Harry slept late his first full day back at the Burrow. When he opened his eyes at last, the angle of the sun told him that the morning was already more than half gone, but he made no move to get out of bed. He lay and stared at the orange ceiling overhead, not really wanting to get up. If he did that, there might be questions he didn't want to answer.

He still hadn't told the elder Weasleys about the consequences of the spell he'd used to banish Voldemort, but he was probably going to have to do that today. He couldn't hope to hide the fact that he no longer possessed any magical powers. No, if he got up, the twins might ask him to play Quidditch in the orchard, and he'd be obliged to tell them he could no longer fly.

He quickly pushed that idea aside. He didn't want to think about flying at the moment. He shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch the Chudley Cannons score yet another spectacular goal. That was something he might have liked to try himself--professional Quidditch. But that was out of the question now.

In fact, he didn't know what he would be doing with his life now that he'd finished school. He knew he couldn't live here at the Burrow indefinitely. He was supposed to be an adult now; he was supposed to be independent. He was supposed to do something useful. But what could he possibly do now?

He thought of all the gold in his Gringott's vault and wondered how many years it would last. There was rather less of it now than there had been the first time he'd laid eyes on it at the age of eleven. Seven years of Hogwarts tuition and school supplies had seen to that. And now he'd be responsible for renting a flat, putting food on the table, clothing himself…

He threw back the covers with a sigh of frustration. He might as well get up if his thoughts were going to keep betraying him like this. The room was empty as he expected it to be. Ron would have got up hours ago.

Harry hastily threw on some clothes and ran a comb through his hair without even bothering to look in the mirror. He didn't want to see his unshaven reflection staring back at him. Unconsciously he reached up and scratched at his chin. He was going to have to go into the village at some point if he was going to get rid of this beard. It was itchy; it didn't do anything for his appearance; and most of all, it was a daily reminder that he'd lost his powers.

Harry padded in the general direction of the kitchen. The house was remarkably quiet considering the number of people living there at the moment. The twins had moved back home while the village of Hogsmeade was being rebuilt, and Harry discovered yesterday on his arrival, George had brought his girlfriend, Pauline, along with him. She'd been staying in Ginny's room, but now that term was over, Ginny and Hermione were also crammed in there.

Bill was there, too, staying in Percy's old room. From what Harry could gather based on the previous night's dinner conversation, Bill wasn't sure what he'd be doing in the near future. He'd left his job at Gringott's to join the Order's forces, and while he was on leave at the moment, he could be recalled to duty at any time. It was hoped that Harry's spell had permanently dispatched Voldemort, but close watch was still being kept. Attempts were also being made to round up the remaining Death Eaters. Sirius and Remus were both involved with this, keeping a close eye out for Peter Pettigrew. Bill reckoned he still might be summoned to active duty, although that chance seemed to lessen with each day that passed.

With all these people in the house, it came as a surprise to Harry when he arrived in the kitchen to find it empty. Mr Weasley was at the Ministry, of course, but the others ought to be about somewhere. "Everyone must be outside," he said to himself. "Just as well. I'm not hungry anyway."

A noise made him halt in the middle of the kitchen. Someone was coming in, and Harry noticed he was standing in front of the fireplace, over which hung a mirror. A sudden memory struck him, one from a summer six years previous, when he'd been surprised by this very mirror telling him off for an un-tucked shirttail. It was now behaving like any mirror in the Muggle world, hanging silently and forbearing to comment on his scruffy appearance. To make matters worse, there was another witness to the mirror's silence, for Pauline had just entered the room.

Harry wasn't sure whether or not he'd imagined the look of curiosity that passed over her features, it was so fleeting. "Where is everyone?" he asked quickly, as much to fend off questions as anything.

"Good morning to you, too, although that's almost over now. To answer your question, everyone is outside. Casting wards." She didn't sound particularly pleased with him.

"Wards?" repeated Harry, alarmed. "What's happening?"

"Nothing earth-shattering. Just reporters."

Harry swore to himself. Of course it wouldn't take much brain-power to work out where he'd be staying. And now the Weasleys were going to be hounded. He should have known he couldn't stay here… He hadn't even been here twenty-four hours, and already they were after him, trying to learn all his secrets.

Pauline's manner softened slightly at Harry's reaction. "No worries. Fred and George are having quite a good time warding this place off. They've had some, well, interesting ideas about booby-trapping the place so no one we don't want here can get very close."

Harry forced himself to smile. That sort of task was right up the twins' alley. He moved towards the door.

"They ought to be finished soon," Pauline added.

The sound of the door closing was heard again, and Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione enter the kitchen.

"Harry, mate. You’re up," said Ron. He sounded like he was in a much better mood than Harry was.

"Harry, did you sleep well?" asked Hermione. "We didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully.

"Yeah, I’m still tried. I might head back up," he said. He really didn't want to be around anyone. Not even his best friends.

"No, luck there, mate," Ron joked. "Mum said you have to eat. She’s been complaining all morning about how thin you are. And that beard… It's almost as bad as Bill's earring to hear her go on about it."

"I don’t see why you won’t let me…" Hermione began, and then she stopped as Harry and Ron both glared at her.

Harry noticed that Pauline was staring at them, and he didn’t care for the expression on her face. She looked as if she sensed something was going on and was definitely trying to work out what it was. It wouldn’t take her long to put two and two together. He was going to have to say something to the Weasleys tonight; there would be no avoiding it now.

"How are the wards coming, Ron?" Harry asked abruptly, hoping to turn Pauline's attention elsewhere.

"They're almost all up. Fred and George managed to cordon off the whole perimeter of the Burrow. Bill is going around checking for holes and weak areas. I told him, while he’s at it, he might as well put up an insect repellent. Don’t want to take any risks, do we?"

Pauline was following the conversation with obvious interest. "Pauline, can you help me up in Ginny’s room?" Hermione asked her. Harry had the impression she was trying to get rid of Pauline, and he was grateful for her thoughtfulness. "It was a bit crowded last night, maybe we can expand it a bit."

Pauline’s facial expression told them all that she knew what they were trying to do, but she put up no opposition. "Of course, Hermione, let’s do it now."

Once confident no one else was within earshot, Harry turned to Ron. "What happened with the reporters? Did someone turn up here?"

"No, Hermione and I went into the village. She wanted to use the fellytone to call her mum and dad."

"Telephone, Ron," Harry corrected.

"I know, but that annoys Hermione so," Ron replied, his grin wide.

"How are the Grangers?"

"They’re fine, settling in. The flat above their office is small. Only one bedroom, so Hermione will be staying here for a bit."

"I can see how upset you are about that," Harry teased.

"Yeah, well, it’ll be a wrench for a while, but I’m sure I can handle it." Ron put his hand over his heart as he said this. "While we were in the village, we heard a racket. At first I thought it was Death Eaters, since they were wearing black cloaks. Turned out it was reporters. Hermione said they looked like a swarm of locusts. They started asking questions, and the flashes, from the cameras, were blinding us. And of course, who do you think was at the head of the lot?"

"Rita Skeeter," Harry said flatly.

"Right in one, mate. Hermione should make the front page of the Prophet tomorrow," he said, the admiration evident in his tone. "Told Skeeter off something fierce."

"How’d you get away? Did they follow you here?"

"Nah, Mum made sure we had a Portkey, you know, just in case. We made it back here fine. Everyone got to work on the wards right away."

"Thanks. I’m sorry," he said miserably.

"For what?"

Harry couldn’t answer, for at that moment Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen.

"Harry, dear. How are you feeling? Are you hungry? Sit down, and I’ll fix you something." Her questions come so fast that Harry didn't have a chance to reply.

"Mrs Weasley, I’m…"

"Don’t go there, mate. It’s a losing battle."

"You’re what, dear?"

"I’m still a little tried. I don’t think I could eat," he said hoping she would understand.

"Nonsense, you’re tired because you haven’t been eating properly. You sit down and eat, then you can go back up to your room and take a nap." It was amazing how she could manage to sound affectionate and commanding at the same time.

Grudgingly, Harry did as he was told. He did feel somewhat better after eating, but he still went back up to Ron’s room for a nap.

Harry feigned sleeping several times that day. He was not up to talking to anyone, and he found himself wishing for his four-poster bed at school, so he could close the hangings and shut out the world. He’d never have that luxury again. Hermione must have suspected he was faking, and she managed to have an entire conversation with him without him uttering one response.

As the afternoon wore into the evening, Harry heard the Weasleys in the garden, setting up the tables for supper. There would be at least twelve of them at dinner tonight, since Mrs Weasley had invited Percy and Penelope to join them. It was a means of celebrating the end of school for the younger members of the family, as well as the probable end of the war. He knew they would have to eat outside. He hoped the wards would be sufficient to keep the reporters away.

Harry's thoughts drifted back to the first time he had eaten in the garden during the summer before his fourth year. Bill and Charlie had been having a table fight, while pompous Percy had been writing his now infamous cauldron bottom report. That had been before things had become really bleak, before the Tri-Wizard tournament, before Voldemort’s rebirth. It had been before all the Death Eater attacks, but mostly, it had been before Charlie’s death. Harry wondered how Bill was faring with that. After all, he and Charlie were the closest in age; they had also fought together in the war.

Thoughts of Charlie inevitably led to thoughts of others who had lost their lives. He'd barely even spared a thought for Professor Dumbledore, who'd taken on Voldemort first. It might never be known with any certainty, but perhaps Dumbledore had done something to weaken the Dark Lord, to make it possible for someone else to defeat him utterly. And then there were the others. Students and teachers…

Harry needed to stop these memories. It would do him no good to dwell on things, which were beyond his power to change, and it was certainly not going to help him find a way to tell the Weasleys about his lack of magical powers. He knew he had to go down there soon. He couldn't hide in Ron’s room for the rest of the summer. Eventually someone other than Ron, Hermione or Ginny was going to notice he was not using magic. He was sure Pauline suspected something now; she had to be a smart girl to be responsible for running Zonko's. From something she'd mentioned last night, he realised she'd been a Ravenclaw when she was at Hogwarts. He was going to have to tell them all himself. It would not be fair to them to let them find out any other way.

He was taken from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"Harry?" a soft voice called. It was Ginny. Damn, he'd been managing to avoid her for the most part ever since he'd woken up in the hospital wing. What could she want with him after all? He was less than he'd been, and she deserved better. He didn't reply to her.

She came into the room in spite of his silence. "Harry, it's supper time. Mum wants you to come down now."

"I'll be down in a minute," he mumbled, not even bothering to turn and look at her.

"Harry, you can't shut yourself up here forever, you know."

"I KNOW!" He hadn't meant to shout at her--that had just slipped out--but perhaps it was better this way. He kept his eyes pinned to the floor. Anywhere but on her. He didn't want to see the hurt in her expression.

But then she replied, and her tone was anything but hurt. "Fine. Be that way! But if you don't come down to supper, I'll send Mum up here for you."

He turned then to see if she was really as angry as she sounded, but all he saw was her back as she left the room. He thought he heard her emit a half-strangled sound of rage in her throat, and then the sound of her stomping down the stairs echoed through the upper storeys of the house. He buried his face in his hands, whispering, "Crap!"

Several minutes later, he found himself in the Weasleys' garden. It was a cool night, and a slight breeze was blowing. He hoped someone had thought to put Silencing Charms around the Burrow too. The thought of their voices carrying out into the surrounding trees gave Harry an uneasy feeling.

As he approached, he heard Mr. Weasley and Percy giving accounts of the latest Death Eater captures. Some of the surviving Death Eaters had unmasked themselves and turned themselves in once Voldemort had disappeared, but not all of them had. The most loyal of the lot were surely looking for ways of bringing their master back to them so they could continue their reign of terror. The Ministry was most anxious to bring the rest of them in to stand trial, as well as ensuring that Voldemort was well and truly gone for good.

There were still two empty places at the table, and those were down at the end beside Ron and Hermione. Harry took one of the seats, not paying much attention to who was missing. Then Ginny came out of the house bearing a platter of food, and he realised she would be occupying the remaining place at the table… next to him. He glanced up at her reluctantly and saw that her mouth as pressed into a line, as she assessed the situation. He knew she wouldn't say anything that would cause a scene, but he noticed that as she took her seat, she moved the chair away from his.

Mrs Weasley handed Harry a plate piled high with food, and the conversation turned to the rebuilding of Hogsmeade. It was hoped that the village could be rebuilt quickly using magic to restore as many buildings as possible. Many of the residents were combining their forces in the effort to revive the village, and even outsiders had offered their help. The twins were planning on Apparating to the site the following day to see what they could do to help.

"Least we could do," said Fred.

"Yeah," agreed George. "It's our fault the village is in such a state, after all."

"You were only doing what you had to, dears," remarked Mrs Weasley. "War requires sacrifices of us all, doesn't it?"

She made a sound as if she was biting back a sob, and Harry knew she was thinking of Charlie. He shifted uncomfortably as her words hit too close to home, although she had no way of knowing it. Sneaking a glance round the table, he found both Hermione and Ron staring back at him, their expressions inscrutable. He could tell they were waiting for him to inform the family of still another sacrifice this war had required. But he maintained his silence during the most of the meal.

"The rebuilding is going to be the easy part," Pauline pointed out. "The merchants all lost stock as well, and they're going to have to replace it. We've all lost revenue in the last year with the war and the increased security. I'm not sure all the businesses in Hogsmeade will be able to come back after this. And that will make it all the harder on the rest of us…"

As the conversation continued to revolve around the war and the uncertainty as to whether it was even over yet, Harry got the impression that the Weasleys were avoiding mentioning his role in the latest battle. No one had asked him anything about his duel with Voldemort since his arrival, although he was certain they all knew about it. He knew they were waiting to him to broach the subject on his own, and he realised he ought to be grateful for their discretion. But there was something irritating about their silence as well. Was he so fragile that they had to tiptoe around him? The elder Weasleys had no idea there was even a good reason they should, after all.

But no time seemed right for him to bring it up. Even though they were discussing the war, Harry got the impression the others were generally happy. Yes, Charlie was gone--Mrs Weasley cast occasional glances towards his place at the table--but Harry knew things could have been much worse for all of them, so many more could have been killed. And it looked very much as if it was all over now. In spite of all the losses, they did have a lot to be thankful for.

Suddenly Percy's voice addressed the teenagers from the opposite end of the table. "Have any of you given any thought to the future? I could put in a word at the Ministry…"

"They haven't got all their NEWT results, yet, Perce," said Fred. "How can you expect them to know whether they've done well enough for a Ministry position or not?" He sounded very much as if not having good enough NEWT results for a Ministry position was a definite advantage.

"No, of course they haven't, but they must have an idea how they've done. I know I did, and it had nothing to do with any Divination rubbish."

Harry was surprised enough to comment. "You were the one who recommended I take Divination in the first place.

Percy shifted slightly in his seat. "I've had a change of heart on the subject."

"No offence, Perce," said Ron, "but I really don't see myself dedicating the rest of my life to cauldron bottoms." Harry felt a movement beside him as Ron winced. Hermione must have kicked him under the table.

Percy, meanwhile replied rather huffily. "I'll have you know that my cauldron report was an important advance towards an international standard. And you know we've had other issues to deal with since then."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, will you?"

"Well, I don't see myself sitting behind a desk for the rest of my life." Ron paused and looked sidelong at his girlfriend. "Hermione might go for it, though."

"What do you see yourself doing then?"

"Thought I might give Auror training a go…" There was another movement, as Hermione had surely kicked him again, but for a moment Harry couldn't understand why this pronouncement might earn Ron retribution from his girlfriend.

"That's lovely, dear," said Mrs Weasley brightly. "You and Harry could try that together."

Harry saw Ron and Hermione exchange an extremely uncomfortable look. "I think I'd like some more chicken," said Hermione very quickly.

Mrs Weasley looked confused for a moment before replying, "Of course, dear."

Harry could do nothing to stop the rising irritation he felt against his best friends. He now understood why Hermione had tried to shut Ron up when he'd brought up Auror training. She'd been trying to spare Harry's feelings, as if he were fragile. As if they all needed to walk on eggshells around him.

"If you're going into Auror training," Percy was going on, "you're going to have to get your Apparition tests as soon as possible. I could help you there. I feel I passed my own test so quickly because I practised every day, you know. I used every possible opportunity to Apparate that I could."

"Yeah," said Fred. "Apparating down to breakfast every morning was a bit much, don't you think?"

"The time he Apparated into the loo while I was still in there was pushing it a bit," remarked George confidentially, getting a laugh out of Bill, Fred and his father. Mrs Weasley was busy trying to look stern, but not succeeding very well. Nobody at Harry's end of the table found the turn of the conversation very funny, however, and Harry realised that it was going to become difficult for them to conceal their increasing discomfort.

Once again, Mrs Weasley brought him from his thoughts. "Harry, dear, would you like some more?"

"No, thank you, Mrs Weasley, I think I’m full," he said warily.

"Just have another helping dear. You really need to get your strength back."

"Now Molly, let the boy be," Mr. Weasley interjected. "He’s looking much better already."

"Sure he does," boasted Fred.

"Well, except for the straggly beard of his," joked George.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchange an uncomfortable look.

"It is a bit silly, dear," remarked Mrs Weasley. "You look much better without it…"

The tension coming from Harry's end of the table was becoming more and more noticeable. "What's wrong with the four of you?" Mrs Weasley asked suddenly.

"Nothing," Ron said too quickly. "Nothing at all."

"It's all right," Harry said. "I'll have to tell them at some point. It might as well be now."

"Tell us what, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley.

Harry felt the combined weight of their gazes upon him. He suddenly did not want to see them all look upon him with shock and pity as he told them what he'd done, but he had no choice now but to go through it. Under the table he felt Ginny reach for his hand and give it a comforting squeeze. She did not let go.

He hesitated a moment, stunned at her gesture after the way he’d treated her earlier. Then he took a deep breath. "Before I tell you anything, I need to be sure that there's no possible way we can be overheard."

Hermione took the hint immediately and cast a Silencing Charm over the general area. Even if Rita Skeeter or some other reporter had managed to penetrate the wards Harry was sure his story would not appear in tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

"What I tell you now must be kept a dead secret. I do not want this to be generally known…" He met each of their eyes in turn, getting silent assurance that none of them would breathe a word of this. "Once I tell you, I will only tell one other person, and that will be Sirius. After that, I do not wish to have to repeat this ever again. "And just as he'd told Remus, Ron and Ginny in the hospital wing--was that only a few days ago? It seemed like an eternity--he told the assembled Weasleys the entire story of how the means by which Voldemort might be defeated was discovered. Here he looked at Hermione and acknowledged what it must have cost her to keep that information quiet. Then he went on to tell how he'd gone into the final confrontation with the full knowledge of what he'd be giving up.

Mrs Weasley let out an exclamation when Harry told them the reason Ron had sent for Charlie's wand. One of the twins let out a low whistle. Bill said, as if to himself, "To think it was Charlie's wand that brought about Voldemort's fall."

"We can only hope," said Mr Weasley, pride filtering into his tone.

Utter silence fell over the table like a pall as Harry completed his tale, explaining that Lucius Malfoy had tried to kill him once he lay helpless on the ground, but the talisman had saved him. He did not add that he almost wished it hadn't worked. Mrs Weasley was crying silently, while Mr Weasley patted her shoulder. The others, as predicted, bore expressions of mixed shock and pity. Harry could tell they were all overcome with questions they did not dare voice. He could easily imagine Percy wondering what Harry was planning to do with the rest of his life now that he no longer possessed any magic. Harry looked down and saw that Ginny was still holding his hand. Her grip was almost painful, but Harry welcomed it.

Mrs Weasley finally broke the silence. "Harry," she began shakily, "you will always have a home here with us. I hope you know that."

"Yes, well, thank you. But it's not as if I can get a job and actually contribute anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said Mr Weasley. "I'm certain the Ministry…"

"I don't want someone offering me a job because they've taken pity on me, all right?" Harry immediately began to blush in shame at his outburst, because he knew Mr Weasley meant well.

"I understand, Harry, but perhaps something can be worked out. No one would need to know about your situation," Mr Weasley added quickly before Harry could protest further.

"You should at least think about it, Harry, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "We don't want… Well, we don't want to lose track of you, do we?"

But Harry knew what she really meant. She meant that she didn't want to lose him at all. He knew from what she'd said at Charlie's memorial that she considered him as one of her own. He'd known it in his heart for even longer. He couldn't put a finger on when it had happened, but at some point over the years, she'd begun treating him like one of her own children.

He swallowed and nodded once. "Anyway," he said at last, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table once more, "I'm going to need to get a few Muggle things in the village tomorrow."

"Yes, of course," said Mrs Weasley, "but perhaps someone else can go in your place. If any of those reporters catch sight of you…"

Harry knew she was right. At the same time Mr Weasley perked up. "Perhaps you can use some of my collection. You're perfectly welcome, you know. You won't be needing any plugs or batteries, will you?"

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "Erm, no, actually. What I really need is a razor."

Both Mr and Mrs Weasley looked a bit happier.

The rest of the meal and the evening that followed were quite subdued after that. When it was time for Percy and Penelope to leave, Harry was quite surprised when Percy solemnly shook his hand. He was even more surprised when the twins followed suit, and they seemed perfectly serious about it. George clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. No one knew what to say, apparently, but Harry could read the gratitude in their eyes all the same.

The others were going inside. Ginny gave him a penetrating look in passing. He could tell she was not pleased with him for his earlier behaviour, and yet there was understanding in that look, as if she knew he was trying to shut her out and why. He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, as he realised that she was not going to stand by and allow him to do what he wanted. She would fight him tooth and nail on this.

Last to approach him was Pauline. "I'm sorry if I seemed short with you this morning," she began. Then she hesitated before going on. "I only gave up my business, and that can be rebuilt…" She never completed the thought, but Harry guessed well enough what she'd left unsaid.

Ginny stared morosely into the skillet full of bacon as she mechanically turned it to keep it from burning. The previous two weeks had not been easy for anyone, and today did not promise to turn out any better. She glanced over at the kitchen table, where this morning's owl post lay, and sighed. With any luck, Harry would not come down for a while, and they would be spared his inevitable reaction until then…

In the two weeks since Harry had let the rest of the Weasleys in on his secret, things had only seemed to get worse. Ginny had sincerely hoped that telling everyone would help draw Harry out of his shell, but the opposite had occurred. He had withdrawn day by day, not just from her, but from the entire family. The only emotion anyone seemed to be able to provoke in him these days was anger, and no one seemed to be able to predict just what would set him off. As a result, the entire household had been tiptoeing around him, but that usually only made matters worse.

Ginny felt her eyes begin to sting, and she blinked hard, irritated with herself. Crying about the situation would do nothing to ease the pain it caused her. On one level, she thought she knew why Harry was pushing them all away. It was to make the parting easier on all of them. She was certain that, in spite of all the Weasleys' efforts, that Harry still felt he would have to leave them and make his way in the Muggle world somehow. But knowing that did not make it easier.

She couldn't stop herself from glancing over at the table again. Today's post wasn't going to disabuse Harry of any notions he might be entertaining about leaving the wizarding world.

"Ginny, you're letting the bacon burn!"

Her mother's voice shook her out of her thoughts, and she turned the sizzling strips just in time. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's all right, dear. We're all… preoccupied these days." Ginny's mother set the basket of eggs she'd just finished collecting on the counter, and began to break them into a bowl. "Has the post arrived?"

Ginny nodded towards the table. "Over there, but…"

The older woman looked up sharply. "What is it?"

"Go and see."

Her mother pursed her lips and went over to look at the two parchment envelopes, which were lying on the table. They were addressed in bright green ink, and one was noticeably thicker than the other.

"Oh dear," her mother sighed, as she put the envelopes back down, and covered them up with the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. "Let's hope he gets up late," she continued almost to herself, but Ginny knew what she meant. Harry was definitely not going to react well to this turn of events.

The sound of footsteps announced the imminent arrival of someone else in the kitchen, and both Ginny and her mother tensed up in spite of themselves. Ginny's father had already left for the Ministry, and the twins, Bill and Pauline had gone up to Hogsmeade earlier, so that didn't leave many possibilities open as to who could be coming down to breakfast. Both let out their breath when Ron appeared, followed closely by Hermione.

"Morning!" said Ron brightly, taking a seat at the table and picking up the morning's paper. " 'You-Know-Who Sighted in Siberia,' " he read aloud. "Not more of that rubbish!" This was only the latest of many supposed Voldemort sightings, all of which had proven false so far.

"Honestly," said Hermione, craning her neck to see the headline. "Why do they insist on printing rumours? They only incite people to hysteria for no reason. Why can't they deal in something positive, like the effort to rebuild Hogsmeade?"

"Oh, there's something about that, too," replied Ron, pointing. "There's a small mention here at the end of the article."

Hermione read the line and snorted impatiently. "They're not painting it in a very uplifting light are they? Implying it'll all be for nothing if Voldemort isn't really gone…" She trailed off, and Ginny wondered if it had occurred to anyone else what a terrible thing it would be if Harry's sacrifice turned out to be all for naught.

"What's this? Here, Ron, there's one for you, too!" Hermione had obviously spied the morning's post.

Ron looked up from the paper and took his envelope from Hermione. "Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione had already torn her envelope open in her excitement. "Final NEWT results!" she squealed.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to look at those? Come on, we all know what they must say. Highest NEWT results in over three centuries. Hell, I'll bet they're the highest in the history of the school."

"Don't swear, Ron," Hermione said automatically. "What do yours say?"

Ron seemed a lot more reluctant to look at his results. Ginny wondered if he was afraid they wouldn't be high enough to get him admitted to Auror training. Slowly, he opened his envelope, and they watched as his expression slowly brightened. "Wow," he said quietly, "did better than I thought. Look at my Potions mark…"

Ginny and her mother exchanged a look. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to have noticed that there was no envelope addressed to Harry. Hermione and Ron traded parchments. "What did I tell you?" said Ron proudly as he read over Hermione's results. "These have to be the highest results ever." Then he looked at her envelope. "You've got something else in yours. Must be some sort of certificate of honour."

"Where?" Hermione had evidently not noticed the extra sheet of parchment in her envelope. She reached for it pulled out the second sheet.

"What's going on?"

Ginny's heart sank as Harry came into the room. He was unshaven and still wearing his pyjamas. The beard he'd had two weeks ago was gone now. Her father had unearthed an old-fashioned safety razor from his collection of Muggle items, and Harry had been putting it to occasional use. Some days he couldn't be bothered to get dressed at all, and today looked as if it was going to be one of them.

Mrs Weasley stepped in before anyone could reply to Harry. "Have a seat, Harry, dear. Your breakfast is almost ready." Then she looked at Ron and Hermione. "Clear all that off the table so you can eat."

But it was too late. Harry had spied the seal on one of the envelopes. The atmosphere in the room thickened at an alarming rate. "Are these NEWT results?" he asked, picking up Ron's parchment. "Snape must be going soft in his old age."

Ron gave a very forced laugh. "Yeah. Maybe someone hit him with a spell, and it made him go off in the head."

"Or maybe it set him right after all these years." Everyone stared. For an instant the old Harry was back, but then he was gone as quickly as he had come. "We'll know for certain when we see my results. Where are they?"

Hermione made a show of looking for a third envelope. "They don't seem to be here. Maybe there was some sort of delay."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe." But he didn't sound very convinced. Then he turned his attention to the plate Ginny's mother had set in front of him. Everyone followed his lead and began eating, and Ginny hoped the situation had been defused.

"So," Harry asked Ron after a while, "are you still planning on going in for Auror training?"

"I, uh, haven't really decided yet."

"I think you ought to. Those results are good enough, aren't they?"

"I suppose so," said Ron in a non-committal tone.

"What about you, Hermione? I don't see you crowing over your results. They must be good."

Hermione didn't reply.

"What's the matter with all of you?" Harry asked sharply. "So I haven't had my results yet. It's not as if I'm going to need them. What does it matter if there's been a delay? What was I going to do with them anyway?"

Ginny stared down at her plate, but she couldn't eat another bite. She had a sickening feeling this was about to turn ugly. Harry looked at them all in turn. "Life goes on. Your lives do at any rate. You don't have to stop discussing it for my benefit."

"Harry…" Hermione began, but she was interrupted by a popping noise in the fireplace.

"Molly, are you there?" Mr Weasley's voice called out.

"Yes, Arthur." She sounded grateful for the interruption. She rose from her chair and went over to the fireplace. Ginny looked up then and saw an envelope change hands. It was clearly addressed in the same green ink that appeared on Ron's and Hermione's letters. She couldn't hear her parents' exchange, as they were talking in hushed tones, but she could work out easily enough whom they were discussing.

Harry could, as well. He stood up so that her father could see her from the fireplace. "I'm here, you know," he said loudly. "You don't have to discuss me as if I wasn't."

Ginny saw her mother start slightly, no doubt at the apparent irritation in Harry's tone. "Of course, dear," she said, handing the envelope. "This is for you."

"Your NEWT results," supplied Ginny's father. "They, er, well, they got misdirected somehow."

"Of course they weren't misdirected," said Harry. "The school owl couldn't find me, could it?"

Ginny saw her father look behind him, as if he was afraid of the conversation being overheard. "Yes, something like that," he said quietly so that Ginny had to strain to hear him. "The owl would have returned to Hogwarts when it was unable to locate you."

"Wonderful!" Harry shouted. "Just perfect! So now they know up at Hogwarts that owls can't find me. How am I going to manage to keep anything a secret at this rate? Everyone'll come to the conclusion on their own…"

"It won't be a secret long if you don't keep your voice down," Hermione hissed. "If anyone's in Mr Weasley's office, they might overhear you!"

"Harry, I think I've got that angle covered," replied Ginny's father. "Hogwarts sent this directly to me. Here. They know up at the school you're staying at the Burrow, and I sent a reply thanking them. In it, I said any further correspondence would have to be sent through me, because we've placed Charms on you so you can't be traced. As a way of keeping reporters from bothering you, you see…"

Some of the fight went out of Harry at that; his stance became visibly less belligerent. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"In any case, I need to get back to work. I'll see you all tonight." And with a pop, Ginny's father's head disappeared.

Harry returned to his place at the table, shoulders slumped. He pushed his half-finished plate away and sat there, turning the envelope over and over in his hands. The room fell silent, as everyone else at the table waited for Harry to look at his results. But he didn't. He just sat and stared at nothing in particular, eyes apparently not focused on anything. And all the while he turned the envelope.

Finally, Hermione could stand it no longer. "Aren't you going to even look at your results?"

It was the wrong thing to say. "WHY?" Harry shouted, and Ginny jumped at the suddenness of it. "What's the point? I suppose you want to know, though, don't you? You made me take the bloody things, after all. Will it make you happy if I look?"

Hermione had gone white. "I'm sorry, Harry. Just forget I said anything…"

"STOP IT! All of you just stop it! Stop treating me like a baby! Stop trying to spare my feelings! Stop talking in whispers whenever I'm around! Stop treating me like I'm some sort of invalid! Just… Just stop!"

Ginny couldn't help the next thing that came out of her mouth. She'd been sitting quietly in her corner, taking it all in, but she couldn't stand it anymore. "Maybe if you want us to stop treating you like a baby, you should stop acting like one."

Harry stood then, the force of his movement causing his chair to topple sideways to the floor with a loud clatter. Then he was gone, the sound of his angry footsteps echoing through the Burrow as he climbed the stairs. The envelope with his NEWT results lay abandoned on the table.

Ron rounded on his sister. "What did you have to go and say that for?" he demanded.

"Don't you start on me, Ron," she replied hotly, but then suddenly she felt a sob rising in her throat, and she was powerless to stop it.

She got up from her seat and ran for the door, ignoring her brother's shouts behind her. Choking on her tears, she hurried into the yard. She didn't think about where she was going, she simply found herself in the darkness of her father's shed. There was something cool and comforting about it. She buried her face in her hands and let the tears come then.

When a pair of comforting arms surrounded her and began rocking her, she didn't question it. She simply let herself fall into their maternal embrace. She recognised her mother's special brand of comfort before she even heard the familiar voice crooning, "There, there," to her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let her mother hold her like this, but she had a sneaking suspicion she'd been twelve at the time.

Her tears spent at last, Ginny pulled back from her mother, but she hardly knew what to say. She was overcome with the desire to tell her mother everything, but she didn't know where to begin. At last she blurted, "Oh, Mum, why did I just say that to him?"

"Because it's the truth, dear. Only he isn't ready to hear it yet. You need to give him more time to adjust. This is such a major change, and he hasn't had time to get used…"

Ginny interrupted, her anger coming back. "He had plenty of time to get used to the idea beforehand. Didn't you hear his explanation? He knew about this for two months, and he knew full well what he was doing. Not that he saw fit to tell any of us about it…"

"Ginny, dear, maybe he didn't feel comfortable sharing this with you, if he couldn't even share it with Ron."

"How much more comfortable did he expect to get with me? Hermione knew, for God's sake. But she's not his girlfriend. I am!"

"Girlfriend?" Her mother sounded hurt now. "But you told me last January that there was nothing going on between you…"

"It's because I thought there wasn't at that point…" Ginny trailed off. "It's complicated. We'd had a row, and we were both under the impression the other didn't want to be together anymore. We patched that up afterwards. We promised…" She broke off again, unsure of how much she wanted her mother to know about her relationship with Harry.

"Promised…" her mother prompted sounding a bit apprehensive.

"We'd promised to tell each other if something was wrong. And he didn't do that. When he found out about the spell, he didn't tell me about it. I only found out at the same time as Ron and Hermione did. Once it was too late."

Her mother gave her a reassuring hug, and Ginny suddenly found herself telling her mother about her relationship with Harry from the beginning. She kept some of it to herself, of course. She didn't think her mother wanted to know that she'd sometimes become too caught up in kissing Harry to stop his hands from wandering. Nor did she think her mother wanted to know how her own hands had wandered on occasion. She didn't think her mother would appreciate knowing they'd already shared a bed, however innocently, and she knew her mother wouldn't like hearing how close they'd come to crossing the final line on her birthday.

When she'd finished, her mother drew in a long breath. "It must have hurt a great deal when he shut you out then."

"Yes, Mum, it did." And then she told her mother what happened the morning Harry had woken up in the hospital wing. That had been the beginning. That had been the foundation of the wall that was between them now, and every day seemed to add another brick to the structure. Ginny found herself wondering if one day it would be too high to overcome. The idea caused fresh tears to burn in her eyes, and she felt her mother gather her close once more.

Slowly she began to tell her mother about something that Harry had done to her last week, something she'd kept to herself, since there had been no witnesses. She'd come into the kitchen, and he'd been watching something happening outside, so that his back had been turned to her. He'd been avoiding being alone with her as much as possible, but this time he hadn't withdrawn when she came in. She'd gone over to the window, intrigued, because he seemed to be paying close attention to whatever was going on. He'd been holding a glass of pumpkin juice, and there had been a slight smile playing about his lips.

Looking out the window, she'd seen Ron being chased by a legion of garden gnomes. Some of the creatures had managed to get hold of his gangly arms, and had been hanging on for dear life, while others had been desperately trying to grab Ron round the ankles. The twins had been off to one side, holding their sides, as they laughed at the scene, and Ginny had been sure they'd somehow managed to charm the gnomes into pursuing Ron.

Harry had taken a sip of his juice at the moment when the gnomes had finally managed to pull Ron to the ground and swarm over him. Harry had let out a bark of laughter, the first genuine laughter Ginny had heard from him in weeks, and spit pumpkin juice down the front of his shirt. She'd recognised it as one of the shirts he'd purchased with her last summer in London.

She still wanted to kick herself for what she'd said to Harry then. She hadn't meant anything by it. It had just come out. "Poor Ickle Harry, perhaps we need to put a bib on you." As she'd said the words, she'd taken her wand out to charm away the orange stain.

Harry had rounded on her, his laughter extinguished immediately. "Don't you dare use magic on me!" he'd snarled at her. "Just because I'm not as good as you since I'm a Muggle now, doesn't mean you can follow me around all day cleaning up after me!" And he'd stormed out of the room.

"I'm sorry he's taking it out on you, dear," her mother said when Ginny had finished. "It isn't right, but you know what they say… You always hurt the one you love."

Ginny sniffed. "I don't know that he loves me. He's doing this to everyone, not just me."

"He's been tetchy with everyone, but he's being harder on you, isn't he? Just now, he walked out because of something you said…"

"Because I was stupid and didn't think before I said it."

"It was only the truth, and from the sound of things, you've been keeping a good bit of hurt to yourself, haven't you?"

"I suppose, but…"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, Mum, I do."

"So it hurts all the more, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but…"

"He's pushing you away."

Ginny hesitated for a moment and then admitted to something. "I'm afraid, Mum. He's trying to make me hate him. And if he manages it, he'll just leave. We won't see him again."

Ginny heard he mother catch her breath. "He can't do that. We're the only family he has."

"He'd do it, Mum. He can't stand us feeling sorry for him."

"But he can't leave…"

"If he took it into his head to leave, there's nothing we could do to stop him. He'll leave, and he won't come back, and we won't even be able to send him an owl. He'll just disappear on us…" Tears were threatening again. "Mum, what can I do?"

"You have to talk to him, Ginny."

"But I can't. He keeps shutting me out."

"You have to be patient and keep after him. You need to show him that this is causing you pain, too. That this is hurting more than just him. You can make him understand that, even though you can't imagine what he's going through, that he's hurt you as well. And he needs to understand that we need him as much as he needs us."

"Bit of a tall order, isn't it?"

"I never said it would be easy, but if anyone can get through to him, I think you can."

Her mother was gathering her close for another hug, and Ginny let out a long, shaky sigh. "Thanks, Mum."

"I'm not going to have my little girl much longer…"

Ginny rolled her eyes, even though she knew her mother couldn't see it. "Mum…" she protested.

"You're all grown up, or nearly. Starting your last year of school… You will be careful, won't you?"

Ginny pulled back and started at her mother in the shed's half-light. "Careful?"

Her mother looked back rather sternly. "Yes, careful. You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

She certainly did now. "Harry and I haven't… we haven't…"

"You haven't?" replied her mother sceptically, and Ginny thought she'd raised an eyebrow.

A blush was creeping over Ginny's face, and she was glad that there wasn't very much light in the shed. "No! Nothing like that…"

"As I say, be careful. Remember who you are." Ginny wasn't certain what her mother meant by that, exactly. It might have been several things at once: that she was a Weasley, and that she needed to remain true to herself were only two possibilities.

"Mum, it's not very likely we'll be doing anything. We're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment…"

"And what's going to happen once you've patched things up between you?"

Ginny couldn't reply to that. She'd already experienced what that could be like, but she wasn't about to tell her mother about it. So she merely said, "Yes, Mum."

"I want you to know you can always come to me…"

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said a bit louder, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

Her mother must have sensed Ginny's discomfort, for she relented. "Come on, let's go back inside."

Ginny followed her mother back into the kitchen, where they found Ron and Hermione had cleaned up the remains of breakfast. Ginny noticed her mother casting a worried eye towards the clock. "Oh dear, look at the time!" The single hand on the clock was leaning dangerously close to You're late. "I've got a hundred things to do today…"

"Go do them, Mrs Weasley," said Hermione. "We'll be all right here."

Ginny saw her mother glance in the direction of the staircase. "I don't know… I really need to go into Diagon Alley…"

"Everything will be fine," Hermione reassured her. "You go on. It'll do you good to get out of the house."

"I might not be back until supper time."

"We'll manage, Mum," said Ron, and Ginny thought he spoke rather quickly. Her mother didn't seem to notice Ron's eagerness to get her out of the house, however, which was probably most fortunate for him.

"All right, then. Let me just change out of these old robes. I won't be a moment."

Once her mother was out of earshot, both Ginny and Hermione turned to Ron. "What have you got up your sleeve?" Hermione asked him suspiciously.

Ron grinned, and his eyes sparkled. "I'll tell you once the coast is clear. Just be patient."

So they waited, trying their best to look busy in the now-spotless kitchen until Ginny's mother had left for Diagon Alley through a roar of emerald flames. Then Hermione looked at Ron expectantly, but Ron turned to address Ginny instead. "You don't mind if we leave you here with Harry, do you?"

"Ron," Hermione broke in, "do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I thought you wanted to ring your parents," Ron pointed out. "We'll have to go into the village for that."

"Why not?" said Ginny. "We'll be all right. What could happen?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione, "I did want to tell them about my NEWT results. That certainly isn't going to take all day."

The tips of Ron's ears began to go red. "I thought… Well, I thought that since Mum is gone, we could go have lunch in the village, and, you know, take our time coming home…"

Hermione still seemed hesitant. "Go on, the two of you," Ginny said. "I'll be perfectly fine." She didn't think it was necessary to point out that it would be as if she were home by herself. She didn't expect to see Harry for the rest of the day after the scene at breakfast. It was just as well. Ginny wanted some time alone to think about how she was going to approach him.

"If you're sure…" Hermione began.

"Of course, I am. Out! Go on… Clear off!"

"Erm," said Ron, as he and Hermione headed out the door, "don't expect us back too early." And then they were gone.

Ginny turned for the stairs, noticing as she did that Harry's letter containing his NEWT results was still lying forgotten and unopened on the kitchen table. She hesitated, wondering if she ought to take it up to him. She knew she'd probably provoke another angry response from him if she tried to make him look at his results, but at the moment she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She wished for some sudden inspiration of wisdom that would tell her the best course of action to take with Harry. She sighed when it didn't come. Talking with her mother had helped, but it hadn't given her any sort of magical solution. Something made her pick up the envelope, in spite of her indecision, and put it in her pocket.

The house was silent, as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She might well have been the only one at home, for all the difference Harry's presence seemed to make. She missed him. God help her, but she missed him.

The door to her bedroom was ajar, and she gave it an unhappy shove. It swung open to reveal Harry's Firebolt lying on her bed. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Perhaps the emptiness of the house had been more than just an impression. Perhaps he really was gone. It was the only reason she could think of for him to leave his Firebolt for her. Even if he couldn't use it, he'd want to keep it for himself, wouldn't he?

But no, he couldn't be gone. They would have noticed if he'd left the house. Ron and Hermione had been in the kitchen and would have said something.

"Harry?" she called out.

Her heart began to pound, as her voice echoed out into the corridor, unanswered. She followed it out onto the landing and looked up the staircase that led to Ron's room. Maybe he was napping. He'd been sleeping quite a lot these days… or pretending to, at any rate. He could be up there ignoring her.

But Ron's room was empty too, she found once she'd climbed to the top of the house. She pushed the door open wider and found Harry's things strewn about. His trunk looked as if it had been kicked over. She thought she ought to feel better to find that Harry had not packed up all his things, but somehow she was only filled with a greater sense of foreboding. Something was wrong, here. Very wrong.

A book lying face-down in the corner, its pages crumpled under the weight of its covers, as if it had been thrown there, caught her eye. She thought she'd seen this book before. It had seemed to make the rounds among the older boys last year at school. She'd had no idea it belonged to Harry, but she thought, it must, since all the things that had been tossed about the room were plainly his.

Picking it up, she read the title out loud to herself. "Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards." Something made her open the front cover. "A friend in need is a friend indeed," was inscribed on the inside of the cover. Something about those words struck a chord deep within her. But how was she supposed to be Harry's friend if he wouldn't let her in? Her mum had counselled patience, but perhaps she just needed to keep chipping away…

The first thing she needed to do was find him, though. She headed back down the stairs, not bothering to call out this time. If he was determined to ignore her, he wasn't going to answer her anyway. He might even try to hide if he knew she was looking for him.

She stopped at each storey as she descended through the Burrow, looking in all the bedrooms but finding each one of them empty. She didn't like the chill she was beginning to feel creep over her. It was as if she was in the presence of a ghost.

She got as far as the first floor landing before she noticed any sign of life. There were only two rooms on this floor, her parents' bedroom and a small bathroom. The door to the bathroom was partly open, and her eye caught a shadow of movement on the other side.

"Harry?" she called. "Is that you?"

There was no reply, but then, Ginny thought, who else could it be? Since the door wasn't quite closed, she didn't feel any compunction about going and opening it further. Her breath caught in her throat at what she saw. Harry was there in the bathroom, standing at the sink. He didn't acknowledge her presence; he didn't even seem to be aware of it. He was staring down at his hand, as if in deep concentration.

Following the line of his gaze, Ginny was shocked at what he found so fascinating. In his right hand he held a naked razor blade. He had to have taken it out of the razor her father had lent him--Ginny could see the pieces of it lying on the edge of the sink. He held the blade poised in mid-air, as if he'd begun to raise it and then froze in place. Blood oozed from a small cut on his finger.

Ginny stood horrified for a moment. He couldn't be thinking what he seemed to be thinking, could he? Could he possibly want to escape them all to such an extent?

She took a step forward, and still he didn't move. Finally, she felt compelled to break the silence.

"Harry, what do you think you're doing with that?"

To Be Continued…

Harry stomped up the stairs to Ron's room swearing to himself. How could Ginny say he was behaving like a baby? How was he acting like a baby? By shutting her out? As much as he hated to do it, it was for her own good. And hadn't she done the same to him last January? She'd given him the silent treatment for a month. "If that isn't the pot calling the cauldron black, I don't know what is," he muttered under his breath. He ignored the twinge his conscience gave him at that thought, a twinge that wanted to remind him that his and Ginny's rift of last winter had been based on a misunderstanding, while he was fully conscious of what he was doing to her now.

He entered Ron's room and slammed the door, but the sound didn't make him feel any better. "Anyway, she has no idea what I'm going through," he said to no one in particular. The room was empty except for Hedwig, who had returned from her night's hunting while he was downstairs and currently had her head tucked under a wing. "None at all." He ignored his conscience again. This time it was insisting on reminding him that he'd chosen this path for himself.

He kicked at the chest of drawers in frustration but only succeeded in hurting his toe. His image in the mirror reflected his pained expression. It also served to remind him he hadn't bothered to get dressed today. Most days he just didn't feel like it.

"Aren't you going to make a comment?" he shouted at the mirror. "Say something, damn it! I know you can talk, I've heard you!"

The mirror maintained a stubborn silence, and Harry felt like kicking something again, but his sore toe made him think twice about it. "You're just a goddamned mirror, what do you know?" He rubbed ruefully at this toe. "Baby," he muttered again. "I'll show her I'm not a baby…" But how? What would be the best way to prove Ginny wrong? Then he had an idea. "I'll get her," he said to the mirror. "I'll get dressed, and then she won't be able to say anything. And you won't have a reason to say anything either!"

He moved to his trunk, where all his things were still stored. He'd never got round to unpacking it. He'd noticed Ron giving his trunk occasional looks over the past two weeks, but his friend had kept his comments to himself. Of course. The thought did nothing to improve Harry's mood.

But the first thing he laid his hand on wasn't a shirt or a pair of trousers; it was Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards. Harry felt his heart give a strange sort of lurch, a feeling he hadn't had in a while. Was it hope? Once more he was reminded of the time last winter when he and Ginny hadn't been speaking to each other. The book had been trying to tell him something then, too. Perhaps it had some advice for him now.

His hands shaking slightly, he opened it to a random page. It had never made any difference in the past what page he opened this book to, he'd always found what he was looking for. Not this time. "Take two cups of dragon's blood and bring to a boil…" he read in disbelief. He slammed the book shut in disgust.

"I need advice, and you give me a recipe for oven cleaner! Thanks loads!" he grumbled.

But something made him try again. This book might have a twisted sense of humour, but it had never failed him in the past. It had always told him just what he needed to know. Not this time. No matter how hard he concentrated, whenever he opened the book it said the same thing. He finally gave up and heaved it into a corner, roaring, "Useless piece of crap!"

He sank down next to his trunk and buried his face in his hands for a moment, fighting back a wave of despair. He just didn't know where to turn anymore. He'd worked hard at closing off a lot of avenues these past weeks, and he didn't feel right about trying to reopen them now. He kicked at this trunk again. Useless. It was all useless… Why had Ron even bothered packing it up for him? He might as well get rid of it all…

He stood and began to pull the last vestiges of Hogwarts out of his trunk, tossing them randomly about the room. Black robes emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest… He wouldn't be needing those anymore. Spell books… Pointless. He came to his Firebolt and hesitated. He was probably more attached to his broomstick that any of his other possessions. He'd told Ron at the end of term that Ginny could have it. Well, she could. She could have all of it, if she wanted.

He laid the Firebolt on his bed, and turned back to his trunk. His cauldron was next. He'd hated Potions with a passion, and even if he hadn't, it wouldn't be a possible career choice for him now. In spite of the speech Professor Snape had given to the class at the beginning of Harry's first year, in which the potions master had openly shown disdain for wand-waving, a lot of the most advanced potions he'd studied this year required an incantation. He pulled the cauldron out of his trunk and gave it a shove.

It rolled across the floor, coming to a jarring halt when it hit the wall underneath the window sill on which Hedwig's cage sat. Hedwig gave a hoot of outrage, as she was so unceremoniously awakened.

"Quiet, you," Harry snarled at her. "You won't even be able to find me now, will you? You're just as useless as the rest of it!"

Hedwig puffed out her feathers and raised her beak into the air. Harry knew he'd insulted her, but he felt no remorse. Hedwig must have sensed his mood, for she suddenly flew out of her cage, but she didn't fly directly out the window. She flew once around the room, cuffing Harry hard on the head as she passed. Harry stood, gaping for a moment. He'd just been struck by the thought that if she could still understand him, then maybe she would prove to be the only owl who could still find him. And he'd just turned her away as well. But it was too late to do anything about that now. She was gone.

"You're going to need this!" he shouted out the window, and then he chucked Hedwig's cage after her. "Bloody stupid owl!" He turned and gave his trunk a hard kick, welcoming the pain it caused his toe, and managing to knock it over and scatter the remainder of its contents over the floor. He kicked them about for good measure before stopping to look about the room, an odd feeling of satisfaction at the mess he'd made rising in him.

Then he grabbed up some clothes at random, yanked the Firebolt from his bed, and stormed off to the bathroom downstairs, stopping only to toss the broomstick onto Ginny's bed in passing. In spite of his anger at everything else, he still felt like taking a shower and getting dressed. He had something to prove to Ginny at any rate.

He stood under the hot water for a long time, thinking and growing calmer. What was he going to do? He was beginning to have serious doubts about being able to remain here at the Burrow much longer. Every day, every hour, he saw something that reminded him he no longer possessed any magic. Even staying up in Ron's room most of the day didn't help matters. There he was constantly confronted with the silent mirror and the images of the Chudley Cannons reminding him of what he could no longer do. But if he left here, where would he go and how would he support himself? He had no idea. He thought of Sirius, but his godfather had other problems to deal with, and Harry didn't even know if Sirius had a permanent home.

Then there was Ginny. It was going to kill him to leave her, but at the moment he saw no other alternative. He knew his behaviour towards her was causing her a great deal of pain. He'd seen it fleet across her face every time he did something to alienate her, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn't seem to stop himself, and he didn't know why.

By the time he turned off the hot water and took a towel to dry himself off, the skin on his fingers was wrinkled. There was a thick cloud of steam in the air, and he opened the door a crack to allow it to escape. As he reached for his trousers, he caught sight of his reflection again. He'd washed his hair in the shower, but it was hanging limply about his neck, drops of water still clinging to the strands making it look too long and greasy, somehow. Just like… "Snape," he hissed.

His hair had always been unmanageable, and in the past that had never bothered him, but suddenly it did. He rummaged through drawer after drawer in the cabinets around the sink until he found what he was looking for, a pair of shears. Then draped his towel around his shoulders before he began hacking away at his hair until it looked less like his former teacher's hair. Wisps of black hair stuck to the towel as they fell. After a while it seemed like a good idea to stop snipping. He really didn't have any idea what he was doing, after all. His hair was shorter now, at any rate, and at least he didn't look like Snape anymore.

He also needed another shower. Bits of hair were sticking to the back of his neck, which was still damp from his first shower. They were going to become bothersome before too long. He collected as much of it as he could with the towel, before tossing it under the sink. Then he undressed once more and turned the shower back on. He got quite a shock when he stepped under the spray. The water was icy cold. He'd obviously stayed in too long the first time and used up all the hot water.

His second shower was considerably shorter than the first one. He reached for a clean towel to dry off once more and began to get dressed. As he pulled a T-shirt over his head, his upper arms scraped against the stubble on his cheeks. Shaving with a Muggle razor had made his beard grow in much heavier. If he was going to look presentable, he really ought to do that now.

He noticed in the process that the blade in his razor had become rather dull. Who knew how long Mr Weasley had had this lying around, after all? Once he'd finished, he was really going to have to change to a new blade. He managed to get the razor taken apart and the old blade removed with no problems, but the new blade proved to be quite a bit sharper.

He winced as a sudden, stinging pain sliced through his finger. Looking down, he saw a trickle of blood. He raised the hand holding the blade--the same hand with the cut finger--so he could get a closer look. There was something strangely fascinating about it. He thought that it really wouldn't take much. A slice across his wrist would do it, and then he wouldn't have to worry anymore about anything. Just some blood and pain to endure before it ended, but he was no stranger to those either.

