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SIYE Time:21:07 on 28th March 2024
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Summer Story
By Arnel

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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 392
Summary: Summer at the Dursleys’ is typical for Harry Potter who hopes his stay with his relatives will only last two weeks at most. In this sequel to You’re Still You and New Year, New Hope Harry learns that his role as “savior” of the Wizarding world is more complicated than he thought and that he needs his friends and mentors more than he ever imagined.
Hitcount: Story Total: 135223; Chapter Total: 4391







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Chapter Twenty-Three: Gwenyn

They left for Godric’s Hollow without Dudley–or Mr Weasley as a chaperone–early on Monday morning, much to Mrs Weasley’s chagrin, for she had wanted Harry to wait until an adult could go with them. However, as the deadline for Harry to file the papers with the village solicitor was quickly approaching, he didn’t dare wait much longer. He reasoned that if there were any complications with the transfer of ownership, he wanted to take care of them in the few days before the office closed for the Christmas holiday.

Ginny Side-Along-Apparated with him outside the gates of Gwenyn. Moments later, Ron and Hermione arrived and the four took a few minutes to gaze at what they could see of the house and grounds. Snow covered the lawn and lay in drifts amongst the trees in the surrounding wood. It had piled up along the garden walls and those of the Tudor-style house as well. In every way, Ginny thought it a truly beautiful place.

“Harry, this is wonderful,” Hermione exclaimed. “Are we touring now or later?”

“Later,” replied Harry. “I need to get the papers filed before noon.” He led the way up the snow-covered lane.

The walk was a pleasant one, with Harry telling them some of the history he had learned from Professor Dumbledore. As they neared the village square, he asked them to keep an eye out for the solicitor’s office.

“There it is,” called Ginny several minutes later. She pointed to a tiny one-story building nestled between a bakery and a green grocer’s.

“Mark Prosser, Esq. Solicitor,” Ron read. “Is he the one we want?”

“Yeah. He’s the only solicitor in town,” Harry said, leading them through the door.

A young woman sat behind a counter, a telephone receiver pressed to her ear. “May I help you?” she asked, looking up expectantly.

“Erm, yeah,” Harry said. “I’m here to turn in some Change of Ownership papers on the Dumbledore estate. Aberforth Dumbledore told me to come here. Do I need to give the papers to you or Mr Prosser?”

The receptionist reached towards Harry. “You can give them to me,” she said. Ginny bit back a giggle when the receptionist’s eyes automatically zeroed in on Harry’s scar causing his ears to turn pink.

Harry handed over the papers. The receptionist looked through them, then consulted a ledger and made some notations. “Looks like everything is here,” she said. Harry turned to leave.

“Hold on. Mr Potter, please don’t go,” she requested. “There’s a memo here that requests that you see Mr Prosser. Please have a seat while I let him know you’re here.” She pushed a button on her phone and spoke quietly into the receiver as Ginny and Ron tried not to gawk at all the Muggle technology they were seeing.

Ron nudged her and asked, “Wouldn’t Dad get a kick out of all this stuff?”

“Merlin forbid we let him loose in here!” Ginny chuckled. She caught Harry’s eye. He winked at her; she giggled behind her hand. The receptionist raised an eyebrow and just shook her head.

Ginny and Ron stopped laughing when the receptionist stood up and addressed them, “Mr Prosser will see you now. Please follow me.”

The four friends followed her, Hermione scowling at Ginny and Ron as they trailed behind Harry into the solicitor’s office. Even though Ron was managing a straight face, his eyes were full of merriment.

Mr Prosser came round his desk, his hand extended. “Mr Potter, how wonderful to meet you at last!” he exclaimed.

“How do you do?” Harry replied formally. Ginny caught Hermione’s eye behind his back and the two elbowed Ron, who was still having trouble containing his laughter now that Harry was all business. “You needed to see me, sir?”

Mr Prosser waved a hand towards a chair in front of his desk, and then took his own place behind it. “Yes. Miss Murphy gave me your papers and they’re all in order, but there is the small matter of changing the security spells to reflect the new owner.”

“And you’d like to do that today?”

“Yes, if you and your friends have the time,” said Mr Prosser, inclining his head towards Ginny, Ron and Hermione, who had remained standing by the door.

“I thought I’d show them the house while we were in the village,” Harry said, “so if we could do that sometime today, that would be nice.”

“How about now?” Mr Prosser asked. “I don’t have anything pressing at the moment and it would be a pleasure to give you a tour of the property.” He stood up, but Harry remained seated.

