Harry Potter and the Curse's Legacy by Frelling

Index

Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 2: Petunia's Confession
Chapter 3: The Dog Star
Chapter 4: Serious Conversations
Chapter 5: Sirius Conversations
Chapter 6: The Portrait
Chapter 7: The Best Birthday
Chapter 8: Last Golden Day of Peace

Chapter 1: Prologue

Author's Notes: Edited to correct many POV-shifting isues that I was disatisfied with. This is Harry's story, and should be told through his eyes.

Harry Potter stared at the ceiling of his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. He was awake much earlier than he planned, probably because of the dream.

Why can’t I stop dreaming about her? he thought. He smiled softly to himself as he stared out the window, pulling the covers to his chin as he worked to consciously slow the beating of his heart, sped up considerably by the content of his dream.

Every night, the dream was the same. He and Ginny were at Dumbledore’s funeral, and he was telling her that they couldn’t be together anymore. She said she understood, and then he walked away. Then, the dream dissolved into the Hogwarts Express on the way back to King’s Cross, and he was alone with her in a compartment, curtains drawn, taking back the things he said just an hour before and begging her to forgive him for being so stupid and noble. She reached for him, and he reached back, and the following happy minutes were spent confirming, with words and touch, their acceptance of what they both knew to be the truth of the matter.

Harry pulled himself out of his reverie and glanced in the moonlight over the sleeping forms of his two best friends, the best friends anyone could ask for, really. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were both asleep, from the looks of them, on individual camp beds mere inches from where Harry currently lay. Their hands, apparently less concerned in sleep than their awake owners about making Harry feel left out, were clasped in between their prone forms. Ron’s snores echoed through the room and a soft smile played across Hermione’s face.

Harry rubbed his eyes and checked the alarm clock on his night stand. Four o’clock, he thought to himself. Too early to get up and do anything useful. He punched his pillow and turned back over toward the window, staring out at the yellow streetlamp as he pondered, yet again, the implications of his dream.

I was right to break up with her, he told himself sternly. Dreaming about taking it back doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t. He sighed and closed his eyes again, determined to return to sleep.

Harry finally gave up trying to get back to sleep at five, and silently dressed and headed downstairs to make himself a light breakfast. For the past five days, it had been the same routine: sneak out of the bedroom, make himself breakfast, and greet the dawn sitting in the back garden, thinking about his dreams, and Voldemort, and, he had to admit to himself, Ginny.

“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione said, smiling softly at him. He returned her grin and gestured at the bench beside him, as he had on the previous five mornings. She sat beside him, and examined the Dursleys’ immaculately kept back garden in silence alongside him. After several minutes, she broke with the recently established tradition and spoke into the silence.

“She misses you, Harry.”

He turned to her slowly and tried to keep his face impassive.

“What?”

“Ginny. She misses you. And I know you miss her; I’ve heard you mumbling her name in your sleep.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times, giving him the look of a fish gasping for breath. “You what?”

Hermione made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Harry. I know Ron’s snores are loud, but I can still hear you.” She fixed him with a stare reminiscent of Professor McGonagall.

Harry, realizing there was no denying the obvious truth, slumped in his seat and put his head in his hands. “He’ll use her, Hermione, just like he used Sirius. I can’t be with her.” He blinked several times to keep his composure, a fact he hoped was lost on Hermione.

“That’s what he does, Harry.” She took his hand in hers and patted it reassuringly. “He targets those who are close to his enemies. Do you think I’m not worried about my parents? About the Weasleys? About Ron?” She blushed at the last acknowledgement, but quickly recovered and turned Harry’s face toward hers with her other hand. Staring into his emerald green eyes, she sighed and continued. “What do you think the Weasley clock says right now?”

Harry quickly averted his gaze and studied the marigolds in the bucket at his feet. He thought back to the last time he’d been at The Burrow. “They’re all on Mortal Peril.” He said, not grasping the point.

“Yes. All of them, even Ginny’s.” Hermione patted his hand again and got up to begin pacing in front of him. “No matter where you keep her, her hand is on Mortal Peril. Home with Mrs. Weasley, at your side, at Hogwarts, it’s been in the same place for a year!” She stopped pacing and pointed at him, clearly willing him to understand where she was going with this.

Harry looked up at her, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “You really don’t think that she’s in any more danger with me than if we’re apart?”

Hermione appeared to steel herself for before speaking. “Harry, if someone is standing by your side when you’re facing Voldemort, they’re obviously in more danger than if they’re a hundred miles away. But if Voldemort decides to go after that person while you’re a hundred miles away, aren’t they in more danger than if they were standing by your side? Aren’t all the Weasleys a big target already for being ‘blood traitors’? Isn’t Ginny a target because of what happened her first year and at the Ministry?”

“But . . . “ Harry sputtered, his eyes practically pleading with Hermione to validate his decision at the funeral, “If Voldemort ever knew how important she is to me, he could use her . . . “ his voice broke and he stared back at the ground.

Hermione placed a hand gently on the top of Harry’s head and he sagged just a little lower from the contact. “What did Dumbledore tell you was the power the Dark Lord knew not?”

Harry’s eyes flicked toward Hermione briefly then returned to his trainers. “Love,” he muttered, not liking where this conversation was going at all even as the creature in his chest sniffed the air hopefully.

Hermione dropped to her knees in front of Harry and took his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her again. His eyes refused the contact for a few frantic seconds, looking anywhere but at the bright brown eyes in front of him. When he finally resigned himself to looking at Hermione, the light faded from his eyes even as his eyebrows rose.

She soldiered on. “That’s right, Harry. Love. Not friendship, or hope, or righteous indignation, or bravery, but love.”

Harry’s whispered, anguished response was barely audible over the wind rustling the branches of the trees overhead. “What is love, Hermione?”

Tears escaped the rims of Hermione’s eyes as she glanced back at the home Harry had been forced to endure for almost sixteen years.

“Oh, Harry. You know love. Your love for Sirius was what took us all to the Ministry that night! It’s what kept Voldemort from possessing you! Your mother’s love is what saved you as a baby.”

Harry sighed and looked back up at Hermione. “That’s what Dumbledore said, too, but I still don’t think I really understand. I’d go anywhere to rescue you and Ron, does that mean I love you?” He blushed slightly at the implication and looked at his shoes again.

“Of course, Harry. You love me, and Ron, as friends, and we love you. Your mother loved you as a mother loves a child. You loved Sirius, and Dumbledore, almost like fathers. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love you and me both like we were their own children. There are many different kinds of love, and it’s all around you, Harry. And I think the only one you’re missing is the love you feel for…” she stopped, clearly unsure if this was crossing an unmarked boundary.

Harry sat up a bit straighter and fixed his gaze on Hermione again. “The love I feel for Ginny.” He scrubbed his face with his hands as Hermione nodded vigorously. “Why does this have to be so hard, Hermione? Why can’t I just a normal person and worry about girls and exams and Quidditch? I’m not even seventeen and here I am, wondering about the meaning of love and life and how to keep the people around me safe.”

Ron emerged from the back door at this moment, obviously unsure as to whether he should intrude. Harry gestured him over and gave him a conspirational glance, hoping he would rescue Harry from the murky waters in which he found himself. He was sorely disappointed with Ron’s approach to the situation.

“It goes with the territory of being the Chosen One, mate, just like the prophecies and the Dark Lord business.” He flopped down on the bench next to Harry and slung a sympathetic arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I know I shouldn’t be asking this, as it’s my baby sister who’s the girl in question, but, er…” His panicked eyes flitted to Hermione, hoping for some help.

“Harry, how do you feel about Ginny?” Hermione finished for him, rolling her eyes at Ron but simultaneously smiling at him.

Harry seemed to gather himself, running a hand through his untidy black hair, and then straightening his glasses on his nose. He tried to ignore Ron’s gaze as he said, “I feel incredible when she’s around, like I can do anything. Like if she believes in me, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. Calmer, but somehow more excited.” He blushed as he paused, not sure if he wanted to continue with Ron sitting right there but feeling he was on the verge of a very important discovery. “I told her that I felt like the time with her was something out of someone else’s life. She made me feel like a real person, not just the Boy Who Lived, or The Chosen One, or some specimen in a zoo.” He hesitated again, gazing skyward. “But I need to keep her safe. I can’t expose her to the dangers of what we’re doing.”

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. Ron patted Harry on the back and avoided looking at Hermione as he said, “Sounds like you’re in love with my sister, mate.” He sighed and put his hands on his knees. Hermione beamed at him.

“But…” Harry struggled to put his question into words as he looked pleadingly at Hermione, “How do I know that?” He felt the heat rise from the collar of his scruffy t-shirt as he asked the question. This was not a conversation in which he’d really anticipated Ron participating.

Hermione put one hand on Ron’s, and the other on Harry’s, then cleared her throat, obviously feeling that her next question was something important. “What does your heart tell you, Harry?”

Harry Potter stood in the back garden of his aunt and uncle’s house and, with a glance back at his friends, disappeared with a crack.

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Chapter 2: Petunia's Confession

Author's Notes: Chapter One, officially. Thanks very much to those who have read so far, and even more thanks to those who have reviewed! Anyone want to volunteer to beta and Brit-pick for me? Many thanks to the person who nominated this for a DSTA - I'm honored!

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Chapter 3: The Dog Star

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long. Hard to balance characters telling each other things with not boring the reader with things they already know.

Harry trudged up the stairs after a particularly filling lunch prepared by Mrs. Weasley. When he reached the first landing, he glanced at Ginny’s door and smiled, then turned to the opposite door and let himself into Fred and George’s old room. The smell of gunpowder that pervaded the space a year before was thankfully gone, as were the storage boxes the twins had left behind. New maroon curtains hung at the windows and matched the new bedclothes. Mrs. Weasley, he presumed, had done her best to turn this into a proper guest quarters and the effort showed.

Dropping down on the bed nearest the door, Harry sighed with relief at the quiet. He’d taken in quite a bit so far today, and was looking forward to a few solitary minutes to unwind. Figuring that he might as well do something useful, he rose and opened his trunk and began moving his clothes into their proper places. Working carefully to not upset the sleeping Hedwig on top of the tall wardrobe, he absently wondered what lay inside the box Petunia gave him. I really should get some clothes that fit me properly, he mused.

He left it sitting beside his trunk as he continued organizing his belongings, setting quills, ink, parchment and books atop the polished surface of the desk and finally stowing his socks and pants inside the chest of drawers. He turned back to his trunk and peered inside; the only things left were some sweet wrappers and the remains of the mirror he’d smashed when it proved to be no use in contacting Sirius. One more unpleasant memory, he considered, flopping back down on the bed. Reasoning that he could get away with some minor spell casting in a known wizarding household, he prepared to banish the rubbish but stopped before actually doing so.

“Reparo,” he muttered, pointing his wand at the fragmented mirror. Rubbing his eyes wearily, he picked up the mirror and set it on the nightstand, then banished the remaining debris.

“Hopefully it won’t criticize my hair like the one in the loo,” he mumbled. “Thanks for that at least, Padfoot.”

As he spoke Sirius’s Marauder nickname, the mirror began to glow softly. Taken aback by this new development, Harry staggered back against the wall.

“S-Sirius?” he whispered, inching toward the mirror.

“Took you long enough!” his godfather’s voice barked from within the frame.

Harry fell to his knees beside the nightstand and felt tears threatening for the second time that day. His trembling hand reached out for the mirror, and he half-expected it to look perfectly normal.

His heart leapt when he saw Sirius’s face beaming back at him.

“Sirius, are you all right?” he asked worriedly.

Sirius seemed to consider for a moment, then answered, “Kind of lonely here, but pleasant. How are you? Not sitting around mourning me, I hope.”

Harry blushed, ashamed that using Sirius’s nickname hadn’t occurred to him before now. Of course they would use Prongs and Padfoot and not James and Sirius. It all seemed so simple now that he knew it. How could I have given up so easily?

“I’m sorry for getting you to follow us to the Ministry, Sirius. If I’d remembered the mirrors and hadn’t run off without thinking everything through, you’d still be here!” Harry hated the anguished sound of his own voice.

Sirius sighed. “Harry, I was cooped up in that house for a year. This place is much more entertaining, and I can go anywhere I want. It’s my fault for taunting my dear cousin and not watching where I was.”

“Are my parents there?” Harry changed the subject anxiously.

Sirius shook his head. “No; I’m alone, as far as I can tell. I’m not sure what this place is, but it’s comfortable, and has plenty of places to explore. It’s a bit like having the whole world to myself.”

Harry pulled himself up off of his knees and sat down on the bed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Why so glum, Harry?” Sirius peered at him concernedly.

“So much has happened in the past year, Sirius! First you died, then the Ministry started trying to get me to be their poster boy, and Malfoy let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and Snape killed Dumbledore. And now I have to find four Horcruxes and finish off Voldemort and I don’t even know where to begin.” Harry flopped backward on his bed and let out a quiet howl of frustration.

“Snape killed Dumbledore? That’s not possible! I never liked him, but a murderer? Why on earth . . .” Sirius seemed to be struggling to find words to continue.

Harry sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. “I was there, under Dad’s cloak. I saw him do it. Avada Kedavra. And if that didn’t do it, the fall from the top of the Astronomy tower surely finished the job.”

Sirius continued shaking his head, processing the information that Harry just gave him. “What’s a Horcrux?”

“A piece of soul, stored in an object, that keeps someone from dying when they’re killed. It’s why Voldemort didn’t really die when the curse rebounded on him when I was a baby.” Harry recited. He felt like he’d talked about Horcruxes far too many times recently. And there are probably more people I need to talk to, he mused inwardly.

Sirius appeared confused. “Why four? Wouldn’t one be enough?”

Harry chuckled for the first time since his godfather appeared in the mirror. “Apparently not enough for Voldemort. He wanted to split his soul into seven pieces because apparently seven is the most magical number. The diary was a Horcrux, and it’s already been destroyed, plus there’s a ring that Dumbledore took care of, and the piece inside Voldemort himself — that leaves four to find and destroy.” Harry ticked them off on his fingers and repeated his mantra. “The locket, the cup, the snake, and something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s.” He then quickly summarized Dumbledore’s theories about the significance of the objects, and his venture to the cave the night Dumbledore died. He choked up a bit talking about the happenings on the Astronomy tower, but made it through despite Sirius’s increasingly disbelieving look.

“So you have the locket, then?” Sirius inquired.

Harry shook his head miserably. “It was a fake. Someone took the real one and put a decoy in its place, with a note inside.” He then pulled the locket and note out of his pocket and read it aloud to Sirius.”

To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this
But I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,
you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.

Sirius shook his head even more vigorously than before. “It’s not possible. No. He wasn’t even twenty. No way.”

Harry eyed Sirius curiously and spoke to break him out of his disbelieving reverie. “What’s not possible? I have the note right here, and this isn’t the same locket that was in the memory Dumbledore got from Hokey!”

“No, I understand that the switch happened. What I can’t figure out is how Regulus managed it.” Sirius was still shaking his head.

“You mean your brother Regulus?” Harry was dumbstruck.

Sirius finally switched from shaking his head to nodding. “My brother Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Harry rubbed his eyes again, this time in disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of him as R.A.B. What if the locket is at twelve Grimmauld Place?” He stood up from his bed and strode to the door, then turned back to the mirror before opening it. “I’ll be right back. I need to get the others.”

Sirius nodded in agreement and Harry headed out of his room to find his friends gathered in the sitting room. Hermione was curled up with a book on the sofa beside Ron, who was playing Exploding Snap with Ginny.

Harry cleared his throat to attract their attention. “Er, guys? I have a, er, startling development to share with you.” They all looked at him with identical questioning glances.

Hermione closed her book after carefully marking her place, and was the first to speak. “You’ve only been gone twenty minutes or so, Harry, what is it?”

“I know who R.A.B. is.” He waited for that bombshell to clear before even trying to continue.

Ginny was the first to break the silence this time. “Who is R.A.B. and why is that important?” Her eyes clearly said that she did not expect to be left out of anything anymore. Harry crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead.

“Ginny, you know that I wanted to protect you when I broke up with you.” He raised his hand to stop her before she interrupted him, as her face showed she was preparing to do. “I’ve given up on that idea, so don’t hex me. But there are some things you don’t know. Dangerous knowledge. Knowledge Voldemort would kill to have.” He paused, trying to decide how to delicately phrase his next statement, then looked directly into her eyes. “I understand now that you can take care of yourself, and don’t need me to protect you, as much as I’d like to. But if you don’t want to know these things, I completely understand. It makes things even more hazardous for you than just being my girlfriend.”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Ginny grinned and said, “I can’t help you if I don’t know, Harry. And I want to help you as much as I can.”

He sighed and drew her closer, placing his chin on top of her head in a gesture that already felt second-nature to him. He stroked her hair with one hand and brought his other arm to circle around her waist. “It sounds so dramatic, but there’s no other way to say it. I am the Chosen One, Gin. Dumbledore shared the prophecy with me that night after the Ministry last year, and it says that I’m the one who has to stop Voldemort.” He squeezed her even tighter, half afraid that she would decide he was too dangerous to be with, half hoping she’d come to that very conclusion so she’d be safer.

She stepped back from him and looked into his bright green eyes. He tried to look away from her, afraid of what he would see reflected in hers. She grabbed his face in both hands and forced him to look back. “Understand this, Harry James Potter. I already knew you were the Chosen One, whether you confirmed it for me or not. This is not going to drive me away. I understand the risks, and I’m willing to take them to help keep you safe.”

“But —“

“No buts. No ifs, no ands. No caveats or loopholes. You’re stuck with me, no matter what dark and terrible secret you think you have.”

Hermione and Ron watched the interplay like spectators at a tennis match.

“Ginny —“ he interrupted.

“Shut up, you git. I’m not done yet. If you think that you can scare me away from you by telling me what horrible fate lies in store for you —“

“Ginny!” he said, more loudly.

She stopped and gave him an irritated glare. “Don’t interrupt me!”

Harry grinned sheepishly and continued undeterred. “I was just going to say that I love you.”

Hermione beamed at him more broadly than she had in the common room at the scene of their first kiss. Even Ron looked more amused than repulsed to hear his best friend declare his love for his sister in such a public fashion.

Ginny’s look softened immediately. “Oh. Well, then I guess that makes me the git. I love you too, Harry.” She reached up and drew him into a prolonged kiss that had Ron groaning and Hermione clapping happily.

When they finally broke apart, Ginny continued, “So, this still doesn’t explain who R.A.B. is or why this person is important.”

Harry glanced around the room before answering. “We should probably go upstairs. I don’t want your mum to overhear any more of this.” He held out his hand to Ginny and began to draw her up the stairs, with Ron and Hermione on their heels. When they reached the landing, Harry paused and warned them, “This is going to be weird. Very weird.”

The three teens looked at him quizzically before following him through the doorway. Harry closed the door and cast the Imperturbable charm on it as well as a locking charm. Ron and Hermione took a seat on the far bed, and Ginny patted the bed next to her when he turned from the door. He joined her there, and took a deep breath.

He reached behind him and picked up the mirror and handed it to Ginny. She peered into it and squinted at it before handing it back to him. “It’s a mirror, Harry.”

Harry did a double-take and gazed into the mirror himself. Sirius was laughing at him. “No one can see me but you, Harry. I can see and hear them, though. The mirrors were charmed so that only James and I could see each other — I switched the charm on his to work for you, but it won’t work for anyone else.” Harry sighed. This is going to be more of a pain than I expected. “All right, Sirius says you guys can’t see him, but trust me, I can.”

At the sound of Sirius’s name, the other three gasped and looked at Harry skeptically. “What do you mean, you can see Sirius?” Ron voiced the question that remained unasked by the girls.

Harry took another breath and explained the charms on the mirrors, and how he had tried to contact Sirius through his at the end of his fifth year. “When Sirius’s name failed, I tossed it in the bottom of my trunk, and I was pretty angry, so it broke. I fixed it today and said, ‘Padfoot,’ and it worked. I can’t believe I was too stupid to try that before.”

Ginny patted him on the knee comfortingly. “You couldn’t have known, Harry, and you were pretty upset at the time. Don’t blame yourself.” She gave him an encouraging smile. He smiled shyly back and continued on.

“So I was catching Sirius up on the whole Horcrux situation” he turned to address Ginny, “which I will do with you as soon as we’re done with Sirius, I promise,” He looked back toward Sirius in the mirror and continued, “and I mentioned R.A.B. and the locket. He says that his brother is Regulus Arcturus Black.” Hermione gasped at the name, but Harry plowed on. “He was a Death Eater, and was killed on Voldemort’s orders because he wanted to stop being a Death Eater.” Sirius nodded along with Harry’s recounting.

