Ginny Weasley sat at the table at the Burrow trying to ignore Ron, who was trying desperately to involve her in a plan to sneak Harry out of the Dursley’s house to see the Chudley Cannons play. Both of them knew very well that Harry was not allowed out, except to do chores when he stayed with his aunt and uncle.

Ron had the tickets to the game already bought, having saved up his allowance from degnoming the garden. He offered to tell Harry that Ginny had bought the tickets for Harry’s upcoming birthday. It was an attractive offer because Ginny had been trying to get Harry to reconsider their breakup. She had taken his words when he had broken up with her at the start of the summer in stride, having seen it coming. In reality, she had no intentions of letting Harry go off by himself to fight Voldemort and she vowed that even if she had to be just friends with him for now, she would stand by him.

As boring as summers were for Harry, even tickets to a no talent Quidditch match would interest him at this point, and he’d be very grateful to the person who was thoughtful enough to spring him from his relatives for a day.

“What would I have to do?” Ginny asked, just knowing that it would be something shady to say the least. But hadn’t she promised Fred and George that she would keep up the pranking and rule breaking tradition?

“Easy. Fred and George have made huge batches of Polyjuice Potion for an ingredient in one of their new products. You take a dose containing a piece of Harry every hour on the hour. You stay at his aunt and uncle’s house and Harry gets to go to the game with me and have a day he won’t be able to thank you enough for,” Ron coaxed.

“Just one problem. Harry’s relatives are going to know something’s up,” Ginny answered.

“You’ll have to fake sick. Pretend you lost your voice so you don’t have to worry about talking to them and saying something stupid, and just do whatever they say,” Ron advised before Ginny could lose her nerve.

“I must be nutters. You get to go to a Quidditch match and I have to spend the day with the Dursleys. I’m taking all the credit for the idea,” she told him, as her brother Bill walked in.

Bill and Charlie had been invited...a.k.a. persuaded to spend the summer at the Burrow. Molly Weasley had been obsessive about having the family together for what she feared would be the last summer before the war would break out in full as it had at Hogwarts. She had told Ginny that she wished more than anything that there would be at least one more time when all of the Weasley members on the clock would be pointed in the same direction; ‘at home.’ Percy Weasley was the only one who had not replied to the heartfelt letters she had sent her children who lived away from home.

Bill was happy to be home. Fleur had been taking care of him fine enough since he’d been attacked by Fenrir Greyback, but there was nothing like Mrs Weasley’s coddling when one was still sick. He hugged Ron and Ginny warmly, and promptly challenged them to a Quidditch match in the field for the following morning, explaining that he was ‘broom lagged’ from travel. Ron sighed with relief when Bill went upstairs for a nap until his parents would return home from their shopping. Ron and Ginny were silent for a time. It was still strange to look at the once handsome Bill, whose face was now more scarred than even Mad Eye Moody’s was.

“Er....Ginny?” Ron said. “If you’re going to owl Harry about the game, you better do it now. It’s tonight at seven o’clock.”

“What! And how am I supposed to explain my absence tonight at seven?” Ginny asked with alarm. Ron sure didn’t think things through. “If we’re taking the Knight Bus to Harry’s, and you’re to make it to the game on time, we’d have to leave at five o’clock.”

“We’ll tell mum we’re helping Fred and George set up the shop today. She’ll love that...family harmony and all, even though she doesn’t understand why they want to sell joke products. Fred and George already agreed to help us out.”

Ron and Ginny caught the Knight Bus to Little Whinging.

They were not even halfway up the walk of Number Four Privet Drive when the distinct smell of alcohol came to their senses. They turned around to find Mundungus Fletcher behind them, mighty curious as to what they were doing in Privet Drive. The man was so drunk he wouldn’t have detained them if they’d said they were taking Harry dragon hunting in Romania. Ron was disgusted, and if there was any way of reporting Dung for drinking on the job without implicating himself for having snuck Harry out, he would have.

Ron marveled at how a thieving no good for nothing old drunk like Mundungus could still be a member of the Order Of The Phoenix after he had even stolen from Grimmauld Place, the Order’s Headquarters.

“I’ve heard that it’s like trying to get past a Goblin guarding a treasure to see Harry these days,” Ron said angrily. He had expected to have to sneak past Aurors and security to get inside and had expected that by now, Mundungus would have been kicked out of the Order.

Ron had lost a little of the appetite for fun upon finding out just how lax security seemed, at least on Dung’s watch.

“Everyone knows Mundungus is a drunk and a filthy stinking thief. Whoever’s in charge of personnel should be hexed. I can’t believe he or she forgot about that.” Ron wanted Harry to have fun, but now he considered turning back so as not to put Harry at risk.

Before he could talk himself out of going to the game with Harry, Ron knocked on the door. Dudley answered and promptly ran upstairs, leaving Aunt Petunia to speak to Ron and Ginny. She seemed scared, almost desperately so at the sudden intrusion. Ron knew that Petunia remembered the warning she had been given by Harry’s friends to be decent to Harry, and Harry’s letters had indicated that things were fine, but that was what he always said. With Sirius and Dumbledore now both gone, Ron wondered if some of the threat to be decent to Harry that the Dursleys had felt before, had left them.

Petunia looked disgusted to have them in her home, but she directed them to Harry’s room, telling them they had fifteen minutes.

As they passed Dudley’s room, they could see his fat bottom sticking out from under his desk.

“Watch’a doing down there for?” taunted Ron, laughing, as Dudley covered his bottom with his hands.

Ginny knocked on Ron’s bedroom door. “Harry it’s me, Ginny.”

There was some fumbling around and then the door opened. Harry did not look well. He wasn’t skinny or underfed looking like other years, just pale and tired. He’d been through so much with losing his Godfather and just recently, Dumbledore as well. Ginny was glad now that she hadn’t refused to switch places with him.

As Ginny stepped into his room, Harry almost forgot that he’d broken up with her to protect her and as starved for love as he felt just upon seeing her, he almost reached out and hugged her like she was still his. He stopped himself. He knew he had no right and he would not play with her feelings.

If pictures could be worth a million words, it was nothing compared to the information conveyed silently by Harry’s facial expression when he looked at Ginny, and Ginny was now glad that she had come. Harry still loved her and she knew it, and for now, it was enough. She would find a way to let him know in no uncertain terms that he could never sneak away and try to fight alone. She was not a fragile glass doll, and the only thing that stopped her from being angry at Harry for dismissing her for her own good, was that she knew that part of the reason he had broken up with her, was because he couldn’t bear to lose her. He had lost so much already.

