When the familiar extremely unpleasant navel-inverting pull of the portkey spewed them out, Ginny staggered. She managed a few steps in the face of the sudden head pain and nausea, stopped at the push of moisture-laden wind. The salty tang tingling in her nostrils eased the nausea from her spinning head, reminding her that something had indeed injured this younger body. She reached up and shook out her hair, reveling in the tug and pull, the ends snapping flag-like in the offshore winds. Walking to the low stone wall that separated the front garden of Shell Cottage from the bluff bought her some more time to settle. Below, green waves rose into frothing peaks, breaking with a booming shwaash on the rocky beach. She closed her eyes to the stinging, leaning into the song and dance of the air and sea.

Bill arranged the transport with St. Mungo’s, citing Ginny’s desire to avoid publicity. She no longer thought about reporters much. Her own desire for celebrity, years of Quidditch fame, and her outgoing personality provided an ability to deflect them from her husband who still judged them from his Hogwarts experiences. 

Harry. With the thought of his absence the firm, gentle tug of awareness surged within her. She rested her palms on the rough stone, leaning into the wind. Reopening her eyes, she followed the mesmerizing march of rolling green, the regularity further settling her, the sounds easing the ache between her eyes.

Small fingers lightly wrapped her elbow as Fleur joined her, gazing out over the ocean at the scattered sunbeams breaking through gaps in the scudding clouds. Fleur leaned into her, their pressed sides warming quickly once blocked from the heavy breezes. Ginny rested her head softly against her sister-in-laws. ‘I’ve always loved coming to visit your home. It’s part of why I chose and bought my own home on Cymyran Bay.’

‘When did you buy a house, Ginny?’ Ginny straightened with a start, her heart skipping a beat.

‘I … I suppose I haven’t, then, here and now. For me, almost ten years ago now. It’s a lovely cottage, Harry loves it, though he felt a need to add chickens. We’ve enough bedrooms for all of us. There’s an ensuite for ourselves, so the children use the other bath.’ She squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden sense of absence, blaming the wet that ran down her cheeks on the wind. Where are you, Harry? I feel you…

With a gentle tug on her arm, Fleur urged Ginny into turning her back to the surf and wind. ‘Viens, ma chère sœur, we will go in, Bill already starts breakfast.’ Fleur held her close as they walked towards the house. Ginny briefly took in the gentle smile on Fleur’s face.

‘You and… your Ginny, are you close, then?’ she asked.

Fleur nodded, regarding Ginny. ‘Oui, ma sœur, are you and I not close?’

Ginny’s face warmed and she looked back towards the house, the walls covered with sea shells pressed into the stuco. ‘We are now. We were not at first.’ Fleur’s lilting laugh carried joy through the air, Ginny smiling back. They rounded  the house and stepped in through the back door to the kitchen, where Bill looked up from the cooktop and the scrambled eggs he stirred. Fleur motioned for Ginny to sit at the table, and Fleur grinned mischievously as she poured tea.

‘Bill, Ginny just told me that, in ‘er other life, she felt I stole you away from ‘er.’ Ginny’s face grew hot as Bill glanced over, a wicked Prewett grin gleaming at her.

‘I can see that. I’m her favorite brother, and she’s my favorite sister.’

‘C'est ta seule soeur.’ Fleur shook her head, mock scowling at Bill. She sat, adding a dollop of cream to her tea, blue eyes regarding Ginny as she sipped. ‘I expect that joke could get old, is that ‘ow the saying goes?’ Ginny chuckled, stirring cream and sugar into her own tea.

‘Not so old as you might imagine. After all, as you said I am their only sister, so there’s no competition.’ Bill plated the eggs and bacon, levitating the three plates to the table before him. He nodded approvingly as Ginny tucked in.

Eyes closed, savoring the cheddar cheese and onions mixed into the eggs, she finished her third mouthful. Opening her eyes she caught Bill’s slow shaking head and grin. ‘What?’

‘If I had any doubt, which I don’t because Fleur is confident, watching you eat would erase any thought that you’re impersonating a Weasley,’ he said. Ginny smirked back.

‘At least I’m not talking to you while eating and spewing food back at you.’

Bill laughed, Fleur now shaking her head ruefully. ‘No,’ said Bill, ‘you’ve always been more serious about actually getting all the food inside you than Ron. He just goes for speed.’