But could he do it? Did he really want to? It was a rather stupid thing to do in the end…

Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and then a voice came. "Harry, what do you think you're doing with that?"

Harry turned to see Ginny advancing on him. Her eyes were fixed on his right hand. "What does it look like I was doing?"

"That's what I want you to tell me, Harry, because I really don't like what I'm thinking right now."

Harry didn't know what made him say what he said next. Maybe he was just tired of her watching his every move. "I was testing the blade to see if it was sharp enough."

She took another step forward, her eyes blazing with fury, and he immediately regretted the words. They'd just come out… from somewhere. Like most of the things he'd said to her over the past two weeks. But then just as suddenly her expression became closed off, and she stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Is it sharp enough?"

Harry stared at her. He had no idea what he could possibly say to that. Part of him couldn't believe that she actually thought he was capable of going through with it.

"Go on," she continued, her voice full of challenge. "Go ahead. You know you want to do it. What's the matter? Scared?"

He still couldn't answer, but it didn't matter. She kept on going, he voice steadily rising, without pausing for him to reply. "What's there to be scared of? This ought to be easy enough. You faced Voldemort. You defeated him. This is nothing. This is the easy way out, you know! Do it, and see where it gets you!" Her voice was shaking with anger by now. "But let me tell you one thing. If you do this, there's nothing to keep me from following you!"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock at the idea that she'd take such a drastic step. Then he shook himself. "Keep it down, will you?" Harry hissed. "Do you want everyone up here?"

"What's the matter? Ashamed of yourself?" Suddenly, she turned and shouted into the corridor. "Hey, everyone, come and see. Harry's going to kill himself!"

"Ginny!"

She looked at him triumphantly. "They've all gone out actually." Her words were borne out by the lack of the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. "There's no one home but you and me. You see? I'd have been the one to find you. Is that what you wanted?"

"No!" he shouted just as loudly as she had. "I didn't want you to find me. I don't want you to talk to me. I don't even want you around me." There he was again, blurting things he didn't mean, as if there was some other person in his head controlling his tongue.

Ginny's face fell, and Harry felt sick to see the hurt in her expression. He hated himself more than ever now. "Well, if that's what you really want, Harry…"

She hadn't even finished her sentence when she turned to go. Harry reached out with his left hand and grabbed her arm before she could run off. "Wait, Ginny. Don't go. I'm sorry. I keep saying these horrible things, and I don't even mean them…"

She nodded once, and he dropped his hand from her arm. At the same time he laid the razor blade aside. "What did you do to your finger?"

"I cut it when I was changing the blade. The old one was dull."

"So you weren't…"

"No, I wasn't… Well, in all honestly the thought had crossed my mind, but I decided it was stupid on my own." He ran a hand through his now-shorter hair and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sorry I let you think I was going to. I don't know what came over me. It was completely unforgivable."

As he watched for her reaction, she took a deep breath, as if she was coming to a decision. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet, Harry. It seems I have a lot to forgive you for lately, and I'm not sure when I'll be ready to do that. It's not just now, it's everything that's been happening for the past month, really…"

That scared him. He had to swallow again before he could reply. "What?" That came out more harshly than he'd intended, but it was either that, or he wouldn't have got the sound out at all. "What did I do a month ago?"

"It was more than a month ago, actually. I think it all started when you found that spell and decided not to tell me about it."

"I couldn't tell you about it. You would have tried to stop me!"

"How do you know? You never gave me a chance to show how I would have taken the news! We had an agreement, Harry! You promised me you wouldn't keep things from me!"

Harry began to panic. He knew she had him. "What agreement?" he hedged.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "I can't believe you don't remember this. We were locked up in the storage room at the time. Ron and Hermione locked us in, remember?"

"Vaguely…"

"Honestly! You were the one who brought it up. We had that whole fight last winter because of a stupid misunderstanding, and you asked me to promise you to tell you if something was bothering me. And you in turn promised me the same. Any of that ring a bell?"

It did. All too well. His insides squirmed with guilt, but something made him argue with her. "I had to keep this a secret. The fewer people who knew the better!"

"Hermione knew…"

"She found the spell. Of course she knew! I had to make her promise to keep this a secret. I would have used a Memory Charm on her otherwise…"

Ginny's expression told him she clearly didn't believe that. "It doesn't matter. What matters is you didn't trust me enough to tell me. And you presumed to know how I would react to the news. Next…" She obviously wasn't going to give him a chance to argue further. "Next, you tried to sneak off and face Voldemort without me."

"Ginny, we went through all that the night before."

"You weren't even going to tell me good-bye, Harry! Didn't I deserve even that much?"

"You would have tried to stop me…"

"How do you know?" she shouted. "You assume you know what I'm going to do, but you don't really, do you?"

"Hermione tried to stop us…"

"I AM NOT HERMIONE! I'm Ginny! Just because she reacted one way doesn't mean I would have done the same in her place! You didn't even give me a chance to show you that, did you? Harry, I've known. I've known ever since I met you that you were going to have to face Voldemort one day. I knew I was going to have to let you do it. You didn't even give me that chance."

Harry looked down at his feet. There was nothing he could possibly say to justify himself in the face of what she'd just said.

"You can't say anything, can you? You know you're wrong." It was as if she could read his mind. "The thing is, are you man enough to admit it?"

He knew she was right, but something--it may have been the part of his brain that had been controlling his actions and making him act like such an idiot over the previous weeks--prevented him from replying.

She stared at him for a while, her arms still crossed. When she seemed convinced he was not going to reply, she went on. She began listing all the things he'd done to shut her out ever since the day he'd woken up in the hospital wing. He couldn't believe she remembered every slight. If he didn't know better he'd have thought she had some sort of tape recorder in her head and she was rewinding the tape to remember all this in such detail. He concentrated on that rather than on what she was saying. It was much easier for him than to listen to her list everything he'd done to hurt her.

Then he realised she'd stopped. He looked up. She did not look pleased. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop talking about me in your head. I know you're doing it."

How the hell did she do that? he wondered. How could she have known?

"You're doing it again!"

"What am I supposed to do? I mean, how do you remember all that? All those details?"

"They aren't details, Harry. I remember what's important. Everything we've said to each other is important to me."

Harry looked away. He wanted to get out of here, but she was blocking his only means of escape. He couldn't remember ever feeling this terrible about the things he'd done. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant them… that they'd just happened, but he didn't think she was going to buy that excuse in her current mood.

"Weren't the same things important to you, Harry?"

Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse…

"Damn it, why don't you trust me?"

His head snapped up. "Trust you?!"

"Yes, Harry, trust me. You didn't trust me enough to tell me what was hurting you. You were going to try to keep all this from me. And you'd promised…"

So she was back on that again, was she? He knew he had to answer her soon. He could tell their future together was hanging by the thinnest of threads now, and it wasn't going to take much at all to snap it. But wasn't that what he'd wanted? To push her away? He didn't know anymore. At the moment he felt like he needed her more than ever. But it wasn't exactly the right time to ask anything of her. Not after all he'd done to her. By all rights she should hate him now…

She was looking through him again, knowing he was holding another internal dialogue with himself. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

He knew he had to tell her. "I'm wondering why you don't hate me." He felt stupid the moment the words were out.

"Because I love you, you stupid prat. Although at the moment, I'm not too sure why."

Harry couldn't say anything to this. He was still trying to get his mind around the concept. After all he'd done--and her list of grievances had been long and legitimate, even if he hadn't admitted it aloud--she still loved him.

Ginny was shaking her head slowly. "Harry, don't you see? I have loved you ever since I was ten. The nature of my feelings may have changed over the past seven years, but I can honestly say I've loved you all that time. And I've only had reason to hope you might feel the same way for the past year. Don't you think if I could have stopped in those first six years, I would have? Don't you see? I can't stop. I don't think I'll ever stop."

Harry stared up at the ceiling. He was going to lose it very soon if she didn't stop telling him this. But she wasn't finished. "I told you that time in the hospital wing… the day you told us about losing your powers… I told you I understood what you were doing. You're still doing it. You've been trying to push me away, and I understand why, even if I don't like it. You wanted to make me hate you so you wouldn't hurt me when you left. But that's not how it works. I meant what I said before. I will follow you anywhere you decide to go."

She stopped there, and Harry knew what he had to say to her. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to. He had to swallow very hard to get any words to come out. "I was trying to spare you pain, and in the end all I did was cause you more…"

"Yes, Harry, you did."

"I'm… I'm sorry… I know that doesn't begin to cover it…" He couldn't go on. He was on the very brink now, and he made a valiant effort to hold himself back.

But her next words were his undoing. "I'm not going to forget what you've done, but I understand, and I forgive you."

He had to turn away. He couldn't continue to stand in the light of her love. He was unworthy. But he felt her hands on him. Softly they turned him back to her and cradled his face. "Don't be afraid, Harry," she said gently. "Don't ever be afraid to let go with me."

He found himself completely enveloped in a warm embrace, and the dam burst at last. As had happened the day he woke up in the hospital wing, he buried his face against her and allowed himself release. After a long time, he pulled back from her, spent. They'd both sunk to the floor together. Her eyes were red-rimmed as his surely must be.

"You're not alone, Harry," she said quietly. "You don't have to go through this alone. You can always come to me, and if you can't come to me, go to someone. Please. I think you should talk to Professor Lupin."

"How? He's gone to help Sirius."

"Send him an owl…"

"I, erm, sort of did something to make Hedwig mad at me, too."

"Send Pigwidgeon, then. Just write to him, please."

He knew she was right, and he nodded. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"

She smiled slightly at that. "I don't suppose you do, but there's not a whole lot we can do about that, is there?" She reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "Harry… What have you done?"

Unconsciously he glanced towards the sink where he'd tossed the towel full of clippings. She followed his gaze. He tried to shrug it off. "Thought I needed a hair cut. It's not that bad, is it?"

His fears were confirmed when she didn't reply. She leaned closer and began inspecting a bit more carefully. "It's not a complete loss," she said after a while. "I think I might be able to salvage it. It's going to be a bit short, mind you."

"Since when do you know how to cut hair?"

"Since when do you?" she returned, and it dawned on him how pleasant it was to hold a nearly normal conversation with her. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. It now struck him just how much he'd missed over the past weeks: closeness, kisses, touches… he wanted it back; he wanted her back. "I can hardly do a worse job than you have. Besides, Mum taught me how."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She used to do all the boys." Harry remembered Mrs Weasley needling Bill about his long hair, and realised she'd been perfectly serious about giving him a hair cut. "With so many of us, it was more practical that way. And, well, she showed me how. I used to practice on my dolls. Mum knew a charm that made their hair grow back, so I've had lots of practice. I've even done Ron's hair a time or two… when he'd let me, that is. Not since he started Hogwarts," she added, noting Harry's look of disbelief. She got to her feet and extended a hand to Harry. "Come on."

He let her pull him up. "Where are we going?"

She picked up the shears he'd left lying out and took a clean towel. "My room. We'll clean up in here later."

"Erm, Gin… I'm going to need your help, I think…"

"What? Cleaning up the mess you made in Ron's room? Yeah, I saw. But Mum's going to be out running errands all afternoon, and Ron and Hermione have gone into the village. No one will have to know about it."

"Thanks."

They climbed the stairs to Ginny's room together, while Harry thought about the irony of the situation. Here they were with the entire house to themselves for the better part of the day, Ginny had just invited him up to her room, and he wasn't sure if he even dared kiss her. It wasn't that he was afraid to; it was more that it didn't seem right. He'd treated her abominably. He didn't feel comfortable making the first move.

Once she had him seated in her room, the towel draped around his shoulders he felt even less comfortable, but for a different reason. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the sensation of her running her fingers through his hair as she lifted the locks and trimmed them off evenly. He enjoyed it rather more than he suspected he ought to. It was another reminder of how much he'd missed touching her and having her touch him. It didn't help matters when she finished and began brushing stray hairs from the back of his neck. She was doing it perfunctorily enough, but he couldn't help feeling a shiver pass through him at the contact.

At last she stepped back, and he stood up quickly, making a show of going to look in the mirror to hide the awkward feelings she was arousing in him. She'd been right… She did know what she was doing. His hair was much shorter than it had been, but it didn't look all that bad, really…

"Harry," her voice came from behind him. "Don't you want to take this back up to Ron's room with you?"

He turned to see her holding his Firebolt. "No, Ginny, I want you to have that."

"I can't take this from you."

"I can't use it. You might as well have it. Maybe you can make the Quidditch team this year."

"Harry, I…"

"Please, Ginny, keep it. I think flying is going to be what I miss most of all, but if I can't fly on it, I want you to be able to."

She relented at that. He thought she turned away rather quickly at his words and gave an audible sniff. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she came into his arms and let him hold her. As long as he could stay like this with her, he thought, he could convince himself that everything was going to be all right.

She pulled back from him, and the temptation to lean in and kiss her became more and more difficult to resist. "Maybe…" he began, trying to hold to his resolve, "maybe we ought to see about that mess."

"Wait, Harry." She was fumbling in her pocket. "I almost forgot. You left this lying on the kitchen table. Don't you even want to know how you did?"

She was holding out the envelope with his NEWT results. Harry still didn't know what possible difference this was going to make in his life, but he took the envelope from her in spite of this and broke the seal. He unfolded the parchment, and as he read it over, he could feel his jaw literally drop. He'd done far, far better than he'd ever expected. Certainly not as well as Hermione, but still…

"What is it?" Ginny asked him curiously.

He couldn't speak. He handed her the parchment so that she could see for herself. "Wow, Harry… These are… They're amazing."

"Yeah, aren't they? I still can't believe Snape…"

"You could get a Ministry position with these marks, Harry."

"Ginny, don't. Please don't ruin it."

"I'm serious, Harry. There are lots of positions that don't require any sort of magic really." Harry wanted to protest, but she held up a hand. "Now just hear me out. No, they're not the most exciting jobs in the world, but you'll be able to remain part of the magical world. That's what you want, isn't it?"

That was just Harry's problem. He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't had a clear idea before he'd gone and faced Voldemort, and he certainly didn't have one now. He knew he wasn't really qualified to take on anything in the Muggle world, in any case; he'd never been happy there. And Ginny was part of the magical world. Perhaps he owed it to her to try. "I suppose…"

"You can give it a try, can't you?"

"I guess…"

"Harry you're shutting me out again…"

"I'm sorry. I just don't know… I'll think about it, all right?"

She hesitated, unsure for a moment, and then took a deep breath. Taking a step closer, she put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Harry I need you to know something. I love you. You. Not your magical ability, but you, Harry." Then she brought his face down so she could kiss him tenderly and far too briefly.

He reached up and touched his lips, surprised. He hadn't expected her to do that after all the anger she'd demonstrated to him today. He felt as if he was never going to understand her.

"Come on," she said taking his hand. "We've got a mess to clean up." And she led him out of the room and up the stairs.

To Be Continued…

Ginny glanced up at Harry surreptitiously, wondering what he was scribbling on that piece of parchment. Or more to the point, what he wasn't scribbling. He was holding his quill poised over the sheet and staring at it, as if willing the words to come. She craned her neck, but couldn't make out what was written across the top of the sheet. There was only one line, and it was almost certainly a greeting.

She turned back to her History of Magic text with a small sigh. She wasn't having much more luck getting anything useful done than he was. Of course, in her case, the subject matter may have had something to do with it… That and the fact that she was stretched out on her side, one hand propping up her chin. She'd come out here after lunch and spread out a blanket to lie on. It wasn't the most conducive spot for doing summer homework, perhaps, but the day was too fine to sit and do this inside.

She'd been surprised when he'd come outside to join her, bringing his parchment and ink. He hadn't said a word as he'd sat down near her, his back against the bole of the tree, but he'd seemed less tense somehow. It was noticeable in the set of his shoulders. It had been this way ever since their talk the day before. It had done them both good to get things out in the open. Now if only he could open up to the others…

"What are you writing?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Nothing at the moment," he mumbled.

"I can see that. But what are you trying to write?"

"I'm trying to write to Remus Lupin, like you suggested. Only I've no idea what to say…"

Ginny's heart leapt within her. That was definitely a step in the right direction. She remembered his reaction to Professor Lupin's offer of help in the hospital wing, and the way Harry had insisted he didn't want to accept the fact that he'd given up his powers. If he was taking this step, it had to mean he was ready to accept it now. "Whatever you have to say to him, I'm sure he'll understand. I think of anyone we know, he's in the best position to give you a hand."

"Yeah, but it would be a lot easier to do this face to face."

Ginny wondered about the truth of that statement. He'd opened up to her yesterday, but only because she'd forced him to. When the rest of the family returned home, he hadn't been exactly talkative, although the nature of his silence had changed. It was more of an embarrassed silence now, rather than an angry one. Ginny supposed it had been enough that he'd told the others about his NEWT results over supper without any prompting. Her mother had been as pleased with his results as if it had been one of her own children, but then in a sense, Harry had been for a long time now.

"I'm glad you're writing to him, Harry," she responded. She wished she had a suggestion for what he could put in his letter, but the first thing that came to mind was all that had happened yesterday, and she didn't like to bring it up. She was still drained from that conversation, and she knew he must be doubly so.

"Actually, I do know what I ought to be putting in this, it's just … well it isn't easy, is it? I'm not exactly happy about the way I've been acting lately…"

Her heart went out to him, and she wished she knew what to say. "I think you're just going to have to grit your teeth and do it."

He sighed heavily. "I know."

Ginny turned back to her homework, but her attention was divided now between listening to the scratching of Harry's quill and experiencing the warm summer breeze. After a few minutes, however, the scratching stopped and she heard the sound of a parchment being crumpled. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" he asked abruptly.

Ginny smiled to herself, knowing he was only asking as an excuse to keep from writing his letter. "Out in the orchard with Mum."

"What are they doing there?"

"Practising Apparating."

"They are? When did they start learning?"

"About a week ago, I think. Mum and Dad have been helping them whenever they have a chance."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, and then, as Ginny watched, he reddened slightly and looked down. "I wonder why they didn't say anything," he said almost to himself.

"I expect neither one of them wanted their head bitten off."

He went even redder at that. "I guess I ought to apologise to them… to everyone, really, for the way I've been behaving." Ginny had to strain her ears to hear him.

"Well, it would be the grown-up thing to do."

He swallowed hard enough that she could see it, before taking out a fresh sheet of parchment. Given the choice between writing to Professor Lupin and apologising to his best friends, it seemed he suddenly found the letter a much easier task.

Ginny turned another page in her History of Magic text, quickly skimming over a few paragraphs before striking something that made her stop and reread more closely. She couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled to the surface.

Harry's quill stopped scratching. "What's so funny?" Then he reached over and tilted up the cover of her book so he could get a look at the title. "Now you've got to tell me… What could you possibly find funny in there."

"Gefinn."

"Sorry?"

"As well as you did on your NEWTs, and you don't know who Gefinn is?"

"Erm, no, can't say that I do. I don't think we had anything on him."

"Her, you mean. She's a goddess of Norse legend. I suppose it is a minor detail. She's only mentioned in passing… I'll try to remember not to go over this bit for my NEWTs next spring."

"Yeah, every little bit helps… Anyway what did she do that's so funny."

"Well, she seems to have been a goddess of maidens. Unmarried women were believed to go to her halls when they died. But there was this necklace she wanted, so she prostituted herself for it…"

"I suppose it is a bit ironic," said Harry, starting to grin a little.

"Yeah, the goddess of virgins, and she's a prostitute herself. Strange what some people will believe in."

She went back to her homework, but she could feel that he was still watching her. She wondered if he was thinking about what was going to happen in just over a month when she would return to school. It wasn't going to be easy for her to leave him behind, especially when he seemed so fragile. But maybe it would be good for him, in a sense. Difficult, but good all the same. She wasn't going to be there all the time to be strong for him and drive him out of his shell when he closed himself off. He was going to have to learn to do that on his own. And she was going to have to learn to let him go so that he could.

No. She wouldn't think about that now; she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. She might not have the old Harry back just yet, but he was in there, and she missed him. Sometimes she caught glimpses, and she would remain in his company hoping for as many as she could grasp.

The summer breeze suddenly grew stronger, whipping her hair into her eyes. She pushed it out of her face, irritated, but it kept coming back. When she could stand it no more, she stood suddenly.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry looking up.

"To get something to tie my hair back with. I can't get anything done with it blowing into my eyes like this." He looked as if he was about to get up, as well. "Stay there. I won't be a minute."

"No, sit. I'll go get it for you."

"How will you know where to look?"

"I know where your room is… I imagine I'd just have to dig a bit."

"No, there's no way I'm letting you turn my room upside down when I can just do it myself," she replied lightly, smiling.

"Well, maybe you'd get some more done if I got out of your hair," he said getting to his feet. His tone was as light as hers had been, but she saw he was perfectly serious.

"Don't be silly, Harry, of course you're not bothering me." He still looked hesitant, so she reached out a hand and touched his arm. "Please, stay."

He stared down at her, and she met his gaze steadily. She thought he looked as if he might take a step nearer. If he took one, and she took one then they'd be close enough for him to lean down to her and…

Suddenly Ginny's range of vision was obscured by the back of a blinding orange T-shirt. "Ron, gerroff!" she cried, giving him a shove, which only served to make him stagger into Harry. At the same time, Harry said, "Ron, you're my best friend, and I'm quite fond of you, but I really think snogging is pushing things a bit too far, don't you?"

"Sorry about that," Ron replied, stepping to one side. "Last time I let the twins give me Apparition pointers."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I could have told you that much. Why would you believe anything they told you? They probably gave you pointers on the best way to splinch yourself. You've only had eighteen years' experience to go on. Honestly!" But her irritation was false, because she could see that Harry's eyes were sparking with good humour, and it sent a jolt of elation through her.

"Ron, what happened?" Ginny turned to see Hermione coming out of the house. "You were supposed to end up inside the house. You completely missed the mark and landed on the other side!"

Ron shrugged. "I was tired of practicing. Come on, Hermione, what do we need to practise so much for?"

"You obviously need to work on it some more. You were off by at least fifty feet!"

"What do you need your Apparition test for anyway? It's not as if you're going to need it."

"Why wouldn't she need it?" asked Harry.

"Hermione had a job offer along with her NEWT results," explained Ron. "If she accepts it, she'll be working up at Hogwarts. And we all know what that means…"

"Oh, honestly, Ron!"

Hermione tried to cut him off, but he went on as if she hadn't tried to interrupt. "You can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds! You'll have to travel by Floo," he teased.

"Well, if I'm on staff, I expect I'll be living in the castle," Hermione pointed out, which made Ron suddenly stop smiling.

But then he grinned evilly. "Do you think you'll be allowed conjugal visits? Maybe that's what made McGonagall so sour all the time…"

"Ronald Weasley!" cried an outraged voice. No one had noticed Ginny's mother come out and join the group, but she must have followed Hermione out of the house. Hermione blushed deeply, and Ron's ears went scarlet. "If you know what's good for you, you'll explain that comment to my satisfaction!"

"It's only a joke, Mum…" Ron began.

"Congratulations, Hermione," Harry said quickly, no doubt hoping to steer the conversation into safer waters. "What's the job offer?"

"Madam Prince apparently didn't recover from the injuries she sustained in the battle at Hogsmeade, and she's planning on retiring. She's decided to hand pick her successor, and she chose me."

Ginny wasn't sure what she thought of this news. She'd never imagined Hermione spending the rest of her life in Hogwarts library, no matter how much time she'd spent there during her years as a student there. Harry may have been thinking along the same lines, for he said, laughing, "You're not actually going to accept, are you?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked slightly uncomfortable. "I haven't quite made up my mind yet…" But Ginny had the impression she had, and she didn't want to admit it.

"Perhaps you should look and see what else is out there, dear," added Mrs Weasley. "I'm sure this is a nice offer, but a clever girl like you can do whatever you set your mind to. Arthur could look into openings at the Ministry."

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, her tone rather dismissive.

Yes, Ginny thought, she's already decided, but why?

Her mother looked as if she was ready to lay into Ron once more, and Ron must have sensed it as well. "You know, Hermione, you're absolutely right about me needing more practice at this. I won't be accepted into Auror training if I haven't got my license."

Before anyone could say another word, Ron's face took on a look of deep concentration, and he disappeared.

"That boy…" his mother said after him. "Now where's he got to?"

Hermione laughed. "No doubt, fifty feet away from wherever he meant to appear."

Ginny's mother sighed. "He's going to turn out like Charlie and have to take his test over."

Ginny wondered if anyone else had been struck by the way her mother had mentioned Charlie so casually. Why couldn't her mother see--why couldn't any of them see--that bringing up Charlie was like bringing up Harry's lack of powers. It could be mentioned without the world falling to pieces, without everyone bursting into tears. It was a topic that ought to be broached with sensitivity, of course, but not one to be avoided at all cost. Now that Harry seemed to be taking steps to accept his situation, perhaps they could all stop walking on eggshells around him. Perhaps they could all take another step towards some semblance of normalcy.

Ginny's mother was now eyeing the rest of them closely, and Ginny wondered if her mum had sensed that she and Harry had begun to patch things up. She was relieved when her mother's scrutiny settled on Hermione. It looked very much as if Molly was going to ask Hermione to explain Ron's comment.

Hermione had to have sensed it, as well, for she took a step backwards. "I'd best see where Ron has got to. Wouldn't want him to splinch himself…" And then she, too, Disapparated.

"If either of them thinks they can hide from me, they'd better think again," Ginny's mother muttered, before stalking off towards the house, leaving Harry and Ginny alone once again.

Ginny turned to look at Harry saw his eyes were still shining with mischief. "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can find them before your mum does."

Ginny smiled at him. "I suppose it is more fun than working on my homework, but how are we going to manage to find them? If they're clever about it, they'll keep moving…"

"Well, it'll be like going for a walk, won't it? Come on."

He took her hand, and Ginny decided it was really best not to protest. Her hand fit so naturally into his. Ginny had missed this so much. They took a long walk around the Weasley property, taking care to remain within the wards, in case any reporters might be lurking about, and it was late afternoon before they decided to go back to the house. They'd seen no sign of Ron or Hermione, and Ginny thought her mother was going to be hard-pressed to find them and tell them off.

But as they were passing the shed on the way back to the house, Harry stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Ginny asked him.

"Shh… I heard something."

Ginny strained her ears, and she heard it, too. There were voices coming from inside the shed. And they were arguing. Harry leaned in close and spoke into her ear. "I think we've found them."

They exchanged a look and stepped closer so they could hear what Ron and Hermione were saying.

"I still can't believe you said that in front of your mother!" they heard Hermione admonishing. "Honestly, I don't know what got into you!"

"I didn't know she was there, Hermione," Ron replied. "I didn't hear her come up. You think I would have said something like that in front of Mum?"

"I don't know, Ron. You don't always think before you before you open your mouth, do you?"

"Keep your voice down, Hermione, do you want her to find us?"

Ginny had to bite down on her lip to keep from giggling, and Harry must have felt that she had the urge to laugh, because he nudged her. But that only made matters worse.

"As if she wouldn't find us out here in the shed. I'm surprised she hasn't found us already."

"We could move again."

"Where? Up to your room? That's the first place she'd look!"

"She wouldn't see us if we borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak. It's up there."

"How are you going to get past her to get it? I'm sure she's got the house staked out."

"I'll Apparate!"

"Oh, that's a good one, Ron. You'll Apparate fifty feet off the mark, come out in thin air, and fall."

"You have such confidence in me, don't you?" Ron sounded hurt now. "I'm getting better at it, you know. I managed to Apparate into the shed without missing, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you almost managed to splinch yourself. If you do that, your mum is going to find you, and then there will be no escaping her."

"No worries there. I won't splinch myself. The twins told me how to do that in detail. I just do the opposite of what they tell me."

This statement was met by silence from Hermione, and Ginny imagined she was rolling her eyes at Ron. She was shaking with suppressed laughter now, and although she knew she shouldn't be listening to this, it was too much fun. It was too much like old times.

"Anyway," Ron was going on, "we'd best move again. Let's just go up to my room and get the invisibility cloak…" He paused, and when he went on, his voice had gone serious. "D'you think Harry would mind if I borrowed it? You know, he seems a lot better today for some reason."

Ginny stopped laughing and turned to Harry. He was looking back at her soberly. She could tell what he was thinking… that this was his cue to go in there and apologise to them both for his behaviour over the past few weeks. She squeezed his hand and nodded once.

Harry took a few steps back and approached the shed door making quite a lot of noise in the process. The voices inside fell silent, and Ginny was afraid for a moment that Ron and Hermione would think it was her mother that had found them and would Disapparate.

Harry must have been thinking along the same lines. "Don't worry, it's only me," he called. "No need to panic."

"Keep it down, Harry," Ron's voice hissed from inside. "We don't want Mum out here."

"Can I, um, come in then?"

"Yeah, as long as no one sees you."

"I've get Ginny with me."

"Just get in here, and be quick about it!" came Hermione's voice.

Ginny suspected Harry was enjoying this, in spite of the seriousness of what he was about to do. They entered the darkness of the shed. Ron and Hermione were nowhere in evidence. "Where are you two?" Ginny called.

"Over here," came Hermione's voice from behind the Muggle washing machine Ginny's dad had been fiddling with for what seemed like an eternity now. It apparently made for a convenient hiding spot.

Ron and Hermione made room for Harry and Ginny to sit on the floor with them. Ginny waited for Harry to say something, but he suddenly seemed tongue-tied. In the half-light of the shed, she could see he was looking down at his hands. Ron and Hermione seemed to sense he had something important to say to them, and they waited for him to begin.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you said about the invisibility cloak," he began slowly. "And I just wanted to let you know, you're free to borrow it any time you want. You don't have to ask. Either of you can have anything of mine you want. I hope you know that. Although you can't have my Firebolt. I gave it to Ginny."

"Harry…" Hermione began.

"No, don't interrupt me. I have to say this. There's a lot of things I'm not going to be needing anymore, and you can have anything you want out of it."

Hermione broke in on him again, sounding more alarmed this time. "Harry, we don't want your things… What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing bad. Don't worry. Ginny and I had that talk yesterday. I guess what I'm really trying to say is, I've been a complete prat for the past few weeks. Worse than that. Prat doesn't even begin to cover it. And I know there's nothing I can do to make up for it. But I am sorry for the way I've been acting, and I promise to try to do better. I don't know if I can, but I'll try. I just seem to say things I don't mean lately. I don't want to say them; I don't even know where it's coming from most of the time. It just pops out of my mouth before I can stop it…" Harry said all this while looking down at his hands.

Hermione gave an audible sniff. "It's all right, Harry, really. We understand this has to be very difficult for you. Don't we, Ron?"

Ginny saw her give Ron a nudge with an elbow. "Yeah, mate, it's all right."

"Well, I'm going to try. I'm going to write to Remus Lupin…"

"That's good, Harry," Hermione said.

"Just do me a favour, will you?" Harry went on. "It's okay to talk about magic in front of me. You don't have to pretend you're Muggles around me. I mean, doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? One of the reasons we wanted to get rid of Voldemort was to stop the terror on Muggle-borns, wasn't it? If he'd had his way he'd have terrorised them all into not using their magic, wouldn't he?"

"He would have done a lot worse than that, mate," Ron said. "No telling where he would have stopped."

"Ron," Ginny broke in, not wanting this conversation to become side-tracked, "I think we all know that."

"Right. Anyway forget about you being a prat. I'd have gone mad if I were you. We weren't mad at you, we were worried."

Hermione leaned over and squeezed Harry's hand. "No one blames you for the way you acted."

Harry opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, they heard a noise out in the yard. "Arthur?" Ginny's mother was calling, and from the sound of things she was heading in the direction of the shed. "Is that you already? I didn't know you were home yet…"

Ron and Hermione shot to their feet, exchanging a panicked look. "Go!" Ginny hissed to them, getting up.

"But you and Har-" Ron began.

"Just get out of here," Harry urged. "Don't worry about us."

They needed no further encouragement. In the next instant they'd gone, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the shed. Ginny knew her mother was going to jump to conclusions if she came into the shed no matter what she saw, so it probably wouldn't matter if she witnessed just a bit more. She knew it hadn't been easy for Harry to swallow his pride and apologise to Ron and Hermione, and she wanted him to know that she recognised that.

"Harry," she said, putting her arms around his waist, "that was well done. I know it wasn't easy for you."

She thought he let out a breath of surprise as she hugged him close. But he didn't have the chance to reply to her or even settle into her embrace. Her mother had opened the door to the shed and cleared her throat. Ginny released Harry and turned to face her mother, who was standing with her arms crossed and looking at the two of them knowingly.

"What's going on in here?"

"We thought we heard Ron and Hermione," Ginny replied quickly.

"Really?"

"We did hear them," added Harry, "only they Disapparated again."

Ginny's mother looked at them sceptically. "Well, come on out of there. Ginny, I need you to help me with dinner," she added in a tone that Ginny knew meant business.

She followed her mother into the house, thinking it wasn't fair that Harry had got off the hook. "It looks as if the two of you have made it up," her mother said as soon as they were in the kitchen.

"Well, yes, we did have a long talk yesterday."

"While you were cutting his hair?"

"He'd tried to do it himself, Mum. It was really awful. Someone had to do something about it."

"You did a good job on it… Ginny, just remember what I said about being careful."

Ginny was extremely grateful her mother let the subject drop after that, and together they went about the business of getting supper ready. She couldn't help notice, however, that her mother muttered occasional comments under her breath, and all of them were along the lines of wishing she had an extra pair of eyes.

The family was all seated around the tables outside much later, having finished another delicious meal. The twins, Bill and Pauline were still staying at the Burrow, although according to the twins, they might be able to relocate to the rebuilt Zonko's fairly soon. As Ginny's mother rose and waved her wand to clear the dirty dishes from the table in anticipation of dessert, her father cleared his throat.

"I've been asking round at the Ministry today, Harry. There will be positions opening up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Ginny caught her breath, as she watched Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat. The rest of the table seemed to tense, as if everyone were expecting an angry outburst. "Thank you, Mr Weasley," he said. "No offence, but Magical Law Enforcement? Would I be qualified?"

"They're going to need help in the office itself, Harry. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement isn't just Hit Wizards and Aurors. It's also the Council of Magical Law, and they're going to have their hands full very soon, if I don't miss my guess. There are going to be trials, lots of them. And trials mean paperwork, and paperwork needs looking after. There will be openings for desk jobs, which don't really require the use of magic, just as there will be need for more Aurors."

"That would be brilliant, Harry," Ron chimed in. He and Hermione had turned up just as supper was being put on the table. "We'd be working in the same department!"

"Not if you don't fill out the application," Hermione pointed out. His father had brought the application for Auror training home from the Ministry and given it to Ron just before supper. "You ought to work on that tonight if you want to be accepted into training next month."

Ron suddenly looked less happy about things. "I've had a look at that application, and it's about as exciting as a History of Magic essay," he complained.

"How's Apparition coming along?" asked Fred.

"Manage to splinch yourself yet?" added George.

"No, thanks to you lot, I've managed to avoid it. I just do the opposite of whatever you say," Ron shot back.

"He's getting better at it," said Hermione proudly. "Last few times, you were only about five feet off the mark."

"Just remember if you splinch yourself not to leave anything important behind," said Fred with a wicked grin.

"Yeah, Hermione might not appreciate that so much," put in George.

"And I suppose the two of you know from personal experience?" asked Ron, not missing a beat.

"That will do," said their mother with a glare at all of them, but Ginny noticed she looked longest at Ron. She hadn't forgotten his comment this afternoon, and Ginny was sure their father would be recruited to have a talk with Ron before the evening was through.

Ron had obviously picked up on his mother's mood, as well, for he disappeared rather quickly as soon as the meal was over, but he didn't go far. When the rest of the family came in, he was seated in a corner, a quill in his hand and several sheets of parchment on the table in front of him. Ginny was sure he was working on his application to Auror training, and this was borne out, as she approached him and heard him muttering under his breath.

"Question seven: Have you ever been in contact with illegal animals? Answer: no I have not, not even dragons." His quill was scratching away at the same time as his words.

"Erm, Ron," Harry began, "aren't they going to know you're lying on that one? They'll be sure to check your Hogwarts record and know you had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid for three years."

Ron seemed to come out of a trance. "Oh, that's right, isn't it? I'll have to change that." He picked up his wand to erase what he'd just written. "Er, what can I say so this doesn't look so bad?"

"Well, I wouldn't mention the dragons for one thing," advised Hermione. "That's just asking for trouble."

"Why would you even mention them?" asked Ginny. "It's not as if any of us were ever in contact with a dragon. Besides Harry, that is, and those were special circumstances."

She felt Harry nudge her, and then he was whispering in her ear, "I'll tell you later. It's a bit of a long story."

"Ron, just tell them the truth," Hermione said. "Just say you have been in contact with certain creatures that are classified by the Ministry as being dangerous, but it was in an academic situation."

"Yeah, that sounds good…" Ron scribbled down her answer. "Question eight: Have you ever brewed illegal potions… Erm, Hermione…"

"Well there's no need to tell them about that."

"Right. Answer: no."

Meanwhile Hermione had moved so she could see over Ron's shoulder. "Honestly, Ron!"

"What?"

"You've lied on every single one of these!" She snatched up the parchment and began to read aloud. "Have you ever broken school rules? No?" Ron looked sheepish. "Have you ever cheated on homework or exams? No?!"

"Now hold on there, I only ever cheated on Divination homework, and that's not a real subject!"

"True, they'll hardly care about that. That can stay. But have you ever used illegal items? And you said no?"

"When have I used an illegal item?"

"Do the words 'flying car' mean anything to you?"

"Oh. But I didn't bewitch it to fly…"

"No, but you used it. And it was in the newspaper, and it's certain to be on your school record. Ron, you're going to have to tell them about this…"

Ron sighed heavily. "All right. But this is a nightmare, it really is. You haven't seen the worst of it. I have to write an essay on what I think my strengths and weaknesses as an Auror would be. And I need to get a recommendation from one of my teachers."

"That's easy enough," said Harry. "I'm sure Professor Flitwick or Professor McGonagall would put in a good word for you."

"It's not that simple, Harry," Ron groaned. "They've chosen the teacher for me. They say it's done at random to ensure an impartial review."

"And who have they chosen for you?" asked Ginny, although from Ron's demeanour it looked as if the choice was not a favourable one.

"Snape! And just look at question four!"

"Have you ever cursed an adult in authority?" Hermione read.

"Face it," said Harry. "You're dead."

"I know," Ron said despondently, "but, if I don't give it a shot, I'll just never know, will I? Will you help me with this, Hermione?"

"Yes, of course."

They worked on Ron's application for the rest of the evening, while Ginny did some more of her summer assignments. Harry got out his letter to Professor Lupin once more, but partway through the evening, his put the parchment away and disappeared. Half an hour later, Hermione got up and said she was going up to bed. As she passed by Ginny, Hermione motioned with her head that she wanted Ginny to follow her.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"I'll tell you upstairs."

Ginny rose from her seat and moved in the direction of the stairs. Voices coming from the kitchen make her pause, and she put her hand out to hold Hermione back.

"Oh, Harry, of course it's all right," Ginny's mother was saying, and she sounded rather teary. "We all understand…"

Harry replied something, but Ginny couldn't hear what he said. her neck, she peered around the doorway into the kitchen, and saw her mother was hugging Harry tightly. She smiled to herself. He must have apologised to her parents for his behaviour now, too.

Up in Ginny's room, Hermione closed the door and cast a silencing charm. Ginny looked at her friend questioningly.

"I don't want this conversation to be overheard," Hermione told her. "Pauline may come up, and I want this to remain between the two of us."

"What's this about, Hermione?"

"It's about that job offer I had. I'm going to take it."

"So I gathered from the way you sounded when you told Mum about it. But I can't help but wonder why. It's not the most exciting job in the world, is it? And as former Head Girl it's not as if you won't get any other offers."

"You're right, Ginny. Normally I wouldn't consider taking this." She paused and smiled. "I know if Ron were here, he'd be teasing me about how much time I liked to spend in that library, and here's my chance to spend the rest of my career there… But anyway. I thought that if I took this job, I might be able to find out something useful. I'd have access, you see, access to all the books."

Ginny had no idea where Hermione was going with this. "What do you think you're going to learn while you're there? And why is it such a secret?"

"I want to try and find some way to restore Harry's powers to him, and if I take the position at the library, I'll have all that information at my disposal. If it's possible, it'll be in the library. Somewhere. I'll just have to find where it is. But I want this to be kept a dead secret, because I don't want him to know we're doing this."

"We?"

"I thought you could help me. What if there's something in some of those ancient texts? You're much better at the runes than I am."

"Of course I'll help you, Hermione. If he could get his powers back… Oh, Hermione, you don't know what he said to me yesterday. He told me he was going to miss flying more than anything else. He gave me his broomstick. Insisted I take it. If he could only fly again, he'd be so happy…"

"If it's possible, we'll find the way, Ginny. But he can't find out about this, until we're certain it's going to work. I don't think he could stand it if he got his hopes up and it didn't work. Are we agreed on that?"

"Yes."

"Ginny… I think I owe you for keeping that spell a secret. Harry insisted on it, or I would have told you. I don't think it would have made any difference in the end, though. None of us would have been able to stop him once he knew what he needed to do. You didn't see what he was like. It was frightening."

"It's all right, Hermione. You're right, no one would have been able to stop him. I don't know if I could have stopped myself from trying… I never will…"

"In any case, if we can find a way to restore his powers, it won't matter anymore. This will all be like a bad dream and we can forget about it."

Ginny couldn't agree more with that assessment. She had no idea if it was even possible to restore Harry's powers to him. She only knew that if there was even a remote chance at it she was ready to do whatever was necessary to achieve that goal. As she lay in bed later that night, listening to the others' steady breathing and waiting for sleep to overtake her, she repeated that thought to herself, until it became a vow.

To Be Continued…

As Harry woke up on the morning of July thirty-first, he felt a sense of disquiet overtake him. The fact that it was his birthday only served to increase his worries, as he thought of how different this birthday already was from the seven that had preceded it. He'd grown used to staying awake until after midnight to await the flurry of owls that always arrived with cards and presents. Last night, he had not bothered to sit up late. He'd known it was an exercise in futility. But that was not the main reason behind his feelings now. He'd been working hard at trying to accept the fact that there would be no owls for him today. After all, he was at the Weasleys' so it wasn't as if his birthday was going to be completely ignored. No, the real reason for his worry now was the fact that Hedwig had still not put in an appearance.

She'd flown off in what he'd thought was a snit a little less than a week ago now, but he'd thought that would blow over in a few days. It hadn't apparently. He went over to the window and looked in vain for a flash of white feathers tipped with black, but the sky outside was empty. He was beginning to get the feeling she'd never come back.

It was just something else he was going to have to learn to accept, he told himself, but he still felt as if he'd lost a good friend. He remembered feeling something similar when he was twelve and Dobby had managed to stop the letters Ron and Hermione had sent to him. He'd thought he'd lost their friendship then, as well, but this cut much deeper. He'd owned Hedwig for seven full years now, after all. She'd been his faithful servant up--and more than that, his friend--until he'd let his temper get the better of him last week…

He made himself take out some clothes and head down to the bathroom. It was his birthday, and he resolved not to let this bother him. But he'd no sooner sat down at the breakfast table to a chorus of birthday greetings, when something else happened to make everything just a bit worse. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were already seated round the kitchen table when he came into the kitchen. As Harry reached for the butter to spread on his toast, several owls flew into the room. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts when the morning post arrived. One of the owls was simply delivering the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, but the others crowded around Hermione, Ron and Ginny, vying for their attention.

Both the girls seemed to have received two letters this morning--Harry could see what looked suspiciously like a Hogwarts seal on one of the envelopes that was addressed to Ginny. But then Hermione had one too.

It was Ron, however, who opened his letter first. He let out a whoop of joy. "I can't believe it!" he shouted. "They've actually accepted me into Auror training!"

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs Weasley, as she came over with a skillet full of scrambled eggs, and began heaping them onto Harry's plate. She put an arm around Harry and gave him a squeeze. "Happy birthday, dear."

As Harry watched, Ron read through his letter, the tips of his ears growing gradually redder. "I don't believe it!" he said again, beginning to laugh.

"What don't you believe?" asked Hermione.

"Listen to this: 'Dear Mr Weasley,' " he read. " 'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Auror training. You are to report to training headquarters…' Hang on, the good bit is further on. 'Under normal circumstances, we would have rejected your application, given the high number of illegal incidences you admitted to being involved with. However, due to the mitigating circumstances, which explained these aberrant occurrences, we have decided to overlook them…' What do they mean by that?"

Hermione laughed. "I think it means you gave them a good excuse for each case you had to explain to them."

"Oh, right. Well, thanks for helping me with that, then."

"Snape must have put in a good word for you, as well," said Harry. "He really is going soft in his old age."

"I've only got one problem here," said Ron. "They want me to have my Apparition test before I report for training."

Hermione patted his arm. "You've been doing loads better, Ron. You only miss the mark every fourth or fifth try now, and then it's only by a few feet. You'll get it, if you keep practising."

"Easy for you to say, Miss I-Can-Apparate-and-I-Don't-Even-Need-to-Know-How."

"Even if I am living up at Hogwarts, I'm sure I'll be able to find a reason to Apparate every now and then. It's a nice enough walk down to Hogsmeade, and from there, I can Apparate wherever I want to. Here to the Burrow, for example."

Harry was certain Hermione was avoiding anything that might sound like a conjugal visit to Mrs Weasley. She was keeping a much closer watch on all four of them since last week, it seemed to him. She had developed a knack for turning up unexpectedly if he and Ginny managed to find themselves alone for any length of time, at any rate. Ron seemed to have got the point, as well, for he didn't say another word about it.

"Speaking of Hogwarts," Hermione went on, "I've got a letter here from Madam Pince. She wants me to start learning how to take care of the library on Monday. That makes two of us starting work then," she added with a smile in Harry's direction.

Mr Weasley had told Harry last night that he'd been offered a position with the Department of Magical Law and could start on Monday if he decided to accept the offer. Harry had done so, since he doubted he'd be able to find anything better suited for him and still remain in the wizarding world.

"What else have you got there?" Ron had spied another letter addressed to Hermione. Harry noticed the envelope bore some strange, spiky handwriting that seemed familiar to him. Then he noticed that Ginny also had a letter addressed to her in the same handwriting. She was opening it slowly, her face reddening slightly as she did so.

Ron, meanwhile, had taken Hermione's letter out of her hand. "Ron!" she scolded. "That's my letter! I haven't even had a chance to read it yet!"

"What's Krum doing writing to you?" Ron asked, holding the letter out of her reach. Now Harry knew why the writing looked familiar. They'd seen it on a regular basis in Defence Against the Dark Arts class last year… for one term, at any rate. He wondered why Krum would be writing to both Ginny and Hermione.

Hermione managed to snatch her letter back from Ron. "I don't know why he's writing to me, and I won't know unless you let me read it." She took out the parchment and began reading it.

Ron then noticed Ginny's letter. "You've got one, too?" he asked, looking over at her. "What's the matter, one woman isn't enough for Quidditch boy? He has to chase two of them?"

"Honestly, Ron," snapped Hermione, "you know perfectly well what a decent person he is. This is just a friendly letter. Besides, he isn't going to be playing Quidditch this year."

"Is he mental? The league's sure to start up again."

"Perhaps, but he's taken a teaching position at Durmstrang."

"I thought you just got through telling me he was a decent person."

"He is. There's a new headmaster this year, someone who isn't going to teach the Dark Arts like Karkaroff did."

"What happened to Karkaroff?"

"It looks as if he was killed in some action on the continent. It happened a week or so before the Hogsmeade battle. Anyway, the new headmaster is opening the school up, according to Viktor. They're going to allow Muggle-born students to attend, and they're not going to hide the school anymore."

Ginny was reading her own letter and nodding as Hermione told the others what was in her letter. Ginny's version apparently agreed with Hermione's. Harry wondered why Viktor had written to Ginny, but then he remembered an overheard apology while he was lying in the hospital wing last month. It looked as if Viktor was making an overture at friendship, the sort he had with Hermione. They might exchange letters every now and then. It wasn't the sort of thing he felt he needed to worry about. After all, he didn't get the feeling Ron was really jealous of Viktor Krum; Ron only liked to pretend he was to get under Hermione's skin.

Harry continued to watch Ginny out of the corner of his eye, while he ate. She put down Viktor's letter and picked up what was evidently her Hogwarts letter. She opened it, and Harry saw her eyes run down the page. He leaned over to her. "You know, you can have any of my books… if you want them, that is."

"Well, it's just the two on my list."

Harry remembered his list from the previous year. All he'd needed where was the book on taking the NEWTs and the highest level of the Standard Book of Spells.

"Look at this," Ginny said to him suddenly. "I've got dress robes on my list."

"Looks like we got off lucky, eh, Harry?" Ron commented. "If they're having some sort of fancy dress occasion this year, we finished school just in time. We won't have to go to it."

"Well, you know, Ron," said Hermione, "you might have had more fun at the Yule Ball if you hadn't spent the entire time stewing over Viktor Krum."

"I did not…"

"Yes, you did. And if you didn't enjoy yourself, it's your own fault."

Ron opened his mouth and closed it again. Hermione had got him there, Harry felt. He'd not had a very good time at the Yule Ball, either. He remembered Ginny going with Neville that year and having her feet trodden on. He supposed she'd had a miserable time as well, and he wondered if things would have been any different if she'd gone with him, as Ron had purposed. In retrospect, he didn't really think so. He'd not been in a position to notice Ginny then. But now things were much different.

"Do you think there's going to be a Yule Ball this year?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "If they were going to hold another Tri-Wizard Tournament, you'd have thought we'd have heard something by now."

"Nah," said Ron, "they kept that a secret. We didn't hear about it until the Sorting Feast, remember?"

"I know, but Percy kept hinting, and that's his department. Mum, too. We'd have heard something."

"I can't imagine they'd be holding it again so soon," Hermione added. "Not after what happened at the last one. And we've been at war. Everyone has. Not just here in England but on the continent, too. I don't imagine the various Ministries have been thinking about organising anything like another tournament."

Harry knew Hermione was probably right. He was about to finish his last forkful of eggs, when a movement outside caught his eye. He thought he'd seen a flash of white. He got up quickly and went over to the window, but by the time he got there, he saw nothing.

"What's the matter?" Ginny's voice carried over from the table.

"Thought I saw Hedwig, but I guess I was mistaken," he replied, still looking out the window.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "She'll come back." He put his hand over Ginny's, and hoped she was right.

After breakfast Ron and Hermione disappeared fairly quickly, saying that Ron needed more Apparition practice if he was going to pass his test in time to enter Auror training. Harry hung around outside not sure what to do with himself. He'd finished his letter to Remus Lupin and sent it off with Pigwidgeon two days ago. There had been no reply so far, but Harry wasn't really expecting one quite so soon. Ginny had kicked him out of the kitchen, and he suspected she was making him a birthday cake.

At one point, curiosity got the better of him, and he tried to stick his nose into the kitchen, but Ginny headed him off rather quickly. "If you can't mind your own business, I'll have to find you something to do!"

"It's my birthday! I shouldn't have to do chores!"

"So I've heard. It doesn't mean you can't make yourself useful. Go and de-gnome the garden!"

He knew better than to try to hang around the kitchen after that. He was damned if he was going to actually de-gnome the garden on his birthday. Just before lunchtime, Ginny came out into the yard with a large basket slung over her arm. "What's all this?" he asked as she came up to him.

"A picnic lunch. Come on." She took his hand, and they started walking towards the orchard.

"How did you manage to convince your mother to let us go off on our own like this?" he asked once they were out of earshot of the house.

"Well, it is your birthday, after all… and I promised we'd stay in sight of the house. It's better than nothing."

"We were better off back at school," he grumbled. But then he remembered she'd be going back to school next month, and he wouldn't. There really would be nothing left then. It was best if they could make good use of the little time they had, even if it did mean Mrs Weasley might be watching from a distance.

They went a little way into the apple trees, and Ginny spread out a blanket in a spot where they'd be visible from the house. "It's still not fair," Harry pointed out. "Ron and Hermione don't have to stay in a spot where your mother can keep an eye on them."

"I think they really are working on Apparition. That's why she isn't worried. Ron's really afraid he won't pass his test." She was taking a plate full of sandwiches out of her basket and setting it beside a jug of pumpkin juice.

"Ginny…" Harry began, but then he wasn't sure how he ought to continue.

"What?"

"Well, I was just thinking. If you have those dress robes on your school list, and well, if it's because there's going to be dancing, you're going to need a partner, aren't you?"

She stopped laying things out and pretended to smooth out the blanket for a moment. "I suppose so. If there's a dance."

"Ginny, I'm not much of a dancer, but will you let me know, and I'll make arrangements to come up to school?"

"Of course, Harry. Besides, you can't be any worse than Neville."