He looked at his friends. Hermione looked thoughtful, Ron looked confused, and Ginny was staring at him intently. She grabbed him and kissed him firmly. “A locket? Harry, we found a locket when we were cleaning, remember? And no one could open it! I wonder what we did with it.”

Harry was elated by this revelation, and he reached out to Ginny and pulled her up on his lap. “Now I know it was the right decision to bring you in on this.” He kissed her back, grinning madly. She beamed back at him and Harry, oblivious to Ron and Hermione’s discomfort and Sirius’s laughter and jeering from the mirror, kissed her repeatedly. “I’m so glad I get to do this again.”

A loud cough from Ron broke them out of their intense moment and they blushed. Sirius was still laughing, so Harry glared at him. “What’s so funny, Padfoot?”

Sirius shook his hair out of his face and beamed up at Harry. “I see that you finally wised up and realized that she’s the one for you. I’m reminded of your parents in reverse.”

Harry laughed at the thought of Ginny repeatedly asking him out over the course of his five years at school with her, as persistent as his father had been in pursuing his mother. “I guess it runs in the family.” He grinned sheepishly and kissed Ginny once more.

Ron stood up and forcibly pulled them apart. “Enough snogging! What’s with you two?”

Ginny studied Harry’s face for a moment before turning to Ron. “Making up for lost time, prat.” She stood up from Harry’s lap and Harry was left wondering if he or Ron was the prat. She leaned over and kissed him again quickly, “You’re not the prat, Harry.” How does she do that? He wondered.

Hermione stood up and placed a hand on Ron’s arm. “Let’s leave these two alone.”

Ron protested, “I’m not leaving them in here while they’re acting like they’re in heat!”

“I promise not to sully your sister’s honor, Ron. Now go so that I can tell her about the Horcruxes.” Harry scowled at him.

“Fine, if that’s all you’re doing.” Ron pulled Hermione out of the room in a huff.

“I may sully his honor though, prat!” Ginny yelled after them. She waved her wand to slam and recharm the door.

“Gin, he’s trying. We were being, er, demonstrative.” Harry implored, pulling her back down on his lap and returning his attention to the mirror. “Sirius, do you have more bombshells to drop on me?”

“I think one a day is my quota, Harry. Get back to taking care of your girlfriend. I’m not going anywhere.” He spread his hands and glanced around. “You know where to find me. Mischief managed.” His image faded from the mirror. I guess “mischief managed” is the all-purpose Marauders code for turning off enchantments, Harry surmised.

“Now. Where were we?” Harry leaned into Ginny and took her lower lip between his teeth, burying his hands in her hair.” She giggled against his mouth as he valiantly tried to ignore her pushing against him.

“Harry! Stop!” she gasped, still laughing, pushing away from him more vigorously. “Horcruxes, please. I really want to know.”

Harry sighed dramatically and pulled his hands back, clasping them in his lap. “Okay, I’ll be good.”

Ginny smiled and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t want you to be too good. I just want you to explain things to me first.” She scooted off of his lap and sat beside him on the bed, taking one hand in hers and stroking it absently with her thumb.

“Well, you know I had those special lessons with Dumbledore last year?” Ginny nodded. “He was showing me things about Voldemort’s past, and how he ended up the way he is now.”

As he spun the tale of Tom Riddle’s descent from handsome orphan to snakelike Dark Lord, Ginny listened with rapt attention. She was an excellent audience, gasping and sighing, even swearing at the appropriate moments. He only had to stop when he talked about the creation of the diary, and tears appeared in her eyes. He pulled her to him and held her as she sobbed against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Gin. That should never have happened to you. I should have been your friend sooner. I should have noticed the changes in you, instead of dismissing you as Ron’s little sister.”

Ginny’s crying subsided, and she slowly pulled away from Harry, wiping her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Harry. My brothers didn’t notice anything strange about me either, except for Percy making me take that Pepper-Up Potion. Even if you’d been nice to me, you couldn’t have known me as well as they do.”

Harry smiled and lifted her chin, “But I want to now, Gin. I want to know everything about you. I want to be the first one to notice when anything is wrong with you, and the first one to help you fix it.” She smiled through the remnants of her tears.

“Oh, Harry, that’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She leaned in and kissed him softly, stroking the side of his face with her fingers and tracing the line of his smile with her thumb. Harry kissed her thumb as it passed over his lips and pulled her to him again.

“It’s just the truth, Gin.” He kissed the top of her head and asked, “You ready to continue?” He felt her nod and inhaled her flowery scent before completing the sordid tale of Tom Riddle’s quest for immortality with a deep, weary sigh.

Ginny leaned back and looked up at him. “So the night that Death Eaters attacked the school, you were with Dumbledore looking for the necklace, but it turned out to be a fake? That’s what you were holding when I led you away from Dumbledore’s, um,” she paused, “Dumbledore.”

Harry gulped and nodded. “That’s when I figured out it was a fake, when I found it on the ground by his,” he had to pause to swallow the lump in his throat, “by his body.”

It was now Ginny’s turn to pull Harry to her and hold him close. “It’s not your fault, Harry. What happened to Dumbledore is all down to Draco and Snape and Voldemort. Dumbledore froze you to save you. That’s not your fault.” She stroked his hair and kissed his temple, crossing over to press her lips on his scar, where she lingered for several seconds.

Harry’s emotions switched from the brink of grief to something more akin to lust in response to the contact. He tilted his head down to meet her eyes and almost growled, “I love it when you kiss my scar. No one ever touches it but you.”

Ginny quirked an eyebrow and kissed it again, chuckling softly. Her hands plunged deeply into his hair and held him to her mouth and she smiled as she heard him gasp when her tongue flicked over his famous mark. She progressed from his forehead down the side of his face, planting tiny kisses as she went, until she reached his mouth. They sighed against each other as Harry’s hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt around her back. He thrilled at the feeling of her skin beneath his fingers for the second time in the span of a few hours and took her lip between his teeth again. She responded by leaning back on the bed, pulling him over with her.

Merlin, this feels incredible, he thought as he found himself pressed against the entire length of her body. Her hands slipped down to untuck his shirt from his jeans, and before he could react she had her hands under his shirt as well, roaming the territory of his slim back. “Gin?” he questioned between kisses.

“Mmhmm?” she murmured, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and causing him to inhale sharply.

“I promised your brother that I wouldn’t sully your honor,” he muttered as he kissed her collarbone. “But I’m sorely tempted to become a liar.” He started nibbling on the side of her neck, eliciting a gasp from his girlfriend. He let out a resigned sigh and rolled onto his back, pulling her along with him to curl into his side with her head on his shoulder.

After several minutes of toying with the ends of her hair, watching the light from the window reflect its highlights, he whispered, “Think your mum would let you sleep with me if I asked nicely?”

She stopped tracing circles on his chest with her finger. “You’re going to ask my mother’s permission before you shag me?” Propping herself up on her elbow, she gave him an incredulous look.

Bugger. He could feel the blush rising as he quickly corrected her assumption, “Not shagging. I meant actual sleeping, you depraved harlot.” He poked her in the side, eliciting another giggle. “I was just thinking how nice it felt to lie here with you, and how it’s a shame that we can’t sleep like that.”

She smiled at him and laid her head back on his chest. “Yes, that would be nice. Mum would have kittens though, so don’t bring it up.”

He laughed out loud. “Do you think I have a death wish?”

She tensed at his words, and he immediately regretted them. “I’m sorry, Gin, it’s just a figure of speech.” He stroked her cheek as he continued, “I don’t have a death wish, I promise. I’m going to do everything I can to survive this mess. I do need to talk to your mum or your dad, though. Well, we do.”

“What about?” she asked curiously, resuming her ministrations on his chest with her whole hand.

“Well, if you think we saw the locket at Headquarters, I need to go there and look for it.” He felt her tense again, and hastily rephrased, “I mean, we need to go there and look for it.” He felt her smile against his shoulder.

Back to index

Chapter 4: Serious Conversations

Author's Notes: Let the search for the Horcruxes begin! But first, a little more talking. =P

Molly Weasley coughed loudly, waking the two teens from their slumber. “Harry, Ginny, dears, dinner is almost ready.” She eyed them suspiciously, but just as Harry was beginning to feel guilty about being found with her only daughter sleeping in his arms, Molly smiled at him. He smiled back and nodded at her, nudging Ginny gently awake.

“Gin, wake up. Your mum just caught us,” he prodded as Molly left and shut the door behind her. Ginny’s eyes flickered open and she grinned up at him.

“Mum caught us sleeping together and you’re still alive with eardrums intact? It’s official, the end of the world is nearing.” She snuggled deeper into the crook of his shoulder and slid her free hand up his chest under his shirt.

Harry laughed softly and poked her in the side. “How come you get to joke about all things apocalyptic but I don’t?”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t be so sensitive about it. Go ahead and laugh about your untimely demise any time you feel like it.” Her deft fingers had reached his right nipple and she gave it a gentle pinch. Harry felt the sensation shoot right through his body down to his toes, lingering somewhere in his pants even after the shock had worn off.

“You mean I’m allowed to say ‘Sweet Merlin, Ginny, you’re killing me’ when you do that?” He kissed the top of her head and stroked her back through her shirt.

“I think that would be all right,” she giggled, sitting up next to him. “But we probably shouldn’t test Mum’s patience by staying up here too much longer. Plus, if we won’t get down there soon Ron will have eaten everything.” Her stomach grumbled in unison with her last comment.

“Well, I wouldn’t want a starving Weasley on my hands. Who knows what you’d try to devour if that happened.” Harry poked her in the side again and sat up himself, running his other hand through his even more-unkempt hair as he did so. He stood beside the bed, then offered her his hand and led her through the door. As they turned on the landing, he whispered in her ear, “I was right; I loved waking up with you beside me.”

Ginny blushed slightly and whispered back, “Now if we could just get Mum to let us wake up on our own.”

Dinner was a happy affair, with Mr. Weasley home from the Ministry and Bill and Fleur home from Gringotts. Fleur blathered on for most of the meal detailing wedding preparations that Harry couldn’t begin to decipher, but the other women at the table seemed at least moderately interested. Bill’s face was in much better shape than it was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, with the scars healing slowly. Harry reflected that it was a bit jarring to see at first, but after a few minutes he had decided that they actually added to his appearance rather than detracting from it. During a lull in the wedding discussion, Harry cleared his throat and decided to broach the subject of twelve Grimmauld Place and the locket they needed to retrieve.

“Do you think it would be possible for the four of us to take a trip to Headquarters sometime in the next few days? Anyone else is welcome to come with us, but Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and I have something we need to look for there.” He glanced around the table at the assembled adults to gauge their reactions. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were exchanging looks, while Fleur was examining her fingernails and Bill looked thoughtful.

It was Bill who asked the first question. “What are you looking for, Harry?”

Damn, I knew they’d want to know, he thought to himself before deciding on the only answer he had available. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say, really. It has to do with the mission Dumbledore gave me before he died, and I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about it.” He guiltily realized that he’d already broken that promise in telling Ginny, and squeezed her knee. She placed her hand on his and patted it reassuringly.

Mr. Weasley spoke next. “I don’t see that it’s a problem, Harry, but one or more of us will definitely want to go with you. The Fidelius Charm protecting the house doesn’t expire with Dumbledore’s death, but since Snape knows where it is until we can recast the charm, it’s best that no one go there alone.”

“How do we recast the Fidelius Charm? I assume I have to be involved since technically it’s my house, but what else do we need to do?” Harry was very concerned about Snape finding the house with its reduced security.

Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful. “Well, we’d have to get someone to cast it. It’s very complex, so I wouldn’t want to try it myself.” He looked at his oldest son. “Bill?”

The eldest Weasley child considered for a moment, then decided, “Well, I don’t doubt I could cast it if we really needed me to, but I’ve never done it before so it might be better to get someone more experienced. How about Professor Flitwick?”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, “He’s not in the Order, though; are we sure we can trust him with this?”

“Well, the Order is kind of at a loss for what to do without Dumbledore; we haven’t even elected a new leader yet. I don’t really know about Flitwick though.” Mr. Weasley conceded.

Harry turned to Bill. “Would you mind investigating the charm to see if you can do it? I’d much rather someone I know I can trust do it. I like Professor Flitwick, but I’m just not too sure about anyone’s loyalties at this point.” He looked around the table, “Except you lot. I know you’re on my side.”

Several muttered thanks were given and Mrs. Weasley looked as if she might tear up. “I know it’s hard to trust people, Harry, especially after what Snape did. But you can’t do everything alone.”

“I know, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry glanced at Ginny, Ron, and Hermione in turn. “I understand now that one of the things Dumbledore was trying to teach me was that I need to rely on people I can trust to do this thing properly. I just appreciate knowing that everyone here in this room is trustworthy, even if the ones outside it aren’t.”

Bill nodded agreement. “I’ll start looking it up tonight. Thanks for trusting me, Harry.”

“I think you’ve more than earned it, Bill.” Harry said sincerely.

Mrs. Weasley broke in. “And don’t forget, Harry, your birthday is on Thursday, so you’ll not want to go to Headquarters then.” She smiled at him indulgently as he blushed slightly and Ginny raised her hand to touch his cheek.

He leaned into her hand and kissed her palm, prompting another groan from Ron and a squeal of delight from Fleur. “Oh, ‘Arry, you two are zo cute togezzer! I cannot wait to zee you dance at the wedding!”

“Dance?” Harry coughed as Ginny giggled beside him and leaned against his shoulder.

Fleur beamed at him. “But of course! There must be dancing at a wedding!” She turned and kissed Bill on the nose. “Beel eez a wonderful dancer.”

Ron groaned again and buried his face in Hermione’s bushy hair. Harry faintly heard him moan, “Save me from these public displays of affection.”

Hermione laughed and pushed him off of her shoulder, “You mean like leaning your head on me?”

Ron colored at her comment and refrained from further complaint as dinner quickly turned into pudding.

Ginny turned and looked at Harry expectantly. “So, Harry, what do you want to do for your birthday?” Harry swallowed his mouthful of chocolate gateau and realized that everyone else was staring at him as well.

“Well, er, I hadn’t really thought about it.” He glanced at Ginny, who was looking at him in a manner that made him distinctly uncomfortable. She’s plotting something, he thought to himself. Somehow, he didn’t find that as disconcerting as he might otherwise, but he was still not entirely thrilled with the idea of birthday surprises from someone as creative as Ginny was known to be.

His fears were confirmed when she smirked at him and said, “Well, we’ll just have to think of something for you, then, won’t we?”

Tuesday morning, Harry awoke to the sound of knocking. Bill’s voice came through the door. “Harry, are you up? I need to talk to you.” He stumbled out of his bed and released the locking charm, opening the door to let Bill enter.

When Bill was seated in Harry’s desk chair and Harry on the bed, Bill began speaking. “I think I can do the Fidelius if you want me to, but I’m putting a few conditions on casting it.” Harry nodded in what he hoped was an understanding manner and gestured for Bill to continue. “Well, I need to practice on some smaller, less important things at first, and I’d like you to help me with that so that we can get used to it together. Also, I’d like to make a recommendation on the Secret Keeper, based on the comments you made about trust a few days ago.”

“Who do you think I should use?” Harry had already decided he wanted to use Lupin, but was curious to see what Bill’s suggestion would be.

“I think you should be your own Secret Keeper.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this, as it hadn’t even occurred to him that it could be done that way. “I’ll think about it, Bill. Are you sure it will work if I do it?”

“The book doesn’t say you can’t, but that’s one of the things I want to test when we do the smaller objects.” Bill explained.

Harry nodded again. “All right, we can try it. I was going to use Professor Lupin though; do you think he’s a decent choice if I can’t?”

Bill paused for a moment before replying. “Well, I know we can trust him, but if he goes undercover with the werewolves again we may be without a way to tell new people about the location for an undetermined length of time.”

Harry agreed that this was a good point, and one he hadn’t considered. It hadn’t really seemed like a good idea to send Lupin to the werewolves in the first place, in his mind, and he didn’t think it would happen again after Greyback had been at Hogwarts and seen Lupin fighting with the Order. He told Bill as much, and Bill agreed that it was sound reasoning.

“Either way, it’s something to think about,” Bill concluded. “Let me know when you’re dressed and have eaten breakfast, and we’ll go practice out in the field.” He rose and, with a nod to Harry, left the room.

An hour and a half later, Bill had successfully “hidden” the location of the broom shed using Harry as the Secret Keeper. The two were using Ginny as their test subject. “Ginny, can you go get my Firebolt for me?” Harry prompted her. She looked puzzled for a moment, and then headed off in the direction of the broom shed. Harry’s heart sank as she started in the right direction, but he started feeling better when she stopped halfway there and turned back to them.

“This is going to sound stupid, because I’ve lived here my whole life, but I don’t know where the broom shed is anymore. Is that what you hid with the charm?” she asked them when she returned. Harry and Bill both nodded. “Well, you’d better undo the charm before anyone else wants to go flying or Ron will likely curse you.”

Bill smiled and began the incantation to reverse the spell.

“How will we know if I can be the Secret Keeper on something I own?” he asked Bill as they headed back into the kitchen of The Burrow.

“We’ll do your trunk next. It’s yours, so it should be a good trial.” Bill whispered to him, and Harry agreed. They went upstairs to his room with Ginny and redid the complex ritual. Ginny looked around the room before they even prompted her, and asked, “What happened to your trunk, Harry? It was right here at the foot of the bed last night.”

Bill grinned evilly. “And what, pray tell, were you doing in Harry’s room last night?” He winked at his sister.

Ginny pinked and quickly answered, “Telling him good night, berk.”

Bill laughed out loud. Harry noticed that it was more bark-like, akin to Remus and Sirius’s laughs. I suppose that’s one of the side effects.

“My trunk is at the foot of my bed, Ginny.” He watched Ginny as comprehension dawned on her face.

“Oh, I can see it now! It worked! That’s so great!” she hugged Bill and kissed him on the cheek, then repeated the procedure with Harry, who wrapped his arms around her and held her to his side.

“Do you think we could go do the house now, Bill?” he asked, chin on top of Ginny’s head. He looked down at her, “You’re not allowed to get any taller unless I do. Right now you fit perfectly.” She gave him a silly half-salute and kissed him on the lips before nestling her head back under his chin.

Bill looked fondly at his sister and her boyfriend. “Fleur’s right, you two are pretty cute together. And I don’t see any problem with going now, unless Mum has something planned for today.”

The three of them tromped downstairs to find Ron and Hermione playing chess in the sitting room, with Mrs. Weasley nearby knitting what looked like a Christmas jumper. “You guys ready to go to Grimmauld Place?” Harry asked. “You’re welcome to come along, Mrs. Weasley.”

Ron and Hermione nodded and collected the chess pieces before standing and following Harry to the fireplace. “You go on without me, dears, I’ll hold down the fort here while you’re gone,” Mrs. Weasley said. “But thank you for inviting me. Lunch will be at twelve thirty.” She resumed her knitting after shooing them all off with a wave of her hand.

They arrived at Headquarters by Floo, and quickly headed up to the sitting room from the basement kitchen. Ginny sighed in disappointment when they reached the cabinet where they’d first seen the locket. “It’s not here.”

Harry sighed alongside her, “Wouldn’t want things to be too easy for me.”

Bill suggested that he and Harry work on the charm while the others look for the locket. “We have to go outside to do it, and then we’ll come back in and tell you where the house is and help you look.”

Hermione asked, “Can I come watch you do it, now that you know you’ve got it right? I’m fascinated by the whole thing, and it might be handy for me to know how to do it in the future.” Bill looked confused as to why she would need to know it, but agreed anyway.

The three of them ventured out into the courtyard in front of the house. Bill performed a quick wave of his wand and muttered something under his breath that Harry didn’t catch. “What was that?” he inquired.

“Just a simple area camouflage spell, to keep the Muggle neighbors from seeing us while we do this. Won’t work against wizards, but I don’t think there will be any around right now,” Bill assured him. Harry nodded in understanding and motioned for Bill to proceed.

Hermione had a quill and parchment out, taking notes on everything as Bill performed the complex enchantments and spells required for the Fidelius Charm. When the charm was complete, Hermione gasped.

“The house just disappeared!” she clapped in appreciation of Bill’s spellwork.

Harry leaned over and whispered in her ear, “The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.” Remembering the words he’d read from Dumbledore two years previously made his heart lurch again, but he quickly pushed the grief away before it could truly surface. He led Bill and Hermione back into the house and flopped down on the sofa in the sitting room.

Ron and Ginny wandered in a few minutes later. “I thought we heard you down here. We’ve been looking through the rubbish bags in the attic; they’re disgusting.” Ginny dropped down next to Harry and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” Harry replied, “Actually, why don’t we join you?” He stood and offered his hand to Ginny. “I guess I can tell you what we’re looking for, Bill, so you can help us. It’s a locket.”