They finished, Fleur levitating the plates to the sink by the window, beginning to clean up after the late breakfast. Ginny felt Bill studying the freckles on her face, his brows furrowed, the atmosphere thickening slightly.

‘What happened?’ His face, now serious, held her eyes.

A series of surreal dreams through a night blended with occasional periods of semi-consciousness flashed through her mind like the Muggle films Harry introduced her to. ‘I don’t know, that’s the problem.’

‘I may not have been clear. I’m looking for anything you remember leading up to you waking in St. Mungo’s that might be this curse you asked me about. You mentioned playing Quidditch.’ Bill rested his arms on the table as Fleur returned and refreshed all their mugs with tea. Ginny sipped, buying time to sort her thoughts, surreal from real. If anything actually was real. Is this all only me dreaming? she wondered, closing her eyes.

‘If you’re dreaming, I feel very awake. Just so you know.’ Ginny jumped at Bill’s voice, eyes opening wide, switching between Bill’s smirk and Fleur’s impish smile lighting her face. Bill’s smirk ended with Fleur pinching his arm. Both witches laughed at Bill’s pained expression.

‘Apparently,’ Fleur purred, ‘you are indeed awake.’

‘I said that aloud?’ They both looked at her, nodding.

Then sunlight warmed her shoulders, her heart thrilling to the joy of simply flying, the vision of her oldest brothers with her husband, her own children with their cousins calming the disturbing pull within her.

‘Family,’ she whispered, ‘at the Burrow for the day and dinner. Enough people wanted to play to make two teams of four. No Seekers, two Chasers, a Beater, and a Keeper, and first team to make 150 wins. George, Ron, Angelina, and Teddy against you, Charlie, Harry, and I.’

‘Charlie was there?’ The anguished surprise filling Bill’s voice shattered Ginny’s thought stream, her eyes opening wider.

‘Why wouldn’t he be? He moved to the Hebrides Islands in 2000.’

‘Charlie hasn’t been back to Britain since he left  for Romania after the Battle.’ Bill turned to look out the kitchen window, blinking repeatedly.

‘Why? What happened?’ She looked between Bill’s profile and Fleur, as Fleur reached forward resting her hands gently on Bill’s clenched fists. Light shimmered around her and the air in the kitchen became redolent with the scent of bluebells and foxglove. Ginny watched in awe as Fleur used her Veela heritage, and the muscles around Bill’s eyes and mouth began to relax.

‘I’m sorry, Bill,’ Ginny said. ‘If it’s any consolation, you and Charlie are just as close.’ She stopped cold, thoughts of home and family bringing a surge of longing. Fleur turned to face her, blue eyes glowing and that incongruous sense of Spring calm and peace in this summer month soothing Ginny’s emotions as well. She took a shuddering breath, then calmly exhaled. ‘What happened?’

‘Charlie joined us from Romania a couple days before the Battle. He’d been helping gain support through Europe, was there just to make his report when things came to a head suddenly. During the fighting he, Percy, and Fred took on a double handful of Death Eaters. They’d taken them all down when the wall behind them collapsed. He shoved Fred out of the way, turned to Percy and they both got caught in the avalanche of stone. Charlie’s left leg got crushed, couldn’t be saved. Percy…’

Silence filled the kitchen, thickening the air and slowing the sounds of waves on the shore outside. The meaning of that single word, that name, reverberated in Ginny’s head in synchrony with the waves, like a bell tolling her brother’s passing. All things must balance , she thought. Another thought tickled, nagged at the back of her head. ‘You said much more. More than a leg and a brother?’

‘Oui, ‘is girlfriend of many years died in the Battle as well. Charlie learned this after the fighting ended.’

‘His face closed up when I told him,’ said Bill. His own voice flat, he looked into Ginny’s eyes, then closed his again and continued. ‘He turned away from us all. He stayed long enough for the funerals, enough to heal his leg and get his prosthesis. Then he went back to Romania. Hasn’t been home since.’

‘Charlie had a girlfriend?’ Both Bill and Fleur turned at the sound of her incredulous voice. Slowly Bill’s lips turned up at the corner. Fleur regarded her more seriously.

‘Your Charlie, is there a lady ‘e is seeing?’

Ginny chuckled. ‘Quite a few, but they’re all dragons. He makes time for family, now he’s in the Hebrides. But I don’t think there’s a witch in his life other than us.’