"I wouldn't want to bet on it." He reached for a sandwich, feeling hungry now that he'd got that out of the way. "If Hermione's there on staff, do you think Ron will come up and escort her?"

"You mean if there's a dance. Well, she's clever about it, she'll tell him it's a conjugal visit."

They laughed together and began to eat. After the sandwiches, Ginny pulled a plate of tea cakes out of her basket. "Sorry, I didn't put any candles on them. Mum's going to make you a proper cake tonight in any case."

"It doesn't matter." And he meant it. The time they were spending together was the important thing now. It was really all he cared about. So he was surprised when she took a wrapped package out of the basket and gave it to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A birthday present, silly. It isn't anything much."

He began to undo the wrapping, wondering when she'd had time to do any shopping. She hadn't gone out anywhere since they'd come home from school.

"A dragon?" he laughed when he'd got the box open and pulled out the plush toy inside. It was obviously not new, carrying that rough-about-the-edges look that marked most of the Weasleys' things.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything new. It used to be mine. Charlie gave it to me when I was little. That's why it's a dragon. His name is Puff."

"Puff?"

"Yeah, Puff. Is there something wrong with that?"

For some reason Harry thought of Ron's reaction to the name Ginny had chosen for his owl. "No, nothing at all," he said too quickly.

"Well, the twins always called him Poof."

Harry saw the corners of her mouth twitch as she tried to suppress a smile. He couldn't stop himself from laughing then.

"And, well…" She began again, but then she looked down and began to blush.

"What?"

"It's silly. You see, I'm going back to school next month, and I wanted you to have something of mine. I don't know why I settled on that. I used to sleep with it when I was younger, and… I guess I'm just being stupid…"

"No, you're not." He thought he knew what she was getting at. She was trying to give him a part of herself to keep with him while they were separated, and she'd chosen something innocuous enough that nobody else was likely to remark on it. But he could also tell it meant a lot to her. From the amount of wear on the toy, it looked as if she'd loved it very much.

"I wish it could be more."

"Ginny, you don't have to give me anything."

"It's not what I'd like to be able to give you."

"You've already saved my life once. What more could you possibly give me?"

"But I saved your life at a point when you'd rather I hadn't, didn't I?"

Harry was becoming less and less comfortable with the conversation. How did she know him so well? For years, she'd been Ron's little sister who had a crush on him. Even if she'd told him on other occasions that she loved him, there was still something about her feelings he had yet to fully comprehend.

"It's all right to admit it," she said when he didn't reply.

"I… I just don't know anymore. Maybe it would have been easier if I didn't come out of that confrontation alive… It would have been easier for me," he hastened to add. He remembered the talk they'd had last week as well as she did. It had given him a lot to think about. "It wouldn't have been easier for you."

"Not for me, and not for a lot of people. Ron, Hermione, Mum… the whole family. We're all glad you're still around."

"Even if I'm… less now?"

"But you're not. That's the whole point."

"Gin…" He wanted her to stop. There was something about the depth of her feelings that he didn't feel he deserved.

"You don't understand, do you? I may have started out having a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, but that ended a long time ago. I got to know you, Harry. You." She put her hand over his heart. "And I fell in love with you. Not your fame, not your powers, not your talent for playing Quidditch, but you."

She'd said something similar to this a week ago, the day she'd found him in the bathroom, but he still didn't quite believe it. He couldn't bring himself to, and she could sense it.

"I know you don't believe me, but I hope you will someday."

Ginny suddenly moved so that she was kneeling over him, almost facing him. She brought up a hand and lovingly brushed his hair back out of his face. The sun glinted off the gold bracelet he'd given her for Christmas. "You gave me seventeen roses for my birthday. I still have them, they're pressed in my rune dictionary. I haven't got any roses for you," she whispered.

He caught his breath as she leaned closer and took his face between her hands. Then she kissed his forehead. "That's one."

Her next kiss fell on his chin. "Two." One cheek, and then the other. "Three, four…" The next fell at the corners of his mouth. "Five, six…"

He somehow managed to kneel facing her, and his hands grasped her waist, while her lips touched the end of his nose. "Seven."

He held his breath in anticipation of the next one, knowing where it would fall. His hands flexed on her waist. Warm lips pressed against his all too briefly. "Eight."

He didn't know how much more he'd be able to stand before he gave in to the desire to kiss her in a way her mother would definitely not approve of. "Nine."

He tried to prolong the next one, but she ducked away too quickly. He'd have to be faster the next time. "Ten."

He still hadn't been fast enough, distracted as he was by the thought that he couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed her properly. "Eleven."

She lingered a bit longer on the next, but she still didn't open for him and allow him to taste. "Twelve."

He tightened his arms around her this time, determined to keep her there. He had her this time. It had been a long time since he'd felt this alive. Maybe thirteen wasn't such an unlucky number after all…

A sudden blow to the back of his head caused him to topple forwards, and his front teeth struck hers.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

He looked around to see what had so rudely interrupted them, half expecting to see Mrs Weasley glowering over him. But what he saw instead was Hedwig. She had landed on the blanket nearby and was glaring at him, but there was also a hint of satisfaction in her expression, which give Harry the sudden impression she'd been waiting for just the right moment to make her presence known.

There was a letter tied to her leg, and Harry hesitated before reaching out to untie it. From the way Hedwig was looking at him, he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't try to bite him. Hedwig finally held out her leg rather stiffly so Harry could untie the letter.

What he saw on the envelope caused his hand to start shaking and his heart to pound. For it was addressed simply to Harry Potter, with no specific location mentioned. "Hedwig, you can find me," he blurted, surprised.

If anything, Hedwig looked even more offended. She flew off to perch on the limb of a nearby tree. Harry stared after her for a moment, before turning back to his letter. He tore open the envelope, and immediately recognised Sirius' writing.

Harry read the letter again in disbelief over his godfather's feelings. He didn't blame Sirius in the least for going after Wormtail. It was the only way Sirius could ever hope to clear his name. He handed the letter to Ginny so that she could see it. He saw no reason why she shouldn't know about this. She was as much a part of his life now as Ron, Hermione, or Sirius.

He looked up into the trees and considered Hedwig. So she'd gone to Sirius in a fit of pique. He couldn't blame her. He'd behaved as badly with her as he had with everyone else. He'd apologised to the others; he only had this final apology to make.

"I'm sorry, all right?" he called up into the tree. "I was acting like a stupid git. You've proven to me now you're clever enough to find me no matter what. You didn't have to, you know. I realised that almost as soon as you flew off the other day."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers--she looked as if she was puffing herself up--but she continued to glower down at him, and he knew she hadn't forgiven him. Harry remembered back to his fourth year when she'd been put out with him. It had been over a lot less then, and yet it had still taken her a while to come around. It was going to take a lot longer this time.

"You can find me, anyway, and that's something," he said as much to himself as to his owl. And it was something to be happy about. Somehow he didn't feel quite as cut off from the wizarding world as he had.

Suddenly Hedwig spread her wings and took off, soaring upwards towards Ron's window. Harry swallowed hard.

"Harry," Ginny began. She was following Hedwig's flight, as well. "What's Hedwig going to do when she sees the dent in her cage? You know, the one that got there when you threw it out the window."

Harry didn't have time to reply. Hedwig came back out the window and flew straight towards him. He didn't have time to duck. She cuffed him hard on the head again with her wing before flying back towards the Burrow once more, but going in through the open kitchen window this time.

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "I guess that answers your question."

"Looks like she's going to take up residence with Errol."

"At this rate it's going to take a year before she's over being mad at me."

Ginny put an arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I forgave you. And if I did, surely Hedwig will."

"I didn't throw anything of yours out the window."

"You'd better not, either." She gave him an extra squeeze. "We'd best go in."

Harry helped her pick up the remains of their picnic and followed her back to the house. Just outside the kitchen door, Ginny pulled him aside. She reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. "Thirteen," she said, as she pulled back. Her eyes were dark with promise, but then she moved towards the door.

"Wait," he replied, taking her arm before she could go through the door. "Isn't that fourteen?"

"I had to do that one over. We were interrupted."

"What about the rest then?"

"I'll just have to surprise you, won't I?"

And she slipped into the house leaving him to wonder just how long he was going to have to wait for the rest. Her mother certainly wasn't making things easy for them, but he hoped Ginny could find a way around that particular obstacle, and the sooner the better. The month of August was looking as if it was going to pass very quickly indeed.

To Be Continued…

"…as much as possible. When Apparating over distances of greater than…"

"Hermione, will you stop?"

Hermione looked up at the sound of Ron's voice. She'd been idly stirring her porridge, but Harry could tell she wasn't even aware of what she'd been doing. "Stop what?"

"Muttering Apparition tips to yourself. You'll be fine."

"But I've never tried to Apparate over any sort of distance like this before."

"You passed your test, didn't you? The Ministry must think you're capable if they gave you a license."

Hermione and Ron had taken their Apparition test on the previous Saturday. To no one's surprise, Hermione had passed her test with flying colours. To everyone's surprise Ron had also managed to pass his test, except…

"They saw fit to give you a license, too, Ron," Hermione pointed out, "but it didn't stop you from winding up at the top of Stoatshead Hill when you tried to Apparate home."

"It was the shock," Ron admitted. "I honestly didn't think I'd pass. You, on the other hand, have nothing to worry about."

But Hermione, while she stopped muttering to herself, continued to play with her breakfast without eating it. She was still obviously nervous about something, but whether it was over Apparating up to Hogsmeade or the fact that she was starting a new job today, wasn't entirely clear to Harry.

He looked down at his own barely-touched bowl. At least she wasn't alone. Ron wouldn't begin Auror training until next week, but Harry would be beginning at the Ministry today, and he wasn't completely at ease with the idea. He'd spent the last month sheltered here at the Burrow, but now he'd be going out among strangers, strangers who would just assume he was magical, and who might expect him to do something special. He'd have to find a way to play along with him if he was going to keep his secret.

Meanwhile, the twins were talking about the rebuilding effort in Hogsmeade. Zonko's was now almost completely finished, and the twins were hoping to move back there in the next few days. But not everything was going as smoothly for some of the other merchants.

"We've heard rumours that Gladrags may not reopen their Hogsmeade store. It's never been as profitable as their other branches, and they think it may not be worth reopening."

"That would be a pity," commented Mrs Weasley. "The Hogsmeade branch was their original shop."

"Yes, but the fact of the matter is that store never sold as much as the others," said George. "London and Paris have a much larger population to cater to. It's obviously easier to turn a profit when you have more customers right at your doorstep."

"The problem is that it affects all of us," added Fred. "If one of the shops doesn't come back, it gives people less reason to shop in Hogsmeade in the first place. They'll be more likely to decide to go to Diagon Alley instead. It hurts everyone's businesses."

"With any luck, there will be Hogsmeade weekends this year at Hogwarts," Hermione said. "Perhaps Gladrags will decide it's worth reopening after all."

"Maybe," said George, "but Hogwarts students don't make up a big portion of their customers. They all wear uniforms, after all. It's not like the lot of them descend on Gladrags like they do on Zonko's."

"It's too bad…" began Mrs Weasley. "Ginny had dress robes on her school list this year. There could have been a way to encourage students to buy their dress robes in Hogsmeade, perhaps. Those who needed new ones, in any case."

Harry had to wonder if Ginny's parents would be able to afford a new set of dress robes for Ginny. The ones she's worn in her third year weren't likely to fit her anymore.

Mr Weasley got up from his place at the table. "We'd best be off, Harry. Don't want to be late the first day."

Harry stood to a chorus of general good wishes.

"Oh dear," said Hermione, "I'd better get going as well." She stood, looking slightly pale but determined.

"You'll be fine, Hermione," Ron told her again.

She gave him a nervous smile and drew her wand in preparation. "Have a good day," she said to everyone before she disappeared with a pop.

"Come on, Harry," said Mr Weasley as he headed towards the fireplace, "it's our turn."

But Harry suddenly remembered something. "My wand! It's up in Ron's room. I won't be a minute!"

He climbed the stairs two at a time, all the while berating himself for forgetting. He hadn't been keeping his wand with him at the Burrow--there hadn't been any reason to when everyone here knew he had no powers--but at the Ministry, he'd be expected to carry a wand. Even if it only was for show, no one but him knew that. He'd have to be more careful if he didn't want his secret to get out.

He retrieved his wand and pounded back down the stairs towards the kitchen, almost colliding with Ginny on the landing outside her room. She had evidently just climbed out of bed. Her hair was still tousled, and her dressing gown had been tied on rather haphazardly.

"Harry!" she cried, starting and putting a hand over her heart. "You gave me a fright."

"Sorry, I'm going to be late."

"Oh, and I overslept. I meant to get up and see you off."

"You're just in time, actually."

"Well, in that case…" She reached up and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Good luck for today."

"Was that number fifteen?"

"No, that was for today."

Ginny had tried to finish the birthday kisses over the weekend but had only managed to add one more to the tally so far. It wasn't for lack of trying; it was just difficult in a large family like the Weasleys' to get any sort of privacy, especially when Mrs Weasley insisted on keeping a close watch. Harry found himself hoping for number fifteen on the spot, but Mr Weasley was calling up the stairs for him.

"I have to go."

"I'll go down with you," Ginny said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Are you very nervous?"

"A little…"

"You'll be fine."

Harry wished he shared her confidence. "That's what Ron keeps saying to Hermione."

When they had reached the kitchen, Ginny gave his hand another squeeze before leaning close and kissing his cheek. George let out a wolf whistle. "Shut it," Ginny said to her brother. "See you tonight, Harry."

Mr Weasley had the flower pot where the Weasleys kept their supply of Floo powder in his hand. "Ready, Harry?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

Harry took a pinch of Floo powder out of the proffered flower pot and tossed it into the flames. They turned emerald green and roared higher. Harry stepped into them and said half-heartedly, "The Ministry of Magic."

Nothing happened.

"Try again," advised Mr Weasley. "You don't sound confident enough."

"That's because I'm not," thought Harry, but he kept that idea to himself. "The Ministry of Magic!" he tried again with more feeling, but still he remained rooted to the spot. In spite of the feeling of panic that was beginning to take over, Harry was still grateful about one thing. "At least I'm not burning," he grumbled.

"All right, Harry," began Mr Weasley. "Come out for a moment. We're going to have to do this another way."

Harry obeyed, not looking over at the breakfast table. He didn't want to see anyone's looks of sympathy. He hoped Hermione was having better luck than he was this morning.

Mr Weasley threw another pinch of Floo powder into the flames. "It's going to be a bit of a squeeze, but I think it'll work if we go together."

"Isn't it going to look funny if I always come into work with you?"

"We'll have to come up with another way to do this. No time for it now, though. It should be all right for today. We'll be coming out at a very out-of-the-way fireplace."

Harry knew that the Ministry of Magic wasn't supposed to be connected to the Floo network. Normally witches and wizards who had business at the Ministry and who wished to travel by Floo would come out at the Leaky Cauldron and walk from there. It was a security measure as much as anything, and officially the war was still going on, even though Voldemort hadn't been sighted in over a month and his followers were being rounded up. But Mr Weasley had a friend on the Floo Regulation Panel who had no doubt made some special arrangements.

Harry followed Mr Weasley into the fireplace and took hold of the back of the older wizard's robes when instructed to do so. "Hang on tight, Harry," Mr Weasley told him. "The Ministry of Magic!"

This time Harry felt the ground fall away with a whoosh, and the two began to spin past grate after grate. Harry was soon glad he hadn't bothered with breakfast, as his stomach began to churn. He gripped desperately at Mr Weasley's robes as the motion threatened to drive them apart, and he had no idea what would occur if that happened. All he knew was he definitely didn't want to come out in Knockturn Alley.

They came to a sudden, jarring halt, and the confined space in the crumbling grate was the only thing that kept Harry on his feet. Mr Weasley exited first, brushing off his robes. Harry followed, taking in his surroundings. They seemed to be in an old, neglected part of the Ministry. The walls may have been white at some point, but they were a streaky grey now in the spots where the paint hadn't peeled away entirely to reveal the crumbly brick beneath.

Harry followed Mr Weasley through a bewildering maze of corridors, and as they progressed, conditions began to improve gradually, although there seemed to be a surprising lack of doors along these passages. This was supposed to be the Ministry, so where were the offices? He was also beginning to wonder how he was going to find his way back to the fireplace at the end of the day. He felt much as he had during his first days at Hogwarts, when he was a mere first-year trying to find the potions dungeon.

"The head of your division is Badon Hill," Mr Weasley said, breaking the silence. "He was at Hogwarts about the same time I was. He was a year or so above me, in Ravenclaw."

Harry could tell from the older man's tone that he held Badon Hill in high regard. He nodded but didn't have time to reply, for they came upon a new and unexpected obstacle. One moment, Harry was listening to Mr Weasley tell him about his new boss, and the next he found himself face to face with one of the last people he expected, or indeed wanted, to see.

"Harry! How lovely to see you!" Rita Skeeter was smiling broadly at him, the light from the torches along the corridor glinting off her gold teeth.

Harry stiffened, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "What do you want?" he asked between clenched teeth. He knew it was rude, but he didn't care.

"Why Harry, I just wanted to ask a question or two. My readers are dying to know how you've been ever since you finished school. How it feels to be starting a new job. Whether You-Know-Who is really gone. Just a few small questions…"

"I'm terribly sorry," Mr Weasley broke in, "but we're both running late. Perhaps another time?"

"And you would be?"

"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

"Ah, yes, how lovely." But Rita's tone implied that meeting Mr Weasley was anything but lovely. "Harry, perhaps you'd like to explain how you came to choose a career in the Ministry."

"I believe you misunderstood me," Mr Weasley tried again. "I said we haven't got time for this now."

"It doesn't matter, Mr Weasley," said Harry. "I'm not going to have time for this either now or later. Goodbye."

And Harry started off down the corridor, without any clear idea where he was headed. Mr Weasley caught him up quickly, and took his elbow. "This way, Harry."

"Why did she have to turn up today of all days? And how did she know we were going to come this way?"

"I don't know the answer to that," replied Mr Weasley quietly. "She isn't exactly welcome here at the Ministry. Perhaps she found a way to sneak in, and reckoned she'd found a good place to hide." He began to walk faster. "First thing to do is to alert security about her."

Harry followed Mr Weasley with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was bad enough that he had to worry about his co-workers finding out about him. He didn't need the threat of Rita Skeeter exposing him in the press on top of that. And he had no doubt that she would expose him if she knew. Rita Skeeter liked to dig up dirt on whomever she could and she didn't care whom she embarrassed in the process.

They continued round more and more corners until Harry was sure he'd never be able to find his way out again. He wondered if this wasn't part of the security somehow. Anyone who infiltrated this place and didn't know his way would become hopelessly lost in no time. At least there were doors in this part of the Ministry. They all had labels. Harry noticed the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau and the Goblin Liaison Office in passing.

They finally came to a door marked Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Solicitors. Mr Weasley opened this door to reveal a large room with a counter running along the front of it, reminding Harry a bit of Gringotts. Behind the counter were several desks placed at random about the room. They all looked occupied, but no one looked up or acknowledged Mr Weasley. At the back of the room were two more doors: one bore a nameplate with the name Badon Hill engraved on it, while the other was simply marked Library.

Harry followed Mr Weasley through a swinging door in the counter towards the door marked Badon Hill, but before they could reach it, the door opened and a wizard emerged. He was about as tall as Mr Weasley and looked to be about the same age. His dark hair was streaked with grey, and his blue eyes were lively and sparkling. "Arthur!" he said jovially, extending a hand to Mr Weasley. "How are Molly and the children?"

"All fine, thanks. Sorry we're late. Had a bit of a run-in. You'll want to alert security. Rita Skeeter's skulking about the Department of Mysteries. Think she was looking for an exclusive on Harry, here. Harry Potter, this is Badon Hill, head of this division. Badon Hill, Harry Potter."

Harry put out a hand and shook Mr Hill's. "A pleasure, sir," he said politely, feeling suddenly like Percy.

"Likewise. I hope you'll like working with us. If you'll excuse me for just a moment…"

Mr Hill took Mr Weasley into his office, and Harry thought he heard Rita Skeeter's name come up again. He reckoned it wouldn't be long before security was alerted, and she was escorted out of the Ministry.

While he waited, Harry took a closer look at his surroundings. It looked as if he was going to be working here in some capacity, although he wasn't very clear yet on what he'd be doing. He noticed there was a smaller, vacant desk to one side of the room, near the counter and some filing cabinets. He supposed this was where he'd be working. The other desks were all occupied by witches and wizards, who all looked a lot older than Harry.

Suddenly one of the wizards looked up and caught Harry's eye. He had lank blond hair and very pale grey eyes, which did the all-too-familiar flick upwards to Harry's scar. He did not smile, but continued to stare at Harry for a minute or two, his mouth open slightly as if he normally breathed through it.

"I'll be leaving you here with Badon, Harry." Mr Weasley's voice caused Harry to turn his attention back to his new boss. "I'll come and collect you at the end of the day. Good luck!"

"Goodbye, Mr Weasley."

Harry's heart seemed to sink just a little as Mr Weasley's familiar figure disappeared into the corridor.

"If you'll come into my office, Harry," Mr Hill was saying, "we'll see about getting you settled."

Harry followed him into his office and took the seat he was offered.

"First order of business, Harry. Before we get into anything else, everyone in this office must take an oath of confidentiality. This means that anything that occurs in this office, be it the people passing through it or what is said, even by your co-workers in casual conversation, must be kept in strict confidence. If you are going to work for us you're going to have to agree to taking a magically-binding oath, to which you will remain bound for the rest of your life, even if you leave this department. Can you do that?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Would a magically-binding oath have any effect on him? And if not, shouldn't he make his boss aware of this fact? On the other hand, what was he going to say to anyone? He didn't think he'd have any problem holding to a confidentiality agreement on his own. Not only that, there was an advantage to everyone being under an agreement like this. If any of his co-workers worked out that he no longer had any magical powers, they wouldn't be able to tell anybody.

Mr Hill was watching Harry closely. "Yes, sir," Harry said at last.

He handed Harry a piece of parchment. "In that case, I'll ask you to stand, raise your right hand, and repeat what's written there."

As Harry stood, Hill drew his wand. "What's that for?" Harry asked.

"Just a simple Sincerity Charm. It won't make you sincere, but it will show me if you're sincere."

Harry swallowed and wondered what else the charm might reveal. He raised his right hand and began to read from the parchment, feeling a prickly sensation pass though him. "I, Harry Potter, do solemnly swear…"

Hill put up a hand to stop him. "Hold on a moment. Something's odd here."

Harry suddenly felt cold. "What's the matter?"

"This spell is behaving strangely for me. It's showing me you're sincere about the oath, but you're hiding something else. Something that may affect the oath."

Harry had to work hard at stopping himself from shaking visibly. He was going to have to tell Hill or not take the job, and if he decided not to take the job, Hill would know something was wrong with Harry. Harry didn't know if he could tell a virtual stranger about his lack of powers. He hadn't even told Sirius about it yet. And he didn't know if he could trust this man not to tell… although he too would be bound by the oath of confidentiality. Magically bound. Harry wasn't altogether certain what that meant, but it sounded to him as if it would be physically impossible for Hill to tell anyone anything that happened here. Harry himself had been magically bound to compete in the Triwizard Tournament during his fourth year, after all, and the idea that he could just refuse to compete had not entered his mind even once. Perhaps this oath worked the same way.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all," Harry hedged.

Hill lowered his wand slightly but Harry could see it was still trained on him. He was still being tested, and the idea made him more uncomfortable.

"What makes you say that?"

His tone was casual, but it did nothing to put Harry at ease. He hesitated until Hill finally spoke again. "I can see you're nervous about something, but you have something you're hiding from me."

"How can you tell?"

"From the spell I have over you."

"I don't remember learning anything that would let me know what a person is thinking at Hogwarts."

"I can't read your thoughts with it, but I can tell that you're hiding something. They wouldn't teach spells like this at Hogwarts. In any case they're a fairly recent development, but something like this comes in handy when you're a solicitor. You can use it on a client to see if they're giving you the whole story, you see."

Harry fidgeted for a moment in his seat. "That's very interesting."

Hill smiled. "You're not being quite so honest now. You wouldn't be trying to change the subject on me, would you?"

"I guess the spell just showed you that, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did." He paused for a moment before going on. "Harry, I'll be honest with you. It would be an honour for this entire department if you were a part of it."

Harry was stunned at this statement, but then he began to feel irritation rising in him. "But… but why? You don't even know me! It isn't like this is the sort of job where my scar is going to help you out!"

"No, it isn't. Perhaps you can tell me why you didn't take a job where it would."

"I never asked for the fame, and I never asked for this scar!"

"That may be part of the story but it isn't the entire story. Are you sure you can't tell me?"

Hill was looking at him expectantly, waiting for Harry to say something. Harry met his gaze and saw a pair of blue eyes that reminded him of Albus Dumbledore somehow. He remembered the previous year when he'd kept back information from the headmaster, information that could have led to potential disaster. That helped him make up his mind. He swallowed hard. "I think I know what the problem you were having with your spell may be."

"Yes?"

"First I need to know how this confidentiality oath works. Will anything I tell you now be covered under that?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Whether I end up working for you or not?"

"Yes, Harry."

"So you won't be able to tell anyone else about it?"

"I'd be able to tell one of the other people in this office about it, and I'd be able to tell some other people higher up in the Ministry, as they've also taken this oath. But I wouldn't be able to tell them for no reason at all. They'd have to ask me and they have to have good reason to know about it. It's all written out on that parchment."

Harry looked down at his parchment again and read through the entire oath. Hill had just summed it up in less formal language. Perhaps this oath was one reason why Mr Weasley had thought that Magical Law Enforcement would be a good department for Harry to work in. He took a deep breath. "All right then. I don't want what I'm about to tell you to leave this room."

Harry paused until Hill nodded his assent. "Oath or no oath, I wouldn't tell a soul, Harry."

"Last month, when I duelled with Voldemort I used an ancient spell on him, which was supposed to banish him from this world, but at the same time it robbed me of all my powers. And they're not going to come back. I know that. I can't even receive owls. Only my own can find me but that's because she knows me. So if this oath is magically binding, perhaps it won't work on me. I guess there's no point in me staying." He got up to leave.

Hill looked surprised for a moment, and then he let out a heavy sigh. "No, stay, please." He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. "Well, I suppose this explains a few things, like why someone like you, with your record, didn't go into Auror training. Or try out for a Quidditch team."

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly, taking his seat again. "So does this mean the magically binding part won't work on me?"

"In truth, I really have no idea. It's never been done before. However, I believe that the Sincerity Charm has proven that you're in earnest about taking the oath, and I am glad you told me about this. I suppose I'll just have to take your word for it. You may proceed. If you still want to, that is."

Harry raised his right hand slowly once more and began to read from the parchment. "I, Harry Potter, do solemnly swear never to reveal anything that transpires within the confines of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, be it job-related or otherwise, to anyone who is not also constrained by this oath of confidentiality. I shall only reveal that information, which it is necessary for me to reveal to others who are constrained by this oath."

When he'd finished, he lowered his hand and waited for Hill to say something. He wasn't sure why Hill was letting him take this job now that he knew about Harry's shortcomings, and he wasn't even certain he wanted to know the answer if he asked. He was afraid Hill would say what had already occurred to Harry: that if he didn't take this job, what job would he possibly be able to take and still remain part of the wizarding world?

"The second order of business here is to tell you what your job will entail. This office needs a clerk. Basically what that means is you will help out any of the solicitors who require help. And if someone comes into the office, you will be the one who directs them to whomever they need to see."

"And how am I supposed to help out the solicitors? I know nothing about the law."

"We'll come to that in a moment. A lot of what it entails is you getting out the appropriate files. You'll see the system. It's quite easy."

Harry was tempted to comment that if the system was so easy why couldn't the solicitors get their own files, but he didn't think that was a good idea on his first day.

"But," Hill went on, "another part of the job involves research. The staff here are probably going become very busy in a short amount of time and the cases they will be preparing will require research into precedents and such. They will not have time to adequately prepare if they have to look all this up themselves, so they may call on your help with their research."

"But…"

"It's all in the library. You only need to look it up for them. They can do the rest."

Harry's heart sunk a bit further. This wasn't a job for him; it was Hermione's dream job. Still, she and Ron had looked up legal defences for Buckbeak in their third year, so perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. Of course, Buckbeak hadn't won his case.

"I'll be getting you started in a moment. Your first assignment will be to become familiar with the laws of wizarding Britain. That will help you know where to look when it comes to helping research specific cases."

Harry tried to smile, but he didn't think he did a very good job of it. He just didn't feel he could get very excited about a job that revolved around research. But maybe he was wrong… There were going to be trials coming up, trials of former Death Eaters. He'd at least be helping put Voldemort's former followers into Azkaban, even if it was only in a small capacity. And there was Sirius. Maybe he could come across something that would help him.

Hill was standing and heading for the door. "Come along, and I'll introduce you to your co-workers. Don't be afraid to ask questions. They know you're new and have no experience with the law yet, so I'm sure they'll be prepared to give you plenty of help."

Harry followed Hill back into the main office, noticing immediately that no one reacted to their presence in the room. "They all have Silencing Charms cast about their desks. Keeps distraction to a minimum. That's one reason why we need you to answer anyone who comes in. They won't hear it if someone turns up at the counter."

"But what if I can't answer their questions?"

"Most of the people who come in here come in to meet with either me or one of the other solicitors. You won't have to respond to any sort of legal questions. You'll just have to direct them to whomever they're here to see."

Harry let out a breath. That didn't sound quite so bad, but he wondered what he was going to do all day, anyway. It didn't exactly look as if people were lining up at the door to meet with a solicitor.

Hill introduced Harry to the others in turn. The first was an elderly-looking witch named Delores Mutt. Next came Nigel Jones, Deirdre Pewty and Vivian Brooke. The last person Harry met was the wizard he'd noticed while he was waiting for Mr Weasley to finish with Mr Hill. His name was Gervaise St John, and he shook Harry's hand with a lot of showy enthusiasm. "The famous Harry Potter," he said rather loudly. "What a pleasure!" Something about his tone reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart for some reason.

"Now, Harry, if you have any questions, Gervaise here will be the one to ask," said Hill. "He used to have your job, but he's recently been promoted. Gervaise, you'll be sure and show Harry the ropes, won't you? Help him find his feet?"

"Absolutely, sir!"

"Fine then. Perhaps you'd like to show Harry the library and show him what he needs to read up on first so he'll be ready to help out with research."

Hill walked back to his office, leaving Harry with Gervaise St John. St John' smile faded almost as soon as Hill disappeared. "Come on, then. I haven't got all day."

Harry followed St John into the library, which was lined with shelves filled floor to ceiling with very thick tomes. St John began pulling volumes at random. When he'd collected four or five, he handed them to Harry. "Here, these will do to get you started."

Harry felt as if his arms were going to drop off under the weight of the law books. At the very least, he wouldn't be surprised if his arms didn't stretch a few inches as he lugged the stack over towards the empty desk near the counter. St John looked ready to abandon him there, so he spoke up. "Erm, how long do I have to read these?"

St John gave a bark of laughter. "Well, you don't really have to read them. You just need to be familiar with them. Go through them until you generally know which laws are explained where. I gave you those because those are the laws were most likely to need to look up in the next few months."

Harry looked at the titles and saw that the texts mostly had to do with Dark Arts offences. St John began to turn away once again. "Wait, what do I do if someone comes in?"

"They'll tell you who they want to see. You just show them to that person's desk." He sounded as if this should have been blatantly evident to Harry.

"And what about the files?"

"I haven't got time to go over that with you now," St John replied impatiently. "It's fairly easy to work out on your own. If someone needs a file, they can get it themselves for now. Let them show you how it works!"

Harry didn't dare say another word, because he was afraid that he'd blurt out what he was really thinking. He was glad that Hill and the others seemed a lot nicer. Perhaps one of them would prove to be more helpful. With a heavy sigh, he heaved the books onto his desk.

He sat down and opened the first volume in the stack. The pages were almost see-through they were so thin, and the print was so small Harry's eyes watered just to look at it. How was he ever going to become familiar with all this enough to know what was where? He propped his chin up on his hand and began to read.

It wasn't very long before he noticed that the author of this book tended to take quite a lot of words to say whatever he was trying to say. It just went on and on and on… Not unlike Professor Binns. Harry had to fight to keep from falling into a stupor, which was difficult when he had to read sentences over several times to work out what they meant. He was sure even Hermione didn't know what a lot of these words meant. He certainly didn't.

After a while he quit caring and read, but words and meaning were no longer sinking in. The sound of someone clearing his throat brought Harry out of a trance-like state. He looked up and blinked for a moment. There was someone standing at the counter, and Harry remembered he was supposed to see what he wanted, but he sat for a few seconds in surprise. Of all the people he could possibly have met his first day on the job, he'd never expected this.

"Well," drawled a familiar voice, "fancy meeting you here, Potter."

To Be Continued…

Harry stared for a moment longer in surprise before getting up and walking over to the counter. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy shook his head, a mock expression of hurt crossing his pointed features. "Come now, Potter. Is that how they taught you to respond to people? Whatever happened to 'How may I be of service, Mr Malfoy?' "

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you right. It sounded to me like you were mistaking yourself for someone important."

"What's the matter? Too good to be a civil servant?" He shook his head. "The great Harry Potter, relegated to an entry-level position in the Ministry. How my heart bleeds for you."

"Who are you here to see, Malfoy? If you have business in this department, things can't be going all that well for you, can they? Are they fitting out a private cell in Azkaban for you?"

"I was on Dumbledore's side in the last battle."

"So you say. It must have suited your ends. But someone must not believe you if you're here."

"That's none of your business, Potter."

Malfoy's face was beginning to flush pink, and Harry reckoned he must have touched a nerve. "Who are you were to see?" he asked again. "Whoever it is, maybe they'll be good enough to get you a reduced sentence."

"Hill," Malfoy grated.

Harry grinned. "Head of the division. Things must be really bad then."

"Just shut up and do what they're paying you to do. And for your information, if I was under suspicion of anything, I'd be talking to my own, private solicitor, not using one of the Ministry's."

Harry shrugged. "I just reckoned any solicitor your family had retained would be in as much trouble as you are. But have it your way. Hill's office is through that door." He indicated Hill's office by pointing. He'd be damned if he was going to lead Malfoy over to the office like some butler. "Don't forget to knock."

Draco sneered at Harry before heading towards Badon Hill's office. Harry felt a grim sort of satisfaction at the sound of knuckles on wood that reached his ears as he regained his desk. He sighed heavily. The law books hadn't magically disappeared or become any smaller while he'd been seeing to Malfoy.

He sat down again and forced himself to read about the trial of Hermenegild the Hideous, who'd been accused of bewitching Muggles to make their skin shrivel so that he could use it for potions ingredients, but who had been let off on a technicality, leading to the 1354 reform of… Harry felt himself drifting off into a stupor once more, as the words seemed to blur on the page. How anyone ever managed to stay awake long enough to get through this was beyond him.

Harry redoubled his efforts at concentration and began again. Some indeterminate time amount of later, a shadow fell across the page he was reading. "What are you doing, Potter? Trying to bore yourself silly?"

Harry sighed. Malfoy was back. "Don't you have somewhere else you need to be?" Harry asked peevishly. "I hear the holding cells down at the Auror division are quite cosy."

Malfoy looked at his watch with nonchalance. "As a matter of fact, I do have another appointment here, but it isn't for another half an hour."

"Well, you're not going to kill time by bothering me. I've got work to do."

"So I see." Malfoy turned the cover of Harry's book over so he could read it. "The Excruciating Details of Every Single Dark Arts Trial in Britain for the Past Millennium. Sounds fascinating. Do they actually pay you to sit round all day and read this rubbish?"

"At least I've got a job. That's more than I can say for your sorry Death Eater arse."

"That's what you think."

"That's what I know."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything."

"I know what you've got on your arm."

"And what's that?" Malfoy was suddenly rolling up the left sleeve of his robes. "There! See that?" He'd thrust his left arm in front of Harry's face. The skin on his forearm was perfectly clear and smooth.

"What did you do, Malfoy? How did you manage to get rid of it?"

"I didn't have to do a thing. It went away on its own." He was rolling his sleeve back down now. "It started fading after the battle in Hogsmeade. A few days later, it was gone entirely."

Harry stared at Malfoy but there was no lie discernible in the Slytherin's features.

"You see, there's no way of telling I ever had it." Malfoy sounded quite pleased with himself.

Harry didn't know what to say. His mind started whirling with thoughts. If the Dark Mark had disappeared from the forearms of all of Voldemort's former followers, then how was the Ministry going to be able to tell who had actually been a Death Eater and who hadn't? He suddenly began to understand what Mr Weasley and others had meant when they'd tried to explain how confusing times had been for the Ministry following Voldemort's first defeat. But then he remembered the Sincerity Charm Hill had used on him earlier. It had been a recent development, Hill had said. The Ministry could avail themselves of that and send the right people to prison this time.

Draco spoke again, bringing Harry out of his musings. "Well, it's been fun, Potter, but I really must be off. I've got another appointment, and it's probably going to take a while before I find where I need to be."

Harry watched Malfoy's retreating back, happy that he wasn't the only person who found the Ministry's labyrinthine passages confusing. He wondered what other department Malfoy could possibly have business with, and he wondered what Malfoy had been talking to Hill about. Malfoy had been right about one thing. If he was talking to the Ministry solicitors, he had to be co-operating in some capacity. And he had been on Dumbledore's side in Hogsmeade… Could Snape have somehow convinced him he was better off on that side? But he'd had the Dark Mark… Although he hadn't seemed to happy about that fact when Harry had discovered it last winter. Perhaps he had been forced into getting it. But just maybe the fact that he'd had it had put him into a position where he could name names, and perhaps that's what his meeting with Hill had been about. It might be worth discussing with Ron and Hermione that evening…

No, he couldn't do that. He'd sworn not to discuss anything that happened in this office. If he was going to work things like this out, he was on his own now. He'd just have to keep his eyes and ears open… With a final sigh he went back to his books.

It was a while before Harry got another excuse to stop reading. The sound of someone clearing her throat made him look up, grateful for the distraction. He found Delores Mutt peering directly at him from behind her spectacles. Their eyes were at the same level, Harry realised, even though he was seated and she was standing. Funny, he thought, she hadn't seemed like such a wisp of a woman when he'd met her earlier. Now she struck him as positively delicate, as if the slightest breeze might knock her over. She began to smile at him in what he thought must be a grandmotherly sort of way, as she offered him a piece of parchment.

"I have a list of files I need you to pull for me, dear," she said in a kindly tone.

Harry took the parchment from her and read it. It looked to him like nothing but a jumble of meaningless numbers and letters. He shook his head, thinking he'd become addled by his most recent reading material and hoping to clear it, but the parchment remained just as incomprehensible, reminding him of the books of runes he'd gone through last spring. He looked from the filing cabinets back to the parchment several times but saw nothing on any of the drawers that might indicate which file would be found where or indeed whether the files were stored in these particular cabinets at all.

He could feel Mrs Mutt's expectant gaze on him and felt as if he ought to at least make an attempt to find what she wanted. She seemed quite a sweet old lady, after all, and he felt as if he wanted to please her. He opened a drawer at random.

"Not that one, dear." Mrs Mutt's voice cracked through the air, causing him to jump at its sudden sharpness.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. His surprise at her sudden change in demeanour was quickly overtaken by a rising sense of irritation that she should snap at him when he hadn't been shown how the system worked. He began to reach for the next drawer.

"No, no! Didn't St John show you anything?"

Harry's face began to burn as he turned and faced Mrs Mutt. "No, actually, he didn't. He said I could work it out on my own."

"Typical," Mrs Mutt muttered. "When are they going to hire someone who knows how to do his job properly?"

"I'm sorry," Harry replied as politely as he could, given the increasing annoyance he was feeling. "It's only my first day, and I wasn't shown…"

"Oh, I wasn't referring to you, dear." Mrs Mutt took a step closer and said in a confidential tone, "I meant St John. Between you and me, he's rather a…" -- she used a word Harry would have never expected out of Ron's mouth, let alone such a grandmotherly sort--"…isn't he?"

Harry gaped for a moment, and then he had to struggle to keep down the laughter that wanted to escape. He couldn't stop himself from grinning, however. "I've only just met him, but, yeah, I can see where you'd get that idea."

"Let's put it this way, dearie. I've worked in this office a good, long time. We've never had a clerk last as long as he did."

"No disrespect, but it doesn't seem to be the most exciting job in the world."

"No, but was he clever enough to get something else? In any case, it's an entry-level position. You're not supposed to keep it for very long. If you do your job properly and show the merest modicum of intelligence, you get promoted within a year or two. He had your job for the last fifteen years. The only reason they promoted him at all was out of desperation. We're going to find ourselves swamped with cases, dearie, you mark my words. I remember the first time it happened." Harry saw her flick her snapping eyes upwards for a second, and she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

Her words made Harry concerned about the possibility of some of Voldemort's followers escaping imprisonment due to St John's apparent incompetence. He looked worriedly over towards St John's desk, wondering what he'd make of this conversation if he knew about it, but St John's head was bent over a parchment. His lips were moving as he evidently read it over, and Harry remembered there were Silencing Charms cast about each solicitor's desk. "But if he's not qualified, won't that…"

Mrs Mutt cut him off. "Oh, if Hill knows what he's doing, and he does, he'll give St John all the easy cases, and hopefully they'll be insignificant ones as well, because he'll find a way to bollox them up."

Harry thought of Percy and how well he'd had to do on his NEWTs to get an entry-level job like this one. Then he remembered Mr Weasley's reaction to Harry's own exam results. Something didn't quite add up about St John. "But how'd he get a Ministry position in the first place if he isn't that clever? He'd've to have done well on his NEWTs."

"I wouldn't know about that, dearie. It wasn't my decision to hire him. All I know is he had some sort of family connections that helped him out. He couldn't have done well on his exams. He isn't clever enough. But, well, that's the Ministry for you," she said resignedly. "Come on then," she added abruptly. I haven't got all day. Let me show you how the filing system works, and then I'll show you the wonders of the Ministry canteen."

Mrs Mutt was the second person today who had told him she didn't have all day, but Harry wasn't left with quite the same impression this time.

*

Ginny tried to make herself concentrate on her History of Magic homework, but she wasn't having a whole lot of luck. She really wasn't any further along with it than she had been almost three weeks ago. She'd hoped to get it finished today, since the Burrow was nearly empty, but thoughts of Harry and how he was getting on his first day at work kept intruding. He'd be home soon, she told herself, and then she'd know. Until then, she really ought to be getting something constructive done.

Ron was sitting across the room from her, idly moving chess pieces around on the board. He didn't seem to be faring any better than she was. It was probably even worse for him, because he couldn't even pretend to be doing homework while he waited for Hermione to come home.

Not even the out-of-doors beckoned to either of them today. The weather was grey and blustery. There was nothing to do but sit in the house and wait.

A sudden pop in the room startled Ginny. She turned to see that Hermione had appeared looking very pleased with herself.

"What did I tell you this morning?" asked Ron. "You were fine, weren't you?"

Ginny turned away while they kissed. "How was your day?" she heard her brother murmur.

"Tiring," came Hermione's reply. "There's more to running a library than I thought. I just spent the entire day learning the intricacies of the cataloguing system."

"All the time you spent there, and you don't have it memorised by now?"

"It's not as simple as you think, Ron. I may be familiar enough with it to find what I want, but when it comes to classifying a new book, that another story entirely. Loads of them are straightforward, but what do you do with Wolfsbane, Poison or Pal?"

Ron shrugged and looked blank. "Herbology?" he guessed at last. "Wait, no… Snape made a Potion out of that for Professor Lupin, so Potions."

"Yes, but don't you remember? We studied werewolves in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, so it goes with those books then."

"Actually, no it doesn't."

"Where does it go then? Certainly not in the Care of Magical Creatures section?"

"Of course it doesn't."

"Well, where does it go then?"

As Ginny watched, Hermione started to go pink, and she didn't reply.

"You don't know, do you?"

"I haven't got that one sorted yet. Madam Pince said she'd help me with that one tomorrow. We only got to it at the end of the day when it was time to go home."

"That was a trick question then!"

"It was not!"

"Yes, it was. You didn't know the answer! But don't worry, I still love you even if you aren't as perfect as I thought."

Ginny almost choked at that, and Hermione started to splutter. But before she could say anything further, Ginny's mother walked into the living room. "Oh, Hermione, you're home," she said smiling. "How was your day, dear?"

"Just fine, thanks."

"Ginny," her mother said, "you wouldn't happen to know where I put my copy of One Minute Feasts--It's Magic, would you?"

"Sorry, Mum, I haven't seen it."

"Don't bother asking Hermione, Mum," Ron added. "She doesn't know where all the books go yet."

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione replied, swatting him on the arm.

Before anyone could add anything else, a whirring sound was heard from the corner. Ginny looked to see the longest hand on the grandfather clock was in motion, passing from "work" to "travelling" to "home" in the space of a few seconds. She got up from her seat and headed into the kitchen to find her father emerging from the fireplace bearing a bulky package. He was followed by a tired-looking Harry, who had his arms full of books.

"Hello, Harry, dear. Why don't you put those books down. They must be heavy. What have you got now, Arthur?" came her mother's voice from behind Ginny, and it was amazing how quickly her tone had changed mid-statement. An instant later, she had entered the kitchen and was looking suspiciously at the package at her husband's feet, while Harry laid his burden on the counter.

"I'm not quite sure, actually," replied Ginny's father. "Someone in the Muggle Artefact Division of American Department of Magic sent it to our office. He thought we might be interested."

"So you thought it would be a good idea to bring it home and tinker with it? Do you even know what it does?"

"Well, no, but I reckoned if I took it apart I could work out what it was for. So far I've worked out that it runs on eckeltricity--it has a plug--and if I just enchanted…"

"No, Arthur."

"No?"

"Don't you have enough contraptions that are half taken apart in that shed of yours? How long has that laundry machine been in there gathering dust? And you want to add to the clutter? And don't think I've forgotten what happened with that car…"

Ginny caught Harry's eye and motioned with her head to come into the living room while her parents finished discussing her father's latest acquisition. Ginny was used to this argument. It always began the same way, with her mother protesting, but somehow her father always managed to keep whatever it was he wanted to fiddle with. She didn't doubt for a moment that her father was about to add to his collection of Muggle gadgets.

Harry followed her into the living room, and she had just squeezed his hand and was about to ask him how his day had gone, when something else caught her attention. Ron and Hermione had remained behind when the rest of them had gone into the kitchen, and it was now apparent why they'd done so. They were currently quite occupied.

Ginny leaned up and gave Harry a quick peck on the lips, before giving him a mischievous grin. Then she turned to Ron and Hermione and did her best impression of her mother. "And just what is going on in here? If you think this is the spot to have a conjugal visit, you have another think coming!"

Ron and Hermione jumped apart amazingly fast. "Ginny, what's the idea?" Ron demanded, his ears reddening. Hermione had placed a hand over her heart.

"Just thought someone else might want to know how it feels," Ginny replied in her most innocent voice.

"Oh, we know how it feels, believe me…"

"How was your day, Harry?" Hermione intervened before a row could break out.

"Very long," Harry replied, and Ginny thought he sounded tired. "And you'll never guess who I saw… Sorry."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Er, sorry, I'm not supposed to say. I had to take an oath of confidentiality."

"You can still tell us, can't you?" Ron prodded.

"No, he can't," said Hermione. "He's under oath. You'd best get used to it. I imagine you're going to have to take something similar once you become an Auror."

"Can you at least tell us what you do?" Ron tried again.

"It's not very exciting. So far I've done a lot of sitting around reading law books. When I'm not fetching things for people, that is."

"Law books?" said Hermione. "I imagine there's quite a few interesting cases in them. You wouldn't mind if I took a look at them, would you? Are you allowed to show them to me?"

"I don't see why not. But they're about as interesting as Professor Binns."

Ginny was getting the distinct feeling that this job really wasn't going to prove to be a good match for Harry. He definitely didn't sound very enthusiastic about it. The idea gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ever since they'd talk things out, she'd been feeling a bit more hopeful about the future. She'd stopped worrying that she'd wake up one morning and find he'd left the wizarding world. But now that feeling was returning, seeping back into her heart like icy water. If he felt like there was nothing worthwhile that he could do in the wizarding world, and if this was truly the only job he was qualified to do, then he might still leave them. On top of that she'd be leaving for school in less than a month. She wasn't going to be around to see Harry from day to day, should he give any sort of sign he might be thinking along those lines.

She also remembered that she'd asked him to try a Ministry position and he'd agreed. What if he stayed in a job where he was essentially unhappy for her sake? She didn't think she wanted to deal with that thought either.

Her mother was calling them to come in to supper, and Ginny tried to chase her gloomy thoughts away, but they stayed with her during the meal. She played with her food while the conversation seemed to revolve around the inevitable changes that were going to take place whether she wanted them to or not. The twins announced that they'd be moving back into Zonko's and taking Pauline with them, which earned George a stern glance from his mother. While Ginny was glad her mother's ire was directed elsewhere for once, she still found it a bit ridiculous at George's age, especially when he'd been living at Zonko's with Pauline the entire previous year.

Hermione would be leaving soon, as well, to stay at Hogwarts, but she wouldn't be leaving until the following week when Ron left for Auror training. Ginny's mum had pretended to wipe a tear from her eye, saying all her babies were leaving her, but Ginny wasn't sure she was being completely facetious.

Bill was the only one who was going to remain at home for the moment. He was anxious to get back to his job in Egypt, but he was still waiting on word from the Order if his services were still required. They didn't seem to be, but he hadn't been released from duty either. Until he was, he remained in a sort of limbo.

As everyone was leaving the table, Ginny's mum suddenly said, "Oh, Harry, I completely forgot. This came for you while you were at the Ministry today."

She was holding out a letter, which Harry took. Ginny caught a glimpse of the address, but while the writing may have been somewhat familiar, she didn't recognise who had sent it immediately. Harry obviously did, for he got out of his seat, excusing himself in a rather distracted fashion, and left the kitchen.

Ginny wanted to follow him right away, but at the same time she knew she ought to let him read his letter in private. Based on Harry's reaction, she suspected it was Professor Lupin's reply to the letter Harry had written to him almost a week ago. Her mother was also asking for help in clearing the table.

Ginny soon found herself doing the washing up with Hermione. "Did you get a chance to do any research?" she asked after making sure no one else was within earshot.

"No, I had too many other things to keep me occupied. Once I've learned how everything works, I'll have more time for it. I don't really expect to get started before the first of September, though. Sorry."

Ginny nodded. "It's frustrating, isn't it? I have to sit around the house and do homework that I don't particularly want to do, and you've got a whole library full of books you could be going through, and you can't."

"September will be here soon enough."

"It'll come too fast for me. As much as I want to find a way to help Harry, I don't want to leave…"

Mr Weasley came through the kitchen, cutting Ginny off. "You're not planning on spending the entire evening in your shed, are you, Arthur?" her mother's voice called after him.

"I've got to find something I can use to make Harry a Portkey, Molly," he called back. "We can't keep going into the Ministry by Floo. It'll look funny."

Ginny's mother joined them in the kitchen. "Yes, but a Portkey?" she replied, sounding worried. Ginny exchanged a glance with Hermione. Although Harry would never complain about it, they all knew he'd preferred other means of travel ever since the end of his fourth year. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be much other choice now.

"It's the best solution I can come up with, Molly. A very small Portkey, one he can hide in his pocket or conceal in his hand, which will allow him to travel between here and the Ministry. If no one knows any differently, they'll think he's Apparating. I can set it to come out at the Ministry's Apparition point."

Ginny's mother sighed. "I suppose if there's no other way…"

"I can't think of one, can you?"

Her mother relented at that point, and her father continued out to his shed. "You go on, girls," her mother said to them. "I'll finish up in here."

It didn't take long for Hermione to disappear outside with Ron. Ginny found Harry alone in the living room reading over his letter. She wanted very much to ask Harry what was in the letter, but she wasn't sure how to go about asking him. It wasn't technically any of her business. She also wanted him to tell her how he really felt about his job at the Ministry, but she hesitated, thinking it might be better if the decision to tell her came from him for once. She'd bullied him into sharing a lot of things with her lately, and perhaps it was time to lighten up a bit in that regard.

He looked up as she sat down beside him. "Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself."

He casually draped an arm across the back of the sofa on which they were sitting. "Where is everyone? How did we get so lucky as to actually get a minute alone without your mother turning up?"

Ginny snuggled closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "She's in the kitchen. I expect she'll turn up any moment now. I missed you today."

"Me too."

"How'd it go today. Really?" The words had come out before she could stop them.

"There's a real git in the office. Everyone else seems quite decent, though. It'll get better once I'm used to things. You've got competition, you know."

"What?"

"I got asked to lunch today. You'll want to watch out."

"By who?"

"Oh, she's really cute, she is."

"Who is she? And did you go?"

"Of course, I went. Not every day a girl like her tries to chat you up."