Harry was reluctant to let Ginny stay with his relatives. They hadn’t so much as spoken to him since he’d arrived this summer, so he knew there would be no problem there, but she still had to coax him to get out for a bit, finally resorting to telling him that Sirius would have wanted him to have a bit of fun marauding around with Ron a bit and that Dumbledore had always told him to live in a world worth fighting for.

Ginny plucked a hair from Harry’s head and laughed as he rubbed the spot gingerly. Harry only wished he had thought to hug her before she looked exactly like himself. It was awkward hugging yourself. He put on his Invisibility Cloak and left with Ron fifteen minutes later.

Harry didn’t fancy having to look like Ginny to watch the match, but at least he was out of Privet Drive for an evening. Ron had stolen Dung’s Firewhisky and he and Harry decided to have a bit.

The match was predictable, ending with a spectacular loss for the Cannons. Ron was worried about how drunk Harry had become drinking to Sirius and Dumbledore’s memory. He wished he’d never confiscated the Firewhisky. Harry had never drank before. It was evident how depressed Harry had become in the isolation of summer. When he tried to walk into the men’s loo in Ginny’s likeness, Ron steered him away, not knowing what to do. Harry was too drunk to figure out how to go to the loo in a female body.

Ron kept his fingers crossed as Harry entered the ladies loo. He cringed when Harry’s voice was heard cursing the weird undergarments and skirt Ginny had lent him. Stockings were hard to navigate at the best of times... Ladies were seen shaking their heads, running out of the loo upon hearing a drunken male voice from the stalls. The Polyjuice was evidently wearing off and the deepness was returning to Harry’s voice.

Harry stumbled out of the loo, skirt backwards and holes in his stockings. “How do girls handle these things!” he exclaimed, pulling them further up until they reached nearly his armpits.

“You gonna drink that, mate?” Harry asked, seeing the half full bottle still in Ron’s hands.

“I think you’ve had enough, Harry,” Ron told him, finding it difficult to see his sister’s face and talk to Harry at the same time. “It’s time to drink the last dose of Polyjuice and get you back home.” Ron had to tell Harry that the Polyjuice was Firewhisky to get him to take it. He breathed a sigh of relief as Harry’s voice regained Ginny’s pitch.

The trip back to Privet Drive was not fun. Ron kept forgetting himself and calling Harry by his name. Harry started to talk to Stan Shunpike (who had been released from Azkaban no doubt to sway Harry’s opinion of the new Minister of Magic), like they were old pals. It was kind of funny. Stan took quite a shine to Harry and asked him out on a date. Harry promptly doubled up his small fist and punched Stan on the nose, getting them kicked off the Knight Bus at the next stop, the Leaky Cauldron.

Ron dragged Harry down to Fred and George’s store. The twins agreed that there was no way Harry could be taken back to Privet Drive in his condition. The only solution was to let him sleep it off at the Burrow.

It was not a pleasant broom ride to the Burrow with Fred and George holding the slight form of Harry still under Polyjuice between them.

Nothing got past Molly Weasley, who was furious to find out that Ginny was drunk. Fred and George covered by explaining that one of their experiments had fermented and Ginny had thought it was juice. As they took Harry up to Ginny’s room, they could still hear Molly yelling at them.

Ginny was going to have to spend the night at the Dursleys.

Ginny was experiencing some difficulties of her own. Harry’s relatives didn’t like the intrusion of ‘his’ kind popping around unexpectedly and they took it out on him by making him do chores for the first time this summer. She’d only been there for four hours and now she knew why Harry was so miserable.

It wasn’t until later that the real problems began. She had drank rather a lot of pumpkin juice that she’d brought with her upon warning from Ron that Harry didn’t get much to eat or drink in summer, and now, nature called. She avoided it as long it as long as she could, but ended up staring awkwardly into the mirror in the bathroom. ‘His eyes really are as green as fresh pickled toads,’ she mused, trying to put off having to look at another part of Harry’s anatomy.

‘It’s no big deal, Ginny,’ she told herself. ‘You just... undo the zipper thingy and...Oh!” In all the years she’d folded her brothers clothing, she’d never noticed the hole in the front of their underwear. This was embarrassing! Suddenly a panic struck her, not about her current needs, but of the body Harry had to contend with tonight...hers! There was a heck of a lot more to look at on the female body for sure, and she blushed scarlet wondering if Harry had thought of this and had peaked at...anything.

If for nothing else then to be on a fair playing level when it came to teasing on this subject, Ginny steeled herself, reached down and did the best she could. Moments later, relieved, but still blushing, she was washing the floor around the toilet, having missed almost completely. How did boys deal with those things!

********

The following morning, Bill made his way up the stairs to wake Ginny and Ron for breakfast and the Quidditch match they’d planned.

“Oh, this I have to see,” Charlie said, coming back up, explaining how Ginny had come home drunk last night from having drank a spoiled product at the twin’s shop.

Charlie and Bill yelled obnoxiously to wake Ginny up, hoping to make her head pound in a hangover, but Ginny was not there. Harry sat up groggily, having no idea where he was. Ron, hearing the commotion, stumbled to Ginny’s room. He’d overslept and had forgotten to wake Harry every hour to get more Polyjuice Potion into him.

Harry blinked several times, looking down at himself. He suddenly grabbed the sheets and pulled them up over his head in total embarrassment. He was still wearing Ginny’s clothes! His body quickly won out over his pride as he ran to the loo passed Ginny’s astounded brothers, tripping over the stockings that now hung around his knees.

“Oh, mum’s going to kill you,” Charlie told Ron as Harry emerged from the loo.

Harry became worried immediately upon learning that Ginny had spent the night at the Dursleys. Despite his hangover, he begged Bill and Charlie to help him get back so Ginny could come home. Harry was so sincerely worried about their sister that they couldn’t say no. Ron kept watch for Mrs Weasley as Bill snuck Harry out to take him back to his relatives and pick Ginny up.

“So Harry, was it worth it?” Bill asked, looking back to see Harry, who was still green from his hangover.

Harry thought it over. The Canons had lost, he had a dreadful hangover, the Weasley boys would tease him for the rest of his life for wearing a skirt and the Dursleys would punish him for the rest of the summer for having unannounced guests. He didn’t answer until Ginny forgave him as she transformed back into herself, his clothing still looking wonderful on her small frame.