Bill nodded, then with a big sigh, turned back to Ginny and  resumed the conversation. ‘That does sound like Charlie. Surprised all of us when he and Tonks got together.’

‘Tonks? And Charlie?’ Ginny startled slightly as Fleur’s left hand now covered hers in reaction to the younger witch’s surprise.

‘Yeah, on and off, since Hogwarts. The War brought them back together with a will, she relayed Order messages to him and brought his reports as he worked around Europe building support for us,’ Bill said. ‘You knew her too?’

Ginny nodded slowly, images of Tonks stumbling over the hideous troll’s leg umbrella stand beneath Mrs. Black’s portrait, sprouting a pigs nose to amuse her and Ron at the dark kitchen table in Grimmauld’s kitchen filling her memory. ‘She became a good friend. She and her husband named Harry godfather to their son Teddy.’

‘Charlie?’ Bill's voice, heavy with longing, curiosity, hope. Ginny shook her head once.

‘No, Remus Lupin. They both died in the Battle. Charlie wasn’t ever in that picture, with her.’

Bill sighed softly. ‘Lupin killed Greyback after that bastard did this to me,’ he said, waving his hand at the scars on his face. ‘Then someone else killed Lupin.’ He tilted his head at the sudden widening in Ginny’s eyes. ‘What?’

‘Fred,’ she whispered, shaking her head slowly. ‘I remember strange dreams, and some periods when I probably woke up. The first time, Fred was here. I remember telling him I died because I was talking with a ghost.’ Her eyes flicked between Bill’s, Fleur’s. ‘He’s alive, isn’t he?’ Bill nodded. ‘Because, well, because Charlie wasn’t there, at that point in the Battle, and it was Percy that couldn’t save Fred.’ The two Weasley’s paused, each remembering their respective siblings, Ginny wondering what she would feel when she saw Fred again. Bill cleared his throat.

‘Interesting, the things that are the same, and the differences. Let’s get back to business. What else happened the last day you remember there, er, then.’

Ginny chuckled. ‘Bit hard to describe the differences, isn’t it. Well, you lot all take great pleasure finding ways to handicap Harry and I in our pick up games. This time, you and Charlie made us use your oldest brooms, and we played different positions than we usually do.’ She looked between them, then added, ‘Harry is one of the best Seeker’s ever, even better than Charlie. And you already know I played, or play Chaser.’

‘Did it work?’ She tilted her head slightly in reaction to his curious grin and question.

‘You two both groused a bit when the four of us wound up making the same team. You didn’t care when we trounced George, Ron, Angelina, and Teddy.’

Brother and sister laughed, Fleur shaking her head. ‘So you were not hurt during the game itself?’

‘No, Fleur, that happened after. I retired from Quidditch when Lily was born, started writing sports articles for the Prophet, believe it or not. But even though I can do a lot of my work from home, staying with the kids, the paper sends me to nearly all the matches. Hadn’t been able to fly for a while, wanted to stay in the air. George was teaching Teddy some bits about Beating. I think Teddy then hit a solid one that was accidentally aimed straight at Al. I was the only one in a place to do something about it.’

‘That Bludger hit you, then?” 

Ginny shook her head at Fleur, then sipped her tea to slow her breathing a bit. ‘No, I caught it. But I destroyed Charlie’s old broom in the process. I guess I hit my head on something in the crash.’

‘Charlie’s Cleansweep from Hogwarts days?’ 

Ginny nodded to Bill. 

‘Merlin, that thing is old. And this happened to you what, nine years from now?’

‘Yes, about that.’ Bill shook his head slowly, eyebrows creased in thought. ‘I think that wasn’t a curse then, just old equipment. Anything unusual in the week or two leading up to this?’ Ginny’s eyebrows knit in turn, thinking back over several busy weeks travelling to games in England, France, and Italy. Perhaps she’d become complacent, so many years after the War. Still, Harry’s work kept them both aware of the number of people who held reasons to wish them harm. Harry insisted she continue to practice Defense magic with him for that reason, something no one outside of her family, and very few of them, knew. Considering the situation, those present would not know.

But it didn’t matter whether or not they knew, what mattered only consisted of she did not remember ever feeling any attempt to charm or curse her over those recent weeks. ‘No. So, what’s next?’

Bill nodded slowly. ‘First, I go in to Gringotts. They’re all right with me being late, I told them family issues. I still need to check in and review current projects. Then I can consult a couple of my colleagues and do some research. You need to rest.’