"You're having me on."

"I am not. I did get asked to lunch."

"There's a catch to it somewhere."

"How do you know?"

"You're laying it on a bit thick."

Harry chuckled. "Well, she's got to be a hundred if she's a day. Nice old lady though. Although I think I want to stay on her good side. You don't want to know how she refers to the git."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Harry leaned over and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go round with surprise. At the same time she shivered at the sensation of his warm breath in her ear. "I think I'll have to meet this lady myself just to see if I've really got competition."

"You're going to have to come into Diagon Alley for your school things at some point. You could drop by and visit on my lunch hour."

"As long as I don't find you have a previous engagement."

She'd meant it lightly but it didn't come out quite the way she'd expected. The reminder of school and their impending separation had made her voice catch slightly.

Harry's hand slipped from the back of the sofa to her shoulder and squeezed. "I was just kidding, you know."

"I know, but maybe you want a woman with eighty-odd years more experience than I've got."

"Hey!" Harry cried in mock outrage, before he swatted her with the envelope in his hand.

"Is that from Professor Lupin?"

"Yeah."

"What does he say?"

"In my letter to him I told him how I'd been acting, well, before. When we first got back from school. And I told him I didn't really like how I'd been behaving towards everyone, and asked if there was anything I could do to stop. And he wrote back and told me if I'd worked out that much on my own, I was doing a pretty good job. And he said I should just try to talk about things more…"

"You can always talk to me, Harry. You know that."

"Yes, I know, but what am I going to do after this month?"

There it was again. "Write to me. Write to Professor Lupin. Write it down, and don't show anybody, but don't keep it inside."

"He wants me to tell Sirius."

"You're going to. You've always planned to."

"No, he wants me to tell him as soon as possible. He thinks I should ask Sirius to come and see me so I can tell him."

Something in Harry's tone told her he didn't think this was the best thing to do. "Why wouldn't you do that?"

"Because there's news in this letter, too. Sirius is really close to catching Wormtail. And if I ask him to drop everything and come here, Wormtail may slip through again. I can't let that happen. Sirius is on the verge being able to clear his name. I can't take that away from him for something like this."

"He's going to want to know, Harry."

"I'll tell him, I promise. I never had any intention of keeping this from him. I'll just wait till he's caught Wormtail."

"But you don't know how long that will take. What's Sirius going to think when he learns how long you've been keeping this from him? Everyone else knows but him."

"I can't take the chance of him dropping everything for me. He's done it before. In my fourth year he came out of hiding and risked being sent back to Azkaban because I'd had a bad dream."

"He wants to be there for you, Harry. You showed me what he wrote in his letter to you. How's he going to feel when he learns you needed him and he wasn't there for you? He wasn't able to be there for twelve years, and he feels bad about that."

"Yes, and it's all because of Wormtail that he couldn't. Now he's got a chance to clear that up. I can't give him reason to drop that. There will be plenty of time for me to tell him once this business with Wormtail is over."

"You have to let him know something's up."

"He knows. He said so in his letter. Lupin told him something."

"He needs to hear it from you, Harry. You can tell him to put catching Wormtail first, but he has to know you have something important to tell him so he'll come and see you right away."

She didn't add what else she was thinking: that now that Harry was out among other witches and wizards, the chances were greater that his secret would be discovered. And if that happened, the possibility of Sirius learning of it through a third party increased, and that definitely couldn't be allowed to occur.

Harry let out a breath, and Ginny could sense some tension drain out of him. He took his arm from around her shoulders and leaned forward burying his face in his hands for a moment. Then he pushed them back through his hair causing it to stand on end. "I suppose you're right," he said at last. "If I word things properly, he won't think it's an emergency and come running."

Ginny reached over and rubbed a hand over his back. "It'll be all right," she soothed.

He turned his face towards hers. "Promise?"

"You know I can't promise you something like that."

"Humour me."

"All right then…"

He was still holding her gaze. "You know, your mother has left us alone in here for quite a while now. You think there's a chance she's forgotten?"

"Not a chance. We can only hope she's decided to spy on Ron and Hermione for once. After all, I still owe you."

"Yeah, you do, don't you?"

She began to lean in, but Harry met her halfway. She needed to keep this quick and soft in case her mother, or worse one of the twins, walked in on them, but Harry seemed to have other ideas. He took over the kiss, deepening it, and making it last longer than she'd ever intended. Ginny's heart began to race. It had been so long since they'd opened themselves and poured their feelings into a kiss like this. She felt the backs of her eyes begin to prickle, and she had to pull away.

She stared into his burning eyes, lips parted and breathing hard. A smile was beginning to break over his features. "Fifteen," he whispered.

One of his hands found the back of her neck and slid up into her hair, cradling the back of her head, holding it steady, while his other arm encircled her waist. Slowly he slid closer to her, their eyes never breaking contact, but his lips didn't meet hers right away. As she'd done to him on his birthday, he gently touched them to each cheek, then the corners of her mouth, her forehead, and the tip of her nose.

She'd long since closed her eyes, but when he still didn't kiss her full on the lips, she opened them again. At the same time she felt his forehead touch hers, and his grip on her tightened. There was a great deal more passion in his gaze than she'd seen in a long time, perhaps more than she ever had. "I've missed this," he said.

"I've missed you, Harry."

"I love you, Ginny."

The very words caused her to shudder with need, and she reached up to him and closed the final gap, pulling him down with her, and then she forgot about the danger of being caught. She let him take his time and explore, while her hands softly caressed their way down the sides of his neck, over the upper part of his chest and around to his back. Then she simply held on and sought to draw him closer. She wanted to be close to him. As close as it was possible for two people to be…

"WHAT ON EARTH DO THE TWO OF YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Ginny's heart began to beat even further out of control but it was due to panic this time at the sound of her mother's voice. Harry pulled back from her and righted himself, while she hastened to do the same. As she sat up she caught a glimpse of Harry's panicked expression.

Ginny felt the best way out of the situation was not to behave as if she'd been doing anything she ought to be ashamed of. She hadn't been after all. So she made herself face her mother's fury squarely, but she couldn't prevent the blush that insisted on staining her cheeks in spite of herself.

"Honestly, I can't let any of you out of my sight for more than a few minutes!" her mother was continuing. "I no sooner get through telling off Ron and Hermione for the same thing outside and I come in to find the two of you tearing each other's clothes off in my living room!"

Ginny felt irritation rising in her at her mother's blatant exaggeration. "Honestly, Mum! It's not as if we were doing anything like that!"

"And if I'd waited a few minutes longer?"

"We were just kissing. What's so wrong about that? It's not as if we ever get a chance round here in any case. Someone's always turning up."

"And a good thing, too. Look what the two of you get up to when you're left to your own devices!"

"We can control ourselves!"

Ginny's mother crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that what you call controlling yourselves?"

"We weren't going to do anything!"

"That's not what it looked like to me!"

"Oh please, Mum, Harry and I haven't done half the things the boys have done. We were only kissing."

"If you call that only kissing, young lady, I can see we need to have another talk!"

"What did you see, Mum? Were his hands anywhere they shouldn't have been? Were mine?"

Harry suddenly stood up, having evidently heard all he was prepared to of this conversation. "I think I'll leave the two of you to your talk then, shall I?"

Ginny took her eyes off her glaring mother long enough to take in Harry's red face. She grabbed his hand and pulled it forcefully enough to make him sit down again. "You're not going anywhere. We weren't doing anything we ought to be ashamed of, and it's time Mum realised that!"

"No, Ginny, I think Harry should leave."

"And I think he should stay."

Beside her, Ginny thought she heard Harry mumbling something about nobody caring what he wanted, but she ignored that for now. She had to remain focussed on her mother.

"I don't know what's got into you lately, Ginny," her mother was going on. "You've changed so much."

"I've grown up, mother, that's what happened. I'm seventeen now. I'm of age."

"If you're so grown up, I'd expect you to have more respect for your father and me."

"I do have respect for you. It was just a kiss, Mum. Can you honestly tell me you and Dad never kissed when you were our age?"

"Mrs Weasley," Harry broke in, "Ginny's telling you the truth. We haven't done anything like that. We'd never think of doing anything like that under your roof."

It was probably a mistake. Ginny's mother rounded on him. "You wouldn't think of doing anything under my roof? Just where were you planning on doing it then?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "That's not what I meant. I mean, of course we've thought about it, but we haven't done anything."

"Thought about what, exactly." Each word was said with a frightening calm.

"Harry," Ginny said quietly, "you're not helping."

"You should have let me leave when I wanted," he grated back at her.

The sound of someone clearing his throat made them all turn. Ginny's father was standing in the doorway that led in from the kitchen. "Arthur!" exclaimed Ginny's mother. "You're here."

"Yes, Molly, the shouting was a bit difficult to miss. I've heard quite a bit of this, actually."

"Well, say something to your daughter."

"Molly, I'm sure she and Harry weren't doing anything inappropriate. They probably just got a bit carried away."

"Arthur! With an attitude like that, I'm surprised I'm not a grandmother already!"

"I think we all need to calm down," said Ginny's father, ignoring his wife's outburst. "I think if Harry and Ginny promise to remain in control, everything will be fine. Molly…"

"Me? What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing dear, I just think you ought to give everyone a bit more space. I saw what happened with Ron and Hermione outside. Molly, it's all this hovering. They'll take any chance they can for a kiss here and there with you watching them so closely."

"A kiss? You call ripping each other's clothes off a kiss?"

"Molly, no one's clothes were being ripped off. Look at them. They're both fully clothed. Kids, can you make that promise?"

Harry gave a small start. "Yes… yes, sir. Ginny and I won't do anything we're not supposed to. Not here, not anywhere."

Ginny elbowed him in the ribs, not quite able to believe what he'd just promised when just a few minutes earlier… He took her hand and squeezed it hard, as if he knew she was about to blurt out something that would damn them both.

"Okay, then," Ginny's father said. "That settles that. Why don't you go upstairs and see how Ron and Hermione are getting on?"

"I thought they were outside. We didn't see them come through," said Ginny too quickly, before she realised there was perhaps a good reason she hadn't noticed their passing.

"I believe they Apparated upstairs in the face of your mother's wrath," replied her father, his eyes beginning to twinkle.

"Arthur!"

"Come on, Molly. I've got something interesting I'd like to show you in my shed."

Ginny was shocked to see her mother blush. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat for a moment, but she also felt relief that the whole embarrassing row was over with.

Beside her, Harry stood and held out a hand. "Good thing that's over with."

Ginny took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Yeah. I don't want to go though that conversation ever again."

"We'll just have to make sure we never get caught like that again." Ginny nodded her agreement. "And it's probably not such a good idea for us to stay here at the scene of the crime, either."

Ginny couldn't agree more, so they both headed upstairs to see how Ron and Hermione had fared. At the first landing, Harry pulled her aside. "We were interrupted rather abruptly, weren't we?"

"Harry! You just promised dad…"

"I promised I wouldn't do anything I wasn't supposed to. From the sound of things, I don't think he has a problem with a kiss or two. You still owe me, in any case."

"I do, at that."

And so she proceeded to pay off her debt.

To Be Continued…

Monty Python last chapter: Obviously I needed to fish for the names of Harry's co-workers, and most of them are Python-inspired. Several of the names are taken from the Upperclass Twits of the Year sketch, most notably Gervaise St John, but also Vivian Brooke and Nigel Jones. Deirdre Pewty comes from the Marriage Guidance Counselor sketch. Badon Hill is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (it's not a character name, it's the name of the battle where Sir Robin wet himself). Delores Mutt is not from Monty Python; it's a name I came across a while back and thought it definitely needed to be used.

"Potter!"

Harry looked up from the law books he was ploughing through. In two weeks he'd gone through more of them than he'd expected, but he still seemed to have a lot left to read. In those same two weeks he'd felt he was beginning to adjust to this job, all except for one thorn in his side, and that thorn was now standing over his desk with a roll of parchment.

"What is it?" he replied shortly. He'd given up trying to hide his annoyance with Gervaise St John. Whether he was polite or not didn't seem to make a great deal of difference.

"I need these files. Make it snappy now. I haven't got all day."

Harry took the parchment and looked down the list. He recognised several of the files numbers as those identifying the cases of other solicitors. "Are you sure you have the right ones?"

"Of course, I am!" St John retorted, standing up straighter and raising his chin. "When I did your job, I didn't question my superiors."

"You were probably too stupid to know better," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I'll get these for you right away."

"Too right, you will."

Harry paused to look at his watch before turning towards the filing cabinets. It was nearly lunch time. Just a few more minutes, and he'd be free for a while. It would come as a welcome relief. When he'd begun this job, the office had been relatively quiet, he now realised. They'd been growing steadily busier as the days passed, and it didn't promise to let up any time soon.

Five minutes later, Harry presented St John with a stack of files. "About time," St John commented nastily. "I can see they hired you based on a famous name. Why didn't you just magic them over?"

Harry had to bite his tongue hard to stop himself from saying what he really thought. He had no doubt that if he said anything really rude, St John would find a way to make him regret it. On top of everything else, the last thing Harry needed was anyone calling attention to the fact that he was the only one in the office who never used any sort of magic.

He shrugged, trying to look casual. "I'm not used to sitting about all day. The exercise does me good."

"Why didn't you just try out for a Quidditch team and have done with it then?"

"Last I heard the league hadn't started up again yet."

"Perhaps the Chudley Cannons would have you." Harry could tell from his derisive tone that he hadn't meant anything complimentary by that.

He didn't have a chance to reply, for he heard the sound of someone coming into the office behind him. He turned to see Ginny standing at the counter, her arms laden with packages. "Excuse me," he said frostily to St John.

"No need," St John replied, smoothing down his robes and licking his lips. "You go on to lunch. I'll take care of her."

"She's here to see me," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, come now, you do have a high opinion of yourself, don't you?"

"She's a bit young for you, don't you think?" Mrs Mutt had risen from her desk, no doubt going down to the canteen for lunch. St John glowered at her, but didn't reply as he sat back down at his desk. Mrs Mutt turned slightly so that her face was out of St John's line of vision. She inclined her head in his direction and mouthed her favourite descriptor at Harry, who grinned at her before turning to greet Ginny at last.

"What was all that?" she asked once she'd kissed him on the cheek.

"Typical day at work," Harry replied darkly.

"Is that the stupid git?" Ginny asked rather loudly. It didn't matter. St John was working obliviously away behind his guard of Silencing Charms and didn't hear her.

Mrs Mutt, however, had. "That's putting it mildly, my dear," she said before nudging Harry. "Is this your girlfriend?"

Harry felt his cheeks begin to heat. "Er, yeah, she is. Mrs Mutt, this is Ginny Weasley."

"Ah, yes, I thought I recognised the hair. You two wouldn't have been in the same year, now, would you?"

"No," Ginny clarified, "Ron's in Harry's year. I'm a year behind."

"Come in for your school things then, have you?"

"Yes, I've got everything I need now."

"Mrs Mutt turned her sharp gaze back to Harry. "Take your time about coming back. If any of us needs anything, we'll manage." There was something in her eyes that told Harry she understood that he and Ginny were short on time.

"What about…" Harry tilted his head in St John's direction.

"Oh, never mind him. He's just hacked off that he bolloxed something up and has to work through his lunch hour. Do him some good if he has a reminder where he came from if you ask me."

When Harry and Ginny had negotiated the labyrinthine passages of the Ministry and found themselves in Diagon Alley, Ginny asked, "Was she my competition then?"

"She asked me to lunch the first day, yes."

"I supposed I'd best face facts and break up with you then. I don't see how I can compete."

Harry made a grab for her but she darted off into the crowds of witches and wizards doing their shopping. She hadn't gone far when he caught her, and he immediately saw why that was. She was weighed down by her purchases. "Here," Harry said. "Let me take some of those."

Her eyes glinted impishly at him, and she handed him the lot before slipping off again. This time as he followed, he noticed that people were turning around to stare at him as he passed. At first he thought it was simply the sight of a young man rushing through the crowd with his arms full of packages, but then he realised what it really was. It was because he was Harry Potter, the person who had apparently defeated the Dark Lord. He quickly slowed to a walk and ducked his head.

Ginny came back through the crowd towards him. "What's the matter?" she asked, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Nothing," he replied.

She didn't pursue the subject, but she didn't seem very convinced of his reply, either. Instead she asked, "Where are you taking me then?"

"Leaky Cauldron all right?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Harry wished he knew of somewhere nicer, but he couldn't ever remember seeing such a place in Diagon Alley. "It's not fancy enough?"

"I don't need fancy, Harry."

And so, like Ron and Hermione the previous year, that's where he took her to lunch. That day had ended in disaster, he remembered ruefully, but a lot had changed in the past twelve months. When they'd been shown to an out of the way table in the dingy pub and, Harry gratefully set Ginny's packages down.

"How many new things have you bought?" He didn't remember needing quite so many supplies as he began his final year.

"That's not all for me. Some of it is things Mum asked me to pick up for her."

"Have you got everything on your list?"

He thought she began to blush slightly. "Everything I need."

Harry knew she was hedging then. "What do you mean, everything you need?"

"Well, I don't really need new dress robes…"

Harry stared at her for a moment, as he tried to remember back to his fourth year. He had a vague recollection of Ginny dancing with Neville and wincing as he trod on her feet. He wished he'd paid more attention to her then, but even so, he was fairly sure the robes she'd worn that year weren't going to fit her anymore. She may not have grown any taller in the intervening years, but he was almost certain she'd filled out.

"What are you going to wear if you need dress robes then?"

"I just won't go…"

"Go? Do you know what you need them for?"

"Hermione may have mentioned there'd be something at the winter solstice. But I don't need to go to that. I'd rather spend the holidays with you, Harry. There's no point in me staying at school for that."

They were interrupted at that point by Tom who had come to take their orders, but once he was gone again, Harry went on. "I told you if there was anything I'd come up to school for it."

"You don't have to."

"Are you trying to throw me over then?"

"I told you I would. You've got Mrs Mutt now."

"All jokes aside, I want to take you. When have we ever had a chance to do anything like this? When have we ever been able to do, well, normal things? Isn't this the sort of thing we're supposed to be doing together?"

"Well, I suppose I could Transfigure something. Or get Hermione to do it for me. She's better at it than I am."

She was looking at him pleadingly, and he knew she was silently begging him not to mention buying something new. He was perfectly aware that if he offered to buy something for her she wouldn't accept it. She was a lot like Ron in that respect. But maybe…

"Why don't we stop by Madam Malkin's on the way back?" he suggested tentatively.

"What for, Harry?" She sounded suspicious, and he knew his instincts had been correct.

"If you see anything you like, it'll give you an idea what to Transfigure your robes into."

He waited for her reply then, certain she'd see right through what he was trying to do. It looked to him as if she was struggling with herself, and suddenly he realised what it was. She wanted something new--she'd never had many things that hadn't belonged to someone else--but she was too proud to tell him so. "I suppose it would be fun to look. I don't know how much fun it will be for you, though."

"I'll just grit my teeth and bear it, I suppose."

Once they'd finished their meal, they strolled back out into Diagon Alley in the general direction of the Ministry, stopping to look in the window of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Harry sensed Ginny was still a bit hesitant about going in, so Harry took the initiative and entered the shop himself, leaving her little choice but to follow.

The squat owner of the shop spied them straight away. "Mr Potter!" she exclaimed. "I must say I wasn't expecting to see you in my shop this year. You're surely not here for your Hogwarts robes."

Harry felt himself begin to blush. "Erm, no. Not this year. Actually we wanted to look at dress robes."

Madam Malkin looked at him appraisingly. "Yes, I could see you in dark green. Or red. You were in Gryffindor, weren't you?"

"Well, they're not for me. They're for Ginny."

The shop owner turned her gaze onto Ginny. "Ah, a redhead. You can't wear just anything, my dear. But I believe I've got just the thing."

They followed her to the back of the shop, and Madam Malkin showed the both to the stools which stood there. Harry remembered coming here as an eleven-year-old with Hagrid and standing on one of these very stools while Madam Malkin pinned his hems up to the proper length. Now he took a seat on one of them, while Madam Malkin began considering robes of all sorts of colours and styles. She rejected most of them out of hand as being not quite right for any number of unfathomable reasons.

At last she found three or four styles that passed muster and sent Ginny off with them to the dressing room. After what seemed like a long time to Harry, he thought he heard her calling to Madam Malkin. He couldn't hear what Ginny was saying to her, but he heard the older witch's reply. "Nonsense, they're perfectly respectable."

Harry wondered what this could possibly mean, and he had the impression that Ginny was hesitant about coming out of the dressing room. Madam Malkin confirmed this impression when she added, "Come out and let me be the judge."

When Ginny emerged, blushing to the roots of her hair, Harry immediately saw what had made her hesitate. These were no dress robes like he'd ever seen before, even on the seventh year girls. They were quite a bit tighter for one thing, and they seemed to show a great deal of skin. Harry felt his jaw drop, and he dearly hoped no one would ask him anything because he didn't think he'd be capable of coherent speech.

Something was evidently wrong with these, although Harry had no clue of it until Madam Malkin spoke up. "No, not at all. That colour is completely wrong for you, dear. Let's try again."

Ginny tried on a succession of robes, and Harry was quite glad no one was asking his opinion on the matter, because each set had something wrong with it. Not that he could tell, but Madam Malkin was obviously a party to some inside information that neither he nor Ginny was aware of. Finally there was only one set left, and it seemed to Harry as if Ginny had tried on everything in the shop. He sincerely hoped this last set would be all right. Although Mrs Mutt had told him to take his time, he didn't want to abuse his privilege.

Then Ginny emerged from the dressing room one last time, and Harry's throat went dry. Whatever she was wearing clung to her curves as if she'd been poured into it. The robes were somehow attached about her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and there didn't seem to be a whole lot covering the front, either. Madam Malkin was asking her to turn around, and Harry found himself having to swallow when he saw the back, or rather the lack of one. All he could see was an expanse of creamy white skin lightly dusted with freckles, and his hands flexed convulsively at the thought of dancing with her in that dress, and feeling nothing but warm softness under his fingers. Something about the deep gold of the fabric made her seem to glow.

"Yes, now that's much better, isn't it?" Madam Malkin exclaimed. "Come have a good look in the mirror and see what you think."

Harry could see Ginny's expression reflected in the mirror when she turned around to look. For a split second he thought he saw happiness, but she quickly hid it, as if she'd just remembered that she couldn't really have this dress. That they'd only come in here to look. In that moment, Harry didn't care if it cost him a year's salary. He knew he was going to buy it for her. "It's… it's lovely, but I really can't…"

"Nonsense, dear, it's perfect for you. What do you think?" the shop owner added, turning to Harry.

Harry somehow found his voice. He was having a difficult time keeping his eyes on her face. "It's the best of the lot."

"But Harry…" Ginny began, and he knew what she was about to protest. It was time to divert her attention.

"Ginny, I really think I need to get back to work now. I'm going to be in trouble."

Ginny took the hint. "Yes, of course. Perhaps we can come back another time?"

Harry had to fight to keep from grinning. She was doing just what he wanted. "Why don't you get dressed then?" As soon as she'd disappeared into the dressing room, Harry signalled to Madam Malkin. "I want you to charge that to me, please," he told her quietly. "As a surprise. And can you hold it for me then?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'll be back in for it in a few weeks. Would that be all right?"

"Certainly."

"I'm going to need some dress robes myself, but I haven't got time for that now. I'll come back and pick up the dress then."

"What about the accessories?"

"Erm, accessories?"

"Of course. She'll need to proper shoes. Proper foundation…"

Harry had no idea what she was on about. "Foundation?" he repeated, stupidly wondering why Madam Malkin wanted to talk about houses all of a sudden.

"Well, obviously she can't wear a bra with that, but that's not a problem. Those sort of robes are always magically enhanced for support," Madam Malkin explained matter-of-factly. Harry felt himself go red for what seemed the thousandth time that day. "The proper underwear is a must, and then of course there's the matching jewellery, the shoes… What size does she wear?"

Harry gulped; he had no earthly idea. Looking at the older witch's feet, he said, "About your size? Perhaps a bit larger?"

"No worries, dear. I have an eye for these things. I'll include something she can charm to the right size."

"Whatever you think…"

It came as a great relief to Harry when Ginny emerged from the dressing room looking very much herself again. She gave Harry a searching look as they left the shop. "Wasn't she put out over spending all that time with me when we didn't buy anything?"

"No, I told her I had to get back to the Ministry, and we'd be back."

"You lied to her."

"Sorry, I couldn't think of anything better. But I really am late. I don't care what Mrs Mutt said, I don't want to deal with the stupid git's comments. Let's go. I've got another stop to make."

"You do?"

"Yes, I need to buy Hedwig a new cage. Perhaps she'll accept that as a peace offering."

*

By the end of August the deluge had begun. Ministry Aurors had managed to track down and capture several cells of remaining Death Eaters, and all that meant extra work for Harry's office. Evidence had to be gathered and cases had to be built. Harry's office was soon buried under a mountain of paperwork, and he found himself working late every evening. He barely returned to the Burrow each night for a quick bite before he collapsed onto Ron's bed, exhausted.

Ron had left for Auror training, and Hermione had moved up to Hogwarts now, so the Burrow was strangely empty. In one more day Ginny would be gone as well, leaving only him, Bill and the elder Weasleys living in the house.

Harry sighed heavily, at the thought of Ginny going back to school. It looked very much as if there would be no hope of him getting to see her for a proper goodbye before she left. There was just too much happening today. They'd had word of a massive raid involving several departments, and it looked very much as if they'd be at it all night.

If he got a chance he'd Portkey back to the Burrow quickly--since he'd been working such odd hours, Mr Weasley had set his small Portkey so that it worked on touch alone, rather than being set for a specific time. Harry had been concerned that whatever he used as a Portkey could be set off by an inadvertent touch, but Mr Weasley had hit on an ideal solution to the problem when he'd discovered an old pocket watch among his collection of Muggle items. He'd charmed it so that if Harry set the hand to midnight, he'd go immediately to the Ministry of Magic's Apparition point; if the hand were set to six o'clock, Harry travelled to the Burrow. Harry had practised setting the hands so he could use the watch without looking, and he'd considered asking Mr Weasley to add another setting for Hogsmeade, but he wasn't too certain how this idea would be received.

As long as Rita Skeeter didn't discover what his true means of transportation was… She hadn't been seen at the Ministry since she'd been escorted out by security on Harry's first day there, but she'd still found means of poking about. Every few days, the Daily Prophet had been featuring some nasty piece by her, which never failed to get a few jabs at Harry in. She seemed to delight in speculating on what such a famous wizard was doing in a dead-end job. Not long after the shopping trip, there was even a picture of him and Ginny walking side by side in Diagon Alley, accompanied by an article which was full of insinuations about their relationship. Rita had leaped to the conclusion that they'd spent so much time in Madam Malkin's because they were choosing wedding robes. Harry and Ginny had spent a long time convincing Mrs Weasley that they'd only gone in to look at dress robes, and that Harry had ordered something new for work, although he'd have to wait to pick it up because Madam Malkin was so busy with orders for Hogwarts uniforms.

That day in Diagon Alley was almost like a dream now to Harry. He felt as if he'd barely had time to think since then, he'd been so busy. It was as if Mrs Mutt possessed some skill at Divination and had foreseen what was coming.

Suddenly she was there at his desk holding a stack of new files enormous so enormous she almost disappeared behind them. "These all need to be coded and entered into the system, dear."

"I'll get right on it," he replied half-heartedly.

Mrs Mutt gave him a kindly smile before returning to her desk. Harry looked at the stack and his heart sank. There wasn't going to be a chance for him to nip home and see Ginny at this rate. As much as he hated to do it, he'd have to contact her through the fire to tell her not to wait up, and he ought to do it now, before he delved into the files.

He cast a quick glance around the office. Everyone looked to be very hard at it. They weren't likely to notice if he got up and made a fire call. He made his way over to the small fireplace, which was used exclusively for communication purposed. It was too small to use for travel. Fortunately for him, it was burning full time these days. There had been a lot of calls going in and out of this office lately, although things had been much quieter today.

With another look to make sure no one noticed what he was doing, he reached into the jar of glittering powder that stood permanently on the mantelpiece and tossed a handful into the flames. "Ginny Weasley," he called out as loudly as he dared.

Nothing happened.

Harry wanted to kick himself. How could he have been such an idiot as to think this was going to work for him? Regular Floo powder hadn't worked, so why would the sort used for fire-talking work?

"Having trouble, dear?"

Mrs Mutt had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Harry felt ill. She was going to know something was wrong with him now. He cast about in his mind for a way to explain his predicament, but couldn't come up with anything. His only comfort was the realisation that it wasn't St John who had come upon him.

"I'm sorry, the fire doesn't seem to be working. I'll just get back to work now," he said quickly, trying to cover the moment.

"That's perfectly normal. They've closed the fire to all outgoing calls. Even incoming calls have been restricted to emergencies only. Was it something important?"

Harry let out a long breath, but now he simply felt stupid. Yes, his call had been important to him, but it he didn't think he'd be able to explain things adequately. "No, not really," he said.

"It had to have been somewhat important for you to leave work to make it."

"It's personal. Ginny is leaving for school tomorrow, and…" He wished he didn't have to turn red now.

"And you're not going to see her again for a while. Is that it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'll just get back to work now. I shouldn't have tried to use the Ministry fire for personal reasons."

To Harry's surprise, Mrs Mutt let out a bark of laughter. "Why not? Everyone else does. As long as you're careful about who you do it in front of and get your work finished on time, not too many people much give damn. Of course, there's always the random arse who likes to rat on people because they think it makes them look important." Harry saw her nod in St John's direction at that. "In any case, why don't you send her an owl? Then you can concentrate on your work better."

"Would it be all right for me to use a Ministry owl for personal reasons?"

"Just don't tell them why you need it. They've got loads over in the Improper Use of Magic Office. I'm sure if you tell them over there that you need it for Department of Magical Law Enforcement business, they won't bat an eye."

Harry went back to his desk, noting as he did so, that Mrs Mutt had disappeared into Hill's office. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and wondered what he could possibly write. He and Ginny had spent so little time together over the past two weeks, and now he had to find a way to say goodbye to her. He didn't want to do it in a letter, though. No, something like this should be done face to face. It would be best to keep this short.

In the end the letter was a bit longer than he'd expected, and it was probably rambly, as well. He didn't dare read back over it because he didn't want to know how stupid it sounded.

He sent the owl off with no problems at all and went back to work. The stack of files wasn't about to magically disappear on him, after all. He'd ploughed his way through several of the files before he was interrupted once again. He looked up to se Badon Hill standing at his desk, and it came as a surprise to him. In the several weeks he'd been working here, he'd barely seen the head of this division at all.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Harry asked. He was suddenly worried that someone had mentioned to his boss that he'd been using Ministry resources for personal communications.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is. Take the evening off."

"What?"

"Take the evening off."

"But… why? Everyone else is going to be here all night."

"That's probably the case, but we can manage without you. I don't think any of us are going to need any clerical assistance, and if we do, St John will be here. You'll be much more productive in the morning after you've had a good night's sleep."

"But what about all this?" he asked, indicating the files Mrs Mutt had given him.

"Finish those up and go home." Hill's tone left no opening for Harry to protest.

Harry returned to his work with a renewed vigour. He wanted to get this done as quickly as possible now. He smiled to himself as he thought of how surprised Ginny was going to be when he came home. She wouldn't be expecting him at all…

At last he was able to put the last of the files away and put his desk in order. He was about to walk out the door, when he heard an unwelcome sneer behind him. "Leaving so soon, Potter?"

"Hill said I could take the evening off."

"How nice for you. You get to go home while the rest of us slave away." St John sounded quite petulant.

"You might have the evening off if you'd do your job properly the first time, dear." Mrs Mutt had come to Harry's rescue once more, it seemed, and from the way she said "dear" Harry could tell she'd meant anything but. It was satisfying to see the way she made St John cringe. She turned to Harry, and her tone changed entirely, reminding him of Mrs Weasley when she tried to foist third helpings on him at mealtime. "You have a wonderful evening."

"Thank you," replied Harry. He could have sworn she winked at him.

*

Ginny lugged an armful of black robes into the kitchen where she'd set up the ironing board. She'd just put the last load of her school things into the washtub to soak. Once she had that last batch washed and ironed she could finish packing. She'd been at this for most of the day and she was in a hurry to get it done.

"You might have had this finished by now, dear," her mother commented from over by the cooker. She was preparing a huge supper for all of them. Well, for the four of them really. Harry hadn't been home for supper in two weeks, and Ginny had no reason to expect today was going to be any different. And none of them had any real idea whether Bill would be home in time for supper either. He'd left the house that morning before anyone else had got up, and no one knew what any of that was about.

Ginny sighed, spread a robe out over the board, and waved her wand at the iron, which immediately went to work. She knew from her Muggle Studies classes that this way of doing things was a bit less tedious than the Muggle method. She only had to watch to make sure her robes didn't scorch. But it was still one of her least favourite chores.

"Did you dry those properly?" her mother asked.

"Of course," Ginny lied. How did her mother always know?

"Of course you didn't. You never do."

"What does it matter? They finish drying from the heat of the iron. I'm in a hurry."

"If you hadn't left this till the last minute, you wouldn't have to rush."

"I'll get it done, Mum," she grated. "I can't wait to get back to school," she added to herself, but then she froze. That wasn't true at all. It was the last thing she wanted at the moment. "At any rate, I'll have a house-elf when I get older," she told herself to keep her mind off of other things.

If her mother was going to comment further, she was interrupted by a flutter of wings at the window. A strange owl flew in and presented Ginny with a letter. Ginny took it, curious as to what this could be. "At least it's not from the Improper Use of Magic Office," she mused aloud for her mother's benefit. "I've been of age for months now."

She cast a sidelong glance over at her mother and saw the older woman pursing her lips. She thought her mother muttered something about all her babies leaving her, but that thought went out of her head as soon as she opened the letter and saw who it was from. Eyes widening, she began to read.

Ginny felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and she had to bite down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She'd known that the chances of him coming home for supper tonight hadn't been very good, but this letter made it sound as if he didn't think he'd be home at all.

"Honestly, Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you to watch the iron?" Her mother had come over from her place by the cooker. Ginny looked up to see that the iron had stopped its movement and was now standing on end. The air smelled of burnt fabric. She'd let her attention wander and scorched one of her robes. Then her mother looked at her more closely. "What's the matter?"

"Harry's not going to be here for supper tonight, Mum," she said quietly, slipping the letter quickly into her pocket before her mother saw it. Knowing her mother, she'd probably try to crash their breakfast together if she knew about it. Ginny really didn't want to cry in front of her mother, but she couldn't stop herself from sniffling the slightest bit.

"Is that all? My, aren't you sensitive this month?"

If Ginny had wanted to avoid tears, that had done it. "I am NOT!" she shouted. "It's because I haven't been able to spend any time with Harry lately. He's at work all the time, and when he's not, you're always hovering about. Honestly, you're worse than Mad-Eye Moody with his constant vigilance!"

Her mother looked ready to reply to this, but before she could say anything, there was a sound from the fireplace. Ginny's mother turned, and they could both see that someone was coming through the Floo. Soon a tall, thin man dressed in green robes was stepping out of their grate.

"Kermit!" gasped Ginny's mother. "What a surprise. We weren't expecting any guests." She automatically pointed her wand towards the teakettle to start the water heating.

Ginny recognised the newcomer as Kermit Croaker, an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. "I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Molly," Croaker replied in his nasal voice. "I'm here on official business."

Ginny's mother took a step back and put a hand over her heart. "Oh no! Arthur!"

"Yes, I'm afraid he's been injured. He's at St Mungo's."

Ginny's mother sank down into a chair, as if her legs had suddenly become too weak to support her. Her hand was still over her heart. "I thought it was over," she said softly, but as she continued, her voice rose. "It was supposed to be OVER!"

"What happened?" Ginny asked quickly.

Croaker began to tell them about a huge operation, which had been planned to bring in several remaining Death Eater cells. They'd been acting on information given voluntarily by someone who had been very well placed to name names. The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office had had to become involved, but its involvement was only supposed to have been peripheral. Ginny's father had been sent out to Goole to bring in a collection of cursed Muggle items, but the owner had put up more resistance than expected. Reinforcements had been called in but not before Ginny's dad had been injured.

"What's the matter with him?" asked her mother anxiously. "Was he hurt badly?"

"I haven't got details," Croaker replied. "I've only had word that he's in hospital. It may well be something minor, but with all that's been happening today there have been quite a lot of casualties, and the Medi-wizards have to see to the worst of it first."

Ginny's mother had gone white, and Ginny herself wondered if this day could possibly get any worse. Croaker's use of the word "casualties" was rather alarming. Ginny jumped as the teakettle suddenly began to whistle. She'd forgotten that her mother had started it heating before they'd learned the real reason behind Croaker's visit. Mechanically, Ginny moved towards the stove with the intention of measuring out the tea leaves.

"Leave it, Ginny," her mother said sharply. "There's no time for that now. I've got to go to your father."

But before Ginny could even begin to turn back towards her place at the table, there was a pop in the room as Bill appeared. He looked quite dishevelled and he had a bandage around one arm.

"Bill!" her mother exclaimed. "Have you heard?"

"About Dad? Yes. I see you've already heard the news." He sat at the kitchen table and buried his face in his hands. "What a day! I could do with a cuppa."

"Bill, how could you! Your father's in hospital. We need to go to him."

"Calm down, Mum. It's not that bad. They'll patch him up, and he'll be home by tomorrow, I'm certain."

"How can you say it's not that bad if they're keeping him overnight?"

"He's only broken his leg, and they've got more serious cases to see to first. If you went to him now, there'd be nothing to do but wait around and worry."

Ginny, who had been preparing tea for her brother, let out a breath. She brought the teapot over to the table and filled four mugs with the amber liquid.

"He's broken his leg?" her mother practically shouted. "Why are we all sitting here drinking tea?"

"It's only a broken leg, Mum," said Ginny calmly. "They'll patch it up soon enough. What's the big deal?"

"Oh, you have no idea…" But then her mother seemed to catch herself, as if she'd said too much. "They seem to have patched you up pretty quickly," she went on, looking sharply at her oldest son's arm.

"Did it myself. I didn't want to wait around."

Bill casually reached a long arm out to the shelf behind him, took the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky from it and added a healthy measure to his tea. Then he tipped the bottle over his mother's mug, before holding it up in offering to Croaker. The Unspeakable shook his head. "I'm on duty," he muttered.

"There isn't any sense in us all rushing off in a state to see Dad," Bill went on. "It's a madhouse over there at the moment, and we'll just be in the way. It's best if we take our time and calm down before we all descend on him."

Croaker gulped down his tea. "I'm off if I'm no longer needed. I'll just be getting back to work."

He had soon disappeared in a roar of emerald flames, and Bill made his mother sit and drink a second cup of tea spiked with Firewhisky before he'd let her even think of getting up from the table. Then another argument ensued when Ginny wanted to go to St Mungo's with the others.

"Out of the question, Ginny," her mother said. "You have to finish packing your things. And someone has to be here to keep an eye on supper."

"Who's going to be here to eat it?" Ginny asked in protest. "You're all going to be at St. Mungo's, and Harry isn't going to be home."

"We don't know when anyone is going to be back, Ginny, and you have to eat."

Ginny grudgingly gave in, although she knew right away she wasn't going to feel like eating anything. With nothing better to do, she finished up her washing and ironing, taking secret delight in cutting a few corners. She knew it was childish of her, but she needed to think about something, anything other than what was really going on around her.

She had just finished packing her trunk, laying Harry's Firebolt in last of all, when she heard a noise from downstairs. Going down to investigate, she found Bill had come home to give her an update on their father's condition.

"It's a bit worse than they thought. Leg's broken in more than one place, apparently. He's going to be fine, though. They've given him something for the pain, so he's happy, but they weren't going to be able to mend his bones until tomorrow. They've got a splint on it in the mean time."

"So everything's going to be all right," Ginny replied.

"Yeah. Mum is going to stay with him for a bit, though. He's all right, but she's pretty shaken up. I think she had some sort of nasty reminder this afternoon."

"What do you mean, reminder?"

Bill thought for a moment. "It's hard to explain. I barely remember it, but I think she's been through something like this before, only worse. You know, during the first war."

Ginny nodded, remembering her mother's extreme reaction earlier, although she didn't really understand. It was a subject that had never been brought up before, but she had the distinct impression that Bill knew more about it than he let on. He just didn't want to talk about it.

"Listen," Bill went on, changing the subject, "if you're going to be all right, I'm going to go back to St Mungo's to see what Mum is up to. If I don't watch her, she'll have taken over the place, and be telling the matrons how to do their job."

"Oh, won't they love that! She's had plenty of practice at it today."

The corners of Bill's mouth twitched. "I'm going to close the fireplace so no one can come through. We'll Apparate home, all right?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"I think so, yes. Now don't argue with me over this."

"Bill, I'll be fine."

"I know you will because I'm closing off the Floo. I'll see you later."

His tone brooked no argument, and Ginny suddenly didn't have the energy to protest. What did it matter? Either way she'd be spending her last evening at home alone. With the Floo closed off and the wards that had been put in place, no one but family members and certain designated family friends, such as Hermione, could approach the Burrow unless he came on foot or by broom. And who would bother?

She wandered into the kitchen now, wondering what to do. She had finished her packing, and although it was time for supper, she wasn't hungry at all. She lifted the lids of a few of the pots her mother had left warming on the stove, but even the aroma of her favourite foods didn't entice her.

She was about to go back upstairs and find something to occupy herself when a messy-haired figured suddenly appeared in front of her. She took a step back in her surprise before launching herself into his arms.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"They sent me home." He'd pulled her tightly against him and laid his cheek on the top of her head.

"But your owl said…"

"I know, but my boss said I could come home."

"Thank God." She drew back, intending to kiss him.

"Isn't your mother going to walk in on us?"

"She isn't here."

Ginny took advantage of the house being entirely empty for a few minutes. When she pulled back, Harry said, "Wow… Where is everyone?"

"St Mungo's."

"What?"

"I reckon I know what you were referring to in that owl today. Dad was involved in a raid and got into some trouble. Bill was just here and said he's going to be fine, but Mum had kittens."

"What happened to him?"

"Broken leg. He should be home tomorrow."

"They're keeping him with a broken leg? Are you sure he's all right?"

"There were a lot of other patients, apparently. They couldn't fix his leg straight away. They've made him comfortable and will see to him in the morning."

"And they've left you here alone."

"I wasn't finished packing. Listen, Mum left supper on the cooker. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could do with a bite."

"Why don't you go upstairs and change, and I'll get us some supper then."

Ginny didn't bother to clean up the kitchen directly after their meal. Her time with Harry was almost at an end now, and she didn't want to waste it on mundane chores. Harry seemed to be just as aware as she that this would be their last evening together for a long time, and once they were both seated on the sofa, the Wizarding Wireless Network playing softly in the background, he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. She laid her head on his shoulder, and they sat there for a long time not moving and not speaking.

"I'm going to miss you," Harry told her, breaking the silence at last. "I don't know how I'll survive until December."

"Hush, Harry. I don't want to think about it." She had to swallow hard in order to compose herself. She'd been pushing thoughts like this out of her head all day. As much as she'd been worried about her father, the distraction had been welcome in a way, although in the end, one worrisome thought had simply driven out another. "We're just going to have to do our best to keep ourselves occupied…"

She trailed off, unable to go on without starting to cry. Harry must have understood. He hugged her even closer before tipping her chin up so that she could meet his gaze. His own eyes seemed a bit bright. "I'll be here when you get back."

"I don't want to go." She couldn't stop the tear that escaped this time.

Harry pulled her fully into his arms, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. "I don't want you to."

Then he buried his face against the side of her neck and held her for a while longer. Some unspoken communion between them caused them to pull apart just far enough for Harry to fit his lips against hers. This was going to have to last them for almost four months, and both of them knew it. She returned the kiss briefly, before reaching up to take off his glasses. She'd realised as soon as they started that neither one of them was going to rein in his passion for very long. Then she tangled her hands in his hair and pressed as closely to him as she could, while his arms tightened around her waist until they were nearly crushing her.

Instinctively she knew where this was going to lead, but she also knew she was going to have to say something soon. But she didn't want to stop him either. It felt as if her entire body was awake in a way it had only been a few times in the past. His lips had left hers and were hungrily exploring her neck now, while his arms loosened their grip and his hands began to move gently across her back.

She tilted her head back to grant him freer access. Just a few inches more and he'd be at a spot that she knew would send an electric jolt through her. Right… there. She shivered in his arms, gripping his head more tightly to keep him there. At the same time she felt his hands begin to skim along her sides.

She waited, hoping this would continue indefinitely, but it did not . Instead he raised his head to look at her. His hair was wild from her hands running through it, his eyes burned with green fire, and his breathing was ragged. She knew what he was about to ask of her, and in the next moment, as soon as he'd caught his breath, his words proved her right.

"Ginny, I want… Can we…"

She thought her heart was going break. "No, we can't."

"I know what I promised your father, Ginny. I promised we wouldn't do anything we shouldn't. But we wouldn't be doing anything wrong. I love you. You love me. It isn't wrong."

"I know, Harry, but we still can't."

"Why?" His tone was beginning to take on a desperate edge.

"Because it isn't the right time."

"Not the right time? How could it not be the right time? We have the house to ourselves. We don't know when we're going to see each other again…"

"I know, but it's not the right time." She looked at him pleadingly, while she felt the blush rising in her cheeks, begging him to understand so she wouldn't have to spell it out for him. And all the while she cursed to herself about the unfairness of it all. Of all the times it had to happen, it had to be now. If not for that, she would have given herself to him as she'd been longing to do ever since her birthday.

He stared back at her for a few minutes, and Ginny was beginning to suspect the was going to have to get on with it and tell him. But then she saw his eyes widen as realisation dawned over his features, and he went redder than she was. "Oh…" he said, moving away from her a bit. "Oh… I, uh, I understand."

He dropped his hands into his lap and looked at them. "Harry," Ginny said at last, "just because we can't make love, doesn't mean you can't touch me at all."

He looked back up at her, his expression a mixture of longing and guardedness. "Ginny…"

"What's wrong."

Harry sighed. "You're going to kill me, you know that? I want you so much. You don't know how much."

"Yes, I do. You don't think I want you just as badly?"

"What am I going to do without you?"

"You'll manage. We both will because we have to. And at the end of next June…"

"That's forever!"

"I know, but I'll be free then. Can you wait that long? Because that's the longest it can be. Who knows? Maybe we'll see each other before then. Christmas… Anything can happen."

"I wasn't just talking about sex, Ginny."

"Neither was I." She reached for him then, taking his face between her hands and pulling him closer. "I love you, Harry. That's all that matters."

She leaned in and kissed him, allowing all the depth of her feeling to pour into that one gesture as if she could brand an impression on his lips forever. When they came up for air, she'd pushed him backwards so that he's almost slumped sideways onto the sofa. She turned her attention to his neck then, pushing him further down until she was lying on top of him and his arms tightened convulsively around her. She found his lips once more and felt his hands slide from her waist to her hips, his fingers biting into her softness as he pressed the lower part of his body against hers. At the same time he made a growling sort of sound in his throat, one which caused a shiver of triumph to pass through her.

She shifted against him, moving her hips instinctively and seeking to produce the same sound from him. He responded by attempting to flip them both over, but the sofa was too narrow. Ginny felt herself falling and she clutched desperately at Harry with one hand, while with the other she tried to grasp the sofa. The only thing she succeeded in doing was pulling Harry down to the floor as well, while a slightly shabby blanket, which normally lay across the back of the sofa, slithered down onto them.

She began to laugh, and Harry joined her for a moment before leaning over her once more and pulling her into yet another kiss. When he broke away from her, he'd rolled completely over her, bringing the old blanket with him so that the two were covered with it, forming a sort of cocoon.

They continued for a while in the darkness until both of them had lost all awareness of anything but each other. This probably explained why neither of them heard the telltale popping sound of someone Apparating into the room. There was no mistaking the voice however.

"What do you make of that, George?"

Ginny's heart had been racing out of control already. Now it seemed likely to hammer its way out of her chest as she and Harry froze in panic. She thought she heard Harry swear under his breath.

"I dunno, Fred, but it looks to me as if there's more than one person under there." The glee in her brother's tone was unmistakable.

"That it does, George."

"But Ginny is supposed to be here by herself, isn't she, Fred?"

Ginny felt like swearing herself. She felt Harry shift ever so slowly to one side. There wasn't much sense in pretending they weren't there now, but to have to blanket fall off of them and expose Ginny's state of undress would be disastrous. She was going to have to right her clothing as best she could.

"Who do you think she's under there with?" asked George.

"Can't be Harry. Mum said he'd be working late. George, you don't think she's cheating on him, do you?"

"Horrible suggestion, but it can't be anything else, can it?"

"So who could it be?"

"Malfoy?"

"Longbottom?"

"Creevey?"

"The bloke with two names… Finch-Fletchley?"

"Nah, he's a poof."

"Right."

"Whoever it is, I say we give him one minute to show himself before we hex him."

"That's an excellent suggestion. It a matter of our dear sister's honour, after all."

Harry must have thought it prudent to show himself at this point, for he pushed the blanket aside and raised his head. Ginny was still fumbling with her buttons, shock at being discovered like this making the task much more difficult than it should have been, but fortunately Harry had moved to the side that blocked the twins' view of her. Harry's hair was in even more wild disarray than usual, and his expression was an odd combination of fear and anger.

"Harry, mate!" exclaimed George. "We heard you were working late."

"Nice way to take advantage of an empty house," added Fred.

"Now that poses us a small problem. Just what were you doing under there?"

Harry couldn't reply. He was busy fumbling about for his glasses.

"You know, George, it seems to me that Harry promised Mum and Dad that he wouldn't do anything he wasn't supposed to. Now I don't know much, but I'm pretty sure you and our sister shouldn't be doing anything under a blanket on the floor. What do you reckon George?"

Ginny finally got the last button done up and scrambled to her feet. "Okay, listen you two. I don't know what you're doing here, but you can just get out."

"Sorry, can't do that," said Fred.

"Get out now, or I'll make you sorry."

George, instead of trembling with fear in the face of Ginny's anger, was looking at her strangely. He tilted his head to one side for a moment, before remarking, "You know, you'd be a lot more forceful if your buttons were done up properly."

"Is this a new style or something?" asked Fred. "Leave two buttons on top and then skip a few?"

Ginny felt her face flame scarlet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry had turned almost purple.

"Hey, Harry," said George, grinning evilly, "if you need any buttons done up, I wouldn't ask Ginny to help you. She doesn't seem to have got the hang of it yet."

"GET OUT!" Ginny screamed at her brothers.

"We'll be leaving, won't we, George?"

"Yeah, I think our work here is done."

"You might want to make it look a bit more innocent, though. We came over to tell you to open the Floo. Mum came over from St Mungo's to see us, but she's ready to come home, and she's in no condition to Apparate."

"Yeah. Too much Firewhisky in her tea. She's a bit… unsteady."

"But I think she'd sober up pretty quickly if she saw the two of you in this condition."

Ginny's heart began racing again. As embarrassing as it was to be caught by the twins, it was far preferable to having her mother walk in on her and Harry. Even though her mother had been behaving a bit less like Mad-Eye Moody these days, the thought of her reaction to what had just been transpiring was frightening. She could deal with the twins later. For now, she was going to have to make it look as if Harry had just come home, and that meant cleaning up all traces of their supper together. Without another word, she raced into the kitchen.

The twins hadn't finished with Harry, however. Their voices drifted in from the living room. "So, Harry, how'd the two of you wind up on the floor?"

"I would think the sofa would be much more comfortable."

"Not to mention you had the whole house to yourself. Surely you could have found a bed…"

"I think Dad's going to have to add some new spaces to the clock if this keeps up."

"Soused…"

"In flagrante delicto…"

Ginny stuck her head back into the living room. "I thought you were leaving. If you're going to stay, make yourselves useful for once. On second thought, do me a favour. Open the Floo and get out." She held her wand up for good measure when the twins didn't jump to do her bidding right away.

"Harry, get upstairs. I'll tell Mum you just got home."

She heard the twins snigger when she said this. "Yeah, Mum's really going to buy that one, Gin."

"MOVE!"

Her brothers evidently knew they'd pushed her too far now. Fred turned towards the fireplace and opened it, before they both waved cheerily. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do," said George before the two Disapparated.

"That leaves us with a lot of choices, doesn't it?" commented Harry when they'd gone.

"Unfortunately there's no time now, is there?"

"Do you want any help?"

"No, I can do the washing up."

"I meant with your buttons…" he said, smirking.

Ginny had completely forgotten, but she scowled at Harry and threw the dishtowel at him, hitting him in the face with it. "You have to get upstairs before Mum gets back. I'll finish in here. And fix my buttons. When you hear her come in, we'll make it look good."

Ginny made swift work of the washing up and had the kitchen looking in its usual spotless order when she heard a noise coming from the fireplace. "Steady there, Mum," came Bill's voice from behind her.