Bill looked puzzled, but didn’t ask for further information as they all climbed the stairs back to the attic.

Two fruitless hours later, the five of them returned to The Burrow for lunch. Despite the delicious food in front of him, Harry’s mind was elsewhere. Ginny nudged his elbow. “Knut for your thoughts?”

He started slightly, “Just thinking about the locket. What if it’s not at the house? What if it was in that stuff of Sirius’s that Dung nicked last year? Remember when we saw him in Hogsmeade?”

Hermione frowned. “We don’t know that yet, though; we’ve hardly gone through half of the bags in the attic. And we should check Kreacher’s den — he was constantly saving things from us throwing them away.”

It was Harry’s turn to frown. “I know. And Kreacher’s den is a good idea, I hadn’t even thought of that.” Hermione looked pleased. “I’m just frustrated to have a lead and not be able to act on it right away.”

Ginny protested, “But Harry, we are acting on it. We just haven’t found it yet. The other objects are likely to be much harder to find than this one; don’t give up hope.”

Bill followed the exchange with an interested look on his face, but didn’t interrupt or ask further questions, for which Harry was thankful.

Harry jumped up. “There’s an idea! I can call Kreacher and get him to tell me if he knows where it is!” He paused, and then said experimentally, “Kreacher?”

A gnarled old house-elf wearing a filthy Hogwarts tea towel like a loincloth appeared in the kitchen beside the table. “Master is calling Kreacher and Kreacher must come, but Kreacher doesn’t want to.”

“Kreacher, hush. I need to ask you a question and you must answer it honestly, do you understand?” Harry backed away from the disgusting reminder of his godfather’s betrayal.

“Kreacher must do as Master says.” His nose touched the tips of his gnarled toes.

“Do you know the location of a locket from the house of Black? It was in the sitting room cabinet when we threw it away.” Harry asked him optimistically.

“Master Regulus’s locket?” Kreacher said, and Harry’s hopes soared. “Kreacher is knowing the locket, but Kreacher does not know where it is now. Filthy Mudbloods and blood trai-“

“Enough, Kreacher, thank you. You can go back to Hogwarts now.” Harry interrupted before Kreacher could get into a full-blown rant, and Kreacher immediately disappeared.

“Poor Kreacher,” Hermione lamented. “He must be so confused, being sent to Hogwarts.”

Ron laid a hand on her arm, “Save it, Hermione. Kreacher’s a lying, betraying…” He couldn’t seem to think of a vile enough word to describe Kreacher and gave up. “He’s no good. I like Dobby, but Kreacher can drop off a cliff and I wouldn’t shed a tear for him.”

Harry and Ginny nodded agreement while Bill excused himself from the table. “I clearly can’t add anything to this conversation since I have no idea what you’re all on about, so I’m going to go see if Mum needs any help in the garden.”

After Bill left, Harry shrugged sheepishly. “I guess we did make him feel a bit left out of that whole ordeal. I really wish I could tell more people; I feel like the more people we have thinking about the problem the faster it will get solved. Bill would be a good person to involve, if only because of his curse-breaking skills.”

Hermione looked out the window for a moment before speaking. “What if you got permission to tell other people, Harry?”

“You mean from Dumbledore’s portrait?” he asked. Hermione looked slightly deflated, as if disappointed that he’d beaten her to the ending she was building toward. She perked up a bit when Harry added, “That’s a brilliant idea, Hermione! I wonder if he’s awake yet…”

“One thing at a time, Harry,” Ginny admonished him. She rose from the table and quickly used her wand to collect and clean all their lunch dishes.

“Ginny!” Hermione started. “You’re underage!”

“Oh please, Hermione, you think that with all the business with Voldemort that the Ministry has time to watch wizarding households for underage magic?”

“They can’t,” Harry interjected before a fight erupted. “Dumbledore told me that’s how Riddle framed his uncle for killing the rest of the Riddles. They can only tell if a spell has been used in a location, not who cast it.”

Hermione huffed. “But still, you could have let me or Ron do it.”

Ginny laughed out loud. “Ron? Clean up of his own accord? Have you met my brother?”

“Hey!” Ron exclaimed.

Harry put out his hands in a placating gesture. “No need for us to argue about this. Ginny’s not going to get in trouble, and for the future, we’ll try to keep illegal magic to a minimum. But if she’s going to come along with us, she’s going to have to use magic at some point or another.”

Ron looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean, she’s coming along with us?”

Harry glared back at him. “She’s coming with us if she wants to, because I’m not leaving her behind to be snatched by Death Eaters and used against me. If fifth year taught me anything, it’s that strong people don’t like being cooped up when the people they care about are in danger. That’s what got Sirius killed, and it’s not happening to Ginny!”

It was Ron’s turn to calm the room down. “All right, you’re right, mate. I can’t say I like it, but you’re right.”

Harry turned to Ginny, who was staring at him in awe. “You’re going to let me come with you?”

Harry crossed the kitchen to stand beside her. “You said you wanted to be involved, and I’m not going to stop you from doing what you want anymore. And if you’re with me, I don’t have to worry about what’s happening to you while I’m away.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug. “I meant what I said the other day, Ginny. You’re with me if you want to be.”

Ginny’s face fell. “Mum’s going to kill me for leaving school to run off with my boyfriend.”

Molly stood in the doorway with a look on her face that could have cowed Dementors into submission. “You’re doing what?” she shrieked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I was exaggerating, Mum. Please, calm down.”

Mrs. Weasley looked daggers at Harry and Ginny. “Explain. Now.” She sat at the table and crossed her arms.

Bill came in behind her and glanced at the four teems in turn before sitting beside his mother. “I’d like to hear this, too.”

Ginny let out a moan of frustration and sat across from them, gesturing for Harry to do the same. “Mum, you know Harry has a mission to complete.” She turned to Harry for a moment and smiled at him before continuing, “And he needs me, and Ron, and Hermione to help him do it.”

Her mother sputtered, “But surely this can wait until you’re out of school, and of age!”

Harry held Ginny’s hand under the table and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Weasley. This has to do with stopping Voldemort,” she winced when he said the name, “and it has to be done as soon as we can possibly manage. The longer it takes the more people who will die.”

Bill interrupted, “But surely this is something the Order should handle? You’re all just kids!”

Harry shook his head again and sighed, “No. The more people who know about this the more people who can leak it to Voldemort what we’re doing. If he finds out, the whole thing becomes a hundred times more difficult. We may need help from the Order at times, but it can’t be the Order’s job. Professor Dumbledore is the one who made that decision and I’m standing by it.” He glanced at Hermione. “I’m going to talk to the Headmaster’s portrait when I get a chance, and together we’ll decide who else to tell, if anyone.”

Bill glared at him. “I thought you said you trusted us.”

“It’s not a matter of trust; it’s a matter of safety. If Voldemort knew half of what we’re up to he’d kill each and every one of you to get more information, and I can’t allow that.” Harry paused and sighed, laying his head down on the table.

Ginny stroked the back of his hair protectively. “That’s why Harry broke up with me in the first place, Mum. To keep me safe. Then he realized that he needs me, and can’t keep me safe no matter where I am.”

“Why do you have to leave school to do this? I don’t understand.” Molly reached across the table and grasped Ginny’s hands in her own. Harry raised his head when Ginny huffed impatiently, but it was Hermione who answered.

“Mrs. Weasley, do you know anyone who takes school as seriously as I do?” When Mrs. Weasley shook her head no, Hermione continued, “If there were a way to do this and still go to school, don’t you trust that I would have come up with it?”

Mrs. Weasley finally gave in to her tears. “But they’re my babies!” she wailed.

Bill cleared his throat as he absently patted his mother’s back. “Harry, I have to ask you something, and I’d like an answer if you can give it.”

Harry nodded his assent, and Bill asked. “Are you the Chosen One?”

All four teens gasped, not expecting that particular question. As one, three of them turned to look at Harry, wondering what his answer would be.

Harry put his head back down on the table and Ginny reclaimed her hands from her mother to place them on his shoulders. He squeezed Ginny’s knee again, and she answered for him. “Yes, Bill, he is. That’s why Voldemort keeps trying to kill him, because Harry’s the only one who can stop him.”

Bill sagged significantly in his chair and Mrs. Weasley emitted a tiny squeak. Ginny continued speaking, “And I know you don’t like it that he needs our help, but he’s going to get it.”

Bill nodded. “He’ll get whatever he needs from me.” Ginny smiled at him warmly.

Mrs. Weasley straightened in her seat and looked across to Harry. “Harry, please look at me.” Harry raised his head and Molly fixed her eyes on his. “You take care of my babies, young man.” She then looked at the other teens, “And you three take care of Harry.” With that, she rose from the table and ran up the stairs.

Bill smiled for the first time since the conversation began and asked, “You’re not going to miss the wedding, are you?”

Harry grinned at Bill. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bill.”

Back to index

Chapter 5: Sirius Conversations

Author's Notes: So the Horcrux hunt begins!

Harry awoke Wednesday morning with a desire to do something, anything, to move ahead on his quest. The only materials he had available in his room were the mirror to Sirius, and the box Petunia gave him, so he decided that after breakfast he’d handle the box. Hermione made a suggestion during breakfast to sort things into piles of photos, letters from Lily, and letters from Dumbledore, then go through each pile individually and take notes. Harry couldn’t come up with a better plan, so he agreed and the foursome headed upstairs to begin their task.

“Aww! Ginny exclaimed at as she held up a moving photograph. “Look, Harry! It’s you as a baby!” Sure enough, the baby in the photo couldn’t have been anyone but Harry, with rumpled black hair and bright green eyes, smiling and repeatedly reaching out for the camera with one pudgy hand. Most of the photos they’d found up until that point had been of James and Lily, with a few of Lily by herself. Some were magical and some Muggle, leaving Harry to wonder who had taken the Muggle photos of his parents.

When they finally finished sorting and placing the letters in chronological order, Harry decided to go through the ones from his mother in case there were any embarrassing details about himself. Hermione and Ron started in on the letters from Dumbledore, promising to pass him any that looked promising.

Dear Pet,

James Potter still will not leave me alone! I swear, every time he asks me out and I say no it’s like a new challenge for him and his friends. I’m convinced that this is all one of their elaborate pranks; why on earth would someone as self-absorbed as James Potter be genuinely interested in me?

Love,

Lils

“Ah, so that’s why she wouldn’t go out with him; she thought he was putting her on.” He muttered to himself.

Ginny giggled and whispered in his ear, “If you hadn’t looked so determined when you kissed me in the common room, I would have thought the same thing.”

“I’d never do that to you,” he scowled back at her but then grinned and placed a kiss on the side of her neck.

After a few more envelopes, he found one that piqued his interest: It was the first addressed to Petunia Dursley rather than Petunia Evans.

Dear Petunia,

I’m very sorry that you felt you couldn’t come to our wedding, but you would have been very welcome. It was hard for me to get married without my only sister there, so soon after Mum and Dad died. You’ve done your best to make it clear to me how you feel about magic and those who practice it, but I can’t believe you let that stand in the way of being there for your only remaining family.

I refuse to stop writing to you despite the fact that James says you’re not worth it.

Your sister,

Lily

Harry marveled that his mother bothered to write to Petunia, nudging Ginny and whispering, “I think I agree with my dad that these letters were a waste of time on Mum’s part.” Ginny nodded assent.

Dear Petunia,

I’m so excited for you, and you’ll never believe what I have to tell you! James and I are expecting our first child in late July or early August! It’s too soon for the Healer (that’s like a Muggle doctor) to tell us whether it’s going to be a girl or a boy, but we’re not sure we want to know ahead of time regardless. Do you know if yours will be a boy or a girl, or do you want to wait for the surprise? I know that Vernon won’t let me visit, but perhaps we could meet for tea a few times during our pregnancies and compare notes the way sisters should.

Love,

Lily

Harry wondered absently whether or not his mother and aunt actually met as he pulled out the next letter.

Petunia,

I know you don’t want to hear from me anymore, not that I really care at this point. However, I felt you should know that your nephew, Harry James Potter, was born on July 31. I hope your Dudley arrived healthy and happy, not that I expect to hear from you.

Lily

“Well, that one was considerably cooler than the one about the wedding,” Harry commented as he pulled the other piece of parchment from the envelope.

It’s a Boy!
Lily and James Potter
are proud to announce the arrival of their son
Harry James Potter
July 31, 1980 at 7:52 a.m.
3.6 kilograms
48 centimetres long

The announcement was adorned with a blue ribbon around the edges, now faded with time. I wonder if I’ll live long enough to have children of my own, he wondered. He raised the card to his forehead as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, willing the tears not to come. He absently noted the feeling of Ginny’s arms surrounding him and pulling him to her chest. After a moment, he couldn’t hold back anymore and found himself sobbing softly into Ginny’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held tight, fearing that if he didn’t have her to anchor him he would drift away on his own grief. In the back of his mind he wondered whether he was crying for Dumbledore, or his parents, or Sirius, or himself.

“Shh. It will be okay, Harry, it will be okay.” Ginny crooned to him as he felt the tears soak into her shirt. After several minutes, he regained his composure and sniffed one last time before lifting his head from her neck. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled embarrassedly at his friends. “I’m sorry, guys; it just all kind of overwhelmed me. I’m turning into a regular hosepipe.”

Ron, surprisingly, spoke first. “Mate, everyone needs to have a good cry now and again. You’re got more to be upset about than most.” Hermione smiled at him and kissed his cheek. Ron smiled back and said, “See? I’ve got more than a teaspoon.”

Harry laughed and kissed Ginny on the forehead. “Thanks, Gin. I guess I needed that.”

“Anytime, Harry, and I mean that.” She looked solemnly into his eyes. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

He took her face in his hands and promised, “I won’t,” then turned to Hermione and Ron. “Anything good in the Dumbledore stack?”

“Well,” Hermione began, “most of it is interesting, really. I’ve made some notes on the really important-looking bits, but here are the few that I think are really relevant to you.” She handed him three envelopes.

The first was addressed to Mrs. And Mrs. V. Dursley, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry removed the letter and read:

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

As you know, Mrs. Dursley’s sister Lily Potter and her family were in hiding from a dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort. He was, unfortunately, successful in finding them late on the night of October 31 and Lily and James were both killed. You have my greatest sympathies for your loss. Harry, your nephew, fortunately survived.

You are Harry’s only remaining family and I trust that you will want to take him in and care for him in his parents’ absence. He will be far better off raised away from the prying eyes of the wizarding world that will seek to idolize him and watch his every move.

I have enacted certain charms to protect Harry while he is in your care, but just as important to you, these same charms protect you from any interference by dark wizards in your household while Harry can call your house his home, or until he is of age. Otherwise, I fear that you may be in grave danger from those who wish to harm Harry.

I have the utmost confidence that you will take Harry into your home and treat him as a second son, despite your rather well-known aversion to our community. When Harry turns eleven, he will naturally be invited to attend Hogwarts as is befitting his heritage.

Yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry snorted upon finishing the letter. “Now I know why they took me in; it was to protect themselves. Too bad Dumbledore didn’t think to have the charms protect me from them.” Ginny patted his arm reassuringly and he smiled at her. “Sorry to be so negative about it.”

Hermione and Ron nodded their understanding and Hermione added, “No one expects you to react positively to that sort of situation, Harry.” She gave him a small smile before asking, “Are you going to read the other two?”

He picked up the second envelope, which was addressed to just his Aunt Petunia.

Dear Mrs. Dursley,

Lily and James informed me that you have refused them safe harbor in their attempt to hide from Lord Voldemort. I must urge you to reconsider, if not for their sakes, then for their son’s. The bonds of blood are a powerful magic in and of themselves, and your home would provide the greatest protection we in the magical community can give the Potter family. I give you my personal assurance that all available charms and other protections will be placed on your home with your permission.

I remain yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

“Jeez, Dumbledore always expects the best of people, er, always expected the best of people,” Harry hastily corrected, “Thinking that the Dursleys would take us in was just foolish. And now I have something else to be mad about — if they had taken us in, perhaps my parents would still be alive. I think I have a Howler to send to Petunia.” He tried his best to suppress his rage and turn it into dark humor. “I’ll get your mum to tell me how to make one; she seems to have a knack for it.”

He grimaced as his friends hesitantly laughed, and turned to the third envelope. It too was addressed to just his aunt.

Dear Mrs. Dursley,

I’m afraid it would be unethical of me to remove your son’s memory of the Dementor attack, regardless of how distressing it was for him. I can imagine that the memory of young Harry causing him to encounter a large snake would be disturbing, but I assure you that the Dementors have no further interest in you now that Harry is not residing in your home. The best of us suffer nightmares on occasion and I cannot image that your son is any different.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry laughed out loud. “Having a snake slither by him is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, and Petunia thinks it’s bad enough to have him Obliviated. What an ass!”

Hermione’s hissed intake of breath was immediately followed by, “Language, Harry!”

“Oh honestly, Hermione, Harry’s gone through enough to make anyone curse occasionally. At least he’s not a sailor like Ron,” Ginny defended. Ron had the good sense to look abashed rather than angry at Ginny’s declaration.

Harry cleared his throat to get their attention. “Can you lot think of any more questions for Sirius? I don’t want to bother him unnecessarily, but I have a couple of things I want to ask him myself.”

He looked around at his friends, and they all shook their heads no. He rose and crossed the room to his nightstand and picked up the mirror. “Padfoot,” he said quietly and the mirror began to glow again before showing Sirius’s face.

He moved back to the space he’d vacated on the floor beside Ginny and sat down. “Hello, Sirius,” he began.

“Hello, Harry,” Sirius replied, “Are you alone or is your enchanting girlfriend with you?” His grin was infectious, and Harry smiled back.

“Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are here with me,” he answered. “I’ve got a few questions for you. You know how the other day I told you that Petunia gave me a box with letter and photos in it?”

Sirius nodded. “Did you get a chance to look through them?”

Harry responded, “Yeah, we just finished. Lots of them were from Mum at Hogwarts complaining about Dad.” Harry stifled another grin and continued, “But a few were from Dumbledore to Petunia, talking about Voldemort and my parents, with one to Vernon and Petunia about taking me in.”

Sirius nodded again, “Lily was particularly angry when Petunia wouldn’t help them hide. She seemed to think that Petunia didn’t really understand the threat, and I’m inclined to agree. I really didn’t like the idea of you going to live with them, after what Lily told me about them, but I needed to go after Peter and I couldn’t exactly take you with me.”

Harry scoffed, “I wish you had taken me, and left Peter to the Aurors — I’d have gotten a happier upbringing and you wouldn’t have been framed.”

Sirius let out a bark like laugh. “True, Harry, but hindsight is, as always, 20/20. I knew where Peter was hiding and thought I had a better chance of finding him than the other Aurors did.”

“Other Aurors?” Harry started. “You were an Auror?”

“Yes. Your father and I had both just completed our Auror training when your parents went into hiding with you. Remus and I told you your father always hated the Dark Arts, so it seemed natural that taking up the fight against Voldemort in an official capacity was the right path. It’s not like James needed a high-paying job, with the inheritance from his parents.”

Harry relayed his conversation so far to the group, and Hermione piped up, “Tell him about Professor Lupin and Tonks! He’ll be happy that Professor Lupin is happy.”

Harry nodded and told Sirius what Hermione suggested and was rewarded with a hearty guffaw from Sirius. “A Metamorphmagus and a werewolf. It’s a good thing lycanthropy isn’t hereditary or we’d be in danger of a litter of pink and purple werewolf cubs!”

When Harry bust into almost-hysterical laughter, the other three pressed him to explain what was so funny. Then they too joined in the giggling.

When the laughter subsided, Harry pressed on, “I’ve got a couple of questions for you, Sirius. Now that I know that Dad was an Auror, that brings up the first one. What did Mum do?”

He was rewarded with another broad grin. “Well, no one’s quite sure what Lily did. We know she worked in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable, but she couldn’t tell us about her work — nature of the business.”

Harry thanked Sirius for the information and continued, “Do you know who did the Fidelius at the house in Godric Hollow? And for that matter, where is the house in Godric’s Hollow?”

“Well, Harry, I can’t tell you where the house is, as I wasn’t the Secret Keeper. But you should know, or at least be able to find it, because it’s your house as much as it was James and Lily’s. The Fidelius persists after the death of the caster and the Secret Keeper, so it’s hidden from everyone who doesn’t know already unless Peter chooses to tell them. Your mother was the caster, of course — she was excellent at Charms and Potions.” Sirius looked contemplative.

A thought occurred to Harry, “Why didn’t my dad act as Secret Keeper, if Mum could cast the charm?”

Sirius looked taken aback at the question, “I don’t think it can be done that way, Harry. It certainly didn’t come up in our discussions of it.”