‘No.’ 

Both Bill and Fleur pulled back from the expression on Ginny’s face, harder than a diamond, eyes burning into both of them brighter than the sun. ‘Bill, I can’t rest. I need to get back to my husband and children. It’s not… this feels… I am constantly aching, my entire being. Right now it isn’t… I can think, I can act, but it’s only going to get stronger. It’s part of the reason I retired from Quidditch, this feeling would get really bad during extended tours, sometimes Harry had to take time from his work to come see me, it would throw my game off. I won’t do anything strenuous, but I’ve got to do something.’

She sat back in her chair, slowing and deepening her breathing, focusing on an old stain spot on the wall opposite her. She knew this sensation, knew what she needed to do to control it. Control her breathing, focus on the present, right now don’t think about the eleven years together since she and Harry exchanged vows. Vows that bound them together. Vows that…

‘Ginny?’

She wrenched her eyes from the stain spot, looking into the shining calm blue of Fleur's eyes. ‘Are you and ‘Arry soul-bonded?’

‘Soul-bonding is a romance fantasy thing, Fleur, it doesn’t exist,’ said Bill. Fleur kept her eyes on Ginny, a lifeline helping to calm the younger witch as she replied to Bill.

‘Non. They are real. It is true that the romance novels are something else. Soul-bonds are rare, very, very rare. Perhaps once in one hundred years. It is something which ‘Ealers learn about, sinse always, always they ‘appen because of severe magical trauma.’

‘What sort of trauma?’ Bill's quiet voice hung in the air. Fleur and Ginny's eyes remained focused together, Ginny’s breathing easier, muscles relaxing with relief. Then Fleur turned to her husband.

‘Something like what ‘appened with us, mon amour, per’aps. You, being mauled by a werewolf, myself witnessing the death of a beloved sibling due to an ashwinder bite.’ Ginny blinked, her confidence filling her from Fleur’s help.

‘Something like one partner being possessed by a horcrux, and the other partner unknowingly being a horcrux, both from the same individual,’ she whispered.

Bill’s neck crackled loudly his head snapped around so fast. His eyes round in remembered fear, his hand tightened on Fleurs still gripping him. Fleur’s eyes creased in puzzlement.

‘What is an ‘orcrux?’

‘Something beyond dark magic, so incredibly evil… Ginny? Tell me, no, not you. Please, tell me.’ Her brown eyes met his, a trait from their mother they shared. She watched his face become colder, ice seizing his heart, cracking down his chest, out to his fingers when she did not respond.

‘Bill, qu'est-ce qu'un horcruxe?’

Bill broke his focus on his sister, turning to his wife. ‘It is a piece of a witch or wizard’s torn soul, preserved in a containment vessel of some sort, to achieve immortality. To create one requires a ritual to create the vessel, and a premeditated, calculated murder which tears the soul apart, combined with a spell that finishes the ritual by encapsulating the torn soul fragment in the vessel.’ Fleur blanched at the description, both of the older Weasley’s turning to Ginny. Raw pain etched lines into Bill’s face. Fleur’s held both trepidation and curiosity.

‘What was it? And, you said Harry was one as well? How? Who?’

Ginny took in a deep breath, lungs pressing her diaphragm down, steadying her. ‘A diary,’ she whispered. ‘And yes. Tom Riddle made them. How? I never did want to know how he made them.’

‘Who’s this Tom Riddle? I’ve never heard of him.’

‘He was a half-blood wizard born to a Squib and sired by a Muggle, and yes you have heard of him. He used the letters in his birth name to style himself Lord Voldemort.’ Fleur nodded slightly acknowledging Ginny’s correct French pronunciation of the name.

Bill simply shook his head, struggling still with disbelief. ‘And he made two horcruxes.’

‘Seven,’ Ginny replied, voice flat, emotionless.

‘He made seven horcruxes?!’ 

She nodded. ‘Harry believes his becoming a horcrux was accidental,’ she said. ‘He thinks Tom only intended to make six, splitting his soul seven ways. When his mother’s death protected him, Tom’s soul segment needed a place to go…’

She watched Bill’s face, mouth working, eyes focused hard upon herself. Then he stood and began pacing between the table and the sink, his hands waving while his lips moved silently, the internal conversation evident only in that. After his third turn, words erupted from his mouth.