"I'm fine, Bill," Ginny's mother tried to snap, but her words were slurred just enough to make it sound unconvincing. She jerked her arm from he son's hand and lurched toward the kitchen table.

Ginny put the kettle on, while her mother began rambling on about her father's condition. When the water boiled, there was a bit of a scene when her mother wanted another shot of Ogden's in her cup, and Bill had to hide the bottle.

In the middle of all this, Harry put in an appearance. Ginny's mother looked up immediately. "Harry, dear, when did you get home?"

"Just before you did, Mum," Ginny replied quickly.

Ginny's mother got out of her seat. "You can't have eaten; you must be peckish. They're working you far to hard, dear. You sit and let me get you something to eat."

"It's all right, Mrs Weasley, I'm really not hungry," replied Harry.

"It won't be a bother, dear." She began to walk none too steadily towards the cooker.

Harry watched her, alarmed. "Really, Mrs Weasley…"

"Come on, Mum." Bill was standing up and putting a hand on his mother's arm. "Let's get you to bed."

"But Harry…"

"I'll get him something, Mum," said Ginny to get rid of her mother as much as anything. "You go to bed. We'll be along soon."

Ginny's mother looked doubtful. "Well all right then. Don't stay up too late. You have to be off early tomorrow."

"Good night, Mum."

Ginny let out a long sigh of relief when her mother and brother disappeared upstairs. "We won't be able to stay down here too long," she said to Harry.

"I'll go up to bed now. I won't be making any trouble for you that way." He leaned close to her and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later."

It was only after he'd disappeared up the steps that she realised that he'd said later and not tomorrow.

*

Harry lay awake in Ron's room waiting until the house had gone completely quiet. He wasn't worried about Ginny's mother waking up. From the looks of things, she ought to be quite sound asleep and likely to remain that way until morning. He had no idea if Bill was a light sleeper, or even what Ginny's brother might say if he were to catch Harry, but after the run-in with the twins, he decided not to take any chances. It was after midnight when he threw back his blankets, slipped the invisibility cloak on over his pyjama bottoms and slipped silently down the steps to Ginny's room.

He opened the door soundlessly and found her asleep, her hair fanned out on her pillow. He padded over next to her bed and watched her sleep for a few moments, wondering as he did so how he could have gone for so many years and not seen her.

He hated to wake her up but he had to. He couldn't risk startling her out of her sleep and having her cry out, waking everybody. He slid out of the invisibility cloak and gently grasped her shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Ginny," he whispered.

She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. "Harry," she said after a moment of disorientation. "What are you doing here?"

"It's the last night before you leave. I want to spend it with you. Sleeping, I mean. I know we can't…"

"But if Mum comes in and catches you…"

"We'll just make certain we wake up early, and I've got my cloak. Please, Gin, just let me hold you."

She slid over on the mattress to make room for him, but once he'd climbed in with her, he had to struggle to hold onto his good intentions. His mind insisted on reminding him that just a few hours previous they'd been lying on the living room floor together, exploring…

That had ended in disaster, he reminded himself. Concentrating on the twins' interruption was a much safer prospect than dwelling on what had preceded. The intensity of his need for her had come as a shock. When they finally did make love, he wondered if he was going to survive the experience. A tingle of desire passed through him. Twins. He had to think of the twins' leering faces.

Ginny's head was resting against his bare shoulder, strands of her long hair tickling as she stirred. She put an arm around his waist and snuggled closer. "G'night, Harry." She was already drifting back off.

He kissed the top of her head. "Night, Gin."

Harry awoke in the grey dawn to find Ginny still asleep in his arms. Someday they would be able to share a bed without having to worry about Ginny's mother coming in and screeching at them. Someday. But that day was not today. They had the entire school year ahead to get through before they could even begin to consider the possibility of sharing the rest of their lives.

He wondered about kissing her awake and decided it wasn't such a good idea. It would be too easy to lose himself. "Gin… Gin, wake up," he whispered into her ear.

He heard a groan and felt her stretch against him. "Go 'way. I'm tired," she murmured.

"I know, but we have to do this now, while we still have some privacy."

Her eyes opened and she stared back at him gravely. "It's time, isn't it?"

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. He was afraid that if he spoke now his voice would break.

"Oh, Harry…" She snuggled closer to him. "I don't want to go. You know that, don't you?"

He somehow found his voice. "Yes… yes, I know. And I know you have to even if I don't want you to."

"I wish you didn't have to work so you could come to King's Cross with me."

"I suppose it would draw things out a bit more, but do you really want to say goodbye in front of everyone? If any reporters thought I'd turn up…"

"You're right… I'll write to you."

"I want to know everything, even the stupid, little things. Especially them. I want to feel as if I'm there with you."

"I'm going to miss you, Harry. Terribly." Tears were starting to slip out of the corners of her eyes.

"Gin, don't cry."

"I can't help it. I don't want to leave you."

"Gin, I love you, and I'm going to be here when you come back. I'm always going to be here for you."

She was crying harder now, and Harry was finding it more and more difficult not to follow suit. Already his voice was hoarse with the effort he was making to hold his emotions in check. He finally had to give into them, and they both clung to each other for a while, crying quietly.

A noise out on the landing caused them to break apart suddenly. Heart pounding, Harry stared into Ginny's red-rimmed eyes for a moment. He was going to have to act quickly or they'd be discovered. He kissed her quickly and hard on the lips before snatching up the invisibility cloak and slipping underneath it. Just in time. Mrs Weasley was knocking at the door. "Ginny, time to get up."

"I'll be along in a minute, Mum," she called back.

Mrs Weasley must have heard the catch in her voice. "Is everything all right, dear?"

Ginny looked at the spot where she'd seen Harry disappear, a look of panic taking over her features. "Of course it is. I'll be downstairs soon."

Too late. Mrs Weasley opened the door. "Ginny, you've been crying."

Harry saw Ginny swipe at her eyes impatiently. "I'll be all right," she said in a small voice, and Harry could tell she was trying to put a brave face on things for her mother.

"It's Harry, isn't it?"

"What else would it be?"

Mrs Weasley crossed the room and took Ginny into a motherly hug. "You haven't chosen an easy road for yourself, have you?" Harry heard Mrs Weasley say softly to her daughter.

"It's not a choice, Mum. It's not as if I can chose to stop feeling this way."

Ginny's mother stepped back, placing her hands on her daughter's shoulders and looking her in the eye. She sighed. "Yes, I think I know that, but Ginny, this is only ten months out of your life. The both of you have your whole lives ahead of you. If you take this separation one day at a time, you'll get through it. You will. And then you'll be ready to start your life together."

Harry was shocked to hear her say that. He'd only begun thinking in those terms himself recently. And from the way she'd been watching them so closely… It hadn't been because she didn't approve of the relationship, he now realised. It had been for other reasons. Mrs Weasley wanted her daughter to be happy; she wanted him to be happy--she'd said in the past that he was like one of her own… In spite of his sadness at having to say goodbye to Ginny, there was something warm and comforting about that thought.

"I know, Mum. I keep telling myself I'll manage somehow. But the telling is one thing. The doing is another."

"One day at a time." She paused and then changed the subject slightly. "We need to make sure Harry gets up in time to say goodbye to you properly," Mrs Weasley was going on. "I'll see about waking him, shall I?"

Harry watched Ginny's eyes go round for a split second before she mastered herself. Harry's own heart began to beat out of control. "Yes, Mum," Ginny replied in a slightly strained voice. "Why don't you do that?"

Harry couldn't believe it, but there was nothing he could do to attract Ginny's attention without her mother discovering he'd been there all along. As soon as Mrs Weasley left the room, and her footfalls were heard climbing the stairs to Ron's room, Ginny looked straight at the spot where Harry was still standing, and hissed, "Bathroom. Now."

"But I haven't said goodbye."

"There's no time for that now. If Mum finds you…"

He cut her off as he slipped off his invisibility cloak for a swift kiss. "I've said everything else, but this. Have a good term. I love you. I'll write to you."

"Harry, I'm going to see you at breakfast…"

"I know, but I'm not going to say all that in front of your mother."

"Just go before she gets back down here!"

*

Several hours later, Ginny found herself in the prefects' compartment on the Hogwarts Express. The other students were all chattering away happily about the events of the summer, while she sat in a corner feeling very much separate from it all. She and Harry hadn't had a chance at any more time alone together that morning, and so they really hadn't had what she considered a proper goodbye. Sitting here now as the train rattled along the tracks, Ginny could think of a hundred things she'd have told him if she'd got the chance. She opened her trunk and took out a roll of parchment. She may not have had an opportunity to say anything, but she could write it down.

She only set down her quill when the train arrived in Hogsmeade.

To Be Continued…

The beginning of term was busier than Ginny had expected it to be. There were prefects' meetings to attend, and general settling in. Minerva McGonagall had been promoted to the position of headmistress, and things were not being done in quite the same way as they had been during Dumbledore's tenure. On top of that, Ginny hadn't bargained on having quite as much homework to do in the early weeks of term. As a result, she didn't have a chance to meet with Hermione until the end of the first week of September.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said as she rushed into the nearly empty library after her last class on Friday. "I meant to be in sooner. I just haven't had any time so far."

Hermione looked up from her desk, her face going pink as she quickly hid the piece of parchment she was reading. Ginny thought she'd caught a glimpse of Ron's writing. "It's all right, Ginny," she replied too quickly. "I understand. I've been quite busy myself. It's one thing learning how to run the library with Madam Pince about to help me if I get into trouble. It's quite another to do it all on my own. Although I think I've found a less confusing way to catalogue things… But you won't be interested in that."

Ginny gave Hermione a weak sort of smile. "I've got a chance to help now, since I don't have that much homework over the weekend at least. And what I've got I can put off. Where do you want me to start?"

For a moment, Hermione looked as if she might want to tell Ginny off for putting this project ahead of her schoolwork, but to Ginny's relief, she merely said, "I wish I knew…"

"Haven't you been looking?"

"Yes, but I haven't found anything useful yet. It's not as if this is an everyday occurrence. There's just nothing written on the subject. It's going to be a lot of paging through books looking for any sort of mention…"

"Just like last spring," Ginny mused, her heart sinking. There had been four of them looking for that spell at the time, and it had still taken them over six weeks to find it. And the number of books they'd had to look through had been limited. Looking about the library now, with its shelves cramped with volumes, it seemed as if they could look for years and not find anything. Heaving a sigh, she added, "Just tell me what I can do to help."

Hermione was looking piercingly at Ginny. "You know what might be best?" she began. "If you took that book we found the spell in and translated it. Maybe there was some sort of provision in there. It foresaw the defeat of Voldemort, after all. Perhaps it has the means to restore Harry's powers to him. I'll be right back."

Ginny's heart leapt at the thought of having something concrete to do, as Hermione disappeared into the stacks. It wouldn't be easy, but the idea was more appealing to her than paging through random books on the off chance of finding something. "Do you think there might be something in there?" Ginny asked when Hermione reappeared with a mouldy-looking tome bound in cracking brown leather.

"I honestly don't know, but it's as good a place to look as any. You ought to be the one to work on it. You'd be faster at it than I am. You wouldn't have to sit round here while you worked at it, either. You could take it with you and work at it whenever you have a moment to spare."

A look of quiet complicity passed between the girls. Hermione was in the same predicament as Ginny at the moment. She, too, was trying to fill every spare moment in order to make time pass more quickly, because every second that passed was one less second between now and the time she'd see Ron again.

"How is Harry, really?" asked Hermione after a moment.

"He's adjusting, I think… I hope. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't putting on a good show for us all. I wish he could have another job. I don't think the one he has is really suited to him, but then nothing would be, would it?"

"No, that's just it. He ought to be playing professional Quidditch or something."

"He told me… He told me flying was what he was going to miss the most. It isn't fair, Hermione. He shouldn't have had to give that up. The wizarding world hasn't even recognised what he's done."

"I think they're just being cautious this time. From everything I've read, they had a huge celebration that time Harry was a baby and they believed Voldemort was gone for good. It turned out not to be true. I think they want to make extra certain this time before they declare a wizarding holiday."

"And even at that they won't know the extent of it."

"He wants it to be that way. You know that. And with any sort of luck it'll only be temporary."

"I suppose so," Ginny replied, but deep down, she didn't feel very confident about finding a way to restore Harry's powers to him. With a sigh, she chose a seat at a nearby table, took out a quill and some parchment, opened the ancient book and painstakingly began to translate.

She'd been at it a while when a group of girls came into the library. Ginny looked up, irritated. Who was so keen that she'd come into the library on the first Friday of term? One look gave her even more cause to be annoyed. It was a group of Slytherin girls, led by Diana Bloodworth, which included Pansy Parkinson's younger sister, Zinnia.

Diana nodded to Ginny and smirked. She'd been taking great pleasure in reminding Ginny of Rita Skeeter's recent article, which had speculated on Harry and Ginny's impending wedding. Ginny looked pointedly away.

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione, coming over once the Slytherin girls had checked out the books they wanted and left.

"Nothing," said Ginny obstinately.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You're certain you don't have anything better to do?"

"Of course. You don't think I've taken to going round with the Slytherins, do you? Listen, I just want to focus on helping Harry. I haven't got time for their schoolgirl gossip."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something. Ginny could practically hear her saying, "Ignore them," as she'd said to Harry and Ron so many times in the past. Ginny was extremely thankful when Hermione went back to the book she'd been paging through without further comment.

*

The following morning Ginny bolted her breakfast, intending to get back to her translation as quickly as possible. It was rather dull work, as she could find nothing in the text she was working on that seemed as if it would have any sort of impact on Harry. But there was nothing for it other than to press on and hope she'd come across something useful.

Her only consolation was that Hermione wasn't having any better luck. She'd invited Ginny to come up to her rooms in the staff wing after breakfast so that they could both work uninterrupted, and Ginny was in a hurry to get started.

But as she was finishing up, an interruption came in the form of a large number of owls flying in with the morning post. Ginny looked up in spite of herself, her heart giving a hopeful leap, but there was no flash of white amid the greys and browns, although she caught sight of Pigwidgeon fluttering excitedly towards the staff table. She looked back into her empty plate, disappointed and trying very hard not to be jealous of Hermione, telling herself Harry was very busy at work and didn't have time to write letters. She didn't expect to see a small, grey lump of feathers plunk down in front of her and promptly pass out in the remains of her breakfast.

Ginny felt of brief resurgence of hope as the thought crossed her mind that maybe Hedwig was still put out enough with Harry to have refused to deliver his message, and so he'd sent Errol to her instead, but she knew she was only fooling herself. Hedwig had been happy enough with her new cage to move into it when Harry presented her with it, and while she may not have completely forgiven Harry, she wasn't angry enough to refuse to deliver his mail. She took too much pride in her work for that.

As Ginny untied the letter from the unconscious owl's leg, she recognised her mother's writing. It could have been worse, she told herself. It could have been the twins sending her another advert for Lady Marmalade's Amazing, All-in-One Aphrodisiac and Contraceptive Potion (guaranteed seventy-nine percent effective). Fighting back her disappointment, she unfolded the alarmingly thick parchment and began to read.

"Wonderful," Ginny thought to herself. "Why did she have to wait until I was back at school before she came to that conclusion?" But then, as she read on, she began to understand a bit better.

Ginny felt herself begin to blush. As much as she tried to deny it to everyone, she had not sent that Valentine to Harry in her first year. She had no idea who had, but she strongly suspected it had been the twins. It was just like them to pull off a trick like that. As for the singing get well card, she couldn't deny sending that--she'd delivered it directly to Harry in the hospital wing, after all--but she'd been talked into it by a well-meaning girl in her year. If she'd known it would become an event she'd never live down, she would never have done it.

I can imagine what you're thinking of your mother at the moment, but you can see that I do remember what it's like to be young and in love. I'd be a hypocrite if I said your father and I never tried anything before we were married, but we didn't try everything. We waited for that, because we had good reason.

Ginny wished she could shrivel up and die on the spot. She did not want to think of her parents doing anything along those lines. And as she continued reading in spite of herself, it only got worse. Her mother launched into a story about her Uncle Bilius having to leave school before his seventh year because her Aunt Lucretia was expecting a child. Her mother went to great lengths to describe how miserable their existence had been; how they'd had to work their fingers to the bone to make ends meet; how neither of them had been able to get a proper job, since neither had finished school; how Aunt Lucretia's family had turned their daughter out in shame. How, in the end, the baby had come too early because Aunt Lucretia has been too young to handle the stress. How they couldn't send for the midwife because they'd had no money to pay her. How the baby wouldn't likely have survived in any case…

Ginny wanted to stop reading, but it was as if something was forcing her to keep slogging through this tale of woe. When she'd finished, she thought to herself that she could have gone on very well without knowing all that. The only bright spot that she could see in the entire saga was the line where her mother admitted to wanting to kill her father for insisting they name their first born after Uncle Bilius, who had seen the Grim the year Ginny's mother had been expecting Bill.

Ginny's heart began to pound out of control. How had her mother found out about that? Ginny had never known about Harry's cloak until last year, when he'd shown it to her. How had her mother been able to piece that together?

"Oh, did Weasley get a love letter? It's got to be a good one judging from the way you're blushing."

Ginny looked up, reddening further in spite of herself. She'd been too absorbed in this… this… she wasn't even sure what to think of this letter from her mother. It was like a monstrosity, really, and she'd been too caught up in it to notice what was going on around her. She saw that Diana Bloodworth had come over from the Slytherin table, followed by her usual cronies, who gathered round.

"Come on, what's it say?" she taunted. "I could use a good laugh." Diana tried to grab the parchment out of Ginny's hand, but Ginny was too fast for her. "What's the matter? Is it too hot to share? Or just too syrupy?"

"I think she's wishing one of the other members of the famous Gryffindor trio had taken a job here this year," came another comment, the sneer evident in the tone. "Too bad we're stuck with the Mudblood."

The general buzz of conversation at the Gryffindor table died away, and silence fell as the Gryffindors all turned to stare at Zinnia Parkinson, who had spoken. Over and above the fact that Mudblood was considered nearly obscene, everyone knew whom the Slytherin had been referring to. Ginny remained silent, as did the others, however. It didn't matter to Ginny at the moment, as she had two bigger fish to fry first, but she wouldn't forget this. No one had to say anything in reply, really, for the Gryffindors had seen what the Slytherins had not.

"And just what is going on here?" asked a crisp voice. Headmistress McGonagall apparently hadn't lost her nose for trouble and had turned up at the table in record time. "Move along now. It's Saturday. I'm sure you've all got better things to do than hang round the Great Hall."

The Slytherin girls slouched off, leaving Ginny doubly annoyed, first with her mother and now with the Slytherins. As she was getting up from the table, she couldn't help but hear some of the whispers from the older Gryffindor girls. Even though she knew they meant well, they'd suddenly seemed to find Ginny's love life quite interesting, as a result of the Rita Skeeter article. While they weren't nasty about it in the same way the Slytherin girls were, Ginny still didn't like being the focus of school gossip.

She felt a nudge in her side, and she turned to find herself looking up into Colin Creevey's hazel eyes. "I'll be photographer at your wedding if you want," he said quietly, leaning in so she could hear him and putting a hand on her shoulder. There was enough of a glint in his eye to let Ginny know he hadn't been taking any of the gossip seriously, and she was grateful for that.

"That would be lovely, Colin," she replied. "I'll let you know when we've set a date."

Ginny made her way up to the staff table, where Hermione was finishing up her breakfast. She was still cringing with embarrassment over her mother's letter. She wondered how Hermione's mother felt about Hermione and Ron's relationship. Hermione was the only daughter in her family, too, after all. Of course, perhaps Hermione's parents hadn't had such a close brush with teenage pregnancy, either…

Hermione had to show Ginny the way up to her rooms in the staff wing, which was located in a part of the castle Ginny had never been in before. The girls had to navigate two or three hidden passages before reaching what looked like a blank expanse of stone wall, which Hermione tapped with her wand while muttering a password that Ginny was unable to make out.

"Sorry," commented Hermione, as they continued, "I'm not supposed to let any student know the password. Technically I don't think I'm even supposed to bring you up here…"

"Didn't you used to go visit Hagrid a lot when he was still alive?"

"Well, yes, but he didn't live in the staff wing, did he? In any case, I'm allowed to have guests and you're here as my guest. Here we are."

Hermione had opened a stout wooden door to reveal a cosy sitting room. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was another door at the far end of the room, which had to lead to a bedroom.

Hermione chose a large book from a haphazard pile on the coffee table and plunked down in an armchair with it. Ginny moved towards the sofa with her bag, but Hermione stopped her. "You might be more comfortable using my desk, Ginny. You'll need a spot to write."

But Ginny wasn't sure she was ready to get started just yet. "Can I ask you about something first?" she asked, taking a seat on the sofa. "It's… well, it's personal," she got out, feeling her cheeks redden.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Well…" Ginny wasn't sure how to begin. "You know how Mum was hovering over us all summer. Watching. Making sure no one got up to anything too dodgy…"

Hermione was nodding vigorously. "How could I miss it? She told Ron and me off, too, you know."

"Yes, well, look what I got in the post today." She held out the letter from her mother to Hermione. "Could you read that and tell me, is your mother that bad? Is anyone else that bad? And what am I going to do about it?"

Hermione gave Ginny a searching look as she took the letter. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at her friend as she read the letter. "What did you and Harry do?" Hermione asked suddenly after a few minutes, and Ginny could only assume that Hermione had reached the end.

"Nothing. He just sneaked down to my room the last night under his invisibility cloak. But we didn't do anything you and Ron haven't done." Hermione went pale at this. "Well, we just slept together. We only slept. Then in the morning, Mum came in before Harry had a chance to get out. He was able to hide under the cloak until she left, but as you can see, she worked out what was happening."

Hermione pursed her lips for a moment. "Well, to answer your question, no, my mum isn't that bad, but then Ron's never slept at our house. It's not as if she's never told me to be careful, though. As long as Ron and I have been together, I'm sure she's worked out a thing or two."

"But what am I going to do about Mum? She's driving me nuts with all this. Why can't she just let us be? It's not as if I've actually done anything that will get me into trouble. Not the sort she's worried about, anyway."

"You mean you and Harry haven't…"

"When did we have a chance to?"

"I thought on your birthday last year… You know, you were gone an awfully long time…"

"No, we didn't." Ginny paused for a moment. "I wanted to, but Harry told me he wasn't ready, and he stopped. I understand why he did that now. He knew about the spell by then, didn't he?"

Hermione nodded her confirmation.

"He thought he was going to have to leave us." She felt herself beginning to tear up, but she forced herself to go on. "And then, even though he didn't leave us physically, in a sense he did. He wasn't himself for most of the summer, but we had a long talk before his birthday, and he seemed to be better. But that was like having to start over again. Again. It's the second time we've had to do that. But once things began to get better, Mum wouldn't leave us alone. And then, you know about what happened to Dad last week, don't you?"

Hermione nodded again. "Ron wrote to me and told me. How is your dad, by the way?"

"He's home and resting according to Mum. That was in the last owl she sent me. But she doesn't think it's anything for me to worry about."

Hermione looked concerned for a moment. "Well, go on. What about Harry?"

"Harry came home from work unexpectedly while everyone else was at St Mungo's. I couldn't go because I hadn't finished packing yet, and we had the perfect opportunity then. He even asked me… But we couldn't. It was the wrong time of the month."

"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry."

"And now I don't know when we're going to see each other again."

"What about the ball?"

"Yes, there is that, but it's so far away. And with no hope of a Hogsmeade weekend this autumn…" It had been announced at the beginning of term feast that there wouldn't be any Hogsmeade visits until the shops were ready to open, and that wouldn't be happening in the foreseeable future.

"Then you'll have plenty of time to get ready."

"Ron will be coming up for that, won't he?"

Hermione began to grin at that. "Don't worry about Ron. I'll keep him occupied. He won't notice a thing. You and Harry aren't the only ones having to do without, you know. It isn't as if we had that many chances over the summer, either, with your mum hovering about. It only gets worse once you know what you're missing."

Ginny stared for a moment. The normally staid Head Girl persona had dropped away. "Hermione!" she said at last, beginning to laugh, "I can't believe you just said that. And about my brother, too. There are details I don't want to know about my family members, thank you very much!"

"Oh, well, then I guess I won't be giving you any advice then."

"You damned well better!"

*

Harry stared at the blank parchment in front of him, wracking his brains for inspiration. Dear Ginny, he wrote and then stopped. No, that sounded too formal. He scratched that out and tried again. Hi Ginny! Too casual. He started over. Ginny… Then he stopped and stared some more.

Tomorrow would mark a week since Ginny had left for school, and he still hadn't written to her yet. His problem was he had no idea what to say to her. He'd tried over the past few days, tried what seemed like a hundred times to write to her. If only he could get started, he thought, it would all come to him. But it never did. On a few occasions he'd managed a sentence or two, but something was always wrong with it.

He'd received her letter on Wednesday morning. It had come with the regular owl post, addressed to the Burrow, but Harry had recognised the writing and immediately known it was for him. And it was huge. He'd never seen such a long letter in his life. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, it intimidated him. Did Ginny expect him to write the same sort of thing back to her?

He'd realised right away that one of the reasons she'd written so much was to kill the time it took to reach Hogwarts. She'd said at the beginning that she had just boarded the train and didn't feel like talking to anyone. And then when she'd closed she'd mentioned that they'd just arrived in Hogsmeade. That part of the letter wasn't the problem.

It was everything she'd written in between. And it wasn't as if he minded terribly the things she'd had to say. No, there were parts he'd read so often he'd memorised them by now. He'd been carrying the letter around with him as one of the few links he had left to her. It went along with the talisman that he still wore, and the dragon she'd given him for his birthday, which was lying on his pillow at the moment. It was just that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to respond in kind. He bit his lip in frustration and made himself put something down on the page.

He immediately crumpled up the sheet of parchment. He could just imagine her reply: "Dear Harry, I'm glad things are going so well for you. I know how much thought and time you put into that letter. Love, Ginny." That bit about her dad wasn't even completely true. He'd got the impression that Mrs Weasley was very worried about her husband, although she was taking pains to hide it.

He had to get this done and soon. His lunch hour was ticking away. What he ought to write was his feelings. That's what she'd written, after all. But there was something daunting about putting them down in ink. It was more permanent somehow. He could just about say some of what he felt for Ginny, but he didn't know if he was ready to write it.

He decided to get out her letter for inspiration. Unfolding the parchment, he began to reread what to him was the most incomprehensible part: "My heart hurts to think that we have to be apart. It hurts. Physically. I can put my fist over the very spot. It's as if part of me has been torn away, and yet I know I'm my own person. I make my own decisions, I do what I want, and yet I'm not whole without you." As often as he'd read that over to himself, he still had trouble bending his mind around it. How was he worth even a small part of what she was? Especially now…

He bit his lip and started again. He would get this done.

"I hope that's Ministry business you're working on there, Potter."

Harry scrambled to hide the parchment, not because it wasn't actually Ministry business, but because his letter to Ginny wasn't any of St John's affair. "It's my lunch hour. I was under the impression I could do what I wanted with my time."

"Your lunch hour is over. Just because you have a famous name doesn't mean everyone is going to fawn all over you."

Harry really wanted to reply with something nasty this time. St John had a talent for making remarks like this when no one else was around to hear it. Whenever one of the other solicitors was within earshot, he was all sweetness and light towards Harry, but Harry didn't think the others were really fooled by his act.

He was saved by having to answer by the sound of someone coming into the office. Looking up, he realised it was more than one person. His godfather was standing at the counter surrounded by a guard of Aurors. Once again, Sirius looked like he had when he'd was newly escaped from Azkaban, although his hair wasn't quite as long. It was matted, though, and his face was drawn. His eyes were focused, glittering with a desire for freedom.

Harry's stomach dropped to the floor, and he suddenly felt cold. After all these years as a fugitive, he'd finally been caught. As a member of the Order, Sirius had benefited from a certain level of protection due to Dumbledore's influence. But Dumbledore was dead now. And Sirius had been caught in Wormtail's stead. Again. Harry felt as if he was about to be sick.

He got to his feet shakily. "Sirius, is there anything I can do?"

"Sirius?" said St John. "On first name basis with wanted criminals now, are we?"

Harry ignored St John and the consequences of what he'd just revealed for the moment. All he cared about was his godfather. Sirius stared, wide-eyed, at Harry for a few seconds before saying, "No, Harry, everything's all right. I've caught him." The relief was evident in his tone.

Harry approached his godfather, but the Aurors seemed to crowd around him like a human shield. "If everything's all right, then why the guard?"

"Technically I haven't been pardoned yet. I'm here to work that out."

"You'll be here to see Hill, then."

"Yes."

Harry reached over to hold open the swinging door in the counter. "It's through here." The phalanx of Aurors moved as a body towards the opening. "You don't have to all come in with him, do you?" Harry asked, his voice rising in irritation. "He's hardly going to do anything. He's innocent and he's here to prove it."

"Move aside," grumbled one of the Aurors. "Don't interfere in official Ministry business. This is none of your affair."

"He's my godfather! Of course it's my affair!" Harry was fairly shouting now.

"What's going on here?" Hill had emerged from his office, no doubt attracted by the noise. Then he spotted Sirius and stopped short. "Sirius Black!"

"Mr Hill, Sirius is my godfather, and he's innocent," Harry interjected before anyone else could respond. "He can prove it to you, if you'd let him. You can, can't you?" Harry asked his godfather. Sirius nodded. "He doesn't need all these Aurors guarding him."

"It's standard procedure, Harry," said Hill calmly.

"I can vouch for him, Mr Hill. He isn't going to do anything. Use one of those Sincerity Charms on him and ask him!"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Move aside, please," Hill added to the Aurors as he drew his wand and trained it on Sirius. "Now, are you here with evidence of your innocence?"

"I am," replied Sirius.

Hill nodded. "All right," he said to the Aurors, "I'm satisfied. You can all go back to your department." The Aurors looked put out to a man, but they obeyed, breaking ranks and allowing Sirius to pass. "Harry, perhaps you should join us. St John can fill in for you while we hear your godfather's story. St John, can you please pull all files relevant to the Black case?"

St John did not look happy with this turn of events, but he could hardly say anything in protest. Harry grinned to himself as he followed Sirius into Hill's office.

To Be Continued…

Harry had lost track of how long they'd been sitting in Hill's office. Sirius had been talking for a long time, while something that closely resembled a Quick Quotes Quill scuttled across an ever lengthening roll of parchment. The only difference with Hill's quill was that it recorded Sirius' exact words without embellishment. When they'd first entered the office, Hill had produced the quill and parchment and demonstrated for them by carefully describing the circumstances in which they found themselves. Harry had watched the quill while Hill, and later Sirius talked, until he had no doubt that it was transcribing events both faithfully and accurately.

Once the quill had been set up, Hill had trained his wand on Sirius, muttering a Sincerity Charm, and asked Sirius to tell his story, beginning with the events leading up to Pettigrew's disappearance and leaving nothing out. And so Sirius had begun, telling what to Harry was a familiar story, about how it had been known that Voldemort was looking for the Potters, how it had been feared that there was a spy in their midst. About the Fidelius Charm and the change of secret keeper. About Peter's betrayal. About his faked death, which had set Sirius up to take the fall. About being sent to Azkaban without a trial.

At this point Hill stopped Sirius and sent Harry out for the case files, which he'd asked St John to pull. They'd consisted of a single roll of parchment--the unfinished parchment on Hill's desk was already longer--but Hill pointed out that this was hardly surprising. There had been no trial, after all, and no need to mount a case.

"Yes, I remember," Hill commented. "I was a junior solicitor at the time. It was obvious to everyone that Black was guilty…"

Here Sirius made a strangled sort of sound in his throat, the kind a dog makes when it stretches too far on its leash and is yanked back. Hill looked straight at Sirius, as he continued. "There was no other conclusion to be drawn. Evidently everyone was wrong."

Harry found it rather unsettling that Hill had betrayed no sign of surprise at Sirius' story up to this point. Most of the wizarding world feared Sirius as the Dark Lord's right hand man, one of his trusted inner circle. Learning that public perception had been wrong for the past seventeen years ought to have shaken him, but he showed no outward sign of it.

"I see no sign through the Sincerity Charm that you are lying to me, Mr Black," Hill went on. "And no sign you're keeping anything from me. But I do need to ask you one thing. Why did you laugh when the street was blown apart? Because that, as much as anything else convinced people of your guilt."

Sirius hesitated, thinking it over, and then gave a twisted sort of smile. "We were all friends at school, you know. James, Remus, Peter and I. And we liked to pull pranks as much as we could. But Peter bunged things up for us more often than not. He wasn't particularly talented at anything. And yet he pulled one over on all of us. No one suspected him. He got the last laugh. And the irony of that… Sometimes you just have to laugh so you don't break down and cry. Then there was the shock on top of that. My best friend and his wife were dead. And it was my fault, really, wasn't it? I more or less handed them over to Voldemort myself. And through Peter… Peter of all people."

Harry watched his godfather the entire time he was speaking. It was difficult for Harry to fathom that Sirius could still feel responsible after all these years. There was just no way he could have known. There was no way anyone could have. But Harry could see the expression in Sirius' eyes--he'd seen it before in the Shrieking Shack--it was the look of someone who would bear a burden of guilt with him to the grave.

Sirius went on with this story at Hill's request, telling how he'd seen the picture in the Daily Prophet, which showed that Peter was still alive, and how Sirius had managed to escape Azkaban himself. How he'd almost had Peter at the end of Harry's third year, but how Peter had escaped at that time and returned to Voldemort. He went on to describe the sort of missions he'd gone on for Dumbledore and the Order during the war.

Here Hill stopped him again. "Would there be any sort of record of your activities during the war?"

"Dumbledore may have kept some. But I couldn't tell you where."

"I'll make enquiries. The Dark Lord's most trusted servant would hardly have been fighting on Dumbledore's side these past years."

"You would think not," commented Sirius dryly. "Do you need me to tell you about Peter's capture? I believe the Aurors were going to question him under Veritaserum."

"I can get those details from them, then. What I'm more concerned with at the moment is your escape from Azkaban."

"What?" cried Harry, unable to contain himself. "You've just now said yourself that you believe Sirius' story, and you're wondering about why he escaped from prison? He was innocent. He shouldn't have been there in the first place!"

"Be that as it may, Harry," replied Hill, "he did, by his own admission escape from Azkaban. Whether he was innocent or not has nothing to do with it. He has not yet been officially exonerated by the Ministry. Now from all that I've heard here today, unless I see some fairly damning evidence to the contrary, I have every reason to believe that Sirius Black will be exonerated by the Ministry, but until that time, he is, technically, still an escaped convict."

"But what does that mean? You can't just send him back to prison. He's innocent!"

"I believe that he's innocent, but he has not yet been proven innocent in the legal sense. And until such time that he is, I'm afraid my hands are tied." Hill sighed heavily. "I'm bound to follow the system, Harry. Usually it works…"

"System? The system wasn't followed in Sirius' case. He didn't even have a trial! Any of the suspected Death Eaters we're prosecuting at the moment are going to get their chance to state their case. Sirius didn't do anything, and he didn't have that chance."

"Yes, and that may very well turn out to be a mitigating factor in all of this. That and any evidence they had in Black's original case was purely circumstantial. I'll see what I can do, Harry, but I can't make any promises."

Harry wanted to protest some more, but Sirius intervened. "Leave it, Harry. We've told our story, and now we'll just have to trust that things will work out the way they ought to."

"They can't send you back to that place, Sirius! Mr Hill, can't you work something out? I can vouch for Sirius. He isn't going to do anything."

"As I said, Harry, I'll see what I can do," said Hill. "But there are no precedents in a case like this. No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, and I can't begin to guess what anyone would want to do about it. The more evidence of Mr Black's innocence we can present, the better. So far we have his story, and possibly Pettigrew's. We may have evidence that Dumbledore trusted you, but that isn't at hand, so I can't present it at the moment. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if the Aurors have finished with Pettigrew. This may take a while. Harry, you can stay with your godfather if you want. St John can continue to fill in for you."

He took up the parchment, along with Sirius' case file and left the room. Harry turned to Sirius. "So how did you manage to catch Wormtail?" He knew they had other issues to discuss, but Harry wasn't quite ready to delve into them yet.

"There isn't really a whole lot to tell. His friends were defeated, so he had to go into hiding on his own. It was mostly a matter of tracking him then. You see, I was able to get close enough to him during the battle in dog form to pick up his scent. In the confusion he didn't realise I was there. I tried to catch him then, but he got away from me. But I was determined to track him, and I did. Odd thing about him though…"

"What was that?"

"His hand was missing."

"His hand?"

"Yes, the silver hand…" Sirius trailed off, but then he hardly needed to remind Harry of the circumstances under which Wormtail had received that hand. "I wonder how he managed to lose it."

"It was magical. Voldemort gave it to him. He couldn't just lose it…"

"Well, no I suppose not, but I think we have more important things to discuss. I got your letter. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What do you remember about that day?"

Sirius grimaced. "Lots of smoke. Explosions. Fighting… It's not anything I want to dwell on."

"But about Voldemort specifically?"

"I remember you duelled with him. There was a light, too bright to look at, and then he was gone… And I saw what Malfoy tried to do to you. I ran over to see if you were all right. And I've just now remembered… The hand. There was a hand on the ground where Voldemort had been standing. I didn't think anything of it at the time, because of all the explosions…" Sirius shuddered. "But now that I think about it… No, that can't be it…"

"Was there anything else on the ground there?" Harry asked, a shiver of foreboding running down his spine. He had a feeling he knew what else might have been left there, but would Sirius make the connection? The night of Voldemort's re-embodiment was indelibly etched into Harry's mind. It had been fodder for countless nightmares in the intervening years. Sirius had only heard his account of that night in Dumbledore's office.

"I can't really remember."

"No blood? No dust?"

"It was hard to tell. I'm sure there was blood but that's hardly surprising. What are you getting at, Harry?"

Harry swallowed. "In a way, it's related to Wormtail's hand I think…"

Sirius looked intrigued. "How?"

"I think that if Wormtail doesn't have his silver hand anymore, it's a sign. Voldemort is really gone this time…"

"How do you know this?"

"When I duelled with him in Hogsmeade, I used a spell on him…"

"A spell… Yes, I remember the light from it, but perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."

And that's what Harry did. He told the story one final time, or so he thought, of how Hermione had found the spell after they'd all searched for weeks. And he told Sirius exactly what had happened when he'd used the spell in the duel.

When he'd finished, Sirius stared at him for a moment in disbelief. "Let me get this straight… You found a spell which would defeat Voldemort but at the cost of your own powers…"

Harry nodded, and then braced himself for the onslaught.

"Harry, what the hell were you thinking? No, don't even bother answering that. You weren't thinking, were you, because if you were you'd never even have considered anything even remotely like that!" Sirius got out of his chair and began pacing back and forth. "I can't believe Dumbledore let you do something like that!"

"He didn't know," Harry said quietly.

"You took on something of this magnitude without telling Dumbledore?"

"What good would it have done me to tell? It was my choice to make in the end, wasn't it?"

"So you and Hermione took it upon yourselves to do this spell…" Sirius had obviously not heard what Harry had just said.

"No," said Harry a bit louder, "I just told you it was my choice. Hermione didn't do anything but find it and translate it. After that she didn't have any choice but to go along with it."

Sirius ran a hand through his dirty hair, causing it to stand on end. "Well, she knew about it. I thought she was more clever than that! Why didn't she tell anyone? Why didn't she stop you?"

"Because I made her promise not to. She understood that I had to do this. Why can't you?"

"It wasn't worth it, Harry. We could have found another way to defeat him!"

"At what cost, Sirius? More lives? More innocent lives?"

Sirius stopped pacing and turned to look straight at Harry. "And you haven't paid a price? You have your whole life ahead of you!"

"I'm one person, Sirius, and I didn't lose my life."

"You could have!"

"But I didn't!"

"You didn't have to do this!"

"I did! It was the only way!"

"There had to be another way!"

Harry was standing by now, himself. "What was it then? If there had been one, Dumbledore would have found it! We were losing!"

Sirius threw up his hands in frustration and began pacing again. "You're just as stubborn as your father! You should have told someone you trusted!"

"I did, I told Hermione. I couldn't tell you, could I? Just look at how you're reacting when it's too late to even do anything about it."

"Of course I'm reacting like this!" Sirius fairly shouted. "What did you expect me to say? Oh, Harry you have no powers left, but it doesn't matter because Voldemort is gone. Thanks for that. Cup of tea?"

"Keep your voice down, Sirius! I already told you I want this kept a secret. I don't know how strong the silencing spells on this office are."

"Oh, and how are you going to keep this from getting out?"

"I've managed so far. I've even found a job."

"Some job, Harry. You're a filing clerk. You ought to be playing professional Quidditch! God, you could have done so many things, and you just gave it up!"

"I'm getting by. I don't need magic to live. Muggles do without."

"You are not a Muggle. You will never be a Muggle! You weren't meant to be one!"

"There's no point in arguing about it. It won't change anything."

"Maybe there's a cure, another spell, something. Have you even looked?"

"We asked Remus…"

"Remus? Remus! Are you telling me he knew about this and he didn't say anything to me?"

"Yes, he knew but I asked him not to tell you. I felt it was something I should tell you myself." Sirius looked as if he wanted to keep arguing, but couldn't come up with anything. "Anyway," Harry went on, "we asked Remus what he knew about it, and he didn't know of anything. He said I had to learn to accept it."

"Well, that's not surprising coming from him, but as smart as Remus is, he doesn't know everything."

"Do you know of anything then?"

"No, but I'm sure there's something out there. There just has to be." He was beginning to sound desperate. "God, I just wish you would have told me about this sooner!"

"I couldn't do that," replied Harry calmly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you had to go after Wormtail. Look at how you're reacting now. If I'd have told you any sooner you'd have dropped all that. I couldn't let you do that."

"Well of course, I would have dropped everything! What kind of godfather would I be if I wasn't there when you needed me? I haven't been able to be there for you the way I ought to, Harry, and this is just one more occasion I couldn't be there."

"And that's exactly why I didn't tell you! I'm sorry, but I needed you to catch Wormtail, because that's the only way you could prove your innocence and have a chance to be my godfather. If you didn't catch him you would have remained a fugitive and then where would you be? On the run! I couldn't let you give up your chance at freedom!"

"All right…" Sirius made an obvious effort at calming himself before he went on. "You're perfectly right about that. And I would have come. Because you're more to me than just James' son. There, I've said it. He asked me to be your godfather, and I've never felt like I was anything other than a failure at it."

Harry was rather stunned at this pronouncement, and he didn't quite know how to react to it. "You know," he said at last, "Remus was right about you. You try to come off like this big, scary bloke. Mad Sirius Black and all that. But inside you're nothing but a puppy dog!"

Sirius' mouth dropped open in surprise. "I can't believe Remus told you that! James used to call me that. Drove me mad with it."

"Sirius," Harry went on quietly, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's not that I didn't want to tell you. But it wasn't something I could put into a letter. And you weren't there…" Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Harry rushed on before he could say anything. "I understand why you weren't. I'm glad you weren't because it meant you were looking for Wormtail, and you've caught him now. My news could wait. Nothing's been changed by the fact that you didn't know sooner, now, has it? But if I had said something sooner, perhaps you wouldn't have caught Wormtail.

"And if you're put out with me for giving up my powers in the first place, I'm sorry. I learned of a way to put a stop to Voldemort, and I had to try it. And it looks as if it might have worked, so it can't be all bad, can it?"

Sirius nodded once. "All right, I don't want to argue about this anymore. We aren't getting anywhere with it, are we? But this is going to take some getting used to. It's such a shock…"

Harry sighed. "I know… I'm still working on dealing with it."

Suddenly Sirius was standing in front of him and enveloping him in a hug, which Harry returned awkwardly. Pulling back, Harry grimaced. "Sirius, please don't take this the wrong way, but… Well, how long has it been since you've had a proper bath?"

"Sorry about that. I suppose I am getting a bit gamy…"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"Harry, what did you mean just now about dealing with it?"

Harry shrugged and sank back down into his chair. "Mostly it's getting used to doing things a bit differently. I'll manage. Ginny…"

"Ginny? Ginny Weasley? What's this now? Something else you've been neglecting to tell me?" His tone was much lighter now. "You've been staying with the Weasleys, haven't you? How long has this been going on?"

Harry felt himself beginning to blush. "About a year now," he mumbled.

"A year? Looks like that book I gave you last year came in handy then."

"Erm, yeah… I mean no," he tacked on lamely, blushing even more.

Sirius looked at him knowingly. "Well, you're past the age where I need to be having talks with you, aren't you?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly. This was almost as bad as having Mrs Weasley walk in on him and Ginny.

"Then all I need to tell you is to be careful then."

"Not much chance of anything happening, anyway. Her mother was watching us like a hawk all summer, and now she's back at Hogwarts for her seventh year."

"Well I hope you write to her more often than you do to me."

Harry couldn't look at Sirius. He was guilty on both counts. "I don't know how to write stuff like that. She wrote to me, and… I can't write that sort of thing. I don't know how."

Sirius seemed to consider, as if he was searching in his memory, and Harry had to wonder if he'd ever been in a position like this. "Well, you just have to write it. Don't think about it, just do it. And don't ever read back over it, because if you do, you'll never send it."

"I should, I know. After everything she's done for me, she deserves it."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"She saved me. She's saved me twice now. She saved my life with that talisman she made me…"

Sirius let out a whistle, cutting Harry off. "She made you the talisman?"

"Yes, but that's a secret, and she doesn't like anyone to talk about it. And she helped me get out of a really bad spot this summer. She saved me from myself, really."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to bring up the fact that he should have been there for Harry too, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if searching for the right way to put it. "Don't start again," Harry cut across him. "I don't want to argue about that anymore. Let's just say I haven't had an easy time adjusting to everything, but it's been getting better. And I couldn't have done it without her."

"In that case, you'd better write to her. And don't say anything stupid." Harry was grateful to Sirius for keeping it light. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to examine his feelings for Ginny in front of Sirius.

The door opened in the next moment, and Hill came striding into the room. Sirius took his seat again. "Right," said Hill without preamble. "Here's where we stand. I've showed your deposition to the head of the Department, along with your old case file, and the evidence gained from Mr Pettigrew. While he is in agreement with me that there were some irregularities in your case of seventeen years ago and that there is ample evidence to put your guilt in doubt, we cannot ignore your escape from Azkaban. Now…"

He paused for breath. "There are no precedents in this case, as I stated earlier, since no one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, but since you are still technically a convicted criminal until such time as we can see about your getting an exoneration from the Minister of Magic, you cannot be allowed to go free. What we are prepared to do, however, is allow you to remain in the custody of your godson, provided you take an oath that you will not attempt to escape. While he is at his place of employment, you shall remain at his current place of residence in Ottery St Catchpole. You shall not leave Harry's place of residence unless you are accompanied by Harry himself. I strongly suggest to you that you remain in the house unless you are summoned in to the Ministry on official business."

Sirius blinked a few times, and Harry fought off the urge to laugh. "So I'm to be placed under house arrest? I'm hardly going to attempt to escape if I want to prove my innocence, am I?"

"Of course you wouldn't, but the head of the Department requires it. It's for form's sake more than anything else. We just can't let you go when you haven't been officially exonerated yet, you see, and I'm going out on a bit of a limb here. We're assuming the Weasleys won't object to your presence in their home, Mr Black."

"They won't," said Harry quickly. "They know all about Sirius."

If Hill was surprised at all by that statement, he did not let it show. "Then I think it might be best if you take Mr Black back to the Weasleys' with you." He looked at his watch. "There won't be much sense in you coming back into the Ministry today, Harry."

It was Harry's turn to blink in surprise. "But…"

"Don't argue with me, Harry. I know we're busy, but things are going to get worse before they get better. Take advantage of some time off while you can."

"Wait," Harry said quickly. "How are we going to get out of here without attracting attention? I can't leave from the Apparition point. All sorts of people are going to see us."

"You're right. You can leave from my office. I'll cover for you so it doesn't look funny, all right?"

"All right, then," said Harry. "Just let me collect my things. Wait for me here, Sirius, I won't be a moment."

When Harry stopped at his desk, he noticed a few of his things had been displaced in a rather suspicious manner, and he was extremely happy he'd stuffed his unfinished letter to Ginny into his pocket earlier. He wouldn't put it past St John at all to go through his desk… At least he was going home early, and St John was going to have to do Harry's job for the rest of the day.

"How are we going to manage to leave from here?" Sirius asked quietly when Harry came back into Hill's office. "You wouldn't be able to Apparate out of here even if you could…"

"I've got a Portkey. Hold on to my robes."

With a final nod to Hill, Harry reached into his pocket and turned the hands to six o'clock. Within minutes, they found themselves in the Burrow's kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was sitting at the table sipping at a mug of tea. She jumped, spilling tea onto the front of her apron when Harry and Sirius appeared.

"Goodness, Harry!" she exclaimed. "Sirius! What on earth is going on?" Harry thought she looked a bit preoccupied.

"Would it be all right if Sirius stayed here for a while?" Harry asked.

"Why yes, of course it would, but… Won't the Ministry be looking for you?"

"They're already aware of where I am, Molly," replied Sirius.

"But how…"

"Sirius!" Mr Weasley had just come hobbling in from the living room. He'd evidently been in there and had heard the commotion caused by Sirius' and Harry's unexpected arrival. He limped towards a chair, wincing as he sat down. "What brings you here?"

"He's caught…" Harry began, and then he stopped, remembering his confidentiality agreement. Was he allowed to discuss this with the Weasleys? The information he had was something he'd learned at the office, but yet it was nothing Sirius wouldn't have told him under other circumstances. "Erm, Sirius, I think you'd better tell this. I'm not supposed to talk about anything that goes on at the office, but you haven't sworn not to tell, have you?"

"No… All right. I've caught Peter Pettigrew, which means I can prove I'm innocent of any wrongdoing."

Mr Weasley let out an exclamation of surprise, while his wife smiled, and placed a hand over her heart. "Oh, how wonderful for you!" she said.

"Mr Hill has arranged things so I can stay here while I'm waiting for the Ministry to decide what they're going to do with my case, but I'm more or less under house arrest while I'm waiting," added Sirius. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"No, of course not," said Mrs Weasley. "As long as I know a horde of Aurors isn't going to break down my door and carry you off in the middle of the night. I've had as much excitement as I can take for the next while."

Harry knew she was referring to Mr Weasley's accident last week. "No, that shouldn't be a problem," said Sirius. "But are you sure? If I'm only going to be a reminder of…"

Mrs Weasley cut him off. "Don't talk such nonsense. Charlie may have given up his life to save yours, but I know that you'd have done the same if the situation had been reversed."

Sirius looked stunned for a moment. "Thank you," he rasped. Then he cracked a half smile and went on. "It's just a bit strange… They've put me in the custody of my eighteen-year-old godson until they've decided."

"Does that mean I get to give you orders?" asked Harry. "Because I command you to go take a bath. And burn those robes while you're at it."

While Mrs Weasley took showed Sirius up to the bathroom and got him some clean clothes to change into, Harry continued up to Ron's room. He had a letter to finish, and he didn't know when he'd have a few spare hours to work on it.

*

Dear Ginny… Ginny remembered the way her hands had shaken as she unfolded the parchment when Hedwig had first delivered it. (It had arrived, ironically enough, along with another offering from the twins, a selection of magical prophylactic devices, which apparently came in different sizes. Her brothers had made a bit of a production about saying they didn't know which size to get, so they'd let her decide.) She'd had to suppress the urge to let out a squeal of joy. It had been a huge relief to finally have a letter from him after so many days of being disappointed. Now she couldn't stop herself from taking another quick peek at it, even though the breakfast table wasn't the ideal place to read it with so many curious classmates about. She'd lost track of how many times she'd read it over the past few days.

Random sentences leapt out at her as she scanned down the page.

I didn't know I could miss anyone this much… I know what you meant about your heart hurting. I feel the same way… Whenever I see a flash of red, I look up. I can't help it. I want it to be you so much, even though I know it can't be you… I can't wait to see you. Send me the Hogsmeade dates as soon as you know when they are.

Ginny's heart sank, as it always did when she got to this part, and she couldn't go on. Harry was going to be so disappointed when he got her reply and he learned that there wouldn't be any Hogsmeade weekends in the foreseeable future. She folded up the letter and put in into her bag. She'd be able to read it over again in greater depth during History of Magic.

But as she rose from the table and headed towards the entrance hall with its marble staircase, Hermione pulled her aside. "Ginny, have you seen the newspaper today?"

"No, why?"

"Just look at this."

Ginny took the paper from her friend, noticing the picture of Sirius Black on the front page. It was an old picture, the one that had been plastered over the Daily Prophet for months during her second year. His haunted eyes blinked slowly at her from under his tangle of matted hair. Heart sinking at the thought of what it would do to Harry if he were caught, she began to read.