He’d seen a Professional Quidditch match with his best friend, he had toasted Sirius and Dumbledore and he had friends who would do anything for him.

“It was more than worth it,” he smiled, looking directly at Ginny, who blushed as she tossed his underwear back to him. Now, he was blushing too. If he lived through his fight with Voldemort and destroying all of the Horcruxes, he would gladly spend the rest of his life begging her to take him back.

“Bye Harry,” Ginny giggled. “Mum’s planning a big bash for your birthday, so think of a wish. Bill was only now cottoning on to the nature of the conversation. He rolled his eyes as he and Ginny zoomed off . Harry watched them go, wishing that he could be with them now as the family planned Bill and Fleur’s wedding, instead of having to wait for his birthday, but remembering Ginny’s playful blush, gave him hope that maybe she hadn’t completely given up on him despite his plans to fight Voldemort alone, and with this single happy thought, Harry fell asleep thinking about his upcoming birthday in a positive light.



***************************

Harry’s assigned chores increased tenfold after Ginny had impersonated him. Ginny had done what she had been told by the Dursleys, but poorly. She had never washed a car before in her life and had used dry bleach she had found in the cupboard under the stairs on the exterior, scratching the surface of the paint horribly. The Dursleys had taken ‘Harry’s’ actions as a sign that he was getting back at them for their years of abuse since he wouldn’t ever have to come stay with them again. Uncle Vernon had reminded him that he still had one week left to go with them and if he didn’t behave, it would be the worst week of his life.

“Believe me, there will be celebration in this house once you’re gone for good,” Uncle Vernon scowled.

Harry quietly wondered who was going to take over his chores once he was no longer the summer lawn care person, car washer, garage cleaner, fence painter and general slave. Last summer he’d gotten off relatively easier chore wise, but the Dursleys had seemed a little less scared of abusing Harry again since Dumbledore had died.

Harry finished waxing the car for the third time with a special scratch buffer before Uncle Vernon was satisfied with it.

“See that you don’t try anything like that again boy or there will be hell to pay,” Vernon hissed.

“Oh, rain,” Harry said innocently and Uncle Vernon swore that Harry had caused it, because he’d just had the car waxed. Harry could only dream of such power to control the weather and smirked at his uncle as the rain began to pour in heavier sheets. The truth was, that with the ‘Dementor mist’ as the Daily Prophet had dubbed it, it was hard to predict when the skies would open with real rain, or just stay grimly misty with their procreation. Harry shuddered just thinking about the new formed Dementors. He wondered how fast they could reproduce and was not surprised to learn that such foul creatures bred in the dank fog.

Harry shivered. Despite getting plenty to eat in his past two summers at the Durlseys, he had lost a little weight. It was hard to eat when he was alone with his thoughts and the fact that he was hung over from the previous night, didn’t help.

“You’re not getting sick are you?” Uncle Vernon asked sharply as they stepped into the house. “Don’t you dare get sick. I don’t want any of your freaky friends stopping by to see you again. Get a shower and go to bed. I’ll have your aunt send up some tea.” Harry knew for a fact that there was no concern for him in this statement. He knew his uncle just wanted him out of his house without incident and he imagined with a smile, his uncle chalking the days off until he would be gone for good, like a prisoner waiting his freedom. How ironic.

After his shower, Harry received an owl from Ginny.

**************

Dear Harry:

I hope you’re pleased with the chores I did for you. I found something in the garden shed called ‘Miracle Gro’ and I just know your aunt will be pleased with you once she sees how tall her milkweed gets. I used the entire container on them, along with some of Fred and George’s Green Thumb Plant Prod Potion. Mum just loves her milkweed herb garden and the beautiful dandelions she gets and I know your aunt will too as you’ve told me she belongs to a garden club.

I have a terrible cold and mum went right out to her herb garden and got me some fresh dandelions to make tea with. I’m feeling better already.

I have great news! We’re coming round to the Dursleys to spend the last day there with you. It’s all being arranged and I can’t wait to see you! Love Ginny

***************

Harry groaned inwardly, but smiled just the same. Ginny was a sweet girl trying to help him out like that, even though he’d be pulling weeds the size of sunflowers for the rest of the week. For such a short note, it sure was packed with a lot of information.

Harry sneezed loudly and wondered if it was possible to catch a cold from ingesting a piece of hair from someone who was sick in Polyjuice Potion. He wished that he’d had Snape’s old Potions book to see if ‘The Half Blood Prince’ had scribbled anything on the subject of contagious properties in the columns near the recipe as he had so often done. But Harry had hidden the book, disgusted with its previous owner who had shown his true colours in the end by killing Dumbledore.

Aunt Petunia came through the door without knocking and set the tea down on the old table in Harry’s room without a word. She clucked impatiently and went to close Harry’s window, complaining that he must be daft having the window open when he was catching a cold. She screamed loudly as she looked out the window and caught site of the garden as the rain stopped. The rain had been the catalyst to get the magical plant prod to work and in minutes, dandelions the size of sunflowers with stocks as sturdy as tree trunks had sprouted up all over the garden, dwarfing Petunia’s scrawny rose bushes. Nothing had grown well in the Dementor mist, except the dandelions.

Aunt Petunia rounded on Harry, who backed away out of an old habit to avoid being slapped in the face.

“What have you done!” she screamed. “We’ve been decent to you for two summers, despite your morbid moping around and this is how you repay us?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t deny having done something. There was no way to explain this and he certainly wasn’t going to admit sneaking out and getting Ron and Ginny into trouble as well. Uncle Vernon came up the stairs with a piece of parchment in his hands from Mr and Mrs Weasley. He caught site of the garden and backhanded Harry immediately, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Harry was shocked. He hadn’t been beaten in years. He’d hit his head very hard on the old table, upsetting the scalding tea across his back.

Harry tasted blood and felt his lip swell. He tried to collect his thoughts but they were coming too quickly. All the other times this had happened, Harry had never fought back against his aunt or uncle. There had only been the one time when he’d lost control and had blown up Aunt Marge. This time, Harry didn’t feel like he was losing control. His face was calm as he stood to face them and this scared them perhaps more than anything else ever had.