‘I first ran into one in Egypt. Some of the ancient pharaohs were also wizards, and that was one of their means to preserve themselves for the afterlife. I was lucky, my mentor recognized it before I picked it up. She told me a story, two Muggle anthropologists in the 1920’s, an American and a Brit, found one buried under an old temple. The events that followed got very, very ugly. They were lucky there was help nearby. And you say the Dark Lord made seven of them.’

‘He planned to make six, splitting his soul into seven parts. I told you, Harry becoming one was accidental.’ Bill stopped, shaking his head. ‘Seven times. No wonder he didn’t even look human at the end.’ He turned to face Ginny. ‘You said, a diary. How did you come by that?’

‘Luc-- someone put it in with my school books when we went to buy them for my First Year.’

‘You were eleven?Oh merciful Merlin. You started saying a name. Lucius Malfoy?’ 

She nodded. His lips hardened, eyes flintlike. ‘If the son of a bitch hadn’t died in the Battle, I’d kill him now. How did you survive the possession? They always try to reincarnate if that happens.’

‘Harry destroyed it with Basilisk venom.’ Both of the older Weasley’s eyes goggled at that.

‘Basilisks are so rare!’ Fleur gasped. Bill started to speak.

‘It’s a long story, Bill, save it for later, please,’ Ginny said. 

He stopped, nodded. ‘One last thing, though. You said Harry was also…’ She nodded. ‘Is he still, or, how isn’t he now?’

She took a long, slow breath. ‘He went to face Tom during the Battle. He went to protect all of us, like his mother did for him. Because Tom made the horcrux, even accidentally, it needed to be Tom to destroy it. He killed Harry. But Harry told me later that while he was dead, he was offered a choice, and he chose to come back, to finish his task. And for me.’ Fleur nodded at that. ‘That’s why I need to get back to him, Bill.’

Bill sat. The air in the room thickened, the only sound from wind lightly rattling window panes. Then his fingers began drumming lightly on the tabletop. Ginny fought a grin, listening to the rhythm of his fingers matching the winds outside. With a sigh, Bill stopped. ‘That’s a lot to take in.’

‘Believe me, Bill, if I didn’t live it, I likely wouldn’t believe it.’ His fingers resumed tapping. She could no longer resist, chuckling and waving her hand. ‘You’re drumming in time with the wind,’ she said. He stopped, looking first at his hand on the table, then at Fleur who also grinned at him.

‘Right.’ He straightened in his chair. ‘I will go to Gringotts. I can inquire with some of my Curse Breaker colleagues there if they know anything I don’t, I’ll tell them it’s for a monograph I’m writing. When I get there, first I need to floo-call Mum to keep her calm. You’re going to take it easy.’

The glare Ginny sent at him would have stunned an erumpent, but Bill simply stood and walked into the sitting room. Ginny started to follow, stopped when Fleur rested a hand on her arm. The feather- light touch, warm palm smooth on the skin of Ginny’s forearm, brought a sense of serenity to her. With an impish grin, Fleur lifted Ginny’s hand and pressed to her swollen abdomen. Immediately a small foot pushed back against the pressure.

‘The little one is dancing this morning, ne c’est pas? Wait for Bill, Ginny. I believe ‘e ‘as a plan forming.’ The foot bounced against Ginny’s palm a second time, she couldn’t help smiling. ‘We married last summer, at the Burrow. In March, we knew,’ Fleur said.

‘In my memory, your wedding was also at the Burrow but on the first of August in ‘97. So this is your first baby.’

‘That is when I started practicing at St. Mungo’s. Bill and I met after the Battle, when ‘is brothers brought ‘im to Hospital with ‘is wounds. We started seeing each other after ‘e recovered.’

Bill returned to the kitchen, setting two books on the table. ‘This is to get you started on your research, Ginny. The first one you can take a big grain of salt about the personal aspects, but Skeeter’s representation of current events is accurate enough. It occurred to me your time may not match ours and this will help you avoid some odd blunders when you do go out. The second one covers some possible curses. Read these to keep busy until after Mum comes to check on you. Fleur, I’m counting on you trumping Mum’s Mother Hen card with your Healer one, yeah?’

Fleur smiled and nodded. ‘If you go up to your room to start reading, Ginny, I will tell Maman Molly that you are sleeping. Maybe it works, maybe not. But if we come up and find you on your bed reading I can be properly annoyed at you, oui?’