Harry corrected him, “It can — Bill cast the Fidelius on Headquarters yesterday with me as Secret Keeper, and I own it now. Dad could have been Secret Keeper and kept Peter out of the whole thing.”

Sirius looked disappointed, “I just don’t think it occurred to them, Harry, although maybe it should have. Things certainly would have turned out differently if they had.”

“Why did Dad give Dumbledore the invisibility cloak?” Harry quickly changed the subject away from reflecting on his dead parents. “Dumbledore could be invisible without a cloak, so he didn’t need it.”

“Remember Moody’s cloak that the Order used? Same thing. The more cloaks we had available to us, the better.” Sirius explained.

Harry nodded in understanding, “That makes sense.”

He steeled himself for the next question, “What happened to my grandparents? Did Voldemort get them too?”

“No, Harry.” Sirius shook his head. “You mother’s parents were killed in a car accident right before James and Lily got married. That’s probably where Petunia came up with the lie she told you about your parents. And James’s parents were quite old when they had him, they died of natural causes — your grandfather of dragon pox right before you were born, your grandmother just after.”

Harry looked around at his friends again and asked, “Can any of you think of other things to ask?” They responded with simultaneous head shaking, so Harry thanked Sirius and gave him a promise to contact him again soon. “Mischief managed,” he muttered and the mirror connection closed. He placed the mirror back on his night stand and suggested, “What do you lot think of heading back to Headquarters to look for the locket some more? For some reason I’ve got an itch to do something today.”

They hastily agreed and soon found themselves back in the basement kitchen at Grimmauld Place with Bill. Hermione suggested that she and Ron look through Kreatcher’s nest and then meet Harry and Ginny upstairs when they finished, which everyone decided was as good an idea as any other. Bill opted to head to the library to see if he could find any books on curses he hadn’t already read.

After they left Bill in the library and climbed to the next landing, Harry stopped Ginny and surrounded her with his arms. “Thank you for earlier. I feel like I’m a wreck recently, but knowing that you’re there for me and don’t think I’m some kind of poofter makes it easier to handle.” He leaned down and gently laid his lips over hers. He didn’t expect that she would weave her fingers into his hair and leave him unable to retreat after what he intended to be a relatively chaste kiss.

In moments, he found himself leaning against the wall with the length of Ginny’s body pressed against his. While he couldn’t find it within himself to protest, he was a little curious what brought on this particular scenario. He sighed mentally and resigned himself to his fate, resting his hands on Ginny’s hips and opening his mouth to hers, kissing her back as forcefully as she was kissing him. Her response drove him slightly mad: she made a low growling sound in her throat and pressed herself more insistently against him. He was glad to have the support of the wall to keep him from either falling over backwards or dropping to his knees from the lightheadedness he was now experiencing. Merlin, this is bloody incredible fleetingly crossed his mind as he wondered what to do next. Inspiration struck as he remembered that Ginny’s bedroom from their stay two years prior was just down the hall. He pushed her away gently and led her by the hand to the room.

Ginny chuckled under her breath, which was coming in quick gasps, and Harry thought it was one of the best sounds he’d ever heard. “What are you planning to do to me, Mr. Potter, which requires a closed door?” She stepped into him again and kissed his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine.

Harry cleared his throat and was relieved to hear that his voice was relatively steady, even if his respiration wasn’t. “Well, if you keep doing that, I’m going to lose control of my legs, so I thought it was best that we move somewhere that I can sit down before I made us fall down the stairs.”

She made a sound that was something like “Mmhmm,” and continued working her way along his neck, but he was too distracted by walking them backward across the room and the pleasant tingling that was slowly overtaking his entire body to pay proper attention to anything she might be saying.

He was positive that his heart stopped when she took one of his hands and guided it to her chest, placing it on top of one very soft yet firm breast. A quick mental inventory informed him that he was, in fact, still breathing and his heart was still beating, so he took his attention away from himself and put it back on Ginny. He gently ran his thumb over the mound as his fingers and palm held its weight, and was rewarded by a short gasp from his girlfriend. My incredible, amazing, brilliant girlfriend, he thought to himself as he sat down on the bed and drew her down to sit beside him.

They carried on in that manner for several minutes before Harry began to panic. I have no idea what I’m doing, he realized. Where are we going with this? He leaned back on the bed and pulled Ginny down beside him, where she immediately curled against his side and nestled her head into his shoulder. She made another contented purr-like sound and Harry breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t angry with him for stopping their activities. He bent toward her and kissed the top of her head, then rolled onto his side to face her. Running his free hand over her hair and taking a lock of it to twine around his fingers, he grinned at her sheepishly. “Er, wow?” He leaned in and kissed her forehead and pulled her close against his chest, where he felt her giggle against his shirt.

“Not that I’m complaining, Gin, but what brought that on?” he asked, relishing the feel of her so close.

She pulled back enough to be heard clearly and touched his face. “You really have opened yourself up to me in the past few days, Harry. I loved you before, just the way you were, even when you were being stupid,” Harry blushed as she continued, “But recently I’ve started seeing how gentle you can be, and how vulnerable you really are. When you thanked me there on the landing, I was just overwhelmed with this desire to be close to you, to show you how much more I love you now that you’ve let me seen this part of you as well.”

“Ah, well, I’ll have to choke up more often if that’s the reaction I’m going to get,” he joked as he tickled her ribs. She squealed and tried to pull away from him, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. If she’s really wanted to get away, he had no chance of keeping her there. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you’re here for me. It means a lot to me. Ron always acts uncomfortable when there’s any kind of emotion involved, although he’s getting better, and Hermione is such a problem solver that she wants to make everything better. You just listen, and sometimes tell me it will be okay. I need that sometimes.” He leaned down again and kissed her forehead.

She turned her face up to him and smiled. “Just don’t turn into Moaning Myrtle on me and we’ll be all right.” She sat up, and straightened her shirt. “We should probably get to the attic before anyone comes looking for us.”

Harry nodded agreement and the two of them traveled the final flight of stairs to the attic without incident. They spent fifteen minutes alone, rummaging through bags, when Ron and Hermione joined them. Bill arrived an hour later, and by lunchtime, they had sorted through everything that was left.

Hermione sighed, “Well that was a big waste of time,” she gestured at the mountain of bags, “Nothing.”

Harry nodded his agreement. “Looks like it’s time to track down Dung, or visit the Hog’s Head and see if we can talk to the bartender about anything he might have bought.” He turned to Bill. “Do you think it would be okay for us to go to Hogsmeade right now, or should we ask your mum first?”

Bill frowned and concluded, “We should probably go back to the Burrow for lunch, or Mum will worry that something has happened to us. We can go to Hogsmeade this afternoon.” The foursome nodded their agreement and they all Flooed back to the Weasley home.

Upon arrival at the Three Broomsticks, Harry voiced his concern aloud. “What are we going to do if we have to track down Dung? Last I heard he was in Azkaban, and I don’t think I’ll get to visit there anytime soon.”

Ginny patted his arm and assured him, “We’ll cross that bridge if we need to. We might have good luck at the Hog’s Head.”

The five of them trudged down the street and around the corner to the building that housed the Hog’s Head pub. Harry’s memories of the Hog’s Head were less than pleasant, and he was not looking forward to going in there again, much less accusing the unpleasant-looking bartender of buying stolen goods.

He was in for quite a shock when they approached the bar and the barman greeted him by name. “Hello, Harry. Have a butterbeer.” He pulled out five dusty bottles and placed them at the bar. “What brings you here today?”

Harry goggled at the man for a moment, shocked beyond words that the old man had spoken actual words instead of grunts. He looked around the bar and noticed that no one else was present before asking him, “I have some questions about something you might have bought from Mundungus Fletcher last year.”

The barman nodded in response to the request, and gestured for Harry to continue.

“Well, Dung took a lot of things that he shouldn’t have, but mostly we’re looking for a locket. It would be heavy, and not able to be opened.” Harry looked hopefully at the man, who looked thoughtful.

“May be I have a locket from Dung. Let me go look in the back room.” He turned and disappeared behind a grimy door that Harry had assumed was just part of the wall, and returned a few moments later holding the locket. Harry almost fell off his barstool in relief and held out his hand.

“Wait just a second there, boy, I paid good money for this. You say you’re looking for it, but why should I just give it to you?” Harry was suddenly very uncomfortable under the man’s stare.

He decided to try a trump card. “Professor Dumbledore died trying to find this locket. It’s very important to the downfall of Voldemort, and besides, it’s stolen property and I’m its rightful owner.” He hoped that he hadn’t overstepped his bounds and relaxed a bit when Ginny squeezed his hand.

“Albus was looking for it, you say? Well, if my brother were still around to ask me himself, I’d have no problem handing it over to him. You’re a different story.”

For the second time, Harry almost fell off his seat. “You’re — you’re Professor Dumbledore’s brother?”

The barman stuck out his hand in greeting, “Aberforth Dumbledore — nice to meetcha.” Hermione gasped and Ron said something under his breath that Hermione surely would have admonished him for had she not been so shocked.

Harry suddenly remembered feeling vaguely like he recognized the man the first time he saw him, and figured it had something to do with a bit of family resemblance. Aberforth’s nose was shorter, his hair was a disorderly gray as opposed to his brother’s sleek silver, and his eyes held none of the twinkle that Harry remembered in his mentor’s, but the likeness was there now that he knew to look for it. He stopped goggling at Aberforth long enough to take the proffered hand and shake it. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Aberforth guffawed, “Sir, that’s a good one. I see why Albus liked you.” He smiled, but Harry would rather he didn’t — it made him look entirely too much like his brother. “So what are you going to offer me for the locket?”

Harry quickly took inventory of the cash he had in his pocket and came up with just under twenty galleons. He offered it to Aberforth, who laughed out loud. “Boy, never offer everything you have on the first turn. What if I’d wanted more? Always start out low.”

Taken completely aback by being tutored on bargaining, Harry asked, “Well, is that enough? I don’t have time to play around; this is important.”

Aberforth resumed what seemed to be his regular occupation, wiping dirty glasses with an even dirtier rag. He considered for a moment and said, “I’ll take ten. I only gave Dung five, so I’m still ahead.”

Harry laid the money on the bar beside the locket, having no desire to touch the hand that was touching so much filth. He pocketed the necklace and thanked Aberforth, vowing to himself that if he never returned to the Hog’s Head it would be too soon. “Come on, everyone, let’s go.” He drained the rest of his butterbeer in one long swallow and had to resist the urge to belch.

Outside, Harry turned to Bill. “Do you think anyone would be at the school right now? I’d like to talk to Dumbledore’s portrait about the locket if we can get in.”

Back to index

Chapter 6: The Portrait

Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta, kschneyer, without whom this chapter would be much less comprehensible.

As Harry entered the Headmaster’s office — No, Headmistress’s office, he corrected himself — he felt a combination of trepidation and hope. It’s not really him, he told himself, as he glanced at Dumbledore’s portrait. Should I apologize? Should I just pretend it‘s the way it used to be? he asked himself as he approached one of the straight-backed chairs that sat before McGonagall’s desk. Ginny ended his internal questioning by rubbing her thumb across the hand he currently held in hers. He turned to her and smiled sheepishly, sure that she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

Dumbledore’s portrait yawned widely and the image smiled down at the five of them, his gaze finally stopping on Harry. “Ah, Harry, do not linger overlong on thoughts of my demise. Death is, as I have told you, the next great adventure.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He looked down at the hands in his lap, which included one of Ginny’s. The locket was a cold weight in his pocket.

Hermione rescued him. “Sir, we’ve found the locket and we need to ask you about it.”

The portrait’s eyes flicked to McGonagall and Bill and he stroked the length of his beard with one hand. “Minerva, William, would you mind excusing us? We have some private matters to discuss.”

Professor McGonagall looked slightly irritated at being asked to leave her own office, but she rose from her desk and ushered Bill to the door without a word. When the door closed behind them and Harry heard the gargoyles below slide back into place, the portrait spoke again. “May I infer, from Miss Weasley’s presence and position beside Mr. Potter, that you have confided in her the information we are preparing to discuss?”

Harry blushed and nodded. “Yes, sir. I told her a few days ago; she wants to be a part of this.” He turned and grinned at Ginny.

The old wizard’s eyes twinkled merrily. “You take care of each other admirably, I am sure.” He glanced at Ron and Hermione before continuing. “But we are not here to discuss matters of the heart, are we? You say you ‘found’ the locket, Miss Granger. I thought it was in my possession when I died.”

“I’m sorry, sir; the locket we got from the cave was a decoy, with a note from Regulus Black. He stole the locket from Voldemort and Mundungus stole it from Grimmauld Place and sold it to your brother. We’ve just come from the Hog’s Head where he let me buy it back from him.” Harry didn’t raise his eyes from his shoes while he spoke the words. “You died for nothing, sir; I’m sorry.”

The former Headmaster laughed, “Is that what is troubling you, Harry? That you feel I died for nothing? Nonsense!” Harry looked astounded at this proclamation and started to argue, but the portrait held up his hand. “No, Harry, the potion in the cave is not what killed me, although I have no memory of what did. Blessedly, the imprint used to create my portrait upon my death did not include memory of the death itself. However, Professor McGonagall has told me the circumstances, and believe me when I say that my death was necessary. Severus could not continue without it.”

That was too much for Harry and he rose from his chair, the hand not holding Ginny’s clenched in a fist. “You died for Snape? He murdered you! He was working for Voldemort the whole time!” He ignored the outraged murmurs of agreement coming from his friends. “If it hadn’t been for the potion weakening you, Malfoy would never have got you into that position and Snape would never have been able to kill you.” He spoke again before realizing that the next detail hadn’t been revealed to his friends yet. “I FORCE-FED YOU THAT POTION!” He regretted the words as soon as he heard their gasps of surprise beside him. He dropped back into his chair and tried to bury his head in his hands, but Ginny wouldn’t release her hold of him no matter how hard he tried to pull away. He finally resigned himself to staring miserably at the portrait.

“Harry, trust me when I say that Severus had no choice, and my blessing, in the matter. I knew it was only a matter of time before Mr. Malfoy put him in a position where he would be forced to fulfill the Unbreakable Vow he made to Narcissa Malfoy.” He continued despite the questioning looks from the assembled teens. “It was at my insistence that he killed me, both to uphold that vow and to be able to continue as a spy for the Order.” Dumbledore’s voice was steady as he defended the former Potions Master. “The curse on my hand would have killed me eventually, Harry. I’m sure that the means Severus used were less painful than my end would have been otherwise.”

“He should have died before killing you! You’re much more important than he is!” Harry shouted.

“To you, I am sure that is true, Harry, and I thank you. However, in the larger scheme of things, I am afraid that I was outliving my usefulness. You are the one who must defeat Voldemort, Harry, not I. Severus can give you information that will aid you in that pursuit. All that I had to offer I have already given you.” Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap and peered at Harry in a manner that made Harry wonder whether the portrait could perform Legilimency.

“How can you say that? I don’t know anything! I still need you to teach me; that’s why we’re here right now!” Harry was at the edge of his patience with Dumbledore and was tempted to begin throwing things.

Dumbledore looked saddened at Harry’s outburst. “I agree that you still require assistance, Harry, but you no longer need things that only I can give you. Any defense training you require can be provided by the more able members of the Order of the Phoenix. I have told you all I know of Tom Riddle and what you need to defeat him; that is all I have to offer.”

Harry crumpled in his seat. Arguing with the Headmaster’s portrait was as infuriating as arguing with the man himself, and apparently as useless. “I saw you battle Voldemort at the Ministry; I didn’t understand half of what you did to fight him.”

“Ah, but Harry, you do not need conventional means to defeat Voldemort. I have already told you of the power you need for that task, and it sits beside you in the form of the three young people with whom you have chosen to ally yourself so closely. Somewhat more closely in the case of Miss Weasley, if I may presume.” The old man looked smug at his conclusion.

With a heavy sigh, Harry decided to return to the matter that brought them there in the first place. “What do we do with the locket, sir?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Destroy it, of course.”

Harry felt his frustration rising again, but fortunately Ron blurted out “How?” before Harry got a chance to start.

“The same way you would destroy an ordinary locket: smash it with a rock, crush it under your heel, hit it with a curse,” the former Headmaster explained plainly.

Ginny interjected, “But sir, your hand —“

Dumbledore raised that very hand to stop her protest, and Harry noticed that in the portrait, it was healthy and whole. “My hand was damaged getting the ring, Miss Weasley. Voldemort protected it with some very dangerous magic. Once it was in my possession, however, I found that destroying it was a simple matter.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Professor, but is there anything special we need to do to protect ourselves from the locket or the other objects?” She cast a glance at Ginny before continuing, “To keep it from doing to us what the diary did to Ginny?”

It was Harry’s turn to squeeze Ginny’s hand as he felt her tense at the mention of the diary. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he awkwardly raised his free hand to stroke her cheek as he kissed her crown. Harry looked up at the portrait to find it smiling at him proudly. He took his hand from Ginny’s and wrapped his arms around her protectively.

Hermione said, “I’m sorry, Ginny; I didn’t mean to bring it up like that. But I thought we should try to be as safe as possible.” She reached across and patted Ginny on the back.

Ginny sat up straighter but Harry kept an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right, Hermione. It’s just — I managed to push away thinking about it for so long, and now that it’s coming up in everyday conversations, it’s a little hard for me to get used to. You’re right to ask the question, though.” She looked up at the Headmaster expectantly.

He cleared his throat and explained to them, “The diary was a Horcrux, yes, but it was also enchanted to write back to the person who used it and possess her using the bit of soul encased within it. I did not find that to be the case with the ring, and I expect that the other Horcruxes will be the same.”

Hermione nodded. “We just have to get them and break them in some way, then?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “It is obtaining them that will be your most difficult task. I am glad that, despite my foolish oversight with the locket, you were able to find it without incurring any injuries.”

Harry stood and pulled the necklace out of his pocket and set it on the desk. “Is it cold because of the soul inside it, sir?”

The portrait looked surprised by the question. “It feels cold to you, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “Not just cold, but almost too cold to touch. At first I thought it was because Aberforth had it sitting near an icebox or something, but it’s still the same as it was when we were at the pub.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, it is cold because of the soul encased within it. Although I must admit that I am curious. Have any of the rest of you noticed its temperature?”

The other three teens shook their heads and Ron said, “Nobody but Harry has touched it.”

“Indulge me, would you?” Dumbledore gestured toward the locket.

In turn, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny each reached out with a finger and hesitantly placed it on the locket.

“Was it cold to any of you?” the Headmaster inquired.

The three shook their heads and Ginny elaborated, “It was warm, but I would expect it to be from Harry having it in his pocket.” Ron and Hermione nodded agreement.

Harry was perplexed by the significance of this. “Does this mean I can sense the soul but the others can’t?”

Dumbledore smiled broadly. “That is exactly the situation, Harry. If you will indulge me once again, I would like you to try to sense magic around you for the next few days, just as an experiment. I am not sure whether this sensitivity is due to your connection with Voldemort, or to a new ability you have developed as you have grown.”

“The diary wasn’t cold to me, not like this.” Harry protested.

“Then it may very well be a new ability to sense magic,” the Headmaster concluded.

“About the Horcruxes, sir — I wanted to ask your opinion about who else we might tell. Bill is an excellent curse breaker, and would be very helpful in getting to anything that’s hidden.” Harry hastily added, “Plus, we know we can trust him.”

“While I would caution you about spreading this information any further, you do not need to obtain my permission for every choice. I think that a consultation with your friends would probably yield satisfactory results. In this case, your mutual judgment that Mr. William Weasley should be informed is clearly sound.” The portrait’s gaze swept across all four of them. “If you will permit me to change the subject, Harry, Professor McGonagall has given me a distressing bit of news. It seems that you and your friends do not intend to return to Hogwarts in September.”

Harry wasn’t sure where Dumbledore was going with this, but he didn’t think he was particularly going to like it. “No, sir. We thought that the search for the remaining three Horcruxes was more important, and that our movements would be too limited if we came back.”

Dumbledore tented his fingers. “I must urge you to reconsider, all of you. Hogwarts will still be safer than most places, even after the unfortunate events of June. And the castle has resources that would otherwise be unavailable to you on a regular basis, such as my personal library,” — Hermione perked up at the mention of books she hadn’t yet seen — “my notes, and, if I may be so vain, myself. I also am concerned for you if you withdraw from the rest of your friends while pursuing this matter. I am confident that I can persuade Professor McGonagall to allow you to travel from the school when you feel it necessary.”

Harry nodded. “We’ll discuss it, sir. Thanks for your concern.” He looked around the room. “Well, shall we destroy this before we go? I don’t like carrying it around as it is any more than we have to.”