The Ministry of Magic, in what seems to this reporter an incomprehensible decision, has seen fit to pardon escaped convict Sirius Black, writes Rita Skeeter. The reader will remember that Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban almost seventeen years ago for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve other Muggles, all of whom he summarily dispatched with one curse. Black was also reputed to be in league with You-Know-Who during his first reign of terror, and some even placed him as high as second in command among the Dark Lord's followers. Not a week ago, he was sighted at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the company of a man who claimed to be Peter Pettigrew.

Undisclosed sources at the Ministry of Magic have informed the Daily Prophet that according to Black, the alleged Mr Pettigrew has spent the better part of the past eighteen years disguised as a rat. One must question Black's sanity in light of the fact that he spent twelve years in the company of Dementors. The alleged Mr Pettigrew is apparently corroborating Black's story, leading this reporter to wonder if Black's friend isn't in need of a good cure at St Mungo's himself.

Ginny slowly lowered the paper and handed it back to Hermione. She felt torn between happiness that Harry's godfather was a free man at last, and disgust at the way the story had been portrayed in the press. Judging from the look on Hermione's face, Hermione was entertaining similar thoughts.

"I wish I'd made her promise to be honest longer," Hermione muttered.

"What?" asked Ginny, perplexed.

"Remember back in fourth year--well it would have been third for you--when she was writing all those horrible, sensationalist articles?" Ginny nodded. "And then she stopped for a while?"

"Yes… There wasn't anything by her for a long time. Dad was pretty pleased about that."

"It's because I found out something about her. She's an illegal Animagus. She can turn into a beetle. Anyway, I caught her and made her promise to change her ways for a year, or else I'd report her. And she did. Only I see now I should have made her promise to quit forever."

"Can't you just turn her in now?"

"I'll have to check, but I somehow doubt it. She knows I know her secret. If she's clever at all, she will have registered."

"And she just had to bring up Harry again, didn't she? She can't go more than a day or two without dropping his name…"

"Did Harry mention anything about this in his letter at all? From the way things are stated in this article, he must have known something was happening."

"He didn't mention it, but maybe he couldn't. If this had anything to do with his Ministry job, he'd be bound by his confidentiality agreement, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so…" Hermione broke of and bit her lip. "It's wonderful that Sirius has been able to prove his innocence after all these years, but this article… I'm sure he was exonerated, and not pardoned. There's a difference, you know. If people believe Rita Skeeter's version of things, how is he ever going to find a place in the wizarding world?"

Ginny looked at Hermione sadly and shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea how else to respond.

*

Harry sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on his work, but it was difficult. In the days since Sirius had received his exoneration, it was difficult to think of anything else. He'd been ecstatic for his godfather when they'd first learned the news. Not only would Sirius' name be cleared of any wrongdoing, but the Ministry was willing to overlook his escape from Azkaban, as well as offer him a healthy compensation for the years he'd lost. Sirius had wanted to refuse the money, but Mr Weasley had counselled him not to make any hasty decisions. It should have been cause for celebration, and it had been. For one day. Sirius had been declared innocent, but from the treatment he'd received in the press, public opinion didn't seem to agree.

Just yesterday, he'd taken Sirius to Ollivander's on his lunch hour to buy a new wand, to replace the one that had been snapped when his godfather was sent to prison, and Harry hadn't missed the way people has seemed to shrink away from Sirius, as if they were afraid he'd suddenly turn around and curse them all. The reception at the wand-maker's had been rather frosty as well, making Harry rather grateful that they were able to find a replacement wand in a short amount of time. Mr Ollivander had seemed pleased about that, too.

Harry had expressed his outrage to Ginny in a long letter the day the Rita Skeeter article had appeared, and he'd been surprised at how much that had helped, especially when Ginny had sent him a reply in the same angry tone. It was comforting to know that she, at least, agreed with him about the unfairness of the situation. Of course, the Weasleys who still remained at the Burrow were outraged, as well, but Ginny's reaction seemed to touch him all the more.

Now he was tempted to write to her again and tell her about yesterday's shopping trip. He wouldn't have time for that before this evening, if then. The office was swamped. He'd had to work through his lunch hour today, and it looked as if he'd be staying after hours, as well. St John had been making snide comments under his breath to Harry about what a pity it was that Harry wasn't getting any more time off these days, which did nothing to improve Harry's mood.

He looked at his watch and saw there was about half an hour to go before the office officially closed for the day. From the pile of paperwork on his desk, he realised it would be past nine before he could go back to the Burrow. He sighed. If he was going to write to Ginny, he'd be staying up late to get it done.

It was almost six before he looked up again, as a shadow fell across his desk. Hill was standing there, accompanied by a man who looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

"Harry," said Hill, "this is Damian Bode from the Department of Mysteries. He needs to have a word with you."

Harry's heart sank and at the same time he felt a twinge of alarm. Was he ever going to get out of here? "But I'm not finished my work yet," he protested.

"No time for that now," said Bode. "This is official Ministry business. It takes precedent over everything else. If you'd just come with me, Harry…"

Harry had no choice but to follow.

To Be Continued…

Harry trudged through the labyrinth that was the Ministry of Magic in Bode's wake. They were back in the area that Harry remembered from his first day at work over a month ago. It had crumbling walls, unbroken by any indication of a door. He could only hope that Rita Skeeter wasn't hovering in some side corridor waiting to jump out at him. He could just imagine the headlines she'd make of this development: the famous Harry Potter being taken in for questioning by the Department of Mysteries.

But what could the Department of Mysteries want with him, really? This couldn't have anything to do with Sirius, could it? His godfather had been exonerated, after all, so Harry couldn't be considered to be harbouring a fugitive. In any case, that was the sort of thing Aurors and his own department looked into. Harry remembered Mr Weasley telling him four years ago that he had no idea what the employees of Department of Mysteries got up to. Harry could hardly expect to know anything more about it after a mere six weeks.

Bode halted abruptly in front of a bare expanse of wall. Harry watched as the Unspeakable tapped a spot where two cracks in the plaster ran together and muttered what was an obvious password under his breath. It was voiced too quietly for Harry to catch. Immediately the wall began to give way before Bode, opening into an archway and reminding Harry of the entrance to Diagon Alley, to reveal what had to be Bode's office. Harry followed him in, and the wall snapped shut behind them, causing an odd, prickling sensation to run down Harry's spine. Something told him he wouldn't be leaving this room until Bode was ready to let him go.

Without a further word to Harry, the Unspeakable began to rummage through a mess of parchment on his desk. It looked as if bits of various files had been left there in a heap. Harry caught a glimpse of the word "Black" on one piece of parchment before it was swept aside. On another, he thought he spied the word "Dumbledore". Then a slivery glimmer caught his eye, and he turned to see a Pensieve sitting on a shelf to one side. It had the same sort of runes on it that Harry remembered seeing on Dumbledore's Pensieve, but he didn't know enough about them to tell if this basin had indeed belonged to his former headmaster.

Bode continued to dig through his papers, evidently looking for something or other in the mess. Harry wondered how he managed to get anything done in such chaos. The only sound in the room was that of rustling parchment, and Harry wondered if he shouldn't just sit down, even though he hadn't been offered a seat. In the end, he did, just as Bode produced a Quick Quotes Quill and a blank roll of parchment, but still Bode didn't say anything.

The silence stretched out, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he could stand it no longer. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what this is all about?" His voice sounded unnaturally loud.

Bode gave him penetrating look, as the quill scratched out what Harry had just said. It was the only sound in the room. Harry felt as if Bode was looking straight into Harry's mind and reading what was there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He suddenly had the impression that he knew what Ginny had felt like last year when Krum had looked into her soul. Was Bode a Soul Searcher as well? If so, then he'd probably just learned Harry's secret. But something didn't quite jibe. Soul Searchers were supposed to be rare. Could there be more than one of them alive at the same time? Or was Bode simply a good actor? Harry had no idea, but whatever was going on, it was creepy and unsettling.

"No," Bode replied at last. His voice was gruff. "I'll be asking the questions here."

"Haven't I got a right to know what's going on?" asked Harry, starting to feel irritated. If he had just been Searched, shouldn't he at least have had a chance to give his permission?

"You may, but you'll work that out soon enough. I'm not allowed to tell you, you see."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, knowing it was probably standing on end and not really caring. The whole situation was becoming more bizarre by the second.

"Now then," Bode began after a few more moments had passed in silence, "I need you to tell me what you did to Lord Voldemort."

Harry's jaw dropped. Was he about to be accused of murder? That would explain why he felt as if he were being treated like a criminal, anyway. "What I did to him?" Harry repeated lamely.

"Yes, you duelled with him, and by all appearances, he's gone. How did you do it?"

"I… I used a spell," replied Harry, now more confused than ever. "I don't think it has a name… We found it in Hogwarts library."

"We?"

Harry wondered if he was about to get Ron, Hermione and Ginny into trouble now. "My friends and I."

"Tell me about it."

"What do you want to know, specifically?"

"Everything. Where and how you found it. How it works…"

"I can tell you some of it. I don't know how it works. I don't know if it worked." And, Harry added in his thoughts, there are some things I don't want to tell you.

"Then tell me what you do know."

And so Harry once again launched into the explanation of how Hermione and Ginny had worked out what the runic text might mean, and then the girls along with him and Ron had searched until Hermione had found the entire text and translated it fully. Bode stopped him here.

"What was the title of the book?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "I have no idea. I never looked. It would have been in some ancient language, anyway. Even if I had looked I wouldn't have any idea what it meant."

"Do you remember what the book looked like?"

Harry shrugged. "Old… I don't know. It was dark. I don't pay attention to these things." He wondered why this was even important, but he knew it wouldn't do him much good to ask.

"All right. Go on then. What about this spell. What was the incantation?"

"I have no idea what the original was. I used Latin. Hermione translated it for me."

"Yes, well that hardly matters. It's the intent behind the spell as much as anything that makes it work successfully. What I'm most interested in is the incantation, though."

Harry didn't want to tell him. It mentioned the sacrifice after all, and he knew Bode was going to be interested in that, as well. He shifted uncomfortably. "Exulo in tenebras ad perpetuitatem," he mumbled.

Bode looked at him hard once more, and again Harry had the impression the Unspeakable was looking right through him. "Impossible." It wasn't said in amazement; it was a statement of fact. "There has to be more to it than that. There isn't any possible way something that simple could have done it."

"Done what?"

"I'm asking the questions here. Tell me what else there was to the spell."

"No. Not until you tell me why it's so important for you to know."

Bode didn't reply, so Harry closed his mouth and stared back. They sat this way for several minutes without blinking, until Harry finally spoke up. "Right. This is stupid. I've got work to do in my own department. It's sort of important, too. Helping round up the remaining Death Eaters and all. Granted I'm not actually building cases against them or anything like that, but still, someone has to lend the solicitors a hand so they can get things done properly. I haven't got time for staring contests."

He got up, wondering if the wall would react to his mere presence and let him through. He hoped so; he was going to look like an idiot otherwise. His heart leapt as the wall opened as he walked up to it, but he soon saw that it hadn't been reacting to him. Someone else was coming into Bode's office. Harry had to step back to allow the newcomer to pass.

"Ah, I see you've already started," said the man. "How are things going?"

Bode grunted and gestured to the parchment, where the quill was still skating across the page as it recorded the proceedings. The newcomer read over the parchment before sighing and turning to Harry. "I must apologise for my partner's rudeness. He's really not a people person, you see." He paused and extended a hand towards Harry. "Kermit Croaker. It's a pleasure. Have a seat, have a seat."

"I was just leaving," Harry replied.

Croaker actually looked hurt. "Oh… well that would be a pity, wouldn't it?"

Bode muttered something inaudible from the desk. Harry leaned forward to see if the quill had recorded Bode's words, but the Unspeakable snatched it up before it could write them down. Croaker turned to address him. "Why don't you get us some tea, while I have a word with Mr Potter here?"

Bode looked affronted, but he slumped off through the door. Croaker took a seat at the desk, and after rummaging a few moments for a fresh quill, looked at Harry. "Now, would you mind telling me what the trouble is?"

"Trouble? Your partner drags me here without a word of explanation and just expects me to answer his questions, and you're asking me what the trouble is? I don't have to co-operate, you know. I have rights. In fact, I'm not saying anything further until I know what you want with me."

Croaker's affable face hardened the slightest amount. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Departmental policy and all."

"Then we've got a problem, haven't we?"

Croaker lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then he took the quill off the parchment once more. "All right. I'm bending the rules here, so you can't tell anyone. If I tell you what we're investigating, you'll have to agree to letting me perform a Memory Charm when we're finished here. Would you be willing to co-operate under those circumstances?"

"Perhaps. I just need to know one more thing. Who's going to find out about whatever I have to tell you once we're finished?"

"Oh, all this remains strictly within the Department of Mysteries. The Minister for Magic will be told the final conclusions of the investigation, but not the details. We keep those to ourselves. And you don't have to worry. Every employee of the Department of Mysteries is subject to a more stringent confidentiality agreement than your own department."

"And what if I choose not to co-operate? What can you do about it?"

"Not a thing, not a thing. But let me just point out that there are advantages if you co-operate. You'll be helping put public unease to rest." Harry raised his eyebrows, and Croaker went on. "You must have worked out by now what we're investigating."

"It's got to do with Voldemort."

"We're trying to prove he's truly gone this time. You must have noticed the war has never been declared over officially. The Minister doesn't want to have a situation occur where the war is declared over, Voldemort deemed gone, and then have him turn up again. Can you imagine the hysteria? Can you imagine the lack of confidence the wizarding public would then have in its leaders? Goodness knows, Fudge was bad enough…"

Cornelius Fudge had gone to his grave denying that Voldemort had truly returned. He'd been assassinated two summers ago. The new Minister had proved to be a lot more decisive, in any case, and more willing to help out Dumbledore. However, Harry was fairly sure there hadn't been complete trust between the Hogwarts headmaster and the Ministry. The Ministry had taken its own precautions, such as warding off Diagon Alley against attack, while allowing Dumbledore more or less free rein with the Order.

"…So you see, the Minister wants to be absolutely certain that Voldemort is gone before declaring any sort of celebrations. But once we're able to do that, things can start going back to normal."

Normal. What was normal for the wizarding world? Harry wasn't sure he knew. "You're going to have to obliviate me as it is now, aren't you?" he asked.

Croaker had the grace to look abashed. "Well, yes."

Harry sighed. "All right, I'll co-operate. But you're going first. You're going to tell me all about this investigation, because, you see, I used a spell on Voldemort, and it looks as if he's gone. But even I'm not one hundred percent certain it worked."

And so Croaker explained. After the battle in Hogsmeade, there had been a widespread, but largely secret search for Voldemort, but no trace of him could be found anywhere. Department of Mysteries investigators had examined the spot where Voldemort had been last seen, but nothing had been made of hand that had been lying on the ground, nor of the blood. They had been considered simple by-products of the battle. Until the department had laid hands on Dumbledore's Pensieve, which the Ministry had taken into possession when it had gathered evidence for Sirius' case.

"And there we saw something very odd," said Croaker. "There we found an account of the night Voldemort re-embodied, an account given by an eye-witness to Dumbledore himself." Here Croaker looked straight at Harry, and Harry knew exactly what scene the Unspeakable was referring to. "We might never have seen it, except that your godfather was present, and your department had asked us specifically for Dumbledore's memories as they related to your godfather's case. And I know I don't have to tell you what was involved in that re-embodiment spell."

"Flesh, blood and bone," said Harry dully.

"Flesh, more specifically a hand, and not just any hand. One from Voldemort's servant, one with a missing finger. Looking back at the description of what was found on the spot where Voldemort was last seen, that hand was indeed missing the forefinger. The blood was also present, but the bone…"

"It would have been impossible to see," Harry broke in quietly. "The bone was taken from Voldemort's father's grave. It had decomposed into dust by then. If there had been any of it left on the spot, it wouldn't have been noticed. Or the wind would have blown it away."

Croaker nodded. "Well, then, another piece falls into place. I'll need you to repeat that on the record, though."

Harry waited while Croaker set up the quill to record what they were saying once more, and repeated his statement. Then the Unspeakable went on. "That, along with Mr Pettigrew's missing replacement hand and the Dark Marks disappearing from his followers' arms… Well, that in itself doesn't point to anything. Those disappeared the last time, only to reappear as Voldemort became strong once more. We didn't know about them at the time of his first defeat, however. The fact that they've disappeared again does point to his defeat though. But the evidence on the spot where Voldemort disappeared… Now that indicates that the re-embodiment spell itself was undone. So the only question left to answer is, how did that come about? And I think you're the only one who can tell us that."

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed. "This is the part that I want to go no further, but I reckon I have to tell you because it may be the last piece left in the puzzle. I didn't give the entire spell earlier. The first part of it was Me porricio."

"I sacrifice myself," Croaker translated almost to himself.

"Yes."

"But you didn't give up your life. Would this be an indication that the spell didn't work after all?"

"I don't know whether both parts of it worked, although now that I've heard all this, I'm inclined to think they did. The sacrifice portion worked, though. It was never my life. It was my magical powers. I have none now."

*

The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, causing Harry's mouth to water in spite of his exhaustion as he collapsed into his place at the table. It was the first evening in a month he wasn't having to settle for reheated leftovers at midnight, and he fully intended to enjoy it before heading off to bed.

He could hardly believe the interrogation--he couldn't think of it as anything more--by the Department of Mysteries had taken place so long ago, but it had given him a start only today to realise October was already half gone. So far nothing had come of that incident, which he remembered partially, in spite of the memory charm that Croaker had placed on him at the end of the meeting. He remembered that it had occurred, and he recalled his feelings at the time; he just couldn't recall specific details of what had been discussed, especially where the Ministry's involvement was concerned. There hadn't yet been an official announcement of the war's end, but on the other hand, no one new seemed to be aware of Harry's secret.

In the meantime, he'd been snowed under at work. In the past week he'd barely been at the Burrow long enough for a few hours' fitful sleep before the crack of dawn, when he had to leave for the office again.

He ran his thumb along the stack of letters sitting by his plate at the table, thinking guiltily that he'd been remiss in writing to Ginny again, but at least this time, it wasn't because he was unable to find the words to express himself. It was a simple question of not enough hours in the day. He recognised her handwriting on the first letter in the pile. He hadn't even had time to read it yet, let alone reply. He'd have taken it to work with him to read in a spare moment, but he wanted to take the time to read it over slowly, to savour each word, and he wanted to be in private when he did so. It was easier to pretend she was there with him that way.

Harry ate his supper in silence and as quickly he could without being impolite. Mrs Weasley was too busy fussing over her husband to notice. "Now Arthur, you be sure to tell them when you go back to the Ministry tomorrow that you won't be up to any more raids."

Mr Weasley was still walking with a noticeable limp, and Harry knew there had to be more to it than a simple broken leg, as long as the healing process was taking, but he didn't want to ask. There was a palpable veil of secrecy surrounding the incident, as far as Harry could tell. It was difficult for him to determine just what the nature of the secret was, however, since he was rarely at the Burrow for any length of time these days.

"You really ought to get someone younger into the office with you to handle that sort of thing," Mrs Weasley fretted.

"Come off it, Mum," Bill commented. "Dad's not as old as all that."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son," said Mr Weasley, while his wife glared at their eldest son.

"Although I suppose there's enough of us members of the Order with little enough to do, if ever you need back-up…" Bill was patently tired of waiting around to find out whether the Order needed his services anymore. He was itching to return to Egypt.

Sirius had already moved on. His only problem was his inability to find anyone in the wizarding world willing to hire him, in spite of the fact this his appearance was much less menacing now as a result of several weeks' worth of access to hot water and Mrs Weasley's hearty cooking. The Rita Skeeter article was partly to blame for that, but not entirely. Too many business people in the wizarding world had their finances caught up in the rebuilding effort and couldn't afford to hire extra help. Much of the rebuilding was being done with volunteer help, but shops still had to replace their stock. Harry was glad for Sirius' sake that they'd convinced him to keep the money the Ministry had offered him. If he was careful, he might be able to live quietly on that money for a while, combined with what he already had in his Gringott's vault.

Harry swallowed the last of his supper and stood, picking up his stack of letter. "If you don't mind, I think I'll head up to bed now," he said.

"Oh, won't you have any pudding, Harry?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"No thanks, really, everything was delicious, but I couldn't eat another bite. I'm just dead tired is all."

"They're working you much too hard, dear."

"Not a whole lot I can do about that, Mrs Weasley. Good night everyone!"

As he headed up the stairs towards Ron's room, he found he was suddenly wide awake. He had a whole pile of letters from Ginny to get through, and he was going to reply tonight. He reached the top storey, threw himself onto the bed and tore open the first envelope.

Harry knew she was referring to the dress robes from Madam Malkin's shop. Before things had got too mad at the office, he'd had a chance to nip out on his lunch hour and pick up the robes he'd had laid aside for Ginny, as well as order a new set of dress robes for himself. He'd waited to send Ginny her robes, as he hadn't been certain what her reaction would be. However when she'd owled him to inquire about the invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map, he'd thought it the ideal occasion to send along the dress robes as well.

Harry went back to the top and read Ginny's letter over again, stopping at the point where she apologised for taking so long to reply. He looked at the date. It was a week old. Panicking, he looked through the rest of the envelopes, noting with relief that none of them was red. He knew it was silly, because a real Howler would have exploded long before now. Still, it would be best if he got through these and wrote a reply before morning, or else he just might find a red envelope at the breakfast table.

He moved on to the next letter.

Scratching his head, Harry moved on to the next letter in the stack. Scanning down, he recognised Remus' signature at the bottom.

The letter went on, but Harry laid it aside for now. Something funny was going on here. Ginny was definitely up to something, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Not that he had any idea what she was doing… The next letter from his godfather proved to be even more puzzling.

Harry was very glad he'd chosen to read his post in private. He felt as if his face was on fire. What on earth was Ginny getting up to that she had to ask Sirius about enhancement charm, of all things? He wasn't even sure he wanted to read any more. He laid Sirius' letter aside, deciding he might be better off knowing the worst. The next letter was from Hermione, and it was longer than the others. He almost dreaded finding out what she had to say.

Harry set the letters aside, and ran his hands over his face, while he tried to work out what was going on. Whatever it was, Harry suspected that it was going to make any prank the twins ever pulled look downright innocent. He was going to have to write to Ginny and ask, he realised. But that solution was problematic in and of itself now, since he hadn't written to her in over a week. He knew she wasn't going to be too pleased with him for that reason. He was going to have to be careful to make sure she didn't turn her wrath loose on him. In fact, he would have suspected that was what this whole "project" was about, except for the fact that she'd mentioned it in her first letter of a week ago.

He rummaged though his trunk until he'd produced some parchment, ink and a quill, but he hadn't got very far into his letter when there was a knock at the door. It proved to be Mr Weasley, and Harry felt sorry that he'd had to hobble up five flights of stairs to the top of the house on his bad leg.

"Sorry to disturb you, Harry," he commented, "but I couldn't help noticing you had a letter from Ginny there. She wouldn't have mentioned getting the box-in-the-jack she asked for, did she?"

"Sorry?" said Harry, confused. "Did you mean a jack-in-the-box?"

"Yes, that must be it. At any rate, she asked me to send her the one I had out in my shed. Did she mention getting it?"

"Erm, no, I don't think she did. But then this letter was sent a week ago. I haven't had anything more recent than that."

"All right then. If you're writing back, would you mind asking her for me if she got it all right?"

"Of course."

Mr Weasley said good night, and Harry went back to apologising profusely for not replying sooner, but now he had another thing to puzzle over. It was late indeed before Harry finished his letter and sent Hedwig off towards Hogwarts with it.

It was still dark out when Harry rose and got dressed for work the following morning. He blinked sleepily as he entered the light of the kitchen. Mrs Weasley had already started breakfast, judging by the large pot of porridge bubbling on the stove. She had to be cooking an extra-large breakfast to sustain her husband on his first day back at the Ministry.

Harry poured hot water into the tea pot and set the leaves in it to steep. While he was waiting, he idly picked up the copy of the morning's Daily Prophet, which was lying on the table. Upon seeing the headline, his eyes widened and he had to sit down.

Suspected Death Eater Attack in Hogsmeade the headline screamed. The town of Hogsmeade suffered quite a rude awakening late last night as Zonko's joke shop suffered a mysterious explosion. Although no suspects were seen, sources from the Ministry of Magic fear the attack was the work of the children of Death Eaters since the source of the explosion was apparently Dungbombs and Filibuster Fireworks. The Department of Mysteries is said to be working on the significance of the Muggle device which was found on the scene. It is feared that the Box of Jack, pictured below, could have been used to enchant the victims, as it produces an eerie, trance-inducing noise…

Harry stopped reading, and looked at the picture that accompanied the article. It showed the remains of a leering clown's head bobbing on the end of a twisted spring. Wisps of smoke were coming off the entire thing.

Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably, as the pieces fell into place at last. Ginny had mentioned in earlier letters that the twins had been taking great glee in sending her little reminders that they'd caught her and Harry under compromising circumstances the night before she'd left for school. He also remembered the delight they'd taken in humiliating both him and Ginny that same evening. This had to be a form of revenge. There was no other explanation for it. It wouldn't be the first time Ginny had resorted to such means, either. She'd done something similar, albeit on a smaller scale, on his seventeenth birthday, and with much less provocation.

His musings were interrupted by Mrs Weasley's arrival in the kitchen. "Oh, good morning, Harry dear," she greeted distractedly as she went to stir the porridge. "It's just terrible, isn't it? Just when everyone believes it might all be over…"

Harry had been about to hide the newspaper, but Mrs Weasley had obviously already seen it. He might have comforted her with the knowledge that no Death Eaters had been behind the Zonko's attack, but he didn't think she'd be very pleased to learn her own daughter was the true culprit. Plus she might ask Harry some tricky questions about why Ginny would want revenge on her brothers in the first place.

Mrs Weasley placed a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Oh, and this came for you while I was out gathering the eggs." She handed him a burnt-looking envelope, which had a rather suspicious smell about it. "It looks to be from the twins," she added. She would have been certain to recognise her own sons' writing, after all.

Harry was fairly sure he didn't want to open this letter at the breakfast table, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Plus Mrs Weasley was looking at him expectantly, her lower lip quivering slightly and betraying her worry about her boys. He reluctantly slit the envelope, releasing a noxious cloud of purplish smoke into the kitchen. It took a few moments for him to recover from his coughing fit and his eyes to stop watering before he could read what the twins had to say.

Dear Mum, the letter began, giving Harry quite a start. He looked at the envelope once more and saw that it had been indeed addressed to him. Not only that, he could see slight variations in the handwriting on alternate sentences at the beginning of the letter, as if the twins had taken turns in composing it.

Here the letter cut off abruptly, only to continue in an entirely different vein. There was a curious-looking blackened space between the two sections of the letter.

Mrs Weasley was watching Harry closely, and he knew she was waiting for word that her sons were all right. Harry wasn't quite sure how to begin to explain that this was all an elaborate joke, but he knew he had to say something to set her mind at ease.

Harry was about to launch into an explanation, when the back door suddenly burst open. Both Harry and Mrs Weasley turned in alarm to see Pauline standing there, red-faced and her blonde hair in wild disarray. At the same time, Mr Weasley limped into the kitchen dressed in an old pair of robes, but evidently ready to go in to the Ministry. Harry thought he looked rather tired, and the day was only beginning.

"Pauline!" Mrs Weasley gasped, taking in the girl’s wild-eyed expression. "What on earth…"

"I am going to murder your sons, Mrs Weasley," she announced in a very loud, agitated voice. "Then," she added, pointing to Harry, "I’m going to go after your girlfriend."

"What's happened?" asked Mrs Weasley anxiously. "Is everything all right?" Harry's immediate thought was that this was both a very stupid and very brave thing for Mrs Weasley to ask, especially when Pauline had just announced she was about to start slaughtering Weasleys left and right.

"ALL RIGHT? Your daughter and your sons are responsible for the complete annihilation of MY shop, and you ask if everything’s all right?" Pauline roared, making the tea cups and saucers rattle on the shelves. "Do you know… know…" And Pauline suddenly burst into tears and continued on in an extremely high pitched voice, in which no one except maybe a dog could understand. Harry was reminded of Moaning Myrtle.

"There, there dear," said Mrs Weasley, putting an arm around the girl and guiding her to a chair, while motioning for Mr Weasley to pour out a cup of tea.

"All my hard work….all of it, all because those stupid bast—" A hiccup cut her off. "All because they played some stupid joke on Ginny, who went mad and… and.."

"What did Ginny do?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"She blew up Zonkos! My Zonko’s! It’s gone! Completely destroyed! All because those wretched brats… Why can’t they just be like a normal family and just not speak to each other for years?"

"Are you saying that the whole thing in the newspaper… About Zonko’s and a possible Death Eater attack…" began Mrs Weasley.

"Death Eaters? No, it was those miserable, immature, absolutely idiotic…"

"They did this?" Mrs Weasley took the Daily Prophet from Harry and handed it to Pauline.

"Death Eaters!" Pauline muttered, glancing over the article. "Typical! After all the money I poured into taking out adverts in every major wizarding newspaper, we end up on the front page after being blown up! I’m going to kill them!" Pauline threw the paper down on the table.

"Ginny? And the twins? But how… And why?" Mrs Weasley seemed to be in quite a state herself.

Pauline, noticing her reaction, suddenly paled. "Oh, Mrs Weasley! I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean…. Well, yes I did, but I’m so sorry… You are such a wonderful person, you both are," she added, nodding to Mr Weasley. "But how people as nice as you both are, managed to have…have…those monsters….oh, I’m sorry!"

"Listen," said Mr Weasley, "how do we even know Ginny was involved?"

"Oh, I know all right," said Pauline. "She's the one who gave me this!" She picked up the newspaper and thrust it under Mr Weasley's nose. Harry saw him take a good look at the picture and go pale. Fortunately for everyone, Pauline was in too much of a state to take notice. "Ginny gave that… that jack-in-the-box to me yesterday and warned me to take cover if the twins did anything with it. I'm sure that whatever the twins did to her, they fully deserved to have revenge taken. It just shouldn't have been taken on my shop! This does not excuse Ginny in the least!"

"No, of course it doesn't," agreed Mrs Weasley.

Pauline nodded once firmly, and shakily poured herself a cup of tea, completely ignoring the cup that Mr Weasley had already served her, sweetening it liberally with sugar. "Damn straight!"

"Under normal circumstances I'd say we ought to be very proud of her, actually," commented Mr Weasley. "Rigging up a device like that so it wouldn't do any structural damage shows quite an advanced knowledge of potions and charms…" He trailed off, quailing under his wife's glare.

"But why did she have to take it out on MY SHOP!" Pauline shot back. "All that hard work…" It looked as if tears were threatening once more. "I'm sorry, it's just that I have no place to stay. The smell… It's horrible…"

"Well, you're going to stay here, of course," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "There's no point in your suffering. The boys can clean up the place. It's only right after all. A little hard work never did anybody any harm. And tomorrow morning we can both go up there and give them a piece of our minds. Then we'll drop in on Ginny at school."

Pauline brought her emotions under control again. "Yes, tomorrow is another day, isn't it? But I'm not going to stop there," she went on, her voice deadly calm now. "Ginny had to have help with this. She couldn't have done anything this elaborate on her own. And when I find out who else had a hand in this, I will make them pay."

Harry and Mr Weasley exchanged an uncomfortable look, and the older man seemed to slump down in his seat slightly.

Looking at his watch, Harry realised he should have been at the office by now. He gulped down the last of his porridge, but before he activated his Portkey, he ran up to Ron's room and hid all the letters he'd received over the last week. There was no sense in taking any chances that Pauline would find them. For once it seemed like a relief to escape to the office.

To Be Continued…

Ginny smiled to herself. It had to be a good thing if they were giving Harry more responsibility at work, and perhaps he'd find things less tiresome, if more challenging.

Ginny's eyes stung as she read Harry's letter over again. In spite of what he'd said to her about not being angry with her about the prospect of no Hogsmeade weekends, she couldn't help but feel guilty. It was her fault. Zonko's might have opened before Christmas, but her prank on her stupid brothers had set them back. She hadn't caused any structural damage to the building--she'd been very careful that she wouldn't--but she hadn't realised that the odour would penetrate every single item of the stock.

She hadn't even known they'd got as far as replenishing their stock until it was too late. Pauline had let her know about that, though, in no uncertain terms. And her mother. She shuddered. She still got a headache when she thought of her mother telling her off. At least her mother had never found out the exact nature of what the twins had done to incur her wrath. It was one small blessing in this whole mess.

Not that her mother hadn't wanted to know what had driven Ginny to such an extreme. The twins had come to her rescue there and made up some tale about them pulling endless pranks on Ginny by sending her exploding quills, disappearing ink, and self-igniting parchment so that Ginny had constantly had to redo her school work. After six weeks, according to their story, she'd come to the end of her rope and taken her revenge. Since this was Ginny's last year of school, and her future dependent on her NEWT results, this story had almost been enough to make Ginny's mother want to hex the twins herself, but the twins had even managed to partially rationalise their behaviour by telling her they were merely testing new products.

It was ironic, Ginny thought to herself, that Harry had begun to work weekends, since she had as well. She'd received a unique detention, in that she had to go down to Zonko's and help the twins sort out the mess her bomb had created. The stench had been cleaned out of the shop and living quarters, enough for Pauline to be able to move back in, in any case (although Ginny couldn't be too sure if George had been allowed back yet), but each and every item which had been purchased for the eventual reopening had to be cleaned individually. The work was tedious, but Ginny had to admit she deserved everything she got.

It wasn't often that her brothers pushed her to such extremes. She'd been inclined to take revenge on them for their stupidity in the past, such as on Harry's seventeenth birthday when they'd acted like such idiots upon finding her and Harry in her dad's shed, but she'd never taken it too far before. If she were perfectly honest with herself, this time she had gone too far. She'd certainly never expected the Daily Prophet to jump to the conclusion that Death Eaters were attacking. Fortunately, the twins had contacted the paper and explained that it had all been a misunderstanding, and one of their experimental joke items had worked a bit better than expected. Ginny supposed that their covering for her to the general public, as well as to their mother, had been their form of a peace offering.

She sat back and considered why she'd gone to such extremes this time, but she couldn't come up with any clear answers. She supposed part of it had to do with missing Harry so much. She understood what he was talking about in his letter. A piece of parchment was a poor substitute for a warm embrace, but it was all she had.

Plus she was frustrated. The research with Hermione had not been going well. The translation was slow and dull, not to mention disturbing at times, and Hermione was turning up nothing useful either. From time to time, the girls' hopes would be raised by something Hermione had found in one book or another, only to have them dashed once more when the information turned out to be worthless. In the entire history of the wizarding world, or at least as far back as the information contained in Hogwarts library stretched, there hadn't been a single case of a witch or wizard giving up his powers voluntarily. Even cases where powers had been lost by accident were rare, and no one had ever successfully had his powers restored once they were lost. On the few occasions where such a thing had been attempted, the results had invariably been gruesome.

Ginny sighed and put Harry's letter away. Their only hope now seemed to be the translation, so she'd best get back to work on it. She only gave a fleeting thought to the amount of homework she was neglecting so she could work on this. Between her detentions at Zonko's and this project her studies had become low on her list of priorities, something she'd been successfully keeping from Hermione for the most part. Once she had this translation finished, she was going to have her work cut out for her playing catch-up with her classes. At least she wouldn't have to waste her time on prefects' meetings any more--she'd lost her prefect's badge as a result of the Zonko's prank. The only bright spot in the matter was the fact the she'd be able to allow this translation to double for her term project in her Ancient Runes class.

The Gryffindor common room was fairly noisy this evening with younger students having finished their homework and relaxing, but six years in this environment had taught Ginny how to tune out the distraction as she settled down to work. She went at it steadily for a while when she came upon it again. More references to necromancy. A shot of cold spiked through her. She was liking this less and less. Upon reflection, it might be better to show this to Hermione. She hadn't said anything to the older girl so far, but now it seemed that Ginny's suspicions were confirmed. This book definitely contained Dark Arts spells.

Ginny pushed back from the table where she'd been working, and looked at her watch. It was past eight, and the library was closed. Hermione had probably gone back to her rooms by now, and Ginny didn't know the password into the staff wing. She was going to have to hope some sympathetic staff member was still hanging about the staff room. Anyone but Snape would do, really, as long as she didn't run into Filch or Mrs Norris along the way.

Luck was with Ginny for once, as Hermione herself was in the staff room when she reached it. "Thank goodness," Ginny said. "I've got something I need to show you."

"It's just as well, because I think we need to have a talk," Hermione replied. "Come on."

Hermione led the way back to her rooms. Ginny was thankful Hermione had agreed to see her so readily. Hermione was another one who hadn't been very impressed with Ginny's revenge on the twins, even if she did know the true story behind it. Following her friend into the sitting room, Ginny noticed sitting out on the desk some parchment, what looked like the beginnings of a letter on it in Hermione's precise script. Next to it were a quill and bottle of ink.

"I hate to admit it," Hermione began, "but I think I'm going to have to give up on Hogwarts library. I've been through everything now, literally, and there's nothing."

"You haven't been through all the runic texts, have you?"

"Well, no, but I can't go through those quickly. We can take those on, and we will, but I wanted your opinion on something first."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I want to write to Viktor Krum and ask him if he knows of anything that might be at Durmstrang."

"Are you sure, Hermione? Harry doesn't want anyone to know about…"

"Oh, I'm not planning on giving Viktor details about Harry. I can come up with a good enough excuse why I'm interested in the subject. I only want to ask him if he's ever heard of any cases where a wizard had lost his powers and got them back. I'm sure Durmstrang has books we haven't got here at Hogwarts."

Ginny felt that cold shiver pass through her once again. "You mean Dark Arts books."

"Listen, I know Durmstrang had a reputation under Karkaroff, but that doesn't mean the entire school has always been a hotbed of the Dark Arts. And we know Viktor's all right, don't we?"

"Hermione, what would you do if you discovered a way to restore Harry's powers to him but it was Dark Arts? Would you still use it?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know. I suppose it would depend on how dark the means was. I mean if it involved having to kill someone else, then obviously I wouldn't even consider it. Why do you ask?"

"It's this book I've been translating. I keep coming across references to things in it I don't like. There's been nothing concrete in it so far, but… I don't like it. I think it's a Dark Arts text."

"Oh dear."

"What are we going to do, Hermione? What if the answer is in here, and it involves something terrible? Not the sacrifice of another human, but… I don't know, something partly evil but justifiable."

Hermione reflected for a moment. "If Harry knew what we were up to, I think he'd say no. He wouldn't want us to do it."

"Yes, but that's the thing. He doesn't know what we're doing, and he wouldn't have to."

"He'd want to know if you were going to use Dark Arts on him," Hermione warned. "Just what are you getting at? Have you actually found something?"

"No, I'm just speculating. I guess what I'm doing is wondering how far we'd go for him, you know? Not to the extent of killing someone else--of course not--because he'd hate us if we did something like that, and it's just wrong. But… Well Harry's spell involved a sacrifice… What if whatever it takes to restore his powers also involved a sacrifice? Something personal. What would you do then?"

"I suppose it would depend on what it was. You'd have to ask yourself if Harry values his magical powers more than he'd value whatever was being given up."

Ginny fell silent as she thought about this. What wouldn't she give up for him? She'd give up her life if it would make him happy… But would Harry want her to? And what if the choice wasn't so extreme? That would make the decision even more difficult, wouldn't it? And the question of even using the Dark Arts still remained unanswered. She knew in her heart, he wouldn't like it if he knew… And would it be right to keep something like that from him? She just didn't know.

*

On a certain level Harry was aware he was dreaming. He had to be. There was no other explanation for it. Why else would he be standing in front of a cheering crowd on a raised platform in front of the Ministry of Magic with the Minister for Magic herself? He looked around him nervously, wondering what he was doing there, and in his dress robes, no less, he realised, looking down. But what he most wanted to know was why was he here by himself? For he was standing here alone with the Minister. If he was here to be honoured for something, he wanted his friends here with him.

He peered into the crowd, looking for a familiar face, but saw nothing beyond a myriad of colours. Wizarding society seemed to have turned out in force to see whatever it was they'd come to see, and it looked as if everyone had donned his best robes for the occasion, reinforcing Harry's impression that he was somehow the guest of honour on this occasion.

But if that was the case, where were the Weasleys? Where were Ron and Hermione? Sirius and Remus? Where was Ginny? For he was overcome now with a desperate need to see her. As if in answer to his unvoiced wish, he picked her out of the crowd suddenly. She was making her way towards him, parting the sea of people, her vivid hair setting her apart from the others, the golden fabric of her robes seeming to cast a faint glow around her.

Why wasn't she up here with him? "Ginny!" he cried, but his voice was drowned by the noise the crowd was making. "Ginny!" he tried again, but to little avail. He looked around him for a way off the platform but didn't see one. He took a step towards the edge.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice hissed in his ear, as a hand grabbed his arm cruelly. "You're ruining a perfectly good moment for the photographers."

Harry turned in surprise towards the Minister, who had just spoken, to find Gilderoy Lockhart leering down at him. Unconsciously Harry reached for his wand, but it didn't seem to be in his pocket. "What's your problem, Potter?" Lockhart went on. "Afraid they'll all discover your little secret?"

Harry didn't have time for this. He had to get to Ginny. Wrenching his arm from Lockhart's grasp, he ran for the edge of the platform, heedless of the height it stood off the street below, not caring really, and leapt off.

Somehow the crowd caught him and helped him down. He could see Ginny at some distance from him, shimmering amidst strangers' faces, but the crowd seemed to close in on him creating a wall so that the more he tried to push his way through, the farther from her he got. Desperately, he began to shove past people, not caring if it was rude and ignoring the nasty remarks they tossed in his direction. He had to get to Ginny, he had too…

But the more he struggled, the further away she got…

Harry woke up, heart pounding, and shook off the remaining tatters of his dream. It was still rather dark in the room. He'd become used to getting up early, but today, he remembered, he didn't have to. He wouldn't be going in to the Ministry today. Not to work at least. Not because it was Saturday, and not because it was Halloween, but because today had been declared a holiday in the wizarding world. He knew now why he'd been having that nightmare. Some of it, in any case, would likely be coming true.

It had begun earlier in the week when he'd heard a rumour about some major announcement the Minister for Magic (thankfully not Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry reminded himself) was planning on making. That had happened two days ago when today's celebrations had been officially announced, and Harry's presence had been requested by the Minister herself. Apparently the Department of Mysteries had been investigating and had concluded in its report to the Minister that Voldemort had indeed been defeated the previous summer. And there was no chance he'd be coming back.

Harry would have bypassed today altogether, but he hadn't been given a choice in the matter. People would be gathering in front of the Ministry today, and it would look rather odd if the guest of honour didn't turn up.

It was going to be painful to stand in front of everyone and pretend everything was all right. "Oh yes, I defeated Voldemort. All in a day's work, really. It was nothing."

He knew he was going to get some sort of reward he didn't want--that was how these things worked--but whatever they wanted to bestow on him, it wasn't going to bring back Hagrid, Charlie or Dumbledore, or anyone else who had lost his life in the struggle. It wasn't going to make time move any faster between now and next June. It wasn't going to bring his powers back.

He'd been working hard at accepting the fact that he was no longer magical, but some days the situation could still rankle more than others. It looked as if today was going to be one of them. He sighed heavily wishing that by some miracle Ginny would be present at the celebration today--he was going to need her reassuring presence--but he knew there wasn't much chance of that happening. As part of her punishment for the Zonko's prank, she'd not been allowed to attend.

Harry rolled over and pulled the blankets more closely around him. He didn't have to be up so early for once; he might as well take advantage of that and sleep in. Among other things it would this day come to an end sooner. But sleep wouldn't come. In its place came images of those who had not survived the conflict. Some of the faces were vague recollections of student he'd barely known, but nonetheless to their families, the loss would be a gaping wound, one which would perhaps heal in time, but which would forever leave a scar.

Then there were those he'd actually known, whose loss cut all the more keenly for that reason, people who had been the closest thing to a family he'd ever had. Perhaps sharpest on this day was the pain of Dumbledore's death. Harry hadn't had the time to take it in when it had happened, but the directionless sense of emptiness came crashing in on him now, and he had to bury his face in the pillow.

They, he thought through the tears he tried to hold back, they should be the ones honoured today. For what had he done? Of course he'd defeated Voldemort, but wouldn't anyone, having the means, have done the same in his place?

A knock at the door made him raise his head. "Harry, dear, are you awake?"

Why did Mrs Weasley want to wake him up this early in the morning? Only last night she'd told him he needed to get more rest. Swiping at his eyes, and fumbling for his glasses, he called out, "Just a moment. I've only just woken up." He hoped that last statement would be sufficient to explain the roughness in his voice.

"You ought to be getting dressed soon if we don't want to be late."

Late? The morning couldn't be that far advanced if it was so dark out. Harry reached for his watch and looked at it. It read just past ten in the morning. "I'll be right along," he called panicking just a bit. "I didn't realise it was so late."

Mrs Weasley had to have picked up on the off-note in his voice; it was the only way to explain her next action. "Are you sure everything's all right, dear?"

"Yes, it's fine."

He'd barely got the words out, and she was already in the room, striding matter-of-factly across the floor to Harry's bed. Harry swallowed as she peered closely at his face through the gloom. "Don't tell me everything's fine, Harry. I can see in your face that it isn't. Look at me." Harry didn't particularly want to obey, but something inside him made him respond to her wishes. "Now what's the problem? Have you had a letter from Sirius?"

"No, nothing like that. It's… it's stupid really."

Mrs Weasley sat down on the edge of the bed. "It can't be stupid if it's made you this upset."

"It is stupid. This whole day is stupid."

"Why is this day stupid? This day is for you."

"That's exactly why it's stupid. They're making a great deal out of everything, out of me, and I didn't ask for it. They're going to try and reward me, and I don't want that, either. Why would I want that? There are people who need that sort of thing more than I do. And it won't bring anyone back."

Mrs Weasley leaned back and seemed to consider Harry's words. "Who do you want back, dear?"

"Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore, my parents… everyone."

"Charlie?" she whispered.

Harry was glad she'd said it because he'd been thinking it and wasn't sure if he ought to mention it. He nodded.

"It's all right to talk about it," Mrs Weasley said quietly.

Harry nodded again. "If anyone deserves recognition, it's them, not me. Not that they're in any position to receive anything for it," he added bitterly, "but has anyone spared them so much as a thought?"

"But Harry, don't you think you deserve something, too? Some recognition for your sacrifice?"

"No," he grated. "No one is to know about that."

"I know dear, but…"

"Why should I deserve anything when anyone would have done the same in my place?"

Mrs Weasley gaped at him for a moment. "Harry, listen to what you're saying. You don't really believe that, do you?"

Somewhere deep inside him, he knew she was right. He just wasn't ready to admit it yet. "Well, I don't suppose Malfoy…" He broke off as she scowled at him for trying to turn this into a joke. "Anyone on our side would have," he protested, "if they'd known how to go about it."

Mrs Weasley was shaking her head. "Harry, I can't think of anyone who would have done what you did."

"Charlie would have. He saved Sirius at the cost of his own life. His life, not just his powers."

"Yes, he did. But it's not the same thing. He didn't know for months ahead of time that he'd have to do something like that. My son was strong, but I don't know that he was that strong. I don't know that anyone is. When he jumped in front of that curse, he acted without thinking. If he'd have stopped to think about it, he might still have done it, but there's no way of knowing. If someone had told him the day before what was going to happen, he might not have done it. Or he may have hesitated, knowing what was coming, and it would have been too late to do anything. It's human nature to put your own survival first. It wouldn't have made him any less than he was."

Harry could tell she was struggling to keep her voice from shaking as she said all this. It was difficult for him to keep his own eyes from stinging.

"Now that I think about it," she went on, "I can think of one other person who would have chosen as you have."

"Who?" Harry asked quietly.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"He's another one who won't be getting any recognition today." It was much easier for Harry to concentrate on feeling bitter rather than giving in to sadness and grief. "He died fighting against Voldemort, too."

"You can change that, Harry. You can make sure no one forgets what a great man he was. You'll be in a position to make sure all those who fought gain the recognition they deserve."

Harry nodded, reluctant to let himself see anything positive that might come out of today.

"Harry… Harry look at me. You have to know that what you did was great. And you did give your life for us in a way. I'm proud of what you've done and of the way you've grown up. You are a strong and good person. You show that every day."

"No…" he began, but he had to stop and swallow hard. He had to stop her before she had him crying once more. "No, I'm not. I'm not strong at all. I don't feel strong."

"That's part of what makes you special, Harry. You don't see. You don't let it go to your head…" She reached up and brushed his fringe back from his forehead, exposing his scar for a moment before it fell back into place. "You will always have a special place in my heart, not because you're Ron's friend, or because my daughter is in love with you, or even because you're the great Harry Potter. It's because somehow, deep down, in spite of the fact that you've got black hair, you are like another son to me. And no matter what happens, you always will be."

Harry could feel his lower lip trembling. He wished she would stop. Deep in his heart, he knew this was what he'd always wanted. A family. A mother. She'd even said he was like one of her own children in the past. But today he didn't think he could take it. He felt a tear slip out of the corner of his eye.

The next thing he knew he was being enveloped in a motherly embrace. Mrs Weasley held him and rocked him, softly repeating all that while that he was her son, that he was worthy, until it became a mantra.

*

Harry sneaked a peak out from behind the velvet curtain, which had been rigged up at the back of a makeshift platform, to where he could see the crowd that had assembled in front of the Ministry building. As in his dream, everyone seemed to have turned up in his best robes, and the colour showed up all the more brightly under the glowering pall of cloud that marked the day. Harry swallowed. That had only been a nightmare. There was no way Eugenia Smythe-Snepperton, who had replaced Cornelius Fudge as Minister for Magic, was suddenly going to Transfigure herself into Gilderoy Lockhart, he told himself firmly, and although there were several other important Ministry people scheduled to speak today, none of them was a former Hogwarts professor with a memory problem.

Besides, he'd have Ron and Hermione up on the platform with him today at least. He'd had to do a lot of arguing, but he'd finally convinced the official planners of this event to allow his friends to stand with him. "They've had as much to do with today as anything," he'd repeated. "I couldn't have done anything without them." Or Ginny for that matter, but then she wouldn't be able to come.

Harry scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. He spotted some of his former school-mates dotted here and there amidst the sea of strangers. There was also a group of black-robed Hogwarts students, all of whom looked to be sixth or seventh years. Harry recognised Colin Creevey when a camera flash caught his attention. To one side he caught a flash of red, and saw that the Weasleys had found a spot not too far from the front. They were standing together with Remus and Sirius, and people seemed to be allowing them a good deal of space. Being friends with a werewolf and a former prisoner would do that, Harry thought bitterly.

Mr Weasley still wasn't with them, however, and Harry found that surprising. Mr Weasley had disappeared not long after Harry had turned up in the kitchen for a late breakfast, saying something important had come up but offering no further explanations. Harry couldn't help but wonder what could be so important that he'd miss the beginning of the ceremony. It couldn't be Ministry business: every department was closed today.

He noticed that Bill and Percy seemed to be scanning the crowd as if they were looking for someone. Watching the other Weasleys he realised the rest of them were doing the same. They must be trying to keep an eye out for Mr Weasley, but Harry had no idea how they'd manage to spot him in the throng. Suddenly, he saw one twin nudge the other with his elbow and point toward the left. The other twin craned his neck and whispered to something to Mrs Weasley, who turned and began to wave frantically, although she was too small to be seen from very far off surrounded by her taller sons as she was. Now Bill was shouting and waving as well, and Harry turned to see what had caught their attention.

He caught a glimpse of a tall, balding man pushing his way through the mass of people, and he was followed by a smaller red-headed figure. Ginny. And if she was here, she was going to stand next to Harry. He wasn't going to have it any other way.

He didn't think about what he was doing. He pushed his way through the curtain, ignoring Ron's shout of, "Where do you think you're going?", and scrambled off the platform, not really caring that his dress robes got in the way. The assembled people gave way before him in their surprise to see him suddenly appear, but he ignored them. He was completely focused on getting to Ginny. He'd lost sight of her now that he was down on the same level as she was, but Mr Weasley was tall enough to keep an eye on. Repeating excuses, he shouldered his way through the crowd until he found himself face to face with Mr Weasley.

"Harry!" he said, taken aback. "You're not supposed to be down here."

Harry didn't look at Mr Weasley. He couldn't take his eyes off Ginny. It had been two long, dreadful months since he'd seen her, and he wasn't about to take his eyes off her now. He soon had to, however, for she'd flown into his arms not a second later. He tightened his grip on her, not wanting to let her go, ever, the knowledge that he'd have to eventually causing him to pull her even closer. He realised he must be crushing her by now, but it didn't matter. She was returning the hug just as fiercely.

"Oh God, I missed you," he whispered into her hair. "I could kiss you right now."

