny for some reason.

All the while, Mr. Weasley’s comment about public opinion kept niggling at the back of my brain. When we finally had the yard in acceptable condition, I pulled Ginny into my arms. “How about an afternoon date in Diagon Alley?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just for a date?”

Damn, this girl knew me too well. “I need to make an appearance, talk to the press. It’s like we talked about the other day — we need to get the story that we want told out there, so there will be less speculation that I’m about the next Dark Wizard terrorizing the good people of magical Britain.”

“I thought as much,” she said with a wry smile, “ but I want a real date soon.”

“Of course, my love. Your wish is my command.”

She replied with a lingering kiss, earning us a few catcalls and a protest from Ron.

“Oi, Potter, don’t snog my sister in front of me!”

Ginny gave him a withering look. “Shut it, Ron, I’m snogging him.”

My cup of happiness bubbled over once again and I burst out laughing, squeezing Ginny to make sure this amazing girl was truly real.

6.03

1500 SUNDAY  DIAGON ALLEY  LONDON

With the approval of Ginny’s parents, we flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, which served as the entrance to the London magical district. I waved at Tom the barkeep as we passed through and he waved back excitedly.

“Good show, Harry!” he yelled out, nearly causing an uproar in the half-filled bar. People started to clap and cheer as we hurried by their tables.

Fortunately, we were almost to the alley exit and were able to bow our way out the door before anyone had launched themselves at us.

I hurriedly tapped the appropriate bricks with my wand, holding Ginny with my other hand.

“They know, Harry,” she whispered.

“They suspect,” I said. “That’s why I need to echo the Ministry’s position, so the spotlight will remain on them.”

“Good luck,” she chuckled.

The alley seemed as busy as I had ever seen it, even when I had stayed here after blowing up dear Aunt Marge, who for some reason reminded me of Dolores Umbridge. I winced at the thought of both of those revolting humans at the same time, and refocused my attention on the beautiful witch beside me.

“Anywhere in particular you want to visit?”

“Hmm,” she said, wrinkling her pert nose, “Quality Quidditch, Flourish and Blotts… oh, we must drop by the twins’ shop!”

“Brooms, books, and pranks. I like it.” We laughed together, arm in arm.

But we had only passed the first couple of shops before the whispering began, and the staring, and then people were approaching us, asking for my autograph and asking the strangest questions. Why on earth would anyone care what hair products I used? I was in a good mood, so I tried to honor all the requests as best I could.

Before long, the reporters arrived and began making more pointed questions.

“Mr. Potter, how do you feel about You-Know-Who’s death?”

No beating around the bush for this crowd. “I was glad to hear that we won’t be troubled by him anymore, for that’s all he was, trouble for our world, creating division and inciting mayhem and murder. Good riddance, I say, and I would like to express my appreciation for the Minister, all the Aurors and other Ministry personnel who were involved in yesterday’s operations.”

“Harry, are you sure that the Ministry is not deceiving us again? How can we be certain that You-Know-Who is really gone this time?”

“That’s a fair point, but I feel confident that they are being truthful this time. I have personal evidence, because the scar that he gave me as a child has recently changed.” I lifted up my fringe, displaying the Founders’ Cross that had replaced the lightning bolt on my forehead.

Cameras flashed, and I knew this would be a lead story for the next day or so. I didn’t feel too bad about mixing up the details a bit about my scar, because I needed to have some excuse why it was different, and I certainly couldn’t tell them the truth. No one would believe it anyway.

“And who is the pretty witch by your side?” came a very familiar voice. “Does your girlfriend, Miss Granger, know that you are with someone else?”

“Ah, Rita Skeeter, so lovely to see you again, and outside a broom cupboard this time.”

Several gasps went up and the normally haughty witch paused, a recognizable quill just pulled from her bag, astonished that I would have gained the offensive so quickly.

Pressing my advantage, I snatched the Quick-Quotes Quill from her hand. “I remember this, handy little device as I recall.” I remembered that it had to be primed by the user before it would obey their will. I sucked on the end of it, just as Rita had done during the Triwizard Tournament interview. I set it in place over the parchment Rita was holding as she watched, horrified, as it began to write.

Harry Potter sends greetings to his beetle friend.

“Now, RIta,” I explained in a patronizing tone, “you remember that Hermione is just a very good friend of mine. As I told you before, she was never my girlfriend, despite what you claimed in your columns.”

And he insists that future articles about me and my friends must state only facts, not your ridiculous speculations, or there will be hell to pay, wrote the quill.

“This lovely lady here is Ginny Weasley, and she has agreed to accompany me on a shopping trip today. You may recall that the Weasleys are very good friends of mine, and she happens to be prettier than her brothers.”

As I spoke, the quill continued, And you must notify me if you are anywhere in my vicinity in your animagus form. Rita finally came to her senses and mutinously shoved parchment and quill back into her bag.

Ginny laughed, and we cozied up together for the requisite photos. With Tom gone, I had no problem letting the world know that we were an item now; hopefully some of the crazy fangirls would stay away — if I was lucky.

All in all, it turned out to be a great afternoon after the impromptu press conference, and we did make it to several shops before returning to the Burrow with a few small purchases in hand.

6.04

2100 SUNDAY  DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES  LONDON

Three men sat at a simple round table in an unadorned conference room in an unnamed area of the department. Two wore robes of deep maroon while the third had robes of medium gray.

“This is your agent who most closely matches the profile?” gray robes asked the older of the two in maroon, indicating the younger.

“Yes, he is well within specifications,” older maroon robes replied in an American accent. “While he is at the upper end of the designated age bracket, he is a dedicated worker, goal oriented, and works extremely well in support roles.”

“Very well. He has been briefed on the use of proxy magic?”

“He knows of its experimental nature and the risks involved. This has been approved by your Minister?”

“Our current Minister will be informed if the mission succeeds. We have prior approval from the Supreme Mugwump.”

“Yes, of course. How much do we know of the host?”

Gray robes handed over a folder. “He is Muggle, of course; proxy magic cannot be hosted by magical beings. He is aged 17 years, currently in hospital in the colonies — the city is Charlotte, in North Carolina —  for injuries received during an automobile accident. The worst of these is severe head trauma and he is being kept in a magically induced coma, without the knowledge of the Muggles. Our American field agent that located the host for our mark was lucky to find two friends affected almost identically.”

He turned to the younger man. “Your primary mission is to assist the mark in surviving the duration of the ritual and discovering the knowledge he must obtain for his own mission upon his return. We have indirect evidence that your primary will be successful. Your secondary mission is to obtain this knowledge as well. We have reason to believe it is highly sensitive and dangerous, and will become known to the populace at large if no action is taken.”

“How am I supposed to discover this knowledge as a Muggle?” asked the younger man.

“Our intelligence from previous ritual volunteers has indicated that the knowledge is becoming openly available in the Muggle world, but has received little attention in our world. This is the form it will take.” He handed them a book.

“How curious — the Muggles have their own Harry Potter stories?”