Ginny considered the books, while thinking over Bill and Fleur’s comments. She lightly flogged herself mentally for not thinking further what it meant to be in a younger version of herself. All she really knew about changing time included a few stories her brother, Harry, and Hermione told about the year Sirius escaped from Azkaban, and the help they contributed to his surviving from using a time-turner. They emphasized how much effort it took to avoid being seen by themselves and potentially changing things. But time-turner limitations meant her current situation didn’t compare.

What even did happen? Did some curse transport her back in time, or across time into an alternate dimension. Or, something even simpler, this whole experience, simply a dream? Her head throbbed as she considered this, idly opening Road to War: Stairs to Recovery. Whatever she experienced was, past, alternate dimension, or dream, Rita Skeeter seemed to always be present.

But she’d slept, while in St. Mungo’s. People didn’t sleep in their dreams, they dreamed in their sleep.

She caught Bill’s eyes. ‘Mum’s always protective, but is she really going to be that hard to convince?’ The flash of pain in his eyes surprised her.

‘From what you say, you experienced the same war we did, or much like it. For you, you said our family experiences losses, too?’ The parade of faces Bill’s words evoked marched through her memory, some simply faces from her years at Hogwarts, and more, others closer to her, Colin, Remus, Tonks, Dobby, Fred. Even Harry, briefly, the hollow sensation of the void she’d felt starting shortly before Riddle announced Harry’s death sucking her awareness towards a dark place-- No. She would not go there. She could still feel him, somewhere. Her head throbbed in both real and remembered pain.

‘Yes, we did.’

Bill nodded. ‘Mum copes. I need to tell you, though, we all remind her we’re still alive, and she continues to mother-hen all of us. Our best bet is to convince her you’re here to recover because Fleur is here to watch you, and you’re being a good girl and listening.’ He smiled brightly in response to the lightning glare she launched at him. ‘Under duress, of course, grumbling and grumping the entire time. She will not believe us if you don’t.’

The glare flared, forehead frown creases deepening, and, ‘I’m fine, Bill, and there are things I need to do,’ growled between clenched teeth. Ginny’s fingers rubbed her temple lightly.

‘Do you need the pain potion?’ Fleur picked up the stoppered bottle, preparing to uncork it. She stopped when Ginny grinned at her. ‘Oh, tue êtes bon. Do that, and we shall not find problems!’

‘I actually could use a bit of that potion, Fleur. Then I suppose I should take these upstairs and get into my role. But I am not sleeping in my Quidditch robes.’

Fleur’s sparkling laugh rang lightly as she levitated a small glass from the cupboard. She poured a small portion, and held it out. ‘I will find you something to wear, oui?’ At Ginny’s scoff, she chuckled again, and as Ginny took the pain potion continued, ‘Nothing too frilly, I promise.’ Ginny nodded her thanks.

Bill tapped Skeeter’s book. ‘Skim this one.’

Ginny nodded. ‘Out of curiosity, who is the current Minister of Magic?’

‘Amelia Bones,’ Bill said.

‘Susan Bones’ aunt?’ The surprise in Ginny’s voice caused Bill to tilt his head slightly, nodding.

‘She’s not, when you’re from?’

‘Kingsley Shacklebolt,’ Ginny replied.

Bill’s face made an Ah. ‘He’s the Head of DMLE now, though some say he may be the next Minister. What is Minister Bones doing, in your… place? Time? This is odd, isn’t it?’

Ginny frowned, nodding. ‘It is, yeah. Not sure exactly what to call it. As for Amelia Bones, she was killed earlier in the war.’ Fleur’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder.

‘I am sorry for ‘er family, then and there. Come. Let us go, and Bill, you go to work now. We shall see you soon enough.’ He opened his arms and she flowed into them, wrapping each other into a hug and a short kiss. Bill stepped back a half step, resting his hand on Fleur’s belly and leaning down. ‘You be good to your mum, LittleOne. Dad will be home soon.’ Then with another quick hug, he left the house. Ginny heard a soft crack of Apparition.

‘Not using the floo?’ Fleur shook her head in reply.

‘Non. We decided, we do not wish to be on the floo network. Shell Cottage is under Fidèle, your family, notre famille, we are a bit famous for your part in the War. Come.’

Picking up the two books, Ginny followed her sister-in-law from the kitchen.