"Later," she whispered back, and he was surprised at how her quiet voice managed to penetrate the noise of the crowd.

"How?" he asked. "How did you get here? I didn't think you could come."

"Dad talked McGonagall into it. I can't stay too late, though. I have to be back by eleven."

Harry loosened his hold on Ginny just enough so that he could turn to where Mr Weasley was still standing. "Thank you," was all he could get out.

"We'd best find your mother," Mr Weasley was saying.

"I want her to stand with me today," Harry said. "She was part of this, too. As much as Ron and Hermione were."

Mr Weasley nodded once. "All right then."

Harry took Ginny's hand and led her back through the crowd, noting in passing that people were now peering at the pair of them with avid curiosity. He ignored them, as he pushed his way back to the platform. The Ministry officials did not look very pleased with him, but he ignored them as well. If it was supposed to be his day, then they could bloody well give in to his wishes. It wasn't as if he was asking for that much after all.

He glared at the lot of them, as he clambered back up onto the platform, before turning to give Ginny a hand up. No one said a word, and he pushed his way back through the curtain.

"What was that all about?" demanded Ron, while Hermione's eyes went round. "Ginny! How did you manage…"

But there was no time for explanations. The ceremony was about to begin.

Harry was extremely grateful when it was all over. The speeches given by various Ministry officials had been long and boring, and Harry had found himself not paying a great deal of attention to them. He'd passed most of the time looking over the heads of the crowd at the leaden sky. The weather seemed determined not to co-operate with the intended mood of the day, but at least it wasn't raining.

He hadn't particularly wanted to look at the sea of faces in front of him. Their avid gazes made him uncomfortable. It hadn't helped matters when he caught a glimpse of a figure with a long white beard dressed in dark blue robes towards the back of the crowd. He'd blinked a few times wondering if he'd seen a ghost, but when he looked again the figure had disappeared. After that he'd kept his eyes riveted on the space above everyone's heads.

He'd been glad at first that he hadn't been required to make any sort of speech, but now that it was all over, he wished he had. While the Minister for Magic had asked everyone observe several moments of silence for all those who had made the ultimate sacrifice at the beginning of the proceedings, it now seemed to Harry a mere nod for form's sake. He didn't know if he would have found the appropriate words, but he would have liked to have said something more about those who had given their lives in the struggle.

It was time to go now, but the assembled masses didn't show any signs of leaving. It looked as if a gigantic party was in the offing, but Harry didn't feel in the mood to celebrate. He had to make a move though. Ginny was tugging at his hand, while Ron and Hermione were urging him to go down and join the rest of the Weasley family.

"We're all going to the Leaky Cauldron!" Fred announced, as Ginny led Harry over to her family.

"On you," added George to Harry, grinning wickedly.

Harry cringed inwardly. The Minister had forced ten thousand Galleons reward on him. He didn't want it, any more than he wanted season ticket to all the Quidditch matches in the League, which was apparently starting up again, late, but not too late for eager fans who hadn't had anything to celebrate in far too long.

"Yes, of course," Harry said, not wanting to throw a wet blanket on things. He felt he owed this family for the rest of his life as it was. Treating them to a party if they wanted one was the least he could do.

Making their way to the opposite end of Diagon Alley was slow going indeed. Everyone seemed to want to shake Harry's hand, pat him on the back, offer thanks… The twins started out with their typical humour: "Make way for Harry Potter, the wizard who defeated of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Order of Merlin First Class, Member of the Dark Forces Defence League…"

Harry knew they meant well, but he didn't particularly appreciate it on this occasion. The last time they'd done something like this, it was over something that was patently untrue. The same could not be said in this case. Mrs Weasley made them stop quickly enough.

Before they could make any sort of progress the rest of the family finally had to form a sort of guard around him, shielding him from the throng. They were maybe halfway to their goal, when their progress was impeded by yet another well-wisher, and this time the Weasleys didn't try to shuffle Harry past as quickly as they could.

Harry looked up and saw why immediately. It was the wizard with the dark blue robes he'd seen during the ceremony. Up close Harry could see that it wasn't Professor Dumbledore. The half-moon spectacles were missing as were the twinkling blue eyes, and his nose was much straighter. In spite of this, the general physical resemblance was striking enough that this could only be…

"Aberforth Dumbledore," he said, holding out his hand to Harry, who mutely shook the older man's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Harry. My brother spoke of you often."

Harry had no idea what to reply, so he went on shaking Aberforth Dumbledore's hand and nodding. He felt rather stupid.

"I know for a fact Albus would be very proud of you today," Aberforth went on.

Harry swallowed hard. He had to say something. "Your brother was a big part of my life," Harry blurted, feeling himself immediately begin to redden. Why couldn't he do this without making an ass out of himself?

"And you were to his."

"This… today," began Harry, gesturing around him. "It should all be for him, not for me."

Aberforth shook his head gravely. "Alas, I don't think he'd say the same thing." Then he smiled, and Harry saw his eyes twinkle, where they hadn't before. But for their colour, Harry would have sworn it was his former headmaster. He shook Harry's hand once more. "Enjoy your evening!" He smiled at the Weasleys and moved on.

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron some time later, where arrangements had apparently been made ahead of time for a private dining room. Tom led them up a flight of stairs to a room, which looked as if it had been converted for the occasion. A large table bedecked with silver-domed platters dominated the room. In the far wall was a tall window that overlooked Diagon Alley.

"No one should bother you up here," Tom informed them, as they took seats before the feast that had been laid out. "If you need anything, just ring that," he added, pointing to a large hand bell at the head of the table, and I'll be along. Mind you, it looks as if it's going to be a busy night."

Busy night turned out to be the understatement of the year. From the window, Harry could see that Diagon Alley was swarming with revellers, and he was certain that sooner or later a great many of them would pass through the pub for a pint or three. He wondered how Tom was planning on handling the demand. It looked very much as if the opening leading into Diagon Alley from the back of the pub would remain open on a constant basis tonight, as people passed through.

After a hearty supper, the Weasleys began to drift off one by one, to join the celebration below. Ron had quietly informed Harry than he and Hermione had taken a room for the night, and George had even managed to convince Pauline to go downstairs with him. A few minutes later, Harry spotted them down in the street swaying together to music that drifted up as far as the second floor. It looked as if their row would probably be made up before the end of the night.

"Do you want to go down?" came a voice beside him. Ginny had come to stand next to him in the window, looking down on the party. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in front of him, as he buried his face in her hair.

"No," he said. "I don't feel much like celebrating. I never asked for all this, you know."

"I know."

"I did get the one thing I wanted today."

"What was that?"

"I got to see you."

"Too bad I have to go back."

"Who says you have to? I can ask Tom if he has another room…"

"I can't, Harry. The only way McGonagall would let me come today was if Dad could guarantee I'd be back at eleven. He turned my bracelet into a Portkey set to go off at eleven sharp." She held up her wrist, so Harry could see she was wearing the bracelet he'd given her last Christmas.

Harry tightened his arms around her waist and tried hard not to be disappointed. Ginny breathed a little sigh and settled back into his embrace. "I suppose we still have Christmas," he said.

Ginny giggled at that. "What about now? We've got this room to ourselves."

Harry looked behind him. It was true. By some miracle they found themselves left alone together. "Knowing our luck your mother will walk in on us," Harry said.

"Hmmm, yes. Or worse, Fred and George."

"I think they've learned their lesson, don't you?" Harry teased.

Ginny turned to face him. "Maybe, but I'm not sure you couldn't use a lesson in caution. Haven't you learned yet that you don't want to make me mad at you?"

"And just what have I done to make you mad at me?"

"Let's see now. We haven't seen each other in two months, we haven't had a moment alone all day, and now that we finally do, you're still talking."

"Is there something I ought to be doing instead?" he asked taking a step closer.

She smiled a bit, and he watched her eyes darken. "I can think of a thing or two, yes."

He put a hand up to her jaw line, tracing her cheekbone with one thumb, and her lips parted. He leaned down, intending to keep things light. They might be alone at the moment, and they might have joked about ways in which they might take advantage of that, but this really wasn't an ideal spot, and they both knew it. Besides, Harry was no longer certain what time it was, and it was hardly the moment to look at his watch.

Just before their lips touched, she whispered, "I love you, Harry," and the words sent a jolt through him, driving both conscious thought and good intentions away. They were soon kissing deeply, her hands wandering over his back, while his own hand slid from her face into her hair. Minutes passed before they broke apart, their breathing much shallower than it had been.

Ginny's eyes burned into Harry's as they stared at each other. Where was he going to find the strength to let her go back to school again? He felt as if, once she was gone again, he'd be lost. His arms tightened around her convulsively. He didn't want to let her go. He needed her here with him.

She shifted against him, tilted her head back and their lips met again until he felt her sag, boneless, against his chest. He pulled her closer, supporting her weight against him, and losing all track of time.

It came as a nasty surprise when he felt a jerk behind his navel, but by the time that happened it was too late to do anything about it. Knowing it must be eleven, he opened his eyes, but he was too close to Ginny to see her expression. Their lips were still fused together.

Harry landed hard, staggering backwards, as he was still supporting Ginny's weight, and landing on his back with Ginny on top of him. He felt a whoosh of air in his face as her breath was released suddenly.

"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively, pushing herself up. His arms were still around her, and he didn't really want her to leave them.

"Yeah." He raised his head slightly and recognised Hogwarts entrance hall. He had a sudden, wicked thought. "Remember that storage room? We can go there, and…"

"Harry…" Ginny squeaked.

At the same time came a malevolent voice. "My, my, we are in trouble, aren't we?"

Ginny and Harry both scrambled to their feet, reddening. Filch was leering at the two of them in anticipation. "I was told to expect only one student coming in now. What's Potter doing here? You haven't come back for a look at the place, have you? Because you need an appointment for that."

"No! It was…"

"We lost track of time," Ginny broke in. "My Portkey activated. We didn't know it was so late."

Filch looked sceptical, but at the same time he looked unhappy that he probably wasn't going to be able to use his manacles in this situation. "Off to bed with you, then," he snarled at Ginny. "You can be sure I'll be discussing this with Professor McGonagall first thing in the morning. You," he added, turning to Harry, "clear off. Now!"

Harry may have just spent the day being honoured for his defeat of Voldemort, but the surly Hogwarts caretaker had a knack for making him feel as if he was a mere first-year again. Harry didn't even stop to consider disobeying. He turned and walked out the front door. When he reached the front steps he realised it was pouring rain.

"Oh, just perfect," he grumbled, "Perfect end to the perfect day. All that's missing now is for me to run into St John!" And with that he reached into his pocket, turned the hands on his own Portkey to six o'clock, and returned to the Burrow.

To Be Continued…

Harry woke up late the next day, still a bit tired. He had a fuzzy sort of recollection of a strange dream waking him up in the night, but he had no idea what it had been about. The only thing he could remember was that it had been disturbing. Even once he'd opened his eyes, he was reluctant to leave the comfort of his bed. Seeing Ginny yesterday had been a wonderful surprise. To know she was still there, constant and caring, had been just what he needed. Except now, he missed her even more. Those few precious hours had been nowhere near enough, and now the emptiness hit him all the more painfully.

But then he realised if he lay here in bed and thought about it, it only made things worse. It might be better if he did get up and find something to do that would take his mind off of the situation. Or write to Ginny. Perhaps writing all this down would ease the hurt some. That's what he'd do, as soon as he'd had something to eat.

By the time he'd got dressed and gone down to breakfast, it was past ten, and he fully expected to have to see to fixing himself some toast or a bowl of cereal on his own. He was surprised to find Mr Weasley sitting at the kitchen table still in his pyjamas, his bad leg propped up on a spare chair. Mrs Weasley was standing at the stove, muttering under her breath.

"Morning," Harry greeted, idly glancing at the Daily Prophet, which was lying on the table, as he took a seat. He'd expected there to be a picture from yesterday on the front page, and there was. It took up half of the front page, the entire space of the paper that Harry was able to see, since it was folded in half. He could see his photographic self sitting motionless on the platform surrounded by Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the Ministry officials. He pushed the paper aside. He wasn't really in the mood to read an account of yesterday's proceedings.

"Good morning Harry!" Mr Weasley replied quite brightly, almost too brightly, looking up from his bowl of porridge. Harry thought the older man looked rather tired, which was hardly astonishing, since he'd spent a good part of the previous afternoon standing on his injured leg.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd get an honest reply. He knew Mr Weasley's leg should have healed by now if he'd merely broken it. There was no reason he should still have a noticeable limp when he walked.

"Just fine. Bit tired from yesterday, but that'll pass."

Mrs Weasley plunked a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Good morning, dear," she said pleasantly enough, but there was an underlying note of tension in her voice. When she returned to the stove, she replaced the lid on the pot of porridge much more loudly than necessary, making Harry wonder what she was put out about.

A heavy silence fell over the room as Harry began to eat. Mrs Weasley sat down at the table with them, setting her mug of tea down a bit too hard and sloshing the contents over the tabletop. "Honestly!" she hissed under her breath.

Harry stirred at his porridge, wondering what was going on, as the tension in the room seemed to mount. He felt as if he ought to ask what was wrong, but he didn't quite dare. He was afraid this might have something to do with the fact that he'd managed to get caught up in Ginny's Portkey last night, although he had no idea how the elder Weasleys might have found out about that. They'd left the celebrations early last night, and by the time he'd come back to the Burrow, they'd gone to bed.

So instead of enquiring about what really might be going on, he cleared his throat and brought up something else that was on his mind, something related that might allow him to test the waters a bit. "Mr Weasley," he began, "I'd like to thank you for bringing Ginny down from school yesterday."

Mr Weasley seemed to jump. "Oh, it was nothing really. You ought to be thanking Molly. She insisted on me going to get Ginny. She said it was important to you."

Harry turned to Mrs Weasley, reddening as he did so. She'd known how he was feeling yesterday, and she'd given him the best thing she could to lift his spirits. "Thank you," he said to her quietly.

Mrs Weasley smiled, and for a moment her expression softened. "That's quite all right, dear. On a day like yesterday it was only right to have your whole family around you."

Harry swallowed hard. "Well, I appreciate it. You knew I was having a bad day, and you saved it from being even worse. And… she can get me out of my moods. You know that, don't you?"

Mrs Weasley nodded, and Harry went on, the words tumbling out before he could really think about what he was saying or stop them. "She makes me look at the world around me. She makes me see. And I don't know how she does it. Hell, I don't know why she even does it. That she even thinks I'm worth…"

He stopped suddenly, realising what an idiot he must sound like. Mr and Mrs Weasley were both staring at him as if in shock. They weren't used to him going on like this, he told himself, as he ducked his head and spooned some porridge into his mouth, just so he wouldn't have to look at either of them. He waited for Mrs Weasley's wrath to descend on him, but it didn't come.

The taut silence descended once more. Harry continued to eat, but he wasn't really hungry, and the tension that began to grow in the room once more didn't do anything for his appetite. Mr Weasley fidgeted in his chair as if he was having a difficult time finding a comfortable position.

"Shouldn't your leg have healed by now?" Harry asked, as much to break the silence as anything.

Mr Weasley looked up at Harry warily.

"I mean I don't know a whole lot about healing charms," he rushed on, "but I know Madam Pomfrey was always able to patch me up quickly. I lost all the bones in my arm once, and she healed it overnight…"

Harry had obviously said the wrong thing. Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a glance that told him he was treading in unwelcome territory. Suddenly Mrs Weasley spoke up, and Harry knew she was trying to change the subject. "Harry, you know I found your cloak down here this morning, and it was soaked through."

Harry had left his cloak spread out over the stove, thinking it would dry over night. "Oh, it was raining when I came home," he hedged. "I got caught in it before I could activate my Portkey."

"Really? I didn't think it looked like it was going to rain in Diagon Alley," Mrs Weasley commented. "Towards the end of the day, I thought it looked as if it might clear up."

"Oh, this was up at Hog-" Harry stopped but it was too late. If the elder Weasleys hadn't known where he'd ended up last night, they certainly did now. "What I mean to say is," he went on in a rush, "Ginny and I were… well we were saying goodbye, and it was later than we thought it was. So when her Portkey activated, I sort of went with her. But nothing happened…"

The expression on Mrs Weasley's face made him stop and swallow. Mr Weasley had broken into a coughing fit that was somehow reminiscent of Ron. "Now Molly, they could well have been holding hands when that happened…"

"…Not that it would have," Harry went on as if Mr Weasley hadn't spoken. His brain seemed determined to get him into as much trouble as possible. "We just landed in the entrance hall and Filch kicked me out. And when I got outside it was raining, hard, so, well I got wet…"

He trailed off lamely, knowing he sounded like a complete prat. He couldn't look either of them in the eye. He had to look somewhere, anywhere else. His gaze settled on the Daily Prophet, and he reached for it.

"Oh, I don't think you want to look at that, dear," Mrs Weasley said quickly.

It was too late. Harry had already unfolded the paper and seen that the part of the front page that had been folded under was covered with an article on yesterday's ceremony. Harry's eye immediately fell on the by-line: Rita Skeeter. His stomach churned unpleasantly, but he began to read in spite of himself. It wasn't long before he realised why Mrs Weasley had seemed so angry earlier.

His hands began to shake, as anger welled up in him, but he held it in. It wasn't possible; it just wasn't possible. How could she print such lies? The article insinuated that Harry had knowingly taken recourse to the Dark Arts when he'd banished Voldemort, and that the Ministry was now rewarding him for that. He didn't even want the money they'd given to him, he thought hotly; he was still thinking of how he might use some of it, at least, to help those who had been affected by the war, and to commemorate those who had died. To make things worse, she'd hinted that by insisting on having his friends at his side yesterday, he was merely looking to share the blame should this ever come to light. And after what she'd done to Sirius… Harry's stomach clenched as bile rose in his throat.

"Now, Harry," Mrs Weasley said, obviously noting his reaction, "perhaps you're just better off leaving that. We all know you've never had anything to do with dark magic, and we know the real reason you wanted Hermione, Ron and Ginny beside you yesterday. It had nothing to do with sharing any blame."

"Just try to ignore it as best you can, Harry," Mr Weasley advised. "Those who really know you, know none of this is true."

But why? Why should he ignore her? She'd been getting away with publishing lies about whomever she pleased for years. And that was the problem; everyone ignored her or worse believed her, so she just kept on. But what could Harry do about it?

He didn't bother replying to either of the Weasleys. His appetite had disappeared altogether now, and he pushed back his chair. Ignoring Mrs Weasley's concerned look, he stalked back up the stairs to Ron's room. He had a letter to write to Ginny.

It turned out to be a very angry one, in which he ended up describing all the ways he'd like to torture Rita Skeeter until she died in excruciating agony. He felt a bit better once he'd sent it off with Hedwig, but he was still unhappy with the situation. He wanted to do something to stop Rita Skeeter, but what could he do? She'd been spewing her venom for years without anyone being able to do anything about it, seemingly. One of her favourite targets was the Ministry of Magic, and if there was something that could have been done about her, surely the Ministry would have done it. And in all he'd been learning about the laws of wizarding society lately, he didn't recall seeing anything that would prevent Rita from continuing. In any case, he knew his department had much bigger fish to fry.

"I suppose I could try to beat her at her own game," Harry said to himself at last. At least he could try to set things right for Sirius. He didn't feel it would look quite right if he wrote anything in his own defence, but if he could make people see that the article about Sirius had been a lie, perhaps they'd doubt the rest of what she wrote.

He took out a fresh piece of parchment and began to write. He'd burnt off a good bit of his earlier anger in the letter to Ginny, so it was much easier for him to think level-headedly about this. He was careful in his choice of words as he began to write down Sirius' story, thinking of the solicitors he'd been sent to observe in court, and how cleverly they phrased things to be at their most convincing. He made sure he emphasised the great wrong that had been done to his godfather so many years ago, the fact that he'd merely been made to look guilty without a shred of truly reliable proof. It had all been about appearances then, and it still was today.

Once he'd finished he realised that he was now stuck without an owl, as he'd already sent Hedwig off with the letter to Ginny. He made his way back down the stairs, hoping that Errol was up to the task. Mrs Weasley had sent him off to Hogwarts back at the beginning of September with quite a thick letter, and the ancient owl had never been the same since.

He was almost to the kitchen when he heard his named mentioned. Mr and Mrs Weasley were still there, and they were apparently discussing him.

"Arthur, you know you're going to have to have a talk with Harry one of these days, don't you?" Mrs Weasley was saying. The particular way she emphasised the word "talk" told Harry that Mr Weasley wouldn't be discussing the weather with him, and he felt slightly queasy at the idea of just what Mr Weasley would most likely be discussing with him.

"Isn't that something for Sirius to talk over with him?" came Mr Weasley's reply.

Harry fervently prayed that Mrs Weasley would agree to that, but luck wasn't on his side today. "Sirius? You know I've got nothing against him, but the poor man did spend twelve years in prison, Arthur. I don't think he's the proper person to talk to Harry about this. It's your duty as Ginny's father to make…"

Harry turned around and went back up the stairs, having heard much more than he'd wanted to. He'd wait until later to ask if he could borrow Errol. And from now on he was going to make certain he avoided Mr Weasley.

*

"Ah yes," said the witch at the entrance to the Quidditch stadium in Falmouth. "Mr Potter, you have prime seats. Right this way."

She set off up the stairs towards the very top of the stadium. Harry followed silently in her wake, pulling his jacket closer about him to ward off the late November chill, while Ron trailed behind him, grumbling.

"As if we hadn't walked enough today!" Harry heard Ron say under his breath.

"Will you stop complaining?" Harry hissed back, in just as grumpy a mood as Ron was. It was bad enough everyone was staring at him already. He didn't feel the other spectators needed any other reasons to gape. Just over three weeks had passed since Halloween, three weeks that had seen all sorts of opinions appear in the Daily Prophet, some of which supported Harry and some of which did not. Mrs Weasley had fired off a blazing attack, but Harry wasn't too sure how helpful it had been, and since the article had come out, St John had found some new fodder for his snide remarks. At least Rita Skeeter herself had been quiet. Harry had been entertaining some wild fantasies about Hermione catching the reporter and sealing her up in another jar, permanently this time, but he didn't really believe anything like that had actually happened. He knew Rita would turn up again, just as soon as she had some more dirt on someone.

When they'd reached their seats at last, Ron started in again. "You owe me for this one, Harry…"

"Will you stop it?" Harry shot back. "I got you free tickets to a league match. So tell me, just how do I owe you?"

Ron held up a hand and began ticking off on his fingers. "One, we had to get up at the crack of dawn to get to this thing." Harry couldn't blame Ron for complaining about the early hour at which they'd had to rise this morning. He hadn't been sleeping very well lately, due to some troubling dreams he'd been having ever since Halloween. He never remembered what they were about exactly--although they weren't the same as the nightmare he'd had on the morning of the celebration--only that they involved Ginny in some way, and that they weren't about anything pleasant.

"Two," Ron went on, "we had to Floo to Exeter with you hanging onto me to catch the Muggle train. Three, we had to change trains, with only seconds to spare. Four, we had to walk through the lovely town of Falmouth twice, just to find where the match was. Five, we had to slog our way all the way up here." Ron gestured around the stadium, drawing glances from the surrounding spectators. The stadium had not been in the town of Falmouth itself, but rather up on a nearby headland, known as Pennance Point, overlooking the sea.

"Will you please stop calling attention to us?" Harry asked once more, but Ron went on as if he hadn't heard. "All of those things might be forgivable, but for one thing. We're not even seeing the Cannons!"

"I couldn't help that, Ron, the Cannons weren't playing this week," Harry said. Then he dropped his voice a bit. "And anyway, you know I had to choose a game that was close to Ottery St Catchpole."

Ron had the grace to look a bit more subdued, but only for a moment. "Only because you didn't want to ask Dad to make you a Portkey," he grated back. "And just why is that? I may not have been home long, but I've noticed how you've been avoiding Dad. What's going on there?"

Ron had come home, his Auror training complete, two days ago, and Harry thought it might be a nice treat for the two of them to go a Quidditch match together, especially since the Ministry had given him tickets. Harry thought it best to at least put in an appearance at one or two matches, because he reckoned he might look ungrateful otherwise. However, the day had not turned out to be quite as fun as expected, so far, and they weren't even sure they'd see a good match. The league had only just gone back into operation, and the various teams had only had three weeks to prepare. On top of that, neither the Falmouth Falcons nor the Wigtown Wanderers were known for their spirit of fair play.

Ron was staring at Harry waiting for a reply that Harry was extremely reluctant to give. When Harry still didn't answer, Ron added, "Dad caught you and Ginny at something, didn't he? The night of the celebration…"

"Of course he didn't!" Harry retorted, feeling his face heat in spite of himself. "For one thing, your parents left early. For another, Ginny had that damned Portkey so she couldn't stay past eleven. How were we going to get up to anything?"

"Then what's the problem?"

Harry sighed. "I managed to get caught along with the Portkey, and went back to Hogwarts with Ginny. Your parents managed to find out about it. Then…" He broke off. Ron was giving him an odd look.

"What?" Harry said, even more irritated now. "You know I'm not just trying to see how far I can get with her."

"Yeah, I know that."

Harry reddened further at that. "Anyway," he said, leaning close and saying the rest in a low voice so only Ron could hear him, "then I overheard your mum telling your dad he needed to have a talk with me."

Ron gaped at Harry for a moment, and then he burst out laughing very loudly, causing more of the witches and wizards seated around them to turn and stare. Harry slumped down in his seat, wishing he could just disappear.

Ron finally got his laughter under control. "Come on, Harry, it wasn't all that bad. All he told me was to protect myself, not get into any trouble, and have respect for the girl's wishes." Harry merely stared at Ron in disbelief. "Of course," Ron went on, "I don't suppose he's going to tell you the same thing. Sorry, mate, I guess you're on your own on this one."

"Thanks loads."

"Hey, it's better than Mum giving you the talk… Not that I'd know, but I can imagine."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

Then they both turned their attention to the Quidditch pitch in front of them. Not far from their seats, the announcer had cast a Sonorus Charm on himself and was announcing the teams.

The Wigtown Wanders flew out in their blood red robes, the silver meat cleavers on their chests sparkling in the sunshine. Harry didn't pay a lot of attention to their names; he was too busy looking at a man on the side of the pitch who was also dressed in blood-red robes. Only he had a real meat cleaver in his hand. His wand was in his other hand, and he looked ready to hex anyone who displeased him. Harry took out his Omnioculars to get a better look.

After a moment or two, Harry nudged Ron and pointed to the man. "Looks sort of like Filch, doesn't he?" Harry observed.

"Yeah, he does," agreed Ron, "but he'd be a descendant of the Parkin family. I think his name's David Parkin, actually."

The home team was coming out now, dressed in their dark grey and white robes, adorned with a falcon's head. The announcer recited their names as well, and as a team they recited their motto: "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads."

Then the referee, introduced as Alysun Dysart, came onto the field, and called to the player to mount their brooms. It wasn't long before he'd released the balls, and the signal was given for the match to begin.

Within minutes, two things became apparent. Both teams were obviously rusty, a result of league play having been suspended due to the war and the fact that they'd only had three weeks' practice in order to prepare for today's game. They seemed determined to make up for their lack of refined skill by playing the dirtiest match they possibly could. The fouls committed on both sides made the Slytherin team look like paragons of virtue, and Referee Dysart was having difficulty keeping up with it all.

"And that's another penalty against the Wanders," roared the announcer. "Dysart calls McGraw for Blatching, and Chaser Wallace takes the Quaffle for the Falcons…" Down on the sidelines, David Parkin was glaring at the referee.

Harry lost track of the score as he tried to follow the Seekers' movements. Scanning the sky with his Omnioculars, he spotted them circling above the game, as they tried to stay out of trouble. The Wanderers' Seeker was attempting to tail the Falmouth player, much as Draco Malfoy used to tail Harry during school matches, but the Wigtown Seeker was having difficulty. The Falmouth Seeker seemed to have a very fast broom. Harry twiddled the knobs on his Omnioculars, trying to see what make of broom it was. It looked like it began with Nim-, but Harry was unable to see rest of the lettering. The Falmouth Seeker's hands were covering it up.

Harry was about to turn his attention back to the Quaffle, when a glimpse of gold near the ground caught his eye. The Snitch was down there, hovering near the base of one of the Wigtown goalposts. Harry quickly turned back to the Seekers, expecting one of them to go into a dive, but both of them kept circling, and when he looked back to where he'd seen the Snitch it had disappeared once more.

"Penalty to the Falcons," called the announcer, causing the crowd to burst out with catcalls aimed at the referee. "That's Stooging on the part of Chasers Preston and Morrisson."

As the match wore on, Harry spotted the Snitch several more times, but neither of the Seekers who were actually playing the game seemed to see it. Harry felt frustrated, but he told himself that perhaps if he were in the air he'd have missed the Snitch as well. It wasn't the same thing when you had to worry about Bludgers and being fouled… But he couldn't quite chase the idea out of his head, that if things had been different, he might be up there today, experiencing the exhilaration of flying once again. He could have beat either of these Seekers, he thought, even the one with the faster broom. If you didn't see the Snitch in time, it didn't matter how good your broom was…

"Look out!"

Ron's shout brought Harry out of his brooding just in time. A Bludger was hurtling towards them, and they both ducked as it flew over their heads.

"Penalty shot for Falmouth. That's Bumphing!" cried the announcer.

Climbing back into his seat, Harry watched Chaser Titball take the penalty shot for the Falcons, narrowly beating the Wigtown Keeper, but then he began to watch the Seekers again, almost in spite of himself. There was something odd about the Falmouth Seeker's broom. It seemed to be vibrating.

"Ron, look at his broom," Harry began.

"What? Whose broom?"

"The Falmouth Seeker's… What's his name? Lobo?"

"Oh yeah." Ron trained his Omnioculars on the grey-robed Seeker. "I don't see… Hey, wait a moment…"

The announcer interrupted him. "And Referee Dysart calls another penalty against Wigtown… Chaser Titball again with the penalty shot for Falmouth… And what's this? The referee has disappeared! Ladies and gentlemen, such a thing hasn't been seen since… Since… Well, I can't ever remember an incidence such as this in the history of the modern game. There will be an inquiry into this, you can be certain."

For some reason Harry trained his Omnioculars onto David Parkin, and thought he looked rather smug. But then he noticed something else… The Snitch was fluttering nearby, and this time the Seekers had seen it. They were both diving, Lobo in the lead. He looked certain to catch it, assuring the victory for the home team. Harry leaned forward in his seat, as if he were on his own broom urging it to go faster. Lobo had his hand out. He was going to grab the Snitch…

The crash was spectacular. One moment Lobo had been reaching for the Snitch, and the next he'd ploughed into the ground. The Wanders' Seeker grabbed the Snitch, thankfully ending the game, as there was no referee left. The crowd stared in stunned silence for a moment before breaking out in a chorus of boos, as Lobo's team mates landed around him, meaning several medi-wizards had to push their way through to load him onto a stretcher. Insults could now be heard drifting up from the field. It looked as if accusations were being thrown in the Wanderers' direction.

Ron and Harry stared at each other. "You know what that almost reminded me of?" Ron began. "Back in first year, back at your first match, when Quirrell tried to curse you off your broom… His broom was vibrating like yours was. There's going to have to be an investigation of this…"

"You think that broom was hexed?"

"That's what it looked like to me." Ron was getting to his feet. "And it's not just that broom. The referee disappeared, as well."

"Where are you going?"

"Procedure. I need to find if there's any Aurors on duty and report this to them. And if there's any representatives from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, they have to be informed of this as well."

"Are you sure this was a hex?"

"Well, yeah, what else would it be?"

"I don't know… I guess you're right. It just looked like his broom was going too fast to me though."

"It was, because it was cursed. It was going faster than it was meant to, you know."

"Yeah, I know…" said Harry, as he set off after Ron to find whoever was in charge of this. Harry didn't say any more about it, but there was something strange going on here. Something gave him the feeling that the broom hadn't been hexed, that it had simply gone out of control because its rider was asking more of it than it was designed for.

*

Ginny was tired, tired and fed up. She was sick of the library, sick of translating, sick of rushing through her regular school work or putting it off, so she'd have more time to translate, sick of missing Harry, sick of everything. She didn't feel she was getting anywhere at all with this, and she knew that even once she'd gone through this book, if she didn't find anything, she'd have several others to work on. Hermione had made a start on the runic texts, and while she was steadily improving, she wasn't as fast as Ginny, simply because Ginny had had more practice at it.

Ginny knew she had to keep going for Harry's sake, but at the moment all she wanted was a break. Sitting here day after day and slogging through didn't give her any feeling that she was actually getting anywhere. If only she could do something, something more concrete…

She sat back in her seat, and ran her hands over her face. Glancing about her for something to look at that wasn't covered in runes, her eye fell on a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on a nearby chair. She shuddered. That Rita Skeeter article had turned her stomach, and she didn't need the aggravation of reading any more lies and insinuations about Harry. She'd sent him an angry letter in which she'd railed against Rita, and she'd received a similar rant from Harry the same day. He'd also told her in another letter that he'd written to the paper to defend Sirius, but she hadn't looked at a paper in the past three weeks, even to see that. She'd told herself it was best not to know.

For some reason she picked the newspaper up. It was at least two weeks old, and she wondered if she dared look. At least the front page didn't seem to have anything about Harry on it. She turned the page, and her eyes widened. A long letter appeared on page three, and scanning to the bottom, Ginny saw that it had been signed by her mother.

To the Editor of the Daily Prophet

You accuse him of wanting glory; you don’t know how wrong you are. He has never welcomed his fame. He wishes to be an ordinary boy, with an ordinary life. If you think he enjoyed the ceremony in his honour think again. He doesn’t want recognition for himself, he wants it for everyone that fought that war; those that survived and those that did not, and that's another reason he insisted on having his friends sit with him. He did not do what he did alone, and he knows it. He wanted them to have their due recognition, as well.

I find myself more disgusted each and every day when I pick up your paper. If there were another news source, believe me, I would never hold your paper in my hands again. As it is, I feel as if I must perform a Scouring Charm on them once I've finished reading your publication. Take a good look at what you are doing. Take a good look at your so-called reporters. Don’t try to sell papers, try and report the truth. I have to wonder if I will ever believe another word printed under the heading of the Daily Prophet again!

"Hermione!" Ginny called, getting up. "Hermione, have you seen this?"

Hermione looked up from her spot at the loans desk. Ginny knew the only reason Hermione didn't bother to tell her to keep her voice down was that it was Saturday, and almost everyone was at the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin Quidditch match, meaning the library was empty. "What is it?"

"Did you know my mother wrote a letter to the Prophet? And it got printed?"

"Of course, I did. I tried to show that to you when it came out, and you wouldn't hear anything about it."

Ginny thought back and remembered now. She'd been adamant about not looking. "Yes, but… Well some of what she said isn't even right, is it?"

"Your mother has no way of knowing where the spell Harry used came from. Not even Harry knows what else is in that book, does he? Unless you said something."

"No, of course, I haven't said anything to him about it. He'd want to know how I found out, and then I'd have to tell him why we're translating the whole thing. In any case, what good would it do to tell him? It's not as if anyone would want to reverse that spell, even if there was a way to."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Do you think… But no, we couldn't do that. If getting Harry's powers back would bring back Voldemort at the same time, we'd be back where we started, wouldn't we?" Ginny nodded her agreement. "In any case, I don't think a spell like that could be reversed," Hermione added.

"I just wish… I wish…" Ginny stopped, feeling herself tear up. "I guess I wish there had been another way to defeat him. I hate that Harry had to give up so much and he's not even receiving proper recognition for it. He doesn't deserve this."

"I know, Ginny. It's hard, but all we can do is keep forging ahead as best we know how."

Ginny swallowed hard, and nodded. It was all she could do. She returned to her place and set back to work with renewed determination. She would get through this. An hour later, she turned yet another page in the old text. Scanning ahead through the flowing characters, she came to an odd place, something that didn't quite make sense. It was as if at the bottom of one page, the sentence began one way, and at the top of the next, it said something completely different. Looking closely at the book, she saw that a page seemed to have been torn put. She could see the ragged edges caught into the binding between two intact pages.

"I hope that's not anything important," Ginny said to herself, as she began translating at the top of the page. But it soon became apparent that it might be. As she worked, she began to pick up the context, and she had to ask herself if the page that had been torn out was the one, on which Hermione had discovered the spell.

To Be Continued…

A/N: Once again, real life has interfered with me getting this chapter done as soon as I'd have liked. Sorry about that. I will try to get back to updating this weekly if I can. I need to credit Marian with the Molly Weasley letter to the Daily Prophet: she wrote that part, and anyway she's basically my partner in crime here. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and thanks once again to my betas.

Ginny stared in disbelief at the words she had just written down. She couldn't be completely certain, because the beginning of the sentence was missing, but she was fairly sure that one of the words was "cure". The more she looked at the sentence, the more she was convinced she'd got it right. There simply weren't that many other possibilities. Why did the preceding page, of all pages, have to be the one that was gone?

"Hermione?" Ginny called across the empty library. "Could you come over here for a moment, please?"

Hermione looked up from the loans desk, where she'd been sitting, working out another runic text. The girls could count on working uninterrupted today, since the rest of the school was attending a Quidditch match. "What is it?" she asked, getting to her feet. "Did you find something?"

"I'm not sure. Look." Ginny held up the book so that Hermione could get a look at it. "There's a page missing here."

Hermione bit her lip. "Oh dear," she began as if she didn't want to believe what she was seeing. "That's got to be the page the spell was on. What did you find?"

"Do you know what happened to the page?"

"What did you find?" Hermione insisted, sounding more panicked now.

"Will you just answer me?" Ginny grated.

"Isn't what you've found more important than something we can't do anything about?"

"I wouldn't have any way of knowing since you won't tell me. And what do you mean we can't do anything about it? There's got to be another copy of this book somewhere! There's just got to!"

Hermione had gone pale. "No… No there isn't. It's one-of-a-kind. Madam Pince told me all those runic texts were."

Ginny hissed several choice words she'd learned from her older brothers under her breath, thankful that he mother wasn't anywhere nearby to overhear them. "Just tell me what happened to that page, Hermione," Ginny said, low and threatening.

"Harry tore it out," Hermione said in a small voice.

Ginny shot to her feet. "What? Why would he do something like that?"

"He didn't want to take any chances of you finding out about that spell. It was the night I discovered it. He came down to the common room, and I was still looking for it. And he was there when I found it. Once I'd got the passage translated into English, I showed it to him. I told him we could find another way, but he wouldn't hear it."

Hermione's voice had been rising as she told what had happened, and Ginny noticed she was wringing her hands. There was a faraway look in her eyes. "And then… Then he made me swear not to say a word to anyone, especially not to you or Ron, and I tried to argue with him. I told him you'd want to know the details. That's when he did it. That's when he tore the page out of the book and burned it in the fireplace."

"How?" Ginny asked, horrified. "How could you just let him do it?"

"You weren't there. You didn't see him. He got really scary. How was I going to stop him?"

"I don't know. You should have found a way! You should have said something to us at the time!"

"I just got through telling you," Hermione shot back. "He made me swear not to tell." "What was I supposed to have done? Just break my word?"

"Yes! Yes, you should have, if that's what it took. We could have stopped him!"

"How? How would you have stopped him? He was bound and determined to do it. There wasn't any way anyone could have stopped him."

"Well, you didn't try very hard, did you?"

"Do you have any idea how I even felt?" Hermione shrilled. "Do you have any idea what I went through keeping that from you? Do you? It wasn't easy, you know! And I had to keep it all to myself for two months, not even knowing if one day I'd wake up and find him gone! He said that to me, did you know that? He told me he might sneak off if he got word of where Voldemort was. You have no idea what that's like. And you know what? I'm glad you don't. It was horrible! It would have been better if he'd wiped my memory."

Hermione paused at last for a shaky breath. Ginny barely knew how to reply to this. She wasn't used to seeing Hermione lose her composure. The older girl was now looking at Ginny with narrowed eyes. "What did you find?"

"Only that this book is completely useless!" Ginny picked it up and flung it against the nearest stack, and it fell to the floor with an ominous crack, its spine now broken and several pages fanning helplessly out over the flagstones.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione in horror.

"THAT PAGE HE RIPPED OUT MOST LIKELY HAD THE CURE ON IT!"

"Ginny, no! That can't be right! You must have translated it wrong!"

"I'm damned well sure I didn't translate it wrong. Look!" She held up the parchment she'd been working on. "The top of the page, the one that followed the torn-out page, this is what it said: '…shall be the cure.' Go look for yourself if you don't believe me!" She thrust an angry finger towards the fallen book.

"What about the rest of what we do have? Maybe the actual cure follows those words…" Hermione didn't sound very hopeful, even as she said the words.

"I've done the rest. There's nothing. I'm telling you if it was anywhere, it was on the page Harry tore out."

"NO! No…" Hermione buried her face in her hands. "No, this can't be. This is all my fault. I should have told you what I was doing. I was only trying to spare Ron's feelings, you know. I knew he was going to stuff something up. Well it looks like the joke's on me, isn't it?" She removed her hands from her face and looked starkly at Ginny, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I stuffed things up even worse. I should have translated both pages before saying anything. I should have shown you." Her hands were shaking now, the tears beginning to leak out. "If only I'd thought about it some more. We could have had the cure ready and everything would be fine now. None of us would have this secret we have to hide, and Harry… Harry would be able to do whatever he wants… He wouldn't feel he has to hide from everyone… We could have all taken our Apparition tests together last summer…"

Hermione continued to rant, pacing about the area between the table and the stacks, and Ginny felt worse and worse for having told her. No one else could ever know of this, most especially not Harry. The knowledge would kill him. Ginny didn't think twice about drawing her wand.

"Obliviate!"

Hermione froze in place, looked dazed for a moment, and then she seemed to shake herself.

"Did you hear what I just said to you?" Ginny asked quickly, her heart beginning to pound at the thought of what she'd just done.

"No…" Hermione looked slightly bemused. "What were we just talking about?"

"Viktor Krum," Ginny supplied, fighting to keep her tone calm. "Have you heard anything further from him?"

Hermione shook her head. The week before, she'd had an owl from him, which had given them reason to believe he might have heard of something that could restore powers to someone who had lost them. But he'd also said he'd have to research it, and there had been no further word.

"Maybe we should write to him again," said Ginny.

"What good would it do? If he finds anything he'll let us know. In the meantime, we'd only be pestering him."

"You did tell him it was important, didn't you?"

"Well, I didn't want to give too much away. If I sounded too desperate to know, it might have led to questions I didn't want to have to answer. The best we can do is keep working with what we've got until we hear otherwise."

Hermione glanced at the table as if she wanted to indicate the book Ginny had been translating. She looked around her, obviously confused at not seeing it where she expected it to be, then she spied it on the floor a few feet away from them. "Ginny, how did that happen? That book is a one-of-a-kind."

"I'm sorry," Ginny replied quickly, inwardly relieved that Hermione seemed to remember nothing of their recent drama or anything connected with it. "I was going to show you something and I dropped it. It's very old… It just broke. Here…" She drew her wand out again, intending to repair it, and Hermione shook her head, as is she was clearing cobwebs out of it.

"Miss Weasley, what are you doing with your wand out in the library?"

Ginny heaved a heavy sigh and turned to face Professor McGonagall, who had just interrupted the girls' conversation. "I was just about to repair that book, Professor," she replied meekly.

"You will leave that to Miss Granger. I'd like to have a word with you."

Ginny had been expecting this eventually, but the knowing didn't make her any more ready to face what promised to be a very unpleasant interview. The fact that the headmistress was missing a Quidditch match to talk to Ginny did nothing to make her feel any more optimistic.

"Is this about the incident in Potions?" Ginny asked resignedly.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips into a thin line. "That's only the beginning. If you'd come with me, please."

Ginny said a few more choice words to herself. Could this day possibly get any worse? She trudged after the headmistress towards the older woman's office, but she couldn't miss the piercing look Hermione gave her. So far she'd managed to hide the fact that she'd been putting off her school work from the older girl. She knew she wouldn't be able to get away with that any longer.

"Incident in Potions" was rather an understatement. She hadn't been paying much attention to what she was doing and had managed to mis-measure the brimstone mixed with St John's wort she'd been adding to her Alzante Elixir. It had been most unfortunate that Professor Snape had chosen that very moment to check her progress, because when her cauldron erupted in a seething mass of volatile liquid, a good bit of it had jetted into the potions master's face, causing it to break out in some very ugly boils and eating away his robes and hair wherever it touched. Things had only got worse when Professor Snape had decided that Ginny had let her potion explode on purpose and taken fifty points from Gryffindor, proclaiming loudly that he'd be discussing her detention with her head of house.

Nothing had seemed to come of that discussion immediately, but Ginny had known better than to trust her luck and think everything would blow over. Her luck seemed to have deserted her lately, and Snape had had it in for her ever since he, along with everyone else, had learned she'd been behind the Zonko's explosion. He had no solid proof she'd stolen potions ingredients, of course, but he'd rightly deduced what she'd done.

Ginny and Professor McGonagall arrived at the stone gargoyle, which hid the entrance to the headmaster's office. In Dumbledore's day the password had often been some sort of sweet, but when Professor McGonagall gave her password, it was evident that a new regime was in place.

"Nepeta cataria!"

The stone gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the spiral staircase that led to McGonagall's office. Ginny had been in this room on rare occasions during Dumbledore's tenure, and she noted that the office had undergone some changes to reflect its new occupant. Gone were the silver instruments that emitted curious noises and puffs of smoke. The portraits of former headmasters still adorned the walls, and a new one had been added to the collection. Albus Dumbledore himself sat smiling in his ornate gold frame. Unlike the other headmasters he wasn't drowsing. Ginny could see his blue eyes twinkling at her, while in the background of the painting Fawkes preened on his perch. The actual phoenix was nowhere in evidence in the office, and Ginny wondered where he could have got to. He couldn't actually have died, could he?

Professor McGonagall sat behind the claw-footed desk, gesturing for Ginny to take a seat in a shabby-looking tartan wing chair.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall began. "I need to ask what's troubling you this year."

Ginny blinked. She'd been expecting a lecture. "Troubling me?" she repeated lamely.

"Yes. There is obviously something wrong. I have rarely seen such a model student turn around so fast. You used to maintain some of the highest marks in your year, and this year they've plummeted. I hear you haven't been turning in your assignments. You're distracted in class, when you haven't dropped off entirely. Yet you spend a great deal of time in the library. I found you there today, rather than at the Quidditch match. So I have to ask what's happened. I can't imagine you suddenly find your classes too difficult."

McGonagall stopped and looked at Ginny expectantly. Ginny hardly knew what to reply. She'd been trying desperately to catch up to her classes in recent weeks, but the translation work, which now looked as if it had all been for naught, had been her main priority. This meant she'd been sitting up late every night studying when she could and running on very little sleep. That was what had been at the root of her recent Potions disaster--she'd been half asleep and misread the directions.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she replied at last. "I managed to fall behind at the beginning of the year, and I'm still trying to catch up. I've been staying up late making up the work, and it's made me tired."

Professor McGonagall looked sceptical. "I find that difficult to believe, when you've been spending such inordinate amounts of time in the library since the beginning of the year. Or am I to surmise that you've been working on something that isn't related to school work? You're not planning any more pranks on your brothers, are you?"

Ginny slumped a bit lower in her chair. She might have known it was only a matter of time before that incident was brought up as well.

"I don't know what I can possibly say that will impress upon you the gravity of the situation, Miss Weasley," McGonagall went on. "You've already managed to lose your prefect's badge, and your marks have dropped at an alarming rate. There are those who hold the opinion that you're not taking your school work seriously enough to even remain at Hogwarts. You do realise you'll be taking your NEWTs at the end of the year, and that those marks will determine the sort of job you'll be able to get. Have you given any thought to what you want to do once you've left school?"

Ginny had to shake her head no, while a cold sort of weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Her future career had been the last thing on her mind. How was she supposed to know at seventeen what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, anyway? She remembered having a similar conversation with Harry last year, and at the time he'd not had much of an idea what he wanted to do with his life, either.

"I'd give the matter some thought if I were you. Unfortunately, if you keep on this road you've started down, you won't be qualified to take tickets at a league Quidditch match."

The headmistress paused at this point, clearly expecting a reply, but Ginny continued to stare stonily ahead, determined not to allow Professor McGonagall see how shaken she was by this pronouncement. She definitely wanted more out of life than a job like that, but she'd wasted the past few months on an entirely fruitless endeavour. There was no way she was ever going to get that time back.

"All right, we'll begin with the matter at hand then. What happened in Potions class?"

"It… it was a mistake," replied Ginny, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I don't know what Professor Snape told you, but I didn't make that potion explode on purpose. I was tired, and I didn't pay close enough attention to the directions. It was all an accident."

"I see. I suppose this brings us to the matter of how you managed to get behind in your classes in the first place, since you've already told me that's the ultimate reason behind your fatigue."

Ginny looked about her wondering what she should say in reply. She couldn't very well tell Professor McGonagall the truth of the matter. Her eye fell on the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. She had a shock when he winked at her. Then she remembered the story that the twins had fed her mother to cover the real reason why she had avenged herself on them. "It's all my brothers' fault," she blurted.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. In the background Ginny could see Professor Dumbledore's portrait self nodding at her approvingly, a sly smile creeping over his features. "You're blaming your poor performance on your brothers? Don't you think you're a bit old to be trying that sort of trick?"

"It's true. Fred and George kept sending me things like self-igniting parchment, which meant I had to keep redoing my homework. That's how I got behind. And I got fed up with them, so I had to plan my revenge, and working out how to do that took a lot of time."

"Yes, well you could have chosen another means of dealing with them, couldn't you?" Ginny tried her best to look contrite, not really sure that she succeeded since she didn't really regret what she'd done very much. "In any case, we've been over that. However, I find it difficult to believe that someone of your talent let something like that set you back to this extent. Are you certain there isn't anything else going on?"

There was plenty going on; Ginny just couldn't tell her what. "I suppose I'm worried about my father," she hedged. "He was involved in an accident at work at the end of the summer, and he hasn't been the same since. He's still recovering…"

That seemed to be working. Professor McGonagall's expression softened a touch. Ginny wanted to squirm in her seat with guilt. While she was legitimately worried about her dad, it wasn't to the point of getting in the way of her studies, and she didn't like making the situation more than it was.

"Well, we've all been through a lot over the summer, haven't we? You wouldn't be having nightmares of any sort, would you?"

"Nightmares?"

"Well, you did take part in the battle last June. I should have considered it sooner…"

"I haven't been having nightmares," Ginny protested. Lately she'd been too tired to remember her dreams at all.

"It's all right to admit it, dear. You'll have seen some things that no one ought to see."

"I'm not having any nightmares," Ginny insisted, while she kicked herself mentally for not taking the way out that Professor McGonagall had so conveniently offered her. She was tired of keeping so many of her feelings to herself, tried of the lies and cover-ups. She took a shaky breath, struggling to maintain her composure, and knowing that the effort was probably futile.

The headmistress was watching her closely, and Ginny felt as if all the stress she'd been feeling was plain to see on her face. "There's got to be something else, I'm sure of it. Sometimes it helps to unburden…"

"THERE ISN'T ANYTHING ELSE!"

"Miss Weasley!"

"I'm sorry… I don't know what's wrong with me these days. It's everything…" The tears were beginning to leak out now. She swiped at them and looked down into her lap, angry with herself for not being able to hold them back. "It's all just seemed to pile up and fall on me today."

"What has?" asked Professor McGonagall quietly.

Ginny looked up sharply. "I can't tell you. It's personal."

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "How personal? Should I send you to talk to Madam Pomfrey?"

"No… What does Madam Pomfrey have to… NO! It's not anything like that at all."

"I think you need to talk about it to somebody. And since it's affecting your schoolwork, it concerns me as well."

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you. It's a secret. I'm trying to make up the missed work. Honestly, I am. I suppose I'll just have to work harder at it. And I'll work harder next term. I know I need good NEWT results…"

Professor McGonagall was looking hard at her. "You most certainly will be working harder. From now until the end of term, you will be serving detention with me. When you are not at class, at meals or sleeping, you will be making up your work here in this office. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"And if your work is not made up to my satisfaction, you will not be attending the ball on the winter solstice."

"Yes, Professor."

"That will be all, then. And if I don't see an immediate improvement, I shall be forced to notify your parents."

"You won't have to," Ginny assured her.

"You may go and get your school things, and then I will expect you back here to begin your detention. I shall be waiting for you in the corridor."

Ginny dragged her feet on her way back to Gryffindor Tower to get her school bag. She had briefly considered going to the library first to inform Hermione that she would no longer be helping her with the translation and to get the parchment, quills and ink she had left on the table but decided against it. She couldn't face looking at that library for another instant. There was no hope left in that route. It was time for her to buckle down and concentrate on her studies, and she had from now until Christmas to make up for lost time.