“Don’t even think about it boy,” Vernon commanded as Harry grabbed his wand from his pocket and aimed it at them. “You’ll be expelled from that freak school you go to!”

“That shows you how much you know about me,” Harry said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice that Uncle Vernon had never heard before. A dangerous one. “I quit school. I’ve quit having a girlfriend, and Dumbledore quit on me! And now...I quit living with you!”

Harry uttered a curse as his aunt and uncle flew out the window and landed heavily in the overgrown garden. He couldn’t believe he’d just told them his dark thoughts. They’d never so much as asked how he’d felt when Sirius had died last year or when Dumbledore had died this year. They had kept him alive and nothing more.

Harry didn’t know where he was going, but he was leaving. He laughed a sharp maniacal laugh as he opened an envelope from the office of Underage Magic. He allowed the frightened owl who had delivered the warning and court date to get a drink of water before scrawling a rude reply. His vision blurred a few times as he wrote from the lump that was forming near his temple from the impact with the table. He was too shocked to feel the angry burns on his back.

***********

Dear Malfalda Hopkirk, you twittering, no brained, busy body.

I, Harry James Potter, do hereby serve YOU warning. As the chosen one, you cannot expect me to not to use magic. Why don’t you try fighting Dementors and insane house-elves who want you dead without magic? You’ll find my no good relatives in our lovely garden. Obliviate them, Confund them, do what you want, I don’t care. Have a day, a nice one, a terrible one, again, I DON’T CARE!”

***********
In an act of supreme defiance, Harry used any excuse he could to perform Underage Magic. His belongings flew obediently into his trunk and once it was filled, he shrunk it to pocket size. Once he reached the front hall, he aimed his wand at the cupboard under the stairs and blew the door off its hinges, exploding all of the cleansers and junk that had accumulated under there since it had ceased to be his bedroom. He knew it was where the Dursleys had stored their junk and he knew that he had been their first piece of junk. He coughed as the toxic cleansers and ammonia combined to make a noxious substance and reached his lungs making him even more dizzy.

“Is that clean enough for you aunty?” Harry shouted insanely as he ran past the garden and out into Privet Drive. It wasn’t Dudley’s lucky day. Harry saw him upon reaching Wisteria Walk. He was alone, not that it would have mattered in the mood that Harry was in.

“What are you doing out?” Dudley sneered. “You’re not supposed to leave the house freak.” Apparently Dudley had taken the news of Dumbledore’s death much the same as his parents had...for open season on Harry without consequence. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Hagrid didn’t do a good enough job on you, Dud,” Harry said with hate in his voice. He wanted to punch every part of Dudley, make him hurt like he had all these years, without friends for his first eleven years, without proper clothes, food or love. Dudley represented everything Harry hated and he’d gotten the love, friends and parents he’d never had, and now he was going to become the hog he’d always been.

Dudley tried the same warning tactics on Harry that Vernon had tried, but with a grunt, Dudley turned into a pig right there in Wisteria Walk. Harry didn’t know if Dudley kept his own mind or not while in pig form and he didn’t care. He hoped that this final act would make him feel better, but the emptiness in his heart remained.

Harry was not without resources this time as he had been the last time he’d tried to walk away from the so called protection of his relative’s house. He mounted his broom and took off for Diagon Alley intending to withdraw some money and run away to find and destroy the Horcruxes he had learned of from Dumbledore and kill Voldemort or die trying.

As Harry flew toward Gringotts, he started to laugh. He knew the happiness was not his own and with the amount of grief in his own heart, he found the strength to stop Voldemort’s laughter. Harry couldn’t concentrate on flying any longer and had to land. He tried to look casual as he leaned on the boarded up Olivander’s Wand Shop. The Dark Lord had received happy news, and with the feeling of utmost dread, Harry knew that he’d made a mistake. He’d left Privet Drive before his birthday.

Harry was just about to hop back on his broom and head back to his relative’s house, hoping that he wasn’t too late. He hated them, but he didn’t want them dead. He knew that Voldemort had finally found out where he had hidden all these years and was coming to get him. Part of him wanted to just let the Dursleys take the brunt of Voldemort’s wrath and keep running, tying to stay one step ahead of him, but he couldn’t do it.

Harry’s mouth opened to send a hex as he was grabbed roughly by the arm. He expected to see a huge hulking man holding him, but instead, there stood a small bespeckled witch with the most sour look Harry had ever seen on anyone’s face before.

“Mr Potter, I presume?” she enquired, but the quick flick up to Harry’s scar had confirmed her question before she’d even asked it. Harry was pulling away when she tightened her grip. “I’m Mafalda Hopkirk,” she introduced in a tart tongue.

“I don’t have time for this!” Harry spat angrily, but the witch placed a Petrificus Totalis Curse on him before he could break her grip.

“Mr Potter, listen to me very carefully. I might be no more than a quill pusher to you, but I assure you, that as a member of The Order Of The Phoenix, I am well versed in your special circumstances. There are reasons for all of the restrictions placed upon you, one of them being that your magic has a special thread that is easily traceable, especially to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Arthur told me to watch for this kind of thing this summer in particular.”

Harry laid there fuming. Yet again something he hadn’t been told. Mafalda Hopkirk had been more than someone who worked for the Underage Magic Office at the Ministry. She had become a glorified babysitter from afar as well, ready to report any incidents to not only the Ministry in her official capacity, but to the Order as well as her secret pledge had made her responsible for.

“You’ve done a very foolish thing Mr Potter. It’s lucky I was on shift when this happened because I’m the only Order Member in my department. Bill Weasley had to go to your relative’s house to strengthen the wards again despite being off on sick leave. I’m going to let you back up, but don’t try making a run for it. I have two Aurors standing right over there.” Mafalda pointed casually, releasing only Harry’s eyes from the paralyzing curse so he could see Tonks and Mad Eye Moody standing across the way.

“We don’t want to cause a scene see? Just get up and come with us quietly. Do you understand?” Hopkirk asked, releasing Harry’s neck this time so he could nod obediently without really meaning it.

Harry walked back to the Leaky Cauldron beside the haughty looking Hopkirk. As Harry opened the door to the pub, Mafalda handed him an empty gum wrapper, shoved him inside and hexed Tonks and Mad Eye Moody who had been following at a discreet distance. Harry felt the nauseating sensation of being Portkeyed away and landed with a thud back in his bedroom at Privet Drive yelling himself hoarse that Tonks and Mad Eye had been attacked by the Underage Magic witch from the Ministry Of Magic.