When his friends and Dumbledore nodded in agreement, Harry picked the locket up from the desk and set it on an empty table in the back of the office. He pulled out his wand and steeled himself.

“Reducto!” he bellowed. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to put so much force into it, but he immediately regretted it as the locket and the table both disappeared into a pile of kindling.

The sound of wheezing laughter from the portrait was the first sound that greeted his ears once the explosion’s noise had cleared.

“I reckon I shouldn’t have tried quite so hard,” he said sheepishly to the assembled audience. Ginny collapsed into her chair with a case of the giggles. Harry dug through the rubble and found the destroyed locket, pleased to find that it was no longer cold to his touch. He stuck it in his pocket and held out his hand to Ginny. When she regained her composure and took it, he said to Ron and Hermione “Would you two mind going to find Bill and Professor McGonagall? I’d like to talk to Professor Dumbledore for a few minutes before we leave.” They agreed and set off to find Bill and the new Headmistress.

“Reparo,” he muttered at the table he’d just destroyed, and it flew back together. He inspected it for a moment and, after satisfying himself that it was in good shape, turned back to the Headmaster.

“I am glad you stayed for a moment, Harry.” Dumbledore nodded to Ginny as well. “I have a few things for you that I hope will aid you on your mission. My Pensieve and all of the memories we viewed together are in that box on the shelf beside the fireplace. I am sure that you will find that they are categorized and labeled sufficiently. There are three additional memories that I would like you to view when you have a moment. I believe they will be enlightening with regard to Severus Snape.”

Harry still wasn’t convinced that anything the Headmaster would show him would be sufficient for him to stop hating Snape, but he agreed to view the memories.

“Sir, do you have any other advice to give me about the Horcruxes? I still haven’t a clue where to look for the cup or what the other item may be.”

Dumbledore nodded. “There are many notes in with my personal library. They contain my guesses and research on the matter. You may, at any time you like, come back and speak with me if you have further questions after reviewing them. Professor McGonagall has already agreed to grant you access to this office at any time you require it.”

When the others returned, he asked McGonagall if she could call together an Order meeting sometime in the next few days. She looked a bit skeptical about calling a meeting “on the say-so of four teenagers” but agreed to comply. While he was discussing the Order, Hermione took the opportunity to question the portrait about his personal library.

When they Flooed back to the Burrow, Ginny pulled Harry aside. “Can we go for a walk?”

Harry nodded his agreement but first ran upstairs to deposit the box from Dumbledore in his trunk. He rejoined her in the kitchen, and the two of them stepped through the back door to the garden. Harry followed her in silence as they passed from the garden into the wooded area that protected the Weasley paddock from the town’s view. When they came to a clearing, Ginny took out her wand and conjured a simple blanket, which she spread on the ground beneath the largest tree. In the dappled light, Harry thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asked him as she sat down, and Harry realized that he’d been staring at her.

He flushed and dropped down beside her, cupping her cheek with his hand. “Sorry. You just look really pretty in this light.”

It was Ginny’s turn to redden as Harry leaned against the trunk of the tree and pulled her to sit between his legs. As she rested against his chest, he asked, “Do you want to talk about today?”

She let out a soft chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, Harry? Seeing Dumbledore’s portrait had to be hard for you.” She toyed absently with a loose thread at the knee of his jeans.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, it was. But this has to be hard on you, too. Every time we talk about the Horcruxes, it must remind you of the diary, and I know that’s a bad lot of memories.” He lifted a strand of hair off her shoulder and slipped it between his fingers. “I’m rather used to getting hit with new information about Voldemort at this point, but you should be able to just forget about it and instead we keep bringing it back up.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Ginny snuggled a bit closer to him. “Harry, you can’t keep me safe from this. I want to be there for you, with you, and if that means that sometimes unpleasant memories come up, it’s no big deal.” She smiled and added, “As long I have you there to distract me from them.”

“How’s this?” he murmured as he leaned forward and swept the rest of her hair away from her neck. He heard her sharp intake of breath as his lips closed on the delicate skin below her ear.

“Very…distracting,” she agreed, as she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access.

His hands roamed up and down her sides a few times before he dared venture further. He plucked up his courage and continued his ministrations upon her neck as he slipped one hand under the fabric of her t-shirt. How is her skin so soft? he wondered as the back of his other hand brushed gently down the side of her breast. He felt her shiver against his chest and smiled to himself.

“I think I’ve figured out what I want to do tomorrow,” he murmured against her ear.

“What’s that?” she teased.

He kissed her again on the back of her neck before answering, “I want to go to Diagon Alley on a date with my girlfriend. Just like a normal seventeen year old.”

She chuckled softly. “A normal seventeen year old, eh?”

He nodded. “As normal as I get, at least.”

She leaned forward and turned around in his arms. “I love you, Harry. Just the way you are.”

Closing his eyes to savor the moment, he sighed before looking back at her. Her eyes were still fixed on his, and he leaned in and kissed her gently. “I love you too, Gin.” He was rewarded with a bright smile and several more kisses.

After a few minutes, he lay down his back and gestured for Ginny to join him. Lying on his back looking up at the treetops with his girlfriend secure against his side he thought, Dark Lord or no, I am a lucky bloke.

Back to index

Chapter 7: The Best Birthday

Author's Notes: Again, many thanks must go out to my excellent beta kschneyer. Ken's reviews make this story much better than it would otherwise be.

Harry awoke on the morning of his seventeenth birthday eager to get started. He expected that Mrs. Weasley would have a large breakfast ready for him, and as he searched the nightstand for his glasses his stomach grumbled at the thought. He didn’t expect to be immediately bombarded with kisses before he had a chance to get out of bed.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Ginny chirped, handing him the glasses he’d been unable to find. He slid them onto his nose and grinned at her.

“Couldn’t wait until I was out of bed?” he teased.

“I wanted to be the first one to tell you happy birthday. Girlfriend’s prerogative.” She smirked back at him. “But I can’t stay long; if Mum decides to wake you up she’ll kill us both if she finds me in here and you in nothing but boxers and a smile.” She smiled and ran a finger down his bare chest to emphasize her point.

Harry suppressed a shiver and smiled back at her. “Well, get going, then. I’ll be down as soon as I’m dressed.” He kissed her quickly and jumped out of bed as she closed the door behind her.

Before Harry could reach the breakfast table, Mr. Weasley took him aside. “When you told us last night what you had planned for today, Molly and I took the liberty of setting up some security for you.” Harry rolled his eyes but Mr. Weasley ploughed on. “I don’t think you’ll really mind. You’ll be meeting Tonks, Remus, and Hagrid at The Leaky Cauldron at noon.” Harry smiled brightly. “Before that, I’m taking you and Ron to the Ministry for your Apparition tests.” Mr. Weasley looked a bit hesitant to bring up the next subject. “There may be some reporters there, Harry, so you should think about how you’re going to handle them. Everyone knows that you turn seventeen today, so they’ll be expecting your visit to the Ministry.”

Harry grimaced at the thought of dealing with the press. “Thanks for the warning, Mr. Weasley. I hadn’t really thought about that.”

Breakfast was everything he’d anticipated and more, but he found himself eating quickly so that he and Ron could get to the Ministry. As he was finishing off his last rasher of bacon, an owl appeared outside the kitchen window and Mr. Weasley ushered it inside. It flew to Harry’s place at the table and held out its letter, a crisp white envelope with an unfamiliar seal on the back.

Curious, Harry opened the letter immediately as the owl flew back outside. He frowned when he saw that it was from Gringotts, but his frown quickly disappeared as he read the letter’s contents.

Ginny peered at him. “What is it, Harry?”

“Er, it’s from Gringotts. Apparently now that I’m an adult there are some things my parents left me in another vault. I can pick up the key anytime I want.” Harry scanned the letter again in disbelief.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re heading to Diagon Alley today, then, isn’t it?” Mr. Weasley observed as he glanced at his watch. “We’d better get going to the Ministry, though, or I’ll be late. It’s already ten.”

Harry nodded agreement and stepped into the Floo behind Mr. Weasley. He stepped out of the fireplace into pandemonium.

“Mr. Potter! Harry!” he heard from at least a dozen different voices.

He held a hand up in an attempt to stop the barrage of questions that were being shouted at him as Ron came through the Floo behind him. After a solid minute of waiting for that to work without result, he called above the crowd, “One at a time, please! I can’t understand all this shouting!”

The reporters looked taken aback by his tone and were simultaneously struck dumb. He was not pleased to see Rita Skeeter among them. I suppose her year of hiatus is long since up, he thought to himself. It was nice while it lasted. Feeling magnanimous after cowing the reporters, Harry instructed Rita to ask her question first.

She adjusted her glasses and licked the end of her Quick-Quotes Quill. “Mr. Potter. Harry. What the wizarding world would like to know is how you plan to defeat He Who Must Not Be Named.”

Harry cursed himself inwardly for deciding to address her first. “If I had a plan, do you really think I’d tell you lot so you could print it and let Voldemort know?” He sighed with impatience as the reporters all shuddered and gasped at the name. “It’s just a name.”

Rita nodded as her Quill scribbled over the pages, and Harry felt obliged to add, “I’m sure the other publications would love to quote me accurately, Rita, so watch what you report.” Rita had the good graces to at least look abashed at his comment, although the Quill kept scribbling merrily along.

A tall man with black hair and a rather ridiculous-looking attempt at Muggle clothing that involved a top hat, a nightshirt, and swimming trunks waved at Harry. “Harry, now that you’re of age, will you start leading the fight against You Know Who?”

“Others will lead, but I will fight,” he confirmed. “But as I’ve already said, I’m not going to be publishing details somewhere that Voldemort can read them.”

A young woman in fuchsia robes was bouncing on her toes trying to get his attention, so he called on her next.

“Mr. Potter, are you just here for your Apparition test or will you be meeting with any Ministry officials?”

Harry took a moment to consider his response to her question. “I’m just here to take my test. I will not be meeting any Ministry officials until those who are wrongly imprisoned are released, including Stan Shunpike.” Several reporters began talking amongst themselves with this announcement, and Harry was pleased to see several looks of concern on their faces.

Another reporter Harry didn’t recognize raised his hand, and Harry pointed to him. “Mr. Potter, there are rumors that you are involved romantically with one Ginevra Weasley. Can you confirm or deny these rumors?”

Harry scrubbed his face with one hand. Unbelievable. “I will not be discussing personal matters with the world at large. If you have nothing better to ask me, then I’ll be on my way to my Apparition exam.” He turned and left the flock or journalists clamoring in his wake.

After the lift closed, Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder. “Rather well done, Harry.”

Harry shrugged and looked back at him sheepishly. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly. “Exactly.”

Harry grinned as the lift opened and the woman’s voice announced, “Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Center.” They were followed out by several paper airplanes that Harry steadfastly tried to ignore.

One of the airplanes stayed with them through their entire trip to the Apparition Test Center and disappeared into the window in the lobby. Harry and Ron both signed in on the clipboard by the window, and the witch behind the counter read Harry’s name out a few minutes later.

She peered shyly at him, “Are you really Harry Potter?”

He nodded and blushed at her beaming smile. “Just wait until I tell the girls I tested Harry Potter! I was really hoping you’d come in today — I’m off tomorrow.”

He followed her into a room that was reminiscent of the streets of Hogsmeade with fake storefronts lining a narrow street. She led him to the far end of the room and instructed him to Apparate back by the door. She then had him Apparate several more times to various locations within the room. When he finished she clapped her hands rather enthusiastically. “Well done, Mr. Potter! You pass with full marks!”

Harry returned to the lobby and waited anxiously for Ron to return from his own test. When he came through the door with a broad grin on his face, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “You passed, then?”

Ron nodded and his smile widened. “I can’t wait to tell Hermione!”

“Is she meeting us at The Leaky Cauldron, then?” Ron nodded again and got a somewhat glazed look on his face.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and said, “Well, I’ll just leave you lads to it, then. Off to work for me, since I assume you can handle things from here. Straight to The Leaky Cauldron for you, though, and wait there for everyone else.”

Harry was dreading the return to the lobby and the probability that the reporters were still there. He was not surprised, then, when there were even more people than he’d seen on his way in. “Word must have spread,” he mumbled to Ron as they exited the lift.

Harry and Ron slowly made their way through the sea of reporters, steadily repeating “No comment,” over and over as they were bombarded with questions. “Why won’t you meet with the Minister?” “What about Ginny Weasley?” “Are you the Chosen One?”

When they reached the Apparition point, Harry gave a small wave to the throng and Disapparated with a crack.

They arrived in the alleyway behind The Leaky Cauldron and let themselves into the bar. Harry checked his watch and found that it was only 11:30, so they had a half-hour wait before the rest of their party made it there. “Let’s find a quiet corner. I don’t fancy being mobbed twice in one day.” Ron agreed and they found a table out of the way of the pub’s main traffic pattern. “Butterbeer?” asked Harry.

Ron shook his head. “No, mate, we should have some Firewhisky — celebrate your birthday properly, now that we’re both of age.”

Harry was hesitant to try such a strong drink, and if was honest with himself he would have to admit that he rather liked Butterbeer and was content to stick with that. Ron’s enthusiasm, however, wore him down and he agreed to take a shot of the liquor.

“Excellent!” Ron whooped as he rose to get their drinks from the bar. When he returned, Harry was surprised to see that he had bought not two glasses, but six.

“You don’t really mean for us to drink all of those, do you?” he asked worriedly.

“Why not?” Ron looked perplexed.

“Well, for starters, the strongest thing I’ve ever had is Butterbeer. And the strongest thing you’ve ever had is that mead that practically killed you. I’m not sure that three shots of Firewhisky is such a grand way to start, that’s all.”

“Aww, c’mon, I’m sure we can handle it.”

Harry snorted. “You maybe, you’re what? Thirteen stone? I’m not even eleven!”

“Fine, then, you have two and I’ll have four.” Ron negotiated.

Laughing, Harry picked up one of the shot glasses. “All right, I’ll do two and see how I feel. You know, Hermione’s going to be brassed off if she shows up and you’re sloshed. And I don’t even want to think about your sister’s reaction if I am.”

Ron blanched a bit at this, but lifted his glass as well. “What should we drink to?”

“How about we drink to long, happy lives?” Harry suggested, and Ron clinked his glass to Harry’s in agreement.

“Bottoms up, mate.”

The two young men swallowed their shots in one mouthful and almost immediately began sputtering.

“Blimey!” Ron said between coughs. “Not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t that!”

“I definitely prefer Butterbeer,” Harry muttered under his breath. “I may save this second shot for Hagrid when he gets here. Or see if Ginny wants some.”

“You can’t do that! It’s your birthday!” Ron protested.

“And I’d like to remember it, if that’s all right with you,” Harry shot back. “I tell you what. We’ll buy a bottle and if you like we can get well and truly pissed tonight after everyone else goes to bed.”

Ron perked up and raised his second glass. “To getting well and truly pissed later.” He upended the glass and managed not to lose control of his throat this time.

“All right, I’ll drink to that,” Harry conceded and downed his as well. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the second shot didn’t burn nearly as much as the first. “And now, I think I’d like to put some food on my stomach before this stuff rots out the lining.” He could feel the effects of the Firewhisky starting to creep up on him and wasn’t sure he trusted his feet to take him to the bar, so he waved to Tom and waited for the old barman to come to them.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. Happy birthday — what can I get for you?” he asked when he finally arrived.

Harry smiled blearily at him. “Do you have Shepherd’s Pie today?” When Tom nodded, Harry asked him to bring two.

Ron picked up his third shot and drained it. “One of those pies is for me, right?”

“Of course - did you think I was going to have two and leave you to starve?” Harry noticed that he was having a bit of trouble keeping Ron’s face in focus and he took off his glasses to rub his eyes. It didn’t help.

“I dunno. I usually have two by myself.” Ron appeared to be swaying just a little in his seat, so Harry reached across the table and pulled the fourth glass away from him.

“Ah, hell, Hermione and Ginny are going to kill us.” Harry put his head in his hands.

“What?” Ron wore a look of shock. “What did we do?”

Harry laughed out loud. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re both a little drunk. I knew we should have stuck to Butterbeer.”

Ron waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. We’ll be fine by the time they get here.”

Their pies arrived at the same time that the girls came out of the Floo five minutes early. Hermione seemed to notice that there was something wrong with them, and her face reflected her disapproval.

Ron feigned innocence when she glared at him. “What?”

Ginny sat down beside Harry and kissed him firmly. “Mmm. Firewhisky?”

Ron goggled at her a moment. “How do you know what Firewhisky tastes like?”

Ginny snorted. “The twins have kept a stash in their room since I was twelve. I tried a few glasses last summer. But tell Mum and I’ll see if that Bat-Bogey Hex can be applied to something other than the nose.”

“So are you two drunk?” Hermione demanded.

“I don’t think I am, Hermione. I only had two.” Harry kissed Ginny again before turning back to Hermione.

“So you’ve had three, Ronald?” Hermione scolded.

Harry shrugged at Ron’s feeble protestations. “I warned you, mate. Although I thought perhaps Hermione was loosening up a bit, after that flock of canaries.”

Hermione blushed and finally stopped towering over them and sat down beside Ron. “So this last one is yours, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “Oh, no. I’ve had quite enough, thanks. I think pumpkin juice might be in order for the rest of this meal.”

In a very small voice, Hermione asked, “Do you mind if I try it? I’ve never had it.”

Ron looked as if you could knock him of his chair with the slightest of breezes. Harry waved his hand absently at the glass. “Go ahead. It burns a bit, though.”

Hermione lifted the glass and took the tiniest sip Harry had ever seen anyone take. She coughed delicately and Ginny dissolved into giggles. “Oi, come on, Hermione, one shot is not going to kill you! I drank much more than one shot and still made it back to my own bed.”

Hermione colored at Ginny’s mocking and lifted the glass to her lips a second time. She swallowed all the contents in one fast gulp and immediately succumbed to a coughing fit such as Harry had never heard. Ginny shook her head. “Amateur.”

Hagrid’s booming voice came from behind Harry. “Blimey, Hermione! Drinkin’ Firewhisky at noon! I’d never have ‘spected that o’ yeh.”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times as she seemed to be trying to come up with the words to defend herself. Hagrid’s face broke open into a huge smile as he took the remaining chair at their table. “I’m jus’ teasin’ yeh, Hermione. I can see the boys got started before you was here. It’s Harry’s birthday, o’ course yer celebratin’!” He clapped her on the back with one of his huge hands, which only set her to coughing again.

Hagrid then turned his attention to Harry. “Yeh can walk, I hope? Be a short trip if yer already three sheets.”

“I’m fine now, Hagrid. It’s been twenty minutes or so and I think the worst of it has worn off. I’m not missing today for anything.” He stared over at Ron with a look that would have made Hermione proud if she’d been paying attention to anything but the table in front of her. “Although I think Ron might have to stay here for a bit. Hermione can keep him company.”

Lupin and Tonks came out of the fireplace a few minutes later, and Harry announced that he wanted his first stop to be Gringotts so he could pick up some money. Harry, Ginny, Hagrid, Lupin, and Tonks headed out and left Ron to a second Shepherd’s Pie and Hermione with a tall glass of milk.

When they approached the desk inside Gringotts, Hagrid told them that he would wait in the lobby. Harry remembered that Hagrid didn’t like the goblin carts, so he didn’t press the matter and went up to the closest available goblin. “Excuse me, but my name is Harry Potter and I got a letter this morning about a second vault that has become available to me. I have the letter here.” He placed the letter on the counter and the goblin immediately called for Griphook. Harry was put a little more at ease at the sight of the familiar goblin as Griphook told him to follow.

He led Harry, Ginny, Lupin, and Tonks into a room that was lined with gold-colored boxes. Pulling a ladder from the corner of the room, he climbed to the topmost shelf and unlocked one of the boxes, pulling out a small golden key much like the one Harry already had. He climbed back down and handed it to Harry. “I’ll take you to your vaults now. Only three of you can come with me. There isn’t room in the cart for more.”

Harry turned to Tonks. “I’d really like Professor Lupin’s help going through the stuff my parents left me. Is it okay if you wait with Hagrid?” She nodded and, after kissing Lupin on the cheek, left the room through the door to the lobby. Griphook guided the rest of them through the door at the opposite end of the room and ushered them into a cart. They stopped first at Harry’s personal vault, where he filled his money bag with more than he’d ever retrieved before. While I’m here, I might as well get money for the next few months of living, he reasoned. He handed the bag to Lupin in the cart, and they rode quickly to the next vault, which was only a few doors down from his own.

Griphook opened the door for them, and the three of them stepped into a vault that was significantly larger than Harry’s. While Harry’s held only money, this vault had boxes and trunks stacked to the ceiling, as well as a pile of gold to rival what Harry already had. Griphook returned to the cart and turned to Harry. “I’ll return with the cart in one hour, Mr. Potter.”