“Mr Prosser, there are two matters that I’d like you to help me with,” Harry said. The solicitor sat down again, his expression turning from genial to businesslike. “First, since I assume the Death Eaters are keen to recapture me, I was never here. My representative, Mr Ronald Weasley,” he pointed to Ron, “brought those papers in instead of me.”

“This is for security reasons?”

“Correct,” Harry said, “for both of us. If it was known that I was freely roaming the village it would put both me and my friends in grave danger almost immediately, not to mention anyone who might have been in contact with me.” Mr Prosser nodded, looking somewhat ill at ease for a moment. Harry cleared his throat and smiled at him. “The second item is not as intimidating, sir: I’d like to set up an annual Christmas bonus for the Potter Memorial guards, effective this Christmas Eve. Is it possible to set one up with so little notice?”

“You’d like me to make the arrangements with Gringotts for you, Mr Potter?” asked Mr Prosser as Harry took a letter from inside his cloak and handed it to him. The solicitor scanned the parchment. “Yes, this letter will be fine. I can do this now if you don’t mind waiting.”

Harry murmured something that Ginny didn’t catch because Ron was elbowing Hermione and asking, “Has Harry been picking your brain lately?”

She scowled and shook her head. “Not in the last three days.”

“I think he’s been talking to Dad,” Ginny volunteered. “He’s had plenty of time to do that in the last couple of weeks.”

Harry now joined them.

“What’s up?” Ron asked.

“Mr Prosser is going to the Gringotts branch here in the village to set up that bonus for the guards I was telling you about last night,” Harry said. “When he comes back we’ll all go over to the house for a tour and to change the security spells. I told him we’d wait.”

It took nearly an hour for Mr Prosser to return.

“All set, Mr Potter,” he said, handing Harry a sheaf of parchment. “Ready to go out to the house?” At Harry’s nod, he told Miss Murphy where they were going and they Apparated outside the gates of Harry’s new home.

“Now, then,” Mr Prosser said once they were gathered around him. “The spell to open the gate and door are the same and are secreted much like the location of someone under the Fidelius Charm.” Harry nodded that he understood, so Mr Prosser continued. “At the moment, I am this property’s secret-keeper since Aberforth gave up his rights to the property when he received your payment. As the new owner of the property this responsibility will now be yours.”

“I understand, sir,” said Harry.

The solicitor continued his explanation. “Mr Potter, I need you to do two things: first, think of a word you can easily recall to use as a password, then, when you’re ready, hold your hand over the gate until I tell you to grasp it.”

It was fascinating to watch the transfer process. Ginny could tell when Harry had chosen his word because his face relaxed and he stopped staring at the ground. Mr Prosser then waved his wand in a complicated pattern, taking in Harry’s body and a huge arch that included the gate and walls surrounding Gwenyn. Even Hermione seemed impressed when a soft blue glow surrounded the gate and Harry when he grasped it.

“The grounds will now recognize you, Harry, and will allow you to Apparate and Disapparate to and from the property,” Mr Prosser stated as the spell faded. “Do you wish to give access to your friends? If so, you need to tell them your password and then they will each need to touch the gate in turn.”

Harry turned to Ginny who was standing closest to him. “The password is ‘skep’,” he whispered in her ear.

Ginny walked over to the gate and touched it lightly as Harry repeated the word to her brother and best friend. She nearly giggled when she felt the spell tickling her fingers.

“Can I open the house door with the key, Mr Prosser?” Harry asked as they approached the house.

The question was so blatantly Muggle-based that Ginny and Ron were hard-pressed to keep straight faces again. Hermione scowled in their direction, effectively putting an end to their levity at Harry’s expense. Harry, however, just ignored her, and Ron and Ginny knew that if Harry still retained his dry sense of humour, he’d eventually get even with them.

“Actually, no,” Mr Prosser replied. “The key Aberforth gave you is to the broom shed at the back of the property on the other side of the wood. He thought it might impress upon you that he was completely serious about selling you his family home if he gave you a real key.”

“Then, the only way to unlock any of the doors and windows is using the password?”

“Yes. You don’t need to say it out loud, only think it,” Mr Prosser said.

“Harry, that’s how we unlock the doors and windows to the Burrow from the outside,” Ron said. “We’ve never had house keys like Muggles do.”

Ginny suppressed a smile as Harry cottoned on to the concept of magical security measures.