Harry looked up from his prone position on the floor...straight into the concerned face of Nymphadora Tonks!

“How? You were cursed just now. You and Moody...” Harry looked around to see Mad Eye Moody’s magical eye roving around, checking him out.

“Mafalda Hopkirk was just in Diagon Alley and I saw her curse you,” Harry insisted.

“Sh, Harry, you’ll wake Ms Hopkirk. She’s been keeping you hidden in Stasis Portkey for almost a week while we cleared up this whole mess, and incidentally, she’s a hell of a Metamorphanimagus,” whispered Tonks in complete awe, staring at the snoring, less than demure Hopkirk.

Harry’s head was swimming. “Metamorphanimagus? A week!”

Moody let Harry slip down to the floor again as his temple began to throb. He felt sure he was dreaming as Tonks summoned Madame Pomfrey and tried to explain what a Metamorphanimagus was. Apparently, Mafalda Hopkirk’s Animagus form was a Basset Hound, but once in a very rare time, Animagi were known to develop the ability to transform only what they needed of their gift to use. Hopkirk had used her keen sense of smell to check out the identity of the ‘Aurors’ who were following them in Diagon Alley that day, and knew instantly that they were not the real Tonks or Mad Eye. It had been standard protocol to use whatever means one had available to check out even family members to be sure they weren’t imposters using Polyjuice Potion and Hopkirk had taken this precaution to heart and had saved the day.

Harry vaguely understood the concept of a Metamorphanimagus, but he couldn’t fathom almost a week having gone by without his knowledge. This talented witch with the ability to place him a Stasis Portkey for almost a week, may have saved his life by doing so, but the injuries inflicted upon him by his relatives coupled with the complicated charm, made him feel sick. He had never traveled well with even regular Portkeys and the last thing he remembered asking was, if it hadn’t been Tonks and Mad Eye who had been cursed back in Diagon Alley, then who had been cursed?

Madame Pomfrey arrived just as Harry was digesting the news that the Lestranges had been the ones following him in Diagon Alley and they’d been taken into custody.

Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a Calming Potion and told him he had a concussion. She told him to lay on his bed and as Mad Eye Moody placed his hand on Harry’s back, Harry swore loudly. The burns from the scalding hot tea were only just registering on him now. He sat on his bed gingerly and refused to raise his shirt for the Matron. He didn’t want to have to explain that his uncle had knocked him down, causing the tea to spill on him. It was humiliating, but the Matron had already seen his split lip and knew what it was from.

Harry shivered as the Healer used her wand to cut his shirt away and gasped. She covered his burns in a soothing orange salve demanding to know how he’d gotten them. One of the burns extended down his left buttock and he let a swear of indignation out as the healer applied the salve there as well.

“Turn around Nymphadora!” Harry emphasized, realizing for the first time that there were women present. Mrs Weasley couldn’t have stepped into the room at a more inopportune time. Madame Pomfrey asked her to apply the rest of the ointment as she told Harry to lean over just a little further. Harry’s face was as red as his burns despite the strong Calming Potion as Mrs Weasley assured him that she had five sons of her own and this was certainly no big deal. Hearing about how she had applied diaper rash cream to the buttocks of all of her boys when they were babies, did nothing to ease his agitation.

Fred and George had just stepped into the room, smiling broadly and making comments about the ‘full moon.’ Lupin entered the room joking that he must be cured as he didn’t feel the slightest bit inclined to transform into a werewolf. Remus was in such a good mood for some reason, that upon seeing poor Harry in his current embarrassing situation, he howled and pretended to be about to transform. Harry couldn’t for the life of him, figure out why everyone was in such a good mood, but he guessed soon that it was because of the capture of the Lestranges, who had been hunted by the Order vigorously since they’d escaped from Azkaban.

Ginny entered the room and Mrs Weasley, for some unimaginable reason didn’t ask her to leave as Harry grabbed his bed sheet to try to cover up. He was trying to roll over into the sheet for cover but couldn’t as it hurt his back to do so.

“Stay put Harry. Almost finished. Anyway, as I understand it, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before either,” Mrs Weasley scolded, but it was such a soft scold that it didn’t have its usual sting. Ginny merely giggled and sat beside him on the other side of his bed.

“I’m sorry Harry. Once you’d left, I had to tell mum and dad that we’d switched places so you could go to the Quidditch match with Ron in case it had anything to do with your disappearance. After your aunt and uncle were found sitting bewildered in the garden with a pig eating the dandelions out of their hair, we pretty much figured out what had happened. Ms Hopkirk saved the day. Who would have thought a quill pusher like her would have had so much power?” Ginny asked in awe.

“I’ll thank you not to call me a quill pusher, Miss Weasley,” said Ms Hopkirk, not even bothering to open her eyes. Apparently, the keen smelling ability was not the only gift she had that she could separate from her Animagus form. “And any more cheek from you may result in Dumbledore’s final request from my office to be declined.”

Ms Hopkirk liked dramatics as she continued to appear sleeping as Ginny begged for more information on her last comment. She wasn’t the only one. Hopkirk opened her eyes indulgently as she told them about an application that had been made by Dumbledore that had arrived at her office after his death.

“Most interestingly, the letter has been authenticated, but was delivered by a bat rather than an owl. It was an application to give a number of Harry’s closest friends the opportunity to get their Apparation licenses right away as well as the right to use magic during summer and in the hallways of Hogwarts if it was a self defense issue.” Hopkirk handed a letter of approval from the Minister of Magic himself and as Ginny scanned the list, she let out a whoop of joy. She was on the list.

“Well there you have it Harry,” Ginny said smugly, unfolding a clean sheet that the Matron had brought with her and flicking it open. “I have permission to help cover your butt now, and what do you know, I’m already doing it!” she added, covering his now bare bottom with the thin sheet. Harry couldn’t argue with her. Here she was, covering his butt figuratively and practically, as he’d been absolutely forbidden to turn over or to wear clothing until the burns healed.

Harry knew he’d made a mess out of things. He’d thrown his relatives out the window and turned one of them into a pig for not loving him and had tried to throw Ginny out of his life for loving him too much.

When most of the adults had left the room, Harry asked where Ron was and was told that Ron was meeting the Grangers at King’s Cross to take them to the Burrow as it had been learned that they could be in increased danger because of Hermione being close to Harry.