“Thanks, Griphook.” He walked a bit farther into the vault as he heard the cart speed away. “Well, we have to get started somewhere. They look like they’re labeled pretty well, so that should make things a bit easier.”

After walking up and down the rows of boxes, Harry had a general idea that most of what his parents couldn’t take into hiding with them they’d left in this vault. There was an entire row of boxes labeled Books and at least ten trunks labeled Clothes. He was happy to recognize his mother’s handwriting from the letters, and surmised that the writing he didn’t know must be his father’s. He traced his fingers over the word Quidditch written in his father’s hand on one of the trunks and smiled to himself.

One box that he wanted to take with him was labeled diaries by his mother. He pulled it out of the stack and placed it in the aisle outside the vault. They continued to dig around and pull promising boxes and trunks, placing them by the door. After about forty minutes they had a sizable stack, including three boxes labeled work in his mother’s writing. Harry shrank them all down and placed them in another bag and left it in the hall.

When he returned, Ginny pointed to a trunk that was, surprisingly, labeled in Hagrid’s untidy scrawl: Godric’s Hollow. Harry sat down beside it and opened the lock with his wand. When he lifted the lid, a faint odor of smoke wafted up. “Professor? Did Hagrid get these things from Mum and Dad’s house after that night with Voldemort?”

Lupin came and sat down beside Harry. “I don’t know, Harry, I’m sorry. I had no idea this was here. And as I’m no longer your professor and you are now an adult, I expect you to call me Remus.” He gave Harry a kindly smile. “Well, let’s see what’s in here.” He reached in and brought out a small wooden box and handed it to Harry.

Harry was ashamed to see that his hands were shaking as he lifted the lid from the box. Inside were two gold bands and he almost dropped the box in shock. “It’s — it’s their wedding rings.”

Ginny rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. “You okay?” she whispered in his ear.

He closed the box and set it on the floor beside him. “Yeah.” He squeezed her forearm and she released her hold on him. “Just surprised me. I guess I always just assumed they were buried with them.” He took a deep breath and peered back into the trunk. It was filled with an assortment of books, a few household items, and when he dug down to the bottom he found a scorched baby blanket. “Blue. With sheep.” He chuckled and held it to his nose and inhaled deeply before placing it back on top of the contents of the trunk. It just smells like smoke, but what did you expect, talcum and Mum’s perfume? He shook his head to clear it and closed the lid, standing as he did so. Ginny and Lupin stood beside him, each of them placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I’m definitely taking that one with me.”

“I’ll put it outside for you, then, Harry.” Lupin took out his wand and levitated the trunk out into the hallway.

Ginny stepped into him and he pulled her close. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” he mumbled into her hair. He sighed, replacing the smoky odor with Ginny’s flowery smell. “I think I’m done with this for today. I can always come back later and go through the rest of it. I can bring Hermione to help me sort out the books.”

She stepped back from him and smiled. “Ready to have some fun, then? Hopefully Ron’s sober by now.” He nodded as he heard Griphook returning with the cart. “And there’s our ride now.” She pulled him by the hand out of the vault and waited while Griphook locked it behind them.

They squinted into the sunlight as they headed back to The Leaky Cauldron, where they found Ron and Hermione bickering about whether or not she was drunk. Harry was ready to take Hermione’s side, but the argument stopped as soon as Ron and Hermione realized they had an audience. Hermione stood quite steadily and held out her hand for Ron to join her. He shook his head and complied, much less steadily than she had. Harry laughed. “You had more, didn’t you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, he did. And now he insists that he’s the sober one and I’m drunk. Honestly.”

“Well, plastered Ron is holding your hand in public, so don’t be too hard on him.” Ginny observed. Hermione smiled and followed them out of the bar, leading a red-faced Ron.

“I’ve decided that my primary order of business today is to get rid of this rubbish of Dudley’s I’ve been wearing for sixteen years. Other than my school things and some boxers I’ve owl-ordered, I don’t know what properly fitting clothes feel like.” Ginny’s face lit up at his announcement.

They headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies first, because Ron insisted that Harry should have a Chudley Cannons’ shirt and it was easier to go along with him than debate the point. In the end, Harry bought a variety of short- and long-sleeved shirts from each of the thirteen teams. Hermione scoffed at his Quidditch-centric wardrobe, but Ginny whispered to him that she’d enjoy the opportunity to “borrow” some of those shirts. His mind drifted back to the image of her in her nightgown and he was suddenly very pleased with his purchases.

The next stop was Madame Malkin’s, where Harry insisted on buying two sets of plain hooded black robes for himself, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. After a brief whispered argument, Harry won out by asserting that they might need to move anonymously in any number of possible situations.

Ginny knew of a Muggle clothing shop at the end of the Alley, so despite Harry’s misgivings about the sort of “Muggle” clothing he’d seen various wizards and witches sporting over the years, he allowed her to lead them down the street. He was pleasantly surprised to find that, while the collection did include some rather questionable items (including a pair of hip waders and a shocking-pink muumuu that would have fit all seven of them including Hagrid), they also stocked a decent selection of jeans, trousers, button-down shirts, and other things that actually were acceptable Muggle-wear. Harry spent the next two hours being pulled in and out of the dressing room under Ginny and Tonks’s direction. Hermione and Harry joined forces on occasion when the two witches tried to suggest things that were not typical male Muggle clothing, but for the most part he was happy with their choices.

Ron sobered up during the ordeal and began muttering mutinously about wasting time on clothes. Hermione could only shush him for so long before the two of them decided to go ahead to Fred and George’s shop and wait for the rest there. Hagrid elected to join them, and after they were gone Harry picked up a dress that he saw Ginny admiring. When she protested that it was too much money, he leaned down and murmured in her ear, “But it’s not just for you - I get to see you wear it.” When she came out of the dressing room in the blue-patterned, knee-length sundress, Harry smiled and knew he had made the right choice. With his purchases shrunken and placed in a newly-purchased backpack, they headed off to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to meet up with everyone else.

Fred and George’s shop was just as full and boisterous as Harry remembered from the previous summer. Children were running everywhere in the aisles and Lee Jordan was standing on the checkout counter demonstrating a Headless Hat. Hagrid waited outside the shop, which was probably for the best as there wasn’t likely to be a space big enough inside for him to stand.

Harry and Ginny waved to Fred and George, who were happily checking out customers behind Lee. They hadn’t spotted Ron and Hermione yet, so they left Tonks eagerly showing the Pygmy Puffs to a skeptical Lupin and continued their search. They finally found the other couple in the back room of the shop going through the Defense products the twins had developed. Ron had already thrown a few Shield Cloaks over his shoulder and was holding a bag of Decoy Detonators. He and Hermione were debating the merits of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that Draco Malfoy used against them at the end of the previous school year, but Harry interrupted. “Go ahead and grab some. Malfoy already showed us how dead useful it can be.”

Fred and George appeared in the doorway behind Harry and Ginny. “So I see you’ve been helping yourself to the merchandise again, little brother.” George said.

Ron gestured weakly at Harry. “It’s for Harry, not for me.”

“A likely story —” Fred began.

“But we’re not swallowing it unless Harry says so.” George finished for him.

Harry nodded. “I’ll pay for everything we take. You’ve already given me more than enough merchandise to make up for my initial investment and we’ll likely need quite a bit of this Defense stuff.”

Fred smiled. “We haven’t given you nearly enough to make up your investment, but if you insist. I must say, though, that we feel that now you’re inflicting yourself with the presence of not only ickle Ronniekins here –”

George interjected, “but also our very dangerous sister –”

“You should have some compensation from other, more mature members of the family.” Fred concluded.

“I don’t know, Fred, I’m sure Ginny is managing the compensation quite well on her own.” George argued as he waggled his eyebrows at Harry. Ginny took the opportunity to stomp on George’s foot. “Or maybe you’re right, Fred. Being around her has its price.”

“Of course I’m right, brother mine. But before we were sidetracked by the terribly uncouth discussion of payment, we were going to introduce Mr. Potter to…” Fred gestured expansively at the shelf beside the door.

“Some of our new inventions!” the twins said in unison.

“This is the one we’re most proud of,” George explained as he lifted a small black object that resembled a beanbag off the shelf and tossed it to Harry.

It felt much like a beanbag, too, Harry reflected. “What is it?” he asked as he tossed it up and down in his hand.

“It’s a Bogus Bloke,” Fred replied, “Although we may have to come up with a more dignified name now that the Auror Department has started asking for them.” He then took another off the shelf, pointed his wand at it, and said, “Effingo.” It glowed softly for a second before Fred tossed it to the side of the storeroom. A moment later, it let off a tiny puff of smoke and a third twin was standing there. Fred began waving his arms and the other Fred did the same a moment later. Fred jumped up and down, then danced a very silly jig, then bowed, and his doppelganger repeated each movement, shimmering a bit before disappearing entirely after the bow.

“Wicked.” Ron breathed.

Fred continued, “We initially thought of it as a joke item; you know, you activate it and suddenly there are two of you. But when we showed Tonks at an Order meeting, she thought they’d be just as good as, if not better than, the Decoy Detonators for allowing you an opportunity to get away from a fight. Moody and Kingsley agreed after we showed them, and the next thing we know the Auror Department is asking for 200.”

Hermione sniffed and asked, “Why does it have to be a Bloke?”

George looked taken aback by the question. He turned to Fred. “Why does it have to be a bloke?”

“Alliteration. Goes well with ‘bogus.’”

“Not gender-neutral, though.”

“True, brother mine. Good ear, that Hermione.”

“Place for her in the organization, don’t you think?”

“Hm, Vice President in Charge of Proper Labeling?”

George turned to Hermione. “What do you say, Hermione? You come up with a dignified, gender-neutral term for it, and we’ll give you a commission on the increased sales. If there are any.” He grinned.

Hermione nodded, looking both thoughtful and pleased.

“We’ll take a dozen of these, then,” Harry interrupted. “And we’ll pay for them.” He gave Fred and George each a glare to ensure that they knew he meant it.

“Right-o, then, Mr. Potter! If you’ll just follow me to the till, I’ll happily take your money.” Fred bowed him out of the room. Once he had paid far less than he thought he should for their Defense items, they took their leave of the twins and headed back out to the Alley.

Ginny picked up Harry’s hand and he thought she was going to hold it, but instead she turned his wrist around and checked his watch. “It’s 3:30 — we should be getting back - it’s almost tea time.”

When Harry stepped out of the Floo at The Burrow, he was greeted by pandemonium for the second time in less than five hours. It seemed that a party had been arranged for him in his absence, and he turned to Ginny and raised an eyebrow. She giggled and kissed him, speaking softly into his ear, “I know you’ve never had a proper birthday party so Mum and I set this up.”

He surveyed the crowd filling the Weasleys’ sitting room. All of his dorm-mates were there, along with all of the Weasleys except the twins and Percy. Over in a corner, he saw Luna chatting merrily with Charlie about some unknown topic. Behind him, he heard someone else step out of the Floo and turned around, concerned. His wand was halfway out when he realized that it was Lupin and not an uninvited invader. Tonks followed a few seconds later, and he expected Hagrid to come after her, but there was no one else. After a minute, he asked Lupin, “What happened to Hagrid?”

“He had some errands to run, but he’ll be along shortly. The twins are behind us by a few minutes; they said they needed to do a few things at the shop before they left Lee and Verity alone.” Lupin wrapped an arm around Tonks and it struck Harry that he’d never seen his parents’ friend look quite so happy before. He turned back to Ginny as he tucked his wand back into his robes.

“Thanks for this, Gin. It means a lot to me.” He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead and held her close for a moment before Ron interrupted.

“Oi! Come have some of these cakes, Harry! And get your hands off my sister!” Ron’s outburst caught the attention of the other Weasley brothers, and Bill and Charlie both turned to look at Harry.

Harry suddenly felt as if everyone in the room was staring at him although he could see that wasn’t the case. Ginny slung an arm around his waist and pulled herself into his side. “We’ll put our hands where we like, Ronald Weasley, and it’s none of your business.” She shot a glare at Charlie and Bill for good measure.

That was the moment that Mrs. Weasley entered the room with another tray of cakes. She glanced at Harry and Ginny, and then turned to Ron. “For heaven’s sake, Ron. They’re just standing there. Leave them be.” She surveyed her other two sons as if looking for signs that they were going to cause trouble.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed Ginny briefly.

“I already told you, Harry, no one’s going to do anything to you now that you’re mine,” she giggled. “Stop being so worried about my brothers. They all like you, and I think they’re all a little afraid of me now.”

Harry relaxed and spent the next two hours enjoying his party. The twins arrived about half an hour into the party and soon random gales of laughter erupted wherever they went. He soon found himself discussing Seeker moves with Charlie, who was impressed to hear of Harry’s exploits on the pitch. “I should have known after you handled that Horntail that you were probably a better flier than I am. Not that I’m admitting that you are, mind you.”

Harry was distracted momentarily by the sound of Ginny’s laughter from across the room, but after he exchanged a smile with her he returned his attention to Charlie. “I’m really happy you two got together, Harry. Not just because Ginny wouldn’t be quiet about you from about the age of six, but because you’re a decent sort, and I can see how happy you’re making each other.”

“Is it that obvious?” Harry asked him, concerned. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t want to nauseate the folks around us.” He cast a glance at Bill and Fleur, who were feeding each other bits of canapé.

Charlie laughed. “Don’t worry about it. To be honest, I’m glad to see that it’s possible to be together with someone and not make everyone around you sick. With those two, I was beginning to wonder.” He shrugged and looked at his feet.

After a bit more chatting with Charlie, Harry started looking around for Hagrid again. He wondered what errands were taking Hagrid so long. It somehow seemed right that Hagrid should be there for this birthday, after everything he’d done for Harry on his eleventh. The day I became a wizard and the day I became a man, and Hagrid’s been there for both of them. I really should tell him what that means to me. He realized guiltily that he didn’t even know when Hagrid’s birthday was, or how old he was. Some friend I am.

He heard a low rumbling in the distance and wondered if a storm was coming. After a moment, though, he realized that the sound was more like an engine than thunder. The noise suddenly stopped, and a few moments later Hagrid came in through the front door and waved to him. He raised his hand in return before he realized that Hagrid was waving him over, not just saying hello. He joined him near the door, and Hagrid leaned in as much as he could. “Got summat to show yeh, Harry. Not a birthday presen’, ‘xactly, but yeh should have it jus’ the same.”

“Do I have a second to get Ginny?” he asked. Hagrid nodded, so Harry scanned the crowd for her and found her talking to Luna and Neville. “Ginny, can you come with me for a moment?” She nodded and took his hand and together they followed Hagrid into front garden.

Harry’s jaw dropped when he saw what Hagrid was pointing at. It was a shiny black motorbike, obviously not new but cool nonetheless. “Is that — “

“It belonged to Sirius, yeah. He loaned it ter me ter take yeh from yer Mum an’ Dad’s house tha’ night, an’ tol’ me he wouldn’ be needin’ it no more an’ I should keep it. Seemed wrong ter keep it now, what with yeh bein’ an adult now an’ all.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and sniffed.

Harry threw his arms around Hagrid’s vast midsection and hugged him tight. “Thanks, Hagrid. I was thinking earlier, that you’ve been there for pretty much every important thing that’s ever happened to me. I never told you how much it means to me to have a friend like you.”

Hagrid burst into tears at this confession, and squeezed Harry so tight he thought he might pop. When he finally released Harry and blew his nose on his great spotted handkerchief, Harry found that he had a few unshed tears in his own eyes. His hand sought out Ginny’s and she kissed his cheek softly.

Hagrid waved his vast hand at the bike. “Well, c’mon now, give ‘er a go!”

Harry turned to Ginny and she nodded; he mounted the bike and Hagrid showed him how to start it and explained all the various controls. Harry had never learned to ride a bicycle, but he reasoned that it couldn’t be any harder than riding a broom, so he started the bike up and took it for a few slow turns around the garden. “I think that’s probably enough for me tonight, Hagrid. I’ll give flying it a go some other time.” He dismounted and parked the bike under the overhang of Mr. Weasley’s shed and the three of them returned to the house.

Harry looked around for Ron, eager to share his news. He and Hermione were standing in one corner, drinking Butterbeer and talking to the twins. When Harry approached, Ron asked, “Where’d you go?”

“You’ll never believe this, Ron, but Hagrid just brought me Sirius’s old motorbike!”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Cor! Where is it? Can I have a go? Does it still fly?”

Ginny laughed. “Calm down, Ron, Harry will have it for a long time. And I get the first ride once Harry’s more comfortable with it. Besides, it’s time for presents.”

Presents, Harry thought. It still shocked him, even after six years, that people thought to give him things on his birthday and Christmas. Ginny ushered him into the kitchen, where a large pile of gifts was stacked on the table. Harry did a double-take when he realized just how many there were. He turned to the guests standing behind him. “You — you all didn’t have to do this for me.” His eyes dropped to his feet and he felt Ginny step closer to him.

Molly spoke up, “Of course we did, Harry. You’re important to us. Now open them!”

Hesitantly, Harry reached out for the first package and read the tag. It was from Lupin and Tonks, and contained a framed photo of his parents, Sirius, and Remus, obviously having a good time. He assumed that Peter either had taken the photo or had walked out of it. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him a hand of his own for the family clock, which Mrs. Weasley immediately attached after she’d finished hugging him tight. He was pleased to see that it pointed to Home briefly before joining the others at Mortal Peril, but Mrs. Weasley burst into tears in Mr. Weasley’s arms. From Bill and Fleur he received a book on introductory curse breaking.

He eyed the twins’ gift with concern, but they assured him that it was perfectly safe to open. Inside, he found an assortment of joke and Defense products from their shop. “Right difficult to not let you buy one of everything today and make our gift useless!” Fred explained. He then leaned in and told him, “There’s also a bottle of Firewhisky up in Ron’s room for you — Ron mentioned to me that you ‘forgot’ to pick one up earlier.”

His dorm-mates had clubbed up to get him a book called A Wizard’s Guide to Witches, and he was glad when he opened it that Neville had warned him earlier that he might not want to show it around to everyone. His face reddened and he quickly stuck it under the curse breaking book but he was sure everyone present could guess its contents from his reaction. He tried desperately to avoid Ginny’s eyes and picked up Luna’s present, a subscription to The Quibbler.

When he opened the gift from Ron, he laughed out loud. “A Chudley Cannons’ shirt? Why did you make me buy one today if this was your gift?”

Ron looked a bit green and admitted, “Well, I really thought you should have one, and I guess I forgot.” This earned him a round of laughter from all assembled. He mumbled, “At least it’s different from the one you bought today,” which Harry had to admit was true. He decided that he’d best not mention the Firewhisky episode in front of Mrs. Weasley and let the matter drop to continue with his gifts.

Hermione gave him a canteen that automatically summoned water, which earned her a few curious glances, probably wondering why Harry would need such a thing. He hugged her and thanked her sincerely, knowing how useful it would be very soon.

The last gift was from Ginny. She had attached a homemade card that said simply, “Happy Birthday” on the front and “I love you” on the inside. He grinned at her and said, “At least this one doesn’t sing,” before poking her in the side. She squealed dramatically and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

He opened the long, thin box to find two chains with pendants that each looked like half of a coin. Put together, the coin read, The Lord watch between me and thee while we are apart, one from another.

“It’s called a Mizpah coin, and the quote is from the Bible. It’s a kind of magic Muggles actually believe in, that these coins bring good luck and safety to those who wear them. I bought them when we were broken up, but I thought they were still appropriate,” she explained.

Touched, Harry fastened one chain around his neck and slipped it under his shirt and robes before helping Ginny put the other around her own. He kissed her softly on the side of the neck and whispered, “That’s really nice, Gin. Thank you.”

“I thought you’d prefer that to My Sweetheart,” she whispered back while shooting her eyes at Ron.

Harry laughed and thanked everyone again for his gifts. The party started filtering back into the sitting room but Dean and Seamus came over to give him some good-hearted ribbing about the book. Finally, Dean stuck out his hand and confided, “I’m glad you’re together, Harry. You’re a tough bloke to compete with.”

Harry was glad to see that Dean’s words held no sarcasm or bitterness and shook his friend’s hand enthusiastically. “Thanks, Dean. I was glad to see you here tonight.”

He pulled Ginny away from the beginning of a conversation with Luna. “Fancy a walk?”

She smiled and kissed him lightly. “Of course.”

They returned to the clearing they’d visited the day before, and Ginny again took the initiative to conjure a blanket. “I feel bad, leaving everyone inside, but I wanted to be alone with you,” he admitted as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against him. “Spending the day with you was wonderful; everything I thought it would be. And thanks for the help picking out clothes; I never knew it took so much thinking.”