“Bill and Fleur will be home for Christmas if you need further explanation,” Ron continued. “I’m sure he’d be happy to explain what happened today in more detail.”

“Thanks. I just might talk to him,” Harry said as he held his hand near the front door for Mr Prosser to finish the security spells.

When they were finished, Mr Prosser bid them good-day and left them to tour the house without him.

The four friends opened the door and walked into the small foyer. Soft morning light illuminated a mirrored hat rack and umbrella stand that occupied most of one wall. They hung their cloaks up, shed their snowy boots on a tray under the bench and began peering through doors on the ground floor. They immediately discovered a tiny bedroom with a rumpled bed next to the stairs.

“That’s the servant’s quarters,” Harry explained. He suddenly looked sad and Ginny walked over and rubbed his back. “Dumbledore took a nap in here that day,” he mumbled.

“Will you be all right?” Ginny asked quietly. “Do you want to leave?”

Harry shook his head. “No. If I’m ever going to live here, I’m going to have to face the memories.”

They continued their tour, discovering an ornate dining room behind the door next to the bedroom. It was furnished with antiques that Hermione estimated were at least three hundred years old. She opened a drawer in the bureau and gasped; it was filled with the Dumbledore family silver. A china cupboard held multiple sets of crystal and goblin-made silver goblets, a full set of ornate china and many fine linen tablecloths to cover the long wooden table that seated eight. In one corner were two extra dining chairs.

The kitchen, still old-fashioned but slightly more modern in design, came next through a door connecting it with the dining room. There were two other doors, one leading into the corridor and another to a small, outside porch. An old pair of wellies sat forlornly in one corner. Ginny dragged her attention from the boots and began admiring the turn-of-the-century cooker, built-in sink and work surface and the large, well-worn table that stood in the middle of the room.

Ginny poked Ron and commented, “You were thinking of Dad earlier. Wouldn’t Mum love this room?”

“Yeah, she would love the extra work space,” he agreed.

Hermione, it seemed, was enraptured with the big open hearth fireplace with its two cupboard doors, one on either side. The first door she opened revealed a bread oven and when she mentioned homemade pizza to Harry, he grinned at her enthusiastically. He kept on grinning when she found the perfect nest for Kreacher; the second cupboard on the other side of the hearth from the bread oven that housed the boiler.

“Harry, he’ll love it in there!” she exclaimed. “It’ll be so warm and cosy for him.”

The room across the passage turned out to be the sitting room. This room was also furnished with antiques. It had a very formal feel to it even though there was evidence that several pieces of furniture had been removed. The large painting above the fire place was gone, too.

“That big white spot must have been where Aberforth’s sister’s portrait hung,” Harry remarked.

They continued on into the library, Ginny watching Harry carefully. She knew he and Dumbledore had spent time together in this room and she wanted to be close at hand if he needed her support. He did. She knew the instant the memories hit. As they walked into the splendid room, Harry’s eyes honed in on a collection of little silver instruments Ginny had seen in Dumbledore’s office at Hogwarts; someone had thoughtfully put on the big table. The shock of seeing them there was written plainly on Harry’s face. She went to him and held his trembling body while Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and towed him over to inspect the bookshelves.

“Harry, it’s all right,” she whispered. “You have every right to grieve like this. You’ve not had the proper opportunity to start healing because you’ve needed the time to heal yourself.”

“I know.” Harry pulled her over to the table, turned one of the chairs around and sat down. He was now at just the right height to lay his head on her shoulder and Ginny stood in front of him, cradling his head as he sobbed silently into the crook of her neck.

“You’ll be all right, Harry,” Ron said quietly, coming around the table and squeezing Harry’s shoulder.

“We’ve decided to go see what’s upstairs,” Hermione said quietly as she and Ron headed out the door. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Harry relaxed against her a little after they left. He was still making her shirt wet, but the initial flood seemed to be abating. Eventually, he pulled away and sat back, pushing his glasses up on his forehead and digging his fingers into his eyes.

Eventually, he pulled his hands away from his face. “I just don’t understand,” he hiccupped.

“What don’t you understand, Harry?” she asked, gently removing his glasses. She set them on the table behind him.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. His shoulders slumped and he rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “Why do I feel as if someone’s pulled my insides out through my chest and left them hanging there?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been this emotional before. Never with the Dursleys... not even when my heart was breaking after Sirius died. I just don’t understand it.” He sighed heavily and rested his head in his hands again.