Harry sneezed. Ginny had gotten over her cold but Harry’s had remained throughout the Stasis Portkey period. Ginny got him some Pepper up Potion from the Matron and made him some tea from the garden which was still full of the most amazing dandelions. She bent a straw with her wand as her first act of Underage Magic and it felt wonderful to be using it to take care of Harry. She was startled, having forgotten all about Mafalda, who still seemed asleep in the chair in Harry’s room, when the witch told her that bending a straw was not a matter of life or death or self defense.

“Er...It’s a matter of life or death. You can die from dehydration,” Ginny reasoned with a hopeful smile, and Harry’s heart lightened watching her squirm in Mafalda’s withering gaze.

“You could do worse than having her covering your...burns, Potter,” Hopkirk declared, leaving Harry and Ginny alone.

“She’s right Ginny,” Harry said weakly. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I think if this week has shown me anything, it’s that. Can you ever forgive me?”

Ginny looked at Harry softly, but her words were harsh. “I’ll forgive you Harry, but I’ll never forget. If we get back together, it’s for the long haul, til death do we part and all that stuff. You can’t waffle on this. It’s either friends or couple. I can’t keep waiting for you to make up your mind...”

Harry interrupted her, taking her hand in his hand, which was awkward when laying on one’s stomach. “Is that a marriage proposal Miss Weasley?”

“You prat, I’m being serious,” Ginny said indignantly.

Harry swallowed hard. He had joked and he felt better knowing that he hadn’t done permanent damage to the Dursleys, but this was hard.

“I’m not kidding Ginny,” Harry said quietly, more to his pillow than to her. “I love you so much. Do you know that you’re the first person I ever said that to?”

Ginny honestly didn’t know that. She’d known that the Dursleys had been hard on Harry, and now she put two and two together and realized that it had been she who had started this horrible week off in the first place. In an effort to find Harry, Ginny had told her parents everything she knew about what had taken place since the Quidditch match, and she’d found out that she’d used the wrong cleaner for cars when she’d washed the Dursleys’ car and had ruined the garden to boot.

“Oh my God, Harry...They hit you because of me, didn’t they?” Ginny asked quietly. She got up and left the room crying. Harry felt humiliated. Ginny now knew that he’d let his relatives hurt him all these years. The savior of the wizarding world was no more than a battered child.

An hour later, Ron walked into Harry’s room with Hermione. Mr and Mrs Granger were waiting at the Burrow. Harry was asleep, his face turned to the side laying on his stomach. Beneath his eyes, the pillow was wet. Ron, ever thinking of his best friend’s pride, dried the pillow gently with his wand as Harry awoke.

“Ron, Hermione, where’s Ginny? She thinks this is all her fault,” Harry asked immediately, trying to turn over, but thinking better of it as the skin on his back felt like it was cracking.

“She went and let the Dursleys have a piece of her mind before mum and dad could stop her,” Ron told Harry as Hermione went to get Madame Pomfrey. By the time she’d yelled herself sick at them, they had to be Obliviated again. They didn’t remember anything about hitting you again and they were already perturbed to have all of us here when Ginny started up on them. Mum said she told them that even though they’d...”

“Go on Ron,” Harry prodded, though he knew what was coming and felt the humiliation rise in him again.

“Well, that they’d damaged you. She told them that she was going to make you know what real love was someday if you’d forgive her. She felt so bad about doing the chores wrong and getting you into trouble. I told her it was my fault.” Ron looked at the floor.

Harry looked furious. He made up his mind and before anyone could stop him, he forced himself up with a grunt of pain, sheet wrapped around himself and went in search of Ginny. It was agony to walk. His back felt like it was on fire and he was still dizzy from the concussion. He found Ginny in the kitchen, a cup of tea clutched in her small hands, looking ashamed.

“What are you doing out of bed, Harry!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed, but Harry held up his hand, though he swayed on his feet and clutched the doorframe for support. Mad Eye Moody had just finished Obliviating the Dursleys again after Ginny’s yelling at them for their years of abuse.

“Please, Mrs Weasley, just let me speak,” Harry asked quietly as Fred and George approached to help him sit. He let them help him to the couch where he perched, not daring to let his back touch the back of it.

Ginny had made Harry know that he was loved. He looked right at the Dursleys.

“Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m leaving your house for good.” Harry looked down at the floor and then to Ginny for support. He knew he had to do this in order to purge himself of the loathing and shame he felt at having letting his uncle beat him and reacting in such a way that his friends now knew the extent of abuse he had suffered all these years.

“My friends,” Harry said, looking at Ginny and hoping to God that she was more than just a friend, “blame themselves for what happened to me this week. I blamed...I blamed Dumbledore at first.” Harry covered his mouth, horrified that he had let another living soul know this, let alone a whole room of people. Again, he looked toward Ginny with tears in his eyes, not seeming to care anymore who heard what he had to say. “But Dumbledore didn’t know what kind of monsters you were and my stupid pride wouldn’t let me tell him or anyone else what you did to me.”

Ginny intertwined fingers with Harry and silently gave her support for him to continue. He felt ashamed blaming Dumbledore, even for a minute now that the man was dead, but if he was to be honest, he had to start with the truth. He looked straight at his aunt.

“You were my mother’s sister. My flesh and blood. Why do you hate me so much!” Harry felt a need to know this before he left this house for good, but he wasn’t going to get any answers. He went on anyway, staring right at Petunia.

“Do you know how scared I was the first time I went to Ron’s house? The first time his mother hugged me, it hurt as much as my back does now, because I didn’t know why she did it. I could feel it, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why someone would want to hold me. I’d never done anything for her...and I spent my life trying to please you, washing your cars, doing chores, making good grades and doing my best. Sometimes, when I’d sneak a look at Dudley’s television sets, I’d see people hugging and I always wondered what that would be like.” Harry clasped Ginny’s hand tighter and looked at the floor.

Mrs Weasley sobbed quietly as Fred had his arm around her shoulder, looking strangely quiet as they listened to what Harry said. Harry found his voice and continued.

“For years I’ve heard people blaming themselves for everything that’s happened to me.” Harry turned to each person he spoke of in turn.

“Professor McGonagall blamed herself for not talking Dumbledore out of leaving me here with you. Yes, I know about that Professor McGonagall,” Harry said in answer to McGonagall’s hand that had flown to her face. “But I know why it had to be like this now and I don’t blame him, so I certainly don’t blame you.”