She laughed and wove her fingers through his. “It was fun. We’ve never had much money, so it was nice to be able to pick things out without worrying how much they cost.”

“Except your dress. Apparently it’s okay for me to spend loads of money on myself but not on you,” he teased.

“Of course, Harry, it’s your money, not mine.”

“What if it was your money, what would you do with it?”

“I’ve never really had a lot of pocket money, so I’ve not really thought about it much.”

“Well, I’ve decided what you’re getting for your birthday. A repeat of today, but for you.”

She scoffed and said, “Mum would never let me.”

“What if we didn’t tell her? We’ll be leaving soon after that; with Bill’s wedding the following Saturday there’s nothing else keeping us from setting off on our search for the Horcruxes. I’d like to go to Headquarters at that point, maybe go through some of the books in my parents’ vault and Dumbledore’s library to try to figure out what to do next. You could have a whole new wardrobe and your mum wouldn’t even see it until maybe Christmas.” Harry felt guilty about deceiving Mrs. Weasley, but he wasn’t going to let that stand in the way of Ginny having a good time picking out things for herself for a change.

He felt, rather than heard, her sigh against him. “That sounds nice. It will be a wonderful change to be away from school and parents and all the other things that keep us from being able to really be ourselves, won’t it?”

“As long as being ourselves means that you’ll wake me up every morning like today, then yes,” he chuckled.

She sat up a bit and turned to him. “That would be nice. Although I don’t always want to be the one to get up early.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what it would be like to be awoken by Ginny’s kisses every morning and found that he rather liked the idea. “Deal,” he said without opening his eyes. “Remember that day by the lake?”

She giggled softly. “Which one?”

“The one, a few weeks after we got together, when we just sat and talked about what we wanted to do after Hogwarts and the war?” he replied wistfully.

She reached up to touch his face and he leaned his cheek into her palm. “Yeah, I do. I said that I wanted to have a family and you agreed that a family was a good thing to have.”

He opened his eyes. “You’re my family, Gin. You, and the rest of the Weasleys, and Hermione, and even Remus and Tonks and Hagrid. You’re what I have. I didn’t really realize that until today, but it’s true. Just a minute ago I was thinking how nice it would be to wake up to your kisses every morning, but it’s not just the snogging. It’s you. I know that you know that I love you, but I don’t know if I’ve ever let you know how much you mean to me. It’s why I tried to break things off with you, because I was — “ he sighed and continued, “I was scared that every person I’ve cared about, every person who’s been close to me, has been taken away. First my parents, then Sirius, then Dumbledore. Even Cedric was killed just because he happened to be nearby and Voldemort didn’t need him. And I couldn’t bear the thought of having you, or Ron, or Hermione taken away from me. But mostly you. Ron and Hermione made a choice when we were still kids to stick by me and they’ve faced danger almost as much as I have. But you, you’re different.”

He felt her bristle at his statement and he took her face in his hands. “Not different in the way that you’re thinking. Different that — different because if I lost Ron or Hermione I would be devastated, but I know I could go on. I could live knowing that they did what they felt they had to, and that they’d want me to finish what we started together that day in the girls’ toilet against that troll.”

He smiled at the memory, marveling that eleven-year-olds would do something so bold, so rash, so - Gryffindor.

“They’ve practically grown up knowing that we were in this together, and I’ve known it too. When we went after Quirrell that year, I had to leave Ron behind, and then Hermione, not knowing if they’d be okay, because I knew what had to be done and I was the one to do it. But you, I have to fight the instinct to put you away in a tower and keep you safe because I don’t know if I could continue without you, without knowing you were okay. For almost the whole past year, every decision I’ve made has been based on how I thought you would react to it. How you would feel about me knowing what I’d done or thought or said. You’re what makes me want to not only defeat Voldemort, but what makes me want to survive it.”

He gave her a self-deprecating grin, and concluded, “And I think that’s the most I’ve said in one sitting to anyone, ever.”

He saw that her eyes had misted over and apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you sad, Gin, I just wanted you to know how I feel. It’s been going through my head off and on all day.”

A tear fell down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb.

“It’s not that I’m sad, you great prat, it’s because I don’t think you understand that I feel the same way. That if something happened to you I couldn’t continue. That’s the reason I got these,” she lifted her pendant. “That’s the reason I want to go with you, so that I don’t have to wonder if you’re all right, so that I don’t have to wonder whether it’s okay to go on for another minute or hour or day.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers. “I understand now.”

Back to index

Chapter 8: Last Golden Day of Peace

Author's Notes: Many thanks again to my wonderful beta Ken, who makes each chapter much better than it is when I send it to him. He had far more input on this chapter than any previous, and I think it shows. My apologies for taking so long with this one - real life got ugly and I'm sure you all know how that can be. Thanks for your patience.

“It can’t be that simple,” Hermione muttered from her spot on the bed next to Ron. The four of them were again reading Dumbledore’s notes and books about the founders in Harry’s room, taking their own notes on anything that might be related to items that Voldemort would consider significant enough to turn into Horcruxes.

Ron looked up from The Legend of Helga Hufflepuff to ask, “What can’t be that simple?”

She looked back and forth between her notes and the three books she had spread in front of her and shook her head. “What do you know about the Holy Grail?”

“I know that a lot of people spent a lot of time looking for it and never found it,” Ginny answered. Harry and Ron murmured agreement.

Hermione sat up straight and assumed the familiar expression that said that she was about to explain something that she felt should be common knowledge. “The Grail itself was an object of great mystery; no one knows what it looked like or where it was hidden. But there were four other objects associated with the Grail in ancient legend and most people have now forgotten about them.” Her eyes scanned her friends as she continued, “There was a sword, a bowl or cup, a coin or medallion, and a staff or wand!”

Her excitement was lost on the other three; she huffed impatiently. “Don’t you see? These items have always been associated with each other, and there are four of them!”

It took Harry a moment before he got the gist of what Hermione was saying. Just before he could open his mouth to respond, Hermione continued her speech. “What if the reason these four items are important, the reason they’re associated with the Grail, is because they’re related to the founders but Muggles wouldn’t know that and would give them different meaning?” She scribbled something else on her parchment and looked back up.

Ron looked deep in thought, but didn’t say anything.

Then something in Harry’s brain clicked, and he nodded slowly to Hermione. “Gryffindor’s sword, Hufflepuff’s cup, and Slytherin’s locket make sense. Does this mean that the last Horcrux we’re looking for is a staff or wand?”

Hermione beamed at him. “Yes! Obviously Voldemort didn’t get the chance to make Gryffindor’s sword into a Horcrux because it’s been in Dumbledore’s office this whole time, but we know for certain that he had the cup and the locket! So the last item he’d need is -”

“Ravenclaw’s wand!” Ron interrupted. He reached over and placed a loud kiss on Hermione’s cheek. “You’re brilliant!”

Harry was hesitant to join in the celebrations. Hermione’s right. It can’t be that simple. “You really think that this is the connection we’re looking for?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “It seems simple, I know, but it all makes sense. Every book I’ve read has mentioned Gryffindor’s sword or Hufflepuff’s cup or Slytherin’s locket, but there haven’t been any items associated with Ravenclaw at all. By all accounts, she was a very studious witch who rarely left the castle after Hogwarts was founded. She didn’t have any special things that she used or wore, but one thing she always would have had around her, just like every other witch and wizard, is her wand.”

Harry found himself warming to the idea and closed the folder containing Dumbledore’s notes with a snap. “Well, it’s the best guess we’ve got at this point, even if we don’t know where to begin looking for it.” He lay back onto Ginny’s lap and she began running her fingers through his hair. He grinned up at her. “All right then, then it sounds like we need to stop trying to figure out what the Horcruxes are for now and focus more on where Voldemort would have hidden them. Other than Dumbledore’s notes,” he gestured at the stack of parchment lying at his feet on the bed, “Any ideas where to start with that?”

All four of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Ron said, “Ideas or no, it’s almost lunchtime and I’m famished. We can think about it later.”

“You two head down — I want to talk to Harry for a minute,” Ginny said.

Ron scowled. “Talk. Right.” But he climbed off the bed and led Hermione out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Ginny waved her wand and shut the door, casting a few charms under her breath that Harry assumed were for locking and silencing. The idea of being alone in a locked room with Ginny for the first time in a week sent a thrill through him, and he found himself grinning like an idiot.

“And what are you smiling about, Harry?” Ginny teased, running her fingers down his cheek. Harry raised a finger and tapped his lips, trying to appear deep in thought. “Let’s see…I’m alone in a locked and silenced room with my head on the lap of the most amazing witch I’ve ever known. Nope, no reason at all to be smiling.”

Ginny grinned down at him. “I can think of something better,” she challenged.

“Oh?” Harry asked, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and sitting up beside her. He was trying to sound nonchalant, but he had the feeling that the rapid beating of his heart was preventing him from keeping his voice steady.

“Yes, definitely. I am sitting in a locked and silenced room beside the most incredible wizard I’ve ever seen, and if he plays his cards right I’m going to be kissing him in just a moment.” She cast him a challenging look and licked her lips.

He swallowed heavily and played along. “And what would a bloke have to do to play his cards right?” He was having a hard time looking anywhere but her mouth.

She leaned toward him and whispered, “He would just have to remain exactly,” - she moved closer — “where,” — closer still — “he is.” The inches between them closed and her lips met his, soft and gentle as she wove her fingers through his hair and held him in place.

He heard a soft moan, but he couldn’t tell whether it was hers or his and couldn’t bring himself to care. His arms snaked around her and he leaned back on the bed, pulling her on top of his body. Every nerve was on fire and he found himself tugging on the bottom of her blouse, lifting it to expose her ribs to his searching fingers. Ginny ground her hips against his and he lost all rational thought for several moments. When it returned to him, he found that Ginny was insistently pulling at his own t-shirt and he rose briefly off the bed to pull it over his head. Ginny sat upright and straddled his hips to allow this, and after he straightened his glasses he reached forward and began unbuttoning her top. His eyes sought hers out, asking permission. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and his fingers made quick work of the remaining buttons.

He slid the fabric from her shoulders and inhaled sharply. He’d had dreams about this very thing, ever since she first introduced his hands to her chest at Grimmauld Place. Her pale skin was lightly freckled across her shoulders and down her chest, disappearing into the white cotton bra she was wearing. After a moment, he realized that he was staring and reached out a hand to stroke her shoulder. She inclined her head toward his touch and her fiery hair dropped over his hand, spilling around her face and chest.

“I want you to touch me, Harry,” she whispered as she brought her hands around her back.

Harry gaped as she drew the loose straps down her arms. “Gin — I — bloody brilliant,” he stammered as he took in the sight of her bare breasts. She smiled down at him, placing her hands over his own and slowly drawing them down her shoulders and onto her exposed breasts. He ran a thumb experimentally over one pink nipple and was rewarded with a sound from Ginny that his hazy brain could define only as a purr.

He lost track of all time as she continued making small noises and he moved his hands along her torso. Whenever she shifted her weight, he felt sparks shoot though his body. When he could take it no longer, he grasped her firmly by the waist and flipped her onto her back and covered her body with his own. He kissed her firmly and then began working his way down her neck. He heard her breathe the word, “Yes,” as he took one velvet nipple between his lips and teased it with his tongue. He thought that it was the best sound he’d ever heard. Slowly, he kissed his way back up her body to her face, relishing the feel of her bare skin against his.

“Oh, Harry,” she gasped, “That was amazing.” He smiled between kisses and rolled to his back, nestling her against his side.

“You’re the one who’s amazing, Gin,” he panted, trying to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. “Your skin is so soft,” he ran his hand down her back to emphasize his point, “and have I ever told you that you smell incredible?”

She giggled softly. “I smell good?”

He nodded. “I smelled you in the Amortentia potion Slughorn showed us. It’s supposed to smell like whatever attracts us, and mine smelled like broomsticks, treacle tart, and you.”

“Wonder what mine would smell like,” she pondered aloud. “I’m sure you’d be in there somewhere.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And what do I smell like?”

“Kind of musky, like a boy should smell, and a bit like grass. Of course, right now you also smell a bit sweaty.” She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “You smell like Harry.”

They lay in silence, caressing each other lightly, for a few minutes before Ginny spoke again. “They kept you in a cupboard, Harry?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, but her palm pressed reassuringly against his chest.

Harry sighed and nodded. “Until my Hogwarts letters started coming — they were addressed to my cupboard. I think they were worried about getting in trouble for keeping me there, so they moved me to Dudley’s second bedroom and I stayed there until the end.”

She shuddered against him. “Was it awful?”

He pondered for a moment. “I don’t know. It was all I knew, so it seemed perfectly normal to me at the time. Does that make sense?”

“In a horrible way, yes.” She released a deep breath. “And you never told anyone? A teacher or a friend?”

“There was no one to tell. My teachers all thought I was odd, and the Dursleys always put on a big show of being perfect in front of everyone else. Any friends I might have made were scared away by Dudley and his gang.” Harry wondered for a moment why Ginny had brought this all up, and decided he didn’t care. He’d never talked to anyone about it, not even Ron and Hermione, but somehow it seemed right to talk to her. “I was lonely for sure, but I didn’t know any other way to be. I can’t remember the number of times I sat in my cupboard and wished for someone to take me away from it all, to tell me I had family who would take care of me and not treat me as if I were something disgusting to be ignored at every turn. And then Hagrid showed up, and it was as if my wishes had all come true.” He paused and kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her arm. “I even got to see my family that winter in the Mirror of Erised, and Hagrid gave me that photo album. After that, it didn’t seem to matter anymore that the Dursleys were horrible to me; I knew that I had parents who loved me and friends who cared — that’s what made it so hard that summer when Dobby was stopping my mail. It made me wonder if Ron and Hermione really did care about me.”

Ginny wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry to bring it up, Harry, but I just can’t understand why they would be so horrible to you of all people. I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot since you left your aunt’s house.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s all right, Gin, I don’t mind talking about this stuff with you. But it’s over now, and I never have to see another Dursley again for as long as I live.” He smiled and squeezed her against him. “We should probably go down for lunch before someone comes knocking. I don’t fancy Ron or your mum finding us like this.” He glanced down at her bare chest pressed against his side and ran a finger down the side of her breast.

When they were clothed and appeared downstairs in the kitchen, Hermione gave them a sly smile and asked, “Did you two have a nice talk?” which caused both of them to blush a bit before Harry, after a moment of thought and a soft look at Ginny, said, “Yeah. Yeah we did.”

The next few days were more of the same, with time spent reading Dumbledore’s notes and helping Mrs. Weasley prepare for the wedding. It was originally to be held in France, but with the advanced wards that had been placed around The Burrow for Harry’s stay it was decided that things would be safer in England.

For some reason the prospect of viewing the memories Dumbledore had left did not appeal to Harry. He was curious about their contents, but the thought of what he might see filled him unexplained dread. He continued to make excuses to himself to avoid the inevitable, but four days before the wedding he realized that time was running out and he could avoid it no longer He told his friends he was going to have a kip and left them in the sitting room as he ascended the stairs to his room feeling a little guilty about the lie. He couldn’t explain it, but it seemed as if saying his intentions aloud would make him lose his courage.

Harry opened the box Dumbledore gave him and withdrew the Pensieve. Setting it on his desk, he began to rifle through the bottles and chuckled to himself as he noticed just how very well-labeled and organized they were. Soon he found the three memories he’d been looking for, all labeled Severus Snape in Dumbledore’s thin, slanted writing. Uncorking the first memory, he poured it hesitantly into the Pensieve. With a deep breath, he pressed his face to the surface of the swirling liquid and felt the familiar falling that accompanied entering the memory.

He found himself standing in the Headmaster’s office, beside Dumbledore, looking out the window onto the grounds. It was autumn, by the look of it, and the Forbidden Forest was awash with various shades of red and gold that reminded him of Ginny’s hair. He was beginning to wonder what of importance was contained in this memory when he turned to Dumbledore’s desk and saw Snape sitting across from the headmaster’s chair. Snape appeared to be about twenty or so — was he Potions Master yet? — and no better-looking than he was now, or than he’d been as a fifteen-year-old. The tension in the room was palpable, and Harry wondered what had brought it on.

Snape’s face was grey and his black eyes bore into Dumbledore.

“You say that precautions have been taken for their safety,” he said.

“So they have,” answered Dumbledore calmly.

“Yet you will not tell me what they are.” There was a tension in his voice that Harry could not understand.

Dumbledore looked at Snape steadily, and then spoke slowly and carefully, as if delivering a difficult lesson. “Severus, surely you see that to tell anyone the precautions would compromise them.”

“You don’t trust me,” he accused.

The Headmaster barely hesitated. “Would you be trusting in my position, knowing what is at stake?”

“I have told you, Headmaster. If I had known for a moment that the prophecy referred to Lily — ” and to Harry’s astonishment, he actually heard Snape’s voice catch, as if he was nearly moved to tears. Snape, upset? Snape losing control over a risk to Harry’s mother?

The lank-haired man continued, “It is my fault that she is in danger. It is my fault that the Dark Lord is trying to kill her. You must let me help. You must let me — ” and again the voice seemed nearly to catch. Harry felt as if he’d stumbled into some other reality.

Dumbledore’s face looked sad and sympathetic. “You might extend the same concern for her husband and son,” he observed gently.

A look of genuine pain came over Snape’s face; Harry almost didn’t recognize it. “You know I cannot do that. You know why.” His voice was strained and grating.

“Yes, I do, Severus. I do not mock your feelings, nor would I. But you are a grown man, not a boy, and she is married to another. If you love her as you say you do, you will honor what she loves and protect it.”

Snape’s face set like stone and he rose from his chair, leaving room without a word.

The memory ended and Harry found himself standing back in his room at The Burrow, stunned. Snape had feelings for my mum. He sat down heavily on the bed as the idea turned itself over in his mind. He recalled the way his mother stood up for Snape in the memory of the Marauders’ tormenting him and wondered if they’d been friends. But he called her Mudblood. Why would he do that to someone he claims to love?

Steeling himself for more unpleasant revelations, he returned the memory to its bottle and added the second to the Pensieve.

He was back in the Headmaster’s office, and before him sat Dumbledore and Snape, with one of the Prewitt brothers, whom Harry recognized from the photo of the Order of the Phoenix Moody had shown him at Grimmauld Place, standing between them. Harry realized that this must be sometime before Voldemort’s first downfall, as the Prewitts had been killed during the first war.

Dumbledore gazed impassively at Snape and said, “This is not our only option, Severus. You must know that I do not require this of you.”

“I understand that, Headmaster, but I am placing myself in a very tenuous situation and I want you to harbor no doubts about my loyalties,” Snape replied.

Dumbledore nodded, but looked a trifle sad to Harry. “Are you ready, Severus?” the Headmaster asked.

Snape murmured assent, and Dumbledore gestured to Ginny and Ron’s uncle. “Then we may begin.” Snape took Dumbledore’s right hand in his own and the unknown Prewitt placed the tip of his wand on their hands.

Dumbledore began, “Will you, Severus, serve the Order of the Phoenix to the best of your abilities?”

Snape’s face was unreadable as he replied, “I will.”

An Unbreakable Vow? Harry wondered as a bright red flame emerged from the tip of their bonder’s wand and wrapped itself around the clasped hands.

“And will you obey any order I give you as leader of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Again, Snape replied, “I will.”

A second flame joined the first.

“Finally, will you do everything in your power to protect the life of Harry James Potter?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled brightly at this last condition.

Snape stiffened a bit but said, “I will.”

The final flame intertwined with the other two and glowed brightly for a moment before extinguishing.

When Harry returned to his bedroom, he shook his head to clear it. He swore to protect me. The greasy git has been protecting me all this time.

He sat down on his bed to consider for a moment. I understand why Dumbledore wanted me to see these memories, he thought to himself. Have I been wrong about Snape all along?

He took several minutes to collect himself before entering the third memory, and after a moment he was again in the Headmaster’s office.

Snape — now the Snape Harry remembered — burst through the door without knocking. He stood for a moment, eyes wide, face pale, hands trembling slightly. “You cannot ask this of me. No one could do it. It’s unbearable!”

Dumbledore smiled at Snape as if he were speaking to a small child. “What is it that you cannot bear, Severus?”

“Potter!” Snape spat. “Harry Potter in my classroom! Lily’s eyes in — in James Potter’s face! It’s like looking at a ghost. Two ghosts. Seven years of staring at that will drive me mad!” He sat down heavily on the chair in front of the Headmaster’s desk and put his face in his hands.

Dumbledore’s face was not without sympathy, but it had the same unyielding firmness Harry had seen in the first memory. “You have borne more difficult burdens than this in your life, Severus. There is nothing to fear but your own memory. You have the strength to withstand the task.”