Ginny turned another chair around and sat beside him. She put her hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles as she chose her words carefully. “You’ve been through so much in an incredibly short time, Harry,” she said as he leaned into her hand. “You were a prisoner, for Merlin’s sake! You’re dealing with the after-effects of experiences no normal person will ever have to go through. Just that in itself sets you apart from who you were six months ago. Add your grief over losing Professor Dumbledore and it’s no wonder you’re reacting the way you are.”

Harry raised his head and stared at her, his expression miserable, his eyes pleading her to help him understand.

“This is the first time you’ve truly confronted the reality of Professor Dumbledore’s death, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. He nodded. “And seeing the house and everything that belonged to him has just reminded you of his absence?”

Harry stood up abruptly and began pacing. “Why did he leave me, Ginny?” he demanded, suddenly angry. “I’m only seventeen! I have to borrow your family to have one to call my own. Every bloody adult I’ve ever cared deeply about has either been killed or dies on me!” He stopped pacing and stared at her as he demanded, “What’s wrong with me, Ginny? Do I have some kind of plague or something? Is it that the Wizarding world thinks I’m its Chosen One, the one it thinks will deliver it from the darkest wizard in fifty years?”

Harry snatched up his glasses and jammed them back on his nose. “Dumbledore was the closest person I knew who could have been a grandfather to me. He understood what I have to do and what I need to do to get ready for it. We were just getting to really know each other. Then he did something stupid and got himself cursed and now I feel like I’ve been cheated again.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t think he meant you to take his dying that way. I think he thought you were ready for him to leave you,” she suggested, making a wild guess. “Maybe he knew his time was up, that he couldn’t help you any more. Maybe he felt that because you have all your teachers, my family and your friends to support you his job was done and he could leave you peacefully, knowing you were in good hands.”

“Then why should he leave at all?” Harry pleaded. “He could have stuck around! I was beginning to feel like I was normal. We did things together every evening. We talked about everything but You Know Who. We practiced magic tricks, talked about Quidditch and took walks together. I was happy!”

Harry stopped in front of her, his expression less angry. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe you’re right,” he conceded after a moment. “Maybe I need to have more faith in what he taught me.” He walked over to the little silver instruments and picked one up, gazing at it almost reverently. “I–I broke so many of these the night Sirius died... I still can’t believe he encouraged me to vent my anger on them... The pieces were spread all over his office... I made such an incredible mess...” Harry broke off, drawing a long, tremulous breath. “He was so supportive of me last year... We became so close, closer than I could have ever imagined.” He turned to look over at her and Ginny smiled encouragingly.

Another big sigh escaped Harry and he turned back to the object in his hand. “Last year when I was doing all those assignments in McGonagall’s office, Professor Dumbledore would drop by just to see how I was doing. I... I resented it at first, thinking that he was just there to monitor my progress, but he always said something nice to me. He was genuinely happy when I mastered something. It felt...” Harry struggled to find the words he wanted. “It felt nice. Later, we started doing things together that I never thought possible, like arranging the Quidditch fund after your accident and just talking in his office. I felt so close to him last summer...”

Ginny smiled sadly, letting him remember what she hoped were good memories. Finally, she asked, “What about the time you spent together in the cave? You mentioned last weekend that you talked for hours when you were together.”

Harry sucked in a breath. His expression was guarded as he nearly whispered, “We did, but a lot of the time we were just trying to survive.”

Mentally, Ginny kicked herself and she wondered whether or not this was a good time to bring up the subject. “Did he reminisce sometimes, Harry? Mum told me once that when people get old or are near death they want to share stories from their past. Did Dumbledore do that?” She bit her lip and watched him carefully.

“Yeah, he did,” Harry said quietly. He replaced the little machine and walked over to the desk, keeping his back to her. “But I don’t remember much... my head was too messed up most of the time. The stories he told me seemed more of a distraction than anything else.”

“Perhaps that’s what he wanted them to be,” she suggested. “Maybe he needed to be distracted, too.”

The quills in their fancy silver holder in front of the blotter seemed to fascinate him as he said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Towards the end he was in a lot of pain. The curse had stolen most of his magic by then and that’s when he started telling me about his early life.”

Ginny stood up and walked over to the window, parting the drapes with her wand to look out on the snowy garden. “Did you like hearing his stories?”

“I did, especially the ones about his family and his duel with Grindelwald,” Harry said, coming to stand next to her. “We talked a lot about what it was like here in Godric’s Hollow when he was growing up, too. He even told me stories about my parents.”