*

Harry activated his Portkey and disappeared from the Ministry of Magic's Apparition point to reappear seconds later in the Burrow's cosy kitchen, which was filled with the scents of holiday baking. The rich aromas of yeast and cinnamon caused Harry's stomach to rumble in anticipation of a freshly cooked, hot meal. He'd been subsisting on reheated leftovers for a week now, and he was quite looking forward to a relaxing family supper. He'd be paying for the time off later this evening, as he'd brought work home with him.

"Evening, Harry," greeted Mrs Weasley. Her apron was covered in flour. "Supper will be ready in just a few minutes."

Harry smiled at her, as he laid aside a large package and an armful of parchment, before removing his cloak and tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. He normally didn't wear it to work, since he didn't even have to step outside to travel, but he'd managed to take the time on his lunch hour to get some Christmas shopping done, and he'd needed it to venture out into Diagon Alley. Early December had brought frost and chill winds with it.

"Has there been any post?" he asked hopefully.

"You've had an owl, but it doesn't look like it's from Ginny," Mrs Weasley commented, nodding towards his place at the table.

Harry picked up the envelope and recognised his godfather's writing. "It's from Sirius," he said, slitting the parchment and taking a seat, as Mr Weasley hobbled in from the living room.

Harry suddenly became engrossed in the letter and was grateful when Mr Weasley made no comment to him. He'd managed to avoid having any sort of conversation, other than small talk, with Mr Weasley for over a month now, and he wasn't about to break that perfect record.

Sirius' letter seemed to be mainly a tirade against Remus, who refused to accept any sort of rent payments. Since Halloween, the Order's forces had been officially disbanded. Bill had returned to Egypt, hoping his job at Gringott's was still available, while Remus had gone to live on the property he'd inherited from his parents when they'd died. According to Sirius, who had gone to stay with his long-time friend, the small house wasn't in very good condition, and Remus didn't have much money to make the necessary repairs. Sirius complained in his letter that he was willing to pay rent out of his indemnity, and that might pay for repairs, but Remus wouldn't hear of it. "He's being a hard-headed git about it," Sirius railed.

Just as Harry finished reading that sentence, Ron Apparated into the kitchen. Harry couldn't resist a laugh. "Perfect timing."

Ron looked askance at him. "What are you on about?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just that you're right on time for supper."

Indeed, Mrs Weasley was setting food on the table, and the family was soon tucking into a hearty shepherd's pie, salad and freshly baked rolls. Harry scanned the rest of the letter quickly, noticing in passing that Sirius had invited him to visit whenever he wanted, but that posed a problem. If he was going to visit Sirius, he'd need another Portkey, and he'd have to ask Mr Weasley to make one for him. And he didn't really want to give Mr Weasley an opening for any embarrassing sort of talk. On the other hand, if he asked now, Mr Weasley was hardly going to launch into a lecture about why Harry should keep his hands to himself and not on Ginny at the supper table.

"Mr Weasley, Sirius says he'd like me to come for a visit sometime. Do you think you can make me another Portkey?"

"You sure you don't want one that goes anywhere else while we're at it?" asked Ron, laughing.

"No, of course not."

"Are you completely sure? I hear Hogsmeade is lovely this time of year." Harry kicked Ron under the table, but he didn't miss the look that passed between the elder Weasleys. Mr Weasley looked amused for a moment, until Mrs Weasley pressed her lips into a thin line. Mr Weasley's eyes became a bit less twinkly after that.

"You make sure you tell Sirius and Remus they're invited to come to Christmas dinner when you write back to him, Harry," said Mrs Weasley. Harry nodded and she continued, "And Hermione, Ron. Does she have any plans that you know of?"

"Erm," began Ron, his mouth full of roll, "I think she mentioned something about being invited to her aunt's on Christmas Day. They're expecting me to go along, as well."

Mrs Weasley looked disappointed. "But I wanted the whole family together…"

Ron swallowed. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we can have lunch here, and supper there. Or something…" Harry couldn't help thinking they sounded like old married couple, they way they had to juggle family commitments so that no one would be disappointed.

"Anything new come up in that Quidditch match investigation?" Harry asked Ron, as they continued to eat. "You're allowed to talk about it, aren't you?" Although Ron had moved back home now that he'd completed his Auror training and they were sharing a room, they'd barely seen each other since the game in Falmouth. They'd both been working odd hours.

"There's nothing much I can tell you, actually. Not because I'm not allowed to discuss it, but because there's nothing to say, really. All they've worked out is that Parkin bloke didn't do anything to hex the Falmouth Seeker's broom."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was too busy sending the referee off. Do you know where he turned up? In the middle of Diagon Alley!"

"How'd Parkin manage something like that?"

"Some Dark Arts spell apparently. I don't remember what he used. But he's going to have a bit of trouble now. I imagine you'll find him coming through your office at some point or other."

"Just what we need. More work."

"Well, this was a fairly minor infraction, since the referee wasn't hurt--he was just confused as anything--so I don't think you'd see his case come up till after Christmas. They've released Parkin on his own recognisance, but he's not allowed to attend any more Quidditch matches."

"So what about the Seeker's broom? Do they still think it was hexed?"

"They're still stripping it down. From what I've heard, they haven't found anything so far."

"I'm not so sure it was cursed myself."

"What makes you say that? From where I was sitting it looked to me like back in first year."

"I'd have no idea what that looked like from the ground, but I've just got a feeling… It didn't look like a curse on the broom. It just looked like he lost control…"

"Well, we won't know for a while yet. Remember when Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick stripped down your Firebolt?"

"That took ages!"

"We ought to know before Christmas, I'd think. They've got a few people working on it whenever there's time."

"Did you ever get to see what make of broom it was?"

"Oh, just a Nimbus 2001. Nothing special, really. Why are you so interested?"

Harry shrugged. He couldn't really put a finger on it, but there'd been something strange about that broom. If he listened to his instincts, he'd say that the broom had been charmed to go that fast on purpose, and the reason it had crashed was that its rider had been unable to control the speed.

When the meal was over, Harry picked up the parchment he'd left on the counter earlier and took it into the living room, where he sat down at the table in the corner, intending on writing up the case summaries Hill had asked him to do. He had just pulled out a quill and some ink and begun to write, when Ron joined him at the table, carrying his own supply of parchment.

"What's that?" Harry asked, looking up. "You didn't bring work home as well, did you?"

"No, but I've got to write to Hermione. You don't mind do you?"

Harry shrugged. "I do have to get this done tonight, but I don't suppose you'll bother me."

Ron lowered his voice. "I reckon we've got some plans to make, as well, and I have no idea when we'll get a chance to discuss it."

Harry set down his quill. "What plans?" he asked quietly.

"Well, there's this ball thing at Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, and we're both planning on going, aren't we?" Harry nodded. "So did you ever give any thought to where you'd be spending the night?"

Harry reddened. He had a good idea where Ron planned to spend the night, but he hadn't given any thought to his own situation. He knew where he'd like to be spending the night, but he also knew wasn't going to be feasible. "I thought I'd use my Portkey to come back here after the ball," he said.

Ron looked sceptical. "You're joking, right?"

"No, why would I be joking? It'll be easy enough for you to spend the night with Hermione. She's got her own room. But what good is it going to do me to stay anywhere but here? I can hardly stay in Ginny's dormitory."

"Well, you can't come back here, because then Mum is going to wonder about it if I don't come home."

"What am I supposed to do then? Get a room at The Three Broomsticks?"

A grin began to spread over Ron's face. "Now there's an idea."

Harry stared at Ron in disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You're suggesting we get a room at The Three Broomsticks, one you're not going to be sleeping in, meaning I've got the room to myself… And you're okay with this?"

"Yeah, that's about the long and the short of it."

"But that means I can br-"

Ron cut him off. "Just spare me the details, all right? As long as you don't say it out loud in front of me, I can pretend I don't know what's really going on."

"What's going on?" A new voice made Harry jump. He saw that Mrs Weasley had joined them in the living room.

"Nothing," Harry said too quickly, reddening in spite of himself. Ron kicked him under the table.

"Are you sure, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley, peering at him more closely.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Let me handle this," Ron said under his breath. "Mum, you know there's going to be this party up at Hogwarts in a few weeks, don't you? Well, Harry and I were thinking, we should get a room at The Three Broomsticks. It'll probably be late, and all… And I'll be too tired to Apparate. The seventh years are going to be allowed to stay out later than the younger students, so who knows when we'd get home."

"Why, I think that's an excellent idea," replied Mrs Weasley to Harry's shock. He'd been certain she'd see right through this plan. "Why don't you let me make the reservations for you?"

Ron, who had been looking hopeful in light of his mother's favourable reaction, stopped smiling. "I don't think that's going to be necessary, Mum. We can take care of it."

"Nonsense, dear. You've both been working so hard lately. When would you have the time? Please, let me do this for you. It'll be one less thing for you to worry about."

It was going to be impossible for Ron to reply to this without giving anything away, so he thankfully kept his mouth shut. Mrs Weasley smiled at them both and went off towards the stairs.

"Nice going," Harry grumbled. "I can just imagine it now. Two very narrow single beds. Probably the lumpiest they've got."

"Just shut it, will you? It was worth a try. You'll work something out. After all, I won't be there."

Harry glared at Ron for a moment and turned back to his work, while Ron pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket. It wasn't long before Harry heard him muttering under his breath. He sighed and set down his quill once more.

"Do you mind? I've got to get this finished tonight, and I'd like to get to bed at a decent hour."

"Sorry. It's just Hermione… Why does she insist on mentioning Viktor Krum in every single letter? Ginny doesn't do anything like that, does she?"

"What, talk about Krum? Of course she doesn't. As far as I know she only got that one letter from him last summer."

"That's not what I meant. I just meant that it's like Hermione does it on purpose. She brings him up because she knows it'll irritate me."

"Looks like it worked, too."

"Well, does Ginny pull anything like that on you?"

Harry pretended to think about it. "No, I can't say that she does. Not that I'm going to tell you what she does say in her letters… But really, how do you know Hermione is even corresponding with Krum? Maybe she's just having you on."

Ron seemed to consider this. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should call her on it. See what she says."

"Yeah, you do that." Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. He reckoned Hermione's next letter to Ron wasn't going to be very pleasant, but it served Ron right if he got into trouble with his girlfriend after what had just happened with his mother.

Ron must have caught onto Harry's game. "So have you had any good talks with Dad lately?"

"You know very well that I haven't."

"You should just get it over with, you know. Then you can stop walking on eggshells around him."

"You know, it's really weird, but I get the impression your dad would rather not have this talk with me, either. It's not like he's been searching me out or anything."

"Probably Mum wants him to do it, and he'd rather not…"

"Probably… Listen, I've got to get this work done, all right? I don't want to go to bed too late."

Ron was looking at Harry as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure how to begin. "Have you been sleeping all right lately?" he asked at last.

"No worse than usual," Harry lied.

"Come on, I've been sleeping in the same room with you since I got home. I've heard you thrashing around at night. Now what's up?"

"I'm not sure. I've been having these dreams…"

Ron held up a hand. "Stop right there. I don't want to hear it if my sister is involved."

"Not like that… I don't remember them. That's the thing. I keep waking up, and I know I've had a nightmare, but I can never recall what it's about. I'm sorry if I've been keeping you awake."

"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I've been thinking about getting my own flat. Nothing big, but… Well, it would make things easier if I wanted to have any visitors. I wouldn't have to worry about Mum wanting to tell me off about anything."

"You've got a job now, and you're of age. Why wouldn't you move out if you're ready?"

"Exactly. What I wanted to know was, do you want to go in on it with me? We could get a nice place with two of us to pay the rent."

Harry sat and thought. Was he ready to leave the relative safety of the Burrow? If he was living on his own, he'd have to look after himself. And he hadn't learned to do a lot of what that would require by Muggle means. The Burrow had become like a haven to him. He was extremely grateful to Mrs Weasley for being willing to do his laundry and cook for him, but would he be able to do all that for himself? He knew he'd have to leave eventually, but he wasn't sure he was ready to do that just yet.

"I don't know, Ron… How am I supposed to manage with no magic?"

"It would be easier than being on your own, wouldn't it? And who cares if the place is spotless?"

"We'll have to eat at some point…"

Ron merely shrugged at this, and Harry didn't feel like explaining that he just didn't think he was ready to take such a big step.

"And I don't know how comfortable I'd feel if you had Hermione over all the time," he added, but Ron didn't react very much to this pronouncement. "And what if I decided to invite Ginny over…"

"Okay, you're right," Ron said quickly, giving Harry an funny look. "Perhaps it wasn't such a great idea after all. But I'm still thinking of moving out."

"Just what is that look for, anyway?"

"What look?"

"That look you're giving me. Like you're a bit shocked and disgusted. Just what do you think I'm going to do with your sister?"

"It had better not be anything bad, I can tell you that," said Ron sounding annoyed.

"And just what do you know about it? You must have a very vivid imagination or have tried out some rather interesting things with Hermione if you're looking at me like that."

Ron stared at Harry for a moment, his mouth working soundlessly, while the tips of his ears turned red.

"What do you expect, Ron, when I mention dreams and you automatically assume they're those types of dreams?"

"Well," Ron said, once he'd got his voice working, "I certainly don't have to sit here and take this."

He picked up his parchment and left in a huff, leaving Harry to think that he'd sounded exactly like Hermione just now. "Who would ever have thought that she'd actually wear off on him?" he said to himself, chuckling and remembering the beginning of their first year, when Ron had called her a nightmare. "At least I can get my work done in peace now."

To Be Continued…

A/N: This chapter wasn't particularly kind to me. I had to re-write some things several times. Thanks especially to Marian for talking me through it, because I hate to rewrite. Please let me know what you think. And if anyone knows what nepeta cataria is, you might get a laugh…

A/N: This is a guest chapter written by Maid Marian.

"Harry, dear you’re home early," Molly Weasley said as she stood at the cooker, preparing what smelled like another excellent meal for that night’s dinner.

"Yes, I was at a breaking point, so Mr. Hill sent me home. Has there been any post?"

"No, dear, not today."

"All right, I’ll just…" Harry began but was soon stopped by Mrs Weasley.

"Arthur is in his shed, I believe he wanted to talk to you about the Portkey to Sirius’ house. Why don’t you go out there now, and then when you’re done with your talk you can help Arthur come in."

Harry froze on the spot; he had been avoiding this very situation for the past several weeks. It hadn’t been an easy task, for he honestly liked Mr Weasley, but the last thing he wanted to do was have that kind of talk with him. And although Harry knew he had no way of getting out of this, he tried to change the subject anyway. "Is his leg still bothering him?"

"Yes, I’m afraid so. I told him to sit down while he’s in that infernal shed, but he never does. The other day I had to help him walk back in. Be a good lad, and go now. Supper will be ready soon," Mrs Weasley said with some despair in her voice.

Harry had no choice. He lowered his head and walked out the kitchen door. Hopefully Mr Weasley would be so pre-occupied with working on the Portkey, he’d forget to talk to him. That’s if Harry’s luck held out… He didn’t have a snowball's chance in hell.

~~~

Harry knocked on the old shed door, remembering the last time he had been in here. It had been the day after Ginny had talked some sense into him. The same day Ron had been Apparating all over the place trying to avoid Mrs Weasley because of his "conjugal visit" remark. Harry smiled at the memory.

"Come!" Harry heard Mr Weasley call, and he opened the door.

"Harry, come in, come in. Watch the washing machine; I’ve been working on it. Oh, careful, careful, here let me move that," Mr Weasley said as he tried to move a large, strange-looking object. Clearly he was having difficulties trying to move it, and Harry moved quickly to give him a hand.

"Um… Mr Weasley, what is this?"

"I don’t rightly know," he said, scratching his head. "One of my counterparts in the States sent this to me a few weeks back. I believe this is some sort of light, but I’m not sure what it does. I don’t know why it has bars around the outside. I’m sure I’ll work out what it is sooner or later." He laughed.

Harry chuckled too, but his nervousness started to show, as his hands became quite sweaty. He hid them in his pockets. "Mrs Weasley said you had a Portkey question for me."

"Yes, yes, well, actually I needed your watch. I thought I’d just add Sirius’ house to the dial. Thought that might be a bit more convenient for you."

"Oh, yes, that would great. I wasn’t sure if you could do that. I mean add Portkey stops to the watch," Harry said, trying to act nonchalantly as he handed the watch to Mr Weasley.

"Oh, I’m sure I could add a few more to the watch. You’d just have to tell me what stops you’d like," Mr Weasley said, eyeing Harry closely, as if he was waiting for Harry to ask. "Harry can you bring down those maps on that top shelf over there? I’m going to have to match the coordinates for Sirius’ house on the Muggle and wizard maps. Since Sirius lives in a predominantly Muggle area, the wizarding maps don’t show his town. We’ll just have to match them up, and I can plug the co-ordinates in, and you’ll be all set." Mr Weasley was eyeing him closely again.

Harry and Mr Weasley worked in silence for several minutes. Harry was fascinated with the procedures for the Portkey, but along with the co-ordinates, Mr Weasley had to charm the watch. Harry began to think that he was in the clear, since Mr Weasley was almost done with no sign of the talk forthcoming, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Harry, it’s easy for me to add another stop. Are you sure you don’t want me…"

"Um… no, no really, I can’t think of any…"

"Hogsmeade?"

If Harry could, he would have crawled into the washing machine and stayed there until spring. How could Mr Weasley just ask him that? Didn’t he want him as far away from Ginny as Mrs Weasley obviously did? Was this a test? If he said yes, would Mr Weasley read him the riot act on the proper way his daughter was supposed to be treated? If he said no, would Mr Weasley call him a liar, and read him the riot act anyway?

"Harry, you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to read you the riot act." He laughed when Harry gulped and turned red from his neck up. "I know what young kids get up to, and I’m pretty sure you and Ginny haven’t got up to anything you shouldn’t. And even if you have… Well, even though I’m her father, I can see how much you two love each other. I understand these things better than you think I do."

Harry couldn’t have blushed any redder, and he groped around for a chair, as his knees were getting a little shaky. Mr Weasley must have noticed this; he Transfigured an old lawn mower into a bench for the two of them to sit on.

"You’ve been avoiding me. I’ll assume you heard Molly mention something about a talk she wanted me to have with you." Mr Weasley smiled. "You don’t have to answer, and I’m not here to embarrass you. But you have to help me here." He chuckled. "Molly’s been after me to have this talk, and I can’t lie to her. She has this uncanny knack of knowing when I try to lie to her," he laughed again. "So if you and I talk a bit, I can honestly say that we did, and both you and I are off the hook."

Harry had always liked Mr Weasley, and this was just another reason why. He could have made this hard on him, but he was being realistic, and trying to make it easier on both of them. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

"So, should I add Hogsmeade on to this watch?"

"Um… yes, but it’s not what you think. I mean, well, I am going to the Winter Solstice Ball with Ginny, and the Portkey would come in handy. And… when they start having Hogsmeade weekends, I’d be able to go and visit Ginny for the day. I promise I won’t use it any other time," Harry said as calmly as he could.

"That’s fine," he smiled. "Here let’s look at that map; I just want to make sure I remember the correct co-ordinates."

Harry watched as Mr Weasley spoke the words to the incantation. As he did before with the co-ordinates for Sirius’ home, he included the Hogsmeade numbers in the charm and gently waved his wand over the watch, expelling a soft blue light over the watch, which in turn, glowed for a few seconds. The colours of the charm were beautiful, but it gave him a pang in his stomach. The feelings the watch inspired were bittersweet: on one hand the idea of being able to see Ginny whenever he wanted gave him a warm feeling, but it was countered by the cold thought that he would never be able to do what Mr Weasley had just done.

"Harry, this won’t work the same way as before, basically because I’ve added more stops," Mr Weasley explained. "It’s still quite simple though. Just set the hands to where you want to go. Midnight for the Ministry of Magic, three o’clock for Hogsmeade, six o’clock for home, and 9 o’clock for Sirius. Once you've set the proper destination just close the watch cover, which will then activate the Portkey. I just have one more charm to perform and you’ll be all set."

Mr Weasley worked quietly for a time, and Harry thought he was preparing himself to say something, which Harry didn’t take as a good sign.

"Harry, I hope you won’t be put out with me or think I’m interfering in your life. Believe me, I would never interfere between you and Ginny, and neither would Molly," he chuckled. "Although I’m not sure you’d agree with that. Ginny’s our daughter and we love her. And you Harry, you’ve been a part of this family for so long now…" His voice broke slightly, and he couldn't continue.

Harry couldn’t look at Mr Weasley. Just as he'd been choked up when Mrs Weasley had voiced those same thoughts weeks ago, he was again fighting to stay in control.

Mr Weasley found his voice again. "Molly and I want you to know that you can come to us if you have any questions. You’ve turned out to be a fine man. It amazes me, and I don’t mean that as a slight. You’ve not had the benefit of… proper adults in your life, except for when you were at Hogwarts."

"And here," Harry said, looking straight at Mr Weasley.

"Yes," he smiled. "Well, I’m sure Sirius would have been a fine role model, and I’m sure you’d prefer to talk to him about this. But I’m not sure he would be all that comfortable with it." He laughed nervously again. "To tell you the truth, I’m not all that comfortable with it, and I’ve done this six times already."

Harry was looking down at the floor. He really did not want to be here, but what could he do? He couldn’t just walk out on Mr Weasley, not when he’d opened his house--hell his whole family--up to Harry. As bad as this was going to be--and Harry would have bet his last Knut this was going to be bad--he owed it to Mr and Mrs Weasley to listen. He raised his head and looked at Mr Weasley, showing him he was waiting for him to continue.

"I’m not really sure how to begin. I mean, obviously I’m not going to tell you what I told the other boys." Mr Weasley rubbed the back of his neck, which was the usual Weasley red. "I’m sure, if you were dating someone else I wouldn’t even be here, but that's not the case. Ginny’s not our only concern; you are too, Harry. We’ve seen another young couple move too fast with…" He rubbed his neck again. "With certain aspects of their relationship, and well, it didn’t go well. That’s to say the least; as a matter of fact, it ruined both their lives.

Harry could tell that this was not easy for Mr Weasley, so he didn’t talk. He just waited for Mr Weasley to get his train of thought, but Harry’s eyes never left his.

"I don’t know if you know that Bill is named for my brother Bilius. He was two years behind Molly and me at Hogwarts. The year Molly and I left school Bilius began dating a girl." He rubbed his eyes. "Lucretia," he smiled. "She was a lovely girl. Anyone could tell how much they loved each other. At the end of their sixth year they…" He looked at Harry, and with a completely straight face said, "Took their relationship to that next level."

Harry shifted nervously. This wasn’t as bad as he has thought it would be; it was worse. Once again he looked at Mr Weasley and waited for him to continue.

"My brother was my best mate. He was fun to be around, and he had a good head on his shoulders. He did fairly well in school, was made prefect in his fifth year, as did Lucretia. He was very good at Transfiguration, but Potions and Charms, that was another story." He shook his head and had a sad smile on his face. "They were in love, but they weren’t stupid. The thought they’d taken the right precautions, but in the end they were wrong. Lucretia became pregnant that June."

Harry didn’t know what to say. He was thinking back to Ginny’s last night at the Burrow. He had wanted to make love to her, and now he realised what an idiot he had been. He'd never even thought of birth control, and he didn’t even know if Ginny had thought about it. That wasn’t the subject you brought up to your girlfriend while you were sitting by the fire in her living room. What if they had made love? What if Ginny had become pregnant? It didn’t bear thinking about, and now his thoughts were pulled back to Mr Weasley, who was speaking again.

"…They married that summer. It was very hard for them. Bilius couldn’t get a good paying job, and they weren’t able to afford the best medical services. In the end…" Harry could clearly see tears in Mr Weasley’s eyes, and he watched him wipe away all traces of them. "They lost the baby. Even after that, they didn’t have an easy time. Bilius died a few years later, and Lucretia a few years after that. I want you to know though…" He looked directly at Harry. "They loved each other, till the very end. Even though they had ruined their lives, and their married life was filled with strife, they always loved each other."

Harry saw the pain in Mr Weasley’s eyes, and he turned away to give the man time to compose himself. He sat there, and realised why Mrs Weasley had hovered over them all summer. How could he blame her? She didn’t want them to go through what Mr Weasley’s brother had gone through.

"Harry, I’m sorry about that. I hadn’t expected to tell you that. The point I was trying to make was really about potions and charms. I don’t look at you and Ginny and see my brother and Lucretia, but I know Molly does. She mentioned it to me, so I guess it was on my mind."

"It’s okay, Mr Weasley," Harry said sheepishly. "I understand what you were trying to say. I just want to let you know, Ginny and I haven’t taken that step yet. So you really don’t have to worry."

Mr Weasley laughed at Harry was taken aback by it. "Harry, I’ll worry about you and Ginny till I’m old and grey. I’m a parent; it comes with the territory."

They sat there in silence for a while. They seemed to have made peace with the idea of this talk, but Harry knew there was more to come. He just hoped it wouldn’t be as heart-wrenching as this last bit of information.

"This is very hard for me, Harry, but I have to ask. Have you and Ginny discussed birth control?"

"I told you we haven’t…"

"Yes, I know what you said," he interrupted. "But can you sit there and tell me you’ve never been on the verge. That the thought of that step hasn’t come up?"

Harry knew Mr Weasley knew the answers to those questions. He had never lied to Mr Weasley, and he wasn’t about to start. "There were a couple of occasions that we almost… but we didn’t," he said nervously.

"It’s okay, I’m not upset. I’m not going to tell you that I’m fine with the idea of you and Ginny having a sexual relationship. It’s just that I’m not naïve, and I know it happens. And if there’s a chance of it happening, I want you two to be prepared and protected."

This was just getting worse by the minute. Harry decided right there and then, if Mr Weasley brought out any samples or books he was getting up and leaving. He didn’t care what anyone said. He prayed to a higher power for this to end or for a hole to open up and swallow him on the spot. He waited another minute, sighing when no hole appeared anywhere nearby. He turned to Mr Weasley who had been waiting for him to look at him again.

"I don’t know what to tell you about birth control. If you still had your powers, I’d give you a book…"

Harry started to choke. Any minute now he was going to hyperventilate.

"Harry, son, are you okay?"

"Yes, I just swallowed the wrong way."

"As I was saying, there are many books with contraceptive charms in them, as well as potions books. But even the potions require some sort of magic intervention. Neither of those options are open to you. I have no idea what Muggles do. I’m asking you to be responsible and to look into this," he said matter-of-factly.

When Harry didn’t answer, Mr Weasley’s voice seemed to take on a different tone. "I know you love each other, but are you willing to risk a small baby’s life for one night of passion?"

"No, of course not! You’re right. I just don’t know anything about… well what Muggles do about… that. It’s not like my uncle ever talked to me about this. I’m sure it was his way of seeing if I was as worthless as he thinks I am, just another thing he could throw in my face," Harry said sarcastically, but then he looked at Mr Weasley, who didn't look quite convinced of Harry's ignorance of the subject of Muggle birth control methods. "I mean, I’ve heard some things, we learned a bit about it in primary school, and you hear the other Muggle-borns talk."

"Really! What have you heard?" It seemed Mr Weasley love for anything Muggle had switched on and his interest was now piqued.

Harry was horrified. "I mean I don’t really remember what they taught in school. And I really don’t know if what I’ve heard is the truth or even what I should do," he sputtered. He then breathed deeply and said, "I’ll look into it, I promise. I would never hurt Ginny; you know that, don’t you?"

"I know that. I can see how much you love her, and respect her. I just want you to be careful and prepared for whatever changes that the future will bring you."

It seemed that Mr Weasley had come to the end of his talk, and then the most incomprehensible thing happened. Harry asked a question.

"Mr Weasley, sir. Um... what about Ginny?"

"Ginny? What about her?"

"Can she… I mean to say, not that I won’t keep my promise, because I will. But can she do anything, or is it the wizard's responsibility to um… you know?"

Mr Weasley laughed and Harry cursed whatever demon had momentarily possessed his mind and made him ask that question. Mr Weasley seemed to ponder the reply. Harry didn’t understand that; wasn’t it a yes or no answer? Either witches helped with birth control or they didn’t. Why, oh why, did he have to open his mouth? This talk had gone in different directions, some of which Harry hoped he’d forget soon, and it seemed Mr Weasley had finished, but Harry just hadn't been able to leave it there.

"I would assume most witches are the primary decision-makers when it comes to birth control. Although I don’t believe Molly brought up that particular point when she talked with Ginny," he smiled. "I believe her stance is more towards abstinence."

"I think you’re right," Harry agreed shyly.

"Contraceptive charms are not supposed to be that difficult to master. The potions may be a little more complicated, but they are just as effective. Well…" he hesitated. "In most cases, that is."

"Most cases?"

"Harry, do you know what I do at the Ministry?"

"You work for the Misuse of Muggles Artefacts office," he said, a bit confused.

"Yes," he smiled. "But do you know what it entails?"

"Um… not really."

"Well, most of it is somewhat tedious, I’ll admit, but I work mainly with charms. I have to reverse charms that witches and wizards have placed on Muggle items. I also have to re-enchant wizarding items others have tampered with. Some would think that a simple Reverso charm, or even Finite Incantatem would do it, but it’s not that simple," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Yes, I’d imagine it’s not," Harry said confused, not knowing where this conversation was heading, and somewhat worried about that fact.

"I was top of my year in Charms at Hogwarts," he said proudly. "I even received the highest NEWT in Charms that Hogwarts has ever awarded. That’s what really got me into the Ministry. The first department I worked for was a branch of the Auror division. I would go into raids with the Aurors and look for tampered items. Back during the Dark Lord's first reign, the Death Eaters took pleasure in a different type of Muggle torture. They would bewitch items and send them out into the Muggle world. Many times, it resulted in severe injury and even death. They enchanted knives to stab the Muggles as they were using them to cook. Tea pots that would explode sending scalding water onto unsuspecting people. They even…" Mr Weasley stopped and composed himself before continuing. "They even charmed Muggle money. Coins. Muggle children would feel compelled to put them in their mouths and many times these poor children choked."

Harry was shocked, but reprimanded himself. Why should anything the Death Eaters did shock him? After all, they were inhuman. He'd never stopped to consider that Mr Weasley might have been that involved in the first war.

"I’m sorry again, Harry. I seem to be drifting off into deep topics when I’m really just trying to make a simple point," he said, embarrassed.

"That’s all right, go on."

"The point I was making was you don’t have to be a top student in Charms to work the contraceptive charms. But, I was a top student, the top student, and…" He chuckled. "Well, I have seven children. Does that tell you anything about my prowess with those particular charms?"

"I don’t…"

"Molly and I were married two years after we left school. Bill arrived two years later, but he wasn’t our first, so to speak. Molly had two early misses before Bill." He stopped at the confused look on Harry’s face. "I don’t really know how to explain this. A lot of women can become pregnant, but nature will take over very early on, and they lose the baby, most of the time before they even know they’re pregnant. That happened to us twice. It upset us, but we weren’t ready for children yet, so in a way it was better. But we realised that our protection method wasn’t working. So Molly added a potion along with the charm. Molly," he said proudly, "was top of her year in potions. A very capable witch. She worked in an apothecary before Bill was born. Well, you would think with a charm and a potion, we’d be safe."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"So, have you met my son Bill," he laughed. "He was conceived while we used both methods, as was Charlie."

"I don’t understand, what went wrong?" Harry clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked that he'd voiced that thought aloud. At the same time he felt a tinge of sadness to recall that Charlie has been conceived when all odds were against it happening, but that hadn't stopped the killing curse from getting him.

Mr Weasley laughed at Harry’s forwardness. "We don’t know, but we have an idea." He smiled at Harry’s inquisitive look. "Do you know Molly had six brothers, just like Ginny?"

"Um… no, I didn’t… she had?"

"Well, four of her younger brothers are still with us. They live far away, she corresponds with them often, but she doesn’t get to see them as much as she’d like. Two of her brothers, Freddy and Georgie…" A sad smile appeared across his face. "Were killed in the first war with Voldemort." He took a deep breath. "She’s the oldest. I guess that’s where her mothering skills come from," he smiled.

"She’s good at it," Harry said, and then blushed.

"Yes, she is. And I think she was meant to have a lot of children. I come from a large family, too. I think when the two of us came together we were destined to have a large family, no matter what protection we used. "

"Oh," Harry said, embarrassed.

"I think Ginny may take after her mother. You may not see it, but she is so much like Molly, it’s scary sometimes. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

"Yeah, of course I…Oh… Oh… you mean…" Harry stumbled over his words, once he realised what Mr Weasley meant. And yes, this talk had just become worse. Ginny was like her mum, so most likely she’d have a lot of kids. And if she was like her mum, it didn’t matter what protection she used, she’d probably have babies even when she wasn’t prepared for them. And if they did anything, even if they were careful, she could get pregnant, and that wouldn’t be good, because she’d have to raise the baby on her own. After all, he’d surely be dead at the hands of her brothers. Wild thoughts were racing through Harry’s mind, and he barely realised that Mr Weasley was having a good chuckle at his expense.

"I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I really only wanted to warn you. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. But you did find something that worked, I mean… Well Ginny’s your last…" Harry paled; he could not believe he'd just said that.

"Well," Mr Weasley chuckled again, and gave Harry the impression that he was enjoying Harry's prying questions, and subsequent mortified looks. "Even before Ginny was born, Molly decided enough was enough. No matter what the baby was, this one was going to be our last. The Medi-wizard took care of things for us."

Harry had a slight idea of what he meant, but he kept his mouth shut for once. But not for long, for something was bothering him. If Mrs Weasley had babies so easily then why was there such a long break in between Charlie and Percy? Charlie was at least six years older than Percy, which didn’t make sense to Harry.

"Mr Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Did Mrs Weasley… I mean, I was just wondering. Did she have more um… misses? I mean Charlie and Percy…" What was wrong with him tonight? How could he ask that? And from the look on Mr Weasley’s face he wasn’t too happy that Harry had asked the question either. "I’m sorry, don’t answer that, I shouldn’t…"

"No, it’s all right. Seems after tonight, I won’t have too many secrets from you, will I Harry?" he laughed sadly.

"No, really, no, you don’t have to."

"No, I think I do. As a matter of fact, Molly and I where going to talk to all of you kids, about this especially after recent events. I don’t think the others will mind if I tell you now."

Harry had no idea what Mr Weasley was talking about, but he realised Mr Weasley needed to tell him something important, and he waited for the older man to begin.

"Two years after Charlie was born, Molly was expecting again," he chuckled. "I told you she was meant to have babies." He laughed again at Harry’s blush. "It was during Voldemort's first rise to power. The Dark Lord was getting stronger, and he was recruiting Death Eaters at an alarming rate. I was still working with the Auror division, but I had been moved into a new group, the Committee for Experimental Charms. We were trying to develop charms to protect against the unforgivables. The premise was based on the Fidelius Charm, which…"

"I know what the Fidelius Charm does," Harry said bitterly.

"I’m sorry, Harry, of course you do."

Harry composed himself, and asked Mr Weasley to continue.

"Well, if a charm could block locator charms, maybe we could make one to block controlling and pain-inflicting curses. I was working on it with my partner. Julius Farmer was a good man. We must have been getting close to a workable charm, and someone had let the Death Eaters know we were getting close." He stopped and looked at Harry’s confused expression. "Yes, there were spies in the Ministry back then too. We didn’t know who they were, but they were keeping a careful watch on everything that was going on. We also had spies, and we got word that they were interested in Julius and me."

"What did you do?"

"I had Molly and the children placed under the Fidelius Charm, and I was preparing to go into hiding myself." Once again Mr Weasley put his hands to his face, as if he were trying to rub away some old pain he was reliving.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to me, at that point. I had acted quickly enough, and Molly and the children were safe. Julius wasn’t as lucky." He stared out into space for quiet some time. "Julius and I were here at the Burrow, collecting paperwork we needed, and then we'd be off to his home before we went into hiding. We Apparated to his house," he faltered. "There was a dark green skull in the sky above the front door. We had never seen anything like it before, but we knew it wasn’t good. We ran into the house and found his wife, and his small daughter. They were dead."

Harry didn’t move; he didn’t say a word. He'd never realised all the horrors Mr Weasley had seen in his life. How did this man go on? He seemed to be such a happy-go-lucky person. Harry's respect for Mr Weasley increased tenfold in a matter of moments.

"I went into hiding, while Julius settled his affairs; he joined me a few weeks later. We were working morning, noon and night, and we were getting close. Then there was a security breach. We were found, and a fight ensued. Julius didn’t survive the attack. It must have been the stress; he started flinging unforgivables at the Death Eaters. He killed two of them before he was killed."

"What happened to you?"

"I was doing my best without using an unforgivable. Even though the Aurors had been given permission to use them, and technically I was under their jurisdiction, I couldn’t do it. I had lived my life on the side of good, I wasn’t going to save my skin by using dark magic." He paused. "I was wrong, though, I learned that the hard way, and paid a very steep price." He looked at Harry and said, "Sometimes you have to fight the dark with dark magic. Sometimes that’s the only thing that will work. I realised that it doesn’t matter how you defeat the dark side, just as long as you do it."

"So, what happened?"

"I was captured. They weren’t interested in killing me or Julius for that matter. They wanted the charms we were working on. To make an extremely long story short, I was held for almost two years. The Ministry thought I was dead, so they weren’t looking for me. It just so happened they stormed the building I was being held in, and I was rescued."

"That must have been horrible for you and Mrs Weasley."

"It was. With all the strain, she lost the baby… a girl. I think that’s another reason why Molly’s so protective of Ginny."

"So, everything was fine, once you came home?"

"Not exactly. I was injured. My leg…" He stopped and looked at Harry.

Harry spoke, but hesitantly, not wanting to assume too much. "I thought there was something. Mrs Weasley was very upset when you got hurt. And your leg hasn’t healed yet. I wondered, but… Mrs Weasley always seemed to change the subject."

"She doesn’t like to remember those times. It was very hard on her. She was raising two young boys on her own. She had no income to speak of. She mortgaged or sold anything she could, just to survive. I really don’t know how she did it, all the while proclaiming I was still alive. She never lost hope." He brushed yet another tear from his eye. "She’s an amazing woman, and if my Ginny is half the woman she is, you’ll be a very lucky man."

Harry wasn’t going to disagree with that. He already knew he was a lucky man. Now he realised they both were.

"That’s why there’s such an age difference between Charlie and Percy. I was gone for a while, and then I had a major rehabilitation to undertake."

"What happened to your leg?"

"Among other things, the Death Eaters used a Severing Charm on my leg. At first it was only the tendons, and then when that didn’t get my support, they severed the actual bone. That’s why my leg isn’t healing properly. It took weeks before I had proper medical attention, and it never quite healed. I didn’t have a limp, but I’ve always had some pain."

"I’m sorry for everything."

"Harry, this was before you were even born," he said firmly.

"I know. It’s not that. I’m sorry you had to have that happen to you. You and Mrs Weasley didn’t deserve that."

"In all honesty, we were the lucky ones. We survived."

"How do you do it? How can you have such horrible things happen to you, and still be happy?"

"Easy. I have Molly." He stood up, as did Harry, and he stretched with some pain, and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, but not for support. And Harry thought he had Ginny; maybe that was all he needed to be happy, to survive.

It seemed that all that could be said had been. Mr Weasley rolled up the maps, and Harry placed them back on the shelf. Harry looked at his watch and smiled. He wasn’t going to dwell on sad thoughts. He thought about the time he would place the hour hand on three o'clock and be in Hogsmeade with Ginny. He was brought out of his dream when Mr Weasley suggested they go in for dinner, which he commented must be stone cold. They had been out in the shed for two hours. Harry placed his hand on Mr Weasley’s elbow and guided him towards the Burrow. He thought Mr Weasley might be embarrassed by this gesture, but if he was, he said or did nothing that made Harry release his arm.

"Mr Weasley, I really have to apologise to you," Harry said nervously as they walked on the dimly lighted path towards the kitchen door.

"Whatever for?"

"I really shouldn’t have asked all those questions. I mean it’s really none of my business. And, well, I’m sorry; I hope you’re not upset with me."

"Harry…" Mr Weasley shook his head. "I have to tell you. I wasn’t looking forward to this talk on so many levels," he laughed. "I had no idea what to say to you, and I wasn’t sure if you’d resent me for butting into your life."

"You weren’t butting in," he burst out, and then continued shyly, "um… sorry."

"I’m glad you feel that way. I want you to know, you can always come to me and ask anything you want. The other boys…" He laughed again. "Well, let’s just say, some asked more questions, some less, and one just sat there, his face red the entire time. As a matter of fact, that one didn’t talk to me for almost a whole month afterwards. So you’re ahead on that score."

"Thanks, Mr Weasley." He looked at the older man with the utmost respect and love. "Thanks for everything."

The two of them entered the quiet kitchen and sat at the table. Mrs Weasley must have gone to bed, but she'd left the meal for them on the table, warming charms still in place. They ate in companionable silence, and it was comforting. Neither one was embarrassed or upset. They had said all there was to say for one night, hell, for a whole year. But something inside Harry told him he wouldn’t be surprised if he and Mr Weasley shared many more talks in the years to come, and in a strange way, Harry was looking forward to them.

~~~~

Molly Weasley had been in her upstairs bedroom for well over an hour now, her thoughts running wild and unable to imagine what Arthur and Harry could be talking about. This was getting ridiculous. The two men had been out in that god-forsaken shed for two hours, and they'd been sitting downstairs for yet another hour. She couldn’t hear any voices, and she was afraid to venture down to the kitchen. What if Arthur was still talking to the boy? What if Harry was asking questions? She didn’t dare interrupt, although she had to laugh about the idea of Harry asking questions. She knew Harry very well, and if she was right--and she knew she was--Harry would listen to Arthur and never utter a sound, let alone ask a question.

Her biggest concern was Arthur’s approach to the subject at hand. She had some doubts as to Arthur’s real feelings on this talk. After all, she hadn't been thrilled with the talks he'd had with the boys. She'd had a fit when she'd learned he had told Bill to use protection. Not only that, he'd given the boy a book on contraceptive charms. Arthur’s thinking was that it was a natural occurrence and he’d rather his boys protect themselves and whatever girl they might be with. Where he came up with these ideas, she had no clue. What was wrong with abstinence? Why couldn’t the boys just settle down with nice girls and get married? Percy had gone that route, but he'd always been such a good boy.

But she was sure he’d never have that same talk with Harry. After all, Harry was dating Ginny, his own daughter. Didn’t he want her pure, untouched? Of course he did! She was positive that Harry Potter was going to get a much different talk tonight.

He was a good boy who would listen to Arthur and respect their wishes, even though the boy had been avoiding Arthur at all costs, to an extent that it was becoming quite comical. As much as she hated to admit it, Arthur seemed thrilled that Harry had been avoiding him for weeks. That was one reason why she'd taken matters into her own hands. Harry had mentioned again that he’d like to go visit his godfather, and he would need Arthur to make him a Portkey. So when the opportunity came, with Harry's early arrival home, she'd sent him to Arthur’s shed. She hadn't been sure what Arthur was fiddling with in there tonight, but once Harry had got there, she'd had every confidence that Arthur would talk to the boy.

She was now trying to find a chore to occupy her time, while she waited for Arthur to come up to bed. The linen cupboard needed to be sorted out, she thought, and she set to it until she heard the footsteps on the stairs.

"Mrs Weasley, do you need any help there?" Harry said. He couldn't have missed the contents of the linen cupboard out in the corridor.

"Harry, dear, oh thank you, no. That’s quite all right. Have you and Arthur eaten?"

"Oh, yes, thanks, it was delicious. I set the plates in the sink; Mr Weasley couldn’t remember the proper cleaning spell…"

"Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of them in the morning."

Before Harry had the chance to walk past her and up to his room, Molly decided to make sure that he and Arthur had indeed talked.

"Harry, did Mr Weasley have a talk with you tonight?"

"Um, yes." Harry’s face went completely red; as a matter of fact, he looked somewhat frightened.

"Good, I’m glad. You understand it’s not that we’re prying, but we want the best for you and for Ginny."

"Yes, I understand." He was flattened up against the wall and looked as if he was trying to edge his way past.

"And I hope Arthur made it clear that we’d prefer for the two of you to wait."

"Um…"

"You’re both so young, and there’s really no rush. And I know that you’d respect Ginny more--not that you don’t now. But you’ll see as you get older, you’ll look back and know how special it was to wait. And I know from my own experience, that I felt revered, cherished, that Arthur respected my wishes."

Molly wondered if Harry was feeling well. His face was flushed, and he looked a bit unsteady on his feet. She had the strange thought that this was the first time he was hearing any of this. But that couldn't be right, could it?

"Are you feeling well dear? You look at bit flushed," she asked cautiously.

"Um… yes, I’m… a bit tired."

"Harry?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?"

"Arthur did talk to you about your relationship with Ginny, didn’t he?"

"Yes, yes, he did." The boy had gone quite pale now.

"He did emphasise the fact that we would prefer you and Ginny abstain from…"

"Molly, spring cleaning in December? What brought this on?" Arthur asked as he climbed the last step onto the landing.

"Oh, Arthur, you should have called me. I would have come down to help you," she said, concerned.

"I’m fine. Harry, why don’t you go to bed?" he chuckled "I think you’ve talked yourself out."

"Arthur!"

"Molly, the boy is tired, let him be. Go ahead, Harry; we’ll see you in the morning. Come on Molly, I’ll help you finish this, and then we can go to bed."

Arthur and Molly worked together quietly, placing the linens and toiletries back in the cupboard. Molly eyed her husband as he levitated the towels onto the shelf. If he thought he was getting out of talking to her, he was sadly mistaken. She was going to find out exactly what he'd said to that boy. She’d let him fall into a false sense of security and when he thought he was in the clear, she’d attack.

~~~

"Come on, love, let’s go to bed," she said tenderly. "Do you need anything? An extra pillow? Heating cloth for your leg?" she said as she closed and locked the door, then placed a silencing charm on the room.

"No dear, thank you," he said groggily.

The two lay in there bed, Molly waiting until Arthur was just about to nod off, before speaking. "Arthur, what exactly did you and Harry talk about tonight?

"Oh, well the subject we talked about," he said nervously.

"Yes, that’s what you said you would do, but for some reason I don’t think you did."

"Molly, it’s late. I said I’d talk to him, and I did and…"

"Yes, but what did you say? Did you tell him that he and Ginny should abstain?"

"Well… the subject of abstinence did come up," he said with some strain in his voice.

"And what did he say?"

"Well, if you must know, I think his exact words were I think you’re right." He rolled over on his side so that she couldn’t see his face.

"Really, that’s wonderful. Did that come up right away?"

"Oh, um, no, I think… well, we talked about the Portkey first. I added Sirius’ home and Hogsmeade to his… watch," the last word said very softly, so much so, Molly nearly didn’t hear him.

"You added Hogsmeade onto his watch? Why? Why on earth would you do that?" She sat up quickly. "Please turn around and look at me; I would like to know why you did that."

"He’s going to Hogsmeade for the dance, I just thought…"

"Why couldn’t you just charm a rock? Why did you have to make it so permanent?"

"Well, Hogsmeade is a useful stop to have, and besides, he’ll most likely be going to visit Ginny, once the weekend visits start." His voice was almost pleading.

"I don’t like it, Arthur, not one bit. What else did you talk about?" Her voice had become a bit more forceful.

"A lot of things Molly." He sat up as well. "I told him about Bilius and Lucretia."

"Oh, Arthur." Her anger faded. "That must have been very hard for you. I’m sorry I brought that up."

"No, don’t worry. Harry at least understands why you feel the way you do." He smiled shyly at her.

"What do you mean, he understands the way I feel?" The irritation was beginning to come out in her voice.

"I mean, I just meant…"

"You told him it was okay, didn’t you? You told him the same thing that you told the boys. I was furious when you told our own sons to protect themselves and no more! But now you tell Harry, who's like one of my own, that it’s all right with you if he has sex with our daughter. Not just some other poor parent’s daughter, but our own little girl!" She was livid now. "What could you have told him about protection? You couldn’t have given him that damn charms book. What could you have possibly told him?"

"Molly, calm down, he’ll hear you," Arthur pleaded.

"He won’t hear a thing. I locked the door and silenced the room before I got into bed. I had a feeling we’d be having a fight. Not this fight of course, but a fight no less. Your own daughter, Arthur, how could you?"

"Because she is my daughter, and I love her, and I love him. I want them happy, and I want them protected. They love each other, Molly; this is not some school-girl crush. We’ve had this conversation. I don’t know why you can’t see it." His voice was rising to a level that she had rarely heard him use. "Do you see the way he looks at her? He is devoted to her. He would give his life for her. And she would do the same for him. I told him to look into protection methods that he can use now. I don’t want what happened to my brother to happen to them. Not to any of our children." He paused to clear his throat somewhat. "I know you don’t approve of the way I handled things with the boys. But telling them to stay virgins is not going to stop babies from being made. And who knows where that could lead? It can be joyous or disastrous. I want my children happy, I want them safe, but most of all, I want them alive."

She was speechless. She simply could not understand his thinking. This was his own daughter, his only daughter! Didn’t he want the best for her? Didn’t he want her happy? "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," he said.

"No, tell me, you just gave me the strangest look," she said annoyed.

"It’s just…well you looked just like your mum just now…" He broke off suddenly, his expression showing the mistake he'd just made.

"I…" She couldn’t get the words out. She was shocked. If she thought about it, she knew that he hadn’t meant it the way she had taken it. She felt the tears begin to flow from her eyes, and she turned her back on him. She didn’t want to talk to him; she didn’t want to talk about her.

"Molly," he said softly. "Molly, dear, I didn’t mean…you know I don’t think…Molly please turn around." He squeezed her shoulder, trying to pull her towards him. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not like her. You never were. It was a thoughtless thing to say. Please Molly... " His hand was still on her, caressing her softly.

"Arthur," she said with her back still towards him, "I’m not mad. I don’t want to talk about it. I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. Or…I hope you didn’t."

"Molly, turn around. I need to see you."

She did, even though she hated herself for listening to him. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Weak. Wounded. The way her mother had always made her feel.

"I’m sorry," he said as he wiped the tears from her eyes, and then pulled her into his arms. "I’m a cad. I should have never said that," he continued, as he stroked her back. "You’re such a strong woman; I forget sometimes that you’ve had so much pain. Please forgive me?"

She moved away from him and gave him a small smile. She touched his face with her hand. "There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t mean anything by it, but I need you to tell me something. I want the truth. How do I remind you of her?"

She could tell he didn’t want to answer, but he must have thought it better to tell her. "You are like her, but not in the bad ways. She was strong and had high principles, and she very rarely changed her mind when it was set. I see you doing that with Ginny and Harry. I know you want the best for them, but what was best for us might not be what they need. You can’t control them and hope they’ll love you for it. Ginny is just as strong as you--more so, I think. I’d hate to not have her in our lives because we couldn’t let her live her life as she saw fit."

Molly lay there thinking of his words. She soon became lost in her thoughts, back to the last time she saw her mother.

"Where are you Molly?" he asked softly, pulling her back to him.

"Thinking about when Ginny was born."

"Molly…"

"No, my god, it’s been seventeen, almost eighteen years… I can't believe it's been so long. She grew up so fast…" Molly stopped and shook herself mentally, wondering where that thought had come from. "I still haven’t told you, " she went on. "I know you wondered, although I know you were more than glad to see her back," she said sarcastically.

"It’s your business, you don’t…"

"No, I think I need to." She smiled at him and then kissed him sweetly. "I don’t regret it, and I never will. Don’t ever think I do. "

"She had just come into the room, this room; I was lying here nursing Ginny. Believe me she was the last person I wanted to see just then. You remember how much grief she gave us when we told her I was expecting again." She stopped, and it was as if time were pulling her back to April 30th 1981.

Molly was crying in earnest now. The pain that had been bottled up so long was spilling out; the dam had finally burst. Arthur comforted her by holding her, and rocking her gently. It wasn’t until the sobs subsided that he dared talk to her.

"I’m sorry, Molly, I’m sorry she hurt you so much. You’re not like her. You’re kind and caring and loving. You’re a wonderful mother, and I know you only have their best interests at heart," he said.

"I know, but I can be overbearing and bossy too. I never wanted to be like her. And now look at me. My daughter is of age, she can make her own choices, and she’s made a wonderful choice. He is a good boy… a good man," she corrected herself. "I can’t say that I’ll tell them to go and be together, but I will try not to meddle and I will give them time for themselves. I want her in my life Arthur, I need her there."

"I know you do." He hugged her tightly.

"I do love them, all of them; I’ll try to control myself, and my opinions."

"You’re a great mum, and an even better wife. You only do what you do, because you love them." Arthur leaned down and kissed her tenderly. "I don’t deserve you, and I never did."

No more words were needed after that. She kissed him again, and held him close to her, forgetting the past for now and remembering only how much she loved her husband. For that is what had held them together through all the lean times, through all the fear and uncertainty. Her love for him was as strong today as it had been all those years ago at school, and she wanted to spend the rest of the night reminding him of that fact.

To Be Continued…