“Hermione, you always blame yourself. You can’t know all the answers all of the time, and I heard you told Ron that you regretted not believing me about Malfoy all year.”

Hermione looked at Ron and if looks could kill, he’d have been dead.

Harry went on. “I can’t say I was happy about that, but you were right that I shouldn’t have gone off after Sirius and I know you were probably trying to protect me this time as well. I can’t fight Voldemort all by myself, Dumbledore tried to tell me that, but when Uncle Vernon hit me again...” Harry’s voice faltered here. “When Uncle Vernon hit me again, all the anger and resentment I felt for Dumbledore having dumped me here in this hell hole, was renewed in full and suddenly, nothing of his advice meant anything to me anymore. I didn’t want anyone anymore, especially people with too much opinion.” Harry begged Hermione to wait before jumping to conclusions. He just had to gather his thoughts together, which was difficult with the pain medication the Matron had just forced on him.

“Ron, you’re my best friend,” Harry said, slurring his words now as the potion came into full effect. “I love you.” Now everyone knew that Harry was fully drugged. He’d have never admitted this to Ron in a month of Sundays. But this, apparently wasn’t really Ron’s turn to be addressed. It was Dudley’s turn.

“Do you see this guy, here, Dudley?” Harry said, getting up without so much as a wince of pain, and his voice was now so loud and commanding that the question was answered immediately by the quaking oaf a cousin of his. Harry had his arm slung over Ron’s shoulder. “This is what a brother does. He stays with you even when you tell him that you have to do something dangerous alone. He fights beside you, not with you. He attacks the bad guys, not you. I have something you don’t have Dudley, a brother. No, brothers,” he corrected, looking around at Fred and George. Dudley just sat there shaking, looking like the pig transformation hadn’t fully left him.

“Uncle Vernon,” Harry said at last. “I think the saddest thing you’ve ever done, is what you’ve done to Dudley. He’s just like you now. It’s one thing to be a bad uncle, but you were a terrible father too. Dudley is a hateful, spoiled, unintelligent prat because of you and I hate to admit that in a few years time when you’re quite old and feeble, you’ll reap the benefits of his upbringing, which will be nil, just like you gave him. You’ll die alone, I’m quite sure of it.”

No one in the room could blame Harry for his venting. This had been a long time coming and they knew Harry had to speak his mind if he was going to heal from his terrible losses and be up to the ominous task that lay before him.

Harry turned to Ginny now, but still addressing Uncle Vernon, he said, “Do you see this beautiful young woman who is holding my unworthy hand? This is my girlfriend. She actually blamed herself for you hitting me, because she didn’t know about all of the other stuff you did to me over the years. I was too ashamed to tell her about your not feeding me, about locking me in the cupboard under the stairs, about not being loved...because I thought she would think I was weak.” Harry passed his hand over his eyes, weariness overcoming him.

“But I was stupid. She loves me...loved me anyway. I didn’t know how to accept love, even though it’s been staring me in the face for years. All because of you. I can’t stand anyone else blaming themselves for what you’ve done. For what you and Voldemort have done. Hell, I only figured out just now why it was that you sent me those horrible gifts each year at Christmas. It’s because you never wanted me home, and something you touched had to pass between us to keep up the blood protection. You couldn’t even send me a real gift. You couldn’t even find it in your hearts to fake it,” Harry shouted angrily now. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind for my birthday, which incidentally will be the last time you will ever see my face.”

Ginny looked appalled at what she was hearing. First, Harry had introduced her as his girlfriend, but then he’d doubted that her love for him continued. It hurt her to her heart to think that he didn’t believe himself worthy of forgiveness and love. Ginny didn’t care who was watching, including her big brothers and her mother. She had to settle this once and for all.

Standing on her tip toes, she reached up and kissed Harry like he’d never been kissed before, and when she stopped, he swayed on his feet, looking like he’d forgotten what he was going to say next.

“I love you, Harry, and you can’t run away from that. Now that I know how you feel about me for sure, I won’t let you. And if you need to know the extent of my stubbornness, just ask my brothers and I’m sure they’ll be glad to regale you with stories of jinxed together trainers, jaw clamping toothpaste and toenail etching fungus to name but a few of the ways in which I’ve made my point clear to them over the years.”

“I knew there was a reason besides your beautiful body that I love you,” Harry grinned stupidly, the effects of the potion the Matron had given him now taking full effect. “And Dudley? If you want to know what a girl is going to look like when she gets older, just take a look at her mother. I’m a lucky guy! You’re dating Piers’s sister, right? I’ve seen Patty Polkiss’ mother, and woof!” Harry laughed and Mrs Weasley blushed scarlet.

“Right then, Mate,” said Fred stepping forward with George and Ron and taking Harry under his arms. They carried him back up to his room and tucked him into his bed on his stomach. It was quiet down stairs for a long time as Madame Pomfrey reapplied the burn ointment. Ginny sat beside him quietly knowing that he was now high as kite on pain killers.

“I guess this means you won’t be able to give me my birthday spanking,” Harry laughed. Ginny looked at Ron who laughed but had no idea what his best friend was going on about.

Hermione explained that Muggles sometimes did something called Birthday Bumps, where the birthday boy or girl got the amount of smacks on the butt that corresponded with the age they were turning.

“That’s bloody mad,” Ron said, sounding rather puzzled.

Harry fought sleep for a long time despite the potion. This was his last day at the Dursleys. Tomorrow, he would be out in the world. He only realized in the foggy part of his brain, that as of tomorrow, no one could tell him what to do or where to go, and he couldn’t decide really if this was a good or bad thing. He’d always figured on Dumbledore being around to see him through until he’d fought Voldemort and killed that last remaining part of his soul, or until Voldemort had killed him.

Harry finally fell asleep, mumbling phrases of which only a few words could be understood, but he awoke, hearing his alarm clock go off. Tomorrow had come.

The blood protection at Number Four Privet Drive ceased to exist and with it, so did Harry’s only reason for staying. When he opened his eyes, it was dark in his bedroom and the air was rather chilly against his burn, but his hand was warm, for it was encased by Ginny’s. He remembered some of what he’d said last night and hoped that if he’d said anything stupid it would be just be chalked up to the pain potion he’d been given.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Ginny smiled sleepily at him and he felt like he’d gotten the best present in the whole world right then with just that smile.