Ginny looked up at him, studying his expression. He looked less troubled. “I’m glad. Did he ever talk about this house?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. “Only once,” he said finally. “He said this library was his favourite room of all.”

“I could tell when we first walked in here,” Ginny she said, looking up at him. “Everything he put in here seems to be something he might have cherished.” She hoped the memories weren’t too painful for him.

Harry was quiet for a long time before he answered. “Yeah,” he said finally, sounding somewhat distant. “He gave me time to explore in here while he took his nap that afternoon. I... I didn’t want to leave.”

Ginny gazed around the room, taking in the private retreat Professor Dumbledore had created. “This seems like just the room for you, Harry,” she commented.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, everything in here is something Dumbledore collected. I think he knew you’d take care of the collection. Every book is here for a reason. Someone even thought it prudent to bring all the instruments from Hogwarts here instead of leaving them at the school and... hold on...” she turned to peer at the pictures sitting on the mantle over the fireplace. There was a big one of Hogwarts castle plus one of a Gryffindor Quidditch player. She walked over to study it. “Harry, this is you!

Ginny almost laughed as Harry’s expression changed rapidly from melancholy to astonishment. He was at her side, reaching for the frame before she finished her sentence. He stared, wide-eyed, as his third-year self pumped his Snitch-filled fist high in the air. “Why… why would Dumbledore have a picture of me?” he sputtered. “I’m not even family.”

She smiled as she said, “You’re as good as a son to my mum, so why wouldn’t Dumbledore want you for a grandson?”

Harry’s head whipped around and he almost dropped the picture. “You’re having me on, Ginny. Why would Professor Dumbledore want me for a grandson?”

Gathering her courage she told him, “I think he loved you very much, Harry. I think Professor Dumbledore took your parents’ deaths very personally and that he felt guilty about leaving you with your aunt and uncle.” Harry’s face clouded over when she mentioned the Dursleys, but she ploughed ahead anyway. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that he wanted you at Hogwarts last summer so that he could try to make it up to you for leaving you in that horrible house.”

Silence descended on the library as Harry put the picture back. “He said something like that once, right before the curse took him. He asked me to forgive him.”

“Did you?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. He walked over to the bookshelves, his head bowed. Ginny waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. When he answered she could barely hear him, so she followed him round the table.

“I think I did… the night he did Diametric Legilimency on me. There were things I needed to know that we couldn’t talk about in the cell and some information about You Know Who he transferred to me was one of them,” he began. “I don’t think I said much of anything because I was so scared of the spell–the Death Eaters had been forcing themselves into my head so hard it hurt like hell.” Harry stopped talking and Ginny waited, knowing that as painful as it was for him to talk about these things, he was helping himself by finally telling someone about his experiences. Finally, he went back to the window and picked up a small brass figurine that had been sitting on the ledge in front of it. Ginny remained where she stood. “I remember he gave me lots of reminiscences about my parents, memories from when I was really little. And I remember thanking him for them and for being gentle with me.”

“Is that a good memory, Harry?” she asked.

Harry turned towards her. “Yeah, surprisingly it is,” he said, smiling for the first time since Ron and Hermione left the library.

Ginny returned his smile. “I’m glad, Harry.” She paused, then asked, “Shall we go upstairs and see what my brother and Hermione are up to?”

“Yeah, I think we’d better,” he said. He put the figurine back in its place and shut the blinds. As the room darkened, he came around the desk and extended his hand to her. She took it and together they left the library and followed Hermione’s voice up the stairs and into the room at the very end of the passage, which turned out to be the master bedroom.

Hermione searched their faces as Ginny and Harry entered the room.

Harry gave her a tight smile. “I’m doing better, Hermione, thanks to Ginny,” he said. He squeezed Ginny’s hand. She squeezed his back.

Hermione didn’t look convinced at all. “Look what we found,” she said a little too enthusiastically and Ginny knew she was probably feeling a little embarrassed about what she and Ron had witnessed downstairs. “Isn’t it grand?”

Ginny hid a smile behind her free hand as Ron snorted and even Harry cracked a smile.

“It’s rather… bright,” he said and the four friends burst into giggles.

The room was elegant in a somewhat ostentatious way. The walls were covered in cream coloured parchment, patterned in pale golden lions and griffins. The chairs, comforter and throw rugs were upholstered in a deep red colour, reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room. Harry pointed to the ceiling upon which a massive phoenix, which reminded Ginny of Fawkes, was painted in bold reds, oranges and golds. The bird’s eye was situated above the bed which dominated the left side of the room. A large picture of Hogwarts hung above the fireplace.