Harry wasn’t positive, but as he left the memory he thought he saw Snape’s shoulders shaking as if he were crying.

So that’s why he’s been so awful to me over the years? Harry wondered when he found himself back in his room for the third time.

Feeling weary, as if everything he’d ever held true had been proven false, Harry pondered what to do about it and decided to share his discovery with his friends. He trudged down the stairs and, when the three of them looked up at him expectantly, he confessed. “I looked at some memories that Dumbledore left me.”

Hermione perked up. “Which ones?”

“The Snape ones,” Harry replied. “There were three.” He recounted their contents, and had to force himself not to laugh out loud at Ron’s disgusted look when he disclosed that Snape had harbored such intense feelings for Lily.

“Blimey, Harry, that’s disgusting!” Ron exclaimed before he shook his head in disbelief. “Ugh. The idea of Snape snogging someone is enough to put me off food forever.”

“I’ll have to agree with you there, Ron,” Harry agreed. “But the memory about the Unbreakable Vow means that Snape really was acting on Dumbledore’s orders when he killed him, or he’d have died on top of the Astronomy tower the second he cast the curse.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “But how does that help us if Snape has rejoined Voldemort? He won’t know that it’s safe to contact us, or that we’d trust him if he did.”

“Yeah. That’s why I need to figure out a way to contact him to let him know that we know the truth. And I’m not sure that we should tell the whole Order, or Snape’s cover might be blown. It might be best to keep this between ourselves, and maybe tell the new leader of the Order once that’s decided,” Harry explained.

Hermione sighed and shifted on the couch, bringing her legs up underneath her. “How about a post owl? There’d be no way for anyone to know where it came from except whoever read the letter. If you make the letter cryptic enough, so that only you and Snape can understand it, then it should be safe.”

“That’s brilliant, Hermione!” Ron crossed over to her and kissed her soundly on the cheek; she smiled sweetly at him.

Harry was floored that such a simple solution presented itself so quickly. “We can go to the owl office when we go to Diagon Alley for wedding presents. That gives us the rest of this week to come up with a message.”

“I’ll start working on it right away,” Hermione declared, pulling out quill and parchment. “Don’t want to wait until the last minute.”

Harry sat down beside her on the sofa and began wracking his brain to come up with references that only he and Snape would know. “He knows who Padfoot is — how about ‘Padfoot’s godson knows the truth about the Half-Blood Prince,’ is that good enough?”

Ginny shook her head as she sat on his lap. “No, Wormtail knows who Padfoot was, so if he saw the message he would know it was from you.”

Harry sighed. This is going to be difficult. “You’re right, I’d forgotten about Wormtail.”

“How about ‘I know the greasy git isn’t as greasy as he seems,’ would that work?” Ron offered flippantly.

Hermione swatted him on the shoulder and huffed, “This is serious, Ronald.”

Ron raised his hands defensively. “I know — I’m just trying to have a little fun with it, all right?”

Harry cast Ron an appreciative grin as they all settled in to thinking.

“What about ‘The boomslang skin thief knows the truth about the skin’s owner?’” Hermione offered.

Harry shot that down, reasoning that it was actually Barty Crouch Jr. who did the thieving and they didn’t want Snape thinking that it was him contacting Snape, despite the Dementor’s Kiss. He briefly considered bringing up the memory he’d seen in the Pensieve of Snape’s fifth year, but rejected that as being too potentially inflammatory. “I’ve got it!” he shouted after several minutes of deep thought. He reached around Ginny and grabbed the parchment from an incredulous Hermione and wrote:

I escaped Veritaserum twice, but I know the truth without it.

“Snape threatened me with Veritaserum once, then he gave Umbridge Veritaserum to use on me, but I avoided drinking it. I hope he knows I avoided drinking it. Hopefully he’ll recognize my writing after six years of essays, so that should help him be sure it’s from me,” he reasoned as he passed the note around to his approving friends. “Now we just need the post owl.”

That Friday, the group headed to Diagon Alley to shop for wedding gifts, and Harry treated Ginny to her shopping spree. Under the watchful eyes of Remus and Tonks, they wandered the street, stopping in whatever shops attracted their eyes until it was almost time to return. Harry pulled Ginny and Tonks with him to the owl office and sent his message to Snape with a wink to Ginny, who was laden with shopping bags from her birthday present. “And now we wait,” he muttered to her as they left the post office. She cast him a reassuring smile and he couldn’t help but stop and kiss her. A flash bulb went off, distracting both of them as Tonks shooed away the offending photographer.

“I certainly hope that was a tourist and not a reporter,” Hermione stated as she, Ron, and Remus joined them.

Harry sighed and nodded in agreement. “That’s all I need; a headline in the Daily Prophet proclaiming me The Boy Who Snogged.” Ginny snorted, but Harry turned to her and took her hands in his. “I’m not sure it’s funny, Gin. If that photo gets out, there’s no telling how much danger you might be in.”

She sobered quickly and looked back into his eyes. “I’ve already told you, Harry, I’m in danger regardless of what’s in the papers. Stop worrying about it and just live your life.”

Neither can live while the other survives, he thought, but held his tongue and simply wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side as they returned to the twins’ shop to Floo back to The Burrow.

The next day dawned bright and clear; a perfect day for a wedding. Mrs. Weasley was a virtual human whirlwind, flitting around the house and garden, anxiously making sure that everything was perfect. Harry and Ron managed to stay out of her path for the most part by hiding out in Ron’s room playing chess, but as noon approached they were pried from their haven and enlisted to place chairs for the ceremony. Charlie and the twins were already at work when they arrived in the garden, having been told off repeatedly by their mother for engaging in mid-air fights with the folding seats they were supposed to be levitating into place. With five of them working, they completed the task in short order and stopped to survey the results. The garden looked pretty, Harry had to admit: a vast white marquee decorated with greenery and large white bows had been erected to shield guests from the summer sun, and the seating was arranged around a dais topped with an arch of still more foliage.

As the men headed back into the house to shower and change their clothes, Harry noticed the day’s Daily Prophet sitting on the kitchen table.

Boy Who Lived Finds Love At Last! shouted the headline over a moving photo of him kissing Ginny over and over. With a resigned sigh, Harry picked up the paper to see what the public was reading about his life now.

Harry Potter, who recently celebrated his seventeenth birthday, was spotted yesterday outside the Diagon Alley owl office demonstrating his affection for Ginevra Weasley, who turns sixteen this coming Monday. Sources close to the couple claim that they have been involved since early May of this year and are rarely seen outside each other’s company. Has The Boy Who Lived finally found a lady worthy of him, or is Miss Weasley simply seeking to attach herself to the young man that Witch Weekly recently declared the wizarding world’s Most Eligible Bachelor for her own ends? Perhaps more can be learned today at the wedding of Miss Weasley’s brother, William Weasley, to Fleur Delacour of La Rochelle, France.

Harry declined to turn to page four, where the article continued, and angrily wadded the paper into a ball before Banishing it. If I find out who the “sources close to the couple” are, they’ll need to run quickly. He needed to find Ginny to talk to her about this, and headed up the stairs to her room; he knocked impatiently. But all thoughts of the article, and most other thoughts too, fled his brain when she opened the door and he beheld her in shimmering golden robes with her hair trained in flowing ringlets down her shoulders. The midday sun streaming through the window behind her gave her an ethereal glow, and the expectant look she was giving him made his breath catch in his chest.

“Merlin, Gin, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed as he reached out to cup her cheek.

She rewarded him with a wide smile and a quick peck on the cheek. “And you’re very sweet, Harry. Did Mum need something else?”

He pulled her out onto the landing. “No, I wanted to ask if you saw today’s Prophet.”

Her eyes narrowed and she huffed, “Yes. But who cares what they say? I certainly don’t.”

“They mentioned the wedding today, Gin. I have a bad feeling about this,” he explained. “Promise me you’ll keep your wand with you and be watchful of anything strange happening.”

She grinned wickedly as she pulled her wand from her cleavage. Harry’s mouth dried instantly. “I’m prepared, Harry. Always. Now, if you’re done ogling me, I have to go help Fleur finish getting ready.” Kissing him softly, she commented, “And unless you plan on escorting me in jeans and a t-shirt, I suggest you get ready yourself.” She returned to her room and left a dazed Harry staring blankly into the space she had just occupied. After collecting himself, he found Ron, gave him the same warning he’d given Ginny, and returned to his room to prepare himself for the wedding.

The ceremony was brief but interesting for Harry, as he’d never before been to a wedding, Muggle or magical. He suspected that the major difference was the wand-joining portion of the wizarding vows, but didn’t spare much thought on the matter as his gaze was constantly distracted by Ginny. For her part, she alternated between watching her brother and his new wife and casting her eyes at Harry, and each time their eyes met she gave him a small smile that made him feel uncomfortably warm in his dress robes.

After the wedding party proceeded down the aisle, Harry stood from his seat and waited for the opportunity to file out after them. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure talking animatedly with a woman he didn’t recognize on the bride’s side of the seating. What’s Viktor Krum doing here? he wondered. Fleur must have invited him because of his being a Triwizard champion. He shot a look back over Hermione’s head at Ron, and raised his eyebrows meaningfully in Krum’s direction. Ron immediately bristled and put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, much to Harry’s amusement. It appeared that Hermione hadn’t noticed Krum’s presence yet, and Harry idly wondered how long the inevitable could be postponed. Shrugging mentally, he decided that he had better things to do than watch Ron get worked up over something he probably shouldn’t and went off to find Ginny. He had no desire to get caught in the middle of the row that was likely to erupt if Hermione so much as said hello to Viktor.

After a delicious dinner and several rounds of toasts in honor of the newlyweds, Charlie motioned toward the band that was set up to the side of the dais. Everyone stood and backed to the edges of the marquee while the chairs arranged themselves along the edge of the dance floor around small tables that appeared in the dinner tables’ absence. Bill and Fleur approached the center of the wooden tiles as the band struck up a beautiful, hauntingly slow song. Ginny slipped her hand into Harry’s and pulled herself against his side, smiling up at him in a way that made his insides squirm and his toes curl in his shoes. “Are you planning to stand here all evening or are we going to dance?” she challenged as she turned her head to view the other couples now entering the dance floor.

“You sure you want to dance with me, Gin? I’m not very good.” He managed to keep the panic he felt at the prospect of dancing out of his voice, but just barely, and Ginny raised her eyebrows at his discomfort.

“Who else would I want to dance with, you great prat?” she answered. “I plan to spend the whole night with your arms wrapped around me.”

Harry liked the sound of that, so he screwed up his courage, led her by the hand to the outside edge of the dance floor, and took her into his arms. He had a vague memory of what to do from the Yule Ball, but Ginny began murmuring steps in his ear so he gave up and followed her better-informed lead. Managing to not step on her toes, he was getting rather proud of himself as the song wound to a close. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head to find Mr. Weasley standing behind him. “May I cut in?” Harry nodded and gave Ginny a quick kiss before turning her over to her father.

He made his way over toward the table where Ron and Hermione were sitting but paused when he heard what they were discussing.

“I was not flirting with him, Ronald, I just said hello!” Hermione’s tone was low and warning and Harry hoped that Ron was picking up on this before he made things worse.

“But he was looking at you!” Ron threw back, gesturing at the length of Hermione’s body with both hands.

“Oh, honestly, Ron, he was not!” she returned, turning her head away from him as she spoke.

Definitely don’t want to get involved in that, Harry thought as he turned away and made his way to the table holding drinks and snacks for the dancers. The object of Ron and Hermione’s argument appeared beside him as he picked up a bottle of butterbeer. “It is good to see you again,” Krum said as he stuck out his hand for Harry to shake.

Harry returned the shake and the sentiment. “So are you just here for Fleur’s wedding or will you be spending some time in England?” Harry ventured in an attempt to make small talk.

Krum chuckled, a deep rolling sound that made Harry realize that it was the first time he’d ever heard Krum laugh. “Then your Professor McGonagall has not made the announcement?”

“Er, announcement of what?” Harry took a long swallow of his butterbeer and caught a glance of Ginny, now dancing with Charlie.

Krum took a glass of Firewhisky and downed it in one swallow. “I haff been asked to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts by your headmistress. I do hope that you don’t mind.”

Harry was momentarily stunned. “You? Why?”

Krum laughed again at Harry’s reaction. “She asked me ven I informed the Order of the Phoenix that I vas at their disposal. With all that Herm-own-ninny has written me about the troubles here, vat happened at the tournament, and the death of Karkaroff, vat choice did I have? I could haff stayed hidden in Bulgaria but it would not be right.”

Harry was impressed with Krum’s decision to involve himself in the war by choice when he easily could have gone home and waited for its conclusion. “Thanks for coming, Viktor. We need all the help we can get, and it’s good to have you on our side.”

Krum smiled. “Now that ve haff the business out of the way, I can ask abut more pleasant things. Who vas that pretty young lady I saw you with on the dance floor?”

Grinning, Harry gestured with his bottle towards Ginny where she was now dancing with Bill. “That’s Ginny. She’s Bill’s sister, and I’m in love with her.” He felt as if his grin might split his face.

“I am glad to see it. It is good to know that your life is better than it vas last time we met.” Krum looked contemplative and Harry couldn’t help but think of Cedric. Would Cedric have come to the wedding, invited as a fellow champion? Would he be dancing with Cho right now, or standing alongside him and Krum exchanging pleasantries? Harry felt his thoughts beginning to stray down the path towards Sirius and Dumbledore and everyone else he had lost, and purposefully turned his attention back to the party.

A tall blonde woman approached and Krum held out his hand to her. “Ekaterina, this is Harry Potter.” He turned to Harry. “May I present to you my - vat is the vord? Ah, fiancée — Ekaterina Tirok.”

Harry took her proffered free hand and shook it gently. “Pleased to meet you.” She murmured assent and stood close to Krum’s side as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

He blurted out the first thought that came to mind. “Have you met Hermione and Ron yet?” Perhaps the knowledge that Krum was engaged would diffuse Ron’s temper a bit.

She twittered a bit, which Harry found annoying. “No, Viktor has not introduced me to his friend yet.”

Glad to have something to do, he gestured in the direction of his friends. “Why don’t we go over and say hello then? I’m sure Ron would love to meet you.” They followed him over to Ron and Hermione’s table, and Harry was glad to see that they had stopped their bickering. “Erm, Ron, Hermione? Viktor wanted to say hello and introduce you to someone.”

After the introductions, during which Ron relaxed considerably, Ginny appeared at Harry’s side. “I thought you were only going to dance with me?” he teased in her ear.

“Jealous of my father and brothers?” she shot back. “I didn’t see you running back to my side when I was done with Dad.” Her forehead was now touching his and her fingers were tickling the back of his neck.

“How about I make up for it now? I’m terrible at small talk.” He took her hand and led her back to the dance floor. It was another slow number, for which he was thankful. He’d figured out during the previous dance that all he really needed to do was hold her close and shift back and forth from one foot to the other in time to the music, and this he thought he could handle. Ginny nestled her head under his chin and rested it against his chest and Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling more content. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, inhaling Ginny’s flowery scent as they swayed together through song after song. At one point, he opened his eyes and was surprised to see Krum dancing with Hermione and Ekaterina with Ron. Crisis averted, he sighed to himself and went back to focusing all his attention on the girl in his arms.

Several songs later, Charlie clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention for cutting the cake. The clapping sounds didn’t stop when Charlie’s hands stilled, though, and Harry immediately came to alert. He looked at Ginny and saw that she had pulled her wand out of her dress. A glance at Ron and Hermione showed that they, along with Krum and his fiancée, had also taken a defensive stance and were scanning the crowd for problems. At the edge of the field he saw bright lights erupt along what he assumed were the ward lines and he yelled for everyone to move away.

People began scrambling everywhere, climbing over tables and each other to get away from the disruption. Harry saw Tonks grab Lupin’s hand and head toward the line of defense at the edge of the property and he pulled Ginny along with him to follow them. He quickly kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes. “I’m not going to ask you to stay safe, because I know you won’t. But please be careful. I can’t lose you.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely. “You too.”

They turned as one to face the oncoming threat, wands raised and ready for whatever came their way. They didn’t have to wait long, as the wards popped and crackled before falling around them, allowing thirty or so masked and robed figures to cross onto The Burrow’s land. Curses began flying at once, and Harry was lost in the moment, alternately throwing up his shield, dodging out of the way, and firing back. A quick survey of the defenders showed that the Death Eaters were outnumbered by at least two to one, and Harry remained hopeful as the invaders started falling one by one. He kept Ginny in sight through the crowds of battling figures and was almost distracted from his own fights several times by the sight of her red hair whipping about her face, her golden robes shimmering in the moonlight as she fought like a warrior princess.

He absently wondered whether Snape and Malfoy were among the attackers. Turning on the spot towards yet another faceless enemy, he blocked a stunning spell with a hastily-cast Protego. After the hex dissipated on his shield, he shot back an Expelliarmus as quickly as he could and was rewarded with the satisfying thump of his opponent hitting the ground as the Death Eater’s wand flew to his hand. He followed up with Incarcerous, binding the fallen foe in sturdy ropes for the Aurors to handle later. He took a moment to confirm that Krum, Ekaterina, Ron, and Hermione were each dispatching his or her own opponents handily and breathed a sigh of relief that his friends were holding their own.

Ministry Aurors began appearing about ten minutes into the fight, making the outcome inevitable. It was slow work, but after five more intense minutes the sounds of Apparition from the Death Eaters who had not yet fallen began echoing across the battlefield. When the din diminished, Harry stayed on his feet long enough to find Ginny; he stumbled over to her, wrapping her in his arms, and they fell to the grass in an exhausted embrace.

Tonks was wandering the grounds, and when she reached Harry she reported that the defenders had incurred only a few minor injuries. Twelve Death Eaters had been captured, although she didn’t know their identities yet. He managed to convince her that he had nothing but minor cuts and bruises. Then Mrs. Weasley came bustling over and fussed over them for a few minutes before she, too, was satisfied that they were all right. She had tear streaks down her face but seemed to be calm now. “We’re all gathering back in the kitchen, dears, when you feel up to walking. The rest of the guests are leaving as soon as the Aurors take their statements.” She left them with a hasty kiss on each of their cheeks.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” Ginny muttered after her mother left. Harry laughed, and it sounded so free and easy that he was shocked to hear it come out his own mouth. Others nearby looked at him quizzically, but he didn’t care, at that particular moment, what anyone thought of him.

He and Ginny relaxed against the tree for another fifteen minutes, enjoying the relative calm and each other’s closeness. Ginny turned to Harry and he was shocked to see an angry look on her face. “I can’t believe they ruined Bill’s wedding,” she said in a cold, calm voice. “It was supposed to be a wonderful, perfect day, and they ruined it.”

Harry nodded. “Just one more thing Voldemort has to answer for. At least no one was killed today.”

She stood and extended her hand for him, and he rose to join her. “Let’s go inside and see if everyone’s okay.”

They spent some time in the kitchen with the rest of the family, comparing notes on the battle and trying to comfort Bill and Fleur over their destroyed celebration. The newlyweds waved off the family’s hovering and took it all in stride, asserting that the important part of the day had already been completed and they were happy to be married regardless of the circumstances. This brought on a fresh wave of tears from Mrs. Weasley, who hugged everyone in the room at least three times before shooing Bill and Fleur off to their honeymoon and the rest of them off to bed.

When they reached the landing between their rooms, Harry kissed Ginny goodnight and turned into his own room. He’d just stripped to his boxers and lay down in bed when his door opened, and a nightdress-clad Ginny slipped in and closed the door silently behind her.

Harry took in the sight of her in the candlelight. Her long hair was loose now, brushed into waves over her shoulders. The nightdress she’d chosen was light blue, hanging to just above her knees, and he could make out her silhouette beneath the thin fabric.

“Let me stay with you tonight, Harry?” she whispered.

Harry’s insides reacted in several ways at once. There was a flash of surprise, combined with a thrill at the thought of what spending the night with her could mean, and fear at what eight Weasleys would have to say about it. He fought not to stumble over his words or make her angry. “Gin, I’d love to, really I would, more than just about anything I can think of right now honestly, but don’t you think your parents would, well, kill us?”

Her clear brown eyes pierced his. “After tonight I just don’t want to be alone. Please let me stay with you, and I’ll deal with my parents.”

Harry’s resolve melted and he opened his arms to her. “If that’s what you want, Gin, then of course.”

She lay down beside him and curled against his side, resting her head on his chest. “I don’t really want to do anything, Harry, I just wanted to be with you tonight. Is that okay?”

He squeezed her gently and kissed the top of her head. “That’s fine, Gin.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Never disappointed, Gin. Not with you.”

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