“It’s time to go home, Harry,” Ginny told him, and upon hearing the two of them awake, Madame Pomfrey came into his room to check his burns.

“Much better, Harry. A few more applications of this ointment and you’ll be good as new,” she smiled at him. “I’m sure I can trust Miss Weasley here to apply it while I fetch a fresh dressing for your back?”

Harry flinched slightly as Ginny gently caressed his back with the ointment. Madame Pomfrey put on a fresh dressing and let everyone know that he was fit to travel now. Once again, all of his belongings were packed into his trunk for the last time.

Harry couldn’t help it. He looked at the clock. It was quarter after twelve. The Dursleys knew he had planned to leave just after midnight. Old habits died hard and Harry hated himself with a passion for lingering to see if any of the Dursleys would even come to say goodbye to him. They didn’t, and as Harry took one last lingering look around the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive, he shook his head with a sadness that someone who had never been abused would never understand. No matter how strong his words had been, Harry would always have a small part of him that would never understand his life with the Dursleys.

Mad Eye Moody, Tonks, Madame Pomfrey and Ginny all held onto a empty Firewhisky bottle and Portkeyed out of Privet Drive. Everyone else had left for the Burrow by Floo hours before.

Landing in the kitchen of the Burrow, Harry was led to the couch, which Mrs Weasley had conjured and was filled with air. He was grateful to finally be able to sit down without hurting his back.

Weasleys and Weasley- to- be, Fleur Delcour all stepped out from behind furniture and curtains singing happy birthday to Harry very loudly. Ginny turned red in the face as soon as she saw the cake Fred and George were carrying. It was a very remarkable likeness of Harry’s bum, complete with seventeen candles alight on the top. Ron gave Hermione a little playful smack as she appeared to check out the cake for longer than he felt appropriate.

“Now we know that’s it’s usually the birthday boy’s job to blow out the candles on his own bum...er cake, but as Ginny has been the one cooling your butt for you recently, we thought she’d like the honour. Just when Harry felt it may be possible to die from embarrassment just at the sight of the bum cake, he could feel the heat in his face rise more sharply when she obligingly blew out the candles. Only Fred and George could have thought up colour change icing. Once Ginny had blown out the candles, the bum cake looked like it had unclenched and the icing on top turned the exact shade of the ointment she had applied to his back and butt earlier.

To Harry’s complete horror and the hysterical laughter from the assembled guests, the bum cake started to rise as though placed on a pillar as Ginny blew out the last candle. The cake rose on it’s flesh coloured pillar for a whole minute before falling abruptly as Ginny panicked and tried to squash it back it down.

“Ouch!” exclaimed George through the mirth filled tears of laughter in his eyes. Fred had to sit down as he was laughing so hard and also to get out of the way of Angelina’s slap.

Ginny’s hands were covered in cake and she had gotten the joke, but she was secretly pleased that at least for once, she hadn’t been left out of the ‘grown up’ humour.

Katie Bell was laughing, despite pretending to give Fred trouble over the off colour cake. Mrs Weasley looked sharply at the couple when Katie got back at Fred on Harry’s behalf by asking him if he’d timed the pillar effect on the cake based on personal experience and that she expected better than that on their honeymoon.

Mr Weasley had watched all of this with good humor and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

“And this isn’t all, Harry,” George said proudly. We left an exact replica of this cake at the Dursleys. We know Dudley won’t be able to resist cutting into it, and when he does, that masterpiece replica will pass wind just like the real thing.”

Fred passed Harry a knife to slice into the cake. It was very disconcerting, as it was very lifelike, and especially so with knowing who had made it. He cringed slightly making the first cut and sure enough, a loud farting noise issued from the cake, sending candles flying in all directions, which relit themselves and turned into indoor firecrackers, lighting up the entire house.

“Whoa, Harry, you only need to light one match when that happens,” Ron laughed along with Hermione and her parents.

“Did we forget to mention that this is a chocolate cheesecake?” Fred asked innocently. “So Harry, you just cut the cheese!” Harry felt happy seeing everyone laugh. He wasn’t quite ready to laugh yet himself, but it did him good to know that laughter still existed. He looked over at Bill who sat with Fleur now in his lap. Fleur wasn’t one Harry would have pegged as having a liking for potty humor, but there she sat, laughing along with the rest of them at the bum cake. If something as simple as bum cake could still make people laugh, Harry knew there was hope yet.

Remus stepped forward and lit one candle on the cake for Harry to blow out. “You deserve a wish, Harry,” he said, being one of the few besides Ginny to notice that Harry still had a certain sadness about him. “Make it a good one,” he added, sounding to Harry a lot like Sirius just then.

Harry finally made his wish when Ginny was feeding him a piece of cake from her fingers.

*****************

Three years to the day later, Ginny stood feeding Harry a piece of cake again, which he did likewise. It was not bum cake like he had made his wish on. It was wedding cake. Their wedding cake. Voldemort was dead and all of the Horcruxes were destroyed. It had been a hard battle and though odds had never been in their favour statistically, all of the Weasleys, including Percy, stood to watch the traditional cutting of the wedding cake and first nourishment of the bride and groom. It was something Harry had seen in a picture of his parent’s wedding, and Lupin had told him that Lily had wanted that part of the Muggle tradition and James, like any typical groom, had just done what the bride wanted.

Harry had got his wish. From a simple bum cake, a wish had been made and now with a beautiful five tiered double chocolate wedding cake, it was fulfilled. As everyone clapped, the tiny bride and groom on top of the wedding cake mounted tiny little matching Firebolts and took off. It was all very romantic but for the surprise from Fred and George, who stood beside Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell looking completely innocent. During the magical flight of the tiny bride and groom that had been made to look like Harry and Ginny to represent them flying away to start their life together, the tiny groom’s pants fell down to reveal a tiny little scar on his left buttock. This time, Harry was ready to laugh and he had a quick response to the twin’s prank.

“Well, that’s not all Ginny’s going to see tonight!” Harry teased mercilessly. He laughed at the revolted expressions on the faces of all of Ginny’s brothers. He didn’t dare look at her parents but he heard Mrs Weasley chuckling appreciatively as Ginny punched him on the arm. Ginny and Harry mounted their real Firebolts, thanking Ron and Hermione for being best man and maid of honour and took off with much love and wishes for a happy honeymoon. Now that was a birthday wish fulfilled!