“Does the bird move?” he asked, letting go of Ginny’s hand and walking over to study the head more closely.

“It hasn’t since we’ve been in here,” Ron answered. “It’s sort of creepy, though. I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep with that thing peering at me all night.”

“You have all those Canons players flying all over your room all night, so why are you worried about a phoenix?” Ginny asked her brother.

Ron’s ears turned red. “They’re concentrating on flying, not staring at me all night,” he replied.

Hermione, meanwhile, had pulled her wand out of her purse and now pointed it at the phoenix which suddenly closed its eye and tucked its head under its wing. “Harry,” she said as the others stared, “I think it’s some sort of guardian. That animation spell I just used gave the phoenix permission to go to sleep, I think.”

Harry scratched his chin. “You may be right,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to Aberforth about it.” He gave the phoenix another look and then walked towards the door. “What’s in the other rooms? I’m nearly ready to leave.”

“Well, we think Professor Dumbledore’s boyhood room was the first one on the right,” Ron said. “Hermione spent a lot of time in there looking at the books. She found an entire shelf dedicated to really old Hogwarts text books.”

“Aberforth’s room is on the right at the head of the stairs,” Hermione said. “There’s only a few pieces of furniture in there, but definitely more than in the room across the hall.”

“It might have been their sister’s room. Someone cleaned it out a long time ago,” said Ron. “It looks like a guest bedroom, really.”

“Where’s the bathroom? Or is this house so old there isn’t one?” Harry asked.

Hermione grinned and pointed to his left. “It’s the most modern room in the house,” she said. “It would fit nicely in my parents’ house.”

Ginny poked her head into the loo as Harry remarked, “Well, that’s a relief. I was thinking that a trip outside to the privy in the middle of winter would be downright uncomfortable!”

The four dissolved into gales of laughter and quickly left the house. Harry secured the door and then suggested they visit the Potter Memorial. “I want to tell the guard that he and the others can pick up their Christmas bonuses at the bank,” he said.

Ginny wanted to see more of the village, so she suggested they walk instead of Apparate. The others agreed and they retraced their steps back to the village square. They crossed it, skirting the little park with its tiny bandstand and preceded towards the opposite lane. When at last they came to the church, Harry paused at the gate.

He pointed up at the barren hill with its ancient tree on top. “My family’s crypt is up there at the top in the magical section,” he told them quietly. “It’s the middle of three crypts near that huge tree.”

“Do you want to go up?” Ginny asked.

“Not today. There’s something else I want to do instead,” he said and backed away from gate. In no time they were standing at the gate to the Potter Memorial.


To be continued in Chapter Twenty-four.

A/N: For those of you who are fascinated by the world of words and their meaning, I’d like to share my reasons for having Harry use the term Diametric Legilimency in this chapter. In Chapter Seventeen, Dumbledore uses what he terms at the time “reverse Legilimency” on Harry to give him some information he needs to defeat Voldemort. The effect was completely opposite of what a normal Legilimens does to his victim: Dumbledore gave Harry information, he didn’t search for or take any. Unfortunately, the word “reverse” should have been “counter” or “inverse” or some other word that means “opposite” instead of “to change direction.” Several people commented on that in their reviews and at the time, my reason for having Dumbledore use an unsophisticated, wrong word is simply Harry’s state of mind at the time: in his confusion and mental anguish, Harry needed familiar, comforting words that would put his mind at ease. So now that he’s had time to heal and possibly talk to Arthur Weasley, or even Bill, Harry has taken the time to find out exactly which spell Dumbledore performed to give him the information and memories of his parents. I think calling the kind of Legilimency Dumbledore used “diametric” clarifies and describes exactly what went on during the time Dumbledore had access to Harry’s mind.

And now for my thank yous. GhostWriter, I am very grateful that you took many of my ideas in the rough draft and showed me several versions of how to make paragraphs sound better. I may not have used your wording exactly in every instance, but the thoughts are there… just manipulated a bit. Thank you for the time you took to help me make this a better chapter. Aggiebell, the fact that you wrote in your email to me that this chapter was very clean just made me jump up and down. Thanks for the suggestion and comments that always foreshadow the reaction many of the readers express in their comments. I appreciate the time you take to look over my chapters.

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